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leechobsessed · 3 years

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Walk You Home

Ella and Lachlan come face to face.

characters: Ella Sagen, Lachlan, Lysander and Leila Lonan (of @leila-of-ravens), Beatrice Viano (of @juliandev0rak), Julian Devorak, Nadia Satrinava pairing: Ella Sagen x Lachlan Lonan / Logen words: 3.7k warnings: alcohol, sexual themes

Previous chapter, etre bleu series

The palace always prepares elaborate and delicious meals, and breakfast has never been an exception. On the table before her sits a variety of fruits, pastries, egg dishes and breads, which all look and smell delicious, but she hasn’t yet found the appetite to try any of it.

She suspects that’s partially due to the aftereffects of alcohol, but mostly due to the butterflies in her stomach at the prospect of seeing Lachlan.

She had arrived only a few minutes ago and dropped into an open seat next to Julian, who immediately handed her a small glass filled with what she could only hope was Leila’s hangover cure. She accepted it gratefully as Leila introduced Ella to Lysander, the older Lonan brother. He gave her a polite nod of acknowledgement, before the countess pulled both his and Beatrice’s attention back to her with a question.

Lysander and Leila are seated next to the countess at the head of the table, with Beatrice next to Lysander, and Leila beside Julian. The seat across from Ella is empty.

For Lachlan.

Ella inhales deeply and sets about pouring herself a cup of tea, adding a spoonful of sugar and stirring it into the steaming amber liquid, watching the fine crystals quickly melt away. She raises the cup to her lips and blows gently on it, examining the spread in front of her with the subtlest of frowns tugging at her lips.

Why am I so nervous? She wants to see Lachlan, but she can’t imagine he’d want to see her, especially since she left him so abruptly this morning. Her stomach flips as she realizes he would assume she left because she didn’t want to see him.

“Is nothing to your liking, Ella? Is there something else you’d prefer?” The countess asks, ever the perfect host, her eyebrows raised as she sets her teacup back on its saucer.

“No, thank you, this is wonderful,” Ella hurries as she reaches for a muffin, smiling at Nadia. “My stomach hasn’t quite woken up yet.”

“A bit too much fun last night?” Julian asks, the corners of his lips quirked up in humor.

“Perhaps,” Ella shoots back as he nudges the small glass he had handed her earlier closer toward her.

“Leila’s hangover cure,” he explains. “It might help settle your stomach.”

Doubtful, Ella thinks, but she nods in thanks as she tips the liquid down her throat in one swift motion. As she sets the glass back down, she nearly chokes on the elixir as Lachlan slides easily into the chair across from her, smiling shyly at her before offering a greeting to the rest of the table.

Hiding her coughing behind her hand, she takes a large gulp of tea as the countess addresses the table’s new member. “Good morning, Lachlan. I’m so glad you were able to join us this morning.”

“As am I,” he answers, smiling at his host before turning his gaze to meet Ella’s eyes, making her breath catch immediately. As the conversation around the table continues, the two of them continue to stare at each other, neither one able to come up with anything to say, but unable to look away all the same.

“It’s good to see you,” Ella finally manages, blushing at how breathless she sounds. She clears her throat, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Did you um, sleep well?”

The corner of his mouth pulls upward in a knowing smile, and he lets out a small chuckle before he nods. “I did, yes. A little cold when I woke up this morning though.”

Ella’s blush deepens as she opens her mouth to respond, only to be interrupted by Leila, who has left her seat to place her hangover cure in front of her brother.

“Maybe we should get you more blankets then,” she teases. “Drink this. It will help.”

He lifts the shot glass up and inspects the liquid in it, giving it a sniff, then glances back at his sister, totally unconvinced. “It seems counterproductive to cure a hangover with a shot. Especially this early in the morning.”

“It's her hangover cure,” Ella explains as Leila sighs.

“It will help,” Leila repeats. “Trust me.”

Lachlan shrugs, tipping the contents of the glass into his mouth and handing it back to his sister. “So how long until this works?”

“A few minutes. Then you’ll be good as new.” Leila says, giving his shoulder a squeeze before leaving them to return to her seat.

“You don’t need one?” Lachlan asks, an eyebrow raised at Ella in question as he leans forward to grab an apple from the fruit tray in front of him. She watches as his long fingers wrap around the apple and pull it toward him, cleaning it on the chest of his shirt, much like the one she has squirreled away in her palace bedroom. She pulls her attention away from his hands, blushing when she meets his eyes.

“I do-- I mean, I did. I had mine just before you came.”

“A little too much fun last night?”

“Something like that,” she responds, acutely aware the conversation at the table has dwindles to a dull murmur, and that all eyes are focused on them. She immediately lowers her eyes back to her plate, and keeps them there for the remainder of the breakfast-- well, almost. Every so often, she would sneak a glance at the man across from her, pleased and embarrassed that almost every time she did, his cool blue gaze was still on her.

She can sense Leila’s gaze on the two of them as well, but she chooses to ignore it.

She knows that his willingness to make conversation with her may just be to save face in front of the others. But the fact that neither of them seem to be able to keep their eyes off each other gives her a glimmer of hope that he doesn’t regret last night, and that maybe he’s hoping to spend more time with her, too.

Gods, she hopes so.

“Countess, thank you for breakfast and your hospitality, but I must be getting back to the city now,” Ella says, nodding at the countess as she pushes back from the table, her eyes falling briefly on Lachlan as she does.

“I’ll come with you, if that’s alright,” Lachlan says as he hurriedly joins her standing, pulling the attention of all at the table toward him. “I’ve been meaning to look around the town.”

He looks at Ella, as if asking permission, and she nods quickly, unable to hide her eagerness to spend time with him alone.

“That’s probably for the best. Less likely Ella will get lost on her way if she has someone to accompany her,” Beatrice jokes, smiling at Ella, though she doesn’t see it, her eyes still focused on Lachlan.

Leila laughs, standing up from the table as well. “I’ll see to it that everyone makes it home safely. I need to head to the tea shop anyway.”

Lachlan breaks eye contact with Ella to frown at his sister. He opens his mouth to protest, only to be cut off by the countess.

“Perhaps it would be best if you take a carriage into town,” she offers. She waves to one of the servants standing by the veranda doors, who immediately slips back into the palace. “I’ll have one brought around for the three of you.”

As promised, the carriage is waiting for the trio as they reach the palace gates. Opening the door, Lachlan extends his hand first to Leila, then to Ella as he helps them into the carriage. He runs this thumb along the back of her knuckles as he guides her into the carriage, eliciting yet another blush from her as she steps inside. Lachlan takes his seat next to her, and they’re off.

They ride in silence for a few minutes, both Lachlan and Ella staring out their respective windows, Ella’s hand brought to her face in an effort to hide the color that appears in her cheeks every time the jostle of the carriage sends her body into his.

Leila sits across from them, looking between them with a slight frown. She clears her throat, crossing her leg over the other and folding her hands in her lap. “So, Ella.”

“So, Leila,” Ella parrots, glancing at the magician across from her.

“Were you able to return the shirt you borrowed back to your suitor? Or will you be giving it back the next time you see him?”

Ella and Lachlan turn simultaneously to face Leila. Confused, Ella shakes her head. “Shirt? What-- oh,” she stutters as she remembers her encounter with her friend this morning, before breakfast. Blushing furiously, she turns her attention back out the window. “No, I haven’t returned the shirt.”

“I must say, I was surprised that you had brought a man back to your room, you’ve never made a habit of doing that,” Leila continues, her voice light and playful, but with an edge of mischief. “Was it anyone I would know?” She asks, wiggling her eyebrows.

Ella sighs, shaking her head, not trusting herself to speak, not wanting to lie to her friend. She can feel both Lachlan and Leila’s eyes on her, but she ignores them both until Lachlan speaks up.

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you holding onto it if it means he gets to see you again.” He shrugs, scratching at his stubble as the women stare at him. “Speaking from an outside male perspective, of course.”

Ella glances quickly at Leila, whose eyes widen fractionally at her with what Ella can only assume is realization. Guilty, she lowers her gaze to her dress, picking off an imaginary piece of lint. They sit in silence until the carriage loudly hits another bump, jostling Ella into Lachlan’s hip again. Lachlan clears his throat and finds a new subject.

“Your hangover cure works wonders, Leila. Any chance I could convince you to make me some to have on hand?”

Leila tears her gaze from her friend and focuses on her brother, her grey eyes narrowed slightly. “I’ll see what I can do about that.”

The carriage slows to a halt in the town square, and Ella vaults herself out of it before any more questions can be asked of her. The other two clamber out of the carriage after her, much more gracefully. Ella watches Lachlan thank the driver and pet one of the horses as Leila makes her way to her.

“Are you okay?” She asks, frowning. “You’re not acting like yourself.”

“I’m just tired,” Ella lies, shrugging.

“I’m sure you are,” Leila smirks, nudging her shoulder. “You know, you can--”

“And I have a lot to do today,” Ella interrupts. “So I should be heading back home.”

“You’re not working in the clinic today?”

“No, I have to make more medicines today.”

“Okay. I’ll be at the tea shop if you want to stop by later,” she says, frowning as Lachlan comes to stand next to his sister, adjusting the sleeves of his shirt. Leila turns toward him. “Are you coming with me?”

“I thought I’d walk around town for a bit, get some fresh air. I’ll find my way to your shop later.” He glances at Ella, who has her attention turned toward the crowd on the street. “It was wonderful to see you again, Ella.”

At the sound of her name, she turns back toward him and nods, offering a smile to both of the Lonan’s before she turns quickly and hurries down the street toward the market.

She wasn’t lying; she did have lots to do today. The medicine cabinet at the clinic was starting to run low, and her own personal stores could use some refilling as well. She makes her way through the familiar stalls in the crowded market, buying ingredients she knows she’s in need of, wishing she had made a list, as she still finds her thoughts pulled back toward Lachlan.

It was impossible to tell what he was thinking this morning, and Leila catching the carriage into town with them thwarted any chance they would have had to speak alone. Ella considers seeking him out at the tea shop later, but Leila would still be there, and she didn’t want to raise any more suspicion by disappearing with Lachlan again.

At her last stop, Ella pays for the remainder of her needed ingredients, and starts the familiar walk back home, still distracted.

Twice, she almost turns down the wrong street, completely lost in thought. She turns finally onto the correct street, her hands and attention buried in her pockets in search of her keys. Finally finding them, she pulls them from their hiding spot and looks up, stopping dead in her tracks when she sees Lachlan, pacing back and forth outside of her home.

He runs his hand through his light brown hair and visibly sighs, glancing up from his feet to her front door, then both ways down the street. When he sees her, his lips part slightly, then tug into an embarrassed smile.

Immediately, instinctively, Ella smiles back, finding herself already walking toward her unexpected guest. She stands in front of him, playing with her ring as they look silently at each other, both unsure of what to say.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” she finally manages, frowning slightly. “How… did Leila tell you where I lived?”

“Oh, um, no. I asked someone in town,” he laughs sheepishly, dropping his gaze back to the street. “That sounds bad, I’m sorry, I just…” he trails off, kicking at a stone on the ground. “I.. wanted to see you again.”

“You did?” She asks, unable to hide her surprise.

“I do,” he says, raising his eyes to hers. “And I thought we should talk about last night.”

“Oh.” Ella tucks her hair behind her ear, shifting in her spot. There it is, she thinks. He does regret it. “Sure.”

“Only if you want to, I just figured it was, um, important,” he continues, pausing as she maneuvers past him, her body just barely brushing against his as she moves to unlock the door.

She turns back to face him, offering a small smile. “Would you like to come in?”

He nods slowly, following her into her home. She pulls the door shut behind him, pointing to a set of hangers by the door for his cloak, then gesturing to the space in front of them.

“This is the shop area. Or, it was when it was used as a shop. Now I only use the kitchen down here to make potions and medicines for the clinic,” she explains quickly, pointing to the open door on the opposite wall, feeling suddenly nervous to be alone with him without the confidence-boosting effects of alcohol.

“It’s a very nice space,” he says, glancing into the doorway to the kitchen, then down the hall toward the back entrance.

“It was my aunt’s.”

“I see.”

“She doesn’t live here anymore.”

“Oh.”

Ella blushes furiously, fiddling with her ring. “I’m sorry, you make me nervous,” she admits quietly, dropping her gaze to her hands in front of her.

“I make you nervous?” Lachlan laughs, though not unkindly.

Ella shrugs, his laughter pulling her eyes to his once more. “A little.”

“That’s not my intention,” he says as he holds her gaze, his lips still quirked upward in amusement. She clears her throat, motioning for him to follow her up to the living area.

She had always loved her aunt’s home, so she had made very few changes to it once Vivian moved out. The walls of the living area were soft, light green, with large windows to let in as much natural light as possible. A few different styles and colors of chairs to sit on were gathered around a large and colorful circular rug, and the room itself was filled with almost too many plants and books and artwork, giving it a slightly chaotic feel, and she finds herself repressing the urge to apologize to Lachlan for the mess.

The kitchen upstairs was seldom used, since the kitchen downstairs was much larger, but it was one of her favorite places to sit. She remembers painting the bright yellow walls with her aunt soon after she moved in, which made the tiny room feel more open and welcoming. The kitchen was connected directly to the living area, only separated by a small, round, wooden dining table with three chairs, pushed against the wall.

She directs Lachlan to the table, pulling out a chair for him, and immediately sets about making tea. With the kettle started on the stove, she climbs gracelessly onto the counter, sitting up on her knees to poke around the jars of tea leaves on the top shelf.

“I have quite the selection up here, is there a kind of tea you’d prefer?” She pokes around a bit. “I also have some cakes in the bread box over there, but they could be stale by now.”

“You don’t have to go through all this trouble, Ella, I don’t want to burden you.”

She frowns, glancing back at him from her perch on the counter. “You’re not a burden, Lachlan. It’s just tea.”

A frown flits across his features before he licks his lips, offering a shrug. “Whatever you enjoy is fine with me.”

She nods, selecting some black tea, just in case he was only being polite, and climbs back down. “How do you take your tea?”

“Usually with rum, but it feels too early for that.”

