#auri finally thinks | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pentothalprincess · 2 years ago

Text

✮ ↳ All Eyes On Me ↰

♡ yandere! actor x gn reader pt 2♡

tw/cw: obsessive love, murder, mentions of blood, slight emotional manipulation

authors notes: this took me forever i'm sorryyyy editing is a bitch :( but I'm really proud of this one!! hope you'll like it too <3

"Why weren't you watching?" His voice is cold and filled with contempt as he glares at you, his nails digging into the skin of his palm.

"I-I was! Why wouldn't I watch, I've been backstage this whole ti-" Your voice is soft, trying to quell the fury in his gaze.

"Liar!" He steps closer to you, causing you to back away. He takes a deep breath before speaking again. "You weren't watching. When I was offstage, I looked for you behind the curtains. But you were never there." He's now right in front of you, grabbing the door handle and slamming it shut. "All those training sessions, all those late nights memorizing my lines till it felt like my head was going to burst, all the blood, sweat and tears- It was all for you!" His breathing is heavy and his voice is a low growl, his light tan skin flushed with anger.

"Aurelius, I...I had no idea..." Your voice trails off, eyes gazing into his with regret. "But, I did watch! It's just that near the end I got a phone call, so I had to leave the theatre to pick it up and I got distracted!"

"I don't need your excuses." He spat, glaring down at you. "I understand. I get that I'm just another actor you have to work with; you're just here for the paycheck. And that's fine!" He backs up, a deranged smile on his face. "But could you at least pretend that you care? Just a bit?"

"I do care! why wouldn't I care, I've been working with you on this for months! Please, no need to get so upset." Your words cut through him like a knife, and his eyes widen with disbelief.

"'No need to get so upset'?! How can you even say that right now?! I've put so many hours into this, spent so much time on this all for your approval, and when the day finally comes you don't even stay to watch?! I'm not just upset, I'm-" he takes a deep breath, shaking slightly. "Heartbroken."

"Aurelius, please, listen to me. The reason why I couldn't stay is because I got a call from my best friend, and they sounded really upset, so I needed to go help them... I'm sorry."

He turns towards you, a look of cold, pure, disbelief on his face. His eyes widen as he mutters something under his breath. The room is so quiet that even though he whispered, you could hear every word clearly.

"You missed my show...for someone else?" He takes a step back. "You missed my show...because someone told you to?" The silence is thick between the two of you, the same deranged smile appearing on his face. He chuckles, his laughter becoming louder and more insane. "Are you serious?! After all that time we spent working, you left me for your friend?!" Tears roll down his face, smearing his makeup. He stumbles back into the sound table and clutches onto it while trying to regain his composure.

"Auri, you have to understand! It was an emergency, I had no other choice!" The desperation in your voice is evident, you need him to realize the severity of the situation. You walk up to him and hesitantly place a hand on his shoulder. Your breath hitches in your throat when he smacks your hand away, looking up at you through the gaps in his fingers over his eyes.

"Don't," His voice is shaky, yet still cold and unforgiving. "Don't touch me. You don't deserve to after what you've done. I know how much I mean to you now, I don't need your lame explanations." He straightens up before walking out the door, standing in the frame for a second. "Bandaids don't fix bullet holes." He departs with a swish of his hair, leaving you standing alone in the now deathly quiet sound booth.

He grabs his stuff, slipping a small object into his bag as he hurriedly exits the theatre, wiping off his smudged makeup. He doesn't even take the time to change out of his costume, his brain is too panicked to even think about anything except what you said.

"Excuse me, you work with y/n right?" A person with a panicked expression walks up to him, biting their nails worriedly. His angry expression immediately changes to one of calmness.

"Yes, I do. why do you ask?" He puts on his signature winning smile as he bends down to their height.

"Well, I was with them earlier when they said they had to leave, and they didn't even tell me where before they just left! I know they work here, so I was wondering if you've seen them?" Your friend seems really troubled at your sudden disappearance, but Aurelius had other things on his mind.

"Actually, I think I have an idea of where they might be. Follow me!" His charming disposition and comfortable aura would make anyone follow him without question, including your friend. They started to walk together, the silence between them tense because of the worry that accompanied it. He lead them up and down roads, into busy lanes and quiet walkways. Eventually, they landed in front of a large forest.

"Wait... this is their favourite forest! You're a genius, I don't know why I didn't think to come here sooner!" Aurelius looked at your friend with exquisitely veiled contempt, their eyes shining with hope disgusting him.

"Oh, really?" He feigns surprise, not wanting to give away his true intentions just yet. "I didn't know! I just remember seeing them come here one time after work, I didn't know it was their favourite." He was lying. He knew everything about you. Your coffee order, the route you took home after work every day, the position in which you slept, everything. "Shall we head in?" He asked politely, extending a hand toward them. They nodded, walking into the dimly lit forest.

"I don't think I got your name, sorry."

He scoffs inwardly, berating them in his mind. "How do you not know my name? Me, the Aurelius Yavuz? You should be able to tell from one glance alone!" He thought, but he responded kindly regardless. "It's Aurelius. Aurelius Yavuz. And you?"

"Carmen! It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Yavus!" The way your friend sounds so cheerful disgusts him.

"Likewise," he mumbles, his voice sounding slightly pompous from their ignorance of his status. He brings their attention elsewhere, just wanting to get this whole ordeal over and done with as soon as possible. "I think I heard a noise over that way, would you like to check it out?" He points towards a dark corner of the forest with a small clearing in the middle.

"That looks like their hiding spot...yes, I think they might be there! quick!" Carmen starts to run into the thicket of trees, leaving Aurelius behind. In the dim light of the evening sun peeking through the trees, his eyes glow with a menacing aura. A confident smirk makes its way onto his face as he follows behind them. He pulls a small knife out of his bag, the shining metal glinting in the light.

"Aurelius...they're...not here..." Carmen's disappointed voice emanates through the forest. He slowly walks toward them, the satisfied look on his face making him seem even more insane than before.

"Aww, now isn't that a shame~?" He steps even closer, now almost nose-to-nose with them. "Don't worry," He brings his arm behind their shoulder, placing his hand right behind their neck. "You won't have to even think about them anymore." In a flash, Carmen collapses to the ground, the once pristine silver knife now tainted with potent red sin.

He dusts off his hand, wiping the blood on the knife onto the backside of his costume. He scoffs as he looks down onto the now still body of your beloved friend, kicking their body into the bushes beside him. He walks away and out of the forest, taking the same path you always take to your residence. He stops in front of your house, knocking on the door. He takes a deep breath and forcefully makes his eyes look teary, needing every tactic he knows to make you believe him. You open the door, stepping back when you see him.

"Aurelius, why are you-"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lash out at you like that. I just...was so upset, I thought this show meant something to you! But, I understand that you have your priorities, so I'm not mad anymore. Forgive me?" He gazes into your eyes, false tears now pooling at the corners of his eyes.

"Oh, Auri..." You embrace him tightly, crying into his chest. "I'm so sorry! I should've stayed, I should've watched, I didn't mean to hurt you that bad, I'm sorry!" You can't see his face as you're sobbing into his shirt, not able to see the knowing smirk on his lips. He pats your head kindly, cooing at you to help you calm down.

"Hey, hey, don't cry... it's okay now. Everything's been taken care of, now it's just you," he kisses the top of your head, rubbing soothing circles into his back as a sharp glint flashes through his eyes.

"and me."

taglist!! @lasagna-goob @izizzl @skylark144 @cyphertryagain

#zain>>works #tw yandere #tw obsessive love #tw murder #tw blood ment #yandere blog #yandere writing #soft yandere #yandere x you #yandere #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere oc x reader #oc x reader

2K notes · View notes

huxhsz · 2 months ago

Text

— weightless paradise

transmigrated non-mc!reader x caleb

prev ch: 27 - farewell┆series masterlist ┆next ch: 29 - uncharted waters

This isn’t how the game was supposed to go. You're not supposed to be here. You're an anomaly. But if you’re already here, then… can’t you just enjoy it for now? Just for a little while? Before the main story begins? Before everything inevitably falls into place? ...Right?

cross-posted on ao3! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

CH. 028 — LIFE

The problem with being alone is that there’s nothing to distract you from your thoughts.

You’ve been at Auris University for three weeks now, and the adjustment has been… fine, you guess. The campus is huge, and the professors are serious, but it’s not like you didn’t expect that. You’ve managed to settle into a rhythm, go to classes, make a few friends (though the friendships feel a little shallow, still), and not think too much about the emptiness that lingers in the spaces where Caleb and Eden used to be.

When you’re alone in your dorm room, that’s when it hits the hardest.

The room is quiet except for the soft scratching of your pen on the paper. You lean back in your chair, the weight of your thoughts pressing against your mind, almost too much to handle at times. It's been years—ten, to be exact—but still, the memories of Love and Deepspace cling to you. The tiniest details, the smallest fragments, have stuck in your mind like pieces of a puzzle. You never expected to remember so much, especially since your body was only eight when you arrived here.

Now that you’re away from Caleb and Eden, there’s an odd sense of freedom that comes with being able to write it all down. You no longer have to hide your thoughts, no longer have to worry about them accidentally finding your journal or noticing the way you focus on things that don’t make sense. For years, you kept everything locked inside—afraid that anything you wrote might reveal something about your memories, something that wasn’t supposed to be known. But now, in the quiet privacy of your dorm room, you can finally record the strange fragments that haunt your thoughts without the weight of their watchful eyes. No one’s here to ask questions, no one’s here to pull you back into their world of uncertainty. It feels both like a relief and a betrayal to do this openly. But you know you need to. After all, there’s so much you don’t understand, and the only way to make sense of it is to get it all out.

You pause for a moment, your pen hovering over the paper, and try to sort through your confusion.

How do I remember everything so vividly?

You tilt your head, staring at the page. There’s a disconnect, like some part of you knows things that don’t make sense. Things that shouldn’t be in your head at all. But they are.

You take a deep breath and begin writing, the words flowing without much thought:

Caleb = Subject 002: Destroyer. Evol: Gravity Manipulation.

Codename "Destroyer" wasn't mentioned in the game. That's strange.

Eden/MC = Subject 001: Unicorn. Evol: Resonance. Anhaunsen class.

Memory resets after death.

Me = Subject 000: Omniscient. Evol: Chronosight (past/present/future).

Not mentioned in the game at all.

Josephine:

Part of the Unicorn Team at Gaia Research Center.

Served as a researcher and team leader.

The Chronorift Catastrophe

Happened in 2034

It tore apart everything. Earth wasn’t ready, but it was the Deepspace Tunnel that changed everything.

The catastrophe happened 14 years before the main story.

Wanderers

The creatures that came through the Deepspace Tunnel.

Gaia Research Center (GRC)

GRC was where everything began. The experiments, the powers, the tests.

It’s all so broken now, destroyed after the Chronorift Catastrophe. But I know it’s connected to Ever—there’s something dark in the core of that place.

It was a place of science, but not just for research. It was a testing ground for powers, for those who were called “subjects,” like us. But why didn’t the game say anything about that?

GRC researcher defects: Josephine

She left. Took everything with her. But why? Maybe she thought we were ready for something more. Or maybe it was just survival.

Love interests:

Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb, and an unknown LI.

...

You stop for a moment, rereading what you’ve written. Your head hurts a little, like all these details are pushing against your brain, fighting for space. How do you know all of this? How can you remember so much from the game when it feels like a lifetime ago?

It doesn’t make sense.

The game was supposed to be a distraction, an escape. But this? This feels different. You can see the pieces of the game—Love and Deepspace—as if it’s unfolding right in front of you. Every piece of dialogue, every card you collected, every anecdote you read—it’s all there, clear as day.

But then there’s the codename “Destroyer.” You frown. That was never mentioned in the game. You know it was real, but why is it absent from the world the game showed you?

You rub your temples, trying to make sense of it all. Maybe you’re just overthinking it. Maybe it’s the Chronosight—your power—that’s making everything feel too real. Or maybe… you don’t really know what’s going on anymore.

Your grip on the pen tightens.

You’ve always assumed that whatever brought you here��the thing that let you wake up in the Gaia Research Center as Subject 000—was some kind of divine intervention. A god’s twisted gift.

But if that’s true…

Why would a god give you knowledge of a story that was never finished?

You lean back against your chair, arms folded. Outside, the ocean stretches toward the horizon, the water shimmering in shades of blue and silver.

Maybe it wasn’t a god.

Maybe you weren’t supposed to remember any of this at all.

But you do.

And you don’t know why.

Auris is beautiful, in an unsettling kind of way.

The campus overlooks the ocean, the research buildings built from glass and white steel. Holographic banners flicker along the pathways, displaying university announcements and research breakthroughs.

You take the long way to class most days, walking past the observation deck where the water crashes against the cliffs below. The breeze smells like salt and something sharp beneath it—something that makes your skin prickle.

You wonder if you’re imagining it.

Auris wasn’t in the game.

That’s the thing that bothers you most. Auris—this city—this university—it didn’t exist in Love and Deepspace.

The game only ever mentioned Linkon City and Skyhaven. You had entire playthroughs memorized; you’ve read every single piece of text, of dialogue. Auris was never mentioned.

And yet, it’s here.

You lean against the railing of the observation deck, watching the sun slip beneath the horizon. Somewhere beyond that edge of light and water lies the Deepspace Tunnel. The same tunnel that tore open the sky when you were younger. The same tunnel that sent the Wanderers pouring through the rift and destroyed half of Linkon City.

Wind tugs at your hair. Your hand curls loosely around the silver bracelet on your wrist. The apple charm catches the light.

Your phone buzzes.

You glance down.

Caleb how’s class? :D

A slow smile tugs at the corner of your mouth.

You type back,

You boring. u’d hate it.

Caleb bet I’d be better at it than you. XD

You shut up.

Caleb miss me yet?

You press your thumb to the charm on your bracelet. The metal is cool beneath your skin.

You type back,

You not really.

The reply comes immediately.

Caleb liar.

You close your phone and breathe out slowly.

Caleb is in Skyhaven. Eden is in Linkon City. You’re in Auris.

Three separate points on the map. Three different paths.

You turn back toward campus. The glass windows of the research building reflect the darkening sky.

Maybe you’re not in the story anymore.

Maybe you’re in something else entirely.

