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daddyricsdoll · 5 months

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Last Christmas ✭ Lando Norris

Summary: Christmas couldn't be finished without a special present from Lando, maybe more than one.

Warnings: Masterbating, voyeurism, thigh riding, face riding, usage of toys, bondage, unprotected sex and creampie.

Word count: 1.9k

A/N: This took a little while longer than expected, but I hope you enjoy it just like me and Lando did last night.

Lando walks back into the room with a medium sized box between his large hands. I shake my head in unbelief as he brings me what seems like the 100th present of the night.

“I swear, this is the last one. The best.” A smirk on his gorgeous tan face as he places the box on my lap. I observe it, trying to guess what he could’ve kept in here but then easily give up and untie the delicate bow. The lid is removed right after and my eyes are met with a dildo, vibrator and flimsy but such beautiful lingerie. I squeeze my legs together as it reminds me of last Christmas, our first Christmas together. Lando had gifted me long pieces of silk, which ended in me tied up and helpless while Lando used me however he liked.

My eyes revert back to Lando when he speaks. “I want you to use it.”

“When you’re not here?” I ask so innocently, imagining sending him the videos of me utilising these toys.

“No, now.” A spark in his deep eyes as he silently ushers me to slide my clothes off. I slowly remove the box off my lap and stand in front of him, taking my clothes off leisurely in the way he had always enjoyed me to do. Lando’s eyes glide all over my body as they make contact with his favourite piece of lingerie that I own.

His calloused hands reach out to me and pull me on his lap by my hips. He doesn’t kiss me, but eyes move around my face. They move from each of my eyes to my mouth, and his warm breath touches my face as it leaves the gap between his parted lips.

Inevitably I lean in, trying to close the centimetres between us. “Not yet, let me watch you.” He says against my skin and I have to hold back from disobeying his wishes, just for that little contact. But another need for contact grows, and that contact is between my legs. He quickly tilts his head up, chin pointing toward the blank space on the carpet next to the fireplace and christmas tree.

“Show me what you would do if I wasn’t here.” Lando hands the dildo to me and I get up to stay situated on the floor in front of him. My legs widen and his pigmented eyes lock onto my dripping core. The little bite of his lips force me to clench around nothing before he nods and I run the dildo through my folds.

My lips parted and deep breaths left my mouth as I tease my clit with the dildo before slipping it inside of me slowly. I adapt to the size, not as thick as Lando, and certainly doesn’t feel like him, but it helps ease the need between my legs for now.

My eyes shut close as I started harshly pumping it inside of me. “Open your eyes.” He commands me as his legs are spread and he leans back on the sofa. I find his gaze as he watches me intently, moving from my face then down my body and to the place that holds all the action.

The room silent apart from hushed moans and wet sounds. Deep groans are kept in Lando’s throat as mine are let out involuntarily. I raise my hips and force the dildo to go deeper just to tip me off the edge. My arm grows tired but the look on Lando’s face keeps me ravenous for more.

I curse his name multiple times, eyes struggling to stay entangled with his and he tells me he knows by the curl of his lip. My stomach flew at his little smirk, and it was all I needed for my climax to nudge me. I don’t stop thrusting as I release even after it washes over me.

“Get up.” The first words I hear leave his mouth after minutes. I slide the dildo out of me, feeling empty and in need of something to fill it soon. I stand up and make my way to Lando, my arousal stuck between each of my thighs, and slowly reaching lower.

My waist is pulled into him, and I land on one of his thighs. My slick immediately covers his pants and the fabric of his pants brushes against my clit harshly. A quick moan fleeing my mouth before he captures me in a kiss. Hands gripping me tightly, and lace probably making indents in my skin.

I grind against his thigh as the feeling is now a drug to me. Our lips seem like magnets that can’t have any second away from each other. My fingers pull against the curls on his head as we exchange moans. My swollen clit so sensitive that the feeling of his pants against me brings my climax back up.

My knee strokes the bulge in his pants and Lando bites my lip. Each feeling making us so vulnerable. I cum in those short seconds and suddenly my body is being lifted. My legs wrap around his waist instinctively as he holds me as he walks us to the bedroom.

My body is thrown onto the bed and I watch as Lando slips his blazer off. “Fuck, you came on my pants from riding my thigh.” He licks his lips before biting them slowly. “I want you to ride my face.” Lando strides toward me, full of purpose. I stay where I am, leaning on my elbows and my legs slightly parted near the end of the bed. His large hands grab my legs and pull me toward him before they grip the lace of my lingerie and he rips it off of my body.

“I’ll buy you another. Fuck I’ll buy as many as you want.” A moan leaves my mouth at his words. He crawls onto the bed and rests his head on a pillow before I leisurely crawl up his body and hover just above his thick neck. I look down at him, eyes silently commanding me to make another move and let it be one where his tongue can touch my pussy.

His hands hold my ass as mine grip the headboard when I slowly inch closer to his face. Lando pulls me down onto him and I whine at the first stroke of his tongue against and through my folds. He guides my hips to move along with his mouth and when his lips wrap around my clit my fingers go into his perfect curls. I continue riding his face, certain my arousal covers his skin.

The little glimpse I got of his face was enough to make me feel more comfortable and my muscles lose tension. Lando mumbles words against me which sends a vibration on my core and tingles throughout my body.

I let his fingers dig into my skin and help move my body around. Each movement he makes adds onto the friction and escalation to my climax. He buried his tongue inside of me and curled it multiple times. Involuntarily making my hips writhe.

And just like we had both expected, I cum onto his face for the first time this intriguing night. I flop onto the duvet beside me, out of breath and most definitely tired. My pussy is most definitely swollen and I probably can’t take anymore, but with Lando, I know there’s more and he’ll make me handle it.

The weight of his body leaves the bed but I don’t question it as my eyes don’t stop fluttering. His footsteps leave then come back and when my eyes open I see him standing beside me. “You tasted so good, but time for something else.” He lifts four silk ribbons in front of my eyes and I know exactly what my next moves are. I stretch out each of my limbs, letting them get tied to the bed and making me feel a sense of vulnerability.

The light sound of buzzing fills my ears and when I strain my neck to catch a glance at the man who holds all control, a relatively small vibrator is in his hands. I had already felt so much this one night that I can feel it even when it doesn’t make contact with me. The contact wasn’t firm, and I couldn’t handle his teasing which results in begs leaving my mouth.

“Please Lando. I need to feel it. I-I can see how close it is and-” My words are cut off when the vibrator is pushed roughly against my clit. Loud moans and whines leave my mouth and my eyes shut close at the feeling. The feeling is soon gone when he lets go of the vibrator and it lays between my legs, but not touching any of them.

I can hear and feel it against the duvet before I’m distracted with Lando now tying a piece of that silk ribbon across my eyes. “I don’t want you to see how close it is, I want you to feel it.” The sentence leaves his mouth smoothly.

All of my other senses now heightened and my hearing now is the only thing still keeping me sane as I lose contact with him. The light sound of his belt travels to my ears before it’s covered by a buzz of the vibrator.

I wait and the anticipation grows. The weight of Lando on the lower half of the bed splits my attention and instead of feeling the vibrator against my folds it’s the tip of his dick. My breath hitches and Lando doesn’t take his time as he thrusts into me.

Not stopping so I can get used to his size, but making sure it happens while he stretches me during every ram. I have no control of my body at this moment, but I don’t see it as a problem. Lando lifts my hips and my g-spot becomes an easier target for him to hit. Doing more than just stroking it with every drive into me. My mind remembers every little nanometre of him while he ruins me with his dick. Hands balling into fists, but only wishing to be in his hair.

I wish to see the little grin on his face, but the blindfold steals that privilege from me, but it gives me the one of feeling him even better. I take notice of his movements more prominently as it’s the only thing that can help me predict what will happen next.

