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4pfsukuna · 8 days

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Todo headcannons/drabble

The lack of love yall show Todo is INSANE, but its alright… imma do our himbo hottie some justice

Warnings: lil bit of smut, mentions of Todo being a much cause he for sure is.

Being Todos girlfriend was… indescribable.

You two meet senior year of college you were a fashion major and wanted to explore one of the most fasionable places in the workd…japan.

The only love on your mind was love for clothes not romance with any men.

So when a big beefy man is standing in the door way you barely pay him any mind even though hes flexing every muscle you pay him no mind.

He thinks its love at first sight from your beauty alone and he was going to introduce himself but the sweet intoxicating aroma of your perfume makes his brain short circuit and forget about stranger danger… and boundaries… and introductions.

IT’s not until “my beautiful tiger lily a flower as delicate as you shouldnt be carrying such a heavy load allow me” to an unaware you whos more focused on where to get lunch from.

Hes talking about you carrying all the fabrics you have thats overflowing your bag from class and not just any bag but your denim telfar and it all happens so fast.

Hes grabbing your bag thinking hes being a gentlemen (mans is delusional okay) but youre from new york and the last time a man touched your bag he was halfway down the train platform with it and your laptop.

So off pure instinct you swing as hard as you can.

This is no cliche experience where youre the first woman who can put him on his ass, no! The man is a brickhouse you basically punched a wall. The pain shoots through your hand faster than the curses can fly out your mouth and Yuji, poor poor Yuji is witnessing it all has to come to the rescue.

“I am so sorry about my— him” he apologizes as you craddle your hand to your chest fighting back tears. That was a punch that would have caved a man's chest in.

You have to wear a cast for 3 weeks and Todo takes it upon himself to become your personal servant and he seems more than happy to? You make not to ask Yuji what was wrong with him…again and if all men were like him.

No man is like Todo Aoi.

The man may wbe delusional but hes smitten. For the next 3 weeks he’s at your door 8am sharp ready to make breakfast and aid you in whatever you need and ogling every morning when you open the door at the different ways you style your hair and clothes.

You swear He almost faints the day you open the door and you two have on the same matching nike swishy joggers. He paired his with a white tee while yours with a black graphic tee tied up and a bucket hat.

You’re also convinced he has stars in his eyes when he realizes its his tee that he left 3 days ago on accident not wanting to get messy while making you onigiri.

Oh yes this man cooks! and will cook 3 meals a day which isnt a shock look at how big he is?! He takes advantage of your dominant hand being in a cast and your lack of knowledge on how to use chopsticks to feed you.

Of course you put up a fight but if a fine ass 6 foot 4 pure muscle chef wants to buy your groceries cook and feed you… who were you to deny?!

He listens to your music while he cooks but loves meg thee stallion.

Back to you wearing his shirt He notices you didnt care youve known him for only 2 weeks and when your fashion mind got ahold of something your brain knew no limits.

He loves hearing you talk about fashion and clothes and accompanying you on your shopping hauls, using carrying the bags as an excuse. So a few weeks later when your hand is fully healed and he’s still opening every door, carrying every bag and feeding you with chopsticks at a restaurant he just had to bring you to, your forced to realize you actually enjoy spending time with him.

Not only is he a foodie as much as you he takes the best pictures… Because he stares at you so much he knows all you’re best angles… all of them… And because he’s a native he knows the best photography spots.

Its when he takes you to a lounge restaurant that has music and food when you learn alot more about Todo, this man never said how much he loves to dance!

You call it his lil dancey dance which he IMMEDIATELY corrects and tells you “its the boogie woogie”

Dancey dance, like you said.

It’s almost 3am when the two of you leave and although you two had been drinking sake all night he seemed completely sober and maybe it was because he was so big.

He goes completely tender, heart doing flips when you use his bicep as leverage to guide you down the street. It makes him feel like a man and with you being as strong willed and stubborn as you are, allowing him to lead, makes him feel honored.

Pulling a cherry blossom from a tree you two were walking under and it feels like a scene from a movie as you smell it and smile up at him his strength making more shower around you two. To him though this was how his world always looked when you were around.

Delusional or lover boy?

Todo is a heavy sleeper so when you Wake up to the sound of the alarm wrapped in his arms dressed in his tshirt your scarf on your head you’re shocked. What shocks you more is his usual bun isnt bunning his hair is sprawled around his face over his shoulders, long lashes touching the tips of his cheeks and has his lips always been this full and pretty? Were you catching feelings? Oh you were fucked.

For the rest of the day you can’t help but be awkward and sometimes you appreciate his obliviousness because he assumes you’re being strange because you’re hungry and goes to try a new recipe that he couldn’t wait to cook for you and you busy yourself with fashion…things.

You actually become submerged and your eyes can’t leave the screen not even when he request you taste what he’s made. You open your mouth leaning over to take whatever he made in your mouth not questioning what it would be until you notice it’s his fingers. He always fed you with chopsticks its when you make eye contact with him that— are his eyes in the shape of hearts?

You try to avoid him after that you didnt come to japan for romance you came for fashion. But of course hes not going for that this man knows your schedule, your habits, your hiding spots and your period cravings he would find you anywhere and he’s not letting you go until you tell him why you’ve been avoiding him.

Okay maybe he’s not that oblivious. So when you admit you’re feelings and tell him about your crush he’s back to heart eyes and the first thing out of his mouth is “let’s get married”

The man is Delusional. But the more you spend time with him after officially becoming his girlfriend you realize he’s delusional not dumb.

Certified munch™️

Will eat you like the last meal before war.

Will suck your soul out of you like a crab leg.

He speaks sign language… with his tongue… on your clit.

And when your in the brink of conciousness thats when he pulls all 9 inches out. Nothing about this man is small or skinny.

Hes so… tender though. Has a worship kink and honestly youre not suprised. He wants to worship and caress every inch of your body every curve.

Hes also a jealous man, how dare another man think hes worth of your smile.

Jealous sex with him is always 12/10… its like hes trying to prove himself to you all over again pulling out tricks hes never done before.

Its when his jealousy goes to far putting you in an embarassing situation that you almost end his life.

You want to fold his clothes with him in it but…

The only thing better than jealous sex was angry sex and you commanding him trying to over power him is the moment his soul no longer belongs to him.

“Youre such a jealous man” you hiss riding his length one hand pressed into his abs for leverage the other switching from his bicep to his shoulder leaving the indent of your acrylic nails.

“And you know that yet still… baby fuck” he grunts his head in your shoulder trying to hold onto his release but your just so tight and warm and the squelching sounds mixed with your heavy breathing has his two brain cells fighting to form a sentence.

“Fuck… dont ever do no dumb shit mmmm like that again” you snap grabbing the nape of his neck pulling him up by the hair there and he almost cums like that.

He loves when you take control as much as he loves you taking your anger out on him his thumb goes to play with your clit knowing hes not going to last much longer.

“Like this” he smirks applying pressure and your hands slip but hes there to catch the pace pushing his hips up to match the rhythm you set.

Your neighbors are not happy about your all night sessions but they wont say anything to the giant.

Aftercare is nothing less than special warm rag, massage, lofi music, the curtains open just enough to have the city lights on you and whatever 5 star meal he concocts up to make sure you eat before bed.

Tojis been a tenderoni for you since day 1.

#todo aoi #aoi todo #todo x black!reader #todo x reader #todo x you #todo x y/n #Todo x black y/n #Todo x black reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk fanart #jjk x black!reader

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heavenlyakin · 9 months

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Island Time - Reiner Braun x Fem!Reader

wc: ~3k

cw: established relationship, use of sex toys (vibrator), oral (m. receiving), vaginal sex.

Description: Modern AU where Reiner was a star football player who's now retired and spoiling his wife on a vacation for her birthday.

This was a commission. If you’re interested in commissioning me, DM me!

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for flying with us today. We will be making our descent soon. We’re expected to land in about 15 minutes. Please remain in your seats and enjoy the rest of the flight.” The pilot’s voice rings through the airplane.

You squeeze your husband’s hand, and he smiles at you. Reiner has been on planes more times than you can imagine. With his football career he had to fly to different states often, and most the time with all his friends, making it comfortable for him. However, this is your first out of the country flight, so you’ve been nervous.

“Are you okay,” he asks, bringing your hand to his mouth and kissing it lightly.

“Just tired, I couldn’t sleep.” You tell him, a yawn creeping up and exaggerating the point for you.

He checks his phone, looking to see if it’s already adjusted to the new time zone. “We have plenty of time before our reservations tonight if you want to rest. I could use a nap as well,” he admits, and you giggle. He rarely admits when he’s tired, but after a 12-hour flight, you’re both worn down.

As you get off the plane, you see the ocean just off the horizon and you smile. The warmth of the island hits you then, bringing you an unbelievable amount of joy. After all the snow back home on the farm, this is just what you needed for your birthday week.

“God, I could remarry you right at this moment,” you tell him as you walk to the black sedan waiting for you both.

“Save that for our future vow renewal,” he jokes, kissing your temple and guiding you to the car.

The air conditioning gives you chills, your skin already adjusted to the hot air outside. Reiner checks his phone again, probably looking to see if everything back home is running smoothly. You asked a few friends to watch over the house and farm for the week while you’re away celebrating. You take the time to check yours, letting your friends and family know you landed who knew about this trip and checking your socials. Most of them are private now, due to being with Reiner and his fame from his years in the football league, growing your own following substantially and making you uncomfortable. So now, it’s just you and your close friends who have access to it.

As the car starts to move, you put down your phone, wanting to take in the views of the island as you make it to the resort you’re staying at. The scenery nearly makes you choke up. It’s been so long since you’ve been on a vacation with just Reiner, and the fact he planned this all for you makes it all the better.

You look over to him, and he’s staring at you, a smile on his face. You lean in, kissing him softly and whispering a thank you against his lips. He smiles against yours and pulls you closer to him.

“I’d do anything for you, baby,” he kisses your cheeks, one at a time slowly, and then your nose.

The next few hours become hazy memories of the sun reflecting off the ocean, soft white sheets, and the smell of fresh fruit from the welcome basket in your suite. You get some sleep, however, so you feel fine once you make it to dinner. Reiner surprised you with a new dress, a beautiful lavender fabric with iridescent shine in it that flatters your curves.

He wanted to tear it off you when you emerged from the bathroom wearing it, immediately grabbing and squeezing you while kissing your neck. You proactively had to tear him off you, reminding him you had reservations; despite the warmth between your thighs, begging you to stay in tonight. Now you’re sat on the beach front looking at the moon reflecting off the ocean.

“I’m surprised it’s so crowded tonight,” you comment, looking around at the other tables.

Reiner shrugs, “I guess everyone here had someone special to celebrate.” He smiles, leaning forward and taking your hand on the table. “Have you decided on what you want to eat yet?”

“Pick for me,” you squeeze his hand and put the menu down. “You’ve been here before, so you know what’s good.” One of his old teammates had a birthday celebration here a few years ago that Reiner went to, probably giving him the idea to bring you.

“Alright,” he squeezes your hand back.

Turning to look at the ocean, you dig your feet further into the sand, loving how warm it still is despite the sun setting just a bit ago. It’s only been a few hours and you know this is going to be a trip you never forget.

The waiter comes and takes your order then disappears again. Reiner talks about the plans he has for you tomorrow, a trip on a boat to a private beach and then lunch served on the boat. It all sounds unreal, and you can’t help but feel your heart swell more and more. Once the food comes, you’re surprised by the sheer amount of food they bring. Reiner ordered enough for a week.

“I just wanted to try everything,” he shrugs, and you laugh not minding at all. It’s vacation after all, who cares if we splurge a little?

It all looks delicious and tastes amazing. Everything here is truly divine, and you can’t believe you’re actually here experiencing it all with the love of your life. After you’ve both stuffed yourselves, you take one last look at the ocean.

“I guess we better head back,” Reiner says exactly what you’re thinking. “We have dessert back in the room.”

“Honey, there’s no way I can-“

Reiner wiggles his brows at you, and you stop mid-sentence, your cheeks heating from the thought of being his dessert.

“Oh,” you say quietly, still flustered.

He takes your hand, leading you through the restaurant and out to the car already waiting on you both. The resort is a short drive away, luckily. You’ve worked yourself up with the thoughts of Reiner’s tongue between your thighs. Once you see the resort in view, you unbuckle your seatbelt, and you hear him chuckle beside you.

“Eager?” He asks and you turn to him and grin.

“Perhaps,” you smile sweetly. “I’m so tired, I just need to hit the bed,” you lie.

“Have a good night, you two,” the driver who you’ve paid no mind to this trip wishes you both goodbye.

“Thank you!” You chime, giving him a polite smile before sliding out of the car.

Reiner’s warm hand on your lower back guides you through the resort, taking you towards your rooms. It’s on the first floor, giving you a beautiful view of the ocean and beach. As soon as you’re in the room you’re kicking off your heels and running to cover that beautiful view with the curtains on either side of the windows and sliding door.

As you turn towards the bed, you see Reiner’s already unbuttoned his shirt and is starting to take his belt off. You walk towards him and take his hands in yours.

“Let me,” you tell him, kissing his chest a few times softly and unbuckling his belt.

He lets out a breath of air as you start to move down, dropping to your knees and kissing his stomach, no longer as toned as it once was but softened and flat from years of training gone to lighter work on the farm. The hair from his happy trail tickles your nose as you trail a few kisses down it until you reach the top of his black dress slacks, pulling them down along with his boxers.

He's half hard already, precum leaking from the tip of his cock. You take it in your hand and look up at him, sticking your tongue out and placing the head of his cock on your tongue. He moans as your lips close around it, his head tilting back and facing the ceiling. You swirl your tongue around his cockhead, tasting the precum and moaning around him.

How long has it been since you’ve just pleasured him? You can’t remember. He’s always such a giver and wants to go down on you or just bend you over the table and go at it that you’ve lost track. After everything he’s planned for you, he’s more than deserving of it.

You reach up and cup his balls, massaging them softly the way he likes, and he lets out a long breathy groan. You take more of his cock in your mouth, the head prodding at the back of your throat. He’s so large you struggle to take him all without gagging, but you do your best just for him.

He grabs the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair and holding you against him until your eyes start to water.

“That’s my good girl,” he groans watching you take him so well.

You start to gag, and he lets you go, smiling down at you as the drool leaves a trail from your lips to his cock. He cups your face in his hand, pulling you up towards him and kissing you deeply. His tongue tastes sweet from the wine from earlier, lingering still on him. You groan as he pushes you pack against the bed, your legs bumping into the frame.

“If you want to keep this dress, tell me how to take it off. Quickly,” he tells you, his voice husky.

“Zipper on the side,” you say turning and lifting up your arm so he can unzip it for you.

The dress pools around your ankles seconds later, leaving you in the matching purple lingerie you purchased just for this night. Reiner’s fingers drag across your skin, to the bra straps and snapping it on your skin.

“You look so beautiful, baby,” he kisses you again; more urgent and needy. Your back hits the bed before you know it and Reiner is hovering over you, his eyes feasting on you. “I could stare at you all night, ya know?”

You smile, pulling him into you and kissing him. “I love you,” you tell him, and he whispers it back.

His lips are warm as they kiss you from your neck to your navel. His fingers trail up your right thigh, landing on the fabric just above your clit. He circles his fingers lightly around it and you buck your hips trying to get more friction.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Reiner stops you with his hand, pushing your hips down on the bed. “Stay still and let me have my fun.” He smiles, pushing himself up so he’s on his knees on the bed.

He reaches over to the bedside table and opens the drawer. He pulls out a dark blue vibrator you’ve never seen. He brings it to the outside of your lacy thong, pressing it against your clit and turning it on.

“Get yourself off on it,” he smiles, looking at you with wild eyes full of desire.

You lift your hips, the vibration sending shivers through your body as it hits your clit. You moan and close your eyes, feeling the pressure increase as Reiner rubs your cunt with it. Even through the lace, it feels so good and so hot. You’ve not used toys in bed for a while so this is a real treat, you think to yourself.

“Daddy,” you whimper out, already reduced to whines. “Need more to cum,” you tell him.

“Just ask, sweetie,” he tells you, leaning down and kissing your neck.

His lips begin to suck and his teeth bite gently into your skin and you moan louder. He slips the vibrator past your thong and against your wet pussy, the vibrations now against your bare clit. He circles it slowly, teasing you and drawing out a mixture of whines and moans. He loves to tease and you’re not going to fight him on it tonight. You just want to enjoy and savor every moment with him.

Just as you feel the familiar knot in your lower stomach about to come undone, Reiner pulls the vibrator away and laughs.

Laughs.

“Daddy!” You whine drawing out the last syllable.

“Shh,” he kisses your forehead and tosses the vibrator off to the side of the bed. “Don’t you want more?”

You smile and nod, sitting up on your elbows to kiss him deeply. “I always want more of you.”

He chuckles, pushing you back down and pushing your legs up so they’re on his chest with your feet on his shoulders. He pushes into you, his cock stretching and filling you as he does. Your toes curl and his fingers dig into your thighs as he slowly starts to thrust into you.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, kissing your ankle and starting to fuck into you faster.

His trusts are so deep and precise they leave you breathless. You whimpers turn to moans and babbling of different phrases that even you lose track of what you’re saying. He moves your legs so they’re wrapping around his waist as he moves to missionary to have access to your lips. This angle lets him inside you even deeper and closer.

“Oh god,” you whine, as he begins fucking you harder, your feet bouncing off of his back from where you’re wrapped around him. “Daddy, I’m close,” you tell him as that familiar knot reaches its undoing.

“Hold on for me, yeah?” He asks, his hazel eyes leaning darker now with lust.

You nod, not so sure you can do it; but you’ll try. You’d do anything for him, you realize.

Reiner pulls out of you, and you whimper, but he’s just manhandling you onto your stomach and pulling you back so he can fuck you against the bed. He pushes inside of you and that familiar stretch is all it takes to make you cum around him.

“Fuck,” you whimper, “I’m so sorry.”

