ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ Fluffy Ellen or RIOT ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ
Pleas Link Back~ok Enjor~
Hav Some Thing Wrong Please Tell Me ok
Model-Is My Sefiles
Cutest Male In MY Sefiles
~I DO commission right now~
DL-www.mediafire.com/download/bvp… FIX PMD~
PMD PMX INSIDE~OK~
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard Norwegian Airlines flight 23 with non-stop service to Oslo, Norway. Please turn your attention to the flight attendant nearest you for our safety demonstration. Please follow along with the safety card located in the seat pocket in front of you. Please make sure your seatbelt is securely fastened at this time. To fasten, insert the loose metal buckle into the holder. Tighten so it fits firmly around your waste. To fasten, pull the loose belt. Also, make sure all carry-on items are stored in the overhead bins or under the seat in front of you…” The perky flight attendant recited.
You let her speech fade into the background as you took in your rather big surroundings. A three seat aisle connected you to your friend who decided to spend her college break going to Norway with you, her younger not-quite-in-college-yet companion. She has heard the safety speech before, so she had all of her stuff tucked away and strapped on in all the right positions and had shown you how to do so as well with your own belt.
The third seat by the window had some guy whose navy blue sailor hat covered his face as he leaned against the window. Clearly he was asleep and saw no importance in keeping awake during a lengthy safety speech. He wore a red and blue polo shirt with expensive-looking jeans and blue Samsonite Boston shoes on his feet.
(friend’s name) leaned over to you from reading a magazine. “Hey, let’s hope he doesn’t snore, right?”
You giggled. “Or maybe he mutters weird things in his sleep.”
“I swear, (your nickname), you totally lucked out by getting the aisle seat. I hate sitting next to people I don’t know.”
“Want to switch seats?’ you offered.
“You sure?” She asked.
“Yep, I don’t mind at all.”
“Augh, you’re such a good friend, God bless you,’ she thanked you gratefully and the both of you loosened your belts to swap seating arrangements. As soon as you sat down and buckled up again, you caught sight of the world outside the window while the plane was taking lift off. Of course, the guy on the window seat was still out cold sleeping against the wall of the plane. You wondered if he was able to breathe under the hat covering his face like that, but thought it was just as well. If he was hard to look at, it would be all for the best if he didn’t wake up for the remainder of the 6 hour flight.
You let your eyes wander him for a bit, and saw that his build was surprisingly young. Maybe around 22 or so with strands of light blonde hair sticking out from under the left nape of his neck, and– Was that a hair clip tucking his bangs to the side? Didn’t only girls use hair clips?
How unusual seeing them on a guy, you thought and looked closer and saw that his seatbelt was not fastened, and you shot a glance down at the flight attendant that was checking to see if everyone followed directions.
If she saw him, then he’ll probably get in trouble or fined. If having no seatbelt in a car got you a hundred dollar ticket, then imagine getting caught without it on a plane!
Time to do this guy a solid; it could be another good deed you could do for today.
Leaning over carefully, so as not to disturb him, you took both ends of the belt and clicked them together fastening them firmly, yet comfortably so as not to chaff his waist. You then leaned back into your seat with a pleased sigh. You decided to peek to see if he was still asleep, but then huge blue eyes filled your vision, making you yelp in surprise.
Huge deep blue eyes indeed, pale blonde hair with that crossed clip holding some of it to the left of his head, while the rest was resting against the right side, and his skin was like crème. And was that a floating curl of hair? His deep cerulean orbs were set behind thick eyelashes, and his lips were a pale pinkish hue, his upper lip poking outwards.
The guy was hot!
His sailor hat was now on his lap, his right hand resting on top of it, but right now he wasn’t paying it any mind. Right now, he was holding your eyes with an iron grip, and wouldn’t let go, and it left you just sitting there, only returning his ogle.
There wasn’t anything in his eyes.
Well, they were pretty and the light hit them in a way that glowed warmly, yet they were dull and unfeeling, like he was only looking but not seeing anything.
Like the eyes of a Furby. Huge, shiny, and stony.
You don’t know how much time passed when you realized you were both silent for a long time.
