#apparently today i have to speak my truth

[comebackali]

my biggest beef with ahsoka (the character, not the hideouso show) is that her mere existence asks me to retcon something i have internalized as fundamental gospel truth, that is: the jedi apprentice series, padawans being 12 & younger, the preexisting canon that younglings get shipped off to the agricorps if they don't get chosen as a padawan by age 13 (which is CRAZY, but okay).

and in The Gospel According to Allie it goes JEDI APPRENTICE >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> LITERALLY EVERYTHING ELSE. including all the movies put together. like there is something SO UNIQUE and special about the book series you are obsessed with when you are still in the single digits. moreso than any movie you may watch on repeat (tpm). because unlike a movie, even if you watch it everyday, a book goes with you EVERYWHERE. this bitch your CONSTANT COMPANION. it's what you're reading on the playground and in the lunch line and secretly under the desk when ur supposed to be doing math worksheets and to and from the walk to school. so ahsoka showing up with her 14 year ass self being like, "maybe i am (too young to be a padawan), but master YODA thinks i'm not." gurl WHAT??? i simply cannot. you're asking me to choose between That Which Createth Me and someone who what?? some random girl?? who by virtue of merely existing retcons That Which Is Most Dear. of course i hate her. i hate her and she's done nothing. it's been 15+ years and i've NEVER been able to get over this.

[daincrediblegg]

no offence to edward little fans but he's kindof just a wet cracker to me

[todayisafridaynight]

lit cannot stress how much fuckability masato lost after becoming aoki like emo death is real and its so so tragic

[xothatnerdykid]

what's love got to do with it?

The students and teachers alike at UA High can't help but notice the strange behavior of the typically stern and stoic teacher of Class 1-A. They come up with all sorts of theories but soon discover the even more surprising truth: Aizawa-sensei is simply falling in love. Fluffy Aizawa x fem!reader drabble. SFW. 2,828 words.

The way everyone looks at him when he walks in, you’d think he’d grown a second head or something.

Aizawa glances up from his phone after reading a sweet little text from you, greeting him good morning and wishing him a good day at work, only to find every student's wide-eyed, unblinking attention focused solely on him.

One second, they were all happily chattering, and then, the next…

"Hmm? What?" He asks his class offhandedly, throwing his things on the table and taking his usual seat.

But instead of answering him, the whole room erupts into a whispered frenzy.

"Did you see that? Did he just...?"

"No way! Must have been a trick of the light or something."

"What the heck? I feel so unnerved. Llike we just spotted a UFO or something.”

“You guys saw it too, right? Are we all just collectively hallucinating?”

"Oi!" He calls their attention. "Would anyone care to tell me what it is exactly that's gotten all of you so worked up this morning?"

Stunned silence falls over Class 1-A again, and Aizawa can’t help but cross his arms and sigh. “Iida? Yaoyorozu? What’s going on?”

He doesn’t miss the way the class president and vice-president exchange a hesitant look before Iida answers him. 

“Apologies, sensei!” He hastily gets up to bow. “I will personally make sure everyone quiets down.” He zooms around the room and gestures frantically at his noisy classmates to settle down.

Bemused by their commotion, Aizawa observes them all carefully. What could’ve caused such a stir? He wonders. And why are they all so reluctant to tell him? Did he have a piece of spinach in his teeth or something? A quick glance downwards tells him he didn’t forget to wear pants or shoes or anything, so what was it?

“If I may, sensei?” Yaoyorozu raises her hand and he nods at her. “I think everyone was just a little distracted by your change in demeanor today."

He furrows his eyebrows at the young girl. "What change?"

"Well, we’ve never seen you smile before. Or at least, not like that.”

He blinks in surprise. He’d been smiling when he walked into class this morning? "What about it?"

"Well, sir," Iida adds, taking his seat once everyone's finally settled down. "It's quite an uncommon sight. Naturally, they were taken aback."

“You usually only smile when you’re giving us a tough time in exams or training exercises, sensei.”

The corners of Aizawa’s mouth twitch upwards at that, which he quickly covers up with a small cough. “Well, enough of that. Let’s get on with today’s lesson, shall we?”

Everyone straightens up to listen as their homeroom teacher goes over a few important announcements. And although he isn’t smiling anymore, Class 1-A doesn't miss the way his usually sharp gaze has grown soft and almost...fond as he speaks to them.

As soon as the homeroom bell rings, Aizawa dismisses them with an absent-minded wave of his hand and takes out his phone to text you: Do I really never smile?

You smile when you’re rounding up bad guys sometimes. You reply almost right away. Or when you see a cat.

He chuckles. Apparently I also do it when I’m torturing my students. Then…Or when I’m texting you.

You send back a little cat emoji, and the grin you get after reading that doesn't leave your face for the rest of the day.

_________________________________________

“Shouta! Helloooo? I said Earth to Shouta?” Kayama waves her hand in Aizawa’s face.

It seems to snap him out of whatever trance he’s in. “Sorry, what?” He blinks up at her.

She gives Yamada a look. “What’s with him today?”

“Dunno,” he shrugs, then turns to his friend. “Hey buddy, didn’t get any sleep again last night or something?”

You could say that, Aizawa thinks to himself with a smirk, then hastily scolds his features into their usually stoic expression. “No. Why?”

Kayama raises an eyebrow at him. “You've just been acting a little...off. Distracted, maybe?”

"Nothing to worry about," Aizawa reassures them, dismissing their concerns with a wave of his hand. He goes back to observing his students closely in the hopes of them moving past the subject, but Kayama and Yamada aren’t convinced. Anyone looking at him could tell something was different today.

“Sensei?” Kirishima hesitantly calls out to him. “I’m having a little trouble with my balance. Could you show me that move again?”

Aizawa nods, and everyone’s jaw just about drops to the floor when he demonstrates the proper stance with uncharacteristic patience. 

"Remember to be mindful of where you shift your weight," He guides Kirishima through the motions with a supportive tone, a stark departure from his normally gruff and no-nonsense approach. "And keep your focus. You'll get it."

Kirishima does as he’s told and looks to his teacher for feedback.

"No, adjust your stance a bit like this. Yes, that's it. Great improvement," Aizawa says, offering a rare compliment. 

Flabbergasted, the red-haired boy manages a stuttering, "Th-Thank you, sensei," before Aizawa moves on to help the next student. 

Observing everything from afar, Kayama leans over to Yamada and whispers, “He didn’t get a concussion on that last mission, did he? I've never seen him like this."

“Check what was in his coffee a while ago. And if he still has more — oof, it was just a joke!”

_________________________________________

“Okay, enough is enough!” Mina bursts into the room, dramatically crying. “I have to know!”

“Know what?” Kirishima asks as the others start to gather around her.

“What’s going on with Aizawa sensei? I saw him on the way here — he’s wearing a buttoned up shirt.”

There’s a collective gasp.

“Are you sure?” Momo asks.

Mina nods frantically. “And it was freshly pressed, too!”

Another round of gasps.

“And his hair was tied up!” The pink girl all but weeps, throwing herself onto the nearest desk.

“What do you think is going on with him?” Deku rubs his chin thoughtfully.

“He’s been acting so weird lately!” Uraraka whines.

As if on cue, Aizawa walks in. “Good morning, class,” he greets them without his usual gruffness.

Everyone hurries back to their seats, but Mina leans over to grab Kaminari’s sleeve, screaming under her breath, “He said good morning!”

“Look at his eyes!” He points frantically. “No puffy, dark circles or redness at all! He actually looks well-rested for once!”

“That’s where I draw the line!” Kirishima almost slams his fist on his desk. “We have to get to the bottom of this.”

Sero joins them, “Do you think Mic sensei and Midnight sensei know anything?”

Kaminari shrugs, “It’s worth asking.”

“Maybe Aizawa sensei has a secret twin and he’s pulling a prank on us?” Deku contemplates.

Uraraka shakes her head, “Sensei? Pulling a prank? I doubt it. What if there’s a new teacher at UA with a shape-shifting quirk?”

“Or Shinsou brainwashed him into being in a good mood?” Jirou chimes in.

As they huddle and murmur, Todoroki and Tokoyami shoot them curious glances, and Iida has to shush them discreetly. 

They snap back to attention every time Aizawa faces them, pretending to listen to the lesson. But as soon as their sensei turns away again, the room buzzes with whispered speculation. 

And though he acts none the wiser, seemingly engrossed in the topic they're supposed to be discussing, Aizawa can't help his amusement listening to their outlandish theories. A small, smug part of him relishes stoking the fires of their confusion. 

He knew he'd have some explaining to do, but for now, he’s more than happy to just let  them wonder.

_________________________________________

“Oh, look who finally decided to show up!” is the first thing Mic says when he spots him. The colorful cocktail in his hand is practically empty, but he happily sips the fun loopy straw for whatever dredges he can anyway.

“Are you going to make me regret it?” Aizawa grumbles, taking his seat next to his friends.

But Mic and Midnight just snicker, unfazed. They’ve had years to get used to his grumpiness after all (and a few drinks to put them in a better mood). 

"We have to admit, Aizawa," Midnight smirks up at him. "We had an ulterior motive for asking you to come hang out tonight."

"Don't you always?" He deadpans, lazily chewing at the gyoza they ordered without him. Although he doesn’t show it, he’s pleased to see there’s already a whiskey neat waiting on the table for him. 

Midnight rolls her eyes as she slides it over to him, "Yeah, but aside from just getting you to lighten up as usual."

"And getting you to sing karaoke with us, which I still can't believe—"

"You promised me we'd never talk about it again,” Aizawa groans as he rubs his hand over his face. “And that you'd never let me get that drunk again.”

"Awww, come on, buddy," Yamada slings his arm around him. "What's the point of having a good story you can't tell?"

"Fine, but I'll deny it, so no one will believe you anyway."

"I don’t know,” Midnight sing-songs, swirling her margarita in its glass. “With the way you’ve been acting lately, they just might.”

He frowns at her. “Meaning?”

Mic grins, leaning forward with an impish glint in his eye, "Meaning we heard you've been keeping secrets from us, Aizawa."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh really? Then would you care to tell us why you’ve been smiling so much lately?”

“Or who you’ve been trying to look nice for?”

Realizing they weren’t going to let this go easily, Aizawa sighs and takes a deep sip of his whiskey, the familiar warmth sliding down his throat. He's not one to discuss his personal life openly, even with his close friends, but there's something about their teasing that doesn't quite irk him tonight.

Aizawa tilts his head slightly, thoughtfully. "I'm just...happy, I suppose."

“But it’s more than that, isn’t it?”

“Come on, buddy, you can tell us!” Mic nudges him playfully. 

“We want to know what’s got our favorite grump acting like a—" Midnight’s hands quickly fly up to cover her gasp. 

“Like a what?” Mic gives her a puzzled look, but Aizawa’s shoulders tense up at the glint in her eyes. That look usually meant very bad things for him. 

“Like a lovesick puppy!” She grabs Mic’s arm, excitedly slapping it before shaking Aizawa’s shoulders and squealing into his ear. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re in love!”

Aizawa chokes on his drink, and Mic pats him on the back to ease his coughing fit.

"Real smooth, Kayama,” he teases her.

"Sorry, but I couldn't resist," Midnight pouts, the twinkle of amusement still shining bright in her eyes.

Aizawa wipes his mouth and sets his glass down with a sigh. “Well, if you must know…There is…someone I’ve been spending time with.”

"Someone!" His friends chorus, delighted.

Mic nudges him gently. “Well? Don’t leave us in suspense!”

"Who is it? Do we know them?" Midnight leans forward, giggling.

Aizawa looks down at his glass for a moment, contemplating how much he should reveal. Although he feels a little overwhelmed by their excitement and their scrutiny, he also secretly relishes the joy of sharing this part of his life with his closest friends. 

It feels good, he thinks, to be around them and to know that they care so much about him. And though he’s never been one to discuss his personal affairs, he trusts these two enough to share the parts of himself he usually kept guarded. 

Seeing the expectant looks on their faces, eagerly awaiting his answer, Aizawa's ears turn the faintest shade of red. 

“Do you want to meet her?” 

_________________________________________

"Had a fun night?" You greet your boyfriend with a hug when he shows up at your door well past a reasonable hour.

You don't miss the small smile on his face when he takes off his shoes. "Actually, I did. But Yamada and Kayama were pretty insistent on meeting you." 

"You told them about me?" you respond, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. 

He nods, not quite meeting your gaze. "I think they'd like you."

"Really?" You plop down on the couch with him and stretch your legs atop his lap. 

"Yeah," He gently grazes your thigh. "They were wondering why I've been acting so differently lately."

"Like what?"

"Apparently I'm smiling more and acting nicer and" — He air quotes — “Stopped looking homeless."

You laugh. "And what did you say?"

He shrugs, “That I guess my girlfriend just makes me really happy.”

“Awww,” you pat his cheek playfully. “What’s next? You gonna tell me you’re in love with me or something?”

"Yes? I thought it was obvious?"

"What?" Your heart skips a beat at his nonchalant admission.

“Hmm?” He looks over, and seeing the evident surprise on your face makes Aizawa chuckle. "I thought I'd been making it pretty clear, but I suppose I should say it outright. Yes, I'm in love with you."

Your heart flutters at his words, a warmth spreading through you. "Well, for someone who's known for being so straightforward, you sure took your time saying that."

He brushes a strand of hair from your face and leaves a soft, lingering kiss on your temple. “I’ll say it as many times as you want to hear it, baby.”

You lean in closer, your lips almost touching his. “Alright,” you look up at him with a sleepy smile and half-lidded eyes. “I’m waiting.”

"I love you," he whispers, his voice low and tender. He places a gentle kiss on your nose. “I love you,” and then another on your cheeks…“I love you.”

He gently brushes his lips against yours, cupping your jaw so you can’t help but gaze deeply into his dark, smoky eyes before he finally closes the distance between you.

“Mhhm.” You smile, contentment washing over you like a gentle wave. "I love you, too, baby."

[jaeyunwon]

synopsis :: secretly dating your boyfriend Jake for 4 months, no one knows other than your long time best friend. It made you feel wary of her when rumors started spreading around about her and jake dating, she promised you she has nothing to do with Jake, and your boyfriend claims he doesn't even like your best friend... Who will you believe tho? will the truth come to light? How did these rumors even begin?

pairing :: jake sim x female reader

warnings :: highschool au, angsttttt, fluff, comfort, happy ending, cheating, cursing, reader's best friend is a bitch :/, jake and reader are both so inlove, like they're down bad for eachother, reader overthinks alot.

a/n :: I got this idea while rewatching 'marry my husband' so- I'm kinda proud of this one idkkk. please don't forget to like and reblog :)

taglist :: @luvvsnae @lovelymelon

It's already been 4 months since you and Jake started dating, it isn't a lot but Jake never made you regret dating him, he shows his love for you in so many unique ways which only made you love him for it. You both have been taking it slow and not rushing anything, as you discussed with him how you wanted to keep the relationship a secret, he didn't mind it at all as long as everyone knew you were taken somehow.

As you were making your way to the last class for today you saw Jake running your way which made you stop in your tracks, he came up to you and pulled you in the nearest storage room looking around the hallway making sure no one saw you both before closing the door, you saw him trying to speak but kept getting interrupted trying to catch his breath. “Jake, are you okay? what happened?” as he caught his breath he looked at you with his shining beautiful brown eyes “ do you think you can come watch me practice after class? you know, with the tournaments coming up. and after I'm done with practice I'll even take you out”

He said with a wink ending his sentence, you chuckled before answering “of course I'll come I love watching you play even though I get bored waiting all alone..” you paused before you thought of something “maybe I'll bring nayeon to keep me busy while waiting for you.” When you ended your sentence Jake's smile slowly faltered which made you hurriedly say “only if it's okay with you, I still see how quiet you get around her. you know? if you're uncomfortable with me bringing her around I can stop.”

“oh no it's okay.. I don't really mind, don't worry about it”

“okay! I'll see you at practice then, I'm gonna be late to class”

he pulled you in a brief kiss, “bye babe.” he said as he watched you leave the storage room with a smile on his face

When school finished and you were going out of class after you finished packing up, you saw Nayeon waiting for you, you were going to run up to her when you heard two girls talk about Jake, but that wasn't what caught your attention but rather hearing your boyfriend and best friend names together. “omg! In math class I heard somin say that Jake and nayeon are dating"

"huh? really?”

“yes, I won't be surprised if they actually are they would make such a cute couple”

“mhm, they're both so pretty but i didn't hear anything about them dating, how did somin get to know this”

“apparently someone caught them both together alone at sunghoon's party”

when you heard the last sentence you felt speechless, this must be some joke… Jake won't do this to me.. not even nayeon…. would she? your thoughts stopped as soon as you saw nayeon running up to you, you dried your unshed tears in a hurry and heard nayeon ask “are you okay? why are you crying?”

“crying? I'm not, something just came in my eyes but don't worry about it, Jake said he wanted me to wait for him at practice because he's taking me out after, come wait with me?”

you heard nayeon scoff and say jokingly “I wanted to stay over at yours today, why does Jake always have to come in between my plans” you laughed “maybe another time.”

When you made your way there, you can already hear the sound of the ball hitting the ground miles away. You got in and found a seat to wait at while searching for Jake. When you locked eyes with him you smiled at how enthusiastic and pretty he looked while playing, though your thoughts got cut off when you heard nayeon say “I'm still here you know!” you felt your cheeks heat up and you quickly apologize “right- I'm sorry I just can't help it” you saw her roll her eyes and that's when you remembered what those girls were gossiping about and thought “nayeon loves me I don't think she would do that to me, maybe it's just a stupid rumor someone made up” you looked up at nayeon and smiled widely and started talking about the school work.

When Jake was done with practice he went into the locker room to freshen up, but stopped as soon as he saw who was standing there. “What are you doing here Nayeon?” he declaimed “I came to see you, you looked so cool out there I couldn't just stay back” Nayeon said with a pout on her face as Jake's face scrunched up in disgust at her words.

Jake loves you. He loves you so much he never thought of cheating on you and he never will, but he also doesn't want to see you sad he knows you and nayeon have been best friends since you were in middle school so if he tells you how Nayeon is a liar, a fake friend, and how she keeps flirting with him, you'll probably be heart broken. And he has no problem comforting you if word ever comes out but he would rather die than be the reason for your and nayeon's friendship's downfall. He told Nayeon off many times but she only seems to get bolder everytime.

he stared at her for a while before he sighed “what do you not understand of ‘i'm not interested in cheating on y/n’? I do not like you and I never will, what makes you think I won't tell y/n about your acts” he heard her laugh “I'm her best friend did you forget? I can just tell her you're lying. Who do you think she'll believe? Her long time best friend that she knew since forever or some random guy she started dating not long ago? I think we both know the answer to that so unless you want to lose y/n forever you better think twice before saying anything.” And that was the second reason why Jake was hesitant in telling you about nayeon's deceiving actions, he trusts you of course but it hasn't been long since you both started dating, you're still building each others trust so he won't blame you if you believe Nayeon over him but he would rather not lose you.

He felt frustrated with everything, especially with himself, he knows he's not the one in the wrong but he still blames himself for this continuing, if he just had the courage to tell you about it he wouldn't have to deal with this situation almost every day. With his anger and frustration building up he was seconds away from taking it all out on Nayeon but he held himself back and tried calming himself down “get out.” he heard her snicker before she started walking out.

Once he was left all alone he finally let out the breath he didn't know he was holding, and suddenly remembered his promised date with you, he freshened up in a hurry and ran to the school entrance. When he arrived he saw you there with your back turned towards him with no sign of nayeon “hey babe!” Jake said with a kiss on your cheek “hii! you looked so cool I couldn't wait for you to finish” even tho it's been 4 months since Jake made you his you never failed to make him feel flustered and feel butterflies in his stomach just like when he used to and still have a crush on you but it's not like he's complaining about it, he chuckled before he replied “so are you ready for our date?” he pulled you to his car feeling excited to finally spend some time with you alone “yes! Where are you taking me?”

“It's a secret” he laughed.

- 2 weeks later -

Your school's basketball team has just won the year's tournament which means the basketball captain, Heeseung, will be throwing a big party to celebrate their win, which also means nayeon trying to force you to go. It's not like you hate parties. You went to a lot of parties when you and Jake started dating in your first month but they're not really your vibes. “please, please, please just this once go with me” you heard nayeon whine and beg over and over “you know it's not really my type of thing, and I don't even have a dress ready and the party is tonight” you saw nayeon's eyes light up already dreading what she's about to say knowing you don't have any more excuses “I have the perfect dress for you to wear!” You sighed and huffed “okay fine.” nayeon hugged you and started rambling about how you're the best.

as you and nayeon arrived to the party, you tried searching for jake since he's apart of the basketball team of course he'll be here and that's when you both made eye contact and saw him make his way to you but before you can say anything to him nayeon cut you off “hi Jake! congrats on your win” she hugged him and you felt a bit off about her action.

this is normal right? they're friends… and friends hug it's totally normal.. right?

maybe if these rumors that have been going on for quite some time about your boyfriend and best friend you wouldn't have these thoughts, and you felt bad to think they'll do this to you they're your closest people they wouldn't hurt you… right?

your thoughts went into a halt as you saw Jake was talking to you, you smiled and congratulated him about his win and gave him a peck on the lips before Jake smiled and said “I'll go get us drinks okay?” you nodded before your best friend said she'll need to use the bathroom, so here you are now alone in the middle of the party waiting for them to come back before one of your friends, Yunjin, comes up to you and greets you.

as you were both talking you felt your boyfriend and best friend take a lot of time to come back even though you wanted to trust them that they won't ever hurt you in any kind of way, you couldn't help but go check up on them, with the thought of them being alone in a room. Just like how you heard the rumor, you told Yunjin to wait a bit before you left her to go to the drink aisle to try and find your boyfriend.

as you got there you saw a group of people gathering around something, even tho you wanted to keep searching curiosity got the best of you and you decided to make your way through the crowd while pushing around the crowd you kept hearing stuff like “I told you they were together” or “omg you saw them kiss right? So the rumors are true after all” when you finally made it your eyes widened at the scene In front of you.

your best friend, nayeon, on the ground and your boyfriend, Jake, standing right at her feet looking like he's about to hit her. You made eye contact with nayeon and you saw her smirk before she got up and got a hold of Jake's collar and smashed his lips against hers, you felt your heart slowly break, it's like you could hear it break into tiny, tiny pieces. What hurts is that they're the two people you trust the most but what hurts more is the fact you saw the sign but stayed in denial because you didn't think your favorite people would betray you just like that.

When Jake pushed away from nayeon he was about to walk away from her but he stopped in his tracks when he saw you standing in front of him, though the crowds voice is very loud Jake felt like he couldn't hear anything right now, he wanted to do a lot of things all in the span of one minute. He wanted to make nayeon pay for this, he wanted to pull you into him, he wanted to apologise for this big BIG misunderstanding, he wanted to yell at himself for not seeing this coming, but he couldn't do any of this when he couldn't feel his legs anymore.

you felt your eyes tear up, pools of water felt like they're about to burst out of your eyes any second now the longer you stared at Jake, you quickly turned around ready to bolt out of here, to get back into the comfort of your apartment and just let go of this overwhelming feeling, but it all stopped when Jake grabbed your wrist and turned you around.

“y/n it isn't what it looks like, please—” you cut him off not ready to listen to anything right now, your brain feeling like it could shut down from everything “i saw it with my own eyes, don't you dare lie to me” you yelled “no, it's a misunderstanding, just let me take you home and explain please.” you couldn't hold back your tears anymore and just let everything out you wanted to scream, shout, yell, cry, and cry, and just cry till you couldn't anymore you kept hoping that this is all just a big nightmare and none of it is true.

you were about to respond to Jake when suddenly you heard the last voice you wanted to hear right now “jakey! baby why did you leave so suddenly, come on let's go home, you said you'll sleep over tonight.” nayeon said while looking at you smirking.

nayeon didn't want to do this to you. But you made her do it, she loved Jake first, she was supposed to be the one in your place, everytime you and Jake hung out with her she felt like she could tear you to pieces, you stole Jake from her. So she's gonna steal him back, while making you feel just like how she felt even if it meant losing you, at least she'll get back what was supposed to be hers from the start.

“Would you fuck off nayeon, you've already did enough can you stop with your fucking lies.” Jake yelled but you couldn't even listen to them when all you wanted was to leave, so when they were both arguing you took the chance to get out of the party before you felt like collapsing from the lack of oxygen, you took an uber and went straight to your apartment not able to deal with anything right now.

As you made your way home, you felt your legs giving up on you once you got in, now that you're in your home with all the lights turned off, your makeup ruined from all the crying you did from heeseung's house to your apartment, and the tears still spilling you started thinking of everything. How you should've listened to the rumors, you should've seen it all coming…but why though.