He chuckles, leaning down and kissing you between your shoulder blades. “Don’t apologize.” He kisses you there again. “You have no idea how good it feels to have you squeezing around my cock when you cum.”

Your face heats up and you whimper, letting your face fall into the cool comforter on the bed. He slowly pumps in and out of you, his hands on your ass, squeeze and spanking you periodically. It’s not long before he’s fucking you so hard the bed is shaking. You grip the sheets, feeling that build up in your stomach once again.

“Fuck, daddy,” you whine into the bed, it muffling the sound even for you.

“You take my cock so well, baby, always so fucking good for me,” he moans, his thrusts becoming more and more uncontrolled.

You feel his cock twitch in you before you hear him mumble he’s about to cum. The warmth from it fills you up, spilling out from around his cock, dripping onto your thighs. You cum with him, squeezing around his cock and your thighs start to shake. As he pulls out, you let your body collapse completely into the mattress. Reiner drops onto the bed beside you, facing up towards the ceiling.

Managing with what strength you have after the mind-numbing fuck; you crawl up next to him on the bed and lay your head on his chest. He wraps his arms around you, lifting his head up to kiss your head a few times. You sigh, loving every moment of his warm skin against your body.

“We need new bedding,” he says casually, and you laugh.

“I’m sure we can manage tonight until housekeeping comes tomorrow. It’s not like we haven’t slept with cum on our bed before.” You roll your eyes and giggle.

“Yeah, but it’s different when it’s your own bed and its that much.” He tells you, letting his arms fall to the bed instead of around you. “But I don’t want to be a bother. Maybe I can clean it up.”

“Why are you so worried about it?” You ask, laughing and sitting up, feeling even more drip out of you and onto the mattress.

“I don’t know,” he laughs, leaning against the headboard of the bed, the pillows “I didn’t nap when you did. Maybe I’m delirious.”

You laugh and agree. “Probably.”

You get off the bed to use the restroom then come back and change into a set of silky pajamas for the night. Reiner is in the bathroom when you crawl into bed and you wait for him before turning the lights off, mostly because you don’t want to get back up.

He comes into the bedroom, turning the lights off as he walks by the switches and crawls into bed with you. He snuggles up, his head in the crook of your neck and strong arms wrapped around you.

“I’d love to have every night be like this with you,” he tells you, his eyes still closed. “you deserve to be spoiled every single night.”

You smile, playing with his blonde hair, “Every night does feel like this when I’m with you.”

#reiner braun x reader #reiner braun smut #aot smut #snk smut #attack on titan smut #shingeki no kyoujin smut

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stinkkyy · 2 years

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a staring problem

summertime wasn't his favorite season though this go around diluc has yet another reason to dislike it.

heat meant having to wear less clothes than usual. diluc had settled for a plain white blouse, rolling the sleeves up to his elbows while the air would cool him off once it ripples through the fabric. the lowcut collar was.. vexing.

while he wasn't one to wear shorts he found that they were your choice of clothing on hot days like today.

he didn't care that your shorts would occasionally rise further up your thighs than they should. diluc was a gentleman, he could keep his eyes to himself, it was the treasure hoarders he was concerned over.

diluc crosses his arms firmly over his chest as he watches over you, listening to how you chat with them innocently. the crew the two of you had stumbled upon were docile enough and didn't see to be up to anything devious. he hadn't thought much of it, just mentally keeping track of time of how long it was taking.

it was only when he noticed one of the treasure hoarders that was standing somewhere behind them had been trained on a certain sight for a while too long.

he turns to look, disguising it as looking off to the landscape behind. the man cocks his head to the side though his eyes remain where they were, even smirking the slightest bit when you shift on your feet, stretching your legs every so often.

of course he wouldn't go and look just to see what the sight was that had this scoundrel's staring so hard, he can put two and two together, and this alone has his fists clenched tight together. how someone could be so brazen and deprived is beyond him.

and it seems that you’re none the wiser to it as well.

the crush that’s been steadily forming since he’s come to know you springs to life in his chest. he steps the urge to take a peek underneath his boot and digs it into the dirt. there is no was on this planet he would ever give into such base desires. not only would it tarnish his honor but it would be taking advantage of your trust.

diluc glares at the man behind them, making direct eye contact with him to send the message very clearly. his gaze is not wanted and above of all very disgusting.

the treasure hoarder just smirks and licks his lips, paying diluc no mind as if he wasn’t a fucking wine tycoon.

he was about two seconds away from decapitating this man right in front of his little buddies until the sound of your laughter snapped him out of it. diluc looks over to you and was welcomed to the beautiful sight of your smile, covering your face a bit. you never did like people watching you laugh.

“luc! these guys are an absolute riot!” you cackle, muffling your laughter. “c’mon, tell him the story about giving the knights a run around! he’ll loose his mind at it!”

the treasure hoarder had already started his story but there was something more important that had diluc’s attention. the slimey bastard that was once against staring at your ass.

“that’s it.” diluc grumbles.

“hm? hey, diluc, what’s up?-”

with the blink of an eye his claymore is within view and it soon comes to shield your behind from prying eyes. wolf’s gravestone in all its glory shines in the light, the sharpness of the blade glinting and sending a dangerous message to the sorry lot that had dared to stare at you.

his gaze was murderous as he stares down the man, knuckles white underneath his gloves from how tight he grips at the handle. with how long he’s been using a claymore the weight hardly bothers him and he can hold it with one hand no problem which he’s pleased to see ends up intimidating the man.

“h-hey what’s your problem, man??”

“you’re my problem.”

the little commotion gets your attention and you soon try and turn around to which diluc places his hand firmly at your shoulder, keeping you in place. he turns to look at you in what he hopes seems reassuring and not murderous.

“these fine gentlemen were simply asking to see my choice of weapon,” he looks back to the lot and the glare is back on. he can’t stop a chuckle from escaping when they flinch back. “as well as how i’ve been training in it for over a decade with a 100% accuracy at each hit. they found it impressive.”

peace keeper you are, you just smile and clap your hands together. “ah! yeah, diluc is a real skilled fighter! not only in weapons but hand to hand combat. ooh we could even spar if you guys wanna?”

his victim quickly shakes his head as he takes a step back and away. “no thanks! that guy is-” the claymore tilts close to him. “h-he’s way too strong for us! maybe some other time? heh..”

diluc huffs silently though keeps it in place. “i think this has been enough for today. how about we go our separate ways. we shall head back north and your group can head south.” diluc makes direct eye contact with the man. “far, far, far south.”

it takes a minute or two but the group soon leaves. he silently keeps you there with him until the coast is clear and only when the band of treasure hoarders are out of sight does he let his claymore fizzle out. he idly fixes his gloves before nodding out to where they should go next.

an easy conversation starts between the two of you until you begin to laugh out of nowhere.

he cocks a brow. “what’s so funny?”

“nothing just- man, you were really gonna try and hurt that guy just cause he was staring at my ass?”

diluc looks at you as if you had lost your head.

you just laugh even harder and smack him square on the back. “thanks for doing that, though. who knows! maybe i’ll let you stare for a bit as a reward for protecting my purity or whatever.”

and of course he doesn’t mean to stand there like an idiot on purpose. you had known that entire time? it only now makes sense; you had been attempting to get to the outside of their group, ease closer to him, even tucking your hands behind your back. celestia above he’s an idiot.

diluc’s jaw tightens as he chastises himself mentally though your sweet voice once again snaps him out of his thoughts.

“you’re already cashing that reward in? goodness, who knew master diluc was a pervert?”

“what- oh!” he looks up to you though accidentally gets an eyeful and quickly brings his hand up to cover his eyes, scowling slightly as he catches up to walk by your side. “shut up. we have the rest of your commissions to do.”

his face burns brightly all the way up to the tips of his ears and the back of his neck. you’ve lose yourself in a fit of laughter and giggles.

diluc ignores how hard his heart pounds at his chest during the walk. he really has to get a hold of this crush..

#genshin impact #genshin impact writing #diluc x reader #diluc imagines #diluc/reader #mun koko

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firespirited · 6 months

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Ladies, gentlemen and enbans,

Meet my beautiful new second hand cane!

I've been procrastinating about buying one for a while with various foldable or footed ones in wishlists and today... there it was. and while I can't use it much due to the shoulder pain, it's already helped me stand in place longer than possible without it.

Sis saw a Facebook post about an indoor garage sale for today, within my walking abilities *but* up the hill (we live on one side of a three side "bowl" of foothills so technically everything is pretty much up or down but this hill is like 12 degree incline in parts)

I said I'd consider this adventure if we could do a trial run. So we made the trek with the dogs. Lily remembered that she could run, a huge yellow lab gave her a massive rock she was carrying in her mouth, there were acorns everywhere and a nice lil bridge at sitting height for us to stop and rest.

So today, we set out in the rain, minus dogs, to the unknown just a house with stuff for sale : would it be stuff left from a move, a death, just decluttering, expensive fancy stuff, kids stuff?

We arrived early (turns out dogs sniffing around takes up an extra ten minutes) and watched as half a dozen cars pulled up, which is wild. People are never early round here! guess the antiquing folks like to be there as soon as the doors open.

Two middle aged ladies ushered us all into their yard and then into the teeny tiny house to three rooms divided by a staircase, none of it seemed to follow geometry. Two daughters selling their mother's various collections to make space: mugs, books, vinyls, paintings, cat sculptures, silverware and lots of fabric findings. She had been a seamstress. There were tins filled with buttons, I would have bought some but knew I had to carry it home.

One seemed a little panicked after running around setting things down in the yard so I helped with a frame and asked how she was doing with all this and we chit chatted for a while. From what I understand at least one of the daughters is living there on a higher floor, the cats don't need rehoming and one had to be forcibly removed from a comfy nest in the fabric stash just before everyone arrived. 😁 They're doing ok but the clutter was overwhelming and they hoped some of it might sell and be taken away, simply, without third parties or listings. Quite a few of the furniture pieces got claims within the 45 minutes we were there so I think they'll be fine.

I saw the cane in a set of three at the entry to the yard within 20 seconds and I knew it was the one, it carried me through the rest of the visit in any case. Didn't ask about other medical equipment (Medical buyback doesn't give you much and buying from the medical shops is expensive so it's advantageous to all parties. I got my wheelchair for double the buyback from a dude who didn't need it anymore and it was less than a third of the price). But I get the impression she was fairly able bodied with maybe a little help walking only.

There was no sewing machine in sight so either it's gone to the daughters or it was sold for a lot more than today's low priced bits and bobs. I was kinda hoping I might get to witness an antique Singer in the footpedal desk or the square looking 70s Singer in the case when I heard the word seamstress - granny used to have both when I was little.

Clothes, shoes and grooming items were all missing too. The ladies might not be at the point where they feel ready for that yet. Maybe they needed the clutter 'space' to be able to do a more personal sort out.

So quite the adventure. I didn't get the "shop overload" because the lights and sound were normal, items were in boxes with the price per item or to ask (understood to be under 10€) no confusing pricing between washing liquids per wash, per litre, per kilo and special offer (aka what's the catch). It was cramped but no people megastress either so that was manageable.

I did start thinking about what we leave behind on the way home. Did chat a little with sis about our most prized treasures and how they're imbued with value that no one else would know about by just looking at them. We both felt a little gloomy over that so switched to talking about the types of person we'd seen.

#saf #disability blogging #mobility aid #cane user #Ramblings

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auxiliarydetective · 8 months

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Varsha: The Potion and The Poison

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Standing next to Ishmael was a young woman with dark skin, large brown eyes, and long black hair. Her face was mesmerizing to look at, appearing almost otherworldly. There was something about her eyes and her smile that made you trust her, want to protect her at all costs, but it also gave you a feeling of safety, of hospitality. But it didn’t end at her face, of course. It was in her clothes, too, a white top showing off her midriff, covered by winding, indigo-colored fabric, a saree, of silk, with a fine pattern of silver that gleamed in the light of the lamps. A thin chain went along where her hair was parted, leading down onto her forehead to a golden ornament, a similar design shared by both her earrings and the stud gracing her left nostril. But the gold and silver didn’t clash, no, it was far from that. They harmonized in a way that should not be possible. Or, to put it into one sentence: She looked regal. As soon as she laid her eyes on the guests entering the bridge, she placed both her palms together under her chin and gave a deep bow.

Skinner whistled in astonishment. “Wow, I think I’ve just found the most beautiful thing on this ship!” he called out and had already started heading for the woman when Nemo grabbed him and held him back.

“Nobody is to touch her,” the Captain immediately declared.

“Sorry,” Skinner quipped back, “didn’t know she was your daughter.”

“That honour isn’t mine to claim.”

“Clearly, Skinner, she’s out of your league,” Gray declared and pulled him back towards the group.

“This, gentlemen,” Nemo said as he gestured towards the woman to come closer, “is Miss Varsha Devi, the jewel of this ship. She may not speak our language, but she understands every word.”

“I always thought women on a ship meant bad luck,” Quartermain regarded with a smirk.

“Not this one. In fact, since Varsha has been on board, the seas have been nothing but kind to me. - Perhaps due to her navigation.”

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Quietly, you are saving me Please, don't fade away Into the darkness of night I don't need no light to see you shine

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That was when he heard music down the hallway, though only very faintly. Any regular human probably wouldn’t have heard it but, seeing as some portion of Hyde’s superior senses carried over to him, he did. It was an exotic instrument, possibly stringed, with a very distinct timbre. Curious, Jekyll followed the sound to a door that stood just slightly ajar. Nonetheless, the opening was just barely enough to look inside.

The room was lit by a circle of candles, or rather small oil lamps, their flames flickering with the sound of the instrument. In its middle sat Varsha, playing an instrument that vaguely resembled a guitar, though with a smaller, oval- or teardrop-shaped body and a long, thick neck with many more strings than a guitar could feasibly have. It was ornamentally decorated, with designs similar to ones found in Varsha’s jewelry. Distinctly, a snake wound itself around the body of the instrument, a sleek creature crafted by a master, no doubt. Still, the instrument was no match for the beauty of the artist. In the light of the candles, Varsha’s skin took on a copper glow and her hair gleamed golden. The flames flickered in her eyes and her jewelry glimmered. With the way her sleek fingers gently plucked the instrument, a man could get jealous. But not Jekyll. Certainly not Jekyll. After all, them being in any sort of relationship was an impossibility. As he tried to convince himself of that, he barely even noticed himself taking out his pocket watch and starting to fidget with it. First of all, Varsha was divine, and she was fundamentally good-hearted, something Jekyll wished he could claim of himself but clearly couldn’t. He couldn’t possibly burden her with the looming threat that was Hyde, not someone as kind and as fragile as her. Not anyone, but definitely not her. Secondly, Nemo’s protection of her. Though he was not her father, he did shelter her like his own daughter. Skinner had told Jekyll that Nemo had forbidden anyone in the League from as much as touching Varsha, making it very obvious how sacred her purity had to be to him. Even the most elevated and proper courting of her could upset the captain and that was the last thing Jekyll wanted. Not to mention that Varsha probably wouldn’t be interested. After all, who would want a pathetic man like him? The only thing he had to offer was his doctorate. Not even his moderate wealth that he had managed to carry over from London would be a viable factor, considering that she lived in the utmost luxury aboard the Nautilus - if she even cared about riches at all. Thirdly, and most importantly of all, Jekyll knew of the fact that it was customary in India for marriages to be arranged. Surely, someone as beautiful as her already had a husband, or at the very least a fiancé. Nemo may have mentioned that she had no family to speak of, but then he probably had made the arrangement himself, in his efforts to care for her. With Nemo off the table for obvious reasons, the next possible option was Ishmael, but as he was a Westerner, he was an unlikely choice. But there were hundreds of Indian men on board this vessel and one of them was sure to be engaged to her, officially or not. But no matter how much he tried to reason, his heart still beat faster than it should, his hands shivered about the pocket watch and his breath hitched. It was like he was hypnotized. The dangerous snake to her snake charmer. For a while, it was just him and her and the music between them. That was until a voice echoed through Jekyll’s mind.

“Yes, Henry. Look, but don’t touch.” Hyde gave a chuckle. “That’s your way.”

Suddenly, Jekyll became very aware of his surroundings. Of the shadow he might be throwing into the room, of the clicking sound his pocket watch might make, of his breathing that Varsha might hear. Quickly, he put the pocket watch away and hurried around a corner, away from this peaceful image.

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Tagging: @daughter-of-melpomene and @waddlesworth aka the LXG mutual and one of the few people with good content on the movie on this platform. I thought I'd honour you this way, hope you don't mind :)

#the league of extraordinary gentlemen #lxg oc #oc: varsha devi #moodboard #playlist #manip #oc intro #she's absolutely very human trust me #totally nothing sneaky going on here #totally didn't pick pieces from my writing that would drop hints #if you want to find out more you'll have to wait for more or ask :)#(please let me ramble about her)#photopea adventures

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neverneud · 1 month

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Elevate Your Style: The Ultimate Guide to Party Wear Shirts for Men

Stepping into the world of parties and celebrations demands more than just confidence; it requires a wardrobe that speaks volumes. The cornerstone of any stylish party ensemble for men is undoubtedly the shirt. From upscale cocktail parties to casual gatherings, the right party wear shirts for men can make all the difference. In this guide, we delve into the nuances of selecting the perfect party shirt to ensure you turn heads at every event.

Fabric Matters:

The first rule of selecting the ideal party wear shirt is to pay attention to the fabric. Opt for luxurious materials that not only feel good against the skin but also exude sophistication. Silk, satin, and fine cotton blends are excellent choices, providing a polished look while keeping you comfortable throughout the festivities.

Classic Vs. Contemporary:

The beauty of party wear shirts lies in their versatility. Traditional styles with classic collars and cuffs offer timeless elegance, while contemporary designs with unique detailing and modern cuts bring a fresh twist to your look. Choose a style that aligns with the overall vibe of the event and complements your personal taste.