“Um, sorry for waking you up,’ you finally said.
His eyes kept their grip for a second or two, and then slowly switched to your hands still on his belt.
“You should be careful of where you let your hands lay. Grabbing for a male’s crotch area isn’t exactly going to make a girl look attractive.” His deep tenor voice deadpanned.
It was true. You sizzled and pulled your hands away quickly. “I-I’m sorry!”
“Since you’ll probably try to do something else, I’ll have to trouble myself by staying awake now,’ he insensitively put.
“I’m really very sorry it won’t happen again, I promise. I’m not really that kind of person…” You tripped over your words.
He simply leaned towards the window, staring at the now disappearing ground as the plane literally threw gravity to the wind.
You folded your hands in your lap and asked (friend’s name) for the book of fairytales she had in her handbag.
You took it out and flipped through it to the spot where you left off, a dog eared page marking it out for you.
“You read fairytales?” A low voice asked.
It took you several moments to realize that the man beside you was speaking to you.
You met his hollow gaze. His face didn’t say much about what he was thinking of. Hell, there was no sign of life in it!
“Um… yeah,’ you answered, closing the paperback and leaning it on your lap. “Are you asking for the title?”
He turned away to lean his hand on his palm. “No reason. Just curious.” He said flatly.
“It has fairytales from all around the world in each section. My favorites are the Norwegian ones.” You described.
His eyes fluttered to you and you could swear you saw a glint of interest in those unfeeling eyes.
Was he going to say something nice about it? Was he going to say it was cool? Maybe he didn’t feel so annoyed at your earlier attempt to help him out by buckling him up.
Wow. What a compliment.
“I guess so.” You simply answered.
He remained silent for the next 10 minutes so you assumed he didn’t wish to speak anymore. You went back to reading your book. You felt his unsettling gaze from time to time, but you tried not to pay it any attention.
“Now arriving in Oslo, Norway Gate 8,’ a female voice said coolly over the public announcement system at the destination airport.
Your friend stretched her arms while you gathered your luggage from the conveyor belt.
“Man, that was a long-ass 6 hour flight!’ she complained with a laugh. “This lady across from me had her mouth open while she was asleep, it was funny!”
“Yeah?’ you giggled, and reached for the conveyer belt for the handles on your suitcase when your hand met someone else’s. You looked up slowly to see a pair of azure eyes that were recognizable, red and blue polo shirt and sailor hat atop light blonde hair with a Nordic cross clip holding some of it back.
His hand was warm to the touch, and you felt your face and mind go as blank, mirroring his default expression.
The pale lips of his parted slowly, and you felt that they were the only things that you saw.
“This is mine,’ he said monotonously.
Your eyes fell to the ID on the suitcase’s handle and saw that it read ‘Lukas Bondevik’ in clear, pretty handwriting. Slowly, you face him again, the light from the airport made little window lights in those eyes and instead of the usual dead look, they seemed to be expecting something.
“You have a nice name,’ you plainly declared, while removing your hand and straightening up. He held his gaze, but lifted the suitcase to the ground beside him as he did so onto the other side of the conveyor belt line. Lukas started to leave to the line for receiving emigrants.
“My name is (first name),’ you called out to him. “It’s nice to meet you.”
He didn’t stop walking but turned to you. “Hello.”
You gave him the best smile you could manage and his eyes widened a fraction, but then he quickly killed his features and continued to head for immigration.
“Who’s he?’ your friend walked to stand next you and checked out his retreating figure. “He’s pretty hot.”
“He was the guy in the third seat you didn’t want to sit next to.” You answered.
“No way! He was the sleeping weirdo with a hat on his face?!’ she sputtered, clearly flabbergasted.
You laughed, remembering that you were just as surprised when you came face to face with his enchanting countenance.
You saw him give the greeter at the desk his passport.
Regardless, you doubted you would ever see him again in a country as big as Norway.
“GAH, the hotel here has crummy food,’ your friend pretended to gag as she collapsed on the king size ungracefully. It was decorated in pretty silk brocade designs, and the pillows had lace borders hanging out.
“Why don’t we go out to eat?” You suggested from just walking out of the impeccable bathroom with the cute little soap bars.