His skin brushes along my oversensitive clit and it brings my climax right in front of me. I allow my body to go limp in his arms as he uses me like an object. My climax comes faster than expected when I clench around his dick and make him groan in such an unholy way. The wet noises of Lando riding my high out to get him to his was more than music to my ears. But when he finally came, he made sure it wasn’t the same as others.

I feel his cum fill me, not leaving a place untouched. Lando pulls out and his tongue circles around my nipple while his other hand teases my other, soon swapping to evenly spread the sensation. His cum seeps out of me and slowly starts to cover the duvet. I can’t help but feel aroused at the thought of him filling me up so much that it drips out of my ruined pussy.

“This was better than last christmas huh?” Lando mumbles against my lips as he finally takes my blindfold off. I get to be welcomed by his eyes and I don’t manage to look anywhere else for moments too long. Moments I was glad were used on him.

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rubyreduji · 1 year

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charcoal stained hands — wjh

summary: jun falls in love on a tuesday afternoon in an art studio

tags: fluff, college!au, artist!reader, gn!reader wc: 3.1k an: perpetuating the sexy artist trope im sorry. also i apparently don’t know how to characterize jun so if it’s off don’t tell me

Jun’s never been inside the art building before. He’s not really the artsy type so he’s never had a reason to, but now he’s gotten himself a bit lost as he wanders around the building looking for his best friend.

The art building is huge with multiple floors and lots of long winding hallways that lead to nowhere. Not to mention the countless number of studios that Minghao could be hiding out in. This could take him all day just to find one person.

Jun turns the corner and walks right into a drawing studio. The room has a high ceiling and there’s easels and stools all over the room. There’s only one person occupying the room.

You sit on a stool, frowning at a half filled piece of paper. There’s black charcoal all over your hands and up your arms and smeared across your jeans. The drawing itself looks to be a portrait of someone, but it hasn’t taken enough from yet for Jun to guess who it is.

You turn when you hear someone approaching and Jun has to take a moment to take all of you in. Jun’s never been someone who believes in love at first sight, but he just might now. You’re probably the most beautiful person Jun has ever seen in his life, and he’s friends with Jeonghan.

Everything about you is perfect from your facial features to the style of your hair to the clothes you’re wearing. It wouldn’t surprise Jun if a glowing halo just appeared atop your head.

“Oh, hi.” Even your voice is pretty. “Are you looking for something?”

It takes Jun a few more seconds to realize you’re talking to him. “Uh, more like someone. Would you possibly happen to know where Xu Minghao is?”

“Minghao…Minghao…”

“You might know him as Myungho?”

“Oh Myungho! Yes, I actually do know where he is. Here let me show you, it’s easy to get lost in this building.” Jun doesn’t have the heart to tell you he’s already lost just standing in this room.

You jump up from where you are sitting and quickly wipe your hands off on a towel sitting on your easel. Your hands are still covered in the black pigment but it doesn’t seem to phase you as you make your way out of the room, Jun following behind you.

“I haven’t seen you around the art building before. Are you new?”

“No, I’m a second year, I’ve just never made my way into the art building before. I’m usually over in the dance studios,” Jun explains.

“Oh, the dance studios? Do you and Myungho dance together?”

“Yeah we do, but we go way back. He’s my best friend.”

“Oh, you’re Jun!” You turn around to look at Jun directly, your face lighting up. Jun flushes from how pretty your smile is. “Myungho talks about you all the time. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

You two walk for a bit more in silence before Jun starts another conversation. “So, are you an art major?”

“Yep! I love art, all kinds of it. Thankfully I’m pretty good at it as well,” you giggle. “Are you a dance major or is it just a hobby?”

“I’m a dance major. Being a dancer is the only thing I’ve wanted ever since I was little.”

“Wow, that’s so cool. I’ll have to come see you and Myungho dance sometime. I love dance, but that’s one art form I personally do not excel at. Oh, speaking of Myungho, here we are! He should be right in there.” You lift your hand to point into the studio but you accidentally brush Jun’s hand while you do, rubbing charcoal dust onto Jun’s skin. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t worry about it, it’ll wash off,” Jun reassures you, more focused on the tingling sensation your touch left rather than the black marks it left. “Thank you for guiding me here though.”

“Of course! See you around Jun!” With that you head back off to where you came from and Jun heads into the studio you lead him too, his mind still flooded with thoughts of you.

Just like you said, Minghao is standing at a canvas, glaring at it. It’s blank except for two small blue marks that look like Minghao tried to wipe them off with his hand.

“Minghao,” Jun approaches the younger boy.”

“Jun,” Minghao says when he turns to face his friend. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been texting you all afternoon and you never responded so I decided to come find you.”

“What did you need?”

“That’s not important anymore, I need you to tell me who this person was.”

Jun describes you to Minghao who takes a moment to contemplate who Jun may be talking about. “Ah, you’re thinking of Y/N. Why? Did you meet them?”

Once Minghao says the name it clicks in Jun’s mind who you are. Like Minghao has talked about Jun to you, he’s talked about you to Jun. Minghao has mentioned a couple times of how you’re some art prodigy who practically lives in the art building. Minghao has been lucky to get close to you as it seems that as friendly as you are, you don’t have very many friends.

Minghao assumes it’s because almost everyone in the art department is obsessed with you, desperate to gain your attention. Jun can see why now. He figured it was just to trade art tips or to get close to someone who is the professors’ favorite, which might actually be a part of it, but it’s not unlikely there are ulterior motives as well.

“Yeah they showed me to this room. You never told me they’re gorgeous.”

Minghao rolls his eyes. “I didn’t know that was something I had to state. C’mon, don’t be like all the other jerks who inhabit this place.”

“I’m not trying to be! I’m just saying that they’re very attractive. And nice.”

“I know that. If you remember, they’re my friend, not yours. Now what did you actually need me for?”

“Hoshi is calling an emergency dance crew meeting.”

Minghao just sighs and moves to put away his art supplies.

Your existence in Jun’s mind has waived for the time being until he walks into dance practice one day and there you’re standing, talking to Hoshi and Minghao. Jun hesitantly approached the group, a bit nervous to be in your presence again. You don’t seem nervous to be around Jun though as you shoot him a giant smile.

“Jun! Hi. Soonyoung is allowing me to sit in on practice so I can work on drawing figures in action.” You point over to a folding chair in the corner where a sketchbook and a pencil bag sit. “Don’t worry, I won’t be in the way. It’ll be like I’m not even here.”

You move over to where you’re stationed and Hoshi starts to lead stretches. Jun can’t help but keep taking glances over at you. Despite being the one performing, you’re wildly more interesting in this moment.

Jun studies the way your eyes flit over his and the other’s forms, dissecting every move made. Concentration has settled into your face and Jun doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone be beautiful while being serious. There are moments where you chew at your lip, like you’re contemplating your next move, before you make a mark on your page. Your eyes stay on the bodies in front of you, more than the page you’re drawing on. It’s like your eyes are laser focused on the dancers, not wanting to miss a single move.

At some point Jun comes to the realization that you’re also performing your own kind of dance, choreographed between you and your paper. Your arm and wrist move fluidly, creating swift and smooth marks on the paper. Just as much detail goes into your drawing as it goes into Jun’s movements. It makes him think about how you called dancing a form of art. You are aware of all the time and effort that goes into a performance because you put the same amount of time and effort into your pieces.

Practice is over before Jun knows it and he realizes that he spent the whole time staring at you rather than actually doing what he was supposed to. He can’t do anything about it now other than hope for forgiveness from Hoshi.

After Jun is done packing up his things he walks over to you where you’re still adding finishing touches to your work. You look up when Jun stops next to you. He looks down at your page and is amazed to see all of the figures filled on your page. Your drawings are as fluid as the dance moves they were performing and Jun doesn’t think he’s ever seen a sketch that so perfectly communicates what was happening in real life.