#lads #lnds #love and deepspace #caleb x reader #caleb x you #caleb xia #lads caleb #lnds caleb #love and deepspace caleb

70 notes · View notes

aevallare · 1 year ago

Text

excuses

light plot. heavy smut. mind the warnings. you can read on ao3 here

pairing: astarion/f!tav

word count: 4424

warnings: Aphrodisiacs, Semi-Public Sex, Squirting, Gags, Vaginal Fingering, Soft Dom Astarion, Wall Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Creampie, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Biting, Hand Kink, Inappropriate Use of Tadpole | Illithid Parasite Powers, Established Relationship, Rough Sex, Hair-pulling

preview:

“Go.” Auri's voice is hoarse. “This isn't your problem.”

Astarion's eyes narrow. “If you really think that I'm going to leave you here by yourself–”

“Astarion, please.” Again, Auri begs. “Something was wrong with that meat I ate. It feels infernal. Everything’s so warm. I can't–”

enjoy!!

-----

The orthon’s dead and his stronghold is now their camp for the evening. It’s a nice change from the usual; after barricading the entrance, they won’t even have to take watches. It’s well-fortified and Auri’s reasonably confident that they’ve wiped out anything in the immediate area that might want to kill them.

So spirits are light.

When Wyll jokingly tells her to lick the spider, Auri rolls her eyes at him. “Don’t be stupid. We’ll take it back to camp and cook it.”

Astarion won’t partake regardless, but he does afford her two raised eyebrows in response. Shadowheart grimaces and Wyll barks out a laugh that fades when Auri doesn’t join him.

“You’re joking,” Wyll says weakly. Auri sets her mouth in a line.

“There isn’t much else to eat down here.”

“Unless you’re Astarion,” Shadowheart snorts. It’s true enough, though it makes Auri blush. The marks on her neck are testament to that.

Wyll stares at Auri as she harvests meat from the spider with a dagger she pulls from her belt, and he says, “I’ll stick with what rations we have, I think.”

Auri shrugs. She ate worse when she was on the street. Her knife cuts into the spider’s corpse with a sickening crack through the exoskeleton before Astarion asks, “What are you doing?”

Auri looks up at him. “I told you I wasn’t going to let it go to waste.”

“No, that’s not–” Astarion pinches the bridge of his nose and crouches down next to her. “Move. You’re mutilating it.”

Auri’s barely started and he’s criticizing her. When he shoos her to the side with a flick of his wrist, Auri lets herself be dismissed. She stands, and behind them, Wyll and Shadowheart get to work setting up camp.

They’ve all long shed their armor. Astarion’s careful to push up the sleeves of his shirt before pulling a dagger of his own from his boot. The veins of his forearms thread down into his hands, thick and protruding, and as Auri watches, he gets to work.

“Did you moonlight as a butcher while you were a magistrate?” Auri asks.

Astarion exhales a laugh. “No, but as you might have guessed, taking things apart was an oft-used skill of mine after my time as a magistrate.”

The joke is dark, but Astarion doesn’t seem upset. In fact, he continues, “Are you really going to eat spider meat?”

“I put vampire in my mouth all the time and you never seem to complain about that.”

“True. Your exotic appetite is one of my favorite things about you.”

His dagger filets with grace; no movement is wasted. When he’s finally picked the spider clean, he looks up at her. The dagger’s still in his hand and he toys with it absently.

Auri’s always been enamored of his hands. Her own are calloused, roughened by years of playing every instrument she could get her hands on. They’re a lyrist’s hands. There’s nothing wrong with them; they’re nothing but tools.

His, though.

Astarion’s hands have never made music as far as Auri knows, but they make the world sing at his discretion anyway. Flesh and skin bow and warble at his fingers’ mercy, and gods know that her body’s sung under his touch more times than she can count.

Her hands are tools. His are art.

Astarion’s thumb brushes over the hilt of his dagger a final time before he stows it once more. Auri’s mouth is dry and it occurs to her that she’s staring. Astarion’s eyes catch hers and he smirks.

“See something you like, darling?”

His hand drifts up to push his hair out of his eyes. Auri’s gaze follows the movement like it’s a compulsion.

“Always,” she manages, and Astarion laughs for real then, a soft, secret thing that she’d never be graced with if Shadowheart or Wyll were nearby.

“Be careful staring like that. I might get the wrong idea.”

Auri blinks at him, finally pulled from the single-minded fixation she’s had on his hands. “What do you mean? We had sex just a couple of days ago–”

“Details.”

Auri gathers the meat in her hands and walks to the campfire. No one bothers her as she stokes the flames before skewering the meat on a sharpened stick and setting it to roast on the fire.

Shadowheart settles in next to her, and when she does, she wrinkles her nose. “That smells awful.”

“Everything down here smells awful–”

Astarion’s taken a seat and cracked open a book, but without looking up, he says, “You’re both right. This place absolutely reeks and that filth you’re cooking is making it worse.”

Wyll laughs. Auri frowns. Shadowheart huffs.

When the meat, for all intents and purposes, appears cooked, Auri pulls it from the fire. “You two are sure you don’t want any?” She looks at Wyll and Shadowheart in turn.

Wyll, at least, says, “No, thank you.”

Shadowheart just scoffs. “I’d rather starve.”

Auri shrugs. Her teeth tear through the spider meat, and if Auri doesn’t chew, it doesn’t taste so bad. Shadowheart’s grimace grows more and more disgusted, but Auri’s got a full stomach, so she doesn’t particularly care.

-----

There’s been little time to be unfocused in the Gauntlet of Shar. Everything is a potential or actual threat, and though he’s more or less convinced of their safety in this fortified pocket of ground that the orthon carved out for himself, Astarion still trances with a dagger in arm’s reach.

Still, his trance is light, and it’s been less than a day since he’s fed. He’s so much more when his senses are thrumming with Auri’s blood–

And it’s the sound of Auri that wakes him.

It’s a stifled, strangled, choking noise that pulls Astarion from his trance. It’s not close by, but he’d recognize Auri anywhere. It doesn’t sound like she’s in danger, exactly–

But Astarion slinks out from his tent anyway. Wyll and Shadowheart are nowhere to be seen; if he focuses, he can hear them both, breathing heavy with sleep in their tents. It’s hard to do that, though, when Auri’s gasping grows more and more labored.

So he follows it. And he finds her. And the reason she’s so far from camp isn’t hard to deduce once he does.

Auri’s slouched against a crumbling stone pillar. She’s managed to find a place free from bloodshed and gore, and her mind is entirely elsewhere (though she almost certainly wouldn’t have noticed Astarion anyway). From this angle it’s difficult to make much out, but Astarion doesn’t need to be able to see her in order to know what she’s doing.

Even from here, he can hear her ragged whimpering. He can smell the heat between her legs.

There’s something in Auri’s mouth, but when she slumps further down the pillar with a moan that dances on the line between relief and frustration, there’s no mistaking what she’s doing. She’s just made herself come, and she’s unsatisfied with the result.

She pulls the cloth from her mouth and whines, “Fuck.” Her body heaves and she fists both hands in her hair, leggings loose around her hips.

The idea of just watching her is appealing, but as Astarion looks on, tears prick at Auri’s eyes. He can see her bite the inside of her cheek in the way that she does when she feels that things are hopeless, and when he says, “I hope you don’t mind me saying, love, but you’ve looked better,” Auri doesn’t even startle. That’s when Astarion knows that something is truly wrong. He’d guessed, of course – there’s a feverish sweat beading on her brow and it’s unusual for her to wander off alone – but when she greets him without her usual bright smile, there’s no room left for doubt.

“Go back to camp. Please.”

There’s desperation in her voice. Astarion tilts his head to the side. “Darling–”

The pet name barely leaves his mouth before he feels her parasite push into his mind. It doesn't ask permission before it enters; Auri's lost control entirely. Astarion grunts in shock and then the assault of her tadpole on his comes into focus.

What afflicts her is lust incarnate.

“Please.” Auri struggles to form words but she tries anyway. “I'm not… myself. I can take care of this on my own. I swear.”

She's whimpering, filled with so much desire that it's causing her physical pain. When Auri tells him to leave, it's not for her own benefit. He can tell because of what the tadpole pushes into his mind, Auri's will be damned.

I could think about his hands forever. If he was the only one to touch me for the rest of my life, I'd be satisfied.

Astarion doesn't recognize what magic this is exactly, but her lust is unnaturally strong. “Not that I'm not flattered, but–”

There's a stone slab that was probably used as a table. I'm bent over it. Astarion's behind me and neither of us has bothered getting undressed. His cock pushes into me and when it does, there's finally some sense of relief. If it weren't for the gag, I'd scream loud enough to attract every enemy from here to the Underdark when he thrusts.

Astarion, suddenly, is also finding it difficult to form coherent thought.

“Go.” Auri's voice is hoarse. “This isn't your problem.”

Astarion's eyes narrow. “If you really think that I'm going to leave you here by yourself–”

“Astarion, please.” Again, Auri begs. “Something was wrong with that meat I ate. It feels infernal. Everything’s so warm. I can't–”

Auri lets out a muted moan. When Astarion steps forward, she does her best to shrink away, but the pillar she'd been using for support stops her. She doesn’t want to ask. She doesn’t want to put him in a position where he’d have to say yes or no.

He puts his palm on stone in the space next to her head.

“Would you feel better if I touched you?” Astarion asks.

Auri’s fingers shake. Her eyes flit between the hand that he isn’t using to support himself and his face.

“I don’t know,” she says. Her pulse throbs in her throat. “You don’t have to–”

He interrupts her, ignoring the latter half of her words. “Would you like to try?”

A sob wrenches itself from her body. “It’s the only thing I can think about.”

And at last, he won’t be the one at the mercy of her kindness. Maybe he’d feel used if it were someone else. But it isn’t. It’s her.

Astarion dips down to kiss her, and again, Auri’s lust pours into him. She bites at his lip greedily, hips bucking forward gracelessly into his.

When he pulls away, hand sliding beneath her waistband, Auri says, “The gag.”

Somehow, Astarion had forgotten about that. “The gag?”

Auri nods her head, a moment from falling apart without him even having touched any of the places she likes best. “The others– I don’t want the others to hear.”

When a finger slides inside her, Auri’s eyes roll to the back of her head. She’s warmer than usual, but other than that and the desire rolling off of her body, she doesn’t seem to be in any danger.

Yes. He can take care of this.

Astarion’s palm pushes up against her clit as his finger gets to work, and with his other hand, he pulls Auri’s makeshift gag up from around her neck. “What is this?”

“I stole a clean bandage from Shadowheart’s things. Another finger, please. It’s not enough–”

The Auri he’s used to is a tender thing, though she’s more than capable of playing rough. He punctuates the second finger that she asked for by stuffing the cloth bandage into her mouth. She was wet already; when the gag’s back in place, she clenches around his fingers.

“Do you want to talk or do you want me to take care of you?” he asks.

There’s fire in her eyes. Auri can’t speak, but the images she pushes into him are obscene. Astarion doesn’t even have time to process them all before he says, “Well, we can certainly try a few.”

Astarion feels the tension inside her play up with each touch. Her leggings have fallen to her ankles and the hand that’s not buried in her cunt massages her breast. He gives her nipple a delicate twist, and the strangled moan that escapes her is more than worth his trouble. The other breast falls prey to his mouth instead, and when he bites at the soft flesh there, Auri’s knees buckle.

“We can’t have that, love,” he says, and he heaves her leg up, the crook of her knee in his hand. She’s still technically wearing her leggings; they’re just in a pool around the leg still holding her to the ground. Auri’s eyes go wide at the new angle, but there’s no complaint. From here, Astarion can touch her easily, freely, and as his pace quickens, so too does her heart rate.

Please, Astarion– please–

The gag’s occupied her mouth, but she’s still able to beg through the parasite.

“I do love how you look when you come for me,” he says, and with his fingers hitched inside her, Auri shatters. It’s different from usual but no less entrancing, and for the briefest moment as Auri squirts into his hand, she almost looks like herself.

Her eyes are wide. Gods.

“That’s new,” he says, and Auri would probably laugh if the gag wasn’t still in her mouth. “Feel better?”

His cock’s hard, but that’s hardly the point of this venture.

Auri pauses before nodding, and maybe Astarion would believe it if her body language wasn’t completely at odds with her mind flooding him with the image of him spilling himself inside her as she's bent over the slab of stone that he can see from the corner of his eye. Astarion smirks, feathering his thumb over her hypersensitive clit as he pulls his fingers out from inside her. She whimpers for him, and he whispers in her ear, “Liar.”

This isn’t your problem, she says again.

Astarion licks the evidence of her orgasm from his hand. Her eyes lock onto the motion, and when he’s done, he lifts her into his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist.

“Unfortunately, without you around, my meal ticket disappears. So you are indeed my problem.”

She’s bare from the waist down. Auri’s slick enough that Astarion can feel it through his clothes. His cock’s already straining against his trousers.

She’s his problem in more ways than one.

When he lays her down on her back, he’s careful to make sure her shirt’s pulled down. The slab’s rough, unfinished, but she doesn’t seem to care. She sits up, pulling the gag from her mouth, and she says, “Let me.”

Auri reaches for the laces that will free his erection, but Astarion takes a step back so that he’s out of reach. He plucks the gag from her hand, and says, “I asked before. Do you want to talk or do you want me to take care of you?”

A shiver runs up her body and she doesn’t answer.

And that's answer enough, really. Well. That and the picture of him pulling her to the edge of the slab, bottoming out inside her, her breasts bare.

With painstaking restraint, Astarion exhales through his nose. “Oh, darling,” he says through gritted teeth. “Lie back for me, would you?”

If pressed, he’d admit it’s not the most graceful way he’s ever pulled out his cock, but it’s difficult to care when Auri is quite literally dripping in front of him. Her throat quivers and her fingers twitch; she’s doing everything she can not to touch herself, though Astarion’s not quite sure why.

He strokes himself thoughtlessly, like it’s the only natural course of action, but he won’t leave her wanting. This isn’t a night for games, although they’ve both been having fun despite her condition if the state of her thoughts is any indicator. When he dips down and presses a kiss between her legs, Auri cries out.

The gag’s still in his hand.

He fills her mouth with it in the same moment that he fills her cunt with his cock.

To distill Auri down into one word is impossible, but when he’s inside her, Astarion would struggle to name any adjective but warm. She’s a billion things, of course, not least of all naive, gullible, and foolhardy, but more than anything, she’s the essence of the sun made flesh. She’s made warmer still by whatever it is that’s afflicting her, but her body always leaves him in awe anyway.

A marvel of mortality.

When he thrusts into her, the gag swallows up a squeal that Astarion would frankly have liked to hear in its entirety. Auri’s hand reaches up behind her, nails scrabbling for purchase against unrelenting stone. When she turns her head to the side, saliva pools under her cheek, her eyes half-lidded. The underside of her breast teases him from beneath her shirt, and it’s like she was made for him–

Rip the shirt. I don’t care.