Were you not enough for Jake, did you do something to upset nayeon, maybe the only reason Jake dated you was because he wanted to get closer to nayeon and now that they're alone at the party they were probably laughing at your stupidity. “fuck.. why am I such an idiot.” was the last thing you said before you stopped overthinking, you didn't have the energy to get to your bed so you found yourself making your way to the couch and closed your eyes.

It's been one week since you've gone to school, you went back to your parents house to take a small break from everything that happened and since you knew you don't have the heart to confront Jake or nayeon so you took your time and thought of everything at your parents house.

Jake couldn't take this anymore, he needed to fix this, asap. He tried so many things, he tried going to your apartment knocking on your door day and night hoping you'll open up and listen to him but you didn't even open the door or showed any signs that you're at home, he tried texting you, calling you, emailing you, but all of it was in vain, he even waited In front of your classes but all he heard from your classmates is that you didn't come today.

As he was making his way to the school entrance Jake just wanted to get back home, he wanted the day to end even though it just already started. He knows if he shared his thoughts with anyone right now they would call him dramatic and that he should just move on, but how can he move on when you have his heart, his soul, and his mind, he can't go on with his day without thinking about you.

When he was about to walk in front of your locker he stopped immediately when he saw you standing right there, he thought his eyes were deceiving him, and maybe it's all just a dream, or maybe he finally went crazy and he's hallucinating, but when he tried hitting himself you were still standing there taking out your books looking very beautiful while doing so— he stopped abruptly when he just realized you're finally In front of him he can finally talk to you and get everything back to normal.

He didn't waste any second as he bolted to your locker scared that if he wasted any more time you'll vanish, “y/n? It's really you, you look beautiful as ever.” He blushed when he noticed he said that out loud not being able to focus on anything right now other than you.

You wanted to laugh, Jake has always been like this. he would always say the most random things and you loved that about him but you held yourself back when you remembered what you went through last week and it was all because of him and nayeon, you wanted to ignore him that was your plan from the start to tell him to leave you alone and never see his face again.

But your mind felt blank, forgetting everything you wanted to say when you looked at him. The effect Jake has on you will never be explainable; he can just make you weak in the knees by doing nothing. But you tried focusing again, not letting him take over your brain “Jake.. we need to talk.” You managed to say without stuttering over your words, “yes, right we need to talk” he was about to hold your hand to take you to the storage room nearby but you were much faster than him as you walked away.

He followed behind you getting ready for things to get back to normal, to get you back in his arms, where you belong. You were about to speak but he cut you off “look… what ever you saw at the party it was all a misunderstanding I promise, please I was going to tell you about nayeon but I didn't have it in me to ruin your friendship, I know she means alot to you so I let her do what she wanted I thought she'll stop when she realizes i don't like her in that way, I didn't think she'll do something like that, I'm really sorry I felt nervous and scared that if I told you, you'll think I'm trying to ruin your friendship with nayeon and you'll believe her over me, I didn't want to lose you, I'm really sorry.”

By now Jake was full on crying, his movements were slow as he was breathing fitfully, you couldn't process the new information that was given to you “ruin our friendship? Jake, you know I'm not like that if you just talked to me about it we could figure something out together… I didn't know you were going through all of that alone.” You felt confused, sad, frustrated, but especially mad. You were mad at yourself, if you took actions before maybe this wouldn't have turned out this way.

Jake felt better, he finally got out everything he wanted to say since the start of your relationship, he took your fingers in his hands, hesitant, trying to comfort you even tho he looks like he needs more comforting than you do right now, you laughed at his antics and walked closer to him holding his hand fully, you looked up at him looking at his puppy eyes “if you really are saying the truth… maybe, we can start again. I tried moving on from you but it seems much harder than I thought when my mind is occupied with you 24/7” he giggled at your confession feeling giddy “I guess we both have something in common.”

he hooked his arms around your waist, pulling you even closer you felt goosebumps all over your body with every touch you glanced at his lips, you leaned closer until you felt his soft, tender lips against yours. It felt familiar and gentle, you missed this.. you missed him your body felt like it could give up on you any second now, you felt Jake's hand ride up in your shirt as he kept pulling you closer, you gently tug at his collar to pull away for air when you suddenly heard him say “do you want me to stop?” you quickly shook your head and said “not really.. maybe the opposite, please.” he smiled at your response before pulling you back into the kiss.

it was almost the end of the school day when you pumped into nayeon, the minute she saw you she just kept laughing at you calling you pathetic which made the feeling of wanting to hit her more and more appealing, you glanced at her seeing her smirk reminding you of the day of the party

“why..?” She scoffed at your question and laughed “why? Are you for real? What don't you understand? Jake is mine, he should've been mine but you stole him from me so I'm taking back what you stole.” Oh, so that's what this is about “yours? If Jake was yours he would've chosen you, but he didn't. Kinda sad don't you think” you chuckled, nayeon was raging by now “you little bitch— I don't care, shut up” nayeon looked at you in disbelief.

“I should have seen it coming, but I didn't think we would argue over a boy.. at least tell me our friendship was real.” Nayeon laughed again, gritting her teeth “you’re so pathetic, if you want the truth no. None of it was real. I just befriended you because you looked lonely, I felt bad for you.” you felt a lump in your throat and your eyes tearing up but you held it all back not wanting to show a sign of weakness right now, you're done with this conversation “hah you're finally showing your true colors and they're an uglier shade than I wanted to believe, don't talk to me again, ever.”

You turned around and started walking away you heard nayeon scream your name but you just ignored her and went on, you're done with this chapter of life and you'll start a new chapter with Jake with nothing to come in your way, even if any obstacle comes in your and Jake's way you know you'll both figure out a way to get through it.

jaeyunwon 2024 © all rights reserved

[traveler-at-heart]

How to train your spy

Request by @happychopshoppenguin

Summary: You meet a hot stranger in a bar. The next morning, there's a familiar face at your SHIELD training.

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!R

-

Of course it was a bad idea. Irresponsible, unbecoming of an adult who had just gotten her dream job.

But your new life started tomorrow and you knew that from then on, it was all about duty and service.

In that case, who could blame you for going out to dance one last time?

“Another round of shots” you requested at the bar, looking over your shoulder.

��Can I buy you a drink?” a man said next to you and you politely declined. However, he moved closer, eyeing you up and down. “Come on, sweetheart. We can have a good time”

“Hi, baby. What’s taking so long?” a raspy voice said behind you. You were about to correct the person, who had probably mistaken you for someone else.

Green eyes met yours, and you were breathless at the beauty in front of you. The woman rested her chin on your shoulder.

“Is this man giving you trouble?” she said in a playful tone, but her glare was murderuous. It was enough to make him give up, turning around to leave.

“Thanks” you said, relaxing against the woman’s chest. She smelled incredible and you were a little drunk. It was hard to keep your distance. “Can I buy you a drink? To thank you, of course”

“One more couldn’t hurt. But seems like you have enough to drink” she commented when the bartender gave you a tray with six tequila shots.

“Oh, these are for my friends. I can’t get wasted today. I’m starting a new job tomorrow”

“Congratulations…” her words hung in the air and you picked up on the intent, jumping up to introduce yourself.

“Y/N Y/L/N. And you are…?”

“Just Nat” the woman shook your hand and you blushed at the contact.

“Well, just Nat. What brings you here on this fine Sunday night?”

“Waiting for a friend. He should be here in…45 minutes”

“Can I keep you company for those 45 minutes?” you offered, sitting next to her on a bar stool.

“Sure. Why don’t you tell me what was your plan if I hadn’t shown up to save you from that creep?”

“Oh, you saved me, huh?” you chuckled and Nat nodded, bringing the glass of scotch to her lips. You were enthranced by her beautiful, elegant jawline and neck.

“Is that what you were planning on doing? Stare at him?” she mocked and you rolled your eyes.

“I’ll have you know I am good at fighting”

“Like karate or…”

“Like many things. And I can throw a punch. A good one. I can show you”

“Maybe some other time. How about we play some darts?” she leaned forward, arching an eyebrow. All you could do was nod dumbly.

Nat took the tray of shots with her and you agreed that the loser would drink for each turn.

“Crap” you said after the third shot. “You’re really good at this”

“I should have mentioned that before we set the rules, huh?”

“Let’s just play something different” you said, sitting in a quiet corner of the bar. “Truth or dare”

“Alright. I’ll start. Dare”

“Tell me your name. Not just Nat”

The redhead grabbed a shot and downed it. You laughed.

“Now you”

“Alright… truth” but before Nat could ask anything, you took a shot, and began speaking, slightly slurring your words. “I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen”

The woman blushed and you chuckled, realising that’s not how the game worked after it was too late.

“My turn. I dare you to…”

“I’m supposed to dare you, isn’t how this works…?” you wondered out loud, drinking yet another shot.

“I dare you to kiss me” Nat said, louder. Her gaze traveled from your mouth to your lips, and you didn’t have to be told twice.

The kiss was messy, and desperate, teeth clashing as you pulled the woman by the collar of her jacket. The force of your movements made her stand up, and pretty soon you felt the edge of a pool table against your legs.

Were you about to have sex with a total stranger in the corner of a bar?

Nat bit your lip, making you moan against her tongue.

Well, yes, apparently you were about to get fucked by a beautiful woman in a bar…

But then…

“Seriously?” a voice said behind you. It was a man, carrying a… bow and arrow?

“You told me to hang back” Nat answered. You turned to glare at the man for interrupting you, but a couple of men in black suits followed close behind. “Messy work, Barton. They followed you all the way here”

“Help me out or get a room”

The latter would work for you, except the men began to throw punches, some of then carrying knives. In spite of the alcohol, you were able to knock down one.

Apparently that wasn’t so impressive, considering Nat and Mister Bow and Arrow had taken care of the other six on their own.

“Good work” you gave a thumbs up, practically passing out on the chair. The alcohol had finally kicked in enough to make you dizzy.

“We have to go” the man pressed and Nat sighed.

“I didn’t get your phone number” you complained, less and less focused on the woman in front of you. You felt arms around you, leaving you close to the table where your friends were sitting.

“I’ll see you around” Nat promised, kissing your cheek. You smiled, but the last thing you saw was your friend’s face as you dropped to the floor.

—

Stupid. Stupid.

Idiotic.

After coffe, you ran 10 miles and swam for 30 minutes. How unfortunate that intense physical activity was the only way to cure your hangovers.

Luckily, SHIELD had the best facilities and you were able to shower before your introduction to the program.

After acing every test -physical, psychological, medical and polygraph- you were set to start your training to become a SHIELD agent.

You entered the first floor gym, noticing there were more men than women -which was to be expected, but made you anxious nonetheless. It was hard to stand out in a male dominated field, especially if your instructor was a man as well.

But as everyone stood around the gym and the doors opened one last time, you turned around.

Nat.

Nat was here, wearing a black jacket with the SHIELD logo and training pants.

Your eyes met for a brief second and she smiled, clearly amused.

“Welcome to SHIELD” she said in an icy tone. “Your training begins today. There are no days off and if you have a problem with that, you might as well leave now. Agents on the field don’t rest, or let their guard down because if they do, they get killed. Training starts every day at seven, do not be late. You’ll also have to study languages, technology, weapons and cryptography”

Everyone in the room stayed silent, their eyes on the redhead.

“Now, I’ll be honest, my idea of fun isn’t training new recruits. I’m not very patient and I won’t tolerate people who don’t take this seriously. Today, we will begin with combat training. Y/L/N, come over here”

Wait, what?

Well, fuck. Scratching the back of your neck, you sighed and walked to the front of the line. With her back to the group, Nat smiled, signaling for you to stand next to her in the sparring mat. You were far enough from the rest of the people to at least speak.

“You had to pick the girl with a massive hangover”

“Yours is the only name I know” she lied and you rolled your eyes.

“I was hoping we’d meet again, but not for you to kick my ass”

Assuming a fighting stance, you figured she wanted you to attack first. You were barely able to throw a punch when she had you pinned to the ground.

Every time you got up, she found a way to knock you down. And not just that, she’d place her face close to yours, or end on top of you. Not only was she impossible to beat, but also completely intoxicating. The memories from last night were foggy, except for the way her lips felt on yours.

“Why are you all staring? Find a partner and practice” the woman said to the recruits.

“Can I at least get your name now?” you asked, panting on the floor.

“Natasha” she gave you her hand to help you up. “Natasha Romanoff”

—

Natasha - no, Agent Romanoff-, was giving you a masterclass on psychological warfare.

She teased you endlessly, with little touches that lingered and made your skin feel hot. Or with words spoken when you were close enough to be the only one to hear them.

Like that time on the shooting room, when Natasha approached you, making you relax your shoulders by squeezing them, lowering your elbow to improve your stance.

“Good girl” she whispered against your neck, making you miss the shot completely.

To make matters worse, you had an entire class dedicated to breaking free from different restraints.

Of course, Natasha was the one that handcuffed your hands behind your back, her eyes lingering on the way your chest stuck out.

“Not a bad view” she commented. “Though I do think you’ll enjoy the ropes a bit more”

And yes, you absolutely did. Especially when she squeezed them tighter around your wrists and you groaned.

It wasn’t just physical contact. Natasha could say one small thing in that sultry tone and you’d be on your knees.

“Your foreign language skills seem fine. Russian could be better, though” the redhead commented after your latest review.

“It’s hard to find someone to practice with” you mumbled, your eyes following Natasha’s body as she stood up, walking towards you.

“It’s all in the tongue. You can do wonders when you know how to use it”

“I bet” you mumbled, feeling hot as she leaned past you, opening the door so you could leave her office.

“Be sure to work on that. Wouldn’t want that pretty mouth to disappoint me”

Thoughts of what you could do with your mouth to please her were the only thing on your mind for the rest of the day.

Between the endless teasing and the grueling preparation, the first month went by. You were better at combat, managing to go toe to toe with Natasha. In everything else, you were top of the class.

There was one girl called Lindsay who was particularly fond of you. Natasha realised you were too nice to ignore her, and too naive to notice she was flirting with you.

“I’m meeting some friends at a bar later today. Would love it if you could join us” she said, smiling as you both walked down the hallway to the gym.

“Oh, I was thinking of staying home, I have to catch up with Grey’s Anatomy”

“Come on, you should find time to relax. It must be so hard to have Romanoff all over you”

“Y-yeah”

Yes, all over you but in a totally different way than Lindsay meant.

As if on cue, Natasha opened one of the doors, emerging from a conference room. Lindsay blushed, wondering if the woman had heard. However, Natasha didn’t even look at her.

“Y/N. A word?”

“Yes, Agent” you nodded, walking past her to the empty conference room. “Is everything ok?”

“There’s a mission tonight. Nothing major. Thought you might be ready”

“Seriously?” you said, excited at the idea of infiltrating a terrorist organziation, kicking ass, saving people. “That’s… I’m ready, of course”

“Good. I’ll see you tonight”

You couldn’t even imagine she’d asked you because she was jealous of your friend.

—

You couldn’t complain. For one, if you did, Natasha would kick your ass. Second, it was a great opportunity, especially for a new recruit.

The fact that the mission was sitting around in a car waiting for something to happen was irrelevant.

“So, once we see that dude Rinderknech, we go inside? Hack into his computer? Bug the place?” you said, grabbing the camera and pointing the big lens towards a window of the building.

“We watch and report back” Natasha answered. You turned to her, and she shrugged her shoulders. “Intelligence is 90% of the work. And that means a lot of hours on your ass looking out for bad guys”

“Right” you said, trying to ignore the cold air inside. You couldn’t turn the car or the heat on.

“Here” Natasha said, pulling a blanket out of the backseat. Before you could thank her, she handed you a plastic cup of coffee and a scone.

“Hey, these are my favorites” you noted, biting into the pastry. Remembering your manners a second too late, you muffled a thank you to Natasha. “How did you know?”

“It’s the first thing you pick up at the cafeteria every morning” she rolled her eyes.

“Thank you, Tasha” you said again, unaware that the term of endearment had made the woman blush.

Her hands flew to the car radio, desperately trying to fill the silence.

“Leave it there” you asked when one of your favorite songs came on, placing your hand on her thigh. Natasha had to choke back a whimper.

What the hell? She’d been the one making you all hot and bothered for months now. And here you were, eating a scone and patting her leg, making a mess out of the best spy in the world.

“Keane was my first concert” she heard you say. Her blank stare made you insist, waiting for a reaction. “Keane? English band?”

“I don’t listen to a lot of music. And I’ve never been to a concert either” she muttered, pretending to look out the window for your person of interest.

“A concert virgin. If you ever interested, I’ll be happy to be your first” you joked.

“Thanks. That might be fun”

“Not as good as playing darts and getting drunk, though” you said and Natasha bit back a smile.

It was the first time either one of you mentioned that night. Mainly because bringing it up only made you think about how good Natasha felt.

Green eyes met yours and the intensity made you shiver.

The sound of a text on your phone interrupted the moment

“That your girlfriend?” Natasha said, feigning indifference.

“Who, Lindsay? She’s just a friend”

“Right. Don’t be naive. That’s how you get yourself killed out in the field” the redhead grumbled.

“Sorry, I haven’t noticed much other than how ridiculously good you look on your SHIELD uniform”

“Stop that” Natasha said, blushing.

Blushing because of you? Accomplishment of a lifetime.

“I’m only giving as good as I get, Agent”

Natasha chuckled, moving forward in her seat to get a better look out… and probably hide that she was blushing again.

“There they are” she nodded towards the corner. You recognised Rinderknech by the tattoo on his neck. He was speaking to a group of men when their attention turned to your car.

“Nat?” you said when two of their bodyguards began to approach you. “What do we do?”

Turning back, Natasha noticed a black SUV, blocking the back street. It was impossible to escape without making a scene.

Her mind went blank, the only concern she had was that you could get hurt, all because she made you join her on a mission that wasn’t that necessary.

The men kept walking and Natasha remained frozen. Then, it came to you.

“Kiss me” you turned, urgency in your tone.

“What?”

“PDA and all that. Will make them uncomfortable. Just do it” you said, pulling her by the shirt until her lips met yours.

This time, her lips tasted of coffee and sugar. After a few seconds, Natasha’s mind drifted from the mission, and all she could think about was you. As your mouth parted to give her access, Natasha’s hand went up your leg all the way to the button of your jeans.

“Excuse me?” a man tapped on the glass.

Damn it. You rolled down the window, swollen lips and the first two buttons of your shirt undone. When did she do that?

“Oh, never mind” the man looked amused, but seemed convinced enough that you weren’t a threat.

“We should go” Natasha said, knowing it wasn’t safe to stick around after a close call.

You spent the rest of the ride in silence, but it was pretty obvious what was going through your head as you shifted uncomfortably on your seat of the car.

“We should…”

“Do you want to…?”

As Natasha parked the car, you spoke at the same time, looking at each other and smiling.

Before you could start over, Barton approached the car, surprised when he spotted you inside.

“Hey, you must be Y/N” Barton said, looking at the coffee cup and the bag with half a scone. He smiled again, turning to Natasha. “Jesus, Nat. Just ask the girl out”

“Shut it”

“Crappy coffee in a car during a stakeout is not a proper date” the man insisted and walked away before Natasha could slap the lights out of him.

“And here I was, thinking I was on the mission for my talents” you laughed, exiting the car.

“Y/N, wait!” Natasha called. “I did. Wanted to ask you out. I’m just… not good at this”

“That’s ok. I am” you said, pulling her close to you. “Let’s just not do darts, tequila or fight against organized crime. I think we’ve had enough of that”

“What about all the kissing?”

“Oh, that is definitely happening” you smiled, leaning forward. “I can’t wait for you to hear all the Russian I’ve been learning, detka”

With a kiss on her neck, you walked to the SHIELD building, pleased with Nat’s shocked stare.

All these months, she’d been teaching you how to be a spy; and more importantly, how to be a tease.

She was about to found out how good of a teacher she was.

[sttoru]

“AS IF THE MEMORIES HAVE A HEART THAT ONLY BEATS AT NIGHT.”

༄ sypnosis. your boyfriend is on a business trip, yet always finds the time to call you at night. though, this time he’s lonely and in need of comfort.

༄ note. inspired by one of mahmoud darwish’s poems plus by my love for this man. sigh he’s so pretty. excuse me if this is too sappy.

༄ tags. satoru x reader. female reader. pet names such as ‘sweet, love, baby, babe, angel”. satoru is clingy. this is just uhh, fluff and sprinkles of angst + reverse comfort. spoilers jjk manga (stuff w/ suguru & toji).

“what are you doing,” “where are you,” and “who’s with you,”

satoru, as always, didn’t give you the chance to greet him properly once you picked up his call. your boyfriend was sent on a mission overseas and has been calling you every night since.

he says it’s to ‘hear your pretty voice’ and because he apparently ‘can’t survive without hearing it at least once a day’.

“satoru— love, calm down.” you chuckle softly, putting the call on speaker before going back to eat your dinner.

you hear the sorcerer let out a small whine over the phone, “my bad, sweet. you know i always look forward to speaking with you.”

you hum lightly in response. satoru has always had the habit to call you whenever he misses you even in the slightest of amounts.

some may find that annoying, however you’re aware that you are the only person satoru can rely on at the end of the day. that’s exactly why you try your best to answer all of his phone calls.

“how’d the mission go?” you ask after swallowing a bite of your food.

“pfft, the usual. dealt with some annoying curses that’ve been plaguing the area.” your boyfriend groans; he wished he didn’t have to take care of his duties so he could be with you all the time.

satoru just wanted to hold you in his arms, cuddle you, shower you with love, take you out on cute dates and spoil you with all kinds of gifts. his responsibilities as a teacher and as the strongest sorcerer constantly got in the way of that simple dream.

“good work, baby. you did well today.” you reply, earning a small ‘i-know-i-did’ huff from your boyfriend.

“thanks,” satoru adds, his voice muffled. it sounded like he had some food in his mouth, which you easily guessed was something sweet, “you know.. i was thinking about us— eh, you in particular.”

a silence falls over the phone afterwards. it was like satoru gave you a moment to process his words before he continues.

“well, when do you not think about me?” you snicker.

you couldn’t see it, but satoru rolled his eyes at your comment before letting a chuckle escape his lips, “hey! was trying to create a sentimental mood there.”

“but, i guess— yeah. true.” your words were the truth; satoru was a hopeless man when it came to you. you’ve invaded his thoughts, his heart and even his soul.

“anyways,” your boyfriend continues, pausing slightly to swallow the snack in his mouth, “i know i say this every day, but i wish you were here with me.”

you stop chewing on your food as soon as you hear the slight change of tone in satoru’s voice. you immediately knew that he needed you at the moment.

“mhm, i know,” you reply quietly. you wanted to let him get it all out before comforting him properly with your words.

satoru took that short answer as a sign to keep talking and opening up about his feelings to you.

“it’s just,” he sighs defeatedly, “actually, i don’t know. i guess being alone during times like these really gets to me.”

satoru stared at the ceiling as he laid on his back. his phone was on the pillow right next to his head, also on speaker.

when he’s with you, it’s easy to forget about all kinds of gloomy thoughts that may enter his mind. all satoru has to do is focus his attention on you and he won’t have any time to dwell on such stuff.

however when he’s alone, he’s left with his own brain and the thoughts that ate away at him ever since the inevitable incident with toji a few years ago.

suguru. amanai.

rustling sounds; satoru’s moving positions on his bed to somehow focus on your voice again.

“i guess it’s also because it’s unknown what the future holds.” satoru pauses. this time the pause was for him to collect his thoughts.

you knew what he meant by that; satoru had went through a few traumatic events over the years. he’s faced betrayal, loss and death ever since he was a teenager.

even if he doesn’t say nor show it, satoru is scared of what the future holds for him. especially with you in the picture now— he doesn’t want you to change or disappear on him. the thought alone makes his heart ache.

“..hey, can you promise me one thing, angel?” satoru eventually speaks up again, his voice a hushed whisper over the phone.

“of course. what is it?” you answer softly.

a third and short silence falls between you again.

“promise me that you’ll stay safe.” satoru sounds like he’s desperately trying to keep his tone neutral, however you could sense some vulnerability in there.

now that you’re thinking about it, you’ve never seen or heard satoru cry out in sadness or distress. though you know for sure that those feelings are building up somewhere inside of him. it’s only a matter of time before they need to be released.

“i promise,” you start in a comforting tone, “i promise i’ll stay safe, satoru.”

you could hear your boyfriend sigh in relief. just a small promise like that was enough to calm him down a little. for now, that is.

“i’ve failed many people before,” satoru continues, still trying to keep the tone of his voice neutral, “however, i will not fail you.”

you nod to yourself. the rest of your dinner was getting cold as you used your chopsticks to absentmindedly poke the rice while listening to satoru over the phone.

