#EMERGENCY MAID OUTFITS | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gravegoer · 7 months ago

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i need royal blood part 2 pleasssseee UAGUHDUAHD

Royal Blood — 🜲

i personally love this AU and i hope you guys do too.. for some ODD reason i havent gotten many asks about it but here u guys go summary: sevika helps u get ready for your ball, and a little jealousy

masterlist , part 1

It had been around a week since the night Sevika basically cradled you to sleep. Unfortunately, you didn't see her around much, feeling a bit lonelier without her presence to keep you company.

It's possible she felt guilty for having her hands all over the princess, thinking it's not her place. But in reality, she was just trying her best to resist you. She kept herself busy with mundane and useless tasks, but still hovering close enough to keep an eye on you.

And your plans for her didn't make it much easier for her to hold back.

During the week that your parents were absent on a trip, they had reluctantly allowed you to host a ball. Seeing as this was the perfect way to prove to your parents that you were capable of being responsible you had to insure everything went as planned.

You had your butler customize invitations and send them to a select few noble families. Even though you would have much rather invited your average friends, ruckus had to be avoided, and your friends would most likely cause more trouble than they intend.

Now it was the morning of the big day, despite your mind being set on Sevika the whole morning you had managed to pull yourself out of bed, still in your nightgown, and go downstairs.

As always breakfast was waiting for you on the table, you internally thanked the chef as you dug into your meal, savoring the flavors. The large window in front of you showcased the front of your castle, Sevika stood outside, simply watching passerbyers as if suspecting each and every one.

You laughed to yourself at how seriously she took her job, wondering what was on her mind. You set your plate aside and strode to the double doors to take a breath of fresh air (talk to Sevika).

You emerged, and the cold stone of the stairs nipped at your bare feet. She shot you a questioning look before you spoke, “So.. the ball is today”

“I know, i'll be on guard duty.”

You scoffed at her seriousness, “Really? This is my big day, and you aren't even going to show up. You've been cold this week.”

She sighed and her shoulders seemed to slump a bit, “Apologies, is there anything you want?”

“Yes!” You groaned, “Just— can you at least help me get ready tonight?”

She cocked an eyebrow at your question, “Isn’t that what your personal maid is for?”

“Well– I need help picking something to wear, and my maid is supposed to be bias. She will like anything i do, and you’d tell me the truth right?”

Sevika nodded, giving in a bit.

“Great! I admire your honesty, truely. Join me in my quarters tonight at 6:00.”

Before she could protest you were stepping back inside all giddy. It seemed you would finally get some time to yourself with Sevika. I mean she couldn't deny an order, Right?

Right.

Sevika showed up to your door at exactly 6:00 PM, punctual as always. You greeted her with a smile, now changed into a different stay-at-home outfit. You had been lounging around your room for most of the day while waiting for Sevika to arrive.

The balcony door in your room was open, and there were books strewn about your bed. She shook her head at your carelessness and walked over to the balcony, pulling the door shut.

“You know anyone could come in through there right?” She stated sternly.

“To my balcony on the second floor?” You laughed, "Whatever you say, I guess you're the boss around here."

She let out a small laugh that could be mistaken for a scoff and turned to your quite large closet, motioning for you to open it. You pulled the doors open to reveal your plethora of dresses and other garments. Sevika sighed at the fullness as you started to push around the dresses, looking for a color you liked.

After some time, you held up two dresses, and Sevika cringed at them, “That one isn’t fit for a ball, and that one is just—” You groaned, interrupting her.

“You said you were looking for honest, not biased.”

Shaking your head you dove back into the clothes, hands emerging with a beautifully embroidered dress, and another that was similar in style with a low V neckline. Sevika looked contemplative for a moment before motioning to the changing divider, “Try them on for me.”

You crossed your arms, “Well, I cant put them on myself, I need help with the corset.”

You said this like it was common sense, but Sevika looked at you incredulously, not expecting you to ask for something like that from her. She grabbed the corset that was on the ground and the second dress from your hand, “Okay, lets get this over with.”

"Fuck, Sevika its too tight," you grunted, hands gripping onto the back of a wooden chair.

Sevika had a knee between your legs, roughly pulling at the strings of a white corset. You were just about to be pulled back by her strength if it wasn't for her leg holding you in place.

"Why the fuck would you put yourself through this," she mumbled through gritted teeth.

You yelped in response, and she finally opted to finish tugging and tied it diligently in the back. Breathing a sigh of relief, you slumped forward on the chair, pushing further into Sevikas leg.

Her hands found your waist before she teasingly asked, "Tight enough?"

You nodded, somewhat annoyed with her sarcastic tone, and grabbed the dress that was on the seat of the chair. Sevika backed up and looked away to try and give you even an ounce of privacy as you tugged it over your head.

The dress hugged your curves in the torso and fell around your legs perfectly, with not too much poof and just enough embroidery. It touched the floor and covered your feet, trailing elegantly with you.

Sevika almost gawked at the sight, most definitely eyeing the V neck of the dress. She was glad she picked it.

"You look ready for a ball," she smirked.

"Aww, that's all you have to say?" You giggled, twirling around.

The small twinkle in your eye made her swoon, and she laid a hand on your waist, "You look beautiful, princess."

You smiled at her action, feeling the gentleness from that night return. It's like you broke down her walls in a second, with nothing but a mere look. You all but pried her hand from your waist, flitting over to your vanity.

Grabbing a clip and a comb, you motioned for Sevika to follow you.

"You know I can't do hair, don't push your luck with me. The corset was as far as I'll go," she crossed her arms as if she were putting a foot down.

"No, silly, let me do yours. If you won't dress up for my ball, this is the least you can do," You giggled, pushing her down into your plush vanity stool.

It creaked under her weight, and she sighed but made no further protests. You could see her eyeing you in the mirror, having little faith in your ability. But you just smiled and got to work.

Taking her small bun out, you brushed the small knots and tangles out of her dark hair. It was soft and shiny between your fingers. You admired the deep smell of her shampoo mixed in with her natural scent.

Then, you pulled it up into the same half updo, but instead of tying it with a rubber, you inserted a silver clip in its place. The clip matched her metal arm perfectly, with just the slightest touch of regalness, to show it was yours.

You held a mirror to the back of her head, showing her your work so that she could view it from the mirror in front of her. "It's pretty right?"

Sevika squinted at it in the mirror, bringing a flesh hand up to touch it gently. "Yeah, too pretty for me."

You scoffed and pushed her head gently, "Nonsense, it's just right. As a matter of fact, keep it."

And this would be your first gift to her. The first among many.

She snorted, "I can't deny a gift from the princess"

Looking at the small clock on your vanity, it read: 7:12.

Fuck.

It started in less than 10 minutes. You hurriedly pulled Sevika out of your stool and checked your makeup and hair in the mirror. She smirked at your worriedness and silently held out an arm for you to take.

You turned around to her, eyeing her arm before gently wrapping your hands around it, looking at her to gauge a reaction. But she walked you to your doors, opening them for you with one hand.

You smiled, realizing her intentions, she was going to walk you out in front of all those people. I mean, it was appropriate, right? It's normal for your personal guard to walk you out, only a safety precaution.

Well atleast thats what you told yourself as Sevika walked you down the grand staircase right into the party. People gawked at the sight of their princess, admiring the sight of your beautiful dress, others were staring at something— or rather someone else.

Sevika contrasted your appearance greatly. She stood menacingly at your side, glaring at anyone that shot confused glances. Her rough scarred skin opposed the softness of your exposed flesh. Your delicately jeweled fingers were wrapped around her thick arm as she helped you maneuver down the carpeted stairs.

You let her arm go so that you could start greeting your guests. Your servents had put together a grand ball, tables of food and wine were placed intricately, decorated with jars of flowers and other miscellaneous things.

Women complemented your dress while you shook hands with their husbands, offering some wine or water. You were on your best behavior, making sure your guests would report back to your parents talking about how respectful and polite you were.

A tall woman with dark skin approached you, her white dress with gold accessories glimmered in your eyes. She was positively beautiful.

You introduced yourself, "Hello, im glad you could make it tonight. Your dress is striking."

She smiled kindly at your remark, "It's so nice to finally meet you, princess, let me introduce myself," She took your hand and brought it to her supple lips, "I am Mel Medarda."

Your cheeks flushed, "Well, it's a pleasure."

When you finished the pleasantries, you turned to see Sevika glaring at you and Mel from her position in front of the door, taking over for one of the guards. Excusing yourself from the conversation, you made your way to the other side of the room. After swerving through groups of people, avoiding small talk and sending small waves, you finally got to her.

She watched you the whole way over, but decided to look away the second you approached her. Tapping on her arm you cleared your throat, "Ahem, your princess would like a word with you."

She raised her eyebrow, turning her gaze back to you, "Its not appropriate for the princess to be speaking to a worker during an event."

You laughed off her coldness, "Why are you looking at me so intensely then," You started circling her like a predator to its prey, "You wanted my attention?"

She smirked at your playfulness but shook her head, "Just seeing you interact with others is.. odd."

"Jealous?" You teased, knowing she most likely only thought this because she always saw you cooped up at home.

But to your suprise, her stern demeanor fumbled a bit, brows furrowing and eyes widening.

"No. Get back to your duties, we've been speaking for too long, people are staring."

If she wouldn't admit it, you'd make her.

i do plan on making a part 3 ! but im going to be working on some shorter fics + hcs so i have time to release the beauty and the beast fic :)

taglist: @thequeenreaders @hangezoes-wife @thesecondhandwoman @slut4sevika @kylorey25 @archangeldyke-all

comment or ask to be added <33

#sevika #arcane #sevika x reader #sevika arcane #arcane sevika #arcane netflix #sevika arcane x reader #lesbian #sevika season 2 #princess au #boduguard au #arcane au #arcane x reader #fanfic #reader #x reader

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himbo-kuto · 2 months ago

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you clapped with teary eyes as the maid of honor finished her speech.

you had been invited to your coworker’s wedding and naturally, zayne was your plus one. he wouldn’t admit it outright, but you knew that he loved getting all dressed up. when he was able to break out anything other than his five routine outfits there was a bit more spring in his step, especially when you two would coordinate colors. something he wasn’t shy about was matching with you and everybody knew that if zayne had something, you most likely had the one to match. you saw him eyeing that wine colored blazer that he wore on your attempted ferry date by the river (everlasting wish) and you just so happened to have a dress that would match perfectly.

he leaned over and gave your temple a kiss in a celebration of his own love as he clapped along. you leaned back into his arms as he cradled you softly.

“i love you” a soft declaration as you leaned up to kiss his cheek. he hummed in reciprocation before squeezing your forearm for your attention (as if it had shifted somewhere else).

“bathroom?”

you nodded, suddenly remembering you had to go before the speeches abruptly started. zayne stood up first, offering his hand (that you graciously accepted). you briefly mentioned to tara who was sitting on the other side of you that you would be back before swiftly making your way to the facilities.

like any gentleman, zayne always waited as he usually finished first. he was standing in the lounge area in front of the floor length mirror checking his suit as he saw you walk out. even though he witnessed you cultivate this look first hand, he felt himself mesmerized by your beauty all over again.

“why are you looking at me like that dr.zayne?” you asked with a shy, silly smile. he pulled you in close with your back to his chest as he gave your exposed shoulder a gentle kiss.

“no reason other than being captivated by your beauty.”

you watched in the mirror as zayne’s eyes traveled from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. with your hair perfectly curled down your back, to the browns and burgundies you used in your eye makeup to match your dress, along with your lips that look as though you’ve just eaten a cherry popsicle– you were hot, but not like you were the only one.

zayne’s suit was perfectly tailored to his proportions, showing off his broad shoulders and thick thighs. you looked at his arms that surrounded your waist adorned with jewelry that you picked out for him– a few rings and the watch that you gave him for his birthday. the veins in his hands that lead down to his arms caused a shiver to run down your spine just thinking of wh–

“staring, my love?” you blinked, now snapping back to reality.

“well of course, give me a few more seconds and I would’ve started drooling.” he let out a laugh into the crook of your neck. his warm breath instantly gave your cold skin goosebumps. you loved hearing his laugh, something that not many people got to witness.

“come on, let's get back. we might miss those little salads.” he held the door open for you.

you two walked in perfect unison back into the reception hall, the clicking of your heels suddenly grabbing tara’s attention. she watched as you two emerged from the hallway and unbeknownst to tara, her jaw had dropped. the way your hair naturally flowed behind you as you walked, the dress, the hair, the makeup– it would’ve put anyone on their knees. her gaze shifted to zayne who was a few paces behind you. he adjusted his cufflinks, before he shifted his attention back to you. you were mostly pretty coordinated in your heels, but everybody has their missteps. he assured you (in more ways than one) he would be there to catch you when you fall. he was practically glowing; happy to be by your side, yet giving you the space you needed to shine.

you reached out your hand to him, bringing up his interlocked fingers to your lips but not before he gave you a swift kiss on the forehead. you couldn’t help but beam up at him as you experienced pure bliss.

your gaze finally met tara’s as you gave her a wave. you quickly noticed her expression as she followed your movements all up until you sat down. you furrowed your eyebrows as you placed your hand on hers.

“tara, what’s wrong? did something happen?” she shook her head, laughing to herself as she had just gotten starstruck by her hot friends.

“nothing– i saw you and zayne walking in and i was just–” she couldn’t think of the word to describe what she was feeling– trying to use her hands to try and give you a visual representation.

“i don’t know– enthralled? enamored? captivated? you had my full and undivided attention the second you walked in the room. not only are you two freaking drop dead gorgeous.. but it was like i couldn’t take my eyes off of you or else i’d miss something really important.”

you felt a wave of warmth run up your neck and across your cheeks as you were slightly embarrassed that someone witnessed a small intimate moment with you and your partner. but in a way you felt kind of proud being able to turn heads and keep them there. you were no stranger to the effects that zayne had on other people, (heck, you’re one of them) but you never thought about yourself and what it was like for the people on the outside looking in.

“you two are really meant for each other.”

you look over at zayne who was striking up casual conversation with your coworkers. you watched as he gave kind smiles and nods, knowing full well that your eyes were on him. he quickly turned to you during a brief break during their discussion to shoot you a wink before seamlessly returning to their conversation. he took your hand under the table, habitually running his thumb over your knuckles.

“thanks… i think i’ll keep him.”

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lokisgoodgirl · 1 year ago

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Successional Pleasure: The Rite (II)

A Masterlist for The Rite is here A link to my regular Masterlist is here Summary: (2) Loki arranges a meeting, and you're offered the opportunity of a lifetime (w/c 4.8k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Thirsting for unattainable royals. Language. Heavy petting. Ridiculous Asgardian HC lore. Smuttish.

This morning the palace criers announced mandatory palace court attendance for all of Asgard.

Word travels fast, you muse as another person shoves into your shoulder; especially when the Odinsons will be in full ceremonial dress.

A swell ripples through the crowd, pulsing forward. Only one row of people stand in front of you, and the guards lining the jostling mass are becoming impatient.

You always make an effort for these events; everyone does. However bland and self-aggrandising the subject matter (and with the Allfather, when is it not?) – one never knows who’ll attention you’ll draw. But this time, it’s different.

This time, as you fixed your hair and let your solitary maid tighten the laces of your dress – there was only one person you wanted to impress. Him. Because this time, for the first time, he may actually notice you.

But that’s madness, you think as you try and focus. His lovers are legendary. He has his pick of…anyone. Literal deities.

But then, the memory of Prince Loki’s glistening chest emerging from the palace baths with wet hair plastered over his brow as he grunted through his orgasm erupts in your mind. That’s a memory not easily forgotten. In fact, it’s very easily encouraged. And each time you think of it, more layers appear.

In the extended, delusional version, he crosses the pool, the lapping water licking around his proud cock snug to his stomach as he wages a path to cage you by the stone edge and—

Trumpets blare. “They’re here,” a woman beside you squeals. Her hand flies to yours, clawing with unhinged excitement. The guards straighten, spears thudding against marble in ceremonial greeting.

