#about this sort of thing that YOU. my dear reader! must certainly know!!!

[livvyofthelake]

like harry potter is like fantasy for people who don’t know shit about fantasy and that’s why it sucks major ass.

[nepenthendline]

take my hand - neuvillette x reader

a/n: just some sappy soft slow dancing with neuvillette, implied fem reader, hydro dragon being adorable and teaching you to dance

I might do a part 2 for this!

In the last few months, you've tended to find yourself in events like this: the yearly grand ball held for Hydro Archon's birthday. In true Furina style, she goes all out each year, hosting the most magnificent, yet, overwhelming, events with every important figure and name in Fontaine.

Being assistant to the Iudex alone wouldn't normally get you an invite to such event (unless Furina is running low on numbers), but as partner of Neuvillette himself, and a close friend to Furina because of said partnership, you're considered a 'must-have' at these parties.

It's easy to feel like a face in the crowd, a nobody, at these events when you're surrounded by wealthy stuck-up diplomats or CEOs wearing only the most expensive designer gowns and suits, or how you have no idea what they're talking about half the time. The hall is loud, crowded, and slightly too shiny for your liking, but you have to stay until the night is over.

There is one thing keeping you here, though: the presence of Neuvillette. You stand at the edge of the hall, glass in hand of whatever fruity drink the bulters are serving, eyes locked on the Chief Justice as he weaves through the crowd to engage in pleasantries with the guests. Whilst you wish he could stay by your side all night, you understand he has duties to fulfil, and getting to watch his tall figure, dressed to the nines, dart around is compensation enough. Picking Neuvillette out from the crowd is never hard - he doesn't exactly blend in with everyone else with his long, icy hair and that blue glow of his, not to mention the sheer weight of his authority.

Your smile grows into a grin as you notice his steps being directed towards you. You have to hold back a giggle as you watch the guests in front of him, that are blocking his path to you, profusely apologise and move aside, not wanting to get on the wrong side of the Iudex.

'I apologise for having to leave your side for this long, you know how Furina acts when it comes to these events,' he says before cupping your cheek with his gloved hand and kissing your head, 'but I'm all yours for the rest of the night'.

'It's ok, it's your job, and besides, I don't mind watching you,' you shrug off his concerns and retort in a teasing manner. His raises one eyebrow at you before letting out a deep, quiet chuckle.

'I see, well I hope I put on a good show for you my dear,' you nod and giggle at his remark, 'even so, these sorts of things aren't exactly my cup of tea either. I prefer to observe humans...from a distance,' he adds, which you know is his polite way of saying he can't stand having to engage in small talk with so many enthusiastic people at once. 'What do you have to drink?' He asks, looking down to your glass of brightly coloured bubbly liquid, whilst brushing his knuckles over your arm as a form of comforting affection. You look into your, still mostly full, glass and wrinkle your nose slightly.

'Couldn't tell you, but you certainly wouldn't like it,' you answer, placing the glass on the tall table next to you. His mouth opens, ready to say something, when the band changes to a new song - one that is slower and gentler than before. It's one you recognised since Neuvillette played it in his office from time to time. Your thoughts are broken when he holds his hand out to you and speaks,

'Would you like to dance?' He asks, almost hesitantly, with his lips curled into a sweet smile. Your hand reaches for his but stops halfway as you look between him and the dozens of dancing couples behind you.

'I don't know how to dance...like that,' you shyly admit, gesturing to the elegantly swaying guests behind him with your head. His smile grows sweeter as his lifts his hand to reach where yours hovered, taking it in his light grasp and pressing a kiss to your knuckles,

'Then let me guide you, my love,' he walks towards the dancefloor with you in tow, finding a less crowded spot before turning to face you once again. Looking around you, you could see how all the other women were situated - one hand on their dance-partners shoulder and the other clasped with theirs. You looked back at Neuvillette and moved your own hands to match. He gave you a small nod before putting his free hand around your waist and pulling you closer. 'Good, that's correct,' he praises, 'I will lead, and you can follow my steps. Let me count for us to make it easier. 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3,' he continues counting in a hushed tone as he moves slowly - first taking a step forward, then to the side, and then back. You kept your eyes focused on the floor and what you could see of your feet under your ball gown. Luckily, the steps were slow enough that you could react, taking your own steps to follow him in turn.

'Ah,' he interrupts his conducting before taking the hand from your waist away and placing a finger under your chin, gently lifting your head until your eyes were locked with his, 'keep your eyes on mine,' he directed, but the words and the intensity of his gaze made you want to bow your head immediately again. He let out a huff of a chuckle, returning his hand to your waist and pulling you closer, closing any gap between you two so you couldn't look at the floor. With this move, you had no choice but to keep your focus on his eyes. Even despite being together for a few months now, holding eye contact like this still made you nervous - you felt like a lovestruck teenager put on a spotlight against his gaze. Your cheeks grew warmer, and you couldn't help the bashful look on your face.

'I'm not used to this,' you whined, 'go easy on me,' although your tone suggested you didn't mean any worry.

'That is true, although having you look at me is for more selfish desires, I must admit.' He confessed. If anyone else said such a phrase, you would believe they were teasing, and yet his words felt so pure.

Maybe it was the reflection of the many chandeliers or the glittery dresses around you, but his eyes seemed to shine more than usual. You often liked to admire Neuvillette's features, but more so when he was unaware of your lingering glances (or so you thought). His featured looked so soft, so ethereal in the glistening light - your eyes roamed his face, and occasionally, the scenery around you. However, his never left yours once. Neuvillette is known for his status and commanding authority, and yet, right now, he had never looked so gentle.

The hand on his shoulder moved further in, brushing against the hair near his neck. You only realised he had stopped counting a while ago when he let out a quiet, satisfied hum.

'Seems you're a natural,' he commented, making your cheeks flush even hotter.

'Oh,' your head falls to look at his chest instead in embarrassment, 'I don't know about that. Maybe you're just a good teacher,' you return.

'Perhaps,' he says, although it doesn't sound like a genuine consideration at all. You shake your head gently, as if trying to wash away your discomposure, then returned your eyes to his waiting pair.

Despite your worries, you couldn't help but feel yourself sink into his hold and let go a little further whilst looking at him - it was like you were the only two in the room right now; you could barely even concentrate on the music. You let out a deep breath and smiled at him, and he smiled back, smitten.

He leaned down slightly and shortened his steps so that he could rest his forehead against yours. Your noses occasionally brushed against each other as you swayed in tandem.

'I like this,' you murmured, as if it was some guilty pleasure. The curve of his lips grew wider as he nodded slightly,

'I like this too.'

[mtchee]

My Chosen Beloved - [Zhongli] GN

blurb:

In ancient Teyvat, you worship your Lord of Geo as much as the next villager. When you hear that you're cursed by something unknown, your fears are only confirmed when you're given to your Archon as a sacrifice to save your village. Only, it turns out you're not quite the sacrifice you thought you were. OH, turns out, you're to be wedded to your Archon. Except, since arriving at his hidden chambers, you've seen neither hide nor hair of him. Only his pet dragon, Morax, lazes about in the mountainscape to accompany you. Welp, new best friend! Even if it is a sassy lizard. What... What do you mean, he is the sassy lizard...

cw: not edited, second-person-pov, kinda chaotic [name], sugestive at the end, arranged (??) marriage trope except he arranged it, Zhongli is a little shit, i think he's slightly OOC im SO sorry, dragonli, young Morax?? but not quite, ancient teyvat au (kind of), swearing, might do a part 2

| masterlist | genshin impact collection |

[4.0k]

"Cursed!?" You cry out in horror, "I'm cursed!?"

"Not cursed, dear one," The sweet old lady hums, swishing around your cup of left over tea leaves, "just marked."

"Oh, oh good," You feign relief, "so I'm a target."

"Oh hush you," The tea reader swats you over the head, "you fret too much. Besides, there's more I've yet to see..."

You grumble to yourself under your breath, rubbing your sore spot with a pout before sitting and waiting for the rest of her verdict. The woman hums lowly, a content smile on her delicate old features as she keeps her eyes trained on the semi-warm yunomi cup in her hands.

"Ooh, would you look at that," She hums happily, "a crescent star--how wonderful. You will have an unusually large fortune happen upon you..." she swishes the cup once more, "and... ah! And these are... indeed! Health and happiness shall befall you! Though beware, a great sacrifice must you omit in your coming days for this to be achieved."

You sigh to yourself quietly, smiling softly with a shake of your head, "Thank you, grandma."

You place a small pouch of coins atop her tattered, velvet cloth table as you move to stand.

"Ah, ah, ah!" She tuts, eyes wide as she stares at your tea leaves, "my child... I see that someone has their eye on you; beware of whom it is that you trust, deary. Not all things are as they seem..."

You feel a shiver crawl up your spine, and you squeak; you feel your soul levitate.

You gain a cold sweat, "T-Thanks, granny..."

"It's no problem, child!" The old lady beams, positively ignorant of your terror, "come back anytime. It's always such a joy to read for you..."

"Aha, yes. I-I'm sure..." You wince, smile strained, "um... goodnight, granny."

"Goodnight, dear one!"

You're quick to leave the quaint tea shop, placid smile immediately dropping into one of panic. Ever since you'd gone up that stupid magical mountain or whatever, you'd felt these odd shivers down your spine, like someone was watching you.

Constantly.

Or, nearly constantly. It usually stopped when you got to your house--at least this stalker had some decency. 

It certainly didn't help that there was an apparent raid being planned on your village, an attack that you'd all been warned about by an anonymous.

It was a curse of sorts, unleashed by an old enemy of your land's beloved Archon, Rex Lapis. The main city of Liyue is only small at this time, and the adepti, each to their own, have additionally been busy with protecting the various other scattered villages around the land.

You were given fourteen days to figure out a solution. 

Now, there's only three left. 

You shudder, once again feeling a pair of eyes glaring into you from archons knows where, and you let out an angsty huff, crossing your arms over yourself. 

"Great," You crinkle your nose, "now I'm even more paranoid." 

"A WHAT!?" 

Ah, what a wonderful start to the morning, with two days left before the presumed attack. 

The whole village gathers with murmurs of concern, pity, and fear.

In seeing no other way to prevent the attack, the town elder had announced a last resort solution, as provided with help from the adepti.

A sacrifice is to be made and sent to the stone mountains where it is told that their Great Lord and his dragon reside. A sacrifice must be made to their Archon in exchange for protection from the oncoming curse.

And with consultation from Adeptis Cloud Retainer and Moon Carver, you were chosen to be the offered one. 

"You want me to be a WHAT!?" Your eyes practically bulge from your head, and a panic rushes through you, thoughts spiralling as your heart tightens painfully in your chest.

Your outburst garnered further chatter from the rest of the town, some shouting their concern for you, others in protest of the decision made--but ultimately, it wasn't up to them.

The adepti themselves had chosen. 

Your ears rang with a high pitch, gaze hazy as you grew dizzy, struggling to breathe.

You couldn't hear what anyone else was saying--and quite frankly, you didn't want to, nor did you care.

A further immense feeling of fright pierced through you, causing your knees to buckle. It was those eyes again. 

'Dear archons,' You thought to yourself fearfully, 'am I going to die?'

The next forty-eight hours went by too fast, consisting of preparation for your departure, where a group of villagers would later escort you to the mountains and present you at its base before returning home.

And where you would be left alone, alongside barrels of fruit and meat offerings, and baskets of their finest silk and gold.

Then, it would be up to their Great Lord to make the decision. 

And so there you had been, fearful and adorned in opaque silks and fine threads, arms and legs decorated with pretty golden jewellery for an extravagent yet elegant appeal.

Your heart stuttered painfully in your chest, breath uncomfortably stuck in your throat as paranoia and terror consume you simultaneously. The feeling of eyes being burnt into your form had never left, and they had never felt so intense until then.

Staring at the mountain base with your back to the open field behind you, you felt your very soul ice over as a dark shadow swallowed you. You hadn't dared to look back, eyes wide with your skin pricked, breath stagnant as your base most instincts went wild; run.

But you felt you were dead before it had even approached.

You don't remember anything from that point on, only recalling a behemoth silhouette drowning yours before everything went silent and dark.

You had fainted.

But freedom! You cry in your mind, finding yourself awake inside a palace worthy bedchamber. You weren't eaten! Yay! CELEBRATE FOOL.

You notice a soft quilt upon you, its fabric smooth to the touch. Your hands tremble ever so slightly, nerves recovering from being shot. You swallow thickly, unsure of what to expect as you observe your surroundings.

The room is heavenly. Much grander than even the nobles in the nearest city, the room is vast and elegant, with artworks and calligraphy engraved into the stone walls. Cor lapis illuminates it all, along with the plentiful golden intricacies.

An elaborate archway to your left is separated from your room by a semi-sheer curtain, and you can hear the ever so soothing tinkling of water. A bathroom.

Placed along that same wall is a beautiful vanity and smaller archway separated similarly to the other. You can spy a more than generous number of hanging fabrics and neat, polished crates--a wardrobe.

The opposite side of the room displays practically half a library. Gorgeous bookshelves line the walls with ornate pillars and decorative foliage, a grand desk situated nearby with an equally as exquisite chair. The floor is covered by a soft carpet, accompanied by various cosy and inhumanely large pillows.

Nevermind, you must have been eaten, because this looks like heaven.

Mouth agape in bewilderment and disbelief, you slowly slip out from beneath the covers, tip toeing along the cool flooring into the middle of the room.

Your eyes graze over everything, and you're tempted to throw yourself indulgently into the giant pile of pillows just begging to be laid on.

Yet you restrain yourself because where the hell are you.

The large door across from you looks promising.

It takes a good hard push from you before it opens, though once it does the doors part for you effortlessly on their own. You pause, peeking out into the hallway skeptically before actually stepping out.

The door shuts quietly by itself one you're out of its way.

Interesting.

The corridor itself is daunting, both in size and extravagence. One side leads to an archway concealed by a thick red curtain, whilst the other reveals an opening into what appears to be a sun room.

Well, that looks promising.

Like everything else, the area is expansive and elegant. Sunlight bathes everything in a soft, golden glow, and water trickles pleasingly from ornate divets in the high stone walls, following a painstakingly carved path down into a rivet in the ground that outlines the floor plan.

Looking up into the high ceiling, your mouth drops in awe at the crystal clear glass encasing. In an octagonal, dome shape, the largest panes showcase stained glass designs, threading rainbow highlights here and there.

Thriving vines decorate the roofs edge, neatly climbing down the walls and curling around the spaced pillars that hold it all together. The plantation has been carefully placed as to not obstuct or corrode the ornate architecture.

In the centre of the room is a mound of silks and pillows with gold trims and intricacies, a large serpentine figure curled atop the delicate fabrics gracefully as it slumbers.

What.

Pause.

A dragon.

A fucking dragon.

Morax, Rex Lapis' dragon.

And you know it's Rex Lapis' dragon because who fucking else would have a dragon.

Your mouth drops in absolute horror at what you've stumbled upon, and you start to backtrack in silent terror when the slumbering creature begins to shuffle.

You internally curse yourself as the thing emits a sleepy grumble that vibrates the floor before locking eyes with you.

It blinks drearily, lazily yawning and smacking its maws before learning towards you with lidded amber eyes and a grounding purr.

You've been frozen in utter fear for the entirety of its slow awakening, and it huffs warm air into your wide eyed face once its levelled with you.

You let out a frightened squeak, blinking rapidly to recover from the assault while the serpentine creature rumbles contently. It looks... entirely unbothered by your presence.

You can't quite tell what it's thinking, its eyes watching you ever so intently, yet with a peculiar fondness that has you puzzled.

"He.. Hello, dragon," Your voice cracks, and you take a hasty bow to make up for it, "uh! Morax. Um, am I... aren't I suppose to be, uh, eaten..?"

Morax blinks at you cluelessly.

"As, uh, in sacrifice?"

The dragon huffs at you again, though this time much more sharply, as though offended. An odd keen gets stuck in its throat as it tilts its head before shaking out its mane.

Then, Morax leans towards you again with a grumbling coo, as though attempting to soothe you before nudging its large muzzle at your chest.

You stumble back from the unexpected contact, but the being only prods at you again until you gently guide its nose away with both hands. It retreats back into the rest of its curled form, watching you expectantly.

You reach a hand to where Morax had been poking, touching the thick cor lapis pendant situated on your chest in the shape of the geo symbol, secured by a deceivingly delicate looking gold chain.

"Oh this?" You look down at it from your awkward angle, "is something wrong with it?"

Morax lets out a curt grumble, not in warning or any form of vexation, but as a sort of prompt. Not quite.

You furrow your brows, "Then... does it mean something?"

Its grumbles again. Closer.

Your mind blanks, and you stare back at the beast that just blinks at you slowly. It makes no more sounds to edge you forwards, nor anymore mortion to aid your thinking. Instead, it watches you patiently, expectantly. Fondly.

"...You wanna... you wanna tell me?"

Your features flatten when the dragon emits an exaggerated yawn, crossing its massive paws and laying its head down upon them.

"Oh, you've got an attitude, you know," You frown at the mythical thing, and it closes its eyes teasingly in cheek.

You look at your pendant again. It had been provided by the Adeptis, and passed onto the village chief for when the chosen had been annouced. Then it was later given to you at the end of all your preparations, and you've been wearing it since.

Funnily enough, your preparations were similar to those of your wedding traditions--the older women fussing over your appearance while the men gathered gold and jewels to toss and offer up in symbolizing a rich, fruitiful future for the beweddeds.

The pendant is a similar heirloom typically passed from the more forthright intended to their beloved, as a way to show both their devotion, and their will to provide and protect.

The heirloom is usually something that represents the family from which it is given, as the receiver takes on their last name.

But your pendant is the geo symbol, your Archon's insignia.

Holy freaking shit you're wearing your Archon's insignia and it's not a vision.

Your stomach drops.

"O-Oh my god!" The pendant drops back into place on your chest, and you stare wide eyed at the serpent that daringly matches your panicked gaze, "I-I'm our Lord's intended!?"

"You're my one true friend Morax. But don't tell anyone I said that, that's kinda sad."

You distractedly scrub the dragon's scales by his neck, having moved on from his claws. You're dressed in thin bathing silks that cling to your figure from the water, parts of the fabric sheer upon your skin. You're not bothered though, it's only you and the dragon in this huge manor.

For the week or so that you've spent here, you've seen neither hide nor hair of your dear Archon. One part of you is curious as to why, seeing as this is his abode, though the other shudders at the prospect of running into him in person. You're still not mentally prepared for that.

You don't know how to talk to a god! Let alone how to your god--and that's not even mentioning the fact that you're technically supposed to be married to him.

Yeah. You've figured it out now.

No, you had not been sentenced to your death. No pain or any form of violence has been inflicted since your arrival, unless you want to count the dragon tormenting you with the fluff of its tail.

Stupid dragon.

Speaking of the damned creature, you've taken solace in its company. Although non-human, the dragon is a sentient being of its own, and though large and very much built for battle, Morax has been nothing but patient and gentle.

Ever so aware of your smaller being, the dragon has been careful with its every motion, bending its languid body elegently and fluidly to accomidate you. Even in a playful mood, Morax takes great care not to jostle you or startle you so.

You've claimed the overgrown reptile as your best friend in claws!

Morax had preened at the proclamation.

"Has our Lord been taking care of you? I haven't seen him once since I've been here. Do you think I've scared him off?" You snicker, wringing out the soaked cloth in the floral water you're seeping in, "ah, yes. As I am everything he should fear in a spouse. A merciless tongue and a non-existent sleep schedule."

In the furthest depths of this absolutely insanely huge manor, palace or whatever, is an opening in what you presume to be the back of the mountain.

Walls opening into a magnificent waterscape with a lazy lake and picturesque waterfalls, vines and flowers and brush decorating the scene with giant trees overshading parts of the water.

Morax snorts at your accusations, nostrils puffing non-aggravated smoke.

You move on to delicately rinsing the dragon's mane in parts, fingers sifting through the long, smooth fur to untangle any knots.

"Is he kind?"

From its once sleep tempted state, the beast perks up, opening its eyes to gaze at you. Sensing Morax's confusion, you give a tender smile while you brush a hand through its mane and over its scales.

"My betrothed, our Lord," The dragon croons softly, leaning its massive head down to rest its chin on your lap as you chuckle bashfully, "only you and the adepti know what he's really like. When he's not attending his duties, I mean."

You swallow thickly, worry glazing your eyes before being swiftly masked by a ginger smile as Moraz nudges you.

"I just... to be wedded to our Lord is just a fantasy. Who could I ever amass to in comparison to our Archon? I... don't think he will be cruel. But," Your eyes flutter to the side unsurely, "I don't want to live a lie."

Your heart pangs in your chest, and you slow in your movements which begin to cease. The water ripples around you at each notion, the air still and serene. Yet, despite the peace, you feel burdened.

No, not burdened.

Your brows crease in thought.

Perhaps dejected.

Although you have yet to meet, you've been provided with an abundance of wealth. It's evident your Lord is the spoiling type.

Your room is just one example, full of things you love and could lose yourself in for hours, alongside a wardrobe full of clothes you could only ever have previously dreamed of.

And you have the entire mountain to explore to entertain yourself--and it's not as though you were trapped.

You've gone flying with Morax twice now, and further explored the wilderness surrounding with the dragon's protective supervision. If you so truly wished, you could leave these hidden chambers to go elsewhere. To be honest though, you don't trust yourself to be able to find your way back.

