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sunalee · 24 days

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the hood and the healer

summary: The town's vigilant always visits your tent with a wound to be taken care of.

with: Kim Mingyu

warnings: historical!au, mentions of injuries, a bit of angst and grieving, open wound (nothing graphic), healer!reader, childhood friends to lovers?, unspoken feelings, fluff. word count: 1500+

The evening comes, and it’s the time for you to close the doors of your humble hut to rest. Fortunately, there weren’t too many villagers seeking your care today: two children who got into a fight in the streets, a wounded guard who prevented a robbery, and a lady with a skin disease in her knee, who needed weekly treatments to improve her health.

You can’t exactly call yourself the best healer in the realm, your tools aren’t the most advanced, and neither are your skills, much to the short time you’ve been practicing. But you’re proud to help in any way you can.

The well-being of your patients it’s what matters most, and you do whatever you can to provide that, paying close attention to every ingredient chosen or bought, cleaning and tending them to later produce ointments and other types of medicines. You learned all the recipes from your late father’s journal, your inspiration of healer, who taught you everything you know today.

His manuscripts are now all you have of him since your childhood home was demolished four years ago, on orders of the current governor, Mozan. That tyrant ravished almost every knowledge source in town, monopolizing to his own hands so that people pay more for services they had in abundance. So many valuables, research, and medicines that could bring so much improvement were lost that day, and with your father’s death, you had to learn from the worst scenario how to get back up and move forward with your life.

It’s been a tough and long process, but even though you still didn’t accomplish a comfortable situation, you’re grateful for what you’ve done so far.

Organizing the glass balm jars on the shelves, you’re startled by hurried knocks on the door, so suddenly that almost makes you drop the jar you’ve been holding.

Who could it be at this hour? For precaution, you take a medium branch from the pile you gathered early to the fireplace, hard enough to leave a good concussion. You take a deep breath before unlocking the door and slightly opening it.

A tall, hooded-dressed man is waiting on the other side. The white fabric of his haori almost hides his brown uniform underneath it, but you don’t pay much attention to that, eyes focusing on the way the man is holding his arm close, a clear sign of injury.

You don’t need much more than the warm-brownish eyes gazing at you, and the wooden bow strapped to his back to recognize your childhood friend Mingyu.

“Do you have time for one more patient?” His pleasant, deep voice vocalizes a question a little embarrassed and restrained as if he did something he shouldn’t and now it hurts like hell. And from the way his body is curling forward, he won’t be able to endure that wound much longer.

And you know exactly what got him into this situation. Oh, how much you want to give him the slaps his mother forgot to do.

Sliding those thoughts aside, you make room for him to enter, guiding the dark-haired man to the futon where you tend most of your clients. You preferred to quiet yourself, feeling down your throat the hard lecture you wish to free, but you let your worry lead you, removing his belongings and upper clothes until you spot the ugly hole covered with blood on his shoulder.

“Arrow.” He informs, hissing when you touch the wound with a white cloth to clean it and inspect it better. “I put some pressure on it on my way here, but I suppose it’s worse than before. It feels like it.”

“Fool.” You whisper to yourself, but Mingyu catches your words, chuckling in response. He has to agree with you on that. He turns quiet, watching you as you meticulously check on him, searching and finding other bruises along his torso and back. He noticed the signs you leave and sadness in your eyes at every scratch found, making him feel guilty for making you so concerned.

Ensured enough, you return to the main wound. Thank goodness Mingyu wasn’t stupid to ignore it, as without proper care it could quickly become infected and worsen his situation. It isn’t large, but you’ll need to give it a few stitches to close it and quicken the healing process.

You leave for a few seconds, gathering the material before returning with a basin of water, some more cloths, strips, an ointment, and a canteen of water for him to recover his energy. You offer some seeds to lessen the pain, but he denies them gently, knowing how much you struggle to find these seeds in the woods. He’s been through a lot more pain than this, he can take it.

“Tell me if it gets too much.” You encourage him while cleaning the wound, gazing at him one last time before taking the needle and twine, and starting to stitch his skin. Mingyu does an excellent job at hiding the intense pain in his body, taking deep and even breaths to relive it. His resilience stuns you so much, how can the patient be calmer than the healer?

It’s a horrible sensation, especially on someone so dear to you. It’s something that you pray to never need to repeat. You finally finish the nerve-wracking stitches, content with your work but still nervous as you inspect it for any mistakes.

“You’re worried.” He points out after a few moments, noticing the way your body is stressed by the whole situation.

“How did this happen?” You decide to ignore it, gathering the material to start patching him up.

He sighs. He won’t win this fight. “I broke into one of Mozan’s vaults. There weren’t any patrols at first, but a few archers appeared later on as I collected the coins.” He tells the story so casually that you could believe he does that every day after breakfast. “I got away in time, but one of them hit me in the shoulder as I was riding.” He confesses frustrated, not quite meeting your eyes. “Don’t worry, I made sure to lose them before I came here.”

You chuckle in disbelief, trying to ingest what you just heard. How can he presume that you’re more worried about two archers breaking into your house than your only friend, who almost died at their hands?

Honestly, you never will understand what goes through Mingyu’s head. But clearly, it’s majority nonsense.

“Was that funny?” He asks, visibly confused. Your urge to hit him grows, but you rather fill your hands with the ointment to rub on his wound. Maybe if you press your fingers just a little harder, it’ll hurt him enough.

But you love him too much to do that.

“Why do you keep doing this?” You can’t take it anymore. You can’t keep watching him putting himself in danger over nothing. “What’s so nice about robbing the rich, hm? Why do you keep risking your life on this? It’s not worth it,Gyu!”

“Of course it’s worth it!” He sneers, getting defensive. He doesn’t want to argue with you, but he won’t just let you assume his purpose is pointless: you need to understand his point. Pursing his lips, he keeps on explaining. “You know I’m not doing this for money. I’m doing justice to everyone who suffered for the greed of these men. To all who starve, while they stuff themselves with wine and meal. I’m doing this for us, _______.”

“This isn’t the right way to do it, and you know that.” You firmly rebound, even if it’s clear in his eyes the purity of his intentions. His heart is the greatest you’ve ever seen, but his emotions aren’t enough to assure his safety. “Your father would never agree with what you’re doing right now.”

“My father is dead because of them!” He raises his voice, gaze turning into flames for a moment. Breathing hard, he realizes what just happened, and tears start forming in the same place, making you regret bringing up such a sorrowful memory. “He was a righteous man who fell into their trap.” He gulps down, trying to contain his growing emotions. “ -and I’ll not let anyone else suffer as he did. I won’t let any child lose their father the way I lost. And I don’t care if I have to go through hundreds of arrows to guarantee that!”

You stare at each other for slow, silent seconds, until Ren regains his calmness, eyes softening as he realizes how he handled things. You continue to tend to his wounds without muttering words, but you can feel his regretful gaze on you. The only sound echoing in the room is the flames covering the woods in the fireplace.

You finish the last bandage before returning his clothes, not really meeting his gaze.“All done. Try not to make any brusque movements with your arm, and remember to change the dressing around the same time for the next few days.” You give the instructions, holding the now bloody bowl in your hands to discard. “I’ll get you medicine for the pain.”

A gentle hand holds your arm before you can move away, making you stay still as you search for an answer inside those beautiful blazing eyes of his.

“Forgive me… For being so harsh with my words. I know you only worry for me, and I’m immensely grateful for your care.” He tries to apologize, shoulders soothing as you offer him a small smile in return.

“It’s all right. Forgive me for the things I said to you as well.” You answer, also regretfully. Mingyu didn’t lose his father to a disease like you did, and neither had the honor to stay with him in his last moments; his father was murdered in cold blood, and punished publicly for confronting the tyranny without fear. An honored soldier, who did nothing but protect his people. If you were in his place, you would be just as furious as him. You move closer, rubbing softly his good shoulder. “Now, let me bring your medicine.”

He lets you go this time, taking a moment to look around the room as you search on the shelves.

“Looks like the roof has some holes in it.”

“Termites.” You explain, grabbing a green bottle, the smell of calendula filling your nostrils as you confirm the content. “They’ve been growing fast outside, and ended up coming to my house as well. Once I get enough, I’ll repair the damages.”

“I could help you with the coins, you know.” He not so discreetly proposes, but you know very well where those funds came from. “Winter is coming, and these holes won’t do you any good with the cold.”

“I can handle it, Gyu, but I appreciate the offer.” You leave no room for conversation walking back to him and passing the medicine. “Take twice a day, ten hours apart. It doesn’t taste very well, but it will help you through the pain.” You instruct, noticing after that he doesn’t take his eyes off you as he catches the bottle, amused by your stubbornness. As always.

“Thank you, _______.” He says, not only for what you’ve done, but for every wound, pain, and struggle you’ve helped him go through, since his childhood. One day, he'll honor everything, starting by giving you a better place to live. It won’t be today, nor tomorrow, but certainly one day.

He rises from the futon and surprises you with a tender, slow peck on your forehead. You’ve never questioned Mingyu’s feelings before, content with just being a dear person to him.

But perhaps, something deeper could arouse in the future.

“Take care, my healer.” He says with a hint of humor, already dressed with his uniform and belongings. Walking towards the entrance, he turns to you one more time. “Until next time.”

“Not wounded, I hope.” You almost plead, making him giggle so genuinely that brings a smile to your face as well. It’s good to see him well.

“But that’s the funny part.” He answers with a cheeky grin, and with the last wave, he leaves your hut, closing the door on the way out.

Already missing his presence, you start gathering the used material from the ground, but you find a small bag that wasn’t familiar. There’s a note beside it, but you decide to check the content inside, finding a good amount of gold coins that make you speechless. Shaking your head in disbelief, you open the note, already knowing who gave you such gift:

“You said you didn’t want help with the roof, but you didn’t say anything about the medicine’s price.”

— Gyu.

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amarynthian-chronicles · 3 months

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The price of ambition

Y/N: Gentlemen, I am innocent.

Naga Sun, coiled around his darling new prisoner: charming untruths cannot undo the wickedness of your actions, nor can your siren song erase the misdeed of entering our sacred home uninvited.

Naga Moon, placing a claw under Y/N's chin, swirls appearing in his glowing red eyes: were you summoned by the allure of our jewels and the grandeur of our underground palace? Such naughty intentions slumbering in your heart, pretty little gem.

Y/N, trying to remain professional: I was not here to rob you, I am really just trying to get my paper done, I was doing archaeological research.

Naga Sun: My, my, I have never heard that one before. Bonus points for originality, songbird.

Naga Moon: Provide proof for your claims and we may reconsider your case, pretty gem.

Y/N, trying to reach their pockets while still in Sun's coils: you know what, fine, can you two take a look at my notes while we are at it?

Naga Sun, inspecting the papers: this is atrocious! Sweetling, how can you even read your own handwriting? And your translations are subpar at best, I feel embarassed for the both of us.

Naga Moon, leaning over to check: such dreadful penmanship and conclusions unworthy of a scholar's name. I have never seen anyone prove their innocence with evidence of incompetence.

Y/N, blinking tiredly: I really should have just stayed in bed today.

Naga Sun, grinning: we can help you, though. Our knowledge and wisdom shall be at your disposal, we offer our ancient libraries and unspoken secrets.

Naga Moon, whispering lovingly: for the price of companionship and tenderness, your glimmering shine shall be for our eyes alone, precious little gem.

Y/N, desperate and with deadlines to meet: alright, but one more comment about my handwriting and I am leaving.

#naga sun #naga moon #sundrop x reader #moondrop x reader #sundrop #moondrop #sun fnaf #moon fnaf #sun x reader #moon x reader #fnaf sun x reader #fnaf moon x reader #five nights at freddy's #the daycare attendant #daycare attendant x reader #daycare attendant #naga!sun #naga!moon #amary's chronicles

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onelittlespiral · 4 months

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Hey hi! I've heard you've got some kind of offer or sale going on, not too sure what its about but I'd like to buy your services. My best friend is a bit of ladiesman jock type and he keeps complaining he can't find a good relationship. So I wanted to know if you could maybe turn him into less ladiesman and more men's man, maybe daddying him up a bit? So i could maybe get a chance with him, and he'd get the relationship he wants.

Subject: Order #100714

Dear Dopple,

Thank you for your recent purchase from The Spiral, home for all your transformation needs! Your order #100714 has been received and is on its way as we speak. Your order includes:

(1) Daddy_From_Friend(Best;Jock)

(1) Mystery(Self)

Expect delivery in 3-5 days. Please note that joint delivery is expected.

Sincerely,

The Spiral

We knew you’d come around and round and round and round…

It was only a few days later when you heard another notification come through from The Spiral. At the same time, you hear a knock at the door. You were glad for the interruption. It was nice to head over to your friends’s apartment and hang out for the weekend. But if you had to listen to him complain again about how tough the dating market was for a white, straight, good looking guy like him you were going to scream. Glancing at the notification for a package delivery to this address, you realize that it is probably about time for the show to begin. No need to interrupt the process. You dart into the restroom as you hear him pick up the package. As you close the door, a rip is heard outside, and as you lock it, a faint poof is heard. A faint fog creeps under the door crack. It smells like fresh grass and sandalwood. Another notification comes through, as The Spiral provides you with product details:

Due to selected target changes, we have elected for our rapid delivery transformation system to best meet your needs. Upon receipt, subject will open box and full product delivery will commence. A dense cloud of product will be released directly onto target and rapidly absorbed. Your friend will age to around 35, with associated physical changes. His previously smooth, young body will change rapidly. Skin is expected to tan, hairline recede, muscles grow, and body and facial hair develop. As the product is breathed in, expect tastes to change. Your new friend will prefer whiskey and beer drinks, along with the occasional cigar. As mental changes set in, they will find themselves drawn to care and maintenance hobbies, like regular workouts, yard work, renovations, cars, and sports. He will be drawn to jeans and beat up tennis shoes or boots, and only prefer to wear a polo when they must go into the office. At the same time, his mind will be filled with images of men. Men staring at him. Men holding onto him. Men worshiping him. This will start the final change, a libido adjustment. He will feel a deep need to fuck, to control his partners, and leave his seed planted deep inside them. The added girth and heavy sack will ensure he never underperforms. As he adjusts and embraces his new personality, he will settle and seek a single partner to fulfill his needs.

Thank you again for choosing The Spiral

You finish reading and unlock the bathroom door, running from the upstairs bedroom through your friend’s spacious house to meet him on the porch.

He is standing on the porch, a box still in hand, just as described. You didn’t know he could be more handsome, but he has aged like a fine wine. He takes one look at you and simply holds out the package in his hand,

“It’s for you.”

For you? You check the label and he is correct. You grab the box and he crosses his arms, waiting. Unsure what is inside, you open the package.

“Ah, good. Been waiting for these,” he snatches it from your hands and inspects the well-worn frames. You try to turn away, but he catches you in his arms,

“This should make you behave.” He takes the sunglasses and sticks them on your face. In an instant, the world is dark. And then a pair of screens flicker to life. As spiral fills your vision, you try to take them off. But your friend is holding you tight. You can’t resist it’s allure for long. It’s right. You do feel so sleepy. As it counts down from ten, your body begins to sway and relax. But you can’t bring yourself to mind. The spiral knows best. You fade away, held in the warm embrace of release and the strong arms of a man…

You come to laying in a bed that feels familiar and foreign all at once. You scratch at your beard and inspect the scene. Lube is left open on the bedside table. Tank tops, jeans, and boxers are strewn over the floor. A pillow is still wedged under you. Heh, still got it. You wander downstairs as you stretch your muscles and rub some sore muscles from the night before. You find him in the kitchen preparing some eggs. Your love. Your master. Your beast in the sheets. You sneak up behind and wrap your arms around his waist.

“Stop, you’ll make me burn them.”

You don’t listen. You plant a kiss on his cheek. He turns around, spatula in hand, and smacks your ass.

“Act your age, boy.”

Something in that statement hits a trigger. You remember something. A younger body. Slender, taut, pale. A firmer mind. Less corruptible, less controlled. Then, you feel an arm around you.

“You okay, cuz you look faint. Don’t break a hip old man.”

You stare at your husband and the world comes into focus. He smirks and gives you a little growl, and you swoon a little in his arms,

“Give daddy a kiss,” he commands.

You lean forward, pressing your hairy chest against his, and love on your husbear.

“I’m going to finish these eggs. Go set the table and look cute,” he says with a wink. You walk off, dizzy for a new reason. You ignore the buzz in your pocket as you get ready for breakfast.

Subject: Order #100714 Fulfilled

Dear Dopple,

Your order has been fulfilled. We know you have many options, but thank you for supporting The Spiral.

Sincerely,

The Spiral

#straight to gay #male transformation #transformation #hypnosis #age tf #hairy tf #male tf #bogo

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thirteenducks · 11 months

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smoke and wine

(diluc x fem!reader) [suggestive, but SFW]

༻❁༺ content: fem!reader (reader wears a dress and is referred to as 'her'), some suggestive content, no established relationship

༻❁༺ word count: ~4.7k

༻❁༺ tags: self indulgent stormfic, adelinde best mother figure AND wingwoman, flustered diluc supremacy, reader does not want to cause trouble for diluc, diluc desperately wants reader to cause trouble for him, diluc wears boxer briefs because i said so, rampant use of ellipses

༻❁༺ author's note: i am back to offer you this with my hands outstretched before i vanish into the void for another six months :/ regardless, thank you for reading! <33 this fic was inspired by this lovely art by @mmmairon https://www.tumblr.com/mmmairon/733185437964926976/hi-mairon-i-love-the-self-insert-comfort-you-did?source=share please go check it out!

Diluc is a simple man. If there's something he can provide, he'll go out of his way to do it. And if that means allowing you to stay at his home for the night during a fierce storm, he'll do anything to ensure your comfort.

Before today, you had considered yourself rather proficient in predicting the weather for your forays into the Mondstadt hills. Experience had given you somewhat of a sixth sense for which afternoons would yield sunny skies and which would leave you huddled under a tree during a downpour.

This storm, however, had truly come out of nowhere.

When your feet finally find the steps of the vineyard path ahead of you, you’re already too drenched to bother running from the rain. Your shoes, unfit for travel through the rain-soaked countryside, leave puddles behind everywhere you step; your dress is so soaked through that it must leave nothing to the imagination.

You shiver, thanking Barbatos that you seem to be the only unfortunate traveler caught in this downpour. At least the grates of the grapevines above you give you some form of cover from the lashing sheets of rain.

Through the raindrops in your eyes, you gaze at the herbs in your basket, their delicate leaves sodden and dripping. Once the storm has passed, and you've returned home, you doubt they will be much worth keeping. So much for freshly-gathered, you lament.