Somehow, even through her addled haze, she’s still thinking about his enjoyment. He could wonder at it, but he’d rather spend the time doing as she says. Astarion fists a hand in the front of her shirt and pulls her close. Auri’s head lolls backward before she regains the wherewithal to support herself, and before Astarion can second-guess himself, his fangs tear into her shirt enough that his hands can do the rest.

He takes a breast in his hand and squeezes as he pushes her down onto her back again, but not before he lifts her legs up onto either of his shoulders. Auri folds almost in half for him, his hips grinding against her clit as he buries himself fully inside her.

Frantic need and desire ripple through her, and if Astarion isn't careful, he'll lose control himself. The new position's made her tighter, and she's close. Astarion can feel it in the way her hips match his rhythm and from the desperate want in her eyes as her walls clench around him.

“My beautiful, depraved thing,” Astarion says, thrusting deep. It's impossible to keep his voice unaffected, but it doesn't matter. It has its intended effect anyway. “Look at you, those pretty tits bouncing as you take my cock. What would the others think if they saw you like this?”

Astarion–

“Their pretty little leader with her shirt torn open, bare on her back, coming for me again? It's a sight beyond compare.”

He won't spend himself inside her yet, though the temptation is certainly there. She's been pouring images of him fucking her into his head since they started, and this time, he returns the favor. When Auri sees herself as Astarion sees her, pupils blown out, blotchy all over, gag soaked through, she unravels. The parasite explodes with her orgasm; Astarion feels it rip through her like it's his own even as she spasms around him.

His own eyes roll back as Auri’s scream fights against the gag, but he doesn't come, and even as the climax is still rolling over her, Astarion hears her.

More– I'm sorry; I need–

She never asks for what she wants – not like this. Auri's always thinking of what he needs.

And she'd shown him before what she wanted.

“You need my cum, don't you? You want me to fuck you until I empty myself inside you?”

Whatever other thoughts she might have had go mute. Her eyes lock with his.

And this really isn't about him, but it occurs to Astarion that that's exactly what he wants, too.

He pulls his cock out from her and misses her warmth immediately, but it's a necessary evil. The beautiful thing about the tadpole and all the time that they’ve spent together is that they’re always a little bit in each other’s heads. The thought is terrifying if Astarion considers it too long, but it’s convenient that they’re on the same page about her scrambling off of the slab. Before she can readjust, Astarion presses his lips to her neck. That, too, makes her moan, and the echoes of her affection rattle along their connection.

I adore you, Auri says, and they could have done all this without Auri’s feverish state as an excuse, but it does remove an element of vulnerability that makes things much easier for Astarion.

The feeling’s mutual, though voicing it still makes his skin crawl. He doesn’t have the vocabulary for it anyway.

His fingers trail up her jawline. Auri’s eyes shine. “That’s my good girl,” he murmurs instead, and when she reaches down between his legs to take him in her hand, his nostrils flare.

She’s still the sun compared to him. Warmth radiates from her. His judgment’s impaired by his personal desire and the feeling of Auri’s hand on his cock, still slick from being inside her. Astarion’s eyes flutter shut.

Briefly, he registers that she isn't quite as warm as she was before, but there's no room for the thought.

Show me what to do, Auri says, as if she doesn't already know. It's the opposite of how this started, when she didn't want to put him in a position where he'd feel obligated to please her.

Auri's tadpole brushes up against his, and he'd known anyway, but it becomes crystal-clear.

Take what you want.

She makes him so fucking hungry.

In the fastest motion he can manage, Astarion pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the slab. The least he can do is make sure that it doesn’t mangle her.

Auri bites her lip as she releases him from her grasp, and Astarion wouldn’t say he’s being rough, but he certainly isn’t gentle when he turns her so her back’s flush with his chest. A thrill thrums through her, and then Auri’s bent over, upper body splayed across the stone.

When Astarion sheaths himself inside her again, it’s home. There’s no resistance. Auri’s body takes him like it’s what she was made to do.

There’s no patience left in him. Every time his hips meet the curve of her ass, he’s another moment closer to his own release. Auri whimpers and whines, and each sound that escapes the gag increases his pace. The freckles on her back are a constellation he’s rarely afforded the privilege of seeing while buried inside her, and his thrusts grow shallower, undisciplined–

Hells, Auri manages, half-coherent this time as he fucks her. Her singular word spurs something carnal in his gut, and he leans down, fisting a hand in her hair and pulling her face up and away from the slab.

When he does, she looks up at him from the corner of her eye. Her walls clench and his cock twitches as her gaze meets his, and she can’t really smile around the gag, but devilish pleasure is evident in her face.

He’s close. They’ve been in this position for barely a moment, but everything leading up to this moment has left Astarion close to undone as is. His grip on her hair tightens, and when she says, I can take whatever you give, Astarion’s last bit of self-control gives way.

He pulls her up, hand never releasing her hair, and when his other hand grips at her thigh, Auri knows what he wants. With only a little help from him, his cock never leaving her cunt, she kneels on the slab. Astarion exposes her neck and kisses the spot that’s his, the place he’s marked a hundred times over, and Auri shivers. Drink while you come in me– she starts, but his fingers interrupt her when they brush against her clit. Auri inhales sharply against the gag, airflow made more difficult by Astarion’s unloosened grip in her hair.

“Come for me again,” Astarion says. It’s almost a command but not quite, and Auri makes every desperate, needy sound all at once. His fingers rub at her clit, slow, deliberate, like he isn’t a hair’s breadth from shattering himself. “You taste better when you come.”

His touch quickens as he speaks, and he could lose himself in her. He already has.

Auri’s back arches, her ass pushing into him and her neck craning up until her head nearly rests on his shoulder. The artery in her neck sings its siren song, and Astarion’s not in the habit of denying himself what Auri’s body offers him.

This time when his lips meet her neck it’s a different kind of kiss, though it has Auri gasping anyway. Her saliva’s dripping down her neck in the same way her cunt drips cum around his cock. Auri’s blood pounds down Astarion’s throat as he fucks up into her, her climax pushing him to his own end. His teeth tear at her skin as he spills himself inside her, and Auri’s parasite radiates what he can only call unparalleled ecstasy.

Astarion doesn’t even want to think about what she can hear through his tadpole.

Auri shakes in his arms; her knees barely seem capable of supporting her. It’s always the hardest thing that Astarion’s ever done to pull his fangs from Auri’s flesh, and it’s made doubly difficult when he pulls his cock from her warmth at the same time.

“Alright, darling?” he asks, releasing her hair from his grasp. It’s a silly question. Astarion doesn’t know why he asks it.

Auri pulls the gag from her mouth and regards it with a look of disgust, dropping it to the ground. “When we do this again, can we get something a little more, erm–” Auri wrinkles her nose, but she hardly seems unhappy. “Dignified?”

“When we do this again?” Astarion teases, relacing his breeches. “Planning on eating more of that spider meat?”

When Auri turns to face him, she lets herself drop into a kneeling position. The adoration’s never faded from her eyes.

“If it gets you to fuck me like that, I’ll do just about anything.”

So, yes. She seems to be perfectly alright. Almost too alright.

Astarion’s eyes narrow.

“Whatever that was– it lost its grip on you after you came for me that second time, didn’t it?”

Auri smiles at him shamelessly. She’s made no move whatsoever to get dressed, entirely content to be here with him in a state that’s wholly vulnerable.

“We were having fun, weren’t we?” she asks.

Astarion laughs, soft and low.

“Yes. We were.”

#astarion #astarion x tav #tavstarion #tav x astarion #bg3 fic #bg3 tav #bg3 smut #astarion smut #astarion ancunin

380 notes · View notes

allhailtheauri · 26 days ago

Text

Sky: Protecting the Light

— [ CONSTELLATIONS + SPIRITS IN THEM ] —

Constellations r made up of stars and each spirit is linked to a star . The stars share a name with the spirit .

“Belonging” ( soundwave + cassettes )

Soundwave , Laserbeak , Buzzsaw , Rumble , Frenzy , Ravage

“Unity” ( autobot main command )

Optimus / Orion Pax , Elita-1 , Prowl , Jazz , ( empty slot )

“The Studious” ( the medics and scientists )

Skyfire , Ratchet , Pharma , First Aid , Wheeljack , Shockwave , Knockout

“???” ( trine )

Starscream , Thundercracker , Skywarp

Additional notes on the “stars” :

A brighter star drifts near the one named “Knockout” , that star was named “Breakdown” . Not a part of the studious constellation but he remains close by .

An unnamed star that constantly moves and rearranges itself in the night sky . No true alignment . ( Megatron )

#auri finally thinks #Sky: Protecting the Light #transformers #transformers au #sky cotl #constellations and spirits

7 notes · View notes

sohnric · 2 years ago

Text

sweet like candy – e. sohn

pairing: eric sohn x fem! reader

genre: summer au, strangers to something more ?? fluff, suggestive. very much stargazing by the neighbourgood and fantasize by the boyz capsuled into a fic. eric is a simp and a hopeless romantic because i said so. a girl romanticizes sharing a lollipop (its me im girl)

warnings: alcohol, maybe some minimal swearing, a heated make out session that hints onto a hookup (no smut mentioned!). the use of a cheesy nickname babydoll (dont @ me or i will deactivate), reader has hair long enough for a claw clip

word count: 6.9k

a/n: almost cried while trying to name this fic somebody send help. Also this doesn't feel like my best work its kinda rushed imo but 🤠 yolo

part of the @deoboyznet summer on you event! cant believe i made it on time

a summer tradition of renting out a cabin every year invented by a couple of friends takes a turn for eric when a new addition to the circle brings him to his knees - in other words, he never knew tequila could taste so sweet.

If anyone ever asked Eric Sohn if he believed in love at first sight, he would, without a doubt, say yes.

What was the proof he had? Well, absolutely nothing. All he ever knew about love at first sight was from romance movies he watched during lonely nights with his roommate Juyeon, never having the experience of the whole world stopping and zooming in on one particular person, taking his breath away– but to put it simply, Eric Sohn is a true romantic. Call him cheesy if you want– he wouldn’t like it, but he also wouldn’t disagree.

On one summer afternoon, though, his world tilts in its axis– the moment comes, and he is finally able to test out his theory.

You walk out of the passenger’s side of a red 2008 Toyota Auris, hair put up into a claw clip, jean shorts showing off your long legs and a pearl white button-up opened and lazily thrown over your outfit, and suddenly, Eric Sohn finds his knees buckling and his palms sweating with affection. He was aware that Juyeon’s girlfriend was bringing her best friend to tag along to their little summer retreat (more like a trip to a cabin in the middle of the woods), but he sure as hell didn’t expect the stranger to make him feel this type of way.

Sure, it might just be him being incredibly attracted to you. But with how fast his heart was beating when you smiled at everyone after introducing yourself to the group, he was sure he was slowly, but surely falling for you. And he was falling hard.

He feels like the world is moving in slow motion as he watches the group go and unload the car– you and your best friend Yeri were the last ones to arrive– and what wakes him up from the haze is when he watches you struggle to carry a cooler out of the trunk into the cabin, his legs dragging him closer to the vehicle and near to your body.

Now is his time to shine. “Let me help!” he hurries out, sneakers crunching on the gravel. His hands firmly grab onto the handle of the blue cooler, muscles flexing under the weight (making him wonder why you would willingly want to carry the thing and not ask him or any of the guys for help in the first place), and when your eyes look up at come in contact with his, he presses a smile to his lips. “I’m Eric, by the way.”

“Ah,” you gasp, a grateful expression breezing over your features, “thanks. I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Eric hums, watching your every move. Your figure walks over to the front of the car, your head popping in close to the window to look inside, and when a satisfied look overtakes your features, Eric finds himself asking. “Is that everything?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “we can head inside, I think.”

The boy tries hard to keep his cool, he really does. But with how he’s trailing behind you like a lost puppy, attempting to find a topic that would engage him in a conversation with you, he feels like a boy that is just experiencing a crush for the first time in his life. Everything about you is enchanting– and sure, you could say he was just painfully attracted to you and this had nothing to do with love– but he was also convinced that if you asked him to jump off the Empire State Building, he would do it without giving it a second thought (which is kind of worrying, but again– it says a lot).

You open the door to the cabin for him, and he finds himself speechless at the action. Once your eyes meet again and you offer him another subtle smile, he finds himself gasping at the sentence that comes out of your mouth.

“Hey! We’re matching, kinda,” you note, pointing towards his outfit.

And you’re right– Eric didn’t even notice at first, too enchanted with your sheer existence– but you two were indeed wearing the same thing. Jean shorts, and a white button-up– in your case, thrown over a white tank top, in Eric’s, closed (although he did leave it a bit open at the top, revealing his tanned skin). Suddenly, the boy is glad he’s wearing a red cap to cover up his hair, since he foolishly thinks the hat provides him enough shade in the face to not reveal his burning cheeks as he utters out a weak response.

“It looks so much better on you, though.”

With that, he walks into the cabin– escaping the situation, not really paying a single thought to chivalry and letting you go through the door first– and as he reaches the crowd of people in the kitchen, he prays for all high sources to find him, get to him and wipe his brain clean of all thoughts, because

even though you are basically matching (and he does think you look so much better in the outfit than he does), all he can think about is just how much more he’d like your outfit if the white button-up enveloping your body was the one he’s wearing right now instead.

The next time Eric finds courage to talk to you is when it seems like you’re not finding it to talk to anyone else yourself– the big group is currently sitting around a fire, marshmallows and sausages slowly burning in the blazing flames– and while everyone around was either talking to each other or singing along to the songs Jacob was playing on the guitar, you were sitting alone in the middle of two commotions: Chanhee and Changmin arguing about something seemingly important, and Yeri and Juyeon making out right in front of everyone’s eyes.

And Eric was supposed to listen to Sunwoo talk about his latest heartbreak– how the man still gets no girls despite having such an objectively handsome face, Eric truly doesn’t know– but the topic of the conversation was too boring for him to engage with it. That, and he was also painfully aware of your every move– you didn’t even move much– and word– you weren’t talking to anybody– and that was slowly driving him insane.

You looked a little out of place. Eric supposes it was because you didn’t really know anyone here– except from your best friend and her awfully sappy boyfriend– but even though it was logical and a little expected for you to be a bit excluded in such a foreign circle, the man took it as his mission to make you feel as welcome and as included as he physically could.