“Wow Y/N, your work is incredible,” Jun tells you.

“Oh, thank you. They’re not my best though. I was so entranced by you guys dancing. You guys are amazing, I could barely look away,” you gush. “I love the way you move in particular. Your limbs are just so long they move so smoothly. I’d honestly love to do a study on you and draw you more. Sorry if that’s weird. Sometimes art takes over my brain before I can think before I speak.”

“No, that’s not weird at all. I’d be honored to be drawn by you. I’m not kidding when I said our work is incredible.”

“Would you actually let me draw you?” Your face lights up at the proposition.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Oh my god, that would be amazing! Here let me give you my number and we can coordinate times to meet up and discuss more.” You quickly scribble your phone number down on the corner of your sketchbook and rip it off to hand to Jun. Just like before your hands are covered in your art medium (graphite this time) with some of it even rubbing off on the paper you’re holding out to Jun.

Jun takes it and tries not to be too excited to receive the piece of paper. You quickly bid your goodbyes and Jun thinks about how quickly he can text you without it being weird.

You two decided to meet up later in the week back in the painting studio. You’re already there when Jun walks in. Your supplies are all laid out and it seems you’ve already applied an underpainting on your canvas.

You light up when you see your model walk into the room. “Jun! Yay, I’m glad you didn’t get lost getting here. I was thinking that you could just pose here for me. I just love your body, your limbs are beautiful. Just spread out, something dynamic, yeah?”

You’re nearly rambling as you talk but Jun just goes along with it. He moves to the center of the room where there’s a small platform. He steps onto it and looks back at you to make sure he’s doing it right. You help guide him into a pose that’s both visually pleasing and comfortable for Jun to hold.

“Not to be weird or anything, but you are really pretty. Just aesthetically attractive,” you say to him as you start to sketch out his figure.

“O-oh, thanks.” Jun’s face starts to heat up. He hopes you don’t notice. “I uhm, think you’re pretty too. You and your art.”

You laugh a bit. “The art probably more so, but thank you.”

You and Jun continue to make conversation while you lay your pigments down on the canvas in bold, confident strokes with your brush. Outside of being drop dead gorgeous, you’re also just a genuinely nice person to be around. The conversation flows well between you and Jun and it seems you guys even have the same sense of humor.

“Here, you probably need a break. Let’s order lunch, yeah? On me.” You set your paint brush down. You pick up your phone to look up nearby restaurants. “Hmm. Or, I know this place close by. We could go and get lunch and get out of the studio all together.”

“Yeah, that would be nice,” Jun says as he internally freaks out a bit. It’s obviously not a date, you’re just being nice, but still it makes him giddy and slightly flustered.

You gather your things and start out the door, Jun following behind you. As you walk Jun glances over at you and smiles a bit. There’s something endearing about how whenever you’re creating art you make a mess. It’s all a part of the process and Jun thinks that it would honestly be weird to see your hands not covered in some kind of medium. There are paint splotches all over your hands and arms and Jun can’t tell if you don’t notice them or just don’t care. Maybe it’s both.

The walk to the spot you were talking about isn’t long and you buy both you and Jun a sandwich.

“Thanks for doing this for me. I know you probably didn’t plan on spending the whole day with me.”

“It’s okay,” Jun reassures you, and he means it, “I like spending time with you.”

You smile at Jun. “I like spending time with you too.”

Ever since the first time you worked on your painting of Jun you guys have been spending more time together, whether it’s to work on art, or just enjoy each other’s presence. Your painting of Jun still isn’t finished but you don’t seem to be in any rush and Jun enjoys being your ‘muse’ as you call him.

You and Jun are hanging out together in the painting studio when Minghao walks in. He rolls his eyes at the sight of you two.

“You know Y/N was my friend first,” Minghao complains as he approaches you guys.

“It’s not my fault they enjoy my company more,” Jun shrugs.

“Hey, I enjoy you both!” You interject.

“But I’m your favorite, right?” Jun looks over at you.

“You would just love that, wouldn’t you Jun?” Minghao teases. Jun’s crush on you hasn’t gone away and Minghao knows that. He never misses a chance to make a dig at Jun for it.

“It’s not my fault you won’t model for me,” you say to Minghao, ignoring the comments both boys just made. “Jun here at least appreciates my art.”

“I appreciate your art and you know I do.” Minghao rolls his eyes.

“Sure, sure,” you sigh dramatically. “At least I still have Junhui.” You drape yourself over Jun with false despair. Minghao doesn’t seem to appreciate your dramatics but Jun lets out a chuckle. “See, he also appreciates my humor.”

Minghao ignores you. “I’m just here to grab the coat I left earlier. Make sure to go wash your hands when you’re done Y/N, there’s still ink all over the keys to the printmaking studio.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you mutter, not caring to listen to Minghao’s advice. Minghao just sighs and makes his exit. “He just can’t appreciate good art making techniques.”

“I like how you get messy when you make your art. It’s cute.”

“Aww thanks Jun. I just don’t have time to be neat about it and it makes it more fun! It's like I’m a part of the art piece as well. If you can’t get a little messy while making art then what’s the point?”

“You really are something amazing L/N Y/N,” Jun says.

“I think you’re talking about yourself there, Moon Junhui. Have you seen yourself dance? It’s beautiful.” Your voice softens a bit as you look at Jun in the eyes. “You’re beautiful.”

“Y/N?”

“Will you go out with me?” The words leave your mouth in a whisper. You’re still staring into Jun’s eyes, your face painted with worry.

“I- uh, yes!” God Jun wishes he was cool. “Wait- wait, you like me? You like me back? You just asked me out?”

“Has it not been obvious?” You laugh a little bit. “Of course I like you, why do you think I spend so much time with you? I compliment you all the time.”

“I thought you were just being nice!”

“I don’t like people! Hasn’t Myungho told you that?” Now that Jun thinks about it, Minghao has told him that. Huh. Maybe Jun is just oblivious.

“I’ve liked you since I first saw you,” Jun admits, “sitting in that drawing studio with charcoal all over your hands. Ever since then I’ve been telling myself that you’d never like me back and here we are.”

“The moment I saw you dance I was gone for. Why do you think I’ve made you my muse?” Jun cannot believe this. “I don’t just call you attractive for no reason. You are very pretty Jun.”

“Minghao is never going to believe this,” Jun whispers and you laugh.

“Y/N-ah!” Jun comes barreling into the drawing studio. You’re sitting at a stool in front of a canvas, just like so many months ago when Jun first met you. You’re working on a charcoal drawing once again, this time it’s a self portrait.

There’s a mirror set up next to you and a scowl plastered on your actual face. You turn when you hear your boyfriend approaching and suddenly a smile spreads across your mouth. “Junnie!” You stand up and run over to your boyfriend.

You grab his face and press a kiss to his lips.

“Baby,” Jun laughs. “Your hands.”

You pull away and look at your hands as if you’re just now noticing the charcoal dust all over your fingertips. Jun’s not actually upset though as this is nearly a daily occurrence. You decide to make the best of it and take your thumb and swipe it against Jun’s cheek twice.

Jun moves over to the mirror to look at himself and see the small charcoal heart you’ve smeared onto his cheek. Jun turns back to you and kisses you again.

“So I called you here for a reason,” you say as you move around the room, grabbing a canvas sitting in the corner. “Look what I’ve finished.”

You turn the canvas around to reveal the painting of Jun you started the first time you two spent time together. The painting perfectly captures Jun’s atmosphere when he’s dancing. The painting is fluid and colorful and Jun can barely believe it’s him in the piece.

“Oh wow Y/N this is…stunning,” Jun says.

“I’m pretty proud of it and I’m even more proud of what came out of it,” you say with a cheesy grin on your face.

