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absurdthirst · 6 months

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A Marriage of Convenience {Regency!Pero Tovar x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 20.5k

Warnings: Dying parents, arranged marriages, mentions of dying in child birth, fear, anxiety, panic attacks, poor Pero has PTS, virgin reader, vaginal sex, oral sex (female receiving), conversations about birth control, mentions of spousal beatings, pregnancy, childbirth

Comments: When your dying father sends you to Spain to wed Don Tovar, you know nothing about the man besides that he is a widower with two small children who will never love you. Finding your place in his household will take a stiff spine and a loving heart, making peace with your marriage of convenience.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Pero Tovar MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Father, you cannot send me away.” You shake your head, dread welling in your stomach and you press your hand to the silken material of your day dress, the stays of your corset the only thing keeping you upright at this moment. Not that your stays are as tight as most of the noble ladies that come and go on the marriage mart. You have no desire to be married, to be chattel to a noble man and birth his children. Even though your father has just informed you that the man you are to marry already has children. A widower who is not so choosy as to a new wife that he is willing to take on an old maid who is nearly set upon the shelf and discarded at every social function during the season.

Pero Tovar is the name of the man you are to wed. Not only are you to be married off, but you will be shipped away from your home. Sent to Spain with no one that you know around you. Completely without allies and unable to easily go home if you are unhappy. Your father had met him in London and arranged your marriage before returning home to inform you. “Please.” You beg softly. “Do not make me marry a man I have never laid eyes on.”

“You have no choice. I am dying, daughter. You heard the doctor. I have months left. I do not wish to leave you without stability. The time has come for you to marry. I cannot allow you to delay it anymore. Tovar is a wealthy man. He has a large estate and two children from his late wife. He doesn’t need some young maid to birth children for his heir. He is stern but he has very strong morals. You’ll be safe with him and that’s all that matters. Please do not argue with a dying man.” Your father begs and you choke, tears stinging in your eyes as you embrace him and he rubs your back, knowing these moments before you go to Spain will be the last you spend together.

The day has come for you to leave your father, and despite your best efforts, you weep. Over the course of the month, he had grown more frail and could not even accompany you to Spain to see you wed in person. Embracing him in his sickbed, you know word would come that he had passed, your cousin inheriting the home you had grown up in, and all the wealth your father had accumulated. Your dowry is carefully packed into a large trunk, generous enough that if it had been known, several in London would have made you their wife. Instead, you will be Lady Tovar. “I love you.” You murmur, wishing you could stay until he had left this earth. “I love you father, I am sorry I was not the boy you wished to carry your legacy forward.”

Your father tuts, “don’t be silly, child. You are my life. After your mother died…you are everything to me. My world. I love you. If you could have everything, I’d give it to you.” He promises and cups your cheek, his hand shaking.

Your eyes sting with tears and you grip his hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “I know.” You promise, reluctantly pulling back.

“Go. Go live your life. Just promise me you’ll be happy.” He orders and you sniff, wiping your cheeks and you nod. It takes everything in you to leave his chambers but you do and you make your way down to the carriage to begin the start of a very long journey to Spain.

The trip to the ship takes nearly a week. A broken carriage wheel, a broken axle, and a thrown shoe from one of the horses. It seems as if the entire trip is cursed. You occupy yourself by writing letters and reading a few of the books you had packed into your reticule. Wondering if your father has passed already and praying that he has not. When you finally reach the ship, you sigh as you stare at the sails. Rather than just a short journey across the channel, it will be another week, sailing up the coast of Spain before you disembark. Your betrothed’s men should meet you there to carry you to his summer estate in the country.

When you step foot on land, you are relieved and exhausted, anxious and ready to be in your new home. Your husband to be doesn’t come to greet you, not that you expected that anyway but you are greeted by his secretary. “Señorita, I am Carlos. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Come this way, the carriage awaits us.” He says, gesturing to the horses behind him as the staff begins to gather your things to secure them for the final leg of your journey.

The carriage seems to be sturdy and soon you are pulling away. “Tell me about your lord.” You beg, having heard very little from your father beyond the rudimentary information. You want to know more about the man you are supposed to wed. “What is he like?” How a man treats his staff says a lot about him. That is what your father always told you.

Carlos looks at you, appraising you for a bit until he answers. “He is stern. Unforgiving but fair. He knows wrong from right and is only violent when the need occurs. He loved Maria, his first wife, but after she died, he has become a recluse. His children are cared for by the staff and he rarely interacts with them. If you want my honesty, señorita. The house needs life and love once again. It’s cold and lacking happiness.”

You bite your lip, repressing a small shiver. He sounds…..austere. Unyielding. You feel for the children who seem to have lost both their mother and father at the same time. “How old are the children?” You ask politely, aware that if he was not giving love and attention to his children, it would be your job. You remember how terribly you had missed your own mother, though your father had been your rock through grieving.

“They are five and seven. They do not remember their mother. Both too young. Luis - the youngest - was the child born when Maria lost her life. She doesn’t remember her mother. Alejandra, she - she doesn’t remember her either. They are - needing love and attention as all children do and their father - he is a busy man. That’s why he wanted a wife who was capable of nurturing his children when he is unable to.” Carlos explains and you glance out of the carriage as the Spanish port city turns to countryside.

“I see.” You wonder if the children are too painful a reminder of his late wife. If that was the reason he could not be around them. “And his holdings?” You ask. “He is a lord, is he busy with his lands?”

Carlos nods and sighs. “My lord works long hours to make sure that the estates and the lands that are used by his people are properly maintained.” He tells you, making you feel a bit better about the situation.

“Then I will make sure that he has a comfortable home and well behaved children to come home to.” You promise.

Carlos nods, appreciating your compliance and he watches you as you look back out of the window. You are beautiful, have an air of maturity the other girls, the local ones, had lacked. His lord has been searching for a wife for a while, but no one has fit his criteria. He doesn’t want a simpering girl who wants romance, he needs a partner who can assist him with his home and his children. Carlos knows that Pero’s heart is cold, iced over after the death of Maria and he doesn’t know if anyone can melt it.

The good thing about you is that you know that love and romance are not expected, nor required in most marriages. You aren’t a starry eyed little girl who will wish that her husband falls desperately in love with her. From everything you are hearing, that would be quite impossible. You will settle for mutual respect. The rest of the journey is spent quietly thinking, making plans for your new home that could be tossed out the window the moment you arrive. You do not even know if your future husband will be there to greet you.

When you pull up outside of the summer home of Don Pero Tovar, it’s beautiful and instantly takes your breath away. It’s picturesque and grand but when you have a closer look, you can see the cracks, the work that needs to be done. The shutters are crooked and need new paint. The flowers are gone and the paint is peeling everywhere. “Oh. I- it’s beautiful but-” You start and Carlos finishes your statement, “it needs work. After Señora Maria died, Don Tovar just let the place go, too preoccupied to maintain it.”

You nod, understanding that he might not have had the heart to continue to look after the details that make his estate a home for his family. “Then I will hire workers to restore his home to its former glory.” You decide with a smile, eager to get to work and contribute.

Carlos hums as the carriage comes to a stop, “if he allows it. He - it’s - it’s almost like he is stuck in the past, never moving forward.” His eyes widen and he shakes his head, “please señorita, don’t - he mustn’t know I said that.” He murmurs and you nod, “it’s our secret.” The secretary exhales and reaches out to open the door to the carriage, stepping out and holding out his hand to assist you down.

There is no staff lined up to greet you. No betrothed waiting at the door to introduce you to his household. The pots next to the large double doors of the house are empty, filled with dirt and sticks. Providing an unwelcoming air and you try to think of it as some kind of omen. “Well, it is late.” You excuse, biting your lip as you look around.

Carlos looks guilty as he opens the door to guide you inside to find the housekeeper, Señora Garcia. “Come, let’s take you to your quarters and we shall start fresh in the morning, you have had a long journey and I’m sure you’d rather meet everyone after resting.” Carlos says and Señora Garcia nods, “also, your lady’s maid, Carmen, will be waiting in your room to help you prepare for tonight. We will bring dinner to your room.”

You tilt your head. “Prepare for tonight?” You ask, confused by what he means. “What is happening tonight?” Surely he does not mean that Lord or Don Tovar meant to wed you tonight after you’ve only just arrived? You have not even met the man, you had hoped to have a conversation before he becomes your husband.

“The wedding.” Carlos says like you should’ve known. “Did no one inform you that Don Tovar wanted to be married as soon as you arrived?” You shake your head and Carlos sighs. “You are to be married tonight. Carmen will help you dress and we will bring your trunks up to your quarters. The wedding will be at eight. We will bring food to your room beforehand and a bath. You’ll be the lady of the house tonight.”

Closing your eyes, you try to suppress the tremble that races through you. Stiffening your spine and taking a breath before you open your eyes and nod. “I will be ready when Don Tovar says.” You agree, making Carlos nod in approval. “I would also like a cup of tea to be brought up, right away.”

Carlos nods, “sí, señorita. I’ll make sure you get your tea.” He assures you and you sigh, following Señora Garcia up the stairs to your quarters. The house is dark and damp and there seems to be no sign of life anywhere. You immediately feel alone and cold, regretting leaving your home, your dying father for this pitiful estate.

****

By the time your tea arrives, it’s accompanied by your meal. Cold and unappetizing, you wonder why the cook would send you a plate such as this. Investigating your room, you find that it has not been properly aired out, dust still sitting on the window sills and the candle holders not refreshed with new candles. It seems as if you are to be un-welcomed or the staff who works here is completely unskilled in how to run a house.

“Señorita, bienvenidos.” Carmen says as she walks in, “I am sorry I am late. I am your lady’s maid and I am here to assist you with getting you ready for your wedding to Don Tovar. Was your dinner acceptable, señorita?” She asks and notices your frown, “what is wrong?” She prompts, wanting to be there for the soon to be lady of the house.

“The meal was cold,” You explain, understanding that she is not to blame for that. “As was my tea.” You tilt your head and look at the lovely young woman. “Have you worked for the household for long?” You ask. “Is this how meals are normally delivered?” If it is some kind of custom, you would try to be more understanding, but you don’t think that it is.

Carmen shakes her head, “absolutely not. I- you shouldn’t have had a cold meal and cold tea. Please, señorita, let me get you a new, hot -”

You interrupt her, “no. It’s not - I’ve eaten it now and I do not have time to waste. I need to bathe and get ready for my future husband.” You inform her and she nods, “I will go fetch the hot water and we will get you ready.” She promises and rushes off.

You are grateful that your trunks have been delivered, your dress you had made clean, if slightly wrinkled from being packed. Airing it out, you had hoped you would wear this while marrying a man that you had met before, but it seems unlikely to happen now. You had not even heard any movement in the large house.

Carmen works diligently to clean you up, washing your back and making sure the dirt from the journey has been washed off prior to your wedding. Once you’re dry, she works on styling your hair and soon enough, it’s time for her to help you into your dress. “What’s he like?” You ask her as she buttons your dress and Carmen bites her lip. “He’s…direct but fair.”

“That seems to be what everyone says about him.” You hum. “Is he a handsome man?” Carmen glances at you nervously. “He- some think him handsome. But-“ she glances around your empty bedroom and lowers her voice. “He has a - a scar. Over his left eye.”

You inhale sharply, wondering how a man like Tovar got a scar over his eye. You’re worried now, scared that he is going to be a rough man. “He’s a good Don, fair and harsh but I think you will be good to have in this house. We need light, we need love. It’s been missing for far too long.”

It doesn’t take much longer for Carmen to declare that you look perfect. Your nerves flutter in your stomach and you press your hand to it in a meager effort to calm them. “Then perhaps you can show me a little of the estate while we walk to the chapel?” You assume that there is a chapel on the grounds that you will be married in. Giving your maid a weak smile, you try to hide the fear.

Carmen nods, “of course, señorita. Come, let us go now. Your intended will be waiting.” She says and you exhale shakily, trying to gather yourself to get married to a man you’ve never met before.

The estate is beautiful, the ground neglected like the house, although you can tell someone had once cared for them a great deal. You wonder if that was your soon to be husband's late wife. It doesn’t take long for you to see the stone chapel, overgrown and yet the soft candlelight coming from the windows gives it an enchanting glow. You take a deep breath and glance at the maid for some reassurances.

Carmen squeezes your arm and winks at you, “everything will be fine.” She promises but you both know she has no way to assure that. You stand in the entrance of the chapel when the violin starts to play and you swallow harshly when Carmen gestures it’s time for you to go. You exhale shakily and step foot into the main hall of the chapel.

****

When you step into the chapel, Pero keeps his back turned. Your father had shown him your miniature so he knows you are a beautiful woman. Not that it makes a difference. He has far exceeded the socially acceptable grieving period for Maria and now he’s expected to get a wife. He needs a mother for his children and a woman to maintain his estate. The music plays as you walk down the aisle and when you approach him, he turns around and inhales sharply when he sees your face. You’re gorgeous. A woman most men would kill to wed but he doesn’t care about looks, he cares about you filling the position that has remained empty in his home. He wonders if you like the look of him.

Your steps forward stumble briefly, but you recover. Catching your breath and smiling softly, you find him to be most handsome in a visceral, viral way. Rough and not exactly tamed, although many would say that you were possessed to think that way. HIs eyes are dark and watching you, making your skin heat and you wonder if your future husband approves of you. Stepping closer to him, you stop directly in front of him and take another breath. “Don Tovar.” You murmur, curtsying prettily.

You curtsy so perfectly, it’s almost enough to make him smile but he doesn’t. He hasn’t since Maria died. His life is now black and white, his love taking all of the color in the world with her when she died during childbirth. “Señorita.” He greets you and takes your hands, turning towards the priest who was called to marry you. Pero’s secretary and Carmen are to bear witness to the marriage and Pero is glad there’s no audience to see him remarry a woman he doesn’t even know.

The priest recites the vows in Spanish and you follow along closely. Listening as he proclaims that marriage is a sacred duty to your husband and you can barely look at your intended. Sneaking a glance and trying not to fidget. “I do.” You murmur quietly when you are asked if you take the Don as your husband. Your eyes meet his and you bite your lip, wondering if he is unhappy. He is frowning, he must be unhappy with his decision to marry you.

Pero remembers his wedding day to Maria. How excited he was. Young and eager before the days of war to marry the woman he loved. He was ready to have a future with her and it was ripped away from him on one fateful winter day. Tovar recites his vows and when the priest declares you husband and wife, he leans in to kiss your cheek. “Welcome, mi esposa.” He whispers once you are married.

A kiss on the cheek was not what you expected, turning to find his lips when he pulls away leaves you flustered. “Gracias, husband.” You murmur quietly. His secretary and your maid clap quietly and you turn back to them with a smile, thanking them for witnessing your vows.

Pero takes your hand to guide you out of the chapel and to the carriage awaiting to take you back to the main home. Pero doesn’t say a word as you are carted back and when you arrive, the housekeeper takes your hand to assist you inside. “There’s no need to arrange our bed chamber. My bride will be spending the night in her own room.” Tovar reveals with a grunt.

“Yes, Don Tovar.” Carmen nods and you are left feeling rejected even if you had been nervous about the wedding night. It is silly to think of, but you hope it’s because he wishes to get to know you before you become intimate.

“Then I wish you a good night, husband.” You nod politely to him and wait for him to speak.

Pero turns to look at you, reaching for your hand and he bends down to kiss the back of it but it’s cold and emotionless. “Buenas noches, señora Tovar. I will see you tomorrow so we can discuss your duties. Carmen, escort her to her room. Garcia, vamos. We have much to discuss.” Tovar says to his secretary who nods and steps beside him as he strides over without a glance back towards you.

“I see what you mean.” You murmur to your lady’s maid as she starts to guide you back up the stairs. “He is devoid of much emotion, although at least he is polite.” It is better than some men that you had met. “Is there a library in the house?” You ask curiously. “I fear that I had brought many of my own books when packing my trunks.”

“There is a library, señora. It- it needs organizing. It has been neglected for many years but the children do study there during the day. It needs a refresh. Perhaps you may ask Don Tovar if he will provide you with the tools to refresh the room where the children learn.” She says and you hum, letting her escort you back to your chambers.

****

“She is beautiful, no?” Carlos asks his employer who grunts as he sits down in the chair, working on removing his shoes and his wedding attire, wanting to be comfortable. “She is but you know I don’t care for beauty. I need a woman to run the house. To show those fools in society that I have fulfilled their requirements. I don’t need her company, I just need her presence. Her father was desperate to marry her off before his death and her dowry was enough to keep her without spending my coin. She’s suitable for the role and I’m hoping the children will attach to her.” Pero says and Carlos nods, “we shall see.”

You wake up shrieking as a pitcher of cold water is tossed on your face while you lay in your bed. Bolting upright, you flail your arms, hearing giggling as you try to blink and see what or who is attacking you. Finding two children grinning at you in defiance as the oldest holds the empty pitcher in his hands. It is still dark outside, at least you think it is, for the curtains are still drawn over the large windows. Pero’s children. Your husband’s children have woken you up by throwing water on your face. You leap from the bed right as you hear the pounding of footsteps and the door to your room bursts open.

“Alejandra! Luis! Mierda!” Pero growls as he storms into the room to find his children standing there with their hands behind their backs. “What is wrong with you?” He growls, turning to face you when he sees you are soaking wet, his eyes dipping down to the white gown you’re wearing, now see through and he swallows harshly at the sight of your nipples. Carmen rushes in and he turns towards her. “Gather water for a bath to warm her up and get her a robe.” Pero demands and turns back to his children. “I was walking past when I heard the commotion. You cannot do that. Why would you do that?” Pero hisses at his children who stare at him defiantly.

“We thought it would be funny.” Alejandra answers and Pero inhales deeply.

“That is not acceptable. You will miss breakfast and today, you’ll be writing lines - saying you will not abuse your new mother.” He says lowly and Luis shakes his head, “she isn’t our mama. We don’t want her. We want our real mama.” Luis stomps his foot and Pero pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Go to your rooms before I get the belt.” He threatens, knowing he wouldn’t actually hit them but every day they test him and push him closer to physical punishment.

“Papa-” Alejandra chokes and Pero hisses, “do not test me girl. Now get out of my sight.” He hisses and the children rush out of your room.

“I am sorry.” You murmur quietly, covering your arms over your chest and shivering in the cold. It is chilly in the room since there is not a fire laid in the grate and you wish that you did not feel so exposed with his eyes on you. “I- I do not know what happened.” you shake your head. “I was sleeping and then - I just - they do not wish for a new mother?” You had expected that the children were accepting of your new husband marrying again, but it is apparent they do not want you here. That will make things more difficult for you if you expect to forge any kind of bond with them.

“They are loyal to their mother.” He answers curtly, wanting to add that he is too but he feels that would be too insensitive. “They will come around. They have been troublesome and I am hoping a female presence will help them adjust.” He says and Carmen rushes over with your robe to help you cover up.

“Thank you.” You wrap the robe around you and find that your husband does not seem to care for you being here any more than his children and you swallow harshly, feeling incredibly alone. “I see.” You nod and decide that you might as well broach the subject since he is here. “Then I have permission to discipline the children?” You ask him. “If they are to respect me, then they need to see me as an authority figure as well as a motherly one.”

“Yes, but I do not physically punish them. You are welcome to discipline them as you see fit. I have struggled to control them. They do not seem to want to be around me and I - I must admit I am a little hopeless about how to handle them.” He confesses, “if you can control them, you’ll have my admiration.”

You nod, thankful that he will allow you to curtail his children’s rambunctiousness. “I also wish to reorganize the library and freshen up the house to make things more homey.” You add. You do not tell him that his home is desperately in need of repair, but that would be something that you would be able to tackle with a good scrubbing and a good airing out. “Would that be acceptable to you?”

Pero nods, unable to argue with you when you are doing exactly what he wants to be done. He needs his home to be returned to its former glory and his children to be nurtured and loved in ways he has failed. “Very well, señora. I will let you prepare for the day. Breakfast will be brought to you and you are permitted to explore the house as you see fit. It is your home now.”

“Thank you.” You murmur quietly, wondering if you would ever have a meal with the man you call your husband. “However I will order dinner to be served in the dining room this evening.” It will be the first time you will have imposed your will and you wonder if he will dismiss your wishes. “Perhaps the children can join us?”

Tovar nods, “very well.” He doubts he will eat dinner with you. That implies that you are having some kind of relationship and that isn’t what this is. You’re here to fill a position like if he were to hire a new housekeeper. Pero stares at you for a moment before he steps back and makes his way down the hall to his office.

You blow out a breath, happy and yet slightly discontent with his answers and you feel like he has no intention of trying to get closer to you. It’s like he does not actually want you here, but needs you. “Well, good morning to you as well.” You huff sarcastically under your breath.

Pero continues on with his day, attending to the finances due at the end of the month for the tenant rents and salaries for the staff, signing off on the accounts for the food and necessities. It’s a laborious job but Carlos can only do so much. Your presence here will alleviate the household requirements from him but the estate needs maintenance. The day gets away from him and he is soon preparing for lunch.

You sigh, exhausted and wipe your brow as you collapse into a dusty couch and look around the room. The library will be days in the making to turn into a lovely place to read and teach the children. Who have been watching you warily and not paying attention to their tasks. They are seated at a table, their books open, but neither one of them has completed an assignment. “How do you like the gardens?” You ask, looking over at them. “Is it lovely to have picnics there for lunch?”

Alejandra glances at her brother before she answers you, “we don’t have picnics in the garden. Papa doesn’t really like for us to go outside.” She tells you and Luis nods his agreement, making you frown. “He says it’s dangerous to go outside in the gardens.”

You purse your lips, not remembering any kind of warning about staying out of the gardens. “Perhaps your papa means that it would be dangerous for you to go out there by yourselves?” you offer, standing up and wiping your hands on your apron that you had covered your day dress with. “Why don’t we see about having the cook make up some picnic food and we can take lunch out there? Explore and take in the fresh air.” It was obvious the children were bored and isolated, running around in the gardens would be good for you and them. Perhaps it would even help them like you.

Alejandra is cautious as she watches you, placing her pencil down so she can look at you properly. Luis tugs on her sleeve, shaking his head, and she pushes him off. “The garden, Luis.” She says pointedly and the little boy giggles, making you tilt your head. “What’s so funny?” You ask and Luis shakes his head. “Nothing.” Alejandra answers, “a picnic would be lovely.”

You frown but nod. “Alright. Put your books away and we will venture into the kitchen.” You smile. “Perhaps the cook has made cookies for us to have.” You shouldn’t bribe the children with sweets but you want to break through their prickly exteriors. They are still young and it has been a long time since their mother has been lost to them. “How does that sound?”

Luis nods, cautious but easily swayed by cookies. Alejandra is more reserved, offering you a look as she closes her book and you smile at her, trying to disarm her cautious nature. The children soon have their books stored away and they rush towards the kitchen, calling out for the cook who has become a mother figure for them. Señora Lola. “¡Ay niños!” She exclaims as they practically slide into the kitchen.

You can’t help but smile as the children greet the cook with obvious affection and your complaints about your first dinner being cold are forgotten for the moment. They hug the cook excitedly and both begin talking at once, turning and pointing to you. When the older woman looks up at you, you nod your head politely. “The children and I would like to have a picnic luncheon in the gardens.” You explain in Spanish. “Would we be able to put together a suitable fare for this?”

Lola nods, “of course, señora. I can prepare a basket for you and the children.” She assures you, “would you like a cup of tea while I prepare lunch?” She asks and you nod, moving to sit down at the kitchen table while the children tell Lola about their lessons. You can sense that she’s like a mother figure to the young ones and you’re glad they have had someone since their mother passed. Lola works fast to get you a cup of tea and the children a glass of milk while they wait.

“Thank you.” You watch as she moves about the kitchen, finding her to be quick and decisive as she gathers her ingredients. This is not a woman who is sloppy or resentful it seems. It makes you wonder why the food was so horrible the day before. When the kids are busy drinking their milk, you smile. “Tell me about yourself, Señora Lola. It is obvious you have been with the Don’s household for many years.”

Lola smiles, “my mother was the cook before she retired. My father was the Tovar’s butler and they fell in love and had me. Mi mamá taught me everything I know and we have been in the Tovar household for three generations. My son is a gardener. My husband is the groundskeeper. Maria - bless her soul - was the heart of the home. She lit up every room she was in.” Lola sighs and glances at the children.