Completely ignoring Sunwoo’s blabbering (like he was doing for the last few minutes anyway), Eric confidently (and a bit shakily– hands sweating and breath hitching in his throat) walks to the other side of the bonfire, from where he’s been watching your stone expression through the flames, and sits down in the small place between you and Changmin. Changmin wasn’t even facing you, too engrossed in the debate he was having with Chanhee, and so it was Eric’s job to wobble his bottom into the place, efficiently making the older boy move away with a light elbow jab sent into his lower back.

“Hi,” he clears his throat, “are you having fun?” he asks, but mentally curses at himself right as the question escapes his mouth– does she look like she's having fun? Of course she doesn't, you stupid idiot.

You smile at the question, though, nodding. “Yeah,” you hum, “having lots of fun listening to your friends argue and my friends making out next to my ear.”

“You seemed like it too, y’know,” Eric laughs, “they’re always like this, by the way. They’ll forget about the fight in the morning.”

“Oh, that could never be me,” you sigh, shaking your head at the sentiment.

“No?”

“No,” you shrug, “I get too petty. If we have a fight, I’m not speaking to you for at least two weeks.”

Eric finds himself laughing at your comment. “I’ll remember that for future reference.”

Straightening your back and looking at your companion– as if you were going to call him out on his subtle hint of there being any future meeting between the two of you– you suddenly gasp and swiftly turn towards the bonfire, an honest mourn escaping your lips.

“Oh fuck!” you curse under your breath as your hand reaches towards a stick that’s had its end in the flame, the device efficiently resting against a rock in a position where you didn’t have to pay any attention to the snack you were cooking– more like burning– for yourself. With a quick move for the stick, you pull the tip of it out of the scorching red of the bonfire and look at it in an examining way, as if the result would be different and the marshmallow would unburn itself if you stared at it long enough. “I completely forgot about this!”

Eric takes a glance at the burnt piece of fluff, letting out a laugh at the black marshmallow in front of your face. “That’s not how you make a good s’more,” he notes, poking fun at your annoyed face.

“Oh, no shit, Sherlock…” you mutter under your breath, but your face looks a bit sad to see the piece go to waste. “I don’t know why I even tried, I’m bad at this stuff.”

There comes his moment, Eric thinks. “Well, you’re lucky, ‘cause you just met an expert at making s’mores.”

“Does a thing like that even exist?” you chuckle, rolling your eyes at the male in disbelief.

“Of course it does! You’re looking at one now,” he grins, leaning over you to take a brand new marshmallow out of the bag to your right– sandwiched between your thigh and the couple in love– before he reaches over to your hand and takes the roasting stick out of your hand, slides the white fluffy cloud through the sharp tip and hovers it above the flame.

“The key is to hold it above the flame, and not in the flame,” Eric chuckles as he looks at you from the corner of his eye, watching your expression change.

“Oh, but I thought the key is to burn the thing,” you ironically gasp, shaking your head at his teasing. “Where did you even learn all of this?”

“I grew up in the States,” Eric hums, “they would deport me if I didn’t know how to make s’mores.”

The comment gets a giggle out of you– a sound Eric almost folds at and falls into the open fire (thankfully, he held his composure– he doesn’t think 3rd degree burns would suit his look) – and it takes everything in him to not scream like a teenage girl at the thought of making you laugh. Yes, that’s how down bad you managed to get the male.

“Do you have a special recipe?”

“Just the basic one,” he shrugs, turning the skewer in his hand to make the marshmallow equally glazed on each side, “I will make it extra good for you, though.”

“I thought a master always does their best?” you tease, watching as the boy crumbles under your gaze.

“Not always. I don’t like to put effort into things that aren’t worth it,” Eric hums as he takes the marshmallow out of the burning fire, examining it, and after deeming it worthy, taking the skewer and holding it up in between his knees. The male takes a graham cracker and tears it in half, before adding chocolate to one of the sides. After he’s done, he carefully places the golden fluff ball onto the cracker and closes it, offering the sweet sandwich to you with a subtle smile.

“For you,” he winks as he turns back towards the fire, putting another marshmallow onto the stick to make himself a s’more as well (and also mentally kicking himself at the sudden burst of courage). He hears you take a bite out of the snack, his knee bouncing up and down nervously as he awaits the verdict.

“Man,” you hum, “this is so good.”

“Told you,” he says, “if there’s something I’m confident in, it’s making s’mores.”

“That’s a very unuseful skill to have,” you note, but continue to eat. The comment has him chuckle and shrug.

“Well, I used it now, so I’d argue it’s actually very useful.”

A hum cuts out of your throat at this, finishing the s’more he made for you with a satisfied sigh. “Is this how you got girls back in the States?” you ask, making the male choke on his spit.

Eric was too young to get girls when he learned how to make the greatest s’mores. He went camping with his dad and his older sister and he burned a couple before he got it right. He was in middle school and before what the kids call a glow-up these days (back in the days, you just called it overcoming puberty), but still– he decides to test the waters with another lazy, half-assed flirty comment. “Only the pretty ones.”

He hears a chuckle out of you– a reaction he decides to not pay much attention to or overthink, for he doesn’t really remember what a good reaction to flirting is anymore– but then, you sigh and nod. “Well, I give your s’more a 5 star review, so I’d find that believable.”

The comment has Eric press his tongue into the inside of his cheek, battling a victorious smile that wants to oh so desperately appear on his lips. Turning his attention fully to you, he looks at you with confidence coating his insides– it only grows when he notices you staring at the side of his face, the flame of the fire twinkling in your eye and making your features sharper and twice as attractive to the poor boy.

His eyes scan you over for a few seconds before he notices a glimmer of something on the side of your lip– a chocolate stain that has him cautiously lean in and swipe a thumb over the sweetness, not even thinking twice before smoothing his finger over your skin.

“You had a little… something there,” he hums as he licks the chocolate off his thumb. Your eyes still trained on him force him to avert his gaze back to the fire– for it was unbearable, as if sparks were flying and burning his skin, everything about the interaction making goosebumps appear over his body; even though he felt hot in his cheeks and not at all cold– when the sight of his marshmallow in flames suddenly comes to him, startling him awake.

Hurriedly dragging out the burnt snack out of the fire, he hears you chuckle at him from the side– so much for not ruining the moment. (It’s okay, though. As long as you’re entertained.)

“I thought you were a master at s’mores,” you poke fun at him, “got distracted?”

Meeting eyes with you, Eric shrugs, a lazy grin settling to his lips. “I guess you could say that.”

The night progresses quickly– with Sunwoo getting so drunk he borrows Jacob’s guitar and clumsily strums the strings, freestyle rapping about the most random topics with flushed cheeks and eyes dramatically glued to the fire; Hyunjae wanting to have a competition of who can jump over the flames and Sangyeon having to stop his drunk friend with the force of his own body– and Eric finds his eyes lacking the candy he’s been occupying himself with the whole evening. You disappeared somewhere into the house a few minutes ago, and although he didn’t want to be clingy, he walked up to the cabin with a nervous pep in his step– that’s it, he just wanted to make sure you were okay.

Eric walks through the doorway, having his body immediately be met with the joined common room slash kitchen area. The cabin is kind of small (too small for the amount of people currently occupying it) and kind of old, but it’s a tradition to rent it every year during the summer, so no one ever questioned the decision or made the move to rent out a bigger one, no matter the growing friend group.

Your figure finally appears in the dimly lit kitchen area, your back turned to the doorway. Standing at the kitchen sink, it seems like you were doing the dishes– tons of plates used to carry grilled meat and sausages dumped carelessly into the sink, forgotten in a minute and leaving the last remains of food dry up on them and get hard to scrape off, a couple of glasses and mugs with their ears broken off from their age waiting with coffee stains at the bottom– and Eric immediately feels his heart fall down to his stomach, because why would one do the dishes in the middle of the night? Those usually get left there until the morning, when the least hungover person will take mercy on the rest and take care of them. Were you feeling excluded from the conversation? Did you feel bored?

“What are you doing here so alone?” he asks, making you turn your head over your shoulder and smile at him– a stone falling off his heart at the action– before you shrug at him.

“Washing the dishes,” you say, as if it wasn’t clear already.

“I see that,” Eric chuckles, “what I meant to say was, why are you washing the dishes in the first place?”

“Well, somebody’s gotta do it.”

Eric huffs– and he doesn’t even know why he’s so defensive about it. “That someone didn’t have to be you, y’know.”

He’s standing next to you now– your eyes meeting as you stare at the boy for a heartbeat– a smile spreading on your face at his furrowed brows. The action has him visibly relax, watching as you shrug and get back to the dish washing. “I just wanted some alone time for a bit,” you muse, “outside was getting too loud for a second, I’m not used to crowds.”

“Ah… once Sunwoo drinks, he can’t shut up, so I kinda get that it was starting to feel insufferable,” Eric notes, nodding at you in acknowledgement before the realization hits him. “Wait– you said you wanted to be alone, so I should probably-”

You halt him with a soft laugh– the one Eric finds his heart liking a little too much, with how it jumps up and down and makes all of him feel warm inside– a soapy hand reaching out in his direction. “It’s okay, you can stay,” you muse, “I enjoy your company.”

“O-okay,” Eric stutters– so much for the smooth lines he had prepared in his head before coming in here, all of them flying out of his head straight out of the window– and to not seem so silly, he gets his hands occupied and reaches for the clean dishes you started stacking on the counter next to the sink, deciding to dry them and put them away. The kitchen falls into a comfortable silence that only gets broken by an occasional scream landing through the walls from outside, and Eric can’t help but indulge himself in the domesticity of the act.

He can almost imagine you two washing the dishes like this in your shared apartment after you two cook dinner together and eat it in your cozy living room. That scenario sounds almost too good for the boy, having warmth slowly ooze into his cheeks, and that, he finds to be the hint that he should probably stop thinking about you in that way now or else he’ll get too distracted and break the glasses he is currently putting away. (God forbid– there were not enough of them for the entire friend group in the first place.)

“Are you having a good time, though?” Eric finds himself asking through his weird delirium.

You smile– oh god you smile, you should stop doing that if you want him to survive the night– and nod at the boy, calmness overtaking your aura and slipping into his cracks as well. “I am. It’s nice meeting new people and everyone’s very nice,” you say.

“That’s good to hear. How long have you and Yeri been friends?”

“A couple of years,” you note, “we met during high school. We always dreamt of moving away to college and living together at dorms or something, so it’s… it’s nice that it worked out for us,” you say, having Eric nod at your words with a sweet smile.

“That’s great to hear,” he muses, “I met Juyeon and Sunwoo in my freshman year of college, and the rest just… came along after a while.”

“Your friend group is pretty big,” you point out, having the boy shrug.

“I guess so,” Eric mumbles, never really thinking of it this way– in his eyes, this was normal. This was how he operated, how he lived. A lot of people around him, always close– one would think such a large friend group wouldn’t be as close with each other, but it’s quite the opposite in his case, he thinks. Maybe he was just blessed.

“How do you do that?” you sigh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I dunno,” he snickers, “guess you could say I’m quite the social butterfly.”

“I can see that,” you laugh. Eric watches you, his hands now empty of any dish– he’s been drying them quicker than you manage to clean (and rightfully so, the food is stuck on there) – he starts noticing the details of your sheer presence. How you have a slight smile playing with your lips even when your eyes are glued to the sink, how your hair slightly slips out of the claw clip and frames your face, how close you’re standing– his eyes slip towards your hands, noticing the water running down your forearms and dangerously close to the sleeves of your shirt.

Acting on reflex, mostly, the boy reaches towards your sleeves and gently tugs them up, the contact of your skin that he initiates and should realistically be prepared for making the tips of his fingers tingle, the action having you stop in your movements and glance up at him through your eyelashes– a sight he wishes he could engrave into the back of his eyelids so he could stare at it forever and always.

“Thank you,” you hum, voice barely louder than a whisper when he retracts away from you, taking his previous stance against the kitchen counter.

Eric hangs his head low for a second, clearing his throat to ease his own tension. Now is your turn to start up the conversation, a casual question falling off your lips as you get back to washing the last remains of dishes. “Yeri said you come here often?”

The boy nods enthusiastically to your sentence. “We do. We started in freshman year, because Juyeon was going to this exchange program to Paris for a couple of months, so we threw him a goodbye party. Then he came back, so we threw a welcome back party here. And then we celebrated Younghoon hyung’s birthday here, and it kind of stuck, I guess? We go here at least once a year during summer.”

“That’s a nice tradition to have,” you sigh, turning the faucet off as you finish rinsing off the last dish– a big bowl that Sangyeon used to marinate the meat a few hours ago.

“It is,” Eric nods, smiling fondly at the sentiment. He reaches for the bowl and dries it with the now damp rag (there were a lot of dishes to dry, after all), and moves to put it back to its place under the sink. With your figure still in its previous spot, the boy puts away the towel onto the kitchen counter and gently grabs your waist with his free hand, moving you away a few inches to the left. He crouches and opens the cabinet under the sink and puts the bowl into the pyramid of other ones, straightening his back when he goes back into a standing position, catching you staring at him from above, watching his every move. Your body is leaning against the counter, having Eric mirror your stance only a few inches away from you before speaking up again.

“You’re welcome to join us when we come back next time.”

The time reads 3AM– or at least that’s what his circadian rhythm tells him, because he doesn't bother to check as he twists and turns in the bed, too hot and too alert to fall asleep– when Eric decides to walk down the steep stairs and try to get some fresh air. The cabin is hot inside, but he still takes his lost button-up that he had thrown over one of the kitchen chairs and puts it on before he makes his way outside, knowing that the forest will make his bones get cold with the crisp breeze.

He opens the door and moves to sit on the little patio– the silence of outside is overwhelming even after the cabin has quieted down and everyone has gone to sleep (each one on a different level of tipsy ranging from completely chill Sangyeon to doesn’t know where he is Sunwoo– with Eric somewhere in the middle of the spectrum). His legs drag a little tiredly as he scans his surroundings– god forbid there’s a bear out waiting for him– when the sight of a figure sitting on the floor takes him by surprise, their head already turned to him after hearing the sound of the door opening.

“What are you doing here?” he asks as he walks over to you, noticing your frame dressed in a tank top and sweatpants, hinting that you at least tried to get some sleep before coming out here, just like he has.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you shrug, confirming his suspicions.

“Same here,” the man sighs, “mind if I sit with you?”

“You’re welcome to join me,” you smile at him, patting the floor next to you and watching as Eric crouches down before taking a seat on the wood, ignoring the sunbeds and old rattan chairs situated all over the patio. (If you’re on the floor, he’s on the floor– it’s as simple as that.)