The food is plentiful. Visiting the kitchens each morning and night, you find a feast is laden. And during the mid-day when you're hungry, or the late hours when you're peckish, the pantries are stocked in abundance.

A warm breeze caresses your shoulders, and the sound of the water trinkling melodically echoes a tranquil tune.

Morax purrs at you, and your smile saddens as you speak a dismal truth, "I will forever worship our Lord, not just for what he has provided me, but for him in all his existence. Though I admit, my heart will carry the dual burden of heartache."

The dragon blinks at you slowly, before reeling back in all its grace with a low croon. Its eyes are lidded, looking down at you in fondness and something else you can't quite place.

You puff a breathy laugh, reaching up a hand to cup the scales on its cheek. Despite the comically drastic size difference, the mystic being leans into your touch with a rumble.

"Thank you, Morax," You murmur, awed, "but I could ask nothing more from our dearest Archon who has given so much already. I only pray that someday he will find the one with whom he can truly return their affections."

A disgruntled huff escapes from the amber dragon's maw, and it shakes its head before leaning down to carefully press its horned head against yours.

A smile traces your lips, sincere gratitude oozing from your being as your eyes slip shut, nuzzling back against the smooth and damp scales of your mythical friend.

Another kind brush of air kisses your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. From behind your eyelids, a bright flash of light is muted, though you pass it off as naught.

Suddenly though, the scales you had cupped fit much better in your palm, a sensation much softer gracing your fingertips. Your brows furrow slightly as you feel the weight of the dragon's physical presence decrease. The water around you ripples greatly, though the atmosphere itself remains undisturbed.

The winds swoop gracefully as always, musical water cascades still singing their dream inducing tinkles while the scent of the surrounding natural flora soothes you.

You hear a gentle rumble, though much softer than the dragon before you. Your eyes gradually open, slinking up to lock onto the ethereal man leant into your loving caress.

Your gaze drifts to his nose, and then his lips, observing his attire that consists of layers of intricate brown and golden silks that float atop the water's surface.

And then you gasp, meeting eternally wise amber orbs that stare into yours knowingly.

Your muscles tense and your stomach drops, and you stumble back, almost tripping in the water.

At your sudden lurch in movement, the devastatingly handsome man fixes his arms around you, a gavelly chuckle sending a flush of heat to the tips of your ears as he pulls you flush against him.

"Y-You! I--" Embarrassment in all its forms overwhelms you while your beloved Lord himself stares down at you with lidded eyes, exuding elegance and unwavering strength just as he stands.

You don't dare look him in the eye, gaze latched shamefully onto the intricate details laced on the garment covering his chest. Your shame only increases once you notice the opening in the fabric that reveals part of his chest.

"M-My Lord..!"

Humiliation causes tears to prick at your eyes painfully.

But the dragon--his dragon, he is the dragon!

Heavens above, how utterly foolish could you be!?

Weeks you have spent confiding and bumbling about with that damned beast had you spilling the deepest depths of your heart and innermost being.

You would have never behaved in such a trecherous manner had you known it was your Lord! How disgusted he must be with you. How offended he must feel for the ignorant things you have speeled!

You clench your eyes shut, almost trembling in his grasp.

"My.. My most sincerest apologies, Lord Rex Lapis. I-I must avow that for each word I have spoken I never did intend-"

"Whatever do you mean, my love?" His voice is warm and low, a pleasant gravel that slinks into your ears like honey.

Rex Lapis--Morax, your very Archon who is one in the same, pulls himself back to admire you with fond eyes. Though his gaze is ever intense, the emotion he expresses is more than palpable.

His touch is tender, careful but full of longing, "Perish such nonsense from your mind. I, apologise, dear one," He leans down hopefully to meet your gaze, "for startling you so. And for withholding my true self for so long."

You flutter your eyes open, swallowing shakily when he smiles at you oh so adoringly.

"To be honest, I was... nervous. Unsure as to how you would perceive me."

"You? Nervous?" You incredulous tone has him breathe out a laugh.

"Indeed, dearest," You flush at the endearment, able to process it past your panic this time, "it is not everyday you are intended to a God. Now though, I see I should have been the one to welcome you first and foremost."

In contrast to his gentle touches and patient tone, a familiar cheeky twinkle sparkles in his eyes, "To think you thought you were a meat offering."

You blink up at him, horridly aghast at the mention of your initial misgrievances.

Forgetting your prior reservations about him as your Lord, no longer heeding your behaviour to such, you recognise that mischevious glint just as on the first day you had arrived.

A sense of relief floods your being, and you gradually untense in his tender grasp.

Though you're still unwilling to let him off unscathed.

"Who's the one who had me snatched up on such short notice?"

A sense of sheepishness has him ducking his head in self awareness, nodding acceptingly and in apology. A pink tint lines his fair cheeks at that.

But then he glances down at your drenched attire, and his flush deepens as a desire much too long forgone has him turning up his cheek a little more than he normally would.

"Well," He clears his throat distractedly, "who wouldn't at such a delightful temptation, hm?"

And then it's your turn to feel flushed.

Although he had left you lonesome in you first few weeks of stay, he more than made up for it in the coming nights.

And in response to your apprehensions and concern in being wedded to a God, he addressed them directly by providing you with an adoring reverence than even celestia would envy.

And he continued to do so, for the many years that would come.

For he had chosen you; his one and true beloved.

[shirefantasies]

I wanna kiss Feren and comb his hair while he relaxes after a long day 😞 he looks so tired of everything (Love Thranduil but I would be on my last strand of sanity if I worked for him too)

I also feel like he greatly adores cats, like he's definitely snuck a kitten into work because he couldn't leave it all alone

You know what? Yes. Also, ✨two posts✨ from drafts this week because this one is so small (gif by @lokidlaufeyson, will delete from here if asked to!)

Breathe You In- Feren x Elf!Reader Drabble

Not an uncommon sight was it to catch Feren with a look of exasperation or even exhaustion upon his face. The king may have been fair, not quick to inflict harsh punishments upon his people, but that did not preclude him from making streams of demands, words which sent Feren this way and that, often after to inquire after or warn the prince. Certainly it came about due to Thranduil’s trust of your beloved-a status you were unsure the woodland king was even aware of- but sometimes you just wished you could march up to the great throne and tell him to quit treating such a wonderful and capable soul like an errand boy.

As he sat upon the bed, Feren breathed quite the sigh, shaking his head. “I must have ran across the entire kingdom and back today.”

Hands falling to his shoulders, you ran them lightly down, applying a bit of pressure and feeling tension melt from his muscles beneath it. With a look of bliss, he turned his head to meet your eyes, and the both of you shut your eyes and melted together into a kiss the moment gazes locked. Your hand slide down to run along his toned chest, his breaths coming slowly and languidly as your long kiss.

Feren held you against his forehead with a hand as you disconnected, both of you drawing a longer breath in unison. Clear as it was by his sudden grip what Feren's desire was, there you remained, hand over his heart and lungs filling with his air as it mingled with yours.

Finally, you broke the silence. "Turn around, my love."

Obeying, Feren rotated, shifting to accommodate you as you loosened his cape and set it aside, taking instead his flowing locks of brown hair and draping them like a long, silky curtain along the line of his spine. You felt a slight tense of protest beneath his tunic when your hands lifted from his body completely, but they returned posthaste, an ivory comb in hand. Fingers running delicately through his soft hair, you pursued each motion with the teeth of the comb, one never catching the other before another lock was taken in hand. Once again, you felt your beloved's body melt against you.

"Tell me more about your day," you encouraged, voice soft, "unless you would rather not."

You feel Feren sigh before you hear it. "Oh," he waved a hand, "so first I am sent to speak on behalf of the king to some suppliers of some sort-"

Smiling softly, you shook your head a bit, reaching over to the nightstand to dab some oil on your hands and humming disapprovingly at the obstinate shipmen. Your home was never short of stories, that was certain, you reflected as you worked the oil through Feren's hair.

"...But it was all worth it to come home to you, my darling."

"Oh, you flatterer."

"No," taking your face in his hands, Feren shook his head, his dark eyes fixed firmly upon yours, "verily. I mean it, that were I not so lucky in your companionship, your unyielding love and care, I am quite sure Thranduil would have driven me mad by now. Thank you for loving me."

"It is the easiest thing on this earth to do," you whispered back, leaning in closer and pecking his lips, "but you are more than welcome, my dear."

Taglist: @lokilover476 @kilibaggins @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin @letmelickyoureyeballs @mossyskinn @wordbunch @tiny-and-witchy @th3-st4r-gur1 @fleurdemiel-145 @mistresskayla-blog1 @misabelle717 | Reply/Message/Ask to join 🩷

[cambion-companion]

I cannot concentrate on my work (ironically as a TA writing up my phd thesis) because I read your intelligence 8 tav x raphael fics and now I am shaken to the core and all I wanna do is daydream about being a clueless little slut in the house of hoep

please saer can I have some more

hahaha I'm so glad that brain worm took root, intelligence 8 Tav is delightful. I also wanted to incorporate this lovely ask as well and express my gratitude for the support you all have given me this month. All is well! Enjoy a drabble with a Tav/reader utterly oblivious to the true nature of a cambion...to them he's just a tiefling with wings! how cool!

Raphael + reader (gn) drabble

(I'll probably write another that's more romantic/cute but this was too funny to pass up)

"You have an uncanny talent at getting into the most outlandish situations." Raphael pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, inhaling a deep breath.

You looked around at the decadent room he'd rented for himself, steam rising from two baths and flower petals ornamenting the lush red carpet. "I wouldn't think a devil-guy would be the sort to have tulips thrown about."

"Roses." Raphael corrected, his hand clasping firm about your upper arm just in time to save you from slipping on the wet tile and braining yourself. "I would wager a hefty sum of gold your mind does not entertain too many thoughts at one time."

"Thank you." You murmured, touched. You allowed him to escort you to safety upon a chair and watched with vague interest at how his lips twisted in bemusement. "I should thank you for saving my bacon back there. Wasn't expecting to survive that. But Shart always gets Withers to bring me back when we run out of those glowy scroll things."

"I do believe I sense a migraine coming on." Raphael squeezed his eyes shut briefly before crossing to pour you both a glass of dark brown alcohol.

You took the fancy crystal glass and downed the drink with gusto, only realizing your mistake when the scorching whiskey had passed into your gullet, and you burst into a coughing fit. Raphael sighed and gave you a solid couple thumps on your back as you struggled to breath. "There now. Death by imbibing spirits too eagerly is no way to enter the afterlife. Not until you've served your purpose, at least."

"What?"

"I'm concerned for your well-being, dear."

You wiped your eyes with your sleeve. "That's really nice of you, Raph." He winced at the nickname but just barely managed to keep a pleasant neutral expression. "I don't know why everyone else threw such a fit about you, you're not a bad dude."

"I'm flattered." Raphael almost felt a sense of annoyance at how easy this was. He enjoyed a challenge, and this mortal was certainly not bringing it. He drained his glass fluidly and returned it with a clink to the table. "Now, your person is more or less stable for the time being."

You looked around, checking behind you. "What person?"

"Your body has been plucked from the peril you so naively flounced into." Raphael clarified, a slight edge to his words now, he was running low on patience. "Be a good mouse and run along, fetch me the crown and we can part ways amicably."

"I never imagined mice to be much good at fetching." You mused, rising to your feet as Raphael practically pushed you from his room. "That seems more a dog's forte. Oh, we have a most wonderful dog back at camp-"

The door closed in your face, so close it almost clipped your nose. You stared at the dark wood for a moment, then smiled and shrugged. You spoke a little louder so he would be able to hear through it. "His name is Scratch! What was I saying? Oh yes, dogs fetch crowns and balls better than mice! Maybe keep that in mind when giving people animal nicknames!"

No answer.

He must have gone to take a nap. You were sure cambions probably did that often since they seemed to act much like cats in every other way.

Smiling to yourself you departed, convinced that you and Raphael were now bosom friends.

[anon-amiss]

Okay hear me out on this, Wally with a romantic partner who is colour blind. Like they could see colour when they were younger so they know what colours are but once they grew older everything faded into greys, whites, and blacks. Bonus points if the only colours they see are on Wally and they (the reader) say something cheesy like 'you bring colour into my life'

Beginning Notes: Oooh!! This one is very interesting! As an artist who can see so many colours and shades, I could never imagine what would happen to me if all of it just suddenly dissipated! :°[ I think this will be particularly fun to try out though! It's a great scenario, and I'll do my best to deliver. Thank you for the great request, dear neighbour!

Warnings: Nothin' really! Just good vibes around :°]

Wally x Colourblind!Reader

(Romantic)

Your eyes focused on the bouquet in front of you, intensely glaring at each of the individual petals with the sharpest glare you've ever given anything in your life.

You were trying really hard, but your attempts all ending up fruitless. The dull boquet was suddenly pulled out of view by a familiarly bright and colourful hand. You turned to face the figure with a questioning gaze.

"If I had known you didn't like roses, I would have gotten you a different gift ha ha! " Wally bantered, patting the velvety petals with his felty hand.

"No, I love them! I was just doing the thing again," you replied, frantically trying to save his feelings. Though Wally wasn't hurt. He knew exactly what you were doing, even before you explained yourself, and it was somewhat amusing.

Anyone else entering Home for the first time would probably be shocked by the enormous array of colours everywhere. The vast amount of hues would certainly be blinding to anyone who just arrived, but when you first arrived, it looked like nothing special to you. Everything was just the same. Black and grey with hints of white.

You didn't even notice you were in a whole different universe until you felt the soft and cushiony terrain. You did initially think it was strange how some of the shapes seemed to be somewhat exaggerated, such as flowers looking rounder and hills looking cleaner than they were supposed to.

The first creature of sorts you met while wandering around was a dog named Barnaby, and you did freak out a bit at first, but you got over it relatively quickly when he offered to find you help. He took you around "Home" and introduced you to everyone, but when you got to the last resident, you couldn't stop yourself from jumping in surprise. You stared at him intently.

You were in such awe.

The resident in question being Wally, of course. He only stared back at you, not saying a word. You stood there for about a minute before he said his first words to you:

"You blinked! I win!"

You were confused at first but then realized he must have thought you were having a staring contest. That was honestly not a bad guess at what you'd really been doing.

Throughout the whole day, Wally couldn't help but notice the peeks and glances you stole his way. He knew he was handsome, but he didn't think it would be that distracting. Though, now that he thought about it, he did have a tendency to stare at himself in the mirror for hours at a time, so maybe it wasn't such a farfetched reaction.

Still, he felt the need to ask you about it just to be sure. You were embarrassed at first, but you felt like he deserved to know considering how rude it must have looked from an outsider's perspective.

You explained your whole colourblind situation, telling him that when you were a kid you could distinctly remember seeing every shade of the rainbow, but as the years passed, it all started fading away. At first, you'd been devastated to hear that you'd never be able to see colour again, but you learned to cope with this loss.

It still hurt you to think of it sometimes, sure, but you dealt with it by just imagining the missing colours in place of the dull, dark shades you saw.

"What do you imagine when you stare at me?" He asked you, curiously. Wally only knew one other person with colourblindness, which happened to be Barnaby, but even Barnaby could see some semblance of colours. He was intrigued by your situation and even felt bad for you. You seemed so sad when you were explaining your condition to him.

"That's the thing," you began, grabbing his hand, tracing your fingers over his palm carefully. You were simply baffled by this unique circumstance. "I can see your colours for some reason."

Wally was surprised, not sure what to say at that moment. He felt a bit special, thinking about your words over and over. While the both of you did not understand the reason you could see only his colours, neither of you wanted to question it. You cherished it dearly.

From thereon out, you two became very close. Wally didn't mind you staring at him every few minutes. He encouraged it, really. You would both often test out little experiments you had in mind such as putting red paint on him to see if it would show up, though, it did not... But even with this experiment dismissed, you still liked to put on some red lipstick and smooch Wally's cheek, usually saying how you wanted to just 'make sure' your results didn't change.

He knew you were lying, you were terrible at it, but he didn't mind.

He would frequently catch you staring intensely at certain things such as flowers or crayons. Wally learned that this was like a little guessing game to you. After you guessed the colour, you would usually ask Wally if you were correct, to which he would either confirm or deny your guess. Though, he did lie sometimes and say you were right. He just couldn't stand to see your disappointed face when you found out you were wrong.

Plus, everytime you did a good job, he was allowed to place gold stars on your forehead! Win-win!

Wally was sure you were guessing what colours the roses were this time and handed them out to you. "So what colour do you think they are?" He asked, sitting himself down next to you.

You let out a laugh and rested your head on his shoulder, setting the bouquet aside. "I don't need to know."

Wally looked over to you, tilting his head quizically. He's never had this response before, so naturally he was just a little confused with you. You loved this game! Maybe you were bored of it now??

You turned to face him and stared into his eyes. "You're the only set of colours I love to see." You gave him a peck on the mouth. Wally's expression was now that of surprise. "Hey, you're red now!"

He laughed at your comment and cupped your face. "I just can't get enough of you, dear." You leaned into his touch and smiled joyfully. Wally reciprocated your kiss and gave you a warm embrace. He leaned back to look at you and couldn't help but giggle at your reaction.

"Hey, you're red now, too!"

End.

End notes: Oh dear, I feel like this is way too short! :°[ I'm going to probably expand on this idea more later on! I really love your scenario and feel like I've misplaced some really great potential! Now... I usually follow intuition and reread my stories to see if there's anything else I can expand on, but I just can't quite put my fluffy finger on it! I promise I will find out what the problem is and get back to you again! With a longer story this time!

Apologies, dear neighbour!

I hope this shorter-than-usual story will suffice for the moment!

[the-fiction-witch]

Young Love P2

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating SMUT

Requested I NEED part 2. I love it. Must need part twoooo This is amazing! Waiting for part 2 part 2 plsss ❤️❤️ Part 2 please I can't wait for part 2 ❤ Part 2 plsss I it's so cute I couldn't help myself but laugh because I would have done the same thing to my friends

I sat at the table on my third drink since I took my seat, My family of course was eager to ask questions but I didn't want to speak. Maybe this was all a terrible idea. 

"So Dr Dawkins, how long have you been seeing our sweet Y/n?" My mother asked,

"Ohh Almost a year now, isn't that right my darling?" He smirked in my direction, his hand coming to settle on my thigh

I glared but smiled and nodded, before I quickly grabbed his hand and crushed it as I forced his hand away,

"oww" He complained to quiet for anyone at the table to notice, "Don't be vicious darling." he whispered,

"Ohh that's just lovely," Magnolia smiled, "Reminds me of our own courtship." she smiled at her husband Sam, 

"And tell me do you have intentions to continue with my daughter?" My father asked,

"Ohh yes, certainly sir." He nodded, "We were thinking of a spring wedding weren't we my darling?" He smiled leaning on his hand and blowing me a kiss, But I stomped on his foot under the table, He shot me a look as everyone talked about themselves "I'm doing what you asked."

"Dail it back loverboy." 

"So? Do you two think soon we can expect splendid news?" my mother asked and the table silenced,

"Yes, very soon I'm sure." He answered,

"Ohh wonderful!" She smiled, 

"And of course, we'd be expecting young ones?" My father offered,

"Ohh Absolutely, we had discussed it, of course, four children we were thinking my darling?"

I glared at him with rage "Yes... Dear." 

"Wonderful! Young love is so sweet and beautiful now we only have little melody and all our sweet little ones will have a love of their own," My mother smiled, "Ohh how I remember the moonlit strolls, the sweet shared cookies, the secret words whispered at windows, the thrill of love bites hidden from others eyes, of muffling the lustful sounds of intimacy behind pillows for fear of walking the house, the unbridled torment and ecstasy of young love." 

 I held my breath trying not to answer, my parents had always been like this so affectionate for each other that they often failed to realize that's not the sort of thing you tell your children about when you are their age. 

"But of course, you two must be well aware of such things,"

"...yes absolutely," He nodded, "Your uhhh" he coughed," Your daughter and I are well aware."

"Wonderful, and of course now you are no longer a secret Dr Dawkins, you are welcome to stay the night with y/n so long as you two just let us know." my mother smiled,

"We wouldn't want any sudden interruptions now would we?" My father added,

"I- I Can?" He gulped, 

"Of course, we trust a doctor to know the best ways to... help our daughter," my father winked at Jack,

"Yes, of course." Jack nodded shooting me a glance as if to ask 'Are they serious?' and I just nodded in return, "well that uhh that will be nice won't it darling" 

"Yes... it will" I rolled my eyes 

Once dinner was done I very quickly took Jack back to my room mostly to try and hide, Immediately I jumped on my bed and hid my face away, 

"Your uhhh your parents are weird."

"Yeah, I know..."

"They have literally only met me for dinner, and they are completely fine with me banging you." 

"Jack, don't call it that."

"Having sex with you then. They are... really accommodating..." 

"They are weird."

"yeah they are... and it's bloody weird, I feel kinda bad I'm not having sex with you they seemed like they really wanted me too, I feel like I'm a disappointment all of a sudden." 

"the deal was cookies and Beer Jack I'm not sleeping with you."

"Can we amend the deal?"

"To?"

"Every time I need to pretend to be your boyfriend, you have to sleep with me."

"No."