“Oh you wanna kiss me so badly right now,” Jun teases. You don’t respond, just lean forward and press your lips to Jun’s cheek on the heart you made.

“Let’s go get lunch, yeah? We can talk about my next portrait of you.” You motion to grab Jun’s hand and Jun happily accepts, along with all of the charcoal stains that come with it.

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quillsareswords · 2 years

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I gotchu bestie

How about doing Damian's makeup for a Halloween event 👀 I can picture him wanting something cool like a skull

Omfg you're the best 😘

DAMIAN WAYNE X READER

WARNINGS: language, a kiss

MASTER LIST in BIO

"Will you hold still?"

"I am holding still. Your hands are shaking."

"They are not–" you suck in a deep breath. "You know what, just. Hang on."

You set the pallet of cheap face paint down on the edge of the sink a little harder than strictly necessary. With both hands now free, you grip his shoulders and steer him to lean against the counter.

He takes a deep breath to resteady himself while you pick the paint back up. He closes his eyes so you can fill in the big black sockets you've already drawn on in eyeliner. "What time is it?"

Your gaze cuts toward his phone, laying face up on the other side of the bathroom sink. "Seven-fifteen. All things considered, we're doing pretty good here." His eyelid twitches like he's about to open it right as you set the brush down, and you have to restrain yourself from snarling.

"You mean, considering we knew nothing of this party until three hours ago?" There's a tone there, squished between his vowels. Blame, irritation—something along those lines. "There were hardly any costumes left on the shelves. It's a wonder you found these." He plucks limply at the skeleton print hoodie and sweatpants set he's wearing. You're wearing an identical one.

"Well, it would have been much easier if–"

"If I'd listened to you and gotten costumes weeks ago, yes, yes, I know. You were right about someone deciding to throw a party last minute."

"I was going to say if somebody wouldn't have insisted we match, but yeah, that too." You chuckle, setting your pinky finger on the bridge of his nose to steady your hand a little better. "But go ahead, keep telling me how right I was."

He cracks open the eye you aren't painting and clicks his tongue. "Firstly, it will be easier to find one another this way. Don't even pretend you aren't enjoying it. Secondly, that's the only time you'll hear it tonight."

You roll your eyes as you go back for more pigment. "Right, because I'm definitely not right about the fact that we should have bought Halloween candy last week. I'm sure the stores will have plenty."

"We won't be here to hand it out on Halloween, anyway, Beloved. We'll be at Father's, remember?"

You switch to his other eye with a moment of warning. "Don't open your other eye until the paint's dry. Yeah I know we won't be able to hand it out. It would be for us, stupid."

He scrunches his nose, creasing some sti-drying paint, and you have to resist the urge to accidentally stab him in the eye. Guess you're gonna have to rinse the brush to change colors again. "You don't think Father will have plenty?"

"I'm sure he will, at his house. I was going to hold you hostage and make you eat it all with me while we binged all of the Time Burton classics, but fine. Whatever. Guess you just don't love me." You turn to set the paint down and reach for a wash cloth to start fixing his nose.

Instead, he plants his hands on your hips and turns you back toward him. He manages to catch you off-guard when he presses his lips against yours. He must be in terribly good spirits, because he's smiling when he pulls away. "Darling, if that's a it takes, I'll rob every child in Gotham to present you with a hoard if candy any king would be jealous of. We'll be so sick by the end of it, neither of us will be able to work the next day."

You tilt your head, gazing gently at him. There's a beat, soft silence drifting through your friend's second bathroom, and he hopes you're swooning on the inside, but then, "That was really sweet, and I love you more than I think I'll ever be able to describe. But you just completely fucked up both of our makeup and I think I'm going to kill you."

#damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne blurb #quillshalloweencollection

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lunarvampz · 3 months

Text

In Bloom (Arthur Morgan x Reader

Word count. 6038. this is a big one.

Chapter 4 Hawthorn

The last week was utter chaos trying to get the final things in place for the annual harvest festival: preparing booths, organising equipment, and figuring out who was running what. Much to your dismay, you had been stationed on the corn maze with someone else, fishing out the kids who would undoubtedly get lost.

The afternoon breeze was too nippy for your liking, but the physical exertion of hoisting pumpkins into crates counteracted the chill. Your father had asked you to round up the last of the supplies and load the wagon so he could take them to the stalls in town. He, very conveniently, had ‘too much paperwork’ and couldn’t do it himself.

You loaded the last of the pumpkins before going back inside, calling out to your father that you had finished. Moments later, you heard the familiar thuds against the stairs and the opening and shutting of the door. Not even a thank you.

Besides helping out and doing chores, you hadn’t been allowed to leave the house unless instructed, which wasn’t that different from the rest of the time. Mother had callously warned you about trying to ‘show off’ your bruises to attract attention and risk you ruining her pristine reputation and pulled you into her bedroom to cover the marks she had left to the best of her abilities before you even thought about stepping foot out of the front door, including today.

——————————

The best way you could describe the makeup was clownish at best. Sighing, you turned on the tap and splashed the water on your face, washing away the pinkish liquid she had covered it in. Wincing slightly, you gently dried your skin and examined the yellow and green clouds of pigment that stained your cheeks and the almost-healed split on your lower lip; it was less noticeable today.

You were called to dinner, ate, blocked out the conversation and then slinked back to your room, not wanting to provoke your parents into banning you from the festival tomorrow altogether.

The outfit your mother had laid out on your chair stared at you obnoxiously. A pear-coloured taffeta dress, ruffly and laced, with cream gloves and a matching coat, all topped off with the dreaded corset she liked to force you in and tighten so you could barely breathe. After all, appearances matter.

Sitting on the pile of clothes was a hat with a lace trim that went with the dress, and all you could think about was how you were supposed to pull kids out of a corn maze in that outfit. It made sense because the church was running it, and you’d be standing up on stage with the rest of your family in front of the whole town.

Deciding not to nitpick the details, you rolled over to face the wall and pulled the covers over your shoulder, too tired to care about what was to come the next day.

——————————

Warm. Warm? Cold? Cold! Jolting awake to the sudden change in temperature, your eyes shot open to see your mother standing over you, holding your duvet and practically pulling you out of bed.

“Up! Up! Now! We have things to do!”, You groaned and caught the edge of your bed before she could drag you onto the floor, looking over at the clock. 8:17 am.

“Alright! I’m getting up. Just give me a second.”

She let go of your legs and hurried downstairs, presumably to start baking her ‘famous’ blackberry tartlets.

The wooden floors were cold and hard against your feet, and the draft coming through your window ran up your back, nipping at your neck. Your body began to ache just thinking about all the things you had to do today and, on top of all that, dealing with screaming children. You’d rather eat a pound of salt.

The clanging in the kitchen grew louder with each stride you took, and when you turned the corner, you saw your mother elbow-deep in pastry dough, rolling, shaping and baking it into perfect little cups that filled the countertops. She looked like she had been baking for hours already. However, she still roped you into the kitchen and stationed you in front of a bowl and a gigantic pile of blackberries.

——————————

No matter how hard you scrubbed your hands and fingers, the indigo stains didn't budge; you had washed your hands four times. You became frustrated and decided just to leave it, and you had to be ready in an hour and “Heaven forbid” we were late. Much to your protest, your mother had bound you into the corset so tightly that you felt as if you were going to burst with one too many sharp movements and she asked you to do the same for her, as always. It astonished you how she kept telling you to pull tighter and tighter, to the point where you thought you’d snap her in half.

You dressed in the rest of your outfit and tucked away any loose hairs that fell astray. Pulling a few flowers from the vase on your vanity, you slipped them into the ribbon on your hat and took a deep breath. The image in the mirror was so far from what you usually looked, and it warped your mind; the enhancement of your figure and whatever powders and liquids your mother had caked on your face made you look like the pinnacle of high-class refinement and innocence.