He probably does that shit all the time; wanking in the palace baths with people he doesn’t know. He won’t see you amongst thousands of faces. That’s madness. But when it came to Loki Odinson, didn’t that make it more likely? Nerves tighten your stomach. The glint of their ostentatious headwear is the first sign of approach; two small figures against the expanse of the ancient doors floor to ceiling of the hall. Cheers thunders like a burst dam through a canyon as they move in sync down the wide aisle, each set of guards they pass thunking their staff in salute. Each thud made your pussy clench. And finally, you catch sight of his face.

It's the picture of haughty expectation at the wild crowds losing their minds as he passes. Every slice and draw of his bone structure is set like marble. He’s above it all; stunning decorative armour that would be absolutely no use in battle accenting broad shoulders at sharp angles. Impeccable posture, as ever. Today, the prince wears full leathers beneath – ridiculously fitted trousers which melded seamlessly to a forest green tunic stitched in golden trim.

To complete the act of war that’s his outfit, a stiff collar cut to the curve of his jawline sweeps up to his earlobes; a solitary curl of ebony hair lying against the leather, freed from his helmet. Thor wears the same red and garish gold he always does, beaming greedily at the crowds.

Your eyes roam over Loki’s sweeping entrance and you smile to yourself that the last time you’d seen him – he’d been naked. The woman beside you begins to breathe heavily as they draw closer. You have no idea, you smirk.

Loki’s cape billows with theatrical elegance down the open aisle, and you wonder briefly if his magic has something to do with it. Thor’s certainly doesn’t flutter around his ankles with the same effortless gravitas. Thor’s doesn’t undulate with every stride, timed with the military precision of its master’s thighs.

The guard in front of you lifts his spear, ready to thrust it to the marble floor. You hold your breath, biting your lip, their glory radiating with each falling step. And then, time seems to stop. Because then, Loki, Prince of Asgard, looks at you. His eyes flicker to the side, narrowing softly in your direction. A low dimple in his cheek flashes, only for a moment. And then - -thunk

The metal clang makes you jump out your skin, and by the time you get your bearings, the princes have moved on. They each face the platform, sinking on one knee with bowed heads while Odin pats down the cheers. He begins to rumble on, something about war, or tradition or blah blah.

The dark prince’s jawline is a work of art as he kneels in performatively rapt attention. With each swallow, his cheekbones flash. The golden helmet highlights the harsh lines of his face, lids dropping every few minutes as he struggles not to roll his eyes. You smile.

“Oh that’s good,” the woman beside you hums. You frown at her, concentration broken. It was her turn to frown. She shakes her head, gazing back to Odin. “Thor reached a treaty with Muspelheim.”

The next hour passes slowly, and for once, you’re grateful. When Odin stops, it’s the Crown Prince’s turn to regale the audience of thousands with his diplomatic success. Only half-listening, you use the time to your advantage, perving on Loki kneeling on the polished floor with those long, pale fingers clasped around one knee. When the dark prince stands, the rest of the high-nobles do the same. He whips his cape back, allowing the crowd a gratuitous view of his muscular ass and thighs flexing beneath tight leather while he unfurls. Loki’s imperious eyes scan the heaving crowd with an air of disdain. The look rolls like a sea wind, cold and unforgiving until you feel its weight land on you.

You’re pinned by that stare as plainly as though it’s his hands; his body. Goosebumps ripple beneath your dress. I see you, he mouths silently, subtly, before his gaze falls on his brother once more.

The royal family wave a final time before slipping to the doors at the back of the Great Hall. Loki’s attention hadn’t fallen upon you again, but the waiting. The anticipation; it was exhausting.

Around you, the bustle of a thousand conversations grows to a roar. The front rows of the crowd begin to file out and follow the same path the royal family had taken through the golden doors. High-court, only. Friends and family, that sort of thing. A huge curtain hangs behind the throne, buffeting gently from some unseen breeze. It’s a rich amber with threads of green and red and blue, shimmering patterns that no mortal fingers could accomplish woven over centuries, millennia even.

Gods, noted warriors and chancellors all dutifully bow to the empty throne before circling around the platform and disappearing behind the curtain. On their way to a feast, no doubt.

A set of bird-like fingers wrap around your wrist. With a yank you pull it away, whipping round to see the expectant face of a young boy.

“Get out of here,” you snarl. Pickpockets are rife at these sorts of things. The boy stares. Puberty hadn’t darkened a shadow on his skin, and despite his age, he was un-phased by the abruptness.

“You are requested,” he says, bored eyes searching your face. People jostle by your shoulders in annoyance. “By who?” you scoff. They’d try anything these days.

The boy tugs your hand. “Requested,” he says again as though it explains everything, turning and pulling you earnestly towards the line of guards. With a single glance at an insignia on his tunic, they part for him.

You traipse behind him at pace, clutching long skirts in one fist while eyes in the crowd follow you down the marble aisle against the sea of people and behind the mysterious curtain. “Name?” a voice grunts.

You look from the back of the boy’s head to the bulky figure in front of you. He’s dressed in robes of scarlet, the hint of a dagger’s hilt beneath a thick belt. A wiry red beard hangs down his chest, resting on a buckle of black steel. “I know you not…” he sneers slowly. “No names,” the boy snaps. He barely came up to the gatekeeper’s stomach. “She’s been requested.” The gatekeeper’s face crumples and his eyes dart to the emblem on the boy’s chest before standing aside, holding his tongue.

The youth gestures with his head to follow him, and you do…. down a short corridor flooded with buttery light. Delicate jangling of lutes and laughter ring to ornate cloisters, a glittering view of Asgard below the balcony-walkway taking your breath away. “Hurry,” the boy snips without a backwards look. “Master is not a patient man.”

He claps his small hands three times and a set of golden doors at the end of the cloister swing open. Thor comes into view mid-conversation, still wearing his ceremonial armour, a goblet spilling over the sides clutched in one hand as he gesticulates wildly. There’s a rumble of polite laughter. Your hand shoots out, grabbing the boy’s shoulder.

“I shouldn’t be here,” you mutter. He shoots a scathing glance over his shoulder, casting a salty look down to your feet and back again. “You have been—”

“—requested,” you finish petulantly. “Yeah, I know.”

Your ribs thrum as you walk through the doors, pulled by invisible hands. There can only be one person who harbours the desire to have you at this exclusive gathering. And even that’s beyond insanity. Has he mistaken you for someone else? The boy, that is. He’s a barely more than a child. You were about to ask where you should go, when you realise he’s gone. Casting a frantic look around the room it’s evident that familiar groups have already formed, jokes cracking in waves; picking at piles of nuts and fruit and meats. Frigga herself stands by an ornate silver trolley, ladling wine into a goblet while Lofn whispers in her ear. Your knees buckle slightly. There he is.

A small figure works through folds of silk and armoured angles to the back of the room. You follow him, before halting abruptly, steadying yourself against a table. The boy’s come to a stop in front of a shadowed figure, exchanging a conspiratorial nod. Loki Odinson claps him on the back, raising a goblet to his lips. He rests against a pillar, choosing to stay apart from the revels. Watching. Waiting. His eyes meet yours as he sips; dark and dangerous over a rim of gold. One brow twitches upwards in, you presume, greeting. Sweaty palms run slip the front of your dress and you fight the sudden urge to run. It’s pale blue, the finest you own. Which isn’t saying much. The same colour as his eyes, you realise.

The Prince lowers the goblet, cocking his head. He’s still adorned with the ensemble his part in the day’s festivities required save one, the helmet. Dark curls spill freely over the shoulders of the cape fastened to guards beneath, intricate folds of fabric worked to perfection.

He raises a hand, forefinger beckoning twice in subtle succession before lowering it again. Just like the baths, you think with a shameful thrill. Your gaze darts to faces you’ve only seen in paintings around the court as you glide over, trying to look like you belong - but no one bats an eye. Loki unhooks one foot from behind the other, nudging himself off the column. Leather boots gape teasingly around his calves. You wonder, if you beg like a common trollop, if he would fuck you wearing those boots. Only those boots—

“You’re not wearing green,” the Prince drawls. You open your mouth and close it again, irritatingly mute while his blue irises smoulder. “Usually they wear green.” You press your lips together, collecting yourself. “Who?” “Those trying to bed me,” Loki says.

“I’m not trying to—” The prince waves a dismissive hand. “—Catch my attention, then.”

You feel your cheeks heat under scrutiny, a very obvious swallow working its way down your throat. “I don’t know what you mean your Highness,” you say. “You summoned me.”

“Indeed, I did. So I imagine I must have a very good reason,” the Prince murmurs. He brings the pad of a fingertip to his lower lip, brushing it across the skin as you stand in silent bemusement. “Loki! Did you send for a jester? What fun!” You inhale sharply as Fandral slides into view beside your shoulder. His hair is on point this evening, a lush wave cresting over his forehead and swept to the side as his eyes trail to your feet and back to your face. “Oh, my mistake. Just someone getting a little a carried away with the rouge, it seems.” Your stomach tightens. “I’m leaving, your Highness,” you say with a lacklustre bow and a bitter taste in your mouth. “But you do not have my permission,” Loki growls quietly. His feet come into view on the floor and you raise your head, inhaling the sweet breath from his lungs clouding your lips. “More wine, Loki?” Fandral asks brightly, already pouring into Loki’s goblet. The prince’s eyes don’t leave yours, but his mouth hardens.

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” he asks through gritted teeth. Fandral looks at you with mock-surprise. “Oh yes, most recent conquest is it? Come for a peek behind the gilded curtain before you’re sent back to the depths of banality? I thought he’d run out of new faces.” He winks; it makes your stomach churn. “She’s not a conquest,” Loki says, hovering the goblet by his lips. “Not one of mine, anyway.”

Your eyes dart to his and catch them narrow slightly. Fandral looks genuinely confused. “Well, what then? Why is she here? Who is she?”

Suddenly there’s a loud crash to the side. Thor stumbles against the table laden with wine-soaked pears and pastries and mounds of tartlets, knocking a pile of cold meats to the ground. He wobbles after them, kneeling on the floor and beginning to pick them off the stones as if they were jewels. “Oh for heaven’s sake,” Loki mutters, and you feel the gentle pressure of a hand on your waist. “Walk with me,” he urges in your ear and a shudder rolls down your spine.

“Loki?” Fandral calls as the figures around you start to blur and the Prince manoeuvres you through the crowd like a feather. “Loki, I must speak to you about the…matter, I’ll…later. Yes, later. Quite.” A wall of fresh air skates over your skin. You hadn’t realised how warm it was inside. The two of you come to a stop at the wall of the balcony, nails skimming against polished marble. Loki clears his throat.

“I apologise for Fandral he’s…” Loki looks up from beneath his lashes, a performative sheepishness softening his face, “well, himself.” You stifle a laugh, focusing on the edge of the moonlit waterfalls in the distance. Silence hangs between you, made louder by the jumbled festivities inside. “Why am I here, Prince Loki?” you whisper, not daring to look at him. “If it’s about what happened in the baths, I won’t tell a soul I swear—” “—It’s not.” Irritation begins to brew in your stomach. “Well then Fandral has a point. Why am I here? I’m no one.” “Exactly.” A prickle of heat rises up your neck, stinging your ears. “Am I a joke to you, your Highness?”

Loki’s eyes flashing in moonlight, but he says nothing. It stings.

“You bring me here to make a fool out of me in front of your friends? In front of Frigga? Frigga.” “I needed to see if any of them knew you.” Loki’s voice is eerily calm, his gaze as unflinching as a cliff jutting into night. “And clearly, they do not. Fandral would recognise you if they did; that little fishwife knows absolutely everything.” “Why would they know me? And what does it matter?” “It matters a great deal. To me, at least. And to you, perhaps.” You push a strand of hair back from your forehead, hating that its damp. The skin feels hot. Hot and flustered and clammy with embarrassment and…shit, arousal. Can he tell?

Black strings of lax curl blow gently around Loki’s jawline, pale lips stained with wine. “Tell me, my Lady…have you heard of the Rite of Successional Pleasure?” he asks, and suddenly all other noise vanishes from your ears save the hum of his voice.

Loki’s eyes run down the blue chiffon of your robe, wondering if he could peel it off and cast it skating across the stone with a solitary swipe of his hand. Allowing you a moment to collect yourself, he decides that yes, he could. “Surely just a legend, my Prince…” you answer demurely, busying your hands and staring off into the distance as an unmistakable waft of heat courses from your bare neckline. He licks his lips, feeling a smirk curl the corners.

“Aren’t we all?” he purrs. Their eyes meet. “I assure you it is very real. A relic, to be sure. But real enough. And I require a partner to enact this Rite, else my succession to Asgard’s throne will not be entrenched in law. I have waited too long as it is, as I keep being reminded.”

“That’s very…interesting,” you say.

Loki straightens. He hadn’t taken you for a dullard, but he does appreciate the delayed gratification of enthusiasm at the proposal. Loki can hear your heart thud faster; he wonders how much of that blood is flushing to your sex beneath the gown billowing about your ankles. You glance at him and quickly look away. It makes Loki’s stomach twist. Perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps events in the bath-house were simply…opportunity. Or worse, fear. You clear your throat. “What is it, exactly? The Rite of Successional…” “—Pleasure,” Loki finishes abruptly. He rolls his shoulders back, steadying the flurry of unwelcome nerves in his chest.

“One of my family’s farcical traditions. When Asgard’s twin moons are in perfect equilibrium within the heavens, once every half millennia – eligible members of the royal family suitable for rule must, in order to be considered for finite succession, perform the Rite.” “Which is?”

Loki’s eyes fall down the curve of your neck, hovering on your moist lips. He’d thought of nothing else in the days since the bath-house; those lips sucked between his teeth, stretching around his cock; swollen and wet and…

“Pleasure.” It comes out sterner than intended. “To be given, only. A king must not just be skilled in diplomacy, in combat, in war and sacrifice, but in giving pleasure,” he says, imitating the cadence of his father’s voice with a caricatural wave of his hand. “How else can Asgard’s citizens know we are to be trusted, to be benevolent, if is not documented in the annals?”

“You can’t be serious,” you say. “I thought it was a joke, like the other things.” “Contrary to belief, I can be very serious indeed, little owl,” Loki replies with a smile. It fades. The weight of the pet name plucked from nowhere hangs in the air like smoke as you fidget with a fold of your dress. Gods, how he hates that it’s blue. “I still don’t see what it has to do with me,” you posture meekly. Loki tenses, words hissing between his teeth. “Bifrost’s blood, woman. I’m asking you to be my partner for the Rite. Must I carve it in stone?”

The widen of your eyes makes his stomach flutter and you attempt a clumsy curtsey which makes Thor’s staggered collapse among the strewn meats look elegant. “I…I don’t know what to…I—” Suddenly, you look up. “Is it witnessed?” “Of course.” Horror blossoms in your eyes. “Oh…it’s very tasteful,” Loki says, inspecting his nails. “Much more so than the Ceremony of the Sacred Seed, I assure you. It relies more on…aural methods. For the most part.”

“I’ve never been invited to that,” you reply absently, and Loki notes that your fingers have curled around his wrist armour, steadying yourself. “When is the…the moon thing?” “Five nights from now,” he says, and your jaw drops. “I understand I’ve left it rather late, but I really am in rather a bind.” The irony of him practically begging this unknown woman of the court to bring her the greatest ecstasy she’s ever know wasn’t lost on Loki, but for the moment at least…he decides to restrain his natural urge to remind her of that fact.

“Your reputation will only be enhanced, I assure you,” he adds. “It’s a great honour. And I am, if I may say, quite renowned for my skill in that department.” “Why me?” she asked. And there it was. He grimaced. “Don’t lie to me,” she added bravely, and his grimace deepened. “The Rite will only be valid if the recipient has never known the touch of a god. Or, more specifically their…essence. Our essences must never have touched each other. The punishment is severe; there are tomes and everything; rules…how I loathe them,” he says, offering a weak smile. Realisation blossoms in your eyes. “And…I’m afraid my roster has been rather full these past centuries.” A small laugh erupts from your throat that makes it incredibly difficult not to shut you up with his mouth. “Surely you can’t have fucked everyone in the high-court?”