Distracted by your mournful predictions, you hardly notice the dirt beneath your feet has turned to stone and you’re suddenly before the imposing building that dominates the landscape. Above you, lanterns on posts swing wildly in the wind, illuminating the grand wooden door of Dawn Winery.

As you huddle beneath the scant protection of the balcony above, poised to knock, you’re inevitably reminded of the only other time you’d encountered the owner of this estate.

In the many months since, you’d learned which places to avoid in the Mondstadt countryside due to high monster traffic. That morning, however, the abyss mage had appeared out of nowhere in the sunny meadow of sweet flowers, leering at you and your lack of a weapon. You had barely gathered the presence of mind to drop what you were holding and run when the noise of boots, fast approaching, came from behind you. In another second, a blur of red and black had sped by and a gloved hand was pushing you down to the ground. Overhead, a blast of ice meant for your heart had split the sky above you instead.

Before you could regain your wits, the horrible sound of what you could only imagine were the monster’s last words tore through the air and flames, red and deep orange, surrounded you. The blue of the sky above you was ringed with fire.

Pushing yourself up by your elbows, you had scrambled to your feet, fear shooting through you like lightning as the flames licked higher and hotter around your boots -

And then they were gone, extinguished in an instant. Your breaths coming fast and shallow, you had inspected yourself for injuries and found nothing amiss but a few singed pieces of hair.

The gloved hand had appeared again in your field of vision, hovering hesitantly near your shoulder.

“Are you alright? That attack didn’t hit you, did it?”

The voice was low and unfamiliar, and you had followed the sound until your eyes caught a mane of red hair in a sea of black. He smelled like smoke; you could see it emanating off the massive sword he held in his other hand.

“I’m not hurt, thank you. I had no idea this area wasn’t safe...” You murmured, gazing at the now-scorched patch of flowers you had stood so peacefully in a moment before. “I’m so sorry for the trouble, sir.” You offered your hand and name in introduction, and he had taken both with a gentle grace. His questioning eyes alighted on your belongings, dress, and hair before returning to your face.

“Please, call me Diluc. Of Dawn Winery,” he answers, anticipating your question. “I’m the one who should apologize. This one -” he glances down at the ground in distaste, where a few shining leaves are all that is left of the abyss mage - “got away from me last night, and I’ve been chasing it down ever since. Really, it’s my fault.”

You duck your head in gratitude. “Thank you regardless, Diluc. I’ll make sure to avoid this area in the future...” You trail off sadly. This had been the best hill in the area to collect sweet flowers...

His face had changed a bit at your vow, so quickly you might have imagined it, before his handsome features returned to an unreadable expression. The exchange had not lasted long past that point.

“Keep yourself safe,” were his brief parting words, leaving you with a nod before starting at a brisk pace toward the building in the distance.

And now that same building is before you once more. Drawing your bag closer to you in trepidation, you knock, the sound barely reaching your ears over the roar of thunder overhead.

You don’t have to wait long in the harsh wind before the giant door swings open and you’re face to face with the same man from all those months ago, staring at you with his mouth slightly parted. You blink at each other for a few moments, unsure of what to say, until a woman’s soft voice calls from behind him in the doorway.

“Master Diluc? Is there someone out there?”

A middle-aged woman with a kind expression peers over Diluc’s shoulder at you and gasps.

“Master Diluc! What are you doing, keeping her out here in all this rain?” she chides, pushing Diluc’s shoulder to punctuate her sentence, and he blinks as if coming out of a trance. He steps out of the doorway and allows the woman to grab you gently by the hand and lead you into the warm, carpeted foyer. The great door swings shut behind you with a soft thud and you allow yourself an exhale of relief at being out of the storm, if only for a few minutes.

“Goodness, you’re soaked through.” The woman, who wears a maid’s uniform, putters around you, taking your belongings from your grasp and hanging them on a stand next to the door. As she circles you, murmuring with concern, you take the opportunity to explain yourself.

“I’m so sorry to intrude, ma’am, I was just gathering herbs near Stone Gate when the downpour started...” You lock eyes with Diluc, who has not said a word yet. Your resolve wavers, but a drop of water cascading down your back causes you to shiver and you remember your situation. “If it’s not too much trouble, could I impose upon you until the worst of the storm passes?” Your teeth chatter a bit as a draft catches your soaked clothing. “I promise I won’t make too much trouble for -”

You’re cut off by the sensation of something large and warm surrounding you. It smells of smoke and wine and you look up in surprise to see Diluc, now bare to the arm, settling his overcoat on your shoulders. A light shade of pink dusts his cheekbones.

“This storm isn’t likely to pass before tomorrow morning at the earliest,” he rumbles, avoiding your eyes. “Adelinde, please tell Moco and Hillie to prepare a bath and fresh sheets in the downstairs guest room.”

The warm timbre of his voice is tinged with something you can’t identify. Before you can protest, the woman, who must be Adelinde, gives him a nod. She curtsies to you with a smile and takes her leave.

Now standing alone with Diluc, you hurriedly voice your objections and promise to be on your way after you dry off a bit and perhaps borrow an umbrella. The man in front of you, however, refuses to acquiesce.

“You’ll at least let Adelinde feed you dinner, won’t you? It’s quite late already,” he remarks, glancing out the bay window at the darkened sky. “Have you eaten?”

At your dissenting response, he nods as if all is settled. You stare down at your shoes in mingled embarrassment and relief, watching the pools of water sink into the rich carpet.

Diluc clears his throat and moves his hand to hover behind the small of your back as he walks towards the fireplace. “Please, wait here for Adelinde to return. I’ll speak to her about getting you some dry clothes to wear for the night,” he says, gesturing to the couch in front of the fire.

You grimace as you sit, the damp fabric of your dress sticking to you and probably ruining the plush velvet of the sofa. Not to mention Diluc’s coat...

Before you can dwell too long on that, Adelinde reappears with a steaming cup of tea that she sets in front of you. She appears to be in conversation with Diluc about something across the table as you sip your tea, feeling the warmth of the fire seep into your bones.

“It’s awful luck that everything had to be taken in from the clotheslines when it started to rain,” she sighs. “There’s not a dry piece of women’s clothing in the house, I’m afraid.”

Diluc hums in contemplation. “I suppose mine will have to do, then. As long as it wouldn’t make you uncomfortable, of course...” He trails off as he turns to you, his cheeks pink again.

You laugh a bit, good humor returning to your body as the warmth does. “I’ll take any clothing you have to offer, Adelinde. Truly, thank you.”

She smiles, and before you can say anything else, Diluc has gotten to his feet and is already halfway up the stairs. Your eyes follow him as he goes, afraid you’ve said something wrong, but Adelinde just laughs and gestures for you to stand.

“Don’t mind him. The young master’s always that straightforward. Let’s get you into a warm bath, hm?” She starts for the hallway at a brisk pace, ignoring your concerns about the water you’re tracking across the floor.

As the head maid leads you to the guest room, Diluc stands in his own quarters, staring at his bureau with a look of deliberation that a complex military maneuver might inspire. All around him, various pieces of clothing lay rejected. He’s glaring daggers at his pants drawer, which he now realizes contains only neatly folded black slacks and pairs of underwear.

Do I really only wear slacks and boxer briefs?

That’s a question for another day. For now, he lays out his options.

He can’t... he can’t offer you his underwear to wear. That’s out of the question. Few things could be less appropriate to lend to a guest, let alone a pretty...

He shakes his head. His face is burning just thinking about it.

But wouldn’t you be uncomfortable in dress pants? They’d hardly fit you, anyways, so you might have to wear a belt as well just to keep them up... And could you really sleep in them? You’d probably end up shedding them, right?

He shakes his head again before he can go any further with that... dangerous thought.

He huffs. This is going nowhere. He’ll have to bring them both to Adelinde and see what she has to say, he thinks as he descends the staircase with a stack of clothes in hand.

Meanwhile, you stand with Adelinde in the most lavish guest bedroom you’ve ever set foot in. The bedspread, softer than a lamb as you run your hand over it, matches the curtains of the four-poster bed it rests on and the wall behind it. She opens the door to the attached bathroom, where a steaming claw-foot tub stands in the center. The aroma coming from it is like that of the lampgrass you had been collecting that afternoon before the storm hit, and it draws you to it like a moth to flame.

Adelinde curtsies to you and asks you to simply leave your wet clothes by the door and she’ll send someone to pick them up and deliver dry clothes in a bit. With that, she shuts the bedroom door behind you and leaves you to disrobe in the sweet-smelling bathroom.

After so long with your soaked garments clinging to you, peeling them off feels incredible. The water is the perfect temperature as you slide into it, feeling the stress of the afternoon melt away from your shoulders. The soaps next to the bath are thick and luxurious, perfuming the air with a thousand faint floral scents.

You don’t know how long you sit there, half-awake and submerged to the nose in the sweet-smelling water, until a knock at the bedroom door brings you back to reality.

Thinking it to be Adelinde or another maid, you straighten up and stretch your arms. You’d rather not get up and let her in yourself, so you merely call out your permission to let herself in. After all, the water’s so nice, and you don’t have anything to cover yourself with but a towel, anyways.

The door opens quietly and a heavy step can be heard entering the bedroom and shuffling around a bit until it suddenly pauses.

That’s odd. “Adelinde?” you call, rising a bit in the water to peek into the bedroom through the open door. No answer comes.

Furrowing your brow, you move to get out of the tub when the panicked voice of a man rings through the room.

“Wait! Wait, please... Archons, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think you were - the door is - ”

It’s Diluc. He sounds more flustered than you thought was possible of such a stoic man.

“I just came to drop these off,” he continues, voice discomposed, and there’s a sound of something being placed on a chair. “Please forget this happened. I- I apologize a thousand times. I’ll, um, wait outside - please, forgive me... I’m leaving now, I swear.”

And with that, the bedroom door closes with a thunk. You’re left frozen, your hands on the rim of the tub, your face a fetching shade of scarlet.

Diluc, on the opposite side of the door, is in no better shape. Not only had he walked in on you while you were- not only had he imposed upon you, but he had completely forgotten his objective of having Adelinde choose your clothing. Which meant, of course, that you were about to walk out of the bath and be faced with an odd selection of things to clothe yourself with.

It’s not like he can go back in and tell you it’s a mistake, though. Diluc sighs and rakes a hand through his hair, willing his heart rate to go down. Idiot. He’s an idiot.

Since the least he can do now is protect you from any further embarrassment, he thinks, he takes up a guard position outside your bedroom door.

It helps to know that at least it’s just him and the maids in the house, so you have no one else to worry about. It doesn’t help to know that you’re currently bare and covered in soap a scant twenty feet from him.

He buries his head in his hands again.

Meanwhile, you’ve removed yourself from the tub and are drying off while waiting for your pulse to return to normal. The towel in your hands is probably the fluffiest thing you’ve ever touched, yet it barely registers in your mind at the moment.

You weigh the ethics of telling Adelinde you’ve suddenly fallen violently ill and cannot come to dinner, but eventually you’ve gathered yourself enough to inspect the clothing Diluc brought you. There’s a black dress shirt, which is softer against your skin than it first looked as you button it up to your collarbone. Like his coat, it too carried a familiar fragrance of smoke and wine.

Turning to the rest of the stack, you’re confused to see a pair of dress pants and a pair of men’s... underwear?

They also smell like him… you think, as you pull them on.

Diluc, still fighting a blush, is leaning against the wall outside your door when Adelinde finds him. A hurried conversation ensues that you don’t catch much of from inside, but it’s clear enough that Adelinde is laughing at her master’s expense.

She knocks, asking if you’re dressed, and waits for your affirmation before she enters. You hold up the slacks to her, a question on your lips, but the head maid puts her hand on yours before you say a word.

“You don’t have to wear those unless you want to. I know they’re far from the most comfortable pants in the world. Besides, it’s only Master Diluc and us maids here,” she assures you. “You have nothing to worry about, dear. It’s up to you.” You return her smile and fold the slacks, passing them to her waiting hand. “Why don’t you come sit by the fire while I set the table?”

Thus assured, you leave the safety of the guest bedroom in only Diluc’s shirt and boxer briefs. Outside, the lord of the manor himself is standing in the hallway with a look of contrition on his face.

He turns at the sound of the door and his eyes meet yours.

It’s fatal. You offer him a smile, hoping to pretend the earlier situation never happened, but you’re met instead with a blank stare that makes you falter. Was he… angry?

Archons, did he think you had let him into your room on purpose while you were undressed? The thought sends you spiraling. This was bad. You have to fix this. You fiddle with the hem of the dress shirt and prepare to apologize.

Across from you, Diluc is fighting an uphill battle with his self control to keep his eyes on yours as you stand before him in only his underwear.

You were supposed to be wearing pants. Not… fuck, you’re staring at him like he has three heads. He has to say something. He has to set your mind at ease. He has to be a gentleman.

Think of Varka. Think of Seamus Pegg. Think of fucking Barbatos. For the love of Celestia do not think of anything else. Now SAY something.

“...How was your bath?”

You blink. “It was… lovely, thank you.”

DO NOT THINK OF HER IN THE BATH.

By the grace of whatever archons are watching over him, Diluc manages to carry a stilted conversation with you in which he apologizes profusely for his behavior earlier.

You do your best to reassure him that it was an honest mistake and no harm was done (except to your heart, but you’d hardly admit that). You soon find that he’s also asking your pardon for the “inappropriate” selection of clothes he brought you, however.

“Please, don’t apologize. They’re very comfortable.” You smile at him and Diluc feels his heart skip far too many beats. “Thank you again for your kindness, Diluc.” Archons, he loves the way you say his name. You’ll kill him at this rate.

Soon he’s falling into step behind you as Adelinde leads you into the dining room and seats you by the fire with a blanket. Satisfied that you’re comfortable, he turns and prepares to return to his study for the evening.

Before he can, though, he’s arrested by your voice, innocently asking if he wouldn’t be joining you for dinner.

“I’m afraid I have… work to attend to,” he murmurs, glancing up to his office. “My apologies. I hope you enjoy- ow, Adelinde -”

The maid in question has two fingers wrapped around Diluc’s ear and is wearing a look of exasperation as she tugs on it, ignoring his words of protest. In a voice that suggests this is a common occurrence, she strongly forbids him from doing any more work tonight.

“Is it not the job of the master of the manor to keep his guests company?”

“Adelinde...”

“Master Diluc.”

He sighs, meeting your eyes with a sheepish look. “It appears that I’ll be joining you after all.”

With that, he settles himself in the armchair adjoining your couch, allowing his large frame to relax into it. A pleasant quiet descends as you watch the fire, listening to the maids readying the meal in the kitchen and the storm as it continues to rage outside.

You’re brought out of your reverie by Diluc’s voice, softer than you’ve yet heard it.

“May I ask how you found yourself out in the downpour this afternoon?”

You smile. “For the same reason I was out the first time we met.” He nods in recognition, glancing at the gathering bag and basket that still hang by the door to the winery.

“So, you’re a botanist, then? Or maybe an herbalist?”

The two of you continue this way, Diluc asking you questions about yourself in a low voice, and you answering them in the same soft tone. You lose track of time in the easy back-and-forth.

After what feels like only a few minutes, a maid alerts you that dinner is ready; you rise and stretch, the blanket falling away from where it covers your bare legs. Diluc pointedly looks away, but you’re too distracted by the lovely smells coming from the table behind you to pay him any mind.

Walking ahead of you, Diluc draws out the seat adjacent to the head of the table and waits for you to sit before taking his own seat. The maids have been busy: a pot of tea, a bottle of sparkling wine, plates of roast beef, green beans, buttered potatoes, and stuffing, a tray of candied pecans, an apple tart, and a myriad of smaller dishes all line the ornate table. For a moment, you’re too overwhelmed to take a portion of anything.

Fortunately, Adelinde appears beside you and asks which and how much of each dish you would like, and soon your plate is as full as it can be.

For a while, the two of you sit in comfortable silence as you eat. The food is beyond reproach. Either the maids and Adelinde have pulled out all the stops tonight for you, or wealthy estate owners eat like this every night. You’re not sure which makes you feel more out of place, but the food is too delicious and you’re too tired to dwell on such things now.

Periodically, Diluc asks how you’re liking a certain dish or if you would like more of what you’re drinking. As the maids top off your glass of wine and you begin to feel the day catch up with you, however, your responses to Diluc get slower and shorter until you can barely keep your eyes open.

Through your lowered lids, you’re graced with the sight of a rare smile as the man next to you takes you in. He stands, offering you an ungloved hand in a silent offer to escort you to your room. You’re too exhausted to notice the color that comes to his face when you gladly take it and get to your stumbling feet.

By the time you’ve reached the door to your room, you’re leaning more on him than you are on your own legs. Offering Diluc a drowsy smile, you bow a little and thank him once again. He returns it in kind, the corners of his eyes crinkling a little bit. He’s never looked more handsome.

“Have a restful night. With any luck, the storm will abate by morning. Please, if there’s anything else I can do, don’t hesitate to come ask me.”

And with that, he leaves you to the plush sheets of the guest room. You’re asleep almost before your head hits the pillow.

You dream of smoke and wine.

In the small hours of the morning, you awake to a cold draft that makes you shiver and a mind fuzzy from sleep. You try in vain to return to sleep, the soft silk sheets beckoning to you, but a peal of thunder seems to shake the house every time you close your eyes.

Sighing, you sit up and rub your eyes. It’s almost pitch black in the room; the sun won’t rise for several hours yet.

Maybe you could make yourself a cup of tea? You shiver a bit, drawing the covers tighter around you. Sitting by the fire doesn’t sound bad, either.

Your feet are quiet on the carpeted floor as you gently open your bedroom door and step into the hallway. Sure enough, there’s a flickering light from the main room; the fire must be still alive in the grate.

You gather the blanket around you and hurry towards the warmth, only to stop short at the silhouette of a figure sitting where you were earlier. You take another tentative step onto the floorboards, but a creak gives you away. The figure stiffens and turns to face you.

Diluc’s face and frame relaxes when he sees you, but there is still a hint of worry in his tone when he asks, “Is there something wrong? Are you warm enough in your room?”

You nod, stepping gingerly around the couch to sit next to him. He shifts a little to give you more space as you pull your legs up beside you. “Everything’s fine. I just went to bed a little too early,” you assure him. “Could I trouble you to let me into the kitchen? I’d like to make myself a cup of tea, if it’s alright.”

“Please, allow me,” he murmurs, producing a pot and a second cup from the table next to him, where he was apparently enjoying one himself.

You sip it gratefully, allowing the taste to linger in your mouth. “May I ask why the esteemed Master Diluc is still awake at this hour?”

He smiles a bit at that and mentions that he never sleeps well during storms.

The two of you watch the flames as you sip your tea, listening to the patter of rain on the roof. Even at this hour, the fire is still going strong. A thought strikes you and you turn to Diluc’s lap.