“you’re too important for me to lose,” he murmurs, taking a deep breath to steady his voice, “if it ever comes to that.. i don’t know what i’ll do.”

satoru actually doesn’t know how he’ll react or what he’ll do if you—the only person worth fighting for—would leave him; will all the thoughts come crashing down on him and cause him to finally break down?

he doesn’t know. nor does he want to find out. ever.

“don’t you worry, love.” you answer, “i hereby promise you that i won’t leave your side any time soon.”

you sigh, a small smile on your face which satoru couldn’t witness. you figured to cheer him up with your own words— it felt like he needed a mix of distraction and comfort at the moment and that’s what you wanted to give him.

“i’m not going anywhere. you’re completely and utterly stuck with me for now.” you playfully warn him, putting emphasis on the two words, “there’s no backing out of this, ‘toru.”

the sorcerer couldn’t help but laugh slightly at your last remark; you always knew how to make him feel better in an instant. that’s why he loved you to death,

“make that forever and we have a deal.”

“fiiine,” you reply in an over exaggerated tone before giggling, “forever it is. don’t get bored of me any time soon then.”

“oh, don’t you worry, angel.” satoru chuckles, sighing the stress away in one deep breath, “i’ll never get bored of my favourite girl. never in a million years.”

he sits up on his bed before standing up and walking to the window of his hotel room. satoru looked outside while grabbing another snack from a nearby table.

the sky was beautiful; it reminded him of you, though your beauty was no match for the sky. you were prettier than nature itself.

“satoru.” you call out to him over the phone and he immediately snaps back to reality.

“yeah, baby?” he replies, unwrapping his chocolate bar with one hand in the meantime.

“be reaaaal honest with me. like really honest.” a grin forms on your face as you thought of what to say next.

“you know i always speak the truth with you,” satoru mutters with a smile while putting a piece of chocolate in his mouth, “go on.”

“how many of those chocolate bars have you eaten today?”

the question caught satoru off guard and he instantly stops chewing.

satoru turns his head to the left and then to the right, eyes narrowed and body in a defensive stand like somebody was going to attack him any time soon.

“wh— the hell? how did you know? don’t tell me you’ve been secretly watchin’ me the entire time.”

you could already picture the way he’s probably checking his entire hotel room at the moment. your poor boyfriend may be strongest, but not when it comes to such silly ‘scary’ stuff. it’s adorable.

“babe, you never go a day without eating that one specific chocolate bar.” you giggle softly, taking another bite of your own food, “i’ve come to know your eating habits by now.”

“that so?” satoru grins to himself as he puts another piece in his mouth, “what am i thinking at the moment then? if you know me so well.”

you roll your eyes and get up to put your dishes away, taking your phone with you to the sink. “hmm.. well let me think.”

“take all the time you need, baby.”

satoru constantly tells you that you’re always on his mind, so you figured that this time wouldn’t be any different.

you know it’d probably be something sappy that’ll make you both giggle uncontrollably.

“maybe, something like—“ you start in a teasing tone, “i don’t know, uhh— ‘i love you?’”

there it goes; the uncontrollable giggles and laughter that fill both of your ears. it felt like you were two young teenagers in love again.

“damn, i’m really that predictable, huh?” satoru eventually says, trying to catch his breath as his tummy started to hurt from laughing so much.

“nah. i’d say it’s the power of love.”

another fit of laughter follows.

so, the night went on and on; going from discussions about random stupid stuff to deep philosophical conversations and back to the cheesy, lovey dovey remarks.

and of course, the call wouldn’t end without a direct and sleepy ‘i love you’ from your dear boyfriend.

[abigailmoment]

It wasn't just bad luck that Staeve was targeted. It was a calculated attack. Halsin knew well enough how a caster could examine their enemies for tells. Halsin did it himself. Considered an opponent's tactics, and guessed at the places their mind would be most vulnerable.

You didn't have to be a gifted empath to watch how Staeve hurled himself into the thick of combat, right at the biggest bandit wielding the two-handed great sword, and think that the man might be vulnerable to a spell that exploited wisdom.

The fact that it took down Astarion too, well, perhaps that one was just bad luck.

It happened like this:

-

This is written about @velnna's Tav, Staeve. I was delighted to discover that they don't mind fan fiction being written about him.

I'm always cautious about writing for other people's OCs--getting voices right is so important to me. I have elegantly avoided that issue here.

-

Full text below.

Full Text On AO3

-

The fight was an incidental bit of banditry. Dangerous banditry, certainly. Bandits with  great swords, supported by wizards. Halsin hung back with Gale while the two rogues dashed forward to give truth to the old adage that the best defense was killing the other fellow extremely quickly. 

They cut down the man with the great sword and the woman with the mace and shield. Reinforcements were coming from around a rocky overhang. Halsin coaxed the earth to throw up entangling vines to slow them down. Gale drenched them with glimmering light that illuminated all their vulnerable points for Astarion and Staeve to shoot at.

Only the half-orc made it through the vines and the light. He was bloodied and wrathful. He was huge, but it was two against one, and the two were flanking with each other. It would have been an easy end to the combat, except that apparently there was a bandit wizard hidden somewhere in the trees who chose this moment to cast a spell. 

One second Staeve was a blood spattered half-drow sprinting full-tilt, sword out, towards a fighter twice his size. And then he was gone.

Some sort of teleportation? Banishment? Gale was saying something about trajectory and scanning the treeline. Halsin was yelling, he wasn't sure what, the concern was more important than the words. He started running forward. Because two rogues against a barbarian was fine, but one rogue against a barbarian was an extremely fast way for that rogue to die.

And Astarion knew that so he should be running away. But he wasn't running away. He was darting forward and ducking low and almost getting hit by a greataxe as he snatched something off of the ground. 

Then he was running, thank the Gods. There was something cradled in his arms, which meant he didn't have his rapier out as he scrambled back.

It was a cat. Halsin saw. They were ten feet away from each other when Halsin realized that Astarion was carrying a large, extremely upset tabby cat with grey-green fur.

That was when Astarion vanished. No. Not vanished. As the tabby tumbled to the ground, something small and white was already there, darting for cover. 

Then the half-orc arrived. Bellowing and huge, at least when compared to cats. Not quite as huge when compared to Halsin. 

Halsin decided to turn into a bear. It was amazing how many problems you could solve by turning into a bear. 

-

"I am feeling my oversight in not preparing dispel magic today," said Gale. "Or counterspell."

"This is not a situation we could have anticipated," Halsin said.

Staeve contributed to the conversation, but because of present circumstances, it came out as a meow.

He was large for a cat. His fur was pale brown, tabby-striped with green. His stripes crisscrossed in a way that reminded Halsin of his tattoos. His scar was a fur-less groove in his face. He had the same pale green eyes as always. That color was quite appropriate in a cat.

He meowed again, more insistently this time.

"We will," Halsin assured him. 

"You're speaking with him?" Gale asked. 

"Not magically," Halsin said. It had been a long day and he had barely anything left to cast with. "But I think I understand him."

"Do you?"

"Think a moment and I am confident that you too will guess what he wants from us."

It did only take a moment. Gale was an intelligent man, when prompted. And they'd all seen the small white cat vanish into the woods during the bear-orc fight.

"Ah. Of course." Gale addressed the cat, voice reassuring. "Astarion should be relatively safe though. Polymorph is temporary and even if something did happen to him in the interim, he would just revert to his natural form."

Staeve's whiskers went back and his ears went flat in a thoroughly unimpressed way. 

"I think it would be best to find him and make sure nothing happens," Halsin said with mellow diplomacy. 

"Of course." Gale paused, then said delicately: "Given my skill in woodland matters, or lack thereof, I may best serve this cause by getting out of the way."

Halsin smiled. "It is a wise man who knows his limitations."

"I'll meet you all back at camp then?" said Gale.

"Take a potion of invisibility for the trip," Halsin suggested. "There might still be bandits about."

Staeve had gotten impatient with them, and was padding off into the forest. Halsin handed Gale the potion and hastened to follow.

-

Staeve scampered about the forest like he was looting the place. No hole, hollow log, wasp nest, or brown recluse spider-web was left uninvestigated. The loss of seventy five percent of his gray matter had done the man's already flagging survival instincts no favors. Halsin spent half of his attention looking for signs of a small white cat, and half of his time making sure Staeve's efforts at tracking didn't get him killed.

After being only a hairsbreadth quick enough to pull Staeve away from the entrance to a dire-badger-burrow Halsin decided that his partner was now going to be carried. Staeve made a meowling, writhing objection. He was terribly invested in the search. A compromise was reached when he was offered a perch high on Halsin's broad shoulders. Staeve proceeded to clamber from shoulder to shoulder as Halsin walked, ears always forward and alert, eyes bright, head turning this way and that as he scanned the woods.

Small cats with stealth training were not easy things to track through dense forest. Halsin did end up using his last spell slot to cast speak with animals. The local mice and voles always noticed when predators passed, even small ones. Halsin spoke to them while keeping one hand on Staeve, who watched the tiny creatures with bright, newly interested eyes.

Halsin of course spoke with Staeve as well, but it wasn't quite the same. Talking to a person who had been transformed into an animal was not the same as talking to that person. Shape changed you. How you saw things. How you thought. The mind of a cat was a fraction of the size of that of an elf or half-elf. Thinking with it was different. The change was easiest for druids. It was hardest for the cursed, who did not choose the new shape. Who were surprised by it.

He spoke to Staeve and learned things he had already known from observation. He reassured Staeve that the mice had given useful guidance.

That guidance led them north, then west, and then to a long hollow log, moss covered and broken in two places. A good hiding spot, and the sort of shelter that had a lot of escape routes. Staeve jumped off of Halsin's shoulder as the druid knelt down and they both peered inside.

In the darkness, Halsin could just make out a pair of ruby-bright eyes staring warily back at him. 

Beside him, Halsin watched Staeve relax for the first time since becoming a cat. He wasn't actually as large as Halsin had first thought--it was just that his hackles had been up and his tail puffed out for the duration of the transformation.

It could be a painful thing indeed, to have one's heart so completely entwined with another's safety. A deeply worthwhile thing, but a painful thing, sometimes. 

Halsin made a deferring motion to Staeve, who nodded in a rather un-catlike like way. Halsin stepped back from the log, moving slowly so as not to startle anything. He shifted a few feet away and sat close enough to watch, but far away enough that his looming size wasn't an ominous thing.

Staeve didn't go inside the hollow log. He sat at the entrance. Lay down at the entrance, body long and casual, head up on the lip of the log so he could keep looking inside. Modeling relaxation.

He started to purr. Halsin could hear him purring even from a few feet away. A loud, constant, soothing rumble. It somehow did not surprise Halsin that Staeve had a loud purr.

And then Staeve waited. Patient as anything. Waiting and watching and purring in a low buzz, as steadily as a beehive.

Halsin could not see inside the log, but he could guess at when Astarion moved because Staeve's ears would flick. Staeve had a fine poker face, but everyone had tells. 

Something happened, or occurred to him, that made Staeve raise his head and sit up slightly from his sprawl on the ground. Then he stood up entirely. He gave Halsin a significant look, and trotted off into the underbrush. 

Conscious that he had just been assigned new responsibility, Halsin shifted so that he had a good view of the log's entrances and everything around it. There wasn't much danger, Halsin’s presence in general kept most predators away from this space. But still.

During his vigil, Halsin saw the glimmer of red cat-eyes once. And only briefly. 

Staeve came back soon. He had a dead vole in his mouth and he looked exceptionally pleased with himself. He dropped the vole at the mouth of the log, took a few pawpads back and watched expectantly.

It took another long minute, but after that minute a small white cat crept out of the darkness.

This should surprise no one, but Astarion was a beautiful cat. Slender and graceful with large eyes. His fur was pure, silvery white and just long enough to curl slightly. He moved with a cautious precision that Halsin recognized as his habit, and that deeply suited his new form. 

He sniffed at the vole. He shot Staeve a judgmental look, because Gods forbid the man accept any kindness without prevaricating about it in some way. He glanced at Halsin. And then he leaned down to slide exceptionally long canines into the corpse's chest.

Staeve flopped down about a foot away and watched him with an expression of pleased devotion that would honestly be a bit more appropriate on a dog.

Astarion ate fastidiously, and without getting even a blot of blood on his snow-white fur. When he finished he licked his teeth.

When Staeve was quite sure Astarion was done eating, he sidled up slantwise, sauntering around the vole corpse as if he just casually happened to be taking a stroll in this part of the forest for no particular reason. He stopped just short of Astarion. His ears were forward. His tail flicked lightly from side to side. 

Astarion regarded him levelly with his 'I know what you're doing and I know you think you're being clever about it but you're not' expression. Then, as if granting a boon, he deigned to rub his forehead gently against the underside of Staeve's chin.

Staeve took this as the invitation that it was and pressed back, much more enthusiastic and honest in his delight at the contact. Which in turn gave Astarion an excuse and space to do what he wanted and enjoy it.

They were always very dear to watch together. Whatever form they took. In about a minute they were curled over each other on the ground and Staeve was industriously grooming Astarion's head.

Halsin let this go on for as long as he could. But the shadows were lengthening, and they were very close to the Shadowlands, and he was out of spell slots, and the rogues were currently housecats.

"It is getting late, dear ones," he said softly. 

Astarion twitched at the interruption, and Staeve licked him three times along the neck and chest in a soothing way. Then they disentangled from each other and padded over to Halsin.

Halsin picked up Staeve, but he knelt down and laid his arm on the ground so that Astarion could climb up and find what perch he wanted by himself. They did both end up in his arms. Staeve was tired and quite ready to be carried, and Astarion didn't want to be out of contact with him.

As Halsin walked through the woods with an armfull of cat, Staeve started to purr again. It was really the most marvelous sound. A soothing distillation of satisfaction and care. Almost enough to tempt one away from being a bear.

Astarion did not purr. Some cats didn't. Or purred only very rarely. But Astarion did, at one point, look up at Halsin and blink his bright red eyes very slowly. 

And that was a precious thing.

****

Other stories like this.

****

[mrsmikaelsxn]

Flower Crowns

masterlist

pairing: harry potter x female reader

warnings: kissing, jily 2.0, fluff, flirty harry

summary: you were quite popular among the wizards and witches in the school, you had many admirers but none of them were like harry potter

a/n: harry would honestly be such a perfect boyfriend

song: i was made for lovin’ you - kiss

It was your sixth year at Hogwarts, today was your first day back after summer. Seated at the Slytherin table with some of your friends, you were in a conversation about what everyone did over the summer. 

As you were about to tell them about the trip you took, you hear a throat being cleared from behind you. You turn around as your friends look up and roll there eyes. 

“Hello, darling,” Harry grins while plopping himself on the bench with little room next to you.

“Potter,” you nod looking him over.

“How is it you’ve gotten even more beautiful over the summer,” he sighs dreamily. Your friends moved down the table more since they were tired of this routine. You look at them with betrayal as they just smile and shrug. 

“What is it you came over here for?” you dont know why you bother asking at this point, you already know whats coming. 

“Well, love, I came to ask you if you would go out with me this weekend,” he winks. You glace over his shoulder to see a Hermione sighing and a grinning Ron. 

“Sorry, Potter, but I’m going to have to decline your offer,” you said looking back at him. He’s use to you saying no, like how it has been for the past four years. He still trys all the time, he has never done anything with another person either. He is so set on you being for him that he is disgusted at the thought of being with anyone else that isn’t you. 

In the summer before second year, he went back home and told his parents about you. He would somehow have a way to bring you up everyday, while he blushing thinking about you. James would always grin at Lily while lifting his eyebrows up and down. She would roll her eyes as James starts to tell him about how to get you to take interest in him. 

Taking his dads advice, he would buy you little things at least twice a week, give you compliments every time he saw you, and many more things. 

One time during fourth year, he saw you walking around alone at the Quidditch World Cup. You were in a somewhat long silk green dress that complimented your body perfectly. You had some light makeup and your hair styled back.  He told the Weasleys and Hermione to go on and that he would joining them in a few minutes. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” Harry greets you while letting his eyes roam all over you in adoration. You glance over at him, taking in his messy hair and him in general. You would be lying if you were to say that he was not attractive, anyone could see that. 

“Potter, how are you?” 

“I'm perfect after seeing you, you look stunning” he smiles.

You blushed and looked away trying to hide your light pink cheeks. Although he most definitely saw, he felt like the happiest person ever. This was the first time he was able to make you blush.

“Thank you, I suppose you don’t look bad yourself,” you tell him while the corners of your mouth lift up a bit. 

He could have fainted right there, he started to stutter as he wasn’t expecting that. 

“I best be off, Potter. My family is waiting for me, I’ll see you soon,” you wave at the blushing boy as you start walking back. 

“I- uhm- brilliant!” That day he went to back to the Weasley’s tent as he told them about what happened. They all teased him about his massive crush as was still in a daze. It was truly astonishing how one sentence from you could lead him to act like this. 

Another time was last year, fifth year, when you had gotten detention with Umbridge. You were walking back to the common room with tears stinging your eyes. Umbridge had you stay much longer than you thought because of your “innappropriote behavior”. Apparently, speaking the truth is innappropriote now. As you were turing you almost crashed into someone. You look up to see a worried Harry Potter looking down at you. 

“I’m sorry, Potter. Excuse me,” you excuse yourself trying to go around him. Before you can, he gently grabs your waist and turns you to face him again. 

“Hold on, darling. Why are you crying, did something happen?” 

You couldn’t hold in the pain anymore. You started crying while grabbing onto Harry. His arms quickly wrapped around your waist. 

“Shh, love. Tell me whats wrong,” he whispers while using one hand to play with your hair. 

“I- um- had detention, with Umbridge,” he looks confused so you take a step back an slowly hold your left arm out. 

He was still confused for a second before looking at your hand. He was fuming, he saved his anger for now and decided to comfort you right now. He also felt such sadness that anyone would hurt an angel like you. 

“She did this to you?” he asked while sounding like he was about to cry. You nod, with some tears still streaming down your face. Oh how we wished he was able to kiss them away. 

“Come on love, I’ll take you to Hermione… she is much better at healing spells than me,” he informs you while gently pulling you towards the Gryffindor common room.

It was pretty late, so the room was empty when you both arrived. Except for Ron and Hermione who were arguing on the couch. They never had anything against you, even though you were a Slytherin, you had never participating in any of the bullying that a lot of other Slytherins did. You even scolded Malfoy when he called Hermione a Mudblood. 

Since that day you became somewhat friends with the girl, ignoring the looks of disgust from others in your house. 

When the two gryffindors looked up and saw you crying with distraught Harry, their argument quickly ended as they rushed over to you both.

“What happened, y/n? Harry?” Hermione says worridly. 

You tell them what happened, and they were just as mad as Harry. They tried to get rid of the writing on your hand but it would not go away. So Hermione decided she would just take the pain away for now. You thanked her with a hug and said goodnight as her and Ron went to their rooms. 

You turned to Harry and noticed how close your faces were, you glanced down at at his lips almost leaning in when you heard a bang from the dormitory making you both jump. 

“I- uh- should get back. Thank you, Potter,” you smile, quickly giving him a peck on the cheek before rushing out and leaving you both a blushing mess. 

Harry was left standing there as he lifted his hand to his red cheeks where your lips were. “What a girl,” he mumbled walking up the stairs. 

Back to present times, Harry got back up from his seat and looked down to you. “I’ll suppose I’ll have to try again tommorow, pretty,” he grins walking back to his seat. 

You blush lightly before picking up your things to head to your first class. The professor ended up assigning seats, and to Harrys luck, he was partnered with you for the year. 

“It’s meant to be, love,” he says as he leans back into his seat. 

“You wish, Potter,” you smile at him. 

“Yes, I do wish,” he grins looking at your eyes. 

After a long day of beginning of the year speeches, you were finally able to plop onto your bed and sleep. You look over to your friend, Daphne Greengrass, she was one of the only tolerable Slytherins in your opinion. 

“It’s adorable how much Potter loves you,” she laughs laying in bed. 

“Pfft, don't be ridiculous Daphne. He doesn't love me,” you shake your head. 

“He looks at you like you’re the only person in the world,” she giggles.  

“Hm”

You decided to drop the conversation, you closed your eyes and fell asleep. Later the next day, you were in the forbidden forest. Around a year ago, you found a place with a pretty flower field that was closed off. You come here often, as far as you know, you’re the only one who knows about it. 

You started to weave a flower crown out of a few lovely flowers you picked. You finished it and put it on as you hear meows from behind you. You turn around a squeal as you pick up the kitten and started to play with her (you checked the gender). 

You were unaware of Harry who was on his was to you after using the Mauraders Map to find you. He finally found you and his heart melt as he saw you giggling with a meowing kitten that licked your face as you lay in the field. 

You heard walking and sat up only to find yourself looking at the boy who has been on your mind a lot recently. 

“Oh! Hi, Harry, I didn’t expect you to come here,” you say. 

“Harry?” he asks you, trying to suppress a smile.

“Thats your name, is it not?” you laugh. 

“I suppose it is. Mind if I sit?” you nod, as you sit together in silence that was unexpectedly comfortable. 

Harry couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of you. 

“I really do fancy you,” Harry mumbles.

You turn to look at him, “I know… maybe I fancy you a bit as well,” you say, bringing your fingers up to show a pinch. 

“Really?” Harry asks leaving closer to you. 

“Really,” you whisper as you move so close your lips are brushing. You look into see his eyes and notice how pretty they are. 

“You’re perfect,” he whispers against your mouth as he connects his to yours. You both close your eyes as you kiss back and reach your hands into his hair. For the first minute it was sweet, before it started to become more passionate. You bring your leg over his and straddle him without disconnecting your lips. It was pure bliss.

You tug his hair getting a groan from him as his tongue swipes against your bottom lip, asking for permission. You happily comply and open your mouth, letting him explore your mouth, and you his. You gently pull his hair back and kiss down his neck and jaw. You leave many butterfly kisses. In between the kisses he whispers some small compliments, making you smile against his neck. You find his sweet spot and lightly suck on it, making him whimper, and leaving a beautiful hickey.  He says some praises bring heat to your face. He kisses your cheeks, “I love making you blush,” he smiles. 

“Oh hush, Potter,” you get off his lap. He groans but you decide its better to stop now before things get more heated. 

“Is it alright if I make you a flower crown? I think it would look rather good on you,” you asks with a sheepish smile.

“Of course, love”

He lays his head on your lap as you make the crown, you finish after about four minutes. It was somewhat hard for you to focus when you could feel Harrys gaze on you, but you tried your best to ignore it. 

“Andddd… done!” Harry sits up and you place it on his head. 

“You look pretty,” you smile pecking his lips. A light pink coats his cheeks. He honesty has never been so happy, he adores you so much that you are 90% of what he talks about. It was such a pain for his friends to have to listen to his rants about your “angelic beauty,” as he puts it. 

“Thank you, angel,” he says. 

“I think we should head back now, dinner alreader started,” you say standing up, also taking the kitten with you. You both walk hand in hand, you grinning at the kitten asleep in your arms, and both of you forgetting about the flower crowns on your heads. You both keep up a good conversation throught the walk.

You stroll into the great hall with Harry as it goes silent. Then there was a chorus of gasps as they take in your guys hand held together, both of your somewhat messy hair, swollen lips, and the hickey on Harrys neck. You step away from him and you head towards your friends, you could hear most boys wolf whistling, some scowling at Harry. Many girls were also glaring at you out of jealousy. 

You look at the staff table and see Dumbledore wink at you, making you raise your eyebrows. You also see Snape hand over some galleons to McGonagall. 

“I’m happy for you, Harry,” Hermione smiles, glancing at Ron as she kicks his leg. 

“Oh- yeah! Good going, mate,” he smirks as he pats his back.

The next day Harry asked you if you would be his girlfriend. You nodded with a smile and gave him a soft kiss.

[tragedy-of-commons]

no pickles

stellaron hunters & gn!reader | wc: ~750

In which they get your order wrong. Kafka, dear friend that she is, decides to make it known.

tags/warnings: crack, reader is not described, vague canon-typical violence, comedy, found family, everything is platonic

notes: oops updated formatting

When you first joined the Stellaron Hunters upon Elio’s suggestion (death threat), you never would have imagined the scene unfolding in front of you now.

Silver Wolf is double-dipping a greasy french fry into a dollop of ketchup. Kafka is dabbing her mouth with a napkin after her only sip of whatever soda she decided to humor, and Blade is standing guard by your table like some kind of intimidating fast-food sentry.

You, squished between all of them, lament your existence. Sam got to stay behind to “keep watch”, but you know the truth. His robot suit would terrify any children within a fifty mile radius, and this CosmiBurger is teeming with them. 