"Then the deal is off and I'm telling them-" he said heading to the door

"No no no!" I stood and grabbed his arm, "ughhhh fine! One orgasm per performance."

"Not one orgasm, sex."

"Ohh sex is finished after you orgasm"

"Not necessarily, One orgasm could be you just pawn me off with a handjob and my performances are worth way more than that." 

"Fine... Sex. Per performance."

"Thank you, I will accept a blow job."

"I bet you would, it's just easier for me to sleep with you at least then I can lay down and my jaw doesn't get tired." 

"Good, we have a deal?"

"Do I still owe you a pound a kiss?"

"Let's say a kiss for a kiss how about that?"

"Fine."I sighed, 

"Good, we're agreed then, Now? where's my reward for such a stellar performance darling?" He cooed wrapping his arms around my waist,

"I'm really gonna hate you aren't I?"

"Yeah you are, but you can't argue 'cause you wanted this." He smirked, "You asked me to pretend to be your boyfriend, so I'm being your boyfriend," he smirked grabbing my arse,

"Fine, let's just get this over with. And don't be loud I already know my parents are assuming there fucking in here I'd rather it not be confirmed," I sighed moving to the bed,

"Grumpy little girly today,"

"Just get this over with Jack." I sighed, 

"Alright, how do you want me darling?" He smirked crawling on my bed, "I get to hold your hips and thrust your face into your pillow? do I get to hold your legs around my neck? or am I gonna get you bouncing on my cock?"

"You get to work with the side while I lay down with my book," I told him laying on my side and grabbing a book, He rolled his eyes as he slipped his waistcoat and shirt off laying down beside me and wrapping his arms around me and kissing my shoulder, He took my book from my hand and tossed it to the side "Hey!"

"You're not going to need to entertain yourself with me, darling," he cooed as leant down to nibble and kiss my neck tugging down my dress to expose my shoulder to him his kisses getting more intense and lustful slightly biting,

"Don't bite Jack i don't need my mother pointing them out,"

"Aww come on? it'll be cute, I want them to look at you, see your cute little hickies and say humm look what Doctor Dawkins did to Y/n" 

"One Hickie." I warn,

"I better make it count then," he growled, he kissed up my neck and found a spot I couldn't hide he made sure to nibble and kiss it first before he bit me like a goddamn vampire from one of my romance novels leaving a hard dark hickie on my neck I did my best not to gasp but it was fairly difficult given his attention his hand quickly undid my dress and slipped his hand under the now looser fabric to grab my breast "Ohh perky little girly aren't you?" 

"Hey, I said sex I said nothing about my boobs."

"Boobs are a very important part of sex, come on I just wanna make you feel good too why do you keep trying to stop me?" he cooed between kisses, "ohhh your body doesn't wanna stop me?" he growled as his hand grabbing and groping my breast had caused my nipple to get a little hard "Listen to your body darling," He growled tugging on my nipple to make it even harder before pinching it between his fingers and rolling the tip between his fingers 

"Ughhh!" I squealed before clamping a hand over my mouth

"Awww see, you are enjoying it." He smirked, "Humm imagine your family are tucking themselves in bed right now, all of them can hear you screaming, and they all know what we are doing." he smirked, 

"There just assuming."

"True, so even if you don't make any noise you know your whole family is sitting in their beds knowing I'm about to bang your cute little body," 

"Jack don't call it that."

"Bang, fuck, sex, whatever word you wanna call it... " He rolled his eyes tugging up my dress till he exposed my skin "Ohhh now that's a little juicer then I expected." he smirked smacking my arse

"Hey! Jack! don't I'll-"

"Aww you don't want me to make you too sore? Don't worry darling I'm gonna make you so sore your cute little arse can't even sit down to dinner with them tomorrow." He smirked forcing down my panties and moving his hand to stroke my clit, Immediately I bit my pillow not wanting to give him the satisfaction that I was enjoying it, "Awww what a cute little girly, such a pretty little pussy, open your legs or I'll throw you on your knees." 

I knew I couldn't argue so I moved my leg to let him work, 

"humm what a good girly," he cooed undoing his own pants and tugging them down, he gave himself a few gentle strokes before he slipping himself inside me "Ughhh fuck! Ummm! you should have made me your fake boyfriend years ago" he growled as he held my hips firmly digging his nails into my skin as he aggressively thrusted,

"And why is that?" I asked trying so hard not to scream as I felt the pleasure of him moving 

"cause I've been waiting to fuck you since I met you, if I'd known faking being your boyfriend for one night was all it took to get up in my little girly, Humm your family would want me marrying you by now after all these years." He growled, often biting and kissing my neck with the movement of his hips. 

"Ughhh Jack," I began to whine from the overwhelming pleasure my eyes often rolling back, 

"Awww see you do love me," he smirked, "Don't worry little girly, I'll make you cum" he smirked rubbing on my clit as he thrusted my bed creaking and banging against the wall from our movements, "Ummm listen to that fucking noise your parents must think there banging like rabbits." he growled, "Then again, I guess we are aren't we." 

"Jack faster please-"

"Yeah? Ughh you sound so good begging me for more, But... I can't, you feel you good little girly" He began to slow so I gritted my teeth, I hated admitting it, I hated what I was about to do, and the endless satisfaction it would give him, 

.... I'd never live what I'm about to do down... 

But I'm not stopping, I pushed his hips gently turning us so he laid on his back and I sat on top of him gently moving my hips at the speed I wanted him at,

"Ohhh fuck! you bad bad girl!" He growled grabbing my hips to guide me to bounce on him, I admit he looked amazing laid on my bed in only his shirt, his hair slightly sweaty and out of place, leant on his elbows against my pillows moaning under me as I worked, "Ughhhhh fuck! yeah? you want me darling? I'm not even your real boyfriend and you need me so badly?" 

"You are a cocky little bastard, Jack,"

"Yeah, I am. You seem to be enjoying my cock enough though," he smirked, "Ummmm! why the hell did I spend so long playing card with you, I should have been bending you over the table" 

"You bend me over the table I'll bite you."

"That a promise little girly?" he smirked slapping my arse as I got faster and faster, "Or maybe you'll just feel me inside you and remember how good I make you feel." 

"Ughh just shut up and move Jack!" I yelled moving his hand to my clit, he happily began rubbing on it again his other hand grabbed my dress almost ripping it to force it away enough to get at my breast which he happily groped and plaid with my nipple, "Ughhhhh!"

"Ughhhh fuck you sound so good!" he groaned, "humm what would your family say they saw you like this, their cute little daughter bouncing on her doctor?" he gasped, 

"Knowing my parents... they'd probably correct us on something."

"annoyingly I think you're kinda right." he joked, 

 but I reached my peak biting his neck as I did which in turn got him to his own edge burying himself deep inside me 

"UGhhhhhhhhhh! Yes! yes! Y/n!" 

I did my best riding it out as he all but collapsed against bed until I couldn't move anymore and I fell face-first into my pillow on the other side of the bed, we gasped and tried to regain our composure, 

"I'm really gonna enjoy this arrangement..." 

"Ohh shut up Jack..." 

"Love you too darling."

I yawned and forced myself up, my body still knotted up with Jack as after all that had happened last night we just kinda collapsed and slept in one another arms, still in our clothes from last night, I forced myself up and rubbed my eyes for a moment looking at Jack as he slept, humm... for such a cocky dick, he can be kinda cute when he's sleeping, I smiled a plaid with his hair a little which didn't even make him stir, so I moved and gave his lips a little kiss, but as I pulled back he opened his eyes, 

"Morning,"

"AHh! Christ you made me jump!" I complained, "I didn't know you were up,"

"I'm awake... just about." 

"Morning,"

"Morning," He smiled, 

"Particular reason you're still here?" I asked climbing out of bed,

"I'm meant to be your boyfriend, aren't I? Boyfriends sleep over sometimes."

"Do they?" I asked starting to change out of my dress from yesterday, 

"They do, they cosy and cuddle up with your girlfriends"

"weird,"

"We did have sex last night."

"I know, I'm still sore and... sticky." 

"Yeah sorry about that, I'd have pulled out but... you were a little too vicious with me."

"Still I'd much prefer we have sex and you bugger off."

"That's not how boyfriends work Y/n."

"Yeah well, I don't like boyfriends, hence the whole point of you faking to be mine." 

he smirked looking at me 

"What?"

"You're really wondering why I'm looking at you when you stood at the foot of the bed without your dress?"

I rolled my eyes, "You're a doctor I don't care, you've seen a hundred naked ladies, plus anything important I have you saw last night anyway."

"True." He smirked, "What is your issue with boyfriends?"

"Fictional men are better, you ever read anything by Jane Austin? Ever. Trust me after Frederick Wentworth or Fitzwilliam Darcy." I explained, "You can't go back to the chaos of real men." 

"You can't fuck a book y/n." 

"I would if I could Jack." I said getting a clean dress for the day, but he moved to the end of the bed not bother to tug his pants up and grabbing my waist to pull me to stand naked between his legs 

"That what you want little girly? You want me to quote Jane Austin at you, to read you a Shakespearian sonnet, to make you feel loved?"

"... couldn't hurt Jack," I admit, 

He smirked kissing my sternum as he spoke "In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."

I gasped doing my best not to squeal as I looked down at him,

"Like that darling?"

"Eep." I squeaked, 

"Aww you're so cute little girly," He smirked, he slapped my arse and continued to kiss my chest and breasts, "You're cute when you let the hard shell down a little." 

I was about to speak but my bedroom door opened to my mother, Immediately I grabbed the sheet to cover my naked body leaving Jack to grab the hem of his shirt to cover himself too, but it was kinda too late, "Mother!"

"oh, do excuse me. Breakfast is ready." She smiled, and for a moment her eyes looked over me she obviously saw what was happening before I grabbed the sheet but she looked carefully now to ensure she saw exactly what was happening, and for a moment her eyes lingered on Jack a moment as if she was.. inspecting him, "Will you be joining us Dr Dawkins?"

"Uhhhh yeah, yeah I will," he nodded sheepishly given he not only got caught half-naked by my her but also making out with the breasts of her naked daughter, 

"Good, well I'll be off then," She smiled leaving the room and shutting the door behind her, 

"she saw us?"

"Yeah, she definitely saw us." I sighed, "Fuck." 

[odyssean-flower]

The Winding Path of Fate Chapter 3 - Spring: An Agreeable Marriage

Masterpost Pairing: Neuvillette x Female Reader Summary: You and Neuvillette decide to get into a marriage of convenience. Warnings: None except for restrictive gender roles, also for some reason Fontaine’s regency england (sort of) now? Note: I update this story on AO3 first so please subscribe to the fic there if you’d like to read it faster Note 2: If you want to be on the taglist for this fic, please make a reply to this post, send a message or send a private ask

Have a pic of Neuvillette staring contemptuously at Venti

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“Monsieur and Madame, I am here today to declare to you that I am deeply and ardently with your daughter, and I would like to ask for her hand in marriage.”

Very nice delivery, you thought. Although, his facial expressions could really use some work.

You and Neuvillette were currently sitting in the small parlor of your family home, facing your parents, who were staring at Neuvillette like he had just grown a second head. Which perhaps would be less shocking than the fact that the Chief Justice of Fontaine had just declared his intentions to marry their daughter.

“What!?” you hear your sister scream out from behind the closed parlor door. Your parents had wisely made her wait outside when Neuvillette made his visit.

“P-Pardon me, Monsieur Neuvillette?” your father finally spoke, blinking rapidly like he was still convinced this was a dream. You couldn’t blame him. “Could you please repeat what you just said?”

“Certainly, sir,” Neuvillette proceeded to do just that.

“I-I see...” your father said. “So, just to confirm, you wish to marry our oldest daughter, is that correct, Monsieur?”

“Yes, sir. It is my dearest wish. My heart yearns for it,” Neuvillette nodded.

You heard your sister squeal behind the door. This must be like one of those pulpy romance novels come to life for her. Although, I wish Monsieur Neuvillette look less like he’s informing my parents of a death.

Your mother brought her hands to her mouth. “Monsieur Neuvillette, do you truly mean what you say?”

“Yes, I do. Every word of it.”

“Might you tell us...why you want to marry her? I don’t mean to question your judgment—my husband and I raised both our daughters to be fine ladies of good character, though our oldest can be a bit stubborn in her ways at times—but as you probably already know, we are not a particularly wealthy or influential family, so it is quite shocking for us to hear that you, Monsieur, would choose our daughter as your wife.”

Neuvillette was silent for a moment. Oh no, perhaps he hadn’t anticipated this question, you thought. Maybe he just assumed that my parents would automatically agree and ecstatically give their blessing. I can’t say I blame him, I expected the same thing--

“In my humble opinion, Madame, wealth and rank are trivial when it comes to love,” Neuvillette said, looking straight into your mother’s eyes. “I was drawn to your daughter for her wit, sensibility, and devotion. There is no other person who I would choose to share my future with.”

Okay, now he’s overdoing it. You watched as your mother blushed under Neuvillette’s intense gaze. There was muffled screaming coming from You would probably be blushing too, but thankfully, you had become rather adept at controlling your facial expressions over the years.

“And you, dear, how do you feel about this?” your father addresses you at last.

You cleared your throat and straightened up.

“As Neuvi said--”

“Neuvi!?” your parents, as well as your sister, exclaimed in unison. You could feel Neuvillette suddenly turn to look at you and had to resist the urge to bury your face in your hands. Your family’s shock was understandable. You never used nicknames for anyone except your closest family members and friends.

This was all calculated, of course, after a long and fraught brainstorming session.

“Ahem, as Neuvi said, he is in love with me, and I reciprocate his feelings wholeheartedly. I believe this marriage will be a beneficial one for our family, which is just one of the many reasons why I accepted his proposal immediately.”

As explanations for marriage went, this wasn’t the most romantic or heartwarming. But then again, you were never much of a romantic, and if you had said something about your “love for him being as boundless as the ocean” or that you’d “die if you weren’t allowed to be with him,” that would surely set off alarm bells for your parents.

You were once again proven right when your parents nodded without probing any further.

“Well,” your father said, standing up with your mother. “Your mother and I would like to discuss this amongst ourselves for a little bit. This is very sudden, after all.”

“But of course,” Neuvillette said. “Take all the time you need.”

Your parents left the parlor, blocking your sister from rushing into the room as they did so.

Now it was just the two of you.

Next to you, Neuvillette calmly took a sip of tea. You couldn’t help but feel how surreal it was to see the Chief Justice sitting on the worn couch you used to play pirates on with your sister. The entire past week had felt like a dream, like you were watching yourself from above.

You decided to voice what was bothering you. “Monsieur Neuvillette, I must apologize my earlier discourtesy.”

“Discourtesy?”

“Yes. I referred to you by a nickname and didn’t tell you about it beforehand. It must have caught you by surprise.”

“It did,” Neuvillette admitted. “But it wasn’t discourteous in the least.”

“Ah.”

Another silence fell between the two of you. It wasn’t exactly awkward, but you felt some strange need to fill it. After all, this was a scheme plotted by the two of you. Surely there should be more communication? Feedback, perhaps?

“Your speech earlier was very good,” you said, grasping for a topic. “If I were my parents, I would have believed that you truly meant it. I never knew the Iudex could lie so well. If there is one critique I have, it’s that your facial expression should match your words better.”

You had meant that half-jokingly, but Neuvillette nodded like he was seriously taking your words into account. “My apologies. I have often been told that my lack of expression has caused misunderstandings. It’s something I have been struggling with for a long time, so I must continue to work on it.”

Now you felt angry at yourself. You had also been told by many well-meaning people that you should smile more and look friendlier, and it had never failed to annoy you.

Just as you opened your mouth to apologize, Neuvillette added, “Also, not everything I said was a lie.”

You stare at him in shock. “What--”

Your words were cut off when the parlor door opened and your parents walked in, with your sister leading the way. It seemed that she finally convinced them to let her in. Your mother’s eyes looked puffy. She must have been moved to tears of joy over the fact that her daughter, who seemed destined to a life of spinsterhood, finally found a match, and with the Chief Justice no less.

Your father looked at you both, then smiled broadly. “Your character is impeccable, Monsieur Neuvillette, and if our daughter wishes to marry you, we have no reason not to trust her judgment. We give you two our blessing.”

Your sister squealed and clapped her hands, and your parents looked upon the two of you with warm eyes. They were probably expecting hugs or even a kiss between the two of you.

After no such thing occurred, your mother broke the awkward silence and turned to you. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so happy that you are finally going to experience matrimonial bliss for yourself! Now you don’t have to waste so much time and effort on all that governess nonsense!”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“Oh, is that how you met?” your sister said, her cheeks flushed like she was the one getting married here. “At the Palais Mermonia? I knew it, there was something going on between the two of you at the opera house!”

“The wedding...” your mother started to pace. “There is much to be done for preparations. Now, we are not exactly wealthy, but a wedding with the Chief Justice needs to have a certain gravity and extravagance to it. Don’t worry, we’ll see what we can manage...”

“There’s no need to worry about that, Mother,” you interrupted. “Because there won’t be a wedding.”

“What?”

You stare at Neuvillette in disbelief, completely forgetting to be polite. Did you hear him right? Neuvillette didn’t seem to be the type to joke around, but you dearly hoped he was doing that right now.

“My apologies, I understand that it is a great shock to hear this so suddenly,” Neuvillette said, his voice even and smooth as though he didn’t propose to you out of the blue. “But after hearing your story, I think this arrangement can be of great benefit to the both of us. You require a place to stay, and I am in need of a spouse.”

“You are?” You weren’t up to date with the latest gossip, but even you knew that Neuvillette, in all his long years as the Chief Justice, had never looked for or even expressed interest in having a spouse. “Why now?”

For the first time since you’ve known him, a flicker of annoyance appeared in Neuvillette’s eyes, but it didn’t seem directed at you. He let out a long-suffering sigh that sounded suspiciously similar to the kind your mother would give you. “Furina--the Hydro Archon—has been getting increasingly insistent about me, in her words, ‘experiencing the joys of matrimony and companionship,’ to the point where it has become difficult for me to work uninterrupted.”

You hadn’t been expecting that answer. It was hard to imagine Neuvillette feeling pressured by anyone, but the Hydro Archon most likely would be one of the few people in this nation—maybe even this continent—to be able to do that. You wondered what their relationship was like.

“It can be a temporary arrangement, just long enough for Furina to lose interest, and for you to get your license and find a new place to live. Don’t worry, I will do everything in my power to maintain the privacy of you and your family. We can perform the marriage quickly and discreetly to avoid any attention from the press.”

Your mouth hung open as you listened to him, but what was shocking you even more was that you weren’t immediately standing up and leaving. “You...have certainly put a lot of thought into this already, Monsieur. How long have you been considering this?”

“Since we ran into each other at the Palais Mermonia,” he admitted. “But I hadn’t initially planned on asking you because you were so set on your own goals.”

Goals that were now completely up in the air. “How convenient for you that I have fallen into this predicament, then, Monsieur.” A thought just occurred to you. “Wait...you didn’t have anything to do with me being placed on the waiting list, do you?”

“I can assure you, I had no involvement, nor would I ever use my power in such a way. In fact, I will swear it upon my position as the Iudex of Fontaine.”

The certain, resolute look in his eyes made you believe him. Neuvillette was well-known to be a principled man, but you knew that even the kindest façade could hide a dark underbelly.

“This isn’t some scheme to make me your, your, um, kept woman or anything, is it?” The words sounded absurd as soon as they came out of your mouth, but you had to ask. “Because if it is, then let me tell you, Monsieur, I may be of an inferior status than you, but I do still have my self-respect, and--”

“Please, Miss [Name],” Neuvillette interrupted you. The horrified look on his face took away the rest of what you were going to say. He looked deep into your eyes. “I will once again promise you that I have no such intentions towards you, nor will I ever. If you need further assurance, we can sign a contract that will stipulate that I never lay a hand on you.”

You were taken aback by his intensity. Luckily, there was no one sitting near you two, or else this would be all over the papers tomorrow.

"I think that’s going a bit too far...” you said a bit weakly. And how would it even be enforced? You thought.

There was one thing that was still bothering you. “So, why me? I’m sure there are plenty of people that would be a better candidate than me. I am not exactly the most prospective match for a man of your status, and we hardly know each other.”

Neuvillette stroked his chin thoughtfully as he stared at you. For a moment, you feared that he was going to say something encouraging, but instead, he said, “I don’t see what makes you unfit. Neither you nor your family are involved with Fontaine’s political factions, you don't seem to be romantically involved with anyone,” he paused for confirmation here. You nodded, and he continued. “You have a pleasant temperament that is well-suited to my own...and I enjoy your company. Is that not enough for an agreeable marriage?”

You found that last part a bit baffling. Thinking back to your few interactions, you came across as considerably curt and disinterested. Plus there was that one time where you rambled on about history for around fifteen minutes... Did that qualify as enjoyable company for him? You found it hard to believe. There must be some other ulterior motive behind this. However, you were in no position to ask him about it.

“I suppose it is,” you said. Neither of you brought up the subject of love.

You licked your dry lips. Solely relying on someone else’s sympathy was unbearable for you. “You said this arrangement is temporary... I assume this arrangement will last until I obtain my license?”

It was stated in the requirements for becoming a licensed governess was that one must be unmarried at the time of receiving the license. There was also a strong preference for schoolteachers to be young and unmarried, though it wasn’t a hard requirement. If you divorced before that time, though, you wouldn't technically be breaking the rules.