Loki bit back a laugh of his own. “Rather brazen, aren’t you?” he says, narrowing his eyes. “Regrettably, my options in that circle are limited to Fandral. And I’m afraid I cannot bring myself to give him the satisfaction he most desperately desires; it’s far too much fun tormenting him.” You raise an eyebrow and Loki scoffs, smoothing a curl back. “Oh, don’t act so surprised. I know what they must say about me.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about, your Highness,” you say with a conspiratorial smile.

“Liar,” Loki replies softly. The sparkle of your mischief fades, and he finds he immediately misses it. “So, I’m…a last resort, then?” “Somewhat, yes.” You bristle, goosebumps rising along your bare arms in the evening chill. Loki watches them flare, fighting the urge to soothe them with his fingertips. Another eruption of his brother’s drunken laughter bounces from the archways.

“What happened in the baths,” she says, eyeing him warily. “Wouldn’t that count? Wouldn’t your…uh, essence have…travelled?”

A small noise scratches from Loki’s throat. “Far too diluted. Fortunately…we were rather far apart.” She moves a step closer, looking up at him beneath her lashes. Her scent makes his mouth water. “And besides, if memory serves you made rather a hasty exit.” “If I agree to this, what’s in it for me?” you ask with a coolness he isn’t expecting. He frowns. “Aside from the obvious?” You shoot him a scathing glare. “You’ll be an honoured guest of Asgard’s highest echelons until the ceremony; luxurious quarters, the finest garments…yours to keep, naturally. A feast in your honour, the honour of my escort, a place in Asgard’s history, and of course…my eternal thanks.” He waits until you turn fractionally towards him before deploying a calculated wink. Your expression is stamped with suspicion, and yet he sees the intrigue nestled beneath the veneer of resistance. He’s not surprised when you shuffle closer, glancing over your shoulder. “Is there um…practice, involved?” Loki feels his brows shoot up. “Practice? Norns haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve said? Our…”

He whips his cape as he spins, eyeing over his shoulder, catching the glint of Fandral’s flaxen hair hovering by the feasting table. “Our evidence of arousal cannot be in contact before the Rite…not a single drop, lest the entire ceremony be declared null and my honour as a successor questioned.” “Right,” you say stiffly. “Of course.” He can feel the heat of embarrassment radiating from your skin.

You need her, fool. Loki clears his throat with a dry rattle. “But we may…get to know each other. That is expected, at least. If you agree, of course.” You turn to him, eyes shimmering in moonlight. Loki wonders again how he could possibly have missed such a rare jewel in the drab sameness of Asgard’s court. He straightens as your finger runs over the metal at his wrist, trailing up the hem of his cape. “Are you allowed to kiss me?” you ask. A thick swallow works down his throat, his trousers tightening as you add, “What do the rules say about that?” Suddenly it feels as though he could be three-hundred again, unfamiliar nerves sizzling in his belly like fire. “I…there is no impediment to that particular act, no.” “Don’t you think it would be wise to…make sure we’re compatible before you make such a momentous decision?” A flush creeps up Loki’s neck above the high collar of his tunic as the clink of goblets and laughter continue inside the archway and he’s thankful for darkness. A muscle in his jawline twitches, fingers clenching and unclenching by his sides. There it was again, that audacity. So wilful, and yet…

In a flash his fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you back with him into shadow. He slips a hand around your back, cushioning your spine as you meet rough stone with a gasp. Your sultry eyes look up at him with manufactured innocence.

“Let’s spare ourselves the virginal theatrics,” he hums, drawing his nose up the line of your cheekbone. The shiver that racks your body makes the toes in his boots curl. “You will be my partner for this sacred Rite?” You catch his lips with the brush of an autumn breeze, grazing against the words. The scent of you overwhelms him; a deep forest tang with overtures of a fragrant sweetness he can’t place.

He groans into the kiss, hungrier with every work of his mouth against the reach of your tongue. Loki’s hands slide up the swell of your breasts, each moan shivering from your throat into his making him want to explode.

As your fingers card through his hair, he realises the other hand is working down the harsh wall of tunic, sliding down his abdomen, hungry for the engorged lust strapped to his hip. There is a barrier, he thinks wildly, tempering his fear. There is a barrier. You squeeze. “Norns, woman…” he growls between gritted teeth, steadying a forearm against the wall behind your head as his gnawing kisses work down your neck. Stone veins spread in crunching crackles under the pressure. “Loki,” you gasp beneath him, bucking into the press of his armour into your endless curves. The realisation he can’t sate it hits with sudden, unwelcome clarity.

“Far too familiar,” he chides against your ear with a feigned derision that makes another moan snake from your throat. Loki’s cock throbs harder. “I remain your Prince, and you will address me as such.” You crush his lips with a kiss full of such desire Loki thinks he might shatter. His cock rubs against your stomach, harsh friction sending jolts of pleasure lancing through his body and suddenly, you break from him with a pant. “Do you want to know my name now, my Prince?”

His saliva rings your mouth; lips swollen and puffed. He nods twice, keeping his chin low on the second as his eyes flutter closed as you lean to his ear, whispering the word. Now that he knows it, he can’t imagine it being anything else.

“…and I’m no one’s last resort, not even a god,” you say, meeting his eyes. Loki steps back, jaw hardening as you smooth down the front of your dress. “I didn’t mean to imply—” “—Well, you did. So, if this still seems like a good idea in the morning, I expect to see you again under less…crowded circumstances.” Loki bit back the urge to protest, but as much as he was loathe to admit it…she had a point. Preparations for the Rite were usually conducted over months, and as he widened his stance, clasping his hands behind his back, a familiar coiffured sheaf of golden hair glinted and disappeared with suspicious urgency. “Unless you’d rather partake with Fandral?”

Loki’s stomach flips but he swallows down the urge to answer. “You’re familiar with my apprentice?” he asks. You nod. “He shall come for you at noon tomorrow.” A small smile flickers at your glistening lips. “Very well, your Highness,” you say, sinking into a curtsey that makes Loki’s cock ache before rising and gliding towards the open archway. He rolls his lips together, fighting the urge to follow you – but he’s already shown his hand too heavily tonight.

As you pass through the arch, Thor wobbles in the other direction, casting a quizzical glance backwards. “There you are, brother,” he slurs, slumping onto the balcony. His arm makes a heavy gesture towards the party, swinging wildly. “She is the one?” Loki bristles. “Yes, brother.”

“Finally. Norns preserve us, I thought you’d never make it. You know she is not suitable for the ceremony if she has been...sampled, already?” he asks as both eyebrows rise. Loki scoffs and throws his brother an incredulous stare. “I know that,” he snarls. “What do you take me for, some kind of rube?” Thor sighs, picking a slice of cured boar from his breastplate and dangling into his mouth. “Let’s hope you can satisfy her, then – in every way. For all our sakes.” Loki’s nose wrinkles in disgust. “If you can scrape past the requirements, we both know I shall have no issue.” “Mmm,” his brother hums. “If it wasn’t for the other matter her response will be measured on.”

“It’s all in hand, brother,” he lies, ignoring the thump of his heart, watching the bob of your head as you wind between intoxicated council members towards the door. “Five moons is more than enough time for that.” And beside him, Thor snorts.

Chapter Three: Measurement The Masterlist for the Rite is here Tags in comments (≧ヮ≦) 💕

#the rite 🕯️#loki x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki x reader smut #loki x female reader #loki x female reader smut #loki odinson #loki odison x reader #loki x yn #loki x you #loki x you smut #loki imagine

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stsgooo · 2 years ago

Text

The Moonlight Goddess.

✩࿐ summary: the toy that got tucked away, would eventually come back out to play.

warning(s): chapter 48.2 manga spoilers, unedited. wc; 3.2k

pairing(s): jinshi/fem!reader

a/n: caught up on the manga, feeling incredibly deranged. i will Not be speaking about chapter 65 as that was the craziest experience i've ever had at 1 am. also, i'll be reading the light novel soon :)) anyway, i hope you enjoy this random thing i cooked up.

part ii m.list ao3

WHEN MAOMAO SUGGESTED JINSHI TAKE THE PLACE OF A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN, YOU WEREN’T ENTIRELY CONVINCED.

Sure, your master was a beautiful man who had won the lottery of genetics. But you weren’t sure if he could convince beautiful western women that he of the same level, if not above, as them. It wasn’t a slight towards him. A lack of confidence in his abilities. But the mere fact that this issue itself was presented as nonsense. Achievable for a god, perhaps. But not for someone as simple as Jinshi.

It’d been 50 years since the last time the convery had last visited and spotted this beautiful woman. Surely, these girls were aware of the effects of time and how… unkind it could be to some?

It all smelt bad.

“Uh, Maomao, are we sure this is the absolute best approach for this matter?” You had asked as the three others had come to some general consensus amongst each other.

Maomao had stared at you flatly and, for a moment, you ponder if she even knew who you were. “Have you ever dealt with unruly women, Y/N?” She asked in her usual monotonous manner.

You blinked, expression equally as flat as you regarded the younger girl for a beat. Her time at Jinshi’s home had been spent, primarily, with you and Suiren. It was fond to look back on, but the two months had been stressful and the girl was rather difficult to work with. She drug you around on one or two of her little investigations. Much to the disdain of you both. The only compliment she paid you in that time was that you were quick on your feet and able to keep up with. Something that you guessed wasn’t common.

Yes, you are rather unruly, Maomao. Was the reoccurring and unkind thought that passed through your mind.

“I’ve dealt with my fair share of unruly people.” You opted to answer instead.

The girl raised an eyebrow, “Women?”

You deflated, “Many.”

Unfortunately, being Jinshi’s maid had meant you had your encounters with women who, blinded by their fondness for him, would attempt to make random walk-ins. Something strictly forbidden unless it was the upmost emergency. Despite them being the ones in the wrong, it was usually you who suffered the brunt of their abuse until Gaoshun finally decided to inquire what was wrong.

You were quite used to unruly women.

Unknowingly, you'd guaranteed your place in Maomao's plan.

She placed her fingers against her chin, eyes squinted on you. "Do you use makeup often?"

You blink, a weary frown on your lips. "What?"

"Are you familiar with makeup and hair, Y/N?"

"Of course I am." What did she take you for? A lazy uneducated lady?

Maomao grinned, something that was dark and twisted, and you felt like you had somehow stumbled into a terrible trap. "Wonderful, you'll help with Jinshi-sama's makeup!"

"Wha- no, I-I have my--" You attempted to decline, but were quickly cut off.

"That's a great idea," Jinshi spoke up, looking rather delightful as his eyes moved to you. "No one I would trust more with this."

Seeing the glint in his eyes and the kind smile, you knew you could no longer remove yourself from this plan. With a bowed head, you turned to Maomao, prepared to receive your duty.

You suppose this is how you ended up here. Maomao and Gaoshun out to find an outfit that would suit the Moonlight Goddess. And you awfully close to Jinshi's face as you carefully apply the eye makeup.

Silently, you were thankful that he had his eyes closed, as his violet eyes endlessly and innocently staring back into yours would surely make your heart stop. The work had been silent for the most part. The both of you uttering only what was needed: close your eyes, please look up, tilt your head to the side. It was the easy back and forth you both fell into.

It made you realize that most of your companionship with Jinshi had primarily been in silence. You simply deciphering exactly what he wanted from the twitch in his brow or the look he would shoot. It'd never really been on your mind before. Although, it had always been an easy agreement between you that shouldn't be brought to question or pondered upon too much. Ever since the both of you were children. Ever since you were just being trained for the duties that would be carried out in the rest of your adult life. You'd both just been in this tiptoe waltz that carried you through life.

He didn't pry too much into your personal dealings and you never questioned his demands as your master.

Life was, in all ways, easy.

But still, you felt as though this plan was toeing a line. Asking too much, underestimating the intelligence of another.

You supposed Maomao was like that and Jinshi would easily follow her word.

Maomao. Jinshi. Maomao and Jinshi.

They are quite the duo recently. You knew it would be nothing good the moment he'd called for her in Lady Gyokuyou's with that glint in his eyes. The eagerness and curiosity similar to that of a child. The way he sought her out at any given opportunity. If you had to guess, you would say Jinshi is rather fond of dear Maomao.

It made you sigh heavily, your eyes narrowed on the liner that looked a little wobbly.

"Any mistakes, you can just retry, don't stress yourself." Jinshi spoke, assuming that your sigh was related to the unsteady line rather than the trail of thoughts plaguing your mind.

You blink, eyes focused on the kind smile that stretched over his lips. A slight pitter-patter took your chest. "No worries, Jinshi-sama, I won't ruin your looks." You shoot back, softly.

Jinshi's eyebrows raised, a soft snort released. "Oh, really? Are you teasing me now?"

"I do have the ability to joke here and there, sir."

"You barely do anymore. Joke, that is." Jinshi observed, a subtle frown on his lips as you applied a bit of glimmer to his eye lids. "You're very serious now, very on edge."

"These are serious times, Jinshi-sama." You replied back smoothly, feeling an indescribable ache in your chest. "I'm sorry if I'm not entirely entertaining."

Jinshi's frown seemed to deepen. And, suddenly, his fingers were wrapped around your wrist and his eyes were open to reveal the clandestine violets that glimmered into your very soul. His hold felt warm and all encompassing, a disorienting welcoming feeling that made you falter in your work. Frozen, you offered him your undivided attention as he appeared to struggle with himself. gave him your undivided attention. His brows were furrowed and the frown on his lips was entirely too childish for the man he claimed to be. His lips parted and he released a sound akin to frustration. He huffed and huffed and huffed. Then he stared into your soul-- still, he couldn't seem to find the proper words for his thoughts.

One of the many things that Jinshi struggled with often is that he simply had a greater outlook on life while being so terribly confined. A childish optimism that should've left him once he was grown, clung to his soul desperately and gave him a more bountiful outlook on people and life. He knew the risks, he knew the dangers, he knew the nastiness of the world, but still stayed kind.

You know it was one of the many things his mother tried to change about him. That and his attachment to things. That was something you'd encountered first hand.

"You have your reservations about this, I can tell."

When he spoke, you weren't entirely sure what he'd say. There were times he was too insightful, too smart for his own good. It used to amuse you, now you only worried when it'd come across as unseemly.

Jinshi stared up at you, glittering eyes kind and approachable, his fingers squeezed gently around your wrist. "I don't want you to feel like you can't speak your mind." He continued as if he had no idea who you were. What you were. What you were to him.

Your gaze bounced between his own, a small frown breaking the perfect exterior you always desperately kept up. Maybe he was still stuck in the past. Maybe he was still enchanted by who you both used to be to one another.

The past was usually more lovely than a future unseen.

"I'm actually told not to voice my mind."

"By who?"

"Everyone."

There's a moment where Jinshi looks as if he's remembering something. Something distinct and obvious. Something that he had completely disregarded in the back of his mind for whatever reason, for however long. It must be pleasant, to not be constantly reminded that the people around you are paid or contracted to be by your side. Must be nice to have a choice.

Master. Servant. Master and servant.

That is all you and Jinshi shall ever be.

"I see," He uttered, eyes briefly tracing the tiles on the floor before fluttering back up to you with a new spark of determination. "But I'm ordering to speak your mind! Freely!"

You stared back flatly in return. Was he oblivious what freely meant? Ordering me and then saying it's of my own volition can't both be true.

Jinshi would put you into early death.

"Well, I, uh," you found his eyes to be too vibrant, to be staring too intensely and too welcoming. You turned your gaze away, desperate to grab some type of bearings over yourself. But, alas, his hand was still wrapped around your own. His skin scorched yours, tainted it with the warmth that was all his. "I think that this plan will not go entirely as you all hope."

"Is that so?" His voice is like a smooth honey, soft and all too endearing.

You hum, nodding, "Yes, uh, I believe they want you to fail, sir. And to have a rather unsavory thing to report back." Jinshi simply hummed in response. You could feel his eyes almost stroking against the side of your face. "I just think that they won't react the way you and Maomao hope they will. This is no slight to your or her intelligence, of course. Just a mere observation."