“I could use some rum,” she murmurs, pulling a clear bottle from one of the cabinets. “Especially since you want to talk.”

He opens his mouth to respond, only to be cut off by the whistling of the kettle. Ella quickly sets the rum on the table and removes the kettle from heat. She prepares two large mugs of tea, leaving a considerable amount of room for the rum, then brings the cups over to the table and sets one in front of Lachlan.

“I’m sorry for leaving your room this morning,” Ella starts, taking her seat across from him. She watches him pour the liquor into his mug before handing the bottle to her. “I was… I panicked when I woke up, um, naked with my best friend's brother. Leila was right earlier when she said it wasn’t like me to spend the night with someone.”

She pours some rum in her own tea, keeping her eyes on the light amber liquid as she continues. “I was embarrassed, because I had quite a bit to drink, and I was assuming you had as well, and I didn’t want you to have to face me in the morning in case it was the alcohol talking when you invited me to your room.”

“Ella--”

“Regardless of your feelings about last night, I, um. I want you to know I don’t regret anything.” She glances up at him, at his strong jaw, his bright eyes, his lips she now knows to be incredibly soft, and her face heats underneath her freckles. “I had a really enjoyable evening with you. Even without the sex. Um, but that’s not to say that the sex wasn’t enjoyable, because it was.”

She takes a deep breath and a long drink from her mug, feeling considerably lighter after getting that all off her chest, albeit more embarrassed than she’s ever felt in her life. She sneaks another glance at Lachlan, who sits unreadable in his seat across from her, and her face flushes even more red. “I’m sorry, I just… I wanted you to know I enjoy spending time with you, and I needed to get that out before you said what you needed to, in case you don’t echo the sentiment.”

“You did?” He asks, leaning forward slightly in his chair.

“I did, what?”

“Enjoyed spending time with me.”

“I do enjoy spending time with you.”

Lachlan smiles, the same full, crooked smile that had taken her breath away the night before. “I’m… really happy to hear you say that, Ella,” he says, exhaling as if he had been holding his breath throughout her monologue. He reaches across the table to take her hand in his, and runs his thumb across her knuckles, keeping his eyes on hers.

“In, um, terms of Leila,” Ella stumbles, distracted by the skin contact. “I feel like she has an idea of what happened, I think, but I’d like to tell her anyway. Just… not quite yet.”

Lachlan nods slowly. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

He clears his throat, removing his hand from hers to take another drink from his mug. “Well, you pretty much covered everything I wanted to talk about,” he says, chuckling around the rim of his drink. “I don’t regret anything, either. And I also enjoy spending time with you, even without the sex, which I too agree was enjoyable.”

Ella blushes as she laughs, standing up from the table to rinse out her mug. Lachlan joins her at the sink, setting his drink down on the counter and taking her hands. She melts into his arms as they snake around her waist, her hands settling on his chest.

“I wouldn’t mind it happening again,” she breathes, her eyes focused solely on his lips.

“Is that so?” He murmurs, leaning down toward her, slowly, deliberately, as if asking for permission. She nods once, tilting her chin up to him, holding her breath as his lips brush against hers.

It’s gentle, hesitant, as if he’s afraid she’ll slip away from him if he kisses her too hard. Ella pulls herself closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and fisting her hands into his hair. Lachlan moans against her lips as he presses her against the counter, no longer worried about being gentle as desire explodes between them.

All the feelings from last night resurface tenfold, no longer marred by the alcohol in her veins. He lifts her gently, effortlessly, by the waist, setting her on the countertop, allowing her a better angle to further deepen the kiss.

After a while, she pulls back slightly and smiles against his lips; not quite a kiss, but still a refusal to break contact with him. She releases her hold on his hair and lets her hands trail down his arms, resting on his biceps as she wills herself to create some space between them.

She clears her throat, lifting her gaze to meet his eyes. “I have a room here,” she says, biting her lip to hide her humor.

Lachlan laughs as he lifts her from the counter, kissing her deeply before carrying her out of the kitchen and toward the bedroom. “I was hoping you might.”

#3.7k words? from ME? who would have ever thought #they just had a lot to say this chapter idk man #logen #ella sagen x lachlan lonan #etre bleu series

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juliandev0rak · 2 years

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Love Me Tender 🍋

In which Beatrice and Lysander finally understand what all the fuss is about.

characters: Lysander Lonan (of @leila-of-ravens ), Beatrice Viano

pairing: Lysander Lonan x Beatrice Viano / Vianan

words: ~4000

warnings: minors do not interact! nsfw / lemon (fingering, penetrative sex)

notes: the fic we’ve all been waiting for, in honor of vianan’s one year anniversary I offer you: vianan’s first time

please listen to this version of Love Me Tender by Elvis as accompaniment

Beatrice is distracted.

For the last twenty minutes she’s been very invested in the debate they’ve been having. But now, as she sits next to Lysander on the couch she finds herself much more interested in him. It had started out as a simple conversation, but had quickly morphed into something more. One moment Lysander was explaining a concept from a book he’d been reading and the next they’d been debating the principles of truth in an argument getting more heated by the minute.

As Lysander argues the book’s perspective, the self satisfied smirk on his face is telling enough. He knows that he’s right and he’s going to make sure that Beatrice knows it too. She’d be angrier about it if he didn’t look so handsome when he argues like this, his dark eyes shining and hands gesturing for emphasis. He’s distracting, but she won’t admit how much his proximity is affecting her ability to focus on the argument at hand.

Normally she’d be just as determined to get her point across, but she can’t seem to focus on anything other than his lips and the words he’s speaking seem to come out as gibberish. In a moment of clarity she realizes that the words might as well be gibberish, the book excerpt he’s reading from is written in a language that she’s pretty certain hasn’t been spoken in centuries. He runs a hand through his hair as he speaks, making him look just the right amount of disheveled, and Beatrice finally decides that she’s had enough.

“I’m not sure you’re correct,” she interrupts, though truthfully, Beatrice isn’t quite sure what she’s arguing for anymore.

“But I am correct,” Lysander counters, unconsciously leaning in towards her until their noses are nearly touching. “You’re confusing the principles of truth and validity, an argument can be valid without being truthful. It all depends on whether the conclusions follow the premises.”

He’s got a point, and she would tell him that, but at the moment Beatrice cares much more about how close he suddenly is to her. She’s very distracted now. “Is that so,” she murmurs, noting just how close their lips are to each other.

Lysander falls silent as he stares at her, at a sudden loss for words despite the debate he’d been so determined to win only moments ago. His eyes drift down to her lips and she watches the movement carefully, hesitating for only a second more before she leans in to kiss him. He kisses back fervently, more strongly than she’d anticipated.

They can’t seem to get close enough, even as the space between them disappears. Beatrice moves in closer until she’s nearly sitting in his lap and her arms wrap around his shoulders. Lysander pulls her in by the waist until her body is pressed flush to his, and when she moves away for air his lips travel down to her jaw.

They’ll call the debate a draw then, this is far more interesting.

“Are you trying to distract me?” Lysander says, kissing the sensitive spot beneath her ear. Beatrice gives a quiet moan in response and tries to remind herself to be gentle with her hands as they wander down his back.

“Is it working?” Beatrice asks, and Lysander answers her question with another hungry kiss.

She notices then just how much her proximity is affecting Lysander, he’s half hard already, pressed against her leg. Beatrice tries not to think too much as she experimentally moves her hips against him to gauge his response, creating just a bit of friction between them. When he gasps against her lips and his hips move up to meet hers, she does it again, seeking more contact. Lysander pulls back a moment later, panting as he looks at her with wide eyes. Beatrice blushes, shifting slightly so that her hair falls forward to hide her face.

He’s waiting for her to say something, to discuss the line they’re so very close to crossing, so she does her best to be brave.

“Do you want to—” Beatrice pauses, feeling silly for being so shy when this is Lysander, the person she trusts most in the world. “Do you want to try something more?”

“More,” he echoes, reaching forward to tuck her hair back behind her ears so he can look at her. His voice has gone the slightest bit deeper, and as he looks at her his eyes go the slightest bit darker. “Tell me, Beatrice, what more do you want?”

Beatrice’s eyes grow wide and her face positively burns from how hard she’s blushing. Her mind scrambles to find a polite way to ask for what she wants, but what she wants isn't exactly polite. “I want you, all of you.” She waits for him to say something, holding her breath in suspense.

“All of me as in,” Lysander pauses, the meaning of her words finally catching up to him. “You want to have sex?”

Hearing him say those words so bluntly has her unable to form a coherent sentence. Beatrice clears her throat, nearly choking on air in her haste to reply, “I- well, sure. I mean yes, only if you want to!”

It takes Lysander a moment to form a response as well, her proposal rendering him equally unable to speak. “Are you sure you want to?”

“Yes, I’m very sure. I want you,” she repeats. Beatrice forces herself to look up to meet his eyes. He’s smiling at her, and she can’t help but return the gesture as all of her fear at his reaction vanishes.

“Then you have me.” Lysander moves his hands to cradle either side of her face as he leans in to kiss her tenderly. She sighs into it, wrapping her arms more securely around him. “Shall we move to the bedroom then?”

“Yes,” she says, and Lysander kisses her again.

Beatrice barely remembers the walk to their bedroom. They stop a few times along the way to kiss, Lysander pressing her up against doors and wood paneled walls as she laughs and presses back against him. Ordinarily she might be worried someone would see them, but she can’t find it in herself to care at the moment. She’s half drunk on the idea of touching Lysander, of him touching her.

When they reach the bedroom door he pulls her through and locks it behind them. He reaches for her hand again and takes a step backwards into the room, pulling her with him towards the bed. She takes a seat on the edge of the mattress and pulls her shoes off before reaching to remove her stockings.

Lysander places his hand on hers to stop her and she looks up at him in question. “Allow me.”

He kneels down in front of her, placing his hands on her legs. As his hands slide up under her dress, warm against her cold skin, Beatrice shivers. He’s watching her so intently, eyes never leaving hers as he reaches the soft skin above her knees and pulls, taking down one, then the other, stocking before neatly folding them and placing them aside.

Next to come off is Lysander’s shirt, and Beatrice stands to help him unbutton it. Her hands are a bit unsteady and she falters every now and then as he leans into her touch. As she untucks his shirt from his pants, her hands linger on his waistband for a moment before she quickly moves back up to undo the last shirt button. He shrugs out of his shirt then carefully removes the bodice he wears under it.

Beatrice lets out a breath and turns her back to him to gesture to the buttons at the back of her dress. “Can you help me with these?” she asks, turning to look at him over her shoulder. He nods and moves his hands to the task, his fingers occasionally brushing against her back as he works. When he reaches the final button he stills and presses a kiss against the back of her neck as she lets her dress fall to the floor.

Lysander leans in to kiss her again as he tries to unbutton his pants, struggling to do so while not breaking the kiss. She laughs with him as they accidentally knock teeth and he finally moves away so he can undress properly. As he steps back he takes her in, eyes roving over the curves of her body usually hidden beneath layers of dresses and cloak.

Her face grows warm under his attention, so she decides to focus on Lysander instead of being self conscious. She places her hand on his bare chest, gently tracing over his skin as his hands travel down her shoulders. He shivers under her touch, then slowly ghosts his hand over the curve of her breast, mirroring her movements.

“You’re beautiful, Beatrice,” Lysander says, his voice nearly a whisper. His hand moves around to the small of her back, drawing her closer.

“So are you.” She smiles at him encouragingly but her heart is stuttering in her chest. It’s more excitement than nerves, but she finds herself comforted by his steady hands on her. Beatrice leans in to kiss him and after a moment he pulls her back towards the bed again.

Before she can overthink the final act of undressing, Beatrice reaches down to pull her underwear off and throws it over the edge of the bed. She leans back against the headboard and watches as Lysander follows suit, though he takes the time to fold his underwear before setting it aside more carefully than she had done. Beatrice laughs at the gesture and he gives her a shy smile in reply.

The laughter fades into silence and then it’s just the two of them, bared to each other in the warm, candlelit room. In the dim lighting Beatrice watches him look at her, the adoring almost awe-stricken expression on his face makes her breath catch in her throat. She stares back at him, her eyes tracing both the familiar and new planes of his body. She wants to memorize him like this, perfectly silhouetted in golden light, looking at her like she's the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

He’s certainly the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

After a moment she decides she’s had enough of just looking and she leans forward to kiss him. Her hands run over the sharp lines of his collarbones and down his arms. Lysander sits back, letting her explore him as her lips travel a path towards his jaw, then further downwards. She peppers kisses across his chest then pauses, briefly looking up at him as she ever so softly presses a kiss to the middle of his sternum. He shivers again and Beatrice pulls further back, looking a bit uncertain as she meets his gaze.

“Beatrice?”

“It’s just, I-” Beatrice starts, now staring resolutely at the wall behind him instead of meeting his eyes. “I’m not quite sure what to do.” She internally curses herself for not asking Ella for more advice before embarking on this new endeavor.

“And you think I know?” Lysander laughs, the sound warm and reassuring. “I haven’t a clue what I’m doing either.”

Beatrice looks back at him, feeling relieved. “Then we’ll simply have to figure this out together.”

“Together,” Lysander repeats, nodding his head.

“I suppose it’s rather simple in theory,” Beatrice says. “Though as I understand it, there’s much room for experimentation.”

“Perhaps let’s save experimentation for another time,” Lysander smiles.

“I think that’s a good decision,” she agrees. “Well, shall we then?”

Lysander laughs again, shaking his head at her affectionately. “You’re so business-like.”

“I dare say we’ll be here ‘till next spring if we delay any longer,” Beatrice defends herself, and he grins, fully in agreement with her assessment.

Lysander reaches for Beatrice, lips meeting hers again as his hands find their way back to her body. He explores her, running his hands over her arms, her breasts, her stomach. She finally manages to relax as he holds her, melting against him as he kisses her. At last, his hand dips between her thighs and she gasps against his lips as his fingers work to bring her pleasure in just the way she likes, the way he’s become very familiar with by now. In this, at least, they know what they’re doing.