Sure enough, his vision is glowing, pulsing in a gentle bump-bump pattern that you’ve heard matches the wielder’s heartbeat. It relaxes you to see it so steady and dependable.

Before long, the warmth of the fire and the tea have lulled you back soundly to sleep.

For the first time today, Diluc allows his gaze to rake over you unhindered.

You, asleep on his couch in his manor. Smelling like him. Dressed in his shirt and underwear.

In only his shirt and underwear, the least helpful part of his brain reminds him, and he has to stare at the fire for a while to curb that train of thought. It’s difficult when his gaze keeps flickering back to you anyway.

He counts himself lucky you’re not awake to see how the fire in the grate has grown in size and intensity, or how the vision on his hip is flickering in a wild bmp-bmp-bmp.

After reciting everything he knows of Mondstadtian foreign policy in his head a few times, he’s able to tone down the blush on his face enough to be manageable. As for the familiar, tight ache in his pants, he regards it as a lost cause. For now.

Diluc stands, stretching his arms with a quiet groan before turning to your sleeping form. He gently scoops you up into strong arms and wraps you tighter in the blanket you’re still clinging to, careful not to wake you. As he begins the slow walk to your doorway, a small smile adorns his face.

Upon ducking into your room, careful not to hit your legs against the doorway, he frowns. It’s much colder here than it was in the living room. He’ll have to do something about that.

As he places you under the covers, he unclips the vision from his thigh and folds it into your hand, where it thrums with a gentle rhythm . You drift awake for a moment, recognizing the red mane that hangs over your chest as Diluc tucks in the blanket around you.

Seeing your eyes flicker, he calls your name gently. “Are you comfortable?” You nod with a smile that hurts his heart in the best way.

“Thank you, Diluc,” you murmur blearily, and he laughs a bit. You have just enough consciousness left to decide it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard as you slip back under the blanket of sleep.

That night, as the storm continues to rage outside his bedroom windows, Diluc sleeps better than he has in a long time. Downstairs, his vision pulses in your hand to his steady heartbeat.

You dream of warmth.

#diluc #diluc ragnvindr #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader #diluc x fem!reader #fem!reader #genshin x reader #flustered dilu.......#pls let me live at the winery i swear i'll be good #dilucposting

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 7 months

Note

Hello!

Request: can you do a RoR x Fem Hiccup Haddok reader from How to Train your Dragon, maybe interacting with the Norse gods seeing as Hiccup is a Viking.

Hope you are feeling better and if you can’t do the request that’s ok.

-It was intimidating for you at first, when you first arrived in Valhalla. You remember how your dad would tell you all about the great warriors and feasts that Valhalla would hold, and that only the best warriors would go there.

-If it had been before you met Toothless, you would have been beside yourself with anxiety, not believing that you belonged there. However, you earned your place, joining your tribe and the dragons that were once your enemies together.

-You met many other warriors of the past, many who had grand legacies, names that struck fear into the hearts of others, while your name was a little… not. You grew to appreciate your name, as it was part of who you were, just because your name was weak doesn’t mean that you were weak, you proved that time and time again, risking life and limb alongside Toothless to keep those you cared about and your home safe.

-The gods were the ones who were the most taken by you, surprisingly, as they were impressed with your dragon training skills! Even as gods, they sometimes had difficulties with dragons, let alone training them.

-Their praise and admiration did make you feel better about belonging here, it made your confidence grow!

-Brunnhilde enlisted your aid on training the dragons in Valhalla, and you were happy to help, eager for the chance to prove yourself!

-Odin was very impressed, watching you work with the dragons, acting and moving almost like you were a dragon yourself, and you didn’t let your prosthetic get in the way at all! When Odin first was watching you, you were nervous, as it felt like he was inspecting you, making sure you were good enough.

-Once you had the dragons docile enough were others, in small groups, could approach, Odin was first in line, as he was impressed and wanted to see the results of your hard work.

-Thor was another one who was impressed with your skills, but unlike Odin, you weren’t scared of Thor, which surprised him, and he was appreciative of it, because to you he felt kind of like a big brother, one who would watch out for you, and you just vibed with him.

-Loki was… an adventure himself, he was such a gremlin, constantly pulling pranks, making the dragons scatter and panic, and while you were scrambling to make sure they didn’t cause any damages, Loki was howling with laughter.

-Loki would cling to you, telling you that he was bored, and you were more than happy to provide him with some entertainment.

-He wasn’t expecting you to have him sitting on top of a dragon, on a saddle, moments later, holding onto a pair of reigns, “Uhh Y/N- are you sure this is a GOOD IDEA?!” As he was speaking you tapped the dragon’s back, telling it to go and it took to the skies, calling out happily.

-Brunnhilde and Thor were both trying hard to hide their laughter, failing miserably while Goll was clutching at her stomach, finding it hysterical.

-When Loki landed, he was pouting for a while, doing his best to ignore you, but making sure that you knew that he was ignoring you, acting like a child before you laughed warmly, “You asked me for something fun- that’s fun to me!”

-The Valkyries were the ones you worked the most with, as they were learning how to ride dragons, to give themselves options between their winged horses and dragons, to be prepared for anything that could happen.

-You had never imagined that you would have been accepted into Valhalla, but you weren’t complaining, you had new friends, new dragons to train and fly with, and you got the joy of teaching others how to do it as well.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror loki #ror thor #ror odin

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writers-hes · 1 year

Text

since when? (a. bridgerton x reader)

You grew up with the Bridgertons and for the longest time, Anthony thought of you as a friend…since when did he look at you differently? (friends to lovers, slow burn, the Bridgertons being the best wing men, you look at him but he’s already looking at you….) helpful links: navigation | master lists | rules and guidelines | tag list | fic recs

It was no secret among the Ton that your family was a dear friend to the Bridgertons. Your mother and Violet Bridgerton have been friends since they were children. They shared paper crowns, secrets, joys, and sorrows. They got married in the same year and soon enough, your mother was helping Violet as she birthed Anthony and then Benedict. Soon, it was Violet who helped your mother as she birthed her only child, you.

The Bridgerton household has always been big and it provided your parents some comfort to know that you won’t have to grow up alone. You’d always be surrounded by the Bridgertons and you were. Many a time, the older brothers would sneak into your gardens to tease you while you played with your dolls, a picnic blanket laid on the grass as you waited for Violet to bring Daphne.

“You know, there are other games than dolls,” Colin would tease, his nose scrunching. “Anthony loves to play pall mall. Maybe you’d beat him,”

“Hey! No one can beat me,” Anthony would scold, taking a doll from your hand.

“Anthony! Give me back my doll!” you’d call and he’d run away from you, cackling evilly while his younger brothers inspected your toys curiously. When you’d grow tired, you’d sit on the porch of your house and cry until Anthony came over to you with an apologetic look on his face.

“You took my doll, Anthony! You can’t make girls cry! You can’t make your friend cry too!” you’d sob but Anthony would utter a string of apologies that you’d accept. “I’m your friend, right?”

“Of course. I’m sorry for making you cry,” he’d say. Later in the day, he’d force Benedict to give one of the servants a box of cookies for you and in the morning, he’d sneak off again to see you happily munching on them. He’d steal a piece or two of course, but as a punishment, you’d force him to stay and have a tea party with you.

When you grew older, Anthony was still playful. When he’d bring his friends over while you were having tea with Daphne, he’d pull a face and would ask “What are you doing here again? Do you not have a home?”

“I could say the same,” you shrugged. You were teenagers now and the blows just got better. “With the amount of time you spend in our house, one would think that your family hates you. Guess, I’m right,” you shrugged, the same amount of sarcasm.

“Don’t mind him,” Daphne would say, rolling her eyes. “He’s sulky whenever you’re not around,”

“He’s probably annoyed because he’a got no one to annoy, Daph,” you replied, sipping on tea. She’d smile at you and you’d smile back at the girl whom you’ve always loved as a little sister. “It’s been a while since all of us got together but I understand, of course. The boys have their education to attend to and us…well, we have pianoforte and needlework,”

“They will be coming back soon for a break,” Daphne says. “Perhaps we can all have a picnic?”

And so you all attended a picnic together. It was a summer’s day, families were setting up their own tents in the park for a lovely afternoon. It was unusual to see your family’s tent and the Bridgertons’ right beside each other.

“What is it you’re reading?” Benedict asked, when he saw you. He just got back from schooling two days ago and was back to his old antics.

“Nothing worth mentioning since you can’t read,” you replied with a smile hiding behind the book. “Gregory’s still so young but I bet he can read way better,”

“Hey!” he scolds. “If you must know, I was the best reader in my class as a young boy,”

You laughed. “How have you been, Ben?” You’ve always been softer on Ben and Colin. They’d bother you like brothers did but they never made you cry as a child.

“Same old,” he shrugs, sitting next to you. “I took art history and art as a course for my studies this year,”

“And?”

“I plan on pursuing it,” Ben says. You smiled proudly at him.

“That’s great, Benedict. My husband and I would like to commission you for a painting in the future,” you said. “When you’re famous, please give me a friendly rate!”

“You don’t even have a husband yet,” Benedict shrugged. “Besides, maybe it’ll be your husband who’s going to finance my artistic pursuits,” he hinted and you tilted your head, confused.

“I don’t have a husband…” you trailed off, making Benedict laugh as he saw the gears in your head turning.

“I jest!” he says, making you laugh.

“You are insufferable, Benedict Bridgerton!”

“You are as clueless as I am insufferable,”

It didn’t take long enough for you to make your debut and enter society. It was a big commotion inside your house but a quiet one amongst the Ton. It unnerved you because you were still young. How could your mother not see that you didn’t want to marry yet? She told you that you’d been putting it off for years; now that you were not a teenager. Two and twenty…a little too late to debut but who cared? You were the most beautiful debutante the Ton has ever seen…or at least someone thought so.

“Stop your staring, brother or flies will get inside your mouth,” Colin whispered, leaning ever so slightly to Anthony.

“I am not staring! I’m only surprised,” Anthony replied.

“Well, no one should be surprised,” Benedict added. “She’s of age and she needs to find a husband. Could you imagine? If she marries this year, we could have a little baby to bother next year. Oh, I so want to become an uncle!”

You were looking around nervously. You’ve always hated big gatherings and Lady Danbury’s ball was enormous. At the sight of your three friends, you visibly relaxed, excusing yourself from the gentlemen who approached you (quite rudely) to make a beeline towards them.

“Oh, God. I’m so glad you’re here!” you breathed.

“Lady Danbury would have our eyes for breakfast if we do not attend,” Colin replied. “You look beautiful!”

“Thank you, Colin,” you said, scrunching your nose. You weren’t unfamiliar with Colin’s compliments now and then. He never found it troublesome to say the words one needed to hear to feel comfortable, if not good.

“I was just talking about how much I want to become an uncle,” Benedict said. “Anthony doesn’t want to marry, Daphne’s too young…”

“And you’ve taken me as an unwilling volunteer of your aspirations,” you finished for him, making him chuckle.

“Well, that might be the case. Have you ever had champagne? Libations are usually free-flowing in events like these,” Benedict winked. “In fact, let’s go get champagne after we dance. Come,” he says, extending his hand toward you. You smiled brightly and accepted with your gloved hand, allowing Benedict to lead you to the dancefloor.

“Tsk tsk,” Colin chides Anthony who has not said a word since your arrival. “She’s beautiful, is she not?”

“I suppose,” he mutters before taking an exit.

Upon hearing the news that you have debuted, the girls rushed to your house to hear about last night.

“Did you meet anyone?” Daphne asked eagerly.

“No one,” you replied, seeing as Daphne deflated, you tried to brighten her spirits up. “But…it’s only the first ball. There are many other balls to attend to and bachelors to meet,”

“Are Lady Danbury’s ball as great as everyone makes it out to be?” Francesca asked. “Where are your callers?”

“It is,” you nodded. “I have not danced with anyone last night but Benedict and Colin,” you shared.

Daphne, Eloise, and Francesca were all excited for you. Daphne, mostly, who has always looked up to you as her older sister. Now that you’ve made your debut to society, it could be real. You could finally be her sister.

“And Anthony?” she asked.

“He was brooding the whole night,” you chuckled. “As he always does,”

“I hope whoever you marry is at least smart,” Eloise commented from her chair. “Someone smart enough to hold a conversation…definitely not one of my brothers,”

“Eloise!” you scolded playfully.

“What? It is true,” she shrugged, a glint in her eye.

In a few hours, Anthony comes to fetch his sister. You had been answering the younger girls’ questions patiently, keeping them entertained as you showed them your dresses for the season. Eloise was in the drawing room, drowning herself in her writing.

“Where’s Daphne and Francesca?” Anthony asked.

“Hello to you too, brother,” Eloise greeted. “They’re in Y/N’s bedchamber. She’s showing them some dresses and other things for the season,”

Anthony hummed and made a beeline for your room. It was wide open, your giggles heard in the corridor. Eloise was hot on his tails, trying to see the commotion for herself.

“I hope you’re not giving my sisters any ideas,” he says, leaning on your doorframe. In all of the years he’s known you, he’s never seen your bedchamber. His eyes were darting around quickly, taking note of your books, your table, and paraphernalia that embodied who you were.

“Anthony!” you greet. “Ow!”

He looks at you in alarm, laughing when Francesca apologizes for stepping on your shoes as you taught her how to dance.

“What are you doing, Francesca?” he asked, back straightening to walk inside but he stopped himself, afraid to cross any boundaries. It was Eloise who literally had to shove him slightly.

“It’s okay, Anthony,” you smiled. “I was teaching your sisters how to dance. I’m a great dancer, you know? I can teach you…so you won’t have to step on a poor girl’s foot while you dance,” you teased.

Three girls waited in anticipation but Anthony said nothing.

“No reply?” you asked. “It must be my lucky day, girls.”

“Not that it’s any of my concern but I’m afraid I’m a far better dancer than you’ll ever be. Perhaps, it is I who should teach you? Benedict complained all night because of your dancing,”

“He did not!”

“He did,” he teased, a slight smirk playing on his lips. “Come along, sisters. Mother wants us all for dinner,”

That night, when the three sisters were huddled in the library quietly, they all agreed how wonderful it would be to have you as a part of the family. Unbeknownst to them, their two older brothers also agree.

Anthony peeked outside the window, noticing the line of carriages on the street.

“What’s the commotion outside?” he asked, no one in particular.

“Didn’t you know? Our Y/N was the talk of the ball last night,” Benedict replied. “Such a shame you weren’t there, Anthony. She was seen making an acquaintance with a businessman. He asked if he could call on her today and her mother said yes. Her dance card was filled to the brim, I almost wasn’t able to dance with her,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes, as he watched Anthony. He wasn’t lying, you told him all about it and showed him your dance card. You complained at how tired you were while you both danced. “Maybe we’ll have a nephew or a niece soon, hmm?”

“Can you go accompany me later, Anthony? I want to go to her and see all of these gifts!” Daphne asked. “Do you think someone gifted her a dog?”

“Ask Benedict or Colin to come with you,” he replied sourly.

“I can’t…I have a prior commitment,” Benedict lied. “with Colin,”

“Ah, yes,” Colin added. “I am ready to go to the farm, brother,”

“Come on, Anthony. You could just take me there and leave me. You can come back in a couple of hours!” Daphne begged.

Anthont relented before walking off. He didn’t see how his younger siblings smirked at each other.

Afternoon came and you were tired. You were sitting lazily on the loveseat amongst gift boxes you have yet to open. Luckily, no one gifted you with a dog.

“Y/N!” Daphne called and you smiled, fixing your posture slightly to greet her. “Your gifts! They’re so many!”

“Hello, Daphne,” you greeted. “Anthony, you’re here,”

“Daphne dragged me,” he said, taking a piece of chocolate from the box given to you by some gentleman before plopping down in front of you. “Don’t mind me.”

You looked at Daphne who shrugged.

“Do you want to open them with me?” you asked her, sitting up. “I need your help, you know and you can take whatever you might like,”

“Really?” she asked eagerly. “You’re certain? These might cost a fortune and you’re giving it away?”

“Yes,” you nod. “You can take some for Francesca, Eloise, and Hyacinth too. Besides, you’ll be helping me out. None of these would fit in my room,”

Daphne nods excitedly and picks a box from a shop she knew. She gasped as she takes out a music box with a man and a woman dancing in the middle. She turns the crank and hears a sweet melody.

“Look! The female dancer looks like you,” she says. She digs the box for anything and reads out a card. “Thank you for keeping me company and for making me feel welcomed. Sincerely, A.S..?”

“Alfred,” you told her. Anthony was secretly listening to your conversation. You were on a first name basis now? It annoyed him, he didn’t know why. “We danced last night,”

“What does he look like? Is he handsome?”

“He is!” you giggled, putting away the box that you just opened. “He looks quite intimidating and has a brusque way of speaking but he’s gentle.”

“What are the color of his eyes?” she asked.

“Gray…with hazel and blue,” you replied. “It looks like a dark blue from afar but when you’re closer, you’ll see specks of other colors too,”

“I wish to meet him,”

“Daphne!” Anthony scolded after listening.

“Sorry,” she apologized, a frown on her face.

“It’s okay,” you assured. “You can meet him some other time.”

The Ton fully believed that you were courting. Sightings of you and Alfred around London had been common. You’d have your hands wrapped around his arm while your maid trailed behind. People were so sure that you were courting. How could they not? He was always calling on you or has been seen dancing with you multiple times. It didn’t help that Alfred only danced with you during balls. It didn’t help at all.

“Y/N has been spending so much time with that Alfred lately,” Colin remarked. “They’re always huddled by the dance floor, laughing among themselves. If they weren’t dancing, you’d be certain that they’d be together,”

Colin looked at Benedict discreetly. Daphne and her sisters watched Anthony.

“Maybe there will be a nephew or a niece after all,” Anthony replied with a strained voice. His throat ached as he suppressed an emotion that bubbled in his chest.

The Bridgertons could not be any more wrong. On your first meeting with Alfred, he admitted that he had a girl he loved back home. He hasn’t told her yet, still building his business to fully support her. He only attended this social season to expand his business and had made your acquaintance because your father invested a sum in his business. You both agreed to keep a ruse that you were courting. You weren’t looking to marry and he didn’t want any mamas vulturing him.

He’d been successful in gathering investors. He told you all about his travels and about the woman he left home. He said that they’d visit you sometime soon. Meanwhile, you showed him to London’s high society. You told your father to invite him to his club. He liked dancing and had thought of you as a suitable dance partner. Your parents never minded. The more you spent time with Alfred, the more suitors you had. You’d never know exactly why but Alfred has been telling everyone that you were warm, comforting, and kind.

One afternoon, you were seen with Alfred again, not knowing that the Bridgertons were there in the park too. It was nothing formal. Alfred showed up at your door, asking if you had any plans this afternoon. You said no and asked if you’d like to accompany him to the park. He’ll be leaving in a few days and wanted to spend more time with you before he left.