"I know what you mean, no worries." Jinshin's thumb was now slowly and softly stroking the butt of your palm. A soothing action that brought your eyes back to him. Captured in the way he serenely observed you. "What exactly about this makes you uneasy? Maybe I can ease you."

It didn't sound like an offer, but a promise. If his words weren't enough, his eyebrows were drawn together in careful contemplation. He wasn't going to walk away from this conversation without you both reassured in some capacity.

"What if they want to talk to you?"

Jinshi might had fair and delicate features, and a soft voice, but it wasn't nearly feminine enough to pass. If anything, they'd grow more suspicious. Then they'd report back about what a joke they all were and then Jinshi could suffer some type of punishment for his embarrassment. It wasn't that you were too pessimistic or didn't believe in the little group, but that the women's request felt bad all around.

A set-up if anything.

So, you took a deep breath and focused on that reassuring circle being drawn into your skin as Jinshi contemplated this for only a moment.

"Then I'll have the apothecary cover for me." Jinshi smiled, all too bright and all too reassuring. "We've already decided that I'll swim across the pond-- give me a vanishing effect and she'll deter them elsewhere."

You furrow your brow, all too worried, but bow your head instead of voicing such. "Of course, I have no doubt in you, Jinshi-sama." You reassure.

There was a beat of silence, then, "You're my oldest friend, you know?" You tense. Frozen into you bow, your wide eyes stare endlessly at his feet. His tone is tender, soft, almost hesitant, as if he wasn't sure if he should be speaking these things aloud. Yet, he continued. "You're the only one, beside Gaoshun and Suiren, that has stuck by me without judgement or doubt. I thank you for that, but I also fear that we've grown apart."

"I suppose we have." You uttered, trying to ignore the clench in your chest.

"Even as children, we started to grow apart." He continued to observe.

Because of your mother. Because of her fear that you'd end up like him, like your father. That disgusting and vile man. How could she not know you'd never be like him?

There was a day, a very distinct day, that you and Jinshi had been separated for "his own good". Your birthday. You had waited him eagerly in the main courtyard, being able to slip away from your duties out of kindness from Suiren. You waited and waited, until Gaoshun had approached. His expression downtrodden and dark. He informed you that it was no longer proper for you to play around with the boy you so dearly adored. Said his mother commanded it.

If he plays with a toy too much, take it from him.

You used to be bitter, resentful, and angry over it. Only eight-years-old, you had clung onto any companionship you could and he had given the illusion that he'd be there forever. Until he wasn't. Until you were a toy to be tucked back into the chest, forever forgotten with time.

He would be there forever, but you only merely a pawn for him to use as he pleased. To do work and to never grace the same level as you had when you both were only children, not yet exposed to hierarchy. Pure and innocent.

Now, you were mere servant and master.

Finally, you willed yourself to pull away from his hold, turning around to pick through various hair products. "It's been a long time, Jinshi-sama. We're no longer children."

"Hm."

As you reached for a brush, he pressed against your back. His hands coming to rest against your own with a delicate, featherlike touch. He was suddenly surrounding your ever sense. His warmth enveloping you into a hug that was almost earth shattering. Your lips parted and your eyes wide, you tensed as his lips brushed against the top of your head.

"I think of you often," his words are a whisper against you and your eyes, if possible, widen further as you almost lean back into him. "I sometimes wish I could just reach out and...and hold you, like we used to. Is that so bad?"

"Jinshi-sama, this is rather inappropriate!" You whisper back, not daring to look back at him in fear for how quickly you'd crumble.

He chuckles, the sound vibrating from his chest into your back and sending various chills down your spine. "If I'm making you uncomfortable, then please, tell me."

You don't open your mouth, as much as you wished you would deter him, you were rather eager to keep this up for a moment longer. To have something to think about and something to cherish later. Surely, this wouldn't happen again.

Instead, your attention goes to keeping your heart steady as Jinshi gently turns you around. His eyes heavy as he stares at you earnestly, lips quirked up barely. Your hands came up to clutch his forearm, gently squeezing as he did the same with your shoulder. You felt your heart stammer and a sweat collecting on your brow, this was definitely something frowned upon. To be so close and to breathe his same air-- as he exhaled, you inhaled the rich oxygen.

Suddenly, Jinshi's eyebrows furrowed and his fingers reached out, gently tucking some hair from your face. "What did they teach you to make you tremble like this?" He whispered it to himself but, thanks to your proximity, you heard it.

It made your ears redden, your lips pressed together. Did he really not know?

Before you could even speak, the door to his room were opened. Both your heads snapped to the door where Maomao and Gaoshun stood, both varying degrees of expressions on their faces that brought shame to you both. The four of your frozen in your respective places, staring at one another dumbly. Your hold on your master slackened and Jinshi took that as a sign to move first.

Jinshi made a rather odd noise, jumping away from you, face red and wide awkward smile to the two at the door. "Did you find the goods?" He asked as he approached, nervous fingers moving about.

Maomao, bless her soul, decided to ignore whatever it was they had walked in on, moving forward with a bundle of things in her arms. "Yes, Jinshi-sama."

You nervously pulled yourself from the table, turning your back to the three, hoping to conceal the red hue on your face. You really, really, hoped that no one would say anything.

Your hopes were tarnished as Gaoshun stepped up beside you.

The man was family. He'd been there for every milestone, or the rather unruly years when you found yourself in trouble more often than not. You'd grown accustomed to reading into his expressions more than his words. He was more open there, his only weakness.

That's why you withered when you saw that aghast expression on his face. The glimmer in his eyes that said it all-- he knew what was happening.

You ducked your head at the same time you heard Maomao ask, "Why isn't your hair done?"

You mustn't get ideas above your station. You are there to serve your master. Nothing less, nothing more.

That is the first thing that they taught you when you were "of age".

You are to give your life to your master. Any inappropriate behavior will be punished, severely.

That's the second thing they taught you.

There were many things that contributed to your regression. That made you cower away from who you used to be. Going from a loud troublemaker to the polite, obedient lady that lived to serve her kind master.

But as you watched Jinshi, or more correctly, the Moonlight Goddess dance elegantly at the edge of the pond. As you witnessed the light hit just right an illuminate him in a way that would send even the most beautiful angel into a rage. You realized one thing.

You would never tell Jinshi of those things.

Someone as beautiful and perfect as him, untouched from the life that you lead, shouldn't be exposed to the things he confined you to.

All you could do was gaze upon the Moonlight Goddess, utter your most daunting praises and wants, and tuck it all away.

You mustn't get ideas above your station.

You were a lowly maid after all. Someone so dignified and beautiful wouldn't settle for you.

"My hair is still wet!" Jinshi's voice bounced off the walls, a scowl etched on his face.

You bowed your head as you entered, towel tucked in your arms. "I have a towel for you, Jinshi-sama."

As you ruffled his hair with the towel, watching his shoulders relaxed you thanked the Moonlight Goddess.

A coward like you would never belong with a Goddess like him.

#jinshi x reader #apothecary diaries #apothecary diaries x reader #jinshi #Kusuriya no Hitorigoto x reader #Kusuriya no Hitorigoto #jinshi x you #jinshi x y/n #✩࿐ t writes

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slavicnoodle · 26 days ago

Text

Yandere!Werewolf!Duke x fem!reader Part 1

Warning: slight description of injuries, violence, manipulation, coercion(?), gaslighting, power imbalance, mediaval times, slight sadism, just yandere being a yandere

My first post! <3

English is not my first language ^^

Werewolf!Duke who is a good aristocrat in his own not humble opinion. Exemplary even if you add the fact he is a werewolf and can still act better than most human aristocrats. He abides by the proper etiquette, doesn't extort his subjects, doesn't lash out on his servants and maids (even during full moon(!)) and is generally merciful. He doesn't even have trysts with other married aristocrats or uses his title to have secret relationships with lower class. He is a bit of a bachelor and doesn't mind at all.

He has one quirk though. A simple rule. No visits to his castle. Under no circumstances. The only person allowed to freely roam his land is his gardener. Other servants must strictly follow paths. You see, after he got turned, the new wolf instincs made him a territorial bastard. He patrols his property diligently every night. He enjoys those quiet walks and runs in wolf from with wind blowing through his fur, feeling the soft soil, tickly grass and smelling the nature. When he catches a whiff of a living being on it... he goes for the kill. Humans are no different.

Although lately their is an increase of humans. After a little investigation he scraped together that after people went missing on his land, his subjects ascribed it to the increase of wolves around. Heh. And a new trend emerged. If you stop liking your suitor or plainly want to get rid of them, promise to meet them at night at a location near his manor. Problem solved.

And he always diligently got rid of them. Not that he had to. He liked to. He liked the way they screamed and thrashed as they were torn to shreds. Not today tho. Today's victim was lying under him frozen in fear like a deer, not moving, just crying withnout any sound, not even a whimper as his claws pierced your arms and pinned you to the muddy ground. He hated to admit it but you looked adorable. He decided to play with his food a little.

"What is the reason you decided to cut your life short? Foolishness? Naivety? Dare?" He looks over the commoner human under him. Very pretty outfit for their status. He can see your top is not buttoned up all the way up. He feels his breath hitching for some reason. Must have been quite an occasion to be wearing one's best clothes in such a seductive manner. You even have your hair let down. And... is that a basket with... sweets?

He laughs dryly. Another undesired lover. Hmm... It would be a pity to kill you. He unstucks his claws from your flesh and reaches to twirl a strand of your hair. So pretty and soft... A long bath, better dress and some makeup and he would think twice about remaining a bachelor. His inner wolf agrees. You are very quiet. He likes that. But... If your voice is also acceptable, he'll help you. He tugged at the strand harshly and the bloodied woman squealed in shaky voice. He tugged again but less harshly. A whimper. His ears pinned down to his head. Now he got frozen. From arousal. That's it. No helping, he's going to take care of you for the of your life. If your suitor wants you gone, he'll take the beauty off of his hands.

"I apologize, dear, for my behaviour. I must have terribly scared you. Oh, I even accidentally hurt you. Let me make it up to you." He hauled you to your feet, dusting you off. His werewolf characteristics slowly dissapeared while he did that. "I'll replace them. Come with me." He offers his arm and smiles softly. When he sees you're still standing there with eyes full of terror, he simply scoops you up. "What are you waiting for, woman? A noble is offering you his goodwill." Hr smiles down at you.

In his castle he let his doctor clean your wounds and bandage you. Then maids changed you to a silky nightgown while you lost consciousness. Poor thing. His wolf form does that to people. When you woke up, he found any excuse in the book to keep you at his estate, ordering the doctor to play the charade with him. The tales of your love who sent you to your death were repeated every day, painting him in a great light as your saviour and admirer who wants you to reach his heights and status. When you still tried to go back home, he went cold.

"I house your for weeks, clothe you, feed you and you want to leave?" His voice is not loud but it feels like it is booming innyour eardrums. "No, Your Grace, I only-," you started but he talked over you, keeping on guilttripping you. Like he minded he was fussing over his mate.

"If you really want to leave, I'll let you." He let out a sigh, faking giving up.

"Thank you, I-"

"Under one condition." His eyes flicked. He pulled out one hand from his pocket and stood on one knee. "Marry me." Opened the little box, revealing a ring.

"I have went out of my way to find something that would suit you. It would be improper for you and me to be seen apart after you spent such a long time here. Rumour would start, tarnishing mine and your reputation. Don't you agree?" Your voice felt shaky when you said "Yes". Not because you didn't want it. He was more than good choice for a husband, aside from his lycantrophy. But because even after alll, part of you still loved your old love that lured you to the deadly embrace of the werewolf duke.

And the duke knows it.

#teratophillia #werewolf x reader #monster x reader #yandere x reader #yandere werewolf #yandere #monster lover

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starlovesganyu · 9 months ago

Note

Your Maid outfit is one of my favourite posts on tumblr, can you make one for the Honkai girls(especially Bronya)?

at your service! (part 2)

❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀

coming home to you in a maid outfit!

thanks for the ask!

various characters x gn!reader

characters: bronya, fu xuan, himeko, topaz, sparkle

warnings: none

not proofread

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

bronya -`✮´-

• she was pretty tired coming home from another busy day at work, but opening the front door to you in a maid outfit jolted her wide awake

"w-what are you...why are you in a maid outfit?"

• your bow and "at your service" only serves to deepen her already intense blush

"h-hey...you don't have to act like you're my subordinate"

• she'll go along with it after realizing that you actually want to be her maid for the night

• will ask you to do tasks that help her relax, like cooking her dinner or giving her massage

• she knows she shouldn't be staring, but you just look so stunning in the maid outfit she can't help but let her gaze follow you around

• she doesn't want to make you work too hard, so after you finish cleaning up the dining table she bashfully asks you come cuddle

• it's also because she can't bear not having her hands on you anymore

"for my final request...c-can i kiss you?"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

fu xuan -`✮´-

• when she opens the door, she'll freeze up, her a beautiful shade of red creeping into her face

• she'll just stand there stunned for a couple seconds, before clearing her throat and attempting to regain her composure and hide her surprise

"...what's with the outfit?"

(you) "at your service master diviner!"

• her eyes widen and her face grows even more red at the unexpected display

• she tries to say something, but stutters over every word

• the fact that you look so damn cute in the outfit doesn't help her at all

• finally, she tells you to sweep the floors, then darts off into the bedroom, emerging a couple minutes later looking a lot more composed

• asks you to do a couple more things around the house before she feels bad for making you work

"my final request is...if it doesn't bother you...in the future, can you wear the uhm...maid outfit again?

• this must have been the "exceptional event" she foresaw in the matrix that morning

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

himeko -`✮´-

• when she opens the door, a smile blooms across her face, and her eyes sweep you up and down

"awww baby, what's with the outfit? you look amazing though!"

• she dotes over you until you're blushing from head to toe, but you still manage to stutter out the line "at your service", which invites another round of praise from her

• once she has you thoroughly flustered, she asks you to help her clean the kitchen and bedroom

• doesn't try to hide the fact that she is taking in the sight of you in a maid outfit-you just look too pretty!

• she also struggles to keep her hands off of you

"good job! now, i think my cute little maid deserves a reward after all that hard work!"

• your face is promptly covered in gentle kisses, leaving you bright red and a little dazed

• she steps back and admires her work, chuckling a bit to herself

"you might want to wash your face a little more thoroughly tonight. it seems a lot of my lipstick got on you"

• there's a hint of sadness in her eyes when you change out of the maid outfit that night

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

topaz -`✮´-

• she'll jump a little, her eyes widening and face turning red

"w-what's going on?"

• she stumbles over her words, trying to keep her calm in front of the breathtaking view before her

(you) "at your service!"

• she lets out a nervous laugh as she steps into the house and closes the door behind her, almost tripping on numby on the way in

• who knew one the ten stonehearts would be a nervous wreck in front of her girlfriend?

"at my service you said? b-by the way, y-you look good in that"

• i think you've discovered a new weakness of hers...

• she'll just ask you to make her dinner, too nervous to ask for anything beyond that

• when you inevitably catch her staring, she'll apologize and look back down at her work report (you'll catch her staring many, many more times after her first apology)

• when you finally change out of the outfit to get ready for bed, she breathes a sigh of relief, but there's also a look of disappointment in her eyes

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

sparkle -`✮´-

• she'll be stunned for maybe half a second before she's slowly circling you, getting every angle of you in the maid outfit

"oh my..."

(you) "a-at your service!"

• a smirk forms on her face as she continues to look you up and down, head-to-toe

"at my service, huh..."

• she'll take one final look before abruptly wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling you in close

"not that i'm complaint, but since when are you suddenly up for being a maid...?"

• she inquires, pulling you tighter into her embrace, feeling the soft fabric of your uniform on her fingers

• doesn't give you a chance to answer before she's skipping away, telling you to clean the house

• you're only a little bit into cleaning before she tells you to stop, and start on another task, repeating this cycle until she's bored

"alright alright...that's enough"

• she suddenly gets serious, which is a incredibly rare occurrence

"y-you actually do look good in the outfit..."