“Silver Wolf,” you mutter.

“I’m not sharing,” she answers immediately.

“That’s not what I–! Ugh, whatever. I was gonna ask why you chose this place for lunch. Don’t you think it’s a little below our pay grade?” “We don’t get paid, newbie. Elio doesn’t cover us eating out, so we have to be cheap.”

“You’re just saying that because you blew our budget on Roblox Premium,” you deadpan.

Kafka interjects. “Look on the bright side, hm? The novelty here is something we rarely get to experience - and I don’t think I’ve ever seen Bladie this happy.”

You spare a glance at your colleague. His scowl speaks for him.

Ignoring the fact that apparently Kafka’s got jokes now, you heave a sigh and poke at the lump of foil in front of you - a tangible warning of an impending stomach ache. The burger inside will have to serve as sustenance if you don’t want to wait twelve more system hours to eat.

Since Silver Wolf is now preoccupied with one of her handheld consoles, you don’t delay with your squabbling any longer. When you unwrap it and take your first bite, you’re blindsided by the overwhelming sour note of what can only be The Condiment That Shall Not Be Named. You can’t obscure the subsequent (ugly) scrunch of your brow and lips.

“Cyanide?” asks The Gamer That You Will Strangle One Day.

You glare at her and deposit your now even-more-unappetizing sandwich on the table. “You wish. They, uh, just got my order a bit wrong.” There’s a contemplative hum from your side that makes your heart skip a beat. Kafka stops playing with a strand of Blade’s hair to give you a coy smile. “Is that so?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” you complain. “It’s not a big deal, I’m just not a fan of pickles.”

“You should ask for a replacement. After all, you did mention that in your order,” she drawls.

You bristle. “I doubt the employees get paid enough to put up with that.”

Blade speaks for the first time today in that gruff tone of his. “You draw the line there? You’ll slaughter on command but stop at inconveniencing the working class?”

“Everyone’s picking on me! Smear campaign!” you accuse, pointing at the brooding man.

You don’t expect a reply from him, which he honors by staring at your outstretched finger with what could be described as murderous intent. Kafka chuckles.

“It’s the principle of the thing, darling. I’ll handle it.”

“Wai–”

You don’t get another word out before she confidently rises from her seat and saunters over to the register, leaving you with your jaw on the floor. 

Silver Wolf is back to blowing bubblegum and spawn-killing some poor sap, but she makes the time to snicker at your plight. “That’s weak, newbie.”

All you can do is become an idle passenger in your own body as the scene unfolds in front of you. Maybe you try to stop her, but Blade’s lanky arm blocks your path. 

Sometimes you wish she’d just have a little more fear. Kafka converses with the cashier with her innate allure as you resign yourself to your fate of public humiliation.

The words audible over the ringing in your ears sound through the air in Kafka’s dulcet voice.  “They asked for no pickles.”

When she returns from the counter two minutes later with your presumably correct order, you’ve already decided that today has been the most harrowing twenty-four system hours of your long-life. Your stupor is cut short as the new pickleless burger is dropped into your hands like a gift from the Aeons.

“See?” Kafka teases. “It was no trouble at all.”

“..Thanks,” you cough into your hand awkwardly.

Lunch resumes its usual flow, but you’re still stewing in regret that boils down to a simple, bitter thought: You should’ve just ordered the chicken nuggets instead.

[604to647]

Barón Tovar Takes a Wife

Third Movement (Presto agitato)

11K / Bridgerton AU Regency!Pero Tovar x fem!reader, a childhood best friends to lovers story

Summary: What do you do now that you realize you have feelings for the Barón?

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Pining and Angst. Semi public kissing, groping and sex. Someone comes in his breeches 🤷🏻‍♀️. F!oral, fingering, thigh riding, unprotected PiV. Pet names (spanish), Pero catches reader and gives her a little twirl once.

A/N: I'm sorry for the word count 😅😅 I feel like the pacing of this final part is kind of like season 1 of Bridgerton where it was like 5 episodes of flirting and then SMUTSMUTSMUT 🤭🤭 Just wanted to give our Spaniard and his Dulce a HEA, that's all! Please please correct my Spanish!! Google won't be offended! Thank you for reading along and hope you're looking forward to Season 3 of Bridgerton next week!

Series Masterlist 🎼 First Movement 🎼 Second Movement 🎼

The following morning you wake to your ladies’ maid gently shaking you and a massive headache.  Barely able open your eyes, so puffy from crying, you’re sure you gave her a terrible fright.  After asking for and drinking some water, you try using the cool glass to depuff your eyes and alleviate the pounding in your head, but no difference is made; you continue to feel positively awful.  Daphne comes into your room at the behest of the maid and immediately sees you’re much too unwell to entertain visitors today; it’s an easy decision to send all your suitors away and have them come back when you’re better.  When you start to apologize for causing a fuss, she immediately shushes you and insists you get rest - she will have the maids bring up some soothing tea.  You lay back down, exhausted, and drift off in the middle of telling her how much you love her.

---

Pero steps into Bridgerton House just as several young men are leaving; as they brush past him, he spots Colin speaking with a maid in the main foyer.

“Tovar! It’s been ages – how have you been?” Colin beams when he sees his friend. 

In truth, Pero is here to see you; he can’t quite get over the look of distress on your face when you left him last night.  Not for the first time, Pero silently curses Lord Ridlington for having sent over women to his house unsolicited last night, his apparent idea of a prank.  Leaving the women to themselves in a waiting room, Pero had been discussing with his butler the next course of action when you had surprised him beneath his window.  After you left, he made the proper arrangements for the women to leave discreetly, and had gone to bed thinking of you as usual. 

“I’ve been well, thank you.  Hope things have been going well here?  Have today’s suitors started their visits earlier than usual?” He gestures to another three men now descending the stairs and making towards the exit in an orderly line.

“No, my Lord,” the maid explains, “Miss is ill today.  Her suitors have been sent away and asked to return when she has recovered and is ready to receive visitors again.”

“Ill?!” How could you have taken ill when he just saw you?  Instantly Pero admonishes himself for having kept you standing outside last night - the night chill must have disagreed with you.  “Please,” he begs, “take me to see her.”

The maid looks panic stricken.  Surely this Spanish nobleman must understand the impropriety of a man being let in to the bed chambers of an unmarried woman.

Colin diverts her attention, “Marie, it will be okay.  Barón Tovar is an old family friend of the Count’s.  There is nothing improper afoot.  The door will remain open and you and I shall both be but a step away.”

With Mr. Bridgerton’s assurance, Marie the maid leads the two men to your door and opens it wide before stepping back to wait outside with Colin.  Pero walks into darkness, the curtains still drawn to help you sleep and ease the pain of your headache, but your magnetic pull leads him to you with no issue.

Kneeling by your bedside, Pero says your name softly, but you do not stir.  He goes to push aside some hair that’s fallen across your forehead and is alarmed when it feels hot to the touch; using the back of his hand to check your forehead and cheeks, he finds you clammy and feverish.  Shouting for Marie, both Colin and the maid rush in to Pero’s call, “Please find the Duchess!  Her friend is running a fever and a doctor needs to be called.  And please bring me a basin of cold water and a clean washcloth at once!”

Daphne rushes in minutes later to find Pero dabbing your forehead with the wet cloth that Marie procured, “Oh no!  I saw her this morning and knew she was unwell, but I did not think to check for a temperature!”

Shaking his head softly, Pero entreats the Duchess, “Do not blame yourself, your Grace.  Likely this morning she was not feverish when you saw her.  Please, has a doctor been called?”

The Duchess nods tearfully, grateful for Pero’s kind words and feeling a kinship with this man who clearly shares her tremendous concern for your well being. 

When the doctor arrives, Daphne stays in the room and gives Pero a nod of reassurance; he leaves begrudgingly though he knows you are in safe hands with the Duchess.  Hovering impatiently never more than a step away from the door, Pero breathes a sigh of relief when he overhears the doctor say that your temperature is no longer increasing, and that if kept cool and comfortable, your fever should easily break over the next day or two.  He vows to ensure both conditions are met to the best of his abilities until the moment you awake.

After the doctor leaves and Daphne has gone in search of a servant to fetch your father, Pero stays by your side, continuously stroking your hair gently and dabbing your hot skin with a cool cloth.  Every time Daphne passes by the open door of your room, she looks in to find Pero watching over you, brows furrowed, eyes full of concern and worry.  Sometimes the Duchess will see Pero’s lips moving, speaking gently to you - though she never hears the words he says, she can tell they’re heartfelt.  It becomes crystal clear to her that two weeks ago she had simply asked the Barón the wrong question; instead of “Do you intend to court her?”, she should have asked Pero: “Do you love her?”  The answer obvious. 

Pero never leaves your side, not when the Bridgerton women visit, or even when your father comes.  He just tucks himself into the corner of the room until their visits are over, as if afraid to leave you.  When it’s just him and you alone, he tries his best to make sure you’re comfortable, arranging your blankets nicely and propping up your pillows so that your sleep is restful and serene.  He requests that cool water and clean cloths are at his constant disposal, and makes sure to dab your face, neck, and decolletage at consistent intervals in order to keep your temperature down.  And while he does so, Pero continuously talks to you, encouraging you to get better, coaxing you back to him. 

He calls you carino, hermosa, princesa, mi reina, mi amor, and all the other endearments he doesn’t ever let himself call you save for in his head.  He lavishes you with compliments and words of praise that he's never allowed to slip past his lips - how perfect you are, how sweet and smart, that he doesn’t know anyone else like you and that your cheerful demeanor and melodic voice are the only things that can ever make him smile.  He tells you how he hasn’t smiled as much as he has since he reunited with you at the Danbury ball in years.  He confesses that every time he holds you while you dance, he has trouble letting go when the music ends, and when he sees another man take your hand and spin you around the room, he has to hold himself back from physically stepping in and pulling you back into his arms.  He tells you that he finds you beautiful and intoxicating, and describes every last inch of you that he can’t stop dreaming about, but lingers the longest in his description of your eyes and the richness of expressions they make that leave him breathless.  He tells you all these things because if he doesn’t say them out loud, he thinks he will burst from having to hold his feelings in all the time.  He tells you these things because he knows you will never hear them.

As the doctor predicted, the fever breaks late the following day and you start to stir shortly after.  Blinking your eyes open slowly, they come into focus to your father’s worry lined face and you watch as it cracks with relief, “Welcome back, dearest.  How do you feel?”

Not sure you can trust your voice right now, you give your father a small smile and nod when he says he needs to get the doctor.  In the few minutes you have alone, you try to get your bearings; the last thing you remember is waking to a terrible headache and falling back asleep after Daphne told you she would be sending your suitors away.  You swear you have vague memories of Pero’s voice and soft touch, but that couldn’t have been real.  Pero.  Oh.  You remember now the reason for having woken up before feeling empty and sad, but you don’t have too long to linger on it because your father returns swiftly with the doctor.

After declaring you well on your way to a full recovery, the doctor leaves you with your father; the Count, looking like the weight of the world has been lifted off his shoulders, hugs you tightly and clasps his hands tightly over yours, “I am so glad you are better, dearest.  Now, will you please tell your suffering father what is troubling that heart of yours?”

You’re shocked.  How could your father know about your feelings for Pero when you only realized them a few nights ago?  Your surprise must be written all over your face because the Count gently explains, “My dear, in the entirety of your life, you have only ever had such a fever twice, both times due to crying yourself sick from heartbreak.  The first time was when you were a young girl and I read you The Little Mermaid - the ending saddened you to tears.  The other was when we were leaving Portugal and I didn’t let you keep the stray puppy you had been feeding for a month.  This is how I know something ails your heart terribly.  Please.  Tell your father so he can help you.”

Your heart swells with affection for your father - he has always been the most loving and caring man, attentive to your feelings and understanding of your nature.  There is no one on this earth who you trust so whole heartedly and with whom you feel so safe.  Except for Pero, you suddenly realize. 

You tell your father everything.  You tell him about how Pero lets you be yourself without reservation, and that with him you don’t need to temper down your enthusiasm for your interests or make your experiences seem smaller than they are.  How he encourages you in everything you do and makes you feel like you’re capable of anything and everything.  He respects you and approaches you with kindness, always making you feel safe and taken care of.  That he makes you laugh all the time.  And that you’ve taken Pero and his wonderfulness for granted, not realizing just how rare and valuable all his amazing qualities are because if you had you would have figured out earlier that you’re completely in love with him.  You cry softly and confess to your father that your heart is broken because you’re in love with a man who will never see you more than a childhood compatriot, and that you may never get over this sad truth.

The Count listens to you sympathetically, and when you’re finished, he simply tilts his head thoughtfully and asks, “How do you know he does not care for you in the same manner?”

You can hardly tell your father that you snuck out of Bridgerton House and interrupted Pero when he had company over, so you have to cite another reason you’re so certain of how Pero feels about you.  But you find yourself struggling to come up with any concrete examples or reasoning that satisfy even yourself; all you can say is, “Because he wishes for me to find a husband.  He encourages me to do so.  I’m simply the daughter of his father’s friend.”

Something like bemusement dances over your father’s face, “It seems to a me that a man who thinks of you as simply the daughter of his father’s friend would not have purchased my shares in the fleet.”

You’re absolutely stunned.  Pero purchased your father’s shares?  But why?  There was no inherent income from the investment, the dividends benefitted you and your future children only, “Why would Pero do that?”

“You will have to ask him yourself, dearest.  It shouldn’t be too long before he visits himself now that he’s likely heard you’re awake.  He had not left your bedside for nearly two days and it was only at my insistence that he let me sit vigil so he could go home and change his clothes.”

Again, you’re astonished; is it possible that your vague recollections of Pero’s voice and gentle touches while you were ill are real? 

“I will say, when I asked him the same question of why, his answer was that he did not want the hard work you and I put into our happy venture to be squandered.  He said he knew that would break your heart.”

It’s true, it would.

“With his experience, I know the fleet would be in good hands.”

Nodding, you have to agree.

“… and you would be in good hands.”

You look up to see your father looking at you with an expression you can’t quite place.  You’re about to ask him about it when you hear a quiet knocking and you look over to see Pero standing in the open doorway, as if you had summoned him with your conversation.

“My apologies, I do not mean to interrupt.  I thought I heard your voice and wanted to see if you were awake,” Pero looks tired, but hopeful.

The Count waves him in and gets up, whispering in your ear, “Be kind to him, dearest.  The man has been in anguish and has not left your bedside for more than a few minutes these past two days.”  Kissing you on the cheek, he tells you he will go and find the Duchess to give her the good news of your recovery if the doctor has not yet done so himself.  After he pulls away, you notice for the first time that your room is filled with peonies, every flat surface covered with the most splendid displays in the prettiest pastel colours – your heart soars at the sight.  When Pero takes your father’s place in the chair across from you, neither of you notice that the Count closes the door behind him.

“Dulce, how are you feeling,” asks Pero with as much feeling as you’ve ever heard from him.

You tell him you’re much better, and that although no one has said so explicitly, you suspect that much of your recovery is due to his diligent care and watch over you.

“It was nothing, Dulce.  I was worried about you.  I am glad you are okay now,” he says, relief evident in his voice.

“Thank you for taking care of me.  I really don't know what I have done to deserve your kindness, Pero.  And not only these past two days when I’ve taken ill, but over the entire course of this season – I do not think I have ever properly thanked you for being there for me, supporting and encouraging me, and bringing me such peace and joy so that I did not buckle under the pressure of my debut.  Please allow me to do so right now.  Thank you, Pero,” you look at him with adoration and admiration, pouring all your feelings out and disguising them as simple gratitude.

“It has been my absolute pleasure, truly.  I am so very proud of the woman you have grown up to be: beautiful, smart, funny, and so, so very caring.  You are one of kind, Dulce – and the lucky man who marries you needs to know just how special you are.  There isn’t anyone else who has your vibrant spirit, your sweet disposition, your fun-loving heart.  He needs to know and nurture all these wonderful qualities so that your light never goes out,” Pero espouses your virtues and merits with eyes fixed upon yours, wishing he could express just how deep his admiration truly runs.

To say you’re affected would be an understatement, and it makes you bold and brave.

“Pero, I cannot tell you how much your kind words mean to me.  I have never known a man to be more genuine and earnest that you; when you say something, you mean it.  I find you so very thoughtful this way.  And in other ways as well – I know, for example, it must have been you who filled this room with my favourite flowers.”  Pero nods indulgently and you carry on, “… and I know you purchased the shares in the fleet from my father.  Thank you, Pero.”

Pero is surprised, although he had not asked the Count to keep the sale from you, he didn’t expect you to know already.

You’re looking at him with an expression he won’t let himself name, eyes soft, almost pleading, “Why would you do something so generous, Pero?”

Pero remains quiet, as if wrestling with how he wishes to answer and you wait patiently, not sure what to expect.

“The owner of the shares has custody of a great gift.  The fleet is an impressive venture - it has potential to do considerable good in this world, and much of that is thanks to you and your father’s dedication and contributions – the holder of these shares cannot squander that opportunity; he needs to honour you and your father’s legacy by carrying on the good work you’ve started together.  But that in and of itself is not the gift.  The man who holds these shares is also given the gift of being able to take care of you, to have a small hand in ensuring a prosperous future for you and your children.  I… could not take the risk that someone who did not understand the honour of this charge would hold these shares.  I hope you can understand and not think it imprudent of me.”

You don’t know what to say.  Pero is so generous and considerate – how could he ever think you would view his gesture as anything but deeply caring?  Unsure of your silence, Pero attempts to lighten the mood, “This way, I can still be in your life.  I can come to see you when I need to discuss matters of the fleet.”

“Pero, you’re my friend!  You do not need to have a business pretense to see me.”

He shakes his head sadly, “You will be married, Dulce.  Your husband would not like a man like me visiting his wife frequently.”

“A man like you?” you’re not sure what he means.

“A man who looks at you the way I look at you.”

You inhale sharply, hardly allowing yourself to breathe, “And how do you look at me, Pero?”

“Like you are the sun, Dulce.  Like everything you touch is made brighter and better from the light of your smile and the warmth of your sweet laugh.  As if under your care and attention, everything and everyone, including me, grows – stronger, brighter, better.  I look at you like I dream about the graceful notes of your voice every night and wish to hear your melody of thoughts and opinions on all things.  I look at you like I am hypnotized just by the sway of your hips and even the lilt of your fingers.  Everyday, I’m ever more enchanted with the tilt of your head and curve of your mouth.  I look at you like I could never get enough.”

“And what if I don’t want that?”

“Then I will stay away, mi reina.  Anything you wish,” though crushed, Pero knows that he would do whatever you asked.

“No, Pero, you misunderstand.  What if I don’t want a husband who does not want you looking at me like that?  What if I want you to look at me like that?  What if I do not want a husband who isn’t you?”

“Dulce…” Pero’s heart has leapt into his throat, he can hardly allow himself to believe what he’s hearing, “… you do not know what you’re saying.  You would not want me for a husband.”

You smile kindly, “And why not?”

Pero looks at you so sadly it breaks your heart, “You would not wish to separate from your friends and leave England to be mistress of a lowly Barón’s estate in a foreign land where you know no one and do not speak the language.  Not when you have suitors with much grander fortunes, with estates nearer to your friends, and where you and your children would grow up in the style befitting the daughter of a British Count.  You would not want a husband who is never home and spends more time on the seas and in far off lands than he does on home soil; one you never see and for whom you would worry all the time, not knowing where he is or what he is doing.”

“Would you not be willing to take me with you on your travels, Pero?”

“Of course, I would,” Pero never second guesses his answer.

Heart still aflutter at Pero’s romantic declarations, you press ahead, determined.  “Well.  It seems then that no one would be better suited to be my husband than you!  You must know me well enough to know that I do not care for grand fortunes and estates, and my dear father and now you have made sure that I will never be financially dependent on any husband.  What I care for is freedom and adventure!  And exploration and not being kept from the joys this life has to offer because I am a woman, or just somebody’s wife.  As for my friends, I can always visit!  And I am fortunate enough that the strength of our bonds is not dependent on having to see each other constantly.  Honestly!  This would not be the first time in my life I have gone to live in a foreign country where I do not speak the native tongue – it’s practically second nature to me now!  But I can see how it would be useful to be able to fluently converse with servants and locals - I suppose I would just have to commit myself to learning Spanish.  That is,” you’re suddenly embarrassed upon realizing that Pero hasn’t actually asked you to be his wife, and instead, you’re espousing all the reasons you find the match to be agreeable when he himself hasn’t expressed any desire for it, “if you would wish to have me.” 

“Dulce, all I have done since the moment I laid eyes on you at the Danbury Ball is wish to have you.  Do you know how hard it was for me to see you entertaining all those suitors when I was certain none of them could ever appreciate you for even half the wonderful person you are?  None of them had any idea what a smar-“

You crash your lips to his, and after the initial surprise, Pero kisses you back with the fervent need that’s been building in his soul the past few months.  Throwing your arms around him, you open your mouth to his just as his hands pull you flush to his chest; it’s the warmest, hungriest first kiss to have ever been kissed.  Your mind having only recently caught up to your heart, and Pero’s constrained feelings finally being set free, your tongues press together over and over, spilling all the unspoken words between the both of you.  On instinct you fist Pero’s shirt and pull him down with you onto the bed, Pero’s eyes darkening as he climbs on top of you, placing one knee in between your legs while keeping the other on the ground.  You finally run your hands through his soft curls and it feels as incredible as you had imagined two nights ago; you both moan softly at the sensation.

“Dulce, you make the prettiest noises…”

You purr softly at Pero’s praise, leading him to groan deeper into your mouth and you feel the hand that isn’t braced on the pillow next to your head start to skate up your side, landing near your breast and tentatively drawing circles on the underside of your plush curves with its thumb. You arch into Pero’s hand to encourage him to touch you, and he responds as he always promised he would if he had the chance which is to give in to your every desire.  Groping your breast and finding your nipple between his fingers, Pero rolls and pinches so expertly that you can’t help but writhe beneath him.  He shifts to kiss down your neck as he continues his attentions on your peak and when his knee brushes your throbbing centre, you gasp loudly before covering your mouth with your hands.  Still breathing heavily, the two of you giggle and smile stupidly at each other in the tender moment.  Pressing his forehead against yours, Pero whispers, “Mi reina, we should stop, I still need to ask your father for your hand.  Tomorrow, I am sure he will come here for breakfast and I will ask to speak with him after.”

Looking deep into is eyes, you nod; you know Pero’s right, though there’s a warmth radiating from your very being that wishes to invite scandal and tell him to never stop touching you, knowing by the way he’s making you feel right now that it would be worth it.

Not without regret, Pero pulls himself off of you and stands; after he helps you sit up, Pero tips your chin with his finger so you look at him squarely.  A seriousness takes over his face, an expression he usually reserves for others, “Are you sure you want me, mi amor?  You have so many suitors, so many options.”

Your eyes shine with sincerity and so much softness for this man that does not seem to understand just how much you love him.  You vow to spend the rest of your days showing him, “There are no options when there’s you, Pero.”

You can’t help but shriek a little in laughter as Pero falls on you and crushes his lips to yours, pinning your body to your bed with his large and solid frame.  Kissing you over and over, Pero punctuates his affection with barely strung together words of love - So perfect.  So perfect.  Can’t believe it.  How.  How did I get so.  Damn.  Lucky.  Beautiful. Perfect girl.

Right before your giggles can turn into moans, a knock on your door freezes you both.  The noise is quickly followed by the Duchess’ slightly amused voice, “Is everything okay?  We have brought up dinner.  Please let me know when it is decent for us to come in.”

Giving you one last peck on your lips before chuckling lightly, Pero pulls you up and whispers, “Tomorrow,” before going to open the door for Daphne.

The next morning you find Pero waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs when you come down.  Checking quickly to make sure there aren’t any lingering servants, you step off the third to last step and fling yourself into his arms.  Pero catches you easily and gives you a twirl before placing you gently on your feet, then places a less gentle kiss to your lips.  With a few hurried murmurings of devotion - I missed you.  You look beautiful. I still can’t believe you’re mine - you break apart and head to breakfast.

When the two of you enter the dining room, you’re greeted exuberantly by your friends congratulating you on your recovery and expressing their delight that you’re well enough to rejoin them.  Your father hugs you and you think you detect a knowing smile gracing his face, but you’re too soon seated with platters of food being offered and pushed towards you for you to be sure.  It’s a happy occasion but also slightly awkward – you’re seated next to Pero, but you have to pretend that nothing has changed between the two of you.  Trying to cheerfully chat with your father and friends, you find yourself unable to give the conversation your full attention because you trying with all your might to hold in the most wonderful news of your life, and with it, your overflowing happiness.  It doesn’t help that Pero finds increasingly mischievous ways to secretly touch you throughout breakfast: foot reaching over to playfully nudge yours, gently squeezing your thigh under the table.  When he purposefully brushes his hand down your arm and over yours in order to reach for the butter dish, you gasp in surprise - his touch out in the open sending a warm thrill through to your heart.  In response to your friends’ concerns, you have to lie and say you may still be feeling fatigued, and Pero, ever the menace, pats your shoulder affectionately and reminds you not to overexert yourself before buttering his scone with a smirk.

