#Exquisite Furnishings

[euphoriainteriors]

Experience unparalleled luxury and comfort in our meticulously crafted rental home designs in Dubai. From stunning contemporary architecture to lavish interiors, each space embodies elegance and functionality. Elevate your living standards amidst the vibrant cityscape, where every detail is tailored to exceed your expectations. Discover your dream rental today.

[antlersatdegray]

[studio6austintxnorthwest]

Furnished Studios in Barrington Oaks, TX & Weekly Apartments in Anderson Mill West, TX

 Discover our exquisite furnished studios in Barrington Oaks, TX, and our convenient weekly apartments in Anderson Mill West, TX, tailored to meet your every need.

[functal]

Contemporary Living Room Example of a mid-sized trendy formal and loft-style medium tone wood floor living room design with blue walls, no fireplace and no tv

[lecter-starling]

Formal - Living Room A picture of a mid-sized, modern, formal, loft-style living room with blue walls, a medium tone wood floor, and no fireplace or television

[hayleymulch-art]

Master - Contemporary Bedroom Mid-sized, modern master bedroom idea with carpeting, blue walls, and no fireplace

[m1male2]

Spencer House, London

The Painted Room is renowned for being one of the first neoclassical interiors in Europe, decorated with exquisite wall paintings inspired by contemporary excavations of the Roman ruins of Pompeii and Herculaneum. It is furnished with its original set of armchairs and sofas designed for the room by James "Athenian" Stuart.

This Painted Room was conceived around 1759 and completed in 1765. It served as a drawing room and probably also during large receptions.

(Video and photo©️spencerhouse/ig)

[basset-babe]

five times: the one point five.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

warnings: none but gossip yet again

word count: 2.9k+

a/n: please do send me a message or comment down if you would like to be added on the succeeding taglists for the five times series! here is 1.5 times with ben. enjoy! thanks loves <3! (also, pls do imagine ben holding a graft rose for this one heh)

five times series: the first. the one point five. the second. the third. the three point five. the fourth . at last. text divider from @heavenlayt and pattern banner from @cafekitsune thank you!

the one point five time.

In the hours of sunlight, callers have flooded the Y/L/N drawing room. All bringing gifts and performances in hopes to win the favourable yes of the season's paragon, Miss Y/N Y/L/N. The grand parlor, adorned with exquisite tapestries and sparkling chandeliers, buzzed with the lively hum of conversations and the tinkling laughter of society’s elite. Lavish bouquets of rare, fragrant flowers filled the room, their heady scent mingling with the aroma of freshly brewed tea and delectable pastries arrayed on silver platters.

Gentlemen, dressed in their finest attire, lined up to present their offerings to Miss Y/L/N, each one more extravagant than the last. Some brought intricate jewelry, glittering with precious stones, while others offered rare books, hoping to appeal to her reputed love of literature. Musicians performed virtuoso pieces on the grand piano, their fingers dancing over the keys in a bid to capture her attention through the power of melody. Poets recited verses composed in her honor, their words dripping with adoration and longing.

Miss Y/L/N, the epitome of grace and poise, received each suitor with a warm smile and a gracious word. Her eyes, sparkling with intelligence and kindness, moved across the room, acknowledging the efforts and intentions of each visitor. Her charm was such that even a simple nod or a softly spoken thank you felt like a cherished treasure to the eager suitors.

The hour had struck past 1 in the afternoon when, hopefully, the last caller of the day had bid his farewells. The Y/L/N drawing room, which had been a whirlwind of activity, now began to settle into a quieter, more contemplative atmosphere. The sunlight streaming through the large windows cast a bright hue over the room, highlighting the opulent furnishings and the array of gifts that had been presented to Miss Y/N Y/L/N throughout the morning.

Servants moved gracefully, clearing away the remnants of the lavish spread of refreshments while ensuring that every detail of the room remained immaculate. The air was still fragrant with the scent of roses, lilies, and other exotic flowers that had been brought by admirers, creating a heady, almost intoxicating environment.

"As much as I do love botanicals, all these flowers have turned obnoxious to my senses, Grandmama," Y/N sighed, feeling the urge to slouch on the couch. Her frame was poised elegantly despite her weariness, a testament to her upbringing and the endless etiquette lessons she had endured.

Her grandmother, the Viscountess Y/L/N, reentered the room with a look of satisfaction mixed with maternal concern. "My dear," she said softly, "you have conducted yourself admirably. The attention you have garnered is truly remarkable, but alas, this be the trials of being the season's paragon," she said with jest. "A small price to pay for such adoration and the opportunities it presents."

Y/N allowed herself a small, rueful smile. "It has been a most eventful day. I do hope I have shown the proper appreciation to each caller." She gently plucked a stray petal from her gown, its soft texture a stark contrast to her current mood.

"Rest assured, my dear, that this too shall pass," her grandmother replied soothingly. "Soon, you will look back on these days with fondness, perhaps even in laughter."

Y/N nodded, though she wasn't entirely convinced. She admired her grandmother's ability to see the positive in any situation. Lady Y/L/N had once been the toast of her own social season, and her wisdom was hard-earned through years of navigating similar waters.

"Would it be terribly improper to open a window, Grandmama?" Y/N asked, her eyes drifting towards the heavy drapes that concealed the afternoon breeze. "I believe a bit of fresh air might revive my spirits."

The Viscountess chuckled softly. "Not at all, my dear. In fact, I think it would do us both good." She motioned to a nearby maid, who quickly moved to pull back the drapes and open the window, allowing a refreshing breeze to sweep into the room. The cool air carried with it the scents of the garden outside, a welcome contrast to the overwhelming floral arrangements within.

Y/N took a deep breath, feeling instantly more at ease. "Thank you, Grandmama. That is much better."

"Now, my dear," Mrs. Y/L/N said, her tone becoming more serious, "while you have a moment of peace, tell me—was there any caller today who truly caught your eye?"

Y/N considered the question carefully. There had been many suitors, each with their own merits. Some had been charming, others earnest, and a few rather boastful. But it was not that she minded all these suitors; it was who she looked forward to that truly occupied her thoughts. It had been this Bridgerton man she'd hoped would be calling on her the entire morning. Unfortunately, he had not been seen yet in this drawing room.

"Y/N, my dear, are you still with us?" Lady Y/L/N's gentle voice broke through her reverie.

"Yes, Grandmama," Y/N replied, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "I was merely thinking."

"About anyone in particular?" her grandmother inquired with a knowing smile.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then decided there was no point in hiding her thoughts from her perceptive grandmother. "To be quite honest, I was hoping to see Mr. Bridgerton today.. well as of this morn," she admitted. "I fear he may have been otherwise engaged."

"Ah, Mr. Bridgerton," Lady Y/L/N said thoughtfully. "A fine young man, from a respected family. It is no wonder you look forward to his call. Perhaps he will still make an appearance."

Y/N nodded, though she knew the likelihood was slim as the noon wore on. She took another deep breath of the fresh air now circulating through the room, trying to shake off her disappointment. The season was long, and there would be other opportunities to see him again.

"There was Sir Nicholas Deveraeux. He was quite charming," Y/N remarked.

"He comes from a good family as well, but I've heard his uncle," Her grandmother leaned in conspiratorially, "envies the crown."

Y/N laughed at the Viscountess' antics. "Grandmama, that's quite scandalous. Wherever did you hear such a thing?" Y/N laughed.

"Deborah told me," her grandmother said, motioning to her maid. Y/N couldn't help but laugh at the notion of her grandmama indulging in gossip. "But I must tell you, I keep my options open still," she stated matter-of-factly, regaining my composure.

"Even though you are clearly captivated by Mr. Bridgerton's smile," Her grandmother teased. "It is wise to keep your options open, my dear, so as not to appear too eager for any one gentleman's attentions."

"Indeed," Y/N thought to herself, "it is prudent not to seem desperate and helpless this early in the season. After all, the season is just beginning, and there will be many more opportunities for maybe much more meaningful encounters."

The older woman patted the young lady's hand reassuringly. "You are a clever girl, my Y/N. Your charm and grace will surely attract many suitors. Just remember to enjoy the process and not to place all your hopes on one gentleman, no matter how enchanting his smile may be."

Y/N nodded, feeling a renewed sense of determination. The season was an adventure, and she was ready to embrace it with an open heart and mind. As her grandmama said, there would be many chances to find the right match, and she intends to savor every moment.

Just as she was about to resign herself to the wait, a soft knock sounded at the drawing room door. Both Y/N and her grandmother turned their heads in surprise as the butler entered.

"Forgive the interruption, ma'am," he said with a slight bow. "But there is one more caller who has just arrived."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat as the butler stepped aside, revealing none other than Mr. Bridgerton himself. He stood at the threshold, his confident demeanor softened by a warm, sincere smile.

"Good afternoon, Lady Y/L/N, Miss Y/L/N," he greeted them, bowing respectfully. "I apologize for my tardiness. I hope I am not intruding."

Lady Y/L/N's eyes twinkled with amusement as she replied, "Not at all, Mr. Bridgerton. We are delighted to see you."

Y/N felt her spirits lift instantly, her earlier fatigue forgotten. "Indeed, Mr. Bridgerton," she said, her smile reflecting the genuine pleasure she felt. "Your timing is impeccable."

Mr. Bridgerton's eyes met hers, and for a moment, it felt as though they were the only two people in the room. "I am glad to hear that, Miss Y/L/N," he said. "I have been looking forward to our meeting."

As he stepped further into the room, bringing with him an air of warmth and possibility, Y/N knew that this visit was just the beginning. The season held many uncertainties, but in that moment, with Mr. Bridgerton's presence brightening the drawing room, she felt a renewed sense of hope and excitement for what was to come.

He walked closer, offering his wrapped gift with a warm smile. "I know of your love of botanicals. Although, I wasn't sure what to get, but I opted for a grafted Rosa Falstaff from our estate's own gardens."

Y/N's eyes widened with surprise and delight as she reached out to accept the potted rose. "A Rosa Falstaff? From your family's gardens?" she exclaimed, her fingers gently tracing the leaves and delicate blooms.