"We will of course do everything the proper way,” Neuvillette, observing your silence, seemed to be trying to grasp what you were thinking. “We will ask your parents for their blessing and obtain a marriage license, and hold a wedding ceremony, if you like--”

“No ceremony,” you said immediately. “I don’t care to go through all that trouble.”

Neuvillette nodded. “I’m very glad to hear that. To tell you the truth, I share your feelings on that matter, and my schedule this month is already too busy.”

You nodded. “It would be best if this whole affair is as quiet and low-fuss as possible.”

“I agree. Ah, my apologies. I don’t mean to imply that I’m ashamed of marrying you, or to pressure you into an agreement, for that matter, I know this isn’t part of your plans--”

“I never implied anything of the sort,” you said, sounding harsher than you meant it. You were starting to get a good idea of what kind of person Neuvillette was. “And I haven’t said no, have I, Monsieur? I accept your proposal.”

The corners of Neuvillette’s mouth lifted. “Thank you, Miss [Name]. I will do my utmost to ensure that everything goes smoothly.”

The two of you shook hands. You proposed a toast with the Fonta, but he politely declined. Despite the clouds from earlier, it did not rain that day.

It was a fine spring day. The skies were clear, and warm sunlight fell upon the land. Flowers were blooming, the once-naked trees were dotted with green shoots, and the singing of birds could be heard everywhere. It was a good day for a wedding.

Unfortunately, you wouldn’t be able to experience it, because you and Neuvillette were getting a civil marriage.

The marriage services office was tucked away in a quiet corner of the Palais Mermonia. By the time you arrived there, Neuvillette was already sitting on a chair outside the office, waiting for you. He was wearing something similar to his usual outfit, which was already plenty formal. He looked up when you approached.

“Good morning, Monsieur Neuvillette,” you curtseyed. “It’s a lovely day today.”

“Good morning, Miss [Name],” Neuvillette responded, standing up. He paused, taking you in. You were wearing your nicest dress, a white muslin with a deep blue sash, as well as a silk bonnet trimmed with blue ribbon and garnished with lilacs. You had bought it with the money your mother had insisted on giving you to buy something nice for your marriage. Even though you didn’t like the long-winded extravagance of a wedding ceremony, you still wanted to look nice for your first and last marriage.

Neuvillette was still staring at you. You shuffled your feet in discomfort. Was there something wrong with your appearance? Maybe you should have just dressed normally; this was just a marriage of convenience after all.

However, he surprised you by saying, “Blue looks good on you.”

You blinked. Then blinked again. You could feel your cheeks warming. Having a non-family member or friend compliment your appearance was a rarity for you. “Th-thank you, sir.” You were about to say that he looked good in blue as well but stopped yourself when you realized how dumb that sounded. He always wore blue.

But he did smell different today, you noticed. Did he put on cologne? Should you mention that? But before you could say anything, he held out his hand. You stared at it for a few moments before you realized that he wanted you to take it.

Silently, the two of you walked through the office door. The license had already been purchased by Neuvillette, and all that was there was left to do was to sign the registry with a witness. Your parents couldn’t make it, so your witness was a Melusine named Liath. You had expected the Hydro Archon to serve that role, but perhaps she was too busy.

The clerk in charge of the office was trying very hard not to stare too much at the both of you. Neuvillette had promised you that the marriage would be kept as private and lowkey as possible, but you knew that it was only a matter of time before it got out.

“Monsieur Neuvillette, Miss [Name], welcome,” the clerk said. “The marriage registry is on this desk. Please feel free to sign it whenever you like.”

The clerk’s voice sounded too loud in the quiet room.

A thought suddenly struck you. This was going to be the last time you would hear yourself be called “Miss.” From today onwards, you would be “Madame Neuvillette.”

It’s only temporary, you reminded yourself.

Neuvillette stepped forward and picked up the pen, then wrote down his name with a firm hand. He then passed the pen to you. You took it with a surprisingly steady hand.

You wrote down your name, right next to Neuvillette’s. The black ink stood out starkly against the white pages. You wondered if your names would be crossed out or painted over with white when you divorced. There was so much you didn’t know about the marriage process.

The clerk signed their own name next to confirm that the marriage had been witnessed and approved. “Congratulations on your marriage!” they said with a bright smile. “I wish you two all the happiness and bliss in your married life.”

“Thank you,” you two said in unison.

There were no bells, no cheers. But it didn’t matter.

The clerk looked at you two expectantly, probably for a kiss. The two of you just stared back at them. They cleared their throat awkwardly and began to rummage through the large filing cabinets behind them.

“Shall we go, then?” you asked Neuvillette—your husband. You were supposed to be moving into his house today, and you had to return to the boarding house to get your things.

“Wait,” he said, and took out a small box from his pocket. He opened it, revealing two unadorned silver rings. The color of his hair, you thought. “May I help you put it on?”

“Okay,” you nodded and held out your hand. He grasped it between his fingers. He’s doing his best to not touch me too much, you realized. You watched as he slid the band carefully down your ring finger. The cold metal sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. The ring fitted perfectly.

You took the other ring and asked him to hold out his hand. It was gloved, so you gently pulled it off. You slid the ring down his finger, willing your hand to remain steady. You could feel him watching you. What was going through his mind right now? Was he feeling relieved? Resigned to a year of being bound to a near stranger?

After you were finished, you stepped back and looked at him. It was over. You were now married to this man.

Previous | Next

Taglist: @just-simping-over-genshin, @xalphafox

[itsgrimeytime]

Magnolia in May (Part Twenty Seven) || Rick Grimes (TWD) x Greene!f!reader Regency AU

Parts 1-20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26...

Taglist: @loliakeoghan23 @curlycarley @queenie32 @mgparker

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration (in honor of Speak Now Taylor's Version): Enchanted by Taylor Swift.

Summary: Your town was small, not the smallest you knew, but anyone of high fortune was the gossip of the week. Predictably, Richard Grimes was a thing of whispers -rumors of a search for marriage among the grassy hills. You weren't one to buy into town gossip, but something about him... just seemed a little too intriguing.

TW: none.

[[A/N: Live for this gif, it's the epitome of mim! Rick, except Judith is a bit older. Thanks for reading !!! ]]

The buzz of the street was comforting, a bit like the bickering of your home dinners -Headmistress speaking, Maggie biting back, and Beth and Father merely watching on. It was much of the same, just on a wider scale -words being said but you didn't listen not as though you were at home.

The stalls were busy and the street even busier, and it felt like Alexandria.

"You're Ms. Greene," someone spoke, you turned to listen, "-Mr. Grimes's courting you!"

That day at the ball, he'd asked you to stand by him -at the center of it all. All the eyes on you had been unnerving, but being by his side was important -he'd requested you.

In his concern, he must've forgotten the gossiping.

"I am," you hummed, moving along the space with certainty.

"Are you of great fortune?" The woman asked, not quite young but not quite old, "-Or perhaps you're pursuing him for-"

"I'm pursuing him to pursue him," you interrupted, turning to face her with a seriousness in your tone, "-nothing else."

Her lips pursed, dark brown hair framed her face and blue eyes staring rather intriguingly -like you were a sort of wonder.

"You say such a thing so firmly," she spoke, tilting her head, "-Do you truly believe it?"

"I much more than believe it, madam," you echoed, a bit distant -this battle was one you had won before, "-I live it."

She didn't follow you after such a thing was said, but the whispers that followed you only carried. Each crowd formed around you as if you were infectious -swerving and eyes downcast.

Oftentimes you missed old Alexandria, like the day you met Mr. Grimes where you could exist in harmony -no one of note. But you supposed now that you were here, you couldn't wish to be back there. He meant far too much to you to wish before him.

Far too much.

At the thought, something in your chest warmed, and you found something claws up your throat -you turned back to the woman, the crowd really.

"I love him-"

It wasn't an explanation, not really, and sure, they didn't need to know such things. But something in you wished to say it, to get it out -to tell people I love him and he loves me. He wishes to marry me-

"-if you must know."

The rest of the day went by rather uneventfully, no one chose to speak to you out of turn -only whispers followed behind you like a gust of wind. But by then, you didn't truly care.

You hadn't thought about the papers, not then anyway, but looking back on such a confrontation -you probably should have.

"Look at this darling," Headmistress motioned the paper to you, "'I love him,' says the lady of such elite courtship. Further comments to Mr. Grimes were made but he merely smiled at such words. The ring of a proposal is upon our ears, certainly, it will be the wedding of the century."

You peered over the paper, "The front page, it's certainly not worth such importance-"

"I beg to differ, my dear," Headmistress hummed, setting the paper in front of your Father without much other thought, "-Mr. Grimes being off the market is sure to be news."

"Very true," your Father echoed, "-upon his visit to Alexandria, all that could be talked about was of him being a bachelor. Your courting is bound to make the papers."

"Yes, okay," you started, "-but my own words? Truly, they must be inconsequential-"

"Not in this case," your Headmistress shook her head, absentmindedly adjusting the pin of your hair -it was falling from the day's work, "-you neatly confirmed the seriousness of such a courting. That's news-"

"Yes, but-" you spoke, curious, "-How are they not to assume I am not longing after the man?"

"Well, because he clarified," Beth spoke, looking over Father's shoulder, "Upon further pursuance, Mr. Grimes said, rather happily, 'I love her.' Silencing the rumors of a rather morbid affair for the public eye, he gave us no further comment."

"Where?" you jumped up from your seat -gathered by your Father's side, "-Did he truly-"

And there it was, written in ink -a confession to farther than even Alexandria, he'd done it. He told the whole town that such affections were mutual, that was- That was-

"Darling, why are you crying?" she echoed, still fidgeting with your hair -she decidedly smoothed it down, "-You certainly knew such affections before, haven't you?"

"I did, I do," you gasped out between your breaths -smiling, "-I just can't believe he'd say such things for the whole town to know like he's-"

"Proud of you," Maggie finished, ducking in from upstairs, "-which he very well ought to be."

"Maggie-"

"No, she's right," agreed your Father, matching your eyes, "-He's very well lucky to court you, my darling daughter. Through it all, you still find love in your heart for him, and he's very well earned that."

"Oh, Father," you smiled, wiping at your tears and pulling him into a hug -hands wrapped around his shoulders, "-don't make me cry more-"

You supposed the next time you went out, you should've expected it.

"Ms. Greene," his voice echoed over the crowd, and you spun in place to catch him, "-lovely to see you, out and about."

Mr. Grimes was grinning, the kind of grin that had a sparkle in his eye -playful. In his arms was Judith -dressed wonderfully for such a simple occasion, and Carl was tightly to his side -still overdressed, but suited it lovely.

"You say that as though I'm not out every morning."

"You are?" He hummed, "-I should join you more often. Speakin' of, may we? Join you?"

"I'd love the company," you smiled at each one of them, lingering on Mr. Grimes if only a moment.

"Certainly you would," he echoed, biting down a grin.

Ah, you noted, that's what this is about.

"Yes, and tell me," you began, looking at him -suspiciously, "-What exactly are you out here for? Grocery?"

"I simply love the company."

"You are ridiculous, you know that?" You laughed, out loud -improperly but it was with him, so you thought it alright.

He shook his head, following you through the shops and stalls -you lingered by the chocolates only a spare moment. But of course, he noticed such longing looks -he always did.

"Sir," he spoke, and you nearly startled in place, "-may I receive some of those strawberries?"

"Certainly, sir," the man spoke with high respect, only meeting his eye.

"What do you need those for, Mr. Grimes?" You quirked, basket neatly rested in the crooked of your arm, "-Not dinner, I suppose."

"For you," he stated, matter-of-factly -extending out the bag to your basket and squarely dropping them into it.

"Mr. Grimes," you relented, "-I cannot accept-"

"A gift," he smiled, "-We are courting, are we not? Accept a gift on my behalf."

"You certainly cannot gift me everything I long for," you echoed out, fingers lingering on the little packet -you had always wished to try one.

"I can," he hummed, "-and will, if you allow me."

"Only a little."

Mr. Grimes laughed at that, loud and boisterous, and something in your chest warmed that such a noise came at your expense. It was almost as if every shop turned to you, unexpectedly, looking more than they already had.

You began to gather the groceries for the house, sticking by every stall neatly and avoiding when Mr. Grimes wished to pay. You had the funds, and you could buy them, so you would.

"Let me get somethin'," he started, sighing -a little exhausted you could tell.

It was just then, that you rounded in front of Mrs. Sweets's shop -new dresses, beautiful dresses lining the windows. You always loved this part of the trip, eyes dashing along the stitching, the color, everything. Your dreams of seeing such things on your skin were just that, dreams.

You stalled in place, stopping as you always did, looking through the windows and Mr. Grimes continued, not noticing the stop. Until a few moments later, he rejoined you -tight by your side, eyes dancing along your face as you looked on.

"You like to-"

"Look at the dresses," you finished, they each were beautiful, but something in your mind lingered on one from weeks prior -lavender with lacy finishes, and detailing you could never imagine to own.

"They are rather beautiful," he conceded.

You started, a little dreamy, "One week, I saw such a stunning gown," you sighed, "-lavender with a bit of lace at the ends of the sleeves. It was far more beautiful than anything I believe I ever owned."

"And?"

"And what?" You laughed, "-I could never buy such a dress, the detailing costs much more than you can imagine. Plus, I know each dress is one of a kind here, and it is far gone."

You reached out to touch the glass, as if it was still there and you could feel it between your fingertips.

"A woman much better suited found the same beauty in it I did, I assume."

Mr. Grimes was rather silent.

"Now come on," you hummed, undeterred, "-I've got run by Wheatley's for some dairy."

He merely followed behind, silently playing with Judith as you roamed around what was left -stalls and shops, Mr. Grimes kept reaching out to pay. You kept beating him to it.

Every time you lingered on something, however, he'd have it within his fingers in a snap -you'd ended up with a new lavender ribbon (it reminded you of the dress), a pair of shoes, and the chocolate strawberries. You allowed him only those three, despite your heart aching for many different things -you did not wish him to spoil you.

Perhaps, one day but not now.

Perhaps, when he married you-

You stuttered in your step for a spare moment, and the thought split into your head -when? Would he do such a thing soon? You knew he planned it-

"Everythin' alright?" he asked, eyebrows furrowed and head tilted down to speak to you over the buzz of the stalls.

"Yes," you hummed, softened at such a tone, "-I am well, just thinking."

"Anythin' you want to talk about?"

You smiled, reassuring, "It's nothing, Mr. Grimes, I promise. Just thoughts of no note."

He pursed his lips as to ask more, but someone interrupted him.

"Ms. Greene!" A voice echoed, not one you knew -a man who seemed to speak to you with intention, "-You are in the courtship with Mr. Grimes-"

He spoke it as though you didn't already know.

"Did you have anything of note to say?"

"To say to who?" You questioned, Mr. Grimes still tightly by your side, but at the moment the crowd seemed to block them off.

"The town of Alexandria," he clarified, "-Courting such a man, you must have lots to say. Perhaps, to say to those who don't get such pleasantries."

"Are you asking me to brag sir?"

"Certainly not," he hummed, "-just wishing to know more details. Has such courting been elite? Does he spend much fortune on you?"

"You must certainly know not to ask that of a lady, sir," you started, a little stiffened at such questions.

"I was born to ask questions, miss," he spoke, "-With the courtship of Mr. Grimes, you'd think-"

"Excuse me," Mr. Grimes spoke, gently, pushing through to join your side clearly.

"You'd think what?" You asked, genuinely, "-That my privacy is disregarded upon the courting of a man?"

"Well, a man like Mr. Grimes-"

That was when he stepped forward, Judith and Carl by his side -his hand intertwined with his son's and Judith within his other arm, "A man like me?"

"Mr. Grimes," he tensed, and something in you soured -he took him seriously, "-lovely day, is it not?"

"Are you not listening to Ms. Greene?" He questioned, rather intently, "-I believe her privacy being questioned is her own issue, yet you don't listen to her?"

"Well, sir," he laughed, a little nervously, "-She's a lady-"

"My lady," Mr. Grimes corrected, "-I ask you to respect that, respect her, certainly."

"I understand," he echoed out, "-I apologize-"

"Not to me," Mr. Grimes spoke, tightly, "-To her, speak to her."

The man, still nameless, turned to you, "I apologize for being so intrusive, miss, I request you forgive me."

"Thank you," you spoke, strictly, still not quite settled. Mr Grimes brushed his arm against yours -sleeve upon sleeve, and something in you calmed slightly.

You wished you could hold onto his arm, but both were quite preoccupied.

It wasn't long after that Judith fell asleep, blond curls snug against her father's shoulder and eyes squeezed shut. You found it rather sweet, keeping such an image safely in your chest.

Your eyes lingered over the three of them, they stood a few steps ahead. You realized it then, such a thing as today was a rather family affair.

The group waltzing along the stalls, together, you playing with Judith, quietly speaking to Carl and playfully bickering with Mr. Grimes -it was as though you belonged. Like you were on an outing with your family-

Something in your heart shifted.

Maybe you were. The thought settled along your shoulders, and you began smiling -watching the three of them step forward, all wandering along the stalls. You grinned, you liked this little family, liked being a part of it.

You wanted to be a part of it-

And just then, Mr. Grimes turned around, blue eyes fluttering across your face, "You comin'?"

"Of course," you whispered out -stepping forward to join his side, "-Of course."

Perhaps, you already were.

[asksythe]

MXTX Interview with Risa Wataya for Subaru Magazine P.8 (Final)

Future Plans

Risa: Are you perhaps working on a novel? 

Moxiang: I have not a few works in progress, but because my creative process is slow, for the foreseeable future, no work has taken proper form. 

Risa: If you can write freely without worrying about reader's reception, what kind of story will you write? 

Moxiang: Personally, I enjoy and pride myself in being able to satisfy myself and my readers at the same time. Therefore, I never thought about disregarding my reader's reception. I really have not thought through something like this before, so I would like not to answer this question. 

Risa: What have you been doing recently? 

Moxiang: Recently, I'm into playing with slime. On my days off, I also want to play slime with my friends, or I think: "What do I eat today?" That sort of stuff. 

Risa: So cute. Ms. Moxiang, even though you are so busy, you still reserve time to sit down and talk to us. Such a wonderful opportunity. Thank you! Lastly, other than the stories that you are working on, is there anything you would like to tell your Japanese readers? 

Moxiang: Dear Japanese readers, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. No matter if it is today or in the past, when I think about how my work has been translated into Japanese and read in Japan, I always feel an indescribable emotion in my heart. I am so, so happy. 

Furthermore, regarding my newest work, "Tian Guan Ci Fu," I must apologize to all of you. Also, "Mo Dao Zu Shi" that we just talked about as well. Originally, there were no scenes where Lan Wangji visited the Burial Mound and the kiss on Bai Feng Mt. (Mount Hundred Phoenixes). These scenes were added on in the extra 50 thousand words edit in the new edition. But at the moment, the 'Tian Guan Ci Fu' that Japanese readers have is the old edition without the additional contents. For the foreseeable future, it will only be this old edition. I don't know when the new edition will be ready or if there will be any further changes. I profusely apologize for this.    

Risa: We will work on this new edit with utmost seriousness. 

Moxiang: That's right. We will treat it with the highest level of care. 

Risa: Kuohao-san, please say something to the audience waiting for the third season of the audio drama. 

Kuohao: The third season is progressing very nicely in both story and the Wangxian romance. It will certainly be very exciting. Many details will be gradually revealed, and there will be countless famous scenes between Wangxian! Please listen to it! 

Risa: Thank you both of you for today. I hope there will be future opportunities like this. 

Moxiang: To be honest, this is my first official interview. I am better at writing than speaking. I'm a little clumsy with my words. Today I was so very nervous. Thank you, Ms. Risa, for following and recommending "Mo Dao Zu Shi." Ms. Risa's Mandarin is excellent! I look forward to future opportunities to sit down and talk. Furthermore, I hope I will have more opportunities to connect with my international readers.  

-From Sichuan Province, China, November 28th, 2022-

Translator’s Note: with this done, I will take my time to reorganize all 8 parts of this translation into a single file, proofread, and edit it. My plan is to host this one file on a platform that can be easily stored and shared among the community. So probably Google Drive. I will post the raw Mandarin transcript of the interview too, for people who can read Mandarin to read it directly. 

I’m thinking whether I should put it on other platforms too, for safekeeping, because digital things can disappear randomly. I’m not sure where though. Tumblr and twitter are hardly suitable for archival purposes. AO3 maybe? If you have suggestions or advice, I would be very happy to hear them. 

Translator’s Note 2: recently I was told that my sharing this translated interview might be illegal and will negatively impact the fandom and make reprints of the magazine harder, that it will negatively impact fan etiquette. I concur this is a potential issue. So I would like to take a minute to clarify a few things. 

1/ This interview was conducted in Mandarin and then translated into Japanese by Subaru and printed for their May-June 2023 edition. This edition is now being scalped on Japanese web for 7-10 times its original price. 

2/ I originally got a single scanned page of the magazine (Japanese) and translated it with the help of my husband. I was waiting for further scans, but luckily, the actual translator (Mandarin to Chinese) working for Subaru posted the entire Mandarin transcript on weibo. Subsequent parts of this translation was made based entirely on this transcript. As my Mandarin skill is much better than my Japanese skill, this is reflected in the quality of the translation from part 4 onwards (something I intend to fix in the edit). 