After your father finishes his meal, you nervously watch Pero hastily shove his last piece of food into his mouth before asking the Viscount for use of his office, and entreats your father for a word.  Finishing your own breakfast as quickly as you can without drawing suspicion, you find your way to the closed office doors and pace outside impatiently.  Try as you may, you cannot make out any of what is being spoken in the office, even when you press your ear up to the door.  After what feels like an eternity, the door opens and Pero exits; not the least bit surprise to find you outside, he whispers in your ear as he walks by, “Your father wishes to see you now, Dulce.  Come find me afterwards.  I will be upstairs writing a letter.”

The Count welcomes you into the office with open arms and you immediately fly into your father’s loving embrace.  As he continues to envelope you in the warmth of his joy, he chuckles, “Well, dearest, I think your old father deserves some acknowledgement for being right.”

Pulling away from him, you look at the face that’s so much like your own, eyes crinkled in mirth and a smile big enough to rival yours, “I concede, Father - you were right.  And I have never been so happy to have been wrong!”

Your father’s already expressive eyes shine with an extra brightness, “All I have ever hoped for is your happiness, my dear.  Pero is a good man, like his father before him and he has given me every assurance that he will cherish and take care of you the way you deserve.  I shall rest easily knowing that you will be in his capable hands… and he in yours.”

What did you ever do to deserve such a brilliant father who has given you the most wonderful life?  You ponder this as you walk up the stairs after telling your father that you love him and saying goodbye for the day.  You suspect you’ll never discover a satisfactory answer, but can only hope you can one day bestow the same unconditional love and support upon your own children.

You find Pero sitting at the corner desk in the drawing room where some of the Bridgertons are relaxing: Eloise and Colin reading, Francesca tinkering at the piano forte, Daphne looking over some correspondence of her own.  Approaching him silently, you look over his shoulder and whisper, “Mi rey, to whom are you writing?”

Smiling at your Spanish endearment of choice, Pero responds without looking up from his task, “I am writing my king, Dulce, and asking him for his permission to marry.”

Ah right, you consider that the Count could very well be penning a similar letter to the queen at this same moment, “What happens if he refuses, Pero?” 

“Then I abscond with my new bride and we live like pirates on the run,” smiles Pero, still not looking up.

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” you grin.

Pero finally sets his soft gaze upon you, “Nothing can be so bad if you are by my side, mi reina.”

He looks at you with such devotion and affection, you can’t help yourself - you cup his perfect face in your hands and bend down to kiss him.  Pero returns your soft, gentle kisses with his own, nothing urgent, nothing hurried – just a moment of tenderness that couldn’t have been restrained.

You don’t break apart even when you hear the successive gasps of your friends or even when Colin cheers, unable to part from Pero’s lips even a moment sooner than you need to.  When the two of your finally look up, it’s to the sight of the Duchess standing with her hands on her hips and a beaming smile on her face, “Do you two have something to tell us?”

You and Pero attend all of the remaining season events as a happily engaged couple.  Pero, no longer scowling all by his lonesome against the wall, but standing tall and proud next to you; his hand laced through yours or comforting and firm on your lower back as the two of you receive congratulations from the ton.  He drinks in the jealous looks from your former suitors and inwardly chuckles a little at the conceding grumbles from the mamas who proclaim with surprise that they didn’t know he had been looking for a wife.  His stoic countenance cracking just a little at their poorly concealed scandalized faces when he replies that he hadn’t been.  For your part, you don’t notice any of this; you only have eyes and ears for Pero.  Your face hurts from smiling so much – it’s all you can do to tear your eyes away from your handsome fiancé in order to respond politely to the questions you receive from curious members of the ton.

You still dance every dance, floating on air as you traverse the floor in the strong arms of your dashing Spaniard; now that there is no danger of some other man whisking you away from him for the next dance, Pero quite enjoys the dance floor.  He holds you closer than he probably should, chests touching and faces so close that the gentle fan of your breath curls over his lips; his hands find themselves placed low on your back during the waltz, dipping scandalously close to where he really wants them to be, itching to squeeze the plush globes of your ass.  If anyone was to make a comment to you about it, you would giggle and simply say that your fiancé is a passionate man.

And he is.  A passionate man, that is.  Under his grave and steely visage, Pero is a man who yearns for and craves the woman he loves, hungry for you at all times.  Such a man is not made of infinite restraint - the limits of Pero’s self control having already been sorely tested for the past few months.  As such, whenever an opportunity to escape the rigid formality of these events would arise, Pero wasted no time whisking you away for himself.

At the Grand Picnic, he steals you away to a secluded spot in the gardens where he proceeds to kiss you so fervently and passionately that you actually get dizzy.  He presses you against the base of some winged sculpture and hungrily licks and sucks down your neck, all while you cover your mouth with your hands, hoping against hope to contain your moans and soft whimpers.  The stone angel watches from its perch as Pero trails his mouth down past your collar towards the swell of your breasts, already rapidly rising and falling.  Pressing feather light kisses to the tops of your breasts, Pero drinks in your breathy giggles when his scruff tickles you, before diving in devilishly, lapping at your ample curves and the valley in between.  As you start to pant from arousal, Pero finds himself most ardently wishing that your tits would break free of their fine silk confines and spill into his mouth. 

A la mierda, he thinks and glides his tongue into the sliver of space between your dress and skin, dragging it across your chest until he hits your hardened nipple; having found his prize, Pero dives in, straining with his tongue to stroke your peak harder and faster.  When he leverages enough space with his chin to wedge in between your soft skin and the fabric of your dress, Pero takes your breast into his mouth and sucks while groping your other breast with his hand, finding the twin nipple already straining against your gown, aching to be played with.  The combined sensation has you grabbing at Pero’s hair and pressing him closer to you; with your hands now otherwise occupied, your gasps and moans spill unfiltered from your open mouth.  The obscene sounds Pero pulls from you must start to carry, because soon you hear voices getting nearer to where you and Pero have now frozen, his mouth buried in your chest; he places one last chaste kiss to tops of each of your breasts before the two of you giggle and run hand-in-hand out of the gardens.

At the Opera, Pero secures a box on the second mezzanine for the two of you.  With most of the ton preferring the orchestra seats or boxes closer to the stage, you find yourselves alone in the secluded alcove nearer to the house balcony.  Once the lights dim and the overture starts, Pero takes your hand in his and you lean on his shoulder, relaxing into his closeness.  By the time the audience is enjoying the soprano’s heart-breaking aria in the third act, Pero has his left arm thrown around you and the knuckles of his right hand are ghosting over the front of your panties where he finds them already damp from want. 

“Keep your eyes on the stage, Dulce,” he whispers in your ear as his thumb draws slow circles over your clit.  You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from crying out, trying with all your might not to let your whole body react to Pero’s teasing lest it draws the attention of the opera house attendees sitting on the balcony or in the boxes on the opposite side of the hall.

Pero is patient.  And thorough.  He takes an inordinate time exploring the shape of your pussy - running his thumb then fingers over the outline of your slit and the hardening form of your clit, eventually cupping your mound and letting you grind down on his palm to give you some of the friction you so desperately seek.  He toys with you over the fabric of your underwear for the remainder of the 3rd act until your panties are completely soaked through.  Only once the 4th act is underway does he slip his hand down the front of your underwear and start to run his forefinger through your folds.

“Pero…” you sigh, spreading your legs wider to allow him more freedom of movement.

“Doing so good for me, mi amor,” he whispers back, continuing his smooth, teasing strokes, dragging your sticky arousal through the valleys of your seam and trailing it up to your clit, spreading it over and around your bundle of nerves before returning his fingers to your wet core.  He repeats this over and over, alternating the speed and pressure of his fingers, never letting you settle into a complacent state.  Quite the opposite – you feel like your body is on fire. 

Willing yourself to breathe through your nose as evenly as you can, you focus on the soprano’s finale song before the ensemble gathers for the finale; just as the singer hits the high notes of her solo with a warm vibrato, Pero pushes a finger straight into your heat and you whine in harmony with her.  Slowly he pumps his finger in and out of your tight hole, nearly losing control with the way you clench as he drags along your warm warms; Pero feels you hum around him as pleasure you’ve never felt before radiates throughout your entire body.  The squelching sound of Pero working your cunt are thankfully masked by the musical drama unfolding on the stage, and Pero uses the opportunity to ask you if you’re ready for another. 

Seeing you nod as subtly as you can, Pero murmurs, “Good girl,” before adding a second finger to join the first.  Oh.  You’re so full.  It’s a stretch, but the sting pairs perfectly with the devastating pleasure now coursing through your veins as Pero slowly drives his fingers into you.  Staying with a slower pace until you start dripping down his wrist, Pero’s fingers now start to thrust faster, keeping tempo with the musical build that the ton in the orchestra is enjoying, clueless to your lascivious activities above them.

When Pero presses his thumb to your slippery clit, you surge forward and grab onto the balcony banister for stability, nearly in danger of drawing the attention of unwanted eyes.  Refusing to ease up in his efforts on your cunt, Pero continues to push you closer and closer to your high, his fingers never faltering from their punishing pace until you come and cry out in tune with the finale’s final chorus.  While the rest of the audience applauses when the curtain falls, Pero’s praise is only for you - purring that you did so good for him and kissing you gently as his slips his slick covered hand back into his glove. 

At the Hastings Ball, you’re the one feeling bold.  Having arrived at your friend’s estate a week prior to help the Duchess with preparations, you familiarize yourself with the grounds and all the intimate, secret corners perfect for intimate, secret things.  Once all the guests have arrived and the festivities have begun in earnest, you sneak off with your fiancé, leading him down a hidden staircase into the Duke’s impressive wine cellar.  With all of tonight’s refreshments having already been pulled from inventory, you know no one will be coming down here during the ball; you’re free to touch, feel and love on Pero in all the ways you desire.  Once Pero realizes the amount of privacy you’ve been afforded, he’s like a dog unleashed, stalking and cornering you into a wall with a growl, sniping at your neck with his teeth and lips, pawing at your soft curves already on display for him in your pretty ballgown. 

Here in the cellar, while you still cannot be loud, but you don’t have to be quiet – the cavernous room echos your quiet moans and Pero’s deep grunts like a soundtrack of pleasure that’s percussed by heavy breathing as the two of you drown in one another.  Lips attached to yours, but eyes kept open to take in your lustful expression, Pero spies an unopened crate out of the corner of his eye and smiles against your mouth, “Come here, Dulce.  Let me show you something.”

After letting him lead you to the crate, you allow Pero to help you on top before scooting you back so your legs no longer dangle over the edge.   Grinning, you ask playfully, “What, pray tell, do you wish to show me, Barón?”

“Want to show you how I’m going to make my pretty wife feel good every day we are married,” Pero looks at you, eyes dark, as his starts to ruffle up the many layers of your dress.  You giggle as his pushes through the yards of fabric with a feigned annoyance, bunching it up for you to hold against your chest like an overstuffed pillow.  Once Pero is satisfied with his unfettered access, he gently pushes you to lean back on your elbows, hands still laid prettily on your pillow of dress skirts, eyes watching your handsome fiancé’s movements.  Pero leans over the edge of the crate and rubs your silk stocking covered calves with his big firm hands as he starts kissing up your leg starting from where your stockings end mid thigh.  Every kiss he leaves on your skin gives you a shiver as the cool cellar air hits the imprint his lips leaves behind; then, as he gets closer to your heat, he starts to open mouth kiss where you’re the most sensitive, dragging his tongue back and forth over these tender spot and leading you to throw you head back and close your eyes in heady desire.  When he repeats this fog inducing pattern on the inside of your other thigh, you start begging, “Pero, please… please, my Lord, ple-pl-please!”

Nipping at your sensitive flesh with his teeth, Pero smirks against your leg, “What do you need, mi reina?”

Opening your eyes, you nearly buck into his face when you see Pero’s roguish expression peeking up at you from between your wide spread legs, “Touch me please, mi rey.”

“Here?” he asks, with pretend innocence before he dives in and starts devouring your pussy over the fabric of your underwear without waiting for your answer.  This feels different.  So much like his fingers but even more sensual, intimate, wild.  Pero mouths and nuzzles your cunt with a precision only rivalled by that of his tongue; his tongue has a mind of his own, gently prodding, exploring, reaching where his lips can’t. Pero's hands reach up your legs and hook under the band of your soaked panties and you catch him look at you before he murmurs “May I?” directly into your cunt.  The vibrations of his question run through to your chest and it’s all you can do to nod quickly before you watch him pull the frilly undergarment down your legs and have them drop to the ground.  Already completely wrecked, Pero takes in your glistening folds, wet and primed, and growls, “Look at this perfect pussy.  And she’s all mine.”

You run one hand through his soft curls and grip his hair so he’ll look at you, smiling lazily, already unbelievably blissed out, you promise, “All yours.”

“Mine,” Pero repeats, and then he buries his face into heaven.

The sensation is overwhelming in the very best way.  Pero is eating you, no, devouring you like a man starved; every press of his lips to your pussy somehow deeper and hungrier than the last, as his tongue licks every crest and wave of your core and marks them for his own.  Your slick pools from you, down your backside and dampens your gown beneath you; the wet noises from Pero’s mouth against your folds echo obscenely around you and your voice cannot help but try to add in its own harmony.  All of this makes you feel like a worshiped goddess about to ascend her alter and simultaneously like a wanton whore who knows that true heaven lies in the bodily pleasures of this mortal realm.  Then, as Pero’s mouth closes over your clit and he starts to flick your throbbing nub with his tongue, you realize in your daze that no, what you are is something better than either of those two things: you’re the woman who is marrying Barón Pero Tovar.  That’s the thought that overflows from your thumping heart and pushes you over the edge, coming on Pero’s face as you chant his name in a grateful prayer.

After the Ball, you’re positively exhausted from purposefully overdoing the socializing after returning from the wine cellar so no one would recall your long absence.  Yawning, you’re giving your hair a final brush when you hear a soft clink against your bedroom window, followed shortly by another, then another. 

Confused, you approach your window with slight trepidation, and upon looking out, you think at first that your tired eyes must be deceiving you.  Below your window, gazing up at you, is Pero.  He looks devastatingly handsome; yet to undress – Pero is still in his formal breeches, but his white shirt has been unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, exposing his smooth, tanned skin to your admiring gaze.  You might lick your lips at the sight.  Giggling as you tiptoe down the stairs, you walk out onto the terrace that hangs off the sitting room directly below your bedroom, greeted by Pero’s blinding smile, “Barón, what are you doing here?”

It's an easy climb up the side of the wall to the terrace level for Pero and his long legs; once he’s standing directly in front of you, he answers, “I could not sleep without seeing you one last time, Dulce.”

Where did this man who adores you so openly and without reservation come from?  You throw your arms around his neck and pull him in for a gleeful kiss; you adore him too, after all. 

Still grinning, Pero jokes, “And as I recall, it is my turn to call upon you in the dead of night from beneath your window in order to rouse you from the comfort of your bed chamber.”

Although he has no such intent, Pero’s words immediately transport you back to the night you realized your feelings for him… and how you had left his house, devastated upon the discovery that he was not alone.  Stilling in your movements, you shrink away from Pero a little; none of this goes without notice.

“Dulce, are you okay?  I’m sorry, I did not mean to imply there was anything wrong with these late-night meetings, but if you prefer to go back inside, I understand.”

You shake your head to let him know you’re not upset by that, but still your expression remains slightly sad and hurt.  Pero bends at the knee to meet your eye, “Mi amor?”

You’ve never lied or kept anything from Pero in all the time you’ve known him, and now that you’re his fiancé, you’re not about to start.  Looking at the ground next to you, you mumble, “I’m sorry, I was just remembering the night you’re alluding to; when I interrupted you… with those two women.”

When Pero doesn’t answer, you wonder if he’s upset with you for having disturbed him that night, and you look up to meet his eye finally, trying to give him a brave smile, “Please do not be upset with me.  I did not know you had company, which would have been entirely your private business, to which I know I am not entitled.  But if I must be honest, I do not particularly enjoy imagining you with other women.”

Pero has to stifle a laugh; if only you understood the war that raged in his chest every time a suitor placed his hand on your waist for a dance or when you would laugh at their jokes with that twinkle in your eye he loves so much – then you would not feel as if you had to hide these feelings from him.

Stroking your jaw gently, Pero tips your face to his, “Dulce, I could never be upset with you.  Firstly, you are entitled to all my business, private or not.  Secondly, the women to which you refer were not there by my invitation – Lord Ridlington had sent them to my house that evening as some sort of prank.  In his words, maybe if the Barón got laid, he would not be such a stick in the mud.  Nothing happened with those women, I promise, mi amor.  When you arrived, I was right in the middle of arranging for a carriage to take them home.  And thirdly,” Pero walks you backward until your back hits the wall; he braces an arm above your head, and towering over you, grips firmly onto your waist with his other hand, “how could I ever even think of another woman when there is you?  You with your pretty face, and your sweet smile, and your heavenly laugh.  You with your witty quips, and your melodic voice that says the smartest things, and this gorgeous body…” 

Pero’s voice trails off as he starts to kiss down your neck and his strong hands start to move up and down your sides in unison, then separating so one can reach up to massage your breast and the other down to grope your ass.  Your head tips back to allow Pero more access as you melt into his touch - he’s everywhere at once, overwhelming all of your senses.  Kissing down to your breasts, Pero finds them available to him in a way he has yet to experience, your thin night dress much flimsier than the gowns you wear during the day; he can already see your nipples poking up through the fabric, hard and inviting.  Without warning, he ducks and takes one in his mouth, teasing and sucking in tandem with your loud gasps and moans.

“Oh Pero, right there, oh- nghhh, please that feels so good!” you cry out breathily.  Spurned on by your praise, Pero frantically rucks up the skirts of your nightgown and slots his thigh between your legs, pulling you down to sit.  The pressure and friction on your cunt sends a wave of pleasure through you, amplified and extended by Pero’s tongue and lips laving their attention on your breasts.  He encourages you to rock against his thigh, using his grip on your waist to help you find an enjoyable rhythm, and once you’ve found one that catches your clit on the flex of his leg, his hands leave you to your work and travel up your body to pull down the front of your night dress, exposing your tits to the cool night air and Pero’s darkened gaze.

“Beautiful,” he breathes, as he leans back to admire everything before him: your naked curves, your hardened peaks begging for his attention, and the sight of the woman he loves getting off by rubbing her pretty pussy all over his thigh.  He thinks he’s minutes away from combusting.

Instead, he dives right into your chest, mouth and tongue licking, kissing and nibbling, hands groping, pinching and pulling all your delicious parts so that he can bring you to your second orgasm of the night.  While tugging at your nipple with his teeth, he hisses low, “Were you jealous, Dulce?”

Half out of your mind from pleasure you gasp back, “Yes!”

Growling, “Good,” Pero sucks in a mouthful of your breast and kneads what he can’t fit into his mouth with his hands, panting out words when he should be taking in breaths of much needed air -

Now you know how I felt.

When some other man would touch you.

When you would smile at your suitors.

When you didn’t know I would burn the world for you.

You cry out at his confessions, gripping the back of his head and pulling him closer to you still; increasing your rocking, you’re chasing your own high when your knee brushes up against something hard, something big.  When it jumps at your touch, you use your knee to stroke Pero’s length with every pass of your pussy over his thigh. 

Your breasts now wet from Pero’s mouth, the cool night air’s chill against your skin causes you to tighten in Pero’s arms as he continues to electrify you with his hands, his mouth, his tongue, his words -

Never need to be jealous ever again, Dulce.

There’s only you.

Never want anyone else.

Don’t need anyone else.

You’re my everything.

Mine.

You come to his loving and possessive declarations, singing back your own - Yours, yours, yours.  Body violently seizing and shuddering, Pero holds you close as you ride out your high.  As you continue to buck against him, he crests to your desperate whimpers and breathless panting – his eyes never leaving your face, mesmerized by the sweet blissed out expression that he pulled from you.  Finally opening your eyes, you grin lazily at the sight of your lover smiling at you, calming down from his own summit; and when you feel the dampness of his trousers against your bare knee, you giggle in pride and pull Pero back to you lips for a flutter of happy kisses.  As he walks you to the door to the waiting room, you hardly give him a moment without a light peck on his lips, cheeks, neck – not sure you’ll be able to stand being apart from Pero for even a few hours of sleep.

Before he leaves you, Pero cups your face in his large hands, whispering against your lips, “I’m yours,” and you smile back and press your mouth to his before returning, “Mine.”

You marry at the end of the season in late June with the blessing of the Spanish king to do so in England.  The ceremony itself is wonderful and your gown is gorgeous, but you hardly remember anything save for how handsome Pero looks waiting for you at the end of the aisle and how he and the Count both had tears in their eyes for most of the wedding.  What you remember much more vividly is the fun you and your friends had when preparing for the nuptials.  Days and nights filled with laughter, play fighting over flower arrangements, tearful promises to never let distance impact your friendship – you thank the Bridgertons over and over for their love and support during this season and bringing you to Pero; you can never repay them.  When you board the ship to your new home, it’s not without tears as you say goodbye to your friends and father; everyone sends you off with mirroring sentiments and promises to visit soon.

If the Tovar estate servants had any concerns or misgivings about having a foreigner as mistress of the house, you soon win them over with your kind and gentle nature; your cheerful and easy-going demeanor overriding any language barrier, which with their help and your dedication, you were overcoming more and more every day.  And if there were any remaining whispers, be they among the members of the Spanish court, villagers, or any one else, they were quickly quieted once the concerned party bore witness to the ferocity of your love for your husband and his obvious and complete devotion to you.  The older house staff observed quite readily that they hadn’t seen the Barón smile as much as he did since he was a boy.  The newer servants declared that prior to his marriage, they had not seen him smile at all.

One morning, only two months after landing in Spain, you wake to find yourself alone in bed for the first time since you and Pero got married.  Deciding it unnecessary to ring for your ladies’ maid (Lucia, a delightful woman whose English was improving as much as your Spanish), you throw on a dressing robe over your night dress and pad downstairs, sure you’ll find your husband in the dining room having breakfast. 

As usual, you’re right; for a few minutes you remain standing in the doorway, admiring your handsome hulk of a husband as he shovels the remainder of his breakfast into his mouth.  You love the way he eats… everything - with voracity, unabashed hunger, like he can never get enough.  Strolling in only when you see him push aside his empty plate in favour of a pile of letters and paperwork to begin reading, you thank the footman who had already seen you and plated you a warm breakfast, before you approach Pero’s chair.  Dancing your fingers across his broad shoulders, you slide onto your husband’s lap before laying a soft morning kiss to his lips, “Buenos días, mi rey.”

“Buenos días, mi reina,” Pero kisses back, turning his full attention to you as he always does.

“Te echo de menos esta mañana (I missed you this morning),” you pout, although you’re not really upset with him in any way.

Pero smiles at you indulgently, “I thought you might like to get some extra sleep.”  He nuzzles your ear and you can hear him smile, “Considered you might be tired after your activities last night, Baronesa.”

You giggle and pull him in for another kiss, your cheeks get hot just thinking about the multiple orgasms that Pero pulled from you with his talented fingers, mouth and cock; you purr back and pepper his scruff with kisses, “Very thoughtful of you, Barón.”  Your eyes soften, “No me gusta despertar sin ti, Pero (I hate waking up without you, Pero).”

Pero kisses your temple, “My apologies, Dulce.  How can I make it up to my pretty wife?”

You squirm in his lap; a thrill still runs through you when you hear him refer to you as his wife, and you start to plant breathy kisses to the spot right behind his ear that you know drives him crazy.

“Already?  Is my wife so insatiable?” chuckles Pero, though his voice his has dropped to that low baritone register that makes your stomach flip.  You nod into his neck and start to run your fingers through his soft curls, tugging impatiently at the ones at the base of his neck.

“Déjanos por favor (leave us please),” Pero calls out politely.  The servants in the dining room leave at once and close the doors, some smirking - all the servants having gotten used to their master and new mistress’ voracious appetite for one another.  The younger servants were mainly amused and some even found it romantic; the older servants acting scandalized, but secretly pleased to see such a happy marriage on the estate after so long.