It’s good but it’s not enough, and Beatrice can’t help but move her hips impatiently, seeking more than he’s offering. He slips in a second finger and she can feel herself slowly but steadily reaching the edge. Warmth pools in the pit of her stomach and her breath hitches as his fingers curl into her. Her quiet sounds change from gasps to moans, and she’s nearly there. But all too soon Lysander stops and she makes a sound of protest as he pulls his fingers out of her.

Her annoyance is quickly forgotten as Lysander moves to hover over her, his knees resting between her legs. He’s still looking at her with that awed expression, like he can’t quite believe that she’s real and that they’re really doing this. She gently runs her fingers through the curls near his forehead and leans in to kiss his temple.

“Are you quite sure this is what you want?” Lysander asks and she pulls back to look at him, meeting his eyes in a serious gaze.

Beatrice has never been sure of much in life, but she is sure of Lysander, she is sure of this.

“I’ve never been more certain,” she assures him. “I trust you.”

“And I you.”

They come together slowly, as in every aspect of their relationship. Lysander’s eyes are glued to Beatrice’s to watch her reaction as he enters her, and he squeezes her hand as if to reassure her, or himself. His eyes close and he gives a shaky breath as he enters her fully with a final shallow thrust. He rests his forehead against hers and they both breathe deeply, adjusting to the new sensation. They’re as close to each other as they can possibly get, and yet Beatrice would get even closer if she could.

She reaches her free hand up to cup the side of his face. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I must admit I did not know what to expect but this is—” Lysander pauses, at a loss for words as he opens his eyes to look at her. He takes another quavery breath and reaches out to brush Beatrice’s bangs out of her eyes. “How are you?”

“I’m perfect,” Beatrice smiles reassuringly, moving her hand down to rest on his shoulder. “You can move, I’m alright.”

So he does, moving out of her just as slowly as he’d entered. He groans under his breath as he presses back into her and Beatrice rises up to meet him, her hand grasping his shoulder to have something to hold onto. Lysander sets a gentle pace, rocking slowly into her again and again. Their movements are both a bit uncoordinated at first as they learn what feels best, but they soon fall into sync.

Beatrice finds that she loves being this close to him, this connected. They fit together perfectly, like they were made for each other, and it feels so much better than she’d expected. Every sensation is heightened, his hand resting on her hip raises goosebumps, and she can’t look away from his eyes, so serious and attentive as he watches for her every reaction.

Lysander always gets a furrow between his eyebrows when he’s focused, and Beatrice leans forward to kiss the spot, causing his rhythm to falter. He looks startled for a moment, which is entirely too endearing, and Beatrice leans in to press her lips to his. She moans into his mouth as he kisses her and the sound seems to urge him on.

He moves his hand down to where they’re joined and she writhes against him, gasping as he circles her clit. Lysander’s boldness constantly surprises her, and the look on his face is the same one he gets when he knows he’s winning an argument. He’s confident, determined, and perhaps even a bit smug about how much he’s affecting Beatrice. It doesn’t take long for the combination of his actions to bring her close to the edge again.

“And you said you didn’t know what you were doing,” Beatrice says. “You’ve been reading more, haven’t you?”

He gives her a coy grin. “Perhaps.”

“Where do you even find these books?”

Lysander stills to catch his breath and reaches up to brush Beatrice’s hair out of her eyes again. She makes a mental note to put her hair up next time. “You have to know where to look. Most of them are from underground bookshops, or at least shops which used to be relegated to the underground. And of course a great deal of the books on this particular subject are disguised.”

“I hadn’t noticed any enchanted books in the library.” Beatrice frowns, wondering what else she might have missed.

“I don’t exactly keep these books out in the open where anyone might find them,” Lysander blushes, as if talking about erotic books is somehow more scandalous than the fact that he’s currently inside of Beatrice. “I would be happy to show you how to recognize them. It’s a simple cloaking spell. For example, the most detailed of the volumes I read was disguised as a history of trade routes through this region.”

“I suspect you were looking for the history book rather than a book about sex,” Beatrice laughs.

“You’re correct, and I’m still trying to locate the actual book, though I have begun to think it doesn't actually exist. Perhaps I can compile my own notes on the matter into a book.” The furrow between his eyebrows returns and Lysander’s mind is clearly miles away. He seems to have momentarily forgotten what it is they’re meant to be doing.

“Lysander?” Beatrice’s voice startles him out of his thoughts and his eyes move back to meet hers. “Can we talk about the history of Umbran trade routes another time?”

“Oh, my apologies,” he laughs, and Beatrice joins in. “I promise you are much more engaging than a history book.”

“That’s quite the compliment,” Beatrice teases, but the words falter as he resumes movement. Her breath comes out in a gasp as he enters her more quickly than before, his careful pace speeding up.

“Despite the variety of my reading on the subject, I never quite understood the appeal of sex,” Lysander says, and Beatrice wonders at how he can keep up a conversation while she feels like she can hardly remember to breathe.

“Do you understand the appeal now?” Beatrice pants.

“Yes.” Lysander’s dark eyes are wide as he looks at her, the expression one of open honesty and affection. “I didn’t know that it would be like this.”

“Lysander.” Beatrice suddenly feels like it’s all too much, she feels as if her heart could burst at how much she loves him.

“Beatrice.” He leans down to kiss her and she sighs happily, lost to her emotions and the mounting pleasure she feels at being with him like this. “You feel so, this is so—”

“Good,” Beatrice finishes his sentence. Lysander looks at her, watching her hazel eyes flutter shut. She bites her lip to hold in a moan, and he notes the flush high on her cheeks and the way her fingers grip his shoulder to pull him closer as he thrusts into her.

“You don’t have to be quiet,” Lysander says, suddenly very keen to hear the audible effect he has on her again. “It’s only us here.”

Her eyes open and she looks up at him, her mouth opening into a wide “o” in surprise. His hand reaches down once more to where she’s most sensitive and he gets his wish as she makes another soft sound of pleasure. She’s so close, the pressure and the heat growing to levels she’s never experienced before. In the heat of the moment she says a few very unladylike words, though Lysander is too far gone to notice. His lips press to hers again in a kiss that’s more teeth and tongue than anything else and he swallows the rest of the sounds she makes.

Lysander suddenly pulls back to rest his forehead against hers again and she can tell he’s close. His breath comes out in uneven puffs as his careful rhythm falters once more, his movements becoming more sloppy. With a final stifled gasp he comes, and his head falls to rest on her shoulder. Beatrice follows shortly behind, her hand still holding his as an anchor, a reassurance that they’re in this moment together.

Afterwards they lay together, Beatrice held close against his chest as they both come down from the high. His fingers gently comb through her hair, working out any tangles as she lets her eyes fall shut again. The room around them is quiet and still, the only sounds are their breathing and the crackling of the fire in the fireplace. Eventually, Lysander leans down to kiss her forehead and Beatrice beams up at him.

“How do you feel?” she asks.

“Tired.” Lysander kisses her on the cheek this time and she laughs.

“No, silly, how do you feel.”

“Are you asking how I feel emotionally?”

“Yes!” Beatrice smiles, full of affection as she looks at him.

“I feel…” Lysander trails off, looking deep in thought. Beatrice waits, tracing over the lines on the palm of his hand as he thinks. “I feel loved.”

At his words, tears threaten to well up in the corner of her eyes and Beatrice blinks hard, determined to reel her emotions in. She’d never thought she could find this with someone, a love built on trust and kindness and curiosity. She feels so lucky to have found someone who understands her so well, someone whose presence calms her and makes her feel at home.

Beatrice turns in his arms so that her chest is pressed to his and her arms wind around him to pull him closer. As she buries her head in his shoulder she’s comforted by his familiar scent. She can hardly believe that she’s really here in his arms, with his warm body holding hers.

This was worth the wait, every bit of it

Lysander rubs circles on her back to soothe her, bringing her back into the present. “How do you feel?” he asks, and Beatrice thinks for a moment.

“Completely, perfectly, and incandescently happy,” she sighs, knowing that even those big words can’t manage to convey the entirety of how she feels right now.

“That’s quite the commendation, I must have done a good job then,” Lysander laughs. Beatrice looks up at him, noting the glint of amusement in his eyes.

“I should say so. I don’t think I’ll be moving from this bed for at least a week,” Beatrice jokes.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea to me.” Lysander presses a soft kiss to the top of her head, then reaches down to pull the bedcovers over them more completely. She snuggles closer to his side, feeling content but exhausted.

“Beatrice?”

“Yes?”

“You do know that I was correct earlier, right? About the difference between truth and validity?” He’s entirely serious, but Beatrice knows that if she engages in this conversation again they’ll be up half the night.

“Lyse?”

“Yes?”

“Go to sleep.”

Lysander laughs but lets it go, though he’ll likely bring the topic up again tomorrow. Debates with Beatrice are his favorite activity, though he might have a new favorite activity now. He quickly extinguishes the candles with his magic, leaving only the glow of the fireplace to illuminate them as he looks at Beatrice. He reaches for her face, pulling her in for one last sleepy kiss.

“I love you,” Beatrice murmurs, already half asleep.

“And I you.”

#minors dni #n/sfw #lemon #spicy #covering all the bases with these tags lol #just like vianan is *bdmm tss* (joke drum sound)#i kid you not i have been writing this fic since last december it's been nearly an entire year #vianan are private ok they wouldn't let me write this fic #but it's finally here and i can stop torturing laura by telling her i'm working on it every week for the last 11 months #“I dare say we’ll be here ‘till next spring if we delay any longer” me @ myself editing this #'love me tender love me true' *sobs*#im jumping the timeline don't @ me #one year of these nerds in love im emotional #note i wrote to myself while writing this fic: it is very important that they are holding hands as much as possible #this was largely inspired by that one text post thats like:#fucking forehead to forehead is so intimate be careful our souls are gonna get intertwined #anyways.#lysander lonan x beatrice viano #vianan #beatrice viano #lysander lonan

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juliandev0rak · 3 years

Text

a most welcome guest

A late night meeting gives Beatrice hope.

characters: Lysander Lonan (of @leila-of-ravens ) also Lorcan Lonan (best dog), Beatrice Viano, brief cameo from Bramble (best bunny)

pairing: Lysander Lonan x Beatrice Viano / Vianan

words: ~1990

notes: set sometime after the Yule ball, catch up on the vianan series here!

Sleep doesn’t come easily for Beatrice these days. She’s always been a light sleeper, the slightest creak of a floorboard could wake her up, and it usually takes her a while to adjust to new surroundings. The Lonan Manor is no exception, so it’s no surprise that Beatrice is lying awake with only her racing thoughts and the sound of wind whipping through the trees outside to keep her company.

After lying in bed for another restless hour she gives up, deciding a cup of tea and a book are in order. She’s been thinking too much, worrying about the school back in Vesuvia and whether she’s truly good enough to run it. Despite her best efforts, the disparaging, sarcastic words a noble had said to her at the Yule ball have been running on an endless loop in her head,

“A shop owner. The education of Vesuvian youth is in good hands.”

She had stood up for herself in the moment, and Lysander had been very kind in shutting down the nobles' rude comments, but she can’t help but worry that they were right. She doesn’t have an education, not a formal one like all of the Umbrans she's met. Perhaps she really is better suited to stay at the shop forever.

Beatrice sighs and gets out of bed, pulling her cloak on to ward off the cold air. Bramble is still fast asleep on the corner of her bed and Beatrice gently scratches behind one of her ears as she passes by on the way to the door.

She knows she’s being silly, of course she’s qualified for this. Nadia trusts her, Lysander trusts her, and isn’t the point of the Vesuvian school to provide children with an education, a chance she’d never gotten? She decides to attempt to stop thinking about it for the night, she’s on vacation after all.

Beatrice heads down the hall and the first flight of stairs, trying to be quiet to avoid waking anyone up. She conjures a small ball of light into her hand to help her navigate the dark halls, though she knows her way around by now she hates the dark. A door creaks open behind her and before she can turn around to see who it is, a shape runs at her in the dark, knocking into her legs.

She squeals in surprise and her light spell accidentally grows in size until the whole hallway is flooded with bright light. Beatrice lifts a hand to shield her eyes and reins the spell back in until it's only a tiny orb in her palm again. She’s normally very good at controlling her magic, but being taken off guard like that had caused a near explosion of power.

She looks down to see Lorcan illuminated in her light, happily wagging his tail at her. “Lorcan! You gave me such a fright,” Beatrice whispers, leaning down to pet him. Lysander stands in the doorway of his office and when Beatrice notices him she stands up, brushing her hair behind her ears self consciously.

“Are you alright?” Lysander asks, his tone politely concerned.

“Yes, thank you. I didn’t expect anyone else to be awake, and I must confess I’m not a fan of the dark,” Beatrice admits. She takes in Lysander’s appearance, noticing that he’s still dressed in his day clothes. His shirtsleeves are rolled up nearly to his elbows and his face looks a bit pale, like he’s been working for too long.

“I apologize for startling you, Lorcan heard a sound and wanted to investigate. That was a very powerful illumination you just created. I thought it might already be daybreak,” Lysander says, and Beatrice can’t decide if he’s complimenting her or making a joke.

“My apologies for the brightness, I hope it didn’t hurt your eyes.” Beatrice looks down at Lorcan instead of meeting Lysander’s gaze.

“I think yours is a perfectly common fear. Many people possess the same distaste for darkness,” Lysander says. “Though I imagine for most people, the fear is not the darkness itself but rather what might be hidden in the darkness.”

“Indeed.” Beatrice looks at the dark stairwell behind her warily, wishing he would change the subject.

Lysander gives her a kind look, as if he understands her fear. “But you’re a magician, surely you must know that you’re prepared for whatever dangers you might face.”

“I suppose so.” She considers his statement, wondering how she’d actually fare under dangerous circumstances. She decides she’d rather not find out, she’s quite content using her magic for less extreme purposes. Lorcan sniffs at her hand and Beatrice reaches down to pet him again.

“I certainly wouldn’t want to find myself in a duel with you,” Lysander says and Beatrice laughs in surprise, that comment was definitely a joke. He doesn’t often make jokes around her and she finds she quite likes this side of him.

“I wouldn’t like to duel you either,” she replies.

Lysander’s lips quirk up into a half smile at her comment. “I find that I much prefer verbal debates.”

