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hanniiesuckle17 · 3 years

Text

Fireworks

A/n: this is not requested but i needed to write something for me and I always love writing best friend!jisung (this turned out to be hella long btw). Also i just realized this is the 16th jisung fic on my masterlist wtf. Welp happy sweet sixteen jisung.

Tag List: @mini-meanhoe @leggomylino @hanstagrams @desertofdessert @hoes4hoseok @yangomangos @jeonqqin @geminirules @crscendoforsung @mrsunshine999 @jisungsjheekies @hannie-squirrel00 @cotccotc @kodzu-ken @konenichi @yangs-jeongin @binniebutter @skzwriternet

Warnings: cussing probably, lil distressed jisung, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 5.2k

Summary: Y/n and Jisung practically grew up together. Y/n always dreamed of getting her fairytale happy ending. So, Jisung is surprised when she is settling for an all but labeled ‘arranged marriage’ to an asshole that Jisung knows doesn’t love her. Not like he does. Can Jisung convince himself to go after what he really wants and take the risks that come with it? Can Y/n face the facts that what she has wanted has been in front of her all along?

Genre: romance, fluff, angst, non-idol!au, bestfriend!au, friends to lovers!au, wedding crasher!au, Fem Reader

❃

“Please, come today!”

Jisung sighed over the phone. “Y/n. I have no knowledge whatsoever about dresses. Especially wedding dresses! They’re all white! What’s the difference?” I could hear the murmurs of Changbin and Chan on the other side of the line. “See. I will be no help at all!” Despite the negative connotation of his words I could hear the tiny smile in his voice.

“So, we’re meeting outside the shop at five.”

“Y/n, I’m not going.”

“2146 Chyeongsong Ave, got it?”

“Yes, I’ve got it.”

Letting out a happy laugh I hung up on my best friend, sure that his attendance could be accounted for. The wedding was three months away. Jiho, my fiancee, had no desire for a big wedding and it seemed the sooner we were married the happier he would be.

But, I had always dreamed of a magical wedding with hundreds of people watching me marry the man of my dreams. So, we compromised. He said I could plan as big I wedding as I wanted as long as I could get it done in three months and he would pay for it.

Jiho was the son of one of Seoul’s big company presidents. His family was very kind and seemed to welcome me with open arms despite my less than formal upbringing. Jiho grew up in a penthouse apartment and went to the best university in Seoul.

I grew up in a tiny house in the rundown suburbs next door my best friend, Jisung, and busted my ass to get scholarships and pay my way through a cheap college. Jisung was beside me in all the big moments in my life. He was my best friend and I loved him more than anything.

“So, what did he say?”

Sooyoung’s head of curly dark hair popped over the cubicle divider separating our two desks. I laughed and gave her a thumbs up. “You doubted my power of Jisung persuation?”

“Never. You could convince that boy to run around Gangnam with his shoes on his ears and screaming at the top of his lungs if you wanted to.” Laughing at the thought, I turned back to my computer, desperately watching the minutes tick by before I would get to start searching for my wedding dress.

❃

A slightly chilling breeze blew across the street. Jisung regardless of his lack of enthusiasm on the phone picked me up from work to walk with me to my dress appointment. My mother, other best friend Yuri, and Jiho’s sister Bo Rim were already waiting outside. Everyone greeted us with a smile as we walked up. My arm was looped with Jisung’s and my hand was stuffed in his jacket pocket since it was cold.

My mother smiled and embraced Jisung with a kiss on the cheek before motioning us inside. My entourage and I were quickly greeted by a consultant. “Hi! My name is Hyunsoon, I’ll be your consultant today. You must be the gorgeous bride, Y/n!” She smiled looking me up and down before glancing at my arm linked with the man beside me. “And is this handsome young man your husband-to-be?”

Jisung shook his head dark hair falling in his eyes. A tight smile sat on his lips as he answered the woman. “No, I’m just the best friend. I’m not going to stay for the whole appointment.” She nodded looking at Jisung with new eyes. “I want to be surprised. Regardless, Y/n will look radiant in whatever she chooses.”

After a few questions about my wedding Hyunsoon led me back into a dressing room and my family and friends to a couch with mirrors around it.

“Are you excited for your wedding?” She asked with a kind smile, placing dressing on the wall of the dressing room for me to see.

“You could say that,”

Her brows furrowed. “You don’t sound very excited?” I shrugged and laughed nervously. The dresses she had picked out were very pretty. Sensing I had nothing more to say on the topic she helped me into the first dress.

It was weird to see myself in the garment. I watched her fix the dress with clips so it would fit as it should before looking over to me. The dress was more of a ball gown style. It poofed out just above my hips and was strapless with a sweetheart neckline.

“Do you want to go out and show them?” I nodded and helped her pick up the many layers of tulle skirt. Hearing fabric brush against the ground as we walked out of the hallway, the heads of my entourage turned. Several smiles were seen from my view in the mirror as I stepped up onto the pedestal.

I gazed once again at the dress in the mirror. It was a gorgeous gown; there was no doubt. Feeling ready for their opinion, I turned around to face the peanut gallery. “What do you think?” My mother was quick to gush over the skirt. Bo Rim and Yuri both raved over the shiny beading on the bodice. Mrs. Nam, Jiho’s mother seemed to like it just fine. My eyes fell on Jisung who said nothing. He looked at me, arms crossed and fingers brushing over his bottom lip. “Ji?”

“It’s....nice...”

Struggling not to laugh I replied, “One of the most incredible song writers I know and the only thing he has to say is ‘nice’?” My friend chuckled and his stare raked over the fabric before looking back up at my face.

“It’s not you. You don’t look like you. You look like some frilly puffy marshmallow girl.”

From anyone else the comment would offend but all I could do was laugh. “He’s right this is definitely not me.” Nodding the consultant ushered me back into the dressing room. Five dresses later, nothing felt right and I was beginning to get stressed out. “What do I do, Hyunsoon? Nothing feels right. I’m not feeling those....fireworks.” The beautiful woman looked at me in question. “Sorry, it’s something Jisung and I say to each other. It’s like our wish for the other to find so much happiness that it feels like...actual fireworks.” I explained with a light laugh.

She sat down on the floor with me, moving the short silk robe further over my thigh, a gentle gesture. “Tell me more about your fiancee,” She kept her hand on my knee and rubbed soothing circles on my skin.

“Ummm....well...his name is Nam Jiho. He’s really nice and very very smart. Like holy fuck, he is insanely smart. He spends most of his time at work and he really likes to run as well.”

She looked at me expectantly. “That’s it?” I nodded, a little unsure of what else she wanted me to say. “And you love him?”

“Of course! What kind of a question is that? I’m getting married aren’t I?” Though I smiled, she could tell there was the smallest bit of insecurity. She thought for a minute tapping her fingers softly on my knee.

I felt somewhat lost among the mountains of white fabric scattered about the room. “Okay then! Whose opinion matters the most to you out of everyone you brought with you today?”

“Oh- Jisung. Of course.”

“Tell me about Jisung,”

A hefty sigh left my lips, but a small happy smile soon replaced it. “Jisung is....he’s like....my person you know? Like anytime I need him- even when I don’t need him- he’s always around. We grew up together. He is my everything. I trust him with more than my life. He’s just....Jisung. He is fully himself and unapologetic about it.” Ilaughed recalling thousands and thousands of memories with him. “He is a total asshole. Way too confident. But, he gets really shy sometimes. He’s also very genuine and has the biggest heart. Without Jisung...I wouldn't be who I am today.”

She smiled and pushed herself off the ground. “I will be right back!” Just as she closed the door, Hyunsoon winked over at me and left me alone in the dressing room.

❃

Jisung’s POV

I was beginning to feel restless. Y/n hadn’t come out in at least thirty minutes. My leg was going to bounce off my body at this point. Unable to sit still any longer I pushed myself off the plush couch. It was getting harder and harder to control my heart seeing Y/n walk out in all these gowns knowing she was going to marry another man.

Wandering through the labyrinth-like rows of white frocks, I found myself thinking once again about Y/n. Not bothering to cage my thoughts they ran wild with daydreams of Y/n choosing dresses imagining what I would think of her walking down the aisle. Her smiling at me instead of that asshat, Jiho.

Turning down an obviously dead end, my eyes fell on the mannequin standing in the center of the row. A delicate dress hung on the figure.Tattooed lace around the bodice and down the front of the gown to the hips fading like waves on shore. The back was low and open and my mind filled in the gaps, picturing Y/n’s soft skin laying beneath the fabric. My fingers brushed over the long thin sleeves.

The sound of the a door closing snatched me from the my tantalizing reverie. “Oh- You’re Jisung right?” The woman asked walking closer. I recognized her as the one helping with Y/n’s appointment. I gave her a short nod, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jacket. “I actually need your help.”

“Anything for Y/n.” The beautiful woman’s brow quirked up and a smile slid onto her painted lips. “I mean....anything...for the bride.”

Her tongue slid over her white teeth. There was so much white around, my head was starting to physically hurt. “Uh huh. Anyway! Y/n basically hates everything not only I have picked, but also everything she’s picked.” I stood waiting for the part where I could possibly help. “She trusts you. She wouldn’t stop talking about you.”

“I’m sorry....I don’t see how-”

“I see you’re looking at dresses. Have you seen one that you like? Maybe....one you would like...on Y/n?” My eyes fell to the floor, glancing over at the mannequin briefly. My quick gaze did not go unnoticed by Y/n’s consultant. “Well...Jisung....don’t you have good taste.” She walked over to dress form and checked the price tag before giving the gown a once over. “Revealing taste too....” She sang with a smirk.

I looked away rubbing the back of my neck, the area feeling very itchy all of a sudden. “I-I- uh...the dress just seems like her. It’s very.....mesmeric. Her.”

“She did say you have a way with words.” Hyunsoon, I think her name was, walked over to one of the racks pushing past dresses until she pulled out one I assumed was in my bestfriend’s size. “Go sit back down! I know she’s going to love this one.”

My head tilted back and I let out a sigh. As much as it pained me, I knew seeing that dress on Y/n and knowing it was ‘the one’ would be it for me. I’d snap and in front of all her family, soon to be and current, I’d confess how much I loved her and that I didn’t want her to marry that dick. I’d ruin what would be her perfect happy ending. Well...in her words....her ‘Moderatley-Happy-Fiancially-Stable Ending’.

“Actually...I’m gonna head out. I know she’s gonna love it. Tell her I hope she gets her fireworks.”

Willinging myself to start moving, I walked past Hyunsoon and towards the door, only stopping once. A glimpse. I caught only a glimpse. The door of Y/n’s dressing room opened and I saw the bright smile on her lips as she looked at the dress being brought to her. “That’s your last look, Han.” I mumbled under my breath. “Now turn around and walk out.”

With every ounce of willpower left in my body, I did.

❃

The TV droned in my rundown apartment. My two closest friends, outside the one I was deeply in love with, were half drunkenly lounged in my tiny living room. I scowled at the television, taking another drink from the bottle in my hand.

“Dude- slow down. That’s like your sixth drink.” The eldest chided, tossing a balled up fast food wrapper at my head.

Ignoring the fellow musician’s advice, I chugged the rest of the beer shooting Chan a look. “Chan let him be. You know what tomorrow is.” Changbin sighed. Turning, I found him hanging off an armchair upside down, scrolling through his phone. It was silent for a while until the inverted boy spoke up again. “I still don’t get why she’s marrying that douchebag.”

Knowing where this conversation was going I escaped to the kitchen, preoccupying myself with grabbing another beer from the fridge. the other two boys paid me no mind and continued the discussion as if I was invisible. Chan’s attention turned back to me as I plopped down next to him on the dusty old couch. “Han, didn’t you say you caught the guy cheating like....multiple times....”

It was true. I had caught Jiho not once, not twice, not even three times, but four times I had got him with other women. Jiho liked to go out to clubs. The scumbag would pretend that he was working late so Y/n would be none the wiser, then he would stay out until three in the morning drinking and getting with random girls he met. The bastard didn’t even have the decency to frequent establishments he knew I wouldn’t be at. My music career was in the dumps lately and I had resorted to DJ-ing at downtown clubs.