You’re holding a lollipop in between your fingers, your other hand occupied with a half-empty bottle of tequila that was previously passed around the circle at the bonfire. Eric raises his brows at the sight, having you shamefully avert your gaze from him.

“I thought it would be a waste to not finish this,” you say, snickering, “and I also… kind of hoped that it would put me to sleep…”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures?”

“I guess you could say that,” you laugh. Taking a sip from the bottle, you gulp the alcohol down before putting the lollipop inside of your mouth, sucking on it and licking your lips after. This is not the way you’re supposed to drink tequila, but Eric figures that gathering salt and a lime would be too much work anyways.

“Are you really using that lollipop as a chaser?” he giggles, making you hum.

“Yeah,” you stare at him, a grin overtaking your features, “this girl taught me to do that at a party last year. It’s not as good as literally anything else, but it gets the job done. Wanna try?” you ask, offering him the sweetness on the stick and the bottle.

The truth is, you were only a bit tipsy when the group slowly started to scatter into their beds. Eric didn’t drink as much either– only enough to make him laugh at everything that was said and make his staring at you twice as obvious as it was before– so he thinks he can take some more. As you said, it would be a shame if the bottle went to waste– and also, something about the idea of drinking with you alone on the patio was making his hopeless heart hammer against his chest in dangerous measures.

“Sure,” he agrees, taking the bottle first. The boy takes a sip, feeling the alcohol burn down his throat, and when he moves the dark brown glass away from his lips, he is met with the image of you leaning closer to him, offering him the lollipop. His hand instinctively grabs the plastic stick, thinking you’re letting go of it, when he’s met with the feeling of your flesh under his fingertips. You put the lollipop against his lips, making him open up on instinct and suck on the strawberry flavored candy, a million different sensations (all unrelated to the alcohol) swimming through his brain– you’re so close, you smell so good, he’s holding your hand, he’s sucking on the lollipop you previously had in between your lips and it’s driving him crazy– before you take the candy out from between his lips and put it back into your mouth, tongue swirling around the sweet ball.

The lollipop had an aftertaste of tequila on it, but it was enough to chase down the faint bitterness– Eric finds himself wanting to taste more of the sweet strawberry, but foolishly desiring to get the sensation off your lips instead. His eyes stay locked with yours throughout the whole exchange, sparks flying in between the two of you even though the bonfire has long gone out, his fingers lazily dropping from the candy.

“How was it?” you ask, voice barely louder than a whisper– goosebumps appearing all over Eric’s skin when he swears your eyes flicker to his lips for a split second.

“Good,” he admits. It’s silly how he feels so breathless at the action.

The sound of the wind playing with the leaves of the forest is the only thing accompanying you two. It’s as if you two were thinking of the same thing when you pull out the lollipop out of your mouth and offer it back to Eric, watching with utmost interest as the boy leans closer to capture it in between his lips, never breaking eye contact. The action feels a little too electrifying to him, a little too intimate, but he can't stop– can't even imagine wanting to.

Taking a sip of the tequila, but not chasing it down with the candy, you speak up again, lazy eyes practically glued to him. “This would be a perfect moment for a kiss…” you mumble, licking your bottom lip for a split second before biting down on it.

“Are you flirting with me?” Eric foolishly asks, tone of voice a bit weak, a little unsure, the candy still in his mouth, making his words come out a little jambled.

“Mhm,” you nod, grinning to yourself– Eric wonders how much of your behavior and how much of his raging heartbeat is due to the effect of alcohol in both of your veins.

His fingers pull at yours as he takes the candy out of his mouth, voice dropping as he answers you. “Then we probably shouldn’t waste the moment.”

Even though the intentions are clear, the boy can’t bring himself to make the first move– he’s completely enchanted with your presence, staring at you with tension in his shoulders and eyes trained onto your face, watching and examining it for any shift or change. Focused on the way you move, he thinks you must have realized you were going to have to be the one to take the first step– your lazily smile before you lean closer, impossibly close– making Eric’s eyes flutter shut with anticipation, your breath fanning his face making goosebumps appear all over his body.

When your lips finally touch his, he feels like he’s being kissed for the first time again, with the amount of fuzziness in his stomach and buzzing in his ears. He regains his composure quite quickly, though, as he positions his head in a way that makes you two even closer to each other, lips pressing firmer against yours now. His hand instinctively reaches out to hold your jaw, fingertips glazing the soft skin under them, your lips retracting only to go in for more.

Blindly placing the bottle onto the floor next to your bodies, you peck his lips and sigh into the kiss. “Damn, you’re good at this…”

“We’re only getting started,” he muses, making you chuckle.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm,” he nods, watching as you once again lean in and suck on his upper lip, making his eyes flutter close again. A weight appears over him as you shift in your place and move to straddle his lap, your hand moving to cup his cheek and tilt him upwards, everything about the kisses getting more hurried– less gentle, less hesitant– when you tug on his bottom lip with your teeth and grant your tongue entry into his mouth.

Sweetness mixes in between you, your hands moving around his neck, heavy breaths shared across the patio. Eric feels like he’s levitating, his body having an out of body experience, yet being awfully present– every little shift pushing him to overdrive, the slightest touch making his skin burn and heart drum against his ribcage.

You shift in his lap, making him huff under the pressure, his lips trailing wet kisses down the side of your neck. Teeth glazing the jointure of your shoulder, kitten licking the place and sucking in a bruise that will eventually be visible to everyone when you two wake up in the morning, Eric feels your hands tugging down the sleeves of his shirt, fingers feeling up his biceps. The action makes him chuckle into your neck, but the smile fades quickly as he feels your nails scratching gently at his flaming skin.

“Take this off,” you mutter, and Eric finds it endearing– helping you take him out of the button-up, sitting under you in just a white tank top and black basketball shorts.

“Why?”

“Your arms looked good in this,” you hiss before you hide your face into his neck, leaning down to give him your fair share of kisses and love bites, having the male teasingly joke as his hands run up under your tank top, painfully aware of the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra anymore.

He moves his head to the side to give you more access before speaking out, tone of voice husky and coated in lust. “What if I get cold now?”

“Then I’m more than happy to move this to your room,” you purr into his ear.

Eric sighs, fingers playing with the hem of your top before he lets his palms drift towards your exposed stomach, roaming across naked skin. Goosebumps appear all over your body at the action, making the boy victoriously grin. “It looks like you’re the one that's cold, though, babydoll.”

Rolling your eyes at the male, you shut him up by latching yourself onto his lips before you speak against his mouth. “I’ll take that as an invitation, then?”

“Wake up Eric! The girls are leaving, you should at least go say goodbye!” Sangyeon roars into the boy's room, making the male turn over in the bed and huff out in frustration. He drags his arm up to shield his eyes from the sunlight hitting his face, the intention of just rolling over and sleeping more written very clearly in his face.

“Come on man, we’re leaving in an hour too, so you should go send them off and then pack your shit so we can load the cars,” Sangyeon says when he gets no reaction from the youngest. It’s to no use, apparently, and so as the oldest and most observant out of the group, Sangyeon decides to use physical force– he knows Eric would hate to have you go without saying goodbye. He’s not stupid. Or blind.

A strong hold on his calves drags Eric out of the bed and makes his half-naked body fall to the floor, a yelp coming out of his throat finally making Eric’s body fully alert and awake.

“Yo! What the fuck–”

“Put a shirt on and go say goodbye to Y/N before she goes, would you, sleeping beauty?” Sangyeon huffs before rolling his eyes at his younger friend, escaping the room and shutting the door close after himself with a loud thud (to add more effect to the scolding, Eric thinks).

The mention of your name has Eric quickly scrambling out of the bed. His heart hammers at the adrenaline rush, pulling a clean shirt out of his bag and dragging it over his head, the basketball shorts from yesterday’s night found on the floor being pulled over his lower frame in approximately 0.5 seconds. Eric takes the stairs 3 at a time– with how steep they are, he questions how exactly does he not trip and break his spine on his way down– and puts on a pair of slippers he finds at the door (that are not his, or his size, for the matter, making his heels comically stick out from the back).

Without checking his appearance in the mirror anywhere, he swings the door open and walks out of the cabin, watching as the group settles in a half-circle around your car, Yeri loading the trunk with her duffle bag before she closes it shut and smiles at her boyfriend Juyeon on the side. Eric joins the crowd, clearing his throat when his eyes fall onto your figure, the sight in front of him freezing him in his spot.

You’re standing there, in your jean shorts from the day before, an oversized white button-up enveloping your frame. A clueless stranger might not tell the difference, but he does– you put the shirt onto your bare skin and buttoned it just enough to reveal a bit of your cleavage– and it’s so similar to the outfit you had on yesterday, just with one difference.

You’re wearing Eric’s shirt. You’re wearing his shirt and your neck is scattered with red and purple-ish bruises, and no, Eric wasn’t that drunk and he remembers everything, but the events of last night suddenly play out right in front of his eyes like a movie, still nailing him to his spot and wiping out all of his vocabulary.

The boy feels hot in his cheeks as he watches you and your best friend pay your goodbyes to the rest of the boys, the men pulling you into side-hugs and fist bumps, shared ‘It was nice meeting you’s and ‘You should come by next time too’s resonating through the place. Soon enough, you reach the end of the make-shift half circle and lock your eyes with Eric, a playful smile softly appearing on your face.

“It was nice meeting you, Eric,” you hum, “I had fun,” you note, shooting him a knowing look.

“Me too,” he nods, nervously chewing on his bottom lip. He doesn’t know where the confidence of last night went, but he suddenly feels unarmed and lost. What does one do now?

The sight of you in his shirt makes him feel like his biggest (wet) dream has come true– call him cheesy, but it also wakes up a sense of déja vu in him from the day before– you with sunlight in your eyes, hair messed up in a claw clip. He feels like he just fell in love at first sight again. Is that even possible?

It’s good you have a sense in you that makes you take the initiative and be in charge when you see him faltering. A giggle cuts out of your throat as you lean in and hug the boy around his neck, your lips dangerously close to his ear as you speak in a hushed whisper, not wanting to be heard by the men around you.

“I stole your shirt from you, by the way. You should text me if you want it back, so we can meet up, or something,” you mouth, lips gently glazing the sensitive skin of Eric’s ear, and god does he feel like he's going to suffocate from the lack of oxygen this causes in his lungs.

“You look amazing in my clothes, so I won’t ask for it back,” Eric hums, “but I’ll text you just in case you ever wanna bless my eyes with the sight again.”

“Deal. I’ll make Juyeon text me your number,” you say before you pull away from him, shooting him a wink that almost has his knees buckling like a school boy in love for the first time.

You walk backwards and wave at the group, sending Eric one last look before you join the passenger’s side and close the car door behind you, the sound of Yeri starting the engine resonating through the quiet forest. The men wave at you until the Toyota disappears out of sight, only scattering inside when it does to gather their things and load up their cars as well.

Eric is woken up from his trance by a teasing whistle coming out of Sunwoo’s mouth and a father-like slap to his back from Sangyeon.

He wonders if he’s truly being so obvious. (He's unaware of the fact that you two had very visible matching love bites on your necks. It doesn’t take much effort to put two and two together– don't tell him that, though.)

Still, Eric shrugs and goes inside with a different kind of pep to his step.

When he licks his lips, he swears he can still taste the strawberries.

#dbn: summer on you #deoboyznet #the boyz #eric sohn #tbz #eric sohn x reader #eric sohn fluff #eric sohn angst #eric sohn scenario #eric fluff #eric angst #sohn youngjae #tbz fic #tbz x reader #tbz fluff #the boyz x reader #the boyz fluff

443 notes · View notes

boiledkwamaegg · 23 hours ago

Note

i was wondering, what is faenil’s relationship with religion? do they hate the gods for making them the dragonborn, or maybe they never cared about that stuff at all? did they dabble in making deals with the daedra?

You've unlocked a topic I'm very passionate about LOL I wanted to ponder on this one for a bit but I finally got around to answering, yay!

To start off, I'm linking a song here from Faenil's playlist that I think sums it up well. After all, the story of the dragonborn to me has always been about ascending to god status. Being something so big all in one single mortal body, that the rest of the gods are fighting over it. A soul sent by the god of time all the way to the afterlife to kill the end of the world. In Faenil's case, this soul is so bitter, so angry and so very very hurt, and they will do all of this while rubbing a big nasty middle finger in Akatosh's face.

I'm putting the rest of this text under a cut - TW: i explore religious trauma here and mention suicidal tendencies briefly...

I am really fond of the idea that the chosen one, the hero, is reluctant or almost unwilling to play their part. I mean, Faenil is straight up UNQUALIFIED to be the dragonborn. Yes, they are skilled, they are powerful, they are resilient, and they get shit done, but they are definitely not a hero, and they're just one mental breakdown away from letting the whole world end. And like, they know they're unqualified, and they are so very confused by it all. Well, someone has to do it, but why them specifically? And while they might use this hero title to get away with some questionable things every now and then, they kind of hate that they can do that. After all, Faenil has always believed that you get your way through hard work and planning, so the dragonborn stuff just feels... almost like some sick joke from the gods.

I can't imagine Faenil was ever religious or cared about following any gods at all, and as a skilled conjurer they know how dangerous the daedra are so they don't dabble with that sort of worship either. But since in the Elder Scrolls universe deities are very much real, they're obviously kind of unavoidable. I'm sure Faenil had their fair share of visits to the church with their father, and I'm sure he liked Auri-El a whole lot and had this facade of a good holy man that only Faenil could see through. And I'm sure Faenil must feel quite weird when they get to Skyrim almost a hundred years later to find out that all those mind-numbingly boring sermons their father forced them to go through as a kid applied to them more than they realized.

No, Faenil doesn't like the divines, not only because they're the annoying facts and logic type science person lol, but because they genuinely believe the gods are so cruel. They know that they're just a playing piece in the divine interdimensional time travel chess board, and they absolutely hate it from the bottom of their rotten heart. And why should you even waste your breath praying to something that doesn't give a single flying fuck about you? They will maybe sarcastically gasp Auri-El's name during some humorous situation, but that's as deep as it goes. No, as far as Faenil is concerned, they're a god themself, unworthy of any worship, but welcoming of it nonetheless.

I always say that Faenil was supposed to die a long time ago, but they're just really, really good at surviving. Like, they thought that they were going to die many times, and yet, they just never do, because the gods have all these mysterious plans for them. Every time they come to peace with the fact that this was it, the end is here and they had a good run but now it's time to rest - it just... never happens. They never get to rest. And Faenil has never really been actively suicidal or anything, they're stupid destructive but very good at carrying on and surviving against all the odds. Like it's gone to the point that it's almost funny even, that they always get blown and torn apart, and they just continuously pick their parts up and stitch it all back together and keep on going. But it's a pretty gruesome existence, to have it happen to you over and over again - to have someone do that to your body, and still having the strength and pure determination to pick yourself up over and over again like it's nothing and screaming fuck you at the world and saying that your body is YOURS and that you are indestructible as long as you choose to be. And at that point, you might as well be divine.