“They say that the pen is mightier than the sword,” Beatrice recites, returning his smile with one of her own.

“Quite right. I find that clichés often hold a modicum of truth,” Lysander says.

They stand there in silence for a minute, both smiling at each other before Beatrice finally looks away. Not wanting to make the moment awkward, she plans her escape. “Well, I think I’ll go make some tea, I doubt I’ll find sleep any time soon.”

Beatrice can hardly believe her luck as Lysander starts to follow her down the hallway. “I’ll accompany you. I find myself in need of some tea as well, it’s been a busy evening.”

They make their way to the kitchen, both remaining silent to avoid waking the rest of the household. Lorcan walks along beside Lysander, eagerly following him towards their destination. The manor is much colder at night and Beatrice wraps her cloak around her more snugly as they walk, grateful she’d thought to put it on before venturing out.

The fire in the kitchen hearth is still faintly burning, and the room is lit with a warm glow that just illuminates the side of Lysander’s face as he peruses the tea options. Leila has provided a large selection and Beatrice watches him choose, noticing the way his eyebrows furrow in concentration as he searches for his usual Earl Grey. When he finds the correct tea blend he moves away so Beatrice can look, his shoulder brushing hers as he takes a step towards the counter.

Beatrice tries not to react, but her face flushes slightly at the proximity. She turns towards the teas, pretending to read them while she watches Lysander choose a mug out of the corner of her eye. She decides on an herbal mix designed to bring on sleep. Leila has given her this tea plenty of times on nights like this, and while it doesn’t always work, the familiar aroma of chamomile and lavender is comforting.

Beatrice busies herself with filling the kettle, which is still sitting out from afternoon tea, and uses her magic to raise the water’s temperature to a boil. She pours water into her mug and sets her tea to steep before turning to fill Lysander’s. He thanks her and the two stand in companionable silence for a few moments while they wait for their tea.

When the tea has finished steeping Beatrice stirs a sugar cube into her mug, watching the liquid swirl around in circles. “Why are you up so late?” she asks, unable to help her curiosity.

Lysander stirs a splash of milk into his tea and takes a sip before replying. “I’ve been occupied with grading papers, it’s nearly the end of term.”

“I suppose I’ll be just as occupied with grading soon enough.” Beatrice takes a sip of her own tea and adds another sugar cube for good measure. “Though I’m sure grading simple spelling and arithmetic won’t be nearly as difficult as university level coursework.”

“The Vesuvian school is lucky to have you as its headmistress,” Lysander says, and Beatrice nearly chokes on her tea. He couldn’t have known how badly she needed to hear that reassurance.

“Thank you,” she says, the words a reflex of propriety as she scrambles to collect her thoughts into a fuller sentence. “I don’t think I’ve properly expressed how grateful I am for your assistance in opening the school.”

“Providing equal opportunity to an education is a noble goal. It’s my pleasure to give any assistance myself or Umbra can offer,” he replies, inclining his head as he speaks. “You’ve done an exceptional job with the plans thus far.”

“You’ll have to come back to Vesuvia to see the school someday. The construction is nearly complete, I can’t believe how beautiful it’s all turned out.” Beatrice smiles, as she always does when she talks about the school. She takes another sip of her tea, missing the way Lysander’s soft gaze has come to rest on her face.

“Perhaps,” he says simply, and Beatrice lets the subject drop.

She moves towards the doorway, turning over her shoulder to look at Lysander. “I should let you return to your work now. I think I’ll go read in the drawing room for a while.”

“I’ll join you, if that’s alright. I believe a change of scenery will help me get through these last few papers.” Lysander takes a step towards her and she nods hurriedly in assent.

“Of course, I wouldn’t mind the company. You’re very welcome to join me,” Beatrice says. “This is your home after all.”

“True, but you are a most welcome guest,” Lysander replies, darting up the stairs towards his office before Beatrice can fully register what he’s said. She giggles nervously under her breath and tries not to spill her tea as she walks down the hall to the drawing room. Lorcan follows after her, settling down by the fireplace in his usual spot.

She’s just picking a book off of one of the many shelves when Lysander returns with a stack of papers in hand and his mug of tea precariously balanced on top. He sets the papers and his mug on the tea table and moves to the fireplace, gently coaxing the dying embers back to life with his magic. Beatrice takes a seat on the couch and watches him work, impressed by how easily he seems to manipulate the flames. When he’s brought the fire back up enough to warm the room he takes a seat on the chair in front of the tea table. He looks up at Beatrice, who is still watching him closely, and she hurriedly looks down at her book, embarrassed to be caught staring for the thousandth time since she’s arrived here.

They sit in silence for the next half hour as Lysander works and Beatrice reads, and she finds herself feeling more relaxed then she has in a very long time. The quiet scratching of Lysander’s pen and the crackling fire in the fireplace seem to lull her and the words start swimming on the page in front of her as she struggles to keep her eyes open. Before she realizes how tired she even is, she starts to doze off to sleep.

Beatrice wakes hours later to find weak morning sunlight streaming in from behind the curtains and blearily realizes she’s still on the drawing room couch. The house is quiet and still, and someone’s placed a blanket over her. Her heart thuds oddly in her chest as she realizes it was likely Lysander. Beatrice pulls the blanket around her shoulders as she rises to a sitting position, and a smile she can’t begin to contain spreads across her face.

In the silence of the early morning, with nobody else awake yet to see it, Beatrice lets herself hope.

#💗💗#just a little vianan because i haven't written for them in forever!#i've missed them #vianan? making tea together? what an utterly unexpected turn of events!#beatrice viano #lysander lonan #lysander lonan x beatrice viano #vianan #lorcan fic #love using that tag #i feel like every fic i write starts with beatrice sleeping but you know what- i think that's valid #sleepy rights

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juliandev0rak · 3 years

Text

confiance

Lysander takes a bath, sort of.

characters: Lysander Lonan (of @leila-of-ravens) and Beatrice Viano / Vianan

words: ~2200

warnings: descriptions of a panic attack, brief mentions of drowning / past torture

notes: you might want to read *shudders* Price of Truth by @leila-of-ravens first for context

Beatrice doesn’t trust easily.

Growing up, she had learned that the people you trust only betray you or leave you behind. So she’d learned to guard her heart, to trust only herself. It was only after she moved to her aunt’s that Beatrice began to unravel the tangled threads of hurt tied so tightly around her heart.

Slowly, she’d been able to open herself up to others. She started with her Aunt Cora, who was the first person to prove herself truly trustworthy. Then she met Ella and Leila, who were so kind that she found herself trusting them quite without noticing.

When Beatrice lost Aunt Cora to the plague, she lost a part of herself. And when Beatrice lost Leila, she almost lost herself entirely. It was only her trust in Ella and her trust in magic that allowed her to pull through to save their friend, and herself.

Before she met Lysander, Beatrice had never been in love. She’d always thought that she would know she was in love when she could trust the person implicitly. Before she could love someone, she had to trust them not to judge her, she had to trust them to guard her secrets, and most importantly- she had to trust them to stay.

Despite her better judgement, Beatrice had fallen in love with Lysander before she even really knew him. But she’d known, even then, that she could trust him. Over the years he had proven that trust, he’d become someone she can count on. He had stayed.

Lysander also doesn’t trust easily. Beatrice finds it hard to know what he’s thinking sometimes, even now when they know each other so well. She understands the feeling of not wanting to burden someone with your troubles, but she wants to help him carry the burden. That’s what love is, and she wants him to trust her too.

On an evening not long after Beatrice moved to Umbra, the two sit in their bed reading before bed as they so often do. Beatrice is thoroughly invested in her novel, a mystery set in a gothic castle full of ghosts and brooding characters. She likes to read fiction in her spare time, it’s nice to turn her brain off sometimes after a long day of reading academic texts. But she’s pulled out of the action of the book as Lysander clears his throat, drawing her attention to the fact that he’s stood up from bed.

He sets his own book down and gives her a little nod when she looks up. “I think I’ll go take a bath.”

“Alright, I’ll be here.” Beatrice smiles briefly as Lysander walks into the bathroom adjoining their room. He carefully shuts the door behind him and she turns back to her novel.

The fire in the fireplace has dwindled down to almost nothing by the time Beatrice looks up from her book again and realizes how much time has passed. Now that she thinks of it, she hasn’t heard the sound of the bath water running. She hasn't heard anything from the bathroom at all. A bit worried, she gets out of bed and creeps over to the bathroom door.

“Lyse?” She calls, waiting a few moments for a response. When none comes she knocks on the door gently, just two raps on the wood. “Darling? Are you alright?”

Another moment passes in silence. If he doesn’t answer this time, she’s opening the door. “May I come in?”

Finally, she hears a muffled sound of assent and she enters, a bit unsure of what she’ll find inside. Beatrice steps in to find the bathtub empty, no sign of water or Lysander. She peers around in confusion until she spots a lump in the corner of the room, as far from the tub as can be. It’s Lysander, curled into a ball on the tile and still fully clothed. Beatrice crosses the room in an instant, kneeling down next to him.

His shoulders are shaking, his breathing is heavy, and Beatrice easily recognizes the symptoms of panic. Though she hasn’t seen him like this before, she knows that he struggles with memories from the past at times. He’s been through more than any normal person would have been able to withstand. Lysander is still here, miraculously, but he isn’t unscathed. The evidence remains in scars both physical and mental.

Beatrice leans down to catch his eyes and he looks up at her, his own eyes wide and fearful. “Lysander, may I touch you?”

She doesn’t want to startle him, but she knows that sometimes a physical presence can be grounding. Lysander nods and she reaches towards him tentatively, helping him sit up a bit before she puts her arms around him. She pulls him to rest against her chest and his arms wrap almost automatically around her waist. Up close she can feel him trembling even more.

“Can you breathe with me? Just follow my lead.” Beatrice takes in a deep breath and holds it for a count of five before releasing it slowly. He heaves in gulps of air as if he can’t get enough oxygen. It takes a few moments but as she continues to breathe deeply, his breathing begins to slow to match hers.

“In,” She instructs, and he inhales, “and out.” He exhales, only a bit shakily. They stay like that for a few minutes, Beatrice holding him while his breathing syncs to hers and his heartbeat slows to a more even pace.

When Lysander looks up to meet her eyes again she’s pleased to see that he looks a bit calmer. “I apologize, it’s.. the water.”

He doesn’t need to say anything else. She could never forget what he’s been through, the way he’d almost been drowned, the torture he’d gone through to save his sister’s life. It makes her want to break down, to cry and seek his comfort to reassure herself that he’s safe. But he needs her now, he’s trusting her to help him.

Beatrice closes her eyes and takes a steadying breath. She can feel him in her arms, warm and present and very much alive. She feels the texture of his soft sweater under her fingertips, the way his breath comes out in even puffs against her neck. They’ll make it through this together.

“There's no need for an apology, Lyse. Would you like me to stay here to keep you company?”

“Stay.” Lysander presses his face back into her shoulder and she rubs a soothing circle on his shoulder blade.

“Of course, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” Beatrice keeps her arms around him, holding him close for both of their sakes. She’ll stay here all night if he needs her. A few minutes pass in silence before he pulls back a little, his dark eyes thankfully much more focused.

“I could wash your hair for you if you want. You don’t even have to get into the bath if you don’t want to,” Beatrice suggests, placing a hand on the side of his face to turn him to look at her. “Or we could try again tomorrow, if you’d prefer.”

“Perhaps if you did it... it would be alright.” Lysander’s words seem uncertain but his voice is even. Beatrice reaches for his hair and watches the barely perceptible flinch he gives. She stills her hands and waits for him to nod before reaching to gently brush through his dark hair.

“If you just lean over the edge of the tub a bit I can use my magic to control the water, you won’t have to uh, submerge yourself at all.” Beatrice tries to smile reassuringly at him. Lysander thinks for a moment and then nods. He scoots backwards towards the bathtub and she follows.

He leans his head back against the edge of the tub, sitting on the tile floor with his legs out in front of him. “Like this?”

“Perfect. I’m just going to turn on the tap, I’ll draw it from there.” Beatrice narrates what she’s doing to make sure he knows what to expect. She reaches over to turn on the hot water and tests to make sure it’s a good temperature. The rushing sound of the water makes him flinch again and she keeps a steadying hand on his shoulder, letting him know that she’s there.

When the water is the right temperature she gathers the stream in her hands, guiding it towards him. Lysander doesn’t say anything, though she can sense his apprehension. He gives her a look that seems to say, “Be careful.”

Beatrice is cautious and slow as she threads her fingers through his curls, using the barest hint of pressure. She brings the stream of warm water up to wet his hair and pauses to make sure he’s ok. Lysander’s eyes are closed and his fingers tap an uneven pattern where they rest against his leg.

“Tell me if you need me to stop.” Beatrice reaches for the bottle of shampoo, his hair now sufficiently saturated with water. Lysander nods but keeps his eyes shut as she pours shampoo into her hands, using a bit of magic to make sure it’s the same warm temperature as the water. She’s careful not to pull on his hair as she lathers in the shampoo, especially when she reaches the back of his head.

Warm steam fills the room, bringing with it the comforting scent of vanilla from the shampoo. Lysander relaxes as she washes the shampoo out, his posture slumping more comfortably against the edge of the tub. He actually leans into her hand as she works out a tangle, and she smiles even though he can’t see it. Using her magic allows her to control where the water flows, ensuring not even a drop falls on his face.

“All done.” Beatrice leans back and watches as his eyes open to meet her gaze. He smiles at her, a look so full of adoration that she can do nothing but stare back at him.

“Thank you.” Lysander reaches for her and she wraps her arms around his shoulders, a bit awkwardly as she's sitting next to him. A drop of water from his hair falls onto her arm and she shivers at the cold temperature.

“Shall I dry your hair too?” Beatrice reaches up towards him. He doesn’t flinch this time as she works a drying spell through his hair. When she’s done she stands and offers a hand to help him up from the floor. His hands are steady, no sign of the panicked trembling she’d felt earlier.