 “Sit up here, mi amor,” Pero pulls you off his lap gently and directs you up onto the dining room table; you move his papers aside and push his flatware out of the way.  Teasing him, you quip, “I thought you already had breakfast, my lord?”

“I’m ready for seconds,” growls Pero as he pulls up his chair and seats himself between your legs.  Licking his lips greedily, he unties your robe and peels it open to reveal your lacey nightgown underneath. Lifting up the skirt to reveal your already wet and waiting naked cunt, he murmurs, "Delicious," before lowering himself to meet you where you already need him so desperately.  Aware that you might still be sensitive from the previous night’s sex, Pero is careful with you – his licks and strokes to your folds are gentle and slow, he mouths and sucks your clit with tenderness and reverence, and when he presses two, then three fingers into your tight hole, he does so with restrained worship.  It’s only when you cry out for more, more, more, that he quickens his pace and fully presses his mouth to you, tongue tangling with your sensitive bud before nibbling it between his teeth.  Your moans and debauched sounds of rapture have never been restrained in this house, your house – and you come with a desperate and enchanting scream befitting the blinding pleasure now electrifying your body. 

Kissing up your nightgown and planting loving open mouth kisses to your breasts before letting you taste yourself, Pero licks into your mouth and whispers, “Te amo, mi reina,” before standing back to unlace his pants.

Your mouth waters as you watch your husband free his cock; no matter how many times you’ve taken him in your hands, your mouth, your cunt, you’re still in awe of its size and the things that Pero’s length can do to you.  Whenever you feel the stretch of him entering you, you always recall the first time and how gentle he was as he pushed in.  When you remember the tenderness in his voice and face as he made sure you were comfortable, putting your pleasure before his – your heart always blooms with overflowing love for this man.  How did you get so lucky?  Pero would of course always say that he’s the lucky one, and then show you just how deep his affection for you runs by thrusting with intensity, punching that spot inside that makes you see stars, over and over – the exact way he’s doing so now.  “¡Cómo te amo, Pero!” you whimper again and again, and by the way he continues to drive into you, you know he believes you.  Folding himself over you so that he can bury his face into your neck and nip at the delicate spot at the base, Pero's pants and groans have you arching your back and fisting his hair just for something to hold on to lest you float away.

“I’m close, Dulce.  Come with me,” Pero growls, snaking a hand between your bodies and finding your clit with ease.  Drawing quick circles over your swollen nub, you feel the coil beneath your belly tighten and tighten until it snaps and you throw you head back chanting your husband’s name as you fall over the cliff.  Not far behind, Pero’s pace falters before he spills into you with a long and low grunt in your ear that shoots straight to where you’re joined as one. 

Weak, limp and perfectly satisfied, you let Pero pull you into a sitting position and kiss him deeply and sweetly as both of your breaths start to even, the heaving of your chests slowing in unison.

Forehead resting against yours, Pero catches your still dazed eyes and gives a small nod towards the papers that had been pushed aside and forgotten, “Dulce, I’ve been charged with accompanying His Majesty’s naval fleet to Naples, Italy.  Would you join me?”

Smiling because you know he already knows the answer, you nod, “Of course, mi amor.  I’ll start making the necessary arrangements today.”

Pero tilts his head, eyes soft and reassuring, “Are you okay with leaving?  We will have only been home for a few short months.”

Cupping your husband’s face in your hands, you gaze adoringly into his eyes, “My home is where you are, Pero.”

Pero closes his eyes and pulls you flush against him, with him still softening inside you, you’re as close as two people can be.  He tips your face to his and whispers, “You’re my home, Dulce,” and all you can do is sigh in unsurpassable happiness as he presses his lips to yours once again.

I've never done a tag list before so please let me know if it doesn't work, or you don't/do want to be on it, or it sets your phone on fire 😅 @drewharrisonwriter @inept-the-magnificent @tuquoquebrute @stcrrjoon @anoverwhelmingdin

@callsignmedusa @wintersquirrel @toobsessedsstuff @starwarslover-81 @la-vie-est-une-fleur29

[mrmeowski]

˚✦𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭✦˚

Synopsis: It was a simple question—in your eyes at least, but apparently not for him. He took it personally and it went quickly out of hand. Now you have to face the consequences of him taking it to heart rather than answering it like a normal person then again, he never was normal.

CW: Suggestive

Pairing/s: Solomon x GN.Reader

Word Count: 2.0k

It had been an exceptionally demanding day for Solomon, filled with myriad responsibilities and arcane studies. As the evening descended, casting an ethereal glow over the House of Lamentation, he found himself longing for your comforting presence. Yet, as he strolled past the imposing structure, your familiar figure was conspicuously absent. He sighed, a twinge of disappointment shadowing his features. Perhaps you had returned to Cocytus Hall earlier than usual, and he had just missed you. Deviating from his customary path, he meandered alone beneath the silvery moonlight, its gentle illumination guiding his steps.

The ancient door of Cocytus Hall groaned in protest as he pushed it open, the sound reverberating through the timeworn corridors. This grand, desolate place was home to only the two of you, and in truth, he preferred it that way. It meant he could savor your company without interruption, a rare and cherished luxury.

"[Name]..?" He called out, his voice resonating in the stillness as he shrugged off his coat, draping it over his arm.

The dynamics between the two of you often brought to mind a couple deeply intertwined, bound by an unspoken understanding and shared moments. The mere thought of it painted a tender smile across his lips, igniting a spark of hope that one day, he might place a ring on your finger, solidifying the bond you already shared.

"Sol, I'm in here!" Your voice echoed from the depths of the hallways, originating from the direction of your room.

Guided by your call, he navigated through the labyrinthine passageways until he reached your door. He paused momentarily, savoring the anticipation before gently pushing it open. There you were, a vision of comfort and familiarity, enveloped in a serene atmosphere that instantly put him at ease.

"Long day?" You asked, your eyes reflecting concern and warmth as you looked up from your book.

He nodded, a soft chuckle escaping his lips, "You could say that. But seeing you make it all worthwhile." You smiled, patting the space beside you on the bed.

"Come, sit with me. I have a favor to ask of you." He settled down next to you, his cheek gently resting on your shoulder.

The warmth of his presence was comforting, a familiar solace after a long day.

"What is it..?" He inquired softly, his curiosity piqued.

Taking a deep breath, you could hardly contain your excitement.

"While I was out today, I heard a song... It caught my attention," you began, trying to stifle a laugh. "I can't remember the lyrics—it was barely audible—but I do know the tune." His eyes met yours, intrigued.

"Why not hum it to me? I might recognize the song." You grinned, knowing you had him hooked.

"Alright, but I need to warm up my vocals first, I don't want to mess this up!" His laughter was light and carefree, his gaze tracing the contours of your face, cherishing every feature. To him, you were perfect, imperfections and all.

After a mock preparation, you began, "It goes like this... nanana naaa na na, nanana naaa na na." Even without looking, you could sense the swift change in his demeanor, his smile faltering.

The tune was unmistakable—a song he'd encountered numerous times but preferred not to speak of.

He sighed deeply, standing up. But you weren't about to let him escape so easily. You followed him, singing playfully, "Don't you dare walk away and desert meee... Come back hereee, you sorcereeer." He turned to face you, your innocent smile meeting his exasperated expression.

"Happy now?" He asked his tone a mix of resignation and amusement. You nodded enthusiastically. "Well, that makes one of us. You know.. I'm this close to cursing you!" He warned, lifting his hand, his fingers forming an 'o' sign with the thumb and index finger almost touching.

You gasped theatrically, placing a hand over your heart in mock shock, "You don't mean it, do you?"

"Hmph!" He huffed, turning on his heel and striding purposefully down the hallway toward the living room.

"Hey now! Don't tell me you're that upset!" you called after him, laughter bubbling up. "Come ooon, you should have seen it coming! It is the day, y'know?" You paused by the doorway of the library, arms crossed as you watched him glance back at you, confusion flickering in his eyes.

"'The day'? What are you talking about?" He raised an eyebrow, clearly puzzled, until realization dawned on him. "Ah... I see. July 27th, the... song's release." He spat out the word 'song' as if it had personally offended him and his entire bloodline.

"Bingo!" You exclaimed, grinning widely.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Sometimes you're so childish... and cringeworthy." He turned away once more, heading deeper into the library.

"Excuse me?! Now, I might accept the latter, but... childish? Really now?! I'm not the one getting all worked up over a harmless prank, a joke, whatever you want to call it!" You threw your arms up in exasperation.

"Well, I'm glad you're at least self-aware." He pulled a random book from the decaying bookshelf and plopped down onto one of the dusty couches, a cloud of dust rising as he sat.

"Hey, don't just ignore the rest!" You marched over, standing in front of him with a huff. One glance at the book cover made you scoff as you sat down beside him. "So you're just going to ignore me now?"

Silence.

He stared blankly at the book, his eyes unfocused, lost in thought.

"Well, fine then." You turned away, casting a quick sideways glance at him before adding, "Oh, and by the way... the book's upside down." He blinked a few times as if snapping out of a trance.

"Ahem..." He coughed, hurriedly adjusting the book to the correct orientation.

The silence stretched on, an unspoken tension lingering between you. He occasionally flipped a page, but you doubted he was truly reading. The stillness was becoming unbearable, and with a resigned sigh, you turned to him.

"You know what, fine! I'm sorry, Sol." The words felt strange on your tongue.

Apologizing for such a harmless prank seemed ridiculous, especially when he, of all people, was the one acting childish. He glanced at you briefly before his gaze returned to the book.

"That's not enough," he said, his voice cold and cutting.

It was a tone you had rarely heard from him, one he usually reserved for when he was truly angry. For a moment, you were taken aback. The seriousness in his voice made you laugh nervously. Either he was genuinely upset, or he was being overly dramatic, which he had a penchant for.

"Not enough, huh?" You remarked, crossing one leg over the other. "Then what exactly do you want?" He grinned mischievously, closing the ancient, decrepit book and resting it on his lap.

"I want to cook for you."

"What..?" You blinked, unable to mask the horror in your voice.

His culinary skills were practically a biohazard. A single bite will send you to meet your maker.

"I said I want to cook for you," He repeated, his smile disarmingly innocent. "Lately, you've been avoiding my offers! Always suggesting eating out or claiming you're 'full'. It hurts me, you know... I just want to do something nice for my charming apprentice, hmm?"

"No!" You blurted out, recoiling at the thought.

"Hm..?" His smile faltered slightly, and you hurriedly continued, trying to salvage the situation.

"I-I mean... you could think of something else! Like... um... I'll do anything you desire! Just not involving the brothers or your cooking!" You were desperate to avoid his culinary experiments. "I just.. d-don't want to add to your workload. You've already had such busy days, and now you want to cook instead of resting?" He hummed thoughtfully, mulling over the idea.

"Even on the harshest of days, I'd do anything for you... but your suggestion," he said with a smirk, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "When you say anything, do you truly mean it?" You nodded earnestly.

"Yes! No matter how ridiculous it is—just don't involve the brothers." He tapped a finger to his chin, pondering your words. "So, deal or no deal?" you pressed, leaning in slightly.

His eyes sparkled with amusement as he met your gaze.

"Deal," he replied, his tone filled with playful promise. "But remember, you agreed to anything."

"Yeah, uh-huh. So how will you abuse this newfound 'power' of yours, hmm?" You rolled your eyes, feeling a bit uneasy, and starting to regret your decision.

He hummed thoughtfully, "There are so many things I desire you to do..." His voice had dropped to a lower, more suggestive tone, and his eyes roamed over you in a way that made you squirm. "But I guess... first, you should probably text everyone that you're sick today and won't be able to come out. After all, I don't want anyone bothering us..." Your brows furrowed at his suggestion.

"When you say everyone, that includes the brothers and the demon prince," you sighed. "I told you, they're excluded!"

"Ah, but I only speak of possible plans... not directly involving them," he teased, a sly smile playing on his lips.

"Still! It's about—"

"If you're not going to do it, then we shall revert to plan A. You know... I have so many dishes I want you to try!" He smiled innocently, seemingly unaware of how your skin paled at the thought.

"Haha! Of course, I'll do it!" You exclaimed, laughing nervously.

His smile widened, clearly pleased. "Good. Now, let's get started with our day."

You quickly pulled out your D.D.D. and sent a message to everyone, claiming you were feeling unwell and needed to rest. The replies came in swiftly, full of concern and well-wishes, but you barely registered them.

"Alright, done," you said, putting the D.D.D. away. "So, what's next on your agenda, oh master of mischief?"

"That nickname rolls off your tongue smoothly, doesn't it? I would've loved it if not for the last few words." The he old book slipping off his lap as he shifted his body towards you, hovering over you with predatory grace. A hand moved to your cheek, his fingers tracing a slow, deliberate path down to your jawline. "Mind removing the extra words? I'd love to hear it more... in our room." Your heart skipped a beat at the suggestive tone in his voice, and you felt a shiver of anticipation run down your spine.

"Solomo—"

"Solomon?" He swiftly cut you off. "Didn't I tell you to call me something else?" You gulped hard.

You had only ever heard the brothers call you this, but actually saying it yourself... You had no choice; it was either this or certain death.

"You really love to tease me... m-master..." Your voice grew softer with each word, barely above a whisper.

"I don't think I heard you, my dear apprentice," he said, his tone insistent yet gentle.

You swallowed again, nerves getting the better of you.

"You really love to tease me, master," you repeated, louder this time, the word feeling foreign yet thrilling on your tongue.

"That's better...~" He purred, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Now, let's take this to our room, shall we?"

Once in your shared room, he gently laid you down on the soft mattress, still hovering above you. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin as he spoke in a low, intimate tone. "I've been waiting for this moment," he murmured, his lips trailing a line of kisses along your neck. "To have you all to myself."

You could feel the heat of his body pressing against yours, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race.

"I never knew you had such a side to you..." You managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine, "There's a lot you don't know about me," he replied, his voice husky with desire. "But we have all the time in the world to explore."

Sorry for this dumpster fire

Request» Masterlist»

*•.𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃.•*

[inalandofsadclowns]

Aight, who wants to talk about the theoretically most optimal occasion for Merlin to come out about his magic to Arthur?

I'll go first: 1x10, Ealdor.

In the prior episodes Merlin was basically still getting to know Arthur. For eight episodes he was the brave and noble prince that Merlin had grown to respect, because Arthur apparently did not value his own life any higher than that of a servant, but who was also the son of Uther Pendragon. Arthur would save Merlin at any price, he got to learn that multiple times. But would he save a sorcerer? He couldn't know. (This question remained even when Arthur had lifted Merlin's sorcery allegations.)

But in 1x08 Arthur knowingly broke the law saving Mordred, a druid; he was in fact more devoted to the cause than Merlin himself.

For Merlin to reveal his secret he needs three prerequisites to exist:

To trust Arthur

The opportunity

To be prepared to leave Arthur forever

The Moment of Truth might just be the only episode where all these exist?

Let's look through these points one by one.

1.Merlin had been wanting for Arthur to know since forever. There's nothing he wants more desperately than to know if they're really, truly friends. Once he says to Will, he does trust him.

Will: Friends don't lord it over one another.

Merlin: He isn't like that.

Will: Really? Well, let's wait until the fighting begins and see who he sends in to die first. I guarantee you, it won't be him.

Merlin: I trust Arthur with my life.

And this gem here. The first time Merlin doesn't promise Hunith to keep Arthur in the dark.

Hunith: You can't let Arthur know about your gift.

Merlin: Why not? Maybe it's meant to be this way. And if he doesn't accept me for who I really am, then he's not the friend I hoped he was.

2. Opportunity. They have these several times throughout the series: fights for survival, heated arguments, quiet moments of vulnerability. There are several brilliant opportunities in this very episode.

The armor scene:

Merlin: Whatever happens out there today, please don't think any differently of me.

Arthur: I won't. It's alright to be scared, Merlin.

Merlin: That's not what I meant.

Arthur: What is it? If you've got something to say, now's the time to say it.

Oh. He tried. My boy tried, he was so close...My heart bleeds for him here.

Then, obviously, right after the battle.

Arthur: Wind like that doesn't just appear from nowhere. I know magic when I see it. One of you made that happen.

Merlin: Arthur...

Merlin just so manages to exhale Arthur's name with a so-so painful look in his eyes. Arthur knows what Merlin was about to say. Just for a moment, because Will gets shot saving Arthur.

He even tries to stop Will from taking the responsibility on his deathbed, even though Arthur knew, that the windstorm was conjured by one of them; if it wasn't Will, than that leaves only Merlin.

Will: Yeah, it was me. I'm the one that used the magic.

Merlin: Will, don't.

[Arthur looks at Merlin.]

3. The most important part. The greatest issue for Merlin has always been the threat of having to leave Arthur. But in this episode there is a cause just as important to him as Arthur - his village and his mother.

The first Merlin and Arthur exchange of the episode is Merlin saying goodbye to Arthur.

Merlin: It's been an honour serving you.

Arthur: You'll be coming back.

Merlin: Well, she's my mother. I have got to look after her before anyone else. You understand?

Then he was prepared to come clean for Ealdor's sake several times that day. Merlin is going to fight for his village, he's well prepared to use magic if needed - in front of Arthur, if needed, knowing full well that might be the last time they ever speak or meet. Whether Arthur forbids Merlin from returning to Camelot for Camelot's sake or Merlin's own sake, the result would be the same.

At the very end, even with his magic still a secret, he was going to stay in Ealdor with Hunith, had she not sent him after the others, so he really was prepared to part from Arthur.

[Arthur walks over to Morgana and Gwen. Hunith walks over to Merlin.]

Hunith: You better be going.

Merlin: I don't have to go.

Hunith: Yes, you do.

Merlin: If anything were to happen to you...

Hunith: I know where to find you. You have to go, Merlin. You belong at Arthur's side. I've seen how much he needs you. How much you need him. You're like two sides of the same coin.

That whole episode was Merlin attempting and failing to come out to Arthur.

After this, though, Merlin was too close to Arthur to ever consider prerequisite 3., other than in the form of dying for Arthur.

[skwhluvr]

sung hanbin as a dad / husband | headcanons

❀ paring: sung hanbin x fem!reader 

❀ warnings : pregnancy, kissing, marriage, morning sickness, talks about insecurity due to pregnancy, pregnancy cravings, just very cute generally, fluff, small angst (?), zb1 members makes camo, hanbin (yes he needs his own warning) let me know if i missed any :D

❀ a/n: starting off by saying I apologize for any grammatical errors 😓 i watched that ep of zb1 taking care of the babies and i needed to write something + that picture influenced me sm. sticking to headcanons because im not confident at all with my story writing skills and i haven't really written one in ages. anyhow hope you guys enjoy this !!! thank you sm for the likes and reblogs on last one :(( <3 🥺

❀ was listening to all of me by john legend, dandelions by ruth b and love me like you do by ellie goulding while writing this.

- y’all should watch the ep because he’s so :((( I want to cry I love him so much <3

- during the pregnancy he would buy all those mother’s book or any pregnancy related books he could find. he would probably act like a mom who would tell you to eat certain things since it’s good for your pregnancy. He would come home each day with some random fact.

- he loves talking to the baby !!! he would lay down next to you and start talking to your tummy <3 “hi baby !! your dad is so ready to meet you ! omg did you what your mom tried today ??” he goes on telling the baby bout his day and leave kisses ALOT OF THEM.

- every night before bed he would give you a kiss and your tummy one because apparently he needs to be equal sharing his love (he’s playful)

- he’s willing to buy any type of food regardless of the time, to make sure your cravings are satisfied. on top of that he would actually join you and “try” have some of your cravings.

- one night he will find you curled up crying. it was one of those nights where you let insecurities get the best of you. immediately he would drop everything and bring you to a hug. “what happened love ?” “i just. i just feel like you wouldn’t love anymore for how i look after i give birth, and these marks it’s such-” “love don’t say such a thing. I’ll always love you and right now you’re looking most beautiful i have seen my life, carrying my child”

- he would spend the night cuddling with you and giving reassurance that you’re beautiful, amazing and best thing that ever happened to him.

- he is such a girls dad and you cannot disagree with me. I speak the truth /j

- he would be biggest supporter during your pregnancy. honestly you couldn’t have done it without his help <3

- “no hanbin no more sweets.” “but look at them ☹️ how could you say no to those eyes 🥺☹️”

- probably would say it’s time for bed and spent an hour playing with the child. hey at least you get to relax.

- randomly would surprise you and the baby with flowers or just something random

- Lego or puzzle games = family bonding

- teaches the kid how to dance. it could be random chores of their song or just any song he has in mind.

- love mothers or fathers or children’s day ! you guys have a tradition of some kind. whether it being going out to eat together or stay home and have home cooked meal. just cute little tradition for your little family ♥️

- hanbin would love to spoil his kid. whether it be toys or clothes. if he ever goes shopping he won’t forget to bring something for his child.

- he loves to bring matching clothes for three of you guys. it just warms his heart sm.

- one night you see him cry and worried you asked him what happened. he would explain how you and the baby is the best thing that happened to him. how’s he’s so thankful for it all the time 🥺 you would give him the biggest hug ever (i love him sm)

- his members came to visit the baby. boy WAS THE BABY SPOILED. all 8 off them just couldn’t stop themselves !!!

- all of them are so absorbed by how the baby is !! they would honestly fight on who’s the better uncle. hanbin will make joke how yujin has a younger sibling.

-hao is the official babysitter 😍

[odyssean-flower]

The Winding Path of Fate Chapter 15 - Summer: The Meeting

Masterpost

Pairing: Neuvillette x Female Reader Summary: You and Neuvillette finally have that long-awaited meeting with Furina.

Note: If you want to be on the taglist for this fic, please make a reply to this post, send a message or send a private ask

Have a pic of Neuvillette swimming with Scylla

Previous | Next

“So, with all the pleasantries out of the way, let’s talk about finally publicizing your marriage.”

You just barely managed to avoid choking your tea when you heard those words. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Neuvillette stiffen.

The long-awaited meeting—or the “tea party,” as Furina had insisted on calling it—had been going surprisingly well up until this point. Admittedly, your opinion of Furina hadn’t been very high as of late, but she proved to be a gracious, winsome hostess (even though, considering this was Neuvillette’s office, shouldn’t the two of you act as the hosts?) and a witty conversationist who kept things going smoothly. She congratulated you on your marriage, complimented your dress and purse and immediately noticed Neuvillette’s matching brooch. She asked you to show her your wedding ring and declared to be utterly plain (which wasn’t exactly wrong). She even asked after your family. There’s a reason why she’s considered Fontaine’s superstar, you thought in admiration.

As expected, she asked how you and Neuvillette met. You told her the truth: that you had met at a ball and went on several dates together. Of course, you happened to leave out the fact that all those meetings were brief and happened within a month’s span, but who cared about the details, right?

But what really raised her in your esteem was the fact that she actually recalled your great-grandparents’ meeting with her from more than a century ago.

“Ah, yes, I remember them. They asked me to give my blessing for their unborn child, I believe,” she said, tilting her head as though in recollection.

You nodded. As the story passed down in your family goes, your great-grandmother had been a sickly woman, and there were serious worries that she wouldn’t be able to survive the birth. As devotees of the Hydro Archon, your great-grandparents made the decision to travel all the way to the Court of Fontaine from their remote village in hopes of receiving a blessing from her. The arduous journey and wait paid off, and your great-grandmother lived to see her son grow to adulthood.

“It is all thanks to you, Lady Furina,” you said, bowing your head respectfully. “Even now, my family still speaks highly of you and what you’ve done for us.”

“I see. How very gladdening to hear!” Furina’s voice was bright, almost to the extent of sounding fake. For a moment, you thought you saw her smile falter just a little. Did I say something wrong, you worried, but when you looked again, her expression was as smooth and unruffled as ever.

You told yourself, not for the first time, to stop overthinking and reading into every little thing. The meeting was going well. It was supposed to be hour-long and half an hour had already passed. Plus, there were snacks (apparently this meeting coincided with Furina’s morning tea time), which you were secretly thankful for as you had been too nervous to eat much for breakfast that morning.

Yes, everything was going swimmingly, and if luck was on your side, you might not have to see Furina ever again after today. You could spend the rest of this marriage in peace and obscurity. All you had to do was to be so utterly dull and uninteresting that just the thought of you would induce a yawn, which wasn’t exactly a difficult task for you, but…

You should have known that nothing was ever so easy.

Furina looked between the two of you when neither of you spoke. She raised her eyebrows. “Well? Anything to say?”

Neuvillette cleared his throat. He had been twirling the stem of his cup in his hand as Furina spoke mainly with you, occasionally taking a sip from it. He was mostly quiet for the first half of the meeting, but you could feel his readiness to jump in at any moment should you need it. This was that moment.

“Furina, I do believe we’ve already made it clear that we wish to keep our marriage as private as possible.”