Well, it's beautiful, and it's sad, and I hope there's something for everyone to take away from that.

23 notes · View notes

somemaycallthisjunk · 1 month ago

Text

I think my Skyrim brainrot has finally eased! I get to play the Sims now-

I'm back in the fucking building again.

I can't be bothered to get or make accurate face paint, I'm just occupying myself while waiting for the Val update lol

Also not one of them can smile normally

also have Auri showing her fangs + Taliesin being Taliesin in CAS

#tesblr #the sims 4 #skysim #eochaid of cyrodiil #baelin of the reach #samira at orren #gore skyrim #serana volkihar #skyrim farkas #farkas skyrim #vilkas skyrim #auri song of the green #taliesin skyrim

27 notes · View notes

skyrim-forever · 4 months ago

Text

WIP Wednesday

Thank you for the tag @hircines-hunter <3

I'm tagging: @theoneandonlysemla @bougainvillea-and-saltwater @pocket-vvardvark @dirty-bosmer @changelingsandothernonsense

@lucien-lachance @firefly-factory @scholarlyhermit @sheirukitriesfandom @umbracirrus @lillxart @ladytanithia

@sanza-17 @sulphuricgrin @captain-of-silvenar

Was feeling like garbage most of last week and the ability to write vanished from me for a bit, but I've decided to return to a wip from December. This features two of Theodora's kids, Ceridwen (Ceri) and Arthano as her brother is visiting her at the CoW, in the below snippet they are giving a certain miserable mer a taste of his own medicine :P Apraxic - High Elvish/Altmeris "social outcast, a shamed outcast" Under cut for length :)

“I have seen the students you work with, ” He looks at her when he says this. “What you consider worthy of associating with is something I’d never subject myself to barring anything other than absolute necessity.” Faralda opens her mouth to speak, furrowed brows as she once again reminds him of his place as the slight delay in their meeting is making him bold, but she doesn’t get the chance.

“Who the fuck are you to have a problem with my sister?” Her brother is quick to add an apology. “Pardon my language, Professor.”

A small smirk creeps over Ceri’s features. Alone she did not feel comfortable to fire back at him with more than a glare; best to let her advisor handle it, but the mage feels more emboldened with Arthano here. Arthano who had gotten in more than his fair share of fights defending his younger siblings. If Ancano was feeling bold, brazen even, then he could handle being outnumbered. Satisfied at finally giving him a piece of his mind, she answers for the ex-Thalmor.

“Nobody. He isn’t a faculty member, not even a student, just someone Faralda has graciously pitied as to not let him freeze to death outside because he has no other options.”

“Why you little-” The mer at the forefront of their words is seizing as the one across the table pulls out a more devastating insult.

“Hmm…” Hand stroking his chin, he feigns a state of deep thought. “No position, no status, nowhere to go but here so he can’t return home… sounds a bit apraxic, don’t you agree Ceridwen?” Yes.

“Oh I hadn’t looked at it that way before but, you are indeed right, my brother.” Holding back a snicker, Ceri continues. “We probably shouldn’t even be speaking with him, what would the ancestors say?” Oh, how they are laying it on thick. Any ancestors that hadn’t instantly discounted them based on their heritage must be laughing, she is sure of it. Most certainly the type to have a sense of humour. Arthano keeps playing it up as Ancano’s eye twitches, prominent enough that she can see it out of the corner of her eye.

“By Auri-El, what would they say?” A small chuckle emits from her at that. “We have reputations to uphold after all, we cannot go bringing shame to the family name.” The name that neither of them had on their documentation anywhere outside of the few years spent in their father’s homeland. That does not matter, what matters is the incredibly smug expression on both of them as the other implodes.

“I will not be spoken to on the subject of reputation by two half-breeds who could not get further from the notion of praxis, why I-”

“You will take your leave now, Ancano.” The Master Wizard’s voice is clear and firm. “I will reschedule our meeting for in three weeks time, I am sure you will be available.” The rage settles into confusion then sadness as the former Thalmor’s face falls.

“Three weeks?”

“I will make four if you do not leave now, your outburst already made it longer. You should be thankful the dining hall is mostly empty and you did not embarrass us more.”

“I think you should get going, Alcano. And some advice for next time; we lived in the Summerset for years, you’ll have to get more creative with the insults.” For a split second the fire within the sad mer ignites once more, torn between addressing the great insult of mispronouncing his name, ultimately deciding Arthano is not worth further punishment.

“Fine.”

#wip wednesday #oc: ceridwen #oc: arthano #clap back kids!!!#if he can dish it out he can take it #I left him alive so i could have them bully him <3 #it's good for him <3 #peak sibling shenanigans

34 notes · View notes

photmath · 9 months ago

Text

Comme Les Fleurs - Chapter 11

Chapter 11: After the Storm

Summary: Left with no other options, Kylian must rehab his newly injured leg at a stranger’s home for the next month and she isn’t at all what he expects. Meanwhile, Aurèle has to deal with easily-irritated and sullen Kylian as she opens her home to him.

Word Count: 7.6k

Warnings: anxiety, self-doubt, miscommunication, cursing

Note: Aurie reminding us that even the most strongest and independent people have their moments of doubt and still need reassurance too.

Aurie isn’t in bed next to Kylian when he rolls over and feels for her. Maple is curled at his feet, snoozing with her tail covering her eyes. The sun shines brightly into the room, filling every crevice of the bed that he knows it’s way too early for Aurie to be gone. He listens quietly for the quiet patter of her footsteps, trying to figure out where she wandered throughout the house as she’s not in the restroom.

Scoffing, he rises and dresses himself with his boxers and a pair of shorts. They slept late last night, Kylian staying back to help Aurie break down the decorations of the nursing home, and then laying in a tangle of limbs in her bed. Once it hit two in the morning, they finally slept, after having spent the night together tracing and memorizing every sliver of skin they shared.

Kylian pats Maple’s head, causing her to open her eyes and purr, stretching out towards him. A small smile finds his face as he exits her room and searches for Aurie. Already he knows something is uneasy. The rest of the house reeks of cleaning supplies, drenched dirt, and there’s a low hum of music coming from her library. Thudding down the stairs, he turns towards the library and sees her dusting the bookshelf, a large stack of books on the small table, a second away from collapsing onto the ground.

“Aurie,” he mutters, noticing her in a short pair of night shorts and a loose shirt.

She spins around to face him, her cheeks flushed. “Did I wake you?”

He shakes his head, walking closer to her. “No.”

“Sorry,” she smiles softly at him and then bends down to clean the bottom shelf. She grabs a book and haphazardly places a book on the ever-growing stack, it wobbles, and Kylian steps towards it, holding it.

“Aurie.”

“What’s up?”

“Come on, what are you doing?” He rubs his face, splitting the stack so that it doesn’t fall over on top of her.

“Cleaning.”

“It’s not even seven in the morning yet, Aurie,” he sighs.

Aurie purses her lips, disliking the way he utters her name. She knew he was tired, and she would’ve been too if it weren’t for her mind thinking of a hundred thoughts per second. She didn’t get much sleep last night, constantly thinking about Kylian and his move to Madrid. It was infuriating to be consumed by a man who lived so differently than her, yet made her question what she wants. The same man who seemed to have torn down her walls so easily before but now they were back up.

Before Kylian, she was sure of herself and her career. She had bounced through different departments—pediatrics, geriatrics, nursing homes, out-patient care, physiotherapy for a club—and was sure that the simple life of working at nursing home was it for her, that she wasn’t strong enough mentally to handle any other group, but now she wasn’t sure.

Besides Kylian, she thought of Maria and Estrella’s words, how she does have the time to still figure everything out. Still has time to see where she fits, whether that is in the nursing home or somewhere else. She had the power and skill.

And then Aurie scrambled to the last thought: that Kylian still had yet to ask her if she would even be willing to go to Madrid with him. What if he didn’t? What if he understood what the nursing home, the house and pets, and how much Camille and Simone meant to her, that the thought of splitting them up would never come across his mind, so he wouldn’t even think to ask Aurie—

“Aurie,” Kylian whispers, slipping his hand behind her waist and pulling her closer to him. He grabs a hold of the dusting cloth, prying it out of her hand and setting it down near the edge of the books. “C’mere.”

His warm skin burns her cheeks and neck as his strong arms engulf her. He smells of heat and her bed sheets, the sleep marks still evident in his shoulders. Aurie hugs his waist, clasping her hands where they meet, sighing deeply. She can feel her own body relax and mold into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles.

He kisses her temple, pulling back. His finger traces around her ear. “What are you thinking? Let me in.”

It’s three simple words that Aurie wishes were as simple as saying them. But her tongue knots, her throat closes as she stares at his eyes. They’re soft, but there’s an emotion in them that makes her heart lurch, an ache that travels underneath her breastbone and through her ribs, paralyzing her in that spot. Aurie can plainly see the tension around his eyes and jaw.

“I can’t,” she croaks, slipping out of his grip. Kylian sighs, reeling his arms back slowly, offering her a faint smile but she knows it’s merely out of politeness rather than genuine. “I’m sorry. I know I said I wasn’t going to run away and I’m not, but—I need some time to think.”

“Okay,” he says softly, stepping away from her. The air stills between the two of them, a silence so sudden and profound that even Bleu stutters to a stop, his wagging tail going stiff.

Kylian glances at Bleu, walking out of the library, petting his head before going upstairs. He doesn’t know what to do. Maybe in some way this is her punishment towards him after the past week, but Aurie isn’t that cruel.

His phone buzzes from his pocket as he reaches the top of the stairs, he reads the message from Raphael.

Hey, I found Stefan. I have his mother’s contact information, should I send it?

“Hey,” she says, sandwiching the phone between her ear and shoulder. Escaping to the ballroom to clean the rest of the remnants of last night, she called Martin, needing to talk to him.

“Aurie,” Martin beams. “What do I owe the pleasure of this call?”

Aurie snorts, tossing the last bits of trash into the bin. “Hardly pleasure. Erm, got to ask, are you staying at PSG?”

“Absolutely not,” Martin says curtly. “Management is in shambles. I cannot in good faith stay there and try to micro-manage all their injuries while simultaneously listening to a new staff try and implement their different plans. No one can agree on anything.”

She purses her lips. “That bad?”

“Very, had I not been dealing with this, I would’ve fallen up on more of those in-person visits of Kylian like I said I would, but I knew you could handle him.”

Aurie nods, “So what are you going to do now?”

“Well, at the moment, back to orthopedics, in-patient and out-patient. Rather do that for the next couple of months at least. And you, Aurie? Has taking care of Kylian changed your mind about going back on the field?”

She laughs, sitting down in a seat. “No. Not at all—”

“You aren’t bad, you know? It can be intense and quick-paced, but you have it in you. You always have.”

“I know, I just rather not always be on edge all the time. It’s too much.”

“Mm-hmm,” Martin hums.

“Working with Kylian has made me realize that maybe I can do something else as well. Maybe just volunteer at the nursing home instead of working primarily there.”

“Ah. I saw that you two got very close…” There’s a light-hearted tone in his voice, perhaps teasingly.

“I know,” Aurie cringes, remembering who she’s talking to.

“I mean, technically—”

“Martin, we do not need to have this conversation.”

“Okay okay,” he chuckles. “All I’m saying is that you two got close and now he’s leaving. Is this why you are asking me?”

“Yeah…I don’t know if I want to get back into the hospital setting but maybe.”

“You can always work with me.”

“Martin.”

“Well, maybe not if you are planning on being with Kylian. Look, I don’t have much time on me right now, Aurie, but wherever you end up, you will excel. I’m not sure when and why you ever started doubting your abilities. You are capable of a lot of talented and remarkable things. I would have never selected or trusted you with Kylian had I had any doubt about your ability,” Martin pauses. “Truthfully, I think you should try the in-patient setting again. I know peds scared you, but you didn’t get to see the way those kids and parents walked out of the room when you were there. Maybe even geriatrics. You have given so many people hope, Aurie. You’ll be okay, alright?”

Aurie chokes back a sob. Listening to Martin’s praise reminded her of who she was when she was seventeen and taking his class, immediately getting his attention when she was the only one to pin the diagnosis on a patient of his. What she thought was an example ended up being the diagnosis of a patient he was currently caring for. It was a rare diagnosis, yet, Aurie seemed to know it within ten minutes, asking him all the right questions to arrive at her conclusion. Since then, her skill was highlighted in all of their exams and practical studies.

When she first walked into his class, she would’ve never imagined it leading to where she is now. At seventeen, she wasn’t fearful. She never hesitated, head-on with certainty, yet it all changed five years ago during her mother’s accident.

“Aurie?”

“Yeah,” she musters, sniffling, “okay, yeah, thank you.”

“If you ever need anything, you know you can always call me.”

“I will.”

“And oh hey! I can take over Kylian’s rehab from here. His medical in Madrid revealed that his calf is 95% healed,” he enunciated. “They were impressed with it and want him doing more agility exercises and getting his fitness up. I’ll send you a plan that they shared with me.”

Like a madman on the street, Aurie drove five over the speed limit because there were no nearby cars. It was barely anything over the speed limit, but it felt so damn powerful and exhilarating to steer into her driveway, feeling every jostle and jolt of her car, slamming on the brakes as she stopped in front of her house. Turning it off, she quickly hops out and ruffles Bleu’s fur before bolting through the front door.

Kylian stands there, sweat glistening off his toned biceps through his sleeveless tank. One of his cheeks is bulged as he carries the canister of strawberries.

Aurie’s mouth falls open. “You’re eating my strawberries again?”

A lopsided grin breaks out on Kylian’s face as Aurie nears him, snatching the canister of a few wet strawberries. He bristles, “Hey!”

“Come here.” She grabs his wrist in her other hand and he turns his palm over so that their hands can intertwine. She leads him to the living room and sees that the couch is drawn out into the bed, a blanket loosely drawn over it. She sits down and pats the spot next to her to sit down. “Okay I need to say it now before I start crying, but this is all so stupid.”

His eyebrows crease as his head tilts. “Hmm?”

“I know I haven’t been handling this right and have been very…emotional…but it’s silly because you haven’t even asked me yet.”

Kylian’s hand tightens around hers. He shakes his head, “You haven’t been too emotional. Asked you about what? Madrid?”