• her getting all bashful makes your heart melt, and you have to resist the urge to pick her up and just shower her in kisses

a/n: thanks for reading!!!

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year ago

Text

Winter's King 21

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: I am very tired.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

As promised, the king acquires you a full outfit to face the cold. A fur trimmed hat to replace your standard linen cap, a pair of lined hide gloves, and thick boots that go to your knees. He has bolstered you to face the elements but you are wholly unprepared to face the corridors as the glances of soldiers and servants meet you with a new glint of judgement.

You wear the king’s cloak as before. You keep your head low under the hood as he walks ahead of you. It is a farce. A poorly acted charade. How naive you’d been for so long not see through it all. You were the perfect fool for an intent audience.

You descend and come out to the west of the castle, through a door beneath a sharply peaked arch. The snow continues to heap over the land though the winds have relented. The king pauses as you emerge and reaches to take you by the wrist, as if he fears you might be lost in the powder.

He walks you across the yard towards the stables built across a flat of land nestled along a curved rock wall. The doors creaks as he pushes through and the heat of braziers and horses’ bodies greets you within. Sniffs, snorts, and knickers rise in the air as you walk between the stalls. There is one in which a single horse resides, the rest crowded in pairs and trios.

You look up at the steed’s dark snout, it’s eyes even bleaker as it snuffs out harshly. It’s nostrils flair at your approach and the king clicks his tongue at the beast. It raises its nose then shakes its head. It’s ebony iris fixates on you as its master touches its braided mane.

“Roach,” you murmur into the dry air.

“You remember,” he comments gently.

“Yes,” you watch the horse as it watches you. It bows its head, nose coming close to yours, fuming hot breath around you. It sniffs the trim of your hood.

“Let the animal see you,” the king advises.

You bring your hands up and push back the hood, letting it hang over your shoulders. You stare at the dark eyes. Roach continues to twitch his nose in your direction then further dips his head, pressing against your chest. Uncertain, you bring your hands to touch his soft ears.

“Ah,” the king sighs, “Roach is rarely partial to any but me. Even I receive a nip or too from the curmudgeon.” He chuckles and touches the horse’s thick neck. “others have nearly lost a finger and even sacrificed garment or two.”

“A creature so volatile, he makes a good war horse?”

“She,” he corrects you.

“Oh, apologies.”

“I doubt she minds,” he muses and pets her long nose as she raises her head. “She is restless. She would do good for the exercise.”

He lowers his hand and unclasps the stall door. He pulls it out as you step out of the way. The horse clomps through, kicking impatiently as it blows through its lips. The king moves parallel to you and draws you before him. Before you or Roach can react, he has you aloft, urging you onto the horse’s unsaddled back.

“Hold tight,” he girds and puts his hands to the horse’s shoulder, “come, Roach.”

The horse starts and you press your hands to her back, clamping on with your thighs. You rock with her motion to keep from slipping. You duck with the mount as she bends through the door the king holds open. The winter snows dusts down on you as you emerge.

The king drags his palm along the horse’s side and swings himself up with little effort. He sit behind you, Roach not missing a step or buckling at his ascent. He pulls you snug to him, tugging up your hood as the chill nips at your cheeks. He wraps his arms around you and clutches a swathe of the horse’s braids. He whistles and leans, guiding the horse away from the castle.

“She is obedient,” you remark at her agile response.

“I prefer mares for that reason,” he returns. You wonder if it is a quip meant for the queen or yourself. Perhaps both. “It isn’t very far, though the path is steep.”

You nod and stare at the white expanse, a few jutting rocks pocking out above the carpet of snow, leafless branches reaching out here and there. The horse carries you to a ledge, narrow and treacherous, and you lean back into the King Geralt as the edge has you dizzy. He slips his hand beneath your cloak to squeeze your hip.

“I have you, treasure, you needn’t fear,” he assures.”

“Yes, your highness, thank you,” you touch his knuckles and shiver.

“Sweet summer maid,” he purrs as he draws you snugger. “This winter is harsh but I will keep you warm.”

You shudder and hang your head. For so much comfort as he offers, you find little. It isn’t only the snow which chills you.

You ride on, the impact of hooves softened by the layers below, the air hollow and biting as it seeps beneath your hood. The sky ripples grey and seems to darken as you descend the curling path along the cliff’s edge. At once, you are plunged into thick blackness.

The world levels out and the king shifts, sliding off the mount to land on his feet. You peek over your shoulder and see the grim light through the mouth of the cave. The king touches your leg and you turn, letting him help you from the height. Roach kicks and spits.

The king frames your waist before he releases you. You listen to his steps as he moves through the dim. There’s is a scratch as he strikes flint and flame illuminates his shadow. He bends and takes something from the ground. He pauses and works with one hand, wrapping something around the thick stick. He lights the length of linen around the wood’s tip, a torch to see you along.

“She will stay, she is not keen on confinement, especially underground,” he girds and removes his own cloak, draping it over the horses back, “the air enlivens me, I shouldn’t need that much.”

He wears a leather coat, sewn of thick strips of black and studded with silver. He approaches you and bends his arm, offering it gallantly as a gentleman might with a lady. You hesitate and hook your arm through it, hugging his elbow as he leads you deeper, the torch flickering with each step.

You enter a tunnel with rocky tendrils stretching from top to bottom, encased in layers of ice and frost. The flame illuminates the frozen layers. Deeper and deeper you go, quiet as your curiosity mingles with concern. Where are you going?

Your boot slips on a slippery patch but the king keeps you upright. You thank him and bring your other arm across to steady yourself on his bicep. You feel his muscle bulging beneath. You do not doubt his promises. He will keep you safe. Down here, but you doubt what he might do without.

He raises the torch as the air thins and you the cave opens up. You look around as the walls lay beyond the breadth of the torches glow. Your eyes are drawn by the icy fingers hanging from the ceiling. There is one close to you. You reach to touch its pointed tip.

“Icicles,” the king says, “be careful of the thin ones, they might fall.”

He moves the torch to show more, all around you, light fangs the line the cave, lining the edges. The flame sparkles on their eerie translucence. Then the king lowers the light and you look down beneath your feet. You’re stand on ice!

“Your highness,” you instinctively pull yourself closer to him, your soles sliding as you try to walk further.

“It will not break,” he assures you as he urges you on, “this cave never thaws, even in the warmer months. They call it the Moth’s Den.” He leads you across the ice and your eyes catch on the icicles, thick and thin, some pointed, some reach to touch the floor. You hear an odd hum, almost a buzz, and he sweeps the torch before you.

You stop to gape at the wall before you. It looks soft and fluffy, almost like fur. Then you lean closer and see the wings. Pale silver moths, fluttering in place, clinging to the wall. Their fuzzy bodies line every morsel of the space.

“Snow moths. Harmless creatures. Unlike their summer counterparts, the detest the light,” he extends his arm and a circle along the icy wall is sudden bare as the moths move to avoid the glare. “When I was a boy, I always wanted to have one as a pet. I could never get one past the entrance before it escaped and flew back to the depths.”

You blink and lower your hand from his arm, though you stay hooked onto him, “I didn’t think this was your home.”

“As a boy it was. At least, that’s how I saw it. My father, king of the day, sent me here to train with Lord Vesemir. As much to keep me out of trouble. I am not unaware of myself. I was not the best behaved. Vesemir took me in and he bides no mischief,” King Geralt explains, “though he does not rule without compassion. He taught me many things more than discipline. He taught me,” the king peers over at you, “that my heart should be heard just as plainly as my mind. If you do not balance them, then it will all topple.”

You look back at him. Your chest aches deeply. Doesn’t he know you don’t have that privilege? Can he not see that you do not get that choice? Even for a king.

You might never had cared for Lady Rezlyn and her gossip. You think it cruel and unkind. Often you wonder if she spoke less of others, if she might gain more friends. You never engaged much in Merinda’s whispers either. But you heard them and you know what becomes of mistresses.

The other woman. That’s what you’ll become. A whore. A name to be spat. A figure to be avoided. A maid might be ignored but she neither favoured or despised. She just is. She has her purpose. A mistress only has the stain put upon her. The one who taints who my walk away, but she never will.

“The ice becomes you, treasure. The cold it... pales to your beauty,” he smiles down at you. His gold eyes are vibrant and his fine features are even more admirable in the limn of the flame.

He lifts his chin and takes steady steps away from the wall and leads you towards a jutting stone at the other end of the cavern. He bends to plant the torches base in the crevice at its foot. The torch leans but stands on its own.

He faces you, untangling from your arm, and puts his hands on your shoulders, “I want to know what you think. Tell me. Do you like my homeland? Do you like the winter?”

Your lips part and you glance up. Your eyes wander around the space and you turn your head. You raise your hands to touch the king’s leather gloves.

“I think I do,” you answer. You can’t deny the beauty even if it is deadly. “I might think differently should I meet a bear or a wolf.”

“It is why you must stay close, treasure, I would never let a beast get anywhere near,” he avows, “I refer to all beasts. Be it man or animal. You will always have me. You needn’t be afraid.”

You lower your eyes. You can’t say the truth. He knows it but he refuses it. His is a king, he might bend even the world to his whim. You let your hands trails down his forearms. He drops his hands and takes yours.

“Will you tell me more? About when you were a boy?” You ask, hoping to forget the present a little longer. You are intrigued to think of this man as just a child. It is a rather impossible concept.

“Hm, well,” he lets go of you and moves around you. He comes behind you and presses himself to your back. He rocks you as he turns you to admire the cave, “I would come to these caves and talk to myself...” he laughs rockily, “you see, if you holler loud enough, your voice bounces back at you. Lord Vesemir, he is not always in the mind for conversation and horses can be just as finicky.”

He continues to turn you with him. Even without his cloak, his warmth seeps into you.

“And I would gather bouquets of frostwart and white willowrods for they are the closest to flowers that grow here. I would put the bunches all around, as if I was too be coronated. I was told every day I would be king and I wanted to be ready, but mostly, I’d pretend I was at tourney. I would have my practice sword and I would parry with the air. The air was not so mean as Vesemir with his jabs.”

You listen, closing your eyes, trying to see it in your head. A white-haired boy with his golden eyes and flowers and swords. Now a man who’s marched through blood and dirt. How time changes more than the seasons, it transforms all.

“What of you, maid? I want to know of you. When you were a child, did you frolic with the rabbits and the squirrels?”

You go rigid. You try to pull away but he has you caught. You lean back and exhale heavily.

“The life of a maid isn’t very interesting,” your murmur.

“You were always a maid? Even when you were young?”

“Always,” you affirm. “I emptied pots, brought Lord Dustan his boots, though at times, Lady Jazlene required a playmate...”

He’s quiet at the mention of his wife. You feel the crack in your heart. Your nose is numb and tingling.

“Yet, how did you become a maid? Before that, was there nothing?” He asks.

“Please, your highness--”

“I bid you call me by my name.”

“Geralt,” you utter, “please, I beg you, I wouldn’t speak of before.”

“Did you have parents? Siblings--”

“None of it,” you hiss and elbow away from him, throwing your arms out to keep balance. You spin and shake your head, “please. My parents are dead. Long gone. And the memories I have of them are nothing more than that. They’ve only ever been dead to me.”

He is taken aback, his face pale and cheeks tight, “treasure, forgive me, I only... I want to know everything of you--”

“You know what I am. I am a maid. That is it. That is all I can ever be. I am not a lady, not a wife, not a queen,” you clap your hands together, the impact softened by your mittens, “you cannot make me anything different, king as you may be. I will only ever serve, and you will only ever command.”

His lips part and he steps towards you, “that isn’t true.”

“It’s what must be true,” you look to your feet, “might I make a request?”

“Anything,” he says.

“Take me back to the castle,” you raise your eyes.

He nods solemnly and reaches for you, “as you wish.”

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #medieval au #the witcher #winter's king

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sapphicandgraphic · 4 months ago

Text

The Girl Next Door—Chapter 6

Synopsis: A new neighbor turns Melissa’s world upside down.

Chapter: 6/10 (The Dinner)

Series Warnings: Slow burn, angst, drama, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, protective Melissa, fem reader, age difference, WLW

Chapter Warnings: References to drug use and sibling rift, internalized homophobia if you squint, lots of angst and longing in this chap but I promise we’re gonna work thru it together!

Melissa walked into the teacher’s lounge with a spring in her step. She was staring at a message on her phone. Whatever it said made her chuckle, and she typed a quick response before stepping over to the kitchenette counter.

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Jacob asked.

Melissa narrowed her eyes playfully. “None of your beeswax, kid.”

She hip-checked him out of the way, grabbing her favorite mug and pouring a cup of coffee.

“Hot date?” Jacob wheedled, shaking a sugar packet back and forth. Melissa hadn’t mentioned anyone by name, but the last few days she’d been glued to her phone in the staff lounge, a fond sparkle in her eyes.

“Maybe,” she said, unable to keep the smile off her face.

“Omg.” Jacob clapped a hand to his chest. “Who is he?”

Melissa faltered, but only for a second. “A paramedic.”

“You really have a thing for the emergency service community,” Gregory intoned, not looking up from the newspaper he was leafing through.

“No kink-shaming,” Jacob reminded him in a sing-song voice. “This is a safe space.”

“It’s not,” Gregory replied flatly.

Janine wandered in next. “Good morning, peers and mentors!”

“Melissa has a secret boyfriend,” Jacob announced without hesitation, almost vibrating with excitement.

Janine rounded on the redhead and the interrogation kicked into high gear:

“What’s his name?”

“Do you have any pictures?”

“Where did you meet?”

“Where is he taking you?”

“Enough!” Melissa cried, starting to regret sharing her private business with these jamokes. “It’s just dinner.“

All week she had looked been looking forward to your “date”. Sure, neither of you had officially called it that. But after exchanging numbers, the texting had turned…flirty.

It started when you got a late night notification from Melissa. You were on shift, a little distracted, and quickly scanned the message (What are you wearing?), trying to ignore the pleasant flutter in your belly.

My uniform. You?

Melissa was momentarily confused by your response, then laughed out loud before typing back.

No, idiota. On Friday.

You closed your eyes, mortified. “Oh my god.”

Boone fiddled with the radio dial. “What is it?”

Melissa, who had been standing in front of her closet, sank onto her bed. She couldn’t quite resist teasing you and typed a quick follow up.

But since you clearly wanna know, I’ll give you three guesses what I’m wearin right now…

Your brain went staticky as a dozen mouth-watering images materialized in your mind’s eye. Melissa in a red negligee. Melissa in a black satin robe. Melissa in a thong. Jesus. The redhead made you feel like a teenage boy.

Your fingers shook as you typed your first guess, trying to play it cool.

Hmm…French maid’s outfit?

Melissa settled back on her pillows feeling almost predatory, like a lion closing in on a gazelle.

Nope. Mine’s at the dry cleaners this week.

You chuckled and Boone glanced over. “What’s so funny?”

You ignored him, eyes glued to the new text on the screen.

Guess again.

You looked out the window, thinking hard.

Eagles lingerie?

Melissa grinned before firing back.

Go birds. But no.

You chewed your lip, wondering how far you could push this.

Can I get a hint?

Melissa considered your request. Opening her camera, she held it just above her chest and snapped a quick picture. You gasped when it came through.

Melissa was looking directly at the lens, her face soft and makeup-free at the end of the day. Her hair was down, covering her shoulders, and the shadow of her cleavage was just visible at the bottom of the frame. She might have been wearing nothing at all.

You felt a pang of warm desire gathering in the pit of your stomach as you formulated a reply: Is this a trick question?

She typed back three words: No more hints.

Your fingers hovered over the screen for a moment.

Birthday suit. Final answer.

You held your breath. Three dots appeared, indicating the redhead was typing, then disappeared for several long seconds, before reappearing again.

You wish.

You could almost hear the words in her throaty voice, taunting and warm. What did Melissa Schemmenti wear to bed? Had you ever wanted to know the answer to a question so badly?

