I haven't posted any writing on Tumblr in a very long time, and I don't know that I will plan to do so again; but we shall see. Please forgive any formatting errors, I haven't done a real post on this app in like three years.
Anyways, 555 words for @the-californicationist 500k #cali’s nameless challenge !
And this one is a Regency! AU!!! We love that.
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Behind Velvet
It is like something out of a fairy tale. Lords and ladies, heirs and debutantes all gracefully waltz over a polished marble floor. The band plays, music swelling as dozens of skirts twirl in unison. People lift little flutes of something sweet to their lips, some lifting their ornate masks away from their faces to peruse the tables of sweets.
You adjust your own mask, and descend the stairs to the floor, hoping to find something enjoyable on the tables for yourself. You do not make it more than a third of the way across the room before someone abandons all propriety, and takes you by your gloved wrist. You startle, whirling around to face—
“Miss, please, forgive me.” The man says, pressing his lips to your gloved pulse. “I wished to speak with you, but I do not believe you could hear me over such a party.”
Your pounding heart evens, and you breathe deeply, brushing off the fright. “You are forgiven.” You reply, and he releases your arm. “It is true, I could not hear you. What is it you wished to discuss, mister. . ?”
He smiles, bright eyes flashing behind his mask. “I must ask your forgiveness again, but is the purpose of a masked ball not to enjoy the delights and pleasures of anonymity?”
“Perhaps. . . Go on, you are forgiven— please, tell me what it is you wish to say.”
He chuckles. “You do not seem eager to speak with me.”
“I am afraid not, and it is your forgiveness I will now ask, but you must understand. Why would I waste my precious time talking with a handsome stranger when the pile of almond cookies I sighted from across the room grows smaller with every passing moment? I implore you to speak quickly.”
He laughs, and offers you his arm. “You are forgiven, and I understand entirely.” He replies. You take his arm, and he speaks in your ear as he guides you through the crowd towards the desserts. “I myself would likely not wish to listen to a handsome stranger prattle on about how beautiful I am, and how greatly he would desire a dance with myself.”
“You jest.”
“Of course. Were I a lady, I doubt I would receive many offers.”
“Perhaps it is simply my charm? I do believe you did call me as such. And, I do believe that in my jest, I asked for a dance with you, Miss.” He says, offering you two of the cookies on a small tray. “My request, I can assure you, was genuine.”
“And, I do not believe I called you handsome! How can I know you are such when I do not know your identity, as it is hidden behind a mask!” You reply, finally reaching the tables.
“Ah.” You reply, slipping one of your gloves off to enjoy the treat. It is. . . disappointing.
“Is it the cookie you are unhappy with, or myself?”
You look at him, his eyes bright, but concerned behind his mask.
“The cookie. Although, I am also displeased with the fact that I do not have a pen.”
“A pen?”
“So that you might sign my dance card, handsome stranger.”
He grins at that, and warmth spreads all over your skin at how he looks at you. “I will have to find one, then.”
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💕 Kissing somewhere other than the lips – George and Daniel
“This one?”
“Rough year. Wanted a reminder to keep my head up – always something good coming, just gotta keep going.”
George nods and brushes his lips over the shine on inked neatly just above the inside of Daniel’s elbow. They should get up and go for a run, probably, but there’s not much incentive when Daniel’s lying beside him, left arm outstretched, the other hand tucked behind his head on the pillow as he watches George work his way along.
“How about this one?”
“Love? That’s you, darlin’.”
George laughs, soft in the quiet morning. It’s not true in the slightest – the tattoo was around well before him – but he’s charmed anyway. Always is with Daniel. “Liar. I’ll take it.” Another kiss.
He turns Daniel’s hand so the inside of his wrist is visible. The lines here are a little less crisp now, starting to look lived in. “And this one?”
“Oldest story in the book. There was this kid on the grid years ago – smart, hard working, fast, funny. Absolutely smoking hot. Way out of my league, but that’s never stopped me trying. And wouldn’t you know it? He said yes.” Daniel winks and George grins. “So that little ‘D’ there, that’s me. The little ‘G’ on the other side? Him. And the big ‘R’ in the middle that links them together? Russell, definitely Russell.”
“Oh, that’s odd,” says George, eyes wide and serious for a moment, like they haven't been doing this for a lifetime. “On mine it stands for Ricciardo.”