So we have a situation where: the magazine is in Japanese and sold to Japanese fans. The Mandarin transcript is posted publicly on weibo to Chinese audience (although that might change at any moment). I am Vietnamese, living and working in Vietnam, translating from Japanese / Mandarin to English for an international fandom (my husband is American citizen working for Saudi Arabia... if that’s relevant to the issue). 

I am not a lawyer, so I don’t know how copyright laws apply here, or even if it applies at all. Again, if anyone has advice, suggestion, concerns, I would be open to hearing them.  

I did intentionally add in footnotes explaining lingual concepts and cultural, philosophical references, to potentially lean on Fair Use (if it applies). 

That said, I don’t want to negatively impact MXTX, so if I receive official request, I will take this translation down. 

Regarding potential fan etiquette, I don’t really participate in the international fandom, but I do know fandom politics can be difficult to navigate. It’s not really my place to gatekeep any body. As far as I’m concerned, if the story brings you joy, then that’s a good thing by itself already. 

So, I would like to ask anyone who read this translation to please keep this in mind. Fan translation is a gray area issue. Whatever you feel, please consider the wellbeing of the fandom itself, and to not potentially negatively impact Ms. Moxiang. If there’s anything you don’t like in this translation, please just chalk it up as my translating skill not being up to snuff. 

Sincerely,

NPD Khanh 

[misssugarcat]

Sweet Like Butterbeer

Aesop Sharp x Reader – 5 k words

Aesop sits at his desk, working on papers. He sighs.

"Hey! How is my favourite teacher?" I smile at him.

"Great  ..." His sarcasm is dripping as he looks back down at his papers. "Anything else?"

I roll my eyes. "Nice as always. That's why I like you."

"Well at least you're consistent." He sighs exasperatedly, pushing some papers away. "What do you actually need?"

"Nothing. I'm bored, so I thought it would be fun to keep you from your work." I grin.

"Well, you are absolutely succeeding at that. I must applaud you." He shakes his head and leans back in his chair. "Do you think I'm some sort of entertainment for you?"

"You're very welcome. Thanks for the applause." I skip his last question.

Aesop just groans in exasperation and sighs. "You are incredibly annoying, you know that."

"Yes, I know. That's why you like me too." I grin widely. Long live sarcasm!

"I most certainly do not!" He huffs slightly, trying to hide a slight grin.

I wink at him. "Oh, I know you do. You just don't want to admit it."

"Absolutely not!" Aesop huffs again, crossing his arms. "You are very egotistical if you think everyone who finds you annoying enjoys your annoyingness."

I sit down at his desk, putting my head in my hands. Then I smile at him. "I know very well that nobody likes it. That's why I like doing it."

"Well then you, my dear student, are simply a menace." Aesop narrows his eyes as he looks at me. "You enjoy irritating the people around you? What a life to live ..."

I raise an eyebrow. "Says the one who spends day and night in his office doing paperwork he doesn't like."

Aesop is first  speechless at my response. After a few moments, he looks back at me, smirking. "Touché  ..."

I grin and place two Butterbeer bottles on his desk.

"So that's why you've been bothering me." He chuckles and takes a swig of the Butterbeer and relaxes at least a bit. "Are you trying to bribe me now?"

"Of course. First I'll piss you off and then I'll bribe you with a bottle of Butterbeer." I laugh.

"That's not how bribes work, child." He rolls his eyes. "But I will graciously accept the drink, nonetheless. It's certainly better than just bothering me for the sake of bothering me.'

I raise an eyebrow. "The king of sarcasm doesn't recognize his own specialty? Are you sure you're okay?"

"I am very much not okay." He sighs, finishing off the bottle of Butterbeer. "The leg isn't getting better, and this office is becoming more and more piled with paper by the day  ..."

I drink my Butterbeer and listen to him.

"I've tried every treatment available to me. Spells, potions, a trip to St Mungo's ... nothing seems to have helped." He sighs again and put the Butterbeer down. "I suppose there are worse things in life than a bad leg. I feel a bit foolish for complaining. But it has just been so ... frustrating ..." He sighs a third time. "It's been getting me down ..."

I put a new Butterbeer on the table without comment.

"And here I am, thinking you came for no reason ..." He chuckles and takes a sip. "I suppose it is nice to have someone to complain to. Do you think it makes me childish to want to vent like this?" He looks up at the ceiling as he thinks about it. "I feel as if I'm getting old too quickly. That my best years have left me in the past ..."

"Men are like wine, they get better with age." I grin and take a sip of my Butterbeer.

"Do you honestly believe that?" He chuckles softly. "I suppose you're trying to cheer me up. But if I'm like wine, right now I'm more of a vinegar, than anything sweet."

As I hear that, I burst out laughing.

"Good to know you find my misery humorous ..." He chuckles, but he is mostly joking. "At least I can make you laugh." He takes another swig of the Butterbeer. "You seem like you'd know this better than most, but do you have any advice for someone who feels like they're losing their mind a bit?"

"Why do you think you're losing your mind?" I look at him curiously

"I just ... it's hard to stay the positive, upbeat professor I like to be when it feels like everything is crumbling." He sighs as so often, and leans back in his chair. "I don't even like to admit that I'm not always fine ... I just wish things could be easier." He pauses as he thinks about it. "I suppose I'm just tired of pretending everything is okay."

"Don't do it then." I finish my Butterbeer and open another bottle. "It's okay not to be okay."

He looks at me, seeming surprised by what I just said. "You mean ... just admit that things aren't fine? That seems ... so simple. And obvious." He thinks for a moment. "Is it really okay to admit that? To admit you're not okay?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"Well ... I suppose you're right, aren't you?" He chuckles and takes another swig of his Butterbeer. "I suppose I could admit to it ..." Aesop takes a breath. "I'm not okay. I'm struggling."

"Maybe it's not smart to bottle up Butterbeer, but sometimes it helps." I put two more bottles on his desk.

Aesop chuckles and takes another swig. "That's very kind of you. Thank you." He looks at me with a half-smile. "You're not too bad yourself, you know? You're pretty clever."

"And sometimes quite annoying." I grin.

"At least you're self-aware of it ..." He chuckles and looks at the empty bottle. "Do you have a limitless supply?"

I grin and put two more bottles on the table. "Not unlimited, but I still have … a few." Then I drink the rest of my last bottle. "You're really making me drunk."

"You're the one who keeps replacing the bottles that I take." He chuckles again, but put his hand up when he noticed her expression. "Sorry, sorry. I can't help it, you're too easy." He grins sheepishly.

"I can let you drink alone next time to make you feel stupid." I grumble a bit.

"A bit harsh, no? My own student trying to make her professor feel like a fool." He raises an eyebrow but couldn't help but smile a little. "Just to prove a point."

I laugh. "To prove what? That you are a man and a head taller and therefore can tolerate much more alcohol than me?"

"Well, if you want to get into that argument ..."He chuckles as so often and drinks from his bottle. "I must say. I think we're having a better conversation than most people have with their professors. I'm sure I'm not supposed to let students get this drunk in my office." He winks when he says that last bit.

"Tomorrow I might not be able to remember it, so I guess that's your little secret." I grin.

"Oh, don't you worry. I have a good memory ..." Aesop takes another sip from his bottle. "You'd definitely struggle to outdrink me. It'd be entertaining to see you try, though." He smirks.

"So, I'll try to entertain you." I put two more bottles on the table. "Cheers!"

"At this rate, I'll need to be wheeled around the castle ... but if it's entertainment you want, I'll keep drinking so you have your fun." He smirks. "Do you do this often? Come to your professor's office and get them drunk?"

"No, this is our first time. Unless we both forgot the last time."

"Maybe we did? Would you like me to remind you?" He raises an eyebrow. "Or would that be too much of a violation for you?" Aesop is trying to be slightly flirtatious, but he also enjoys testing the boundaries of his students.

"Oh no, please don't tell me I stripped on your desk last time." I look mock shocked.

"Now why would I tell you if you did that?" He laughs. "That would make the surprise less exciting!" He pauses. "But I wouldn't blame you either."

I just raise an eyebrow.

"Oh please, you know you love the attention." He smirks slightly. "Don't deny it."

"I'd like to keep my clothes on, thanks." I roll my eyes.

"Good to know you still have some boundaries then." He finishes his Butterbeer. "So? Are you going to try and outdrink me, like you said before?"

I pull two more bottles of Butterbeer out of my bag. "How many bottles are we at now?"

"About ... Six?" He looked at the empty bottles. "Maybe seven. What's your limit?"

"I'm afraid I exceeded my limit a few bottles ago. Tomorrow I'll regret that so much."

"Oh, you poor thing." He reaches up to pat my arm comfortingly. "It's alright. We all make mistakes, and if I can be there to help you figure yours out I suppose that's fine. I suppose you will be very hungover tomorrow. But at least you'll have that Butterbeer to help cure your hangover." He grins. "And me. I can keep you company."

"You're enjoying it very much. Admit it." I grin too.

"Perhaps I am." Aesop laughs. "I don't know what you expected when you barged into my office uninvited and started passing me Butterbeer bottles."

"I wanted to cheer up the grumpiest teacher in Hogwarts. And tease a bit first.” I grin and take another sip of Butterbeer.

“Well, your plan seems to have worked.” He chuckles. “I’m not so much in a grump anymore, I suppose I owe that to you.” He gives me a warm smile – much to my surprise. “And I suppose I deserved the teasing. I’ve been so caught up in my own head I haven’t been very pleasant at all, so if any teacher deserved a good teasing, it is me.”

"Please remember I cheered you up the next time I blow up a cauldron." I laugh.

“Oh, I’ll remember. I’ll remember for a long time…” He chuckles softly and takes another drink. “You’ve certainly managed to make a mark on me. That won’t be something easily forgotten. You’re quite the troublemaker.”

"I'm glad you'll remember me well when I die of a hangover tomorrow." I sigh dramatically.

"Oh, come on. Don't be so dramatic. I'm sure you'll be fine." He pats my arm again. "You're a smart girl. You'll be fine. Even if you do have a terrible hangover, just keep my office in mind. I'm always down to let you drop by to cure your hangover."

"Will that work tomorrow when you'll hardly be able to move yourself because of a headache?" I raise my eyebrows.

"Well ...that could be a problem ..." Aesop looks thoughtful for a moment, thinking. "Maybe I'll just have to take a sick day tomorrow. I suppose if I want to make sure you're getting treated well, I'll need to be there for my hangover-ridden student. It only seems fair."

I look at my Butterbeer. "Maybe we should now start preparing our hangover potions for tomorrow."

"That's not a terrible idea at all. What do you think that would entail?" He smiles at me, his eyes twinkling like stars as he looked at her." Do you know the correct ingredients to help relieve a hangover?"

"Barf, drink a lot and bagels."

He chuckles. "I would suppose you're not wrong there. Well, what about magic? Don't you think there should be a potion for this by now? How can the wizards of the world have created so many potions, but still not have created a potion to cure a hangover?" He scoffs, shaking his head. "I should think the next potions expert needs to be working on that! I'm sure the hangover curing market would be quite lucrative."

I laugh out loud. "Can't you invent something now? You're the Potions Master."

"You know, I think I will." Aesop looks thoughtful for a moment, but a look of determination crosses his face. "I'll figure out the perfect hangover cure. Just wait, it'll be the most important discovery of the century."

I laugh again. "You will make a lot of money with this. Do I get a share for the idea?"

He smirks. "Half, and no less. You'll be part owner." Aesop sits up proudly and raises his bottle in a toast. "To the hangover-curing potion! May it give many hungover witches and wizards sweet release throughout the ages!"

"Cheers!" I lift my Butterbeer too and drain it. Then, as always, I put two new bottles on the table.

"Where the hell are you getting these bottles from?" He looks at me, then at the bottles. "Are you ... stealing Butterbeer?"

I roll my eyes again. "I bought them, Cutie Pie."

"Cutie Pie? That's a new one. Not sure it's one I'll be adding to my repertoire." He grins. "Well, it's good to know you're not a thief. You have to have some amount of morals."

"Hey, I'm a pain in the ass, not an asshole." I tilt my head.

He chuckles again, and sighs. "Well, you certainly seem to have that right. You certainly know how to be a pain. And you're also somewhat charming, which makes it easier to deal with, in a way."

"Great, I'm a charming pain in the ass." This time, I scoff.

Aesop smirks. "See? You're already getting it. You'll do very well indeed." He raises his glass again. "Charming pain in the ass, indeed. To that I'll drink!" He grins and drinks.

I sigh and put two more bottles on the table. "You're killing me, Cutie Pie."

He sighs too and shakes his head. "Please, stop calling me that. But alright ..." He takes the two new bottles and looks at me. "Do you think you can drink as fast as me? I'll certainly be impressed if you can." He smirks. "I'll drink, you drink. We'll see who can do it faster. And if you win, you may call me Cutie Pie."

"Deal!" I put the bottle on. Then we drink. I'm almost twice as fast as Aesop.

He chuckles, drinking from his own bottle. "Impressive. I wouldn't have expected you to be such a fast drinker." He pauses for a moment, thinking. "Well then, I suppose I'll have to hold my end of the deal. Cutie Pie it is." He chuckles again.

I laugh out loud. "The most inappropriate nickname ever."

"You're the one who requested it.  But I agree. It's not appropriate. Still, if that's the price of the drinks you bring, then it's a name I'm willing to be called."

"I promise not to use the nickname in public, Cutie Pie." I grin widely.

He scoffs, shaking his head. "I suppose I asked for that one. If anyone heard you call me that, I'd die of embarrassment." He chuckles. "But I suppose that's the appeal to you, the thought of me being uncomfortable. You certainly seem to enjoy it." He smirks slightly, and takes another drink. "I suppose I can't say I hate it too much either."

Aesop chuckles, finishing his bottle in one drink. He looks at me with a smirk. "So, my new nickname is Cutie Pie, but do you have a nickname for you? Is it also one I might find embarrassing?" He raises an eyebrow and smirks. "Or would that go against the whole ... teasing ... dynamic we have going on?" He pauses as he thinks about something, and then looks at me with a grin. "Would you like a nickname of your own?"

"I'm afraid I'll have to endure this now. After all, I gave you an embarrassing nickname." I sigh.

"That you did." Aesop nods as he takes a drink again. "Are you regretting your decision now? Is it too late to take it back? I'll allow you to do that, if you're regretting it so much." He smirks again. "Would you like to be relieved from your promise to call me Cutie Pie?"

"You would like that! No way, Cutie Pie!" I laugh.

"Hmm ... You do seem to enjoy teasing me. I suppose maybe you don't regret it." He chuckles. "So, Cutie Pie it is, eh? I suppose I'll make my peace with that. But don't underestimate the value of having my own nickname for you." Aesop looks thoughtful for a moment. "Maybe I'll have to call you something sweet ... but that's not embarrassing enough. I'll have to come up with something better."

"Okay, take your time." I grin.

He pauses again in thought, trying to come up with an equally demeaning nickname for me. As he looks at me, a thought pops into his mind, and a smirk spreads across his face. "I know. Sweetie Pie." Aesop snickers at his own thoughts. "That's perfect. You'd be absolutely furious if I started calling you that ... I'm going to do it from now on. It's going to be great."

"Great. Cutie Pie and Sweetie Pie. Sounds like two Teletubbies."

He laughs. "Oh god, there's no escaping it now!" Then he sighs. "Oh well. I suppose we're Teletubbies now, eh, Sweetie Pie?" He glances at me. "I suppose it does suit us."

I giggle. "Two Teletubbies with lots of Butterbeer! Cheers!"

"Cheers!" Aesop toasts, taking another drink and smiling at me. "Two Teletubbies with Butterbeer ... sounds like the start to a great night. I must admit, you've really surprised me. I didn't expect my new Teletubby to be such a troublemaker. But I suppose I can't be mad at you ... you're too charming to stay mad at."

I burst out laughing. "Now I'm your personal Teletubby?"

"My favourite Teletubby." Aesop chuckles warmly, his eyes twinkling. "I suppose technically you're my pet Teletubby now. That is your name, after all." He grins and nudges me.

"I liked Sweetie Pie ..." I pout.

He giggles. "Oh, you did not." He grins mischievously. "You know what would really suit you? A big, pink Teletubby suit." He chuckles again, clearly thoroughly enjoying the thought of me dressed as a Teletubby. "I've just had the greatest idea: A Teletubby costume ball, where we all dress up. I'll have to make sure you're there."

I laugh. "But then you have to decide on a colour. And black is not a colour!"

"What do you mean? It's as much of a colour as anything." Aesop frowns slightly. "Unless you're saying you don't want me to be a Teletubby? He looks slightly disappointed as he stares at me, though he maintains his stern demeanour. "But that could be your loss ..."

"I didn't say that! But you need a colour for your costume. But no black. Something bright." I grin again.

"Oh, that's easy then." Aesop says with an air of confidence, grinning back at me. "You know what colour I'll be? Bright red. Because why be normal when I could be completely ridiculous?"

"Okay, where do we get our costumes from now?" I ask.

"There are quite a few places that sell costume pieces. We should go to Hogsmeade, and if we're lucky we could find a whole costumes." He thinks for a moment. "And if we're unlucky, I can get a bunch of fabric and start sewing." Aesop grins, clearly enjoying the idea, and shrugs. "I'd rather not spend my time sewing a Teletubby suit. But I would if I had to. It's just that this idea is too cool not to happen."

"Better sewing than doing paperwork all the time because it puts you in a bad mood." I grin.

"Pff, you might be right about that." He grins back. "And besides, how could sewing a Teletubby suit put me in a bad mood? The fabric would probably be so soft. And I just think that making something so goofy and bright would be very fun. It's been a while since I've done something truly frivolous like that."

I already choke on my Butterbeer, laughing. "I really should fill you up with alcohol more often."

"I'm starting to think you're right about that. It seems to be the perfect thing to get me to relax. I've been so busy with work and everything, I kind of forgot how nice it is to just relax once in a while." Aesop shrugs and smiles. "But you certainly know how to make me relax, Sweetheart." He chuckles and nudges me again. "You've got me hooked."

After another Butterbeer I lay down on the floor in Aesop's office.

"Oh, we're laying on the floor now, huh?" He grins, but didn't complain and just joins me. "I take it you're feeling a little bit lightheaded now." He raises his bottle of Butterbeer. "Cheers to that." He drinks from his bottle.

"It's better to drink lying down 'cause you can't fall." I quote. "Ancient wisdom."

"Ah, very smart girl. You seem to be the expert on drinking, so I have to trust your judgment on this one." He looks down at me and grins playfully. "Is this something you do often? Drinking laying down?" He raises his eyebrows, smirking. "I didn't know we were at that stage in our relationship yet."

"I didn't even know we have a relationship." I start laughing again.

"Neither did I, but here we are. And what a relationship this is ..." Aesop grins at me, looking at me as we both lay side by side on the floor. There is certainly a certain intimacy that came from this. "Are you enjoying this?" He puts an arm around me and pulls me close. "Are you enjoying spending time with me? I'm certainly enjoying my time with you."

"You forgot the Butterbeer." I laugh.

"Oh, how could I forget the Butterbeer!" He hands me another bottle of Butterbeer. "You know, I don't normally cuddle with people I've only had ... checks notes ... two Butterbeers with." He smiles and takes another drink of his Butterbeer. "Well, consider yourself special. I must feel quite comfortable around you."

I raise an eyebrow. "I think you forgot a zero after the two. We definitely had more than only two Butterbeers."

Aesop laughs and lays back on the floor, his arm wrapping back around me. "Oh, so maybe we've had ... 20 Butterbeers? I feel pretty comfortable around anyone who's had 20 Butterbeers with me." He leans towards me, smirking as he plays with my hair. "I guess that would make you very special then. It seems that this is the first time I've had 20 Butterbeers with anyone."

"Me neither." I laugh. "Can we please leave it at 20? I can't take any more ..."

"20? I certainly don't want to take you past your limit." He raises his bottle, taking another drink. "So, you must be feeling pretty drunk by now." He grins. "I mean, I don't recall anyone who can drink 20 Butterbeers and still speak properly. You do seem like a pretty heavy-hitter, Sweetheart."

"Oh, I've definitely reached my limit a long time ago. About 15 Butterbeers ago."

He raises his eyebrows. "Really? And you kept drinking? You're going to hate yourself tomorrow. But I suppose I'll have to take care of you." He chuckles, gently stroking my hair.

"I've never looked after someone who's had that much to drink." He is smiling at me, clearly trying to keep mine spirits up and distract me from the impending hangover.

"I'm definitely going to hate myself." I laugh. "But the evening is so worth it."

"Oh, I'll take care of you tomorrow then. I'll make you some coffee, and I'll be sure to make something extra special for breakfast." He leans closer to me. "That'll be my job. To take care of you. And you can rest easy knowing that I'll be around." Aesop gives me a soft, heartfelt smile, a look in his eyes that I hadn't really seen before. He looks content.

"Looks like I'll stay with you then." I raise an eyebrow, grinning.

"I suppose that would be the smart move." There is a certain warmth and softness to his voice now that I had definitely never heard before. He sounds almost ... wholesome.

For a moment, he let the silence fill the room. When he speaks again, his voice is gentle and soft. "I'd certainly like that." He smiles at me, a small smile that seemed like he meant every word of it. "I'd ... I'd like that a lot."