Beatrice helps him change into his pajamas, he doesn’t need the help but she feels the need to be close to him just in case. She helps him button his pajama shirt up and watches with a barely suppressed grin as he tucks his pajama pants into his socks because he hates to be cold. By the time they get into bed a few minutes later Lysander is back to himself.

He pulls the covers up over both of them as Beatrice moves closer to rest her head on his chest. Lysander cups the side of her face in his hand and leans in to press a soft kiss to her cheek. Beatrice leans up to kiss his cheek too before he can pull away and he laughs, startled by the action.

She reaches for his free hand and draws a gentle circle on his palm, tracing the lines of his veritomancy scars. She’d asked him once if it hurt to touch them, and he’d said, “Not when you do it.”

Lysander gently tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear so he can see her face better. He’s still got that adoring smile on his face and Beatrice thinks she needs to look away before her heart bursts. They haven’t blown out the candles yet, and in the dim light Beatrice is sure her blush is obvious. She’s not embarrassed about it anymore, he’s used to her blushes by now. She’s learned that he’s just as shy as she is, and just as prone to blushing if the moment is right.

As much as Beatrice would like to just look at him forever, she’s having trouble keeping her eyes open. Before she really has time to think about her words she murmurs, “Perhaps tomorrow we can take a bath together. I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

Lysander is silent for a minute and Beatrice wonders if she’s said something wrong. His brows furrow a little as he thinks before he nods and finally replies, “I suppose we can try it.”

“I can create a bubble of oxygen around your head if you’d like.” She’s half joking, but she thinks she could probably figure out how to do that if he actually wants it as a safety precaution.

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Lysander laughs. “I trust you, Beatrice.”

Beatrice smiles, reveling in the sound of his steady heartbeat beneath her head. “I’m very glad to hear that.”

#t r u s t #they're impossibly soft my heart hurts #the lonans are rich im just gonna say they have indoor plumbing ok #and how does beatrice know how to calm a panic attack? why- it's because she Also has trauma jshdjf #i’m like: here’s some angst- and then an overwhelming amount of soft fluff to make up for it #*writes a soft and slightly spicy part 2*#i might do it #lysander lonan x beatrice viano #lysander lonan #beatrice viano #vianan

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juliandev0rak · 3 years

Text

Firelight 🍋

Lysander and Beatrice enjoy a night in.

characters: Lysander Lonan (of @leila-of-ravens ), Beatrice Viano

pairing: Lysander Lonan x Beatrice Viano / Vianan

words: ~2200

warnings: nsfw / lemon, nerds in love

notes: Vianan’s first lemon 🥺set pretty far in the future because this is a Slow Burn, alternate title- “vianan get to third base” 👀

Beatrice sits with her back pressed to Lysander’s chest as they lounge on the couch together. His arms rest around her waist and her head lies lightly on his shoulder as she reads to him. They’ve spent most of their nights together like this, taking in the warmth of the fireplace and each other. It’s her first winter in Umbra, her first winter with him.

She finds that for all the wonders the city contains, the opera house, the museums, even the libraries, the most wonderful thing of all is still an evening alone with Lysander.

As she continues to read, one of his hands moves to play with her hair and she smiles up at him, breaking off from the paragraph she’d been reading. He leans down to press a kiss to her cheek, and then the corner of her mouth. As he pulls away, Beatrice wrinkles her nose a little in frustration and sets the book down so she can turn to look at him.

“Now that wasn’t a proper kiss, was it?” She smiles, one of her hands going to cradle the side of his face. He laughs under his breath at her comment and leans in again, their lips and tongues meeting in a now-familiar dance. It’s a proper kiss to be sure.

When they pull away she turns back to the book, opening it to where they’d left off. She continues reading for a moment, trying not to stutter on the words as his hands slide down her shoulders. One of his hands moves to fiddle with the ties on the bodice of her dress, and she finds it very difficult to focus on the book with him that close to her chest. He hesitates for a moment, then gingerly lets his hand rest over her breast, right above her heart. Her words abruptly cut off mid sentence.

No doubt Lysander can feel the way her heart races as she looks up at him. “Is that- is this alright?”

“Yes.” Beatrice lets the book drop off the side of the couch.

She exhales shakily and slowly reaches her hand to guide his a bit lower so it’s resting directly over the center of her breast. He gives a light squeeze and she breathes in sharply, eyes locked to his. He continues to carefully move his hand over her chest, hardly applying pressure as he explores, until his fingers barely graze her nipple and she gasps. He repeats the motion more intentionally then, listening to her breathing get heavier.

Lysander goes for the ties on the top of her dress again, “May I?” She nods hurriedly in response and reaches up to help him untie them.

He presses a kiss to her collarbone as his hand moves beneath the loose open neckline. With his hands directly on her the sensations are even more powerful, and her breathing picks up as his hand continues its journey downwards. Heat pools in her abdomen as he continues to gently roll and squeeze her sensitive skin and she resists the urge to rub her thighs together for some semblance of friction.

This is new for them, but it’s something they’ve both thought about before. Tensions have been building up to this for a while, lingering glances had become longer, hands had wandered lower, and at this point- they’re ready for more. Beatrice readjusts so she’s lying more comfortably between his legs, careful not to lean against him too much and risk hurting his back.

While one hand continues to explore her chest, the other moves over her dress, travelling along the curve of her waist, the edges of her hips, until his hand comes to rest on her leg. He bunches the fabric of her dress up as he moves his hand over the bare skin of her inner thigh. With her dress pushed up past her hips he has a perfect view of her lacey underwear, something she’d taken to wearing more often lately- just in case.

“Beatrice,” Lysander says her name almost reverently, dark eyes trained to hers, “May I touch you here?”

“Yes.” She shivers as he moves his hand further in towards her core, grazing over her gently through her thin underwear. She’s already wet and so warm, and Lysander shivers too as he gazes down at her.

He takes a deep, slightly quivery breath and hooks his fingers around the edge of her underwear, pulling it down her legs. Before Beatrice has a chance to react to the fact that he’s seeing a part of her he really hasn’t seen before, he runs a finger up the center of her. She gasps at his touch and then he’s moving down to tease at her entrance. He’s bolder than she thought he would be, as direct in his actions as he is in his words.

Beatrice can feel his breath on her neck as he leans in to kiss the spot just below her jaw, and then the hand on her chest stills. They both pause for a moment as they look at each other, wondering at the line they’ve just crossed. She finds she’s not nervous like she thought she might be, the jitters she’s feeling are from pleasure and excitement rather than apprehension.

“Shall I continue?” Lysander asks, his finger circling but not quite entering her.

“Yes, please.”

He enters her slowly with one finger, his eyes trained to her face to watch for her reaction, “Are you sure?”

She loves him for his gentleness and for making sure that she’s sure, but she wants this. She wants him.

“Yes.” She holds back a moan at the feeling of him slowly moving his finger in deeper. “Lysander, please.”

“Please what?” He pulls his finger out, then moves it back in and Beatrice turns her head to muffle a groan into his shoulder.

“Do that again.”

So he does.

Beatrice has dreamt of this moment. She’s imagined his hands on her, his fingers in her, just like this, but now that it’s happening she can hardly believe it. She spreads her legs a bit wider and buries her hands in Lysander’s shirt, clutching at the fabric as she tries to stop herself from writhing against him.

A second finger joins the first and she’s unable to hold back her sounds as he begins to move them inside of her. He leans down to kiss her as he continues to move his fingers in tandem, his thumb moving up to rub at her. She realizes what he’s looking for and pulls away from the kiss for a moment.

“Just a little higher,” She instructs in a gasp, and he moves his finger up until there, right there, he circles her clit and she moans into his mouth as he kisses her again. Beatrice does her best to kiss him back but her mind is a bit fuzzy as his fingers continue to curl into her at a steady pace. He’s a quick learner as always and she finds herself on the edge after a few minutes.

“Beatrice, are you still alright?” Lysander asks, his eyes drifting to her face which looks slightly pained to his untrained eyes.

“Yes, more than alright.” She looks down to watch his fingers at work. The sight of his fingers moving in and out of her nearly makes her come right then. She tries her best not to clamp her thighs shut around his hand as her legs tremble.

“I love being this close to you. You look beautiful like this, Beatrice.” Lysander’s voice is so quiet, if she hadn’t been inches from his face she wouldn’t have heard him. “I love your reactions.”

“Lysander-” She starts, but then he curls his fingers in just the right way and her words are cut off into a gasp.

“And the sounds you make.” Lysander’s fingers don’t falter in their circling as he converses with her. His tone sounds almost educational, like he’s making scientific observations about her behavior. He reaches out with his other hand to turn her face towards his and she meets his eyes again, noticing how much darker they’ve grown. “I find myself quite curious to know what you sound like when you orgasm.”

“Oh,” She breathes in response as her eyes flutter closed. Only a moment later his curiosity is satisfied as she comes with his fingers still inside of her. She makes a noise that’s half a moan and half his name, and he presses a kiss to her cheek as he continues to move his fingers. As the warm feeling spreads throughout her body she lets herself lie limp against him, enjoying the moment of bliss.

When she opens her eyes again he gently pulls his fingers out of her, inspecting his fingers with an inquisitive look. He brings them to his mouth to taste her and she watches with wide eyes. If she hadn’t just come she might be doing it again at the sight of Lysander with his fingers in his mouth, relishing the taste of her.

“You look so at peace.” Lysander gently brushes her hair out of her face, tucking an out of place strand behind her ear. His lips pull into her favorite smile, one he seems to reserve just for her.

“I am, thanks to you, my love.” Beatrice’s face flushes as he stares at her so intently. A bit of her shyness returns and she looks away from him, but then he cups her face in his hands and she has no choice but to meet his eyes. They’re full of affection, and he looks so content as he smiles at her in the dim firelight. When he leans down to kiss her again she sighs against his lips.

“Where’d you learn to do that so well?” Beatrice asks. Lysander laughs in response, causing one of her eyebrows to raise in question.

“Books.”

“Books?”

“Yes, books. There are many rather, instructional, volumes which have been published since antiquity.” It’s hard to tell in the dim lighting but Lysander’s face is flushed pink, and Beatrice grins.

“You’ll have to show me some of these books of yours,” She says. “Maybe we can read one together.”

“Perhaps we should, we might both learn something new.” His tone is completely serious and Beatrice smiles up at him with a look of endearment.

She reaches to hold one of his hands and her fingers trace over his scars with a featherlight touch. After a moment she gently brings his hand up to press a kiss to his palm. They lay in the calm silence, Beatrice still busy catching her breath and Lysander deep in thought. A few minutes later the last remaining log in the fireplace cracks loudly and Beatrice startles, the moment broken.

“I’ll get it.” Beatrice untangles her limbs from Lysander’s and stands up, trying not to blush as she knows he’s staring at her exposed ass. She hurriedly pulls her dress down and kneels by the side of the fireplace to add another log. She coaxes the fire with her magic a bit to help it along. When she turns back around Lysander is sitting up to watch her with an affectionate smile. He still looks pensive but when he opens his mouth to speak the words are not what she expects,

“She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes...”*

“Are you quoting poetry at me?” Beatrice wants to tease him, but the words sound so genuine when he says them.

She knows he isn’t simply trying to flatter her, but rather trying to find a way to convey his feelings for her. He continues to recite the words and she finds herself suddenly feeling quite emotional. She sits next to him on the couch, hiding her face in his shoulder so that he can’t see her face. When he’s done with the poem she feels him press a kiss to the top of her head.

“Thank you.” Beatrice pulls back from his shoulder to look at him with only slightly watery eyes. She’s thanking him for more than just the poetry.

“You’re most welcome.” Lysander rubs a soothing circle on her back. “Would you like to keep reading?”

“I think I’m too tired to read,” She replies, and indeed has to stifle a yawn a moment later.

“Let’s get to bed then.”

“Maybe I’ll regain some… energy, when we get there.” Beatrice tries her best to smirk in an alluring way, but he just laughs.

Lysander grins, “I apologize, I didn’t mean to laugh at you but that was the least seductive look you’ve ever given me.”

He offers his hand to help her up from the couch and she frowns at him for a moment, but eventually takes it.

“I’ll show you seductive,” Beatrice grumbles as they walk down the hall to their room.

“Is that a promise?”

_____________________

*poem mentioned is “She Walks in Beauty” by Lord Byron, full poem here

#spicy #lemon #because it’s now officially lyse’s birthday in certain time zones..#here’s some vianan lemon #i know this is skipping an entire timeline but i think we all deserve some vianan lemon #happy birthday to lysander #beatrice is his gift #i know byron doesn’t fit the time period we’re gonna ignore it it’s fine #byron fits their aesthetic and i think lyse wouldn’t be a fan of romanticism as a movement until he falls for beatrice #and then he reads some cheesy love poetry and he’s like Oh i get it now #they’re bad at flirting ok they’re NERDS #vianan starts off slow but i promise i have many ideas for the two of them 👀#please ignore my comma overuse i have a problem it’s incurable #vianan #lysander lonan x beatrice viano #some fun stats about this fic:#102 commas; 25 mentions of hands #and nearly 30 minutes spent debating the use of the word 'ass'

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juliandev0rak · 3 years

Text

like real people do

per @leila-of-ravens‘s (sort of) request, two nerds cuddling 🥰

characters: Lysander Lonan (of @leila-of-ravens ) and Beatrice Viano / Vianan

words: ~1500

warnings: i listened to hozier while writing this

notes: here are your receipts laura 😌

Lysander is too far away.

While Beatrice sits on the comfortable drawing room couch, he’s opted for the chair across from her. He’s focused on the book in his hands, not seeming to notice the way that Beatrice is focused only on him. She tries to turn her mind towards the novel she’s reading but her thoughts wander back to the man sitting across from her and how much she wishes he was next to her.

As she glances at him from behind her book for the thousandth time in an hour she’s surprised to find that this time, Lysander is looking back at her. Beatrice blushes and immediately turns back to her book to hide her face. She mentally chides herself for her silly behavior, she’s allowed to look at Lysander now, she doesn’t have to hide anymore. It’s still taking some getting used to.

After so many months apart all she wants is to look at him, to be near him. She’s just not quite sure how to do that yet. They’ve been busy with the other Lonan family members visiting and this is one of the first moments they’ve had alone since Beatrice moved to Umbra. It’s just the two of them now, sitting together but still too far apart.