"Yes," Benedict nodded, his gaze softening as he watched her reaction. "I thought it would be a fitting addition to your collection, considering your fondness for floriculture."

"Thank you, Mr. Bridgerton. This is truly truly thoughtful of you." Y/N's eyes lit up as she accepted the graft, appreciating the gesture.

Mr. Bridgerton smiled, a hint of relief and pleasure in his eyes. "I'm glad you like them, Miss Y/L/N. I thought something from home might be more personal and meaningful than the usual offerings."

Mrs. Y/L/N, observing the interaction with a pleased expression, decided to give the young couple some space. "If you'll excuse me, I have some correspondence to attend to," she said, rising gracefully. "Please, Mr. Bridgerton, make yourself comfortable."

As her grandmother left the room, Y/N gestured for Mr. Bridgerton to sit beside her on the elegant settee. "It's so refreshing to receive something so genuine," she said, placing the graft gently on the table beside them. "Tell me more about your estate's gardens. They must be quite beautiful."

Mr. Bridgerton settled into the seat, his expression brightening as he began to speak. "Our gardens are indeed a sight to behold, especially in the spring. We have a variety of flowers, from different roses to lavender, and even some more exotic species like that which my mother is particularly fond of. Each section of the garden has its own unique charm and character."

Y/N listened intently, her interest piqued not just by the subject but by the way he spoke with such genuine affection for his home. "It sounds enchanting," she said. "I would love to see it someday."

He smiled, clearly pleased by her response. "I would be honored to show you around Aubrey Hall, Miss Y/L/N. Perhaps you could offer some advice on expanding our collection of botanicals."

"I would be delighted," Y/N replied, her smile matching his. "There are always new species to discover and cultivate. It would be a pleasure to share that with someone who appreciates it as much as I do."

As they continued to talk, the conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on various topics of mutual interest. The room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them engrossed in their exchange. The connection they felt was palpable, a promising hint of what could be a deep and meaningful relationship.

The noon sun cast a golden glow through the open window, bathing them in warm light. It was as if the world outside had conspired to create the perfect moment, one that Y/N would cherish as the beginning of something truly special.

"Why not a change of scenery, Miss Y/N? May I enchant you to a walk with me this afternoon?" Mr. Bridgerton asked, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Y/N felt a flutter of excitement at his proposal, though very different from norm indeed. The thought of a leisurely walk, away from the confines of the drawing room and amidst the fresh air and beauty of the outdoors, was undeniably appealing. She glanced at her grandmother, who had discreetly lingered near the doorway.

Mrs. Y/L/N, catching her granddaughter's hopeful expression, gave a subtle nod of approval. "I think that sounds like a splendid idea, Mr. Bridgerton," she said. "A bit of fresh air through my garden will do you both good."

"Thank you, Grandmama," Y/N replied, her smile widening. She turned back to Mr. Bridgerton, her eyes meeting his with a mix of excitement and gratitude. "I would be delighted to join you for a walk."

Mr. Bridgerton offered his arm, which Y/N took with a graceful nod. Together, they made their way out of the drawing room and through the grand halls of the Y/L/N residence. The household staff, now accustomed to the comings and goings of numerous callers, discreetly stepped aside, offering polite smiles as the pair passed.

As they stepped out into the sunlight, the warmth of the afternoon embraced them. The gardens of the Y/L/N estate stretched out before them, a riot of color and fragrance that promised a delightful stroll. Birds chirped melodiously, adding a charming soundtrack to their walk.

"Your gardens are truly beautiful, Miss Y/L/N," Mr. Bridgerton remarked as they began their promenade. "It's easy to see where your love for botanicals comes from."

"Thank you, Mr. Bridgerton," Y/N replied, her gaze sweeping over the well-tended flower beds and neatly trimmed hedges. "I find great joy in spending time here. There's something so peaceful about being surrounded by nature."

They walked in comfortable silence for a few moments, taking in the beauty around them. Y/N's lady's maid chaperoning behind. The gravel path crunched softly underfoot, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves overhead.

"I must admit," Mr. Bridgerton said, breaking the silence, "I was quite nervous about coming here today. I wasn't sure if my gift would be well-received."

Y/N looked up at him, surprised. "You needn't have worried," she assured him. "Your gift was one of the most endearing ones I have received. It speaks volumes about your character and your genuine interest. Quite a change in the morn's most fragrant bouquets. All exquisite but a tad bit too much on my senses." I gestured towards my nose.

He smiled, clearly relieved. "I'm glad to hear that, Miss Y/L/N. I hoped to make a meaningful impression."

"You certainly have," she replied warmly. "And now, here we are, enjoying a lovely walk together. It seems your efforts have been rewarded."

As they continued their walk, their conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on topics both serious and lighthearted. They shared stories, laughed together, and discovered common interests. The connection between them grew stronger with each passing moment, the bond of friendship and potential courtship becoming more tangible.

"So, do tell me more about you, Mr. Bridgerton."

"Do call me Benedict, if you please. Provided, of course, that you feel comfortable and we are beyond the earshot of your lady's maid." his eyebrows raise in suggestive jest.

Y/N chuckled, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. "Very well, Benedict. You may address me by Y/N as well."

Benedict smiled, clearly pleased by her informal, now more familiar, address. "My days are usually spent at home, but sometimes, I spend my time in my art studio at the academy."

"Yes, you've mentioned of yourself an artist, I remember." Y/N remarked, intrigued. "That is fascinating. What sort of art do you create?"

Benedict's face lit up with enthusiasm as he began to describe his passion. "I work primarily with oils on canvas, though I do enjoy sketching as well. There's something incredibly satisfying about capturing a moment or a feeling in a piece of art. It’s a way to express myself that words sometimes fail to achieve."

Y/N listened intently, her admiration growing. "I would love to see your work someday. It must be wonderful to have such a creative outlet."

"It is," Benedict agreed, a note of pride in his voice. "And I would be honored to show you my studio and some of my pieces. Perhaps I could even paint your portrait, if you would allow me."

Y/N blushed at the thought, a mixture of shyness and excitement. "I would be delighted, Benedict. Though I must warn you, I may not be the most patient of sitters."

Benedict laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I’m sure we would manage just fine. And who knows, you might find the experience enjoyable."

"I look forward to it," Y/N said, her smile reflecting her genuine interest. "But tell me more about your family. I have heard much about the Bridgertons, but I would love to hear it from your perspective."

Benedict's expression softened as he spoke of his family. "We are a large, close-knit group. There are eight of us siblings, and we were all raised with a strong sense of duty and love seeing my late father and mother attend to our household. My mother, Violet, is the heart of our family. She has always encouraged us to pursue our passions and support each other."

"That sounds wonderful," Y/N said, touched by his words. "Family is so important. I imagine it must be lively with so many siblings."

"It certainly is," Benedict replied with a grin. "There is never a dull moment at Bridgerton House. We have our share of disagreements, of course, but we always come together in the end. All the laughter and camaraderie make it worthwhile."

Y/N felt a warm connection forming between them, their shared values and interests creating a bond that felt both natural and exciting. "I would love to meet them all someday, even so now that your brother has found himself a wife. Such exciting things!" she said.

"And they would be delighted to meet you," Benedict assured her. "I can already tell that you would fit right in."

"He thinks of me as someone who would fit with his family? I could feel my heart flutter," Y/N thought, the realization sending a warm, thrilling sensation through her.

As they continued their conversation, the afternoon sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the garden. The hours had slipped away unnoticed, a testament to the ease and enjoyment they found in each other's company.

Eventually the day had struck shy of 3 at afternoon and they made their way back to the main house, the promise of future meetings and shared experiences hanging in the air. As they reached the steps, Benedict turned to Y/N, his expression earnest and hopeful.

"Thank you for a wonderful afternoon, Y/N," he said. "I look forward to our next meeting."

"As do I, Benedict," Y/N replied, her heart full of anticipation. "Until then."

With a final, warm smile, Benedict took his leave, leaving Y/N with a sense of happiness and a fluttering hope for the future. The day had been more than she could have imagined, and she felt a deep sense of gratitude for the connection they had begun to forge.

taglist: @novausstuff @pussyslayerhd @amoosarte

[hellotailor]

"This apartment initially suggests a familiar brand of modern wealth, echoing the ominous minimalism of American Psycho or Leigh Whannell’s Invisible Man. As an avowed capitalist, the 145-year-old former pimp Louis has reshaped himself into a 21st century business tycoon. With its boxy black couches and acreage of smooth, empty floors, his living room has all the warmth of an aircraft hangar.

Yet the more time we spend here, the more juicy details we begin to notice. Production designer Mara LePere-Schloop has spoken about her desire to disrupt the “generic” minimalism of the super-rich, creating a home that speaks to different facets of Louis and Armand’s shared life.

Certain rooms are windowless and tomb-like, reflecting the couple’s undead nature and sensitivity to sunlight. Meanwhile the airy corridors and layered archways combine the architecture of ancient Dubai with the confusion of an Escher drawing."

I published an analysis of IWTV's Dubai penthouse, exploring what its architecture and furnishings say about Louis and Armand's relationship. Some of this material is probably familiar to fans who have spent a lot of discussing the show's production design (or have read some of my previous design posts), but I figured I should share this here anyway!

[lesmana-enterprise-ltd]

The Griya Lesmana, Luxury Residence (NO CC)

The Griya Lesmana is a luxurious tropical modern mansion, valued at 1,2 million simoleons.

This exquisite residence seamlessly blends sleek contemporary design with intricate Indonesian cultural art. The home features expansive, open spaces that harmoniously connect the lush outdoors with the refined interiors, all while showcasing fine art that beautifully reflects rich heritage.

A masterpiece by The Lesmana Enterprise, this home exemplifies a perfect fusion of elegance and Tradition.