"Think of your words when I'll bend your ear with complaints tomorrow." I grin.

"What, that I like spending time with you?" He chuckles. "Those were my true feelings. And I stand by them. Tomorrow you'll hear the same answer, even if you do give me a hard time about it." Aesop smiles at me and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek. "I don't mind. I'll take it if that's the price of spending time with you."

I smile back at him.

He returns the smile once again, and gently brushes my hair back as he watches me. She truly had a pretty smile, he had to admit.

"So ... I suppose we're going to stay like this. Lying down on the floor of my office, with empty bottles all around us." He chuckles again and shrugs. "I've certainly had worse Thursday nights. I can think of several nights where I is working on paperwork and grading essays, so I'd call this a good one." He gives me a small, playful wink.

I grin. "I almost thought you were going to take me to your bedroom in a fireman's lift."

Aesop chuckles. "Oh, there's still time for that." He raises an eyebrow, seemingly waiting for my response. "But if you're not comfortable with the idea ..." He trails off for a moment, looking at me with an expectant grin on his face.

"Your bed is surely much more comfortable than the floor." I grin.

Aesop nods. "It definitely is." He pauses for another moment, but I didn't say anything more, so seemingly he decided to take the initiative. "Come on." Aesop says excitedly, suddenly jumping up to his feet. "Let's go see how we can put this to the test." He smiles as he reaches a hand down towards me, ready to help me get up.

I groan. "Definitely too much Butterbeer  ..."

He laughs. "Oh, and who's fault is that?" He nudges me while saying this and smirks as he gets up to his feet. "Let's go, Butterbeer girl. I bet I can lay you down in my bed, no problem."

"Another nickname for me now ..." I say as he picks me up.

Aesop grins. "Does Butterbeer girl not satisfy you?" He asks, as if the name is the most hilarious thing in the world, and he would love nothing more than to have someone call him that. He is enjoying himself.

Then he begins walking down the hallway away from his office, heading towards his quarters. He continues to carry me in his arms, glancing down at me.

I put my arms around his neck. "I'm fine with Butterbeer girl."

"I hope you are." He grins. He leans down and kisses me on my head, before continuing to head to his quarters. He could be a little late for bed tonight. It is the end of the week, after all, and he deserved a little relaxation time.

I yawn and lean my head on his shoulder. "Are you sure you can climb up the stairs while carrying me? I can walk."

"Are you sure you can walk? You've had quite a bit to drink, Sweetheart." He chuckles, his arm wrapping tight around me to support my weight. "You're definitely a lightweight, that's for sure." There's a playful glint in his eye, before he begins climbing the stairs to his quarters, carrying me in his arms without a shred of difficulty.

I yawn again.

"Getting sleepy?" Aesop smirks as he walks up the stairs, looking down at me. "I told you ..."

He laughs again. "I've got you. You can fall asleep in my arms and feel completely confident in the fact that I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

He continues up the stairs with me in his arms, taking his time with every step, wanting to make sure we get upstairs safely.

I sigh relaxed.

He feels quite comfortable and relaxed himself. And it seemed that she felt comfortable enough that she could just fall asleep right in his arms.

As we reach the hallway with his bedroom, Aesop begins to gently ease me down onto the bed. And he climbs in right next to me, his arm still wrapped around me. He smiles. "Have a good sleep, my sweet Butterbeer girl." He whispers, giving me a quick little kiss.

I grin, half asleep, and snuggle into him, my face on his shoulder.

"Aw, that's the sweetest thing." Aesop smiles as she snuggles in, a soft look of affection and warmth in his eyes as he watches her sleep. He places a chaste kiss on her forehead again, his mouth brushing her skin for a moment, before he leans back and shuts his eyes, falling asleep next to her. Aesop smiles peacefully, feeling completely comfortable and content as he relaxes next to her, his arm laying over her and gently holding her to his chest.

[soft-for-them]

My dear, tell me what’s wrong? - Humphrey Bone x plus size reader

Summary: You're just a shy Victorian ghost sad about your undead life, Humphrey is always there to listen to your worries and cheer you up. Reader being plus size is hardly mentioned but is there.

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated and help more people read my works.

A/n: This is some self indulgent stuff right here for I'm Humphrey brain rot at the moment. Also someone please make more BBC Ghosts GIFs, I need them badly.

To most the scene of Alison doing some paperwork in the living room whilst a whirlwind threatens to blow off all her hard sorted papers stacked on the table would be a supernaturally peculiar thing to see but to Alison it's yet another day in the ever so haunted Button house.

Alison barely looks up from her stack of bills as a Victorian ghost straight out of a ghost film or an episode of most haunted flurries around the room looking around for her dear friend’s detached head whilst muttering obscenities about how modern day people portray Victorian era ghosts.

“Oh, I must wear a night gown to bed to blend in with the Victorian ghosts just in case I die in my sleep.” You mock as you look around for Humphrey’s decapitated head, “Alison! I hate this!”

“Hey!” you here Humphrey call from somewhere in the room.

You stand straight up in all your white laced glory, the pure white gown you died in drowning your plush figure in a stereotypical ghostly glow.

“I don’t mean searching for your head my dear-“ you seemly float towards the sound of Humphrey’s disgruntled mutters, “-I mean I hate being in THIS for eternity.”

You tilt down in the most dramatic way as you carefully pick up Humphrey’s head. If you were alive your back would have clicked from dramatically draping yourself down and certainly if your friends from the Victorian era were in the room they’d tell you to use your knees instead of your back picking up your dear friend.

Who, cares though, you’re dead.

For a moment you pause. You're now fully back up, Humphrey’s head safely in your hands, his neck and cheeks softly being held by your dead hands, your eyes trained on his. It’s almost like you’re caressing the Tudor man’s face but alas if you move one wrong move then the head that is your friend will drop on to the floor.

Humphrey smiles up at you with a oh so soft smile.

Normally the other ghosts don’t treat his decapitated head in such nice ways. For the last hundred or so years you’ve been one of the few ghosts who’ve not used him as a make shift football.

If only he wasn’t at odds with his body, then you could hold his face in such tenderness without the threat of dropping him. Maybe he could do it back, maybe caress his thumb from your jaw to your lips like he always wants to do, maybe just maybe he could bend down or perch up (depending on the height difference) and kiss you on the lips.

Alison does not interrupt these intense interactions that normally happen between the two of you, she doesn’t move out the room to give you both space, it happens too much for he to be bothered.

To most of the other ghosts they don’t realise Humphrey and you have a close relationship, most of the ghost don’t even know you exist. Even if they did Julian would be joking about it every five minutes or Fanny would be judging you both.

Alison doesn’t know much either about the two ghost in front of her looking like an ethereal version Hamlet but what she does know is that she is routing for the two of you to get together.

At first when Alison came to Button house (and subsequently started seeing ghosts) she didn’t know you were even there, let alone that you normally walked around with the decapitated head of Humphrey.

( A high pitched sound that can only be described as an eek had left Alison’s lips as she tried to get to the kitchen for a midnight snack.

It was the first time she’d seen you, a glowing ghost wearing a flowing over the top nightgown and a slightly sad look to her face.

“You were not supposed to see me.” You had said in an anxious voice, “I- well-I was just looking for my friend, he’s called Humphrey.”

“You’re a ghost.”

You had choose to ignore that statement, both because it seemed rhetorical and you were very shy at the time, instead like you always seem to do, you had begun looking around.

 “Why haven’t I seen you before?” Alison asked.

“I like hanging out in the basement and attic.” A muffled and quiet call of the name (y/n) had been called out none other by Humphrey which had gotten you to float away, “Also I died in the garden.”)

Now that Alison knows that you reside where most of the main ghosts don’t go, that your resting place is in the plants and grass instead of the brick walls of the manor, she’s been trying to get you to introduce you to everyone.

That and she’s been trying to get you to confess to Humphrey but either one would be very nice.

Alison carries on watching the two of you lovingly look at one another.  It’s sickly sweet, so sweet until the bickering of ghosts gets closer.

Alison, like the good friend she is, finally gets up and says “I’ll short this out” before leaving the room.

You pause there like a dear in head lights as your hear Alison heard the two ghosts, the Captain and Julian you think, away from you and Humphrey. You’re still ready to bolt even when the voices fade and Humphrey tries to grab you attention.

“There’ gone now.” Humphrey whispers.

You look down at your friend worry still chiselled on your face. If a ghost could cry, then you’d be close to crying. With eyes magnified by salty water and your sweet sweet smile turning down into a soft frown Humphrey just wants to hold your face like you’re doing to him and comfort you.

“Sit (y/n).” his voice is neither harsh or demanding it is only soft and kind, if it was anyone else you’d not listen but you sit down. Paper surrounds the two of you, the spot where Alison once sat warm making you feel almost alive.

“You’ve been down all day.” Humphrey begins his voice soft as he speaks, “You don’t have to but do tell me what’s wrong?”

His head still held by your hands, his stump neck balanced on the soft curve of your thighs, Humphrey look up to you with pleading eyes.

“I-“ you pause not knowing what to really say, “-Humphrey my dear?”

You voice just a whisper graces his ears like a sweet song, if Humphrey could he would have nodded at you but instead he just whispers back a small ‘yes’.

“I-I’ve been feeling down lately. I-well-I never really had someone like you when I was alive, someone so kind and patient with me-“

Your head hangs low partly of sadness but partly to be closer to the decapitated head that is your friend.

“-I’ve been thinking a lot about my death and how sudden it was, how I never got to do many things with my life despite all I had.”

You head almost touches Humphrey’s as your voice becomes a whisper in the wind. You want to tell him everything you ever wanted to do with your life, how you wanted to get a job despite being a woman, own a fancy dress and go to a ball, even fall in love but all you are now is a woman covered in layers of unflattering white cotton with your hair a mess and feet bare forever destined to end up sleeping in the shrubbery.

You want to say that to Humphrey but instead you just press you forehead to his and sigh.

“I don’t think I ready to speak just yet my dear-“ your eyes connect with his, “-but for now I’d like to be in your company if that’s ok, I find you a comfort.”

“As do I”

Eye still connected and soft smile on each other face you peck the smallest and most chaste kiss on to Humphrey’s cheek before going back to leaning forehead to forehead, somehow there’s a subtle warmth on your undead face, Humphrey’s own face even going a bit pink.

Alison walks into you both silently looking at one another and she smiles. Without disturbing you both she sits back down and carries on with her paper work, the house quiet for just a moment more.

[give-soup-please]

What about a reader who needs a hug from the narrator, but is anxious to ask? Platonic or romantic :>

Narrator and a reader who needs a hug but is anxious to ask (romantic)

Things haven’t been going well for you lately. A series of bad days and external circumstances have made life difficult. You’re sure a hug will, if not fix your problems, at least keep them at bay for a bit.

The narrator’s physical form looks very comfy. If he wrapped his arms around you and gave you some comfort, it would help more than you could say. But…

You’re anxious about asking for what you need. Maybe you’re not used to people responding positively to you communicating. Maybe you’re afraid of rejection. And rejection from him would certainly hurt.

Your brain tortues you with images of him laughing at you, or snarking cruelly. Of him being grossed out by the idea. Of calling you names.

You’re curled up on the couch as your brain cycles in a negative loop, again and again.

The narrator may not be the most aware person there is, but he’s picking up on your sadness and fear. You’re practically shouting it with your body language and expression.

He comes next to you. “Oh dear me, what’s the matter, reader? Why- I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you so despondent. What happened?”

You struggle to communicate, you want to tell him everything. Your needs, your fears. You open your mouth, and no sound comes out. You shake your head, and bury your face in the couch upholstery.  

Well. That was unexpected. The narrator knows you’ve had struggles with anxiety in the past, but this seemed like a bad moment especially.

He hesitates, then gently places his hand on your back. Humans liked skin contact, right? He thinks he remembers reading that somewhere as he did research. 

“Really, if there’s something I can do, I’d like to know. You are loved and cared for.” He states honestly. 

“Not by me, of course,” He lies. 

You aren’t moving, but the hand on your back is wonderful. It still isn’t enough. 

He hesitates. “Reader… Would you like me to look into your head?” This was something the two of you had talked about previously. He had the ability to read Stanley’s thoughts when the two of them were stuck in the parable. There were times in the script where he read Stanley’s thoughts out loud. That ability transferred when he came over.

It had taken a while, but the two of you had gotten to a negotiated position that he wouldn’t do that to you unless you asked. You aren’t sure whether or not to let him. The desire for a hug is plastered all over the place, as are your associated anxieties. But it’s the only shot you have at decent communication right now. 

You nod your head, give him a verbal confirmation, and the narrator starts parsing out information.

Oh. Oh. He gently picks you up and wraps you tightly in his arms. You end up seated on his lap, head resting against his chest. 

“Reader, I- I recognize you have anxious tendencies, but I must say, I dislike the version of me that lives in your head. Your needs are nothing to be made fun of. Perhaps there was a point in time where I would have been cruel about it, but that version of me doesn’t exist anymore.”

“You never had to be afraid. Even if I was the sort of person who disliked hugs, I’d make an exception for you.”

The tension leaks out of your body. He keeps talking. “What you want is so simple. This isn’t a particularly difficult thing for me, you know. Hmm. I daresay you fit perfectly in my arms. Perhaps this hug was even… predestined!” His dramatic flair is in place. You love him for it.

“I hope you will find a way to ask for what you need, both with me, and with others. Until then, I’m happy to hold you close.” 

[websterss]

FOOLED — TOM HOLLAND

SUMMARY: Perhaps there’s more than meets the eye. More underneath the surface than pretty faces and rich mobsters.

WARNING(S): Angst, some fluff, mentions of dying, mentions of blood

WORD COUNT: 4,759

PAIRING: Tom Holland x fem!Reader

A/N: Reposting old fics!!! Feedback is always welcomed!

MASTERLIST

“Listen close, and listen well, my dear. Because I am only going to say this once.” You sat up straighter as Josephine began. 

“There is an unruly world that we live in that involves hungry powered men. All seemingly different, yet they desire the same thing. Money, control, sex. You name it.” She walked the space in front of your chair. 

She was a prestigious woman. You could clearly understand why many respected her. She was someone who you admired. She was your mere inspiration if you must. 

“Now these men, they all rise in that higher power status. They got their luxurious houses, the fancy cars, the women that they desire after.” Josephine rolled her eyes at that. “They got it all my dear. When men have it all it becomes an easy target for us to praise them upon.” She paused and cupped your chin. “Tell me, Y/n. Why are women better suited to the con than men?” 

“Cause we’re used to faking it?” You shrugged nonchalantly. Josephine pursed her lips as she became assumed by your answer. 

“Well yes…but not quite what I was looking for.” She shook her finger in a no motion. “It all comes down to one universal truth. No man will ever believe a woman is smarter than he is. We will always be underestimated and that is what we use against them.” 

“So what does this have to do with me?” 

“You, my dear, are the key!” Josephine smiled down at you. 

“The key?” You raised your brow in confusion. “Key to what?” You turned around in your chair as she walked over to her bookshelf. 

“The key to helping me get something of mine back.” Josephine walked over with a binder. She opened it up to a certain page and held it out for you to inspect. “See that my dear?” 

“Yeah…It’s a necklace.” You muttered. 

“This isn’t just any ordinary necklace. This is the ruby red or as they like to call it the Rosette. It is very old and very precious.” Josephine caressed the picture with her hand. 

“It can’t be that old. How much is it even worth?”

“Oh, you know…about eight million.” She brushed it off as if the price was nothing. 

“Excuse me?” You gaped at her. “That’s more than enough to pay off student loans!” You trailed off suddenly feeling down. You only stole what you could conjure at certain times. It paid the bills. 

Tricking and robbing desperate and needy men who were willing to help sort out a money problem of yours just like that. You could never reach the luxury life Josephine revolved around. 

“This is insane…” You looked down at your lap. 

“I didn’t bring you here just to use your gift my dear. Though I must say, you can certainly fool any man like no other.” She chuckled to lighten the mood a bit. “I was impressed by your work. Pure talent might I say.” 

“Yeah, well once you’re left fending for yourself for so long, you tend to pick up a few things.” You muttered. It was quiet for a second then you spoke up again. “This is all I know, Josephine. This is how I provide for myself. It’s not always fun and games for me. Sometimes it’s a necessary cause, even if it may be wrong at times.” You looked at her eyes. 

“You’re special, Y/n.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Believe me, I see something in you that no one else can.” 

“Like what?” 

“Myself.” You slowly turned your head to stare at her. “I see a lot of myself in you. You remind me so much of when I was younger. You got that charm and charisma inside of you. You can do so much good with it. You can do a lot of good for yourself too.” 

“Yeah, right.” You shook your head in disbelief. 

“The only way to go is up, my dear.” Josephine patted your knee, gave you a genuine smile, then walked out the room leaving you to your thoughts. 

What have I gotten myself into? You thought to yourself. 

- 

“What do men want? 

“Boobies. To hit the back door. Wait, no! The front door. It’s either that or a threesome.” You pointed at her with a smirk. You were standing in a massive walk-in closet. Racks holding different styles, different materials as well. “Oh my god this is Gucci!” You picked up a designer handbag. 

“They want to be heroes.” She brushed off your childish answers. “There is nothing more compelling to a man than a vulnerable woman.” She walked over to you and smacked your hand, she took the bag from you. “Focus please and this is Louis Vuitton.” 

“Whatever you say, boss.” You stifled a laugh, then continued going down further into the closet. Eyeing everything you always dreamed of owning. The fanciest thing you owned was a Dolce and Gabbana cocktail dress, and even then you had stolen that. Josephine stopped talking to watch you. You gazed and observed the clothing. You radiated a child-like innocence. There was a twinkle in your eyes as you let your hand trail across each item, each material of fabrics. Josephine couldn’t help the smile that formed on her face. 

“We’ll get to the make-over in a bit, can you please focus now.” Her voice was playful yet serious, letting you know that you had to listen up. “Okay, where was I…” She trailed off. You leaned back into the love seat. 

“What do men want...” You sighed and waited for her to speak again. 

“Ah yes thank you.” She pointed at you with an appreciative smile. “Vulnerability. Nothing compels a man more than a woman who is in distress. For example.” Josephine paused as she feigned upset, her eyes glazing over with tears. She pressed her fingertips to her lips as she shook her head. The sniffles that followed almost made you want to hug her. 

You had to give it to her, it was quite impressive. You slowly clapped for her performance. Josephine wiped away the single tear that was on her eyelid and went back to smiling as she was moments ago. “The more vulnerable you appear the more it will make a man want to cheer you up. They will tend to offer you nice things, and provide comfort. Trust me the more you make yourself look helpless in front of men like these, the more it will help boost their confidence and ego. No matter how big it may appear already.” Josephine rolled her eyes. 

“A man wants to do everything he can to make us, the damsels, happy again.” 

“You think they’ll fall for me?” You eyed her. A bit of doubt and curiosity lingered in the air. 

“He will, my dear.” Josephine eyed you with a smirk. 

“He?” That definitely caught your attention. 

“I think it’s time I inform you about your target.” Josephine walked over to a table that sat at a corner and picked up a manilla folder. She walked over to you and held it out for you to grab. You opened it up and briefly began skimming through the file. 

“Y/n are you ready?” You glanced up from the folder and looked her dead in the eye. 

“Yes.” 

- 

The Annual Holland Gala. A high entailed event, with rich entitled snobs. The more money you had the more important you seemed to others. In your case, you were neither, the play was to appear helpless and in need of chariting. 

Josephine really outdid herself with your look. A Louis Vuitton dress. Red as preferred, for it was the favorite color of your target. There ran a slit down the side of your right thigh. Your hair and makeup were done to the nines. As for your lips, you dawned on a darker red color shade. The heels you wore were killing your feet but damn did you feel great. As for anything else you might have forgotten about, you were feeling amazing. You certainly felt like a million bucks.

However, how you felt about yourself didn’t mask how nervous you were. Josephine had gone over the plan with you multiple times until she was sure you had it in the bag. Although she didn’t doubt for a second that you couldn’t. She knew what you were capable of. That’s why she chose you in the first place.

Your car came to a halt in front of the grand entrance. A set of steps to climb with a black carpet laid over them. It was a nice touch.

You closed your eyes and reminded yourself it was only good thoughts from here on out. A man opened your door and offered his hand to help you out. On your behalf, you were appreciative of the gesture and how chivalry isn’t dead…but realized it was probably his job. People were paid to do this kind of thing, it was normal for the elite society, but it certainly wasn’t for you.

“Thank you.” You smiled gratefully at the man who smiled gently at you. He guided you onto the first step and then let you make your way inside on your own. You were amazed by the number of people who showed up. 

You took a deep breath and walked further into the room. Many men clad in expensive suits drinking away glasses of champagne. Others with their special arm candies at their sides. With each step, your heels clicked on the tile floor. You grabbed a glass off of one of the trays a waiter was walking around with. Quickly downing it as you got it. Once you gulped it all up, you placed the empty glass on a different tray and reached for another one. Liquid courage is what they say, right?

Yet you weren’t too keen on getting full-on wasted. You had a task that needed to see its end. You read the room for a bit, eyeing each and every single man. Hoping you’d see the one you were looking for. You sighed and walked over to the bar. Taking a seat on one of the stools, you ordered a rum and coke to start yourself on. 