That fucking asshole even had the audacity to flirt with other girl while Y/n was around. She had invited me out with the two of them for drinks after a promotion at work. The second she leaves for the bathroom Jiho starts making moves on the waitress. Right in front of me.

“Yeah....well, there’s nothing I can do about it.” On multiple occasions I had tried to tell Y/n about her terrible fiancee. Every time I tried, all I could see was the look of hope on her face. the look that practically begged for me to tell her that Jiho and I were finally getting along. And....I couldn’t do it. I could never do it.

“Boo hoo. Horton hears a bitch ass liar!” Changbin slurred from his awkward position.

“What?”

“That is quite possibly the biggest lie you have ever told.”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. Chan yanked the beer out of my grip and handed me a water bottle instead. “Oh and what do you suppose I do then?” I managed to get the words out before Chan less than gently shoved the water in my face.

The man beside me sighed and shifted to face me fully. “You love Y/n. Yes or No?”

“Yes.”

“She needs to know that.” I shook my head. No, she did not need to know that. I was not going to be the reason Y/n ruined her chance at a good life. Looking around my apartment I saw nothing but disappointment. Most months it was hard to make rent and I could barely afford to do anything but the bare necessities. She deserved better than what I could give her. “We all know Y/n is only settling. This is definitely not the fairytale ending she always talked about.”

“Chan, there’s no such thing as fairytales. Even Y/n knows that.” Inwardly, I grimaced at my own words. Had Y/n been around to hear those words I would have been slapped upside the head.

“How do you know that? Do you have proof?” Changbin mused, a drunk smile on his face. “Let’s say this is a fairytale. You and Y/n have to be the main characters! The prince and the princess always get to together in the end! Duhhh!”

Even in my sour and depressed mood it was easy to laugh as Changbin slid off the armchair and landed on his head. “He does have a point, Ji.” Chan said, listing his head back onto the couch. Two of his fingers pushed the bottom of the bottle back up towards my face. “You’re the leading man in your own life, dude. Stop acting like the best friend. If you want her go get her.”

My thumb brushed over the grooves in the plastic . The alcohol was quickly clearing out of my system. A numbness filled my body as I contemplated the options put in front of me. Maybe it was time for me to be selfish. Maybe it was time for me to get what I wanted.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed myself off the sofa and headed for the door.

❃

Thirteen hours. Thirteen hours before my best friend’s wedding and I was walking to her house at two in the morning to confess my feelings for her. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I mumbled under my breath. The view of her parents house was growing closer as I walked down the street. Y/n told me earlier in the week she would be staying there the night before the big day.

Just like so many nights in our teen-dom, a familiar yellow glow from Y/n’s bedroom window illuminated the street below her house. Through the second story window I could see glimpses of movement. For a moment I just stood, doubting all the decisions I made in the last twenty minutes. I could chicken out here. Turn around and go home. She would never know.

Just as I was about to turn around, I was caught in daze by the image in the window. Y/n stepped into view, radient like a new morning. From the little I could see from the street, she was wearing the dress I had picked from the boutique. Her hair was messily pushed back and strands fell in front of her eyes. The glint of the standing mirror flashed across from where she stood. Her beautiful E/c eyes trained on her reflection.

She was breathtaking. My chest got tight just looking at her and a cold sweat was born on my palms. I watched as she rung her hands together, nervously twisting the rings on her fingers; a habit we both shared. Y/n let out a shaky breath before returning her gaze to the looking glass, this time with a smile.

Her delicate fingers reached up and brushed her cheek before they stretched out as if to shake some invisible person’s hand. Her smile grew brighter as she talked to this imaginary person. She laughed and looked truly the happiest I had seen her in a long time.

My eyes fell to the road, scuffing my shoe on the asphalt. She was happy. No matter how badly I wanted her.....there was no way I was going to take that away from her. Y/n’s happiness mattered more than mine. I could find comfort in the knowledge that she would be happy. That she would be taken care of. That she got everything she deserved. Everything I could never give her.

Turning on my heel, the cold air and truth bleeding me sober, I walked back into the city away from my happy ending.

❃

Y/n’s POV

Thirteen hours. Thirteen hours before my wedding and I was questioning everything for absolutely no reason. The rest of my family was long asleep. Yet, here I sat in my wedding dress feeling like everything I was doing, every decision I made.....was wrong. I felt like crying for no reason, my throat refusing to be anything but tight.

Coming to my feet, I smoothed out the gorgeous gown and walked with no purpose until I found myself staring at the mirror on the far side of the room. The girl on the other side of the glass looked like a bride. Why wasn’t I happy with that?

Standing up tall like my mother lectured many times in the past few days, I pursed my lips and put on a pained smile. “Hi, I’m Mrs. Nam Jiho,” The name felt unclean coming from my lips. Tilting my head, I rubbed my face before staring back at my reflection. I sighed pushing back the feeling of tears begging to spill over.

“It’s nice to meet you, my name is Nam Y/n.” I shivered, swallowing the last bit of moisture in my mouth. “Nam....Y/n.....Y/n Nam....Mrs.Nam Y/n.” The more I tried to look at the person who I would become the more I felt like crying. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Mrs. Nam Y/n....” Before I could finish the words I broke into tears. Loud sobs filled my room and all I could do was stare at the hollow shell reflected in my mirror.

My heart ached. The air in the room around me felt heavy, like a weight on my shoulders, pushing me down into the ground. Pushing past the lump in my throat, my eyes returned to the mirror, this time fixating on the photos framing the glass. Pictures of my friends and family.

My heart lifted seeing a photo of Jisung and me. It was an old picture from highschool, probably taken on one of those disposable cameras you could get at corner stores. His school uniform was slightly too big for his then thin frame. My skirt was just a little too long and my shoes were never quite the right size. We were seated on the bleachers outside the school. Jisung sat on the row above me and let me rest between his legs. His arm was wrapped around my shoulders, as he leaned around to kiss my cheek. I was caught in the middle of a laugh and Jisung looked so happy right next to me.

I smiled remembering the day from the printed memory. A friend we both had lost touch with had taken the photo while we weren’t looking. We then got teased for days afterwards. My fingers brushed over the delicate fabric of the dress. The dress that Jisung had chosen. Jisung. Almost every happy moment of my life....was tied to Jisung. Taking a step forward, I looked back in the mirror. Sniffing away the tears, I smiled.

“I’m please to meet you....I’m Mrs. Han Jisung,”

The smile on my face grew bigger and my heart swelled. Reaching up I brushed away the tears that spilled over before holding my hand as if meeting one of the guests at my wedding. “Jisung and I are so pleased you could come to our wedding,”

The feeling in my chest had me wishing to cry all over again but for a different reason. I wanted to jump and scream at the top of my lungs the name ‘Han Y/n’. The more I said it, the more I felt like a teenager again.

All I could think about was Jisung. His dark hair, dyed one too many times, leaving it slightly damaged but somehow still soft. His big, round, doe eyes. The way he told the stupidest jokes. His voice- not just when he sang, but even simply speaking his voice was one of my favorite sounds. Pressing my hands to my cheeks, I pulled away finding them hot.

“Fuck...I’m in love with Jisung.”

❃

“Okay, I need everyone to give me some fucking space!” I shouted, effectively silencing my dressing room. One by one, my maid of honor ushered the ladies out. I let slip one time that I am having second thoughts and all hell breaks loose.

Sitting at the vanity, my head fell into my hands. I was dejected. Confused. And obviously sitting with a pretty big headache. I hadn’t heard from Jisung since the dress appointment and he didn’t answer any of my texts this morning. It was like he was avoiding me. Eyeing the champagne on table I contemplated drinking the whole damn bottle then just going through with the event. As much as I wanted to get married, I didn’t want to do it to someone I didn’t love.

Standing up, I manuevered the champagne filled vessel away from my body and popped it, the sound letting loose a satisfying echo. The bubbly liquid filled the glass flute I picked up. My first sip was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“I told you guys I needed space! Just fuck off!”

Downing the glass, I turned to pour another one. Drunk ceremony was looking like my best option right about now. The click of the dressing room door opening caused my ears to prick up. “I said fuck off-”

“That’s not very nice language coming from the bride.”

Jisung stood in the doorway, hesitant smile on his face. His hair was almost styled, pieces still falling loose over his forehead. A black blazer hung over an untucked slightly wrinkled white dress shirt. His slender hands were shoved in the pockets of his blue jeans.

“Coming from you that’s rich,” He watched me drink in his appearance. “Jeans, Ji? You come to my wedding in jeans and Doc Martens?”

My best friend rubbed the back of his neck, eyes trained on the carpeted floor. “To be honest....I wasn’t sure I was coming at all.”

I blinked, trying to process the words just said to me. My best friend....the man I loved more than anything in the world...said he almost didn’t come to my wedding. “Excuse me?”

“Y/n....we need to talk....”

My chest tightened in anticipation as I watched Jisung close the door. He stayed on the opposite side of the room seemingly nervous or afraid to even look my way. A hint of a smile appeared as I watched Jisung anxiously turn the silver rings around his fingers. “Ji, have you been avoiding me...”

Instead of answering, the man’s eyes fell to the bottle on the vanity. He motioned to it, wordlessly asking for a glass. Stepping away, I allowed him enough room to cross and pour a glass for himself. He downed the flute like a shot almost making me laugh at the similarity between us. “Didn’t you want to get married outside? In a forest if I remember correctly?”

“Don’t change the subject, Jisung.”

“I’m not.” For the first time I felt like Jisung really looked at me. His eyes seemed to soften. Before I could once again appreciate how beguiling his eyes were, they retreated back to their place on the floor. “Y/n....this isn’t you. You deserve a fairytale ending. Your fairytale ending. You don’t deserve a shotgun wedding in some church with nobody watching just waiting for the hour de vours to be passed out.”

“I’m not pregnant. This isn’t a shotgun-”

“Please just let me finish, Y/n....”

Nodding, I leaned against the vanity and watched my friend’s hands brushed through his dark locks. The silver hanging from his ears glinted in the bright fluorescent lighting. “Y/n...Don’t....don’t get married.” He seemed encouraged by my reaction, or lack thereof. “I think about you a little more than I should. A lot more actually. For a long time. Y/n/n, I’ve been in love with you since grade school.”

A familiar lump began to form in my throat and a pit formed in my stomach. Gaining confidence, Jisung’s eyes met mine. “It’s been killing me...seeing you with that asshole. I know you’re happy. I know that you’re better off with him. He can give you everything that I can’t, because you deserve to have a nice house. You deserve to be spoiled with gifts and trips. You deserve to not come home every night and worry whether the rent has been paid.” Jisung stopped and stared at the empty glass in his hands.

“You always talked about fairytales when we were little. Well...my fairytale would just be us. No magic. No princes and princesses. Cause you’re enough for me. More than enough. Y/n, you’re it for me. You’re my fairytale.”

His eyes widened seeing a single tear rolling down my cheek. Before continuing Jisung watched me with shaking hands carefully set the glass flute on the vanity behind me.

“I- I want you to be happy. If you’re happy with Jiho then I will go out into that church and clap when you get hitched. Because, that's what friends fucking do and that I can give you. But...if there is any chance....any part of you...that loves me at all....even a little bit....”

He gulped, fingers ferociously twisting the rings on his right hand. Not many would believe it, but Jisung was shy. Introverted. It was rare to see him like this. Jisung wasn’t afraid or nervous, but more timid or demure. I could almost see his heart physically stop beating as I opened my mouth to speak.

“I’m not happy, Ji.” He blinked, big, brown, doe eyes trying to understand what I meant. “I want to be. But, I can’t be happy with someone I don’t love. I don’t care about the money or the gifts. I just.....want my fireworks. I think you can understand that more than anyone.”

Jisung nodded dejectedly, shoving his hands into the pockets of the blazer that seemed to be holding itself together with only a few threads. He seemed to not understand what I was saying. “I do....understand- I mean. That’s all I want for you. If you can’t be happy with Jiho or me then-”

“Fuck, Ji. You really are dense aren’t you?”

“What?”