Color Psychology:

The color of your party shirt can set the tone for the entire outfit. While classic black and white shirts are foolproof choices for a sophisticated look, don't shy away from experimenting with bold hues. Deep blues, rich burgundies, and emerald greens can add a touch of flair to your ensemble. Consider the occasion and your personal style when selecting the color palette.

Patterns and Prints:

Inject personality into your party wardrobe by experimenting with patterns and prints. Subtle prints like pinstripes or small geometric designs can add a hint of playfulness without being overly loud. For those who dare to be different, bold floral prints or abstract patterns can make a striking statement.

Fit is King:

No matter how stylish the shirt, a poor fit can undermine the entire look. Ensure that your party wear shirt fits well across the shoulders, chest, and sleeves. A tailored fit exudes confidence and showcases your attention to detail. If you opt for a slim fit, ensure it allows for comfortable movement.

Accessorize with Panache:

Elevate your party look by incorporating well-chosen accessories. A sleek watch, cufflinks, or a statement belt can add the finishing touches that transform a good outfit into a great one. Experiment with accessories to showcase your unique style and personality.

Versatility for Different Occasions:

Invest in a collection of party shirts that cater to various occasions. A crisp white shirt with subtle detailing can seamlessly transition from formal events to upscale gatherings, while a bold printed shirt might be the perfect choice for a casual evening out with friends.

Mastering the art of selecting party wear shirts for men is about finding the perfect balance between classic elegance and contemporary flair. With the right fabric, color, fit, and accessories, you can effortlessly navigate the world of social events in style. So, gentlemen, whether you're attending a sophisticated soirée or a lively celebration, let your party wear shirts be the conversation starters, making you the epitome of sartorial excellence.

#party wear shirts for men

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cleosdiary · 7 months

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Elegance Redefined: The Timeless Allure of the Well-Tailored Suit

Greetings, distinguished readers, and welcome to a sartorial journey through the world of impeccable men's fashion. Today, we delve into the realm of the well-tailored suit—a timeless masterpiece that transcends trends and remains a hallmark of sophistication for the modern gentleman. With a dash of British flair, I shall guide you through the art of suit selection, imparting wisdom on color pairings and why a well-fitted suit is indispensable in a man's wardrobe.

As a seasoned British tailor, I have had the privilege of crafting exquisite suits for discerning gentlemen throughout my career. I've witnessed firsthand the transformative power of a well-tailored ensemble, and I'm here to share my insights with you.

The Suit: A Reflection of Character

A suit is not merely clothing; it is a statement of character, a reflection of one's taste, and a symbol of respect for oneself and those in one's company. A properly fitted suit exudes confidence and elegance, making it an essential component of a gentleman's wardrobe.

Choosing the Right Fabric

First and foremost, the choice of fabric sets the foundation for your suit's overall look and comfort. For versatility and timeless appeal, consider classic wool. It breathes well, drapes beautifully, and stands the test of time. Flannel, tweed, and worsted are all excellent options, each with its own unique charm.

The Perfect Fit

The key to an impeccable suit is the fit. The jacket should hug your shoulders, allowing ease of movement without excessive bunching. The trousers should rest comfortably on your hips, with a slight break at the shoes. The waistcoat, if worn, should sit snugly without constriction. If off-the-rack suits don't quite meet your expectations, I highly recommend investing in a bespoke suit—crafted to your exact measurements for a perfect fit that accentuates your physique.

Elegant Color Pairings

Now, let us explore the art of color pairings, for the right combination can elevate your look from ordinary to extraordinary:

Navy and White: A navy suit paired with a crisp white shirt is a classic combination that exudes sophistication. This ensemble is suitable for a wide range of occasions, from business meetings to evening soirées.

Charcoal and Light Blue: A charcoal suit with a light blue shirt is the epitome of understated elegance. This pairing exudes a sense of confidence and seriousness, making it ideal for important business meetings.

Gray and Burgundy: A medium gray suit combined with a burgundy tie and pocket square adds a touch of panache to your attire. It's perfect for semi-formal gatherings and evening events.

Olive and Earth Tones: An olive suit paired with earth-toned accessories is a nod to nature's beauty. This combination is excellent for outdoor weddings and garden parties.

Black and White: The timeless black suit and white shirt is a formal classic. It exudes authority and is a must-have for black-tie events and formal occasions.

Accessorizing with Panache

Accessories, my dear readers, are the icing on the sartorial cake. A well-chosen tie, pocket square, cufflinks, and a finely crafted leather belt and shoes complete the ensemble. Don't forget the importance of a quality watch, for it is a gentleman's most cherished accessory.

In conclusion, a well-tailored suit is more than just clothing; it's a statement of style, elegance, and self-respect. The right color pairings and accessories can elevate your look to new heights, ensuring you leave a lasting impression wherever you go. Embrace the art of the well-tailored suit, and you shall stand as a beacon of timeless sophistication, my dear readers.

-Cleo

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men-fashion-tips · 2 years

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Indian Groom Mix and Match Outfits Trends of Season 2022

So today, we'll decode the most recent Indian Groom Mix and Match Outfits trends. Gone are the days when the Indian groom market was solely comprised of sherwanis and dhoti kurtas or south Indian white lungi. Today, there's a lot more to it, and we'll go over everything in depth. Nothing is more appealing than a gentleman dressed in Indian ethnic wear. Today's men's wedding outfits are diverse, and they are classified into various styles based on their silhouettes, edgy prints, and gorgeous brocade. Finally, on your wedding day, it's all about being traditional with a dash of classic style.

What to wear on your big occasion? The wait is over; check out some examples of Indian Groom Mix and Match Outfits and put them to the test on your wedding day. Tuxedo: For various ceremonies, you can dress comfortably and elegantly in western attire or suits. Western outfits give you a gentlemen's appearance that enhances your personality and demonstrates your sense of style. Suits are available in a variety of styles in the twenty-first century. The floral work on your bow ties, ties, waist coats, and so on will provide you with a wide variety in simple suits as well. People's attention is easily drawn to vibrant colours. This is the best outfit for a ceremony such as an engagement or a reception. Pastel colors: The colour palette for an Indian wedding has evolved significantly, and pastel colours are now popular. With these colours, you can add as many sequins and shimmer as you want and it will always look classy. Furthermore, these soothing colours are ideal for day weddings. Silk Sherwanis: If you want to be simple and classic, silk sherwanis are the best option. The rich silk texture of these sherwanis makes them ideal for a royal groom look. In today's trendy world, you can easily find a wide range of design and fabric options. Choose subtle colours with floral patterns for a distinct look. Designer Bandhgala: If you're looking for something traditional, unique, and trendy, this selection is for you. Weddings are never easy and can be exhausting. As a result, one should look for a comfortable piece that does not make them feel unusual or different. A lovely Jodhpuri suit, also known as a Bandhgala, with its traditional touch and modern silhouette is irresistible. Brocade: Manish Malhotra has introduced a wide range of appealing colours, trends, and new unique styles to Bollyhood. His collection includes some fine brocade work that provides a contemporary look that a groom needs on his wedding day. If you enjoy Bollywood, this style is for you. Velvet bandhgala: Great Attitude goes hand in hand with the best attire. The velvet bandhgala over cotton vest is the ideal outfit for displaying your fashion sense. Designer velvet jackets put you in the spotlight and capture everyone's attention. Thus, if you want to steal the hearts of the crowd, this is the best one for you. To be in the spotlight, a clinch of pyjama or shalwar will be ideal. Formal wear: If you want to keep it simple and formal, choose comfortable formal attire that will give you the best look as well as comfort. Nehru jackets are always in style and the best choice for a dapper look. Ethnic prints: The beautiful ethnic prints on plain kurta are a refreshing take on traditional wear. These ethnic outfits are definitely for young free spirits. The subtle prints engraved in a black kurta with bright vibrant colours make it ideal for festive wear.

Quirky prints: Prints can work wonders. You don't have to think twice about wearing white because it flatters everyone. The stunning golden deer prints have worked their magic in a regal ensemble. Finally, we'd like to point out that you don't have to wait until your wedding day to enjoy these amazing Indian ethnic outfits. Today's world believes in adapting to the circumstances. So, whether it's a friend's wedding or your cousin's wedding, you must demonstrate that you are fully prepared. These outfits are so versatile that you can mix and match them to create an entirely new look.

#wedding #dress #clothes #cotton #style #outfits #ethnic #groom #colors #fabric #Indian #traditional #look #kurta #sherwani #design #designer #pattern

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after-witch · 2 years

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Bite [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Title: Bite [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Synopsis: The guests are well-dressed, and you are well-dressed, because Chrollo loves nothing more than to cover you with fine fabrics and draping jewels. You are, after all, his most precious possession. And he takes good care of the things he owns.

Inspired by a quote from Gretel and Hansel (2020): “Say that again and I will turn your tongue into a flower, to remind you how pretty and dumb and temporary you've chosen to be.”

Word Count: 3783

Notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, afab reader, implications of violence, suicidal thoughts + expressions

It’s a beautiful evening, in all respects. The reception room is sparkling with expensive stars; sequin-encrusted dresses, glittering jewels, dimmed romantic lighting bouncing off champagne glasses and priceless diamonds alike.

The guests are well-dressed, and you are well-dressed, because Chrollo loves nothing more than to cover you with fine fabrics and draping jewels. You are, after all, his most precious possession. And he takes good care of the things he owns.

And he does take care of you. He insists on making sure you can’t argue on that point. He wines you and dines you and presses tender kisses to your neck. He extends his arm to you while escorting you into the gala, as if this was normal, as if he was simply a gentlemen and you were his beloved companion for the evening.

As if he didn’t kidnap you and take you away from the world, as if he didn’t impose himself on you in every way, pressing down on you so hard that you had no choice but to submit to his will. In the face of his strength, his intelligence, his power, what he could do to you, you had no other choice.

If you had a choice, you certainly wouldn’t have picked to come here tonight.

There’s simply too much here. Too much noise and sight and emotion. Even when Chrollo takes you places, it’s rarely somewhere as wild and open and busy as this. He takes you to a private room at a fine restaurant. A booth at the opera house. A museum, after-hours, money exchanged with the guards. This is not that. This is an entire room crammed with people who talk and move and exist in an entirely different sphere than your own.

Laughing and dancing partners and oohing-and-ahhing over every little thing the waiters bring out on silver trays. You fight the urge to wipe sweat that’s beading on the back of your neck, a consequence of the creeping anxiety that’s building around you.

It all makes you feel like a deer, wanting to stay stock still until the threat has passed. But Chrollo wouldn’t bring you here simply to keep you in one spot, and so you’re forced to walk with him, arm-in-arm, making small talk now and then. You pretend that he’s not searching for his target, and he pretends that you don’t know he’ll be shedding blood before the night is out.

Yet even if the looming shadow of Chrollo wasn’t hanging over you, even if you hadn’t been kept so isolated for months on end making you wary of all this noise, this still wouldn’t be your scene. You had been a thief yourself, before; nothing grand, nothing violent, nothing that came even close to the edges of what Chrollo and his Troupe did. Pickpockets and store shelves, keeping you fed and with a nice watch or dress now and then. No museum heists and trails of blood. But a thief nonetheless.

And perhaps it’s long repressed nostalgia for before that pushes you to you eye up these men and women as you might have done before. It’s a nice way to distance yourself, to stretch away from the pressure of the crowd and put yourself above it all.

That woman there, with the too-bright lipstick and her third glass of champagne, is wearing two bracelets--she likely wouldn’t notice the weight of just one missing, making her a good target. The man with the bulging pocket at the back of his pants clearly tucked a wallet or something else of value in there. He wouldn’t even notice it was gone until you were lost in the crowd, a faceless ghost. And that couple, they--

“Old habits?” Your nostalgic gazing is interrupted with a whispered question. Of course--of course, he’d be watching you.

There’s a low mirth in his tone, and you know (and are thankful) that he isn’t annoyed by your internal intrigues. You’ve been behaving well.

It wasn’t that you wanted to be good for him. The way he praised you after such outings made your skin crawl, the way his voice would grow thick with patronizing approval, the way his mouth would find its way to all of your sensitive spots--these things were meant to be rewards, and you wished in vain you had the nerve to fight back against them.

Such nerve had, you imagine, long been snuffed out. It didn’t take many consequences for you to shed the idea of escaping like a second skin, leaving behind only the fresh, raw acceptance of your helplessness behind.

And if there was one thing Chrollo enjoyed more than tearing you down, it was building you back up, molding you, raw clay in his hands.

You made for a fascinating project.

In answer, you shake your head. Not in denial but to rid yourself of nostalgic fantasies.

“Just playing around, I suppose.”

Before he can discern what to respond, you feel him tense up. Just a little. Not enough that anyone else but you--who have been his unwilling companion for so long now--would notice. This must mean that he’s spotted his target.

A low curiosity fills your chest at the realization. What will it be, this time? Will he take out the entire ballroom, painting all the women in their finery blood-red, complimenting the wine they’ve been drinking all night? Or will he keep it low, quick, isolating his target and taking their life without so much as a whisper? Perhaps he’ll even stick around after the deed, waltzing you across the room as if you’re merely ordinary attendees, to avoid arousing suspicion.

You’ll know soon enough. You’ll see it, soon enough, because there is no way in heaven or hell that Chrollo would leave you alone in such a crowded room. Even subdued and broken as you are.

And yet.

He turns himself around, and you can’t help but raise your eyebrow as he takes your hand in his, bowing low. He kisses it gently and looks up with deliberately lidded eyes.

“I’ll be back as soon as I’ve taken care of my business, love. Do stay out of trouble.”

You don’t hide the surprise on your expression, and you hear a sound akin to an undignified sputter come out of your mouth. But before fully-formed questions can fly from your lips, he merely turns around and walks away, all business.

He’s… left you alone.

In a room.

A crowded room.

With other people.

For a few moments, you are frozen to the spot. It’s a trick. A test. He’s seeing what you’ll do. If you try to run, he’ll catch you and probably kill everyone in here before turning his attention to you, and you don’t want to even think about what he would do then. If you try to talk to someone, he’ll listen carefully and squeeze himself in just as you’re about to ask for help. Then he’ll threaten to gag you for a week the next time that you try something so stupid.

But… time passes. And he doesn’t appear to be coming back. You don’t hear screams or shouts. He really did leave you alone and all at once there’s a warm feeling that blossoms in your limbs, adrenaline pumping.

You can get the hell out of here. Can’t you? You have to get the hell out of here. What were you thinking, standing by his side all night? Playing the smiling, sweet arm candy? Being good?

But you’re not stupid. You know not to run, not to grab someone’s silk-suit arm and beg for help. That would be monstrously, monumentally pathetic on your part, because it would grab too much notice.

So you glance around and look for the exits. The main exit is too obvious and too sparse, with everyone scattering away to join the various groups as soon as they’ve entered the room. The bathrooms are another option, but they may not have windows, and by the time you get to them your window of opportunity may be gone. The emergency exit would draw attention, if there’s an alarm.

But there--you don’t stare at it too long, keeping your eyes downcast, just in case. There’s a single door off to the side, leading… somewhere. No one appears to pay the door any notice, which means it’s not likely to have occupants behind it. It could be an exit. Or at least, a potential room that leads somewhere deeper, hidden, in the building.

It’s worth a try. And is it any wonder that you start feeling like yourself again, now that your mind is made up? That you get that warm, buzzing feeling that you used to get before you stole someone’s wallet or shoved something in your bookbag or easily lifted a hotel key so you could have somewhere to sleep for the night.

It’s like you’re coming alive.

He might be watching. Might. So you take a step, then another, and wander until you’re near one of the waiters carrying trays of chilled champagne. A glass of champagne, sure. If he is watching you, he can’t begrudge you something else to drink. The bubbles tickle your throat and you know champagne doesn’t take effect that fast, but you swear you feel its bright giddiness spreading as you take each sip.

Step, step, another step. You set your glass on the tray of a wandering waiter and decline another one, though you’re tempted, if only to steel your nerves.

You’re so close to that door, and everyone is too wrapped up in their little worlds, their conversations and dances and flirtations, to notice or care about you. The walls are gilded and bumpy as you press your back against the door and jiggle the handle.

Unlocked. You don’t wait, don’t hesitate, but open the door just enough to slip inside and shut it just as quickly.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you wait for a moment, then another. No one opens the door. No champagne-carrying staff whips it open to demand you leave at once. No curious onlooker tries the knob. You did it. You made it inside.

You try to calm yourself, keep yourself grounded. You stare at the door and force yourself to think. You need to take stock of your surroundings first. Is it an exit? Another room? Are there other doors, and where do they lead?

You turn around to take in the necessary information, registering that the mystery room is surprisingly chilly and dark and smells like fresh air and--oh.

You’ve walked right onto a balcony.

You don’t know whether you should laugh or cry. Perhaps both. Because you know from your ride in the gold-tinted elevators, Chrollo keeping you snugly at his side, that this gala is four stories above the ground.

How are you going to get down?

Is four stories enough to kill you? You think it could. It might. It’s a serious risk. But you can’t go back inside, because by this point, perhaps Chrollo has wandered back in the room and he might see you and you can’t lie to him and he’ll know. But you can’t exactly risk death or--in the very very best case scenario--broken limbs, either.

But you can’t give up. You can’t do that, not now, not after what you just did. Your stomach curls in repulsion at the thought of going back to Chrollo now, at the thought of what he might do to you. The days of consequences were long past, rebellion drummed out of you with repetition, but the memory of them had never faded.

So you take a breath. You have to figure out a solution. You can do that. You’re not stupid, no matter what Chrollo thinks. You’re not weak.

Looking around is easier now that your eyes have adjusted to the light. Dim outdoor lighting doesn’t provide much, but the clouds covering the full moon above have started to move and you can get a better look around. There’s nothing on the balcony but a vase and what you think might be a plastic plant, given its lushness despite the cold weather. You lean over the railing to see if perhaps there’s--impossibly--a ladder or some way to get down, but of course there isn’t.