- 

Tom leaned against the walls that were in the far corners. His attention focused on his phone. Apart from having to make an appearance at the stupid gala he didn’t want to attend, he was going through one of the biggest deals that could increase his business even more than it already was. 

“Seriously?” Tom’s head swiveled as he saw his blonde friend approach. “Instead of mingling, you’re on your bloody phone, what would your mother say of this?” Harrison shook his head. 

“She’s not here, so she can’t say much.” Tom chuckled as he glanced back down at his phone. 

“Tom…” Harrison stared at his best friend with an unamused expression. “Come on, it’s a party. You promised you’d loosen up tonight.” Harrison crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Yeah…just let me finish this.” Tom brushed him off, continuing to type away. His phone was then snatched out of his hands. He looked annoyed. “Give it.” He motioned. Harrison pocketed the device in his slacks. 

“Nope.” Harrison shook his head. 

“Harrison,” Tom warned him with a smile. 

“Not happening, go enjoy yourself.” He motioned towards the sea of people in the room. Just as he said this the click of a gun became clear to his ears. 

“How about now?” Tom asked with a smirk. 

“Can you not be Tom, the leader of the biggest mob in all of London, for one second?” Harrison didn’t falter as he felt the gun on his abdomen. “You’re a dick ya know.” Harrison rolled his eyes as he gave the phone back to Tom. 

“I know.” Tom laughed as he opened the phone back up. “Seriously, go and ya know…find yourself a pretty girl. Get drunk for all I care, just step away from the business shit for the night.” Harrison patted his shoulder then left to go and join everyone else. 

Tom watched his right-hand man walk away. He looked back down at his messages and frowned. He sighed then pocketed his phone. He pushed himself off the wall and decided to head towards the bar instead. 

- 

Damselled and Distressed. 

The words echoed in your head. Just as you were about to pay the bartender for the drink a body slid onto the stool right next to yours. In the corner of your eyes, you noticed a hint of brown curls. 

“Can I get a pale ale, thanks.” The man nodded and went down to the bar to retrieve his drink. The bartender popped the lid off the beer and handed it over to the person next to you. He was quick to tip the bartender a generous amount. The guy with his now paid beer turned around in his seat to look at the crowd of people. His back was to the bar. The bartender then looked at you expectantly. 

“The drinks don’t come free, miss.” He chuckled lightly. 

“Well of course not.” You chuckled along with him. You smiled then pulled out your handbag to get your money. You furrowed your brows for show and you moved things around. “Uh…” You lightly looked up to the bartender with an uneasy smile. “Just give me a second.” You frantically started taking things out of your bag. “My money’s gone!” You panic. “I must’ve left my cash on my nightstand.” You frowned. You accepted the fact that you couldn’t pay and nodded towards the bartender to take your drink. 

The bartender nodded slowly and right as he was reaching out for the glass. A few bills of cash were placed in front of you and the bartender. Your eyes followed the arm that was extended out with the cash up to the face of your savior. 

“It’s on me, love.” The melodious voice was music to your ears. He threw you a dazzling smile, one that seemed to reach his eyes. “I believe the lady would love her drink back.” He said to the bartender. 

The guy nodded at him and placed your glass back down. The bartender grabbed the bills getting ready to hand a few of them back. 

“Keep it.” The man next to you put his hand up. A smile and a simple thank you followed suit. 

“Thank you.” You smiled at the man. “My hero.” You giggled. 

“Don’t mention it, love.” He turned and took a sip of his beer. You furrowed your brows as you thought he’d want to keep the conversation going. You caressed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Quite the party huh?” You began half-heartedly laughing. 

“Not quite my scene.” 

“And why is that? Too many snobby rich folks for you to handle?” As you said that a small smile peaked its way onto his lips. You had him right where you wanted. 

“I’m Tom.” He smiled at you and extended his hand out for you to shake. You placed yours in his. 

“Y/n.” 

“Beautiful name, love.” Heat rose to your cheeks. You looked up and noticed how his attention was solemnly on you now. You were really in for it tonight. 

“So Y/n.” He smiled. “What brings you here?” 

“Well… same as everyone else.” You said seriously. You paused then continued. “Free drinks.” You giggled when he chuckled too. “Well, not so free drinks.” You lifted your glass to your lips and took a sip. “Thank you again.” Tom tipped his glass to you. He eyed you carefully as you drank from your drink. Not a sign of realization crossing your face. Surely you must’ve known who he was. The only reason many of these rich snobs showed up was because of him. 

They knew of him or knew him personally, yet they were all afraid of him. If you were here because of the same reasons as everyone else then surely you were here because you knew who he was. Then again it was rare to meet someone who didn’t know about him or the work he did. He had to admit he was happy. No worries of having someone throw hate or judgment towards him. Not having to protect another person he cared about. 

“Getting off track there Y/n, dear.” The com in your left ear spoke. You cleared your throat a bit and focused on the matter in front of you. 

“Wanna go somewhere…quieter?” You let out a small breathy laugh, acting like you were nervous. 

“Thought you’d never ask.” He smiled gratefully wanting to get away from the massive amount of human bodies whose pockets were filled with too much, but not as much as he had though. Harrison caught sight of the two of you and found Tom’s eye. Tom simply nodded his head. An unspoken conversation happening between the two. Harrison then turned back around and spoke in his earpiece.

- 

You and Tom walked up the stairs in step with each other as you reached the end of the marvelous hallway. You couldn’t help but smile. As much as you enjoyed the peace and quiet, you felt guilty for trying to rob him. 

“Here we are!” Tom opened a door to one room and let you enter first. Once he turned on the lights, you were greeted with a bedroom, larger than you’ve ever seen. 

“It’s lovely.” You looked over your shoulder as you made your way to sit on the edge of the bed. 

“Glad you think so.” Tom stripped off his jacket and draped it over one of the chairs on the corner. He uncuffed his cufflinks and rolled up his sleeves to his arms. He then walked to you. You stared at him wondering what he was doing. You felt your heart skip when he kneeled in front of you. You felt his hand travel up your right slit. 

“T-Tom?” You protested but he interrupted you by placing a finger to his lips shaking his head. He was telling you to be quiet, then he surprised you by leaning forward and brushing your hair behind your left ear. He took the earpiece out of your ear and turned it off. You swallowed nervously. He kept a calm and steady composure, and that honestly scared you more than anything. 

“Good now she can’t hear us! You almost fooled me there, darling.” He chuckled but his voice then grew dark and lower. “How stupid do you think I am?” He cocked his head to the side as he was towering over you. He had finally stood up and placed his hands on either side of you. 

“I don’t-” Your breath hitched in the back of your throat as you felt his hand run up your right leg and through the slit, right where your gun rested very closely to your core. He kept his eyes directly on yours as he slowly removed his hand that now held your gun. He then observed the gun then clocked it. You were surely done for at that moment. “How many rounds?” He kept aiming the gun past you. 

“Twelve.” You gulped. At this point, you were dreading everything. “You’re going to kill me aren’t you?” You shed a tear as you shrunk down. Tom stopped what he was doing, and stared at you for a moment. He took a seat next to you and wiped another tear from your cheek. He smiled. He smiled at you and for once you felt like he truly meant it this time. 

“No. At least not you of course.” He caressed your hair behind your ear. “It was Josephine in your ear, wasn’t it, love? She involved you in her messy business, huh?” He whispered. A sad given smile made its way onto his lips. Your silence and more tears being shed gave him his answer. “She has the tendency to break even the most innocent souls. Guess you were her next girl.” Tom avoided your gaze and brought his hand up to yours. You began to protest. 

“Josephine wouldn’t-” 

“Wouldn’t do that. Wouldn’t betray you after you gave her your trust. After all she’s done for you, right?” Tom stood up and spoke out your thoughts. 

“She-” You muttered. 

“Did she promise you anything?” You kept quiet. “Perhaps a luxurious life? There is a reason as to why she picked you, I’m assuming.” He observed you. “Did she say you were special?” He waited and then you picked your head up to look at him. “There it is!” He muttered softly. “She made you feel like you were important to her.” 

“I thought-” 

“You thought if you did this one thing for her, she would be proud of you. Tell me Y/n, what was it she wanted you to steal?” You stared at him for a moment then stuttered. 

“The Rosette.” Tom’s shoulders stiffened. 

“My mother’s necklace.” He said. 

“Tom, I’m so sorry.” 

“You couldn’t have known love. At least you’re safe now.” 

“Why are you doing this? You don’t even know me.” You finally stood up. 

“This isn’t the first time Josephine has intervened in my life, darling. You weren’t the first girl she’s fooled and tricked. The only difference between you and the first girl is that you’re still alive…” He trailed off. 

“What are you–was she–was she going to kill me after this?” You looked at him scared and bewildered. “Oh…Oh my god!” Your knees gave out and Tom barely caught you in time before you hit the floor. 

“Hey look at me, my men are taking care of her, okay, she’s not going to get the chance okay. I promise. I’m not letting someone else die because of that woman!” Just as he said this, multiple bangs and shots echoed through the bedroom door, out into the hallways. Tom helped you up and stared at the door. He looked around and came up with a quick plan. 

“Do you trust me?” He held your arms and stared into your eyes. You nodded yes. He led you over to the window and you tugged at his arms immediately. “Darling, please trust me.” He pleaded. 

“I do.” You whispered as more tears shed from your eyes. 

“Come on now.” You took your heels off and got on the ledge. You gasped as you noticed how high up you were. 

“There you go.” Tom looked over his shoulder, the gunshots still going. “Alright, Y/n I need you to make it to that far corner, okay? Can you do that for me?” 

“Y-Yes.” You breathed out. trying to lean against the side of the walls as much as you could. 

“Nothing will happen to you okay, just keep going.” You nodded and slowly kept walking across the ledge. Tom closed the window and hid your heels by opening the vent on the floor and tossing them in there. Just in time for him to steady his composure and pretend he was looking out the window. The door to the bedroom was kicked open and non-other than Josephine walked in. Gun pointed at the mobster. 

“Josephine.” Tom with a monotone expression. 

“Thomas, where is she?” 

“Who?” 

“I don’t have time for games, where is she?” 

“Did you seriously have to come in guns blazing?” He averted her question. 

“Unless you want a bullet between those gorgeous brown eyes of yours, I suggest you speak.” She smiled sweetly.

“I don’t take orders from you darling.” Tom stared at her amused. 

“Eve took my orders well.” His shoulder stiffened. Josephine smirked knowing full well that did the trick. 

“Shut up.” He warned. 

“Or what, you’ll hurt me.” She laughed. “You won’t.” She tempted him. Tom didn’t hesitate to raise his gun and shoot her in the shoulder. The shot caused her to stumble back and fall. 

“You just shot me!” 

“You said I wouldn’t. You know better that to test me.” He shrugged nonchalantly. Josephine only laughed and smiled through the pain. 

“She’s on the ledge isn’t she?” She pointed at him. Tom almost let his composure slip. 

“What makes you assume so?” He tilted his head. 

“For one that’s her gun, and two her earpiece is on the bed.” She smirked. Tom silently cursed at himself. 

“You’re not going to get to her, Josephine.” Tom stood protective over the window 

“Trying to make up for the loss of your girl by saving another one? This isn’t going to bring Eve back. A bullet to the skull can cause some serious brain damage. Let alone kill someone instantly.” She chuckled. “Remember that?” 

“Everyday.” He admitted. 

“Good.” She shot him in the lower abdomen and walked over to the window. Tom fell and clutched his now bleeding wound. She opened it up and right as she stuck her head out, you had rounded the corner just like Tom asked you to. You were nowhere in sight for Josephine to see you. Josephine cursed out loud and looked back at Tom. 

“Oh sweetie, cheer up, this is what you’ve been waiting for! You finally get to be with Eve.” She patted his cheek and left the room passing all the bodies of his dead men. This isn’t at all what he wanted. He waited a couple seconds then pushed himself to get up and struggled. He maneuvered over to the window and called out your name. 

“Y/n!” He rasped out as loud as he could. You peered around the corner and saw him. You sighed and slowly made your way back to the window. It took you a few minutes, but it wasn’t as bad. Once you reached the window Tom immediately pulled you in and closed it. He wrapped his arms around you. His back facing the closed window and yours facing the door. You pulled apart and smiled gently at him. He brought a hand up to cup your cheek, red tainting your skin from his wounds. He winced, knees buckling as he fell. You held him upright as best as you could.

“T-Tom?” You gasped when you finally noticed his bloody shirt. “Oh my god!” You cried out as you tried setting him down gently. You lowered him on the floor into a sitting position with his legs sprawled out. You kneeled right in front of him putting as much pressure as you could to his wound. He groaned out in pain. 

“I have to put pressure on it, okay? Just stay with me Tom, stay with-” You whined. Two shots that rang out before Tom realized what was wrong. Your mouth opened ajar. Your hands on Tom’s abdomen eased up with the pressure. You slowly glanced down seeing the two wounds begin to release blood from your stomach. The blood made your dress appear even darker than it already was. Tom had followed your eyes and cried out as he saw your two gunshot wounds. 

“N-No…” He croaked out as tears formed in his eyes. A broken sob emitting past his lips. 

“Tom...” You whined then slowly felt forward on top of his lap. Your head hitting his chest. Another three shots rang out which had him closing his eyes and flinching. He heard a body hit the floor and opened his eyes. There in front of him stood Harrison towering over a dead Josephine. He lowered his gun and hurried over to the two of you. Tom broke down then and there. 

“Help her, please!” He pleaded and cried out. He raised one of his hands cupping your face delicately. Your eyes were closed. “Y/n?” He gently nudged you. You didn’t even flinch. He cried. Never in his life has Harrison seen Tom like this. It broke his heart watching him break like this. Harrison checks you for a pulse but never finds one. He closes his eyes and lets a tear roll down his cheek. He had seen many things working for Tom, but this may have topped it all. Tom stared down at you, every ache in his body going numb.

“I promised. I promised her, Harrison.” He whined. “I can’t save anyone.” He closed his eyes as he held you tightly against his chest. “I couldn’t protect her…” He whispered. He inhaled deeply then slowly but surely let out his final breath of air. Tom grips on you released, and Harrison sheds another few tears as he watches his best friend’s head lop to the side. 

“Tom? Tom!”

[pluviwinkle]

the scars we share.

genshin impact soulmate au | kazuha x reader, tomo x reader

chapter 4 : there we are again on that little town street

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Kaedehara Kazuha has always heard the whispers of the wind ever since he was a child.

It certainly took some time for him to figure out that his unusually heightened senses were not something that everyone had. Little Kazuha would insist that the wind’s murmuring all sorts of things into his ear, and his amused mother would simply pet him on the head with a laugh and dismiss it as a part of her son’s wild imagination.

Perhaps it was the Anemo Archon’s way of taunting the Shogun by blessing a child of Inazuma with a familiarity with the wind. Whatever reason the gods may have had to give him this ability, it had certainly helped him out in all sorts of situations.

Now, it’s not to say that he engages in actual conversations with the wind, but he’d describe this ability as more like the gentle breeze guiding him throughout his days. A constant nudge in the right direction, he could say.

And speaking of nudges in the right direction, Kazuha surmises that it is something that his dear friend desperately needs right now.

There was a subtle change. It was barely even noticable, and knowing how the people around him aren’t as familiar with the wind as he was, the silverette had to rely on his own knowledge and instincts to figure out what exactly had changed with his friend.

It’s not often that he fixates on any changes in emotions Tomohiko might be going through. Whether he was happier than usual because he finally got to eat his favourite dish, or he was a bit more irritated because some treasure hoarders decided to interrupt his afternoon nap that day, Kazuha would simply notice and immediately move on.

But when he sees his friend’s warm smile grow wider towards the little kitten he’s keeping in his nagagi, that small change in the air around him grows along with it. It didn’t take him too long to realize that his friend was feeling more fondness than usual.

And something tells him it’s not precisely because of the snow white kitten in his arms.

“You’re staring at me an awful lot, Kazuha,” Tomohiko’s voice breaks him out of his train of thought. He points at himself questioningly. “Something on my face?”

Kazuha merely smirks, coaxing Yuki to jump onto his crossed legs on the grass. “A suspiciously large smile.”

Tomohiko sighs, knowing immediately the implication behind Kazuha’s words. “What, I’m smiling at a cat, is it wrong for me to smile at a cat?” He wildly gestures to the kitten with both of his arms. “Look at how cute she is!”

“Did another pretty lady fall to your charms, perhaps?” Kazuha doesn’t even bother entertaining his friend’s poor attempt at changing the subject. Funnily enough, Yuki meows loudly, as if she was agreeing with him, and Tomohiko clicks his tongue in annoyance. He rests his elbow on his knee and places his cheek in his palm.

“Can’t believe you’re ganging up on me with my own cat,” he mutters, pouting lightly. “Does it matter anyway? They’re not my soulmate.”

Ah, so that’s why he didn’t bring it up with him.

He doesn’t miss the way Tomohiko is being very dismissive of the subject too, trying to shrug it off as something that doesn’t need to be talked about. But with how sulky his friend is being, something tells him that there was a lot more to this person than meets the eye.

“It seems to matter a lot,” Kazuha reassures, petting Yuki on the head. “Don’t you usually just flirt with the stall owners so they could give you a discount for your weekly food supply? Why does it bother you this time?”

For once, Tomohiko doesn’t immediately retort with a snarky comment. Which he always does whenever Kazuha is right on the nose about something, so whoever it is that’s on his mind now must be someone that’s left quite the impression on him. He’s worrying his bottom lip, most likely contemplating whether he should tell Kazuha or not.

He knows about Tomohiko’s situation with his soulmate mark, or lack thereof, for that matter. While his friend seems unbothered about it most of the time, Kazuha sees the fleeting glances he gives to other couples, and the yearning in his eyes when someone unexpectedly decides to flirt back. But it goes as quickly as it comes, and he makes it a point to not bring up soulmates around Tomohiko.

Kazuha felt the unspoken hurt rolling off of him in waves when he asked him about his soulmate mark once.

“Because… they’re not just someone I flirted with for the sake of buying something.”

“Oh?”

“A friend of a friend,” he adds vaguely, absentmindedly tracing circles into the grass. “They’re the one that found and named Yuki, in fact.”

“Ah, I see.” Kazuha gingerly lifts Yuki to his face, who lets out a confused mewl in response. “You’re both co-parenting this little one?”

“Would you please not put it like that?” he groans, though it sounded less out of annoyance and more out of embarrassment. He lies down on the grass and covers his face with his arm, but clearly he didn’t lie down fast enough to hide the growing blush on his face from Kazuha.

Normally, the silverette would absolutely love to take this rare opportunity to tease his travelling companion, because how often does the flirty Tomohiko get to be the flustered one instead? He opts to stay quiet however, waiting patiently for Tomohiko to say anything more about this mysterious person who had entered his life, knowing how difficult it is for him when it comes to this sort of thing. Yuki keeps meowing and purring to fill the silence.

“I didn’t even flirt with them when I first met them,” he finally says.

“The charming Tomohiko not flirting with someone? I must be dreaming.”

“Shush. They were feeding the animals under the big tree in Hanamizaka. I stopped by Yoimiya’s real quick for a chat, and that’s when I saw them.” Tomohiko lifts his arm to look up at the sky, the pink tint to his cheeks still evident.

“They were… infuriatingly pretty.”

He feels like he should’ve pestered Thoma and Ayato to meet you (and Ayaka, but mostly you) sooner. But he’s painfully reminded of the fact that nothing had changed since you both met each other that day, which clearly meant that fate had someone else for you in mind.

Still, that doesn’t stop him from thinking about your first meeting every once in a while. It wasn’t often that he felt so… drawn to someone at first sight, after all.

He was growing worried when he hadn’t seen Thoma in the city at all that day, and a brief visit to the Naganoharas’ shop had confirmed his suspicions that his friend was, indeed, taking a short break. Knowing how much Thoma loves taking care of the strays in Hanamizaka, he thought it wouldn’t hurt to take over his dear friend’s duties for the day. The strays surely must’ve been waiting for Thoma’s arrival, too, not knowing that he won’t be coming.

Imagine his surprise when he found that someone else had beaten him to it.

Call him cheesy, but it was hard to ignore the way the sakura petals falling from the huge tree in Hanamizaka floated mesmerizingly around you. You, who had smiled so affectionately at the cats and dogs begging for your attention. You, who cooed at them all with the sweetest, loveliest voice.

You, who looked absolutely ethereal to him in that moment.

He praises himself for not stuttering when he first spoke up, admiring the glow that the sun had casted on your surprised face for but a brief moment. It wasn’t until you turned away from him after what felt like eternity did he realize that the both of you had just stayed there, staring at each other in stunned silence. He takes in the rosy flush to your cheeks before awkwardly laughing and apologizing for startling you.

You were, undeniably, very cute.

And very, very boldly, he crouches down next to you and happily greets the strays that come to him, noting the way you visibly relax at the animals’ familiarity with him.

He feels like he should’ve seen you around the city before at some point if the animals were so comfortable around you. There was an odd sense of recognition in his chest despite being very sure that he has never seen you before (because if he has, he definitely wouldn’t have forgotten such a beautiful face).

With just a few words, he figures out that oh, you’re the childhood friend that Thoma and Ayato have talked about before. It fills him with some sort of… hope, knowing that he could potentially see you more often if you were friends with those two.

That tiny bit of hope was short-lived, however, the second he realized that nothing has changed in the past few minutes of meeting you.