“Oh, sure, I can sympathize with wanting privacy. The paparazzi can be absolutely ravenous sometimes. I can only imagine how much more irksome they would be if they catch wind of this story. But still, there is no reason to completely hide it, especially when it’ll be found out anyways. Now, we could do a slow unveiling to a small group of close associates first before announcing it to all Fontainians. For instance—”

As Furina prattled on about all the engagement announcements she had witnessed in her time, you bit into a pink macaron and proceeded to wash it down with more tea. However, the sweet pastry now tasted like sawdust in your mouth. Your stomach was twisted in knots. You and Neuvillette needed to come up with a good excuse to get out of this.

As your mind raced in circles, you suddenly felt a weight on your hand and looked down. Neuvillette’s gloved hand was on top of yours, squeezing it gently. You hadn’t realized it was shaking until now.

Raising your head, you were met with Neuvillette’s violet eyes, silently reassuring you. You felt some of the tension leave your body.

Yes, it will be alright. You were married to the one person in Fontaine who could push back against Furina and get away with it, after all.

“…So, what do you say? Something intimate will suffice, like, say, an exclusively attended ball where only the most elite of Fontaine’s social scene are invited. Oh, I can just picture it now—Neuvillette with an unfamiliar lady on his arm, only to introduce her to everyone as his wife! Ah, I can just imagine the ladies’ reaction when that moment arrives!” Furina chuckled to herself as she scooped a mound of sugar cubes into her tea. “Or perhaps Madame Neuvillette would prefer something more casual, like a ladies’ salon.”

“There will be nothing of the sort. I do not understand why you’re so insistent upon the publicization of my marriage in the first place. It will not affect how I do my job, and I do not believe it is something that is of concern to anyone,” Neuvillette said, an impatient note creeping into his voice.

“Oh, Neuvillette,” Furina shook her head in disappointment, as though scolding a child. “You’re missing the point. The people would be thrilled to hear that their solitary Chief Justice has finally found love after all this time. It would bring you closer to them, for what humanizes a person more than falling in love? Plus, it’ll give everyone the exc—I mean, opportunity to share in your newfound happiness by celebrating it!”

Bringing Neuvillette closer to the people? Was that why Furina kept pestering him to marry? Was he suffering from low popularity ratings or something?

“That sounds rather excessive. Would the people truly care so much about whether or not I am married?”

Furina shook her head again. You found yourself sympathizing with her a little despite everything. “Ugh, I’m not going to argue with you on this. But honestly, you’re not even going to tell the Duke or Clorinde? It’s not as though they’re the gossiping types.”

You were quite sure that Clorinde already had an idea, but who was this Duke?

“No, not even them,” Neuvillette said, but you saw his fingers twitch just once under the table.

“How odd. I’m sure your dear Melusines have all already been informed from the very start, so it isn’t as though you’re keeping it completely secret. Don’t you think that’s unfair to the humans who place their trust in you?”

Neuvillette blinked, as though that had never occurred to him.

Furina took this opportunity to press further. “Neuvillette, don’t tell me you intend to keep your marriage secret forever! Do you plan on never being seen in public with your wife? Did you swear her entire family to secrecy as well? What a dreadful prospect! Have you even considered how she might feel about that? You’re almost like a tyrannical lord from an opera, keeping your wife hidden away from the world in a tall tower.” She looked at you critically. “She does not appear particularly frail or delicate to me. Whatever could be the reason for this?”

“She is not hidden or imprisoned in any way. Madame is free to go wherever she likes. It is only that…” Neuvillette trailed off. You saw the muscles in his jaw working. He must be trying to come up with an acceptable excuse.

You were doing the same. Honestly, you could see where Furina was coming from. If I look at our marriage from an outsider’s point of view…it definitely raises a few questions.

“Oh, there’s no need to say anything more. I know exactly what’s going on here.” Furina leaned forward, and you resisted the urge to squirm in your seat. Had she caught on to the truth?

She pointed her teaspoon at Neuvillette. “You’re too selfish!”

“Huh?” you couldn’t help but exclaim. Neuvillette, selfish? Those two words didn’t belong in the same sentence.

“Selfish may be too harsh of a word. Perhaps…inflexible? Unable to change? Well, putting that aside, I have hoped that being in a romantic relationship might have forced you to change your ways, but I suppose it can’t be helped. It’s difficult to change when you’ve been distanced from humans for so long. But, fear not, I, the Regina of All Waters and All Peoples, shall help you in this endeavour. I’ll save this failing marriage!”

“Failing marriage…?” Neuvillette repeated slowly.

“It’s not failing yet, but in my opinion, it is certainly heading in that direction if nothing changes. I’ve witnessed many a divorce in my day, and I can tell you that many of them are caused by prioritizing one’s desires over one’s spouse. After all, isn’t that what love is about? Sacrificing your own comfort for the one you love? You married this woman because you love her, yes? Surely you’d do anything for her?”

Oh, Archons. She’s cornered Neuvillette in a tough spot. If he said yes, he would not only be lying to his superior, but also opening the door to a whole new set of complications that would be difficult to get through. But if he said no, well…

Either way, it would only raise suspicions.

“I…” Neuvillette was blinking rapidly. You saw him briefly glance at you, saw his fingers clench and unclench around the stem of his cup. Even taking his time to answer this question was enough to be suspect.

You had to step in. “Your concern is greatly appreciated, Lady Furina, but there is no need for you to worry about us. I’m perfectly content with the way things are. Neither of us are the type to enjoy socializing very much, so this arrangement is perfect for me. I have no desire to force him to do things that cause him discomfort.”

Furina stared at you for a moment. You tried your best to hold her gaze and look resolute, but her heterochromatic eyes disconcerted you. It felt as though they were probing you for all your secrets, turning out all of your lies. Or maybe you were falling into them as one was falling into an abyss.

I never lied, you reminded yourself. I’ve only told the truth. It’s not my fault if she doesn’t like it.

Her reaction, however, was completely unexpected.

“You poor thing!” she exclaimed, clutching her hands to her chest. “It’s worse than I expected. I can only imagine how difficult it has been for you! No wonder you two barely seem like a loving couple. Ah, but there is no need to suffer in silence for any longer, for I, the God of Justice, shall serve as your advocate.”

You felt your mouth dropping open in shock. What was she talking about? You took another glance at Neuvillette and saw that he looked as clueless as you felt.

Furina continued, heedless of your confusion. “Born into an impoverished family, overlooked on the marriage market and almost forced into eternal spinsterhood—what an unfortunate life you’ve lived! And just when it seemed that you’ve attained lifelong happiness and freedom by attaining the affections of the most eligible bachelor in Fontaine and having him marry you, you’re stuffed away in his house like an old antique, forced to cater to his whims out of the fear that he’ll cast you aside if you displease him. Oh yes, I understand perfectly now. It’s something out of a classic romance novel. But do not fret, my dear lady, I shall ensure that Neuvillette shapes up and becomes a proper husband who will spoil you as you deserve!”

Impoverished? I suppose a god would have a different standard of wealth, but still… You had heard of other noble families that were forced to sell off their estates and assets and live on the charity of relatives just to pay off their debts. She isn’t entirely wrong about the other stuff, although I wouldn’t describe being a spinster as a “doom.”

“Furina—” Neuvillette began, but she cut him off.

“My dear Iudex, I know that the whole ‘aloof and mysterious’ persona has done wonders for your popularity among women, but that will not do at all in a romantic relationship! You have to be straightforward and overt in your affections. You must prioritize your wife along with your job. Have you showered her with gifts and compliments? Have you told her you love her every single day? The dress and purse are a good start—” you decided to keep silent about the fact that you were the one who had bought those items (though it was with Neuvillette’s money, so in a roundabout way, he did buy them for you)— “But there needs to be more extravagance. And dates! I know very well that you can easily rearrange your schedule to allow for a date every week. And as for physical affection…well, I shall not broach a couple’s privacy, but I believe the research materials I’ve provided you with should supply ample ideas.”

She gave you two a meaningful look. If you were in a more proper state of mind, you might have blushed at what she was suggesting. Instead, you felt like you had just been assailed by a series of tidal waves.

“Ah, perhaps I’m expecting too much from your very first romantic relationship,” Furina nodded, even as you reeled from that revelation. Did that mean Neuvillette had only ever had one-night stands? That seemed terribly unlikely, but you didn’t know much about his love life in the first place. “Oh well, I’ll just have to guide you more firmly. What do you say to weekly meetings regarding this topic?”

“Furina, I understand that you believe you have good intentions, but you haven’t the right to—”

 “As a matter of fact, I think I do. After all, you never would have even thought of marrying this woman if it weren’t for me, right?”

“I…cannot deny that.”

“That’s right. If it weren’t for me, you’d still be moping around all by yourself, never knowing that you could have attained happiness if you simply put yourself forward. Well, I won’t let you ruin it, now that you have it. And you,” Furina turned her attention to you. “You should not be afraid to demand more from Neuvillette. You hold the heart of the Chief Justice in your hands, after all. Have more confidence! He’s too much of a recluse, you know, and hardly spends time with the people, even though they’re so eager to get to know him. Any woman would be eager to show off such a prize of a husband. What’s stopping you? You can’t spend your whole life being a wallflower, you know.”

Wallflower. Now that was a word you heard far too many times throughout your life. The painful memories you tried so hard to lock away came flooding back. Sitting near the wall, waiting in desperation, hoping…

“You truly have gone too far, Furina,” Neuvillette was glaring at her, his jaw clenched. His hand was still gripping yours. “It is one thing to criticize me, but it is another to speak in such a way to Madame.”

Even though Furina was accusing him of being someone he wasn’t, even though he could simply tell her the truth to clear this up, he was determined to defend you and your dignity until the very end.

A rush of guilt, accompanied by shameful relief, welled up inside you. The fabric of your dress scratched at your skin, as though you were wearing a burlap sack instead of a pretty frock. Sweat beaded your back, even though it was cool in the room.

If it weren’t for you, he wouldn’t be in this situation. If only you had been more prepared, more eloquent, perhaps you could have come up with a satisfying explanation for everything. If you were prettier, more charming—someone who wasn’t you, then Neuvillette wouldn’t be…

My dear child, are you hearing yourself right now? Your old teacher’s voice, chiding but playful, sounded in your head. It felt like a cool, refreshing wind. Take a pause and look at this objectively.   

She was right. You were being irrational. Neuvillette hadn’t been forced to marry you. He chose you of his own accord, knowing full well who you were and what he was getting into, and you accepted his proposal. This marriage was temporary from the start. Reasonably, you shouldn’t be heeding Furina’s words, as they didn’t apply to your marriage.

The more you thought about it, the angrier you felt. It was clear that what Furina was truly looking for was entertainment, despite all of her claims to the contrary about wanting him to find happiness. You and Neuvillette were like puppets on a wooden stage for her to manipulate as she saw fit.

Having to adapt to circumstances beyond your control was one thing, but being made to dance to the whims of someone else, just because they believed they had the right to do so, was infuriating.

You promised him once that you would make sure his life remained as unchanged as possible, and you were more determined than ever to keep it.

And long before that, you had promised yourself that you would never be beholden to anyone, that you would walk your own path, under your own power.

Furina was still speaking. “What a shame, I have hoped that marriage might induce you to change your ways, but alas… do at least think of your poor wife. Do you truly want her to wither away in your house, unable to flourish?”

At the beginning of this meeting, you had been somewhat awed by being in the presence of the Hydro Archon, but now that awe was being replaced by indignance.

“As the wife in question, may I say something?” your words came out sharper than you expected. You straightened up in your seat, making your back ramrod straight and looking directly at Furina. Anger roiled in the pit of your stomach, but you reminded yourself to watch your tongue. Even Neuvillette wouldn’t be able to protect you if you spoke too much out of turn.

“Yes?” Furina nodded towards you, leaning back in her chair. “Go on, what is it?”

“I shall be blunt here, Lady Furina. I have no need for your pity. As Neuvillette has repeated over and over, we are perfectly fine as we are. I think you’re completely overstepping your bounds, and I ask you to stop immediately.”

Furina blinked, the flippant composure she had giving way to shock. “What?” she said at last.

“It is true that if it isn’t for your constant encouragement, Neuvillette and I would never have married. But that will be the extent of your involvement in our relationship. The only people who will make the decisions in our relationship are the two of us. If you don’t like it, then I apologize for any unpleasant feelings we’ve caused, but we shall continue as we are. We won’t entertain any arguments on this matter.”

“Wait,” Furina had been snapped out of her shock and was now leaning forward, looking between the two of you. “Don’t tell me that you honestly intend to keep this marriage a secret forever? What is the point of getting married, then?”

“As the one who pressed for this marriage in the first place, Lady Furina, I’m sure you can wager a guess. Neuvillette has done what you asked, and that should be the end of it. You have no idea how much pressure he has been placed under because of you. And…” you took a breath here. When was the last time you had spoken with such vigor? “…I would much rather a relationship where we are honest with each other about what we want, rather than living a pretense because that’s what’s expected of us.”

You expected punishment to rain down on you swiftly. Furina had been known to have people tried at the opera house for far lesser offences, after all. Would she summon your family to the trial? Would she throw you into the sea instead of sending you to the Fortress of Metropide? How strange, you should be feeling petrified right now, but all such emotions seemed to have wilted away in the face of the burning conviction that filled your heart.

You weren’t, however, expecting Furina to simply stare at you, an unreadable expression in her eyes. Was she plotting something? Despite that, you stared back at her resolutely.

Perhaps some other god was watching over you then, for the clock chimed the hour. The meeting was over.

You stood up, straightened your skirt, and curtsied. “Thank you for the tea and cakes, Lady Furina,” you said politely. “Neuvillette and I shall take our leave now.”

Furina said nothing as you walked towards the door.

I messed up. I messed up. I messed up.

Right now, you were huddled in a corner of the main lobby, sandwiched between bookshelves. A book you randomly picked out laid on your lap. Being surrounded by books always had a therapeutic effect on you, but it wasn’t working today.

The tight, angry knot in your stomach still hadn’t loosened, although it was now accompanied by unease.

You didn’t regret what you said—it needed to be said—but you were worried about the consequences of your sharp tongue on the lives of Neuvillette and your family.

You should have thought over your words more carefully. You should have anticipated this. You should have prepared better so that it would have never come to this. You should have…

I’m sure…I must have embarrassed Neuvillette terribly back there.

Speaking of Neuvillette, he had not followed you out of the office. In fact, it had been nearly half an hour since you left. You surmised that he was probably cleaning up after your outburst. He had said before that part of the reason he picked you to be his wife was because of your similar temperaments—no doubt he was regretting those words now.

A sigh slipped out of you. You didn’t regret what you said, but you would be the first to admit that you had been presumptuous. If you made things between him and Furina awkward, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was having second thoughts about marrying you.

Already, the gears in your mind were whirring, coming up with a backup plan. I hear it can take months for a divorce to be finalized…but since Neuvillette is the Chief Justice, he probably has ways to speed things up. I hope he’ll at least give me time to find a new place to live… It’ll be quite difficult to find somewhere affordable in the city. Maybe I’ll try the Fleuve Cendre after all. Marie says it’s actually not too bad down there, as long as you know the right people and keep your head down. I can ask her to recommend a place for me. It won’t be long until winter, and I barely know anyone in the city anyways, so it should be fine…the only issue is mail…

“Madame.”

A voice broke through your aimless reverie. You looked up and saw Neuvillette’s face, etched with worry. His lips were tightly pressed together, and there was a deep furrow between his brows. He looked visibly relieved when he saw you sitting there with your book.

You elected to get straight to the point. “Will we be divorcing soon?”

“Divorce?” his eyes widened in shock. “No, of course not. What brought this on?”

“I, well…” you squirmed under Neuvillette’s intense gaze. Funny, now you were nervous. “It’s just that…I did make somewhat of a scene back there, and Lady Furina probably hates me now, and…”

Listening to yourself now, you were beginning to realize you had a propensity for jumping to conclusions. You cleared your throat. “…So, anyways, what held you up for so long?”

“Furina and I had a long, serious talk about her words today. I’ve made it clear that she has no control over our marriage. You were entirely right, Madame, and she knows it. It was not her place to control what two individuals in a private relationship ought to do. I suppose that hearing it from someone unfamiliar like you had more of an impact on her than from me.”

“Oh, I see…” you nodded as you mentally re-evaluated your impression of the relationship between Furina and Neuvillette. You had assumed that she was the one always ordering him around, but it seems that there was more of a push-and-pull than you thought.

“I do not believe she will bother us much for the foreseeable future,” Neuvillette reassured you. He looked straight into your eyes. “Worry not, Madame. Our arrangement is to stay married for a year until you obtain your license. I have no intention of reneging on it, nor let anyone interfere with it. We shall remain husband and wife until the time comes.”

“I-I’m relieved to hear that,” you stammered, taken aback by the ardor in his voice. “You were looking so worried just now that I thought something bad might have happened.”

“I was?” Neuvillette sat down next to you, his knee brushing against yours. “Forgive me, I was unaware. It was only that…”

He trailed off as he looked at you, his eyes seemingly probing you for something. “…I’ve never seen you like that before,” he said at last. “You’re always so calm and rational…I did not know that you could become so furious.”

“Did I look that angry?”

“It wasn’t your face, exactly, but I can sense your emotions…” Seeing you look at him questioningly, he cleared his throat. “What I mean is, I could feel the anger radiating from you. Yes, that’s it.”

“I see…” you answered, mentally noting what he said about sensing emotions. A Sumeru girl from the boarding house you lived in before once claimed that she could see auras. Was it something like that? “I hope I didn’t ruin your day or anything like that.”

“Nonsense. I have seen much worse in court regularly.” He paused there, before adding, almost shyly, “I must admit, it was enthralling to see another side of you. …And, Madame?”

 “Hmm?”

“Thank you.” a corner of Neuvillette’s mouth lifted slightly. “You’re always so considerate of me, even when I’ve hardly been a good husband to you.”

You furrowed your brow at his words. Had Neuvillette internalized what Furina said, even though they came from a place of ignorance?

As you looked into his apologetic eyes, you thought you were beginning to understand him a little bit more now. He was the sincere, earnest type who took what was said to him to heart.

Any lingering regrets over your outburst have all but dissipated now.

You put your hand on his shoulder. He looked down at it. He always seemed surprised whenever you touched him, but he never moved away or told you off. To be honest, you were surprised at yourself—you generally kept your hands to yourself and preferred that others did the same. But something about Neuvillette made you want to reach out to him, so that you could convey your thoughts to him better.

“There’s no need to thank me,” you told him, squeezing his shoulder gently. “We needed to put on a united front, and it’s the least I can do after everything you’ve done for me. And don’t take what Lady Furina said to heart—you’re a wonderful husband, and I’m sure that your future, real, spouse would be the luckiest person in the world.”

“Future spouse?” Neuvillette repeated, his head tilted to the side in confusion. He sounded almost distracted.

“Um…it’s also fine if you don’t want to get married,” you hurriedly corrected yourself. “I just meant that hypothetically, if you were to marry for real, then…well, just forget it! Let’s go shopping now, shall we? It won’t take long. I already know which store to go to.”

You swiftly got up and proceeded to go to the main hall. There weren’t many people there, luckily. You placed your hand on the door handle.

Neuvillette shook his head slightly, as though emerging from a reverie. “Wait, Madame,” he called out after you. “It’s—”

Whatever he was going to say was drowned out by the torrential downpour just outside.

Due to the unexpected heavy weather, you and Neuvillette decided to go shopping by carriage instead.

It was just as well, you thought at the time. We’ll get less attention this way.

After all that talk about maintaining your privacy, it would be terribly ironic if the two of you went out in public without a care in the world and were discovered now.

Your destination was the largest department store in the Court of Fontaine. It was to your sister Justine what the museum was to you. Whenever she took a trip to the city, it was always her first stop. She even had their catalogs delivered back home for her to pore over with her friends. She would cut out all the shoes she wanted and add them to the collage that was hung up over her bed. In her letters to you, she had not-so-subtly hinted how much she would love a new pair of dancing slippers. Well, her wish was about to be granted.

A smile played on your lips as you imagined her reaction. Though she was the princess of the family, she grew up conscious of the fact that your family wasn’t well off and was just as happy with the homemade and second-hand presents as she was with the new ones. But now you could finally spoil her as she deserved.

You glanced at Neuvillette. He was looking out the window, at the gray streets. He had a faraway, almost dreamy look in his eyes. You felt a little bad that he had to stay in the carriage instead being out there in the rain.

Not for the first time, you wondered about the connection between him and rain. At first, you assumed that he was one of those people who liked rainy days, but there seemed to be more to it than that. You were quite sure that he had some power over rain, but you couldn’t picture him as someone who would change the weather for his own sake.

Maybe he chooses especially hot days to make it rain, you mused, but quickly dismissed that thought. There had been scorching hot days without a single drop of precipitation these past few months. Neuvillette, if he did control the rain, seemed to have his own criteria as to which days to let it fall.

You looked out the window as well. The rain had lessened considerably, but it was still falling. The streets were practically canals, and the sky was gray as slate. You saw pedestrians unfortunate to be out without umbrellas huddling under shop awnings, as well as children laughing as they jumped into puddles.

There was a shuffling of cloth next to you. Neuvillette had turned around and was looking towards your window, his face unreadable. You turned your head as well and saw a couple huddled under a colorful umbrella, giggling with each other.

Oh, that reminds me…is what Furina said true? Has he never been in a relationship?

With all that had happened afterwards, you almost forgot that particular bombshell. It seemed inconceivable to you.

Neuvillette was known to keep humans at a distance and only showed a warm-hearted, fatherly side to the Melusines, but throughout all these years, surely there had to have been people who he opened his heart to? He had a severe, imposing aura to him, yes, but anyone could tell just from talking to him briefly that he was a gentle, amiable person, if a bit too stiff.

Plus, he was handsome, wealthy, and respected by all. That was a winning combination in every era. Single people (and doubtless the married ones as well) probably flocked to him in droves whenever he made a rare appearance at a public event. Did not one of them ever catch his eye?

He’s lived a long life, and even now there are still many things we don’t know about him. Having a secret lover or ten wouldn’t be out of the question. He most likely has secrets even Furina doesn’t know about.

But supposing what Furina said was true, then what was the reason for it? The only thing you could come up with was that he simply had no desire for a relationship. Perhaps he swore himself to complete chastity, like the monks and ascetics of old, in an effort to remain impartial.

That seemed rather extreme to you. You were quite sure that at least a few of his fellow judges were married with families of their own, and no one ever accused them of being biased because of that.

But then again, you wouldn’t put it past him to do something like that. Even in the privacy of his own home, he maintained that monk-like way of life. He did not indulge in sumptuous meals, he did not drink or smoke, and even his house, though tastefully furnished, seemed almost spartan compared to the handful of extravagantly decorated mansions belonging to nobles of far lesser rank you had visited before. His long, thick hair and heavy robes seemed to speak otherwise, but they seemed more like a work uniform to him than a reflection of his personal tastes, judging by how many times you saw him grimace or heard him sigh in resignation whenever his hair or robes got stuck between sofa cushions or between his heel and the floor. The only indulgences he partook in, if you could even call them that, were his extensive collection of imported water and gazing out at the sea.

At first, you had assumed that he was putting on an act for you, his wife who was more like a stranger to him, but as the two of you grew accustomed to living with each other, you came to understand that this was truly who he was.

But still, that’s some discipline he has, if he could maintain being single for so long. Is that the difference between the willpower of an immortal being and a normal human? Maybe he thinks romance is an indulgence of some kind as well. I highly doubt he is the kind of person to frequent, um, let’s say, adult establishments, either…you know what, let’s not go there.

Even if you were only thinking it, it was still highly improper, especially since the person in question was right next to you.

So with all that, why did he decide to get married now? He said before that Furina had been bothering him about it, but from what you heard and saw today, this wasn’t the first time she had done so. Did he finally have a change of heart after centuries of (purported) bachelorhood?

No, I shouldn’t be thinking about this, you told yourself firmly. It’s his personal business—I shouldn’t get curious. Especially after all that talk about maintaining personal boundaries.

You turned your head to look at him with a pleasant smile, preparing to make some nice, normal conversation about the weather or work or something like that, but was interrupted by the shouting of children outside.

A boy and a girl, who looked to be siblings, were squeezing their eyes shut as though in prayer and shouting, “Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, don’t cry!”

“Oh, that takes me back,” you said, turning to Neuvillette. “Me and my sister used to recite that nursery rhyme whenever it rained as well when we were little.”

You used to love listening to your parents reading to you about the Hydro Dragon, but as you grew older and became more interested in more serious and concrete history, the fairy tales you once adored became a distant memory.