But--there. When you lean over far enough, you get a glimpse of the wall below the balcony, perhaps half a meter behind the ledge. It’s covered in vines and you see bits of white lattice work behind them. You could climb down that, couldn’t you? Your hands will get roughed up but it’s a small price to pay for freedom.

You just have to get over the railing and somehow grab the lattice without falling.

Goosebumps sprinkle up your arm at the thought. The boldness from the adrenaline and champagne seems fuzzy now, muffled behind the shut balcony door along with the din from the crowd inside.

What if you fall and the fall kills you?

What if you don’t try and Chrollo finds you?

Your hands grip the balcony railing, knuckles tight from tension, and you know that you have to try. You aren’t as limber as you used to be--being shut up all the time has made your muscles weaker, made you feel more frail--but this isn’t some athletic trial, is it? It’s climbing over a railing and grabbing onto some wooden fence work… perhaps you can latch onto the lattice with your feet, first? It would give you some purchase before you let go of the railing.

How much time has passed since Chrollo left you? Was he already in the room, coldly furious at your absence? Was he stalking the room, looking for you? Would he turn the latch on that balcony door and find you standing here, wasting your time debating?

Your leg is over the railing before another question has time to rush through you. The dress you’re wearing feels so slinky, so slippery, so gaudy now that it’s hanging down uselessly on either side of the rail. You keep your hands clenched on the railing and as you swing your other leg over, your heels perched on a thin slab of cement, the realization that you could fall sinks through you like lead.

You could die like this. Scurrying over a balcony in an evening gown, champagne on your tongue. Before you can stop yourself, you crane your neck and look down at the dark ground below.

It looks so, so much higher than it did when you were on the other side.

Would it be quick, if you fell? A sudden impact on cement? There’s a dark pocket of thought that worms its way into your brain. What if you let go. What if you just let go. It would be the first serious decision you’ve made in so long. It would be the first time you’ve been able to control your own life in so long. Chrollo can’t envelope you, can’t force you into his world, can’t make you be what he wants if you’re not alive.

What if, what if.

The thought doesn’t pass, exactly, but it goes nowhere. It stays where it was born, festering, flickering, but weak. You don’t want to die. Not really. You want freedom, real freedom, freedom to live the way you choose; death would not be freedom, but an end.

So you kneel down as slowly, as carefully as you can. The little amount of concrete under your knees, digging and painful, doesn’t give you much purchase on the ledge. But it should be easier to try to reach the trellis from here. You have to be quick. You have to be decisive. You have to be all the things you used to be, before Chrollo happened.

So you let go.

You expect to feel air rushing down, anticipate thrusting your hands out and gripping wood that splinters your fingers while you tangle your legs up in vines to keep you from falling onto the cold cement below.

Instead, two arms constrict around you, warm and unforgiving, too tight as you’re lifted up and back over the railing. Fingers bruise against your upper arms to keep you in place. You feel dizzy. This is wrong. This isn’t what was supposed to happen.

It’s Chrollo. Of course. You can’t look at him, instead struggling against his grip, uselessly, thinking that if you can just get back over the railing--

“What do you think you’re doing?”

You’ve never heard him talk like this before and the terrifying novelty of it makes you freeze entirely. He sounds angry. He sounds scared.

Your voice catches in your throat as you get the nerve to look at him, and it’s there, all there, for an all-too-soon moment before it vanishes behind a mask. Fear and anger, emotions he doesn’t normally conjure up on his face. Are they real? Is he doing it because you might expect him to, given the fact that he just pulled you over a balcony railing with a none-too-significant drop below it?

“I--”

Would it be stupid to tell him the truth? You were trying to escape. You were trying to be free--free from him and everything he expects from you. Your heart keeps hammering while you try to figure out what to do. There’s always a trick, there’s always a game, there’s always a fine, fine, fine tightrope to walk with Chrollo. One step the wrong way and everything goes off-kilter.

“I was trying to get down.”

It’s not the whole truth, but it’s not a lie.

His bruising grip on your arm relents, though he doesn’t entirely let go.

“I see that.” He glances behind you, over the balcony rail, down to what you were looking at only moments ago. It feels like ages have passed since your leg lifted over the railing, but it couldn’t have been more than a minute or two.

Chrollo releases one of your arms and cups one of your cheeks in his hand. His touch is so gentle that it makes your stomach roil. You flick your gaze up towards his eyes and hate what you find there; hate the look that he gives, as if he’s looking right into you, as if he can see every thought whirring in your brain. Maybe he can. You don’t know the full extent of what he can do, nor do you ever want to find out.

Despite the circumstances--and the ironclad grip he keeps on your left arm--his tone is soft and patronizing. As if you’re a child caught running with scissors.

“You could have fallen. Do you know what a fall from this height would do to you?”

He squeezes your arm when you don’t respond. It doesn’t hurt, not when you know how much he could hurt you, if he wanted. It’s a warning squeeze.

“Well?”

That festering dark thought rears its ugly head, bursting out of your mouth at the worst possible time.

“I don’t care.” You should stop yourself. But you don’t, you can’t, not when all you can think about is your feet landing firmly on that ground and running far away from here. Not when you can imagine yourself tearing through the shadows, hitching a ride from someone, anyone, on the street and getting as much distance between you and Chrollo as possible.

But instead of that, you’re here, standing in front of him; his strength and intelligence practically bursting at the seams, letting you know that you failed and you’re right back where you started.

No, you’re worse off, because now you’ve done something wrong. Something that you know will alter the trajectory of your life for the next few weeks, at minimum, until he’s satisfied that you’re behaving again.

How long can you live like this? How long can you stay sane like this?

You think about the drop, you think about letting go and not clawing desperately for the vines but letting your arms splay out. You think about being free.

“I’d rather be dead,” you choke, throat tight, tears flowing, hot and pointless. “I’d rather be dead than keep going on like this.”

You don’t have time to dwell on the buried truth that’s burst out of you before crackling pressure thickens the air, and you know what’s coming even before Chrollo lets go of your arm. His far-too-familiar book appears out of thin air right into his waiting hands, pages flying.

He looks up from the book, and his dark eyes root you to the spot just as easily as his ironclad grip. “Say that again, and I will turn your tongue into a flower, just to remind you how pretty and dumb and temporary you’ve chosen to be.”

Your lips curl and your tongue presses against the back of your mouth protectively. Suddenly the fall from the balcony feels too high and hard, and you imagine your head cracking on the pavement, imagine the pain, imagine the permanent loss of everything.

Suddenly the idea of escaping seems so stupid, so childish, so short-sighted. You never would have been able to grab the lattice. Or it would have broken under your weight. Or you would have slipped in your heels, scraping your soft skin on sharp, broken wood on the way down.

Maybe you are stupid, like he says. Maybe you are too weak to be on your own.

It’s easier to pretend that he’s right about you than to face the truth, either way.

Your fingers curl inward until your hands shake. In a moment, the book is gone, and Chrollo is there, wrapping his arms around you. You let him press your head against your chest and sink into his touch, as you’ve been trained to do.

You try to focus on his cologne, on the surprising warmth his body exudes, at the way he strokes your head in a manner that you suppose is meant to soothe. You try not to think about what will happen later tonight, or what you just did, or the corpse that Chrollo left behind before he found you.

The old you who resurfaced tonight is gone, paved over with the person you’ve been forced to become in order to survive. As if sensing your submission, Chrollo presses a chaste kiss to the top of your head. Good. You’re being good.

He breathes in, inhaling the scent of your freshly washed hair, the perfume he’d dabbed on your neck in an intimate gesture earlier that night. Taking in the memories that come with each of them; the pair of you in the shower together, the pair of you standing in front of your vanity as he selects just the right scent. The pair of you, together, just as he always envisioned.

“My silly thing. I’ll never let you go. Not like that. Not ever.”

#yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer x reader #yandere hunter x hunter #afterwitch writes #aw horrorfest

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marvelettesassemblenow · 2 years

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Coffee Cottage

Pairing: Steve x F Reader

Summary: Modern AU - Owning your own coffee shop in a small town was great. Until you finally needed to replace the furniture. Bucky told you about his best friend who could help you out. Steve who was grumpy when you first saw him turned out to be one of the nicest (and most beautiful) people you’ve met.

Warnings: Reader is in pain for a while (backpain) and takes some painkillers, thirsting for Steve needs its own warning!, a storm (I’ve heard there’s currently a blizzard out there so stay safe!)

Word Count: ~4.1k

A/N: months of me not posting, now 2 fics in 2 days.... Steve’s love language here is caring for someone and you can’t convince me otherwise and do you see how much I love lumberjacks??

The sight in front of you let you stop your movement. Your car hadn’t alerted the person in front of you of your arriva,l so you were blessed with the view of a beefy man in a flannel shirt chopping some wood. With every movement of his arms the red fabric span. The door of your car still in your hand you were sure that you were drooling. You decided to let your presence be known and closed the door with force.

“Are you Steve?” you yelled when the chopping stopped. He put the axe into the chopping block.

“Yeah,” he confirmed and wiped some sweat of his face. It gave you the time to study him while you were walking towards him. His dark blonde hair wasn’t long enough to stay behind his ear, even though he tried it. The lower half of his face was covered with a well-groomed beard that looked kind of soft and his blue eyes were taking you in as you approached.

“Bucky recommended you when he heard that I needed new furniture.” Steve’s eyebrow rose at your statement as this was the first time he heard anything about that.

“Did he?”

You nodded and noticed that you hadn’t told him your name and provided it then. “I've taken over the cafe in town, but the furniture has seen better days and I finally need to replace it.”

“I don’t know what Bucky has told you, but it’s only me here. You should hire a company that would be faster.” How could someone be so handsome and still so grumpy? Maybe he was just like Bucky, who had also come with a death glare into your shop and it took a good strong coffee and a piece of cheesecake for him to warm up and to grace you with a short-lived smile.

“I don’t want fast; I want something good. I want something long living and to be honest, I can’t pay for everything at once. I have a café in a small town. I don’t make a fortune, even though Bucky comes in regularly, but I still need to replace the furniture. So, replacing it piece by piece would be totally fine with me. That’s it if you’re up for it and we can agree on the design and price,” you smiled at him.

“Wait, does that mean the cheesecake he brings is from you?”

“Yeah, it’s my grandma’s recipe though. Would you consider it though? You can come to the café and take a look, we could discuss everything and you get a piece of pie and coffee for free,” you offered.

Steve agreed to come over to take a look and when you wanted to tell him where it was, he told you he knew and he would come over before noon the next day.

You were busy bringing Frank his daily coffee when he was spending another break in your café, when you heard the bell above your door announcing a new customer. A smile was on your face when you spotted Bucky and the blonde you had met the day before. You weren’t sure if Steve would really come, but you were happy that he at least decided to take a look.

“So, what can I bring you gentlemen?” They had taken a place at the window.

“Coffee please and what pie can you recommend today?” Bucky’s behavior was way nicer since the first day he had stumbled in.

“Do you want a coffee too? Or are you more of a tea guy? I have hot chocolate too?” you asked Steve and ignored Bucky’s second part of the question.

“Coffee is fine, thanks,” Steve’s voice sounded kind of raspy as if he didn’t use it very often and it sent a chill down your body.

“Okay, I’ll bring you some variety of pie too,” you winked at Bucky and left the two. You took a slice of chocolate pie, carrot cake and apple pie with muffins on a plate and carried it towards their seats with the coffee in the other hand.

“No cheesecake today, sorry guys,” you said while placing the things in the middle of the table.

“You didn’t have too,” Steve said but was interrupted by Bucky.

“Shut up and try it. You won’t repeat that after you had a taste,” Bucky was already stuffing his face with some of the chocolate cake.

“I have no doubt that it will be delicious, you still didn’t have too,” Steve sent a short smile your way.

“Oh shush,” you waved at him and watched him taking a bite of the apple pie. The look on his face when he tasted it filled you with pride.

“This is really good,” his voice came almost out like a moan.

“Thank you,” you beamed. “So, as you can see I don’t have a lot of tables or anything. But they are old, one chair actually broke yesterday. Luckily no one got hurt, but it’s time to replace it. And the surfaces of the tables don’t look good anymore so I covered them with tablecloths, but I’d rather have them without them.”

“Let me take a look at the chairs first so there won’t be another accident.” After eating and drinking their coffee Bucky said his goodbye while Steve turned over the chairs and tightened some screws. “The others look good, let’s see what you want and I’ll tell you if I can manage it and we’ll see about the price. Actually a few things look good so I can just go over them and don’t have to replace them.”

“Sounds good. You want another coffee or something else?”

“A coffee would be nice,” he said almost shyly and took a seat at the counter. In the end the both of you agreed on something and Steve said his goodbye with the promise of calling you and telling you when he would pick up the first things.

Texting Steve became the norm. You had to coordinate what to do and how you want some stuff done right? The little pictures you got were just a bonus. You started talking about other stuff too and sometimes you were woken up with a picture of the sun over the forest.

Steve was actually someone who was awake before you sometimes. Owning a café meant to get up early so the early birds could get their caffeine at your place. And while you were never one to be constantly on the phone you noticed that you eyed it more and more and tried to listen to the small vibrations that would mean an incoming message.

You learnt pretty early that Steve wasn’t really living alone in his secluded cabin. He had a Bernese Mountain Dog that was keeping him company and pictures of Murphy came in frequently.

After you told him you didn’t mind a dog in your café, he brought his pet over the next time he wanted to take some measurements. You quickly greeted the massive dog and placed a bowl for him in a corner next to your counter where he could drink in silence. After the first time you even bought some dog snacks and soon there was a corner especially for Murphy in the café.

But you also visited Steve to see the progress of the furniture. You watched him sawing and plane down the wood with his big hands. You had thought baking was relaxing, but you soon learned that watching Steve work and having the snout of a big dog in your lap was a different kind of relaxing.

Bucky had this little twinkle in his eye when he visited the café now and you were just waiting for him to comment the friendship you and Steve had.

Steve was confused when he stood in front of your closed door. Sure, it was Sunday morning but the two of you had made an appointment to get the top for your counter in the shop that day and Steve was also a little over ambitious and had three more chairs in his truck. He took his phone out of his pocket and dialed your number. Murphy was sitting next to him staring at the closed door.

It took a while for you to pick up the phone. “Hi, Steve. I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize the time, I... I’ll open the door for you, give me a few minutes.” You were living right above the café so Steve thought you’d be there in two minutes max. But he waited a few more minutes and started stroking Murphy’s fur who started to get impatient. When you opened the door Steve was a little confused to see you in sweatpants and a very big hoodie. And fuzzy socks on your feet. It wasn’t an unpleasant look – actually the opposite of it, but Steve had never seen you that way.

“I’m so sorry. I just... my back is killing me and its been hurting for a few days, but today when I woke up I couldn’t really move. I couldn’t even put shoes on my feet,” you admitted and let out a quiet laugh. Murphy who was used to being greeted immediately by you let out a loud whoof and pushed his head against your belly. Your face showed the pain but you patted him never the less until Steve pulled him away by his collar. “I don’t think I can help carrying...”

But Steve didn’t even let you finish. “I’ll do it. Just sit down, I guess. Can you sit?” You nodded. Steve then pointed to a bench and then he told Murphy to go to his corner. He went back to his truck and got the toolbox, before he started disconnecting the table top of the counter.

“You’re going to the doctor tomorrow, right?” he asked while he was busy with the job.

“Yeah, I don’t think I can open tomorrow if there isn’t a miracle happening.” After a while Steve walked outside and you didn’t realize what he was about to do until you saw it. “Steve you can’t lift that alone! Oh, um never mind. Obviously you can,” the last part was more for yourself than him but it must have been still loud enough as he was chuckling. And you had to wipe the (hopefully) imaginary drool from your face as you saw Steve lifting that big piece of wood on his own.

Conversations ran dry as Steve was busy doing whatever he was doing and letting out noises that should have been illegal.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow and bring you to the doctor, okay?” he asked when he finished and whistled for his dog to get up.

“You don’t have to do that,” you tried to.

“I know, but I want to. Are you okay on your own today?” You nodded and walked with him towards the door.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay.” He raised an eyebrow at you. “I promise to text you if I need help, promise.”

“Text me anyway,” he said before he walked towards his truck and opened the door for Murphy.

Steve picked you up the next day and told you he left Murphy at home so he wouldn’t hurt you accidentally. He opened the door of his truck for you and made sure to drive extra slow over the uneven street to not hurt you further.

The doctor gave you pain meds and ordered you to rest. You had to close the café, but there was no way that you could work. “I have to go though, but I’ll make sure to,” Steve started when he helped you up the stairs to your apartment.

“You don’t have to do anything, Steve. You already did a lot so thank you.”

In the end you had to usher Steve out after he made sure that you had enough water next you at the couch, a blanket, some food and the remote for the TV.

The faint yell of your name accompanied with some knocking woke you up. You tried to get up, but couldn’t and winced when the pain in your back started to make itself felt again. The phone that you had pushed under your pillow vibrated and when you finally pulled it out you saw Bucky's name on the screen.

“Finally,” you heard his voice through the speaker. “We’ve been trying to reach you for a while now. I’m standing outside of your apartment.”

“I can’t move,” you breathed out.

“I’m coming in,” was all you heard before he ended the call. It didn’t take long for Bucky to stand next to you.

“How did you even get inside?” you asked bewildered, but the tall man in front of you only shrugged as if it was a normal thing to get inside apartments without a key.

“Mother Hen told me to check on you when he couldn’t reach you. I also have orders to take you with me if your back is worse, which it seems like it is. We’re going to pack some stuff and then I’ll bring you over to a nice cabin for a little vacation.” The smirk he gave you did nothing to make you forget about the breaking and entering, but it didn’t take long for him to pack some stuff. And then you remembered the cake that was still in the café and wouldn’t survive any longer so you told him to pack that and take it with him.

Bucky wasn’t as patient with you as Steve had been when you made your way down the stairs. You had to stop a few times and it wouldn’t surprise you if Bucky would just start carrying you downstairs. He didn’t say it out loud and you noticed that he tried to be patient.