It had turned out that word of your overnight stay with an older man in the middle of town had crept through the cracks of the alleys and made its way subtly through the hushed corners of town, so your presentation today had been fabricated meticulously by your parents to ensure your best behaviour.

“We’re leaving in twenty minutes, no more, no less!’

Your mother shouted from the bannister, echoing throughout the top floor.

Shaking the nervousness, you sat at your vanity and fixed some of the makeup. She tried, but your skin was much softer and had far fewer wrinkles.

You knew it was time to leave when you heard the coach roll onto the front grass. Your father only called this for events, and it was just as awkward and confining as packing a bear and a snake into a pet cage.

——————————

Each time you rode in that godforsaken carriage was worse than the last. Smushed against the door was your fate because your sister needed space for her ‘friends’. Her plush toys, that was.

You bunched the fabric of your dress in your hands and pushed yourself out of the door, taking in the bustling noise of something other than maids or dishes or your mother’s consistent blithering. It brought you a sense of calm… almost.

It wasn’t long until you were dragged by the wrist and ushered behind the stage curtains whilst Mayor Baker welcomed guests. Your mother gestured to the corners of her lips, smiling in a way that was so obviously fake and surface level that it was closer to pain than actual content; though you had grown closely familiar with it, you understood why the town couldn’t tell.

Following your mother and father out from the curtain with your little sister tailing you, you took in everyone’s faces, and your eyes landed on someone familiar. Like that, you felt every nerve tense and every hair stand on end. That face. That fucking face. That sense of freedom you felt swiftly exited faster than it could enter, and your smile faltered; the burning sensation sat in your sinuses, and everything around you became foggy and disoriented.

The clouded rays that were once soothing your skin and embraced you against the cold now blinded you, the winds that flowed over gently now lashed harshly at your skin and the noise you were so grateful for turned into your heartbeat, overtaking your eardrums and it was tormenting.

You felt your mother elbow you and hastily pull you off stage with the rest of your family, who had already taken a few steps before turning to your father and taking his arm to set off to their designated booth. You stumbled a little before regaining some sort of awareness, and you watched as your sister ran off with the other young church kids.

It felt like your heart would jump out of your throat, and your tightly woven corset only accentuated the pressure on your lungs.

You thought he left town for good.

——————————

Clawing at the fabric on your back with haste, you only managed to unhook a few notches while your uncontrollable sobs turned to something more like panic-stricken gasps. If only your mother had not insisted on the laces being so tight.

The gloves you wore had been strewn onto the grass, and the coat you had practically torn off lay under you, pressed into the grass by your knees and the tips of your shoes. Each breath you took was shallow and choked, and you felt like you were losing yourself and any focus you had was directed at being able to breathe.

You had run off to the outside of the corn maze, just far enough away from everyone to where they couldn’t hear your pained cries, or so you thought.

Faint footsteps turned to hurried strides that grew louder by the second, along with indistinct shouts that sounded quiet compared to the breaths that blocked your ears. Your fingers kept getting caught between the hooks, and they started hurting. You felt the world closing in and your vision narrow as you tried to get the last hook undone.

The footsteps stopped behind you, and a pair of hands shooed yours away, quickly undid the latch and asked you what was going on repeatedly, unaware of you being asphyxiated.

You squeaked out a few words using whatever air you left in you.

“Corset… Tight.”

The hands yanked the bow, loosened the laces, and pulled it apart in a matter of seconds.

Oh my god.

Nothing felt better than actually being able to breathe. You groaned in relief, collapsing onto your elbows and heaving and coughing as your head hung down, causing your hat to fall off. The coat underneath you had cushioned your thud as you rolled onto your back, and the soft grass tickled your feet.

A laugh escaped your lips briefly while you held your face in your hands; it was almost comical the way that that was so close to being the death of you… Then it all hit again like a wave crashing down on you, and you started sobbing again. It wasn’t till you finished rubbing your eyes that you realised the mystery person was probably still standing there.

You quickly wiped your eyes only to open them to a tall, well-dressed cowboy. Oh. My god. The laughter came on again as it mixed with the sniffles, and you sat up, dusting yourself off and massaging your ribcage. Sucking your teeth, you spoke.

“Nice to see you.”

He chuckled and bent down to pick up your gloves.

“Always lovely to see you, Miss.”

There was a brief pause where you soaked in the awkwardness of the situation and fiddled with a bit of grass in your fingers. The leaves from the trees rustled in the wind, filling the void.

You cleared your throat.

“Thank you for the help back there. That was… Yeah.”

Arthur stood back up with gloves in one hand and extending the other. You took it, and he pulled you up gently. You smiled at him but were met with a look of solicitude; confused, you asked what was wrong.

“Yer’ face. What the hell happened?”

Frozen in place, you realised your makeup must have run off with the tears and debated on telling the truth or not. You didn’t know if he’d tell anyone.

“My mother's gift to me after my hotel ‘rendezvous’. She didn’t break anything this time, at least.”

Arthur’s face was one of pure shock, mouth slightly agape, and he seemed to try to process what you just said. It was scary how silent he was, the silence being filled by the breeze once again.

“Your MO-”

He calmed himself, stepping towards you and reaching his hand to your chin, tilting your cheek towards him.

“She did this to you? Yer’ own damn mother?”

He shifted to your lip, running his thumb across the split, sighing. Pulling away from you, he shook his head.

“I’m so sorry that happened. Really, I didn’t mean for you to get that drunk.”

You picked up your hat and coat and shrugged; you didn't want him to feel bad since he could’ve just left you at the saloon, and who knows what might’ve happened to you if he did. Realising that you’ve been missing from the corn maze for a while, you mentioned having to get back to Arthur.

“The corn maze? That’s where I’m stationed.”

He was your supervisor.

“I was wondering who I was with… Wait- How?”

How was a question that seemed like it was about to have a very long answer, so instead of waiting to hear what he said, you asked him to help you tie your corset, wanting to get back before someone noticed you were missing. Before he could answer, you had already turned your back to him.

“Miss, I… I don’t know how to…”

Holding the loose laces, you put them in his hands and told him to start from the top and pull tightly, but not too tight. It took him a few seconds to register what you said, but he finally moved towards you after a few seconds.

You moved your hair out of the way and looked over your shoulder to see his face slightly puzzled, and you chuckled before facing forward again.

His hands briefly brushed your spine and made their way to the first cross. He pulled gently, edging the laces tighter until you said stop. He stopped and made his way to the next cross, pulled to the same tightness and stopped again. Slowly but surely, he worked his hands down the rest of the laces, drawing them through the eyelets until he hit the bottom.

“I can’t tie bows…”

Your hands met his, and you took over, finishing up. Arthur shuffled a little closer, hooking the back of your dress, and you swear you heard him mumble another apology; you questioned him, but he said nothing. You turned around to get your gloves off him without realising how close he was. Everything clicked for a moment; for just a split second, you felt this intense sense of… something. It was a feeling that warmed your blood.

Clearing your throat, you grabbed the gloves from his belt and slipped them on, along with your hat and coat. Arthur stood there awkwardly, staring off into nothing whilst playing with the hem of his jeans pocket.

It struck you that the makeup was still smeared with streaks of blushed tint running down your cheeks and smudged lip paint that dragged down your chin. Searching for something to wipe it with, you expressed to Arthur that you couldn’t go into town without covering the marks and then pulled out a small handkerchief and tried your best to wipe away the remnants.

“Hold on, I’ll be right back, jus’ stay here”

The cowboy had already begun briskly walking away before you could protest, but you were stuck here, so it didn't matter. A few minutes later, he returned with a dark brown-haired woman in tow carrying a toddler playing with a small teddy bear.

“This is my friend Abigail. She’ll fix yer makeup for you.”

The woman gave the little one over to Arthur before reaching into her purse. You watched as Arthur sat down on the grass and played peek-a-boo with the bear whilst the child watched in awe, giggling and clapping.