Reaching forward, I twisted the collar of Jisung’s slightly unbuttoned shirt and pulled him closer. Before our lips even touched I could feel electricity in the air, sparking and making room hotter. Finally feeling my lips against his sent my stomach on a rollercoaster; twisting, turning, loop de loops, and free falls giving me the greatest feeling spreading to the rest of my body.

The feeling of my fingers sliding up his neck, must have brought Jisung out of whatever shock induced daze he was in. Like second nature his arms wrapped around me, cool hands pressing into the bare skin of my back. There was nothing but fire in my stomach as Jisung dragged his lips over mine at a painstakingly slow pace. The man smiled feeling me pull and tangle my fingers in his soft dark tresses.

“Fireworks?” I asked, pulling away with my bottom lip snagged between my teeth.

“Millions.” Jisung’s thumb brushed over my cheek before he leaned back in capturing my lips in another death defying kiss. “Did you drive here? I took the train.” He mumbled between kisses.

I laughed feeling happier than any moment before in my life. “My car is out back. You’re driving.”

Opening my eyes, I saw that signature smirk my best friend was famous for. For the first time I knew why my insides did flips when it was directed at me. Lacing his fingers with mine he dragged me from the dressing room and led me through the halls as fast as we could run with one of us in a wedding dress. As we reached the car, slamming the doors shut, the bells in the chapel started to ring making the both of us grin. Jisung leaned over, fastening my seatbelt before kissing my lips like they were his only source of air.

“You make quite the gorgeous runaway bride,”

❃

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years

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I've had this idea for a fanfic and was wondering if you'd be up for writing something where the reader is a princess or royal and Jaskier saves her life. Maybe they have to hide out together for a bit and they fall in love while Jask helps her get back home. Of course since hes not a royal they're not supposed to be together but I was thinking either they sneak around or her claims her as "payment" for saving her life. Sorry its kinda detailed, feel free to change it up, and thank you!

Thank you so much for this prompt, I had a lot of fun with it! And I’m sorry this took so freaking long!

Okay so. I apologize in advance for the aggressive thirstiness of this one but like…………. I’m a red-blooded woman with NEEDS. I wanted to subvert the idea of the shy, chaste princess a lil bit that’s all. Sorry anon I assume that you were picturing something fluffier, and I do think it's still very sweet, just has plenty of spice as well lol. Reader in I Never Danced is a rule follower so I wanted to stretch my legs and do something more… chaotic? This reader is a sex-loving promiscuous icon and we stan! Anyhow, I hope you all enjoy :)

For the Love of a Princess (a Jaskier x royal!reader oneshot)

Rating: E (smut and violence- attempted kidnapping/murder but no gore)Word count: 3.6kTaglist: @100percentamess who has asked to be tagged in everything so here you go lol

The last few weeks had been rather peculiar for you. First, your father declared war on a neighbouring country, which meant everything was more stressful. Then, there were rumors of a witcher in town, and you found it exciting but everyone else was acting nervous and superstitious. Finally, you had to attend some boring banquet and who would show up but the witcher himself, with his bard in tow?

See, you're the kind of woman who gets what she wants: it's a side effect of being a princess. Spoiled? Not necessarily. Just determined. And when you heard that this bard Jaskier had a reputation and you saw him flash a wink and a smile at you during his song, you suddenly found something new that you wanted.

Sadly, with so many people around, you couldn't really make your move. If anyone caught you trying to drag someone- let alone a near stranger- back to your quarters, your father would surely have your head, or worse: send you off to become a nun.

It must have been the hustle of the crowds, then, that let the assassin sneak in.

You noticed something was strange as soon as you entered your room. Sadly, by that point it was already too late: someone grabbed you from behind, covering your mouth and lifting you off the ground. You screamed but of course it was muffled by the gloved hand. You bit down on it, hard, and you heard a grunt as the hand pulled back. Seeing your opportunity, you swung your elbow back and hit him in the ribs. He was forced to let go and you fell to the ground. Before you could get up, though, he was already grabbing your ankles and dragging you backwards. You clawed at the ground but since there was an ornate rug covering the stone, all you did was pull it with you and wrinkle it. Kicking and flailing desperately while he tried to grab you, you finally managed to land a kick to the groin. He keeled over and you made a run for the door but he reached out and tripped you. You didn't fall completely, but as you tried to regain your balance he was already standing again. He lunged forward and you dodged, but as you walked backwards to get away from him, you realized that he had you trapped: to your left, the bed, to your right, the wall. There was a window, but you even if you could manage to dash past him, you would never survive the fall. Just as you tried to shield yourself with your arms, you looked up at the man and heard a roar, but it wasn’t coming from him: something smashed him over the head, and as he stumbled to the side from the blow, you saw Jaskier behind him, wielding a ruined lute.

As the assassin fell, he tripped over a fold in your rug and tumbled out the window with a yell. You dashed to it, looking down to make sure your attacker was dead. You winced when you saw him; since you were on the fifth floor, it didn’t take a physician to realize he was, in fact, definitely dead.

You turned back to look at Jaskier with wide eyes. “You saved my life,” you whispered, astounded.

“I suppose so,” he agreed.

You were both panting, trying to catch your breath from the physical stress and fear and shock, and you looked at him, and he looked at you, and you wondered if both of you were having the same exact idea at the same exact time; you must have, because just as you ran towards him, he ran to you, and you kissed him with such hunger, nearly anger, all teeth and tongue and grabbing at clothes and pulling hair.

“Take me, now,” you demanded, pulling both of you back towards the bed until you fell on it, and him on top of you.

“Yes,” he hissed in agreement, moving down to kiss and bite at your neck. Your fingers dug into his biceps, and your legs wrapped around his hips as he pushed up the many layers of your skirt. His hands were strong and calloused, but his touch was delicate and gentle as he ran his fingers up your legs. You prayed he wouldn’t tease you because you didn’t think you could stand it, and thankfully your prayers were answered as his hands pulled away to open his trousers. He must’ve made quick work of them because just a moment later you felt him plunge into you, without so much as a warning, stretching and filling you- just as you’d wanted. The noise you made was unlike anything else: a scream, a moan, a growl, and a whimper all at once. As soon as he was inside you he was pulling back and thrusting in at a punishing pace, fast and deep and hard enough that he had to hold you down to keep your body from moving across the bed.

You reached up to push off his doublet, leaving only a chemise which exposed more of his chest and arms. He smiled and licked his lips, grabbing the neckline of your dress and pulling it down, nearly ripping the fabric as your breasts were freed. You yelped in surprise but it quickly turned to a moan as he dropped down to kiss along your neck and shoulders and collarbones and breasts until you were writhing under him desperately.

He leaned back and moved your legs onto his shoulders. The sight of your feet up in the air and his face between your knees was really something, especially when he turned his head to the side to leave teasing bites on your leg. Your back arched as he leaned forward, folding you in half under him. You screamed, properly, as you felt his cock pushed so deep inside of you, deeper than you even knew was possible. It pushed against something inside you that made your whole body quiver, made you cry out with every movement until you felt tears welling at the corners of your eyes: not from pain, just from the intensity of the sensation. His thumb wiped the tear away as it fell, and you were afraid he would think he had hurt you or that you didn't want this, so you decided to make yourself abundantly clear.

"Jaskier, don't stop," you commanded, "please don't stop, fuck."

"I won't stop," he promised. You were already so close; you wanted more than anything to see him lose control, and to know that it was because of you.

"Please, please, come for me," you begged as you looked up at him, "Gods, I need you to come inside me."

"Fuck," Jaskier whispered.

"You feel amazing, baby, you're so fucking good," you continued.

"Where'd you learn to talk like that?" he asked, but you could hear the exhaustion in his voice, and you knew he couldn't keep his cool much longer.

"Not all princesses are so sheltered," you smirked.

"Oh, I'm well aware," he quipped, "but they're all supposed to be."

"I like doing things I'm not supposed to," you smiled up at him.

"I noticed," he replied with a wink. He was really good at winking. Maybe a shallow or silly thing to decide to pursue a man over, since it's what attracted you to him in the first place, but clearly your tastes had served you well because he was about to make you come.

"I'm close, gods, I’m going to-” you began.

“Come for me,” he interrupted, or maybe just finished what you were going to say.

At that point you stopped really paying attention to what you were saying, but there was definitely a lot of ‘yes’ and ‘fuck’ mixed in. It was more important to you to focus on the sounds he was making- they were even more beautiful than his singing.

A few months had passed, and all the while you and Jaskier courted in secret. In fact, you were currently on a romantic date: he had you pressed against the wall of a secluded linen closet, your cheek pushed into the cold stone as he grabbed your hips for stability while he thrusted into you.

"So tight," he whispered into your ear. "I'm sure I wouldn't fit if you weren't so fucking wet all the time."

"I'm not wet all the time," you corrected, "just when you're around."

"Fuck," was his only reply.

"I'm close," you alerted him, but you regretted it as he decided to use this as a learning opportunity.

"Beg me for it," he demanded, "or I'll stop."

You scoffed, not thinking him capable of that restraint. That was a mistake, as he instantly pulled out and your body ached without him.

"No," you whined, "please."

You arched your back and tried to press yourself into him but he kept backing away so you couldn't reach.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, hoping to get back on his good side, but it wasn't enough.

"You know what you need to do," he smiled against the back of your neck as he started to kiss and bite you there: the feeling ran straight through you to your insides which clenched around nothing.

"I want you, please, I want your cock inside me," you began. That earned you a squeeze from the hand around your hip but not much else.

"Gods, I need it, Jaskier, please," you whined, "I need you." He kissed down to your shoulder but stopped there, still refusing to give you what you wanted. You felt the words spilling out of you, your need for him apparently bypassing that part of your brain that filters what you say before you say it.

"I love you, Jaskier; I've fallen in love with you," you finally revealed, not even really meaning to say it. It worked though, as he spun you around to face him and forced his way back into you. You cried out, grabbing the back of his neck while he lifted your legs to wrap around him.

"Truly?" he asked quietly as he peppered kisses along your neck.

"Completely," you responded. "Do you love me?"

"Gods, of course," he laughed, his forehead resting on your shoulder as he continued to drive into you. "I've loved you since I met you. And only found ways to love you more with each passing day."

"Please don't stop," you begged.

"The fucking or the talking?" he clarified.

"Both," you answered.

“You’re so beautiful,” he continued, his words interrupted with kisses along your neck and chest and shoulders, “and smart, and kind. It’s impossible not to be in love with you.”

You smiled, though you were blushing as well.

“I’m sure everyone who knows you is in love with you just as much as I am- certainly anyone who, er, knows you as well as I do. To be euphemistic,” he smirked. “What I’m not sure of is why you keep me around, when any man would be falling over himself just to kiss your hand.”

“You’re wondering why I keep you around? I’m about to come in a linen closet, what’s not to love?” you quipped. You felt him smile against your skin, but his voice sounded a little concerned.

“It’s not just that though, right? You have more use for me than sex?”

“You certainly have entertainment value,” you smirked.

He frowned.

“And you’re the kindest man I’ve ever met who never fails to make me laugh. Is that what you wanted to hear?” You tried to stay it with some sense of begrudgement but it was difficult when he was still fucking you- which is what you’d asked for, so no complaints there- and when you were so overcome with your feelings for him.

“Yes,” he smiled, “though I want to hear you say that you love me again.” Of course he couldn’t just ask you for that, he had to push deeper into you, making you nearly scream it out.

“I love you, Jaskier, fuck, I love you,” you moaned.

“How long?” he pressed, biting on your neck lightly as he started to drive into you even faster.

“So long, gods, I feel like I can’t remember a time that I didn’t. I can’t remember what it’s like to not need to be near you all the damn time,” you answered through gritted teeth.

It began to feel like an interrogation, though a very pleasurable one. “How did you know you loved me?”

“Fuck, Jaskier!” you protested, barely able to form sentences when you were so close to orgasm. “You were playing a song, and everyone was looking at you, and you looked so good, and you sounded so good, and I suddenly realized it. I don’t know how I knew. I just- fuck- I just thought to myself ‘I didn’t know I could care about somebody this much.’”