“I’m sorry,” you said when there were still three steps in front of you to take.

“No, don’t be. I’m sorry, don’t rush.” Bucky led you to his car and put the bags in his trunk while you struggled to get in the car.

“Jeez, next I need a walking cane,” you mumbled when you were finally in the car and Bucky started it.

“Don’t worry, I bet Steve will make you one then,” Bucky chuckled and you slapped his arm lightly. The brunette made sure that you were safely inside the cabin with your bags and the cake he scored still in the car before he left you to go back to work. He told you that Steve should be back soon and that you should call if you needed anything.

You stood awkwardly in the room. It wasn’t as if you had never been in the open room which combined the kitchen with the living room, but still. The owner of the home wasn’t there. In the end you decided to sit down by the comfortable chair next to the huge window that was holding a big cozy blanket. You spotted a book on the table next to it and decided to give it a try and you were lost in a new world until you heard a car approaching. Murphy barked and only stopped after Steve opened the door and he ran up to you so you could pat him.

“Hi,” you said awkwardly when your eyes met with Steves.

“You had me worried there when you didn’t answer your phone. Buck told me he had brought you over,” he said while he pulled off his jacked and hung it on the rack next to the door. “Of course the jerk didn’t make sure you have something to drink. Do you want,” he started.

“Coffee, please,” you interrupted him and he nodded. Murphy had abandoned you after he had got petted and walked over to Steve in hope of getting something to eat. Not long after Steve placed a streaming mug next to you.

“Thank you,” you said and watched him walking away collecting something. He placed candles around the room which caused your eyebrows to rose. What was happening? Your heart was beating faster.

“Do you want to eat something? We should make something warm, while we still can,” Steve asked and you were more than confused. Candlelight dinner?

“While we still can?” you repeated dumbly.

“Yeah, because of the storm. We might lose the power, that’s why Bucky picked you up.” He stopped placing a candle in the kitchen and turned around. “He surely told you about it, right? I didn’t want you to be alone because there is a storm coming and I won’t be able to come over and help you.” He studied your reaction. “He didn’t tell you, uh? And you still came?”

You decided to take a sip from your coffee instead of answering. You struggled a bit with getting up, but you were stubborn to help preparing dinner and assured Steve that you couldn’t sit or lie anymore. While you were busy chopping some vegetables Steve excused himself for a moment and came back in some more comfortable clothes. While Steve looked good in jeans and flannel it was nothing on him in sweatpants that emphasized his ass. You had to force yourself to give the vegetables your attention again.

Dinner was a quiet event, although not an uncomfortable one. A few sentences here and there, but nothing more. The silence was disturbed by the rain hitting the roof and windows. “The storm might last two days,” Steve voice suddenly said. “You can get the bedroom of course. I’ll change the sheets right after dinner.”

“Steve I won’t kick you out of your bed. I’ll take the couch,” you tried to say but Steve’s head was already shaking in a no way.

“If you think I would let you sleep on the couch you’re wrong. And especially with your back.” You raised your hands in surrender and were rewarded with a dazzling smile from Steve. Did he become even more beautiful every day? Or was it just that he wasn’t as grumpy around you anymore. Or maybe the pain meds were fully kicking in now. Whatever it was, you still watched his ass when he walked out of the room to change the sheets of his bed.

“You wanna play some cards?” The deck was already in his hands when Steve asked you.

“I haven’t played cards in a while.”

“Yeah, it was a dumb idea. I only thought that if the power goes out,” Steve started to ramble.

“I didn’t say it was a dumb idea only that I haven’t played in a while. And I hope you’re not a sore loser because I will beat you,” you smirked and pushed the stool in front of you out with your foot to show him he should sit down there.

“I hope you’re not a sore loser,” he quipped back and started to pull the cards out of the box.

The power did go out that evening and you only stopped playing when the wind was so loud that you couldn’t hear the laughter of the other one. Murphy whined and pressed his nose against Steve’s leg.

The three of you actually spent the whole next day isolated in Steves cabin. And while it wasn’t a perfect situation it was still a nice day. And evening. And even a relaxing night because Steve’s bed might be the comfiest you had ever slept in. And so you weren’t surprised that your back felt way better and when you woke up the next day and the storm was over. You couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed to go back to your old life.

“Seems like we’re able to go back to our normal life,” you said when you stepped into the living room and spotted Steve.

“Yeah. These next days will be my busiest, they always are after a storm,” Steve said and gave you a mug. He was still wearing these sweatpants – and you still hadn’t decided if they were a blessing or a curse. “Do you want to go back home, or... not that I’m throwing you out. You could always stay.”

“Thank you, Steve. But I feel way better and I think I’ll open the café today. And I don’t think I can let you sleep on the couch again. I bet you want your bed back, or else I need to tend to your sore back. Not that I wouldn’t,” you winked at him. Steve and you both got ready and Steve dropped you off at your café.

“Thank you so much,” you kissed his cheek before you got out of his car. “Don’t be too busy to text,” you added before you closed the door.

Steve was too busy to text you. He didn’t lie, these were the busiest days for him. But you also had a lot to do at the café. You needed to bake something fresh and it needed a good sweeping. You were glad that you and Steve got up so early.

It was only at the end of the day when you were laying in your bed that you texted Steve:

You need to tell me where you bought your mattress. Mine sucks after sleeping two nights in your bed!

It did take a while for a reply to arrive and you were almost asleep when your phone buzzed.

You’re welcome to use mine anytime. Sorry I didn’t text you. Day was so busy! I hope you’re feeling better. Might fall asleep soon, sleep well!

You were too tired to reply but smiled none the less. The next days were busy for Steve while yours became quieter once you had everything done in the café. Frank told you he missed you and your food while you were closed and it was nice to know that someone appreciated you.

Bucky also came around, but not the person you wished to see the most. Texts were rare, but they were there and they made you feel more comfortable. It was Saturday evening when you suddenly got up. You packed a few things and checked that your phone battery wasn’t low before you got into your car and drove the now familiar way towards Steve’s home.

You drove slowly once you arrived at the wooden area, afraid that some deer would jump in front of your hood. But you managed and you saw the light in Steve’s little workshop.

“Hey stranger,” you said once you stepped inside the small room and closed the door behind you to keep out the cold.

“What are you doing here? Did you drive here in the dark? It isn’t safe, you could have called, I would have picked you up,” he said but stopped once you reached him and put your arms around his waist until he finally put his arms around you too. The smell of wood filled your nose along with Steve’s detergent.

“I missed you,” you mumbled into his chest.

“I missed you, too. I wanted to come over tomorrow, but I wanted to finish this first. I wanted to be done with it before that, but the storm came.”

“What is it?” you asked and regretted it, when Steve let go of you.

“I made you a new sign for your shop,” he said and stepped aside so you could see what he had been working on. There was a huge wooden plate with coffee cottage on it and a wooden cup of coffee next to your shop name. It must have cost him some time for all the details.

“Oh Steve, it’s beautiful,” you said and let your hands fall over the curves on the wood.

“Careful, it’s not finish. I don’t want you to get a splinter,” he stopped your hand and took it into his one instead before he pressed a soft kiss against the back of your hand. “What are you doing here?” his voice was low and you almost didn’t understand him.

“If I remember correctly, you told me I was welcome to use your bed anytime. And I’m not used to a week without seeing you. If I’m overstepping just say so and I’ll go home.”

“You’re not overstepping. You’re right where I want you to be,” he pulled you against him and his beard brushed your cheek before he brushed his lips against your skin. “Let’s go inside. It’s warmer there and I’ve been told I have a really comfortable bed.” You could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Don’t get cheeky, I only came for the bed,” you didn’t sound convincing at all.

“Right,” Steve chuckled and pulled you along towards the cabin.

Masterlist | Part 2

divider by @fireflygraphics

#mordern au #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #lumberjack!steve #coffee shop au #steve x female reader #steve x you #marvelettesassemblenow #lumberjack steve x reader #steve x y/n #steve rogers x y/n #coffee cottage

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heliads · 2 years

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A Night at the Grand Palace

Based on this request: “nikolai lantsov x reader where they meet at a ball and dance and it's really fluffy and cute and stuff"

masterlist

You smooth your skirt over your legs, fingertips tracing over the folds of soft fabric and delicate embroidery. The coach jostles you with every other rut it passes on the road, but you won’t let even a dismaying carriage ride ruin your excitement. How could it, after all? You’re headed to the Lantsov ball, the first one you’ve ever been able to attend. Nothing could diminish you in the slightest.

You glance towards the coach windows for the hundredth time this night, and are greeted by the same scene as always. The sky is dark, and where the beautiful colors of sunset had appeared and then disappeared over the course of the trip, there now lie the heavy shades of this hour of the night. The stars glimmer overhead, but they all seem to be muted by the lights and sounds coming from the palace drawing ever nearer to you. Even though you’re still a short distance away, you swear you can hear an orchestra starting to tune their instruments, or even listen for the rustle of skirts as finely-dressed ladies are escorted in through the palace gates by equally well-suited gentlemen.

You shiver to yourself, not from chill or nerves but the kind of excitement that spreads over you in a rush, making your blood run just a little quicker in preparation for what’s to come. Although the Lantsov ball happens annually, and generates a fair amount of chatter every year when the cream-colored envelopes sealed with heavy dollops of pale blue wax and the king’s insignia arrive at a multitude of estates, this is the first one you’ve been able to attend. It is also the first ball that Nikolai Lantsov will host as king.

Your family owns the Noyabay tract of land, one that comes with the usual assortment of wineries and artisan’s shops, flourishing trade routes and a fair amount of soldier’s quarters. Your family had attended the ball or at least sent some representative every year, but this time, you are the one responding to the invitation in the neatest handwriting you can muster. You’ll be attending alone other than the usual assortment of guards, escorts, and livery that seems to always accompany you. All the same, you cannot deny that your heartbeat quickens with every second that the Grand Palace draws nearer.

Finally, your coach pulls into a line of others, and before you know it, you are being helped out of your carriage by a well-adorned footman who directs you into the palace itself. Although you’ve been trained not to stare by a few stringent governesses, you cannot help but look around and smile. Ordinarily, the building would be a little too much for your taste- gold detailing drips off of almost every available surface, white marble columns seem to crowd instead of support the rooms, and there are so many artifacts and emblems pressed into all corners of the room that it’s almost too much to see.

However, in the current setting, the whole place comes off as something out of a dream. The lights are more subdued in the hallways and entries leading to the ballroom, so you find yourself moving through the corridors as if called there by the glow of the light. You can sense other pairs and courtiers striding purposefully beside you, and you can see light reflecting off of silken skirts or finely-tied cravats, but you still have this odd feeling that you are utterly alone in this beautiful palace.

The sound begins to build as you draw closer to the ballroom, eddying in corners or racing up stairs. It starts off as the careful tap-tap of heeled shoes, then grows to include the swish of petticoats as ladies step carefully over expensive rugs, and the interested murmurs of the other guests. At last, you reach the ballroom, and although you thought you’d been impressed by everything else you’ve seen in the palace so far, this room takes your breath away.

It is a massive room, large enough to host entire towns. The walls are white and inlaid with gold or snatches of carefully painted scenes done up in light blue and crimson. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling at regular intervals, dripping with hand-cut gems and candles that scatter light to the very farthest walls, where it gathers up at the ceiling or down at ground level to add shine to your shoes as you walk. Tables line the walls, and guests already sit in clusters or walk around the exterior of the room, waiting for the others to show up. All in all, it is absolutely magnificent.

You quietly murmur your name to the Master of Ceremonies, who waits by the door, and a few moments later, you hear your name, title, and your family’s land grant announced. You gather up your courage and enter the room, politely nodding to the man as you go. Luckily, you’ve been trained on what to do at a ball such as this one since you were a child, and move with the practiced confidence of someone who does not feel out of place. You come to a stop before the gathering of close advisors and wealthiest lords at the head of the room, and curtsy, as is proper.

One man steps forward from the small gathering to allow you to stand. He must be the king, for a golden crown glistens amongst equally bright blond curls. His hazel eyes flash as he smiles. It’s funny- you’d thought that he would be older, but he appears to be around the same age as you are. Nikolai Lantsov, for judging by the way even the haughtiest nobles look to him for approval it must be him, has traded in his customary olive dress uniform for a suit of white cashmere or silk, with gold and pale blue details in the shape of the Ravkan double eagle over his breast pocket. He wears gloves of cream, with fine lines of blue running the length of the side.

Nikolai nods at you once, and the two of you exchange the required pleasantries before the next name is called. You do notice that his eyes seem to linger on you a little more before you go, and he seems reluctant to turn to his next guest. Although he is forced to do so at last, he bids you goodbye with a final smile and a request to meet again later in the night. It is a request that you think you’ll have no issue with granting.

Meeting the king aside, you join the throngs of lords and ladies in selecting a place to stand. The tables fill up quickly, although you think this was done intentionally. There are just enough chairs for everyone to stand if need be, but the placement is such that attendees are encouraged to stand up and talk, or dance once the music begins. However, you won’t have to wait for long- just as you find a suitable stretch of wall in which you can both examine the ballroom at large and admire a particularly beautiful painting nearby, the rest of the guests have arrived and the doors are beginning to close.

The Master of Ceremonies signals that it is time for the ball to begin, and Nikolai steps forward. He does not need to clap his hands or even raise his voice to command the attention in the room; it was with him from the second he moved forward, steps as precise as if he was still in the military. Nikolai issues a warm welcome to the gathering, and intersperses small jokes throughout his introduction with the ease of someone who’s held the title of king for most of his life instead of just a few months.

At last, he signals to the orchestra and they begin to play, the light reflecting off of polished wooden instruments as the first few bars of a waltz echo through the ballroom. The guests still wait, hesitating on the edges of the room, for Nikolai to choose his first partner. This is supposedly a very important issue, as it signifies which families hold the most sway with the current king. So, it comes as a surprise when Nikolai’s gaze sweeps the room and settles firmly on you.

When he first starts to step towards you, you think he must surely be heading to someone else, someone near you who is not you, but yet here he is before you. Nikolai holds out a gloved hand towards you, and you notice the other guests start to draw away from you, designating you clearly as Nikolai’s first choice for the dance. You’re certain of it now, and reach out to take his hand. He smiles, and begins to guide you towards the center of the floor.

You send out a silent grateful thought to your schoolteachers over the years for making sure that you mastered ballroom dance in every setting. Indeed, when Nikolai begins the first few steps, you follow along with ease, one hand clasped in his and the other resting on his shoulder. Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see more couples taking to the floor, and just like that, you are no longer alone.

Nikolai smiles at you. “I’m very glad you took my hand. I would have asked in advance, but if I waited any longer to start the dance, I’m fairly sure one of the violinists would have committed treason against me.”

You laugh. “Well, that would be a sore start to a ball, to be sure. I did not mind.”

Nikolai’s gaze flicks around the ballroom, then back to you. He repeats this every few minutes, just in case. Such is the life of a king, you suppose; it must be exhausting to maintain a charade of normality when you know that someone is likely plotting to kill you at every moment.

He clears his throat. “If it’s all the same to you, I wouldn’t mind knowing a little more about you. Why I’ve never seen you at one of these dances, for example.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do you keep track of every guest who appears at your palace? It must be exhausting.”

Nikolai smirks. “It is, but I know I would remember someone as pretty as you if they’d been here before.”

You fight back a blush. “You’re kind to say that. No, I have not been to one of these balls before, but I’m sure I would remember it if a stranger was so openly clever and flirtatious with everyone he danced with.”

Nikolai laughs at that, and some part of yourself is instantly proud of it. “How do you know I’m like this with everyone? I could wait in a corner of the ballroom every year, snapping at anyone who dares approach. Perhaps you’re the only one who’s been able to overcome my icy heart and accept my invitation to dance.”

You raise an eyebrow. “If I was the only one who has been able to accept your invitation to dance, I suppose there wouldn’t be so many eligible ladies glowering at me over their glasses of champagne.”

A smile tugs at the corner of Nikolai’s lips. “Technically, I’m not supposed to be laughing at my fellow guests.”

You lift a shoulder. “We’re laughing with them. It’s better that way.”

Nikolai shakes his head gravely, although you can tell that he’s trying to hide a grin. “I think you should come to these dances more often. You can instruct me on all the ways of appropriately dealing with the esteemed eligible ladies, especially those with the unfortunate habit of glowering over said glasses of champagne.”

Nikolai raises his arm to spin you, and when you turn around amidst a whirl of lace and silk, he’s taken a half step closer and you’re practically close enough to kiss him. An odd thought, that, but one that stubbornly refuses to leave your head. Nikolai grins slightly, a wolf’s grin, as if he can sense the impact he’s having on you.

You force your eyes up to meet his hazel ones again, instead of dwelling for another second on the curve of his lips as he smiles. “I think you’re being madly flirtatious again. Any eligible lady would tell you to cease at once.”

Nikolai cocks his head to the side, regarding you. “And? Will you tell me to cease at once?”

You allow a smile of your own to cross your face. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Nikolai laughs in earnest now. “You must stop being so funny, I’m going to alarm the guests.”

It’s true- a few other lords and ladies have glanced over at you, taking in the genuine smile on Nikolai’s face and the matching one on yours with the horror that only comes with seeing an unmarried king take a liking to a lady with a considerable dowry such as the one you no doubt have.

However, you don’t entirely intend on letting the other noblemen ruin your evening. “That seems to be an issue. They may have to wait until the song ends, though, to properly cast judgment upon us.”

Nikolai’s head tilts up as he listens to the orchestra. You can feel your spirits sink as you realize that the strains of music have been lilting into quiet once more. The dance is complete now, but you don’t want to leave your place in Nikolai’s arms.

He must feel the same way, because he turns to you with the determination of a soldier preparing for battle. “Save me another dance, Y/N? If it isn’t too much trouble, of course.”

You smile. “Not for you.”

Nikolai has time to press his lips to the back of your hand before he’s swept away in a crowd of courtiers and noblemen all asking questions on the latest movement of Ravkan troops and the chain of supply through the northern towns.