She lifted her head up to at you. “What a swell idea! Let’s go once I change.”
“This place looks nice,’ your friend said as you approached the 15th restaurant on the street.
The others had been booked, expensive, crowded, or were understaffed. The guidebook you had only told you so much, and the landmarks had been helpful enough but it just wasn’t enough to convince you that the two of you didn’t have to worry about inconveniences.
“It looks nice though for a small time café.” You agreed, observing the entrance.
The outside porch had a mahogany stretched staircase and doors with beveled glass in triangle designs. The awning was a stunning red with a calm blue line and white borders and the bars themselves were golden. A carved wooden sign on the outer extension to the sign read Café Hetalia.
“It’s called Café ‘Hetalia’? That’s a curious name for a restaurant, don’t you think?”
She turned her head at you.
“Let’s just go in.”
Sighing in submission, she followed you into the doorway. The interior was carpeted in a serious burgundy, and the chandeliers also exuded elegance. It wasn’t too fancy-looking, but higher-ended than most establishments were, so it wasn’t exactly average. Each diamond-shaped table was covered in a pure white tablecloth with purple heathers in a lean, tall vase as the center piece.
“It really is nice,’ your friend agreed, pulling her handbag close against herself. “Stay here while I go find the reservation desk.”
“Hmm okay,’ you nodded, as (friend’s name) excused herself past the tables to find it. Standing there, you surveyed around at the accents of the decorating and the people who were chatting and having meals. There were at least three waiters out and about, everyone seemed to have already ordered and were presently enjoying conversation and taking pleasure in their food. It smelled tempting, all of it.
“Hello, little pervert.”
An electric bolt shot through your bones. The voice was a tad bit familiar.
You faced the voice, and there he was. It was the young man from the airplane. He was without his sailor hat and decked out in a waiter’s uniform, complete with a burgundy apron. A foggy green presence seemed to follow him, but you couldn’t quite seem to catch more than a glimpse or a feeling something was hanging on his shoulder. Once again, those vivid eyes of his were radiating a presence of their own, the chandeliers giving them the look of the small glow of smoothly polished gemstones.
Offended you were by his little comment, but you needed to play it cool. You were here to eat with your best friend who chose you out of all her peers at the college to go to Norway with, so you were fortunate enough to even be here. A bad attitude would probably jinx it for you.
Still, the insult stung.
“How arrogant of you to assume who someone is by one misunderstanding. You already believe what was falsely presented before I could even explain the situation.” You said calmly, hoping it didn’t sound too pretentious.
“Oh?’ Mr. Bondevik’s eyebrows rose a decimal to indicate his rather non-existent surprise. “So if it was a misunderstanding, then why didn’t you explain yourself?”
What a question. It seemed like a challenge. How could you answer it?
Tell him truthfully, you thought.
“You alarm me in a way that I can’t place. It’s like I can’t help but be slow and careful with choosing my words and reactions.” You enlightened, returning his stare with as much force as you could muster.
A flash of another emotion awoke in his irises at your words, but as quickly as it had come, it vanished away.
“You sound like the main character of a cheesy romance novel,’ he said, indifference slathered unto every syllable.
“I do not!’ you carefully said, so as to not disturb the dining people. ‘And another thing, what’s so wrong with that? Everyone wants to find a relationship with someone having traits they want in a person.”
“I’m looking for someone warm and funny,’ he said and paused. “Perhaps a recently dead clown. Good bye, Miss I’m-Looking-For-A-Relationship-Though-I’m-A-Pervert.”
He started to walk back to wherever direction he had come from.
“Well aren’t you the snarky type?” You asked bluntly.
He stopped his trek abruptly. And he slowly turned to you with those empty yet mysterious midnight blue eyes. On the surface, they only appeared to be staring dully straight ahead, but for some reason, they seemed to be giving you a feeling that he was looking “deeper” in a very intimate sort of way. It made you a bit uncomfortable. It was like he was practically studying you under a heat lamp microscope.
“Yes,’ he said, his white teeth peeking out as he answered. “You could say so.”
Lukas crossed his arms over his shirt.