About Griya Lesmana

Welcome to Griya Lesmana, where modern elegance meets serene luxury. This breathtaking estate showcases a perfect blend of natural beauty and contemporary design, with lush greenery framing the sleek architecture. From the stunning pool area in the back facade to the peaceful study space inside, every corner of this home exudes sophistication and tranquility. It’s a haven of peace and a true reflection of timeless style in Del Sol Valley

Make Your Way In

Step inside Griya Lesmana and immerse yourself in a world of contemporary art and warm, earthy tones. Each piece in the home has been carefully selected to evoke a sense of culture and elegance, such as the Garuda Dwi Kencana (1977) by Oktaviano Sudarmadji and Gamelan (1960) by I Wayan Sudana. These art pieces, along with the striking Legong LempuYangan (1960), breathe life into the home, creating a refined and serene atmosphere. The rich wooden textures and soft lighting perfectly complement these works, making Griya Lesmana an extraordinary blend of modern luxury and cultural homage.

At the Peak of Del Sol Valley

Perched with breathtaking views of Del Sol Valley, Griya Lesmana seamlessly blends elegance with its stunning surroundings. The expansive windows showcase the golden landscape, while the Constellation Chandelier (Priced at §25,000) in the sunken conversation pit adds a celestial touch to the home’s refined, luxurious design. Every detail, from curated artwork to rich wooden textures, radiates sophistication in this contemporary masterpiece.

The Ultimate Home Kitchen and Dining

The dining room at Griya Lesmana is a refined space where art meets functionality. The stunning piece Transaksi (1992) by Chusin Setiadikara serves as the centerpiece, setting a tone of cultural richness, while the modern light fixtures bring warmth to every meal. Adjacent to it is the full-metal, industrial-grade kitchen, designed for the ultimate cooking experience. Equipped with top-tier appliances and plenty of counter space, this kitchen is perfect for everything from casual family meals to grand dinner parties.

Four Spacious Bedrooms

The bedrooms in Griya Lesmana are a true retreat, each designed with comfort and luxury in mind. Every room comes with its own walk-in closet, in-suite bathroom, and a private balcony to take in the stunning views of Del Sol Valley. Adorned with hand-picked artworks, like Pedagang Ayam by Hendra Gunawan and Roleplay by Made Toris Mahendra, these spaces blend art, culture, and modern elegance. Whether it's the rich wooden tones or the plush furnishings, each bedroom promises tranquility and style.

Step Into the Backyard

The backyard of Griya Lesmana is an oasis of relaxation and entertainment. Featuring a spacious pool area with a fully functional pool bar, it's the perfect spot for soaking up the sun or enjoying an evening drink. A BBQ patio invites you to indulge in outdoor dining under the warm glow of overhead lights, while the lush greenery surrounding the yard offers a serene retreat. With carefully landscaped gardens and ample lounging space, the backyard is designed to bring the beauty of nature right to your doorstep, all with stunning views of Del Sol Valley in the backdrop.

The Basement

The basement of Griya Lesmana is a hidden luxury haven. It features a spacious parking area that accommodates more than five cars, ensuring plenty of space for any vehicle collection. For fitness enthusiasts, the fully-equipped gym offers a private space to work out, while the sleek, modern sauna provides the perfect spot to relax and unwind. The basement also includes well-designed service quarters, ensuring that every aspect of living in this home is taken care of in style.

Packs Used

If the lot is recognized as modded, it is due to the paintings being registered as CC. There is no CC you need to download to use this build.

Download

Download here via Google Drive

Sul Sul!,

The Lesmana Enterprise Co., Ltd.

[hd-junglebook]

Little Dove

Quinn Hughes x Reader

a:n Here is part 2, the only thing I could think of while writing this was 'The Gold' by Phoebe Bridgers. I think it really speaks for how y/n sees the situation and her life at the moment.

Masterlist Link

Summary: He's everything she wants. He's everything she wished she had. All she wanted was him. The hot and cold game has finally reached its limit.

Word Count - 5046

The sleek, black limo glided up the long, winding driveway, its polished exterior gleaming under the warm sunlight. As it approached the magnificent mansion, Y/N couldn't help but marvel at the opulent surroundings.

The meticulously manicured lawn stretched out before her, a lush carpet of vibrant green grass that looked almost too perfect to be real.

In the center of the sprawling grounds, a grand fountain stood tall, its crystal-clear water cascading down the intricately carved stone tiers, creating a soothing symphony of gentle splashes.

As the limo came to a stop near the impressive front steps, a group of well-dressed helpers emerged from the mansion's large, ornate doors. They stood at attention, their crisp uniforms and shoes polished.

Just then, the front doors swung open, and Y/N's grandmother stepped out, a vision of elegance and grace. She was dressed in an all-white ensemble, the flowing fabric of her dress billowing gently in the breeze.

Her delicate hands were adorned with pristine white gloves, and a strand of exquisite pearls rested against her neck, catching the light and adding to her air of sophistication.

The driver swiftly exited the limo and rushed to Y/N's side, opening the door with a practiced flourish. He offered his hand, assisting Y/N and her mother out of the vehicle with the utmost care and reverence.

As they walked closer to the steps, Y/N's grandmother's face lit up with a warm, genuine smile. "Oh, darling, how I've longed to see you," she exclaimed, her voice filled with affection. "Come here, little dove."

Y/N couldn't help but feel a surge of emotion as she stepped into her grandmother's embrace. The older woman's arms wrapped around her, enveloping her in a comforting warmth that seemed to chase away all the stress and disappointment she had been carrying. It had been so long since anyone in her family had shown her such pure, unconditional love and acceptance.

Y/N breathed in the sweet, familiar scent of her grandmother's perfume, a delicate blend of chamomile and sugar.

The softness of her grandmother's gloves against her skin was a soothing contrast to the cold, impersonal interactions she was used to with her parents.

Around them, the grandeur of the mansion seemed to fade into the background, the lavish furnishings and priceless works of art becoming mere footnotes in the presence of Y/N and her grandmother.

Once they separated Y/N's grandmother cupped her face with her gloved hands, her eyes shining with pride and adoration. "Let me look at you, my dear," she said softly, taking in every detail of Y/N's appearance. "You've grown into such a beautiful young woman."

…

The posse entered the sun room, Y/N was struck by the sheer elegance of the space. The room was flooded with natural light, the sun's rays filtering through the large, floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the meticulously landscaped gardens beyond.

In the center of the room, a grand table was set with the finest china and silverware, each place setting arranged with precision and care. The aroma of freshly prepared delicacies filled the air, making Y/N's mouth water in anticipation.

As they took their seats, the conversation flowed easily, punctuated by laughter and the clinking of glasses. However, after a while, Cherise turned to Y/N with a knowing smile and asked her to accompany her for a walk in the garden.

Arm in arm, the two women strolled through the lush, meticulously maintained grounds. The garden was a true work of art, with winding paths that led through a maze of fragrant rose bushes, towering topiaries, and bubbling fountains.

Cherise broached the subject that had been weighing on her mind. "Tell me, dear, when will you settle down?" she asked, her voice laced with concern. "It hurts me to see you alone."

Y/N shook her head, a smile playing on her lips. "I'm not alone, grandmother," she replied, her voice soft but filled with contentment. "I am with someone. Nothing serious, but things are going smoothly now. He makes me happy."

The steady click of their heels against the pavement punctuated their words. Cherise listened intently, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Then give me a grandbaby already, if you're so happy," she teased, her laughter ringing out like a bell in the garden. Y/N couldn't help but join in, their laughter mingling with the chirping of the birds and the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze.

Y/N smiled softly as her grandmother continued, her words filled with wisdom and understanding. "I'm only joking, little dove. I would like to meet him, maybe when things get 'serious,' I guess. I want you to feel love like I have with your grandfather. You deserve that, not some beneficial marriage like your mother and father. I don't know where I went wrong with her."

Y/N nodded along, finding no reason to disagree with her grandmother's sentiment. She knew that her parents' relationship was one of convenience and status, lacking the warmth and genuine connection she craved. "I think you'd like him," she said, a hint of hope in her voice.

As they neared the house, Dedra rushed down the stairs, her face tight with impatience. "Let's go, we have to get back to work," she demanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.

…

Y/N stepped into her bedroom, exhaustion weighing heavily on her shoulders. She slipped out of her clothes and into a comfortable robe, the soft fabric caressing her skin. Settling down at her vanity, she began removing her makeup, the process of wiping away the day's mask a soothing ritual.

As she reached for her phone, she noticed a message from Quinn. Her heart skipped a beat as she opened the conversation, eager to connect with him after the emotionally draining day.

Y/N: I wish you were here with me. Today was intense.

Quinn: I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?

Y/N: It's just family stuff. They have all these expectations, and I feel like I'm constantly disappointing them.

They texted back and forth, Y/N continued getting ready, applying her makeup with practiced precision. Once she finished her base, she stood up and slipped into the red dress she had chosen for their date. The fabric hugged her curves perfectly, accentuating her figure in all the right places.

She admired her reflection in the mirror, a small smile playing on her lips as she imagined Quinn's reaction. Just then, her phone buzzed with another message.

Quinn: I'm outside.

Y/N felt a flutter of excitement mixed with nerves as she grabbed her purse and made her way to the front door. She stepped outside, the cool evening air kissing her skin as she walked towards Quinn's car.

He had his windows rolled down, a smile on his face as he watched her approach. His eyes roamed over her body appreciatively, taking in the sight of her in the stunning red dress.

"Looking good," he said, his voice smooth and filled with admiration.

Y/N felt a blush creep onto her cheeks, a mixture of pleasure and uncertainty swirling within her. “Thanks hottie.” she said as she slid into the passenger seat. She knew that her feelings for Quinn were growing stronger each day, but the fear of him not wanting her scared beyond comprehension.

Quinn pulled out of Y/N's driveway, he glanced over at her, his gaze lingering for a few seconds. The curiosity in his eyes was evident. "So where is this restaurant you were telling me about or is it some kind of surprise?" she asked, leaning over the middle console.

He smiled mysteriously, enjoying the playful anticipation that hung in the air between them. "You'll just have to wait and see," he teased. Quinn chuckled at her betrayed expression, shaking his head in amusement as he focused on the road ahead.

conversation flowed easily between them, filled with laughter and the occasional playful jab. Even though they talked about nothing of great importance, Y/N found herself thoroughly enjoying the simple pleasure of Quinn's company.

city lights flashed by the windows, painting the interior of the car with a kaleidoscope of colors. Y/N leaned back in her seat, feeling a sense of contentment wash over her.