He kissed you, deep and slow and burning with a passion that felt entirely different from what you expected. You came and it hit you like a bolt of lightning, your body quivering under his touch. Your moans were lost against his lips, and you felt that he was there with you, finding his own release just as he brought you to yours. When you both started to slow your breathing as you calmed down from the powerful high, he relaxed his grip on your thighs, letting your legs find their way back to the floor.

"We should marry," he suggested as you shifted your dress back into position.

"Proposings of marriage are less trustworthy when they're seconds after orgasm," you frowned.

"No, I've thought about it before now," he explained. "I've thought about it a lot."

"Then you must've remembered that I'm expected to marry a king or prince."

"Yes," he sighed. “Your father likes me, I think.”

“I don’t know if he likes you that much,” you murmured.

“But he cares for you, and if he understood how much I love you…” Jaskier trailed off, taking your hands in his, looking at you with eyes that beamed with hope.

“Let’s hope he doesn’t understand how much you love me. Or how often,” you considered with wide eyes.

“Please,” he interjected desperately, his hands squeezing yours a bit, “think about it. I want to spend my life with you.”

“Julian,” you replied, your voice much softer, one hand leaving his grasp to comb through his hair, “all I want is to say yes. I just don’t know that I can.”

“You can,” he encouraged. “You may be royalty but you’re not property.”

“It’s easier for you to say when the approval of your family isn’t on the line,” you deflected.

“Then we’ll marry in secret. Or I’ll find some way to become a king, I don’t know,” he smiled.

“That’s preposterous,” you scoffed.

“Nothing could be more preposterous, more outrageous, more unbelievable, than you and I not being together,” he whispered, stepping closer.

You kissed him, smiling into it, and you were sort of scared because you had no idea what to do with feelings like this, but you felt safe as long as Jaskier was with you.

You sat beside your father, sitting through one of the worst royal duties imaginable: meetings! You just had to be upright in your throne, looking all royal and stuff, while the people rich enough to make audience with the King took turns popping in and usually complaining about something that they were too lazy to fix themselves.

If anything could get your attention now, the only thing, it would be-

Your posture changed completely when you saw Jaskier enter the room. You could tell he’d worn the nicest thing he owned; he was wringing his hands, looking around the room with a shifting gaze.

“Jaskier!” your father announced with a grin. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Is this some sort of impromptu performance? Where is your lute?”

“Your majesty,” he answered with a quick bow, “I am actually here for your audience, not as a musician.”

Your eyes went wide. This was his genius plan? You nearly felt sick you were so nervous.

“What is it, boy?” your father prompted.

“Well, I’ve come to ask you for something,” he explained.

“Spit it out then!”

“I’ve come to ask for the princess’ hand in marriage!” Jaskier replied suddenly, louder than before.

There was a brief moment of silence, but it felt like hours. It ended when your father began to laugh.

“This is ridiculous!” the king guffawed. You felt your cheeks grow hot.

“It’s true,” Jaskier replied firmly, puffing up his chest as he glanced at you briefly, “I’ve fallen in love with her.”

“Yes, well,” he scoffed in reply, “my daughter is a fair and gentle maiden. I’m sure she has plenty of potential suitors who only wished they could take her hand. The difference is that they have the foresight not to barge in and ask me for my only child!” He stood up, face red with anger, and addressed the guards. “Get this fool out of here!”

You stood up too, grabbing your father’s shoulders just as the soldiers started to drag Jaskier away by the arms.

“Papa, no!” you begged.

“Silence, girl,” he scolded.

“Unhand him!” you yelled to the guards, who obeyed- perhaps a little too well, dropping Jaskier onto the floor.

You looked back at your father, who was looking at you in confusion.

“What is this?!” he asked incredulously.

“I love him as well, father,” you answered with confidence, even though inside you were absolutely terrified.

“WHAT?!” he bellowed.

“We’re in love,” you replied, turning to give Jaskier a smile. He looked back at you with a look that made your heart melt.

“Blasphemy!” your father cried out. “What are you doing?” he asked as he turned to the guards again, “I said to get him out of here!”

They picked him up from the floor and continued dragging him towards the door, ignoring his stuttered attempts to explain himself.

“Stop!” you yelled as you stole the sword from the guard beside you, jumping down the steps and running to Jaskier’s aid, holding the weapon out to the neck of one of the soldiers.

“I order you to unhand this man,” you growled, “and I beg you not to test me.”

They hesitated, but after a moment, Jaskier was dropped onto the stone again.

“Ow!” he complained. “Worst proposal ever!”

You helped him up off the ground, wrapping an arm around him and using the other to hold the stolen sword in a defensive position.

“Father,” you said sternly, “I love this man. I intend to take him as my husband. I will do so here, as princess of this land, before the gods and my people; or, if you refuse, I will do so in the forest, alone, and spend the rest of my days running from my own armies and living the life of a peasant.”

You felt his gaze on you, but you were too focused on what you were saying to look back at him. You couldn’t read the king’s face very well but there was definitely shock present there.

“I’d be happy either way,” you sighed. “So, it’s up to you, father. Have your choice.”

The next silence that came was even longer than the last one. Your father slowly stepped down, walking towards the both of you. Though you weren’t sure exactly of his intentions, you dropped your sword. Instantly the guards rushed towards Jaskier again, but the king raised his hand, silently ordering them to stop. When he finally stood in front of you, he took your face in his hands.

“My daughter,” he smiled sweetly, tears welling in his eyes. “You’re so like your mother. She’d be so proud of you. If only she could see you now, all grown up...”

You felt a tear run down your own cheek as well.

“If only she could be here, for your wedding day,” he added. You ran into an embrace, and he held you close, and in that hug there was a silent understanding between you, things that neither of you were strong enough to say, but that you didn’t need to anymore.

“My son!” he said to Jaskier, pulling him into the hug as well as the bard let out a little squeak from the perhaps-semi-aggressive grab.

“I- I’m flattered by your approval, your Grace, if a little surprised,” Jaskier stammered.

“If my daughter loves you, truly, then I love you as well. But if you think this puts you in line for the throne or gives you any political power, you can keep dreaming!” he sing-songed in a fake-sweet voice.

It was a beautiful ceremony. Silk banners on every alcove, stained glass windows, and flowers everywhere: mostly dandelions. Your dress took months to be made, with embroidered florals and precious gems decorating the entire (ridiculously long) train. You wore your mother’s wedding tiara, but Julian told you later that your eyes sparkled brighter, like the poetic dork he was. He looked great in royal clothes as well, though the fur cape was a bit much in your opinion. The reception was even better: the entire kingdom celebrated with festivals across the cities, and the merriment went on for days with feasts and dancing and lots of music.

All that said, you had a lot more fun at the honeymoon.

#jaskier x reader #the witcher #jaskier x oc #dandelion x reader

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yeet-or-be-hawed · 5 years

Text

“A Tease.” Low Honor!Arthur Morgan x Reader smut

I’ve been promising it and putting it off, but its finally here! Some wonderful smut with a Low Honor!Arthur! Enjoy, I certainly know I did!

Smutty smut smut!

Tonight is the night of the party at Angelo Bronte’s mansion. With Bill, Arthur, Hosea, and Dutch in tow, who knows what could happen!

Oh gave yourself one final look over in the mirror. Your pink dress fit your body like a glove, and you noticed with a sly smile how good your cleavage looked in the low neckline. You picked up a simple necklace from your night stand and added it to the ensemble as a final touch. Your curls were pinned tight to your head and your makeup was flawless. With a push up on your bosom and a wink in the mirror you were off. The sun was setting in Shady Belle, the camp was buzzing with excitement for the ball at Angelo Bronte’s mansion. When you opened the door, you couldn’t help but notice the eyes of a few of the men fell on you and lingered. You loved the attention you received at camp, as you were quite vain and flirting was one of your strong suits.

Arthur stood at the carriages with Bill, Hosea, and Dutch. “Damn,” Bill said, staring towards the house. Arthur looked up in time to see you coming towards them. The dress was tight over you abdomen, and flowed into a wide skirt. You were showing more chest than usual and Arthur noticed. He looked to Bill, and to his distaste Bill had noticed as well. He fought the urge to punch Bill right there, but a clever smile pulled at his lips. “Change of plans boys, Bill you can ride with Hosea and Dutch. I’ll take your spot with Y/N.”

Bill sputtered, “what why? That’s no fair Morgan!” Bill crosses his arms and huffed. “We already decided, I ride with Y/N while you discuss the plan with Dutch and Hosea.”

Arthur stepped forward, hand resting on his pistol. His voice dropped to a low deadly voice. “I know the plan inside and out, how about you big guy? You got the plan memorized completely?”

Bill was quiet, always a sore loser. “Fine!” He spat.

As you approached the three nicely dressed men, your eyes hung on Arthur. His hair was slicked back with pomade and his three piece suit made him look divine. When his eyes met yours, he gave you a devilish grin. Bill was standing between Hosea and Dutch looking pouty. You turned away from Arthur, “don’t you boys all look so nice! Even Bill can be a looker when he actually takes a bath!”

This caused a roaring laughter from Dutch and Bill blushed furiously as he looked to the ground. “Shuddup,” he muttered trying to hide his fluster.

Arthur felt his jaw clench. You were turned completely away from him and flirting with Bill of all people! He caught eyes with Dutch and Dutch had to stifle a laugh. He cleared his throat and put his hand on the small of your back, knowing how much it would annoy Arthur. “You look lovely, my dear! I think with a classy lady like this in our midst, we’ll be able to fool these city rats into thinking we’re high society!”

You laughed and put a hand on Dutch’s chest as he walked you past Arthur to your carriage. “Oh please, Dutch you are too kind!”

Dutch opened the door for you and moved his hand from your back to hold your hand “ladies first, Y/N will be riding with Arthur in the front and me, Hosea, and Bill will be trailing in the carriage behind you. Your job tonight will be to do what you do best.”

You gave Dutch a wink as he helped you into the carriage. “Why, you can count on lil ol’ me. Men love to spill their secrets over champagne with a little encouragement.”

Arthur’s fists were clenched tight at the sight of the small touches between you and Dutch, it was like throwing gasoline on a flame and Dutch gave him a knowing look as he passed. Arthur rolled his eyes, at least he would have you to himself in the carriage ride.

Dutch climbed up the stairs to the second carriage and turned to the other men, “okay boys, let’s load up!”

Arthur nodded and let himself into the carriage where you were already waiting. As he took a seat across from you his eyes lingered on your chest.

“My eyes are up here, Mr. Morgan.” You said playfully.

“Oh I know exactly where your eyes are,” he responds as he slowly moves his eyes down your body. “I may just have to keep you to myself tonight with you looking so tempting.”

Arthur’s bold flirting didn’t intimidate you, if anything it egged you on further. You leaned closer to him, “well Mr. Morgan how could I get any information off these rich fools with you clinging to my side?”

He chuckled and leaned back into the seat. You were the only woman in camp who could take his shit and throw it right back. Arthur grabbed the champagne bottle beside him and filled two glasses high. “You’re right, I guess I’ll let you off this time.” He handed you a glass.

You laughed, “like you’ve got a choice.” You say mockingly. You loved to remind Arthur he wasn’t the only one who had eyes for you and you weren’t the type to come easily. If he wanted you, he would have to put in the effort.

By the time you had crossed into Saint Denis, you were both on your third glass of champagne. You had moved to sit closer to him and at this point you were basically on top of each other.

Arthur was more than aware of your hand gently placed on his thigh, just as aware you were of his hand where the small of your back meets your butt. He could feel the heat of your skin under the thin layer of silk and it made him hungry. He ducked his head in close to yours and whispered in your ear, “you’re such a tease, you know that?” His breath was hot down your neck and he nipped your ear with his teeth. You moved your hand up his thigh slowly and pulled his face in close to yours. Your lips barely brushed his cheek as you brought your lips to his ear. “I know exactly how big of a tease I am, but don’t play innocent yourself. I feel that hand on my ass.”

Arthur’s voice was low and husky. “You like that little girl?”