“I understand that I am new.” You venture softly. “And I cannot replace Señora Tovar, but I would like to bring some comfort and happiness to her family.” You know that you can’t just force these people to accept you. Not when they had lived for so long with the ghost of the woman who had left them broken. You bite your lip. “Will you help me do that, Señora Lola?”

Lola nods, “if you can bring hope and light back to this home, you will forever have my admiration and gratefulness, señora. You are Señora Tovar now.” Lola tells you and you bite your lip as she prepares the lunch.

Once the lunch is packed away in a basket along with a large bottle of lemonade, you have Carmen bring you a quilt to spread on the grass to sit on. Guiding the children out of the large, glass doors into the garden, you smile at the bright sun and fresh air. The weather is beautiful and you can see yourself bringing the children out here often. “Where would you like to sit?” You ask, looking around the neat but barren gardens. It’s obvious Lola’s husband keeps them up but there has not been any new flowers or plants added for some time.

The children point to a spot near the pond and you allow them to guide you towards it. Carmen spreads out the blanket and you settle down with the children. Pero is standing up to stretch when he sees you and the children on the lawn. He tilts his head and wonders how you managed to get them to sit down for more than five minutes. Maybe he did make the right decision.

Eating outside seems to have been a magical treat for the kids. They ate politely and minded their manners after the promise of running around after they finished was made. You can tell they enjoyed it and by the time you had to pack up to go back to the house to finish their lessons they were sleepy. Making you smile at the way they leaned against one another.

****

“Señora, is this the color you prefer for the drapes?” Carmen asks you as you appraise the different materials and pattern samples. It’s been a month since you’ve been in Pero’s home and you have been slowly working on bringing the home back to its former glory. The children have grown closer to you, wanting their meals in your company, yet still no sign of your husband.

Pero walks down the hall, the portraits of his ancestors lining the walls and he notices the change of the decor. Everything seems dusted and shiny, and the rugs are pristine. It’s fresher and brighter. He knows it’s your doing and that makes him smile, assured he made the right decision to marry you.

“I think it will look lovely in the breakfast dining room, don’t you?” You ask, finding Carmen to be a wealth of information and a good judge of character and design. As the two of you had grown closer the more time you spent going through the house room by room. Even the kids were helping when it was time to scrub walls and beat rugs out in the garden. You had turned it into a game where you covered their eyes and spun them around before they whacked the rugs with a broom. They had giggled and fallen down, but it was worth the extra time it had taken to freshen the rugs. “Perhaps, even if he does not dine with me, Don Tovar might enjoy reading his paper and drinking his tea in a bright and cheerful room.”

“Papa! Papa!” Alejandra rushes up to her father who is shocked at her cheerful greeting.

“Sí, mi tresoro.” He answers and she grins, “we are going into town today.” She declares and Pero frowns, not liking the idea.

“Whose idea is this?” He asks lowly and Alejandra says your name. Pero sighs and tells his daughter to lead him to you. She takes his hand and guides him to the kitchen where you are sitting with Lola. “Hola.” He greets his cook who smiles at him and says “hola señor.” His dark eyes turn to you, “Alejandra tells me you are taking the children into town today?”

“I am.” You nod as you set down the book you are making notes in. Carmen hustles to put the fabrics away and you send your husband a small smile. “The children need new shoes and I have several merchants that I wish to visit.” You glance at Alejandra with a proud look. “The children have assured me that they will be well behaved, and they are excited to spend their own pin money.”

Pero frowns, “I do not like them going into town. I do not want you going into town. It is dangerous.” He says, remembering when Maria went into town while with child and was knocked over. She went into labor early with Luis and that’s the night that she died. His hands shake a little and he shakes his head, “you are not going. I forbid it.”

Your brow arches and you look towards Carmen and Lola. Both women quickly bow and disappear. “Alejandra,” you urge his daughter. “Go and find your brother.” You urge her as you stand up and brush your dress down. If you are going to disagree with your husband, you are not going to do it in front of the staff or his children.

Pero meets your defiant gaze and he clears his throat, “I will not allow you to go into town. It’s dangerous. If you need something, you can tell the staff and they will go and get it.” He compromises and you glance around to make sure no one is around.

“Don Tovar, I appreciate your concern for my well-being but I am not a child and I will not be held hostage on your estate.” You declare. “I will take a footman and a driver with me, and exercise all caution. But I am going to town. Now….is there anything you wish for me to get while we are there?”

Pero clenches his jaw, remembering that moment Maria was carried into the house, her screams still echo through the halls of his mind. “No. I forbid it. You won’t be leaving this estate. That’s an order.” He growls, reaching for your wrist to grip it, his hand shaking as he remembers the night Maria died.

You wince when he grabs your wrist, squeezing it hard enough that your breath catches in pain. You wrench your wrist away from him, yanking your arm down and stepping back, your eyes wide with both fear and anger. "I am your wife. Not your servant." You manage to keep the fear from making your voice tremble.

“You can’t go. I - I can’t - Maria - she- please. You cannot go.” He shakes his head, his chest starting to heave and he hates how anxious he’s become at the thought of losing more from his life. He has barely spent a moment with you since the wedding but the idea of his children losing another woman from their lives makes his chest tighten.

Fear turns to worry, making you step forward and reaching for his arm. “Pero?” You do not use his Christian name often, but you use it now. “What is wrong? Take a breath.” You urge him, frowning at the way that your husband has turned from cold and demanding to panicked. “Talk to me.”

He pants, unable to calm himself down, and he clings to you, pulling you close and he can’t control his thumping heart, remembering the night he lost Maria, the night he lost the light of his life. He closes his eyes, trying to control himself but he’s failing.

You nearly stumble, but you don’t resist him. Holding onto your husband’s waist while he trembles. He’s obviously horrified by the idea and you can’t understand why but you don’t want to make him do this. “Alright, alright, I will not go into town.” You give in, hating that you are but perhaps you can talk to him and come to agreement later on when he has calmed down.

Pero inhales deeply, remembering what his doctor told him to do, and he tries to calm himself down, grounding himself with your touch. He takes several moments before he opens his eyes, his gaze meeting yours. “I- I’m sorry, esposa.” He murmurs, his hands still gripping you.

"It is alright." You murmur soothingly, wanting nothing more than to make him feel comfortable around you. You are supposed to be here to help him, and it seems like he needs help with this. "I am here, I am right here." You assure him with a smile.

When you smile at him, he jerks back and lowers his hands, the shield back up as he gathers himself and clears his throat. “I, uh, I am going to go - go back to my office. I trust you will send Carmen in your place to town.” Pero says and quickly turns to rush back to his office, away from you and the children once more.

You stare after your husband, completely flabbergasted and frustrated. The man dictates that you must stay at the estate, not go to town and has an apoplexy before fleeing back to his study without giving you a reason why you must be a hostage. Blowing out a frustrated sigh, you turn and curse your husband's stubbornness. You need to know what happened to Maria and why town is forbidden.

Alejandra and Luis shake their heads when you tell them you are no longer heading into town. “Please. Tell Papa we must go!” Alejandra whines, clinging to your skirts.

“I’m sorry, amor. He won’t allow us. We must listen to him.” You say and she shakes her head and looks up at you to stomp her foot.

“I hate him!” She cries and runs off, followed by Luis. You sigh and sit down just as Carmen comes over with a tea tray.

“Señora, I do not wish to speak out of turn.” She says and you shake your head, “when do we hide our feelings and thoughts, mi amiga.” You smile at her and she smiles back, glancing around when she takes a seat beside you.

“Don Tovar has - has a lot of fears about you going into town because that was the night he lost Maria.”

You frown, unsure of why going into town would cause a woman to die in childbirth, but you take your tea and listen. “I do not understand.” You shake your head. “Maria died giving birth to Luis, I thought?” You frown, knowing you will need to soothe the children’s feelings later on, but you want them to be able to calm down before you try. If you know why your husband fears it so, you can explain better to disappointed young children who don’t understand why they cannot have fun.

Carmen glances around again, “Maria was far along with Luis when she wanted to go into town to fetch more yarn for knitting. She - she was an independent woman and Don Tovar, he - he worshiped the ground she walked on. She loved him and he loved her. When she went into town, she was robbed for her jewels and coins and thrown to the ground and it sent her into early labor. The thugs were never apprehended and she was rushed home and the doctor was called. That was the night Luis was born and Maria died. They thought Luis was going to die too but he survived. Don Tovar was never the same.”

“Oh.” Your shoulders slump and you can understand why Pero is fearful of his wife going to town now. Even if he does not love you, the children have grown close to you and it would hurt them to lose you. “That is so sad.” You look down into your tea with a sigh and wish for a moment that this had been explained to you sooner. “I better understand why he is so hesitant, but he cannot think that the children will be kept here forever, does he?”

“He has…attacks when he has concerns about the children’s safety. I think - I do not wish to speak out of place but I think that’s why he has pushed the children away.” Carmen says and you nod in understanding. “I think he wishes he could connect with them but it’s hard since all he sees is Maria. He loved her. She was his childhood sweetheart and they married young before he left to fight in the war.”

You sigh softly, knowing you would find it romantic if he didn’t push his children away. To close himself off from pain. “Then I will make him.” You decide with a firm press of your lips. “I will go talk to the children. Inform Lola that the children and I will be taking lunch in Don Tovar’s study.” You decide. “Since he refuses to take his meals in the dining room, we will come to him.”

Carmen won’t argue with you, knowing it is futile, so she nods. “Very well, señora. I will tell Lola now and will let Carlos know.”

You shake your head, “not Carlos. I want it to be a surprise.” You say and she nods, “sí, señora.” You smile and she stands, bowing her head before she exits the room, leaving you with the news to tell the children.

****

Pero looks up from his papers when there is a knock on the door and he calls out “come in.” When you enter followed by the children, he’s shocked. “Señora?” He frowns, setting his pen down.

“Husband.” You send him a smile and guide the children over to the table that sits in front of the sofa and they sit down. Alejandra is still pouting, but her tears have dried and she is not so angry when she was told her papa feared for her safety. “Carmen will be bringing in our lunch soon.” You explain with a cheerful smile. “I thought that since you work so hard and are so busy, we would join you here to have lunch together.”

Pero’s frown deepens, “lunch together? Are you not able to have lunch in the kitchen?” He asks and you raise your eyebrows at him.

Pero bites his lip and you answer him, “the children would like to spend some time with their father seeing as we are no longer going into town.” You say and Alejandra stands up to walk over to Pero, reaching for his hand, “please papa. Let us have lunch together.” Her pout is Pero’s unraveling as he nods, standing up from his desk chair to walk towards the sofa.

Luis grins, unaware and still too young to understand his father’s hesitancy, but he begins to tell his father about the Spanish Armada that the governess is teaching the children about lately. “Sí, mijo. The English defeated us.” His dark eyes meet yours as he answers questions Luis excitedly asks him and he seems to relax a little. Lola and Carmen bring the meal in and the four of you begin to eat.

“I have decided to ask Carmen to direct any traveling merchants to our house when they are going through town.” You take a sip of your tea and look at your husband. “As well as inquire about children that are near Luis and Alejandra’s age that might wish to come play with them. Soon the house will be ready for visitors.”

Pero frowns, “why would we require merchants to come to my home?” He asks as he picks up his glass of wine. “And for the other children…I suppose it will be good for them to mingle with others.” He concedes that point, glancing at you and he’s taken back once again by your beauty, especially when the light hits your face.

“We require merchants to come to your home because the children need new shoes, their own are pinching their feet and the cobbler cannot make their shoes without measuring their feet.” You point out. “Also, I enjoy socializing and since I am not permitted to go to town, I will simply have town come to me.”

Pero sets his wine glass down, “I suppose that is for the best. I want the children to have everything they need, I want you to have everything you need. You - I am guessing one of the staff told you about Maria?” He asks, curious if anything has been said about his behavior.

You could lie to him, but you don’t. “I was told about the night Luis was born.” You admit softly, understanding how such a thing could haunt the man, especially since he was a soldier in the war. You wonder if the poor boy you have come to love even gets any acknowledgement on his birthing day, or if grief is too overwhelming. “You have my deepest sympathies.”

Pero swallows the lump that always forms in his throat when he thinks about Maria and that fateful night. In a way, he’s glad he didn’t have to discuss it with you, to relive that horrid night, but another part of him knows he needs to discuss it with you, to tell you why he brought you here and has yet to consummate the marriage. That time is not now though with the children here. “Gracias, mi esposa. I- I would like to have supper with you tonight…if you want.”

Your head tilts in surprise but you don’t voice it. “That would be lovely, Don Tovar.” You murmur softly, aware that he is asking for a dinner that is apart from the children. “I will ask that Lola makes your favorite dish.” You offer, smiling slightly. “Do you have any preference for dessert?”

Pero’s gaze dips down to your cleavage. You are a beautiful woman and he has not indulged in pleasure since Maria died apart from a few times where he had spent his coin and then felt incredibly guilty after when he felt like he was betraying his beloved wife. Tonight is about giving your marriage a chance, giving you a chance when he’s been so closed off from you since your wedding night.

You don’t miss the way that your husband's eyes dip down to your breasts and you wonder if he has finally decided to acknowledge that he has a wife. You aren’t ignorant of the relationship between man and wife and yet you have still retained your chastity well into your marriage. Pero mumbles something about a sweet and you nod. “I will make sure that is what you get, if you so desire.”

He nods in appreciation and Luis takes his attention by handing him a cookie from the tray. “Gracias, mi amor.” Pero smiles at his son.

“Papa, will you come and ride with us tomorrow?” Alejandra asks, wanting him to join them for their riding lessons.

“I- I am busy, mija. I-”

Alejandra shakes her head, her lower lip trembling. “Papa. I want - please.” She begs and Pero looks at you, a little lost.

“Your Papa is a very busy man, sweetheart.” You remind her gently. “Although, I believe that he should be able to join you for at least one hour? Yes, Don Tovar?” You ask, glancing from Alejandra to your husband. It will allow the children to see their father and still not take too much time away from his busy work. Although you feel as if he spends much of his time working so he does not have to grieve. “How does that sound?”

Alejandra nods, “please papa. Just an hour. Por favor.” She pleads and Pero nods, not wanting to see his daughter so pouty.

“Sí, mi amor. An hour. Let’s go riding for an hour.” He compromises and she surges forward to hug his arm, “¡gracias, papa!”

You smile at your husband’s shocked face when his daughter smothers him in affection. Nodding when he looks over at you, asking if he is doing things right or perhaps seeking help. He’s doing something that will make his children very happy and it’s a good thing. “Now we need to finish eating.” You tell the children. “Papa needs to get back to work, so finish your lunch so we can leave him to it.”

Pero nods, rubbing Alejandra’s back and he leans down to kiss her head. He can’t deny the way his heart twists at how much he’s missed out on with his little girl and his son. He knows he needs to be a better father to them. “Let’s finish eating.” He says and Alejandra nods, letting go of her father to settle down to eat. Lunch is finished in companionable silence and Pero is soon kissing his children on the head, promising them he will have dinner with them tomorrow.

“Go start your studies again.” You tell the children, smiling when they rush off and you turn towards your husband, slightly flustered to be alone with him for the first time. “I will clean up and get this mess out of your hair.” You promise. “Thank you for not turning them away. They talk about their papa every day and want to spend time with you.”

Pero smiles, watching the children rush off after kissing his cheek then yours, and Pero watches them with his heart thumping. “Gracias, señora. You - you brought me back to my children and I- I never knew how to bridge the gap. I- I cannot repay you for that.”

“There is no need for repayment, Don Tovar.” You assure him, still calling him by his formal title since he has never permitted you to use his Christian name. “That is my job.” You know that he would rather be quit of your presence so you nod and quickly turn around to gather the meals up onto the trays to be carried back to the kitchen.

Pero swallows harshly, “please…call me Pero.” He says and reaches for your hand. He squeezes it, and his heart twists as he thinks about you and how beautiful you are yet he feels like he’s betraying Maria.

“P-Pero.” you murmur, feeling shy now that he has stopped you from your task. You bite your lip as you stare into his dark eyes, wishing that you could tell him how handsome you find him. “Is there - something else you wished for, Pero?” You ask quietly.

Pero stares at you for a moment before he withdraws his hand. This is progress but he knows he shouldn’t venture into his attraction to you. It will only lead to heartbreak, either his or the children’s. “No. That is all. I shall see you later for supper.” He says and clears his throat.

You are disappointed, knowing that he wanted something else but you don’t push him. He had shown that he had no wish to have a relationship with you. “Yes, Don Tovar.” You revert back to your formal politeness and you pick up one of the trays and you will send Carmen in to gather the other. “Good afternoon.”

Pero frowns, wishing to hear his Christian name from your lips and when you carry the tray out of the room, he leans back against the chair, sighing and rubbing his face. He wants this to work. He needs this to work. For the children’s sake. Dinner tonight will be his chance to redeem his terrible behavior.

The rest of the day is spent with the children. After asking Lola to make the Don’s favorite meal, you had finished their lessons and then took them down to the kitchen for both their dinner and their baths. Laughing when they pouted when getting into the water, and then pouting when they had to get out. Once they are clean and in their nightclothes, you chatter and joke with them as you take them back upstairs to put them to bed. Leaving you little time to get ready for dinner with your husband, but it is for the best. You had no time to think about why he wanted to have dinner with you now, so long after your marriage.

Pero adjusts his jacket - not the latest trends but well made, none the less- and he paces in the dining room, wondering if you aren’t coming as the minutes tick by. When you finally appear, you look beautiful and his heart flutters in his chest after laying dormant for so long. He strides forward, taking your hand in his and leans down to press his lips to the back of your hand. “Esposa, you look beautiful.”

“Forgive me for being late, Don Tovar.” You curtsy for him and hate how handsome he is in his evening jacket. “The children were begging for another story before bed and I could not say no.” Your own preparation for dinner had been rushed and you hope that he is not disappointed by your appearance.

Pero shakes his head, “don’t be silly, esposa. The children come first. I trust they are in bed?” He asks and you nod, “they are asleep and in bed.” You smile and Pero keeps your hand in his so he can guide you to your chair. He pulls it out and helps you sit before he makes his way over to his own seat.

Once you are seated, Pero sits across from you and Carmen immediately marches into the dining room with the first course. “Don,” you venture, smiling your thanks to Carmen as she sets down the soup. “I believe that we should hire more staff.” You tell him. “My maid also acts as the housekeeper and now she is serving our dinner. I believe that we need a butler and perhaps a full time housekeeper. That way we are not overworking our staff.”

“You are in charge of the household. If you wish to have another, I will have Carlos and Lola ask around in town.”

You lift a brow in surprise, your soup spoon nearly to your mouth and you take your bite and swallow before you respond. “Thank you, I will have them ask immediately.” You smile at him again and Pero glances back down at his own soup as if he is shy. “The children are excited about riding with you tomorrow. I was surprised they had not learned already but they have come so far in their lessons.” If it is a rebuke, it is a small one. The children had been very far behind in their lessons and some had not started at all. You had been working diligently to get them on track to where they should be. “They are very bright children. You should be very proud of them.”

Pero’s stomach twists with guilt. He barely knows his children. He doesn’t know that they are behind in their studies when you mention they have much to learn. The guilt twists in his stomach again and he knows he can’t hide from them anymore. “I am.” He answers softly, offering you a rare smile. You are so kind, he doesn’t want to tarnish you with his sins.

Surprised by the smile, you offer one of your own and hope that he is starting to care. You continue to eat in silence, waiting for Pero to talk to you but the silent sounds of eating settles between you. It’s sad, really. This man doesn’t have more questions about his children and doesn’t seem interested in them. When you are done, you set your spoon down and quietly wait for the next course.

Carmen brings in the next course and Pero is struggling to find the words to make conversation. It’s been so long since he had dinner with someone and he’s a little out of practice with his etiquette. “Are you liking Spain or do you miss your home?” He asks you after rubbing his hands together.

“Truly?” You shrug one shoulder and look down at the plate in front of you. “I have not seen much of the country since the carriage ride to your estate.” You remind him, trapped here by your husband’s wishes. “But what I have seen is beautiful. Carlos is very hopeful we can restore the gardens and the greenhouse to their former glory.” You had learned that Pero had ordered that the garden not be planted, just maintained. As flowers would die off, they would not be replanted. At least until you had arrived. You suppose it was because Pero’s first wife had loved spending time in the gardens. The little pond of water had apparently been her favorite spot.

Pero wants to bite out that the gardens are not to be touched but then he remembers why he brought you here to marry him. He needs someone to maintain his home. “Perhaps we can take a ride soon, I would like to show you my country.” He says softly and looks up after he cuts into his meat.

“I would like that.” He might not mean it. Might not ever do it, since he seems to blow so hot and cold, but you smile. “I have missed riding.” You haven’t gone for rides since the children would want to come with you and they were not accomplished enough to go so far and you do not know the area. “But there has been plenty to keep me busy. Have you any opinion on the changes, Don Tovar?”

Tovar looks out of the window to the beautiful gardens, now full of flowers after your dedication to the garden, and he turns to look back at you. “The gardens looks gorgeous, mi esposa.” He says and turns back to his meal. “You are bringing the estate back to its former glory.”

“Thank you.” You feel proud that even if he is a man who does not interact with you much, that he sees your improvements to his home. “Was there anything that you wished to discuss with me?” You ask quietly. “I thought that might be why you asked me to have dinner with you?”

Pero sighs, setting down his cutlery. “I wanted to discuss…if you were looking to have children of your own. We never got a chance to discuss it and I wanted to address the matter as it would mean us…consummating our marriage.” He says, trying to be as matter of fact as possible.

“I had hoped to one day have children.” You confess setting your own cutlery down and hate how handsome he is despite how aloof he acts. “I have put those dreams aside, now.” You look away, back down at your food and you aren’t hungry anymore. “It does not seem that you are interested in….consummating our marriage.”

Picking up his glass of wine, Pero knows he has failed in your marriage already. He’s been selfish and he isn’t sure how he can fix it. The thought of betraying Maria in this final way has his stomach twisting. “Are you- are you interested in consummating the marriage?” He asks softly.

You need to be honest with him. So you are. “I am not interested in being used.” You admit bluntly. “I have no experience with intimate relations, but I do know what to expect.” You assure him. “However, I would not accept being used to fulfill your needs and then ignored until the next time you have use of my body.” You could very well ruin your chances of any kind of relationship with Pero, but he asked. “You are a very handsome man, and I have found myself thinking about you often, but if you have every intention of satisfying your lust and then pretending I don’t exist until the next time you want to touch me, I would rather you just leave me untouched.

Pero nods, appreciating your candor and the way you hold yourself. It makes you more attractive to him. He sips his wine as he contemplates his answer. “I do not wish for you to feel used and I am not capable at this time of more than physical release. If you wish to experience pleasure, I will ensure you are satisfied with our marital bed. However, if you yearn for an emotional connection, then I would suggest we permanently place any relations on hold.”

You smile, albeit sadly. “Don Tovar, I have never expected love in an arrangement. I am not a silly, romantic girl. However, I will require you to respect me if we were to share our marital bed. Take your meals with me and perhaps some evenings beyond our pursuit of pleasure. I don’t require your heart, I know your first marriage was one of love and your affections still lay with your late wife.”

Pero is taken back by your refute to his offer but he appreciates your directness. “Very well. I assure you that I will try my best to ensure you are satisfied physically. Shall we - would tonight be appropriate or do you wish to wait until it happens naturally?”

You hum, amused by the idea of physical relations happening naturally with a man who has not spent more than two hours in your presence since you have been married to him. Perhaps it is foolish, but you want to know what it is like to be touched. “Tonight is fine.” You assure him and pick up your cutlery again. “Do you have any preference for physical intimacy? I do not have any reference, so I will need to be told if there is something I should not do. Or should do.”

Pero nods, “very well. Let us finish our meal and I will allow you as much time as you require to get ready for our consummation.” He assures you and continues to cut into his meal so he can finish eating. Dessert is soon served and you eat in companionable silence before the dishes are cleared away. “Take your time.” He tells you as he stands and waits for you to gather yourself from the dining room table.

You nod. “Give me twenty minutes.” You ask as he takes your hand to walk you to the stairs. “Then I will be ready.” You noticed that he did not answer you about his preferences but figure that he would just show you tonight. After all, it is a husband's job to teach his wife about how he prefers love making.

Pero watches you walk up the stairs and he exhales shakily, realizing that this will be a big step towards cementing your marriage as husband and wife tonight. He clears his throat and makes his way to his chambers to clean himself up. It’s been a while since he’s been intimate but he remembers that women do not like being with men who smell like a long day. He washes and dresses in his linen nightshirt, deciding to keep things simple for the act. Inhaling deeply, he makes his way down the hall to your chambers.