As they continued driving, y/n’s curiosity got the better of her once more. "Come on, Y/N, give me a hint," she pleaded, eyes sparkling with amusement. "I'm dying to know where you're taking me."

Quinn laughed, the sound filled with genuine joy. "Patience, dear," he chided gently, reaching over to give her hand a reassuring squeeze. "I promise it'll be worth the wait."

…

Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine as Quinn's strong hands grasped her waist, his touch both thrilling and comforting. She looked up at him, her eyes meeting his, and saw a glimmer of affection and excitement reflected back at her.

"Lead the way," she said softly, a smile playing on her lips as she allowed him to guide her towards the restaurant.

As they approached the entrance, Y/N couldn't help but marvel at the grandeur of the establishment. The facade was a masterpiece of modern architecture. The name of the restaurant was emblazoned above the doors in elegant, golden script.

Quinn's arm remained securely around her waist as they stepped through the doors. The interior of the restaurant was just as breathtaking as the exterior, with plush carpets, glittering chandeliers, and rich, velvet draperies.

The hostess led them to their table, she glanced at Quinn, taking in the way his suit hugged his athletic frame and the confident, easy smile that played on his lips. When they were seated, Quinn reached across the table and took her hand in his, his fingers intertwining with hers. She squeezed his hand in return.

They perused the menu, discussing the various options and sharing bites of each other's dishes. Quinn enthusiastically shared his plans for preparing his hockey team for the upcoming season. He spoke about new training regimens, team-building exercises, and strategies he hoped to implement.

Y/N listened intently, her eyes focused on Quinn as he passionately described his goals and aspirations.

However, at one point, Quinn glanced over at Y/N, a flicker of doubt crossing his features. He wondered if she was truly interested in the intricacies of his hockey career or if he was boring her with the details. Y/N, sensing his uncertainty, quickly broke into a smile and laughed, hoping to ease his worries.

"Everything about you interests me, Quinn," she said earnestly, reaching across the table to take his hand in hers. "I could never get bored of you. Being around you makes me happy, ya know?"

The sincerity in her voice was evident, but Quinn's reaction was not what Y/N had expected. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his hand stiffening under her touch. An awkward silence fell between them, the air thick with tension.

Quinn cleared his throat, his eyes darting around the restaurant as if searching for an escape. "Y/N," he began, his voice strained, "I... I think we need to talk."

Y/N felt her heart sink, a knot forming in the pit of her stomach. She withdrew her hand from his, folding her arms across her chest as if to protect herself from the words she knew were coming.

"I care about you, Y/N. I really do," Quinn continued, his gaze finally settling on her face. "But I need you to understand that I'm not looking for anything too serious right now. I thought we were on the same page about that."

Y/N nodded slowly, trying to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat. She knew Quinn had been clear about his intentions from the start, but somewhere along the way, she had allowed herself to hope for more.

"I know," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I didn't mean to pressure you."

Quinn sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's not your fault, Y/N. I should have been more clear. I just... I don't want to hurt you."

The words hung heavy in the air between them, a reminder of the fragility of their connection. Y/N forced a smile, trying to lighten the mood.

"It's okay, Quinn. We can take things slow. I'm just happy to be here with you." Quinn returned her smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. The rest of the evening was spent in polite conversation, but the earlier ease and warmth between them had dissipated.

…

The pulsing rhythms of the music filled the crowded nightclub, the bass thumping through the floor and vibrating in Y/N's chest as she carefully navigated her way back to the booth where her friends were waiting. In her hands, she balanced a tray laden with six colorful cocktails, each one adorned with a tiny umbrella and a slice of fruit.

Y/N couldn't help but smile at the sight of her five best friends, all dressed to the nines and ready for a night of fun and laughter. She shimmied into the booth, sliding in next to Raven, her closest confidante.

"Ladies, I present to you six drinks for six beautiful women," Y/N announced, her voice rising above the din of the club. She passed out the cocktails, each one met with a chorus of excited cheers and appreciative nods.

The women wasted no time in downing their drinks, the sweet, fruity flavors masking the potent alcohol within. As they finished, they let out exaggerated gasps and howls of delight, the alcohol already beginning to work its magic and loosen their inhibitions.

Raven leaned in close to Y/N, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "So, see anyone you like?" she drawled out, her voice low and conspiratorial.

Y/N surveyed the dance floor, her gaze roving over the writhing bodies and the flashing lights. She had to admit, there were plenty of attractive men in the club tonight, their bodies moving in perfect sync with the pulsing beat.

"A few," she admitted, a sly smile playing on her lips. "But no one interesting enough to take home, that's for sure."

Raven giggled at Y/N's response, her laughter infectious and carefree. She scanned the room herself, her eyes suddenly widening as she spotted someone across the way.

"Well, I see one eyeing you up over there," she said, pointing discreetly in the direction of the bar.

Y/N followed Raven's finger, her gaze landing on a devastatingly handsome man with curly black hair and a chiseled jawline. He was leaning against the bar, his back pressed against the polished wood, and his eyes were locked on Y/N, a smoldering intensity in his gaze.

Y/N felt a flush of heat rush through her body as she met his stare, her heart skipping a beat in her chest. She raised her hand in a small wave, a coy smile playing on her lips.

But even as she flirted with the stranger across the room, Y/N couldn't shake the nagging feeling of guilt that tugged at the back of her mind. She thought of Quinn and the uncertain status of their relationship.

"I don't know, Raven," she said, her voice tinged with hesitation. "I haven't ended things with Quinn yet. It would feel wrong to pursue someone else."

A collective groan sounded from the table, as her friends all chimed in with their opinions.

"Girl, you're single. Do what you want," one said, her voice firm and encouraging.

"Quinn's not here tonight. What he doesn't know won't hurt him," another added, her tone mischievous and daring.

Y/N bit her lip, torn between her desire to let loose and have fun and her loyalty to the man she cared for.

She knew things with Quinn were complicated, that he had been distant and evasive in recent days. But still, the thought of betraying his trust, even in a moment of drunken weakness, made her stomach churn.

As she sat there, surrounded by the pulsing energy of the club and the encouraging words of her friends, Y/N knew she had a decision to make. She could play it safe, go home alone and wait for Quinn to come around. Or she could take a chance, let herself get swept up in the moment and see where the night might lead her.

With a deep breath and a final glance at the handsome stranger across the room, Y/N made her choice.

…

The heat of the crowded dance floor was almost unbearable as Y/N swayed to the pulsing beat, her body moving in perfect sync with the mysterious man from the bar. His hands were on her hips, his touch searing through the thin fabric of her dress and setting her skin ablaze.

The dance floor was a sea of moving bodies, gyrating and swaying to the music as the multicolored lights flashed and swirled overhead, casting a kaleidoscope of hues across the sweat-slicked skin of the dancers.

Y/N felt the heat rising from the packed bodies around her, the air thick with the scent of perfume, alcohol, and pheromones. She moved in perfect rhythm with the mysterious man from the bar, their bodies impossibly close as they lost themselves in the primal, sensual flow of the music.

His hands roamed over her curves, his touch both electrifying and possessive as he pulled her flush against his muscular frame. Y/N could feel the hard planes of his chest pressing against her back, his hips grinding against hers in a way that sent shivers of desire racing down her spine.

Clinking glasses and raucous laughter from the nearby bar mixed with the pounding bass, creating a heady cocktail of sensory overload.

Y/N felt dizzy with the rush of it all, her head spinning from the alcohol and the intoxicating presence of the man behind her. As the song reached its crescendo, he leaned in close, his hot breath tickling the sensitive skin of her neck as he mumbled something in her ear, his words almost lost in the pounding music.

Y/N turned in his hold, pressing her back against his chest and feigning ignorance. "Sorry, the music is really loud. I can't hear you," she shouted over the din, a coy smile playing on her lips.

She felt his chest rumble with laughter, the vibrations sending shivers down her spine. He tightened his grip on her arm, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.

"I said, come home with me," he repeated, his voice low and husky, filled with unmistakable desire. Y/N's heart raced at his bold suggestion. She knew she should say no, that leaving with a stranger was a dangerous game. But the alcohol in her system and the electric chemistry between them made it hard to think straight.

She turned to face him, a playful shrug on her shoulders. "I can't leave my friends alone tonight," she said, her voice apologetic. "But how about I give you my number instead?"

The man's face hardened, a flash of annoyance crossing his features. He scoffed, as if offended by her suggestion, and shook his head in disbelief.

"Fine," he said, his tone clipped as he extended his phone towards her. "Put it in."

Y/N took the device, her fingers trembling slightly as she typed in a fake number, purposely transposing the digits. She couldn't risk giving him her real contact information, not when she was still unsure of her feelings for Quinn.

She handed the phone back and fixed him with a stern look. "Now, shut up and dance," she said, her voice firm and unyielding. The man's eyes narrowed, a flicker of anger burning in their depths. He grabbed her wrist, his grip tight and possessive.

"You think you can just tease me like that and walk away?" he growled, his face inches from hers. "I don't take kindly to being led on." Y/N's heart hammered in her chest, fear and adrenaline coursing through her veins. She tried to pull away, but his hold was too strong.

"Let go of me," she said, her voice shaking with a mix of anger and fear. "I don't owe you anything."

Around them, the other dancers continued to move, oblivious to the drama unfolding in their midst. Y/N's friends were nowhere to be seen, lost in the sea of writhing bodies and flashing lights.

The man's grip tightened, his fingers digging into her skin. "No one rejects me!”

With a sudden burst of strength, Y/N wrenched her arm free, stumbling backwards and nearly losing her balance. She turned on her heel, pushing through the crowd as she desperately searched for her friends.

Her heart was racing, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

…

Y/N stumbled out of the nightclub, her heart pounding and her head spinning from the encounter. The cool night air hit her skin, providing a momentary relief from the stifling heat of the dance floor.

She leaned against the rough brick wall, her hands shaking as she fumbled with her phone, scrolling through her contacts until she found Quinn's name.