You watch him go, then turn back to the ball again. Although it is not exactly a sign of proper decorum, you can’t seem to shake the silly smile from your face. Have you really been dancing with the king? Did Nikolai really ask you to dance again, and call you by your first name, no less? It seems like the stuff of fairytales, yet it must be true.

And it is true, indeed. The ball carries on for hours more, but it does not seem to drag, not for a second. You find yourself lost in the swirling patterns of dancers on the floor, and spin from one partner to the next. Your cheeks flush in the heat of the room, and you feel as if you must be floating, yet your feet remain firmly grounded on the smooth polished tiles of the ballroom floor.

You do manage to dance with Nikolai one last time, and he is just as much of a delight as he was during the first dance. This time, when the ball ends, he does not leave your side, but walks you to your carriage. You can see him in the window as your coach drives off, one hand extended in farewell. Your face hurts from smiling so much, but that is not the worst problem to have.

Neither is the calling card that arrives at your family’s estate a few days later. A message is printed cleanly onto thick, white stationary lined with gold and sealed with pale blue wax in the shape of the Ravkan double eagle. Your parents are shocked to see it, but you manage to sneak it away to open it yourself without any onlookers.

It is a short note, but it makes you smile. Your favorite part of all must be the lines at the end, asking you to come by the palace again. It is signed by your dearest stranger, Nikolai Lantsov, and in that moment, you swear you feel the same heady rush as if you were back in that ballroom once again. Perhaps things have a way of turning out after all, and perhaps you need to ready your carriage for the trip to the Grand Palace once more.

grishaverse tag list: if i were nikolai i would simply dance with you the whole night @rogueanschel, @deadreaderssociety, @cameronsails, @aleksanderwh0r3, @story-scribbler, @lxncelot

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

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Mine Again - Harry Styles

a/n: this is something i just thought about after my nap today lol, so enjoy this treat, a classic exlovers to lovers fic!

pairing: Harry x Famous!Reader

word count: 3.4k

masterlist

Seeing an ex is never easy. Whether it’s by your choice or not. Working together with an ex is even harder and now you brought a situation on yourself where this is your reality.

Arriving to the studio of The Late Late show you immediately get escorted to your designated dressing room where a hair and makeup artist are already waiting for you. Today you are here to promote your new movie, Don’t Worry Darling with your onscreen lover, Harry Styles, however, what no one else in the building knows is that once the two of you were real life lovers.

Your romance blossomed during filming, having spent so much time together on set, it didn’t take long for a relationship to form between you and him, the chemistry you shared was immense and undeniable, anyone could see that and you felt like you were burning in a bonfire of the most intense feelings you’ve felt for any man. It was passionate and intoxicating, it felt like something that could only happen in movies, but it was your reality.

However filming ended and you were forced to go your separate ways, you both tried hard to keep what you had and though your feelings never changed, distance brought the worst out of the both of you. Six months after you became an item, you mutually agreed to break it off.

You haven’t seen him since then, meaning that it’s been five torturous months without having any contact with him and now that promo has officially kicked in, you are forced to travel around and make appearances with the man you love, yes, still love more than anyone on this Earth. Not even five months and absolutely no contact could change your feelings for him, however he might already be over you at this point, having forgotten about feelings and memories you still hold close to your heart.

How has he been doing? What is he like now? Has he been thinking about you? Does he miss you? What is it going to be like to see him for the first time?

The questions flood your mind as you sit in the chair and let the professionals work their magic on you, covering up the dark circles under your eyes that formed due to the sleepless night you had the day before, nonstop thinking about Harry and what it’ll be like to see him for the first time again.

After careful elimination, you choose a dress for the appearance, it’s tight and short, the fabric is covered in glittering sequins down your body and the long sleeves as well and while the dress covers a lot up from the waist, it makes up in the lack of length on your legs as the end of it barely reaches the upper part of your thighs, ending it black feathers that tickle your freshly shaven legs. The nude heels add even more to them, making you appear like you could hit the runway any moment when in reality you are not high enough to be a model.

There’s still some time until the taping starts, James drops by to say hello and tell you how excited he is to have you and Harry on tonight and you chit-chat for a little before you go to take a quick business call outside. When you’re done with that, you head back to your dressing room to take a few quick photos to post later, but right as you near your destination, a door swings open down the hallway and Harry steps out, wearing a black suit, of course, head to toe Gucci. The crispy grey shirt’s first few buttons are left undone, allowing you a glimpse of his toned chest and his necklace with the tiny cross pendant on it.

He looks good. No, he looks absolutely stunning, just like he always does and just the sight of him takes your breath away, forcing you to stop in your tracks when you lay your eyes at him. He spots you as well, stopping to take a look at you before you see a small smile on his perfect pink lips.

“Y/N, hi! You look… gorgeous,” he speaks up lowly, his eyes raking your body up and down.

“I, uhh—Thanks!” you breathe out, feeling already flustered. How are you gonna survive the interview, sitting next to him, talking about what it was like to play a married couple?!

His hand moves a bit and there’s a moment of awkwardness, neither of you really knowing what to do, last time you saw each other you kissed as your hellos, but now it’s not an option, obviously. At last, he moves forward and goes for a hug.

He envelopes you in his arms as you wrap yours around his neck, the warmth of his body bringing you a sense of home and it hits you hard how much you’ve missed him in these five months.

You swear he holds you just a second longer than what would be appropriate before his arms fall from around your frame and you force yourself to let go of him, though every fiber in you is protesting against it.

“How—How have you been?” he asks, his beautiful green eyes finding yours.

“I’m good. I’m good,” you nod. “What about you?”

“Same. Just the… usual stuff.”

“Writing music?” you ask with a soft smile. You still vividly remember those nights you spent together after a long day of filming, crashing at either his or your place and you often found him strumming his guitar in a corner, scribbling words down into his notebook. Sometimes he sang you the songs he came up with, sometimes he kept them to himself.

“Yeah, I’ve been writing a lot lately,” he admits with a shy smile.

Someone calls his name down the hallway and his head snaps up before looking back at you.

“I gotta go, but I’ll see you soon, right?”

“Yeah,” you nod, stepping aside so he can walk past.

“And you really look amazing, Y/N,” he calls after you one last time before jogging down the hallway.

You walk into your dressing room and shutting the door you lean your back against it, huffing heavily as you try to recollect yourself. Somehow, this encounter went really well, because the two of you were civil and respectful, but it was also a painful shock to see him in the flesh again. It was one thing to see pictures of him here and there, but actually meeting him, hugging him, talking to him… you need time to process it all.

Unfortunately, you don’t have much of that. Twenty minutes later you are walked to your spot behind the curtains from where you’ll walk out when James calls your name. Just as you arrive Harry appears as well, casually talking with one of the camera guys, having a laugh and just as he sees you, his eyes fall down your body again and you swear you see him gulp hard before turning his attention back to the man.

“Ready?” he asks upon walking up to you, a hand coming to rest on your lower back. Glancing over your shoulder you look down at his hand, lips parted at the feeling of his welcoming touch. He sees your glance and pulls his hand back quickly. “Sorry, it’s a habit, I guess,” he mumbles, blushing softly.

“It’s fine,” you smile. Of course it’s fine, for what you care, he could throw you over his shoulder like a cave man and run out of the building, you wouldn’t say a word. You want his touch on your body, you’ve been craving it since the moment you last saw him, but are you even allowed to admit it? You have no idea what he is thinking or feeling, you can’t just come right at him like that.

Harry fixes the lapels of his suit jacket, but what he doesn’t see is that the collar of his shirt is kind of stuck under the jacket.

“Your shirt is… let me fix it,” you breathe out and he turns to face you, letting your delicate hands fix his outfit, perfecting the look to the tiniest bit. “There, you look great,” you smile, your hands sliding down his chest before they fall to your sides again.

“Thank you,” he nods smiling back at you before offering an arm that you take gladly. He knows how much you hate high heels and that you are always scared of tripping and falling and being the gentleman that he is, he’ll be the support you need.

The taping soon starts and the two of you stand patiently behind the curtain as James introduces you.

“And now, please welcome the stars of the upcoming hit movie, Don’t Worry Darling! Ladies and gentlemen, Y/N Y/L/N and Harry Styles!”

The crowd starts clapping and cheering as the curtain moves and the two of you walk in, arms linked and Harry makes sure to slow down when you walk down the few little stairs. James welcomes the both of you with two kisses before everyone takes their place, James behind his desk, you and Harry sitting on the couch.

“Thank you so much for dropping by tonight, guys!” James smiles at the two of you.

“Thank you for having us,” Harry nods with a soft smile.

“You both have been guests on the show separately, but tonight you are here as a pair, since your latest movie, Don’t Worry Darling is hitting the theaters this weekend. How are you feeling about that, excited to see the film finally?”

“Very excited,” you nod with a smile. “I can’t wait to see the final version, because obviously we only know the version we envisioned while filming, but the actual movie is going to be something else.”

“Y/N, your role in the movie was originally handed to Florence Pugh who had to step back because she broke her arm,” James points out and you nod.

“Yes, I stepped in her place just about a week before production started and if I’m being honest I was scared that people would prefer to see her in the role, but I had a talk with her actually and she said she helped Olivia, the director to pick out the person to take her place and she said she instantly knew I would be perfect for it, so I trust her.”

“That’s amazing to hear, that the two of you didn’t have any rivalry going on,” James enthuses.

“She actually visited set a few times,” Harry chimes in and you nod.

“Yeah, we had a great time together.”

“Sounds like a lot of fun, the three of you together,” James chuckles. “So, the two of you play a married couple in the film and if I’m not mistaken you didn’t know each other beforehand. Was it hard to get into the roles with not much background on each other?”

“We met up a few times before filming started to get to know each other more and I think we hit it off right away, so it wasn’t hard for me,” Harry speaks up and you nod along.

“It was obviously a little different situation than when you meet someone and become friends, because as we got to know each other more, we had to go through scenes that were meant for a couple that was already years into their relationship, but I think it strengthened our friendship,” you answer, hands laid flat on your bare thighs.

No lie has been told, everything you said was the truth. You just left out the part where you become real life lovers and started dating a month into production.

“Y/N, you’ve been acting for a while now, have quite a few roles under your belt, what did you think of Harry’s acting?”

“I think that he is a wonderful actor and I hope people will give him his much deserved credit for it. He is often still seen as just a silly singer from a former boy band and they don’t take him seriously when he really is a very talented man. You’ll see in the movie as well, his role was a tough one, needed a lot of work and a wide range of emotions, but I think he did an amazing job.”

You dare to glance at him at the end of your little speech and for a moment you forget about the audience, James and the cameras. He is looking at you with so much gratitude and thankfulness. You remember every talk you had where he opened up to you about wanting to be taken seriously in the acting business, that he is not trying to be just a joke and another failed attempt of a singer to try himself out in movies. He told you how scared he is of not being good enough when you saw him every day on set and you were blown by his eternal talent and special take on his role. He deserves to be praised, he deserves every bit of it.

“It was easy, I had a great partner to learn from,” he smiles softly and you feel the heat crawling up your neck.

“You two really have the chemistry we’ve heard so much about, I can’t wait to see it on the big screen!” James sighs. “Tell me a little about what it was like to film? You guys spent a lot of time together, must have made a lot of memories.”

You take a deep breath as all those memories mentioned flood your mind. You had the best time of your life not just with Harry, but with the whole crew. Leaving after production was wrapped really broke your heart.

“It didn’t even feel like working,” Harry starts. “We always joked around, had lunch or dinner together, we were like a big family. It was so nice to have so many amazing, talented and hard-working people around you all day.”

“The jokes never stopped,” you add chuckling.

“I wish I could have been on set!” James laughs wholeheartedly. “That didn’t happen, but we have a little something. The crew has put together a short BTS video of the filming, so let’s have a look at that,” he announces and the video starts playing on every screen in the studio.

It’s a short little montage, but it captures the vibes of filming just perfectly. Clips shown from set are not just of you and Harry, but all the other cast and crew members. Goofing around, having lots and lots of laughs, dancing on set, which happened quite often and just all of you having a great time. Some of the slips however pain your chest, the ones of you and Harry.

This was very early into your relationship, no one on set even knew you were together, but seeing yourself on the screen you can’t deny the sparkles in your eyes every time you were around him.

A clip shows the two of you between two takes, doing a goofy dance in the kitchen of the home that was used as the set of the house of your characters, you are both wearing your costumes, Harry looks great in his suit and your long retro dress is flowing around you with every movement you make. He grabs you by your waist and spins you before you end up in his arms laughing crazily, you were so happy, so carefree. You wish you could go back to that moment…

Another footage was taken in your trailer when Harry took the place of Clare, your makeup artist and tried to do your eyeliner but miserably failed. In the video, he is gently clasping your chin, angling your face for himself as his other hand is working on the line, but it’s wobbly and way too thick, so you both end up just laughing when you check yourself in the mirror.

And there are some small moments of the two of you, moving around on set, lying in bed between takes, sitting in your chairs while eating, just tiny memories you still cherish so much and wish to live through again, but it’s the past. And it wouldn’t hurt this much if you knew Harry from the video was still yours.

When the video ends you need to blink a few times as your eyes have watered a little. You catch Harry’s gaze and he looks worried, he clearly wants to ask if you’re okay, make sure it was just the sentimentality of the moment, but he doesn’t have the chance, the cameras are still rolling.

“That looked like so much fun! Next time make sure to invite me on set too!” James jokes and you force a laugh out of yourself.

A few questions are asked about future plans and just generally about your careers before the taping finally ends. You thank James for the invite again and a photo is taken of the three of you, you standing in the middle with the two men on your sides. When everything is settled, you head to your dressing room, using the chance to slip away silently while Harry is still chit-chatting on the set.

In the comfort and silence of the dressing room, you lean onto the vanity, staring at yourself in the mirror, finding it ironic that on the outside, you look perfectly fine, healthy and pretty, but on the inside… you could scream. You miss Harry so much, you hoped that your feelings for him have toned down a little over these five months, but it was just the same if not even worse.

A faint knock is heard on the door and you quickly fix yourself before calling out to the person outside. The door opens and for your surprise, Harry steps inside, closing the door behind him.

“Hey, you disappeared so fast,” he softly says.

“Yeah, I’m just… a little tired,” you lie, though you know exactly he can see right through you.

“Y/N, I saw that look in your eyes after the video…”

“What look?” you ask with a huff. “What do you want me to say, Harry?”

“The truth,” he answers. “I’m not James, don’t bullshit me.”

“You want the truth? I’ll give it to you, but don’t blame me if it’s uncomfortable for you,” you chuckle bitterly, throwing your hands into the air. “I’ve been miserable, Harry. I miss you so fucking much, seeing you today was like Hell. I really thought it would be easier, but now I’m stuck with going from one interview to the other with red carpet events all around the world, seeing you every day when I terribly miss you and it fucking sucks, because you might not even feel the sa—“

You don’t get to finish, because Harry crosses the distance between the two of you, his hands grab your face and pulls you into a hard and passionate kiss. His lips move perfectly against yours and it feels like he is trying to squeeze every missed moment from the past five months into the kiss, making you melt into his arms completely.

He is everywhere. He is all you can taste, you breathe him in, his hands are everywhere on your body and your chest is pressed tight against his as you wrap your arms around his neck, locking him into your embrace. Your tongues dance, teeth tugging and pulling on lips, it’s a whole mess, but it’s the most perfect mess you’ve ever been. He takes your breath away completely and you don’t even want it back if it means you can’t have him.

Harry pulls away first, both your chests heaving wildly from the heavy make-out session and he looks down at you with hooded eyes.

“If you think I haven’t missed you like crazy… you can’t be more wrong, baby. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, I wanted to call you a thousand times and beg for you to come back to me, but I thought you already moved on.”

“Moving on?!” you huff with a tired smile. “Harry, I could never…”

“Alright, then I’m not letting you go again. No way you are walking out of this building without being mine again.”

A shiver runs down your spine at his words as you pull him down for another kiss, needing to feel his lips on yours.

“I never stopped being yours,” you whisper against his lips and he moans weakly before crashing his lips against yours again.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles au #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles x famous!reader #harry styles exlovers to lovers #harry styles blurb

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mothandpidgeon · 3 years

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REPUTATION - Chapter 1

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader

Words: 3615

Rating: T

Warnings: slowest of burns, gender swapped characters, TOUCHING HANDS, no us of y/n

Summary: After scandal damages your reputation, you are finished with society. But a mysterious bachelor by the name of Mr. Djarin has a reputation of his own. And you are determined to keep yourself from getting mixed up with him.

A/N: So after THAT LOOK I know we are all working on our Darcy fics. I feel very intimidated to give it a go when so many talented writers are going to be doing it better but I really haven’t been able to think about anything else.

Also please forgive any historical inaccuracies. I hate those even when they’re on purpose so let’s just agree to ignore them.

And thanks @pascalslittlebrat for taking a look at this and listening to all of my feelings.

MASTERLIST

You used to enjoy going to balls. You used to feel excitement when you got dressed in a fine white gown, your hair set elegantly with little silk flowers. Your heart would race when you would arrive and see all of the gentlemen in their finery. And dancing. There was a time when you could stay on your feet all night, drinking in the attention of all the eligible bachelors.

Those days were long gone. Now you felt a rock in the pit of your stomach the entire time. You counted the moments until you could leave. You couldn’t even bother to put on a pleasant expression, spending entire evenings sullen and taciturn. But at least this was the last ball you had to drag yourself to this season.

You had been forced to spend yet another season in town. This time you had the company of your younger cousin Julia, though her older sister Emma was a difficult chaperone. And tonight you were being hosted by Captain Charles Dune and his wife Lady Georgiana Karga. They threw wonderful parties– at least you had enjoyed them when you enjoyed those things. It was a masquerade ball which meant Julia had picked out a dainty little mask for you to wear. You couldn’t be bothered to choose one yourself but Julia had an eye for this sort of thing. And you liked the creamy white bow that she tied into your hair.