Aurie purses her lips, slightly embarrassed. “Not just Madrid, but where we go after this. What this—” Aurie raises their hands together, “—really means? Or what…is this just a summer fling?”

Kylian shakes his head immediately, not being able to hold his laugh as he says, “No, Aurèle, you are not a summer fling.” He lets go of her hand and slots it on her cheek. “You are not a summer fling. I love you. I’m in love with you. Selfishly so, that I would force you onto a plane and move you to Madrid with me if I could, but not only is that illegal…and unfair. You love it here, and I want you to come with me, really, I do, but that is only if you want to come.”

Aurie can feel the tears brimming around her eyes and a tear slipping down that Kylian doesn’t hesitate to wipe away. The small smile he gives her is full of adoration and love. His eyes are a stark difference from the ones she saw this morning.

But he didn’t leave. She left the house this morning, and he had three hours to leave but instead he worked out, spoke with Raphael, ate her strawberries, and waited for her to come back home.

He chuckles, a laugh that is suppressed but he attempts to hide it. “You are going to break my heart if you say no, but that’s okay, you don’t have to tell me your answer right now. I do, however, want you at my presentation. I know you may be reluctant and hate the media’s light, but they think you are my manager, so it won’t be odd that you are there. It’s okay if Madrid is too big for you, hell it might even be too big for me, but I don’t want this to end, Aurie.”

Despite the surge of courage Martin’s call gave her and remembering Maria and Estrella’s words from last night, she feels like she needs to debate just one more time about moving to Madrid—and the only way to do that is to get her career in order. She needed to cross her t’s and dot her i’s before she left.

The idea of being at Kylian’s presentation terrifies her. Her window was a blatant reminder of what happened during the first and last time she was under the cameras of the public with Kylian. But, the hope in Kylian’s eyes causes her to utter the words before she can stop herself. “I’ll be at your presentation.”

“Really?” His mouth falls open in a gleeful smile like a child being promised ice cream on their way home.

Aurie rubs his hand with her thumb, exhaling a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

Kylian kisses her cheek, letting his lips linger. “Thank you.” He faintly tugs her with his hand and captures her lips, sealing the promise with a kiss. When he retreats, Aurie feels a surge of heat travel through her body.

“I don’t want this to end either, Kylian,” she whispers. “I need to figure out my job, what happens to this house, my animals—if I do end up moving to Madrid permanently.”

“You need me to convince you?” Kylian proposes with a smirk.

Aurie laughs, hitting his chest with her hand. “No. I just don’t want to leave with many things unfinished.”

“You can always come back.”

“I know, but if I come back and there are problems…I’ll want to stay and fix them.”

“Okay.” He smiles, leaning against the couch, and pulling her into his chest. His arms swallow her whole as he kisses her forehead. “Thank you. For not running away and talking about this. You don’t have to decide everything right now, Aurie, although I know you were probably lying awake thinking about this the entire time, hmm?”

She nods sheepishly, chuckling as she draws little shapes on his clothed chest. “I wanted to wake you up in the night and tell you to just rip off the bandaid, let me know if you want me in Madrid or not.”

His chest vibrates. “You really thought you were a summer fling?”

“No,” she scowls, sitting up to face him. His hand traces the edge of her jaw as he smiles, it’s such a hazy smile behind hooded eyes that if he were anyone else she would’ve asked him if he were drunk. “My mind went there as I thought of the words, trying to describe a short-term girlfriend.”

Kylian snorts, shaking his head languidly. “I don’t know what else I need to do to prove to you how much I love you and would wait for you. I know we moved fast, but I’m sure of it, there is no one else I would rather have beside me than you.”

Aurie simpers, pecking his nose. His words felt like an arrow shooting right into her heart, striking with all its might, imprinting into her, and if she were to pull it out, it would leave a gaping hole that would never be filled. They gave her reassurance, that her worries weren’t for nothing, and that of course Kylian would be patient, would be willing, and wouldn’t rush her to uproot her entire life.

He knew when he walked into her house that falling in love with her would be damn near impossible, but he also wasn’t going to force this girl, who brought the smile to all of her residents and her niece, out of the town. Sure, he would get on his knees and beg for it, but it was Aurie’s decision at the end of the day. And she had a lump of baggage to sort through.

“You don’t have to do anything else. I know you do.” Aurie nestles her head back into the space between his arm and shoulder, her nose scrunching. “You’re kinda stinky, but I love you.”

He pulls her closer, tightening his arms around her so that she can’t wiggle out. “That’s a bit rude, chérie.”

Within the next two days, Aurie reluctantly straightens out her résumé and sends it to one hospital in Madrid, one that she has volunteered for back when she had the stint with the Spanish national team. Martin also enjoyed this particular hospital, so she knew if he had nothing but good things to say about it, then it was good.

She sent it in the middle of the night as Kylian laid with an arm strewn over her lap, snoring softly. She debated on sending it for thirty minutes, switching over the tabs repeatedly, until finally, thirty minutes later, she sent it while muttering a small, “Fuck it.” She shut her laptop and scooted it towards the end of her bed. Closing her eyes, she snuggled into Kylian’s body and sleep came swiftly.

In the morning, Aurie stirs awake before Kylian. Her legs are intertwined in his, sandwiched tightly around his muscled thighs. When she untangles from him, she kisses his cheek demurely, making his eyebrows twitch and turn toward the pillow. She kisses him again, running her hands over the planes of chest.

“Mmm,” he murmurs, his eyes slowly fluttering open.

“I’m going to head to the nursing home,” she says, because really, she did have an actual shift today. Kylian’s lips curl into a smile, his eyes still groggy as he rubs them, not interpreting any of her words. Aurie chuckles, kissing his forehead. “Okay I’m leaving, Kylian.”

“No,” he rasps, grabbing a hold of her propped wrist and pulling her back down.

“I’m going to be late for work.”

“Shhh,” he hums, pulling her back down to his warm frame. “Or take me with you.”

“I don’t think I can do that.”

“They love me,” he smiles, pecking her cheek. “And they love you.”

Aurie smiles, her eyelashes fluttering against his skin. They do love Kylian, and while no one would really care that he was there, it was still…odd? But she also didn’t care to ponder about it, he could volunteer to help some of the residents if he wanted to while she made her rounds, either way, she needed to start getting ready.

“If you want to come, you have about thirty minutes.”

“Thirty?” His eyes pop open.

She shrugs, “Yes.”

“Jesus, Aurie, how do you get ready so quickly and are so calm for something that starts in thirty minutes?”

“It is my first day back, officially, so…I don’t know,” she says nonchalantly like it explains everything. “I’ll eat there, so don’t have to worry about that. Just quickly shower, and then throw on some scrubs, and then I’m out the door.”

Kylian stares at her as if she suddenly grew antlers from the side of her head. But as much as he would’ve loved to join her, he knew he needed to start his new exercise regimens that he received from the physios at Real Madrid.

He kisses her lips chastely and releases her so that she can get ready. He watches her ruffle up Maple’s sleeping form, rile up Bleu and then grab a set of clothes before trotting towards the restroom. He snorts at the sight, his heart thumping in his eardrums.

He falls back to sleep for what he imagines is five minutes, but in reality it’s been 25 minutes. He wakes up with Aurie kissing his forehead, his chin pinched in her fingertips.

“I’ll see you in a bit, don’t forget dinner with your parents!” And then she rushes out of the bedroom door with the animals in tow.

Kylian is restless when the time of the reservation for the dinner comes, pacing back and forth down the hallway as Aurie stands in the kitchen, casually writing down a list of groceries she needs.

“Ky,” she mutters mindlessly, knowing that he is fretting about something, but doesn’t indulge him because the worry is most likely nothing.

He fusses with the tie on his neck, pulling it off entirely and tossing it onto the couch. He doesn’t need a tie, he realizes, it’s just his family. He undoes the top of the buttons and walks down again, spinning around and then stopping abruptly in the kitchen.

“Yes?”

Aurie perks up at him, leaning against the counter with one hip. Setting the pen down on the notepad, her brows raise, “Have you ever been to a grocery store?”

He sighs, and walks—no, strides—towards her. His hands land on her cheeks, cradling her head before he leans in and kisses her lips. The small stubble he was growing is gone, cleanly shaven that she feels his smooth chin against hers.

“You are beautiful,” he says when he pulls away, exhaling with a ragged breath. He glances down at the white blouse she wears, and then at her black pencil skirt.

She chuckles, her cheeks warm up like the first time he’s ever looked at her for more than two seconds. “So, have you?”

He shakes his head. “It’s been years, possibly six, no seven—eight?”

She laughs, her hands fixing the top of his white button-up. “I hate that you haven’t experienced a grocery store in so long. There’s nothing like the crushing disappointment when you realize they ran out of the ice cream you’ve been craving for days, and then a screaming child is behind you begging their mom for candy.”

Kylian smiles, shaking his head at her rambles, too distracted with the way her necklace is shining underneath the kitchen’s light fixtures. He chuckles as he kisses her jaw.

“Oh! And then of course you always forget something on your list. No matter how many times you think you’ve got everything, nope! And it’s the most important item, too.”

His hands snake behind her waist as he pulls her closer to him, pulling her body closer into him. Her neck is exposed so he pecks it, tickling Aurie in the process.

“What are you fussing about?” Aurie asks.

He sighs, resting his head against her shoulder. “I’m just nervous. Worried that the media will find us.”

Aurie smiles softly, hugging his shoulder blades. “They won’t.”

“And if they do?”

“Then,” Aurie shrugs. “Oh well.”

“You won’t be mad?”

“No, I’m more focused on meeting your family than the media.” And it’s the truth for Aurie. The media is at the bottom of her worries for tonight. She also frets about Camille and Raphael making it on time. If she’s going to move to Madrid, she’ll need to get used to cameras.

When Kylian peels away, Aurie massages the worry lines on Kylian’s face, chuckling at the way his lips pucker out.

“They’re going to love you,” he whispers.

“I know you say that, but you know, I still don’t want to do anything embarrassing.”

Kylian grins. “Like what?”

“Fall on my face?”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“You’ll be surprised what happens when I’m under pressure.”

“Can promise there’s no water bottles,” he smirks, referencing the time she recounted her spraying the Marseille player with water.

She gasps. “Hey!”

His lips split into a laugh as he grabs a hold of her face and kisses her. “I’m kidding! But let’s go, Mac and Paul are here.”

Making their way to the car, Kylian holds open the door and Brice sits in the backseat, who waves with a welcoming smile. “Aurie, hello.”

“Hi.”

Paul turns his head from the passenger seat. “Please tell me you aren’t trying to flood the car again.”

“Oh, my god,” Aurie groans as she sits down, a chuckling Kylian behind her, slithering his hand onto her thigh.

“You know, Brice,” Kylian says, glancing at him. “Aurie called you cute when she first saw you.”

Aurie’s cheeks redden, palming her face. She isn’t sure how she suddenly became the butt of the joke, but she wasn’t going to let them run away with it. “Was I supposed to call him ugly?” The boys snicker, and Aurie taps Paul’s shoulder. “And I didn’t see you attempting to cool him down.”

Paul laughs, throwing his head back, his beaded locs slam against the headrest. It’s the first time Paul shows any personality in front of Aurie, even Mac cracks a small smile from the driver seat. Kylian’s security detail that he kept in place around her house were cordial, never talked to her, not that she minded. She would see them playing with Bleu occasionally but that was about all they gave through their tough exterior. Just three men whose names she mixed up.

“I heard that you took Kylian driving,” Paul says, angling his body towards Aurie. Kylian intertwines his hand with Aurie’s, leaning his head on the headrest, simpering.

Aurie narrows her eyes. “Mmm, yes he was scared the entire time.”

Kylian gasps. “For a good reason!”

Paul snickers as he intigates, “Come on, Kylian, you’re going to Madrid without a license.”

Kylian’s jaw drops, glancing between Aurie and Paul and hearing a stifled laugh from behind him. How are they suddenly teaming up against him now? “Alright now.”

Aurie laughs at his antics. She sticks out her hand towards Paul who shakes it, silently acknowledging their success to get underneath Kylian’s skin. Paul turns around while Aurie, noticing Kylian’s small pout, kisses the back of his hand.

“Tatie Aurie!” Simone leaps off the bench and runs towards Aurie. Camille and Raphael are right behind her, hand in hand. There are hardly any cars in the parking lot of the restaurant. The incandescent lights that line the restaurant cast a glow on Simone’s pale blue dress.

Kylian doesn’t hold Aurie’s hand, worried of paparazzi lurking nearby, though so far it seems calm. They chose a restaurant in Aurie’s town, knowing that the quietness of it wouldn’t draw much attention and renting it out for the night would be easier on such short notice. His entire family was already inside, having arrived about ten minutes ago.

“Hi, Keelan,” Simone greets once Aurie picks her up. She gives Kylian a small wave from the crook of Aurie’s shoulder. Kylian chuckles, waving back to her and then introducing her to Brice.

Camille and Raphael stand up once they meet at the bench. Aurie settles Simone back onto the floor and Kylian fixes the side of Aurie’s blouse. She turns around, thanking him with a smile and his knees go weak. She slots her arm around his back like it’s second nature.

Brice gets the front door and they make their way inside, the hostess leading them towards their table. The lights are drawn down, the only lighting coming from hanging bulbs, a kind of elegance that you would find in the city. It was a wonder she had no idea about this place, it was stunning.

There was some greenery hanging throughout the ceiling, being able to see hints of what it would look like in the daytime. Kylian nudges Aurie to keep walking as she gets distracted, his hand finding her lower back.

“It’s pretty in here,” she whispers. “Seems expensive.”

Kylian snorts. “Hardly. It’s just a pretty restaurant.”

She knows it isn’t expensive, but the ambience is rich. They chose a very good place, one in which she would visit again.

Kylian perks up when he sees his family. His parents, Fayza and Wilfried, are seated on one end, Ethan sandwiched between his niece and nephew—Lana and Isayah—and then Melissa beside Lana. Intertwining his hand with Aurie’s, he pulls her past the hostess and Brice. Aurie laughs, tightly holding onto him.

His nephew and niece greet him first excitedly, getting up from their seats and immediately jumping at his side. Kylian hugs them and then one by one he introduces Aurie and her family to his own. They each draw her in for a hug; Lana and Isayah immediately friending Simone and kicking Ethan out of his seat so that they can sit together.

Afterwards, Kylian pulls out Aurie’s chair and she sits in between Camille and him, Simone across from her, already engaged in an animated conversation with Lana.