Anthont watched from the tent as you passed by. You were so consumed with some joke that you didn’t notice the tent.

“Is that Y/N and Sir Alfred?” Daphne asked. “He’s as handsome as she described him! Franscesca, look! I’m going to say hello,” she declared before gathering herself. Anthony ran after his sister who was more than excited to be introduced to the man who had occupied your time. Maybe it was Daphne but maybe it was because he needed to know but either way, he followed.

“Y/N!” Daphne called and you stopped, smiling widely as Daphne neared. You also threw a quick smile towards Anthony.

“Hello, Daphne,” you greeted. “I didn’t know you were here. Had I known, I would have dropped by,”

“It’s alright. I just wanted to say hello to you and…”

Your eyebrows rose and you chuckled.

“Alfred,” your friend introduced himself. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Bridgerton. Y/N has talked so greatly about you. Good afternoon, Viscount Bridgerton,” he greeted and Anthony returned the greeting.

“Alfie—Alfred, you’ve yet to meet the others,” you smiled up at him. Anthony’s heart clenched. Alfie?

“Hey! I told you to stop calling me that,” he chastised playfully. “It ruins my reputation,”

“I apologize, sir Alfie,” you teased. “Anyhow, this is Daphne and Anthony. They’ve been my friends since we were children. They’re like my siblings,”

Alfred’s eyebrows shot up. Maybe to all of them…but that label was disliked by someone. He was looking at him right now.

“Would it be a bother if I introduced Alfred to the rest of the family?” you asked. Daphne shook her head, taking your hand immediately to bring you to their tent, Alfred and Anthony in tow.

“Y/N’s here!” Daphne announced. “She brought Sir Alfred with her,”

“Sorry for the intrusion, everyone,” you apologized. Anthony was about to say that it wasn’t a bother at all. He saw how his siblings’ faces lit up when they saw you. “Everyone, meet sir Alfred. Alfred, meet everyone,”

Everyone introduced themselves. Alfred was charming and perfect for you. Anthony could see that and it made him uncomfortable. He’d been denying the fact for so long and he will continue to do so.

“Alfred is very favorable, is he not?” Violet commented when you both left. You had to go attend an opera show with Alfred for the evening. “Such a handsome man who seems to care deeply for our Y/N. Do you think they’ll be engaged soon?”

“I believe someone else is perfect for our Y/N,” Benedict spoke. “Alfred may be as you described him, mother but I see nothing but friendship between the two of them. Trust me,”

The simple bracelet dangling on your arm made Anthony question Benedict. You told Daphne that you weren’t feeling well today because Alfred left last night. As a parting gift, he gave you a bracelet with a simple pendant. Daphne recalled how puffy your eyes were when she visited. It was obvious that you both held each other dearly. You were just too sad to see him go.

Anthony took it upon himself to light your spirits up again. After a morning of appeasing your callers, Anthony put it upon himself to sit by the garden seen right outside of your drawing room. You knew he was there, he always liked to sit by the swings. You walked towards him and he looked up.

“Why are you here?” you asked.

“I’ve noticed how sad you’ve been since your…Sir Alfred left London,” he said. “So, I thought…why must I let you suffer any longer? Let’s have tea in that place you like. I’ll pay for everything,”

“What happened to Anthony Bridgerton?” you asked and he chuckled.

“We’ve been friends way before we learned how to walk. Besides, banter gets boring, don’t you agree?” he asked, extending his arm for you to take. “You know what? I’ll even listen to you. Just for a day,”

“You will?” you asked, attaching your hand on his arm. “Wait—my maid—“

“It’s okay. Everything has been taken care of,” he said. “Let’s go,”

The Bridgerton carriage waited for you both and he let you in. The ride to the town square was quiet. If anyone understood your plight, it was Anthony. Besides, who would he tell? The gossip papers? Certainly not.

Sitting across from him in a secluded table in the tea shop with finger food and tea before you, you decided to speak.

“Alfred and I weren’t courting,” you confessed, sipping your tea. Anthony feels the constriction in his chest loosen. As if he hadn’t been breathing properly before your confession.

“Pardon?” he asked, setting down the cucumber sandwich that he was eating. “You’re not courting? Then…what about your dances? Everyone was waiting for the two of you to wed. You do know that you aren’t fooling me, right?”

You chuckled.

“He has a sweetheart back home,” you said and Anthony’s hands clenched. How could someone like Alfred fool you? “It’s not like that…before you declare war. Listen to me, alright?”

“Alright,”

“He and I thought of a ruse that we’re courting. I don’t want to be married yet, Anthony. You know more than anyone that I’m in no rush. He didn’t want to be surrounded by debutantes and mothers who asked him for a dance. He was only here to expand his business by looking for more investors,” you said coolly. You looked at Anthony’s furrowed brows. “I know I should have told you but we both agreed to keep it between us. The fewer people involved, the more effective. He and I are friends and nothing but,”

“What about the music box and your bracelet?” he asked. He wanted to take the words back if he could. It showed that he paid attention and it bothered him.

“Oh…” you stuttered, looking away. “The music box was a gift from him. A gift for agreeing with everything. The bracelet…well, it’s the same. It’s a parting gift for our friendship. We both have the same bracelet with the same gem. I was sad to see him leave but more than anything, I’m looking forward to his next return with the woman he loves. Did you know he’s going to confess his feelings? If everything goes well, he'll ask her hand for marriage.” you said and Anthony knew that it was the truth. Your eyes sparkled as you talked about Alfred’s possible marriage.

“It’s what I want for myself,” you spoke. “I want to marry under those circumstances and not because of practicality or…whatever it is. I am expected to marry someone with a rank…someone from a good family. I am an only child but I do not want to be restricted by my responsibilities,”

“I see,” was his pensive reply. “We haven’t danced yet. Did you know that?”

“I am well aware,” you acknowledged. “The last ball will be soon. Would you care for a dance, Viscount Bridgerton?”

“I would,”

Anthony went home that day humming.

Violet was alarmed…he has never seen Anthony so carefree since Edmund’s tragic death. His brothers were amused and his sisters were confused. They were all so used to a brooding Anthony.

“Anthony, is everything alright?” Violet Bridgerton asked. Anthony halts his step, sitting on his own chair.

“Of course,” he says. “It’s a wonderful day, is it not?”

“I suppose so,” his mother replies. “Would you like some tea before dinner? I can make you a cup,”

“It’s quite alright, mother. Y/N and I just had tea,” he shrugged. Daphne’s piano stopped playing and Anthony could feel eyes on him.

“You and who?” Benedict asked.

“Y/N and I,” Anthony replied. “Why are you all looking at me? Is something the matter?”

“No but usually you’d ask me to come—“ Daphne stops as her mother looks at her pointedly. Anthony was in good spirits and it is therefore favorable for everyone if his good mood persists.

“Of course, dear sister but remember, she and I are good friends. I just decided to ask her to spend the afternoon with after Sir Alfred’s departure,” Anthony replied. They didn’t know what he knew.

“Such a shame,” Eloise added. “I thought for sure they’ll be married by the end of the season,”

“What?” Anthony asked, an edge in his voice. Violet’s eyes rolled, annoyed that Eloise might have ruined Anthony’s mood. “Why must she marry him? There are other bachelors in London who suit her better,” he says. “Besides, they are friends,”

“What about the bracelet he gave her? Did you know he has the same one?” Daphne asked.

“Would you rather her marry somebody from outside London and see her rarely or marry someone close and see her often?” Anthony asked. Everyone stayed silent, it seemed as though the Viscount himself hadn't realized his feelings. “Exactly. Anyhow, thank you for your interrogation. I will be in my study to oversee some matters,”

He says, kissing his mother’s head before walking off.

“If that is what Y/N can do to Anthony, I would really want her to be married to him,” Francesca says, earning a few nods from her siblings.

The last ball of the season came and Anthony was dressed in his best clothes. He went to his barber before going to the tailor to have his clothes altered perfectly. He was in the ballroom, awaiting your arrival. Before leaving that afternoon, you both agreed to look your best.

Your mother soon comes with you behind her. You were donned in Anthony’s favorite color, butterflies and flowers embroidered in the dress. Jewels were in place, your hair falling in all the right places. Anthony thought that you looked ethereal.

He waited until you saw him, eyes brightening. He smiled, walking towards you. He forgot his brothers who stood behind him. He’d love nothing more than to have your first and last dances.

“Anthony,” you greeted. He takes your hand and kisses your gloved hands.

“You look beautiful,” he says.

“Does that mean I’m not beautiful on a regular day?” you teased. “You look just as handsome, Anthony,”

“Shall we dance?” he asked and you nodded, allowing him to escort you to the dance floor. Anthony looks into your eyes as lilting music starts. Soft murmurs in the crowd fade away. It’s the first time he’s seen you so, so close. There was a faint smile playing on your lips and he found himself smiling too. “Do you remember, when we were younger, our dance teachers would pair us together?”

“And I remember being the better dancer,” you boasted. “Is this how you teach?”

“No,” he replied, finding his hand on your hip, the feeling of the fabric soft against his skin. “I concede. You are the superior dancer,”

You beamed. Anthony thought that he’d let himself lose in your arguments to see you smile like that again.

“Maybe I should teach you…so you wouldn’t have to embarrass yourself in front of other debutantes,” you offered.

“Why should I learn how to dance with others when I’m perfectly fine with my dance partner?” Anthony asked. “It’s just…one, two, step. Remember?”

“Of course, I do,” you replied. “I remember Miss Rutherford scolding you for stepping on my toes,”

Anthony laughed. “You will never let that down, will you?”

“Of course not. Banter may get boring but I find it most pleasurable to see you agitated,” you replied. “Do I…agitate you?” you asked, swallowing thickly. Anthony could feel your breath on his face.

“You do,” he replied. “Is that good?”

“Very,”

“How was your dance?” Benedict asked. “Did you all know that he and Y/N danced last night? Laughing among themselves?”

“You did?” Francesca asked, excited.

“He left us when he saw her. I think Anthony forgot that he was supposed to be with his brothers,” Colin teased.

“I don’t see the matter,” Anthony replied, swallowing his breakfast. “You have both danced with Y/N. I did too. We are friends,”

“Of course,” Colin replied. “Only…you had your eyes glued on her last night. You shared your last dance together. Mother had to separate the two of you beside the refreshments table because you were too busy giggling among yourselves,”

“I for one would love it if Y/N became a part of our family,” Eloise remarked.

“Isn’t she already a part of it? We all grew up together. Why is everyone acting absurd?” Anthony asked but he knew. He couldn’t stop thinking about you these days. Last night, he tossed and turned in his bed because he couldn’t stop his heart fluttering from the recent events. He remembered the relief he felt when you told him about your ruse with Alfred. He remembered how much he enjoyed his banter with you over the years…most especially recently. He has always seen you as a friend. Since when has he looked at you in a different light? His mouth ran dry, gulping the cold water to calm his nerves. Was this true?

“I would like to visit Y/N,” Daphne announced and Anthony sputtered. He coughs to clear his throat. “Would you accompany me, Anthony?”

“I could not,” he lied. How would he react if he saw you unbothered? How would he react if he saw you again? “I have matters to attend to. Ask Benedict or Colin to take you instead,”

Anthony sat in his office doing nothing but nursing the tumultuous beating of his heart. Since when did I think of her like this? Why is she so beautiful? Would she still accept me despite our shared banter?

Later in the afternoon, Anthony found himself pacing in their garden. He was so tempted to go over to your garden but he knew that Daphne would be there with you. He looked at the gate that separated you to him. Oh, how he wanted nothing more than to have that demolished.

“You’re looking too pensive for my liking,” Violet Bridgerton says, looking at her first born with concern. “I hope you know that your siblings only like to tease,”

“I know but…what if they were right?” Anthony revealed. Violet’s eyebrows shot up. Sure, she noticed how different Anthony seemed to be these days but she never could have expected it to come from him so easily.

“If that’s how you feel, why not tell her?”

“She told me she has no wish to get married,” he says. He then told his mother about the ruse that you had with Alfred. How you both fooled everyone in London.

“Well, Benedict’s right all along,” Violet says. “But you’re both still so young, Anthony. You have so much time and I want you to spend this time on what makes you happy.”

“What if I fail?” he asked with a weak voice. Violet was reminded of Anthony as a child, when he used to voice his insecurities. There was something so beautiful about a child seeking his mother.

“At least you tried,” she said. “It would hurt more if you’re left all your life wondering what could have happened if you tried,”

The weeks that transpired after the social season could be described as irregular. You were thinking of better words to say but it was hard. Anthony was kinder and would purposely seek out your company on slower days. Over the course of a few weeks, Anthony had accompanied you to the theater. He spent time with you at the museum. He stayed at your house to share a meal with your family. The banter was there and it was still enjoyable but you couldn’t deny the fact that the new Anthony was way more favorable. You were now in the Bridgerton home after being invited by the siblings for a meal in the garden. The weather was amazing and Anthony had just installed beautiful lamps that illuminated the garden.

“I would like you to be my sister, Y/N,” Francesca announced after helping her choose a bow. She settled with a peach-colored bow that went beautifully with her hair. You chuckled, brushing off her comment.

“Are we not like sisters already?” you asked, tying the bow perfectly around a lock of hair.

“We are…but it would be better if you lived with us,” she said. “Or visited us more,”

“I’m sorry if you’ve been feeling neglected,” you told her honestly, your hand caressing her hair gently. “But now that the social season is over, we can see each other more.”

“You promise?” she asked.

“Of course. Daphne, Eloise, and you could all come visit me at home. We’ll have the night all to ourselves in my bedroom. I’ll prepare your favorite sweets and we can just talk the whole night. How does that sound?” you asked, your heart warming when Francesca beams at you.

“I’ll have to ask Anthony but I would love to!” she says. “I would have to go to Daphne and Eloise to tell them. Thank you for fixing my hair!”

You sat back on the couch afterwards, enjoying a moment of peace and quiet. You were thinking of all the preparations you might have to do when they do decide to visit. Your eyes darted to a sound and watched the Viscount sit down beside you. While he settled, you closed your eyes. The social season was tiring and it was hard to find rest sometimes.

“You haven’t been here for an hour. Why do I hear Fransesca talking to Daphne and Eloise about a possible visit?” he asked, closing his eyes to rest. He’s been cooped up in his study for hours to oversee the estate.

“She’s right. Maybe not soon, though,” you replied, voice soft. “I’m so tired.”

“Me too,” he says and no words were spoken. The noise outside the house was forgotten now. Your and his even breathing both lulled you to sleep and it was your mothers who found you and Anthony’s heads leaning on each other, just like you did when you were kids.

Anthony has been occupying all of the spaces inside your head recently. Sometimes, you were scared that your mind was projecting him because he’d always be there. You’d walk in the hallways and hear him laughing with you father. You’d be in town with your maid and he’s there, inviting you for gelato. You’d go home with a faint smile playing on your lips before reminding yourself that it was Anthony.

“Miss, the Viscount Bridgerton is here to see you,” your maid says. She took note of how you immediately smiled. “He’s been here…a lot,” she teased.

“We are friends, Mary. Of course, he’d be here,” you told her. “Besides, we grew up together,”

“Of course…but…”

“What?” you asked, fixing the tendrils of hair on your face. “Do I look alright?”

“Since when did you think about how you looked in front of Viscount Bridgerton?” she teased, laughing when your mouth was open agape. She had a point. “If it’s any consolation, you look amazing. I’m sure the Viscount would think you look amazing…if he doesn’t already,”

Confusing feelings that you nursed plagued you. Every now and then, you’d feel flustered when you felt his eyes on you. It was funny, really but what’s funnier was how everyone seemed to know but the two of you. Nothing escapes anyone, especially Lady Danbury who, along with the Bridgertons, visited your house for dinner.

You were all over the table, quiet as you heard murmurs from everyone. Your mother was talking to her friends while your father talked to Benedict and Colin about their travels. It seemed as though the only people who weren’t speaking were you and Anthony. You looked around the dining table, trying to listen in on all kinds of conversations when your eyes landed on the Viscount. He was already looking at you, a teasing smile on his face and you felt your cheeks warm. You looked away quickly, sipping on your lemonade, never noticing that his eyes were still glued on you.

“You both have to do something about those children of yours,” Lady Danbury commented, her eyebrow raised expectantly. “Do you think they’re fooling anyone at all? I’ve seen how they stole glances from one another. It was not subtle,”

“I know,” Violet agreed. “I’ve seen Anthony look at her. Really, all his siblings seem to know too,”

“Y/N is the same,” your mother added. “She’s always off to run with Anthony. Have you noticed?”

Meanwhile, you were all in the garden. Benedict and Eloise were huddled together in the swings while you were laying on the picnic blanket. You didn’t care if it seemed appropriate. They were the Bridgertons, they never minded. You were looking up at the stars when Anthony blocked the view. A mischievous idea pops inside your head and you extended your arm upwards.

“Anthony, will you help me up?”

Anthony takes your hand but before he helps you, you pulled him down, sending him flat on the space beside you.

“You’re dead!” he exclaims as you run away from him.

“Benedict, help me!” you called, as you increase your speed.

“Don’t you dare, brother,” Anthony threatens, running after you. His heart fills with warmth when he heard your boisterous laugh. You were so carefree and so joyful.

Your screams rang through the garden when Anthony’s arms wrap around your waist. You looked at him, laughing.

“You really shouldn’t be doing that,” he scolds, tickling your sides. “Stop squirming! That’s your punishment!” he laughed, tickling you more. Suddenly, you both stopped, noticing the close proximity between the two of you. Your faces were inches away from each other and you both looked away, coughing. Unknown to you two, his siblings were smiling in amusement.

“Eloise!” you called. “Didn’t you want me to help you with something? Let us go,”

Anthony could only watch while you scurry off with Eloise and his sisters somewhere.

“Scandalous, is it not, brother?” Colin teased which earned him a light shove from the Viscount. His siblings watched him follow you with amusement. Someone has to do something about the two of you.

“What was that?” Eloise asked you when you reached your bedroom.

“Was what?” you feigned innocence. Daphne was with the two of you, sitting on your bed with her eyebrow raised.

“Everybody saw that,” Daphne said. “You know, it’s no harm to tell us about how you feel towards Anthony. The attraction is so obvious!”

“I agree with Daphne,” Eloise added. “While I do think that marriage is a trap, I fully support you marrying into our family. You’re good to us and Daphne’s right. There’s attraction there,”

“Since when did you girls know about attraction?” you mused. “You lot are still young,”

“Seems like we’re less clueless than you are,” Francesca teased, making thr girls giggle.

“Anthony is agitating,” you relent. “He’s kind and playful,”

“What is it that you look for in a husband?” Daphne asked, playing with a dainty necklace that you gifted her before.