Tovar knocks on the door, heart thumping in his chest, and when you call out for him to come in, he slowly opens the door. “Hola, esposa.” He murmurs after he shuts it behind him. He takes in your figure, glowing in the firelight and his cock twitches under his shirt.

“Hello, husband.” You bite your lip and wonder how he will approach you and this. “What- what do you want me to do?” You ask, watching him carefully, more nervous than you had expected to be. You don’t think he will hurt you, but you had been told the first time is painful and that you would learn to enjoy it. “Do you wish me to get on the bed?”

Pero shakes his head, walking over to you to take your hands in his and he exhales shakily, suddenly nervous. It’s been so long since he’s been with a woman, especially his wife. His heart clenches when he briefly thinks of Maria but he pushes that aside. “Esposa, eres hermosa.” He murmurs, letting go of your hand so he can reach up to caress your cheek. You are beautiful and any man would be lucky to have you as their wife. You deserve better than him, than some half shell of the man he used to be. He slides his hand down to caress your neck and your collarbone, his fingers playing with the edge of your gown. “Can I take this off?” He asks, his dark eyes meeting yours, burning like embers in the flames of the fire.

Mouth dry from that simple touch, you nod. Watching him as his eyes seem to shine like a dark flame and you can help but to think that he is most handsome. His hands skim down over your waist and he tangles the material of your nightgown in his fingers and slowly starts to drag it up. Exposing you to the warmth of the fire and it makes you even hotter as your skin starts to burn from the simplest touch. Tonight you will just let him touch you, hopefully show you what he likes. Maybe you can help him by letting him find pleasure with you.

Pero tosses your gown to the floor and steps back, his dark eyes running down the length of your body. His eyes focus on your tits, swallowing harshly as his gaze lowers to the thatch of curls at the apex of your thighs. “Hermosa.” He murmurs, stepping closer to you, and he reaches out to caress your waist, pulling you up against his body. “Tell me if you want to stop. Or you don’t like anything.”

You nod, wanting to touch him but you don’t ask. Knowing you would hate feeling rejected if he pulled away. Your breathing stutters as his fingers slide up and brush the underside of your breast, nipple hardening and you bite your lip so you don’t moan wantonly. “Pero….” Your whisper is soft, pleading and you wonder why you are so eager to have this man touch you.

His hand squeezes your breast until he notices that you want to touch him so he reaches for your hand, bringing it to his chest. “You can touch me, esposa.” He assures you, inhaling the scent of your bath oil as he leans in to run his nose along the length of your neck.

His own dressing gown is hanging open at the neck and your fingers slide inside to touch hot, tanned skin. Biting your lip and trying to concentrate as his fingers brush over your nipple and make you gasp. Looking down, you see the gown tenting over his cock and your cheeks burn, but you are curious to see what it looks like, reaching down and brushing the fabric close so you can see better.

Pero hisses when your innocent fingers brush his cock. He reaches down, guiding you to wrap your fingers around him. His skin is hot and velvety and you explore him with utter lack of knowledge but he enjoys it. He likes that you have no expectations of him. He can just feel. He murmurs your name and his hand lets go of yours, letting you explore him while his palms continue their own adventure, palming your ass in his grip.

It feels wicked and yet you know that it is perfectly natural to touch him. You need to learn how he feels since he is perhaps the only man you would ever sleep with. Unless you remarry and your husband is obviously a hale and hearty man. “It is so hard.” You murmur in wonder. “And yet so soft.” You gasp when you feel a wetness on your skin and look down to see a smear of liquid on your finger.

He refrains from chuckling at your virginal observations. “Take your time, esposa. We are in no rush. No rush at all. I want to make sure you feel good.” He assures you and he slides his hand down between your legs, finding you wet and wanting him. He loves that and he is going to make you cum. From his fingers, from his cock. He finds your clit and loves the gasp that escapes you as he starts to rub the bundle of nerves.

Your eyes flutter closed and you hand to cling to his shoulder before your knees buckle. “Oh…ohhhh my….” You whimper, your grip on his cock loosening. You don’t know what he’s doing to you but you need more of it. “Pero.”

Pero grabs your waist, keeping you upright and pressed against him while he works your clit. His lips brush your neck by accident and you shiver against him. He rubs your clit a little faster, wanting you to cum for him for the first time. “That’s it, esposa.”

He doesn’t seem to mind touching you, increasing how fast he is rubbing but he’s groaning against your ear and encouraging you. For what you don’t know, you just know that your stomach is fluttering and clenching right up until stars burst behind your eye and you gasp as your cunt clenches on its own and a wave of heat floods your core.

Pero keeps you upright, working you through it and groaning when you bury your face in his neck. He groans your name softly and slides his finger back to gently push it inside of you, wanting to stretch you out so you feel less pain when he finally fucks you.

“Ohhhhhh.” Your eyes wide, mouth hit against his skin as you moan. Surprised to feel his fingers inside you and your body jolts when he pushes them up and presses against something inside you, “oh Pero.” You whimper, closing your eyes and unable to help yourself, you kiss his neck.

He curls his fingers, knowing he needs to make this good for you. He pushes his fingers a little deeper, loving the way you kiss his neck and he knows he should stop you but the intimacy makes his heart twist, his stomach clench. It’s been so long since he enjoyed the touch of someone else. “Fuck.” He curses, his cock twitching.

“Is this- is this how it feels?” You pant softly, your hips rocking up to his hand. Chasing the feeling that he pulls out of you. “All the time?” You are surprised that there aren’t more babies in the world if sex feels like this.

“Sometimes.” Pero chuckles softly, adding another finger, “sometimes it feels good, sometimes it’s just a physical release to relax. Quiero - I want you to feel like this all the time we are intimate, mi esposa.” He murmurs, his hand squeezing your ass to encourage you to rock down onto his fingers.

You feel so good, rocking on your feet as you wantonly move in your husbands arms. Kissing along his neck every time you grind down onto his finger, you feel that sensation start to build inside of you again. “Pero.” You whimper, clutching his shoulders and clenching around his fingers. “Pero- I- again- it’s- it’s-“ you cut yourself off with a small cry, another wave of pleasure and heat flooding you and making you forget about everything but the bliss of his fingers.

The way you clamp down on his fingers has his cock leaking. To hear you so unabashedly enjoying yourself has him groaning and he works you through it. His fingers soaked and he knows you are ready to take him. “Mierda.” He hisses, pressing his cock against your hip as you come back down to earth. Soon enough, he’s withdrawing his fingers and he wipes his fingers on his nightgown. “Come on, esposa. Lay down. I want to fuck my wife.” He says with a slight smile, knowing it’s taken way too long to get to this point in your marriage.

You hum, nearly floating on a cloud as you walk over to your bed and pull the covers back. Climbing into the bed and knowing that you will come out of it properly wed is thrilling and you lay back amongst the pillows. Watching as he walks towards you. “Are you going to remove your shirt, husband?” You ask softly, wanting to see your husband as fully as he has seen you. There is no love between you, but there will be passion and you wish to know what he looks like.

Pero bites his lip, wondering if he will be good enough. If you will like the scars on his body from his battles won in the war. He exhales shakily and nods, reaching for the hem of his shirt so he can lift it over his head, fully exposing his body to you as you lay in your bed.

He is strong, you can tell that from the corded muscles that spoke of your husband doing much more than just being an idle lord. Bunching and rippling as he stands still for you inspection, you don’t hesitate to let your eyes roam over him. Widening slightly when you get your first look at his cock without some fabric blocking your view. “You are…handsome.” You admit breathlessly. “It- you make my core throb.”

Your words surprise Pero and he smirks, slightly cocky that you are satisfied with his appearance. He shifts closer to the bed until he is kneeling on it, his fingers caressing your ankle bone and up your leg. “That’s good. That’s lust, esposa. Do you desire me? Do you want me inside or you?” He asks, kneeling between your thighs and he doesn’t touch you so you can make the final assessment before he consummates the marriage.

Even though you are innocent, you are aware of what should happen. Feeling bold by the lust that is in his own eyes, you spread your thighs to reveal the thatch of curls covering your core. “Please, Pero.”

“Mierda.” Tovar mutters and caresses your thighs. When he looks into your eyes and sees your certainty, he nods and reaches down to grip his cock. Shuffling closer, he notches himself at your entrance and slowly, so slowly, pushes inside of you. “Fuck.” He pants, trying to control himself but you’re so wet and tight. He exhales shakily and pushes deeper, wanting to make sure you are as comfortable as possible despite him taking your innocence.

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling a pinch but it is not the painful experience that you had been led to believe that it was. Moaning softly as you feel him deep inside, seemingly deeper than his fingers had been, and throbbing. Your fingers dig into his shoulders again and you slowly open your eyes as you breathe out. “Pero.”

The urge to bury himself inside of you is strong but he remains in control, slowly rocking his hips so he can work his cock deeper inside of you until he is settled inside of you. He knows you are a keen horse rider so your innocence was likely taken during a saddling but he doesn’t care. He’s damaged goods himself and he knows some men would want you to be intact but this is kinder to you and to him. He closes his eyes once he’s fully inside of you, his fists clenched as he tries to not spill his seed before you can experience the pleasure of sex.

“I- I feel so full.” You whimper, your fingers dragging across his skin and your legs shuffling slightly. He’s so still on top of you and it makes you want to move, need to move. To chase the same sensation you felt when you had his fingers inside you. You gasp when you think of what you heard your maids back home giggling about. Riding a man as if he were a horse and you clench down around him thinking about riding Pero like that, his cock deep inside you.

Pero hisses when you clamp down on his cock and he inhales deeply. He reaches down to grab your thigh and he lifts it higher so he can sink deeper inside of you. “Fuck.” He pants and starts to move slowly.

You moan again, eyes widening at how well you feel him. “I- oh Pero.” You whimper, trying to roll you hips down but he has you nailed to the bed with his cock. “I-f-fuck.” You stammer out, the curse unfamiliar on your tongue but it feels like it is necessary for what you are feeling right now as your husband moves inside you.

Your curse has his cock twitching inside of you and he groans when your walls squeeze him. “Fuck, esposa. You feel - it’s - perfect.” He allows you a minute access to his thoughts and that seems to make you wild. Clamping down on his cock and arching your back to egg him on. He starts to move faster, lowering his hips and groaning your name as he tries to make this good for you.

You enjoy the rough sound of his voice. Moaning again as he starts up a rhythm to his movements and making you nearly gasp every time he pushes deep. You slide your hands down your back, playing over scars and working muscles rippling under the skin. You feel like he approved of your curse so you do it again, followed by his name. “It’s so intense.”

He likes to hear that because it’s a lot to him too. To be intimate with his wife. He never imagined he’d remarry but he starts to think it’s possible to have a marriage with you, to be able to survive without Maria…perhaps even be happy. He enjoys your touch and slides his hand up to cup your breast, squeezing and he shifts so he can lean down to take your nipple into his mouth.

You hadn’t expected his mouth. Wrongly assuming that kissing being too intimate meant any part of your body and not just your lips. “Pero!” You cry out loud enough that the servants might hear and arch your back up, wanting more of the pleasure of his mouth at your breast. “Oh fuck, oh fuck.” You whimper, shivering.

He loves hearing you curse, his cock twitching inside of you, and he switches over to your other breast. He bites down on your flesh, nipping and sucking, and he moves inside of you, grinding deep. “You like this, hermosa?” He asks, lost in the pleasure of being inside of you.

“Yes, yes Pero.” You moan, closing your eyes and lifting your legs to wrap them around his waist. You know that you are making him feel good. At least you hope you are. Feeling his thrusts start to build faster, his breathing catching and starting to pant against your skin. “So much.”

He grunts when he feels you starting to clench around him and he drops his hips so he can press his pelvis where you need him more. “Cum for me.” He pleads with a groan, needing to feel you cum before he finds his own high. “Por favor, esposa. Cum.” He demands and drags his tongue along your sternum.

You shiver at the feeling of his tongue on your skin. “Ohhhh Pero!” You cry out, body starting to shake underneath his with the next thrust of his hips as you start to fall apart. Pleasure whipping through every inch of your body as you moan.

He clenches his eyes shut when you clamp down on his cock and he bites down on your shoulder as he barely manages to pull out of you, his hot seed spilling on your thigh. “Fuck.” He pants, cock twitching against your hip as he rides his orgasm.

Your eyes open and you frown in confusion as you feel the wetness of his seed on your skin. “I- is something wrong?” You pant quietly, wondering if you’ve somehow disappointed him.

He frowns, pulling back to look down at you. “What are you talking about? I- nothing is wrong.” He’s trying to catch his breath and he shifts to lay down beside you. “It was good.” He assures you, “did you not enjoy it?”

“You-“ You bite your lip and look up at the ceiling. “You spilled your seed on my thighs.” You murmur quietly, wondering if there was something wrong with you that caused him to do that. He was supposed to finish inside you. That’s what everyone said.

Pero closes his eyes, trying to conceal the pain. “I know - I know we aren’t - tonight was our first night but - but I can’t risk you being with child so soon.” He admits, reminded once again of Maria dying during childbirth.

“I-I am so sorry.” You close your own eyes, mortified that you had brought up something so personal to him. “I understand. Forgive me for being so thoughtless.” You know you have ruined things and you swallow down a sigh.

Pero shakes his head, shifting to swing his legs over the side of the bed. “Don’t worry, esposa. I- I’ll leave you to clean up. I have work to attend to.” He declares as he stands and reaches for his nightgown. “I shall see you tomorrow.” He says, turning to look at you after he edged towards the door.

You nod. “Yes.” You know he wants to leave and you sit up, his seed cooling on your skin. “I will clean up and then choose another book from the library before I go to bed. Goodnight, husband.”

“Buenas noches, esposa.” Pero says and swiftly leaves your room. Tonight, he gave in to his desires and left you upset after he pulled out of you. He knows you will urge him to have a child soon and he isn’t sure he is ready for that conversation but for now, he will retire to his quarters to read over the accounts before he falls asleep. He’s not entirely sure how long he can continue keeping you at arms length but he has to try. He cannot lose another wife.

****

The next morning, you are surprised to find your husband in the dining room when you come in. “Buenas días, husband.” You see that he is reading some papers, so you move to your normal seat with the cup of tea you had retrieved yourself when you had gone in to see Lola. “I hope your night was restful.” You had decided that you understood where Pero stood on getting you with child and you wished to speak with him about it. “Have you ever used a- a condom before?” You ask him. “My maid back home said they can be purchased from the chemist. Perhaps that would be a good solution?”

Pero raises his eyebrows over his newspaper, watching you for a moment until he chuckles. “Is that what you wish for us to use? I am happy to let you manage our…situation if you wish.” He trusts you and he isn’t sure when that changed.

“You said that you did not wish for me to be - to have a child.” You don’t add the ‘yet’ portion because you feel like he would rather that be ‘at all’. “So a co-condom would help.” You shrug, slightly self conscious now. “We don’t have to use one.”

Pero nods, understanding what you are saying and he appreciates your planning. “Let us have Carmen fetch us some things and then we have the choice.” He says, knowing that it will be hard to keep away from you now that he knows how you feel. The passion inside of you scares him and he knows if he allows it, he will lose himself in you. He can’t put his heart back on the line and the children need a mother. With a nod, he goes back to eating his pan con tomate and knows that you will take care of the issue of birth control.

Carmen brings you a plate of food and you thank her, eating in silence with your husband. You had not expected grand conversations with him, at least at the beginning, so you do not try to disturb him with idle chit chat and when you stand after finishing, you give him a small smile. “Have a good day, husband.” You wish him softly.

Pero watches you go and realizes that maybe he doesn’t just want this to be a marriage of mutual benefit. He finishes his breakfast in peace and decides to spend the rest of the day near the children.

****

“Where is my wife?” Pero asks Carmen, who frowns, “she’s in her chambers, Don Tovar.” She answers and Pero frowns, making his way to your rooms and he is even more confused when he enters and calls your name, only to find you aren’t there.

Biting your lip, you urge the horse faster. Knowing that you are breaking your word to your husband, but it cannot be helped. Luis is feverish, and Carmen and Lola had been nowhere to be found when you had gone searching for them. Frantic about your husband’s son, you know it would destroy Pero to lose the last bit of his wife that she had given him. So you broke your promise. Currently racing to town to fetch the doctor, you pray that the instructions you had given his sister were working and that you will be able to bring the doctor back from town in time.

When Pero finds the children, he’s frantic when he’s told that Luis has a fever and you have left to go to town to find the doctor. He can hardly contain his anxiety, his hands shaking, and he growls at Carlos, “I’m going to fucking find her!” He feels like he’s losing control, his heart pounding and his breathing is heavy. His legs feel like lead and his brain focuses on you and his children. Is Luis dying? Is this his punishment for his time in the war? Is he going to lose you? He pants and collapses to his knees, Carlos reaching out to steady him as his vision goes cloudy. “I- I - can’t save them.”

It is to your detriment that you haven’t been to town, wasting precious time to find the doctor and demanding that he come with you back to the Tovar estate. Shaking with fear and praying that you make it back in time to help your little boy. You didn’t give birth to him, but you have grown close to the children and you have come to love their personalities now they are being taught and challenged, time being spent with them. The mischief of your first meeting was long gone. Rushing to your horse and as soon as the doctor is mounted on his own, racing for home.

Pero manages to stand up, shoving Carlos away as he demands to know where you’ve gone. “I - Alejandra said she’s gone to the town.” Pero doesn’t waste a second, rushing to the stables and swinging his leg over his stallion, no saddle, he pushes the horse to the limit as he gallops towards town. Images of you injured or dead flash in his mind and he realizes how you have wiggled his way into his mind and heart. Your kindness and the feel of you beneath him have his heart twisting at the thought of anything happening to you.

Frowning, you spot a rider in the distance on the road. Unsure of who it might be, you glance back at the doctor who is on your horses heels and then forward again. Recognizing the haste in the way you see the horse being pushed, dread knots in your stomach, realizing that it must be your husband. Lifting a hand, even though he is too far away to shout to, you wonder if he will beat you for disobeying him.

Pero sees you as he gallops and he nearly falls off of the horse when he pulls on its hair to slow it down. “You - what the fuck do you think you are you doing?” Pero yells as you approach him and the doctor’s horse skids as he comes to a stop.

“Luis! Luis has a fever!” You cry out, panting for breath as your horse stomps and shakes underneath you, “I- I had to get the doctor.” Your own mother had died from a fever sickness and the idea of losing his little boy on your watch makes you want to be sick. “I- we must hurry Pero! He cannot die, not like mama!”

Pero nods, knowing that now is not the time to have this argument. “You’re unharmed?” Pero asks and you nod frantically. His heart is pounding but you are safe and unharmed from what he can tell so he turns his horse around and the three of you gallop back to his estate, back in front of the sick little boy in record time. Pero kneels beside Luis, watching the doctor and he swallows harshly, “por favor. Just - do something.”

You twist your hands, knowing that Pero is worried and you start to pray yourself. Carmen has Alejandra in the other room and you can hear her comforting the older child. The doctor works and you worry, pacing the floors continuously, eager to bring the doctor anything he might need and bringing in the basin of cold water that Lola brings up.

Pero holds his son’s hand while the doctor assesses him and murmurs prayers as you kneel beside him. He reaches for your other hand, squeezing it as he prays and the doctor starts to drain the boy’s blood in hopes of bringing down the fever. “Bleeding should help the fever break. If not, I have some bark I think will help.”

Pero swallows, his throat is dry, “whatever you can do. I- I can’t lose him.��

You try to be there for him. Sitting strong and praying as the doctor continues to bleed the boy until he claims that it is enough. Wiping him down and checking his forehead again with a small frown before he moves over to the teapot he had requested with boiling water. You squeeze Pero’s hand and glance at your husband’s worried face.

Pero doesn’t know how long he lays there, his heart and mind weary as he watches his son. The doctor gave him the tea and left, stating it “is in God’s hands now.” He’s not eaten, he hasn’t slept. He just sits there and watches the little boy breathe. He doesn’t know where you are, he sometimes wonders but he’s too concerned about his son.

You watch. Waiting for anything and everything that Pero or Luis might need. Often leaving the room to comfort Alejandra and to let her know how her brother is doing. You don’t want her to feel forgotten and eventually you allow her to come into the room after promising to be quiet. The two of you sit in a chair behind Pero and eventually curl up together and fall asleep together from exhaustion and worry.

Pero isn’t sure when he fell asleep, perhaps the exhaustion got to him and he simply rested his head on the cool sheets, his eyes closing without his knowledge. “Papa.” He doesn’t hear the weak murmur at first. “Papa.” A small hand touches his hair and Pero’s nose wrinkles. “Papa.” The voice is stronger and wakes Pero up, his head shooting up to see Luis lucid and awake.

“Luis” He gasps, reaching for him to check his views. His eyes are clear, his forehead cool but not cold. He’s okay. “Mi amor.” Pero chokes, wrapping his arms around the little boy to pull him into his arms.

You wake up, rousing Alejandra in your arms and nearly sob with relief that Luis is awake and alert. “Mama, is Luis okay?” Alejandra demands, her own worry for her brother causing her to not think about what she calls you. Your eyes widen and you try not to tear up at the honorary name, nodding and brushing her tangled hair back from her face and holding her close despite being on your lap. “It looks like he is.” You hum. “Go hug him and your papa.”

Alejandra nods, rushing over to her papa and her brother and she wraps her arms around them. Pero shifts, gathering the children into his arms and he sniffs, trying to ignore the tears that sting in his eyes as he embraces them. “Te amo, mijos.” He murmurs and looks over at you, “come here, esposa.” He gestures for you to come over to them.

Standing up, you are happy to see such a touching moment between the small family. You know you are a part of it now, but they are reminders of his wife and very dear to him. Walking over, you ruffle Luis’ hair and smile. “You gave us all a fright, Luis.” You hum, sliding your hand to your husband’s shoulder.

Pero reaches up to grip your hand in his, his terror at losing you or one of his children now subsided and in its place is joy that he doesn’t have to suffer another loss. The four of you embrace until Carmen comes in to attend to Luis, wanting him to eat something and drink. Pero tells Alejandra to stay with her brother and she nods. “I need to speak with you.” Pero says to you, his voice deepening as he reaches for your hand.

You swallow, aware that he will now punish you. You had disobeyed him and you know from everyone that Pero is a stern man. You follow him quietly, wondering why he is still holding your hand as he guides you out of the nursery towards your bedroom.

When Pero opens the door to your chambers, he pushes you inside. “What were you thinking?” He hisses, dropping your hand as he glares at you, “I told you to never go into town.”

“I was thinking that Luis was in danger.” You won’t apologize for your actions, but you understand his anger. “He needed the doctor and I could not find anyone.” You stand straight and stiffen your spine. “If you punish me, that is you right. But I would do it again. My mother died of fever and I did not want you to lose your last gift from your wife.”

Your words take Pero back and his jaw drops, staring at you as he absorbs your words. Your kindness knows no bounds it seems and that’s the moment it clicks for Pero. Unable to stop himself, he surges forward and you think he’s about to hit you but he doesn’t, instead, his lips press against yours.

You had flinched, you could admit that yourself but then you are gasping against Pero’s mouth, shocked that he is kissing you. He had told you that he wouldn’t do that again; it was too intimate for him. Yet his lips are warm and soft against yours and you cannot help but melt into him.

His hands grip your waist and his mouth moves against yours, his tongue sliding along your lower lip as he pulls you up against him. You moan into his mouth and his hands reach down to tug your skirts up, his hands soon pulling his cock free from his breeches, hard and aching. He needs you and he hopes you want him too.

You had expected a beating, not for your husband to fuck you. But you aren’t going to push him away. Your fingers tug on your petticoats and you quickly push them down. “Husband.” You gasp out when he pulls his lips away. “Please.” You whimper, enjoying his apparent need for you.

His hand grabs your thigh, lifting it over your hip so he can position his cock at your entrance and he pushes inside of you with a groan. “Fuck, hermosa.” He murmurs, caressing your thigh as he pushes deeper.

“Oh god.” You would probably collapse if he didn’t have his hand on your waist and use his strength to keep you upright. Wanting to kiss him again, you wonder if that was a fluke and he wouldn’t kiss you but you turn your head to kiss along his jaw while he throbs inside you.

