rinth
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The accent is telling, he refrains from saying, which would also be dumb.
The accent is nice, is what he’d like to say, with a few more drinks coursing through his bloodstream.
Pretty brown curls, and pretty brown eyes, cheeks dusted with starlight. Defined jaw and a leisurely smile. Pleasant.
Attractive.
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Or, Dream's business trip in Venice, Italy is coming to a close, but he meets a pretty stranger two nights before his departure.
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An immortals infatuation with the flickered curiosity in a human is just a shout into the void.
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George is immortal, stranded on an island. When Dream comes along, how will they learn to love in such variety, and how will they find similarities in their indifference?
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George's lashes flutter slightly, and the thought settles over him slowly in little white petals, in overwhelming adoration and gentle touches and empty spaces in beds: Dream wants to kiss him. He wants to press his lips, gently, lovingly, along his brow, his eyelids, the ridge of his cheekbones, anything George would let him; the thought overwhelms him to a point where he feels sick.
Idiot. Idiot, idiot, idiot.
Bookmarked by rinth
12 Feb 2022
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“You’re so stupid,” George says after his breathing has calmed down, and he feels it when Dream chuckles. His shoulder rubs against George’s, and his breath hits his hair, and Dream turns and suddenly he’s so much closer. George almost wants to make a run for it.
"How am I stupid? You couldn’t– you were about to ruin my eardrums a second ago!”
"You were the one who fell on top of me! I was about to die. You’re a murderer,” George argues, feeling warm all over.
Dream huffs. “You’re so dramatic. I didn’t actually kill you.”George arrives to Florida, and Dream is more than happy to blur the lines between them.
Bookmarked by rinth
24 Jan 2022
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“You would hate it.”
Dream presses a hand at the center of his back. “Shut up.” And then, “I’d go anywhere for you. With you.”
Bookmarked by rinth
11 Jan 2022
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Sapnap stepped forward, curling shaky fingers at the belt loops in George’s slacks.
“Chocolate?” He asked, turning back to Karl with a hand spread over his chest. “One scoop?”
The words were all simple. Sweet and ginger and flowing down through George’s core, grounding him as his feet pressed against dewy grass and wet concrete. His friends were nothing but a reminder as the fluctuation ranged—George, we’re trying not to remind you that you’re still feet away from the grounds of a burial. George, your child is motherless. How about some fucking ice cream?
Sapnap offers up Dream's bedroom to George and his son as soon as he hears about the loss.
Bookmarked by rinth
07 Jan 2022