“Don’t mind my son. His dad was busy.”

She seemed slightly annoyed but continued to rummage for a few seconds before pulling out a small compact, a bottle filled with a wine-coloured liquid and two brushes, one big and one small.

“So, you’re Miss Hotel. Yeah, I saw y’up on that stage earlier. You’ve got a pretty face. Ain’t that right, Arthur?”

Arthur's head snapped up from the boy with a startled look; he sputtered out a ‘Yeah’ and turned his attention back to the boy. Abigail snickered quietly and started to apply the rosy powder to your cheeks, brushing it over the mark and matching it on the other side; then, she painted the liquid onto your lips, carefully smudging it with her finger.

“Well, I’m all done here. It was lovely to finally meet you.”

Swiftly, she packed away the cosmetics and swept up her son and his toy before wishing Arthur a good day and returning to the fair. You slightly adjusted your clothes while Arthur got up and suggested that you two get going; you agreed.

——————————

Throughout the day, kids and adults alike filtered in and out of the maze, though you hadn’t paid much mind to it. You signed them in and waited ten minutes, and if they hadn’t come back to the front, you went in and guided them back out.

“I think it’s been ten minutes since that couple went through. I better go fish ‘em out. You’ve already done enough today. I’ll take over from here.”

Arthur stood from his chair and entered the maze, disappearing into the husks. The two of you had been talking since you returned, sharing stories and asking questions. You thought it was a great way to kill time and get to know each other better, considering you weren’t allowed to participate in anything until the last hour when most of the activities closed and the music and dancing started.

You had learnt about his upbringing, that he lives with a camping group that travels frequently and is essentially one big family, and about his hobbies, which included hunting, journaling and the occasional sketching and poetry. The last one surprised you a bit, and you asked if you could hear some, which seemed to get him flustered before he explained that it was kind of private, which you understood.

Fiddling with the sign-up sheet on the table, you looked around at all the stalls and activities and eyed your parents, one that was being swarmed for tartlets just like every other year. They’d be sold out in the next twenty minutes.

Sounds of rustling filled the air along with crunching footsteps from behind; you looked over and saw the couple giggling and dishevelled, with Arthur trailing behind, looking stunned and shaking his head. It took you a few seconds to put together what had occurred, and your face twisted in disgust, earning you a glare from the man before his wife dragged him away.

“You definitely do not see that every day.”

Arthur thunked down onto the chair next to you and leaned onto the table, dragging his hands down his face in disbelief.

“Jesus. People don’t have any sense these days. What if a kid saw ‘em?!”, He exclaimed.

“It’s entirely unsanitary and unholy.”

You rolled your eyes, people should leave that for their bedrooms. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Arthur's eyebrow raise in confusion but, he didn’t say anything else.

Time passed slowly for the rest of the afternoon, with more people coming and going and lighthearted conversations that ranged from ‘Favourite animal?’ to ‘Best flavour of pie?’, in which the only valid answer was apple-cinnamon, in his opinion.

——————————

It was later in the evening when you finally packed up the stall, the sun was going down and the band your father hired had begun setting up. Arthur offered to take the table and chairs to the piles on the other side of the town square whilst you took the donation jar and sheets to the crates that sat near your family’s wagon, you agreed and hoisted the jar into your arms and grabbed the stack of papers and made your way over.

Your mother was there organising the money and filing various papers into envelopes when you reached the wagon, though she was too distracted to notice you. It wasn’t like you were very big on talking to her at the moment.

You returned to the plaza where everyone was gathered, the place was lit by street lamps and candles that sat atop the highest tiers of the fountain and the stands surrounding the outer edge of the town square. The music had just started a few minutes prior and people were already dancing, though mostly children.

Sitting on a bench on the far side of the square, you watched everyone enjoy themselves, you thought you would’ve been more excited to participate but honestly, you couldn’t get that face out of your head. The image had been burned into your brain since you were fourteen and seeing it again today terrified you just as much as it did all those years ago.

The feeling weighed on you like ten sacks of flour and clouded your thoughts like a thousand hurricanes. Out of all days. It was more than what you wanted to deal with and you were pretty sure Arthur had picked up on it too, but chose to say nothing after your near-death fiasco.

“Not dancin’?”

A woman’s voice broke your train of thought. You looked up to find Abigail standing with her hand on her hip, looking down at you.

“Maybe later.”

She sat down on the bench next to you and you thought you smelled alcohol on her breath as she talked.

“Y’know, Jack’s father is horrible. Took off on me and my boy after I gave birth. Still isn’t very involved at all. Hell, Arthur has been more of a father figure to him than he has, and it’s not even his kid.”

As much as she tried to hide it, the pain and anger in her voice was clear. You couldn’t imagine having to raise a child, let alone without the help of the father. Abigail looked at you with tear-welled eyes for a moment before sniffling and wiping them with her hands.

“But I love him, I love that stupid bastard. He may not love me back but this feeling isn’t something I can shake. It’s like when you first meet someone and there’s this little lantern of hope that lights within you, and that flame just keeps burning, whether it gets bigger or not, that flame burns.”

There was a pause before she looked back to you.

“I saw the way you look at him. I see that flame, and I don’t even think you notice it yourself.”

You stared at her, a little dumbfounded. The two of you had just been friends. Yes, he is a very striking man, but that didn’t correlate to fondness or likeness, right?

“Yeah, I don’t think so. Arthur and I are friends. That’s all.”

She rolled her eyes at your statement, chuckling.

“Hey, I’m serious. I think I’d know if I had a thing for someone.”

“Whatever y’say, Sugarplum.”

The snarky remark mixed with her expression almost earned a laugh out of you but you took into consideration what she was saying for a moment. No way.

“Well, however you feel is however you feel, but I’ll tell you something. That morning he came back, John asked him where he’d been and Arthur, bless his heart, he said he spent the night hopin’ and prayin’ that the girl he got drinks with didn’t hate his guts!”

She laughed so hard after that, you thought she’d fall off the bench onto the ground. Did he really think that? You thought that he would’ve moved past it casually, that he did that kind of thing often, you guessed not.

“Well I don’t, and he was very gentlemanly about it. Put me to bed and all.”

A smile crept onto your face as you thought about that night, it was neither’s fault, you didn’t know your limit and he didn’t know you were such a lightweight.

“He’s spent the last week worrying about you so much, we thought his hand would get fused to his forehead from all the time he spent sitting in the damn same position!”

Abigail proceeded to ramble about Arthur's antics for a few minutes, mentioning all the details he told her about how the first time you two had met was purely coincidental and what you talked about and about a billion other incoherent things you couldn’t hear because of the speed she was talking.

“And get this! I asked if you were pretty, considering how much he talked about you, and he-”

She paused with a laugh, clutching her chest.

“He said ‘pretty enough’. Little shit was lying, and I could tell, though I suppose anyone could considering how much he was avoiding eye contact, and how any time someone mentioned your name, he got all dopey and such.”

You barely comprehended what she was saying before she was holding your face in her hands and staring at you intently.

“Look at you, you’re gorgeous! A gorgeous piece of forbidden fruit.” A smirk grew on her face and her voice became hushed.

“Pastor’s daughter. Arthur better tread carefully.” She giggled, dragging out the last syllable in a teasing manner.

The thought of your father finding out you had even been in any sort of intimate vicinity of a cowboy who looked about old enough to be your dad himself was terrifying. You could just imagine the beating you’d receive, your mother's sobs about you being a disgrace and a scandalous harlot. However, a small part of your mind wondered about the possibility of becoming close to Arthur. How well did you know him?

From what you had seen of him today, you wouldn’t have thought twice about his behaviour towards you or your behaviour towards him, but the more your mind replayed each interaction, it made more and more sense.

Maybe you did have a little thing for him. It’ll probably pass.