He turns his head to kiss you, pressing his lips against yours as he starts to move inside of you. You’re so wet and tight and alive. You’re alive. He focuses on you and your touch, his mouth moving against yours as he presses you against the wall.

You had never considered that your husband could fuck you against a wall, and yet, it’s thrilling. You moan into his mouth and cling to him, not caring that his hips push you back against the wainscoting every time he thrusts into you. Your own tongue touches against his and your entire body shivers with pleasure.

“Fuck. Mi esposa. I- Don’t want to lose you.” He murmurs, kissing along your jaw, and he kisses down your throat as he lifts your hip a little higher so he can push deeper inside of you. “Fuck. Please. I need - I need you.”

“Pero.” You whimper, closing your eyes and letting him do whatever he needs to you. You are starting to fall for him, especially with how he worried for Luis.

It’s hard to imagine his days without you now. Cold nights alone have turned into passionate escapades scattered throughout the day, touches leading through the night. He has tried to stay away but you’ve drawn him in. He continues to work his cock in and out of you, groaning as he presses his lips to yours again.

Closing your eyes, you give yourself over to him completely. Clinging to him as he fucks you so deeply you know they you will be feeling him for days after. Even though he’s not wearing a condom, you expect him to pull out and spill his seed outside your body. The condom had been great and you loved the feeling of him pulsing inside you.

Pero kisses along your jaw, breathing you in and he needs you to clamp down on his cock. He grabs your other thigh, lifting you up completely as the adrenaline surges through him and he grunts as he lifts you up and down his cock, still pressing you against the wall.

Gasping, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and try to wrap your legs around him, your skirts bunched between you. “Fuck, Pero, I- I love you.” You moan quietly; needing to at least whisper it even though he doesn’t feel the same way. “So close.”

He hears it but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he presses his lips to yours and when you whine into his mouth, he groans against your lips when you clamp down on his cock. He should pull out but he doesn’t, too focused on you and how you feel and how he could’ve lost you. He grunts and keeps thrusting you through your orgasm until finally, he’s pushing deep and filling you full of his hot seed, painting your walls.

Your eyes widen and you are too busy worrying about the feeling of his hot seed inside you. Knowing he will regret it you are savoring this one moment. “Pero- Pero you have to let me- I have to bathe.” You whimper.

He doesn’t release you, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pants again at your chin, enjoying the feel of you surrounding him. “Don’t.” He murmurs, not wanting to let you go just yet. He can’t lose another person from his life that he cares for.

You frown but you don’t push him away, deciding that he knows what he is doing. “Okay, husband.” You pant softly, feeling him throb inside of you and start to soften. “Is-is this my punishment?” You ask teasingly.

Pero chuckles softly, pulling out of you and lowering you down to the floor. Your skirts settle down and he reaches down to tuck his cock back into his breeches. “No punishment.” He assures you and reaches for your hands, “please…just do not go into town unless you are escorted.” He compromises, knowing that it will be hard to overcome his anxiety surrounding town but he cannot keep you prisoner.

You bite your lip, aware that your husband is compromising. “Yes.” You murmur softly, leaning in and pressing your lips to his cheek. You don’t want to push him for more than he will give you so you won’t kiss him on the lips unless he kisses you first. “Thank you, Pero.” You hum, smiling as you pull back to look into his dark eyes. “I will have an escort.”

Pero nods, letting go of your hands and he is pleased that he could compromise. The idea of you going into town terrifies him, he doesn’t want to lose you. The children clearly love you and he - he has affection for you.

****

Pero looks up at you as you enter the dining room. He stands up, walking over to pull your chair out for you, taking over the job from the footman. “You look beautiful, esposa.” He murmurs, caressing your cheek as you stand before him and he helps you sit down.

“Thank you.” You give Pero a smile, but you’re slightly nervous. Your monthly time has been missed for several months now and you woke up feeling nauseous and your breasts being sore. You are with child and while your husband has become warmer to you, you don’t know how he will react. It’s true that there have been several times since the day Luis was sick that he hasn’t worn the condom, he had also still worn it and never said anything about having children with you or your confession of your feelings. You’ve never repeated those words again. “I’ll just have some weak tea and toast.” You tell the footman before he disappears to let Lola know you are ready for breakfast.

Pero frowns, usually you order more at breakfast and he wonders if you are unwell. “Are you ill, esposa?” He asks and wonders if you are okay. He watches you as you eye the cup of tea with a grimace and he calls Carlos over to order the doctor to come to the house.

“I think that I might have some kind of stomach malady.” You admit with a small groan, covering your nose from the aroma of the tea. “It should pass.” You have an idea of what is wrong but you don’t wish to alarm Pero.

Pero is concerned but knows the doctor will help you and Carlos will ensure his swift arrival. Your breakfast is hardly touched and he will inform Carmen to let Lola know to prepare a light but generous lunch for you. He is concerned, knowing how Luis was and he’s terrified that you are going to end up with the same fate.

After breakfast, you still feel ill, laying down and resting even though you know you should be watching the children. You feel dizzy and nauseous and you wonder if all women feel this way when they are pregnant. You are sure that is what is going on, emptying your stomach of the tea and the few bites of toast you had managed into the chamber pot under your bed.

Pero greets the doctor, escorting him to your chambers. This is the same doctor who was present when Maria died and the midwife called for him after there were complications. The two men exchange a look before Carmen announces the doctor’s arrival. “I will leave you to it.” Pero says after everyone enters.

“Oh, I didn’t know Pero was calling a doctor.” You sit up, embarrassed and hoping that the nausea has passed. “I am afraid that I am not quite feeling myself.” You admit when he tuts and brings his bag over. “I think- I think I might be ….” You lower your voice. “Expecting.”

The doctor nods, “very well. Let us check and we can confirm, Señora Tovar.” He says softly and under Carmen’s watchful eye, he performs his tests. Feeling your stomach, he smiles. “Congratulations, Señora. You are with child.” He offers you a soft smile and Carmen grins, “congratulations.”

“Thank you.” It’s a relief to know that is what is wrong, but you wonder how Pero will take the news that you are expecting his child. “What can be done about the nausea?” You ask him softly. “My mother died young and I have never been around someone expecting.”

“I have a tea I can provide your cook with to assist with the sickness.” The doctor informs you and is soon bidding you goodbye. When the doctor exits your quarters, Pero looks up, eyes questions and the doctor pats his shoulder. “I believe your wife had good news.” Pero swallows, knowing what that means and he thanks the doctor before Carlos escorts him out.

Exhaling shakily, he walks over to your room and knocks, entering your chambers to find you sitting on the edge of the bed. He sits down beside you and reaches for your hand, “esposa.”

“I’m sorry, Pero.” You start quietly, looking down at your joined hands. “I know that you wished to wait, or to never have children with me.” You are worried that he will be upset, that it will ruin the closeness you have felt with him lately. “I do not know what happened. I’m - I am going to have your child.”

He squeezes your hand, “don’t know what happened? I think I do.” He chuckles softly. “And…and I’m not angry about it. I knew what could happen and you are an incredible mother to Luis and Alejandra. I think you’ll be amazing.” He assures you, “and I - I want to have a child that is half you and half me.”

You let out the breath you had been holding and smile. Relieved that he is not upset and you are able to be excited for the first time. “I think it will be wonderful.” You admit, although you frown after a moment. “I promise I will not go into town, even with an escort, when my time draws near.” You don’t want him to worry about another wife, even if he doesn’t love you, he would worry.

Pero nods his gratefulness, knowing you now understand his anxiety and reaction. Especially after you ran off to fetch the doctor. He knows he is going to be even more protective of you. “It’s good news, hermosa.” He promises, leaning in to kiss your forehead, brushing his nose against yours until his lips brush your lips.

You’ve found there is comfort in his kisses. A certain sense of home that you’ve not found anywhere else as the nights in his bed progressed. It was often you ended up sleeping together after your pleasure but you had never voiced that sentiment of love again. You desperately want to say it again, but you are afraid to, afraid of being reminded that you are not his late wife and he had warned you that he wouldn’t love you.

****

As your pregnancy progresses, Pero gets more and more anxious. He’s nervous of the birth, reminded once again of Maria dying after giving birth to Luis. He swallows harshly as he leans against the wall, trying to calm his racing heart. You’re going to give birth soon according to the midwife and each day makes his anxiety threaten to overwhelm him.

Every day that passes, you can see your husband slowly start to unravel. He is sleeping less and worrying about you. Not even allowing you on the stairs without someone. Making you ring a bell to have someone come help you. Most often he works from your chambers, moving his work to your writing desk. You sigh as you slide your hand over your stomach, panting slightly. The pains had started last night but you had kept it from him, knowing he wouldn’t sleep and he desperately needed the rest.

Pero sees Carmen rushing through the halls and she slows down when she sees him. “What’s happening?” He asks, frowning, and the young woman bites her lip. “Tell me.” He demands and Carmen knows she can’t deny him, “she’s having pains. The birth is happening. I must fetch the midwife.” Carmen rushes out and Pero’s eyes widen.

“Fetch the doctor too. I will take no chances.” He says and Carmen nods, rushing off. Pero drops everything he is doing and rushes to your chambers, “esposa. Is it true? You’re having pains?” He asks, eying you in the chair in the corner.

You would deny it, to spare him a bit more time but another pain makes you clutch your stomach. Bending over slightly as you start to moan quietly. It lasts for a long time and by that time you relax, you are panting. “I am.”

Pero rushes over to you. Guiding you over to the bed, “come, you must lay down.” He shakes his head, trying to take your shoes off. “Why didn’t you send for me?” He asks, caressing your ankle as you settle against the pillows.

“You have not been sleeping.” You remind him quietly. “I know you need rest and if I told you, there was not any rest in your future.”

Your whimpers make his heart clench and he shakes his head. “Mi - esposa. Come, do not worry about me. I will worry until the babe is in your arms and you are well and healthy.” His voice wavers for a moment and he wonders if you notice as he wipes your forehead of the beads of sweat.

“It will be well.” The midwife has assured you that you are carrying well for a first time birth and believes that it will be a simple thing. Reaching for his hand, you smile at him softly. “I have already asked that you be allowed in the birthing room if you need.”

Pero is surprised and pleased, kissing your damp forehead. “I won’t leave you.” He promises and brushes his lips against yours. “I’ll be here. Every single second.” He vows as Carmen comes back in with water and a flannel.

You get changed into a clean nightgown, Carmen helping you although you don’t mind your husband being there. He has seen you naked more than your own nanny when you were a child. Getting settled back down into the bed, you grip Pero’s hand and cry out when the next pain washes over you.

Pero lets you squeeze his hand as you try to ride the pain. You whimper and Pero frowns, “where is the midwife?” He asks, starting to get impatient. “And the doctor? I called for him as well.” He growls, looking over at Carmen.

“They are coming, Don Tovar.” She assures him, knowing that he is worried about his wife. Everyone has seen how much the Don has come to care about his wife and they are all happy for him. You are kind and loving and it will be good for him to love again. “The doctor is impressed with your wife and has already said he will come whenever summoned.”

“He needs to be here. I will allow no one to take a singular risk. I won’t have my wife’s health and the baby’s health put in danger.” He hisses and squeezes your hand when you groan at the pain. “Are you - you need anything?” Pero asks, wanting to make sure you have everything you need.

“Water.” You beg quietly. Labor is harder work that you realized and you feel parched from it.

Pero nods and squeezes your hand again. “Whatever you want.” He promises, kissing your hand and rushing over to the tray Carmen had brought you earlier.

Pero returns with the water, letting you sip it and he wipes your forehead with the wet rag Carmen hands him. It seems like the sun is setting when you are finally ready to push. The midwife checking you and announcing it’s time. Pero is terrified, this was the time Maria lost too much blood. He remembers the sheets being soaked with it as Luis cried. He grips your hand, sweat beading on his brow as his heart starts to pound

Clenching your teeth together, you try to make sure that you don’t scream during the next pain. It makes Pero uneasy every time, he pales when you scream and grip his hand as tight as you can. You know that he is scared and even though you are in pain, you’re worried about him.

Pero feels unwell but tries to stay strong, each clenched scream bringing you closer to having his next child and he is terrified. Terrified of losing you. During your marriage, he has grown close to you. Spending many nights in your bed, even if he hadn’t touched you. He can’t imagine his life without you now. “Come on hermosa, you can do it. Push.” He urges you on, wanting you to concentrate.

Nodding, you sit up slightly and start to push. Bearing down with all your might, you see the midwife between your thighs as you start to feel more pressure.

Pero watches you push, his eyes darting between you and the midwife and he’s worried, he’s so scared that he’s gonna lose you. His hand grips yours as he watches you push and he’s silently praying.

“I can’t- it is too much.” You gasp out, falling back against the sheets as you pant.

The midwife clicks her tongue and looks up at you. “One more push, señora, and the bebita will be in your arms.” She promises you. “Next time the pain comes you push as hard as you can.”

“You can do it, hermosa. You can do it.” He eggs you on, sweat beading on his forehead as he watches you struggle. “Come on, mi amor. Come on.” He says, wiping your forehead.

You close your eyes, tears leaking out of the corners as you barely hear the words that you have wished for far longer than you should have. Holding his hand, you nod, bearing down with all your strength and pushing your baby into the world. Feeling them slip from your womb with a rush of relief.

Pero watches the midwife cradle the crying babe, her smile wide and Pero starts to cry, relieved and so happy at seeing his child born. “Felicidades, Don Tovar, it’s a boy.” She announces and Pero leans in to kiss your head.

“A boy, amor,”

“A boy.” You sob, exhausted and relieved and more than a little emotional about hearing ‘amor’ again. Almost terrified that he is thinking of his late wife and reliving that horrible night with a happier ending through you. “We have another son.” You pant, reaching for the baby when the midwife hands him to you.

Pero looks down at the screaming babe in your arms. His eyes sting with tears and he looks at you in awe. “A boy. Another boy.” He murmurs, kissing your forehead. “Amor.”

“He’s beautiful.” You murmur quietly, brushing your hand over his wet forehead. “Perfect.” His ten little fingers are curled into fists and he has ten perfect little toes. “Isn’t he?” You ask, looking up at your husband after you manage to tear your eyes away from your new baby.

Pero leans in to rest his forehead against yours, loving how you are cradling the baby and he knows Luis and Alejandra are excited for his arrival. “He’s perfect. So is his mother.” He murmurs, caressing the baby’s head.

You hum, not sure how to take that and look back down at the baby. He’s turning his face towards you and crying, searching for your breast. “Put him on the breast.” The midwife tells you. “Your milk will come.” You nod, opening your nightgown and guiding him towards your breast and gasping when he latches into your nipple.

Pero watches in awe, the midwife working on helping you with the afterbirth and the baby mouths at your nipple. Pero kisses your forehead again, he’s so perfect. You’re perfect. Hermosa, I- I love you.” Pero chokes, never imagining that he’d fall in love again but he couldn’t help it, you’re too beautiful and kind. The children love you and you’ve made his life so much better.

Your eyes widen and you look up at Pero in shock. “You- you love me?” You ask in astonishment, sure that would never happen for you. He nods and you start to cry. “I love you too Pero, I love you and our three children.”

Pero leans in to kiss you, “I love you. So much. I- I didn’t think - after Maria - you’ve brought this home, my children…me…back to life.” He murmurs and kisses your forehead. “Mi esposa, hermosa, amor. You are everything to me. I owe you the world.” He murmurs, looking down at the little boy.

Your smile is watery, but overjoyed. You had come to Spain to marry a man you didn’t know and was told that he could never love you. Now you have a beautiful son, two other children that adore you and your them, and a loving husband. Your father had chosen right. You were a family.

#pedro pascal #pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar smut #pero tovar fanfic #pero tovar the great wall #regency pero tovar x reader #regency pero tovar #tovar x you #tovar x reader #tovar x f!reader #tovar smut #tovar fanfiction #tovar imagine

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nightswatchdisbandmentera · 4 months

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I do think it’s quite interesting how GRRM’s ideals of a good king are confronted and challenged in Jon’s storyline.

Jon is undoubtedly a good person. And he has the capability to be a good king. But being a good person in the world of ASOIAF is not always rewarded. And being a good king is easier said than done.

“They say the king gives justice and protects the weak.” She started to climb off the rock, awkwardly, but the ice had made it slippery and her foot went out from under her. Jon caught her before she could fall, and helped her safely down. The woman knelt on the icy ground. “M’lord, I beg you—”

“Don’t beg me anything. Go back to your hall, you shouldn’t be here. We were commanded not to speak to Craster’s women.”

“You don’t have to speak with me, m’lord. Just take me with you, when you go, that’s all I ask.”

All she asks, he thought. As if that were nothing.

“I’ll … I’ll be your wife, if you like. My father, he’s got nineteen now, one less won’t hurt him none.”

(Jon III, ACOK)

The situation with Gilly at Craster’s Keep is a perfect example of how difficult it is to give the king’s justice in certain situations. Jon wants to help Gilly, he even feels guilty and horrible for choosing not to, but he cannot so easily offer his help because he is a man of the Night’s Watch.

What’s interesting about this conversation is that Gilly addresses and appeals to Jon as she would a king. She places herself as the weak party and Jon as the king who is expected to protect the weak. She kneels to him, as one kneels to a king, and addresses him as “M’lord”; ironic because Jon is just a bastard, who is now a member of the Night’s Watch. Much has been said about this exchange, and fandom often gives Jon a lot less empathy than he deserves. The truth is that he is in a very terrible situation, notwithstanding the character development that is to come regarding his perception of the wildlings.

But I’m looking back at GRRM’s quote about how being king gives one wealth and power and ability to do something, anything. This is something that Jon absolutely lacks in this situation. He may have been symbolically positioned as the rightful king by the narrative, but that doesn’t mean he has any actual power to enact change within the narrative itself. If Jon were nearly as callous about this whole situation as this fandom wants us to believe, he wouldn’t feel so guilty about refusing to help Gilly as he does later on. P.S: I also want to note that Sam is often lauded for being the one to help the girl, “unlike Jon”…except, Sam only does so when the chaos that follows the mutiny and Craster’s death gives Gilly the opportunity to flee. Sam understood that he had no power to help Gilly early in ACOK and that’s why he sent her to Jon. But he also overestimated just how much Jon would be able to do at that moment. Jon may have been the Lord Commander’s steward, but that didn’t give him the ability to go against Mormont (especially when the LC himself was turning a blind eye to Craster’s vices).

It’s then interesting how this situation of a young girl trying to flee a precarious situation is repeated later on in ADWD and this time, Jon manages to help her. Except the difference is that Jon is the Lord Commander now, not just the LC’s steward. What he couldn’t do for Gilly in ACOK, he can do for Alys even though that too places him in a tough situation.

“Why not the king? Karhold declared for Stannis.”

“My uncle declared for Stannis, in hopes it might provoke the Lannisters to take poor Harry’s head. Should my brother die, Karhold should pass to me, but my uncles want my birthright for their own. Once Cregan gets a child by me they won’t need me anymore. He’s buried two wives already.” She rubbed away a tear angrily, the way Arya might have done it. “Will you help me?”

“Marriages and inheritance are matters for the king, my lady. I will write to Stannis on your behalf, but—”

Alys Karstark laughed, but it was the laughter of despair. “Write, but do not look for a reply. Stannis will be dead before he gets your message. My uncle will see to that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Arnolf is rushing to Winterfell, ’tis true, but only so he might put his dagger in your king’s back. He cast his lot with Roose Bolton long ago … for gold, the promise of a pardon, and poor Harry’s head. Lord Stannis is marching to a slaughter. So he cannot help me, and would not even if he could.” Alys knelt before him, clutching the black cloak. “You are my only hope, Lord Snow. In your father’s name, I beg you. Protect me.”

(Jon IX, ADWD)

We’re seeing a repeat of Gilly and Jon here. Alys is now the weak and helpless maid and Jon, who is still a brother of the Night’s Watch, is once again made to play the role of a king.

Obviously the narrative, as it was with Gilly’s situation in ACOK, is saying that Jon is the king because while Alys could’ve pinned her hopes on Stannis Baratheon (who is actually titled), she chose to flee north to Jon the bastard. And what’s interesting this time is that Jon actually helps Alys in whatever way he can. He uses his status as Lord Commander and his dealings with the Thenns to secure Alys’ marriage. He oversteps his bounds as Lord Commander, and the irony is that he starts to act more as a king would.

So it’s interesting to see how the character often marked as the true king by GRRM’s narrative handles the moral obligations that come with kingship. And GRRM is putting Jon through these tests when he doesn’t even have a crown of his own. GRRM often makes Jon prove his worth as a king despite thinking of himself only as a bastard. We see this best when Stannis comes to the Wall.

Surprisingly, Stannis smiled at that. “You’re bold enough to be a Stark. Yes, I should have come sooner. If not for my Hand, I might not have come at all. Lord Seaworth is a man of humble birth, but he reminded me of my duty, when all I could think of was my rights. I had the cart before the horse, Davos said. I was trying to win the throne to save the kingdom, when I should have been trying to save the kingdom to win the throne.” Stannis pointed north. “There is where I’ll find the foe that I was born to fight.”

(Jon XI, ASOS)

It is true that Jon and Stannis are in very different situations. Stannis is aware that he is the rightful king (as Robert’s heir), and he has also heard from Melisandre that he is the prophesied prince. Jon, on the other hand, is a bastard boy completely unaware of his royal birth or his magical destiny. Yet it’s so interesting that it’s Jon the bastard who was actually doing his duty as the king (without even knowing it) whereas Stannis had to be reminded of it. So despite his failings every now and then, Jon does live up to the author’s ideal of a great king.

#in my king jon feels again dksjsnsnsdj #this started as an introspective look at the morally difficult choices Jon has to make across the series and how that relates to kingship #and then took a turn into jonsnowdefensesquad nonsense in the middle smh #2 am thoughts #jon snow #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #forgot to add but that last stannis bit is why I think jon will be king at the end of the story and not in twow like most jon stans #grrm legit puts my boy through the ringer #he will have to prove his worth (and make lots of morally ambiguous choices)#he needs to save the kingdom FIRST then be its king

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yuikomorii · 1 year

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Who do you think are the most mentally strong diaboys?

// I'd like to make a top three, even if I believe number one is already obvious:

3. Kino

Being forgotten by your true "father" and abandoned in Rottenberg is a very sad scenario. Kino was also bullied because of his race, since the ghouls did not treat someone like him well. However, after releasing his powers, they began to respect him, so Kino became their leader, and unlike other characters, he also got Yuri, his friend, by his side. Kino is a mentally strong person, but he still struggles with it, especially given his resentment of the Sakamaki brothers for obtaining Karl's "love," even though they did nothing to him. He also gaslights others for "having it better," and dwells on his past to the point of obsession. It feels as if he doesn’t live for himself anymore, but merely for recognition.

2. Kou

Losing your wealth, ending up in a manhole, then in an orphanage where you were assaulted and exploited because you were a pretty child... As horrifying as it may sound, Kou has a very realistic past because the events that happened to him actually occurred in Romania during that time period. Honestly, despite his background, I'm surprised he's generally such a cheerful person. He would have been first on the list, but Kou never moved on from his experiences. He, like Kino, held a grudge against the Sakamakis for having "a better life" than him, despite the fact that he was unaware of their past. Anyway, he was in MB at the time, and based on DF and LE, he's doing much better now and is a sunshine boy, so he deserves this spot.

1. Ayato

I guess it's always been obvious that Ayato is mentally the healthiest Diaboy. His past is almost on the level of Haruka from Moshikami, which says a lot because it's so messed up that I wouldn't have been surprised if he lost all hope, but he didn't, which is really admirable.

Ayato never complained about what he went through, never gaslighted others for having it better, never engaged in a harmful coping mechanism and never projected on others. Yes, he has insecurities; he is afraid of not being loved or not being the best, but he is not dependent on these. He could still live peacefully without achieving them. Furthermore, he doesn't need a person to "fix" or help him deal with his struggles; he simply wants someone to appreciate and believe in him.

He's a carefree person who surprisingly prefers to look on the bright side and holds no resentment toward those who have wronged him as long as he knows their reasons and that everything turned out well. His ability to forgive people so easily is both a strength and a weakness because some people do such horrible things to you that they no longer deserve your forgiveness.

I like Kino but he literally burned you alive, beat you up, stole Yui, and wanted to sell you to the church to be slaughtered, but in the end, you gave him a second chance and were the first to integrate him and recognize him as a Sakamaki?? And normally, I wouldn't mind this since I give a bunch of second chances too but the thing is, nobody is willing to forgive AYATO if things go wrong, and that's painful because it's so unfair. ://

I might have realized why Karlheinz thinks Ayato is more special than anyone else, and this quote from his DF Ecstasy epilogue perfectly explains it:

Karlheinz (describing Ayato): Valuing your life, grieving, lamenting your misfortune, suffering…

And resisting!