Neuvillette did not say anything for a minute. He seemed to be lost in thought, but then he blinked and shook his head a little, as though coming out of a trance. “My apologies, Madame, for keeping silent for so long,” he said, turning his attention to you, though you caught his gaze flitting towards the window. “I did not catch what you said just now. May I trouble you to repeat it?”

“It wasn’t anything important,” you assured him, even as you wondered whether or not you should at least open the window. He really did seem to yearn for the rain. “Those children just reminded me of when me and my sister used to believe in the Hydro Dragon.”

“You ‘used to’ believe in the Hydro Dragon?” he raised an eyebrow. “You do not think it exists?”

You thought about it a little. “I wouldn’t say that. It’s an irrefutable fact that dragons exist, so a Hydro Dragon probably did live in Fontaine at one point, if the number of fairytales and folk stories is any indication. The only thing we know for sure is that it can create rain when it cries, but I am curious as to how that came to be. How can we be one-hundred percent sure that they are connected? Everything we know about it comes from the stories as there are no reliable eyewitness accounts. We don’t even have any idea what it looks like. And with the rising sea levels, it’s likely that any relevant evidence or records are long lost. In any case, this Hydro Dragon seems to be a lot more reclusive than its brethren. It’s not like the Dragon of the East in Mondstadt, where it’s considered one of the protectors of the nation, or that dragon in Liyue who fought alongside the Geo Archon in his campaigns and transformed the land wherever it went. It seemed to have simply…existed without doing anything of note.”

It was only after you finished speaking that you realized that you had gone on a rant. “I…I’m sorry,” you muttered, feeling your cheeks heat.

“There is no need to apologize for speaking about your passions,” the melancholic look in Neuvillette’s eyes was gone as he gazed at you with unconcealed amusement. Seeing that, you simultaneously felt relieved and even more embarrassed. “I have not heard you speak at length about history ever since that day.”

“Haha, well, I don’t want to bore you…” you fidgeted with the strap of your purse. It was funny—you felt a hundred times more self-conscious now than you did back then, when you hardly knew him. Of course, he was the one who had asked for your opinion then, so maybe that was it, but still…shouldn’t it be the other way around? It was easier to open up to someone you were familiar with, wasn’t it?

“There truly is nothing to feel ashamed about. I enjoy hearing you talk. I would love nothing more than to hear you speak about history or whatever you subject you prefer, all day,” his eyes were still dancing with mirth. Was it that amusing for him? “I thought you were mainly interested in Remuria. I didn’t know you had an interest in dragons as well.”

“I used to have a dragon phase when I was younger,” you admitted. “I’d scour all the books for the tiniest morsels of information and compile it all in a notebook, and I’d spend hours copying the drawings in those books. But then my teacher took me on a field trip of sorts to the old ruins outside my town and, well, I suppose you can guess what happened next.”

You still remembered the sense of awe and terrible sadness you felt as your teacher described to you what the ruins (an ancient noble’s villa) would have looked like in its day and pointed out the places where people once worked and relaxed and lived.

You unconsciously smiled as you recalled those innocent times. Sneaking out of the house under the pretext of going to your teacher’s house to explore the ruins, going to the library and borrowing everything you could find on Remuria, daydreaming about how you would earn the favor of the God King and become one of his Harmosts, unsuccessfully trying to convince your parents to take you to the opera house whenever they put on Boethius’ plays… You even took up the piano because Remuria was an empire run by musicians. Back when your imagination ran free and the concept of responsibility was a mere speck in the distance.

The more you learned, the more engrossed you were. But at the same time, you couldn’t help but feel an inexplicable sense of sadness. How could something so grand, so powerful, so seemingly eternal, be toppled almost overnight because of the actions of a few people? Only scraps of ancient documents, instruments, and crumbled ruins remained of that mighty empire. You had to know more. No, what you truly wanted was to walk in those ruins yourself, to see them with your own eyes to engrave the sight of their remnants into your brain.

It was no exaggeration to say that fateful field trip had irrevocably changed you. Whether or not it was for the better or worse, you couldn’t say.

Before you had your first taste of disappointments in the ballroom, you had a silly dream: that you would have the luck to marry an adventurer or a researcher who would take you to those ruins and give you the opportunity to research and explore them to your heart’s content. Of course, you were aware that one shouldn’t get into a marriage for such a selfish goal, but you were truly willing to fulfill your duties as a wife. It wasn’t the first outlandish dream you had, but at the time, you found it quite reasonable.

You told Neuvillette none of this. It was too intimate, too personal—it felt like opening up your ribs and showing him your beating heart. You didn’t pry into his personal affairs, and he didn’t have the right to know any more than what he needed to about you.

And yet…you had a strange feeling that you would regret this decision.

“So, anyways, do you have any theories?” you asked him, trying to get rid of these lingering doubts. “About the Hydro Dragon, I mean.”

Neuvillette was old, after all. You didn’t know how old he was, but it wasn’t inconceivable that he might have met the dragon at least once. Come to think of it, his past before he became the Chief Justice is as mysterious as the Hydro Dragon…

For a minute, he didn’t answer and instead let his gaze rove over your face. It felt uncomfortably like he was reading your thoughts—or emotions, as you learned today. You felt a belated sense of alarm, but what could you do? How does one conceal emotions on the inside?

“I do not have any, Madame,” he murmured at last. “I am of the same mind as you. The Hydro Dragon is of little interest compared to the joys and tribulations of humans.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s of little interest,” You felt strangely defensive of this poor maligned dragon now. “It’s a dragon, after all. I guess it’s just easier for a human like me to relate to other humans. Wherever this dragon is, I hope it feels better soon, considering how much it’s raining these days.”

Neuvillette opened his mouth, seemingly to say something, but just then the carriage stopped, finally reaching its destination.

“Monsieur Neuvillette, I’ve noticed that you haven’t touched your complimentary macarons. Are they not to your liking? I can exchange it for another dessert you prefer. Or perhaps you would rather have a drink? We have sparkling water, coffee, tea, and champagne.”

“Thank you, Miss, but there is no need. I have already eaten recently, and as for drinks, I always bring my own. However, my friend here would like a box of macarons to take home, so if we could trouble you to do so…”

“Monsieur Neuvillette, would you like to peruse our collection of men’s shoes as well? We carry boots, loafers, and heeled shoes, all handmade by the finest shoemakers in Fontaine and beyond. Our new collection of autumn accessories has also just come in, and though we haven’t put them out on sale to the public yet, we’ll be happy to give you an exclusive first look.”

“Thank you for the offer, Miss, but I am not shopping here today for myself. As I’ve told the manager earlier, I am here for the sole purpose of accompanying my friend, who is buying a birthday present for her sister.”

“May I ask the two of you to leave us for now? We’ll ring the bell if we are in need of assistance,” you spoke up, observing the stiffness in Neuvillette’s bearing. You didn’t fault the shop assistants for their eagerness, but it was a bit overwhelming.

The two women turned to you. Was it just your imagination, or did their smiles looked more forced than with Neuvillette? “Yes, Miss, of course,” The shop assistants maintained their polished and professional demeanor, but you could sense the disappointment emanating from them as they left the little waiting room you and Neuvillette had been led to.

“Finally, they’re gone,” you slumped in your chair. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Neuvillette do the same as the tension left his body. “That was exhausting. Is it like this every time you go shopping?”

“I rarely go shopping, but, yes, I do attract an undue amount of attention whenever I’m out in public.” Neuvillette, looked at you with concern. “I hope you do not find it too overwhelming.”

“It’s fine,” you waved your hand. “I should be worrying about you. They were all focusing on you.”

You had a taste of this “undue amount of attention” as soon as you walked through the doors of the store. Luckily, there weren’t that many shoppers at this time of day. The shop assistants here were well-known for their beauty and demeanor that made them seem unapproachable, but they were the ones who flocked to you as soon as they caught sight of Neuvillette’s tall figure. You overheard several whispered but heated arguments as they fought over who got to assist him. It took him telling them the reason for his visit before they even noticed you, whereupon you became the subject of scrutinizing gazes that flicked between you and Neuvillette. You could practically see the gears turning in the shop assistants’ heads as they tried to guess what kind of relationship you two had. At least you were dressed well for the occasion.

The manager, who had appeared a minute later, was all smiles as she led you to the small sitting room and handed you the store’s catalog. The room afforded a good view of the streets of the Court down below. Looking around at the watercolor paintings on the wall and glittering gold chandelier hanging from the ceiling, you thought wryly to yourself that you were at last experiencing the life expected of the Chief Justice’s wife.

You flipped through the catalog to the shoe section and immediately found the shoes—a pair of rose pink dancing slippers, dotted with seed pearls and finished off with little bows on the heels. You saw the price listed next to it and winced. It was five times as much as the rent of the old boarding house.

Neuvillette, noticing your reaction, leaned over to take a look. “That’s a lovely pair of shoes,” he commented. “The price is quite reasonable as well. Perhaps we can buy another pair for you.”

You decided not to comment on the price part. “For me? No, no, that style doesn’t fit me at all.”

“Then let’s find something else,” Neuvillette scanned the catalog before his gaze landed on another pair of shoes.  “Ah, you would look wonderful in these.”

You looked at where he was pointing, and your breath caught. These shoes were a silvery white color that reminded you of pearls. Except for the long ribbon ties, it lacked the adornments of the other featured shoes. But they had an ephemeral air to them that set them apart, as if they’d disappear if you breathed on them. They looked like something that a water nymph would wear as she danced on the lake.

“You like them. I can tell,” Neuvillette’s voice brushed against your ear. You realized that he had been studying you. “Perhaps we shall leave this store today with gifts for your sister and you.”

You tore your eyes away from the beautiful shoes. “No…no, that’s not necessary. It’s not as though I have anywhere to wear them, or anything to wear them with. They’ll be wasted on me, and they’re so expensive.”

You had already bought all the shoes you needed on the previous shopping trip: a pair of sturdy walking boots, a more stylish pair of button-up boots, and a pair of plain black heels for more formal occasions. You couldn’t even imagine yourself wearing those silver shoes. They seemed more for looking at than actually wearing. Your dancing days were over, and thank the Archons for that.

They were for someone who lived for dances or the stage—someone completely different from you.

Neuvillette regarded you for a moment. “If you insist, Madame,” he said. “But I sincerely believe that they would look beautiful on you.”

Before you could say anything to that, the manager returned. “Have you found anything you like?” she asked.

You showed her what you picked and told her your sister’s shoe size. “Ah, yes, the brand is very popular with fashionable young ladies,” the manager beamed. “I’ll bring them to you right away.”

She returned promptly with a shoebox in her hands. The shoes, nestled in tissue paper, were even more beautiful up close. You could practically hear your sister’s squeals of delight.

“Is there anything else you would like to look at, Miss?” the manager said. “Might I suggest buying a purse or a necklace to go along with those slippers? Young ladies love to accessorize, after all. I can give you a few recommendations.”

You were about to say, “That won’t be necessary.” As a frugal person, you were accustomed to fending off these types of sales tactics, but Neuvillette beat you to the chase.

“What an excellent idea, Miss,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “The young lady in question will be delighted, I’m sure.”

You could have sworn the poised and polished manager blushed. “I…I’ll bring you the catalogs, then,” she said, flustered.

You gave Neuvillette a look as the manager disappeared into the hallway. “Is there something wrong, Madame?” he said, tilting his head in confusion.

“…No, it’s nothing.” Whether or not it was true that Neuvillette had never had a lover, the effect he had on people couldn’t be denied. Was he conscious of it? You peered at him as he sipped his water, closing his eyes as he savored it. He probably doesn’t.

“Are you sure about this?” you asked when he was done. “The prices here are very high. Even if you do have the money to spare, it’s…”

“Price is no object. Birthdays are special for humans. They only come around once a year, and they mark an important milestone in their lives. Such occasions should be celebrated to the fullest extent.”

“You do have a point,” you admitted. Opportunities like these were hard to come by, and if Neuvillette was willing to pay for it all, then it should be fine, right?

The manager returned with the catalogs, and for the next hour or so, you spent it poring over them with Neuvillette. Shop assistants streamed into the room, bringing wares for you to look over. Somehow, in addition to the purse and bag for your sister, you ended up buying three ties and a set of amethyst cufflinks for your father, a lace shawl and fan for your mother, and a pair of emerald earrings for your old housekeeper. Neuvillette also insisted on buying you a frilly parasol after one shop assistant described to him how perfect it was for walking by the water on a sunny day. You could count on one hand how many times you did that in your life.

There were two things you learned from this experience.

One, shop assistants were masters of psychological manipulation.

Two, Neuvillette should never be alone when he went shopping. You feared that if you hadn’t been there, he would have completely taken in by the shop assistants’ sales pitches and bought out half the store.

Once everything was bought (the total cost nearly gave you a heart attack), packaged, and wrapped, it was finally time to go, but not before Neuvillette went around thanking all the staff for their assistance.

“B-By the way, Monsieur Neuvillette,” a young and eager-looking shop assistant piped up as she stepped forward. She looked between the two of you meaningfully. “Our store also sells rings, including engagement rings!”

“Elodie!” her coworkers hissed, pulling her back.

“Thank you for the information, but I have no need for engagement rings,” Neuvillette informed her kindly, even as you tried not to die of embarrassment next to him.

The rain had long since passed when you emerged outside and was immediately assailed by a wall of humidity. The deep puddles on the sidewalk were the only proof that there had been a large thunderstorm earlier. There was already a sheen of sweat on your forehead. Luckily, the carriage was parked nearby.

You leaned back against the cushioned seat as soon as you got in. You somehow felt more exhausted now than you had after the previous shopping spree, even though you were sitting the whole time.

Neuvillette also looked relatively worn out. The heat and humidity probably didn’t help either.

“The shopping took longer than I thought. Do you have to go back to the Palais soon?” you asked.

He checked his pocket watch. “I still have about half an hour of free time left.” He turned an expectant gaze towards you. “Is there anywhere else you would like to go?”

“Not really…” you trailed off as you caught sight of a mother and son holding ice cream cones outside the window. “Oh, wait, there is somewhere I’d like to stop by. It’s just the thing for a hot day like this.”

You told the driver the address of an ice cream parlor that you frequented ever since you were a child. The carriage set off.

Neuvillette was looking worriedly at the pile of boxes teetering on the opposite seat. “Perhaps we have bought too many gifts…” he murmured. “Will you be able to bring them all home with you?”

“I think I’ll be able to fit them in my trunk,” you replied. Probably.

Neuvillette gave you a sideways look. “Perhaps I can help you carry it to the docks tomorrow morning, as your ankle has only just recovered.”

“There’s no need for that,” you rocked your ankle back and forth. There was no longer any twinge of pain when you moved it. “Oh, that reminds me, I’ll be away for the whole day tomorrow, so I won’t be back until the day after.”

“The whole day?” Now he turned to face you. “I didn’t know that the birthday celebration would last so long.”

“My sister’s birthday parties usually go all the way into the evening,” you admitted. “And you know how long it takes to get to my hometown from here, so I’m staying the night there.”

“I see,” Neuvillette nodded slowly, but something seemed to be bothering him.

“Were you planning on taking me somewhere tomorrow?” you asked when he said nothing for a few moments.

“…I have a little bit of spare time after tomorrow’s trials, so I was thinking of taking you on a stroll along a riverbank. There is a beautifully clear river just north of the city, and it would be a good opportunity to use your new parasol. But I suppose we can reschedule it for another day.”

“Mm,” you nodded. “I’m looking forward to it.”

A stretch of silence followed. Seeing Neuvillette’s downcast face, you thought for a moment that he might be sulking. But that was impossible. There was no way that the reserved, aloof Iudex would ever sulk, right?

Neuvillette had been acting strangely throughout this whole outing, but considering what happened earlier today, you couldn’t fault him for it. Even so, that didn’t get rid of the itchy feeling in your chest when you looked at him. Maybe it would have been better if we went home to rest instead of going shopping, you regretted. Hopefully, ice cream would cheer him up a little.

“Neuvillette, what’s your favorite ice cream flavor?” you asked when the carriage came to a stop in front of the ice cream parlor.

“I do not have one, so please feel free to choose whatever you like,” he answered.

You nodded, and Neuvillette opened the carriage door, about to step out, but you stopped him. “Wait, Neuvillette. Stay in the carriage. I’ll go buy for us. You already paid for everything today, so I want to treat you for a change.”

He looked surprised, but you were already out the door before he could say anything.

Clouds drifted in the ultramarine sky, but they did nothing against the scorching heat.

When you entered the cool ice cream parlor, a new addition on the menu caught your eye—ice cream soda. Apparently, it was a drink that consisted of ice cream floating in a mixture of syrup and carbonated water. That sounds like something Neuvillette would like, you thought to yourself with a thrill of excitement and promptly ordered it along with a double scoop of chocolate caramel ice cream.

A short time later, you returned to the carriage with the frozen treats. Neuvillette sat up when you climbed in. “Is that a beverage, Madame?” he looked quizzically at the glass bottle in your hand.

“It’s an ice cream soda,” you explained. “I’ve never had one before, but it looks delicious, doesn’t it? I heard that it’s one of their best-sellers.”

As you ate your ice cream, you watched him hesitantly sip on his straw. Surprise flashed across his features. “This is indeed delicious,” he commented after a few more sips. “The syrup and ice cream serve as an excellent garnish and balance to the carbonated water. The entire concoction is cold and refreshing, and the sugar provides some much-needed energy for a day like this.” He turned to you, a slight smile playing on his lips. “Thank you, Madame, for introducing me to this wonderful beverage.”

You held back a laugh. Only Neuvillette would call ice cream a “garnish” to soda water. “I’m glad you like it.” Then, you added, “I hope it improves the rest of your day after that horrible start.”

He smiled softly. “I feel as though that meeting had happened years ago.” He reached out his hand to brush it against yours. The skin tingled where he touched it. “All thanks to you.”

“Me? What did I do?” All you did was buy him ice cream. He was the one who provided everything else.

“For being by my side, and for always humoring me,” he said simply, then lowered his gaze a little. “To tell you the truth, Madame, I envy you a little. You’re always looking forward and rarely dwell on the past. You’re driven by rationality rather than emotions. Being with you makes me realize how inadequate I am when it comes to such things.”

He looked at you with a clear, genuine gaze. You found that you couldn’t look him in the eye, so you fixed your eyes on the carriage door behind him instead. Rarely dwelling on the past? Driven by rationality rather than emotions? If only he knew…

“But I like those things about you,” you murmured. You weren’t sure what drove you to say that.

Neuvillette’s eyes slowly widened. “You…you like me?” he sounded astonished.

“Um…I thought it was obvious,” you feel like shoving your ice cream, cone and all, into your mouth. “I wouldn’t do what I did this morning if I didn’t. …And by ‘like,’ I mean the friendship kind of ‘like,’ not the romance kind, so as not to cause any misunderstanding.”

“Is there a difference?” Neuvillette tilted his head.

“Yes,” you nodded vigorously. “It’s as vast as the sea itself.”

He stared at you for a few moments, and then let out a soft, breathy chuckle. “Perhaps fate does have its benefits, if it led me to you.”

Now you gaped at him. “For someone who’s never been in a relationship before, you’re awfully good at talking like someone from a romance novel,” you muttered.

You heard a choking sound next to you, and when you turned to him, you saw him wiping his mouth with a handkerchief. “You…you remembered that?” he managed.

“It’s certainly a memorable fact.”

“Furina…” he muttered to himself.

“So it’s true then? You’ve never dated anyone? Not even Lady Furina?”

He whipped his head around to look at you. “Why would you think that Furina and I would ever form such a relationship?” He sounded so uncharacteristically vehement that you let out a laugh.

“Well…you both stand at the top of the government, you’ve worked together for centuries, you’re both immortal, you both have a prepossession for blue…” Neuvillette was still looking at you with a look of astonishment, as though you just told him that you were going to run naked through the streets. “I really don’t think it’s such an absurd question, since you’re not interested in humans.”

“How do you know I’m not?” he said, narrowing his eyes.

“Are you, then?” you countered.

Neuvillette said nothing, seemingly devoting himself to drinking his ice cream soda. You decided to drop it there.

The carriage rolled along, returning to the Palais Mermonia to drop Neuvillette off. Both of you were silent, but it wasn’t the stiff, awkward silence from before. You were both lost in your thoughts because it was who the two of you were.

You were thinking about what Neuvillette said about fate. It had been a long time since that word had crossed your mind.

When you moved into the Neuvillette’s house, you had considered this a mere temporary detour in the unswerving, pre-determined road that was your life. You had kept that in mind as these months passed by.

But…is that truly set in stone? Could this so-called detour become a new road, to a different future?

What kind of future would that be?

You shouldn’t entertain these thoughts. It was dangerous. It would only lead to inevitable heartbreak once this all came to an end. But…

You sneaked a look at Neuvillette. When his hand brushed against yours earlier, when he held your hand during the meeting—you could feel the smooth edges of his wedding ring pressing into your fingers.

You thought about your ring. Those rings were made for the sole purpose of symbolizing your union. Even after you and Neuvillette went your separate ways, they would remain for the rest of eternity. As a memory, and as a reminder.

The carriage felt stuffy all of a sudden. You pushed down the window a little bit, letting in a cool breeze that brushed against your cheek and ruffled Neuvillette’s hair.

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[miawastaken]

Sir?

synopsis : boss!Grayson x secretary!reader

Reader's last name is mentioned for my brain's sake (its 2 am I need sleep)

tw: none

【🎱　🪐　🎸】

ty @lyrakanefanatic / @lyrakanefanaticwriting for the idea

Most kids get jobs working at an ice-cream parlour or walking dogs over the summer.

Me?

I was interning at The Hawthorne Foundation. For a Draco Malfoy knock-off we call Grayson Hawthorne.

I thought, going into the job that I wouldn't come out alive.

And to my surprise I was wrong.

Grayson Hawthorne.

The second Hawthorne brother, heir apparent, and second oldest grandson to Tobais Hawthorne.

He wasn't exactly meant to be the friendliest person, but you'd think being his secretary I'd know the truth huh?

Wrong.

The bastard barley ever spoke to me.

In all fairness I'd been told to keep my head down and mind my business. Because how could an 18-year-old girl look Grayson Hawthorne in the eye?

【🎱　🪐　🎸】

I walk into work and I see a blur of a person standing in front of my desk.

He's tall, he's wearing a suit, he's blonde, he's-

"Grayson Hawthorne?"

He's staring at me now. Its like I'm on trial for something.

"Ah, Ms. Caddel!"

"Can I help you... sir?"

"Yes, Mr. Rabbit seems to be out of office today, I'm the only one working on this floor and no one, including Oren has the keys."

"Well I'll have to apologise sir but I'm afraid I don't have them either." I apologise.

He looks once at the door and then back at me.

"Well, no matter, I'm sure the 3rd floor has a master key, I'll find it."

"Oh I can do that for you sir-" I offer.

"No, no, it's no trouble, and please call me Grayson."

"Ok uhm... Grayson, are you sure it's no bother?"

"Yes quite, thank you,"

He turns around towards the elevators and turns back last minute.

"Nice pants."

My eyebrows shot up.

"Thank you, sir."

"Grayson!" He calls back.

"Grayson." I murrmer.

【🎱　🪐　🎸】

I hear footsteps down the hall and see someone approaching.

"Ms. Caddel?"

"Yes, sir?" I ask upon realising it was Grayson.

"What're you doing in office this late?"

"I could ask the same, sir."

The corner of his mouth twitches and he says:

"Finances don't manage themselves. You?"

"Uni tuition doesn't pay itself."

He raises a brow. "You're a student?" He asks.

"Yes, well, I've gotten into NYU but I was offered this job for the summer and I wasn't about to pass up money I desperately need."

"What about your parents? Can't they help?" He asks.

"Sir please dont take this the wrong way but not all of us have families that could buy the Empire State Building."

He shrugs. "Fair enough."

There's a moment of silence before he speaks again.

"May I walk you to your car?"

I nearly laugh.

"I don't have one."

"How do you get around then?"

"I either walk, take the subway or taxi."

He seems to be appalled by the idea of me going home by any of those means of transport at 11 pm at night.

"I'll drive you home." He offers.

"Sir I-"

"Wasn't a suggestion sweetheart, come on."

【🎱　🪐　🎸】

"So what're you studying at NYU?" He asks.

"Political Science and Philosophy."

He seems taken aback.

"Really?"

"Mm-hmm,"

"They're both very tough subjects."

"Really? Didn't notice." I reply.

He smiles at that as he pulls up next to my apartment.

"Well, this is me." I smile at him. "Thank you sir."

"It's Grayson, sweetheart."

"Grayson... thank you Grayson."

【🎱　🪐　🎸】

Thanks for reading, feel free to give me feedback! <33