This sent a shiver up your spine. Arthur’s other hand was now trailing slowly up your thigh. You began to respond, but the carriage slowed to a halt and you quickly jumped back to the seat across from Arthur. He cleared his throat and shifted his legs. You bit your finger as you noticed the bulge that had formed in his pants. Your eyes went up to meet his and there was a hunger behind his eyes. You gave him a wink and dropped your hand just in time for the door to swing open. A small man in a tuxedo took your hand and helped you out of the carriage. You stepped out in front of a huge mansion, men and women in their fanciest garb trailed into the house. You felt a big hand on your back and turned to see Arthur behind you. You shifted his hand off you and kept your eyes forward. “Hands to yourself, I can’t have anyone thinking I came with you.”

Arthur frowned. You were right of course, your biggest asset being your looks and flirtatious attitude for tonight. You needed to reel them in whole heartedly and couldn’t do that with Arthur clinging to you.

Dutch, Bill, and Hosea joined you. “Okay everyone,” Hosea said. “Time to do or die.”

You nodded and your group entered the mansion. You had already began working your charms quietly as you entered the house. As you caught the eye of the servants and guests as you passed you winked, smiled, and waved.

Arthur tried his damnest not to notice. Dutch pulled his attention. “Hosea, Bill, Y/N, I want you three to go ahead to the party and start mingling. Arthur and I will go and meet with our gracious host.”

As the two of you split ways, he noticed Bill trailing behind you, eyes dead set on your ass. “Come on Arthur!” Dutch called, and he turned away as he followed Dutch up the stairs.

Angelo Bronte and a few of his men were posted up on the balcony over looking the party. Arthur leaned against the railing and looked over the sea of people while Angelo and Dutch talked. Angelo pointed out figures in the crowd to Dutch and told him their name as he sneered and made fun of them.”

“Is that one yours?” He asked Dutch. He pointed at a pink spot in the crowd. “A beauty that one is, I may have to borrow her for myself tonight.” His voice was low growl.

Before he could control himself Arthur had already quickly straightened up from the balcony, turning quickly to Bronte. Dutch cleared his throat pulling Arthur from his angry daze. “She’s ours alright, but shes a woman all her own. Good luck wrangling that one in, my men have been trying to lasso that one in since day one.” Dutch shot Arthur a look that screamed calm the hell down.

Arthur turned back to his post on the railing and tried to relax. He didn’t know why his anger boiled so quickly but he had to reign it in before he blew the whole damn operation.

“A chase, eh?” Angelo laughed. “I could have half the tramps on that floor with so little as a glance. Who has time for mustangs anymore when there’s a stable on every corner now adays, eh?” He elbowed Dutch, pleased with his joke.

Dutch laughed nervously. “How right you are, Mr. Bronte. I’m more of a stable man myself, but there are some men out there who are still out for the chase.” Dutch’s eyes moved to Arthur and he quickly looked away. “If it’s okay with our esteemed guest, we really should be getting back to our friends.”

“Of course of course!” Angelo said as he took a puff off his cigar. “Enjoy the party, my friends!”

The two men thanked their host before turning and walking down the stairs. As soon as they were out of sight, Dutch smacked Arthur’s arm. “Control yourself, son. You almost got us shot back there! You’re lucky Angelo wasn’t payin’ enough attention to notice you shootin’ him daggers like that.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what yer talkin’ about.”

Dutch opened the door to the main party. “Don’t play stupid, Arthur it’s unbecoming. Now, go talk to the mayor and see if you can get any information off him. I’m going to meet up with Bill and see if he found anything.” Arthur nodded, and made his way through the crowd. The people were packed in like sardines and he didn’t like being in such a large crowd. He pushed his way through until he finally made his way to the big fountain where the mayor was standing. As he approached, a man in a tuxedo offered him a flute of champagne. “Thanks partner.” He said as he took it.

The two native men who had been talking to him were finishing their conversation with the mayor and Arthur stood and looked around awkwardly. The crowd was more sparse here, so he could make out the individual people around him. A giddy laughter brought his eyes to you, clinging to a handsome man with a goatee and a handlebar mustache. One of your hands rested on his chest while the other held an empty flute of champagne. Anger rose in his stomach red hot as your hand moved to gently bring the tall man’s face closer to yours. You whispered something in his ear and Arthur noticed how your plump lips brushed the man’s skin as you spoke into his ear. Arthur’s grip on the champagne flute tightened as he watched you, only to be pulled from his angry trance by a small wiry man, “Hello sir, can I help you with something?” Arthur turned to face the mayor and he released his grip on the flute. He caught a glimpse at the crack that had formed in his glass and shook his head. He pushed you from his mind as he put on a charming smile to talk to the mayor.

The man beside you reeked of body odor and liquor. He was piss drunk, and you did your best to keep composure and hold your best smile as his hand trailed down your body. “You are sooo beautiful.” He slurred, into your ear. You had to resist the urge to roll your eyes. As a man with a platter of champagne flutes passed, you grabbed one and quickly downed it. I’m not drunk enough for this, you tell yourself. But you also knew being too drunk could indanger your ability to work your magic. You brought your hand up up behind his neck and craned the tall man down to you, “wanna take me upstairs?” You whispered in his ear. He inhaled sharply as your lips brushed against him. His grip on you tightened, and you knew you had him.

“I really shouldn’t.” The man said. “Guests aren’t allowed-“

You were alone in the shadows so you pressed your body to him and looked him in the eye, putting on your best pout. “You mean you don’t want me?”

His eyes widened, “no no I just-can’t I take you home with me? I just live down the street here.”

You shook your head and poured your lip slightly, “I came with a group of friends and they would be terribly upset if I left them. It won’t take long, I’m very good at what I do.” You say seductively as you run your hand down his chest and let it rest on his belt buckle. He cleared his throat and his face was red. “Well, if you promise we’ll be quick...” He looked up at the great house.

“Oh I promise, like I said I’m very...efficient.” You cupped him in your hand as you whispered your last word. He gulped and took your hand, quickly leading you to the house. Hook, line, and sinker.

Arthur tried to his eyes focused on the man in front of him, but you were directly behind him meters away. You had lured the man you were with to a dark corner and Arthur tried to compose himself as he watched you press yourself against him, the man greatly flustered. Arthur watched asyour hand trail down the man’s chest and stop on his belt. A small growl escaped his tight lips.

“Everything alright?” The small man asked.

Arthur’s eyes flicked back to the man in front of him. “Yeah, thought I saw someone I knew.”

The man laughed, “trust me, I do that sort of thing all the time! As mayor of such a large town I see a lot of people day to day as you imagine, so I constantly find myself reaching for familiarity with others.”

Arthur nodded along as the man kept talking. His eyes trailed you as the man led you to the mansion. He had to stop himself from following after, ripping you from that man’s grasp, and keeping a firm grip on your waist. He knew you were just doing what you were told but watching you flit and flirt around with other men was maddening. As you disappeared in the house, Arthur found it hard to pay attention to the words coming from the mayor’s mouth. His eyes remained locked on the doors from which you came.

The man drunkenly led you up the stairs. “There’s a bedroom just down the hall here, right beside Mr. Bronte’s office so we’ll have to be quiet.”

“Don’t know if I can promise that, sir.” Your boredom has began to leak into your voice, but the man was too drunk to notice.

“Here we are.” He said as he stopped in front of a large wooden door.

As he turned the knob, a young servant came around the corner. “Guests aren’t allowed upstairs.” The boy said, his voice was unsure.

You gave him your best smile and approached him slowly, “I know sweet pea, but me and this fine gentleman will only be a second.” You leaned down and whispered in his ear, “if you’re a good boy, I’ll come find you when we get done and maybe I can show you exactly what we plan on doing in there.”

The boy’s face turned bright red, “o-okay, just be quick about it.”

As he turned and left, he took one last glance at you before going down the stairs and you gave him a wink. He hurried down the stairs in a tissy.

When you joined the man in the room, he had already began unbuckling his pants and undressing. “Take off your clothes and get on the bed.” The man said flatly.

You rolled your eyes in the darkness, charming. You slowly pulled the pistol from the layers of tule under your dress. And slowly approached the man. He was facing away from you. With a swift knock to the back of the head, the man fell to the ground. You lugged his body onto the bed and put it in as natural a position as you could manage. If you made it look like he drunkenly passed out it wouldn’t raise any alarm.

You poked your head out the door, and the coast was clear. You tiptoed to the office door and tried the knob, it was locked. “Shit,” you whispered. You gave one more look around the hall and pulled a pin from your hair to pick the lock.

With a soft click, you were able to open the door. You smiled to yourself as you slipped into the office and quietly shut the door behind you. The office was large with an impressive mahogany desk in the center. You took a seat in the big leather chair and began rummaging through the drawers. You didn’t find much other than a money clip until you hit the final drawer. You smiled as you inspected the documents, stuffed them in your dress, and headed back to the party.

Your heart was pounding as you searched the crowd for any familiar faces. Your eyes landed on Bill first, awkwardly making an attempt to speak to a couple ladies near a table of refreshments. He must’ve said something to offend them, because they huffed off right before you made it to them. “Awww come on!” He shouted in their direction. You came up behind him and looped an arm around him quickly, pulling him away from the refreshment table. He tensed as you grabbed him. You pushed yourself into your top toes to whisper in the big man’s ear. “I just found some very interesting documents, where’s Dutch?”

Bill stammered, “He regrouped with Arthur and Hosea not too long ago.”

“Good, let’s go.” Bill nodded and led you to a small gazebo at the edge of the party.

“Ah Bill, looks like you finally snagged a girl to bring home!” Hosea called.

Arthur looked up and saw your arm looped around Bill’s, that was not part of the plan. Bill looked down at Arthur boastfully and straightened his back with bravado. “Yeah, I think this one’s got it bad for me, can’t keep her hands off me!”

You laughed and unlooped yourself from Bill. You noticed Arthur’s eyes on you, burning intensely. It could’ve been the liquor, or it could’ve been how how hot it got you seeing Arthur like this. You looked him dead in the eye before turning and placing a small kiss on Bill’s cheek. “What can I say? I guess Ive got a thing for outlaws.”

Bill’s face turned bright red and when you turned away to join the other men he rubbed his cheek where you kissed it.

Dutch laughed and threw an arm around your shoulders, he caught on to your little trick you were playing on Arthur and wanted in on the fun. “Well well, someone’s been in the champagne tonight.”

You giggled and glanced at Arthur who wasnt even looking at you. “Maybe I have, but I can hold my liquor well enough to get the job done.”

You pulled the paperwork from your cleavage and Hosea laughed as you flattened the papers on the table. “I found these in Bronte’s office. Top secret, very confidencial, straight from Leviticus Cornwall.” You say quietly. “If you men got everything you needed, I would say the sooner we leave the better. The man I left upstairs could wake up any minute now and I don’t want to be here when he does.”

“I think we’ve got everything we needed. Let’s head home before Y/N’s knight in shining armor comes back to reclaim his prize.” Dutch said.

You laughed and nodded as you folded the papers and handed them to Dutch. “Sounds good boys, let’s get this show on the road!”

Arthur stood and took a step towards you, but Bill stepped in front of him and held out his arm, “My lady?” He said as he shot Arthur a look, feeling much bolder now.

You smiled wickedly, feeling Arthur’s gaze burning holes in your back. “Why Bill, whoever knew you were such a gentleman?”

Arthur’s eyebrows flew into his hair line as you looped your arm around his happily. This was certainly not part of the plan, and Arthur could feel his rage bubbling inside him again. Hosea put a hand on his shoulder, “you gonna let Bill show you up like that?”

Arthur huffed, “hell no.” Arthur sped his pace, but Bill noticed and sped up as well. Bill quickly led you to the carriage. As Arthur approached, Bill cleared his throat. “Mind if I take Mr. Morgan’s place on the way home?”

You caught Arthur’s gaze and smiled mischievously. “Why I don’t mind at all.” With that you stepped into the carriage, quite pleased with yourself.

Bill turned back to Arthur and gave him a low taunting laugh.

Arthur snapped, “what you laughin’ at Bill?”

“Oh nothin’, what’s got you so spittin’ mad Morgan?” Bill challenged.