That’s what Adam is all about!!

Basically, what makes Ayato the official Adam is the fact that unlike other demons, who are ignorant to death, he still has a desire to live and fights for it. No matter how much pain he has endured, nothing can break him.

One of the reasons his LE route was so reviled in the Japanese and English fandoms is that nothing hurts more than seeing an energetic and strong-willed character who appeared that way in seven games suddenly lose all hope and drown in misery.

I have written a too much about Ayato, but he deserves it. He’s not the smartest or most calculated guy, but he is unquestionably the most mentally strong one, and I doubt any other Diaboy would have ended up as approachable as Ayato if he had been in his position.

#ayato sakamaki #kou mukami #kino #kino sakamaki #diabolik lovers #dialovers #admin #(wanted to add Laito but Uhh… he’s not doing too well)#(I feel bad for writing so much about Ayato yet that’s not made up but canon content)#(Also the anon sent this ask mostly due to the Ayato story on ig so I suppose they wanted me to explain this better)

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house-afire · 3 months

Text

But Not Too Bold (AU Ed/Stede, dark)

Prompt: 100 words of a different color

No one on the Queen Anne talks to Stede. He doesn’t understand why Ed wanted to come back here when they could have just stayed on the Revenge, which—he’s proud to say—has much better vibes.

It was his ship. He didn’t mean to give it up so easily, chasing after a feeling—but what does that matter? He’s owned things his whole life, even if it never felt like they truly belonged to him, even if he was only given the most begrudging custody of them while the whole of his ancestry panted for him to die and leave their wealth in better hands. Technically, his name was on the deeds, so. His. But no one ever felt much for him before, not until Ed, and he’s never felt so much in his life. Isn’t that worth chasing, worth having?

It is. It must be. And they won’t stay here forever, will they? Ed likes the Revenge.

“I thought you wanted a vacation,” Stede says. He can feel his voice trying to turn petulant on him, and he fights against it valiantly. “Something different.”

Ed kisses him and smiles against his mouth. He’s like honey and lightning. “You’re my vacation, mate.” Stede can feel the sweep of his eyelashes as Ed looks down, thinking, like the answer to all the world’s riddles are written on the bow of Stede’s upper lip.

His reply has Stede floating around all day, not caring two straws for the sullen, close-mouthed men around him.

“Look at you,” an all-too-familiar voice drawls. “Never seen anything so useless be so fucking happy.”

Of course Izzy—the one person Stede would actually welcome some peace and quiet from—will talk to him.

“I’m surprised you can recognize happiness when you see it,” Stede retorts. “It must be something of a foreign concept to you. You’ve never made anyone happy, after all.”

He expected that to be a devastating blow, but Izzy just twitches his shoulders in a shrug.

“I make Ed happy too, you know,” Stede says.

Izzy’s smile is nothing like Ed’s. It’s a broken thing, like his lips curve only because something deep inside him has snapped in two. “He’s been happy before.”

Of course he has. Ed teems with life, and Stede never expected them to match each other first for first. It’s enough, he thinks, that they meet love for love.

But it’s true that their lopsided natures were easier to ignore back on the Revenge, when Stede felt more grounded. Here, Ed’s life has swallowed him up, and Stede just moves around inside it, like Jonah batting helplessly about the whale’s belly. It would be better if they still slept together—he’s had Ed, and been had by him, on every corner of the ship but the captain’s quarters.

“The captain’s bed is for the captain, I’m afraid,” Ed said, when Stede asked about it. “I don’t make the rules.”

“Right. You literally do, though.”

“For fuck’s sake,” he heard Izzy say under his breath.

Ed shot him a look—flat and gleaming, like gunmetal—and Izzy broke away to shout at someone about the rigging.

“I’ll give you everything else,” Ed promised. “Whatever you ask for. Just name it. Impossible feats in the name of the Gentleman Pirate. A tattoo of you as a mermaid.”

And there have been things. Bolts of velvet. Ed’s careful hand painting him with kohl. A pearl ring, a diamond stud for his cravat. Impossible feats.

But they’re still here, weeks after he first asked if they couldn’t go back to the Revenge sometime soon. He can live with that, but he just wants—it would be better if he could rest his head on Ed’s shoulder, if he could sleep while he breathed in the strange, sweet scent of him, like leather and dust, like rum and old blood and lavender. He is Ed’s vacation, isn’t he? Breaking Ed’s routine is what he’s here for. It will be different, truly different, because no one will have ever dared to presume this much before. No one will have trusted Ed so much.

Izzy hasn’t, he knows. They must have been together at some point—Izzy looks at Ed like a compass needle looks north—but Izzy never ventures into his quarters even for the morning report. He knocks, that’s all, and Ed finds him later.

Stede can offer more intimacy than that. It will be good; he knows it will be.

Ed’s door isn’t locked—the only bolt on it is everyone else’s fear. Don’t they know it’s all a fuckery? Ed is more bark than bite, really. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone.

The room is hot and still, stained indigo by what little light seeps through the curtains. In the center of the white bed, Ed is surrounded by shadows like twisted tree branches. He’s Sleeping Beauty, Stede thinks fondly, asleep amid the thorns. But he takes another step, and another, and sees the gleaming white bones on the floor. The air smells of carrion. The branches on the bed are arms and legs, desiccated by time. How stiff they must be. They must break—like a smile—whenever Ed needs to move them to crawl into the tangle of their limbs.

So this is history. This is happiness.

Now he knows why this crew never meets his eyes.

The night has painted Ed, too, and his beard is as blue as they say. Stede never understood the name until just now. He’s seen Ed in moonlight, but never in this kind of darkness. It makes all the difference.

Stede takes one step back, then another. He can slip out. No one will ever know he was here. Even he won’t know. He’s amazing at not knowing things—his whole life has been one long exercise in not being in on the joke. He hasn’t understood himself, or Ed, or piracy, or love.

But a board creaks beneath his heel.

Ed’s eyes fly open.

“Oh, Stede,” Bluebeard says—disappointed, resigned. It sounds like something he’s said before, though of course the name is different this time. Perhaps that matters.

It matters to Stede. When Ed stretches out his arm, he goes forward again, numb and dry-mouthed, his heart pounding, and lies in the half-circle of Ed’s embrace, on his bed of bones. Maybe he’s been the first to ever do that, to ever love Ed so much that even this doesn’t matter. But no, he realizes, as Ed kisses his temple and something silver flashes in the corner of his eye, as a hot emptiness opens up at his throat—probably not.

#stede bonnet #edward teach #dark ed/stede #ed/stede #au

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faerietells · 1 year

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Another day, another marriage proposal. This time, it came from a young Lord named Robert, heir of his father's land or so he’d claimed. You admit he does look quite handsome and possibly has quite a few of admirers of his own, but alas, your mind is occupied by a certain mysterious vampire that had paid you a visit few nights ago. As far as you know, she hadn't made any move to kill you again after that night or even show up anywhere in town. It should be good news for you, but you can't help but feel a bit disappointed. After all, you've dolled yourself up everyday ever since that day, hoping she'd be around to see. But it’s okay. You’ve promised her that you’ll wait no matter how long and you intend to keep that promise so you’ll wait for months or even years if you have to.

"So, what do you think, my Lady?"

Robert's question brought your attention back to him and the wistful smile that graced your lips while you were thinking of her immediately faded. You'd think a nobleman like him would've been smart enough to be able to tell that you're not interested, but unfortunately it seems like either he's oblivious or persistent. At this point you’re definitely leaning to the latter. You doubt men like him get rejected often so if you had to guess, he probably thinks he could wear you down.

"What do I think? About what?" you asked in return, clueless as you weren't listening to what he had to say after he spent more than fifteen minutes practically boasting about himself, probably thinking that his achievements and the fact that a lot of women are interested in him would intrigue you. Clearly that backfired spectacularly as his tales bored you out of your mind instead.

"About my proposal, of course," he chuckled a bit too confidently for your liking. "I know, this sounds too good to be true, but—"

"Forgive me, my Lord. But... I cannot accept your proposal," you cut in before he could go on about himself again, offering him an apologetic smile as you did so just to be polite. "I am a woman of humble background. I don't think I know how to be the wife of a Lord such as yourself, so it wouldn’t be wise for you to wed me."

Much to your chagrin, instead of making him rethink his decision, your words seemed to have the opposite effect. “That’s very thoughtful of you, to be concerned of my future as a Lord,” he mused with a soft smile. “But you don’t have to worry! Someone as beautiful as you are doesn’t have to do much. You’d just have to be by my side and I’m sure that alone would be enough to make others envy me.”

It took everything from you not to grimace. Clearly he only wants a wife he could parade around and who could be better than the most beautiful girl in town? As much as the idea of marrying a Lord sounds tempting, you can’t imagine yourself being with someone like him, who clearly only values you for your beauty and nothing else. What would happen when you grow older and your beauty begins to fade? You don’t even want to waste time thinking about it.

“That is very kind of you, my Lord, but I still have to decline. I’m afraid I’m not ready for a marriage yet,” you declined for the second time, with firmer tone this time. You’d hoped he’d understand your reasoning and move on, but of course that’s not the way it is with men like him. No, you already could feel that uncomfortable feeling in your chest as his smile was replaced by a confused frown.

“Forgive me for being blunt, but you’re, what, past the age of twenty now? You’re almost past the age to be married,” he said, his tone almost sounds sympathetic. “This opportunity does not come easily, my Lady. I’d advise you to really reconsider.”

Wow, what a charmer, you thought sarcastically. If you weren’t repulsed by him before, you are definitely repulsed now. Not only he can’t take rejection with grace, he also thought saying such things would help his case? Perhaps his admirers only like him for his wealth, after all, because not even his good looks could help him mask that horrendous personality.

You were about to open your mouth when a familiar presence showed up next to you, causing your words to be stuck in your throat as you looked at her.

The mysterious lady.

She’s here. She’s really here. You didn’t even hear her approaching, she just suddenly stepped next to you with a sweet smile on her face. A false smile, you figured, the one you’d seen her wear when she’s interacting with other people. There’s something different about this one, though. It feels more… hostile, somehow. Your eyes met briefly as you stared at her in awe before she returned her attention to the man in front of you.

“My, what’s this? Are you proposing to another woman? I thought I was the love of your life,” she spoke in a mocking manner, yet despite that her voice still lure you in like a siren’s song that you nearly forgot the young Lord is still there. It seems to you that they’ve met, which isn’t surprising since he seems to have an eye for beauty. Doesn’t seem like they like each other, though.

“Isabel,” he spoke with contempt, the way he said her name made you think it was a curse.

“Hello, Robert. Still can’t handle rejection, I see,” she said before her false smile vanished and she let out a bored sigh. “Leave the poor girl alone. She’s clearly not interested.”

“You don’t speak for her.”

“You’re right, I don’t. But I do have eyes and I could easily see that you’ve overstayed your welcome. So, if you would…” she let her words trail off as she waved her hand, wordlessly shooing him away.

You can’t help but worry that things would escalate as you see how he’s looking at her like he wants to hurt her, but she remains unfazed despite how angry he looks. Knowing how strong she was when she pinned you to the ground, she most likely wouldn’t have a problem doing the same to this man. Thankfully, nothing happened. It seems to you that he somehow knows that he’d lose too so instead of getting aggressive, he just clenched his jaw and inhaled deeply in attempt to calm himself down and not make a scene before he gave you a restrained smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“It seems that our discussion is cut short for now. We will continue this conversation another day,” he told you. You averted your gaze, not wanting to spare him another second of attention. That caught the lady’s attention as she immediately let out a giggle, which earns her a death glare from him. “Have a great day, Miss,” he said through gritted teeth before he stormed away with the bouquet of roses you didn’t accept.

You watched as he walked away before you glanced at the woman next to you. Isabel. Is that her name? A fitting name for such an enchanting woman, you suppose. The amused look on her face vanished almost immediately the second she’s certain that Robert had actually left and you let out a tiny gasp when she finally turned her attention to you, your cheeks turn pink as she gave you her full attention.

“Thank you for jumping in,” you tell her sheepishly, offering her a tiny yet sincere smile of gratitude. She stared at you for a bit with this unreadable look on her face before letting out a huff.

“You must really not like him to feel thankful despite the fact that I nearly killed you just few nights ago. Have you forgotten or are you truly as mad as I think you are?”

“No, I haven’t forgotten…” your voice progressively gets quieter as she leaned closer to you, as if trying to look for something. Fear, you think. But instead of scaring you, the close proximity caused your face to redden even more as you stare right into her mesmerizing ruby eyes, your heart beating wildly against your ribcage. She’s going to be the death of me, you thought with acceptance.

Knowing how sharp vampire’s senses are, you don’t doubt she could tell how she’s affecting you. You’re guessing that’s why she looks so baffled. “So you weren’t just pretending to like me to survive,” she muttered, more to herself than to you.

“O-Of course not!” you quickly replied defensively, not wanting her to think that you’re simply feigning your adoration for her. “I’ve waited, you know! I’ve waited for you for days!”

“Oh, I know,” she said, much to your surprise.

“You do?”

She seems to just realize what had come out of her mouth as she seemed caught off guard, but she quickly pulled herself back and cleared her throat in a weak attempt to hide her embarrassment. “Anyway,” she decided to change the subject, “Worry not. I’ve lost interest in draining you of your blood.”

“Oh?” You tried not to get your hopes up, but you can’t help it. Even if she’s not interested in you that way, you hope her losing interest in killing you wouldn’t mean that she’d never show up here again. Just thinking about it saddens you and you prayed to any god that would listen that that’s not the case.

“Yes! You may rejoice, if you wish! I would take no offense from it,” she told you as she checks her painted nails, feigning disinterest. When you made not even a peep of celebration, she glanced at you only to see how you somehow look both hopeful and concerned. “Did you not hear me? I said you may rejoice.”

“I heard you, but…” you hesitated. “What does it mean, then? Would you not visit me again?”

The sadness in your voice is hard to miss and her eyes widened in surprise as she felt a pang in her heart. Her lips slightly parted as she stares at you in disbelief, her brain short-circuited at the sight of your sad puppy look. This is indeed strange. She had never been weak before, but she definitely feels like you could’ve made her fight against the gods themselves if you ask. What is this? Magic? She wondered, a bit disconcerted by the warmth blooming in her chest. The feeling is foreign to her, and she doesn’t know what to make of it. She’s not a coward, however, so she decides that perhaps being near you would help her to understand why you hold such a power over her. Yes, only to figure that out, of course. It’s not like she wants to be near you at all times or anything.

“Well, no, of course not!” She quickly averts her gaze again, acting as if her maroon nails are the most interesting thing she’d ever seen to hide her embarrassment just for thinking how she’d like to be close to you. “I have a score to settle with that Lordling and I’m sure he’d return. What better way to ensure he wouldn’t escape me rather than being near the object of his affection?”

“Oh.” Although you’re a bit disappointed with her reasoning, you figured it’s better than nothing. Who knows, maybe she’d find your company enjoyable and decide to stay with you for good! The idea of her being around all the time filled your head with joy as a bright smile found its way to your face before you could stop it. “Well, you are always welcome to my home,” you tell her cheerfully as you tilt your body slightly so you could be in her line of sight. She noticed this, of course, but she opted to pretend like she didn’t despite the barely noticeable pink tint on her cheeks.

“Inviting a vampire into your home. What foolish decision you make, little mouse.”

A soft delighted giggle escaped you in response of her playful remark, causing her to be unable to hold back her smile. This is uncharted territory for the both of you, but neither of you are in a rush. After all, there’s much to learn about each other. Perhaps in time, she’d grow to like you but until then, you’re happy to just have her around.

#monster x reader #monster girlfriend #monster lover #monster romance #vampire #vampire x reader #self insert reader #female reader #teratophillia #terato #exophilia #drabbles

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psychic-refugee · 1 year

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Thanks to the Anon on @heyharoldsboo 's page who gave me a shout out. Sorry I don’t do Anon Asks, frankly I don’t believe in anons. I barely believe in people who have fully developed blogs that have been operating for years. People curate and create online personas, myself included. It’s smart to not put your real life online. So, I take everything I see and hear on the internet with a grain of salt.

I do very much believe in protecting my peace, however. I’ve seen way too many people get brave behind the anon feature and just go absolutely vile.

As much as I know some anons are sweet and well meaning, “I won’t set myself on fire to keep you warm.” Tumblr and writing are a hobby, my mental health is the biggest source of wealth for me. I’m going to protect it at all costs.

My other justification is that Tumblr is free, it doesn’t cost anything to create a blog and to do the minimal work to make it not look like a porn bot. People can create a blog and ask me things that way if they really wanted to.

Sorry if a newcomer with an empty blog has tried to follow me, I’m pretty heavy handed with the block feature if I presume you’re a porn bot.

I do appreciate the thoughts and shout out.

So, lets talk about Cease and Desist letters. They mean nothing. lol That’s the long and short of it. They’re used as an intimidation tactic. Sometimes the threat of a lawsuit is enough to get the recipient to back down. It’s part of legal theatre.

They are not legally binding on either the sender or the recipient. If the accusers got anything, they could wipe their butts with it for all that it technically matters. You can write as many demands as you want, the recipients have the choice to ignore it. Most firms send it as an extra-judicial way of hopefully avoiding litigation. Why litigate for thousands upon thousands of Can$ if they can just send a warning shot? Sometimes, C&Ds are bluffs. Now, most people would take threats of legal action seriously, but given the accusers’ erratic behavior and immaturity they’ve shown thus far, they could also just as easily dismiss it as a joke.

It’s probably true that they do not have the money for attorneys. By that same logic, they do not have the money to make a suit worth it on PHW’s end. Will he really spend that much money on principals? Not sure a C&D is worth the time and money either.

If they say they haven’t gotten anything, I’m more inclined to believe them.

One anon made a good point regarding addresses. PHW’s representation might be having a hard time locating these women. Assuming he hasn’t spoken to them since high school, we’re talking at least three years. That’s plenty of time to have moved to a bunch of places if they don’t have steady employment. Did they go to university? Are they still in university? Could they be staying with a friend and don’t have a legal address? Could they still list their parents house while they’re living somewhere else?

So far, they’ve done PHW’s legal case more of a favor by continuing to post rather than to go dark. Given how toothless C&Ds are, it’s not worth the billable hours or fancy heavy stock letterhead to write one IMO, plus on top of hiring someone to find them.

I also see these women as being petty enough to have posted the letters if they got them. It’s not illegal to show a letter you’ve gotten. It’s their letter, if they show they got one, then they’re just stating facts. There’s no implied or enforceable gag order on not revealing they got a C&D.

His legal team may not want to prematurely reveal themselves either. Given how volatile Twitter and Tumblr could be, I wouldn’t want to expose my firm to trolls.

C&Ds aren’t required either. If I was going to sue, which they may still be considering at this stage, then I would just serve them an actual complaint. I don’t think a C&D is worth it at this stage if ever.

#percy hynes white

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algolagniaa · 2 months

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You stride across the room and slip out the door, quickly joining a group of partygoers walking towards the ballroom. Everyone appears to be waiting for something, all turned towards the balcony on the far end of the ballroom. It doesn’t take long to discover why when the Duke appears, smiling and holding his hands up for silence. The crowd quiets immediately, that same restrained, excited tension running through the crowd that you felt outside. The Duke is perhaps 50, dark hair liberally streaked with gray and a tidy beard. He carries himself with the perfect, untested confidence that comes from a lifetime of wealth and privilege. You dislike him immediately.

“Welcome, my friends!” he says, voice carrying easily throughout the ballroom. “And welcome to those I do not yet have the privilege of calling my friends. I hope that after tonight that will change. Thank you all for joining me on this most magical of evenings. Please, enjoy yourselves. Eat, drink, dance, and enjoy tonight’s many marvelous entertainers. Feel free to explore anywhere that is not locked or otherwise closed to the public. If you are unsure where to start, may I recommend one of my personal favorites, Luna, the Ecdysial Ecstasy. Her performance last year was nothing short of astonishing.”

A pleased murmur goes through the crowd. “Oh, wonderful!” gushes the woman standing just in front of you to her friend. “Did you see her last year? It’s incredible, the way she takes off her - “

The Duke raises his voice again over the crowd and you don’t quite catch the rest of her sentence, but you could have sworn she said skin. “We were fortunate enough to have her return this year, and you’ll find her in the east wing. Happy Masquerade, and may Her Eye pass over you!”

Everyone cheers and applauds. Many repeat Happy Masquerade! But you notice a few in the crowd repeat the Duke’s strange blessing. The first stirrings of unease spread through you, but you shake them off. It doesn’t matter what the Duke does or doesn’t believe in; all you care about is the depths of his pockets. Servants in their bronze masks begin making their way through the crowd carrying trays of slender glasses and appetizers as the music begins and people begin pairing off to dance. You snag a flute of some dark red liquid that might be wine from a passing servant.

Now that you have a cover story in hand should you be discovered, it’s time to start exploring. You could try talking to the woman you overheard earlier; she has clearly attended the Masquerade before and may have useful information. Or you could still head to the library, or find the nearest restricted area. With your lockpicks safely tucked away in a hidden pocket in your skirts, even a locked door couldn’t hold you back for long. This Luna also sounds intriguing – what exactly is an “edysial ecstasy?” Finally, you could follow one of the people peeling off from the ballroom towards one of the rooms with entertainers and begin with simply exploring the manor and get your bearings.

oh how I hate myself for this…… I’m a professional…… I should not get distracted from the task at hand…….. however it sounds like there’s a stripper who’s going to take her skin off…….. I am a simple woman of simple passions……… I’m going to see Luna the ecdysial ecstasy. surely it won’t take that long

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quantum-manifestation-code · 1 year

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tellerluna-stories · 2 years

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a lover’s oath (valentine's 2022!!)

PAIRINGS: childe, kaeya, diluc, gorou, n thoma x reader (separate). totally not biased at all!!!! //hides simp list discreetly

DESCRIPTION: scenarios depicting how they would show their sincerest affections for you. pure fluff for the most part, hurt/comfort + fluff for kaeya and gorou.

TW/CW: teensy mention of blood in childe's scenario, implied ptsd in gorou's.