“Someone kind and well, I’d love it if it feels like we’ve known each other forever. Sometimes, you get that feeling, you know? Like you’ve known them for a lifetime and everything just falls into place.” you said. “Someone who understands…someone patient. I’d like to marry someone who can make me laugh. I’d like to have a big family and marry someone coming from one…oh, dear,” you muttered. You were describing Anthony Bridgerton.

“That sounds a lot like…”

“Anthony!” Daphne gasped, seeing the man on your doorway. “What are you doing here?”

“Mother is looking for you girls,” he says, looking expectantly at his sisters.

“Anthony, you always ruin the fun!” Eloise glared. “We were having girl talk, if you weren’t aware,”

“It’s alright, Eloise,” Daphne says. “Let us go and let them have a moment of privacy,”

Eloise could only scowl at Anthony while Daphne ushers her out. Anthony breathes a sigh of relief as he looks ar you for permission.

“May I?”

“Of course, Anthony.” you smiled. “Come in. Did you need anything?”

Anthont doesn’t answer. Instead, he locks the door behind him. You gape as he walked nearer, until you were face to face. You were close again and you could feel him.

“Is something the matter?” you asked softly. “Would you tell me?”

“I heard what you told my sisters,” he replied, his voice just as soft. “Is it true? That the man you’re looking for sounds exactly like me?”

“Anthony—“

“If you must know, I feel the same.” he said. “I’ve been putting these emotions away from me because you once said that you were in no rush to get married. I thought that if I waited for you long enough, then you’d want to be married to me but I cannot wait any longer. Did you know how miserable I was when I thought that you and Sir Alfred were courting? I set it off for you but I am a selfish man and I cannot wait any longer. So tell me, is it true?”

You felt your throat constrict when Anthony’s gaze drops on your lips. Should you kiss him right now to convey your emotions?

“It is,” you replied. “But I’ve been keeping my emotions at bay because I feel the same,”

Anthony beams.

“Say it,” he whispers. “Say what you feel.”

“I love you, Anthony,” you replied. Anthony takes your head and kisses you deeply. You felt every emotion there is; inching your face closer to the roughness of his calloused hand. He moves away slowly and lays you down on your bed; him crawling on top of you to attach his lips on yours again.

“I love you too,” he mumbles softly, kissing the soft skin under your ear. Anthony would’ve liked it better if he could hear the soft whimpers that came from you. He trails down to your neck, and then the hemline of your chest. “I love you…so much. Tell me you love me,”

“I love you,” you whine.

“If you let me, I’d still want to court you properly and formally. Will you let me?” he whispered.

“We’re way past courting if you’re kissing me like this,”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Never.”

(If you know who Alfred is based off of, comment to get a follow from me…u deserve it)

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#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #anthony bridgerton fluff #anthony bridgerton fanfic #fluff #oneshot #one shot #imagine

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cutielando · 9 months

Text

comfort | r.c.

synopsis: in which you're the only one who can comfort Rafe

my masterlist

Loving someone who continuously hurt you throughout your entire life was peculiar. Rafe knew that better than any other person.

Ward Cameron had done nothing but belittle his son his entire life, making him feel unwanted and unloved when all he should have done was love the broken boy.

And yet, despite even your ability to understand it, Rafe still loved him. Afterall, Ward was his father and nothing he could do could change that.

When his father died, Rafe didn't know how to feel, initially.

Should he be sad? Should he be angry? Does he have to mourn? Can he mourn, seeing as his father had many every waking second of his life unbearable?

Rafe didn't know what to do, and you didn't know what to do either.

Ever since the moment he died, the atmosphere at Tannyhill had been very strange. You tried your best to be there for your boyfriend, being his shoulder to cry on if he needed or just simply being there to help him and help him forget.

Whatever he needed, you were more than ready and happy to provide.

But if he didn't know how he felt himself, how were you supposed to know what he needed?

That was the million dollar question.

No matter how many times you tried to approach the subject, Rafe seemed more distant than ever.

"Baby? Don't you want to take a break? You've been working for hours on end" you tried to coax Rafe one night as he sat at his father's desk, dozens of papers scattered around on the big table.

He had been working constantly, trying to organize and structure his father's, now his own, company.

"I'll come to bed in a couple of minutes" he mumbled, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to it without even looking at you.

You sighed and turned his head to the side so he could look at you.

Inspecting his facial features, the bags under his eyes had become a permanent thing ever since Ward's passing, the boy not being able to get more than a handful of hours of sleep at night.

"Baby, you're overworking yourself. I'm really worried about you, my love. Are you sure you're doing okay? You're sure you don't want to talk?" you were running a hand through his hair and with another one you were tracing meaningless shapes on the side of his face, observing as Rafe's eyes fluttered close and he leaned into your touch.

"I'm sure. I promise, I'll come to bed soon" he said and kissed you quickly before getting back to work.

You sighed but nodded, pecking his head once more before finally turning around and leaving the office.

He hadn't come to bed that night until 2 hours later, sinking into the soft bed and attaching himself to your body, holding you close to him.

Unknown to you, that was the only comfort he could feel in the dead of the night when he couldn't sleep, the feeling of your body pressed against his, telling him that you were there and you weren't going anywhere.

The same routine continued for another couple of days, then turning into weeks until the anniversary of 6 weeks from Ward's death came around.

You had gone shopping with Wheezie in Chapel Hill for the day, trying to get the young's girl mind off of everything she had been through in the last couple of weeks.

Upon returning home, you weren't surprised to see Rafe's truck parked in front of the huge mansion, seemingly in the same spot it had been when you had left that morning.

However, as soon as you entered through the front door and saw the mess leading from the kitchen to the living room, your heart instantly dropped to your stomach.

Quickly figuring out what could have happened, you told Wheezie to go to her room and not get out until you would go and get her.

As soon as she was out of sight, you slowly made your way to the living room, carefully avoiding the broken glass that decorated the floor.

"Rafe? Baby?" you called out.

"In here" Rafe grumbled from the couch in the living room, his head in his hands.

The moment you laid eyes on your boyfriend, your heart broke into a million pieces.

He was holding his head with his hands, tugging at his hair with tears streaming down his cheeks. In front of him, on the coffee table, sat a picture of him and his father, one of the few they had taken over the years while the older man had still been alive.

"Oh, baby" you exclaimed as you hurried to sit next to him and pull him in your arms, hugging him tightly and closely to your chest.

He immediately buried his head in your chest, sobs wrecking his fragile body. You started whispering sweet nothings in his ear, pressing kisses on every inch of his face that you could reach.

Hearing your boyfriend's broken sobs triggered your own tears, your heart breaking even more for the poor boy.

"I miss him" he croaked out between sobs, his voice hoarse and raspy from all the crying.

"I know you do, baby. I know" you said, running your fingers through his hair and kissing his forehead multiple times.

After a couple of more minutes, he slowly started to calm down, his sobs now turned into sniffles until they stopped completely. But he didn't pull away, now needing more than ever to feel you there with him.

"Does that make me a terrible person?" his voice was no louder than a whisper, making it a little difficult for you to hear him.

"God, no, Rafe. He was your father, missing him is freaking normal no matter what anyone else says"

"I know that, but everybody keeps saying he got what he deserved. I know he was a terrible man, especially in the last few months before he died, but he was still my dad and I should be allowed to miss him without people judging me for it" he explained, slightly letting go of the iron grip he had on you.

You took his face in your hands, wiping the last tears that had fallen from his eyes.

"No matter what anyone says, he was your father and you miss him. There is nothing with that and you shouldn't feel guilty. You're allowed to feel, Rafe. Please don't shut me out and let me help you get through this. You don't have to do it alone, I'm not going anywhere"

He slowly nodded and pulled you in for a hug, repositioning the two of you so you were straddling his lap and clinging to him like a koala bear.

"I love you so fucking much, you know that?" he whispered in your ear, his breath hot on your neck.

"I love you too" you whispered back, kissing the nape of his neck before tightening your hold on him.

You stayed like that for a long time, just savoring being together and overcoming this obstacle together.

Because, at the end of the way, you only found comfort in one another.

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mynahx3 · 6 months

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Return of a Favor

This is another addition to the, Love Through the Ages collab by @kentopedia. It is a piece inspired by the Japanese Folk Tales Tsuru no Ongaeshi ( "Crane's Return of a Favor"). Nanami x fem reader

Takes place in Edo era ish but def not that accurate Hope you enjoy lovelies!~

6.6k Warning this contains MATURE material. Please MDNI!!! 18+!!!! Contains a little blood, SMUT, pregnancy, and babies.

Snow billowed around the man as he walked. The harsh weather had drained his energy, slowing his movements. The basket's ropes uncomfortably dug into his shoulders as he trudged. Breathing heavily, he struggled against the resistance of the snow with each step. Eventually, he lost his balance and tumbled into the soft white blanket. Getting up with a huff he brushed the snow off him, determined to get home.

The man walking was on his way home, returning after a day in the village market. The market day involved hard work and sweat, resulting in minimal earnings that barely covered his costs. He crafted small wooden items and sold his vegetables to the town. With the snow, it was hard to bring his cart into town. Still, he made enough for himself.

Struggling up the hill, the snow reached his knees, gradually decreasing in intensity as he climbed. The harsh wind blowing snow and rain has faded away. Soft flakes of snow descended upon him, offering a fleeting pause in the midst of his journey.

Immersed in the serene stillness, he marveled at the snow-draped trees and the quiet expanse of the landscape. Despite the hardships he has faced recently, he kept going. He knew that tomorrow would bring new challenges, but for now, he found solace in the tranquility of the snow-covered landscape. The sense of accomplishment for making it through another day filled him with a quiet sense of pride.

In his moment of reflection, he was jolted back to reality by the sound of something crashing into branches and squaking nearby.

Piquing his interest, the man walked to where he heard the sound, curiosity winning him over. Pushing past the branches in his way, he cautiously walked forward.

In the bushes, not far from the path, lay a wounded crane. It weakly fluttered its wings on the ground, and an arrow was shot into one wing. Blood oozed from the wound, dyeing the feathers a deep crimson.

At the sight of the man, it squaked louder, trying to move away from him. The man approached slowly, speaking softly to try and calm the injured bird. He knew he had to act quickly to help save its life.

"Not here to hurt you, little thing." He spoke, hands raised to the small bird.

The crane continued to struggle to get away from the man. Their eyes were filled with fear. Slowly, the man went closer, taking his time to not scare the animal more. Seeing his calm nature, the bird began to calm down as well, watchful eyes on his form.

Still wary of the man, the crane tentatively allowed the man to approach and inspect its injuries. The man gently examined the bird, assessing the damage and figuring out the best way to help it.

Taking its wing into his hand, he saw the arrow; luckily, the wound didn't seem to bleed too much. With no other option, he petted the head of the crane, easing it for what he would do next.

The man carefully removed the arrow, causing the bird to let out a small cry of pain, floundering on the ground for a second as the man tried to calm it down. Ripping up a part of his robe, he began to tend to its wounds. The crane seemed to understand that he was trying to help; it looked at him with quizzical eyes. No longer was it fighting him, but instead, it seemed to trust him. The man felt relieved and reassured, knowing that he had successfully ensured the crane's safety in his care. He was happy he was close to home; the crane was in no condition to fly.

Now docile, the crane was easy for the man to carry back to his house, where he could provide it with proper care and attention.

The trek back home seemed faster, as he had a goal in mind now and the weather calmer. Going to his humble home he saw in the distance, it was a simple farmer's house; it was enough for him. It sat on a hill, overlooking the vast expanse of fields and forests. The man knew that the crane would have a peaceful and safe place to recover in his care.

Sliding back the doors, he gently placed the crane in a comfortable spot. In his home, there was a small table with worn cushions around it for tea across his kitchen. He had his room down the hall, along with a bathroom and spare room. While small, his home was cozy and filled with warmth. Quickly, he threw in another log to keep the fire going, moving the bird closer to rest next to him at the fire. Relaxing in his home, he rubbed his sore feet, sitting on an old cushion.

Glancing to the side, he was surprised to see the crane watching him from its bundle of blankets.

Tilting his head, he extended a hand, rubbing the top of the bird's head. It leaned into his touch, seemingly enjoying it. It gazed up at him with its big, grateful eyes. The man smiled, feeling a sense of peace and connection with the injured crane.

"You're a special bird, aren't you?" He whispered softly, feeling a sense of connection with the majestic creature. The crane closed its eyes in contentment, as if understanding his words.

"I'm sure you'll be ready to go back to the wind in no time. Just sit tight here for now. It may not be much, but it's home." He said this, patting the crane gently before slowly standing up and limping back to his own room. As he settled in for the night, he couldn't help but feel grateful for the unexpected companionship in the midst of his solitude.

The crane stayed with the man for a few months.

The injured crane kept the man company in his loneliness, bringing a sense of peace and connection to the man's isolated world. A routine of tending to their wound each night and sharing meals with it became a comforting ritual for the man, creating a bond that transcended words.

It often lay with him as he read, a skill his Danish grandfather taught him. The two enjoyed their time together. The crane's presence brought a sense of purpose and joy to the man's otherwise solitary existence.

This, of course, came to an end eventually.

Returning from another day in the market, he found the crane had left, a single feather left behind where it slept. While the man felt a pang of sadness at the bird's departure, he knew that their time together had brought him comfort and companionship when he needed it most. As he looked at the feather in his hand, he couldn't help but smile at the memories they had shared.

Little did the man know, the crane would remember this favor for the rest of its days, wishing to repay him.

~_~_~

Spring was now approaching, which was a relief for the man.

The cold, barren winter is becoming a memory with each sunny day. He would enjoy this time while he could before it rolled around again as a cruel reminder. A gentle breeze rolled through, swaying the branches of trees nearby.

The man relaxed in his home, screen doors open, sitting on the tatami mats.

His home had seen better days. The roof had a few leaks, and the walls were showing wear. But the man didn't mind, as long as he had a roof over his head. He was grateful for the simple life he led, surrounded by nature and the sounds of the countryside.

The setting sun beamed down on him in a pleasant warmth with a chill of the breeze, bringing a sense of peace and contentment to his heart. It was growing darker, but the man felt a sense of serenity enveloping him, knowing that he was exactly where he belonged. The soft glow of the lanterns inside his home beckoned him to come in and rest for the night. The man closed his eyes, taking in the sounds of birds chirping and leaves rustling, grateful for the beauty that surrounded him.

Opening his eyes, he expected to see his small garden, but he was met with the sight of a woman walking along the road.

Tilting his head, he stood up as he squinted to get a better look at the unfamiliar figure. The woman looked lost, and he felt a sense of duty to offer her assistance in finding her way.

Seeing him, she seemed to brighten just at the sight, hurriedly walking faster. This confused him, his shoulders tensing as the woman came closer.

She was indeed beautiful, a rare sight in this secluded area. Wearing white, plain robes that served her no justice, her hair was done in a simple braid. As she approached, he noticed the desperation in her eyes, making him wonder what could have led her to this remote place. Despite his initial hesitation, he decided to approach her with a welcoming smile, ready to offer his help.

"Hello, sir." She greeted him with a polite bow of her head. "I seem to have lost my way; would you be able to point me in the right direction?"

"It's awfully late for a woman to be out." He said, in a deep voice, as he stepped off his porch, smiling at her softly. "I can help you find your way back, but it's not safe to be wandering for either of us at this hour."

She smiled back at him, looking at him with such affection that his heart skipped a beat. He felt a sense of familiarity in her eyes, but he shook it off. He would have remembered meeting a beauty like her.

"Thank you for your concern, sir," she replied, her eyes sparkling with gratitude. "I would appreciate your guidance back to town."

"I only say this in concern for your safety, but it's not best to travel in the dark, even in this part of the country. Bandits still lurk about." He starts, never leaving her eyes, getting immersed in them, lost in the moment with her. "May I offer my home for the night? I wouldn't be able to sleep knowing I left you to fend for yourself, and I can take you first thing at sunrise."

"That is very kind of you, sir," she said with a smile, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. "I would be grateful for your hospitality."

With a stutter and flushed face, she introduced herself, and her name sounded like a melody to his ears.

"It's a pleasure to meet you; my name is Nanami Kento."

Nanami extended his hand toward her, a warm smile gracing his lips as he welcomed her into his home. The night was filled with laughter and conversation, with a bond forming between them that felt like fate.

~_~_~

Since their meeting, Nanami and the woman have only seemed to get closer. She had always talked to him on her journey home from town. He often invited her to dinner when the hour was late.

Nanami had grown quite fond of her. In the short time that he knew her, Nanami felt his feelings grow for her. She was attentive and soft-spoken, yet her strong determination was something he found incredibly attractive. Her heart was as kind as her smile, and Nanami found himself drawn to her more and more with each passing day. Their connection felt effortless, as if they had known each other for a lifetime.

Gaining the nerve to ask her to marry him, he prepared a token of his affection. Using his skills, he carved an intricate hair pin with images of birds and flowers intertwined in the design, symbolizing their blossoming love. As far as he knew, she was unwed with no family in town. While he had little to his name, he was determined to make her happy and provide for her in any way he could. He hoped that she would see his sincerity and accept his offer of courtship.

Waiting at a nearby river overlooking the village, he played with a small bouquet of wildflowers he had picked for her, rehearsing in his mind what he would say when she arrived. The sound of her approaching footsteps filled him with a mix of excitement and nervousness, yet he was prepared to express his feelings for her. Still, he hid the bouquet behind his back.

She quickly walked to him, smiling brightly at him as she called his name. The flowers were in full bloom over them, and the petals fell around them.

Sitting with him on his blanket, she begins to ask about his day. He took a deep breath, feeling his nerves dissipate as he looked into her eyes. As they talked, he found himself captivated by her every word, grateful for the opportunity to share this moment with her. Speaking her name, he got her attention, feeling a tad guilty for interrupting her.

"I have something I want to give you." He showed her the flowers and hairpin, his cheeks red from the action.

She looked at him in shock, mouth agape, as she reached out to take the gifts.

"I have come to realize how much you mean to me," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I wanted to show you how much I care."

Tears formed in her eyes at his heartfelt words. The gifts were now in her lap. Her own heart fluttered with her emotions.

"I don't have much, but I can provide you with food, a roof over your head, and love until the end of our days." He said that he was now holding her hands.

Smiling, she leaned forward, looking into his eyes which were warm pools of amber and dark chocolate, golden in the sunlight. His blonde hair was blown in the breeze, and the smell of cherry blossoms wafted around them.

"And that's all I need," she replied softly, feeling overwhelmed with gratitude for his simple yet heartfelt offer. The love in his eyes reflected her own feelings, creating a bond that she knew would last a lifetime.