Beatrice is afraid of pushing unspoken boundaries or rushing things, but she can’t bear to have him this close without being able to touch him. So she sets her book down and looks at him again, more determined this time. She watches him read, noticing the way his eyes scan the page, the way his lips quirk up at something in the book. When he looks up at her again she doesn’t turn away.

“You can come sit with me, if you want to.” Beatrice pats the spot next to her. “There’s plenty of space for both of us on the couch.”

For a moment Lysander just stares at her and it seems he might stay stuck in his spot in the chair, but he surprises her by standing up to take a seat on the couch. He’s still at the opposite end and a careful distance away from her, but it's a step. He gives her a somewhat wary smile and Beatrice returns the gesture, wondering if she should prompt him more.

Instead, she decides to meet him halfway and moves a few feet over until she’s sitting next to him. He looks at her with wide eyes, a little surprised to see her suddenly so close. Beatrice can’t help but laugh at his expression. After all this time he’s still as shy as she is.

“What is it?” Lysander sets his book down on the side table and turns to face her.

“Don’t you think we’ve waited long enough?” Beatrice sets her own book down and begins to fiddle with the sleeve of her sweater. She inspects the knit pattern as if it were of great interest, trying to distract herself as she waits for him to say something.

“Long enough for what?”

“Long enough to be together, to sit with each other like this.” Beatrice lets go of her sleeve and reaches for his hand instead. When she meets his eyes he gives her a look of equal parts apprehension and affection. She’s about to let go when he squeezes her hand, a reassurance that he wants to be holding her hand. Before she can overthink it she brings his hand up to her lips to gently kiss his knuckles.

Lysander looks deep in thought so Beatrice remains silent, holding his hand as he thinks of what to say. “You’re right. I am simply uncertain as to what the conventions and expectations of a relationship such as ours entails.”

He seems relieved once the words are out, and Beatrice realizes now what the problem is. Though they’re secure in their love for each other they’re both new at this. They don’t know how to be together yet, but they’ve got to start somewhere.

“Well, sitting together is good.” Beatrice closes the gap between them, scooting even closer until her leg just touches the side of his. He doesn’t move away but she hears the way his breath catches slightly at her proximity. She gives him another reassuring smile, “Holding hands is also good.”

“It is good,” Lysander murmurs, so quietly it seems he didn’t mean to say it out loud. His thumb traces a circle on hers and Beatrice leans her head onto his shoulder. He freezes up a little in reaction but manages to relax as Beatrice looks up at him.

“You have a very comfortable shoulder,” Beatrice says, trying to find something to say to ease the tension. She cringes a little at the awkward comment, wondering why it is that her usually active brain always ceases to function when he’s around.

“Oh, thank you?” Lysander doesn’t know what to make of her comment either. He tentatively moves his arm onto the back of the couch behind her, not touching her shoulders but resting above them.

Lysander doesn’t know what he’s doing, he wishes there were a rule book for this sort of situation. He tries to recall how he’s seen Julian and Leila sitting together. Julian always has his arm around Leila’s shoulders or her waist, they’re always connected in some way. And he thinks of how Lachlan and Ella always seem to gravitate towards each other in a room. Neither of the couples is ever apart for long. His siblings make being in love look easy, and he wonders if it will ever be so easy for him.

Beatrice is still looking at him, and something in her familiar hazel eyes gives him the confidence to move his arm down and onto her shoulder. She moves closer to his side, the smile on her face brighter than he’s seen all evening. His arm stays stiff around her shoulder, but as she leans in towards him he finds himself relaxing despite his initial anxiety.

Lysander has to slump a bit since she’s shorter than him, but he finds that he likes being close to her like this. Up close her vanilla and violet scent is even stronger and he inhales, letting her familiar scent calm any remaining worries.

“Could you read something?” Beatrice asks. She’s often imagined sitting with him like this while he reads to her, and a part of her still can’t believe it’s happening.

He nods at her request and picks up his book, opening to the place he’d left off. As he reads, he relaxes even more and his head leans over to rest against hers. Beatrice doesn’t stop smiling as he keeps his eyes trained to the book. She feels so warm next to him, and so safe. She doesn’t know what she was worried about, being close to him like this feels right.

Eventually the arm he has around her grows tired and Lysander shifts, wondering if it would be rude to move his arm and risk jostling her.

Beatrice lifts her head off of his shoulder to look at him and he takes the opportunity to stretch his arm, briefly moving it upwards above his head. Beatrice laughs at the gesture and opens her mouth as if to speak. She stares at him for a moment then pauses, seemingly at a loss for words. Lysander sets the book down and waits, watching as her face flushes pink and she looks anywhere but at his face.

Finally, she seems to come to a decision and she reaches out to rest a hand on his shoulder. “I think I’d like to kiss you now, if that’s alright,” Beatrice murmurs. Her eyes dart down to look at his lips then back up to meet his eyes.

It takes Lysander a moment to realize what she’s asking, and when he does his face flushes to match hers. “Yes, that’s alright.” He stays completely still, frozen to his spot on the couch as she leans in towards him and her eyes flutter shut. He remembers at the last moment to tilt his head opposite to hers to accommodate the kiss.

When their lips meet he’s amazed as he always is at how soft her lips are and how warm they are against his. His hand moves to gently cup the side of her face and her hand stays steady on his shoulder. When Beatrice pulls away his lips follow hers and he kisses her again, lingering a bit longer than before.

After a moment she moves back to look at him, taking in all of his familiar features up close. Lysander stares back, his dark eyes exploring her face even though he knows every freckle on it by now. Beatrice leans in to kiss him once more and she can’t help but smile against his lips. “I’d say we’re doing pretty good at this.”

Lysander simply smiles in response and pulls her closer, his arms resuming their place around her where he very much feels they belong.

#you basically dared me to write this laura i had to #anyways *starts crying*#they're silly #yes we are jumping the timeline no i do not care no i will not stop #i love writing about them being awkward yet adorable together #modern au vianan be like: how to kiss wikihow #and i love that for them #lysander lonan x beatrice viano #vianan #i feel like i might have named a fic this before but i cant remember so oops if i have dsfkhdsghk hozier is too iconic

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juliandev0rak · 3 years

Note

From the kiss prompts: 19 for Vianan, maybe?❤️

thank you for requesting vianan 🥺🥰

paging @leila-of-ravens for this vianan content 👀

19. kisses meant to distract the other person from whatever they were intently doing

It’s getting late, and Lysander is still in his office hard at work. Beatrice had tried to convince him to take a break for dinner but he hadn’t budged, too intent on finishing the historical documents he’s been translating. She understands his passion for work, but at this point she thinks she might need to be more convincing to get him to take a much-needed break.

Lysander is so intently focused that he doesn’t notice her arrival in his office until she stands behind his chair and wraps her arms around his shoulders.

“Darling, it’s late,” Beatrice says, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. His eyes are glued to the book in front of him and he doesn’t turn to look at her. She moves from behind his chair to the side so she can look at him, keeping one of her hands on his shoulder.

“I have more work to do, just a few more minutes,” He mumbles, and Beatrice would let him keep working if he hadn’t said the same thing hours ago.

“Must you do it all tonight? You’ve got plenty of time.” Beatrice sighs and leans down to kiss the spot where his jaw meets his neck. His collared shirt covers most of his skin so Beatrice reaches to unbutton the top button. He turns to look at her then, his expression confused but his cheeks a bit flushed. She simply undoes another button in response and leans down to kiss the newly exposed skin of his neck.

Lysander makes a quiet gasp as she continues to kiss him and the sound urges her on. She’s gentle, applying only the barest hint of pressure with her lips as she kisses along his jawline. He’s been too busy to shave, and the hint of stubble on his jaw tickles her face as she leans in closer. His eyes widen as he looks up at her. “What are you doing?”

“You need a break.”

“I’m fine,” Lysander argues, but he doesn’t move away. Beatrice watches as his eyes flick down to her lips and she smiles.

She leans in until her lips are nearly touching his, close enough that she can smell his familiar earl grey scent. “Well, I’ll simply have to be more interesting than your books.”

“Believe me, you most certainly are,” Lysander murmurs before finally closing the distance between them to kiss her.

He winds his arms around her shoulders to pull her closer and his lips are soft beneath hers. She kisses him back fervently, smiling against his lips. One of his hands moves to cup the side of her face and she leans into the touch, feeling very pleased that her distraction has worked.

Beatrice pulls away to catch her breath, resting her head on his shoulder. “Come to bed, Lyse, it’s late.”

“Alright.” He offers her his hand and she takes it, letting him lead her out of the office and down the hall. “You’ve been quite persuasive.”

#fhdjdjd writing this much vianan kissing has broken my brain #i love them so much thank you for requesting this 🥺🥰💗#vianan #lysander lonan x beatrice viano

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juliandev0rak · 3 years

Text

Duet

so @leechobsessed requested vianan kissing prompts from this list, and I wanted to write multiple bc I love this ship too much, so I decided to post them separately as little ficlets as I write them 💗💗

34. Kisses that start on their fingers and run up their arm, eventually ending on their lips

characters: Lysander Lonan (of @leila-of-ravens), Beatrice Viano, brief cameo from Lorcan (world’s best dog)

pairing: Lysander Lonan x Beatrice Viano / Vianan

words: 1077

Beatrice’s fingers waltz across the piano keys, playing a familiar tune she’d once learned from her aunt. It sounds a bit melancholy, but the song contains only happy memories for Beatrice.

When she’d first learned this song she was a lonely teenager just beginning to learn the joys of magic and that playing music could be fun rather than a chore. The song still brings her comfort, and when she finds herself missing her aunt or the sunlit streets of Vesuvia she plays this song and it brings her back.

She doesn’t get homesick often. Umbra has become her home and Lysander her family, but on cold nights like this she sometimes misses where she grew up. She misses the violets that grew outside her old bedroom window and the smell of pumpkin bread in the market. But at least she has her aunt’s song as a little piece of home.

As she plays, Beatrice moves along with the music. In the back of her mind she remembers her mother telling her as a child that playing like that, with emotion, is unladylike. So she shuts her eyes and leans into it even more, letting herself feel the rhythm and the melody. When she finishes her aunt’s song she launches into another. This one is more complex and she has to open her eyes again to watch the keys as she plays.

She’s so focused that she doesn’t notice she has an audience. Lysander stands behind her, flanked by Lorcan as he often is. He takes a step forward and Lorcan takes it as an invitation to run towards an unsuspecting Beatrice. She’s startled as Lorcan jumps at her from the side, trying to lick her face as she tries not to fall off of the piano bench.

“Hi Lorcan,” Beatrice coos as she pets him between the ears, “You scared me! Did you come to hear me play? Aren’t you just the sweetest puppy!” she continues to babble on as Lorcan wags his tail excitedly. She still hasn’t noticed Lysander standing a few feet away and trying to hold back a laugh as he watches.

“Do you know where my husband is, Lorcan?” She smiles at the dog, if Lorcan is nearby that usually means Lysander is too.

“I’m right here,” Lysander says and she whips her head around to look at him, taking in his humored expression. Lorcan takes off now that he’s greeted Beatrice, probably going to find his favorite spot in front of the drawing room fireplace.

“Oh, hello,” Beatrice smiles as Lysander takes a step towards her and reaches to put his hand on her shoulder. She looks up at him as he reads the sheet music to see what she was playing. “I apologize if my playing disrupted your work.”

“Not at all,” Lysander looks down to meet her eyes and presses a kiss to the top of her head, “It was lovely music to work to.”

“I’m glad you think so, I was struggling a little through the last half.” Beatrice scoots over to allow him to sit next to her on the piano bench.

“It sounded perfect to me.” He smiles and reaches to pluck a few notes on the piano.

“You’re only saying that to make me feel better,” She teases, watching as he starts to play a familiar melody, the song she was just playing.

“Well as your spouse, shouldn't I endeavor to boost your confidence?” He asks and she playfully nudges his shoulder with her own.

“So you admit my playing was lacking?” Beatrice laughs.

“Hmm,” Lysander meets her eyes again, pretending to ponder the question, “I think the only improvement would be to add to the song. I believe the composer was lacking, not you.”

“Is that so?” She grins, “Well what do you propose then, maestro?”

“Why don’t you play the melody,” He plays a piece of it briefly and moves his hands so she can take over, “And I’ll take the other half.”

With him focusing on the complicated octave chords her smaller hands struggle to reach, she’s able to play the melody more precisely. She smiles as they play, their arms and hands occasionally touching as their notes move closer together. Lysander starts adding extra notes to his part to make the song more complex, so Beatrice, not to be outdone, adds a few trills herself.

Neither of them bother to look at the sheet music, instead playing by ear and off of each other. By the time they reach the end of the song it barely sounds like the original anymore and they’re both laughing at the mess they’ve created.

“I’m not sure that’s better than the original, but it certainly had a lot more heart.” Beatrice leans her head to rest on his shoulder.

Lysander smiles in response and takes one of her hands in his, lifting it up as if reading the lines of her palm. He leans in to press a kiss to each of her fingertips before kissing her palm, lips pressing ever so carefully across her scar. Beatrice laughs at the gesture and is surprised when he doesn’t stop there and his lips meet the inside of her wrist. He continues to kiss up her arm, barely grazing his lips across the skin as he moves up to the crease of her elbow, the heart shaped mark on her upper arm, her shoulder.

Beatrice lifts her head off of his shoulder as he moves further up and turns so she can look at him. He kisses the dip of her collarbone, her neck, the sensitive spot just beneath her ear, and she suppresses a shiver. He moves towards her face, kissing her jaw then her cheek, her nose and then finally her lips.

It’s a soft kiss, sweet and lingering. His hands come up to either side of her face and Beatrice wraps her arms around his shoulders and tries not to push him off of the narrow piano bench. He rests his forehead against hers as he pulls away for air. They take advantage of the proximity to simply look at each other up close.

Lysander admires the light dusting of freckles across her nose and the blush on her cheeks that never quite goes away. Beatrice admires the line of his jaw and the way his dark eyes reflect the candlelight.

Lysander looks away first, back to the piano. “Shall we play another song?”