A/N: hAPPY (belated) valentine's day! this is the first time I've written something for a holiday that more or less happens to be on time for said holiday. these days I've been really stressed out bc THESIS so I wrote these lil scenarios for myself as a treat <3 special thanks to my beta reader for coming up w the title!!

if you enjoy reading my work, pls consider taking this survey or sending in a ko-fi! it'd mean the world to me （*´▽｀*）

tartaglia:

there is nothing that childe would rather do than to give you the world at your feet; why, he’d even give you his very soul if you would allow him. but you had reprimanded him sharply when he brought it up for the first and the last time, saying that you’d much rather have his soul in his physical body, alive and well, than offered up to you as if he were a human sacrifice. a particular emphasis on the words alive and well.

you aren’t like teucer, whose youthful heart is easily cheered with new toys and adventurous stories. so instead childe gives you another gift, one that he knows hold more value in your heart than any gaudy trinket bought with the wealth he has accumulated. he gives you himself.

he gives you his time— no matter how short his visits are, he always makes sure to stop by your home to check on you. he gives you peace of mind on his well-being; childe no longer cares to rip into the battlefield without minding his own safety, for he knows how many sleepless nights you’ve spent dressing his wounds and worrying about him. mind, heart, a listening ear or a shoulder to cry on— whatever he can give, he gives freely, for his heart is his present to you, something that is meant to be yours and yours alone.

oh, but do not be mistaken here; he still longs to conquer the world for you, to make it a kingdom that he and you can reign over and live in happily ever after, like something straight out of a fairy tale. but the harbinger knows that the source of your happiness is not found in grand schemes of fame and fortune, no— your happiness comes from the simple joy of being in a world where you and he are alive at the same time, a happy existence where your loved ones can rejoice with you in peace and harmony. childe’s greatest wish is for you to have what your heart desires, and if he must give mind, body, soul and spirit to grant it, then so be it.

so he chooses to protect that simple, dream-like world of yours, much like how he protects the childhood dreams of his siblings. it is a far cry from the usual sort of striving he does, the one that requires his hands to be stained with bloodshed and misery— but the smile on your face is more than enough reward for childe’s efforts, worth more than any spoils of battle that he’s won in the past. if little gifts such as these are what gives this idyllic world to you, then childe is only too willing to surrender himself wholly to such a cause.

kaeya:

honesty is a rare luxury for kaeya to have— all last shreds of that trait had seemingly withered away long ago, unable to withstand the poison of hollow words and empty promises. for one whose entire life is built upon a foundation of falsehoods, the truth is the most terrifying thing a liar could ever face.

to kaeya, words are many things; weaponry, armour, and a way of getting by in life. lies are nothing but a means to an end, a way to getting the things he wants like the greedy sinner he is— but he doesn’t use them on you. he cannot bear to curse you with the weight of his lies, no matter how desperate kaeya is for your love; that, and he’s afraid of facing his truth, of whatever ill-omened burden he may become to you.

but then again… the truth terrifies him, yes, but what is far more terrifying is a future where you slip through his fingers, all because he was too paralyzed by fear. it is this new, greater terror that pushes him into a slow, tedious crawl as kaeya seeks to discard his cloak of lies; this fear pushes him to become a better man, to win your heart without a single honeyed word from his lips. you were the one to give him your complete honesty and trust, and to break it would break him too.

at first, it feels as if he’s tied one arm behind his back. without his reinforced armour of facades he feels awkward and clumsy, and kaeya admittedly fumbles more than once when he crosses paths with you. there is no-one for him to ask about these things, and to admit that he was lacking in knowledge would be a blow to his pride. but love makes fools out of the wisest men, as the poets say— and kaeya would rather be a courageous fool than a coward. making a fool of himself would make you laugh more anyway, and his dignity was a fair price to pay for a little piece of heaven.

eventually he learns to laugh with you, at the sheer absurdity of it all; no-one could’ve ever imagined the silver-tongued cavalry captain of the knights of favonius quaking like a leaf when he holds the door open for you. nor could anyone have pictured him tucking a cecilia behind your ear, immediately hiding his trembling hands behind his back afterwards like a shy school-boy. straightening your collar right before you attend an important event, giving you the pieces of food that you liked best while stealing the food you hated from off of your plate… these were all silent, domestic gestures that he was certain he was unworthy of, but they tasted like freedom all the same. even if you laughed at him and called him cheesy after.

it was in this manner that kaeya found a way to be honest with you; there was no need to worry about the sincerity behind his words if they remained unspoken. perhaps someday… someday he would be redeemed, and that day he might muster enough courage to become a truly honest man. but for now, kaeya was content with things as they were.

diluc:

diluc is not a man of many words. he prefers to act rather than to waste time talking— in his eyes, there is no point in using up precious minutes to chatter away about senseless formalities when one could be taking action and doing something. in that sense, he is an impatient man; but when occasion comes to rise, he will speak directly from his heart. sincerity is not something to be hidden away like gold in a miser’s safe, and diluc does not wish to be miserly when it comes to his relationship with you.

simple phrases such as ‘your outfit suits you well’ or a sincere ‘you’ve done a good job today’ are the most he can vocalise, for he doesn’t have the courage to spin sugar-coated compliments like a certain cavalry captain; it’s simply not diluc’s style, and whatever part of his brain that is responsible for forming words freezes stiff when he tries to come up with something to say. as a result, he sounds gruff and terse when conversing with you, leading many to the absurd misunderstanding that he harboured some sort of secret grudge against you.

it is only too fortunate for him that you are familiar with the language of awkward shyness; it’s almost impossible for him to fathom how it’s mere child’s play for you to understand the intentions behind his faltering words. he feels safe in the knowledge that you understand what he means, but he longs for a way to speak his truths, his testimonies to you— ah, if only his tongue did not betray him so.

but where diluc’s voice fails him, his pen compensates for the gap; it strikes him like a bolt of the blue one day, while he fills out paperwork. letters, letters, letters.

they are a heaven-sent miracle for one as tongue-tied as diluc, flying down to earth with wings of pale parchment to give a voice to his deepest thoughts. his writing-desk is soon crowded with stacks of the finest paper that money can buy, while quills, ink-pots and the like become an even larger part of the daily expenses of his household; for with each page he writes, he grows more sure of what he wants to say, and each letter he sends is even longer than the last. inked with pure sincerity and sealed with goodwill (and perhaps a loving kiss or two), your mail-box never fails to overflow with his affections for you. now that diluc has found his voice, he decides to use it— and what better use has a voice than to speak to the one you care for most?

gorou:

when one is entangled deep within the horrors of the battlefield, things such as safety and warmth are scarce to be found. touch is the last thing that comforts you, for the most physical contact you will find in a warzone is in harsh blows to your face and body, or the deadly kiss of a blade held to your neck. all soldiers sleep lightly because they fear the sharp sting of enemy steel on their bare skin; it is this fear that propels them to fight for a safer land for both themselves and their people.

for a while, gorou was incredibly wary of being touched after the end of the feud between watatsumi and narukami island— any unnecessary contact would send him in high alert, his teeth baring into a half-growl by instinct. even the slightest nudge in his sleep awakened him immediately, his entire body stiff and tense till he realised that it was just you; it takes time before he allows himself to lean into your touch without flinching, to indulge in the safety he felt only around you. it feels almost too good to be true, and he half-expects to wake up from what feels like a faraway dream.

but it isn’t. the sensation of your hands gently brushing his tail is heavenly, an almost out-of-body experience for gorou, but it is anything but a dream. he wants nothing more but to fall asleep in the warm sunshine as you pet his ears, dreaming of catching butterflies to put in your hair— ahem. the point here was that he felt warm and safe with you by his side.

nothing feels more secure to him than having your fingers intertwined in his as you wander the streets of inazuma together, or having you lean against his shoulder to rest. although he usually tries to keep his demeanor as an intimidating war-general who has braved a thousand battles, gorou is the one who initiates crossing his ankles with yours while waiting for your food to arrive. his tail wags most conspicuously— but who would care about such a thing in a moment like this? plus, the more his tail wagged, the more likely chance of you wanting to pet it.

(in the distance, a certain kitsune smiles conspiratorially at the oblivious couple— with this new development, it would appear that miss hina would have better love advice for her readers in the future. well, all the better for her investments, yae miko supposes.)

thoma:

thoma is a busy man; working for the yashiro commission is no easy task, especially if one is a vassal of the kamisato clan. time is a commodity that he does not always have the luxury of spending as he pleases, which brings him quite a problem on his hands: how is he to spend time with you when there is so little of his own to spare?

however, he is not one to be easily deterred by such obstacles. many days and sleepless nights were spent rearranging thoma’s to-do list to keep at least one day free for you, but alas! just as he would adjust his schedule, new tasks would crop up like pesky weeds. honestly, it was as if the whole world were against him spending time with you.

but his problems were solved when you showed up at the yashiro commission one day, declaring yourself as a new member of the staff (and with a document bearing the official seal of commissioner kamisato to prove it, no less!) after due verification from furuta, thoma was delegated with the task of being your supervisor.

“are you sure about this?” he asked hesitantly, for thoma was all too familiar with the stigma that surrounded the idea of doing house-work; though it was not an issue that necessarily bothered him, it was not something that he wanted you to experience. but you merely brushed his concerns aside with a toothy grin and dove into the chores head-first, forcing him to follow after you; thoma had always spoke of his passion for house-keeping with pride, so why should you be ashamed of something that he enjoyed so much?

that is an argument that he cannot disagree with, and eventually thoma accepts that this is going to be a new part of his work-life now. the two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm as you become accustomed to the other’s work-pace; you methodically wipe the dishes dry as thoma washes them. he scrubs the laundry, you hang them on the wash-line to dry in the sun. he sweeps, you mop— you dust the shelves and he wipes them down with a damp rag right after.

it certainly isn’t a fancy date at uyuu restaurant, but it is something more valuable to thoma. spending time with your loved ones doing something you enjoy is always an enjoyable experience, and the fact that you had gone out of your way to spend time with him made his heart flutter in odd ways. and perhaps… doing housework with you made his mind wander off to faraway places, to a hazy daydream with the two of you in a house of your very own. but thoma was too embarrassed to admit it now— he’d tell you later on, once he had found a proper ring.

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mylordshesacactus · 3 years

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Goals Only Matter In Soccer

A recurring theme I hear from people struggling to “figure out” roleplaying is that they feel their characters are flat, uninteresting, or that they’re otherwise bad at character creation because their characters don’t have “goals.” Or, as the flip side of that coin, that they themselves are bad roleplayers because they either can’t remember their characters’ goals, or can’t/don’t enjoy actually roleplaying those goals.

(A short break for shameless self-promotion: If you want some one-on-one assistance with character creation or are struggling to roleplay, I do one-hour consult sessions to give you specific help in tapping into your RPG character. You get tailored guidance with no attempts to tell you what you “should” do, and I get to ethically keep my therapeutic interviewing skills from getting rusty while in grad school limbo. Everyone wins!)

This is getting a bit esoteric. Let’s use some concrete examples.

Some common “goals” might be: A wizard whose goal is to become more powerful or gain a certain form of knowledge, a noble-born character whose goal is to restore their family’s name or wealth, or the evergreen goal of avenging a great wrong like the death of a loved one.

These are all great character goals! There is nothing wrong with having a character with a clear goal they work toward over the course of the game, and making a character with a clear goal is a great way to get started with roleplaying!

But it is only one method. And it’s not always appropriate.

I’m about to blow your damn mind: Characters don’t need goals.

The idea that a well-rounded character should always have a “goal” is pervasive, and honestly harmful to good character creation and roleplaying! And it’s even more difficult to overcome because if you look for roleplaying or character-building advice, “give them a goal” is generally one of the first bullet points. This is well-meaning, and it’s not bad advice. But if it leaves you feeling like your character is incomplete because they don’t have A Goal—or worse, feeling obligated to tack on a “goal” and struggle to prioritize it in roleplay—then it’s not helpful.

Characters do not need “goals”.

But all characters need motivations.

As usual, I’m going to use my own characters as an example so you don’t feel like I’m lecturing you. I think I only have one major D&D character who could be stated to have a “goal”--my halfling druid/fighter, who wants to repay her debt to the Circle so that she can make a clean and respectful break and live her own life without guilt.

But the others? Benny (Benevolence, but only her mom calls her that), my tiefling bard, doesn’t have a “goal” she works toward; in all honesty, her goal was her pre-campaign life. She likes being a travelling musician, she wants to perform and meet people across the continent! Rinda, my dwarven paladin, has five kids at home--her nieces and nephews, who she adopted after her sister’s tragic death in a mine collapse. She’s got no career ambition because she feels that chasing rank or prestige is inappropriate in a paladin, whose priority should be ordinary people and who needs to be accessible and grounded in the reality of the common folk. Her “goal” is to just keep being an honorable, mid-rank paladin and providing for her family.

That’s not remotely helpful in a tabletop RPG! Those are terrible “goals” for a character in a team-based game! If I followed general beginner RP advice and leaned into those goals, I’d end up that dreaded monstrosity, the player who says things like “but why would my character get involved? She would just let the town guard handle it”.

However, these characters’ motivations are a different story.

Benny doesn’t set out with the goal of becoming a hero; it’s not something she consciously works toward or considers a major aspiration. But she is responsible for what she allows, and at her core, Benevolence was well-named. She was raised by loving parents who taught her how to raise working animals and livestock ethically and with compassion, and who taught her the regret that comes of making selfish decisions. Helping others and minimizing suffering isn’t her life goal. She didn’t set out from home with a dream of being better than her parents, of putting good into the world instead of just mitigating the bad...but sometimes people really do just help others because it’s the right thing to do.

Rinda? Her driving purpose will always be her family. Caring for them is her goal, the thing she intentionally prioritizes, the thing she actively works for. But her motivations are not the same thing. Yes, she wants to stay close to take care of her kids...but her responsibilities as a paladin are important to. She’s a protector who swore an oath, and her children are not more important than children in the next city over who will suffer without her intervention. Her motivation is to make people feel safe, but that’s not really a traditional “goal”. And she’s a stronger character for that!

So: Motivations > Goals.

Which does NOT mean that your character shouldn’t have a concrete goal! That’s not what I’m saying at all. Rather...if your character has a concrete goal, arising naturally from their backstory, and you struggle to roleplay that goal, it may be because you’re not tapping into why your character has that goal in the first place. Are they seeking power because they’re terrified of a specific enemy? To prove a detractor or an abuser wrong? In order to accomplish a specific task--and in that case, who or what made them believe that task was important? Why is your rogue trying to avenge the death of his sister--and you can’t say “love” or “grief”. Many people have lose loved ones; what made this specific person decide that the only way forward was murder, and that his target(s) were responsible, and that he personally had to dedicate his life to killing them?

(This course of questioning may lead you to realize that you don’t have an answer. If that happens, ask yourself--is this a realization that your CHARACTER might have? That they don’t know why they’re doing this? Follow that thread! If not, it’s possible that you’ve tacked on an artificial “goal” for the sake of having one, and your character would be stronger without that anchor weighing them down.)

Sedge, that druid/fighter from earlier--her goal is to repay a massive debt so that she can be free of the Circle’s influence and live her own life. But her motivation? A mixture of shame and honor. The Circle saved her from a lot of predatory loans from bad people, rescued her, saved her life. She’s embarrassed at ending up so deep in debt and too proud to not repay that kind of kindness, but also feels a genuine gratitude for their kindness toward a total stranger. She wants to do right by them--but hates being a druid--but has always wanted to be the kind of hero who helps others exactly as selflessly as they did.

It creates a lot of in-depth roleplay possibilities that wouldn’t exist if I’d just left that goal as simple as “acquire X amount of gold to pay off her student loans” and proceeded to play Sedge as simply money-obsessed.

Even if your character does have a clear goal, their motivations can change and come into conflict with it! A heroic character with debts to repay might easily refuse a huge payday if it requires them to do something shady...but they might not. How desperate are they? A wizard whose goal is to unlock the power to cast Wish might see a path to that goal...but pursuing it would mean abandoning a helpless village in the path of an orc army, and if she stays to defend that village, she loses her opportunity.

What wins out, in the end? And what effect will that choice have on her psyche?

Suddenly it really, really matters why she’s so dead-set on learning Wish. Whether it’s out of pride or fear (which might be easier for her to set aside in the face of innocent lives) or out of a deep-rooted belief that something absolutely essential rests on her learning this spell—something a lot harder to turn her back on.

These conflicts can occur with or without a “goal”. But, whether a character has a “goal” or not, these conflicts and intimate, pivotal character moments absolutely cannot exist in a character without motivations.

#d&d #character creation #rp development

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heliads · 3 years

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A Glance Across the Street

Based on this request: “a race oneshot where he realized he’s in love with the reader. she’s doing something (singing, playing with kids, whatever) and he’s awestruck and the boys are teasing him after”

masterlist

Race is mid-conversation with his friends, mid-way through his bag of papers still left unsold. He should be focusing on talking to Albert and Jojo, and he should definitely be trying to get the last few of his papes sold before the night grows too old and he’s out of customers to swindle. He knows all of this, yet his gaze keeps slipping from his fellow newsies or passing bankers to rest on one girl down the block.

Y/N is selling papes too, her grin contagious as she manages to talk even the most persnickety of passersby into purchasing the daily newspaper. Her newsie cap is slightly askew, and Race’s hand twitches by his side as if he longs to fix it, to look down and see her flash him a grateful smile. Honestly, Race is starting to think that he has a problem when it comes to Y/N L/N.

As it turns out, Race is not the only one to notice this: although he attempts to quickly jerk his attention back to the conversation at hand, Albert and Jojo notice the fact that he isn’t quite responding on time and try to figure out what’s got his focus hooked. Albert follows Race’s line of sight and a vicious grin appears on his face. Race tries to look away hurriedly, pretending he was just following the path of a potential customer, but it’s too late- they’ve both seen.

Jojo loops an arm around Race’s shoulders, clasping the other hand firmly over his heart. “Well, if my eyes don’t deceive me, I think Racer here has a little crush.” Race scoffs, pulling away from the boy. “As if. I’m just trying to sell my last papes.” Albert rolls his eyes. “Is that why you haven’t sold one in half an hour? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’se trying to lose money.”

This is a fierce accusation for a newsboy who prides himself on his ability to make any deal to even the most unlikely of customers, and Albert knows it. So, when Race snatches his cap from his mess of blond curls, ready to swat it most brutally into Albert’s head, the red-haired boy is able to easily dart away in time to avoid the killing blow. Race tries one last time, but his attacks fall short when he hears a voice from behind him.

“What’s going on here? Why are you trying to murder Albert?” Race’s eyes widen in spite of himself, and he straightens up hurriedly, slapping his hat back on his head as if he’d just been stretching. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re just having a, uh, friendly conversation.” Albert looks positively gleeful over this, but he doesn’t say a word. Y/N raises her eyebrows. “I don’t know about that. I’d swear there was going to be bloodshed.”

Albert may be willing to save him from the fires this once, but Jojo is not so generous. Instead, he casually leans on Y/N’s shoulder, practically savoring the way Race’s shoulders stiffen. Race does his best to ignore this, forcing a casual smile. “Well, maybe Albert deserved it. You know him.” Y/N tilts her head to the side, considering this. “I do know him. What’s he done now?” Albert and Jojo look between Race and Y/N like they’re watching a sports match, curious as to what explanation Race can manage without telling her the true reason for the near beatdown.

Race mentally stumbles for a moment, then comes up with a scrap of something. “He insulted my brand of cigars. I couldn’t have that, could I?” Y/N’s eyes glint with barely contained amusement, and Race thanks everything holy that his excuse held up. “Oh, I get it now. I’m sorry to interrupt the carnage.” Race grabs Y/N’s hand, pulling her away from Albert, Jojo, and their twin mocking expressions to continue walking down the street.

“That’s alright. Now, come on- I think I saw a few tourists. Think we can scam ‘em?” Y/N laughs as she follows him down the block. “Without a doubt. Is that them?” She jerks her chin towards a cluster of families pausing by a florist, all of them in the newest fashions. They practically reek of wealth, which makes them the perfect targets for newsies in desperate need of unloading some papes. Race nods, and Y/N’s grin widens. “Oh, this is going to be fun. Race you there, Racer!”

She takes off down the street, spinning past cobblestones. The sound of her laugh, lighter than a summer breeze, lingers by Race’s side for a moment longer. Although Race knows he should follow her and at least try to sell some of his papes before all of the tourists are gone, he feels stuck in place, unable to do anything except watch her go. There’s a smile tugging at his lips before he realizes it. He tries to stow this a second later, except it’s a little hard to be serious when there’s a girl like Y/N right next to him.

He manages it in the end, as he always seems to do. Race isn’t sure what happened to make him turn into this stumbling mess whenever Y/N’s with him, but the habit keeps seeming to stick. He hasn’t always been like this, it’s only a recent incident, but no matter what he tries Race can’t go back to seeing Y/N as a friend and a friend alone. Sometimes, he wants to knock himself upside the head, hoping that a brief concussion might restore his thoughts, although Race is fairly certain that even this hit might make him even more of a grinning idiot where a certain newsgirl is concerned.

Later that week, Race is hit by that same bout of hopeless staring, although this time it’s even worse than before. It comes over him like a wave, threatening to pull him under entirely. He had been turning the street, walking from one block to another in the hopes of finding some idiot with a purse full of coins who’d be willing to shell out a little more than usual to a newsboy on the street. Maybe this is why his crush hits him so hard- he’d had no time to prepare, nothing to center himself around except this sudden sight of the girl before him.

All of a sudden, there she was, talking to a group of kids she’d met on the street. They stare at her with the same sort of loopy smile Race wears now, like they’d follow her anywhere so long as she gave the word. Honestly, Race may get a little jittery around the Brooklyn boys or the cops when there are too many of them, but the hold Y/N has on him scares him even more than that. He’d do anything she asked of him, no matter what or how. He can’t run from that kind of influence, just go along with it and hope he didn’t get worse.

Y/N crouches down now, the edges of her skirts rustling lightly over the uneven cobblestones. She reaches out a hand to a nearby girl, one who would barely come up to her ribs unless Y/N was kneeling as she is now. The little girl presses a careful coin into the awaiting hand, and Y/N hands her a newspaper in return. Race can see her pointing out the different pictures on the front, explaining them with that same slow voice she gets when the night is late and drowsiness slips through every syllable. This time, though, she’s not tired, just speaking in a way that kids who barely know anything can understand. Maybe that’s all Race is, too, a kid with half a brain and some stupid lovesick gaze he can’t seem to shake.

Y/N stands up, stretching, as the little girl leaves. A few more kids linger by her knees, and she talks to each of them in turn, patience coming eternal even by the point when Race would have started getting a little restless had it been him there instead of her. One of the kids hands her a flower he managed to find from somewhere, and Y/N tucks it behind her ear, smiling as if it’s a jeweled tiara instead of a little sprig of a plant that’s more leaf than petal.

She turns now, as if she can sense someone watching her, and finds Race from where he’s hidden by the crowd. She smiles at him, the simple expression almost enough to knock him over. There’s a soft slight in her face, as if she’s a little self-conscious to be caught talking so eagerly with the kids, but Race could never make fun of her for a second. Instead, he lets his own smile widen in return, and Y/N looks almost relieved. She mouths something about catching up to him in a second, then turns back to the kids when one of them tugs at her hand.

Now that he’s been caught, Race should probably keep moving down the block, at least doing something to keep up the pretense that he’s just selling papes instead of simply staring with that same jump in his heart. However, he can’t quite convince his feet to move, like his body is perfectly fine with just watching her there. It’s just the way the light washes golden over her hair, the sunbeam force of her smile, the twist of her hand and head as she speaks. Race has seen the way the rich neighbours stare at artworks, entranced by mere brushstrokes. If that’s what it looks like to fall in love with a mere painting, then Y/N might be an entire museum full of masterpieces.

That describes it, doesn’t it? He’s in love. Stupidly, crazily, whole-heartedly in love. There’s no way to describe it. Race has had crushes before, on rich girls with silken bows and laughing girls who talk to him as they leave the factories after work. None of those seem even remotely close to the hold Y/N has on him now, like all those kisses and offered flowers were just practice for this.

Maybe he’s too lost in his own thoughts, or the way Y/N seems to call an entire city to her like the star of a show, but Race doesn’t hear Albert and Jojo appearing behind him until it’s too late and they’re already upon him. Albert is crowing at him, face wrought over with victory. “It’s official. You’re completely hopeless for Y/N.” Race moves to deny this, but it’s too late- they have enough evidence to tease him for the rest of his life.

Jojo looks almost incredulous. “Wasn’t it just yesterday that you was telling me about how you’d never spend too much of your time trippin’ over some goil? Look at you now! Albert, he’s practically thinking about marriage.” Albert pretends to be severely affected by this thought. “I can see it in his eyes. He might already be picking out the rings.”

Race rolls his eyes. “I don’t know what you’se talking about. Y/N’s a friend.” Albert and Jojo actually burst out laughing, and Race wants to hit them. “She’s a friend? Race, if you look at your friends like that I’m getting locks on the doors. You’se in love, and it’s hilarious.” Race fishes around for some excuse or retort, finds nothing, and resorts to the time-honored classic of trying to hit them. “Some friends you are. No wonder I like Y/N- she doesn’t do this to me.”

Jojo hoots with laughter. “He admits it! Truth at last!” Albert sighs dramatically. “Did you hear his voice? He’s overcome with emotion.” Race lets scorn drip into his every word. “Overcome with emotion? Where’d you pick that up- off a pape?” Albert scoffs. “No, I read it off the cover of a book in a shop window, like somebody respectable.”

A voice comes from behind them once more, and Race wonders silently why he has to keep finding himself in this exact situation. “Somebody respectable? Albert, no offense, but I have never once seen anyone do that.” Albert’s expression grows worryingly bright, as if he’s just had a terrible idea, and he turns to face a newly arrived Y/N with a grin. “I’d usually argue on that, but I want to make time for someone else. Racer here was just saying something about how he needed to talk to you.”

Jojo’s eyes glint, like he’s caught on to Albert’s plan. “Yeah, actually, he was. Said it was something very important.” Albert nods solemnly. “Very, very important. We’d better leave now, so he can say it.” The two boys exchange looks, then practically jog off, although Jojo makes sure to give Race a very obvious thumbs up before they go. Race is about to seriously consider murder, but then a hand lands on his arm and he’s brought back to reality once more.