Overwhelmed by emotions, Nanami cupped her face, connecting their lips in a tender, loving kiss.

In that moment, time seemed to stand still as they embraced each other, cherishing the love that bound them together. The world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them in their own little bubble of happiness and affection.

~_~_~

The two married in a humble ceremony, one that was attended by only his closest friends and family but was filled with an abundance of love and joy. At the village shrine, the priest blessed their union, sealing their commitment to each other in the eyes of the divine. Nanami kneeled beside her, and the both of them took sips of their sake.

Nanami wore his father's black haori with a loose gray hakama. He felt the heavens bless him with the one beside him.

She wore a simple, pure white kimono with an outer robe and a crane on the front of it, symbolizing longevity and good fortune in their marriage. It was the same robe that his mother wore on her own wedding day, a gift from her, passing down a tradition of love and happiness. The wooden hairpin he gifted her sat proudly in the updo his mother helped her create, showcasing the intricate design.

He couldn't give her the lavish gifts one would on their wedding like he desired, but she was happy. They had food together near the river where he proposed. Loved ones gathered in the summer night, the sounds of cicadas around them.

His family happily cooked and helped prepare the meal, celebrating the union of their loved ones. The simple act of sharing a meal together by the river symbolized their commitment to each other and the beginning of their lives. The couple sat together, enjoying the night as one. Their hands intertwined, the sound of laughter and music filling the air. Lanterns aglow around them, filling the sky above.

As they looked into each other's eyes, they knew that their love was all they needed to start their new life together.

Later on that night, when everyone had departed, they went into his home—no, their home—as a couple now.

Shyly, he looked around his room. Tonight was to be the night they became one in every sense of the word. The room seemed to glow with a warm light from the candles, reflecting the love that filled their hearts.

They kneeled before each other, still in their last layer of clothes. Her hair flowed down on her shoulders now, draping her in a soft, romantic aura. His hands trembled slightly as he reached out to touch her face, a mixture of excitement and nervousness in his eyes. They both knew that this moment would change their lives forever.

Moving closer to him, she let him cup her face, her eyes gleaming at him with love and excitement. Her own hand cupping his softly.

"Do you wish to spend the rest of your life with me?" She whispered, her voice filled with emotion. "Even though I may not be the wife you always dreamed of, I promise to love you with all my heart."

He gazed into her eyes, his heart full of certainty, as he replied, "Yes, I do. I will cherish you always and forever, no matter what the future holds. With no regrets."

Leaning closer, he takes her lips in a kiss, growing more passionate with each passing second. The world around them seemed to fade away as they lost themselves in the moment, savoring the love that bound them together. Their hearts beat in unison as they shared a tender kiss, sealing their commitment to each other.

Gaining courage, he pushed her to lay on the futon, his hands tenderly traveling her body. Unraveling her kimono with a gasp from her lips, his calloused hands felt the softness of her flesh for the first time.

As their passion ignited, they became lost in each other, their bodies entwined in a dance of love and desire. In that moment, nothing else mattered except the connection they shared. Their clothes were shed, and the two of them were bare under the moonlight.

Gazing down at her, he lost himself in her beauty. She laid bare before him, cheeks flushed from their kisses. Her bare breasts were littered with marks he made. Legs on either side of his waist, the two of them ready to become one.

"I've never…" Nanami started, his cheeks a bright red, as he was about to confess his virginity to her. But before he could finish his sentence, she placed a finger on his lips, silencing him.

"You don't need to say it," she whispered, her eyes filled with understanding and affection. Her own cheeks equally as flushed. "I've never done this either."

Her confession eased his nerves, knowing they would explore this new experience together without any pressure or expectations. They both smiled, their hearts filled with excitement and anticipation for what was to come. Cupping his face, she brushed hair from his eyes and leaned in for a kiss, their tongues dancing together in a symphony of desire.

Clasping her hand, he rubbed himself on her slick cunt. His length was soaked in their mutual desire, aching for the moment they would finally become one. Making eye contact, she nods to him, silently communicating her readiness and eagerness to take the next step in their relationship.

Pushing forward, he held her hand tight, her eyes clenched from the slight pain she experienced. As he entered her, he let out a groan, resting his head in the crook of her neck from the sensations. His lips peppered kisses on her collarbone, giving her a moment to adjust to the new feeling. Whispering sweet nothings in her ear, he assured her of his love and devotion. His hands rubbed her body soothingly to relax her, resting on her hips.

She panted for air, her heart racing in her chest as he leaned back from her. With warm eyes looking down at her with a mixture of desire and tenderness, he whispered, "Are you okay?"

She nodded, feeling a wave of emotions wash over her at the intimacy they shared in that moment. Feeling the pain begin to subside, she wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him down to kiss her with a newfound sense of urgency and passion, moving his hips against him. Moving his arms up, he rested on his elbows on either side of her head. Hips thrusting against her with ease at the growing intensity of their connection, he whispered, "I've got you."

She melted into his touch, feeling safe and desired in his embrace. The world faded away as they embraced, cherishing the connection they had found in each other's arms. Their room filled with the sound of their heavy breathing and the scent of their shared passion, creating a bubble of intimacy that enveloped them both. As they continued to explore each other's bodies, they both felt their end was coming. Their eyes locked together, focusing solely on one another.

With a final surge of emotion, they surrendered to the overwhelming wave of desire, their souls intertwining in a moment of pure bliss before they collapsed into each other's arms, breathless and content. The world outside ceased to exist as they lay entwined, savoring the fleeting ecstasy of their love. Nanami moved to lay beside his wife, laying a blanket over them, gently brushing her hair away from her face and whispering words of love and gratitude.

"I love you." He declared, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead.

"I love you too, Kento." She responded, her voice barely above a whisper.

The couple held each other close, cherishing the quiet moment of connection before they drifted off to sleep in each other's arms.

~_~_~

Kento felt pure happiness.

For years now, he has been married to the love of his life. Their time together strengthened their bond each day. No matter the poor condition of their house or the challenges they faced, their love remained unwavering.

With the cold months coming, Kento spent more time out in the fields. He could already feel the chill in his bones from the season changing. The brown leaves on the trees are beginning to fall from the branches. Gathering food to stock up on or sell. The cold, brisk air filled his lungs as he worked tirelessly, knowing that every moment spent away from his beloved was worth it for their future together. Nanami's heart swelled with gratitude for the life they had built, knowing that their love would always be the foundation of their happiness.

Raising a hand to his face to wipe his sweat, he gazed at his wife.

She sat on the porch, sewing a quilt, her hands moving skillfully as she hummed a familiar tune. Her bump was beginning to show in the life they had created together, a reminder of the love that bound them. Kento couldn't help but smile, grateful for her presence in his life and the warmth she brought to their home. As the sun began to set, he joined her on the porch, cherishing these simple moments of peace and contentment together.

Suddenly, a harsh feeling came into his chest. He felt as if he were being torn from the inside, waiting for it to erupt from him. Buckling over, he coughed into his hand, shakily looking at it. His wife immediately ran to his aid, rubbing his back in circles as she kneeled next to him to assist him. Brows furrowed in concern on her sun kissed face.

"Kento?" She called, her face paling as she looked at him. Blood dribbled down his chin, covering his hand.

~_~_~_~

A sickness furrowed its claws deep into him.

The village doctor allowed them both some time to consider; there were treatment possibilities, but they required money. Something either of them didn't have much of. The doctor's words lingered in his mind, weighing heavily on his chest. Kento knew that life would never be the same again.

Looking at his wife, he held her hand tight, regret flowing through him for making her go through this. For not being better for her. He knew that look in her eyes; she was thinking hard, thinking of ways to fix this. Kento felt a sense of guilt and responsibility weighing heavily on his shoulders as he realized the gravity of the situation.

"Love, we'll get through this together," he whispered, trying to reassure her. But deep down, he knew that their journey ahead would be filled with challenges and sacrifices.

Turning to him, she had that same smile—the same one he'd grown to adore the last few years. Years filled with absolute happiness.

"We will, Kento." She affirmed, leaning to rest her forehead against his.

~_~_~

The look of love never once changed in her eyes for him. Not once.

Even as she watched him struggle with the changes, he went from a strong man who could sow their entire field in less than a day to a man needing help being fed. Things like pity, regret, or resentment never crossed her mind.

A horrible cough wracked Kento's form, one that made her heart ache with worry. She held him closer, dabbing his face more with a damp cloth to ease the fever that had come on in the middle of the night.

"You should run off with the money we have. Stop wasting it on me." He chided her, still leaning on her as she cared for him. But she shook her head, determined to stay by his side no matter what. "Even with a child, I'm sure you'd find someone else. Someone worthy."

"I'm not going anywhere, Kento. We'll get through this together," she whispered, her voice filled with unwavering love and devotion. Kissing his forehead, she gently held him, caressing his damp hair until he fell asleep. His hand rested on her stomach, as if still trying to protect the life growing inside her.

The winter storm raged outside, and the two of them were bundled in their warm blankets, finding solace in each other's presence as they faced the uncertainty of the future together. The crackling fire in the fireplace provided a sense of comfort and warmth amidst the howling winds outside. Nanami's chest rose and fell with each calm breath. He looked at peace, despite the pain and uncertainty that surrounded them.

She vowed to find a way to help him, no matter the cost.

In the quiet of the night she slipped to her weave room, her loom in the middle of the room. With determination she got to work.

~_~_~

For several nights, she spent her time weaving delicate silk tapestries and silk panels she knew she would be able to sell at the market to support them through the difficult times ahead. The intricate designs and vibrant colors were a labor of love, a symbol of their unwavering bond and determination to overcome any obstacle together.

While being unable to do hard labor, she spent countless hours caring for her husband while also making the beautiful tapestries that would give her the money to buy the medicine.

The night before the market day, she stayed up late adding the final touches to her creations, knowing that their success was crucial for their survival. As the first light of dawn broke through the window, she felt a sense of hope and determination that they would make it through this challenging time together.

~_~_~

Spring is approaching now. The last month of winter began to thaw, bringing with it the promise of new beginnings and opportunities. His sickness weakened the strength he had. Each day, his wife cared for him with unwavering dedication, no matter how much he tried to push her away. Her bump is now bigger, and she can feel the baby kicking more frequently.

"It's pointless getting the medicine." He frowned, looking away from her as she bathed him. "It's pointless staying with me."

She simply stopped humming, continuing to wipe his chest, a frown on her face as she sat in front of him in the bathtub. Water surrounded the two of them in their small tub. The steam of the bath fogged the small room, enveloping the two in a sense of warmth and intimacy.

Despite his words, she couldn't bear the thought of leaving him alone in his time of need.

"My love, no matter what you say, no matter how foul you try to be, I'm staying." She said, "We both are."

Tears filled his eyes as he understood the extent of her love and dedication. Despite his protests, she remained by his side, a beacon of hope in his darkest days.

Another cough racked his form, and attentively, she helped rub his back as he coughed. Only once her hand dropped the towel to cup his face did he notice her fingers. They were wrapped in bandages, blood seeping through from the cuts.

"What happened to your hands?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

She smiled softly and explained, "Just a minor kitchen mishap, nothing serious to worry about."

The profound love and sacrifice she showed left him speechless. Gently, he lifted her hand to his face, pressing a kiss to the tips of each finger. Tears finally went down his cheeks; months of bottling them up were finally released in that moment of vulnerability. He realized then just how much she truly meant to him.

"I'll be better for you," he promised, tears streaming down his face. "I love you more than words can express."

She squeezed his hand gently, feeling the weight of his promise in her heart.

"You've done more than enough. I love you more than you'll ever know," she whispered, feeling grateful for his vulnerability and honesty.

He sobbed in her arms, pressing his face against her wet chest as sobs wracked his form. She held him close, whispering words of comfort and reassurance as he let out all his pent-up emotions in her embrace.

~_~_~

After making tapestries for hours, she had finally made enough to cover the costs for the stronger medication Kento needed.

With a breath of relief, she left the doctor's office, holding the vial of medicine close to her chest. She knew that the medicine was their last hope for his recovery, and she was willing to do whatever it took to ensure he got better. As she walked home, her heart was heavy with worry but also filled with determination to see him healthy again.

In her anxiety, she felt a harsh kick; her little one was quite active as of late. Her late nights working and taking care of Kento made her realize the importance of taking care of herself and her unborn child. She knew she needed to find a balance between caring for Kento and ensuring her own well-being during this challenging time.

~_~_~

Kento seemed to be getting better each day.

His health was slowly regaining strength, and now he was able to tend to the small weeds in the garden. The fresh air and sunlight seemed to invigorate him, giving hope that they would indeed overcome this challenge together. As she watched him work in the garden, she felt a sense of gratitude for every moment they had together.

Her own health, however, only got worse. Bags were under her eyes, and she had lost weight. A concern for the doctors, especially with her due date being later than most women. As the flowers began to bloom outside, she prayed for a miracle to keep him by her side a little while longer.

"Kento! Come take a break, my love." She called out, reaching for him on the porch.

Kento looked up from his task and smiled warmly at her, setting down his gardening tools before walking over to her.

"I'm almost done here, love. Let's sit together for a while," he said gently, wrapping his arms around her as they sat on the porch, enjoying the peaceful moment together.

Nuzzling into her neck, he whispered sweet nothings, reminding her of his unwavering love and support. The warmth of his embrace was the only medicine she needed to feel better in that moment.

"You should be sleeping." He reminded her, concern on his face as he looked over her.

Waving her hand dismissively, she leaned into his chest, feeling safe and loved in his arms.

"I'll sleep soon, I promise. But right now, I just want to be here with you," she murmured softly, closing her eyes and savoring the moment of peace and comfort they shared together.

Her restlessness seemed to melt away as she focused on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, a soothing lullaby that calmed her racing thoughts. In that moment, she knew that with him by her side, she could face anything that came their way.

"I was thinking of names." He said it with a grin, looking down at his wife resting on his chest.

"Names ?" She lifted her head to look at him with curiosity, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. The anticipation of starting a family together filled their hearts with joy and excitement for the future.

"For a boy, Yoshiharu." He spoke, rubbing her hair gently. "For a girl, I was thinking of Miu."

She met his gaze, nodding in agreement at the two names.

"Those sound lovely."

~_~_~

Their child is born on a rainy spring day; she screams into the world, lungs full of life. Her chubby cheeks are pink, and her tiny fingers grasp at the air. The sound of her cry fills the room, bringing tears of happiness to their eyes as they welcome their daughter, Miu, into the world.

"She's perfect." Kento whispers, kissing his wife's forehead as they both marvel at the miracle before them.

Tears of joy fall down the couple's faces. Their hearts are full as they hold their precious daughter for the first time, feeling a love like no other. The room is filled with a sense of overwhelming love and gratitude as they begin their journey as a family of three.

~_~_~

Miu grows strong in the coming months, as does her father. The weather was not as warm anymore, leaves begin to fall with a chill to the air. The sickness is all but gone from him now.

All would be well, or so he thought.

Even after the birth, his wife's health did not seem to get better. His wife continues to weave in the late hours of the night, determined to keep her family safe and healthy. No matter how much he begged for her to get rest, she continued. She was scared of not having him in her life. Scared of losing him to the sickness. As the days passed, her exhaustion became more apparent, but her determination never wavered. The love she had for her family was evident in every sacrifice she made for their well-being. Fingers were raw from the endless threading and weaving.

Having awoken in the middle of the night, Kento frowned. He had reached over to his wife's side but only felt the cold sheets. Groggily, he sat up, rubbing his eyes as he looked around the room. It was dark, save for the moonlight streaming in from his window.

His daughter slept in her cradle peacefully. He smiled at the sight. She looked like a carbon copy of his wife, but she had his eye shape, skin tone, and mannerisms. The girl never cried for much and slept through most of the night, something they were beyond grateful for.

Carefully, Kento steps out of the room, walking down the hall to find his wife.

The only things heard were crickets outside and the wooden loom being moved. As he approached the spare bedroom, he had a gut feeling something was wrong. His hand shook as it hovered over the screen handles. Ignoring it, he carefully slid open the door, seeing a shocking sight.

There sat his wife with her robes pulled down, and her arms were wings now. White, beautiful feathers were scattered around her, blood seeping from her arms and back. Feathers gathered into a basket in front of her, the loom glimmering with silk. Threads. She had been making the tapestries and silk panels from her own feathers all this time.

His beloved wife was an enchanted being, able to switch between human and avian forms. Shocked and heartbroken, he realized the sacrifices she had made to be with him. Tears welled up in his eyes as he kneeled infront of her.

With tears in her eyes, she covered her body from him, ashamed he had found out. Her transformation was a secret she had kept hidden out of fear of rejection. Seeing the feathers closer, he recognized them; it was the crane's feather, the very same one he saved years ago.

"Look away!" She cried out, crawling away from him, not looking him in the eyes. Bloody hands clasped around her robes.

He only looked at her with love, hands raised, just like when they first met.

Kneeling down on the ground to be less intimidating, he gently reached out to touch her hand, a silent gesture of understanding and acceptance. She hesitated for a moment before finally meeting his gaze, seeing only compassion and support reflected back at her.

"It's just me, love." Kento reached out to her, gently touching her shoulder, trying to reassure her. She flinched from him and looked at him fearfully, her chest heaving with each panicked breath.

"Please, don't," she whispered, tears running down her face, her body shaking. Memories flooded her mind of the pain she’s endured in the past from humans. Pain and abuse from them discovering what she is.

Tearing herself from his gaze, she turned around, transforming into her crane form, and flew out the open window. He ran after her, stopping at the window where he watched her soar into the night sky, yelling her name out.

As she disappeared into the darkness, he whispered a silent prayer for her safety and well-being. Tears went down his face, knowing her secret didn't change the love he felt for her. If anything, it only deepened his admiration for her strength and beauty. Months of her sacrificing her well being helped save him.

Sobbing, he collapsed onto the floor, thinking he had lost her forever.

~_~_~

Months disappear in the blink of an eye.

A time spent in loneliness and hardship. He had to navigate fatherhood without his wife, but his heart never found anger for her. She was scared; he couldn't blame her for her reaction. He knew she was struggling with her own demons, and he hoped she would find peace one day. Despite the challenges, he remained committed to being the best father he could be for their child.

He just wanted her back.

Miu is nearly one, and he still finds himself looking out the windows every night, hoping to catch a glimpse of her flying by. The memory of her departure still lingers in his heart, a bittersweet reminder of the love they shared.

Sitting by the river with his daughter, he lets out a sigh, looking up at the sky with a forlorn look. He felt a gaping hole in his heart, one that would never be filled. With the sun beginning to set, he picks up Miu. The girl was sweet, her laughter filling the air as they walked back home together. She looked closer to her mother, her features near identical. The ache in his heart slowly begins to heal, knowing that she will always be a part of him, no matter where she may be.