#i love to write them kissing #thank you for enabling me laura (of leech)#i've wanted to write a piano duet for them since laura (of ravens) and i first started vianan #i have to differentiate between you two somehow so it’s laura (of leech) and laura (of ravens) fhdndnd #and im bea (of uhhhhhhhhh honey?)#idk i couldn't think of anything else #anywaysss that's enough from me- enjoy the vianan #vianan #lysander lonan x beatrice viano #lorcan fic #adding that tag gives me so much serotonin

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juliandev0rak · 3 years

Text

a goodbye kiss

i’m using my version of the meme too bc it’s a mood jsdjksd

from the fictional kissing prompts sent in by @leila-of-ravens: routine kisses where the other person presents their cheek/forehead for the hello/goodbye kiss without even looking up from what they’re doing

characters: Lysander Lonan (of @leila-of-ravens), Beatrice Viano / Vianan

words: 746

It’s a sunny Tuesday morning and they’ve woken up late.

It’s rare that either of them sleep in, and when Beatrice opens her eyes and sees the sun already up she knows they’re late. Though part of her longs to burrow back under the covers and sleep for a few more hours, Lysander has classes to teach and she has research to do.

“Lyse.” She rolls over to look at the lump in the blankets next to her which is presumably her husband. “Lysander.”

She gets no response, he’s clearly still asleep. Beatrice rubs her eyes sleepily, wishing she was still asleep. When she looks at the clock on the wall and realizes just how late it is she gasps and reaches out to gently shake his shoulder. “Lyse, honey, you’re going to be late.”

“Hmm?” He mumbles, eyes half opening to look at her.

“It’s already eight o’clock darling, you have to be at the university in an hour.”

“Oh.” He blinks at her once, still not quite awake, but as the words register he immediately sits up and pushes the covers off.

“Hurry and get dressed, I’ll get your books.” Beatrice gets out of bed, reaching for her robe by the door as she leaves the room. She heads into his office to gather his discarded lesson plans and books and packs them into his bag. He’d been too tired to properly organize them the night before, and Beatrice tries her best to put them back into the correct order.

He pokes his head out of the bedroom door as she passes their room again, busy buttoning his shirt as he talks, “Have you seen my brown coat? It wasn’t hanging up.”

Beatrice stops to think for a moment, heaving the strap of his bag over her shoulder. “Yes I think it’s downstairs, I’ll leave it by the door for you with your bag. I’ll go make some tea and see if there’s anything for breakfast.”

“Thank you!” He calls down the stairs after her as she skips down two at a time.

Five minutes later she sits on a stool in the kitchen with two cups of tea and a plate of scones in front of her, which she’s already helped herself to. Lysander walks in a moment later and takes the seat next to her as he reaches for a scone. He pours himself a cup of tea and blows on it to cool down its boiling temperature.

“Here, let me.” Beatrice reaches for the cup and wills the water to be the perfect drinking temperature. She waits until the steam dissipates and the cup feels cooler before handing it back. Lysander takes an experimental sip and gives her a nod in thanks as he adds his customary splash of milk.

Lysander finishes his scone in just a few bites, washing it down with earl grey. In his haste, he manages to spill scone onto his shirt and absentmindedly brushes the crumbs off.

Beatrice reaches up to brush a piece of scone off of his bottom lip. “You’ve got something here, too.”

Breakfast is finished and his bag is packed, but Lysander still needs to hurry if he wants to make it on time. He rinses his teacup quickly in the sink and turns around to look at Beatrice sitting in the light of the kitchen window. Though he sees her every morning, he never tires of the sight of her in her pale purple robe with messy hair and chapped lips.

Somewhat reluctantly, he heads towards the door. “I should be off now, I’ll bring more tea from Leila on my way home.”

“Oh thank you, I noticed we were nearly out. Give Julian and Leila my regards.” Beatrice doesn’t look up from the newspaper she’s reading and simply turns her cheek up towards him as he passes by. He leans down to kiss her cheek in goodbye and his lips pull up into a half smile at the familiar focused look on her face.

“Goodbye, I’ll see you in a few hours,” He calls from the hallway as he pulls on his coat. The fabric is already warm and he realizes Beatrice must have put a warming charm on it to ward off the cool morning air.

“Have a good day, Lyse!” Beatrice replies, turning back to her reading with a contented smile. She has a feeling it will be a good day, it always is when they’re together.

#tumblr please let me post this i just wanna post vianan #chanting *domestic fluff domestic fluff*#i really said how many terms of endearment can i fit into one tiny ficlet #and the answer is a lot #i love themmm #thinking about the mundane every day sort of routine they get into with reading at the table and going off to work.. sigh #i don't remember the layout of the lonan manor and i don't wanna look it up so we'll pretend this works #is the ending cheesy MAYBE but this is vianan they deserve cheesy #vianan #lysander lonan x beatrice viano #i gave up on giving this a title if tumblr had let me answer this in an ask like i wanted i wouldn't have needed a title but NOPE #so this is all we're getting tonight jksdfjkhfsd

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juliandev0rak · 3 years

Text

Slow Dance

In which Lysander and Beatrice try something new and only almost start a fire.

characters: Lysander Lonan (of @leila-of-ravens), Beatrice Viano

pairing: Lysander Lonan x Beatrice Viano / Vianan

words: ~2900

warnings: f l u f f oh my god so much fluff

notes: alternate title- vianan are too in love to focus on their dinner

It’s a brisk afternoon in Umbra, one that has Beatrice wishing she’d brought her gloves. As they walk through the city towards the market, she looks to her right, noting that Lysander is better prepared for the weather with gloves on, a scarf around his neck, and his collar pulled up against the cold. The hand he’s holding is warm but her other, which holds a large wicker basket for their groceries, seems to be turning a bit blue.

When Lysander notices her shivering he halts his quick walking pace and reaches for the basket. She hands it over gladly and casts a warming charm on her cloak before sliding her hand into her pocket. With the threat of hypothermia halted, she’s much cheerier and swings their entwined hands as they walk. After living here for nearly a year she’s still not used to the cold, but she must admit it has its benefits, like hand holding.

“Do you have the list?” She asks as the bustling market comes into view.

“I memorized it. It felt unnecessary to carry around a slip of paper,” Lysander replies, noticing the brief look of worry in Beatrice’s eyes.

“Well I would like to be able to double check, we haven’t made this recipe before,” She frets, already trying to remember what was on the list she’d written last night. Did they need celery? Or was it carrots? Perhaps they should get both just in case.

“We haven’t made any recipe before.” Lysander’s smile fades as the crowds become more dense around him and Beatrice squeezes his hand gently to focus his attention on her rather than the people around them.

“You’re right,” Beatrice laughs. “We’ll figure it out, we’re both intelligent right? How hard can cooking really be.”

“You say that, but I recall the last time you tried to cook something the house nearly went up in flames.” He stops in front of a produce stand and gives her a half smile over his shoulder to let her know he’s joking.

“Oh hush, it was just a little smoke,” Beatrice scoffs, dropping his hand so she can rummage through the vegetables.

“A little,” He huffs, remembering the way they’d had to air out the house after, the both of them running around to open windows and doors. Once the smoke had cleared the house had been freezing cold from the winter air, and the two of them had sat in front of the fireplace for hours to get warm again. It’s a fond memory now that he thinks about it, but one he’d prefer not to repeat.

Neither of them have any cooking skill, Lysander from a life lived with servants and a cook, and Beatrice from lack of interest (and a fair amount of kitchen mishaps). But, like many things over the last few years, they’d decided to learn together. They’d found an easy recipe for roast chicken in a book, something that claims to be “so simple a beginner can do it”.

“Did you know that onions are one of the oldest known vegetables? According to historical records they’ve been cultivated for thousands of years.” Lysander watches as Beatrice places onions into the basket. She carefully lifts them up to inspect them, though if she’s being honest she has no idea what she’s looking for. Do onions grow ripe?

“I didn’t know that,” Beatrice replies, excited as always to learn something new. “Do you know why cutting onions causes tears? It’s because they release an invisible gas which irritates the eye.”

“I’ve never cut an onion before, I didn’t know they did that.” Lysander starts gathering potatoes into the basket, carefully counting out the amount they need. “I suppose we’ll need a handkerchief on hand during our cooking, just in case.”

“I’ll lend you mine,” Beatrice jokes, reaching into her pocket to flash her monogrammed handkerchief in his direction. The monogram catches her eye, it still has the letter V on it and she thinks, with a smile, that she should probably replace it with her new last name.

“That is most kind of you, Beatrice, but I hope neither of us are brought to tears over this dinner.” He gives her another half smile then turns to pay for the vegetables. They spend the rest of the shopping trip trading facts and stories about cooking. She tells him about the time she tried to cook for her aunt as a surprise and somehow got a metal pot stuck to the ceiling, and he tells her how he tried to bake a cake with Leila and they used salt instead of sugar.

“I usually leave the baking to Leith,” He laughs. The comment reminds Beatrice of how wonderful it is that she’s part of this family now too. She has her own stories with Leila and Leith, and even Lachlan. As she listens to Lysander talk about his family with that affectionate glint in his eye, she feels very lucky to be included.

By the time they leave the market it’s even colder out and it looks like snow is on the way, so they hurry home. Lysander grows more at ease the further they get from the market, so while the grocery basket is heavier the mood is lighter. Beatrice stays close to his side as they walk the few blocks home, and the chill wintery air doesn’t bother her in the slightest.

Lorcan greets them at the door, nearly knocking Beatrice over in his haste to greet her. She pets him between his ears and grabs the basket from Lysander so he can greet the dog. As Lysander pets him, Beatrice places the basket down and unlatches her cloak before reaching to help Lysander with his outerwear. Her hands gently unwind the scarf from around his neck and he uses her proximity as an excuse to kiss her cheek.

Beatrice smiles and kisses his cheek in return before reaching to help him out of his coat. When everything is put away in its place she makes her way to the kitchen where Lysander is busy unpacking the groceries. He carefully lines everything up on the counter, organizing the vegetables by size and color. Beatrice smiles at his focused expression, holding back a laugh as he holds two carrots up to compare them so he can get the order exactly right. Finally, she decides she needs to interrupt him before he starts organizing grains of salt.

“So, where do we begin?” She wraps an arm around the top of his shoulders as she leans over to read the recipe in the book laid out before them. It’s quite a large block of text, and she hopes they’ll be able to pull this off.

“We need to get the oven heated first, and boil some water for the potatoes,” Lysander dictates.

“That sounds simple enough! You can start the fire and I’ll get the water heated in no time.” Beatrice turns to find a pot and walks over to the faucet to fill it with water.

“Perhaps we should do this without magic?” Lysander suggests, raising an eyebrow as he watches her put her hands on the side of the pot to heat it with magic.

“I think we need every advantage we can get, my dear.” She focuses heat into her hands and the water begins bubbling almost immediately. She’s always been good with water, but heating her hands too hot aggravates her scar, so she’ll have to settle for a simmer as a head start.

“We might as well have you heat the chicken with your hands,” Lysander jokes as he starts the fire in the oven. She sets the pot down on the stove top to bring it to a full boil then turns to gently ruffle the front of his hair to brush it out of his eyes. His hair has gotten a bit longer than he usually keeps it, but Beatrice thinks it suits him.

“That might be how the fire started last time,” She says, chagrined. “I was too impatient to wait for the stove to heat up.”

“We’ll just have to find a way to pass the time while we wait then,” He says, pulling her into his arms. She wraps her arms around his waist and smiles as his lips meet hers. They kiss for a moment, warmed by the steam rising from the stove. Beatrice pulls away first, twisting out of his embrace with a grin.

“We should prepare the vegetables, there’s a lot more to do. Dinner now, kissing later.” She tries to take a step away but Lysander reaches for her shoulder, keeping her in place as he leans down to her again.

“Is that a promise?” Lysander teases, pressing one last kiss to her cheek.

Beatrice leans up to whisper in his ear, “Of course it is.” She pulls away, “Now help me chop these vegetables or we’ll never get this dinner done.”

She hands him a carrot and picks up an onion, trying to figure out the best way to cut it. The recipe said to dice them, and she does her best to follow those instructions. Her eyes start to water as soon as she cuts into the onion, and a single tear rolls down the side of her face. She wipes her eye on her sleeve and sets the knife down.

“Are you alright, Beatrice?” Lysander sets his knife down next to hers and reaches for the side of her face, turning her towards him.

“Yes, I’m fine, it’s just the onions. Remember how I told you they irritate the eye?” She tries to resist the urge to rub at her eyes, knowing that’ll just hurt them more. He seems satisfied by her answer and turns back to his task.

“What a peculiar vegetable,” He mutters and Beatrice laughs.

“Cooking is dangerous.”

“It is when you do it,” Lysander says, placing his neatly chopped carrot into a bowl. He reaches for another, not noticing Beatrice scowling at him. He looks so intently focused on his task again that she has no choice but to smile again at the crease in his forehead and the way he bites his lip slightly in concentration.

Half an hour later they’re placing the chicken into the oven. There’s been a distinct lack of kitchen mishaps so far and Beatrice is feeling quite proud of herself. She turns to Lysander with a grin on her face as he shuts the oven door, “We did it!”

“Technically we haven’t succeeded yet, it still has to cook,” He says and she reaches a finger to his lips to shush him.

“Think positively, darling.” Beatrice leans up to give him a quick peck on the lips. They go to set the table next, deciding to sit in the formal dining room instead of the kitchen table to make things more fancy. Beatrice sets out silverware as Lysander folds napkins. He seems to be spending a long time folding them, and when Beatrice looks over she notices he’s folded the cloth into the shape of a bird.

“Where on earth did you learn to do that?” She asks, “You’re full of surprises.”

“I read about it in a book once.” Lysander straightens the edge of the napkin and takes a step back, inspecting his work like an artist.

“Well, you’ve always been good with your hands...” Beatrice smirks over her shoulder at him as she returns to the kitchen, leaving Lysander to stare after her incredulously. He follows her a moment later and finds her sitting perched on the kitchen table, looking as if she was waiting for him.