Arthur grimaced. “Nothin’. Not a damn thing.”

Dutch put a heavy hand on Arthur’s shoulder as he watched Bill climb into the carriage. “Looks like you’re stuck with us on this one!”

Arthur shrugged it off, not in the mood for games. “Yeah, whatever.”

Dutch and Hosea exchanges glanced as Arthur entered the wagon.

Bill was quiet and fiddled with his thumbs nervously on the way home. It was cute how nervous he was, but boring. You found yourself thinking back to the ride into town with Arthur and regretted pulling Bill into the carriage with you. You closed your eyes as you thought about the way his hands slowly dragged across your body, he way his breath felt against you skin, and the way his teeth nipped at your ear. Oh yes, you found yourself deeply regretting letting Bill ride with you as your mind wandered as to what you would be doing if Arthur had joined you on the way home. But you also couldn’t help but notice the way those dark eyes looked at you when you flirted with Bill, something primal just beyond the surface.

When you got back to camp there were still people milling about an drinking around the fire. Bill stepped out first and took your hand to help you down. You smiled and nodded to him, “thank you Bill, you’ve been a real sweetheart tonight.”

He rubbed his neck nervously and turned away from you, hiding the blush covering his face. “Yeah, whatever just don’t go tellin’ nobody I’m nice er anything.”

You giggled, and turned to Dutch as the three men exited the carriage. “Take good care of them documents now, I worked real hard gettin’ em!”

Dutch slapped you on the back as he passed you, “dont you worry your pretty little head, they’ll be safe with me.”

You nodded and caught Arthur’s arm as he passed. “The night’s still young and I’ve got some moonshine if you still feel like drinking.”

Arthur couldn’t help himself, “sure, I can stay up a little longer.”

You smiled and gave him a wink, “Good, ain’t no one quite as fun to drink with as you are.”

Arthur leaned in close, “really, not even the poor feller you took to bed earlier tonight?”

You gave a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching. You hadn’t made it out of the shadows yet, so you shoved him against a tree , “that poor bastard couldn’t last a second with me and you know it. You jealous, Morgan?”

His hands wrapped around your wrists tightly as he pulled you closer. His voice was deep and gravelly, “You’d know jealous if you’d seen it.”

His grip on you loosened and you moved away from him quickly as footsteps approached. You gave him a wink, “join me at the fire for a drink, Morgan.” He nodded and followed behind you.

It seemed most the men were still up and to Arthur’s annoyance, we’re very happy to see you. Sean stood as you entered the light from the fire. “Oi, well if the princess hasn’t returned.”

You rolled your eyes and gave him a shove, knocking him to the ground. You took a seat between Javier and John.

“You look lovely tonight,” Javier said in between strums of his guitar. Even Charles grunted a compliment as he passed. You even noticed John eyeing you when he thought you weren’t looking. You ate up the attention up as you took long swigs of your moonshine.

Arthur in turn, was being eaten alive watching the other men fawn over you. The skin over his knuckles was white from the how tight he was clenching his fists.

The more you drank, the louder and more flirtatious you got. One arm was looped around Javier’s neck as he played and Arthur couldn’t stand it anymore. He stood and walked away from the fire. He sat down on the steps leading into the threshold of the old abandoned house. He watched as you stumbled to the crate holding the camp’s liquor. You turned a bottle up and drank deeply. You may have your feminine charm, but you could hold your own and keep up with the men and this enticed Arthur. The frilly women that worked in hotels and the soft society women bored him to death. They weren’t even much fun to flirt with anymore. The way they would just blush and laugh and avert their eyes, he didn’t like meekness in a woman. He found himself thinking back to the way you flirted with him so effortlessly, and how bold you were. Not afraid to stare him dead in the eye as you ran your hands over his chest and up his thighs.

“...could do some wonderful things to a woman like you. I could make you feel real good.”

Arthur was pulled from his thoughts by Micah’s lewd words. He had you cornered and Arthur felt his vision turn red with outrage as Micah’s hand grabbed your ass. You tried to beat him off, but the more you back into the crate of liquor, the closer he pinned you in. Arthur was on his feet and his ears were ringing as Micah reached to put a hand on your cheek. You recoiled from his touch. “Get the hell off me, Micah!”

You were beginning to panic. You had left your gun by the fire and your head was spinning from the alcohol. You lifted a hand to slap him but he caught it, squeezing your arm tight. “Let go, you’re hurting me.”

A low laugh escaped his chest, “keep fighting me, I like em fiesty.” His grip tightened. “You think this hurts, you just wait-“

You didn’t even see Arthur barreling towards you. “Get your goddamned hands offa her!”

Arthur’s fist came down on Micah’s temple hard, knocking him out instantly. He looked at you. “You okay?”

You looked at him breathlessly, “yeah thanks.”

He grabbed your hand firmly, but not tight enough to hurt you and began dragging you to the tree line. “Arthur, what in the world are you doin’?”

He didn’t say anything as he dragged you, just growled under his breath. You kept your head towards the ground, careful not to trip.

When you got far enough from camp that you couldn’t see the lights, Arthur stopped. “Why’d ya bring me all the way out here?” You asked.

He turned quickly and caught you by the waist. He took advantage of your surprise and pinned you against a wide tree. His face was in your hair, lips brushing against your ear with every word. “I can’t take it anymore.” He growled into your ear.

His tongue slipped into your ear and you let out a low moan. “You’ve been teasing me all goddamn night, and I’m sick of it.” His voice was rough. “You think you’re something in that little dress with your hair all done up. Runnin’ around camp flirtin’ tryin’ to get a rouse out of me.”

“I ain’t did no such thing.” You challenged, but your voice was weak.

His hand shot up to your throat, “don’t you lie to me girl. You think I didn’t notice the looks you were givin’ me?” His thumb brushed your lips. “Rubin’ up and kissin’ on Bill like that. You really know how to get me goin’.”

You let out a small laugh and he sank his teeth into your neck, turning your laugh into a shaky moan. “Well, what can I say? After our alone time on the way to the party, you had me goin’ too.”

Arthur pulled back. “Well then why didn’t you let me finish what we started on the way home?”

You gave him a devilish grin and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Because I like seeing you squirm.” You whispered in his ear. “It gets me hot to see the look in your eye when another man touches me.” You took advantage of the break Arthur made in contact and pulled him quickly under you and you pressed yourself against him. You could already feel his bulge rubbing against you. You sucked his ear lobe and rested your hand on his belt buckle. Arthur let out a deep groan, grabbed your hand, and shoved it down his pants. His breathing became heavier as you stroked his length. “All I could think about on the way home was how much I wanted you.” You whispered in his ear. “I should’ve told Bill to piss off, but when I saw the look in your eye-“

“Shuddup.” Arthur growled. His lips hit yours hard and his hands immediately found the zipper to your dress. You slipped your tongue into his mouth as he unzipped the dress only half way and pulled it down, revealing your bare chest. He broke the kiss for a moment, only to look down at your body. You were both breathing heavy now and his mouth moved down your neck and chest, leaving kisses and bite marks as he went. His mouth found your breast, and he sucked and licked at your nipple sending chills down your spine. One of his hands caught your other breast and his fingers pinched and squeezed at your nipple hard. This pulled a loud moan from your throat. He looked up and watched your face as your moans escaped you. Your hands clumsily fummed with his belt buckle until you were able to get it unlatched. Arthur moved out from between you and the tree and pulled off his trousers. He removed his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt as you unzipped your dress all the way and let it fall into the dirt. He stroked himself as his eyes raked over your body. You slapped his hand out of the way and moved onto your knees. Arthur immediately tangled his fingers into your hair as your mouth took on his full length. He took on full control as he bobbed your head up and down. Grunts and moans escaped him as your tongue flickered across his cock as he pulled your head up and down. Your eyes watered as he pounded himself into your mouth, gagging you with his length. The feeling of his girth choking you only made you wetter and the vibrations of the noises you made as you choked on his cock sent waves of pleasure over his body. When he looked down and saw your face, a moan fell from his mouth. You looked so sexy with his cock in your mouth, tears rolling down your cheeks from the roughness at which he fucked your mouth. You gasped for air when he finally pulled your head back, a long trail of saliva from your tongue to the tip of his cock. “Lay down.” He demanded. His voice was heavy with lust, and you did as he said. He took your thighs between each arm, and his tongue came down hard on your clit. He ran his tongue up and down your clit sending waves of pleasure with every stroke. Another loud moan escaped your lips as he slid a finger inside of you. “As much as I love hearing you moan for me, you gotta keep it down darlin’. We aren’t too far from camp.”

“I couldn’t care less what they hear.” You whispered. “Let ‘em head us. They’ll know exactly who I belong to.”

Those words set fire to him. He came down upon you relentlessly. The thought of the other men hearing you and knowing he was the one causing you such pleasure made him even harder. He slipped a second finger in you and his tongue swirled in hard circles on your clit. Your breathing was hitching and your moans grew louder. You dug your fingernails into his skin. “Arthur please, not yet! I’m so close, please not yet.” You gasped. He looked at you and kept going. He was going to get you right on the edge before stopping. You were a shaking mess and right before you felt the peak of pleasure his mouth came off you quickly. He wiped his beard, grabbed you by the hips, and dragged you closer. He wrapped his arms tightly around your legs and thrust into you hard. “Fuck, Arthur!” You moaned loudly as he pushed his full length inside you. He smiled as his name escaped your lips. “Say my name again.” He growled as he began pumping into you. Your whole body was shaking in pleasure.

“God Arthur that feels amazing please don’t stop.” You gasped loudly. A hard slap fell against your face, and another loud moan. His hand stayed on your cheek, his thumb rubbing your bottom lip. “Good girl.” He cooed softly. “Good girl, let them know who’s fucking you.”

You grabbed his hand and shoved his thumb into your mouth and sucked it feverishly. Arthur’s pace stumbled as he watched you suck at his fingers. “That’s so good.” He moaned. “You feel so good.”

You grabbed him and pulled him down to you, “you don’t even know how good I can be.”

You gave his chest a hard shove and he looked at you confused. You pull him under you and line yourself up with his cock. A soft moan falls from both of you as you bring yourself down onto his rock solid cock. You grind down on him and watch his face. “God Y/N, that feels amazing.” The way his hungry eyes watched you and the way his mouth moved to say your name had you dripping. He hands gripped your thighs as he pumped into you. You grabbed his hands from your thighs and pinned them above his head. He raised an eyebrow at you. You kissed him softly and whispered against his lips. “Let me do the work, I want to show you how good I can make you feel.”

Arthur felt himself melt under your touch. Never had he had a woman mount him like this before and watching you work him so effortlessly was quite possibly the hottest thing he had ever seen. He tucked his muscular arms behind his head and let you take over completely. He couldn’t take his eyes off you as you rode him hard, sweat dripping down your temple.

As you grinded yourself into him, the friction against your clit was building as your moans grew you could feel yourself begin to climax.

Arthur felt your movements grow sporatic and he brought a heavy hand down onto your stomach. His thumb moved in circles around your clit and it sent you overboard. “Oh fuck Arthur, y-you’re gonna make me cum!” You cried.

He looked into your eyes, “Cum for me, babygirl. I want you to cum on me.” You fell apart right then and there. Arthur felt your walls clench around him and you drench his cock in your fluids. Before you can even bring your body to a stop, Arthur’s strong arms wrap around you and pull you back down to the ground on your hands and knees. “You aren’t done yet, pretty girl.” He says as he thrusts back into you. Your body shakes wildly as he pumps into you deeply. At this position he could go deeper and with every thrust a gasp escaped your lips. Your hand found your clit as you began to pleasure yourself for him. He watched pleased as you rubbed your clit and his thrusts became faster and more rampant. The pleasure began to build inside of you again, moans spewing from between your lips. Arthur gathered your hair into his large hand and pulled as his other hand held your hips in place. Every pump of his cock sent you seeing stars. “You like it when I pull your hair like that?” He groaned. “Yes Arthur,” you pleaded.