It’s Fayza who catches Aurie’s eyes throughout the beginning part of dinner, she glances at her, staring at her and Kylian carefully. Kylian speaks enthusiastically amongst his family, wanting to hear what they’ve been up to more in detail since he’s been gone, and then highlights some of what Aurie has done for his recovery. There’s no way someone could miss how happy Kylian is at that moment. Fayza’s quiet, presumably soaking in the conversation like the rest of them, but Aurie feels like she’s silently assessing her.

Aurie stifles a smile, earning a snort from Camille who then jabs her side with her elbow. Aurie leans in towards her sister and whispers, “Don’t start.”

“That’s about the fakest smile I have ever seen in my life.”

“I feel like this is a test,” Aurie whispers, catching Raphael’s ear who chuckles quietly.

“You are doing fine, really,” Camille assures.

Raphael nods. “Stop doing that smile though…seems odd. You have a naturally resting smile, so just do that.”

Aurie’s face warms when Kylian’s hand slides underneath the table and clasps his hand with her own. Aurie forces a smile that quickly fades, her awareness of every muscle on her face sharper than ever.

A waiter distracts them as they place the order of their meals, a variety of pasta dishes. Kylian smiles bashfully as he strokes her hand with his thumb. “Stop worrying, mi amor.”

“Mi amor?” Aurie raises her eyebrow.

“Practicing.”

Aurie chuckles, feeling some of the tension ease off her shoulders with Kylian’s brief interaction. His squinting eyes and glowing face, he looked so handsome underneath this kind of light—and his happiness is contagious.

The kindness Kylian’s family shows the staff doesn’t go unnoticed by Aurie or her sister. Their manners are all profound, even the youngest of them, and Aurie watches them as they point to the menu of what they’d like. Simone sneaks glances at Aurie across the table, giggling when she does a silly face and then hides her face with the menu.

“She’s made friends,” Camille laughs.

“And look at you, you were worried she wouldn’t make friends in school when she starts next year.”

Camille shakes her head. “Because she can be too blunt.”

“She’s a kid, you know how they are. We certainly were like that.”

Raphael nods, blowing a raspberry. “Tell me about it.”

“Hey,” Camille interjects. “You didn’t have to tag along.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Well you should’ve made other friends instead of always following me around.”

“You are all I need,” Raphael winks at her and Aurie snorts, a bubbly but loud noise that grabs the attention of the rest of the table.

“Did you just snort?” Ethan chimes, amusement in his eyes.

Aurie embarrassingly drinks a sip of her wine as the rest laugh, before setting it down. “It comes out sometimes.”

“All the time,” Kylian notes, raising his finger.

“You aren’t that funny.”

The table immediately bursts into a laugh—including Fayza—not that Aurie was taking note of it. She slaps her hand over her mouth to cover her own laugh and looks back at Kylian, quickly muttering, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Melissa interrupts. “That was good.” She raises her glass for Aurie to clink with hers. Kylian is slightly flustered as they clink glasses, smiling fondly.

He leans in to kiss Aurie’s cheek and whispers softly, just for her to hear, “I love you.” Aurie's smile widens and Kylian’s breath catches, brushing her cheek with his thumb before intertwining his fingers with hers again.

Conversation flows swiftly, Aurie grows increasingly at ease, even when the discussion shifts to focus on her. Kylian, never once breaking his gaze from her, becomes more certain that Aurie is the one for him. She speaks with such ease, striking the perfect balance between professionalism and passion, without coming across as inauthentic. Impressionably, she doesn’t back down when Wilfried asks in-detail about her career choices. Kylian knows he can interject but Aurie doesn’t need him to.

Aurie should have known that Fayza was going to be the least of her problems, because the interrogation that Wilfried was putting her under, even Camille grabbed her other hand underneath the table.

“Why did you leave PSG?”

“To be frank, I became too emotionally invested in working as a physio,” she replies candidly. Thank god for the many sips of wine that she had. She’s sweating under his gaze. “Too many season-ending injuries. It felt like I was putting in a long time with these athletes just for them to get tackled and reinjure themselves. It was beginning to take a toll on me.”

“So then you went to the nursing home?”

“Not necessarily in that order,” she says meekly. “I worked in a hospital prior and then settled at the nursing home next door. I am specialized in pediatric and geriatric care, orthopedics as well.”

“Ah, impressive,” Fayza responds, eyeing Wilfried. With that glance from Fayza, Wilfried tips his glass towards Aurie, and she’s never been so thankful for the conversation to subside there, immediately sipping on the glass in a silent toast, and then exhaling a deep breath quietly.

Camille squeezes Aurie’s hand and then retreats it. She gives Aurie a thumbs up before the attention returns to Kylian. His eyes are more glossy than Aurie remembers them, perhaps it’s a mixture of the lighting or the wine, but it’s endearing.

“I’ll be right back,” Kylian excuses himself, following his mother to the terrace. She made a subtle sign earlier for him to follow her, and he’s barely gaining the confidence to get up and follow her. He kisses Aurie’s head before finding his mother outside. The cool air hits him when he opens the terrace door, the wind blowing the door open more forcibly than he anticipates.

Fayza chuckles, a lit cigarette in between her lips. “Are you drunk?”

“Non,” Kylian mutters, closing the door.

“Wine drunk has always looked so interesting on you. Can’t hold your liquor at all.”

Kylian smiles softly, relishing the wind rippling against his shirt. He hadn’t realized how nervous he was for both him and Aurie just now.

“I knew I would like her when you first told me about her,” she starts. “But I think I enjoy her even more now. She’s very smart too.”

“Incredibly.” He sits down in one of the seats.

“What are you worried about then?”

“That she won’t want to leave,” he mutters, glancing away at her careful gaze. “I mean you saw her with her family, they adore her… They’re already tight-knit and deeply protective of each other, just trying to get close with them was tough.”

Kylian sighs, resting his head against his propped fist. Seeing little Simone teasing Aurie from across the table and stealing glances between them throughout the chatter, his chest ached thinking about them being separated by a country-line.

Fayza puts out the lit cigarette in the ashtray and sits down in front of her son. “They are, I can tell. You aren’t going to separate them, Kylian. She’s moved before, without them.”

“I know, but—”

“Seeing the way she is now, she will have no problem traveling for the people she cares about,” Fayza interrupts, and Kylian knows she’s right. “I’ve never seen you so infatuated with someone like this, it’s pure. If it’s true love, the two of you will have no problem adapting to your new life.”

Kylian smiles, nodding alongside her words. He lets her grab his hands and she cradles them protectively.

“Besides, she is very beautiful, strong too. I didn’t think you’d fall in love so quickly with her, but after seeing how she is, I understand,” Fayza chuckles.

They could agree on that as well. Aurie was certainly the most beautiful girl he has ever seen, inside and out. Her heart captured him and locked him inside, and he didn’t want to escape.

“It’s crazy, isn’t it?” Kylian grins, feeling his cheeks grow warm. Fayza squeezes his cheeks, making him laugh.

When the two of them make their way back inside, Kylian heads to the men’s room while Fayza saunters back to the table quietly, sitting in Kylian’s spot. Before he can even stop her, Raphael whistles at him and motions him down the hallway.

“Have you contacted Stefan’s mother yet?”

Kylian shakes his head. “Was waiting on a couple of things.”

“Like what?”

“Whether or not Aurie would be at my presentation and my official announcement to the team.”

“When is that?”

“Tomorrow…”

“And your presentation?”

“Not until a few weeks,” Kylian scratches his neck. “You and Camille and Simi are invited by the way”

Raphael smiles briefly, “Thanks man. I’m sure Simi will enjoy that.”

Meanwhile, Aurie and Fayza disappear onto the terrace. Simone, growing restless and sleepy, rests her head against Camille’s shoulder.

Aurie frets with her skirt once she steps outside, unsure whether to sit or admire the small garden, she does the latter.

Fayza smiles warmly when she stands next to Aurie. “This place is beautiful.”

“Isn’t it?” Aurie pinches several flower petals between her fingers.

“Kylian told me about your reluctance to the media,” Fayza continues. “I know the rock being thrown in your window gave you quite a scare, that must’ve been terrifying.”

“Oh,” Aurie says, glancing down. She lets out a forced laugh, “Erm, yeah, a bit. But it’s fixed now, and I feel safe knowing it was all resolved.”

Fayza laughs. “Aurie, you have nothing to worry about. I completely adore you.”

Aurie grins, leaning against the garden’s railing. “Sorry, I am just a little tipsy. I apologize, genuinely, but I’m nervous.” Aurie lets out a shaky exhale, one that she had been holding since Fayza sat down next to her.

“No worries at all, you and my son both seem to be that way—tipsy.” Aurie laughs alongside Fayza. “Anyway, I know being in the spotlight of the media seems daunting and downright scary, but you won’t always have to be in the spotlight. We’re very private and if you don’t want to be in the limelight all the time, that’s perfectly fine. You’ll never be forced to explain yourself.”

Aurie nods, digesting her words. Slowly, they calm her nerves.

“Unfortunately, it will always be a factor, Aurie,” she continues. “But it’s about how you let it affect you. How you react to it or choose to embrace it. You can stay away from social media, set everything to private, or even delete your accounts altogether, but don’t let it hinder you from being with someone you love, okay?”

“Yes, that’s very wise. Thank you for those words,” Aurie says breathlessly. This all but intrigued her and comforted in one go.

Fayza laughs. “You said you were currently looking at jobs?”

“Oh, yes!” Aurie excites. “Well, I only applied to one at a hospital. It’s for geriatrics, the older population. It’s a smaller hospital, and I expect to hear a call back, but—” Aurie shrugs, “—kind of nervous for the first time. I debated applying for a long time the other night and really the idea of starting over in a hospital nauseates me.”

“You’ll be great there. I can tell you bring the kind of energy that lights up the entire room. You showed it tonight.”

“Thank you.” Heat creeps against Aurie’s cheeks. “I appreciate your words, immensely. I needed the extra boost in confidence…been an uncharacteristically few days feeling down.”

Fayza empathizes and holds her arms wide, beckoning for Aurie to hug her. Aurie doesn’t hesitate, chuckling nervously when she wraps her arms around Fayza. Her head rests against her shoulder, feeling small but reassured that everything would be okay.

She blinks away the tears, not wanting to ruin Fayza’s blouse, but her words did mean a lot to her. Hearing them from someone who had yet to meet her in person gave her a newfound confidence—a better judgment than anyone who knew her because Fayza immediately saw Aurie through any walls she attempted to put up.

“You are very lovable, it’s no wonder he fell in love with you so fast.”

Aurie laughs as a tear slips, wiping it away quickly.

As they hug and say their goodbyes, Melissa strikes up a conversation with Camille, the kiddies run alongside the sidewalk after their energy was revived with ice cream for dessert. Kylian’s hand tightly grips Aurie’s, not letting her go as he speaks to his family,

Ethan seems bashful in front of Aurie, and she can’t tell why, but she doesn’t pick on him despite it being on the tip of her tongue.

“I’ll see you at the presentation?” Ethan asks, glancing down.

“You will, it was nice meeting you,” Aurie says.

“You too,” he nods, before Kylian engulfs him into a hug.

“See you later,” Kylian utters towards his brother.

Finally, Aurie untangles their hands and waves at Ethan once more before strolling over to Camille and Raphael. They've moved closer to Paul and Mac, who are standing outside the car, playfully teasing the kids. As Aurie passes Melissa, she gets a warm hug, and Melissa then gathers her children from Paul. Aurie chuckles as she watches Simone leap up to give Paul a high-five.

Camille and Raphael embrace Aurie before she bends down and says bye to Simone. Simone wraps her tiny arms around Aurie’s neck before hopping away with a giddy smile.

On the way back to Aurie’s house, Kylian leans his head on her shoulder the entire time and mumbles incoherently, speaking just to speak. Not that Aurie minds, she’s checking her email, waiting to see if there was any update regarding her job position. She waits some agonizing seconds for the app to refresh before finally, there is an email regarding the position. She skims through the introduction and finds the paragraph she’s been waiting for.

Upon reviewing your application, we believe your exceptional skills and experience are better suited for our out-patient geriatrics role, while possibly aiding some of the new in-patient physiotherapists. Your expertise in both in-patient and out-patient rehabilitation and your compassion—

Aurie’s eyes went wide, her application was accepted!

By the time they make it inside, they can’t keep their hands off of each other, not even bothering to make it up the stairs, just settling down on the couch in the living room. Their discarded clothing lines the path from the front door to the couch. She tells Kylian the news when their chests are still silently heaving.

“Ky,” she says, sitting up. She slips on Kylian’s white dress shirt, which distracts him.

“Hmm?”

“I applied to a hospital about two days ago in Madrid,” she murmurs sheepishly, feeling shy under his gaze. He cradles her head against his shoulder, peering down at her.

His brown eyes widened. “Really? That’s amazing—”

“I got it.”

“What?!” He tries to reign in his excitement, but he can’t because if the position was offered, it meant she’s a step closer to moving to Madrid with him. That she was going to choose him. It also meant that she was over her hump of doubting herself. He kisses her forehead with a firm kiss.

“I got the position.”

“Well of course you’d get it,” he beams, pulling her impossibly tighter into his chest. “I’m so proud of you, chérie.”

She silently curses all the doubts that have plagued her over the past few days and weeks. Despite her insecurities, this hospital recognized her exceptional skills and experience at just 25, deeming her capable of teaching the new physiotherapists. Whatever spell she had been under, she hoped it was gone for good.

Although she completed possibly the biggest task she needed to figure out, she still wanted to speak with her mother before she left. She didn’t even want to think about what she would say when she was moving, but Aurie vowed to not let it affect her. She was able to move past many of the things her mother told her, and one more thing wouldn’t hurt.

Aurie squeezes Kylian’s torso tighter, snuggling into him until she finds a comfortable position to sleep. His protective arms wrap around her like a secure cocoon, and she’s never felt so relaxed as she does now.

-----

Note: Almost to the end. :')

Taglist: @karotland @mrs-bellingham @kylianswifey @kymb-10 @fictional-l0v3r @chaotic-taco-collector-blog @itsjuspenny-blog @mattmurdocksbigtoe @formula101x @et-in-arcadia-ego77 @lovekm @okayymochi @titti-maja @jokertbh @venus2eros @heli991113 @neymarloverxxx @444jodie @mm2007 @freespirit-51 @flawlessdiamond1 @euphoriapillz @imagesthatlive @ohpuckyeah @nothingtoes

#em.writes #comme les fleurs #kylian mbappe x oc #kylian mbappe fanfic #kylian mbappe x reader

71 notes · View notes