“But then again, that’s not how I should treat a customer, now is it?”
Your face lifted and your eyes widened. It was an unexpected answer.
The strands of his light blonde hair fell into his left eye as he tipped his head, his astonishing eyes once more staring into your soul from underneath those perfect eyelashes. Waves of unsettling auras washed over you as his gaze ran itself over your head and around your outline. Goose pimples ran up and down your arms, racing to see which part would become completely awash with them first. Your eye twitched from under his heavy sight.
How does he do that? Render you completely boneless with just looking at you for gosh sakes!
“No…,’ you began incredulously ‘you’re actually a decent person?”
“Probably,’ he shrugged, ‘More decent than some person who tried touching my junk.”
You smiled and also folded your own arms. “What did you run out of material to insult me with? Or do you like repeating yourself like a scratched CD?”
The room temperature dropped by at least 9 degrees by just the cold look in his blue orbs.
Then he smirked.
He…smirked. As in, a corner of his mouth lifted into an actual expression.
It only made him look five times more attractive.
Good for him, bad for you.
“Well played,’ he complimented. “You interested me since you helped me out on the airplane, but now you’ve proved yourself.”
A chord was strung.
“Wait, you knew I was helping you? Then why call me–”
“Because it annoyed me how you didn’t mind your own business and helped a total stranger,’ he simply put in. “But then again, it’s what piqued my curiosity in the first place.”
A uniformed waitress walked from beside you.
“Good evening,’ she said automatically to you then turned to Lukas.
“Lukas, we need you for tables 7 and 8.”
He began to follow the lady but not before stopping briefly directly beside you and leaning into your ear, making your neck tingle with warmth from his proximity.
“Let’s duel with wit again, Miss (last name),’ he breathed, then blew down your neck softly, and began to walk again.
Your cheeks burned with rage and … because that had been freaking hot as hell.
What was he playing at? First you annoyed him because you were too nice, then he’s curious about you because you were too nice, and now he’s toying with you because you’re too nice?!
And how did he know your last name? Didn’t you just give him your first name?
He must have been also looking at my own suitcase at the conveyor belt in the airport when he was staring me down with those searchlight eyes, you thought. Because he had been curious.
Well, this has been confusing.
In no time at all, (friend’s name) returned with a waiter. It was him.
Just your luck.
“So this would be one order of four medisterkakes, another of fårikål and two Sprites for drinks.” He said calmly as he served your friend her gracefully prepared pork cakes and your mutton stew strewn with light seasoning. The two glasses were placed on the leather coasters on the right side of the plates along with the silverware.
“Thank you,’ she told him cheerfully.
“Yesthankyou,’ you quickly said so as to be rid of him and the awkwardness he had brought.
Apparently he knew too well of your discomfort, and began a sentence that prolonged his stay.
“Would there be anything else?”
“No, thank you. We’re good.” (friend’s name) smiled.
Lukas gazed over to you, like he was massaging your skin with his eyesight alone.
“And you? Would you like anything else, (name)?” He asked, though there was a provoking hint in his voice as he said it.
Feigning composure, you smiled up at him. “No thanks, besides, table 8 must be waiting for you. Wouldn’t want to keep them waiting, now would you? And you should treat all people buying food here as customers, it’s bad for business if a customer seems to be favored.”
He stared at you with those hypnotizing eyes once more, making shivers go down your spine but kept your smile remaining there.
Lukas closed his eyes and without a word, walked back to the kitchen.
Sighing once he was gone, you turned back to your food.
“What was that? It was tense. When did you and Mr. Hot Stuff get into a beef with each other?” (friend’s name) questioned you.
“Honestly, I don’t know. His name is Lukas Bondevik and he knows my name too. I tried helping him on the plane and he thought I was trying to feel him up or something,’ your palm held up your forehead from falling into your food from the stare down Lukas had rendered you susceptible to.
This had to stop. You didn’t want to be in the same room with him in the slightest. He made you uneasy. Not in a bad way, but certainly not in the good way.
Trying to forget him, you picked up your knife and fork and began to enjoy your dinner.
“(friend’s name)?’ you called out into the spring day. “(friend’s name)?!”