Just as he almost makes it up the hill, a feather falls down before him. Curiously, he leans down and picks it up, inhaling a sharp breath once he recognizes the feather in his hand. Without a second of hesitation, he begins to run to his home, his daughter laughing gleefully at the change of pace.

He bursts through the door, finding a familiar figure in a white kimono waiting by the window, their backs turned from him. At his entrance, the figure turns his way, a smile on their lips—the same one he loves and misses dearly. The sun casted a soft heavenly glow behind them, making him think it was his imagination.

Tears well up in his eyes as he rushes forward to embrace them. Miu looked at them curiously as they cupped their father’s face. Their hands carefully caressed his face as if he was glass, tears now falling down his face in relief.

"Hello Kento."

Hope you enjoyed!! I was gonna go with the OG sad ending but my heart couldn't

Lol very vanilla and lovey dovey. Crane lady got saved by a handsome farmer, spent months with him under his care (learning everything about him), and went ‘I shall bear your children and love you forever’ and I mean, that’s fair

#nanami kento x reader #jjk x reader #reader insert #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk nanami #nanami smut #nanami x reader #jjk #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento #Love Through The Ages

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huffelpuff210 · 3 months

Text

The Deal part 2 Soft Dark Mob boss Stucky x Reader

You were currently laying in your bed, in your small home, that you knew you were gonna have to give up,

Steve and Bucky were very clear, and you didn’t have much of a choice,

You were to be their girl, in exchange, you give up your home, they said you were going to live with them,

They said you were to marry them within two weeks, and if you ran they would find you and you wouldn’t like how they would get you to comply, you still didn’t completely understand why they had their sights set on you,

There were plenty of women out there they could have right?

you heard a knock on your bedroom door,

“Hey, I’m going out.” Andy says

You look at the clock, it was three in the morning,

“Just don’t get in trouble.” You say

“Like you can tell me what to do.” He sneers leaving the room

You sigh turning on your side,

it doesn’t surprise you how your brother treats you, your family treated you the same way why should your older brother be any different, why should the men you have been forced into a corner just because of your brother be any different,

The next morning you are sitting at the island with your coffee, you were about to head out when your brother walks in covered in bruises and blood

he storms over to you

“What did you do?!” He yells cornering you

“What are you talking about?” You ask in a dull tone that is so rehearsed since this has happened many times, he goes on his binges then comes home high or drunk, he is gripping both of your arms so tightly,

“Steve and Bucky! they own this town! they-” He began but suddenly a voice cuts him off,

“Now that’s no way to treat a lady.” You hear a familiar voice that sent goosebumps up your spine,

You look past your brother to see Steve and Bucky standing there in their handsome suits, arms crossed,

Your brother lets go of you he spins on his heel,

“Get the fuck out of my house!” Your brother yells,

Both Steve and Bucky chuckle

“Last time we checked, this isn’t your house.” Steve says

“Yeah, her name is on the deed, not yours.” Bucky says

“And since we own her now thanks to you, this is our house as well.” Bucky says

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Your brother asked in a seething tone,

“You see your dear sister, was so worried for your safety that she signed a contract with us.” Steve says

Yes you signed a contract agreeing to all the terms, as long as they don’t cause you any sort of harm, which they agreed to, you couldn’t run away, you had to do as they said, you were to marry them, have their children, in exchange they would give you everything you ever wanted, provide you with comfort and security, keep you safe,

“Y/N come over here.” Bucky’s deep voice broke you out of your thoughts

just as you were about to take the first step your brother grabbed you by the upper arm,

“She’s not going anywhere with you two!” Your brother yelled,

You sighed in annoyance

“You know they could kill you right?” you said

they both chuckled at your comment

“Shut up.” He says to you

Steve sighs in annoyance,

“Sam take care of him, he’s too ignorant to understand,” Steve says

Suddenly my brother is yanked back and pistol whipped,

“Come here kitten.” Bucky says using his finger as if calling a puppy, you walk towards them, Steve checks the now forming bruises on your arms, and growls,

“It’s fine.” You say,

They both look at one another,

“We were gonna wait until tomorrow to come get you, but as soon as we seen your big brother starting trouble that you were going to have to clean up we decided it was in your best interest that we have a word with him, and stop by to pick you up anyway.” Steve says inspecting if you were hurt any were else

“It seems he never learns.” Bucky grumbles

“It’s fine I’ve seen worse at work.” You say

They both chuckle at your comment,

“Speaking of we thought it would be best if you just quit that job,we’ve got a better position for you anyway.” Bucky says

“What?” You asked

They both smirked at your reaction.

“Besides we can’t have our girl killing herself at a dead beet job that doesn’t appreciate her.” Steve says his hand on your cheek as his thumb pulls your lower lip down,

“Lets go kitten.” Bucky says guiding you out of the home

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scotianostra · 4 months

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May 17th is Norwegian Constitution Day or Syttende Mai as its known in Norway.

A wonderful spring holiday celebrated with red, white and blue ribbons, national costumes and waving of the Norwegian flag, the three colours are everywhere in Norway at this time of year.

It’s a day Norwegians all over the world take off to celebrate and marks the historic signing of the Constitution in 1814, the year Norway gained its independence from Sweden, which was fully realized in 1905.

In every city, town and village in Norway, children and adults alike express their cultural pride by marching to the bright music of school bands, celebrating the joy of springtime and honoring of those citizens who created Norway’s constitutional government, founding her independence.

Especially popular is the Children’s Procession that brings every child out in their best clothes or national costume.

In Edinburgh the Norwegian community celebrate Syttende Mai too.

Edinburgh’s celebrations include the Norwegian Scottish Society dinner, after a reception at the Norwegian Consulate’s residence.

Each year Norwegian students in Edinburgh hold a breakfast at Prestonfield House followed by a parade along Waterloo Place and onto Princes Street. At the boom of Edinburgh Castle’s One o’ clock gun, the pigeons fly and the parade begins!

Tonight expats and guests gather at The Royal Scots Club Abercromby Place for a celebration dinner held by the Norwegian Scottish Association. The association was founded in Edinburgh in 1966, and has enjoyed over 50 years of Norwegian-Scottish friendship.

Norwegian Scottish Association roots lie in a much older friendly society, one rooted in the shared experience of Norwegians and Scots during the Second World War. Founded in Dumfries in 1941, the Scottish Norwegian Society brought Scots and Norwegians together in difficult times. Having escaped the German occupation of their homeland in 1940, around a thousand Norwegians had come to be stationed at various times in Dumfries, and it was not long before the idea of a formal society was begun.

Of course our history with Norway goes back centuries, Northern Scotland, was, at one time, a Norse domain and the Northern Isles experienced the most long-lasting Norse influence. Almost half of the people on Shetland today have Viking ancestry, and around 30% of Orkney residents.

Many agree that there are many points of commonality between the Norse character and the Scottish one that leads to a sense of kinship between the two countries, even for those living much further south in Scotland, where Viking influence did not reach. Words like bairn and muckle made their way into Scot’s language via the Norwegians.

I touched upon the links during the second world war earlier and have posted before about the Shetland bus which provided a transport link between the Shetland Islands and occupied Norway. Many Norwegian refugees fled their occupied home with the help of Norwegian sailors who undertook daring, high-risk trips across the North Sea. The whole episode became emblematic of the friendship across the seas.

More recently Edinburgh’s Zoo also has a strong connection to Norway as it is home to a very special resident. Sir Nils Olav III is the mascot and colonel-in-chief of the Norwegian King’s Guard. The king penguin’s rank has been passed down through three generations since 1972. Knighted in 2008, he even received a military promotion in 2016 with the brigadier title bestowed upon him in a special ceremony at the zoo.

The Zoo’s link with Norway originated in 1913 when arctic explorer Roald Amundsen presented a penguin to them on their opening. Once a year the penguin inspects soldiers from Norway’s King’s Guard.

Edinburgh's Syttende mai parade – the 17th May or Norwegian Constitution Day parade traditionally takes place along the capital's main thoroughfare, Princes Street. At the boom of Edinburgh Castle's 'one o' clock gun', the pigeons fly and the parade begins!

Pics are from last ears parade.

#scotland #scottish #history #edinburgh #norway #my pics

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sgiandubh · 1 year

Text

It all starts with a smoke alarm

This wasn't supposed to happen like that, of course. It was supposed to happen with an ”allow me to introduce myself”, at the least. But hey, I am playing the cards I've been dealt, and since an anonymous ask on Tumblr does not allow pictures or links, this will have to do. We'll have plenty of time later.

Yesterday, I said that reading that Single Report reaped benefits. I have screen capped and summed up all the things that made me rise an eyebrow, to make things easier. Hopefully, this is going to be short: who would wax lyrical about a septic tank, after all?

I did not use my superpowers to do this, but simply the link provided by a very active Anon on several shipper blogs, in order to properly stir shite, I presume: https://corumproperty.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2023/05/HomeReport-31.pdf

Armed with my wits and a virtual highlighter, I started to carefully read the whole document. Ownership details aside - this, I discussed yesterday -, I remind you that it should give any prospective buyer a good, detailed idea of the available fittings and current condition of the house put on sale.

In Europe and elsewhere, I guess, inspections of this type are rather a dull and thorough affair. And these people did an excellent job: they checked every single nook & cranny, used binoculars to have a closer look at the roof tiles and listed it all on these papers a good researcher should read, before dropping to conclusions.

This is how we know, for example, that the inspection happened on a rainy day:

.. and that the guttering was overflowing. Does that sound like a well loved, lived-in house to you?

Thought so.

This brought a smile. And the image of a Christmas tree left near a London dustbin in June. Home, sweet home?

Like all properties, this also comes with burglar and fire alarm systems. However, apparently not much has been done, in this respect. Or at least, not recently. Not since February 2022, to be accurate: otherwise, they would have been upgraded. Yet, no such thing: it's up to the buyer to do and pay for the upgrade.

Lived-in? Certainly not after February 2022 and probably even earlier, would be my best guess. But lived-in at some point in time, most certainly.

You see, since I was on the real estate agent's webpage, I also took the virtual tour of the house. It is available to everyone, here: https://my.matterport.com/show/?m=AFKibrk8QiD

Now, I don't know about you, but when I visit somebody's house for the first time, I always check the bookshelves: yes, I am a shameless nerd. I am also well aware that the rest of the furniture was staged, it looked that sad, clinical way it does all over the world. Did not expect to find any books in there, to be honest. And yet, there they were.

I didn't bother with the fashion coffee table books, although I thought they were a nice nod to Ms. B's past, and totally the kind of things she might have on her credenza.

A built-in bookshelf in the basement caught my eye. That did not look staged. It looked as she might have left some of her own books in there, like an afterthought, if you want. And people's choices of books are always speaking volumes to me, about who they really are.

It did not disappoint.

More fash-un. And yeah, Tiffany & Co! I knew it!

A Tina Turner bio or memoir. Awww:

Bette Davis and some feminist literature. Her books, I am pretty sure of that:

And, to save the best for last, lo and behold, what do we have here?

Bear Grylls?

That Bear Grylls?

Hahahaha. Of course. I have all the reasons in the world to believe the music producer/PA/whatever is into masculine thrillers written by a world-renowned survivalist, haven't I?

Not a chance in hell, to be honest. I grinned like the Cheshire cat because, ladies, we do know WHOSE book is this, don't we?

Judging by its jacket, well-read. Not a prop.

Belonging to someone with a dry, wicked sense of humor who apparently also left this gem:

A Captain's Duty. At this point in time, I wasn't grinning anymore. I was laughing like an idiot, of course.

Slàinte mhath, ladies. We'll have time for a proper introduction later.

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lirational · 1 year

Note

Hello, I just found your blog, and as a fan of PTN, I wanted to see if you would be interest in indulging a request of mine.

Said request is a poor reader revealing their rather desperate financial situation to Chelsea or Eirene by accident, namely by accidentally showing them their crumbling apartment home or hinting they can't afford their medicine.

I also hope you don't mind if I decide to make my own take on the requests and suggestions I send you when I get the chance, orif I share them with others, as I have made a similar suggestion to a fic writer in ao3.

Regardless, I hope you take care and stay safe, and I wish you good luck in PTN my fellow Chief.

Thank you for the request, and gladly, go ahead and do your own take ^^ after all more fics in PtN is always good!

—

Chelsea x Reader and Eirene x Reader (separate)

Content warnings: might contain a bit of financial manipulation (particularly Eirene’s, though nothing NSFW. Regardless, exercise caution.

Countess Chelsea:

She found out when you got an unexpected call from your insurance provider when you both were on a date, notifying you that they would stop covering the cost for one of your meds.

You were always adamant about not relying on her for anything, and she was fond of this part of you, but still, you insisted that it’s alright, you can take care of yourself, and you will find a way out of this mess the way you always did whenever a similar problem came up.

This earns you a pinch of your cheek and a teasing remark, and she stopped mentioning it up to the end of your date.

Later at night, you receive a call, saying that there was a policy mistake and you’ll get your meds covered again.

Chelsea was evasive about it when asked directly, however, your guess was practically confirmed from the way she acts. She’s more demanding for cuddles, more willing to tease you for more affection. Part of this was from habit, as she would usually ask her sugar babies to do som embarassing things in exchange for her money, but for the most part? She wants you close.

I believe that Sitri would actually push you closer to her while you two were cuddling. Having a gem cat press on your back or body is certainly interesting, to say the least.

One thing is clear, after this, Chelsea will start paying more attention to you :)

Eirene:

There is no way that she wouldn’t have found out eventually. As the CEO of a supermassive company, she has to keep an eye on those she cherishes, or risk those people getting harmed by her competitors.

However, she is a businesswoman through and through, and it shows with the ‘aid’ she gave you. When you got drenched late at night as your roof gave way, she immediately responded, ordering her employees to take you to the best hotel right away. You thanked her afterwards, and she did bask in your gratitude, however, she keeps a ledger of the aid she gave you.

She takes time to visit under pretense of checking the hotel’s accomodation. In her words, a business under her company should always provide the best accomodation at all times and this was just a surprise inspection. However, you can just sense that she wanted an excuse to visit you.

Point this out, however, and all of a sudden, a vase in a corner somewhere would turn into a pile of dust, while her demeanor remained the same.

She loves you, truly, but a combination of wanting to keep you safe and her desire to have you culminates in giving you a contract, promising you will never want for anything as long as you work for her. Under several dozen pages of legalese, she hid a clause that you would surrender your entire being to her.

All the aid she gives are not free, and she keeps a ledger of how much you owe her. Write your name on the dotted line, and your life will become all that much easier~

#path to nowhere #path to nowhere x reader #path to nowhere headcanons #ptn eirene x reader #ptn chelsea x reader #countess chelsea x reader #eirene x reader #chelsea x reader

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sinner-sunflower · 6 months

Text

A HH Lucifer-centric AU 16/?

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 15, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22

Hotel reaction 2 electric boogaloo

still deciding whether i'll post tomorrow

------------------------------------------

4 hours later, despite the arrival of Lucifer and the mystery woman, there is barely no progress. Charlie and the others were so hopeful the first few times because it did look like the extra power was doing something. But every time they make a dent, it bites back even worse.

They flinch as another Goetia fell, prompting the Prince of Lust to call for a retreat from her dad.

Lucifer: No! We can't afford to lose a Ring.

Cherri: They are clearly exhausted.

Angel: Yeah. One day won't be tha bad, right toots?

Charlie: Umm, I don't think so. Hell's rings are a complicated. They aren't just places, it's a system. Losing one will inevitably cause the others to fall apart.

Husk: I guess his majesty doesn't want us backed to a corner. If they let Sloth be consumed then who knows how bigger the problem would get.

Vaggie: He's right. The best solution is dealing with it at the literal root. They can theoretically recoup but by the looks of things, Sloth has little to no time left.

Husk: Mhhm. The constant ritual might be the only thing keeping it alive. The ring is basically on life support.

Lucifer: Goodie! Goodie: I cannot give more of something I do not have, angel. I warned you that my support alone will most likely not stop this. Lucifer: We should at least be denting it!

They quickly covered their ears as the TV let out a sound so ear-piercing that it feels like their head is splitting in half.

Angel: What the fuck???

Looking up despite the pain, they see that giant roots sprout from the ground. It went up and up until it reached Lucifer's pentagram in the sky.

Husk: Is that a fuckin' tree?

Charlie is transfixed on the image. She has lived in Hell all her life but this is the first time she had felt dread from something that came from her home.

'This is not of Hell.' She thought. It makes her sick. But her stupor was cut short as a new voice cuts through the footage.

Leviathan: Luci! Your marks!

Charlie looks in equal horror as her Uncle Leviathan when she saw the state her dad was in. The marks on his body have now almost consumed his whole face. She lets out a sob as Lucifer held up the mirror Alastor provided to inspect his condition.

No one spoke as he does this. Then after a moment, Charlie saw something in her dad's eyes.

Lucifer: Goodie. What do I need to do?

Charlie was about to say her confusion out loud when the lady, Goodie, blew a piece of paper onto the King's skin.

Goodie: This might be the only way to stop my sister. That is an ancient seal from before the Nothing- strong enough to render God and beings like Roo weak. Satan: Huh?! Then why didn't you just let us use that from the start??

Cherri: Yeah! The shit??

Husk: I don't like this.

Charlie shares the same sentiment. Whatever is happening, she has a bad feeling.

Goodie: Because there is a condition. Lucifer: And what's that? Goodie: It must be performed from the inside. It needs to be as close as possible to the one you are sealing. The hold will be stronger with proximity. And with you being the highest power here... Belphegor: Then that means-!

Nononononono, please don't. Please don't let it be what I think it is. Please don't do it. Please dad. I love you. I miss you. Please don't leave me PLEASE-

Lucifer: I need to be the one to go in there.

Protests from the hotel residents and demons on the broadcast overlap with each other. Charlie's ears are ringing. Her chest is tight and it's getting harder and harder to breathe. She can feel someone's hand around her, probably attempting to ground her. Yup, definitely a coming panic attack.

Lucifer: Are you sure this will stop her?

She can vaguely hear someone, probably Vaggie, say something to her but it's all muffled. Charlie could only focus her hearing on the scene in the TV.

Dark spots are filling her vision and her breaths are erratic as her beating heart.

PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEDADPLEASENOTYOUDONTLEAVEMETOODADPLEASE

Goodie: You are the key, angel. It must be you.

Charlie's world turns to black as she collapses in the arms of her lover. And if her dad looked directly at the camera in hopes of meeting her gaze, well, she'll never know.

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faerievampling · 7 months

Text

Killing Time

Chapter 6: Blind

Word Count: 4k

Pairing: Soft Ascended Astarion x Female Tav/Reader

Summary: After thousands of years together, Astarion and his consort go on another adventure. After Astarion is forced to return back to Faerún for the evening, Tav must attend a Githyanki banquet alone.