She hesitated for a moment, her thumb hovering over the call button. Things between her and Quinn had been strained lately, and she wasn't sure if he would even answer. But as a wave of nausea washed over her, the severity of the situation hit her, and she knew she needed help.

Y/N pressed the button, holding the phone to her ear as she tried to steady her breathing. The line rang once, twice, and then a third time before Quinn's voice finally filled her ear.

"Hello?" he answered, the sound of music and laughter echoing in the background.

"Quinn," Y/N said, her voice trembling. "I... I need you."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and for a moment, Y/N feared he would hang up on her. But then Quinn's voice returned, this time laced with concern.

"Y/N? What's wrong? Where are you?"

She took a shuddering breath, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "I'm at Taipei," she said, her words coming out in a rush. "I... I was dancing with this guy, and he... he tried to... I don't know, I just... I need you to come get me. Please."

There was another pause, and Y/N could hear the sound of Quinn moving, the background noise fading as he stepped away from wherever he was. "I'm on my way," he said, his voice firm and reassuring. "Stay where you are, okay? I'll be there as soon as I can."

Y/N nodded, even though she knew he couldn't see her. "Okay," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbeat.

As the call ended, Y/N slid down the wall, hugging her knees to her chest as the tears finally spilled over. She felt sick to her stomach.

…

"Y/N!"

She looked up, her vision blurry with tears, to see Quinn running towards her, his face etched with worry. He dropped to his knees beside her, his arms instinctively wrapping around her trembling frame.

"I'm here," he murmured, his voice soft and soothing.

Y/N clung to him, burying her face in his chest as the emotions she had been holding back finally broke free. She sobbed openly, her body shaking with the force of her tears as Quinn held her close, his hands rubbing gentle circles on her back.

Y/N's voice trembled as she spoke, her words laced with a mixture of sadness and desperation. "What have you been doing? It's been days, Quinn. Days without a single word from you."

Quinn froze, caught off guard by her sudden questioning. He stumbled over his words, trying to find the right response. "I... I've been busy, Y/N. You know how it is."

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "No, I don't know how it is. You don't want to talk to me? Is that what this is?" Her voice cracked, the pain in her heart spilling out into her words. "I don't want to do this with you anymore if you don't want to be with me eventually, Quinn. I can't keep going on like this."

Quinn reached out to her, his eyes pleading. "Y/N, please. Let's not do this now. We'll talk in the morning, okay? When we've both had a chance to clear our mind, and we’re home in bed."

But Y/N couldn't hold back the flood of emotions any longer. She looked at him, her eyes searching his face for any sign of the affection she so desperately craved. "Do you feel anything for me, Quinn? Even just a little?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Of course I do Y/N..."

"Please," she begged, her voice barely above a whisper. "Just be honest with me then. Am I not good enough? Is that why you've been pulling away?"

Quinn's heart ached at the sight of her pain, but he couldn't find the words to comfort her. He knew that his own doubts and fears had been holding him back, preventing him from fully committing to their relationship.

"It's not that, Y/N. It's just... complicated."

She let out a bitter laugh, the sound cutting through the cool night air. "Complicated. Right. That's what it always is with you, isn't it?"

Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly feeling incredibly small and vulnerable. She looked up at the sky, the stars blurring together through her tears. "I can't keep doing this, Quinn. I can't keep going on dates and sleeping with you, only to be pushed away. It hurts too much."

Quinn's voice wavered as he spoke, his words laced with a deep, aching sadness. "Y/N, please just let me explain at a better time."

But Y/N couldn't hold back the flood of emotions that threatened to consume her. She looked at him, her eyes shimmering with tears that refused to fall.

"If I could go back to the night we met, I would never have agreed to this," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her own heart. "You make me feel so loved and like you care about me, then you ignore me when I say anything that sounds like I care about you."

The night seemed to grow colder around them, the stars fading into the inky blackness of the sky.

Quinn took a step towards her, his hand outstretched. "I don't mean to hurt you. At all," he said, his voice cracking with emotion.

"What I want is complicated, Y/N. You're so good to me. If I allowed myself to ruin it, I would never forgive myself." Quinn felt his own heart constrict, the depth of her pain hitting him like a physical blow.

Y/N shook her head, a single tear finally escaping and rolling down her cheek. "But don't you see? You're already ruining it. By pushing me away, by refusing to let yourself feel what I know is there."

He wanted so badly to take her in his arms, to promise her that everything would be okay. But he knew that he couldn't make that promise, not when he was still so unsure of his own heart.

Y/N's shoulders shook with silent sobs, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if to hold the pieces of her shattered heart together. "I don't need you to be perfect, Quinn. I just need you to be honest with me. To stop running away from what we both know is true."

She turned to walk away, Quinn reached out and grabbed her hand. With a gentle tug, he pulled her into his chest, his arms instinctively wrapping around her trembling frame. Y/N's breath caught in her throat as Quinn's lips brushed against her forehead.

Quinn inhaled deeply, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair, the warmth of her body against his own. Before Y/N had a chance to protest, to pull away from his embrace, Quinn gently guided her towards his car.

He opened the passenger side door, his hand resting on the small of her back as he helped her inside. With a tender touch, he reached over and clipped her seatbelt, his fingers lingering on the soft skin of her neck for just a moment longer than necessary.

As Quinn slid into the driver's seat, he could feel the weight of Y/N's gaze on him but he couldn't find the words to reassure her, couldn't find the courage to voice the depths of his own feelings.

Instead, he put the car in drive, the engine humming to life as they pulled away from the curb. Y/N turned her head towards the window, her eyes fixed on the expanse of the city that stretched out before them. Tears slipped silently down her cheeks, the glittering lights of the skyline blurring together through her watery vision.

The drive was silent, the only sound the steady thrum of the engine and the distant wail of sirens in the night. Quinn's hands gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white with tension as he navigated the familiar streets that led to Y/N's home.

The sight of her own front door, the promise of solitude and comfort, was a balm to her aching heart. Quinn cut the engine, the sudden silence deafening in the confines of the car.

He moved quickly, exiting the driver's side and rounding the front of the car to open Y/N's door. She stumbled slightly as she stepped out, her legs unsteady beneath her. Quinn's hand found the small of her back once more, his touch a gentle guide as they walked together towards her front door.

With a sense of déjà vu, Quinn reached into his pocket and pulled out the spare key Y/N had given him months ago, he slid the key into the lock, the click of the tumblers echoing loudly in the stillness of the night.

As the door swung open, Y/N stepped inside, the familiar scent of home enveloping her like a warm embrace. She turned to face Quinn, her eyes searching his face for any sign of the love and affection she so desperately craved.

But his expression was unreadable, his own emotions carefully guarded behind a mask of stoic resolve.

…

Message me to be added to the tag list!! feedback is always appreciated. Lmk how you feel.

Tag List <3

@poppysbestie

[dumplingsfordays]

fiery embers

pairing - vampire!wriothesley x reader

genre - VERY suggestive fluff.

summary - one dark night, you take refuge in a seemingly abandoned castle which, unbeknownst to you, houses a vampire.

cw!: suggestive, mentions of blood, wrio kinda uh bites you several times, reader is implied to be a little drunk

note - holy cow I am so sorry I took so long to write this, I was kinda busy with hw and a couple bdays so uh yeah 😭 I also feel like this can be applied to blade + maybe dainsleif?? sort of dark n brooding characters lmao-

And as always, thank you for reading :))

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Your feet had never felt so sore before in your life as you approached your (hopefully) saving grace. It was a giant castle in the middle of the woods, with craggy black trees surrounding it on all sides - you were in the middle of a forest, after all. Sure, it seemed creepy and probably abandoned, but what were you gonna do when you have no other choice? Sleep outside, on the bare ground? No way. At least you could see a glimmer of orange light coming from one of the ground floor windows, most likely a fireplace. Ah, you were already imagining warming your frigid fingers by the flame...

Just a little more to go. Just a little, y/n, come on.

You shivered, your breath escaping your lips in puffs of mist as you approached the tall oak front doors. They were surrounded on both sides by crimson roses, their petals darker than any roses you've ever seen before, and their thorns were much sharper and longer. You paid them little mind as you pushed on the wood with your palm.

To your surprise, a door creaked open rather easily, and you entered the dark building with caution. When you turned back around, closing the door, you sensed heat coming from an adjacent room - thank God you weren't imagining things when you saw that flickering in one of the windows.

Hurrying over through a dark corridor to the room to the right of you, you arrived at a dim, and quite dusty, library. It was much larger than the bookshop in your village - bookshelves rose all the way up to a tall ceiling, and all of them were completely filled with the multicolored leather spines of books, illuminated by the gentle flickering flame emitted from the fireplace to your right. A mahogany writing desk sat in a far corner, and if there was something on it then you couldn't see it, it was too dark. Near the fireplace stood a loveseat furnished of the same exquisite wood, with crimson covers and golden detailing, almost daring you to sit down.

And sit down you did - with a relieved sigh, of course, and when you bent over to heat your hands by the warm fire you heard something shift in the corner.

You immediately whipped your head around. "Who's there?"

"I should be asking you that," came a baritone voice from the same corner, and following it, the figure of a tall man emerged from the shadows.

"I'm sorry, don't hurt me, please, I was just cold and I was so desperate to find shelter," you start to ramble, eyes widening in fear as you jumped up from the chair to face him. "Was I sitting in your chair? Oh, God, I'm so sorry, I'll leave now, I just needed to warm up a little-"

"There's no need to do that," the man interrupted calmly. He gestured you to sit back down, and, of course, you obeyed, albeit reluctantly. He pulled up a smaller chair some distance away from yours but still in close proximity to the fire and put his feet, donned in black slippers, up on the stone mantle.

You both sat in silence before he spoke up again.

"Are you from Carran? The village quite a ways from here?"

"Yes," you replied meekly and quietly, the overwhelming sense of guilt at breaking into someone's house (well, in this case, castle) flooding your system.

"Hmm." He paused in contemplation. "I don't know how you made it all the way here, it's freezing outside. I'm happy to provide anything you need, though, like food or clothes, in case you still feel cold."

At his mention of food, your stomach involuntarily growled - you forgot that you hadn't eaten in such a long time, you didn't have breakfast or lunch or dinner and it was probably late into the night by now.