“You’ve become an incurable flirt, Beatrice.” Lysander takes a step towards her, his arms going around her waist. She giggles lightly and leans in to kiss the corner of his jaw.

“I’ve always been like this, you just weren’t paying attention.”

“That is probably true,” He laughs, leaning down towards her, “but I certainly notice you now.”

“You do.” Beatrice leans forward to rest her forehead against his and he sighs, gently winding his hand into her hair.

“I do.”

Lysander leans in to kiss her then, and she melts into it as he pulls her closer. When he pulls away they stay with their heads pressed together, and she breathes in his familiar scent of earl grey. He’s still got his arms around her and after a moment, he starts to sway with her as if they’re dancing.

He steps back from the table and offers her his hand, “May I have this dance, Mrs. Lonan?”

She takes the offered hand and smiles, “Why of course you may.”

Beatrice gets down from the table and straightens her posture to the proper waltz position and Lysander echoes her movement as he begins to lead them in a circle around the kitchen. Despite the kitchen being quite spacious Beatrice nearly runs into a table as he spins her, the two focused on each other rather than their surroundings. Though they don’t have any music playing, she thinks dancing in the kitchen is much preferable to dancing in a ballroom. After a few slow turns about the room they stop, dizzy and a bit out of breath from laughter.

Beatrice closes the distance between them again, her lips pressing to his in a more fervent kiss than before. Lysander kisses her back as he gently pushes her against the wall by the door. She hooks her leg around his to pull him even closer and he opens his mouth in surprise, giving her the perfect opportunity to deepen the kiss. She runs her hands over his shoulders, careful not to touch his back, and wishes she could feel his soft skin instead of the fabric of his shirt.

Lysander seems to have the same idea and he reaches to untuck her sweater from her skirt. His warm hands make their way up her cold skin, one moving up her spine, the other ghosting up the side of her waist. Her hands reach for the buttons of his shirt and she manages to undo the top few without breaking the kiss. His fingers just ghost under the curve of her breast before he suddenly pulls away, nearly biting her tongue in his haste. She looks at him in confusion as he stares around the room as if searching for something.

“Beatrice, is the chicken burning?”

“We didn’t set a timer!” Beatrice rushes out of his arms and across the kitchen. When she opens the door of the oven she’s met with a puff of smoke.

“Is it burnt?” Lysander peers over her shoulder. When the smoke clears they find the chicken is only the slightest bit burnt, the vegetables only a little blackened. “I think that’s salvageable.”

“I’m cursed.” Beatrice throws her arms in the air to punctuate her statement, trying not to be too disappointed that the meal hadn’t turned out perfectly.

Lysander places the chicken on the counter to cool a bit and pulls her into a hug, resting his head on her shoulder. “I think it’s a perfectly acceptable first attempt.”

“You’re distracting,” She huffs, but hugs him back.

Though the meal is a bit overcooked, they’re proud of the dinner they’ve made together. The wine is good, the conversation even better, and by the time their plates are cleared Beatrice is feeling better about the success of the meal. She regards Lysander across the table from her and sets her glass down so she can take his hand.

“We make a pretty great team,” She smiles.

“I suppose that’s why I married you.” Lysander replies, his thumb running a gentle circle over hers.

“For my cooking skills?” Beatrice teases.

“Definitely not.” He responds so quickly that Beatrice can’t help but laugh. They get up to wash the mountain of dishes together, Beatrice washing and Lysander drying. As they work Beatrice can’t help but hum under her breath, the happiness bubbling out of her like the soap she’s using.

“So why did you marry me then?” Beatrice asks as they start to put the dishes away.

“I love you, why wouldn’t I marry you?” Lysander looks a bit confused at her question, she finds his befuddlement entirely too endearing. He puts the last of the cutlery away and turns to look at her, watching as face blushes pink.

“That’s a good reason to marry someone.” Her voice has gone quiet with affection as she meets his dark eyes with her own.

Lysander takes a step towards her and pulls her in by the waist, “Why did you marry me?”

“You already know,” She murmurs.

“It’s always nice to hear it again,” He prompts her, and she doesn’t need to be convinced. She’ll gladly tell him how she feels about him, she never wants to stop reminding him.

“Because I love you, of course.” She smiles as he leans in to kiss her cheek.

“That is indeed a very good reason to marry someone.”

#here's a little vianan fluff in time for laura's birthday!#or a lot of fluff tbh #i'm skipping the timeline again who cares sdjfs #im making 'is that a promise' their thing now #this is too soft im sorry im just very sfdjhkjfd in love with them being in love #beatrice has to blush at least once in a fic its a legal requirement #how many times can i emphasize that they're married in one fic? not enough times!!!#i learned a lot about onions for this fic #the title is from a saint motel song!#they barely dance in this but the song is so cute for them...#vianan #lysander lonan x beatrice viano #or i guess technically #lysander lonan x beatrice lonan #🥺#lorcan fic #just wanted him to feel included lol

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juliandev0rak · 3 years

Text

faire la moue

@leechobsessed requested vianan kissing prompts from this list, so here’s another of the prompts 💗

16. One person pouting, only to have it removed by a kiss from the other person.

characters: Lysander Lonan (of @leila-of-ravens), Beatrice Viano

pairing: Lysander Lonan x Beatrice Viano / Vianan

words: 874

As is their routine, Lysander and Beatrice sit in front of the fire reading before bed. They usually take turns reading aloud to each other, but Beatrice likes it best when Lysander reads to her. She loves his accent, and when he reads to her in Umbran she loves to hear the musical sound of the language spoken fluently. She sometimes tries to read in Umbran too for practice, and every night Lysander has to hide his face so she can’t see him smiling at her silly mispronunciations.

“It’s endearing,” He’d told her once when she complained that he was laughing at her. But Beatrice doesn't like to be bad at anything- least of all the language her new family speaks.

Beatrice has been trying to learn Umbran since she first met Lysander. She can read it well enough and understand it when someone else speaks, but she just can’t seem to grasp the pronunciation. Lysander has been a patient teacher thus far, and even Leila and sometimes Leith help her practice, but it’s been slow going. She’d easily picked up the grammar, the verb conjugations and the vocabulary, but it’s in the way words are spoken that her knowledge falls short.

The book they’re currently reading is a love story, one Beatrice has read many times in her own language, but reading it in Umbran feels entirely different.

“C'est une vérité universellement reconnue,” Beatrice reads, stuttering a little over the word “universellement”. Lysander smiles at the way she says it, but she’s too focused to notice as she continues, “qu’un célibataire pourvu d’une belle fortune doit avoir envie de se marier.”

Beatrice pauses and looks up from the book to meet his eyes. She lays with her head in his lap and he’s been absentmindedly playing with her hair as she reads. She sits up a bit as she recognizes his facial expression, he’s about to go into professor-mode.

“That was nearly perfect.” Lysander stares into the fire instead of at her, his thoughts caught up in the language practice. She sighs and reads over the passage again.

“What did I say wrong?” Beatrice frowns and Lysander’s eyes drift down to her face. He notices the way she chews on her bottom lip, pouting at the thought that she hadn’t done something perfectly. He loves her dedication to learning and improving her skills in all branches of knowledge, but he hates to see her upset. As she continues to think about where she’d gone wrong Lysander suddenly leans down to kiss her, wanting to wipe away the frown.

Beatrice rises up to meet him, gasping softly into his mouth as he just barely runs his tongue over her worry-bitten bottom lip. The kiss stays soft and sweet, they’re wrapped up in each other’s warm embrace for a few blissful moments before Beatrice remembers what they’d been talking about and pulls away.

“No really, Lyse. How can I improve?”

Lysander laughs at her one-track mind, so like his own. “Perhaps you should try to read more slowly to begin with. You often leave out entire syllables when you speed through it. Accuracy is more important than speed.”

“Will you read it to me so I can hear how it’s supposed to sound?” Beatrice holds the book out to him. He gives her a half smile and nods his head, opening up to the place she’d left off.

She watches his face while he reads, the way his brows furrow slightly when a character does something ridiculous, the way his lips move to form the words. She’s too distracted by him to listen to the words he’s reading, and he seems to know that but reads on anyway. Beatrice smiles contentedly as he makes it through a few chapters before she starts to doze off and they head to bed.

“I have one final lesson for the night.” Lysander kisses the top of her head as she slides into bed next to him. She snuggles against his side and waits for him to continue. “You know how to say ‘I love you’ in Umbran, of course.”

Lysander seems to be waiting for a response so Beatrice repeats the Umbran phrase, “Je t’aime.”

“Precisely, but there are other ways to say it.” Lysander puts his arm around her waist to pull her closer to him.

Beatrice grins, “Do enlighten me.”

“There’s the standard je t’aime as you said. However, you can also say je t’adore,” He leans down to kiss her forehead, “I adore you.”

“Are there any others?” Beatrice’s face flushes under his gaze and she turns her head to burrow into his, quite comfortable, shoulder. A moment passes in silence as she listens to his quiet, steady breathing.

“Tu es l'amour de ma vie.”

He doesn’t translate that one, but Beatrice knows enough Umbran to understand what the words mean. Lysander is more about actions than words, but perhaps it’s easier for him to express how he feels verbally when it’s in a language she doesn’t fully understand. She looks up from his shoulder and finds his face only a few inches from hers.

Beatrice leans in to kiss him, “Je t’aime Lysander, toujours.”

Lysander smiles and gives her an affirming nod, “Perfect pronunciation.”

#the title means 'to pout'#umbran is fantasy french in case anyone didn't know that #because both laura (of ravens) and i are trying to learn french- i mean umbran- here's a teensy bit of practice #hope you can catch the reference to a certain.. novel / movie...#this is too sweet i need to go lay down #thank you again laura (of leech) for enabling me to write more vianan #lysander lonan x beatrice viano #vianan #and if anyone needs a french / umbran translation let me know fhdnd

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juliandev0rak · 3 years

Note

you know i have to request vianan, and lysander would totally do a surprise #1 when he gets excited 🥺 (i cannot get over him cupping her face... i need to lay down) —leila-of-ravens

i love them so much i think i need to go lay down too 🥺they’re n e r d s

1. Small kisses littered across the other’s face.

Lysander has been cooped up in his office all day, working away on some piece of writing. Beatrice has peeked in a few times to check on him, but hasn’t wanted to disturb him while he’s hard at work. It’s nearly dark outside though, and he hasn’t left the office for food or a break yet so Beatrice decides it’s time to intervene.

She peeks her head in the doorway again and watches him rub a hand across his eyes in a tired motion. “Lyse?”

“Hmm?” He looks up and his face automatically pulls into a smile when he sees her standing there.

“What are you working on?”

“Just some lesson plans, I’m having trouble translating this text I want to share with the class. I’ve been working on it all day but I still can’t seem to untangle the dialect from the standard rules of grammar.” As he explains Beatrice moves further into the room, coming to stand behind him so she can look at what he’s reading.

“Is that ancient Venterrean?” She asks, noticing similarities to the modern language she can speak well enough.

“Indeed. I used to have a book for translations but I seem to have misplaced it,” He sighs, turning around in his chair so he can look at her. He really does look tired, and Beatrice is thinking about how she can convince him to take a break when she remembers something useful.

“Wait, Lysander, I think I have a book that can help!” She’d brought all of her books when she’d moved, but many of them are still packed away in boxes. There have been plenty of new books, and other things, to keep her mind occupied in Umbra.

“You do?” His voice raises in excitement and she grins at his enthusiasm.

“Yes, I was working on some translations of the ancient historian Lasari a few years ago so I bought a book to help me. I’ll go find it!” She turns towards the door, “I think it’s in the large red box, perhaps I should just use a tracking spell to locate it...”

Her words are interrupted when Lysander stands up and places a hand on the side of her face to turn her back towards him. He leans in to softly kiss her forehead, then both cheeks, then her lips. It all happens so quickly that she barely has a moment to kiss him back before he’s pulling away.

“What was that for?” Beatrice smiles as he continues to cup her face in his hands.

“You’re brilliant, that’s all.” Lysander presses another kiss to the corner of her mouth and she blushes, his warm hands making her face feel even hotter.

“Just because I happen to own a book on ancient Venterrean?” She laughs.

“No, you’re always brilliant,” He says, looking at her in the honest way of his that somehow manages to convey his feelings without words. “But the book does sound helpful, I’d like to take a look at it.”

Beatrice laughs again, shaking her head slightly in endearment. She takes a step towards the door and he drops his hands from her face, taking one of her hands in his own instead. “Let’s go find that book then.”

#this is 90% set up 10% kiss but that’s ok #they’re NERDS #local man is so enamored by his nerdy gf that he has to kiss her: more at 10 #i love them so much .... thinking many soft thoughts 🥰🥰#vianan #lysander lonan x beatrice viano

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juliandev0rak · 3 years

Text

Happy Vianan day!

It’s been exactly a month since the first Vianan fic, Wine and Education was posted! In honor of Vianan’s one month anniversary I am here to offer an exclusive look into Beatrice’s diary.

Words: ~1630

Warnings: prepare for pining

Beatrice Viano belongs to me, Lysander Lonan belongs to @leila-of-ravens

note: there are links to the various fics we’ve written spread throughout the entries so you can see where they fit into the timeline

January 10th

Dear Diary,

I met Leila’s brother today! I suppose I met two of them, but one was a bit more memorable than the other. His name is Lysander, and I can see why Leila loves him so much. After knowing me for only a few minutes he offered to help sponsor the school, can you imagine that? In a few seconds all of my worries about the school were solved by this near stranger! We had such an interesting conversation, and I must admit it made the masquerade much more enjoyable.

Leila suggested I show him the library and I was more than happy to get away from the party. I only go to those events to make Nadia happy, if Leila and Ella hadn’t been there I wouldn’t have gone at all. As it was, I brought a novel with me, it’s really quite good- but I’ll leave my notes on the book for my reading journal instead.

We went to the library and I’ve never seen someone so excited to be surrounded by books before, it was a bit like looking into a mirror. I remember how excited I was to visit the Palace library for the first time. Lysander offered to help me research curriculum for the school as well, and we’ve decided to meet up tomorrow to begin work. He’s here on a diplomacy visit from Umbra, and I’m very glad Leila thought to introduce us.