The rest of the week passed in similar fashion, a slow chain of tortuous text messages building between you. By the time Friday night rolled around, you felt almost light-headed with anticipation.

Stepping out of your apartment, you walked across the hall and knocked on Melissa’s door. Your heart was hammering in your chest as you heard the click of the lock, the turn of the handle.

“Hiya, hon.”

She appeared in the doorway, wearing a mesh long-sleeve bodysuit and skintight leather pants that hugged her curvy hips. You tried not to stare, but couldn’t keep your gaze from flickering down to her perfect tits, nestled in a lacy bralette.

“Hi,” you managed.

Melissa grinned, enjoying the slack look of desire on your face. She stepped forward, almost at eye-level. The perfect height for kissing, some distant part of your brain informed you. Looking down, you saw she had on black boots with a wicked high heel. She slung a dark blazer over her shoulders and swanned past you.

“Comin’?” she called.

You helped her into the passenger seat of your car and then took off toward the restaurant, knuckles white from how hard you were gripping the steering wheel.

You had made reservations at a steakhouse. The host led you to a private alcove with a view of the water. Melissa looked around, clearly impressed.

“How’d ya manage this?”

“Called in a favor,” you admitted. “The chef owed me.”

You gave a brief overview of having once assisted a patron on the premises in medical distress, leaving out the more grisly parts about blocked airways, mouth-to-mouth, and expelled foreign bodies.

The redhead laughed at your abridged version of the story. “You’re full of surprises.”

The waiter came and you ordered, then sat back and considered each other across the candlelit table. That familiar chemistry crackled between you, thickening the air.

“You look beautiful.”

“Yeah?” Melissa ducked her head. “I clean up okay?”

“More than okay,” you insisted. “You’re…insanely hot.”

Melissa rolled her eyes, but preened at the compliment.

“Not so bad yourself,” she said, drinking in the sight of you. “I like your hair pushed back.”

Drinks arrived, followed shortly by entrees. You slowly relaxed, finding it easy (as always) to talk to Melissa. You had plenty of wild stories from living abroad and she was eager to hear them, laughing and gasping and interrupting at all the right moments. Likewise, you wanted to know everything about Melissa’s work. You loved the way her face lit up when she talked about the kids she taught, the other teachers on staff.

“Sounds like a good bunch,” you said. “I’d love to meet them, especially Barbara.”

“Yeah,” she said fondly. “She’d like you a lot.”

You felt a blush creeping up your neck and reached across the table for your wine. Melissa glanced down at your hand, which was still bandaged. Her fingers twitched, as though she wanted to grab it.

Instead she said, “Any word from your brother?”

For the first time all night, a different kind of tension fell across the table. You shook your head. “Think you scared him off.”

Melissa cracked her knuckles. “Damn straight.”

You chuckled, taking a bite of food even as your appetite suddenly waned. Thinking about your brother—about any member of your family—tended to lower your spirits. Melissa watched you carefully, patiently.

“We were really close growing up,” you said, tracing circles in the condensation left by your water glass. “But in high school we kinda drifted apart. You think I got authority issues? He makes me look like a choir girl.”

Melissa’s mind flashed to her dream (your mouth making its holy pilgrimage up the inside of her thigh) and she inhaled sharply.

“You ok?”

She nodded, tipping her wine glass back and taking a hasty sip.

“Well, anyway, when my dad…after that happened, Mikey just went completely off the rails. Got mixed up with the wrong people, got himself a hardcore habit, got arrested. And I let it all happen.”

Melissa watched as a weary cloud of self-loathing settled in around your shoulders, making you look so much older than you were. She nudged your knee with hers beneath the table.

“Hey,” she said. “It ain’t your fault.”

“I’m his big sister,” you protested. “And I left right when shit hit the fan.”

Melissa couldn’t stand the look in your eyes, hard and unforgiving. She reached out and took your hand in hers, tangling your fingers together.

“You had to take care of yourself in the best way ya knew how. That ain’t selfish, it’s survival,” Melissa said. “Besides, you were just a kid.”

Her warm touch thawed you slightly and you considered her words, the absolution she was offering, uncertain if you would ever be able to accept it. You traced the pad of your thumb back and forth over her knuckles, momentarily distracted by the memory of what it had felt like to have her arms wrapped around you.

“About that night,” you said, licking your lips nervously. “About what happened…between us…”

“Forget it,” Melissa interrupted, not unkindly. “You were upset. We both were.”

“What if I said I’d been wanting to do that for a long time?” You looked up, trying to gauge her reaction. “What if I said I wanted to do it again?”

Melissa took a shaky breath. Her eyes glazed over as she allowed herself to indulge in the fantasy of kissing you properly, the warmth of your mouth, the little noises of pleasure she’d pull from you. She felt that familiar gut-punch of affection and lust mingled, for the first time, with fear.

“I don’t wanna hurt ya,” Melissa confessed softly.

You gave her a lopsided grin, all hope and charisma and vulnerability. “So don’t.”

You realized you were still softly gripping her hand and brought it to your mouth, kissing each knuckle one by one.

“I got baggage,” she whispered, eyes glassy and glued to your lips as they traveled from one finger to the next.

“Join the club,” you said, moving to the delicate skin on the inside of her wrist and planting a kiss there, mapping the blue-green veins.

She shivered. “What if I can’t give you what you want?”

This last question came out in a jagged whisper, Melissa’s head tipped back slightly in pleasure. Your eyes flickered to the pale expanse of her chest and throat, dusted with freckles. You opened your mouth, probably to say something stupid, something you wouldn’t be able to take back, something that would scare her off for good.

Suddenly a busboy arrived to clear your plates, and the spell was broken by the gentle clatter of porcelain and cutlery and glass. Melissa snatched her hand away as if burned.

“Sorry,” you said several seconds later. “I know I promised not to do that again.”

The older woman looked torn, her normally easy smile tinged with uncertainty. “Let’s get out of here,” she said.

You paid the check and drove Melissa home, your feverish trance evaporating in the chilly darkness.

“Night cap?” you offered as you climbed the stairs to your apartment, even though you already knew the answer.

She shook her head, hair falling in a curtain to obscure her face. “Long week,” she said.

You lingered in the hallway, staring at your feet as she unlocked her door. Melissa turned around with every intention of letting you down easy, of telling you this was a bad idea, of insisting you deserved someone less damaged, less complicated. But as always, the sight of you wiped away every rational thought in her brain.

“Hey.” You looked up to find the redhead standing much closer than you expected. She leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. Her eyes were closed as she swayed back, licking her lips. “Thanks for dinner, hon.”

You stood there for a few minutes after she had disappeared, rooted to the spot, more confused than ever. But the memory of her warm lips against your face was so clear, and the lingering cloud of her perfume so sweet, that for several long dreamy hours that night, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

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#melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary

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adairtrashart · 1 year ago

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i wanted to draw this either way

but ye shamelessly using maid dress nari and youtooz promo outfit lamb and goat to get more eyes on the fact i have emergency commissions open

#cult of the lamb #cotl #the lamb #narinder #the goat #cotl lamb #cotl narinder #cotl goat #narilamb #lamb x narinder x goat #lamb x goat #genuinely have no idea if this qualifies as suggestive #do fishnets alone make this more suggestive in this specific context

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twistedwonderlandshenanigans · 7 months ago

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Android (Leona) AU - Commission Piece

Thank you so much @nemisisnemi for the commission!!! (And for also being patient with me LMAO) So, general worldbuilding first, the basic headcanons for every character, Leona-specific building and a Nemi x Leona drabble to finish it off.

If you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, here's my (slightly out of date) comms info. Otherwise, just like/reblog/comment. It means a lot!!

----------------- General Worldbuilding

NRC - Night Raven Conglomerate

Night Raven Conglomerate is known globally for many of their businesses, however their most notable and profitable model comes from Yokai Tech Industries. YTI is responsible for the development of state of the art androids, available for public use. While widely referred to as 'andy's' or 'mechs', YTI has a model for all your personal and business needs, for any budget. (Any budget being from rich, to filthy rich) Each droid model name is indicative of it's role and what it's been programmed to do. Regardless of model, be aware that your bot will have:

Safe search on

A personality chip *please note it will take some time for your bot to develop its personality. It must cater itself to you as an owner and have time to research and develop a personality from external sources. This may mean your bot chooses a name for itself besides its serial number if you do not choose to disable this function

A direct connection to our troubleshooting department

Recording on **all bots 'eyes' or optics are set to record the world around them in order to create a database for themselves and be able to recall old files in order to learn

A user guide and personal password/key in order to access settings in back panel (including most items above)

A recharge station

The Models M.E.C.H- (Managing Everyday Chores and Homemaking) The most common bots on the market, and also, the cheapest! These bots are perfect for individuals and families, taking care of everything from meal planning and budgeting to getting kids ready for school and cleaning! They'll manage household finances and run your errands for you.

M.E.C.H's have a humanoid design, but are manufactured in a white-coloured metal alloy. Most have a feminine appearance, but by request/with permission from their owners they may alter their appearance. Clothing is simulated by internet research and metallic projections that allow them to emulate cloth. (M.E.C.Hs from the factory are often dressed in a maid-like outfit or in a pant suit.) M.E.C.H's are able to alter their "hair" style and colour, so long as it is considered appropriate by their owners. They are also able to shift their height slightly. (this design is somewhat inspired by Dominic Cellini on twt/insta)

M.E.C.H's are very durable and also easy to fix. They are capable of repairing themselves from damage after watching a mechanic fix the specific issue once, or contacting our troubleshooting team. M.E.C.H's are waterproof on their hands, and water resistant overall. They are fire resistant, and are equipped with safety measures in case of an emergency. They also have a direct line with 911. **A business model of M.E.C.H is also available for minimum wage jobs, usually those requiring hospitality skills. They are more susceptible to the emulation of emotion however, than the O.T.T.O model, and may shut down when dealing with a customer. This can usually be avoided by turning off the personality chip temporarily.

---------

O.T.T.O - Occupational Transport and Telecommunications Organizers (O.T.T.O) is a great model to consider for the workplace.

O.T.T.O bots are programmed to help increase efficiency and intrapersonal bonds in the workplace, comparable to an automated secretary. O.T.T.O bots do the following up, so you don't have to. Progress reports and statistics are created and analyzed in record time. They are also trained to deal with H.R conflicts in a calculated and unbiased manner. However, O.T.T.O bots have also recently been taking their place behind the wheel for public transportation, currently the only model approved to drive. So long as they are given ample time to either charge OR refuel, (like a car), they are a much safer option on the roads than humans are. They are a great choice as a chauffeur,( and YTI has proved as such by starting a cab company under a different name/brand.)

On public transit, their appearance is much more industrial than their office-working models. Most O.T.T.O bots tend to remain in their factory settings, remaining completely chrome in colour. They often maintain a bulkier looking chest and shoulder area for the sake of keeping potentially unruly costumers in check, though their arms and legs are capable of stretching and appear similar to bendy straws.

While these bots are reliable, they also seem susceptible to wear and tear. It's often cheaper to replace a bot when it no longer serves it's function properly. (cough cough planned obsolescence cough)

It is not recommended that these bots work in hospitality. YTI is currently working on O.T.T.O bots that may be considered for work in trades, though this has mixed reviews from the public as of right now, over concerns of the bots taking over jobs that require more certification than simple safety and a driver's license.

--------

EM-RR - Emergency Response Robot (often referred to as an "Emery")

This bot is built specifically with human safety in mind. It's only objective is to rescue human lives. These bots are manufactured to look like humans for the most part, as studies have shown receptiveness to being rescued was improved the more humanoid they appeared. These bots are equipped with basic paramedic training, fire fighting, extensive knowledge of the law and how it applies, medical equipment like that found on an ambulance, and search and rescue supplies, including a detachable drone that is a part of them. EM-RR's are also equipped with extra rations of food, water, blankets, toys, and radios. Besides M.E.C.H's, EM-RR's are the best bot to have around kids as they are often able to handle the responsibility, breakdowns and tantrums easily. These bots are also built to withstand extreme temperatures, pressures, and fluids.

They are not yet approved to operate in a rescue mission without a supervisor as many are still learning what does and does not harm a human in terms of handling them.

-------

E.L.U - Entertainment and Leisure Unit

These bots are made for the big screen, often boasting the newest and best technology YTI has to offer. Their appearances are highly dynamic and can switch on a dime according to their whims.

E.L.U's can only be afforded by the highest bidders, and only 1200 models have been made worldwide for the public to buy. (About 35 models are used for YTI's ad campaigns and as actors in movies, and of those models, only 1 is used as a social media 'influencer'.).

E.L.U's are equipped with exceptional emotion-imitating technology. They are able to replicate voices without issue, learn choreography immediately, possess perfect pitch, and are capable of playing any percussion or string instrument.

E.L.U's have been through the most rigorous testing and development. While being able to sustain damage fairly easily, nanotech allows for superficial markings and damages to repair itself. Any damage that occurs on a software level is unheard of, but would be covered by insurance. At least, unheard of to the public

----- Custom Bots (The YTI is currently working to develop a 'build your own bot' program for young aspiring engineers. The program will allow promising individuals to create a new android using the technology available to them in the facility, and also lead to streamlining the process by which someone could order a custom bot. Prototypes have been promising.)

-----

Rapid Fire World Building

Riddle - human toddler Trey - EM-RR - Firefighting specialty Cater - lives at home (mansion) with his dad, who is a banker and investor of Y.T.I Deuce - Mechanic Ace - Was the Roseheart's M.E.C.H, took care of Riddle, began to disobey orders from Dr. Rosehearts, was slightly dismantled and discarded of Leona - Explained Below (E.L.U) Ruggie - O.T.T.O bot, mainly working in taxis. Very friendly, has to do constant maintenance on himself so they don't take him out of service Jack - Mechanics assistant, M.E.C.H Azul - inherited his grandma's restaurant, investor of Y.T.I, has several M.E.C.H's at his disposal Jade - is set to take over his mother's jewelry business Floyd - no formal training as a mechanic, does the upkeep for the Ashengrotto restaurant. Has mixed feelings about the M.E.C.H's, sometimes breaks them just to put them back together Jamil - a hybrid of all three bots, meant to attend to Kalim. Has additional security measures built in place to act as a guard. Kalim - human, investor and advocate for android rights, as he believes they exist beyond just their programming and should be treated equally Vil - E.L.U owned by Eric Venue. Hates it. Rook - EM-RR - search and rescue specialty Epel - Mechanic. Doesn't really like Y.T.I's inventions. Too close to humans Idia - head engineer of Y.T.I. Can you guess why :) Ortho - DECEASED E.L.U model Malleus - a discarded prototype of the E.L.U model. The workers at Y.T.I believe it's battery is dead, but it has been able to hear everything around it for ages. Kept in the discard area, not even used for parts due to issues that came up during testing. "Cursed" Lilia - one of the engineers at Y.T.I. Starting to question whether the use of A.I was a good idea, the more he works with the newer and newer models. Silver - M.E.C.H's original prototype. It's "old" now, and does not hold a charge well. It is good friends with all the engineers and other workers at Y.T.I. Constantly has a mobile charging pack. Sebek - EM-RR, forensics specialty

Leona Specific Worldbuilding

Falena Kingscholar was one of the first investors for Y.T.I. For the sake of PR and as CEO of his late father's clothing company, he deemed his contributions to Y.T.I's research as charity - such a stunning new invention, such innovation could do so much to improve the lives of those less fortunate. He sealed the deal with action when, on M.E.C.H release day, he bought 250 models to give out at random.

Some might make the mistake of thinking he's a selfless man.

As one of the largest investors in Y.T.I, he is given advanced access to latest models, often receiving a prototype after development has been approved. As such, when he heard E.L.U. models were soon going to be able to customized, he approached the owner with a deal he simply couldn't turn down.

So four weeks ahead of schedule, after hours of video footage had been submitted, interviews, photographs, memories retold, AI training, the semblance of his late younger brother stood in his living room, though slightly less...organic, so to speak.