"If it really isn't too much of a hassle or anything, I know that I just kind-of barged into your house and everything, but could I please have something to eat? I haven't done so in a while and I'll be grateful for anything."

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him smile and stand up.

"Come along," he beckoned, "I haven't had dinner yet, so this is really the perfect opportunity to eat."

You followed him uncertainly to the kitchen, a large, open space with dark wooden shelves and a stove in the corner. There was an island, whose countertop was a big slab of (you guessed it) wood. The man, walking over to the stove, lit a match and started to heat up a pot, which, once it started to emit a pleasant, cozy smell, you realized to be full of chicken noodle soup.

When you sat to have dinner, you finished your meal way quicker than he did - such was your hunger - so you, as politely as possible, asked for seconds, which he gladly gave to you. Finally, after a tidbit of conversation, he brought up the topic of names.

"I should introduce myself," he started. "I'm Wriothesley. Well, Duke Wriothesley, officially. And you are...?"

"y/n. It's very nice to meet you, Your Grace."

He let out a short, booming laugh. "No need for formalities. You barged into my home, so I think it follows that we're past pleasantries by now."

Your cheeks reddened in embarrassment as you looked down at your second serving of soup, the broth glimmering in the gentle flickering of the candles around the room. You looked up momentarily, though - Wriothesley wasn't eating. But he said that he hadn't had dinner yet, and he implied that he was hungry...

"This sounds a little rude but..." you trailed off, trying to find words that sound a little more pleasant than 'you said you were hungry and you're not eating, so what's up with that'.

"Yes?" He glanced towards you and you swallowed.

"Why aren't you eating?"

The dark-haired man hummed a short note before answering. "I'll eat later. My appetite... lessened."

For a split second you caught a faint sparkle in his eyes when he said 'appetite', and that freaked you out, before you concluded that mealtimes were his own choice and you shouldn't really judge a person based on that. Shrugging it off, you continued eating.

As you finished up your second plate, Wriothesley, like a gentleman, scooped it up and placed it into the sink before asking if you cared for some wine. You, of course, accepted - what duke wouldn't have exquisite wines in his cellar?

You went back to the library to drink. The fire was warm, and with the alcohol in your system, it felt like you were wrapped up in a nice, cozy blanket while you sat by Wriothesley on the couch in relative silence, occasionally having tidbits of conversation with the man and taking a sip of wine every time another pause ensued. Eventually, you couldn't tell whether it was the alcohol making you feel this warm or just the fire - either way, you felt your previously nervous muscles relax, and instinctively, you shifted closer to him. Which was a mistake, as when your hand briefly touched his, you realized just how icy it was.

"Um, Wrio," you started, using a nickname that you assigned to him a couple conversations ago, "why are you so cold?"

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him turn his head to meet your gaze questioningly. "Am I really?"

"Yeah, you're freezing."

"Oh, I thought you meant unfriendly," he chuckled, "I just happen to be colder than your average human."

"Human?" you smile. "You sound like a werewolf or a vampire or something."

"And what if I was?"

"Well... I probably wouldn't care." Yeah, the alcohol was definitely in your system now.

At your answer, Wriothesley raised a curious brow. "Don't you think they're vile? Scary? Threatening?"

"If you were a vampire, you haven't bitten me yet," you reply matter-of-factly, "so I don't think that you're terribly dangerous."

In a flash, he was on you - trapping you between himself and the couch, he leaned forward, almost forcing eye contact. You were helpless to do anything but lock your eyes onto his ice-blue ones.

"And if I bit you right now, would I still be dangerous?"

"Depends on if you chicken out or not."

Wrong choice, y/n!

"Well then." He dove to the crux of your shoulder, letting his surprisingly warm breath tickle your neck before grazing his teeth across the delicate skin. "Let me know if it gets too much, hmm?"

Resolving yourself to your fate was really the only thing you could do right now. You stared at the dark ceiling as you felt his rough hand caress your hair, tilting your head to the side for easier access, and finally biting down.

It stung at first, like two needles being injected within close proximity of each other, before the pain melted into excruciating pleasure after a couple of seconds. Wriothesley removed his fangs, favoring to lick the flowing spring of blood little by little.

"God, you taste sweet," he groaned, running his tongue along your neck. You writhed in his hold, clawing at his back, pressing him to your form, begging to bite you again and again and again-

He retracted his mouth from your neck, his absence making you whine pitifully as you tried to bring his head down, back to your shoulder.

"Look, I can barely look at you without needing to bite, I just feel... a little wrong if you don't want me to."

His steely-blue eyes locked onto yours, desperation and desire clearly evident in their depths. Please let me bite, sink my teeth into your soft skin. Fucking please, please, I need to or I'm gonna die.

"Yes, just do it, 'm begging you," you cry, letting out a relieved moan when he scraped his fangs across your skin where he bit you previously. And then he bit again, this time lower, trailing down to your shoulder. His hands started to roam, one finding purchase in your hair and the other holding his upper body up so that he didn't crush you beneath his chest.

Never in your life did you think that a vampire sucking your blood was going to feel so intoxicating. You couldn't help but gasp as he ghosted his cold lips across your fiery skin, indulging in real human blood (sheep and cow blood were getting very bland, almost seeming to him as dog food would to a person) that, to his added excitement, came from such a beautiful body. He pulled out every single noise that you could make out from your throat, sounds that compelled him to kiss and nip and lick your tender skin with urgent attentiveness.

Soon you began to feel lightheaded - a state which you couldn't tell if it came from the wine or the loss of blood - but you let Wriothesley know anyway by tapping him on the shoulder.

"Mmh, you taste so good, sweetheart," he praised, "what is it you need?"

"I'm feeling kind-of lightheaded n tired," you whispered in reply. His eyes widened for a split second, but returned to normal as he pulled himself off of you, making sure to press a finger to where he bit you to stop the bleeding.

"I'll get a bandaid, but thank you for letting me, thank you," Wriothesley sighed as he licked his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. He stood up from the couch, grabbed a blanket from a nearby shelf, and draped the heavy material over you, sort-of tucking you in before leaving the library to fetch a bandaid.

Now alone, you turned over to your side to look at the flames. They were dying now, embers flickering a deep orange as they cast light onto the surrounding bookshelves and you, and the heat emanating from them was pleasantly warm. Folding your knees up to your chest, you closed your heavy eyes and at last succumbed to sleep.

[letters-unsending]

No. 50

////

Hero and Villain, fake relationship

////

“How are you feeling, dear?”

“My ears keep ringing,” Hero sighed, tucking his icepack further into his neck, “and don’t call me dear. There’s not a soul who needs to hear that anymore. It’s just us.”

“Oh, it’s just us, isn’t it?” Villain smiled and leaned back their head, as if in bliss. The movement exposed a dark cleft of red. A cut ran like spilled wine down from their lips and to the gully of their clavicle, and it gleamed with a satin sheen, obscenely fresh. Hero averted his eyes.

“Yes, just us,” Hero agreed, indulging in Villain’s cryptic mood, “unless we’ve got ourselves a visitor you’re not telling me about.”

“I would tell you. I’ll always tell you,” Villain turned their head back down, leveling Hero with a stare, “this is our home after all.”

Hero stared back and wondered if his ears were ringing Villain’s words into nonsense. Beneath his gaze, Villain sprawled, languid and liquid as a cat, in their armchair.

They’d bought the chair–a chaise so high-backed it looked like it’d grown wings–the first week of their contract and displaced the original furniture that had come with the pre-furnished house. Quickly thereafter, they’d taken to redecorating the rest of their temporary rooms with utmost fervor. Decor spilled out, the chair its center point: fur rugs, velvet throws, glass-shaded lamps.

“You can keep the house,” Hero blurted, “it's not ours anymore. Contract’s over.”

“My, how generous,” Villain smiled wider, snake-like, and Hero feared they would bleed from the strain, “would you really leave this all to me?”

“Sure, you seem comfortable here,” Hero shrugged, “you put a lot of time into the place. I don’t want to get in the way.”

“You’ve decorated over the past year as well. Don’t give me all the credit, darling.” Villain waved their hand, nails flashing in the light. Following their fingers, Hero recognized his coat tossed over the back of Villain’s chair. Pens and papers, which he’d sworn to clean up, lay sprawled over the oil-dark coffee table.

“I only left a mess. That’s hardly decor.”

“It could never be a mess.” Villain reached a hand back and rested their palm over Hero’s coat. “I enjoy your additions. They make the place feel lived in.”

“Lived in,” Hero echoed, “guess it helped with our cover. Probably made this whole sham marriage look real enough.”

Villain’s face turned flat. The curl of their smile snapped like elastic, pinching into a terse line, and a bead of blood rounded their chin as they spoke.

“Why are you still wearing the ring?”

Hero let go of the icepack and it tumbled into a heap in his lap. “If it bothers you, I’ll just go on and take it off.”

“It does not.” Villain drawled, sweeping out their hand. “I am far from bothered.”

Their ring and its exquisite gem fluoresced upon their finger, a beacon casting its gleam over the mountain of their knuckles.

“It just, you know, feels wrong to take it off after so long.” Hero muttered, squeezing at his wrist. “I even have tanline from it.”

Villain smiled again, soft, but their skin still broke. Blood slipped along the underside of their jaw and Hero swallowed; he could almost feel it roll down his own throat.

“You shouldn’t have taken the bandage off.”

Hero glanced once more at his ring, before pushing himself off his chair. Pain shot like a bolt through his wrist. Staggering, he snagged a tissue from a box on the coffee table and then shuffled toward Villain, who met his approach with gleam in their eye.

“I don’t like being restricted.” Villain explained as Hero propped his hip into the chair arm and leaned over. “I couldn’t speak or move my head with that infernal contraption on.”

“Must’ve been hard for you to be so quiet.” Hero grabbed Villain’s chin and tilted their head back. “You had a long time for reflection in that hospital, didn’t you? Might be why you’re being so odd.”

“I didn’t need time to reflect,” Villain murmured, suddenly quiet, “I have considered this for a long time.”