It wasn’t too hot or too cold but fresh. It was late afternoon fitting into sunset, and you did not know where in the world (friend’s name) had gone. You had both left the café and went shopping store to store and she had promised to meet up in Frogner Park, where all the sun-blackened statues were blatantly situated for the entire world to see called the Vigeland installation. There were hardly any people out and about as the late afternoon was to go home to family and have kveldsmåltid (the evening meal) with loved ones.
You unzipped your jacket and swung the hefty shopping bag back and forth in sync with your feet, and one of the statues caught your attention. Not because it was a wonderful work of art, no. It caught your attention because of how strange and twisted it was.
It was a full grown man beating off a swarm of babies.
“Gustav Vigeland had a rather unorthodox sense of humor in his work, do you think not?”
You jumped three feet into the air from fright.
“Lukas! What is unorthodox is you sneaking up behind me and scaring me senseless!’ you scolded him.
He merely looked at you disinterestedly and returned to admiring the statue.
“He had a fixed idea on the journey of a man, but what’s interesting is how there are so many variables, and he sculpted each one in his cramped studio.” Lukas continued as if reading from a script.
“What? Oh, the sculptor. Yeah, what’s the one with killer babies about?”
“I think it’s a man trying to avoid the responsibilities of fatherhood, ergo, he’s batting off the babies he’s caused.” He explained.
“Well that’s a very cruel thing to do, they’re only babies. They should be cared for. Does every sculpture have a meaning or a stage? Where’s the beginning?’ you pondered.
“Over there,’ he pointed to the outer sculptures. You began to run and see the sculpture with a woman leaned over like a cow, nurturing at least a dozen babies with her milk. Another with a young boy and what seemed to be a father, testing his son. There was another with a man carrying a woman on his back, another with two brothers fighting over the same woman, and another with a man and a woman dancing. One after another, they were all people in the nude like something out of Adam and Eve with Lukas explaining to you what each meant. Then there came a statue with a man holding a woman up to his stomach, he looked to be swinging her in a dance. Both you and Lukas stopped to observe it.
“I always have two interpretations of this one,’ he began. “Is it the happiness of husband and wife in love or the dancing between two people who have just met?”
You stared in silence at the smile on the woman’s face, and the same one reflecting from the man’s.
“It’s hard to tell,’ you said. “When a man and a woman are so much in love, it’s like whenever you meet each day, it feels like the first time you met, making the love everlasting and new time after time.”
You looked up at him with a smile.
“So maybe it’s both.” You said as-a-matter-of-factly.
Once more those eyes of his held a heavy presence as they looked you straight into yours.
He leaned closer, not giving you much time to react, and started to kiss you.
Alarms went off in your mind.
Warning, warning, unidentified pair of lips are now pressing against yours!!! GTFA, GTFA!! Call the police, you dummy and file him for assault!!
Your eyes were wide open in shock, but you could see his were closed the whole time.
You should push him away sound the Pervert Alert but… it felt…so good… you closed your eyes, surrendering completely to the kiss and relaxing your posture, tilting your head to fit perfectly with his.
He drew away, and your eyes opened slowly. You felt like you were in a daze.
“Ah, you didn’t push me away like I expected you would. I wanted to see your reaction. You really are a pervert,’ he dully, a twinge of disappointment in his voice.
You only smiled widely, and lifted his wallet up for him to see.
His eyes became avidly shocked and he checked his pockets to find them empty.
“Fool me once, shame on you,’ you recited as you hid behind the statue. ‘Fool me twice, shame on me, but three times? I take my own measures against you. And unless you promise me a good, long, happy dating relationship, this wallet is about to join the Vigeland installation as an additional realistic statue.”
He grabbed your hand and spun you into his arms while taking his wallet back, his eyes ensnaring you like a tidal wave of an ocean overtaking your body.
“I’m interested,’ he said softly.
The sun finally hid itself to become the evening and all was quiet in the park, you could see your friend in the distance, searching for you.
“You’re a what?”
“I’m the personification of Norway as a human.”
“You’re a country?”
“Yes, and I can see spirits and mythical beings.”