“I love the way you say my name while I fuck you.” He cooed. The softness of his voice mixed with the hardness of his thrusts was sending you to pieces. He slapped your ass hard. “You like that don’t you little girl?” He slapped your ass again. “Answer me!” His voice was hard and it sent shivers over your body.

“Yes sir!” You whined between loud moans. You could already feel the another climax coming. “Arthur please keep going, right there please.” You begged. “You’re gonna make me cum again.”

The way your voice pleaded for him got him close, and the way your walls were clenching again sent him into over drive. He pounded into you fiercely now, his moans now echoing yours. “Arthur I-Arthur you’re making me cum again!” You couldn’t help but yell it. If the others camp hadn’t heard anything yet, they certainly heard that. Your cry sent Arthur over the edge. His thrusts grew shaky and wild, after a few short bucks of his hips, he pulled himself out of you. He collapsed on the ground beside of you, trying to catch his breath. “Think the whole camp probably heard that last one.” He said shakily.

You looked at him, and saw something new in his eyes. His face softened and a small smile was on his lips. His eyes were full of adoration for you. “Good,” You whispered. “Maybe now Micah will leave me alone.”

Arthur laughed. “Ha! I highly doubt that.” The grass under you was soft and plush and the night air was warm. Arthur wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. He rested his head on your chest. You smiled down at him, your heart full. “Ya know, I never pegged you for a cuddler.”

He smiled and closed his eyes as he nuzzled his face deeper into your chest. “Guess there’s a lot about me you don’t know.”

Your fingers twirled in his hair as you placed a soft kiss on the top of his head. “I’m always down for a few surprises.”

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #low honor arthur #low honor arthur morgan #reader insert #smut #red dead redemption 2 #rdr 2

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imnotcameraready · 5 years

Text

chivalry is dead (20)

A/N: BIG YEEHAW HOURS TODAY Y’ALL ITS BALL TIME!!!!!!! AND WE CAN’T HAVE A BALL WITHOUT A PRINCE *stars bawling*

costumes will come in another post bc i. got really excited and then drew them all like, last month (most of them, some were finished last night y e e et)

WARNINGS: remus mention, heist details, wound descriptions, sword mention, scar descriptions, threats of violence, thoughts of dying — alright, im pretty sure that's it, but this chapter has thicc details so if i missed anything pls pls pls lmk

Words: 4550

AO3 link!

MASTERPOST! <– look here!! for the longterm warnings!! including sympathetic Deceit and cursing/swearing!

enjoy !!! <3 <3 <3 ,3 <3

Deceit really was right, Patton thought while he looked around at the town. His arm was linked around Logan’s as they walked down one of the town’s side streets, from Dr. Picani’s office, and he was taking the time to admire how intricate all of the architecture had gotten. It was intricate and worn and every building seemed unique now, something that he hadn’t realized was missing during their first pass through.

There were arch ways, bridges between doors on the third floors of buildings. There were seemingly hand-woven canvases shielding some of the streets from the sun and, if Patton squinted hard enough, he could see actual detailed stitching and some stains of age. They passed buildings that had scratches and chisel marks, and Patton could clearly see that it was made from stone bricks that had been painted over. Twice, actually. Once with a very old and faded blue, then with a lighter cream that still let the blue show through in spots where the paint was gone.

He wondered a little what had caused those spots. Was it because you weren’t supposed to layer house paint? The spots were different sizes — how many memories were made here?

Patton stumbled, tripping over his thoughts and heels, and leaned more into Logan’s side.

Logan tugged at his arm. “Don’t ponder too hard, Patton,” his voice was soft, hushed to not draw attention.

They’d figured that the best thing to do was to not think about the world around them. Thinking too much about the world and specifically the things that they would affect about it made their focus wander onto fixing those things. Logan would get a headache, Patton would space out, and Deceit would….well, okay, Deceit hadn’t disclosed how and if he’d been affected. But Patton noticed he’d been sweating like a sinner in church, and how his fist would clench every so often, so it was clear that something was happening with Deceit. He didn’t want to force him to talk; honesty wasn’t Deceit’s strong suit.

The four Romans had agreed that that was the smartest decision; none of them nor all of them together were able to limit the Imagination enough. The Playwright had argued that, had Dragon and Damsel known that it was hurting the other Sides, then they would probably all have a unified thought enough to close up the unused worlds. But that would require discussing the entire matter with them, which, as the Thief pointed out, is “pretty fucking useless where they are now.”

So the focus thing was their current strategy. Patton grinned at Logan. “Thanks for the reminder, Octo-cutie-pie,” he smiled wider as Logan blushed.

“I–I’m–Octopi is the plural for octopus and there is only one of me,” Logan bit his lip, then patted Patton’s hand gently, “Thank you.”

Patton giggled, snuggling against Logan’s side briefly as they kept walking. They hadn’t actually talked about the whole love thing, hadn’t really established boundaries, but that seemed like a problem for tomorrow.

Right now, they were all going across town, invitations in hand, to the ball. And, at the very specific right now, Patton was admiring the Playwright and the Artist’s handiwork. They’d worked together to make everyone’s outfits and he’d be a liar if he said they weren’t handsome and beautiful.

Patton himself was themed after a cat — a grey cat, but a cat nonetheless! His dress had a long train for a tail, made of shimmering silver tulle, the same as his poofy sleeves. The skirt went from his waist to the ground, with a built in flair in his corset at the waist. Like, all of it was sparkling, all three tiers of his skirt, which went from grey to black with an inner layer gradient of blue to grey. His favorite part were his gloves, though. Silver for the most part, but with soft circles on his palms and the tips of all his fingers. His own lil’ toe beans!

Logan’s outfit was one of Patton’s favorites. His was themed after an octopus (“Known for their intelligence,” the Playwright had explained, face bright red as he tied Logan’s necktie into an Eldritch knot) with a dark blue blazer and slacks. He wore a vest that shimmered royal blue, with a white button down underneath. There was a piece of coral in his lapel where a flower would usually go, and his coat tails seemed to spiral in shapes that resembled an octopus’ arms. There were even rhinestone bubble decals on his shoulders, or suckers, if you wanted to interpret it that way. The Artist and the Playwright had a small argument about that.

He was dashing, in summation. Patton leaned his head against Logan’s shoulder. “Who knew the town was so big!” he said.

“That’s actually on purpose,” the Playwright said from behind them, “It’s actually not so big as the castle is small, using the same foreshortening techniques used at the Disney theme parks to make Cinderella’s castle, or Sleeping Beauty’s castle depending on which park you’re at—”

“I think he means how far Picani’s office is from the castle, God Mod,” the Thief responded.

The Thief and Deceit were walking in front, swords drawn on the chance that they ran into any guards, and so that the Thief could critique Deceit’s sword fighting skills. Surprisingly, he’d taken to the weapon, something about it being good to have at his disposal while dealing with the Others. The Thief offered to make him one once this escapade was over.

Or maybe it was an excuse for the Thief to keep touching Deceit’s hand. Because that was happening every so often. A lot more often than would be considered normal.

It wasn’t like Deceit was complaining about the touching. It was more the other way around. The yearning for physical contact was frustrating, but neither of them were going to admit that they wanted to hold hands. Even though they’d confessed to at least caring about each other.

“Oh,” the Playwright hummed.

“Cheer up, butter cup, I love hearin’ bout the forced perspective! The Disney parks are so~o~o fun,” the Bard sang out. “When’s the next time we get to go to California? Are we making a trip down to Anaheim? Can we PLEASE take a trip down to Anaheim!”

One of his arms was looped around the Playwright’s, while the other was looped around the Artist’s. They had settled on outfits that complemented each other’s, pulling from the same red and black color palette.

The Artist was the only of the trio in a suit, though his outfit could be considered the loudest. Buttoned down the middle with a high collar, half of his shirt was a solid black, while the other half was a diamond checkered pattern. All of the accents were gold, and his pants were half solid red and half checkered as well. Tonight, the Artist would be a jester.

An improvement on his self-esteem, the Bard had thought. The Artist had said so, too, saying he’d be dressing like a joke. It...was nice to hear.

The Playwright had also gone with a more light-hearted outfit, pun completely intended. He was dressed as the queen of hearts, with an A-line skirt that skimmed the ground and was almost entirely a replica of the skirt worn by the Queen of Hearts in Disney’s Alice in Wonderland animated movie. His corset had a low scoop neckline with a long heart that stretched down from the neckline to the bottom of the waist. His sleeves were poofy, black with red stripes between.

It was a deck of cards theme between the three of them. Honestly, they took a bit of solace in their three Musketeers situation. The Bard was dressed like a harlequin in a ball-dancing dress. His entire dress was checkered, a stiff corset traded for a looser fit bodice that was sinched at the waist by a thick black belt with a heart clip. Bits of tulle were attached to his wrists, ideal for dancing in, which was perfect for the plan. He and the Playwright had matching heart chokers, too.

As he’d said earlier, “We cute.”

Neither the Artist nor the Playwright had argued, and they had yet to pull away from him holding their arms. Maybe they didn’t hate him.

They didn’t! They were moving beyond all that!

Because they had to get the Child back, and Virgil back, and save the Damsel and they had a plan. Actually, they should run through the plan again, because the Bard had already forgotten most of it.

“Thief?” he called ahead.

“Mhm?”

“Can we run through the, uh,” they had a code word for it, shoot, what was it? Oh! Oh, right, “The waltz again?”

“Great Mona Lisa, Bard, how the fuck did you forget how to waltz?” the Artist groaned. “We’re going to a ball.”

“No, no, no, THE waltz,” the Bard nudged the Artist’s side with his elbow.

The Artist shot him a small confused glare, but realization struck his face quick after. “Oh. Oh, that waltz. Yeah, uh,” he turned to the Playwright, who also seemed confused, then to the front again, “Before we get in, we should go over the waltz again.”

The Thief and Deceit both stopped as well, fingers brushing once again. The Bard saw the motion and chuckled to himself. Sweet Chopin, they needed to just hold hands already. He could envision the love birds flying around their heads.

He felt a smidge bad, though. After all, he was the lucky Roman who got to kiss Patton.

Logan and Patton both turned back to them. Patton let go of Logan, then looked around. They weren’t quite at the castle yet; a side alley, wide enough for all of them to stand in and with ample trees, barrels, and an open door beside it would provide good cover.

“Let’s go over there,” Patton grabbed Logan’s arm again and led them all into the alley.

They grouped up into a small but tight circle, the Thief pulling them together. He was in a suit, and an ironic one at that. Originally his costume was intended for Deceit, but he suggested switching them, so that the Dragon would think he were Deceit while being less suspicious. He was themed after a snake, though the theming was less noticeable than the color palette; there were yellow sequins arranged in scale patterns across his black blazer’s forearms, and his vest was black as well, undershirt yellow, and bowtie black. It looked a little like a snazzed-up version of Deceit’s lawyer suit and, though he’d tell no one, the Thief loved the look.

Deceit had said it looked nice on him, too. The bowtie, specifically, but also the entire outfit, and also the Thief simply looked good — yeah, they were both kind of messes. Gone was the ability to seamlessly flirt, apparently.

Still, it was nice to see Deceit in something other than yellow for a change, too. He was dressed as a peacock, with no blazer but a side-cape that shimmered iridescent purple and green. Part of it had blue and green rhinestones inching up the shoulder, and his vest beneath was teal, while his undershirt was mint green. There were bands on his upper arms, keeping his shirt bunched back, that were dark blue. Even his ascot was an iridescent purple and blue.

They leaned against each other in the huddle. Brown eyes trailed all around the group, meeting similar expressions of steely determination.

They could do this.

“Alright,” the Thief started, “For the first hour, we��re gonna scope out the room and surrounding rooms. Meet wherever the snacks are in pairs, alternating pairs, and spread details. Patton and I will go twice.”

“Because you and I are gonna peel off after the first hour to go get Virgil and the Child,” Patton said, meeting the Thief’s eyes.

The Thief nodded. He looked around at everyone — Deceit and the Bard had both been fairly defensive about that choice, but he argued that they needed people who were good at causing distractions on the floor. Patton would be the best at comforting both Virgil and the Child, and the Thief was the only one who had any inkling of what the inside of the castle looked like.