Julia was looking forward to tonight. She was very popular despite being related to you, containing all of the traits a man would want in a wife– good looks, excellent conversational skills, and a talent at the piano forte. She had a number of young men constantly calling on her and her dance card was practically full before she had even gotten into the carriage.

“You look so pretty!” she insisted, though she was probably admiring the work she had done to make you presentable.

Emma was looking forward to being finished with you. She had been married for three years and fancied herself an authority on the subject. She spent much of her time lecturing you on the proper way to comport yourself. Tonight she was just trying to get you to quit sulking.

“Would you at least try to be sociable?” Emma requested with a frown.

“I don’t much see the point,” you huffed. “Do you really believe I’ll get a proposal at the last ball of the season?”

“Lady Georgiana has invited an old friend of the captain’s,” Emma encouraged. “Mr. Djarin. She says he’s quite admirable.”

You rolled your eyes. You both knew you were headed for spinsterhood. Emma had lost her mind if she thought that she was going to pawn you off on some aged, paunchy bachelor.

The ball went exactly as you had expected. You watched Julia dance and laugh. You stood by as Emma talked animatedly when she wasn’t giving you sharp looks. Though there were gentlemen without partners, no one asked you to dance aside from Captain Dune and a few of the unlucky young men he could press into service.

Even now at the end of the season, where so many engagements had been made, you could still feel the eyes on you, the whispers behind hands. It was as if they thought the masks covered their looks of derision. You knew what they were saying, why they snickered and turned away.

It was all because of your broken engagement to Mr. Vanth. There was no returning from a situation like that. You had been cast aside and all of the ton could enjoy surmising the reasons. Your reputation was in shambles.

But it wasn’t the fact that he had gone and married some heiress not two months after he’d given you up that made it all so painful. What had really destroyed you was the fact that you’d let yourself love him. He wasn’t the best choice though he was handsome and had enough income to keep you comfortable. But you had given your heart to him and he had crushed it. And you looked like an utter fool for it.

For some reason, tonight it all stung. You’d learned to drown out the comments and ignore the sideways glances. But here you were, closing yet another season, as single as the day you’d come out. You’d begged your poor mother to let you stay at home in the country so that you wouldn’t have to suffer these indignities. It was pathetic that you had even shown up in London. But she had insisted, had assured you that you were still desirable, still attractive and spirited.

You certainly didn’t feel that way now. You snatched up a glass of wine from a nearby valet and drank it down in nearly a single gulp. It did little to soothe your nerves.

You needed air. You took another glass and sped towards the garden. The noise and music floated out here but the fresh air was cool and the garden looked quite empty, the vacant pathways lit by torches.

You’d once been so much fun. You’d laughed and smiled. You’d had no worries about your future. Now, not only were you a laughing stock but you would be lucky if you could rely on your cousin’s generosity for the rest of your days lest you end up in the poor house.

Tears were welling up in your eyes. You tore the mask off of your face to wipe them away. With your vision clouded and in the dim of the garden, you didn’t see the man that was standing in the shadows until you’d run right into his back.

You’d hit him with enough force to knock you back a few paces but he hardly flinched. He was tall and broad shouldered and he turned to look at you with curiosity. He was alone, thank heavens. He wore a black tailcoat and under that a waist coat that looked like silver and shined like silk. You didn’t recognize him but, of course, he was wearing a mask like all of the other guests. His was rendered in the same silver fabric with a slim slit for his eyes. A scalloped piece of fabric fell from the bottom of the mask down to his chin so you couldn’t see anything of his face other than his dark eyes.

Once you’d regained your balance you began to stutter an apology.

“Forgive me, sir,” you stammered. “I must mind my step.”

The stranger didn’t say anything, he just continued to look you up and down, the torch light reflected in his eyes. His hair was a mess of dark curls. His stature was imposing and incredibly still. You were so shaken that you suddenly realized how you looked, your face stained with tears and eyes glassy. You felt your cheeks burn with even more embarrassment.

Just as you opened your mouth to give some explanation, a voice came from behind you.

“Djarin! There you are!” Captain Dune called out, as jovial as ever.

You did your best to wipe the tears from your cheeks while the masked man turned his attention away.

Captain Dune sauntered down the path with his wife on his elbow. He was a dark haired, stocky man who still looked quite dashing in his dress uniform. He had been a hero of the Nile and served with your father before his ship had been lost. His round face was adorned with a black mask.

“Ah! I see you’ve met the young lady I told you about,” Dune said.

Lady Georgiana’s bright eyes looked between the two of you from under her leather mask. She was a beautiful woman with dark skin and a wide smile. She had always been kind to you even after the disastrous affair with Mr. Vanth.

“My dear, allow me to introduce Mr. Djarin,” Lady Georgiana said. “He is a very good friend.”

Mr. Djarin gave a tight bow when she introduced you but barely murmured a, “How do you do?”

“What are you doing hiding out here, Djarin? The dancing is inside!” Dune teased.

Mr. Djarin gave a chuckle but he didn’t sound amused.

“Why don’t you ask this young lady for a dance? I’m sure she would lower herself to stand up with you,” the captain continued with a wink.

“I’d better not. Please, you’ll have to excuse me. I should retire,” Mr. Djarin said, his voice deep and raspy.

Your eyes fell to the ground and you swallowed hard. You hoped in the darkness of the garden, Lady Georgiana didn’t catch your upset. Clearly Captain Dune had told him everything about you. Why else would this man be so impolite?

“Oh come now. It’s early, yet,” the captain protested.

“Forgive me. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he bowed and took his leave.

“My dear,” Lady Georgiana tried, “you’ll have to forgive Mr. Djarin. He has lived alone for so long that he sometimes forgets his manners.”

You gave her a smile, clenching your jaw so that you would not cry.

“I just had a splendid idea!” Lady Georgiana exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “You should come stay with us at Nevarro Hall. We leave next week. It would be great fun. I do find that part of the country so diverting.”

“You are too kind but I couldn’t impose,” you said politely. You had a feeling this offer only came because Georgiana felt responsible for her friend’s slight.

“Nonsense! You’re quite right that is a grand idea!” the captain agreed.

It was agreed that Lady Georgiana would write to your mother to inform her of the invitation. You knew she wouldn’t disagree considering how kind the Dunes were and how generous an invitation it was. Once the matter was settled, Captain Dune insisted you return to the party and you reluctantly slunk back inside.

Julia was with a gaggle of some friends when you returned to the ballroom. There was some excitement going on between them.

“Did you see him, Lucy?” one of the girls asked.

“I was introduced,” Lucy squealed. “It is a shame he was not here earlier in the season.”

You realized they were talking about Mr. Djarin and you felt yourself frowning.

“You’re not happy with Mr. Calican?” Julia laughed. Lucy had accepted his proposal just yesterday.

“No, of course!” she scoffed.

“What was he like?” Julia asked.

“I’ve heard he has a fine estate,” Lucy said.

“Oh, he was terribly handsome,” the first girl craned her neck to try and spot Mr. Djarin.

You wanted to laugh. You had also been introduced to Mr. Djarin but there was no way of knowing how handsome he was beneath that mask. You might have even ventured to tell them that but Emma joined the group looking disgruntled.

“I have learned some most unsettling news about Mr. Djarin,” she said. “He is traveling with a child who is in his care.”

“What about that offends you so?” Julia rolled her eyes.

“That is just it, Julia. I am told that this young boy is not merely Mr. Djarin’s ward. He is, in fact, his natural child.” This last part she said in a scandalized whisper.

This raised quite a few eyebrows but you furrowed your own.

“You are told?” You responded. “By whom?”

You knew the rumors that had circulated about yourself and had grown to absolutely despise and distrust gossip.

“I have it on good authority,” Emma said, which meant that some busybody had told her.

You shook your head. You hated that you felt the need to defend Mr. Djarin after he’d been so rude to you. If he had a child out of wedlock, one that he paraded around shamelessly, then what right did he have to rebuff you? You reminded yourself that this was merely hearsay. And no one deserved to be slandered like that.

But when you saw the way the other girls eyed you, you remembered yourself. If you protested too much, it would only speak to your own reputation. So you let them prattle on and as soon as you could slip away, you did, and spent the rest of the evening counting the minutes until you could leave and fall into bed.

After such an excruciating time in town, you were happy to be going anywhere else and, selfishly, you were glad that you didn’t need to spend a long carriage ride hearing Julia go on and on about how much she would miss being in town.

Nevarro Hall was situated on a gorgeous estate in a quiet part of the countryside. Lady Georgiana had given you a well appointed room with a view of the grounds. There was a beautiful garden with a fountain in the middle and, beyond that, a manicured lawn. You could see down to the lake and, past that, the tall trees. You spent a week walking the grounds with Lady Georgiana.

You loved to draw and you could set yourself in some corner of the garden and sketch the flowers for hours on end. It was such a wonderful change from the constant noise and hustle of town– the endless parties and calls, Emma herding you around like a prized cow. When the weather was fair, Lady Georgiana would have tea set outside and she and the captain would ask for a tour through your sketchbook and kindly remark on your talents.

“Perhaps you will create a likeness of the captain, my dear,” Lady Georgiana suggested. “If he will sit still enough for you.”

The captain laughed at that remark as the valet presented him with a letter.

“Very good! It seems Djarin will be joining us tomorrow! His business in town is finished,” he said.

You tried to hide your displeasure. You had no interest in sitting through dinners and excruciating evenings with Mr. Djarin. But you had little choice in the matter. And the captain and Lady Karga had been such generous hosts, you wouldn’t insult them by cutting your visit short.

You decided that you would be as polite as necessary but keep away from him as much as possible. This was wise, you told yourself, because your reputation couldn’t suffer any more difficulties. There were plenty of people that would jump at the chance to make even a passing association with Mr. Djarin into a scandal. But, of course, there was still a part of you that smarted at the way he had dismissed you in your very first encounter. You couldn’t be prevailed upon to be pleasant to a man that was so insulting. And so you would not.

Luckily, the first two days, it was easy to avoid Mr. Djarin entirely. The captain had taken him out riding or shooting or some such activity men enjoyed and they had dined out. Lady Georgiana had become a dear companion to you but she had begun to spend far too much time hinting at how much she liked the new guest. You would merely nod and smile and let your mind wander when she started to tell you how agreeable Mr. Djarin was or how he had been such a kind friend to her father.

On the third day, you had complained of a headache so you could excuse yourself from breakfast. After you had the tea and toast that Lady Georgiana had sent up to your room, you insisted a walk would be good for you and you set out across the grounds with your sketchbook.

You decided the stables were a good place to be left alone. It wasn’t like anyone would be looking for you there and, save the horses, there was nobody there. You found a little wooden chair and sat down to draw the horses and tack.

There was a beautiful black mare with white whiskers around her snout that you were sketching when you heard a noise. It was a funny little squeal. You thought you had imagined it until you heard it again. It had come from the empty horse stall at the very end and when you set down your sketchbook to investigate, you found a little boy sitting in the hay.

“Hello,” you said to him.

He smiled up at you. He looked incredibly sweet with chubby little cheeks. His ears seemed too big for his head and his eyes, too, were big and round. He wore a little brown suit with a delicate ruffle around the neck that was now covered in mud and hay.

“What are you doing in here?” you asked him, though he seemed too small to answer.

He babbled at you and held out something in his hand.

“What’s that?”

The child leaned forward, stretching towards you, and dropped it into your hand. It was a little silver ball that jingled like it had a bell within.

“Thank you,” you chuckled.

You shook it and it made a tinkling sound. He clapped his pudgy hands together, then planted them on the ground, and carefully got to his feet. He continued to yammer on as he tottered towards you, falling on his behind once, but determined to reach you on his own.

“Grogu!” You heard a voice from the path outside that you recognized. “Grogu!”

The boy scampered out of the stable and right up to the boot of Mr. Djarin.

“Where have you been, lad? They’re turning the whole house over looking for you,” he said.

He scooped the little boy up, holding his whole body in the crook of his arm, a wide hand grasping the boy’s calf. Grogu put a dirty hand up to Mr. Djarin’s chin and he laughed softly.

Now that you had the benefit of seeing him without a mask, you realized Mr. Djarin was, indeed, quite handsome. He had full lips and a prominent nose. His skin was a shade of gold that complimented his dark eyes. His starched collar met a square jaw that was dotted with stubble. In the sunlight, you could see that his soft curls and thick sideburns were threaded with grey hairs. The smile that spread over his features was so warm, you wished you could capture it in your sketchbook.

This was the infamous child, then. You saw little resemblance between Mr. Djarin and the lad but he held him so tenderly, it made you wonder if the rumors hadn’t been true.

That’s what you were pondering when the boy turned his attention back to you, pointing with a plump little finger. Mr. Djarin’s whole body stiffened when he saw you, his eyes turning sharp.

“Good morning,” you said with a curtsy.

His jaw clenched and he nodded.

“He was playing,” you tried, tilting your head back towards the stable.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I was drawing the horses,” you explained.

His head tilted just slightly.

“Is that his name? Grogu?” You asked when Mr. Djarin failed to speak.

“Yes,” he said.

You smiled. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Grogu.”

You put out your hand and the lad wrapped his fingers around one of yours.

“Ebba!” he cried.

You laughed. When you glanced at Mr. Djarin he was looking at you with an expression you could only describe as fear. Your smile faltered.

“I take it your business was concluded. In a satisfactory manner, I hope?” you inquired politely.

His brow furrowed momentarily and he opened his mouth and then set Grogu down at his feet.

“Yes. I-” he cleared his throat. “Please, you must forgive me for my behavior at the masquerade. Lady Georgiana said that I offended you. That was not my intention.”

You felt heat in your cheeks once again, embarrassment mixed with anger. You couldn’t believe he had to be told that he had acted like an ass. “Not to worry, sir. My pride has already been damaged so thoroughly, what is but one more slight?”

The look that crossed his face was absolute horror. You would have apologized for speaking so plainly but you frankly didn’t care. What right did he have to judge you? To apologize like you were so pitiful when here he was with his love child. You knew what men like Mr. Djarin were like and you’d learned to keep a wide berth.

“I- I should tell them that I’ve found him,” Mr. Djarin said. “Good day.”

He turned to go back up the path.

“Wait!” you called.

You blushed when you realized how impolite it sounded. Mr. Djarin turned carefully but said nothing. You approached him, painfully aware of the way he stared at you. It was difficult to meet his eye. You swallowed and held out the child’s ball to him. Mr. Djarin put out his hand and you placed it in his palm. As you did, your fingertips brushed his hand and you shivered. His skin felt rough and his palm was so large compared to your own. Your breath caught and, for some reason, you wished he would close his fingers around yours. You quickly withdrew your hand.

The boy reached out for the ball with a coo.

“Much obliged,” Mr Djarin managed. He was still looking at you with intense concentration.

Your chest felt tight.

“I’ll let them know at the house,” you stuttered and after a quick curtsy you were rushing back up the path.

--- Chapter 2

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oh-obrien · 3 years

Note

AAAH THE ONE SHOT WITH THE STOVE WAS EVERYTHING! ✨✨Could I also request something? I did feel the duel scene was a bit underwhelming, I did want some more drama tbh (and I love Anthony as well). What about a one shot Anthony x reader, where the reader accompanies Daphne and lots of more drama? Perhaps reader gets hurt, Anthony in panic, angsty and stuff..feel free to adjust

I HOPE THIS ONE IS GOOD TOO!! I took a few creative liberties with this, adjusting the events on the show to fit the request and what not.

I’m coming off of a little bit of a migraine hangover and tbh I’m not sure how I feel about this right now on top of getting back into the swing of school. This is the first day since Friday that looking at my computer for more than twenty minutes doesn’t hurt my head so sorry it took longer than expected.

As always if you’re not happy with this, or if you want to request anything else feel free to slide into my inbox! These requests are SUPER fun.

After Daphne’s scandalous run in with Simon in the garden the night before, Anthony had taken it upon himself to challenge his long-time friend to a duel. The ball was supppsed to be your and Anthony’s grand debut as the newest couple of the season, however, you never got your dance with the Lord, and your dance card now laid empty and forgotten on the floor of the Bridgerton study.

Your dress also laid crumpled in a ball of fabric in the corner of the room. After hearing of your and Anthony’s intentions to begin properly courting, Violet had taken you to the seamstress to get one of your gown adjusted. Genevieve Delacroix had added stunning crystals to the delicate pale green fabric. Your had had been done perfectly by the Bridgerton family’s staff and you had even agreed to wearing a small amount of makeup. However, the night of your dreams abruptly ended when Anthony interrupted your conversation with Colin to inform you both he would be taking Daphne home for the evening as she was not feeling well.

The anger pouring off the eldest Bridgerton was like nothing you had ever seen before and you couldn’t help but wonder if she had rejected the Prince’s proposal, as you knew he had to intend to propose soon, and no night seemed better. However, as Anthony dragged his sister away you couldn’t catch his or Daphne’s eye, leaving your dreams of starting a whirlwind public relationship with Anthony crushed.

You now sat on the desk in the Bridgerton study, Colin pacing around the room in front of you, his boots rhythmically hitting the floor with every step he took. “What if he kills Simon?”

“Colin-”

“What if Simon kills him?”

“Colin I don’t think that-”

“Benedict surely doesn’t want to be bothered with the social scene, does that mean the responsibility to escort all of my sisters through their season falls on me?” The boy in front of you stopped pacing and pulled on the roots of his hair, letting out a long, frustrated sigh. “I’m supposed to be traveling soon! Anthony is supposed to be the mature one, he’s supposed to know how to run the family! Not me!”

“COLIN! STOP!” You finally cut the boy off, standing up and placing both of your hands firmly on his shoulders. “Nothing is going to happen to Simon or Anthony, no one saw Simon and Daphne in that garden other than your brother so there’s nothing to hide!” You dropped your hands from Colin’s shoulder.

“But-” both you and Colin turned to face the door of the study, Daphne standing in the doorway, her tone sombre and her head bowed towards the ground. “What if someone did see?”