“And what have you considered?” Hero set the tissue upon Villain’s skin, feigning focus, avoiding Villain’s gaze crawling shamelessly over his face.

“You.”

“Me?” Hero dabbed their throat, careful of the scab. He moved his steadying hand to the side of Villain’s neck.

“The both of us, [Hero].” Villain grabbed Hero’s wrist, draping their fingers and the gleaming ring over his arm, trapping Hero’s touch to his throat. Their carotid pulse drummed against his fingertips. “You see, my dear, I want to keep living in this house. I want to keep my ring. You must understand what I mean when I say this.”

“[Villain], you couldn’t possibly–”

“Will you stay?”

[nirvanawrites111]

Set My Wings On Fire Part 2 (Sub!Christian Yu x Fem!dom Reader)

Pairing: Christian Yu/DPR Ian x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1717

Summary: It's been 30 days since you last saw him and he needs to make up for the lost time. You're still delulu af for him, but tonight is all about your pleasure.

Warning: Smut, fem!dom, slight humiliation kink, degradation for Christian calling him bitch and slut, oral sex (fem rec), face strap, face riding, mentions of killing, handcuffing, you're called goddess, fem reader implied but no pronouns used.

Part 1

minors and ageless blogs do not interact. Just put some indication of your age if you're going to engage, please.

"Control me, please. I need you," Christian whimpers for you. His hair is a mess, his eyes are full of darkness, and he's in front of you, begging to be dominated. His hands are restrained.

He's never had a problem relinquishing power over to you. In fact, it was his idea that he wanted to be dommed by you.

Normally, this is all it would take for you to give in to his pleading. He's in your favorite position, on his knees, willing and able to please.

But, for a particular reason, it isn't enough to sway you.

Your lover is desperate for your touch. He needs to feel your fingertips run against his skin more than he requires his next breath.

Yes, he was on the run, but this wasn't his first rodeo, and for knowing him so well, it won't be the last.

Today, was supposed to be a celebration of being able to reunite with each other. Because your man has somehow outsmarted the FBI and the police, and his name is magically no longer on the most wanted list.

You don't ask questions, because these are incriminating details that you can't afford at the moment.

You stand before him and glance down at the man below you. His beautiful dark brown hair is in messy wavy curls, and his knees are on the cold marble floor.

He's shirtless, but he has on sweats. Even through those pants, you can see that he is excited to see you. He is happy to be able to be in your presence.

Yes, you want nothing more than to pounce on your sweet lover, but this is just one problem.

He went completely radio silent on you during this "run."

Which triggered your anxiety more than usual. Every single time your phone rang, you were hoping that it was him to let you know he's safe.

"No," You finally speak after a little bit of time has passed.

It's hard for you not to give in to his wants because you love this man so much. You have blindly decided to meet him at this location in a random ass city, because of your undying loyalty to him. 

You don't even think you could exist without him, which is why those thirty days were harder than expected. Also, because you never knew when they were going to end.

"Goddess," Christian whines in such a deep tone, and his accented plea is so sexy to you. "Please. I need you. All I want to do is serve you. I've had dreams about tasting you and being fucked by you. Please."

"Oh really?"

"Yes." Christian sounds so desperate, but truth be told, you liked being desired in this way. "Use me as you will. I know I've been bad."

His whines seem sincere, but you're not convinced yet. He's going to have to prove to you how sorry he is.

"Tell me.. say it. How have you been bad?" You fold your arms, demanding an answer so that you both know why he needs to be punished.

"I neglected you. It wasn't my intention, angel. I just wanted to protect you."

"Protect me? By ignoring me." You scoff. Tell that to your many sleepless nights wondering if something happened to you.

You walk around the spacious bedroom. Your heels click against the marble floor. Somehow, he's managed to pull off getting a mansion in the middle of nowhere. As you explore the bedroom, your eyes are drawn to the exquisite chandelier hanging from the high ceiling, casting a warm glow across the room. The luxurious furnishings and tasteful decor reflect his understanding of your appreciation for elegance.

However, deep down, you hope this grand gesture isn't his way of compensating for past mistakes, longing for genuine forgiveness and understanding instead.

You turn to face him again and lift his chin to meet his eyes as he explains his reasoning.

"I had to be extra careful, because I didn't want anything getting tied to you. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if that happened. I'm madly in love with you, Y/n."

You want to cuss him out, but the truth is your feelings for him are mutual. So, you feel a bit conflicted because no one understands you the way he does. No one can make you feel the way he does.

No one can dominate you like him. No one can submit the way he does. The perks of being with him outweigh all the bullshit of what he does when he's not with you.

For some, the fear is their partners being unfaithful. For you, it's pondering if any of your disloyal exes ever faced Christian's wrath.

"Christian, I'm going to have to punish you."

"I know, goddess. I deserve it and will take whatever you give me."

"Normally, I would just spank you. But, I have something better planned. Now get over here and eat my pussy, bitch."

You sit down on the comfy bed and spread your legs. You watch as he eagerly falls between your legs. He takes his handcuff hands and pushes your dress up one side at a time. You're already not wearing panties for easy access.

Christian laps all your center. He licks across your clit and swirls around until you gush a little. His tongue trails down to catch all your juices.

You moan in pleasure as Christian's expert tongue explores every inch of your sensitive folds.

"Thank you, goddess, for letting me taste you. All I want to be is serve you."

"Yeah, yeah.. talk is cheap. Keep licking until I cum. No more talking until I do."

You're a bit harsh with him, but you know that he loves to be degraded. His mission is to make you orgasm, which you both know he has no problem doing.

Christian savors at your essence. He whimpers as he licks away at your pussy. The taste of you is something that he's been craving for the last thirty days. Every day he's spent without you left him lost in thoughts of fulfilling your desires.

He would have gladly taken the spanking from you. He loves the way you can take charge of the situation. Your ability to switch is something he admires so much.

You continue to enjoy the satisfaction of him practically worshipping you because you're literally a goddess in his eyes.

Christian isn't playing with you. His tongue is working overtime to make sure his goddess cums.

One thing about your man is he knows how to please you. He knows how you like it when he goes fast. He giving you faster licks to the point you have to grab the back of his head because you're approaching your peak.

"Fuck, I'm so close... baby. Just like that!" You cry out.

Before you can utter another word, Christian continues his reluctance pace, bringing you closer to your peak. As you tiptoe closer to your climax, your legs tremble, and you close your eyes to enjoy that final moment before you release.

The intensity of your orgasm rips through you, and you ride the familiar wave that you crave so much. Christian isn't letting up, either. He continues to suck your juices out of your pussy.

He's addicted to the way that you taste. He licks you clean until you push him away from you.

"God, I've missed you, goddess," Christian says, crawling back between your legs to give your pussy a final french kiss because he's so in love with pleasing you.

Christian is the type that you could lock him in a room with you and make him eat you for hours and hours. He would enjoy it more than you, because that's how addicted he is to you. He just wants to please you in any way he can.

Christian lays his head on your thigh, waiting for your next instruction.

"Christian," you call his name.

"Yes, goddess?"

You could see the light in his eyes and his eagerness when he was with you. This is the man that no one else gets to see. This is the side he hides from the world.

"You know... you did a great job giving me head. Which I would expect from a slut like yourself. But, you're not cumming tonight. I am. But, I'll let you fuck me."

"Really, goddess?"

"Yes, with a strap-on. You don't deserve to feel my pussy just yet."

You know that Christian was expecting to get pegged. Maybe he thought he would get a rough pegging session, and you would deny him release. But, you have a point to prove.

"Goddess, I really can't get fucked? I was really waiting for this."

"And I was really waiting to hear from you. Maybe you could earn a chance to get fucked, but until then, get on the bed."

You grab the face strap on and put it on his face so that you can ride his face this time.

"You ready?" you ask him.

"Yes, goddess."

You're still wet from when he ate your pussy, so you position yourself over his face while you ease down onto the strap. You quickly find a rhythm as he pumps from underneath you.

Although you would rather have Christian hard dick inside of you, the strap feels good inside of you. You stroke your clit as you enjoy Christian pleasuring you. 

"You're so eager to make me cum again, huh slut.. you're that desperate to get fucked in the ass?" You degrade him.

"Mmmhm.. yes, goddess. But, my priority right now is just pleasing you. I can't wait to feel your juices drip down my face."

You hold onto the headboard as you ride his face strap-on. Sure, it might be punishment, but Christian is enjoying very moment.

For the second time tonight, you feel the familiar feeling.  Your body tenses up, and a wave of pleasure washes over you as you reach your climax. Your juices coat his face, and now he's glistening with your cum all over his face.

You remove the strap from his face and slip your tongue into his mouth. "You did a great job pleasing me... maybe we could talk about you riding my strap." "I'd like that goddess."

Please reblog if you enjoyed my work! It helps my work get discovered by other readers. I would GREATLY appreciate it!!!

[dduane]

Lighting test: "Before they spar."

...It occurred to me the other day that (a) a lot of the ready-made poses for Daz Studio figures who're sword users are crap, and (b) that it's a shame no one has done a set of poses based on one of the better-known medieval fighting manuals, such as the famous 15th-century Fechtbuch or combat manual of Hans Talhoffer (online here at the Library of Congress).

And these thoughts course were immediately joined by (c), which consists of a large flashing sign saying "If You Want Anything Done Right, You've Got To Do It Yourself."

(sigh) Yeah, whatever.

This is a project of no importance whatsoever to anybody but me, so it's going to have to happen in between other things, like actual work. But the first thing that needed to happen here—a fairly simple one—was to build a virtual space, the Middle Kingdoms version of a salle d'armes, where the fighting positions could be set up. So I grabbed an interior from this package, which I've been using for a while, and some assorted items and furnishings from this one, and put them together... while stripping out anything not needed in a place where you mostly need space to move around without bashing into things.

Here's how that looks. Plenty of elbow room...

..and high ceilings. High ceilings are good when you're working with long swords. Ask @petermorwood. :)

But most importantly, the lighting's not bad. No point in trying to illustrate sword moves when you can't see the swords.

...And I guess that all this prep might eventually lead to the question: "Would these two ever spar with those swords?"