Surely he would’ve felt some sort of ticklish tingle if a mark had appeared somewhere on his body, but there was none. Nor was there any shift in the air, or a newly formed connection between the two of you. You didn’t seem to be affected by anything, either.

His hopes were completely crushed when Goldilocks had pushed you down, and still, he felt nothing.

If the indescribable look on your face when he left with Yuki that day was anything to go by, then at the very least, perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to hope that the disappointment he felt was mutual.

“Couldn’t you have, I don’t know… hurt yourself in some way to confirm?” Kazuha asks, breaking the solemn silence after Tomohiko had finished.

“I would’ve, but—“ Tomohiko traces his fingers over the faint scar on the bridge of his nose, a bittersweet smile on his face. “If they felt this before, then they would’ve known right away. But it seems like they didn’t, so there’s no point in trying.”

He says that, but the fact remains that Kazuha can still sense the ever growing infatuation he feels towards you amidst the hurt, unwavering even as he spoke of your first meeting, and it doesn’t seem to be going away anytime soon. Kazuha doesn’t comment on it, as always.

Tomohiko stands up and stretches his limbs, patting away any dirt on his clothes and raising a hand to shield his eyes from the blinding sunlight. “Seems like it’s almost noon. Wanna come with to the city?”

“Hmm, what’s the occasion?” Kazuha lets Yuki hop off of his lap and into Tomohiko’s awaiting arms before rising to his feet.

“They’ve started decorating the city today for the Tanabata Festival.” Tomohiko puts Yuki in his nagagi, as always, making sure she was comfortable. “Pretty sure my friends are in the city to deal with the preparations too, so I thought I’d pay them a little visit. And if they’re there...”

He remains silent for a moment more, before shaking his head and smiling at Kazuha. A genuine smile, at that, along with another emotion that Kazuha can’t exactly pinpoint. He turns away before Kazuha could figure it out.

“I’ll introduce the two of you to each other.”

—

“You couldn’t have just dragged him out of his office for once?”

“You think he’d listen to me just because I’m his soulmate?”

Carefully, both you and Thoma finish hanging the lanterns on top of the teahouse, stepping down from the ladders you climbed to admire your work from afar. Despite the main festivities mostly taking place on Amakane, a lot of people from the Commission had figured that it wouldn’t hurt to decorate the main city a bit for those who have to work and can’t come to the small island.

And as much as you’d hate to admit it, one of those people is most likely going to be Ayato, included. It was nothing entirely new for the ever busy Commissioner, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t going to complain about one of your best friends’ possible absence again.

“What’s one day of missing work gonna do to his schedule, huh?” The two of you quickly put away the ladders in the teahouse, doing one final check on the decorations before leaving.

Thoma sighs, “You know exactly what it’d do to his schedule—“

“Don’t give me that excuse, it won’t cause a lot of harm in the long run!” You smack him lightly on the shoulder, as the two of you leave the vicinity of Komore Teahouse and make your way to the main streets. You see a lot of people from the Commission hard at work, decorating the streets and buildings as best as they can. They’re far from finished, but it was already looking quite festive.

“I get that Ayato’s the Commissioner and all, but we have staff back at the estate for a reason. Don’t tell me he plans on pulling another all-nighter to do his paperwork instead of taking a single day off?”

“I know, I know, it’s just…“ Thoma exhales exasperatedly, rubbing his neck. “It’s always hard to convince him, y’know? At least with Ayaka, we could use the whole peer pressure tactic with Yoimiya—“

“You didn’t have to call it that,” you laugh.

“But it’s true! Ayato is more… stubborn. You know how he is, you’ve known him for longer than I have.”

“Yeah, but you know him better than I do,” you point out. “Aren’t you tired of feeling his stress all the time? He’s pretty good at hiding it, but I don’t need the soulmate connection that you have to know that his work takes a toll on him.”

Thoma remains silent, a contemplative look washing over his face. The two of you finally arrive at Shimura’s for your lunch break, ordering your respective meals and catching up with Shimura before he brings up your previous discussion.

“I’ll try to convince him, but I can’t guarantee any results,” he starts, thanking Shimura for the food before turning back to you. “With that said… you sure you’re okay with being a fifth-wheel?”

You scoff at that, “I’ve been your fifth-wheel for years, I’m used to it. It’s not like you guys actively leave me out or anything.”

“Doesn’t mean that you don’t feel lonely when you’re with us,” Thoma retorts, “I can tell, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, you and your empathetic nature. Listen, even if I do feel a bit lonely sometimes, it has nothing to do with you guys.“ You pat him on the shoulder with a reassuring smile. “As long as I see that you’re all happy, that’s enough for me, alright?”

And you genuinely mean it. You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t yearn to meet your soulmate when the rest of your friends already have, but they really aren’t to be blamed for your current lack of a partner. So what if it took you a bit longer than them to find your other half? They’re still your closest friends, and they still love you, regardless.

You’re both halfway through your own bowls of tonkotsu ramen when Thoma speaks up again. “You know…”

“Uh-huh…”

You know that tone in Thoma’s voice.

“What if we made it a triple date, and you came to the festival with Tomo, hmm?” he finishes, smirking teasingly.

“Oh come on, Thoma…” You avert your gaze from Thoma’s stare, knowing for sure that your cheeks are already warming up at his suggestion. “I barely know the guy.”

“But you guys totally hit it off! And you’ve only seen each other a total of, what, three times?” Thoma scoots closer to you, seemingly persistent on pairing you up with his friend. “You don’t have to see it as a date, if that’s what you’re worried about. You can just go as friends, no? Get to know each other better during the festival.”

You frown at him. “But what if he’s not comfortable with it?”

“He stares at you with the softest look in his eyes whenever you’re too busy petting Yuki to notice, and you’re telling me he’s uncomfortable with you?” he scoffs. “If anything, I thought he’d make you uncomfortable with how flirty he can be sometimes.”

You continue eating silently, unsure of how to react to the new information. If Thoma can see the tips of your ears turning red, he doesn’t say anything about it.

“Look, I know eventually you’ll have to find your soulmate, and forget about…” He makes a vague gesture with his hands. “Whatever you had with Tomo. But I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt to indulge yourself for just a short while. Who says you can’t have a relationship or two before meeting your soulmate? It’s extra experience.”

“You make it sound like I should just date Tomo for the sake of ‘experience’.”

“You know that’s not what I meant, stop twisting my words!” He sighs, crossing his arms over his chest as his voice takes on a more serious tone. “Besides, you like him too, don’t you?”

How could you not? It’s bad enough that Tomohiko had quite the pretty face, but you could tell right away that he’s a very caring and gentle soul. You trust Thoma and Ayato enough to know that they wouldn’t have befriended him in the first place if he was a horrible person in some way.

Still, you find yourself being grateful for Thoma’s input. Because if there was one thing you’ve noticed recently, it was the obvious lack of pain from your other half. You’ve lived through at least twenty years without having any luck in finding your soulmate, and not feeling any kind of pain from them currently would only make them even harder to find. You’d provoke them with repeatedly pinching yourself if you were feeling spiteful enough, but if it didn’t work in the past then it definitely wouldn’t work now. It’s safe to assume that you probably won’t find your soulmate for a while.

Letting out a sigh of defeat, you place your chopsticks into your now empty bowl. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”

—

Kazuha is nervous.

Tomohiko’s surprised at himself for even noticing it at all, because although Kazuha is an open book most of the time, he’s the type to hide any concerns he might have to avoid having someone else worry about him too.

But he notices. He was busy chatting away, filling the silence between them both as he admires the decoration around the city all the while looking for his friends, when he notices Kazuha’s half-hearted responses.

“They sure put in a lot of effort in decorating, huh?”

“…Yeah.”

“Should we eat at Uyuu Restaurant for lunch after this?”

“…Sure.”

“Do you think they’d let any cats in?”

“Mm…”

It was then he realizes that Kazuha’s no longer walking beside him. He looks back and sees his companion not far behind, to his relief. Though his gaze is, for some reason, directed to the ground in front of him. The further they get into the city, the more Kazuha’s footsteps falter and the more his face scrunches up ever so slightly.

“What’s wrong, Kazuha?”

Kazuha remains uncharacteristically silent, staring at the ground for a moment longer before shaking his head and smiling at Tomohiko.

“Nothing. You were saying?”

Tomohiko raises a brow skeptically. He promotly looks down at the ground to see what Kazuha was so fixated on, but the cobblestone path underneath their feet was the same as ever.

He turns to Kazuha once again, “What’re you so nervous about?”

“I’m not nervous, I’m not sure what makes you think that.”

Tomohiko sighs to himself. Whatever it is that’s bothering Kazuha, he’d have to coax it out of him another time. Something tells him that Kazuha wasn’t going to let out his problems so easily.

Regardless, he takes a guess anyway. “Are you nervous about meeting them? They’re pretty nice, so there’s nothing to worry about, really. You’re normally okay with new people, aren’t you?”

Kazuha smiles at him again, but it comes out as more of a grimace, if anything. What the heck was up with him?

“Oh, Tomo! You’re here today!”

Looking away from Kazuha, he sees Thoma waving at him enthusiastically from in front of Shimura’s restaurant, and he waves back. He probably just finished eating, from the looks of it.

And if he was here, then that could mean—

“Ah, Tomohiko!”

You stepped out from behind Thoma, raising a hand in greeting as you swat away the blond’s arm that was not-so-subtly elbowing you playfully.

“Hey there,” he greets when you eagerly approach him, smiling sweetly at Yuki who was mewling so happily at the sight of you.

“And hello to you too, cutie.” You carefully take the kitten out of his nagagi, and Tomohiko prays that you either don’t notice, or purposefully ignore the growing blush on his face. He’s well aware that you were referring to Yuki, but he couldn’t help himself from getting flustered anyway with how close you got to him.

“And here I was, thinking you’d be excited to see me instead of our little cat child for once.” He fakes a sigh of disappointment.

“Who says that the ‘cutie’ wasn’t directed towards you, instead?”

“Thoma!”

Both men burst into laughter as your own face begins turning red, redirecting your gaze to the kitten in your arms begging for your attention.

But then you notice the figure standing behind Tomohiko.

—

Kazuha wishes you didn’t.

He doesn’t know why it took him so long to realize, but he realizes a little too late who exactly was the person that had gained his friend’s affections. He had been racking his mind for the past few minutes for any sort of lame excuse he could’ve used to get out of this predicament, just so he could ponder on what he should do a bit longer.

But he could sense Tomohiko’s growing suspicion, and you have already seen him now, so it was too late for him to turn back.

“Who’s this, Tomo?”

Tomohiko lets out a sound of surprise, suddenly remembering why he came here in the first place. “Right, I’ve been wanting to introduce him to you guys for a while now! He’s my travelling partner.”

He steps aside, nudging Kazuha to come closer and he reluctantly does so, managing a shaky yet polite smile towards you and Thoma. Though you return his smile, you stare back at him in concern. He’s looking at you somewhat expectantly, as if he was waiting for you to say something.

You’d think he was waiting for you to introduce yourself first before him, but something in his crimson eyes was telling you that it’s not an introduction that he wants.

Just when you were about to break the awkward silence, he suddenly speaks up.

“My name is Kaedehara Kazuha. But just ‘Kazuha’ will suffice… It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

He smiles, once more.

And says nothing about the bright red string connecting both of your pinkies.

⬦ NOTES our fave maple boy is finally here and he’s also returning in 1 week holy shit !!! i already managed to pull a c1 kazu last year, but unfortunately that was on my alt acc,, , not to worry though, because i have 200+ fates saved for kazuha and he shall not escape my main acc this time 👍🏻

⬦ TAGLIST (currently open! send me an ask to be added to the list)

@plinkuro @mc-park @d4ngom1lk @archivistea @not-cool-1 @isimpforkazuhaandhisdeadfriend @carbs-need-more-love @thenyxsky @chirity-chu

— if your url is highlighted, it means i can’t tag you! please let me know if you’d like to be removed from the list or if your url has changed.

[writingwithcolor]

What Does Our "Motivations” PSA Mean?

@luminalalumini said:

I've been on your blog a lot and it has a lot of really insightful information, but I notice a theme with some of your answers where you ask the writer reaching out what their 'motivation for making a character a certain [race/religion/ethnicity/nationality] is' and it's discouraging to see, because it seems like you're automatically assigning the writer some sort of ulterior motive that must be sniffed out and identified before the writer can get any tips or guidance for their question. Can't the 'motive' simply be having/wanting to have diversity in one's work? Must there be an 'ulterior motive'? I can understand that there's a lot of stigma and stereotypes and bad influence that might lead to someone trynna add marginalized groups into their stories for wrong reasons, but people that have those bad intentions certainly won't be asking for advice on how to write good representation in the first place. Idk its just been something that seemed really discouraging to me to reach out myself, knowing i'll automatically be assigned ulterior motives that i don't have and will probably have to justify why i want to add diversity to my story as if i'm comitting some sort of crime. I don't expect you guys to change your blog or respond to this or even care all that much, I'm probably just ranting into a void. I'm just curious if theres any reason to this that I haven't realized exists I suppose. I don't want y'all to take this the wrong way because I do actually love and enjoy your blog's advice in spite of my dumb griping. Cheers :))

We assume this is in reference to the following PSA:

PSA to all of our users - Motivation Matters: This lack of clarity w/r to intent has been a general issue with many recent questions. Please remember that if you don’t explain your motivations and what you intend to communicate to your audience with your plot choices, character attributes, world-building etc., we cannot effectively advise you beyond the information you provide. We Are Not Mind Readers. If, when drafting these questions, you realize you can’t explain your motivations, that is likely a hint that you need to think more on the rationales for your narrative decisions. My recommendation is to read our archives and articles on similar topics for inspiration while you think. I will be attaching this PSA to all asks with similar issues until the volume of such questions declines. 

We have answered this in three parts.

1. Of Paved Roads and Good Intentions

Allow me to give you a personal story, in solidarity towards your feelings:

When I began writing in South Asia as an outsider, specifically in the Kashmir and Lahore areas, I was doing it out of respect for the cultures I had grown up around. I did kathak dance, I grew up on immigrant-cooked North Indian food, my babysitters were Indian. I loved Mughal society, and every detail of learning about it just made me want more. The minute you told me fantasy could be outside of Europe, I hopped into the Mughal world with two feet. I was 13. I am now 28.

And had you asked me, as a teenager, what my motives were in giving my characters’ love interests blue or green eyes, one of them blond hair, my MC having red-tinted brown hair that was very emphasized, and a whole bunch of paler skinned people, I would have told you my motives were “to represent the diversity of the region.” 

I’m sure readers of the blog will spot the really, really toxic and colourist tropes present in my choices. If you’re new here, then the summary is: giving brown people “unique” coloured eyes and hair that lines up with Eurocentric beauty standards is an orientalist trope that needs to be interrogated in your writing. And favouring pale skinned people is colourist, full stop.

Did that make me a bad person with super sneaky ulterior motives who wanted to write bad representation? No.

It made me an ignorant kid from the mostly-white suburbs who grew up with media that said brown people had to “look unique” (read: look as European as possible) to be considered valuable.

And this is where it is important to remember that motives can be pure as you want, but you were still taught all of the terrible stuff that is present in society. Which means you’re going to perpetuate it unless you stop and actually question what is under your conscious motive, and work to unlearn it. Work that will never be complete.

I know it sounds scary and judgemental (and it’s one of the reasons we allow people to ask to be anonymous, for people who are afraid). Honestly, I would’ve reacted much the same as a younger writer, had you told me I was perpetuating bad things. I was trying to do good and my motives were pure, after all! But after a few years, I realized that I had fallen short, and I had a lot more to learn in order for my motives to match my impact. Part of our job at WWC is to attempt to close that gap.

We aren’t giving judgement, when we ask questions about why you want to do certain things. We are asking you to look at the structural underpinnings of your mind and question why those traits felt natural together, and, more specifically, why those traits felt natural to give to a protagonist or other major character.

I still have blond, blue-eyed characters with sandy coloured skin. I still have green-eyed characters. Because teenage me was right, that is part of the region. But by interrogating my motive, I was able to devalue those traits within the narrative, and I stopped making those traits shorthand for “this is the person you should root for.” 

It opened up room for me to be messier with my characters of colour, even the ones who my teenage self would have deemed “extra special.” Because the European-associated traits (pale hair, not-brown-eyes) stopped being special. After years of questioning, they started lining up with my motive of just being part of the diversity of the region.

Motive is important, both in the conscious and the subconscious. It’s not a judgement and it’s not assumed to be evil. It’s simply assumed to be unquestioned, so we ask that you question it and really examine your own biases.

~Mod Lesya

2. Motivations Aren't Always "Ulterior"

You can have a positive motivation or a neutral one or a negative one. Just wanting to have diversity only means your characters aren't all white and straight and cis and able-bodied -- it doesn't explain why you decided to make this specific character specifically bi and specifically Jewish (it me). Yes, sometimes it might be completely random! But it also might be "well, my crush is Costa Rican, so I gave the love interest the same background", or "I set it in X City where the predominant marginalized ethnicity is Y, so they are Y". Neither of these count as ulterior motives. But let's say for a second that you did accidentally catch yourself doing an "ulterior." Isn't that the point of the blog, to help you find those spots and clean them up?

Try thinking of it as “finding things that need adjusting” rather than “things that are bad” and it might get less scary to realize that we all do them, subconsciously. Representation that could use some work is often the product of subconscious bias, not deliberate misrepresentation, so there's every possibility that someone who wants to improve and do better didn't do it perfectly the first time. 

--Shira

3. Dress-Making as a Metaphor

I want to echo Lesya’s sentiments here but also provide a more logistical perspective. If you check the rubber stamp guide here and the “Motivation matters” PSA above, you’ll notice that concerns with respect to asker motivation are for the purposes of providing the most relevant answer possible.

It is a lot like if someone walks into a dressmaker’s shop and asks for a blue dress/ suit (Back when getting custom-made clothes was more of a thing) . The seamstress/ tailor is likely to ask a wide variety of questions:

What material do you want the outfit to be made of?

Where do you plan to wear it?

What do you want to highlight?

How do you want to feel when you wear it?

Let’s say our theoretical customer is in England during the 1920s. A tartan walking dress/ flannel suit for the winter is not the same as a periwinkle, beaded, organza ensemble/ navy pinstripe for formal dress in the summer. When we ask for motivations, we are often asking for exactly that: the specific reasons for your inquiry so we may pinpoint the most pertinent information.

The consistent problem for many of the askers who receive the PSA is they haven’t even done the level of research necessary to know what they want to ask of us. It would be like if our English customer in the 1920s responded, “IDK, some kind of blue thing.” Even worse,  WWC doesn’t have the luxury of the back-and-forth between a dressmaker and their clientele. If our asker doesn’t communicate all the information they need in mind at the time of submission, we can only say, “Well, I’m not sure if this is right, but here’s something. I hope it works, but if you had told us more, we could have done a more thorough job.”

Answering questions without context is hard, and asking for motivations, by which I mean the narratives, themes, character arcs and other literary devices that you are looking to incorporate, is the best way for us to help you, while also helping you to determine if your understanding of the problem will benefit from outside input. Because these asks are published with the goal of helping individuals with similar questions, the PSA also serves to prompt other users.

I note that asking questions is a skill, and we all start by asking the most basic questions (Not stupid questions, because to quote a dear professor, “There are no stupid questions.”). Unfortunately, WWC is not suited for the most basic questions. To this effect, we have a very helpful FAQ and archive as a starting point. Once you have used our website to answer the more basic questions, you are more ready to approach writing with diversity and decide when we can actually be of service. This is why we are so adamant that people read the FAQ. Yes, it helps us, but it also is there to save you time and spare you the ambiguity of not even knowing where to start.

The anxiety in your ask conveys to me a fear of being judged for asking questions. That fear is not something we can help you with, other than to wholeheartedly reassure you that we do not spend our unpaid, free time answering these questions in order to assume motives we can’t confirm or sit in judgment of our users who, as you say, are just trying to do better.

Yes, I am often frustrated when an asker’s question makes it clear they haven’t read the FAQ or archives. I’ve also been upset when uncivil commenters have indicated that my efforts and contributions are not worth their consideration. However, even the most tactless question has never made me think, “Ooh this person is such a naughty racist. Let me laugh at them for being a naughty racist. Let me shame them for being a naughty racist. Mwahaha.”

What kind of sad person has time for that?*

Racism is structural. It takes time to unlearn, especially if you’re in an environment that doesn’t facilitate that process to begin with. Our first priority is to help while also preserving our own boundaries and well-being. Though I am well aware of the levels of toxic gas-lighting and virtue signaling that can be found in various corners of online writing communities in the name of “progressivism*”, WWC is not that kind of space. This space is for discussions held in good faith: for us to understand each other better, rather than for one of us to “win” and another to “lose.”

Just as we have good faith that you are doing your best, we ask that you have faith that we are trying to do our best by you and the BIPOC communities we represent.

- Marika.

*If you are in any writing or social media circles that feed these anxieties or demonstrate these behaviors, I advise you to curtail your time with them and focus on your own growth. You will find, over time, that it is easier to think clearly when you are worrying less about trying to appease people who set the bar of approval so high just for the enjoyment of watching you jump. “Internet hygiene”, as I like to call it, begins with you and the boundaries you set with those you interact with online.