You stepped away from Colin to face the eldest Bridgerton daughter, your tone changing to one of concern. “What do you mean what if someone saw,” you felt panic starting to bubble up in your chest. “Did someone see you and Simon in the garden last night?” You thought Anthony had been overreacting when he pulled yourself and Colin into the study the night before after you had helped escort Lady Bridgerton home. But if Daphne was concerned someone saw her and Simon kiss, maybe he wasn’t overreacting.

Daphne opened her mouth, as if she wanted TJ speak, before closing it again. Silence fell across the three of you before you heard Daphne gasp. “Cressida Cowper,” Daphne blurted out. “When Anthony brought me inside she stopped me and and asked if I caught a chill in the garden.” You watched Daphne’s expression change to one of concern.

“Cressida Cowper,” Colin started running a frustrated hand over his face again, “saw you and Hastings in the garden last night and Anthony, nor Hastings, know?” He took in a long breath before leering the air out through his nose.

Daphne quickly shook her head. “Colin you need to tell me where they went,” Daphne demanded. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, not finding it proper to interrupt the conversation between the siblings.

“Daphne, Hasting has, he’s done you one of the greatest dishonors,” Colin quickly shook his head, giving his sister a clearly confused look. “I’m sure you want him to pay.”

“I don’t want him to pay with his life!” Daphne’s voice grew louder and you stepped towards the sibilants again, hoping you wouldn’t have to be the one to calm their tempers so no one else in the estate would be woken.

“Well, I’m sure both Anthony and the Duke will do as gentlemen should and shoot wide,” Colin supplemented with a shrug.

You stepped between the two siblings, “besides,” you supplemented, “everyone might just think that Cressida has a grudge against you. You did take the Prince’s attention off of her, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

Daphne, however, seemed to refuse to take no for an answer. “Colin you need to tell me where they went.” She turned to her brother again, a desperate look on her face now, “you know Anthony’s pride won’t let him shoot wide.”

Colin puffed air into his cheek, letting it out slowly before speaking. “Fine, but we’re coming with you.”

You had been lucky enough to be able to bring your own horse with you to London, and now, racing towards the site of the duel, you were glad you had. The Bridgerton’s horses clearly had not gotten used to speeding across the hills, as they lagged slightly behind you. Years of living out in the middle of the country had given you, and your horses, the ability to adapt to all different types of terrain. Be it flooded field, rolling hills or even shoulder high grasses, your horses were able to tackle it all.

You were glad your hair, still expertly tied up from the night before, had yet to be taken out as it kept the strands from flying into your face, distracting you from the task at hand. Still slightly ahead of both Colin and Daphne you were able to make out five figures standing in a plot of open land between two beautiful trees. Anthony and Simon were back to back in the clearing, both men clutching a handgun between their hands.

“You can go faster,” you urged your horse while he pushed himself to fly faster through the tall grass field, his breath coming out in heavy puffs. Anthony and Simon began to take slow, steady steps away from each other and you held your breath, knowing you were unable to push your horse to go any faster without him hurting himself.

Both men paused briefly before turning to face each other. Anthony pointed his gun towards Simon, while the Duke aimed towards the sky. Now, within proper distance of the ongoing duel you started to slow your horse. “Anthony!” You swung both of your legs to one side of your horse, trying to keep your balance while you did so. “Anthony stop!” Your horse slowed to nearly a stop and you let yourself slide off your horse’s back, your feet not even hitting the ground before you were running towards the two men.

“What are you doing?” Benedict practically yelled while you ran in between Anthony and the Duke. “Anthony! Anthony stop!” Benedict called when he realized you had already made up your mind. However, his call for the eldest Bridgerton to hold his fire.

Before you knew what had hit you, in both a literal and figurative sense, you felt a searing pain cut across your cheek. The bang of the gun firing didn’t reach your ears until after you had hit the ground, your left hand clutched tightly over your right cheek. Anthony and Benedict calling your name didn’t register either, especially when you pulled your hand away from your cheek and noticed it had been covered in blood.

“(Y/N),” a warm, heavy hand was placed on your shoulder and another pulled your hand away from your cheek. “The doctor needs to make you’re you’re fine, (Y/N),” Anthony’s panicked eyes met your own. However, you couldn’t focus on them with the pain in your cheek and the blood still covering your hand.

An older man crouched down next to you, pulling a medical bag up next to him and opening it before he began expecting the wound on your cheek. “The bullet just grazed her,” the doctor spoke while he began cleaning the wound, “she’s lucky.”

“Thank the heavens,” Anthony breathed out while he pressed his forehead to your temple on your unharmed side, his warm breath fanning across your cheek. “I’m so sorry,” you could hear his voice break towards the end.

“She’s perfectly fine my lord, keep the wound clean and covered and it’ll heal in absolutely no time.” You winced when you felt the doctor wipe something across your cheek, the pain flaring up momentarily before subsiding again. “I’m sure you could tell Lady Bridgerton it was a riding accident and everything would be believed. “If that’s all, and you gentlemen don’t intend on trying the duel again,” the doctor looked between Anthony and the Duke, “I’ll be going.”

Hasting and Anthony both thanked the doctor before he departed, Daphne and Simon engaged in a seemingly heated conversation along with Colin and Benedict. “(Y/N).” Anthony started, both of your hands held in one of his large ones. “I don’t-”

“I can’t right now, Anthony,” you placed a hand across your covered cheek. “I just,” you let out a frustrated sigh, “I’m questioning if your mind and your heart and in two different places at the moment.” You felt tears begin to gather in the corners of your eyes.

“(Y/N), please,” Anthony seemed to be nearly begging, tears gathered in his own eyes while you stood up. Your hands felt from his grip and you cupped his cheek with one, running your thumb along his cheek bone.

You offered the man in front of you a sad smile before you removed your hand. “I’m going to ask one of your brothers to escort me home while you and the others decide the next steps between Daph and the Duke.” He opened his mouth to speak, but you didn’t allow him to. “Once you reconsider priorities we can revisit our arrangement, but I will not be second to any other reckless endeavors you wish to engage in if we do get married.”

With that you turned from the Viscount, still on his knees in the damp morning grass, tears in his eyes and a frown on his face.

#anthony bridgerton #Anthony Bridgerton imagine #bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #Anthony Bridgerton fanfiction #anna writes

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rarephloxes · 3 years

Text

@lucienvanserraweek, free day!

I’m so happy to announce that this is a collab with my dear friend @ratabrasileira!!! Go show the beautiful drawing she did some love!!

rating: G

words: 2.2k

Elain searches the woods for flowers and finds more than she ever expected. Sleeping Beauty Au

❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦

Elain left the cottage barefooted, the soft cushion of the grass comfortable and well known to her feet. The familiar and gratifying feeling of calm earth beneath her, steady and grounding, more than enough reason to forego any sort of shoes.

Roses, Feyre had chanted, the dreamy look in her sister’s eyes persisting ever since her chance encounter with a newcomer guard at the town square, the prettiest ones you can find, please?

Elain had not the courage to tell her younger sister that she had picked fresh flowers just the day before, funny-shaped pink blooms Elain found at the lip of the stream near the border.

So, she had picked her basket - the one Nesta had gifted her on her last birthday, handmade by her older sister herself; a beautiful, intricate thing done with the hard-earned love of the hardest Archeron - and left, a spring to her step and a tune brimming in her throat.

The woods, the townspeople said, were older than the village by unaccounted years, and therefore filled with deep, wondrous and dangerous magic.

Elain, as well as her sisters, was orphaned too soon. A wasting sickness that had scourged their village had taken away both of her parents, one after the other, leaving only a nearly of age Nesta, a doe-eyed Elain, and a tear-stained Feyre.

Many years had passed since, the nebulous, all-consuming pain of the absence of their parents soothed by time. Despite her grieving, it never escaped Elain’s thoughts how lucky she was to have such wonderful people in her life: her kind neighbors; the quaint, energized people of the village, who never missed a chance for celebration; the old grouch at the square who made wooden figures just as her father once had; Feyre’s laugh, her creativity and Nesta’s attentive strength.

The woods, magical and mysterious, were a source of peace in Elain’s little life, too. A balm made of soft sunlight, fresh, perfumed breeze, and the singing quietness of wildlife.

She walked, shawl hanging on her elbows to ward off the slightest of spring chills. Elain sang to her heart’s content, a lively lyric dancing on her tongue and bouncing on the leaves of the tallest of trees, her heart soaring with each note she presented to her loved woodland.

With Feyre’s wishes in mind, Elain followed a path towards a grove, the humidity at her destination perfect for the birth of deep pink roses which best complimented Feyre’s complexion.

She crossed the sturdy old bridge that allowed passage over the river, her cottage’s mill no longer audible from where she stood.

“Hello, Mister,” Elain greeted the white, wild bunny, its twitching mustache smelling the air twice before hurrying on fast jumps towards her, a cupped palm of berries awaiting the animal’s eager mouth, allowing her to scratch its head “You’re rather famished this morning, aren’t you?” she asked. The bunny agreed with what seemed like and affirmative ear twitch before her furry friend scampered away to a nearby bush.

Then, singing about poets and kings, Elain continued her path through the meandering trees, her basket filling with dark, juicy berries - a few of them already staining her lips red - and multicolored flowers.

A bold, red little bird landed on Elain’s extended finger and enchantingly sung with her. Its melodic chirping lacing and harmonizing to the girl’s sweet voice, their impromptu duet accompanied by the rustling leaves and the gurgling stream.

How wonderful Elain felt, surrounded by nature, connecting to the air around her as if it had birthed her itself, offering it her voice. Respectfully reaping the charming flora, she found on her way, breathing their scent, befriending the forest animals, and spinning on the tip of her toes on the soft soil.

As she stopped dancing, her skirts still swishing around her calves from the last of her twirls, Elain noticed a magnificent shrub of the blooms she had braved the woods for, jewel-bright pink petals shining under sunbeams, as if the tress had organized themselves to create a spot of light for such earthly beauty.

Right then, the strangest of things happened.

With her heart jumping to her throat, beating frenetically against her ribs, Elain noticed a beautiful horse. Saddled, with a gleaming chestnut coat, dark eyes downcast, calmly munching on the grass near its hooves.

It wasn’t unheard of, horses in the woods, wild or otherwise, they were not far from the main road, but that was not what made Elain’s skin prickle with alertness.

A well-taken care horse as such must have a rider nearby.

“Samson,” called a male voice “There’s not much left to go.” The horse shuffled his legs, huffing before turning its nose away, back onto the moss.

“There will be carrots,” the voice tried again, with a tone of simulated indifference.

Caught like a fish on a hook, the horse’s great neck snapped up, looking at its rider, as if expecting the vegetable all at once. Stoic as the pair of them seemed, Elain had the impression Samson was kindly spoiled.

Elain, who could hear the rich sound of the stranger’s voice, had not yet distinguished his form in the shade beyond the grove she entered, but following the stallion’s gaze she finally sighted him.

Oh, but what a beautiful man he was.

Stranger was tall and broad-shouldered, with an old, silvery scar marking the side of his face, slitting his brow and narrowly missing his eye - which seemed to be a disconcerting shade of brown. He had the most vibrant shade of red hair she has ever seen, dark like autumn leaves and silky like water.

He was the most beautiful human she has ever seen.

Stranger, however, had yet to notice her.

And as handsome as he was, Elain was clever enough to realize that a quick, silent escape was the safest option.

Slowly, she walked one step back.

The crunch of the branch beneath her foot echoed loudly, too loudly to be confounded by an innocuous wildlife sound.

Elain couldn't raise her eyes to look at him, attention glued to the sword holstered at his hip.

“Be not afraid, lady. I’ll take my leave in a moment,” Stranger said in a placating tone, palms deliberately upraised for her benefit.

The woods turned to music at the exact moment their eyes met.

A world-altering spark of recognition lighted in her mind.

A stranger in the woods, merry music, dancing fireflies, and singing birds, trees being led by the wind as if women in a ballroom, her vision spinning, and her body lighting up like fireworks. A hand on her waist, a choreography her body must have been made for performing, such ease it was to allow it to guide her away.

Dreams, she remembered, wonderful dreams which always kept her under her covers for a moment too long, always ending way too soon, leaving longing as a dent in her pillow.

Now he was right in front of her.

“I know you,” she whispered, words slipping through her lips like birds escaping a cage, her hands shaking.

He was dressed in well-made traveling clothes, dark pants, finely done knee-length boots she had only ever glanced upon whenever wealthier people crossed the town to check on their local businesses, but those deftly dressed gentlemen couldn’t have looked better than the man even with the priciest of fineries. Elain resisted the urge to press her hands to her cheeks, heated and pink from noticing Stranger only wore a thin, unruffled poet’s shirt, - his cape and hat using the nearby trees as hangers - its open laces revealing golden skin and wisps of red hair.

Elain had never felt self-conscious of her looks or clothes, the townspeople dressing similarly to her (even if Elain herself had one of the best sewing hands in their village). Her current outfit was a simple corset with boning made out of prepped hedgehog spikes, the plain fabric embellished with neat seams and picturesque figures Elain had stitched herself; a brown, light skirt - easy to wash and easier to hide soil stains - and, what now she deemed absurd due to the grime on her nails, no slippers.

“And I, you,” he answered as in a daze, hands falling limply at his sides.

“Do you hear it?” Elain made her voice firm, lifting he chin but with her knees slightly bent, ready to run.

“Yes, my lady,” he took a step, then two, until a stretch of his arm would land his hand on her shoulder.

But he didn’t move to touch her.

Elain swallowed, the breeze cooling her body, eyes downcast, legs now motionless and nearly failing her.

“Why won’t you let me see your eyes, my lady?” She couldn’t be sure, for she knew him not, but there was pleading in his tone.

“I’m afraid, my lord, that if I look at you, I’ll awake and leave this dream,” she whispered, surprised, but not fearful, of her words. “And you’ll fly away from my grasp,”

Suddenly shy of her newly found boldness, she turned her back to him.

“I’m-" She started, voice small.

“No, please.” Elain saw a shadow over her shoulder but wouldn’t dare to guess. “Forgive me for my requests, my lady, you need not give me anything, I-”

He sounded... embarrassed.

She found it endearing.

The song of the woods shifted to a village rhythm she knew well.

“Dance with me,” he called.

A gasp fell freely from her mouth, the ghost of a touch on her hand.

Slowly, she turned back to face him and realized her mistake.

His eyes were not brown, but a vibrant russet shade, complimenting his hair better. Elain had heard only the continent bred humans with the most varied and colorful bodies.

“I forgive you,” she mouthed, her throat no longer functional.

There were callouses on his palms if from holding reins or sword fighting, she couldn’t determine, but they were so gentle against her skin she barely put any mind to it.

A blast of sound surrounded them, as if the song recognized their meeting, rejoicing in their movements, magnifying their volume to ensconce the pair of them in a cloud of magic. Elain allowed her stranger to spin and lead her in the dance of her dreams.

She couldn’t help to laugh and smile and giggle as they swayed in impossibly rehearsed arrangements, his wide, carefree, delighted grin pouring sunshine into her chest.

Time turned to a growing bloom, following the natural, slow, unpreoccupied pace of life. A hundred dances thrummed with them while the small pointer of the square clock circled once.

At that time, the resounding, deep clang of the church’s bell chiming twelve times broke through the magic steering the couple.

Elain ceased her steps, the pang of reality downing on her face, awareness washing the enchanted fog in her mind.

She let go of Stranger’s hand, the melodies dimming to a quiet hum, tempting her as a distance siren song,

“I must go,” she told him, yet unable to move.

“So soon?” he asked earnestly, arms lovingly tightening around her waist, not caging, only a gentle embrace.

“Oh, please, I must have my leave. Your lordship certainly has somewhere to be. I don’t even know what to call you-“ she babbled in a rush.

Stranger pressed his nose to the sliver of skin above her neck line, as if he couldn’t help himself, as if she were a saint and he a devotee. Elain lost the breath in her lungs, head lulling back, her words cutting themselves short.

“It’s yours,” his lips brushed the slope of her neck, “My name, my heart, my soul. It’s all yours. I’m Luc-“

Hurriedly, Elain lifted his head and pressed her pointer and middle finger to his mouth, “You must not tell me your name,”

“I heard your voice,” he admitted, a portrait of hope in his face, gently grasping her wrist “I deviated from the road to look for the angel whose song I was lucky to listen. But the singing stopped, as it was never there in the first place,”

“The woods have a mind of their own” she whispered to herself, eyes roaming around as if searching.

“I found you once I let Samson rest for a moment,” he continued, uninterrupted, as though afraid she would vanish in a poof of light.

“Please, my lady. Can’t you see? One is never to deny a gift from the Gods,”

“Are you a believer, Stranger?”

“Now, I am,” he said, his gaze unfaltering, “Will you allow me to reveal my name to your Ladyship?”

“I’m no lady,” she said, taking her hand from the warmth of his, regretting it immediately, “I must have my leave,” How would she explain her tardiness to Nesta? Oh, how reckless she was acting.

“At least allow me to take you to your home, my lady,”

Elain knew deep in her gut as clearly as she knew the color of the sky and the name of her favorite flowers that he would never hurt her.

But her oldest sister warning echoed in her conscience, coiling its limbs around her, refraining her voice.

The universe, it seemed, understood her decision.

Samson let out a loud neigh, attracting her love’s attention for just long enough.

“I’ll see you in my dreams,” she promised as he turned around to watch his horse.

And ran away, deep into the woods.

❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦

Thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, likes and comments make my day.

Special thanks to @moononastring and @silvergriff for hosting this awesome event, @separatist-apologist for being the kindest and most considerate beta reader I could ever hope for.

I’m building a tag list! If you want to keep up with my writing, let me know :))

I may or may not continue this? I really want to mesh this with a bunch of other ideas I have on my notes!!

#elucien #lucien vanserra week #lucien vanserra headcanons #lucien spell cleaver #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #elucien fanfic #elucie fic #elucien fanfiction #acotar #sleeping beauty

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