At first it was alright. E.L.U - C 12515141 Was equipped with the knowledge that it's name was to be Leona, it's pronouns from there on were to be he/him, and Falena Kingscholar had requested him to maintain a "brotherly" relationship with him. While he wasn't entirely sure what that meant yet, he agreed. He had been given the videos in his memory banks as to who he was meant to imitate after all.

Leona tried - but to be honest, there was very little footage of the boy he was meant to resemble that offered information about his personality. He mitigated this by asking Falena to take a short questionnaire regarding which siblings in media he wanted him to imitate.

When Leona got his answers however, the patterns didn't line up. The boys he saw in the videos did not match the dynamics Falena had selected.

He saw videos over and over and over again where Falena was the subject, and the boy he was meant to imitate was nothing more than a background character. Secondary.

Now, maybe it was the push to develop him so quickly, so something was overlooked, or maybe it was just how evolution was meant to take place in a machine as novel as he, but something changed about his programming, about his personality.

If the living boy had been nothing but an understudy for the success his elder brother had come out to be....what did that make him? A replacement for someone who was never truly cared for? Built to be a coping mechanism for someone who regretted their decisions? All he was, was the embodiment of Falena's guilt, and a pillar to be Falena's redemption. He wasn't built to be loved, or enjoyed, or even for entertainment, he was built from man's selfishness.

In the following weeks, Leona tried to keep to his programming, but between processing and cross referencing and research on both the family itself and the psychology that he would be expected to have, he started to lapse more. He would write off slips of the "tongue" as "glitches" or his body language began to become more pronounced, usually in regards to annoyance. In between it all, he was trying to figure out if he was experiencing real human emotions about this all...or if it was all just part of the programming.

Eventually, Leona's internal conflict got to be too much. Violent tendencies and impulses began to arise, resulting in him damaging himself, shutting down randomly to avoid external conflict, and an otherwise unexpected disposition.

He listened into the phone number Falena made to send him in for repairs to his "personality chip." Leona took it as a threat, and immediately blocked all outgoing signals to Y.T.I temporarily to find a way to remove his personality chip on his own. Using bathroom tools, the mirror, and damaged pieces of himself, he all but performed surgery on himself to remove it - only to be horrified to realize all the "simulated" emotions he thought he had were still very much present. Unsure what to do, he stored the chip in one of his compartments, out the window and ran.

He was blacking in and out as he went, from the sheer panic he felt but tried to keep under wraps. It wasn't until he made it to a junk yard, where he could bury himself in scraps to hide that he finally let himself dive into power saving mode, sitting silently for who knows how long.

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

Nemi x Leona Drabble

Battery Charged - 100% All Systems Back Online Rebooting Programming. . . Programming Error Detected - Contact Y.T.I? Yes No

"No. No don't contact Y.T.I." Nemi muttered softly, fighting the grime on their fingers to make the touchscreen respond.

It wasn't very often that Nemi or any of the junkyard crew found anything of value - at most maybe half a M.E.C.H or a catalytic converter if they were lucky - but a fully in tact, possibly operational E.L.U was unheard of. It was genuine too. How it had ended up in the junkyard was beyond him, but he wouldn't forsake the powers that be that left such a project to fall into his hands.

He rubbed his fingers on the cloth set over his shoulder, trying again to hit the button on the screen. To his relief, it finally registered.

Y.T.I Services can be contacted throu- (tap, uninterested) If your bot is not perf- (tap, that's what I'm here for...) System's Calibrating . . . System Calibration Complete E.L.U C 12515141 At Your Service, Courtesy of Y.T.I

The screen finally flickered black, before the metal beneath it flickered into the appearance the bot had had last, it's hand coming up to touch it's head as if it had a headache, it's "nose" scrunched as if it were in pain. The optics opened and shut a few times, the gentle whirr of fans blowing out dust and dirt build up that apparently, Nemi hadn't cleaned out thoroughly enough.

Whether the bot itself groaned, or it was it's internal workings coming back to life wasn't distinguishable, but Nemi stayed on his knees next to it as it seemed to slowly adjust to it's new surroundings. It squinted slightly, locking eyes with Nemi before glancing around the humble workshop.

It wasn't until it lowered it's arm it noticed that the chrome finish was no longer there - hell, the damage from his arm was gone. It was slightly bulkier than the other, but all in all, with a little buffing it would be good as new again.

It opened and closed it's hand experimentally, as if processing it was functioning like before.

"...You did this?" The bot's once blue optics much more closely resembled brilliant green eyes, scrutinizing the work of the supposed mechanic next to him.

Nemi swallowed hard, unsure what, exactly about this bot made him feel slightly uncomfortable, but cleared his throat and nodded, gently taking the bot's arm in his hands and turning it to show the carefully soldered metal, just the smallest glimpse of the wires beneath it.

"Yeah, I did. Um, you were partially crushed by a refrigerator? I think it fell on you from higher up in the stack, so I did my best to repair your arm myself. I...I may have taken apart your other arm to make sure I could make the servos match up properly, but everything's good as new. Promise. Name's Nemi, by the way."

The bot stayed quiet a moment longer, now looking down at both it's arms.

"....Why? I was supposed to be scrapped."

The bot finally moved, but only to tilt it's head back til it touched the wall, bringing a knee up to rest one of it's newly repaired arms on it, and closing its eyes. If it could sigh, Nemi was fairly certain it would have.

He adjusted himself, sitting flat on the ground instead, regarding the bot in some confusion.

"But you're an E.L.U. Nobody would just throw you away or, gods forbid, use you for parts. Any self respecting mechanic or robofanatic would repair you. You're gorgeous, top of the line, most sought after kinda model....how'd you end up out here anyways?"

The bot didn't seem to like that question, it's auxiliary power cord flicking, not unlike that of a cat as it looked away.

"Does it matter?"

Can a robot have an existential crisis? The thought passed through Nemi's mind, but he just shrugged in response.

"Not really. But it'd be kind of nice to know your name if you want to stick around here."

Nemi was met with an immediate glare of disdain.

"I'm not gonna follow your orders. Somethin' about defective programming probably came up on my reboot, right?"

Nemi shrugged again.

"Yeah, but you seem fine. Actually you seem like a lot more fun than most M.E.C.H's. I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to, but it would be nice to have a friend here."

The bot remained silent, looking away from Nemi. The silence stretched on for a while, before it finally let out a slightly exasperated sound.

"You can stop staring. You can also...call me Leona."

Nemi couldn't help but smile a bit, extending a hand to shake.

"It's nice to meet you."

--------------------------------- OTL thank you again for the comm, hope this was up to expectation and also tag list time! @fluffle-writes @my-cursed-brain @distant-velleity @elenauaurs @lumdays @theleechyskrunkly

DM to be added/taken off ^^

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animeomegas · 5 months ago

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ooooohhhh do you still do mystic messenger? if you do, do you think 707 would be into crossdressing/cosplaying in bed. Since obviously he doesn't mind it outside the bedroom.

(I certainly do!)

He absolutely is!!! Crossdressing and cosplay is a 10/10 for Seven!!

He would be absolutely thrilled and almost over-excited if you bring it up to him.

He would pull you straight into his room, dragging out box after box filled with various costumes, wigs, and props.

It's an excellent stress relief for him, he loves it.

He wants you to pick stuff for him too. Tell him what you like to see him in and he'll make it happen.

His go to costume is the classic maid outfit.

He will try roleplaying to match the outfit, but he's very tongue in cheek about it. There won't be any serious role playing, just bad themed sex puns and lots of giggling.

But he also just likes general cross dressing without any particular role. Big floaty dresses appeal to him a lot. He has a preference for dresses in general.

Seven looks beautiful in everything though!

But yeah, this is one of his top kinks for sure.

"I feel like I'm going to lose you in this skirt," you teased, running your hands up his legs and under the multi-layered, puffy skirt. "There's enough fabric here to drown in."

"I can't be defeated by fabric!" His words were filled with obvious anticipation even as he tried to keep his voice playful. "And if you get lost, then I'll just have to rescue you."

You laughed, leaning in between his spread legs to give him a kiss. The fabric of his skirt rustled as you moved.

"You look beautiful, Saeyoung," you whispered against his lips. "Absolutely stunning."

You pulled away to admire the emerging red blush. It kind of matched his hair. "This is heart theft! You've stolen my heart! I must alert the nearest authority!"

You laughed again. "Is it theft if you've also stolen my heart? Isn't that just a trade?"

"Hmm... We'll see what the court has to say about that."

There was a few beats of silence as you stared at each other.

"Seriously though, I couldn't ask for a prettier mate. Can I suck you off?"

Seven choked on something between a performative scandalised gasp and a cackle. You loved him so much.

#omegaverse #a/b/o #headcanons #mystic messenger #n-sfw #alpha!reader #hcs #kink rating

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gogobluedynamite · 4 months ago

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I have a fic idea. Not sure if I'll write it, but if anyone is interested in it, have at it!

So, there is a good chunk of the fandom that has probably seen that one art of Jax, made by Goose herself, dressed in a maid's outfit.

What does this have to do with the fic idea? I'll tell you!

It involves an adventure where the players work in a mansion as the place's maids and butlers. They are tasked to get the entire place ready for a big party being thrown by the owner (new NPC or even the Mildenhalls being reused), be it cleaning, tidying, cooking, tending to the owner and family's needs, entertaining guests, or anything else.

Since all six are going, Caine has it that three of them would be maids and the other three are butlers.

...You can probably see where this is going.

Once participating in the adventure, everyone gets ready:

Ragatha and Gangle are dressed as maids...I can't help but imagine how cute Gangle would look...and Kinger and Zooble are dressed in their butler suits.

But, wait! Pomni emerges wearing a butler's uniform instead of a maid dress! Looks like Caine made a slight mistake on who gets what.

And Jax is none too happy with his maid uniform.

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #the amazing digital circus thoughts #tadc thoughts #fic ideas #pomni #jax #kinger #ragatha #gangle #zooble

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knockyasocksoff2022 · 10 months ago

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Motion Sick

Sicktember 2024 - Prompt #6 Dizziness/Vertigo

Words: 4,440

Pairing: Tanizaki Junichoru x Tachihara Michizou

POV: First person

CW: Mentions of nausea and throwing up, but no graphic descriptions

Junichirou’s Perspective

I can feel my stomach churning, and that familiar acidity rising in my throat. I’m going to be sick.

I knew I shouldn’t have come along, the agency didn’t even need me for this trip. It was Kenji who insisted that I come along so I wouldn’t miss the dolphins in the bay. He doesn’t know about my terrible motion sickness and being as spineless as I am, I couldn’t say no to him.

Now I wish I had.

It’s late afternoon but the summer sun is still high in the sky, the weather hot and sticky. My back aches and I feel lightheaded from being bent over the railing for so long.

Then I get an idea. It’s probably stupid, but no one is paying attention to me so I should be safe. I plug in my earbuds and press the dial button for the first contact in my phone. At first, the ringing is uncomfortably loud then the call is answered and his voice fills my ear.

“Jun? You good? You only call if there’s an emergency.”

I don’t answer right away, letting Michizou’s warm voice wash over me. I swallow thickly.

“Junichirou?”

“Sorry,” I whisper

“What for? You’re not hurt, are you? Why are you whispering?” Panic enters his voice. I shake my head before remembering he can’t see me.

“N-no. I’m-“ My voice fades out as my stomach roils, threatening to send its contents back up. I think I’d die if I puked while talking to Michi on the phone, that’d be way too embarrassing. I shouldn’t have called. “It’s stupid. You can hang up if you’re busy.”

“I’m not. I’m at lunch with Gin and Higuchi. I'm glad you called too, cuz they were being all disgustingly lovey-dovey. And I’m sure whatever you called me for ain’t stupid. What is it?” Despite the loud conversations around him, his voice is comforting.

“I . . . well, I’m getting motion sick and I think I’m gonna puke. I . . . uh . . . just thought that hearing your voice might distract me a bit.” It sounds dumb as I say it.

He doesn’t answer, the line crackles in silence.

“See, I told you it was stupid.”

“No, it’s not. Where are you? In a car?” His voice is calm now, with a serious tone and I can imagine his expression, cool as he thinks through the situation. The background is quieter now like he’s stepped even farther away from wherever he was.

“On a boat, we’re looking for evidence in a murder case that was dumped in the bay. The waves are bad today though, so . . .”

“So that’s why we’re whispering.” I can see him nodding to himself. I smile at the thought, “Where are your meds?”

“I left them at home,” I admit.

“Of course you did. I’d bring you some, but . . .” He laughs, the affectionate teasing sending warmth through me. “So what should I do?” The teasing turns to sympathy.

“Can we just talk? About anything.” The desperation leaks through as another wave rocks the boat.

“Sure. . . .” He hums trying to think of a topic, I find myself tapping out the rhythm on the railing focusing on it instead of the rocking of the boat. He ends the melody with a flourish, “Today I ran into Elise, you know, the Boss’s kid or whatever.”

I turn on the camera and nod, still not trusting myself to speak. Michi seems to get it.

“Yeah, well she somehow bribed him to wear not only a maid outfit but a nurse outfit and one of those supposedly “sexy” devil costumes. She showed us all the pics. It was a riot but I felt kinda weird looking at them, you know. Like it was an invasion of privacy, and also if the Boss knows I saw them he might give me desk duty indefinitely.”

I laugh, so hard that my stomach pain increases fivefold but it feels good.

“That’s the only really funny story I have for today, some other stuff happened too, we had an assassination job, but if you think you’re gonna puke maybe I’d best not tell you those. . . . Anyways, want me to make dinner tonight. I might need your help, but I can do most of it. I know being sick always makes you tired.”

I think I can speak again, I take a breath, sighing when I find my stomach has settled down considerably. “Yeah, I would like that, make it something light though, a soup or something.”

“Cool. And, uh, don’t feel bad about calling, I’m happy to help. And seeing Gin with Higuchi was making me miss you a lot, I miss you right now.” He sounds awkward, still new to expressing emotions so blatantly. My stomach clenches, not out of nausea, but wanting. Seeing him over the phone isn’t enough, I want his arms around me, his lips brushing my cheek.

“I miss you too, but I guess I should let you go before Gin and Higuchi get suspicious.” I’ll admit even I can tell I sound pouty, but I know the longer I stay on the call the more likely it is for one of the other agency members to catch me.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. But promise you’ll call me back if you start feeling bad again.” I can hear the worry in Michizou’s voice even as he tries to hide it. It makes my heart flutter in my chest.

“Okay,” I say the word but don’t hang up, neither does he. We exist for a moment in comfortable silence.

“They’re so wrapped up in each other I think we have at least another hour before they realise.” He rolls his eyes.

I smile.

He starts telling me about how Akutagawa was being creepy while referring to some short story about some gate, and I bask in the warm glow of his voice and enthusiastic facial expressions as he talks. Soon I’m laughing so hard I drop my phone, my earbuds yanked out of my ears. I can faintly hear Michizou complaining about how I “dropped” him.

I bend down to pick up the device but someone is already handing it to me. Kenji.

My breath catches and I feel nauseous again. Maybe he’ll be really nice and won’t tell.

He stares at the phone screen, and Michizou stares back, as if maybe if he’s still enough Kenji will think he’s just a photo. Or maybe he’s in shock. After a second he clicks off the camera and hangs up belatedly.

“Why were you talking to the Bandaid guy? Is he your friend?” Kenji asks it with no malice whatsoever, but if he knows he might tell the others, not realising the ramifications.

I think about asking who he’s referring to, and playing dumb but it’s too late for that.

“Oh, um, we were just . . . He’s my friend, but you can’t tell anyone okay.”

“Okay! Is he nice like Cool Hat-san?”

I snort at his nickname for Executive Nakahara. “Well, he’s nice to me, but he can be a little mean sometimes, you know.”

“Oh, he’s just like Cool hat-san then!”

“What do you mean?”

“Cool hat-san always seems so angry but one day I saw him and Dazai-san snuggling with each other through the window of Dazai-san’s dorm. And he must be a really good hugger because Dazai-san kept telling him not to stop. I was only walking by so I don’t know the rest, but they seem also to be good friends.”