(Adding a cut. Underneath: weaponry details, the arguments of experts, and non-gratuitous PDA.)

Re: the sparring: I don't see why not. In Dusty's case, the sword he's working with—being not only the focus for his Fire, but something created using it, nearly as much a part of him now as one of his limbs—is exquisitely sensitive to his intent. With this particular unarmored opponent, his intent would unquestionably be Do nothing to harm my husband!!—and Khávrinen would see to it that that was exactly how things went. Additionally, any nicks, dings or scratches picked up during a session would be easily erased afterwards. A moment's work with the Fire would sort them out.

In Lorn's case, he's working with a sword that in centuries of use by the rulers of Arlen in battle has never picked up so much as a scratch or nick... and no one knows why this should be, or how. For that matter, no one's at all clear about any of the details of Hergótha's forging. But then that took place—what, a millennium and a half ago? More? Arlene chroniclers get into fruitless bar fights over just the dates... never mind the more personal details. (Did Héalhra Whitemane himself forge it [in his pre-demigod days], as some legends claim? Did he have help, or was he secretly a sorcerer?—since sorcery's widely assumed to have been involved. No one knows.) ...Anyway, damage to that sword is plainly no issue. Neither is damage to Herewiss, who's quite capable of using the blue Fire to prevent it. (Or just as likely to simply put on some armor.)

These issues aside, Arlen's king and the Brightwood's prince-elect—both being expected to appear on the battlefield when necessary in defense of their people(s)—would be careful to always stay in training. Sparring sessions with sharps, and with expert trainers (or willing friends), would routinely be happening at frequent, regular intervals to both of them.

But it's hard to imagine this happening to these two men, though, with substitute training blades. Even casual sparring can bring up sense-memories of experiences that weren't casual at all: the gnawing anxiety of wartime, the wounds, the anguish of battle... the devastation of loss, and the utter relief when it's all over and the ones you couldn't live without have come out of it still breathing. You'd hate to be using some anonymous loaner sword when those memories come up. Better to have in your hands what you had when, against all the odds, it all went right...

[chronosdawn]

I thought that Zhongli x accountant Reader would be a fun dynamic to explore so here we are. Enjoy!

GN!reader, no content warnings apply.

Word count: 1.8k

You read over the numbers once. Then a second time, followed by a third as your mind tried to make sense of the sheer amount of zeros on the page.

"He spent how much on a vase?" Your voice came out as a shrill cry, the paper in your hand crumpling with the force of your grip. With your free hand, you flicked through the files on your desk, looking for any indication that the purchase of the overpriced porcelain related in any way to the services the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor provided, only to come up short.

"I'm going to kill him," you muttered to yourself as you rose from your chair, forcefully shoving it back under your desk and stomping over to the door of your office. Your expression must have been suitably murderous as Meng—the new employee—practically leapt out of your way as you stormed down the corridor to Zhongli's office. You took a deep, steadying breath before knocking on the door—three loud raps against the antique wood.

"Please come in," a deep voice said, and that was all the invitation you needed to step inside, shutting the door firmly behind you.

Zhongli was seated at his desk, impeccably dressed in a fine suit as always, a tea set laid out before him.

"Mister Zhongli," you greeted through gritted teeth.

"Ah," Zhongli said your name and you pointedly ignored how nice it sounded in his low baritone. He didn't appear at all ruffled by your sudden visit, even though you knew he had to be well aware of the conversation you were about to have. After all, you might be in a slightly better mood if this were the first time something like this had happened; alas your sympathies for the man had shriveled up sometime around the fourth occasion you’d barged your way into his office and that was many expensive knickknacks ago. “What can I do for you? Would you care to join me for a cup of tea?” he asked, gesturing to the faintly steaming pot on his desk.

“No, I would not. What I would like is to know what, precisely, the reason for this purchase was?” You thrust the sheet of paper at him, and he carefully took it from you, smoothing the page out between his fingers.

He took a moment to read over the contents before replying, “the vase this receipt is for is one of a kind produced using a mix of techniques developed in Liyue and Inazuma. I felt it would have been a pity not to purchase such a rare and exquisite item.”

“And where,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose between your thumb and forefinger, “is this exquisite vase now?

“It is displayed carefully in my home. If you’re interested in viewing it, I would be more than happy to—” You held up a hand, effectively cutting him off.

“Splendid as I’m sure it is, I’m not interested in seeing the vase. The point I was trying to make is that though this purchase was made using the palor’s funds, the item in question was bought solely for your personal use. A matter that we have already discussed, frequently.”

Zhongli set the paper down, clasping his hands together and resting his forearms against the careful intricately carved wood of his desk—the stark opposite of the utilitarian but sensibly priced furnishings you kept in your own office.

“I believe if you look through the contract I have with the Director, it clearly states—”

“I am more than aware of what is written in that contract Mister Zhongli, you’ve quoted it at me often enough. While I do not think it was written with such elaborate purchases in mind, I realize that it is too late to alter the wording now. I am, however, starting to wonder if you are entirely oblivious to the trouble you’re causing for me or if you simply do not care.”

He blinked at you slowly and you had to fight against the urge to grab him by the lapels and shake him until some of the palor’s missing mora fell out.

“I must admit, I was not aware my actions have been causing you distress.”

“How could you—” you bit your tongue before you could say something inappropriately rude, although you’d dare even Hu Tao to argue with you for it after all the financial issues the consultant she hired has caused. “Look, you understand that while the parlor provides a vital service to Liyue, it is also a business, yes?”

“Naturally, I am more than familiar with the parlor’s history, it was part of why the director was interested in my services.”

“And you are also aware then, that the point of a business is to make mora. Something that proves rather difficult when one of the employees insists on making needlessly expensive purchases. While the Director may be in charge of things overall, I am the one who has to make sure that we have enough mora to pay off our expenses, including the wages of our other staff—most of whom have families to feed—without grossly overcharging grieving relatives of the deceased. And all of that is without taking into account whatever wild marketing schemes Hu Tao decides to throw in my general direction. With all of those things in mind, Mister Zhongli, do you finally see why I can not afford for you to repeatedly purchase items that cost hundreds of thousands of mora and yet do not contribute to general operations of the parlor?”

There was a brief pause as Zhongli picked up his tea and took a careful sip before setting the cup back upon his desk. “I see, it seems I must apologize to you. I hope you realize it was never my intention to make your job more difficult for you, if anything I have always respected your diligence and attention to detail. I doubt the Director could find a finer accountant than yourself.”

The sudden flattery set you off-kilter, and you found yourself clearing your throat in an effort to regain your composure. “I appreciate that while it is not included as part of your contract, I think it would be best for all involved if we were to perhaps draw up a separate budget for you, such that I will no longer have to deal with any unexpected outgoings and that you will not have to deal with me marching into your office on a near weekly basis.”

“Yes, if it would ease the burden on you then I believe I will be amenable to such an arrangement. Although, I feel I should perhaps point out that I do not mind you visiting me during our work hours. You are more than welcome to stop by whenever I am in my office,” he said with a small smile and suddenly it was your turn to simply blink at him.

“Right, yes well I er… I’ll draw something up in the next couple of days and drop by to have you confirm you’re happy with it. May I?” You gestured to the receipt currently located beneath his gloved hands. 

“Of course,” he replied, unclasping his fingers and handing you the sheet of paper, the cool leather of his gloves brushing against your skin. 

“I’ll um.. I’ll leave you to your tea.” You turned to make your exit, only to pause when Zhongli called out your name. 

“I meant what I said about offering you an apology, although I fear words alone may not be sufficient given the number of difficulties I seem to have caused for you.”

“It's…” You don’t want to tell him it’s alright, not after the multiple sleepless nights you’ve spent having to reportion the parlor’s budget to account for his spur of the moment purchases. “As long as you can stick to whatever agreement we draw up, that will more than suffice.”

“How about dinner?”

“I’m sorry?” The piece of paper in your hand slipped from your fingers in your surprise and you were forced to hastily retrieve it from the well-polished floor.

“How would you feel about me taking you out for a meal, both as an apology and an expression of gratitude for your careful management of the parlor’s funds allowing me to enjoy my current lifestyle? I’ll take care of all of the associated expenses.” 

You wonder for a moment if this is some sort of joke but, for whatever his financial faults, Zhongli doesn’t seem like the type and his expression is entirely serious, his amber eyes watching your reaction carefully. 

“When you say you’ll take care of the expenses, you don’t mean…”

“I assure you, I have no intention of sending any charges to the parlor, it would make for a poor apology were I to do so.”

“Ah, that’s um—well…” You found yourself fidgeting awkwardly under his gaze. “It’s kind of you to offer but you really don’t have to.”

“I insist, it was careless of me not to consider how my actions may be affecting you despite your large number of visits to my office on the matter.” Chewing on your bottom lip, you mulled over the offer, torn. On one hand, five minutes ago you were ready to try to bash the man over the head with his very own stupidly expensive vase, on the other, if you made some sort of peace with him then hopefully he’d be more inclined to agree to whatever budget you drew up, not to mention the free food involved.

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to clear the air a little,” you said finally, avoiding making eye contact with him.

“Good, do you have any other commitments any evening this week?”

“Not this week, no.”

“Then I shall make the appropriate arrangements and let you know once I have.” If Zhongli’s expression was anything to go by, he seemed rather pleased by this turn of events while you simply floundered, more than a little baffled as to what had just happened.

“Oh okay, well I’ll see you later then I guess?” 

“Indeed, I shall look forward to it.” You nodded faintly and stepped out of his office without another word, pausing once you were sure the door was shut behind you, playing the events of the past couple of minutes over again in your mind. 

Hang on, did he just—

You cut the thought off before it could go any further. It was just his form of an apology, you told yourself, no need to get worked up over it, or any of the complements he’d paid you. He probably only said them because there were likely not many other accountants who would have put up with his nonsense for this long. With an audible sigh, you set off down the corridor back to your own office, resolving to put your most-definitely-not-a-date with Zhongli out of your mind for now.

It was in fact a date that Childe ended up paying for lol

You can find more Zhongli fics (along with some others), over on my masterlist. Thanks for reading :)