You heard your name and turned your attention away from Abigail to see none other than the man himself, standing there with a somewhat annoyed look on his face.

“Ladies.”

He cleared his throat twice before Abigail took notice, and when she did, she was nothing but cheery and smiles. A look was exchanged between all three of you before you broke the silence.

“Hey, Arthur. Did you get those chairs and table back, alright?”

Abigail snickered, pushed herself off the bench, and slowly slunk away, whistling and looking back at you before disappearing into the crowd.

“Yeah… Yeah, I did. Don’t mind Abigail, she jus’ likes to stir the pot. Did you she yap yer ear off? When she drinks, she gets talkative.”

You weren’t about to question him on anything she had just told you, absolutely not. Could you imagine? Actually, funny you say that. She told me that you have some sort of obligated sense of care for me, even though you’ve only known me for about two weeks . It wasn’t like you weren’t drawn to him at all, but you felt it wasn’t the time or place to discuss such a matter.

“She was just talking about Jack. Apparently, you’ve been a great help to her.”

Arthur leaned onto the back of the bench and looked at you. You felt like there was something behind his gaze that you couldn’t quite pick up.

“Well, someone’s got to do it, and no one else wants to. John doesn’t believe it’s his child, but I don’t really want to get into it.”

Oh. Oh. Poor Abigail.

“Of course, but it’s really sweet of you.”

The light danced in his eyes, and he stared at you intently for a few seconds, tilting his head ever so slightly.

“Thanks…”

He seemed mesmerised by the way the candles illuminated your skin and how your lips curled into a smile when you complimented him. For a few seconds, your eyes searched his while he searched all of you. You felt that same warmth grow inside your chest, making your heartbeat heavy and deep, and your lips parted when Arthur’s gaze drifted to them. He’s so…

Arthur snapped out of it, and his eyes met yours again, and the corner of his mouth stretched into a half-smile. He broke the silence and nervously spoke.

“Would you, uh, care t’ dance?”

The statement surprised you and the abruptness of it confused you before your mind registered what he said.

“I don’t think I can, my parents would see and-”

“No one will see you. Look at how many people there are, and I think you deserve some fun after all your hard work today.”

You looked out at the large crowd and debated his offer for a moment before answering.

“Alright. Just for a bit”

Your answer made Arthur grin before standing up and extending his hand out for you to take, which you graciously accepted and the two of you pushed your way through to the crowd’s centre.

The quartet was playing upbeat music that you didn’t recognise, and you slowly started to tap your foot to the beat, Arthur did the same. After a few minutes, the both of you began twirling and stepping along with everyone around you and getting caught up in the music. Dancing and jumping and swinging each other around, you let enjoy the moment and all you heard was your laughter mixing with the song and the sound of feet hitting the ground.

The song came to an end soon after and you stopped jumping to catch your breath, thinking that the next song would be equally as fast. You looked up at Arthur who was slightly sweating and smiling and started smiling yourself.

Much to both of your surprise, the next song flowed like water, delicate and slow, and everyone around you two partnered up and began swaying. The two of you looked at each other awkwardly and stood still while everyone else was getting up close and personal, and you looked away and began to dance by yourself.

“What’re you doin’? Don’t be silly, come ‘ere.”

He moved closer to you and gently pulled you in, moving your arms the rest on his shoulders then holding your waist. Oh my god. You took a deep breath, exhaling and relaxing into his touch as you both danced.

Your heart’s pace quickened and for the first time in a long time, your face flushed pink and you avoided eye contact at all cost. The closest you’ve been to proper slow-dancing was was you did group line dancing as a sport in school and that was nothing like this. Arthur was looking down at you and for a split second, you looked back.

“You okay? This too much?”

His tone was sweet and slightly concerned when he spoke. You nodded, feeling that if you were to talk, it wouldn’t be words, just a jumble of sounds. And maybe a squeal.

The feeling of something unknown bloomed in your heart, shooting down and blooming out throughout your body, it was only mild, but thrilling. For the second time today, you were breathless, and this time, it was for a good reason.

He stepped closer, hands drifting down to your hips while he looked at you and smiled.

“I must say, you are a pretty girl.”

Your eyes met and you didn’t look away. God. Something had changed in you like those words activated a switch. You noticed his tan skin glistening in the candlelight, the way his shoulders felt under your hands, broad and strong. The way his hands firmly enveloped your hips and the way he looked at you desirously, wanting.

“Thank you, Mr Morgan.”

He chuckled, bowing his head when you called him that. You thought it was the polite way to address someone, especially when they were older than you. He looked back up and began to speak.

“You don’t have to be so formal, y’know?”

“It’s how I was raised, my daddy said it’s the proper way to address someone.”

“Yer daddy ain’t here. Just call me Arthur.”

“Arthur. Thank you”

The two of you shared a laugh and he drew your hips in, gently pressing you to his body. Despite the cool weather, Arthur was warm and inviting, and his body was like a firm pillow. Talk about leaving room for Jesus.

You held your gaze on him, admiring his pretty, teal-coloured eyes and zoning out from everything around you. Nothing felt real, instead a mere fantasy and you were wondering when you were going to wake up, not that you wanted to.

Just as soon as you find bliss, it gets violently ripped away from you. Two hands yanked you backwards, causing you to stumble to the ground and all you heard was screaming, and when you looked up, your mother was getting ready to backhand you until Arthur caught her arm, causing her to scream even louder.

“Let go of me this instant!”

Somehow she managed to wriggle out of his grip and began swiping at you with her other hand, managing to land a few hits before your father came to restrain her, whispering something inaudible in her ear.

Whatever he said made her stop in her tracks and slowly look around at the people staring at the scene she caused. Her face was pale and she was silent for a while before grabbing you by the ear and dragging you away. You saw Arthur’s face, which was one of complete shock, and you mouthed ‘I’m sorry’.

——————————

“What on our Lord’s holy earth were you doing with that man!?”, Your mother sat across from you in the carriage.

Your mother had left your father and sister at the fair to damage control, and so she could chew you out without worrying about hurting her ‘precious angels’. Golden childs. Feelings.

“I was just dancing.”

You looked out the window at the sunset, too annoyed with her to give her your full attention. For once, one goddamn time in your life, you truly felt at home, but no, she has to go and cause a scene.

“Dancing? You call that dancing? More like rubbing fronts!”

Gross. Rubbing fronts? You never wanted to hear that term again.

“Ew, No.”

Part of you wanted to argue back, but the better part of you knew the consequences. It would end in another beating and you were still healing from the last one and now, the brand new scratches from her nails too.

The carriage came to a halt and you knew you were home, pushing open the door, you got out and made your way to the front door. Go to your room.

“Go to your room. I don’t want to see your face again until tomorrow.”

You just pushed the door open and went straight up the stairs and to your room, pulling off the uncomfortable clothes and collapsing on your bed. Tears formed in your eyes and you began to sob quietly into your pillow, smearing the makeup all over the crisp white linen.

How could she embarrass you like that? In front of everyone? She has officially lost it.

You lay there, listening to your clock tick and wishing that things went down differently. Tick. Minute after minute, you seethed in anger and had to remind yourself to breathe. Just breathe. Tick. The sun had gone down by now, plunging your room into almost darkness, only lit by the moonlight that filtered in through your thin curtains.

By the time you realised you were no longer crying and fading in and out of awareness, you guessed it was late at night and rolled over to look at your clock. 11:24 pm. Tick. You groaned when your stomach grumbled and mentally kicked yourself for not grabbing something to eat when you came in, but you just ignored the feeling and tried to go to sleep, not caring about the state you were in.

Tick, Tick. Tap?

#fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 writer #archive of our own #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #rdr2 arthur

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lovelynim · 1 year

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Hiii!! Congrats for reaching 300 followers, you deserve them and even more 😸

If I'm not too late, I'd like to propose an idea for the drabble event with lee Tighnari and ler Cyno (as a romantic ship) 👉👈

It's set when they were both students at the Akademiya and they're working on a chemistry experiment together, but Cyno does something wrong and everything explodeds. No one gets injured but they're all covered by a red pigment so they have to shower. When they're done, Cyno notices that Tighnari is still sulking about the failed experiment and he thinks of a way to cheer him up

He points out that the fennec has some red pigment that wasn't washed away (obviously it's not true), and pokes Tighnari on that spot, then gives him another poke, and another, and another, until he starts tickling him for real until he forgets about the experiment

I'm sorry if the idea was too long or too detailed, if you don't choose to write it I won't mind at all 🥰 Felice anno nuovo 💚🤍❤️ (Happy new year)

Reddish

Genshin Impact - Tighnari x Cyno

A/N: Sooo, I know this was supposed to be for the Drabble Event, but the prompt was so well written that I felt I’d waste it if I only wrote a drabble… Then, here am I, humbly offering you this fic. Thank you so much for your kind words and support and I hope you like it!

Summary: After a failed experience, Cyno tries to find a way to make Tighnari smile again.

Word count: 1323 words

Tighnari muttered something under his breath, using a towel to dry off his hair and ears, with some extra care on the latter. What a bad idea. The recently borrowed shirt was a little too big for the fennec fox, but it was the best Cyno could borrow him at that point. Tighnari was wearing an oversized shirt and shorts, with his legs and arms bare, a comfort clothing to spend the night at someone’s dorm.

“Sorry, I don’t think I have anything smaller,” the other student pointed out, his voice coming from behind. With one hand over his hip, Cyno watched the other student from the door. With his chest bare a towel over his still-half-wet hair, he had only a pair of light trousers on.

Tighnari turned his head back to the wall as soon as his eyes landed on Cyno, feeling the heat taking place at his face just from the sight. “A-ah, don’t worry about it, it’s fine,” he replied in a hurry, coughing to clean his throat. The other could see how the fennec’s ears lowered and his tail curled moments before he continued to talk.

“Also, I’m sorry for earlier,” he muttered with embarrassment in his voice, using his hand to hold his arm, “I should have helped you…”

A few hours ago, the two of them were experimenting with some flowers Tighnari picked the other day. Despite not knowing their exact nature, the two students were confident enough to start working with the plants, after all, it could be the start of a research that would greatly contribute to the Akademiya’s projects.

Mashing a few petals, mixing them up, adding some liquid and pouring them together in a flask. In the worst case scenario, it should only be a waste of time… or, at least, they thought so.

Being his major, Tighnari was the one conducting the whole experiment, studying how the components of the flower would react to different stimuli. And, at some point, he requested his laboratory assistant (and secret crush), Cyno, to pour the flask’s contents into a bowl with some powder they prepared earlier.

The goal was to see what kind of effects a cream produced with said flower would have. However, what they didn’t expect was that the mixture started to foam.

Confused by the results, it was then that the students realized their mistake: instead of the powder, Cyno had poured the liquid into a bowl with some kind of yeast that was supposed to go into a later step of their experiment. Then, in a matter of seconds, the foam became thicker, bubbles started to form and, before they could cover themselves, boom.

Despite the loud sound that left Tighnari stunned for a few seconds, the only thing harmed was their ego. The laboratory was a mess, their clothes were a mess and so was anything in a radius of a few meters from the bowl. To make things worse, the red pigment of the flower was covering the whole scene. Even the rooftop was tainted in that bright reddish tone.

Because of their impeccable historics as students, their professor let them slide out of it with just a short scolding and a simple punishment: they would have to clean the laboratory.

From the moment of the explosion to the moment when they finally managed to get the red stains out of the ceiling, Tighnari was dead silent. And Cyno could tell how upset he was just by that. He wouldn’t mind messing up this kind of thing, but making the fennec fox so frustrated was worse than having to walk around the Akademiya covered in a bright red color from head to toe.

And that's why he knew he needed to do something about it.

Back to the present, Cyno was trying to come up with the right words, wanting to say something to ease his friend’s frustration.

“It’s me who should be apologizing, Nari,” he spoke softly, taking a deep breath to gather the courage he needed at that moment and stepping inside the room. “If I acted more carefully, your experiment would have turned out right.”

There was no answer. Tighnari just kept sulking in the corner of the bedroom, without even looking back. Alright, let’s try again, Cyno thought.

“A-and who cares about what the others say? I mean, who are they to even judge us for a single mistak-”

He stopped himself from finishing his sentence once he noticed it had zero effect. He needed a different approach.

“Nari… well, ahm…”

“Yes?” Tighnari said in an emotionless tone, slightly turning his head to look at the other student.

“I think… ah, yes, I think I saw some red spots on your arm!” He said, reaching out for Tighnari’s hand without a second thought, pulling the other towards his bed.

“W-what? I’m sure I washed them awahay- ahah, C-Cyno, what are you dohoing?” He asked between soft chuckles, twisting and turning around as the other kept pinching and poking his torso.

“I’m trying to get rid of them, stop moving!” Cyno smiled, pushing Tighnari closer and closer to the mattress.

“T-this is a clean shihirt, how ahare yo- WAAH!” The fennec gasped in surprise when he was cornered against the bed, falling on his back on top of it.

Once he had the other laid down, Cyno wasted no time and sat on his lap, sneaking his hands inside the large shirt, scribbling over the fox’s sides and stomach. “Let me help you, Nari ~”

Tighnari could swear he saw Cyno grinning, but he wasn’t sure. As soon as his crush’s hands made contact with his bare skin, the only thing he could do was to throw his head back and press his eyes shut, as if it would somehow ease the feeling.

“NoHOHoho, C-Cyno plehehEASEHE!” Tighnari pleaded while trying to push Cyno away, placing both his hands on the other’s shoulders, hoping to defend himself against the tickling.

“Please? You don’t even need to ask twice, Nari… It’s my pleasure to help you,” Cyno grinned, feeling how the other’s legs kicked the air behind him. “I think there is a stain right heeere,” he teased, vibrating his finger against one of Tighnari’s ribs.

“AHAhaha, y-yohou aAHare n-not hehehelping! CoHOhohme on!”

“Then, Nari, what am I doing, hm?” Cyno muttered, letting his hands travel as they pleased inside Tighnari’s shirt, exploring each inch of bare skin they could find and drawing the sweetest laughter he ever heard out of the fox with each touch.

Cornering Tighnari against the mattress, Cyno leaned closer to his face. The fennec fox had his arms clasped down against his sides, with his hands clenched into fists resting over his chest and, for Cyno, that was the perfect position to trap him.

Keeping a light tickling over his hips and lower sides, Cyno kissed the other’s forehead, making Tighnari wide his eyes in surprise.

“Don’t blame yourself for that experiment, ok? You have a really pretty smile, Nari, don’t waste it frowning like that,” Cyno said fondly, looking down at the fox in silence for a few seconds.”Hey, Nari,” he resumed to speak, pulling his hands away and freeing the other student from the tickling.

“Y-yes, Cyno?” Tighnari said, with an uneven breath pace and still processing what just happened.

“I think there is some pigment left on your face too. All over it, heh,” he joked, with a grin on his lips. Before the other could even protest back, Cyno was already holding Tighnari’s wrists, keeping them pinned next to his head, making the fox gasp in surprise. “or is it something else?”

“Yes, it’s you, you big lummox, not the pigment,” the fennec admitted, sighing and turning his head away.

“Yeah? Then let’s take care of it, Nari ~”

That experiment could not be the beginning of a new research, but it was definitely the beginning of something else.

#300 followers #milestone event #drabble event #genshin impact #genshin impact tickling #cynonari #cyno #tighnari #lee!tighnari #ticklish!tighnari #ler!cyno

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