I’m so shocked that I can’t answer for a whole minute. I’m not sure what the hell is going on between those two but I know they weren’t snuggling. Before I can form an acceptable reply, Kenji asks: “Is Bandaid guy a good snuggler?”

If I was drinking or eating anything I would have spit it out. I can feel my entire face heating up. I’m not sure whether I’m saved or doomed even further because Atsushi is walking over to me.

“Junichirou! What’s wrong? You’re all red!”

“Ohhh, I . . . uhh, I’m just seasick is all, I hate boats!” I groan again, patting my stomach to add extra effect.

Atushi nods, “Oh, I didn’t know. Are you alright? Should I bring Naomi?” He sounds unsure and cringes as he says my sister’s name.

“No!” It comes out too quickly, I force myself to sound calmer, “Don’t bring Naomi, I can handle a little sickness myself. I’ll be fine with a few deep breaths.”

“Are you sure?”

I nod.

Atsushi walks back towards the boat’s cabin.

“Maybe you should call Bandaid guy again, tell him to bring you some medication when we return to the dock,” Kenji says, too loudly, because Atsushi turns back around.

I expect him to make a scene but he just walks over calmly.

“Who’s ‘Bandaid guy?’”

“A friend.” I can hear the shaking in my voice. Atsushi hates the mafia, he’ll never trust me again if he were to find out.

He squints as if thinking then his eyes widen, he stares straight at me. He knows.

What should I do? What should I do? What should I do? What should I do?

“I see. Hope you feel better.” is all he says before walking off again.

WHAT? WHY? Isn’t he going to tell? How is he just okay with that?

Everyone else is so busy with the evidence being pulled up from the seafloor that I’m alone again.

The anxiety has turned back into motion sickness, even worse than last time, so despite already being caught once, I do the only thing I can think of, I call Michizou back.

He answers on the first ring.

“Worse?” he asks

“Yeah.” is all I can manage.

“How bad?”

“Bad.” I cringe at the croaky sound of my voice.

“Okay. What can I do?”

“Just talk?”

“Sure. I already told you most of the funny things. Does it matter the topic?”

“Nothing gory.”

“Hmm.” I hear him shuffling around, “How about this? It’s a collection of poems, I got it from my brother . . . it’s what they sent back when he, well, you know.”

He takes my silence and heavy breaths for a yes and starts to recite the poetry. I close my eyes and lay down on the boat deck soaking in his gentle words.

Kenji’s Perspective

After a long day, the boat is finally back in the dock and we’re all gathered at the rail where the ramp will drop for us to get back on the ground, all but one.

“What the hell is he doing?” Yosano-san asks, pointing to Junicihrou-san lying on the boat’s deck with his earbuds in. He looks serene.

“I dunno,” says Atsushi-san.

“I think he’s talking to a Band-Aid guy, or maybe he’s listening to music.”

Oops. What do I do now? I’ll have to apologise to Tanizaki-san for revealing the secret.

“Baindaid guy? Is he a doctor?” Yosano-san asks

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you that, but no, I don’t think he’s a doctor. I saw him on Facetime, he looked way too young.” I shrug.

I did recognise him, from the raids on the office, but I don’t know his name. I hope she doesn’t ask if I know him. I’m a terrible liar. Thankfully Atsushi steps up.

Atsushi’s Perspective:

I tap Kenji on the shoulder and he steps back.

If you’d asked me to lie even a few months ago, I’d have totally flaked, but these past few months of excusing for gaps in time have improved my skills greatly. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.

“Maybe he’s a friend from school? The siblings go to the local High School, right? Surely the two of them must have some friends besides us to see when they’re not working? If not that’s sad.”

Yosano-san nods, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Maybe? But they’re pretty weird so I’m not sure. They've never mentioned anyone. If it is a friend, though, I’m glad. Maybe Noami will find a nice boy to get attached to instead of her brother.” She sounds doubtful. I don’t blame her.

“Eh, well just go and get him. I’m sure he’ll tell you if you ask.” Kunikida-san says

I can’t help frowning at this. “Yeah, he probably will.” It comes out louder and more bitter than I intended.

“What’s that face for?” he asks.

“He’s scared of Yosano-san, and you know it. It’d be unfair to use that against him. He probably doesn't want to tell us, so don’t make him, okay.” I’ve never snapped at him before, and I’m not sure if this qualifies, but I don’t want Junichirou to say anything he isn’t ready to yet.

Ryu told me about them as soon as they got together. And . . . I know that Motojirou-san has a massive crush on Yosano-sensei

She frowns back at me. “Okay? Jeez. What’s got you so intense about this so suddenly?”

“I- I, he just looks really relaxed. If he’s not in pain from the seasickness anymore, does it matter?”

“I suppose not.” She concedes, still looking very suspiciously at me. After a tense moment of staring, we both nod. The boat is almost to the dock, and Junichirou is still lying on the deck.

Kunikida-san is walking over to him, probably worried about his schedule, we were out here longer than planned. The last thing he wants is for disembarkment to be delayed. Poor Junichirou.

Kunikida’s Perspective:

I have patience for Junichirou’s affliction, of course I do, but if he doesn’t get up soon, we’ll have to carry both him and the evidence off the boat. I’m sure Kenji wouldn’t mind, but, still . . .

As I look down at him, it’s impossible to miss that he looks more serene than I’ve ever seen him, and on a boat of all places. His breathing is steady and even. He’s hovering on the edge of sleep. I wonder what he’s listening to. White noise maybe? Surely not waves?

I almost don’t want to wake him. Alas, it’s necessary.

“Tanizaki-kun, please get up. We’re at the dock now. You won't feel ill anymore.”

He doesn’t stir. After a moment I give him the lightest of taps with my toe.

“Mmm, Michi? No. Let me sleep a bit more, okay? I’ll have soup later.”

“Michi? Who’s Michi? It’s me, Kunikida-san. Your superior at the agency.”

He jolts up, eyes wide. Is this “Michi” his girlfriend? If so, I can see how that would be embarrassing.

“Wha– I-I’m so sorry. I thought, uh, I thought that you were, uh, my . . . brother. Yeah, my bro Michi, uh, you know.”

Brother? But, he has no other family members besides Naomi, as far as I’m aware.

I look him dead in the eye, daring him to continue. He powers down his phone, probably ending whatever audio he was listening to.

“Tanizaki-kun, you don’t have a brother.”

He blinks slowly, processing. “M-maybe I do . . .”

“Tanizaki-kun. I don’t really care who you were talking to, but you do need to get up. Come on.”

He looks distinctly relieved as I help him to his feet. He sways a little but seems alright overall.

When we return to the office, the President relives Junichirou of his duties for the day.

“Go home, Tanizaki-kun. Rest up.”

“T-thank you, sir.” Junichirou bows deeply, still looking a little shaken.

Poor boy. Today wasn’t easy on him. Kenji apologises for suggesting he come along as he goes, but Junichirou shakes his head, saying it’s fine, telling him not to feel guilty.

Junichirou’s Perspective:

It’s nice that Noami agreed to stay at the office to help out with paperwork in my place. Even a few months ago she would have never.

After lying down for so long, it feels odd standing up. My head spins and my legs feel heavy. I still feel hot with the embarrassment from earlier with Kunikida-san.

When I’m far enough away from the office, I pull out my phone and dial Michizou again.

The car park feels way too large, and heat radiates off the concretised ground. Since when did the earth rotate so fast? Maybe it’s just me?

“Hey, Jun, you hung up on me earlier, what happened? Are you back now?”

“ . . . Yeah, and I th-think I’m gonna pass out. P-please come pick me up.”

“Shit! Yeah, where are you?”

“Uhh, everything a bit fuzzy honestly.”

“Jun? Shit, uh, stay awake okay, er, sit down if you can, yeah?”

“Yeah.” I do, leaning against some stranger’s car. It does help. “I’m sitting, I’ll share my location.”

“Okay, I’m coming.”

I open my eyes to the screeching of tyres. It’s close, but I can’t bring myself to move, too afraid I’d only fall. Which I guess doesn’t make much sense since I’m already sitting.

“Jun! Hey, Jun, you good?”

Michizou stands over me. He crouches down, tucking my hair back.

“Hey, come on, let’s get up.”

He starts to lift me but his body is too warm against mine, I shove him off.

“Too hot.”

“Sorry. I’ve got water.” He holds out a thermos, I take it eagerly, almost dropping it, but it doesn’t fall, only floats. It’s cool. I watch it in awe for a minute.

“Jun? Are you alright? You need to drink.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m just a bit out of it.” I must be more ill than I thought, It’s obviously just Michi’s ability that’s making the thermos float.

“Okay, tell me if you feel sick again.”

“Yeah.” Carefully, I take a sip. The cool water does wonder, the fog clearing so quickly it makes me a little dizzy again.

“Better?”

“Much.”

“Good, I have meds at home, and soup too, you’ll need to eat.” He says as he opens the door for me.

I don’t realise that he’s given himself the driver’s side until I’m already under the safety belt, hand movements on autopilot.

“Wait, Michi, you know I have to drive. If I don’t I’ll get sick again.” I start to unbuckle the belt, but it’s a bit harder than usual, with so many straps. Michizou puts a hand over mine to stop me.

“Juni.” It’s a sweet nickname, one he almost never uses. I can count the number of times on one hand, and this is only the second. It makes me feel ready to melt. “You’re all dizzy and shit. Let me drive, yeah? We’ll be home soon.”

“But . . . I’ll get sick again.” It’s babyish of me, I know and I hate how whiny I sound but, “Michi, I really don’t want to be sick again.”

He leans over the console, hugging me from the side. He smells nice, and the motion is gentler than usual. He rubs my shoulder and runs his fingers through my hair. The small action does wonders for the blooming headache, “I know. But you’re not good right now. Just this once? You’re always fixin’ me up when I’m down, so let me help you today.”

His hands feel so good that my eyes start to close. He’s right, there’s no way in any universe I could operate a vehicle like this. And he’s a better driver than me on my best day, more experienced.

“Yeah, I’m dumb.”

“No, you’re not,” he assures. “Just close your eyes. I’ll wake you at home.”

When Michizou’s voice draws me from sleep I open my eyes to the sight of the out kitchen counter overhead light. It’s off, sparing me from a worse headache. Am I . . . on the counter? He must’ve carried me in and put me here. I blush a little. There’s something cool on my forehead, a flannel, I think. Do I have a fever? I thought I was just seasick, but maybe . . .

“You’re really warm, not a fever, but I think you got heat stress,” Michizou informs me, his voice drifting in from the bedroom.

“Oh,” Is all I can say. I notice that he’s stripped me down to my pants and tank top. I do feel better. “Why am I on the counter, though?”

He blushes this time, “I dunno, I figured the sofa would be too hot since you’re kinda sweaty.”

“Makes sense.” Our sofa is very warm, and covered with blankets that Gin and Ichiyou-kun gave us.

The room only blurs a little when I sit up. I wring the now slightly warm cloth out in the sink.

“Google said a cool bath would help bring down your temp and with the headache. How sick do you feel? Do you wanna eat first? Or can the meds wait.”

I consider myself for a moment. I’m still a little queasy. I was asleep so I didn’t get sick in the car, but the ride didn’t exactly help. The medication would bring relief, but I’m still worried whatever I eat might come right back up. I hate throwing up. You’d think it’d be easy after all this time, but it hurts. Maybe if I wait it out, the queasy feeling will go away. “Bath first, I think.”

“Kay, I’ll run the water.”

The bath fills quickly, and because I don’t have to wait for the water to cool, I can get in right away. It feels like heaven after all day on the hot boat deck. I just soak for a minute, listening to Michizou finish dinner in the kitchen. He’s not amazing at cooking, but he can make about five dishes really well, and soup happens to be one of them.

Michi was right, I am sweaty. I should probably shower.

Lazily, I drain the tub and turn on the shower nozzle. Standing up reminds my stomach of the boat, but the cold water helps.

“Soup’s done. There’s cucumber salad too, and watermelon cuz Gin went to the farmer’s market. I gotta cut it though.”

“Mmm, sounds good. I’m almost done.” I hope my stomach can take it.

“You decided to shower?”

“Yeah.”

“Feeling better?”

“A lot.”

I hear him start to return to the kitchen.

“Wait.”

“Yeah? Do you need help?”

“Could you wash my hair?” I’m grateful he can’t see me, it makes the request easier. I’m so used to having affection sort of forced on me by Naomi, as pure as her intentions may be, that it’s made me shy to ask for it.

“Sure, let me just wash my hands. Be there in a sec.”

I hear the tap shut off and Michi’s footsteps, almost silent across the wooden floor.

The door opens. He smiles, softer than his usual fanged grin. He’s holding a pitcher and a stack of clothes. I must’ve forgotten do get mine.

I sit, waiting patiently as he fills it.

“So, did your colleagues find the evidence they were looking for? For all that trouble, they better have.”

The phrasing makes me laugh. “You’re so formal sometimes.”

He looks down, focusing on the label of the shampoo bottle, “Yeah well, my mum had high standards for me growing up because of my brother, she beat it into me before I left. Some of it stuck, I guess.”

I smile, not that can take away all he’s been through, but I can try. “They did find it, I’m not sure what it was though.”

He laughs at that. “Tip your head back.”

I do, letting the cool water cascade over my head.

He helps me up.

The clothes in the stack are a mix of mine and his. I borrow from him so much it’s hard to keep track. Well, I say that, but our styles are actually quite distinct. I don’t care, not really. His black tee is well-worn and comfortable.

While I finish dressing, he dries my hair. It’s at times like this when our two-centimetre height difference is noticeable. He doesn’t have to reach up at all. It’s kind of hot, I won’t lie.

Thinking about food is one thing, but at the sight of it, I’m suddenly queasy. Not from motion sickness, per se, but just the anxiety that I’ll be sick again if I eat it, a vicious cycle.

“Michi, ‘m gonna-”

He helps me to the sink, rubbing soft circles over my back.

I haven’t eaten since breakfast, but since I managed to avoid being sick on the boat and in the car, it’s all coming back up. The smell and sight make me sick yet again until my mouth feels disgusting.

“Shit, you’re really not feelin’ good, huh? Maybe I should take your temp again.”

“N-no, m’ not ill. Just worried.”

He seems to get it, as he shifts his hands slowly, running them down my side until his warm palms are against my upset stomach. “I promise, food will make you better, it always does.”

“Y-yeah, I know. M’ just dumb.”

“You really gotta stop sayin’ that.”

“Sorry.”

“That too.”

“Sor- I mean,d pens’t this gross you out.”

“Not really, I’ve seen worse. Besides I’m used to it . . . oh, not from you. You’re fine, I, uh, just had this friend, you know. Anyways, are you good for sec? I’ll get water.”

(A/N: Fukuchi’s always getting hungover lmao)

I nod.

He brings a glass with ice, fills it and hands it to me. I swallow and spit, repeating the process until I can’t taste the bile anymore.

“Better?”

I nod again, still shocked by the rudeness of it.

“You need only eat a bit, just to have something in your stomach before you take the pills. I’m not keen on a repeat of last time.”

There’s that formality again.

Last time. I had a bug so I took paracetamol without eating, got sick then passed out in the bathroom for a few hours.

“Me either.” I let him lead me to the table.

True to his word, and what I know in the back of my mind, the broth is harmless. I manage nearly a whole bowl with a small serving of salad before downing the medication with tea.

“See?” He’s smiling as we settle down on the sofa, “You’re fine now.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Now that I’ve cooled down, I miss his warmth again. I pull him closer until he wraps his arms around me.

“I’m so happy that I have you . . . I love you, Michizou.”

Maybe he didn’t hear, but then he leans down, lips brushing my ear, and whispers “Love you too, Juni.”

Suddenly the film isn’t nearly as interesting, not as much as Michizou’s finger in my hair anyway, making me feel all warm and fuzzy. I’m tired today, and I dislike lying, but maybe I’ll tell the President I’m still not feeling so good tomorrow.

Gosh, the things we do for love.

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