Y/N considers him, one eyebrow raised. “Well, I do have to admit that I’m a little worried by how excited they looked about that, but I am a little curious. What do you have to talk about?” Race knows what he should say, what Jojo and Albert no doubt want him to do, but the words stick a little in his throat. He remains silent for a little too long, and Y/N crosses her arms across her chest. “Well? I’m waiting.”

Race searches desperately for something to say, anything, but he has no idea how to start. Y/N’s look of curiosity is starting to bleed away into boredom, and Race is gripped by the sudden terror that she’ll leave before he can say anything at all, despite how terrifying it is to even think about telling her how he feels. So, he leans forward and kisses her before he can talk himself out of anything else.

Now Y/N doesn’t speak, not at all, and Race can’t think about anything except the fact that he might have ruined everything, once and for all. Then her face splits into this incredible grin, and Race feels like the ground has broken up beneath him and he’s falling, falling, until he can’t feel anything at all. “That’s what you wanted to talk about?” Race doesn’t know what to say. Again. “Uh, yes.”

She laughs, and Race thinks that he could have gladly listened to that sound every morning. Let the sound of her laugh replace the church bells, and he would have happily attended every sermon. “You’re an idiot.” Race nods. “Yes.” He’s not sure that he’s supposed to be agreeing to this, but she’s got him caught in her gaze again and he feels as if he can’t move a muscle. “Kiss me again, and I might just forgive you for waiting this long.”

Race grins, his confidence finally starting to return to him again. “Well, I like the sound of that.” He’s not about to refuse her this time, so he reaches forward, gently guiding her face back to his once more.

#race #race imagines #race x reader #race oneshot #newsies #newsies imagines #newsies x reader #newsies oneshot #newsies live #newsies live imagines #newsies live oneshot #racetrack #racetrack imagines #racetrack x reader #racetrack oneshot #race higgins #race higgins imagines #race higgins x reader #race higgins oneshot

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sondepoch · 3 years

Text

Lighter (3/5)

Breaking the Collar

Nine months in the human trafficking circuit has destroyed every sense of normality you ever knew. For you, it's commonplace to be ordered on your knees for your owner, his clients, anyone else Childe deems necessary—and you've reached a point where you accept it this misery, just going along with the motions of life because there's nothing else to do.

Diluc and Kaeya change that.

They enter your life on a regular workday afternoon, stepping inside Childe's massive office under the pretense of sorting out a business deal, but a single hastily written message makes it clear that they're not here to hurt you: they're here to help you.

The only issue is that you have no idea how to escape Childe.

MASTERLIST

There’s something demeaning about the outfit Childe has picked for you today. It’s nothing unlike what he had you wear when he last took you outside the apartment, when he brought you on a train to Xiangling’s restaurant, but the blouse and skirt he has you in today are looser than before, and skimpier, too.

The thought confuses you until you realize that it’s because where you were previously dressed like a regular girl, in fairly modest clothes that were designed to shy away from attention, you’re now dressed like a slave once more: like a little sex toy that can only wear thin, loose clothes so her owner, alongside all her owner’s friends, can have easy access to the pretty tits and cunt beneath.

It should make you sick.

Yet, as Childe slips his hand underneath your skirt to grip your thigh, the only thing that disgusts you is how easily you find yourself relaxing into his touch.

“Angel,” Childe murmurs into your ear, voice hovering lowly under the quiet buzz of the van you both sit in. “Angel, I have a present for you.”

That catches your attention. You turn your head to your owner, eyebrows lifted in confusion, as Childe pulls a box from his pocket.

Immediately, you know what’s inside.

The first few gifts Childe gave you were all varied: the very first was, of course, the necklace he gave you in place of the ugly, metal collar all the other girls have to wear. The second was his jacket, too tattered for him to use anymore but literal paradise for someone like you, who had already grown used to spending every waking moment naked. Then, his presents began to come in the shape of services rather than material objects—the decision to allow you to sleep on a bed, the decision to let you eat better-quality meals, the decision to spare you from being sent to Scaramouche for a beating as punishment for a stupid blunder you once made—but after a certain period, Childe had granted you all the freedom he could give.

Then, his presents had to change.

He began gifting you jewels, all of them in different colors but always unfairly expensive, to make your collar sparkle.

You make no haste in opening the black, velvet box Childe gives you, eyes bright. You don’t think twice about how embarrassing it is that he’s conditioned you to associate these little gemstones (probably worth mere pennies to a man as wealthy as Childe) with happiness, but even you can’t keep the smile off your face as you snap open the box and see a blue twinkle staring back at you.

“It’s a sapphire,” Childe explains, pulling the gemstone out by the short, silver chain it dangles from. “Since you told me that you like colorful stones.”

You remember saying that. It was true: being Childe’s favored toy meant that you were always by his side; it gave you no room for pastimes, and so you found that the most entertaining thing to do was toy with the shiny stones that dangled off your collar and angle them into the light to trace patterns into the ceiling. It’s an activity that works best with larger, colorful stones: the dainty diamonds Childe always used to gift you didn’t work half as well.

“Do you like it?” the man asks, staring down at you. “I thought you deserved a reward so behaving so well last time we went out. If you’re good this time as well, I’ll give you another one.”

I won’t be here for you to give me another one, you think.

“I like it,” you say, ignoring how your heart instinctively speeds up with—is it fear? concern? hesitation?— when that thought runs through your mind. “Thank you, Sir.”

Childe grimaces.

“I mean, Ajax.”

Calling him by his name is still a hard habit to get into, but you find that the syllables roll off your tongue much smoother now. Alas, you shouldn’t need to worry about it too much longer. Not if today’s meeting with Diluc and Kaeya goes as planned.

“Here, lean forward so I can put it on you.”

The way you arch your neck forward is familiar. You and Childe have been in this position countless times before, him always being the one to fasten his gifts to your collar, and it shows in how quick Childe’s fingers are in attaching the short chain of the sapphire to your necklace. Within seconds, you feel the task’s completion as you lean your head back and smile at your owner, the weight around your neck marginally heavier than when you both stepped inside this van.

“It looks good,” Childe says, squeezing your thigh gently. “You look good.”

“Thank you,” you say like a good little slave. Then, you decide to go the extra mile. “Ajax.”

The man doesn’t respond to that, opting to glance out the window as his driver speeds down the highway that’ll doubtlessly bring you both to the office Diluc and Kaeya share, but you can see the edges of his lips curling upward. It’s rare, after all, for you to address him by name. No matter how much he loves it, your tongue still says “sir” on instinct, a little crack in the homey picture Childe is building with you in his mind.

It’s not like it matters, you think, stopping yourself from thinking too much about your owner before you can begin to feel bad. If all goes well, I won’t ever have to see him again.

The thought instinctively brings a smile to your face, but it falls just as fast.

If.

Looking back, the message Diluc and Kaeya gave you was cryptic. ‘WE CAN HELP YOU’ provides no accurate timeline to place your hopes in. The second message, ‘COME WITH TARTAGLIA NEXT WEEK AND WE CAN FREE YOU’ was of the same nature. Up til now, you’ve been vaguely interpreting their words to mean that they would free you immediately if you managed to go with Childe to this meeting. But the human trafficking world is so complicated, and you can’t help but think that things may be delayed even longer.

All you can do is hope for the best and pray that reality won’t disappoint.

“How much longer?” you ask your owner after the view outside the window has changed from a highway to a cityscape.

“Impatient, aren’t we?” Childe chuckles. “We should be there any time soon. Keep an eye out. Their office is in one of the big buildings.”

That doesn’t tell you much, given that nearly every building this van drives past is over fifteen stories high.

You’re in the middle of scoffing at Childe’s poor description of the office when the car finally stops: and only then do you understand that when he said “one of the big buildings,” he meant the biggest fucking building in the entire city.

You’re gawking like a fool as Childe helps you out of the car, mentally overwhelmed at the sheer size of what has to be the tallest office in Snezhnaya.

“It’s…”

Big doesn’t begin to describe the grandeur of this place. It’s nothing you’d expect from two men who are working undercover to free people from human trafficking: it's got to be the most eye-catching thing you've ever seen, one hundred stories high or taller, with every inch of the exterior covered in wall-to-wall windows. It looks like an upscale version of Childe’s own office, and if you thought his building was lavish, then this is full-on opulent.

Your owner has to forcibly pull you forward to get you to move.

You almost forget to tuck your precious jacket—the one you so foolishly forgot when you last went out in public, the one Childe insisted you bring this time in case you have another episode—underneath your arm because you’re so busy marveling at the exterior of the building, though you thankfully remember to do so right before the van door closes.

“It’s nothing impressive,” Childe grumbles as he pulls you past the professional double doors. “Diluc and Kaeya are only renting the top ten floors here. They’re not even rich enough to purchase them.”

“Ten whole floors?” you ask, eyes round as you stare at the inside of the ground floor. Childe tugs you towards the elevator, and you’re just barely able to slow him down so you can stare at the marble floors, the expensive-looking paintings on the wall, the embodiment of wealth unlike anything you’ve ever seen. “Why do they need ten—”

“They’re sex traffickers, angel,” Childe tells you when the elevator doors shut. (You have to force yourself to refrain from marveling at how even this elevator seems posh and refined.) “They use the top floor for their own operations. The other nine are where they run their prostitution rings.”

Your face darkens at that. It must be the exact same as Childe’s office, where he has you and his other favored prostitutes up at the top with him, and all the girls he doesn’t want to show favoritism to are forced into the life they were meant to follow when they were brought into the human trafficking world: either as unpaid sex workers that are sold by the hour from Childe to other equally-awful clients or as human trafickees to be shipped to someone else if they prove to be too much trouble.

But then, you remember Diluc and Kaeya’s message.

‘WE CAN HELP YOU,’ they said.

There’s no way that they’re running a sex trafficking front up here. Childe must be wrong. It’s probably just a lie they told him to gain his trust so that they could best help you escape this life.

“They’re so arrogant,” Childe grumbles, crossing his arms. “I bet they chose this office just to piss me off. It’s bad business, too. They’re losing out on money by choosing such a fancy place. Not even the Snezhnayan sex work model will boost their profits.”

“What’s the Snezhnayan sex work model?”

“The system we use in the Fatui. It’s supposed to be the best, money-wise. You hand-train the elite girls as prostitutes so that the best ones become magnets for high-caliber clients. You sell off girls who don’t show promise early on. And then there’s a handful of average-quality, compliant girls you keep for the low-caliber clients that want a good fuck but can’t pay as much.” Childe folds his arms as he leans back against the elevator wall. “It's the most profitable method, even if it means that the girls you sell will always be low-quality.”

“Wouldn’t I be an elite girl?” you ask, staring at your owner. “You trained me, but I never had to work as a prostitute. And I only sometimes have to meet your clients, and—”

“You’re different,” Childe says, avoiding your eyes.

Immediately, you want to ask what he means by that. Unfortunately for you, the elevator doors open at that precise moment, and Childe leads you forward by the hand into an office that, now that you think about it, definitely was designed to upstage Childe’s own place of work.

“Come on, you can do it, baby.” A low coo from the left side of the room draws your attention, and your eyes widen in a mix of confusion, concern, and finally, horror.

“Ignore Kaeya. Focus on my fingers. Relax your throat, doll, yes, just like that…”

Even Childe stiffens when he sees the three men splayed out on a couch: Diluc and Kaeya sandwiching a youthful-looking boy between them as Diluc shoves his hand down the boy’s throat and Kaeya strokes the boy’s small cock.

For a moment, you don’t understand why the boy looks so wrecked, his braided hair dampened with sweat and his face covered in tears, but when your eyes watch as a trickle of sweat trails from the boy’s neck to his stomach, joining a copious amount of white fluid you can only imagine to be the result of countless orgasms, it’s clear that Kaeya’s overstimulating him. Add that to the way Diluc’s entire hand is slotted down the poor boy’s throat, and how the redhead is still stubbornly trying to get more inside, and it becomes clear that whatever this boy is feeling is far from pleasant.

The picture makes it irrevocably clear that this boy is to Diluc and Kaeya what you are to Childe.

Instinctively, you imagine how you would feel if you were in such a position. Your worst memory under Childe, after all, is from the time when you were handed over to four men who fucked into your G-spot so vigorously that you cried at any sensation for hours. Your second worst memory is from the time when a client forced a massive dildo so big you couldn’t breathe down your throat and left you like that until Childe intervened.

The idea of those two memories being combined into one makes you want to vomit.

“Fucking hell,” Childe grunts once he’s past processing the image before him. “Get your toy out of here. Do you have to be so disgusting?”

“Oh, please,” Kaeya responds, not an ounce of hesitation in his voice. He doesn’t stop stroking the boy’s cock. “You had your little angel out during our last meeting. Let us have a little fun now, alright?”

“Hell no. Even I don’t dabble in…” Childe sneers when he sees how young the boy seems to be. “Children.”

Diluc laughs, a deep, rich sound that reverberates through the room. “He’s older than he looks. We’re not scummy enough to deal in children, either, Tartaglia.”

“You’re scummy enough to have to share,” Childe says, scoffing. “What, did you guys spend so much money paying for this building’s rent that you couldn’t afford more than one kid to suit both your needs? The two of you look pathetic, you know.”

“I wouldn’t call it pathetic,” Kaeya offers. “It’s more like we know exactly what we want. And if we both want the same thing, we’re not going to waste our time with…” The man’s single eye skirts over your figure with purpose. “Cheap replacements.”

“Really, now?” You can sense Childe getting offended for you. “You think your little toy is better trained than my angel?”

“I don’t think it, Tartaglia. I know it.” Kaeya grins. He gives the boy’s cock another few strokes, going at the same pace, the small, red-flushed thing twitching furiously in response. “Just watch.”

Kaeya abruptly pulls back from the boy, lifting his hand in the air for dramatic effect, and one, two, three seconds pass where nothing happens. The little organ he’d been stroking still quivers, either from overstimulation or from desire, but the boy suppresses his orgasm, and you can see the desperate, shallow breaths he tries to take from around Diluc’s hand.

Then, it happens.

“Cum, Venti.”

On command, the boy keens, eyes rolling to the back of his head as his hips spasm and jerk up into nothing. Venti’s cock looks abused, a thought demonstrated by how little cum actually shoots into the air and onto his stomach, the substance looking more watery than it looks healthy.

You grimace when you understand how far Venti must have been pushed to reach this point.

The boy practically melts into Kaeya’s hold after the orgasm has left his body, boneless after something so intense, and the final shreds of resistance he’d been offering Diluc’s hand disappear as the redhead’s wrist edges deeper into his throat.

“Such a good boy, isn’t he?” Kaeya says, grinning as he strokes Venti’s hair, brushing the sweat-stained bangs from his forehead. “He’s ‘Luc’s favorite. We haven’t had any discipline issues from him in years. Same goes for the rest of our merchandise.”

Kaeya’s words are a shameless flex on Childe: a reminder that your owner’s girls are so often poorly-trained and that even you, the star of his trafficking business, are secretly planning on running away.

You don’t need to look up at your owner’s expression to see the raw annoyance plastered onto his face.

“No discipline issues?” Childe grunts. “So if I bought him from you and ordered him to kill himself right now, he’d do it?”

There’s a beat of silence.

Whatever response Kaeya was expecting, that wasn’t it.

Finally, Diluc speaks up.

“Venti, much like your toy over there, isn’t for sale.” Diluc withdraws most of his hand from the boy’s mouth, leaving only the tips of his fingers in such that Venti cranes his neck forward to suckle at them. “But if you want him gone that much, it’s fine. He has to go to work now, anyway.”

You can feel your eyebrows shoot up at that. Kaeya watches your expression, and he laughs.

“Sorry, girlie. I know your master over there likes to exercise preferential treatment with his pets, but we don’t do that in Mondstadt.” Kaeya gently pushes Venti to his feet, holding his hand until the shake of the boy’s feet subsides. “All our toys have to work. Favoritism should only go so far in a world like this.”

With that, Kaeya pats Venti’s butt and sends the boy off, and you watch in a mix of awe and horror as he stumbles towards the elevator to “work.”

If it were real, you’d be mortified.

Venti was overstimulated to tears, his legs wobbling the whole time as he stumbled past you, the apples of his fair cheeks flushed a feverish red. There was saliva dripping down his chin, cum still smeared on his stomach, and the reek of sweat and sex wafting off the entirety of his stumbling, nude form.

But you comfort yourself with the knowledge that it was all just an act.

You close your eyes and hold your jacket closer to your body as the elevator releases a low ding, forcing yourself to remember the message Diluc and Kaeya left for you that filled your heart with so much hope. What happened with Venti just now looked bad, but you’re certain that it was all part of their master strategy to deceive Childe until you’re free from him.

(If there’s a sudden thump of a body hitting the ground and a low groan from behind the elevator doors as soon as they shut, you force yourself not to pay attention to it.)

“Fucking finally,” Childe mutters as soon as Venti is gone. He shuffles forward and flops down onto a couch, pulling you with him. “Listen, I don’t want to be here any more than you guys want me here. Let’s get this over with quickly, shall we?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kaeya mumbles, using a sanitized cloth to clean his hands before slipping his usual gloves back on. Next to him, Diluc does the same. “All we need to do is fix a transportation route for the merch, right?”

“Yeah,” Childe grunts. “I already have some ideas. I own a parent company that sells furniture. If we can legally frame our transactions under the branch of…”

You zone out as soon as they begin using human trafficking jargon you barely understand.

This meeting is much more civilized than the previous, if the whole incident with Venti can be forgotten. The jabs Diluc and Kaeya make towards Childe are much more subtle, popping up rarer, too, and Childe doesn’t openly taunt them with your body the way he did in the first meeting.

It takes nearly an hour before your owner even remembers you, and even then, his touches remain somewhat innocent. He only ever ghosts his fingers against your thigh, oft going down to drum his fingers against your knee while he continues to work out the logistics of his business deal. The touches honestly end up keeping you on edge with how delicate they are, and it’s right when his fingers have finally flitted up to the innards of your thigh, right when you’re holding your breath, right when Diluc and Kaeya’s eyes are fixated on where his palm has crept beneath your skirt, that his phone rings.

Immediately, Childe’s hands are off you.

“I have to take this,” he says, wrapping a protective arm over your shoulder as he beckons you to stand next to him. “In private.”

“Take the elevator down to the second floor if you want privacy,” Diluc offers. “It’s not being rented out, and there aren’t any cameras there.”

“Thanks,” your owner says, leading you towards the elevator.

“Wait,” Kaeya calls, right as you’re about to step in behind Childe. You glance behind your shoulder to stare at him, and the devious expression on his face concerns you.

Kaeya winks at you a second before Childe, too, turns to face him.

“Leave your girl here with us, will you? Give us a treat to nibble on to kill the time.”

Immediately, you think that Kaeya has said the wrong thing. Childe is a fiercely protective man, over you more than anything else. There’s no way he’d leave you in the hands of two men he barely even likes, and it’ll probably only cast suspicion in his mind to hear Kaeya ask for you so candidly.

You shut your eyes, instinctively preparing to hear Childe’s rejection.

Instead, his tone is light when he speaks, almost amused. “Finally seeing how high-quality she is, eh?” Your owner is smiling at Kaeya, not an ounce of irritation, anger, or protectiveness on his face. “Fine. This call will take a while anyway. Just make sure you don’t wreck her too much.”

With that, the redhead steps into the elevator and leaves you with nothing more than a featherlight kiss to the temple, and you’re standing there, dumbfounded, for a full ten seconds before you process what has happened.

Alone, you realize with a start. I'm finally alone with them.

Immediately, you sprint forward, grabbing Kaeya’s hand in an attempt to tug him off the couch, not caring about how you dropped your jacket on the floor in your rush.

“Come on,” you say, eyes wide. “If—if you want to set me free, we have to go now while he’s busy!”

But Kaeya doesn’t move an inch off the couch, instead pulling you onto his lap with a strength you didn’t realize he had.

“What are you—”

“Shh, baby. We have to put on a show in case Tartaglia comes back, yeah?” You feel Diluc shuffle behind you, and the redhead is quick to wrap his hands around your hips from behind.

The slowness, the casualness, the feigned normalcy of their actions dumbfounds you.

“Why aren’t we leaving?” you whisper, hands going up to grip at the fabric of Kaeya’s suit. “You said you’d free me if I managed to come to this meeting, so—”

“Relax,” Diluc mumbles into your ear, gloved hands sliding beneath your blouse to grope at your breasts. “Freeing you isn’t something we can do at the drop of a hat. It’s not just about you being here.”

“Right,” Kaeya says, his fingers slowly undoing the zipper on your skirt. “We asked you to come to this meeting to first check if it would even be possible to free you. A test, if you will. We weren’t sure you’d pass it. But if Tartaglia is willing to give you enough freedom to wander around with him, we figure you should also have enough freedom to do what needs to be done for us to free you.”

“What?” you whisper, trying to force back the tears that are pooling in your eyes. This is everything you’d feared: that Diluc and Kaeya’s idea of freeing you would be more complicated than you’d realized and that the whole process would require more time. “What do you need me to do to be free?”

“Aw, don’t cry.” Kaeya tosses your skirt to the floor right before he goes up to wipe away the tears from your face. “It’s not hard. We just need you to get ahold of Tartaglia’s fake documents on you.”

“His...what?”

Confusion is ultimately what brings a halt to your tears, and you cock your head naively at Kaeya right as Diluc speaks up.

“Fake documents,” Diluc explains, beginning to rub the front of his pants against your naked arse. “Every human trafficker has a series of documents for their merchandise that they can use for transportation and claim purposes. We need to get yours from Tartaglia.”

“Why can’t you take me away without them?” you plead, still clinging to the hope that you might be able to go free today. “Why do I have to—”

“Because, depending on how smart Tartaglia is, he can use those documents to rightfully get you back, even if we set you free.”

“What?” you ask. “How?”

“Think. If he has you listed on those documents as a minor, then the State can only do so much to protect you. Especially if he has himself listed down as your guardian. Even if you try to speak out against him, the Snezhnayan police won’t care. They’ll send you straight back to him, and you can bet that whatever freedoms you have now will be forever lost to you the second time around.”

“B-but, if I can prove that I’m not the person in his fake documents—”

“You can’t prove that,” Kaeya interrupts. “If you’re lucky, Tartaglia’s fake documents would be low-quality. But if he was smart, which we both know he is, then his documents will be of a high-enough quality that people will believe them when they see them. And unless you happen to have your official documents on you, there’s nothing you can do to protect yourself except steal the papers from Childe before he can use them.”

The annoyed, almost bored inflection of Kaeya’s voice shakes you to the core. They rattle this information off so quickly, so intuitively, so earnestly that you have no choice but to believe them.

“Okay,” you whisper, voice shaky. “Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll get the documents you want.”

“Do you know where he keeps them?” Diluc asks.

“I think so. He has a locked briefcase that he always keeps in his office. I don’t know the combination to open it, but I should be—”

“Good,” Kaeya interrupts. “You seem like a smart girl. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“Y-yeah,” you say, hesitant. The man’s words seemed like a compliment, but his tone felt much more derisive. “Um, is that all, or is there anything else I—”

“That’s all,” Diluc says. “Two weeks from now is when we’ll be ready to get you out of here. We’ll be staying in the hotel across from Tartaglia’s apartment. The two of us will be in rooms 213 and 214. Come find us at any time, and as long as you have the documents on you, we’ll be able to set you free.”

Your heart beats a little faster at that.

“Really?” you whisper, almost not believing it. The goal you’ve been given is finally real: it’s tangible, so clear that you can already see yourself using something sharp to tear into Childe’s briefcase and retrieve your documents before you’ll finally be able to live a life you can be proud of.

Kaeya smiles when he sees the look on your face.

“Really,” he whispers, reaching a rough, gloved hand up to cup your cheek with infinite care. The kiss he coaxes you into is gentle, soft, and sweet. It’s everything he is, everything Childe isn’t.

“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning forward to wrap the man in a hug. You don’t care about the fact that Diluc has unbuttoned and pulled off your blouse now, leaving you effectively nude as you embrace Kaeya, but he doesn’t seem to mind either. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome,” the man whispers in response, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

The next minutes are marked by more peace than you’ve felt in months. Sandwiched between Diluc and Kaeya, you feel oddly safe. The roughness of their gloves stops bothering you, the silky brushes of their hair stop tickling you, and the closeness of their bodies, the warmth and the heat that radiates off them as naturally as light off the sun, only relaxes you in their arms.

When Kaeya begins playing with the jewels on your necklace, you don’t stop him.

“Tartaglia gave you this?” he asks, tugging gently at a diamond.