Link to Ao3!

Masterlist

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5.

Next Chapter

Warnings: 18+. Mention of sex. Light Mind Control. Kidnapping.

You give yourself a look over just to ensure everything is in place: your hair was braided with such elegance it could have brought tears to your eyes, and the earrings that Astarion had suggested paired brilliantly with your dress. They were a simple diamond, likely dug out by kobolds or dwarves somewhere in Neverwinter. The gems hadn’t been particularly expensive and there was no great story behind their purchase: Astarion had simply bought them for you because he thought they would look nice on you.

You had wanted to pass on wearing a necklace; between the earrings and braids, there was just a little too ‘much’ going on with your look, but Astarion had insisted.

The necklace provided you with a gentle warding bond. The gem of the necklace twinkled when the spell activated.

“Lover, surely this isn’t needed,” You had said while Astarion nervously adjusted your ensemble, smoothing away wisps in your hair and ensuring your makeup hadn’t smudged, your lips swollen from his incessant kissing. Astarion had remarked that you should be thanking him for the natural lip plumper, which only added to your supernatural, earth-shattering beauty.

“Madame,” Cynthia says from behind you, her voice light and tentative. You couldnt stop thinking about how helpless Astarion felt before walking through the portal back to Faerún, leaving you, Ruth, and Cynthia behind at the crèche.

He will be back. Later tonight. He promised. He will be back, you thought to yourself. You could sense Astarion’s anxiety amidst his occupation. He had told you not to worry, as if that was even possible.

“Yes?” You answer, looking at Cynthia’s reflection. She also looked quite lovely, and wore a blue gown, which was lovely with her blond hair and grey eyes. She smiles at you.

“Master wants me to remind you to blink and smile. But there is a certain ‘statuesque’ beauty about you when you aren’t thinking about it.” Cynthia’s eyes dart away from yours in the mirror, afraid she has been too casual with you, but you give her a little smile, as friendly as you can muster on that ancient face of yours.

“How interesting of you to say,” You reply, your voice even and light. You try your best not to be too robotic, reminding yourself of Astarion’s suave ease at mortal communication. “Are you excited for the banquet?”

Cynthia beams behind you. “I am. Very much.” Her heart is racing. You can sense her excitement.

You turn to her, nodding your head as her eyes drink you in. “Any last adjustments?” You ask, knowing Astarion would want you to look your best. He had told you to represent your family well in his absence, and you intended to do so.

The distance almost makes you feel pain, which is unusual; but you remember something you read in a book, once, about physical manifestations of emotional pain. You wondered if that idea was applicable to vampires with telepathic bonds, too. Astarion had been nearly distraught having to leave you. But you really couldn’t dwell on that now.

Cynthia takes a moment to thoroughly inspect you. “None. Master did well to do those himself, the expert that he is.”

You nod before opening the door to your chamber(if you could call it that; your room was certainly better than the last, but nothing quite like your boudoir at home), allowing Ruth to come in. His eyes were on you first, simply because he couldn’t help it: the two of you smelled distinctly of Astarion, which would always be attractive to you simply because he was your creator.

Ruth nodded to you. “Stunning, Madame,” he says politely before turning to Cynthia, the true object of his desire, you realize. You can smell the arousal on them alike, and Cynthia’s beat has gone between her legs.

Looking at the two of them reminds of the ‘before’ times. And that reminds you that you’re about to go party with a horde of gith without your husband. You think about reaching out to him, because surely he feels your growing anxiety; you are beginning to get angry, feeling as if he’s ignoring you.

But the rational part of your brain knows your anger is misplaced. You take a deep breath, startling both Ruth and Cynthia in the process, who’ve become lost in each other's eyes.

You take the crook of Ruth’s arm as you exit your chamber, Cynthia trailing behind the two of you. This was the way of the court: since you were absent your husband, any male escort would do. Servants, like Cynthia, don’t get an escort. Simply, your royal life was far more valuable than hers.

But you aren’t in court, are you? You think before turning to Cynthia, letting go of Ruth’s arm as you wave her closer. You promptly switch places with them, choosing to walk alone as the couple strolled in front of you.

Walking down the long hallway, you quietly observe the pair; when Cynthia rests her head on Ruth’s shoulder for a moment, snuggling up to him for a quick hug, you realize how happy your underlings probably were that they had their own room now. A quick look into Cynthia’s mind confirms your theory: although their relationship was in its infancy, these two made love often, and Ruth regularly fed from his darling.

Cynthia hadn’t been the first of Ruth’s lovers. Ruth did this often: he would devote himself to one human after another, and be entirely distraught upon their death. He never asked Astarion to turn any of his lovers, because that was against the rules.

Ruth seemed to rather like Cynthia, you think, but you had never paid attention to the others, so you couldn’t really say if things were different for him and your new lady servant.

The other spawn weren’t so monogamous as Ruth. You knew Marwa had a string of lovers but never a steady relationship. Astarion’s other two spawn, Ygritte and Apholso, often tangled together. If there was ever any drama between the two, neither of you heard of it, which was another one of Astarion’s rules: the lives of the spawn needn’t ever disrupt the lives or relationship of either Astarion or his consort.

You’ve lost yourself in a memory when you nearly stumble into the pair in front of you as you reach the ballroom of the spire.

It was far grander than you had imagined: the walls were smoothed, but still a rocky crystal that seemed to illuminate on its own volition, reflecting off of the milky white floors which resembled ice.

The gith are dressed up, and much to you and Cynthia’s dismay, pink was surely in-style among the gith women. But it was no matter: the moment you walked into the room, many eyes were on the three of you.

“Tav,” A familiar voice called from beside you, and you turn to see Lae’zel, reaching her hand out towards you to take your arm. You accept, allowing her to lead you towards a more intimate corner of the hall, Ruth and Cynthia on your heels.

There was a lot of gith here. You and Ruth are already looking at each other nervously: him moreso than you, even though you had missed your second feeding. The spawn’s vampiric hunger was far greater than your own, far more painful and constant. That didn’t really change your discomfort, but it certainly made Astarion feel better about the whole ordeal.

You knew the two of you needed something to occupy yourselves; excusing yourself from your group, you grab two glasses of wine from a serving table, handing one to Ruth as you begin to nurse on your glass of red.

Ruth does the same, and Cynthia is looking at him as if she’s worried. This strikes remembrance within you, when you once worried for Astarion’s hunger.

You notice Lae’zel is wearing a rather pretty dress, one that shows off her lovely neck; Lae’zel’s cleavage peeks out of the hem slightly, and you can’t help but steal a glance. The dress is a dark chocolate color, complimenting her green skin and orange hair well. She looked so much softer than normal, and you wonder if you had ever seen her this way.

You think maybe you should compliment her, but instead you focus on your red wine and try to stop thinking about how her skin would taste on your tongue as you slide your fangs into her—

“Where is Astarion?” Lae’zel asks, one eyebrow raised in inquiry.

As your eyes sweep the room, you start to feel a disturbance, and you know something is wrong. You still for a moment, time seeming to slow down as you focus your senses on the world around you: the smell of sweat and perfume and blood beneath skin, the warm moisture in the air touching you behind your ears, beneath your breasts, the sound of the casual music and the chatter mixed with laughter. You wait.

Ruth answers Lae’zel’s question. Because you are waiting.

“My lady –“ Ruth begins, but you bring your hand to his shoulder, patting him.

“Shh.”

But nothing happens. The banquet continues on like normal and you decide to return to the others, giving them the fakest smile you can muster.

“Darling darling darling darling darling.” You’ve involuntarily reached out, feeling Astarion’s quiet presence. He acknowledges but doesn’t reply, understanding that you’re both rather antsy.

Before you know it, your warband descends on you. Ziir’o, Quinel, and Joss wear a traditional Githyanki garb, an elegant suit tailored with thread made from intelligent beings rather than cotton or silk. It was an old tradition, one that existed far before Vlaakith or Orpheus ruled, where a young warrior would skin their first kill, using its materials to create a garb in a show of honor.

You thought it was a rather vicious tradition, one you admired. The boys looked handsome, and the three of them blush when you say so.

Marg’o and Chae each wore gowns; you and Cynthia shoot each other a look after taking in Marg’o’s pink gown. Chae, despite how stern she usually was, looked rather soft and lovely in a golden gown. The other five, who weren’t so keen on you, lingered about, greeting you curtly.

“Where’s your husband, Tav?” Marg’o asks with a blush. You couldn’t blame her for having a crush on Astarion, and you thought it rather cute.

“Not far. Just handling some business. He’s never truly away from me.” This was a lie, of course, but nobody needed to know that.

“Will he arrive in time for dinner? He knows Orpheus expects him.” Lae’zel says; it would have knocked the wind out of you if you hadn’t been undead. Instead, you were merely shocked.

You think for a moment nobody told you of Orpheus’s coming, but you knew it was more likely you had heard of it and hadn’t thought it important.

“I’m not sure,” You say as you reach out to Astarion, who is feeling nothing but frustration and anxiety. You can sense how badly he wants needs to be with you.

There is more small talk, but you ignore it, holding onto your connection with your husband. You know Astarion really doesn’t give a shit about Orpheus at this moment: surely, he wanted to please him, for alliance purposes or whatever, but what was going on at home took precedent.

He told you not to worry about that pesky war the mortals are having. Men and women (and some children, you are told) from all over Faerún are engaged in conflicts; but you have seen many nations rise and fall, so how different could this next one be?

But maybe your wealth was being threatened. And with Lord Geldon Moth in the mix, the Ancunín power and fortune was in need of not only defense: you think you should start to fight back. Maybe Astarion should create that spawn army, gather a few Githyanki forces storm the gates of wherever the hell Moth’s estate was, kill him, his consorts, all his spawn, all his thralls, and fuck your gorgeous husband on whatever excuse of a throne Moth sat on.

When the feast was finally called, you took Ruth by the arm, Lae’zel leading the two of you to the grand hall. There were rows of long tables filled with gith bodies as the banquet was brought to a semblance of order: in the back of the room, atop a platform, was a long, elegant table with a grand chair at its center.

The table and throne were made from wood and bone, carved magnificently; the legs of each resembling the tail of a dragon.

You take Astarion’s seat, directly next to the throne, and Ruth takes your seat next to you. Cynthia is made to stand behind you: you almost feel bad for her, but it was to be expected. The dinner felt more formal, more serious, and when everyone was largely settled, the dinner hall was hushed. There was a little quiet chatter, but hardly the assault of the ears that was the hall when you arrived.

The heartbeats of many thrummed in your ear, slamming against your eardrum amongst the quiet. You realize you’d never let go of Ruth’s arm, gripping it with such strength that you drew blood with your long nails. Ruth, equally if not more so bothered, gripped you back in kind, his hand covering yours. It takes you a moment to realize he’s trying to get your attention.

Ruth could telepathically communicate with Astarion, who could play telephone with you, if he so chose. But you could also easily read Ruth’s mind, and he knew this, so he signaled to tell you to peek inside.

‘We shouldn’t be here without Master Astarion. Too difficult, too difficult. Not enough blood. Cynthia is so delicious. Eat her whole.’ Ruth’s thoughts accidentally waved to Cynthia’s neck and breasts; ignoring his more lewd thoughts, you shake your head at him.

You try urging him to keep still, to stay calm, and to follow the rules of ‘Master’. But that feeling of apprehension in your gut hadn’t left, and you felt that little lump in your throat get bigger the more you lied to Ruth.

“It shall be alright, but we musnt make a scene. We would be punished,” You think that you would probably enjoy your punishment and Ruth decidedly wouldn’t. But the lying thing seemed to work, and Ruth was calming down.

“Think about your darling. Think about Cynthia. When I think about my husband, I do better to behave.” You’re still lying, but you know this is true for Ruth. You often did what you wanted, regardless of what Astarion thought. “You don’t want her to think you're a monster.”

Astarion didn’t care if you were a monster – as long as he could love and adore you, he would. But this wasn’t the case for Ruth. The look on his face signals understanding, and he nods with you in agreement.

“Don’t tell me something is the matter. Now is not the time,” Lae’zel rasps from beside Ruth, leaning over him. The royal procession was beginning, and everyone who had a seat stood: you and Ruth quickly followed suit after a single dirty look from Lae’zel.

You and Ruth continued to grip each other as the resplendent Orpheus was finally seen, his blue eyes fixated on you the moment he saw you.

“Orpheus is here,” You direct to Astarion, a strained reluctance in your message you knew your husband couldn’t ignore.

“I can only imagine how lovely you look right now. Haven’t stopped thinking about your perfect tits since I arrived in Faerún. You know what to do, my love.” Sadly, this signaled the end of your correspondence, because Astarion’s attention was quickly stolen away from you again. But you had greater things to worry about, like the Githyanki King standing before you.

But you did know what to do: throw on the vampiric charm, ignore that strange inkling of your psychic abilities, and do your best not to eat anyone. You regurgitate this back to Ruth, minus the psychic thing, of course.

Orpheus nods to you as he finally takes his seat, and the rest of the room relaxes. There are no great speeches, only the clanking of classes and the sound of music playing in the background as the room was brought to life.

Your discussion with Orpheus happens in a blur. You hardly remember him, your knowledge being from Astarion’s memory of the event, but Orpheus certainly remembers you.

“Time passes differently for us in the Astral Sea. It feels like not so long ago you and Lae’zel freed me from Vlaakith.”

You smile politely, careful not to show too much fang. “I apologize for my Lord Husband’s absence. There was…business to attend to.”

“It’s quite alright. Your Lord commands the Ancunín fortune and the armies and governments of Faerún, but you were the one I was keen on seeing. You were the one who slayed a devil and a ghaik ally to free me.” You think your vampiric charm is working a little too well on Orpheus. Peeking into his mind, this King was thinking of how delicious it would be to put you on your knees and stuff his cock in your mouth right in front of your husband.

Despite his lewd thoughts, there was a glitter in the man’s eyes, and it was clear he still admired you greatly.

When the food arrives, everyone digs in, except for you: one of the two vampires in existence who could actually enjoy the taste of food, but you didn’t care for it. The servants and other underlings ate in the kitchen, and as the movement in the dining hall increases, you find yourself sitting next to Lae’zel, Ruth having gone to the kitchens to sit with Cynthia.

“How has your evening been, so far?” Lae’zel asks as she sips on her wine, her eyes sweeping over you in lustful praise.

“Without Astarion?” You shake your head, pushing the food around your plate. “Any event without him is a bore.”

This was simply the truth: you had nobody to gossip with, nobody to laugh at others with, nobody to bother with bratty complaints or loving touches.

‘I shouldn’t be surprised a spawn loves her shackles, it’s in their nature…’

“Is it really so unbelievable to you that I simply love my husband? That I am happy with my arrangement?” You blurt, decidedly not caring if you were being rude or not.

Lae’zel is looking at you deeply. Thump. Thump. Thump. “Must you read my mind?”

“Must you think such terrible things of me?”

“I won’t forgive him for how he treated you. How he turned you into a spawn. How he made you kneel for him. I never –“ Lae’zel looks away, and you smell the coming of her tears. “I never would have done the things he did. I loved you. I respected you. To watch you tolerate that was your folly.”

Despite her words, Lae’zel’s thoughts were clear as day to you: ‘I still love you, Tav. I want you. I want you to still want me.’

It would be so easy to drain this one: you knew Lae’zel would be putty in your claws as you sucked her dry and caressed her lifeless body.

You blink at her, your mind feeling hot with a flash of anger. That was so long ago. Things are different now, you think, but no words come out of your mouth. You stand gracefully, turning only a few heads as you make your way out to the side of the hall, avoiding having to walk down the center of the room.

You hardly have time to process your aggravating conversation when you are overcome with a wave of nausea, your mind assaulted by a vision of utter darkness, one that is so black that it reminds you of nothingness. You only know you haven’t lost consciousness because your sense of awareness never leaves.

Taking a deep breath, you try to collect yourself, leading yourself around the corner to a secluded walkway. The smell of alcohol is pungent in your nose as you hear the shuffling of footsteps behind you: you know there is a familiar group of warriors coming down the hallway, and one is already calling out to you.

“Tav! You must try this, it’s a rare ale made in the Astral Sea –“ The smile on Ziir’o’s boyish face drops at the sight of you. “Tav?”

“Are you alright?” Joss asks, his eyebrows furrowed in worry.

As the group gets closer, your mind flits to that vision of nothingness. You feel a great surge in your connection with Astarion, and you know he is already on his way to you. To protect you from whatever it is that is happening. He’s racing towards you, but…

it’s

already

upon

you

Your thoughts become fragmented as that nothiness swarms you. You hear those familiar voices call out your name as you feel a strange sensation behind you, like you are standing at the edge of a cliff and you can feel the harsh winds at your back, threatening to knock you over the edge: you are unsteady, you are uneasy, and you are alone.

Astarion is calling out to you but you can’t discern his message; you can only feel his panic, his horror as his deepest fears are realized, and you feel your cheeks wet as even your vision goes dark.

“Astarion. Astarion. Astarion!” You’re screaming out to him, but you have no idea if he can hear you, because you receive nothing in response. The words seem to bounce around your empty mind.

Nothing: there is something about the absence of existence that is instinctually frightening to a vampire. Nothing is both a feeling and a state of being that vampires try to avoid.

You feel the world of the créche slip away from you as you finally fall off the cliff edge, into that strange breeze that violently whips around you.

“Astarion?” You keep reaching out to your bonded mate, desperate for him to respond.

Even your nose is blind. You start to think that maybe you’re dead when you no can longer feel your body. You don’t know how long you stay like this for, in this state where only your consciousness seems to exist with itself. You don’t think about much other than Astarion, who will surely come and save you at some point, even if you are dead.

Your hearing is the first to come back to you: someone is shuffling around you, maybe even pacing. For a moment, you think maybe it’s Astarion, until your sense of smell comes back online: nothing about wherever you had been taken smells remotely like your husband.

On the contrary, it smells distinctly like another vampire. This is when you start to panic. Tears are already sliding down your cheeks once your sense of touch comes back to you, realizing that you are wrapped in the arms of another man.

His skin is cool, scaley, his large arm coiled around your body as you try to squirm away from him. You realize now that whatever spell had been placed on you was wearing off.

Your entire body is trembling, and there is a stabbing pain in your chest and your temples at the realization that you are alone in your head.

“Tch tch, my little darling. Mage, again.” The man’s voice is deep, rumbling, and you feel the flicker of a long, thin tongue lap at your cheek. You won’t forget how he loves the taste of your tears.

****

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5.

Masterlist

#ascended astarion #ascended!astarion #ascended astarion x tav #ascended astarion x reader #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #soft ascended astarion #ascended astarion x you #spawn tav #astarion x you #ascended!astarion x reader #ascended!astarion x tav #Killing Time

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