He continued. “Right. We’re gonna try to get out and—”

“Say, what d’ya think that’d make us?” Patton asked, a tiny grin on his face.

“Oh, no,” Logan groaned, “Not—”

“Cat burglars!” Patton exclaimed with a giggle.

The Bard immediately broke out into a fit of giggles, leaning into Deceit a little as he did so. Deceit just rolled his eyes and patted the Bard’s back, letting him cling to his side.

The Artist stifled some chuckles of his own, and the Playwright grinned. Oh. Oh, no, not the idea grin.

“I think Dragon will be hard pressed to find flaws in our purr-fect plan,” he said, eyes shining as Patton laughed as well. “We’re just gonna have to distract him with our adorable kitty-Pat.”

Logan groaned again, in good humor this time. “I thought you were supposed to be on my side, Playwright,” he grumbled.

The Playwright immediately sobered up, mouth pressing into a line. “Ah, Logan, darling, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Hey, but,” the Bard raised a finger at the Playwright, smile wide and mischievous, “If he catches wind of anything, you, Artist, and I can pull a wild card and deck him.”

That got the Artist and Patton to both laugh aloud, and even Logan smiled a tiny bit at the Playwright, if only to reassure him that his frustration was not directed at him.

The Thief seemed actually annoyed, though. He snapped his fingers in the center of the circle. “C’mon, focus here. Patton and I are going to get Virgil and the Child, then we’re going to come back up to the ball room at the second hour. At that point, Deceit—”

“I’ll be dancing with Dragon and, once you’re back, I’ll be distracting him enough for you to get out,” Deceit waved his hand, also slightly exasperated. He wanted Virgil back immediately and, as the time to pull off their hest approached, he grew more nervous.

“Right. Then, Playwright will take you backstage once everyone else has filed out,” the Playwright nodded to the Thief regarding his involvement, and the Thief looked around the group once more, “All of that sound good? Everyone else, be on the look out for Damsel. We don’t know where he’s gonna be. If he’s out on the ball floor, Logan, you—”

“I will approach him and explain that we are here to get him out,” Logan grimaced, “If he is not on the ball floor….”

“Then I’ll be on standby to head into the dungeons,” the Artist said, smile deflated, brow furrowed in thought.

“Good,” the Thief patted his shoulder, gripping reassuringly, “And if Remus is there, then Bard is going into the dungeons with Patton and I’m staying in the ball room to kick his ass.”

“This all sounds like a plan, Thief,” the Bard said, smiling at him, “Logan, thoughts?”

Logan huffed, frowning at the ground. He’d rolled the details over in his mind a few times, so he’d already worked out some of the issues, such as the irrationality of the original plan’s “jump out the dungeon’s windows, really, how large are the windows, and how do we know it’s not underground.” For right now, it seemed as though the plan were efficacious, but they couldn’t be certain until it was enacted.

But at that point, it’d be too late to change the plan to any degree of impeccability. They would have to wing it. And Logan wasn’t a fan of that.

But what choice did they have?

“It is as detailed and as faultless as we can arrange for it to be currently,” he said.

The Thief’s mouth twitched into a slight grimace, but he nodded all the same. That was as optimistic as he would be. “Once this is all over, we meet at the tree as fast as we all can get there,” the Thief said, casting one more look around, “If we pull this off right, no one’ll be leaving alone. If your partner gets injured, you carry them to the tree.”

“I don’t think….” the Artist said, frowning a tiny bit as his voice trailed off.

The possibility of injury was very high, actually. Death for the Romans, at least. And they didn’t know if the Dragon had injured Virgil or the Child. To be honest, they didn’t know if the Child was alive. Oh, goodness, what if Dragon had killed him?

“It’s gonna work,” the Bard said, “It’s gonna.”

He squeezed the Artist’s arm and gave him a nod. It was going to be okay. Roman was optimistic by nature, and the Artist did crave that sort of positivity.

“It must,” Deceit affirmed none too positively.

“It will,” Patton said, smiling at them all again before clapping, “And break!”

Everyone stood up on instinct. Then, they all shared slight laughs, small smiles.

The Bard leaned over and hugged Deceit with an arm, reciprocated a little. Patton leaned against the Artist, who didn’t hug back, but also didn’t flinch finally.

They were getting somewhere. It was going to be okay.

It was going to be okay.

….Without Virgil, they all felt as though their optimism was naively placed. But that was why they were going to get him back!

Once he was back, Deceit thought, he was never letting go again. If he was back. No, no, once he was back. He was coming back soon.

“Let’s go,” the Thief pulled his mask out from his coat, a black half-face mask covered in yellow sequins arranged like scales.

Everyone shared looks, nodding to each other as they slid on their own masks. Logan, Patton, the Artist, and the Playwright all had special masks that mimicked their glasses prescriptions so they wouldn’t need contacts, too. With faces obscured, they nodded once more, squeezing arms in reassurance and patting backs and giving smiles, and hurried out of the alley.

The Playwright walked at the front of the group, the only one not paired to any Side. He looked up at the sky. A storm had grown, clouds angry and grey above the castle, which was only a few blocks away now. Perhaps it would thunder during the ball.

He wondered vaguely what had caused the sudden shift in weather. During their week alone, it was all sunny skies.

Was it….

No. No, no part of Roman was that desperate, to have gone to Remus. Right? He’d been telling himself that ever since they’d begun this game, but the darker their future seemed, the more he worried about the Duke’s involvement.

The Thief seemed to think it was very real, enough to have a back-up written into the plan. C’est la vie. Such was life, he thought, the show must go on.

They walked quietly for only a few minutes. The closer they got to the castle, the more Imagination inhabitants they saw walking around them, some in pairs, some in groups, some alone. Everyone was in costume, most intricate. Good. This would be good, for coverage. The Thief had been a little worried that the ball would be sparsely attended, but this was good.

It was going to be okay.

They approached the drawbridge. Patton leaned against the Artist, gripping his arm tighter as the wind picked up. The Thief and Deceit were stoic behind them, and Logan and the Bard were simply quiet, though their hands were interlaced tight. It was going to be okay.

A line had formed on the bridge, in front of one man in a suit, perhaps the medieval equivalent of a bouncer. The group shuffled into the line, looking around at the castle, at the moat (“I think it’s filled with alligators,” the Bard murmured to Logan, who shook his head and was about to respond that that didn’t make sense, until an alligator’s maw jumped up and snatched a low-flying bird) and at the sky.

Angry, angry clouds.

It took an excruciatingly long eleven minutes for the Playwright to finally reach the front of the line, but when he did, he immediately grinned. He had to hand it to the Dragon.

“May I see your invitation?” Zac Efron asked, dressed in a black butler’s outfit.

Bless the Imagination’s castings. The Playwright handed over his invitation, and Zac looked over a list in his other hand before handing back the invitation and checking off a name. “You may enter to the ball room,” he motioned to the door.

The Playwright curtsied and hurried in. Behind him was the Artist and Patton, both of whom gasped a little, becau se holy shit, it’s Zac Efron.

The Dragon was really out here casting Thomas’ celebrity crushes as butlers. It was the first thing that the Artist had wholly agreed with the Dragon on, actually. Once they were Roman, they were going to have to look into that as a possibility.

One by one, each entered, walking down a grand hall with a ceiling so high and so vaulted that there seemed to be a sky inside. But, then again, there probably was. This was the Imagination. It looked somewhat like the Great Hall from the Harry Potter movies, this time shining with stars and constellations.

Logan could identify Aries and Pieces. That was actually accurate for the season and hour, so he gave a mental kudos to Roman for his design, then considered if it were his knowledge that had been used to perfect the stars. Well. That was inconsequential, I guess?

The hall was also lined with suits of armor, and bannisters adorned with Roman’s full crest. Though, Deceit noticed while he walked through, the entire crest was outlined in gold and the castle in the center was colored with grey and brown and black. He thought the Dragon was only supposed to be the outer tower and walls. If the Dragon called all of the shots around here, then why was the center tower also colored?

The walk was long, heels clacking against the stone. They turned with the carpet to the left and entered through a pair of double doors that had to be at least two floors high.

Inside was life. The room was massive, stretching almost the size of a football field. There was a stage near the entrance door where there were musicians (with undetailed faces, Deceit noticed) were playing loud enough to echo across the room. The dance floor seemed to take up about half the room.

Farther away from the entrance were some circle tables, arranged around with some citizens already sitting down. Further back were some long tables, food stacked atop them, and even further….

The throne was elevated so the Dragon could see across the hall to the dance floor. The Thief’s fists clenched immediately upon seeing him wearing the Prince’s attire, white uniform a stark contrast to the black he was typically adorned with. It was a jarring difference.

He was taunting them. By Doc Holliday’s pistol, they were gonna take him down.

Beside his throne was a large Ottoman seat, where there was another figure. The Damsel, most likely, though his face was obscured by a sheer red veil and distance. He was wearing a large dress, which had a triple-tiered skirt that seemed to flare out orange, then red, then black. His corset was decorated with red and orange and yellow rhinestones, and raised behind his head. It almost looked like flames.

Burned. The Damsel’s scars were also entirely visible, scabs on his arms angry and red, clearly not fully healed. They weren’t openly bleeding, but the Playwright could tell that they would start bleeding at some point in the night.

His nose scrunched as he examined the pair. They didn’t seem to notice him, the Damsel leaning against the throne’s side and not moving, the Dragon stroking his chin and looking across the hall absently. He had a sword sheathed beside the throne, too, with its handle sticking up in an easily accessible manner.

He was waiting for them, he realized. Of course he was, this was a trap, you fool. You knew this. You’d planned. It was going to be okay.

The Playwright turned back to the group just as the last pair, Logan and the Bard, entered.

“Okay. I am going to move toward the snack table,” he nodded toward the thrones, “Octopus, would you like to join me?”

Logan let go of the Bard, who curtsied and stepped back, and then offered a hand to the Playwright. “It would be my pleasure,” he said, “How about we acquire a table, Hearts?”

The Playwright nodded, then shot the Thief a look. “Snake,” he said, a promise, a warning, “Let’s waltz.”

“Let’s,” the Thief responded, squeezing Deceit’s arm.

The Bard and Patton had already taken each other onto the dance floor, hoping to not be conspicuously waiting in a group by the door way, and the Artist was meandering around — nope, no, he just asked an Imagination citizen to dance. Blending in well.

Operation save Virgil and the Child was a go.

Virgil could hear the faint music from above. He squinted up, then closed his eyes and exhaled. What’d that matter?

His side was throbbing. It seemed that just wrapping a bandage around a wound did fuck all to stop it from hurting, or bleeding, especially if it was just wrapped once and around the front. Virgil would have to remember that for the next time he got stabbed by an evil Dragon, he thought snidely.

He and the Child had relocated themselves to the bed. Pretending to not be panicking was tiring, but luckily for him, the Child had fallen asleep.

He sniffed quietly, rubbing his eye with the butt of his palm. For the past half an hour, ever sine the Child fell asleep, Virgil had been silently crying. And there was no Damsel to conjure him a glass of water or tell him it’d be okay. Because he knew it wasn’t going to be okay.

Even if he didn’t die in the Imagination, he’d be exiting it alone. And that was fine!

The Child snuggled closer to his chest, tiny arms wrapped around him. Virgil sniffed again and hugged him tight.

If he did nothing else, he’d at least protect this Roman.

He wished he’d at least told Roman how he felt.

Maybe he’d never get the chance.

Gosh, this was really fatalistic, even for him. It wasn’t like he was gonna die in the Imagination.

Virgil shielded his eyes with an arm and, as illogical as it was, wished that he could use that one arm motion to block out the sounds of the ball going on above. Shit, he was gonna die in the Imagination.

….Usually that’d freak him out a bit more. Maybe he’d bled out to the point where he was too tired to be worried. And, maybe it was childish, but he really did want to dance with Roman.

taglists!

chivalry taglist: @starlightvirgil @forrestwyrm @daflangstlairde @marshmallow-the-panda @askthesnake @k9cat @patromlogil @theobsessor1 @ninja-wizard101 @fandomsofrandom

general taglist: @jemthebookworm @okay-finne

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