“Yeah. They're all presents for being good.”

You can’t help the smile that blooms on your face as you say that: it’s like a reminder that you’re special, that you’re important, that even though you’re down in a world where your life isn’t even your own, you still have worth.

Behind you, Diluc’s fingers reach over your shoulder and begin lifting up individual stones to the light. “These are expensive,” he mutters, twisting a ruby among his leathered fingers. “More expensive than what someone would normally give to a slave.”

“I know,” you say. “It's because this is supposed to incentivize my good behavior, and—”

“No,” Diluc interrupts, voice soft. “It’s supposed to manipulate you.”

Your voice catches at that, and you glance at Kaeya for confirmation because you doubt it can be true. Not when Childe always seems so sweet when he gifts you these presents. Not when you've come to look forward to them as the one light in your life in this dark, dark world. But when the blue-haired man’s face twists into sympathy, your heart falls.

“B-but...I like…”

“You’re supposed to like it,” Diluc’s voice, rich and deep, rumbles out into your ear. ”But you need to understand that it’s not a necklace, doll. It’s a collar.”

“I know that,” you say, now wrapping your fingers around the chain protectively. “But I don’t—I don’t want—”

Kaeya kisses you, bringing two hands to your cheeks to cradle your face in his fingers.

“We’re not going to take it away from you, baby.”

He kisses you again.

“Relax.”

Those words soothe you in a way you can’t quite explain; the idea of losing your necklace, even being told that your necklace was a ploy to manipulate you (though you already knew that, to some extent), was unsettling. You much prefer the notion that it’s an innocuous gift: mainly because you’ve grown far too attached to it for it to represent human trafficking and all the pain you’ve had to endure thus far.

But, right when you’ve calmed yourself and forcibly stopped yourself from panicking, you feel a sharp tug on your neck.

“What did you—”

“Nothing,” Diluc says, holding two gemstones—two diamonds, one blue and one pink—in his palm. They still have their chain attached to them, but that's it: there's nothing connecting the diamonds to your necklace, the chains having been ripped off. You feel your expression change as you see what he's done. “Just—”

“What did you do?!” you blurt, panic beginning to overtake your heart. “Childe—Ajax—he’s going to notice! I—I’ll get in trouble, and—”

“Shh,” Kaeya whispers, trying to calm you down with a kiss, but you pull back before his lips can touch you. “It’s not—”

“Put it back. Put it back!”

You've turned around and are about to hit Diluc when the man grips both your wrists, holding you with such a force that it freezes you. The look in his eyes is fierce, fiery, red eyes shining brighter than the rubies dangling off your neck—and for a single second, you can’t help but think that the man looks furious.

Then, the expression is masked, and you’re both left calmer for it.

“Tartaglia won’t notice. Unless he makes a habit of regularly counting what’s on your neck, only you’ll be able to feel the difference.” Right. That makes sense. Childe likes to look at your necklace, but you doubt that he’ll actually know how many presents he’s gifted you. Not when he barely touches the thing, dexterous fingers always reaching out to feel your body instead.

“And besides,” Diluc says, easing you back into your earlier position with your back resting against his chest. “It’s a promise. The two diamonds.”

“A promise?”

In front of you, Kaeya smiles in understanding.

“Right. It’s a promise, baby. We’ll give you these two diamonds back once we’ve freed you, and until then, they’re our weight to bear so that every time we look at them, we remember that we’re waiting for you so we can set you free.”

“It...is?” you ask, hesitant. You haven’t been in the outside world in a while; is this how people do promises now?

“Yes,” Diluc mumbles, kissing your ear as he strokes your hair. Every brush of his fingers against your head instinctively relaxes you, until you’re almost as calm as you were before he took two stones off your necklace. “Do you trust us to return them to you?”

It’s a disguised question.

What Diluc is really asking is this: Do you trust us?

“Yes,” you breathe. It’s the only right answer.

Then, the two men go silent. They focus on relaxing you once more, running their gloved fingers up and down the sides of your body, almost massaging your skin as you sit between them.

Unfortunately for you, all you can think about is your necklace.

It’s the first time you’ve had it be lighter than before: Childe only ever adds to it; he never takes. Now, right when you’d grown used to the weight of the sapphire he attached this morning, you’ve got the odd situation of it being even lighter than it had been when you woke up.

You know that you should feel freer now: less chained down to Childe and to the Fatui.

But deep down inside, you miss the weight.

Minutes later, when you’re a little less emotionally overwhelmed and a little more relaxed as the two men gently run their arms around your body, another thought surfaces.

“A-also,” you say, hesitant. “Um, everything you said at the beginning of this meeting…”

“All lies,” Diluc says, pulling you closer against his broad chest after you slink too deep into Kaeya’s embrace. “Tartaglia had a negative impression of us coming in, so we had to play to that. Everything we said was just for show.”

Your shoulders sag in relief at that, but another thought continues to poke at your brain.

“And Venti?” you finally manage to ask, remembering how ruined the boy had looked as he stumbled away from the two men holding you.

“He’s a masochist,” Kaeya blurts. “We asked him beforehand if he’d be okay with participating. Not sure he realized how all-out we were going to go, but I’m certain that he enjoyed himself.”

That...makes sense! You’ve heard before about masochists, and looking back, everything Diluc and Kaeya did to the boy really did seem to be for the sake of his pleasure. You’ve heard countless times about overstimulation being something sexy, something desired, something liked by the select few who could bear it. Similarly, the way Diluc had his hand down Venti’s mouth...that’s the equivalent of Childe having you suck on his fingers during sex, right?

You laugh a little when you realize that everything you’d been scared about had an explanation. You should have known better than to doubt Diluc and Kaeya, two people who are saving you from hell itself. If anything, you should be on your knees thanking them instead of raising questions over what they had to say to be able to help you out.

“I’m sorry for all the questions,” you confess, sheepish as Kaeya’s fingers begin toying with your breasts. “I’m just...really nervous. And a little scared.”

“Who wouldn’t be?” Kaeya asks, a tinkling laugh spilling from his lips. “We were the same way when we first came out here to save people from human trafficking.”

“Really?” you ask, eyes round. “Do you guys do this for a living? How many people do you save?”

“Uh...whoever we can, really. We use our covers as human traffickers to identify targets that would be easiest for us to free. You seemed like one. Before you, we helped that boytoy from Zhongli. Before him was some Khaenri'ahi girl, and…”

Zhongli? You ask yourself, trying to figure out where you know that name from. It’s familiar, so familiar, and…

“Wait!” You blurt, sitting up straight and nearly knocking Diluc backward in the process. “You guys were responsible for freeing Xiao? The one who’s always by Zhongli’s side?”

You remember the short little man, beautiful in his own right, from when Childe had a business meeting with Zhongli. That was the first time you learned of Xiao, the last time being just last week when you heard Scaramouche say that the green-haired boy had somehow disappeared.

Hope blooms in your heart as soon as you realize what that disappearance was: the successful removal of one more slave from the human trafficking network, something you're next in line for.

Diluc lets out a light laugh when he sees how your entire face has brightened up now that you have genuine proof that these two men are for real, that they’ve helped people escape in the past and that they’ll help you escape in the near future.

“Wait, if you guys freed Xiao, then were you also the ones responsible for setting, uhm…”

Your brain blanks out as you try to remember the second person Scaramouche mentioned when speaking to Childe. What was her name? Amine? you think, but that sounds off. Umino? Lumina? You continue to guess names in your head, brain fixating on Childe’s interaction with the other Fatui executive until finally, you remember her name.

“Lumine!” you declare with pride. “Were you the ones who set her free, too?”

Kaeya stares at you with a shocked expression. His lips part and his face freezes, eyebrows lifted comically high on his forehead, and you turn around to glance at Diluc, but the redhead is in a similar state.

“You’re telling me,” Kaeya begins, “That Lumine...”

He can’t bring himself to finish, and so Diluc steps in to complete the question: “Lumine belonged to Tartaglia?”

You glance back and forth between the two men, unsure of why they seem to be regarding this news with such shock.

“I think so?” you say, now beginning to doubt yourself. “I’m not sure. But Scaramouche said something like that to him, so I—”

You’re cut off by a sharp cackle of laughter from Kaeya. You stare at him in shock, and then behind you, Diluc has begun chuckling, and then Kaeya’s laughing even louder, and within seconds, both men are laughing their heads off at something you barely understand.

“Oh my gods!” Kaeya blurts between fits of almost-hysterical giggles. “You’re telling me that Tartaglia? Fucking Tartaglia? Was the one to lose Lumine?” He laughs some more, loud and merry and cheerful. "So I was right when I called you a—a—" Kaeya stutters in his laughter. "A cheap replacement?"

You stare at the blue-haired man in confusion, not understanding a word of what he's saying nor why he seems to find it so hilarious that Childe and Lumine are connected. You want to open your mouth to ask why, but you have to stop yourself because it's at this precise moment that your owner returns; and this is the picture that Childe sees when the elevator dings with the announcement of his arrival: you, completely nude and squashed between the two Mondstadt business partners, Kaeya in front of you, laughing his ass off as if you’ve told the joke of the century, and Diluc behind you, the most stoic man in the room losing his composure in an equally graceless manner.

“What the fuck…” your owner mutters at the sight, but seeing Childe only makes the two men around you laugh harder.

It takes a full minute for them to calm down, and in that minute, you rise from their couch and move back towards Childe like an obedient slave, only wearing your clothes when Childe nods at you that it’s okay for you to do so.

“So,” Childe deadpans once Diluc and Kaeya have finally stopped laughing, though Kaeya still releases a giggle every now and then. “Did my girl tell a funny joke or something? You guys sounded like a bunch of dying hyenas.”

“Something like that,” Kaeya says, smiling at Childe, but you sense something deadly in his eyes.

“Alright, well…” Childe awkwardly tries to steer the conversation back to what they’d been discussing before. “I guess the final details will have to be ironed out once I actually use this company as a cover to ship the girls to you, but is there anything else we need to talk about? Transportation-wise, we seem solid.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kaeya drawls, a strange smile on his face. “But, real quick, I want to talk about prices one more time.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Childe grunts, annoyed. “We already agreed on five-hundred thousand mora per shipment. Don’t try to haggle with me again on this.”

“Ordinarily, you’d be right,” Diluc says, crossing his arms. “But we just learned some interesting information.”

Childe’s eye twitches in annoyance. “Right,” he blurts, leaning back. “What is it? Did you find out that I’m giving a better deal to someone else? Because that sucks, but that’s how this business works with new partners. I’m not going to—”

“It’s not that,” Diluc interrupts, lifting a hand. “It’s moreso that before, we thought we were purchasing merchandise from a valued, respected dealer.”

Diluc’s lips quirk into a cruel grin.

“Not from the infamous idiot trafficker who lost Lumine.”

You can hear the ice settle over the room before you feel it, the abrupt, chilling silence suddenly making every second feel like an hour. You’re almost scared to move, scared to pull your eyes to your owner who, for the first time since you met him, looks like the child his codename was assigned for.

Childe doesn’t try to speak, but his every thought is displayed in his eyes alone, the cerulean blues giving insight to a hurricane of emotions wilder than the sea. In his eyes is fear, horror, despair, and pain, so much pain.

Something about the look on his face makes your heart break.

Diluc and Kaeya don’t care.

“I think charging five hundred thousand mora is a tad much for a douche who almost brought the entire industry down. Hell, you should be paying us for even being willing to deal with you, but…” Kaeya glances at Diluc, a single blue eye flitting down to where Diluc extends three fingers against his knee. “We’ll settle for a drop in the price instead. Three-hundred thousand mora per shipment. That good with you, Tartaglia?”

You’re expecting your owner to bargain, to argue, to scoff, to do something other than stare into the distance with those bright blue eyes that now look more blank than anything else.

When you hear Childe mutter a meek “Okay,” you nearly recoil in shock.

Even Kaeya is surprised. “R-really? Damn. Actually, I think we should go even lower, y’know? Every trafficker in the world was scared for their life because of you, so maybe drop the price some more as reparations for that? Whaddya say, two hundred thousand? Per shipment?”

You stare at your owner, silently begging him to do something. Even you can tell that he’s being taken advantage of now, and that awful look in his eyes is something that even you’re unfamiliar with.

“Okay.”

“Fu...okay then? But also, you were kind of a dick to us last time, so how about you make it one hundred thousand? Seems more fair to me.”

“O—”

You grab your owner’s hand before he can agree, and the touch seems to snap Childe out of the awful fog that had been wrapped around his head. The look in his eyes is only less marginally troubled when he abruptly stands up, gripping your hand in a silent plea for you to move with him.

“I’m going,” Childe announces.

He begins walking away so fast that you just barely have time to grab your jacket before you’re at his heels.

The man completely ignores Diluc and Kaeya as he waits for the elevator to open with a rigid posture, seeming to feel uncomfortable or fearful or panicked or a mix of all three. Kaeya begins laughing behind you both, and you almost want to tell him to stop: tell him that yes, Childe is an awful human trafficker and yes, you hate him as well—but the poor man looks like he’s on the verge of having a panic attack, and you know first-hand how awful a feeling that is.

You’re grateful when the elevator finally opens, more grateful when the doors close and you and Childe are finally in isolation together.

Only then, in the silence of the box as it moves you both down to the ground floor, do you hear Childe’s shaky breathing. It’s jagged, uneven. Then, you take note of the way his hands are clenched into fists, palms enclosed so tight that his arms are shaking—and despite everything he’s done to you, you feel some semblance of pity for him.

“Ajax,” you mumble, hoping that the name will calm him. “Relax.”

A moment of silence.

“I am relaxed,” he responds, and when you glance over at him, he’s completely back to normal: breathing even and palms loose.

His eyes, though, are just as pained as when the two of you were sitting upstairs on that couch.

“I’m sorry,” you say. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’re the one who let it slip that Lumine and Childe were connected. Even if you don’t understand the scope of what you said, it's clear that it had an impact. “I didn’t—”

“It’s not your fault,” Childe says, not looking at you. “Don’t apologize.”

More silence. It feels heavy, unlike the usual, comfortable stretches of quiet that you and Childe like to bask in.

“What...were they talking about?” you ask quietly, still staring at your owner. “Diluc and Kaeya said that—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

A moment of silence.

It feels so heavy that it seems to crush you under its weight.

“Who is she? Lumine?”

More silence.

This time, Childe is the one to break it.

“The only girl I ever loved before you.”

That’s a lie, and you know it. If Childe loved you, he wouldn’t be bringing you around to meetings, dressing you like a cheap slave, and handing you off to other men to flex how ‘high-quality’ you are. If Childe loved you, you would be long gone from the human trafficking circuit because he would have set you free. If Childe loved you, he wouldn’t force you to stay by his side because he’s your abuser, your trafficker, the monster that haunts your life.

Most importantly, if Childe loved you, he would have given you a proper answer to your question. Not some flimsy skirt-around that only furthers his attempts to manipulate you into loving him back.

Your eyebrows furrow the slightest as you feel the elevator hit the ground floor, brain still focused on everything Diluc and Kaeya said. Everything Childe didn’t want to talk about. Lumine.

Curiosity begs you to stick around and learn the truth.

Logic, reasoning, and the desire to lead a life of your own tell you that you’ll be long gone from Snezhnaya before that’ll ever happen.

MASTERLIST

Word count: 7.9k

Notes: eyyyy i'm alive! i promise i never forgot about this fic, it's just that after i missed the original due date, my mind was just like 'eh, it's already late, what's a few more days?' and that's the story of how this is two months late. thank you to all the kind commenters from the last chapter - to the people who checked in on me, ily; to the people who sent me those wholesome asks on tumblr, ily ily; and to the people who made guesses on what would happen in future chapters - guess what :D you acc helped me shape this :3 i originally meant for lumine to be a passing thing mentioned once and never again, but she'll end up being important for chapter 4 ^^ so thank you to everyone who'll still be here after i disappeared for so long. hope you liked this chapter (lmk your thoughts!) and i can't wait to see you all in the finale <3

Comment & Like

Next Update: 6/11

I do not own the rights to Genshin Impact or any of the characters within it.

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plush-rabbit · 3 years

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Coping with Homelessness

Request: So I'm homeless now aaaaaand to cope, can I get request Shigaraki, Dabi, and Mr Compress finding out their boyfriend is homeless?

A/N: Please take care of yourself! Im sure there are places you can go and people you can ask for help! Agencies, family, friends, just take care of yourself and one step at a time! (this is written before they met the league (dabi and compress) and shig’s is written after the kamino since thats when they lost their main base/house

Dabi:

A big part of his life was shaped from how he survived for so long. Dabi has faced homelessness and he knows about all the little things that could prove to be helpful. Being homeless isn’t easy- especially in a country where it’s looked down upon and isn’t like in other countries. There is no begging for money, there is no sleeping under a highway or behind a building; it’s sleeping by the river, staying hidden and trying to not inconvenience the working class. He faced homelessness when he had absolutely nothing and no one on his side, and because he cares for you, he’ll help you out.

There’s a big shift that comes from having a home and knowing that you’ll have a roof over your head, to nothing, to the fear of not knowing where you’ll sleep, the shame that fills one in having to know that wealth can be so easily taken away. He understands coming from wealth and having it burn at your fingertips. He understands your first few days of panic and dread and will be by your side a large majority of the time, not wanting you to be alone if this is your first time. He’s done this all before and he’ll help you out. He’ll find places for the both of you to crash where you can sleep without the worry of school children throwing rocks or the elements from the outdoors. Finding a place first, is the most important step in his eyes.

Due to quirks and the arise of people using them for bad, it’s common to find a few places that don’t discriminate based on who you are. Of course, it can only go so far, so when you bring in a man who has a body count, he has to stay behind or hide his appearance the best he can. He knows quite a few places where the food is edible, and the people are nice. You can’t be picky when you don’t have a home and it might take a bit of getting used to, but it’s manageable for the most part.

You’re his partner, he’s going to keep you around and take care of you. It hinders his ideals a bit to make sure that you’re safe, but he doesn’t mind. You both stick together and that’s what matters. Joining the League is a new home and with the promise of knowing that you all protect each other and handle difficulties together, it’s easier to handle the weight and shift of becoming homeless. He doesn’t want you to go through it alone, not like when he had to at such a young age. Plus, you’re young, and you know more than he did when he first left his home, you’ll have an easy time getting back on your feet. He’ll support you from the sidelines and make sure that you have everything that you need- or at least most of it.

It isn’t easy, and it’s all so new to you, but Dabi is there. He can act like he’s indifferent to the entire situation, but he cares. Your needs will always be met before his. He’ll let you sleep for a long time, not wanting for you to wake up and protect your stuff from going missing. He’ll let you take the bigger portion of a meal, and get in line before him when you go to gather supplies from social workers. He can go a day without eating if it means that you get to eat most things. There’s a bright side to a lot of things, and being with him, is a bright side of its own. He’s ruthless and has a flame quirk that will keep you both warm and provide light. There’s hardly any attack from the others that you do run across, but just in case, he’s there.

Sako Atsuhiro:

There’s always a plus side to keeping your identity hidden from the public for so long, and one of those is that you’re harder to find. The world can know his name, but his face remains a mystery and because of that, it’s easy to find places to keep the both of you safe. He’s been homeless before, had his few run-ins where he kept having to move. He knows what to do, and where it's safest to go. Atsuhiro knows that it isn’t easy and that it can be scary, but you aren’t alone in the affair, you have him and he just happens to be a showman whose quirk is helpful in gathering items that you need. There may be a whole security system to prevent people from stealing, but he isn’t like the others. If you ever need something, he’ll go into any store and leave with marbles in his pockets. You won’t go without anything when you’re with him.

He’s been homeless before and certainly knows what it's like, but once more, his quirk proves to be useful. It’s easy for him to blend in and hide you with him. He can sneak somewhere without being caught and will gladly bring you along with him. People don’t know his face, and as far as he’s concerned, you haven’t committed any type of crime, so it’s easy for the both of you to still go out and receive supplies from people who work at shelters or even spend a night there.

It’s no surprise that people can be cruel, and in the community of those that are homeless, there are a few bad seeds, but most people are trying to survive and be kind. It’s the citizens that believe they are better than others that you have to watch for. He’ll do his best to protect you and oftentimes, it means having to marble you away to avoid you getting mugged or at least protecting your things.

When the weather gets colder, he’ll offer to marble you for a bit so you aren’t exposed to the cold. Worry will consume him when you’re tucked away in his pocket, your marble pinched between his index and thumb as he stays up. He’s careful with you, so delicate as to not accidentally break you or release you from your glass entrapment. When you’re in there, it’s harder to protect you, but at least you aren’t in any danger from the outside and he already protects you when you’re so big, so this is nothing. He doesn’t want you to be out here, to worry and panic when you don’t know when your next meal will be, he’s got you right here, in his fingertips.

If you rather not be trapped inside of a marble, he only shrugs. He has a smug grin on his face and he acts hurt, but he understands. However, it’s still cold and you need to be protected before him. He’ll pull you close and wrap his coat around your shoulders and give you his gloves. The cold affects Atsuhiro a bit worse given his injury, but he won’t say anything about it; his main goal is to protect you. He’ll hold your hands in his and breathe war air against your palms as you try to fall asleep. It’s difficult, but you’re with him and he’s going to protect you for as long as he can. He doesn’t want this life for you, and he’ll always encourage you to take any opportunity that falls on your lap. He can be damned, but you deserve to have a home and a life.

Shigaraki Tomura:

Surprisingly, it’s Tomura that knows very little about being homeless. There was a point where as a child he wandered the streets, but that is such a distant memory that he can barely recall it. It’s only after the Kamino Incident, that he experiences being homeless. It’s new to him, and he doesn’t know what to do, but he’s a fighter, and he’s survived it. He had the League with him, and you not only have him, but you also have the League. He’s going to take care of you and try to give you what you need.

It’s a lot more difficult for him to blend into society given his quirk and appearance, but you aren’t like him. In his free time- before any of the League activities happened- he would frequent internet cafés where it was common to find people sleeping on the couches for a low fee. It might be scary, but you just have to hold onto your possessions as tight as you can. It’s warm and safe from the elements, and it’s better than what he can provide. He has run down buildings, but you can at least have air conditioning where you aren’t dying from the heat. If you rather not, then he understands, He won’t push for you to sleep or stay where you don’t want to. He’ll take care of you and will keep you with him at that point.

He tries to not care, to be apathetic to you, but he cares so much. He’ll tell you that being homeless isn’t rare, and that it is a very real possibility that people rather not think about, but he never expected it to happen to you. He understands that it’s difficult to not have the things that you normally had at your touch, after the incident he lost a lot of his belongings, so he gets it. It takes him a bit of getting used to learning how to be nice and empathetic rather than telling you to get over it, but he learns, and he’ll nod and offer some words of encouragement that when everything is done, he’ll get you better versions of what you had before. At the end of he say, he cares, and he'll show his true colors after a sad look.

You will come first for him- always. He’ll give you a share of his rations, will make sure that when you two go and look for food, it’s you who gets the biggest cut. He’ll do his best to put you first for whatever he can get a hold of. Food is difficult to come by after a while and with his notoriety, you can’t really be picky. However, the amount of effort he will put in for you to look for food that he knows that you like or can stomach, is outstanding. He wants what is best for you and will always give you that. Whatever he can get a hold of, will be yours before it can be anyone else’s.

With you being one of the few people that he cares for in the world, he tries to do a lot for you. There is hardly a time where he will not fight with and for you. It’s you that he puts first, even before himself, and he’ll always make that wherever you sleep for the night, you have the soft side of the bed, or the softest couch, or the one with less springs. Tomura isn’t a romantic by any means, but he really does care a lot for you. He won’t show it in the traditional sense with flowers or sweets, but he will show it by giving you what he can. Once he has the Paranormal Liberation Front, he gives you so much. It’s almost as if he’s trying to make up for the time where he couldn’t give you everything.

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lovee-infected · 4 years

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Part 2!

Kalim al asim

Giving: Gifts

What would you wish for? Doesn’t matter! As long Kalim has got it doesn’t matter he doesn’t not care how worthy, rare or expensive it is. If it’s what his darling is asking for, he no longer cares; if he’s got what it takes to make you happy he won’t resist the urge to give it up for you.

No one ever matters to him like you do. You’re the one and only, his dearest being and the worthiest treasure he could’ve ever asked for. It’s only by love that one can realize all the money and wealth worthless if you’ve got no one by your side. Someone to talk to, someone to laughs with, someone to cry with, someone that cannot be bought by money.

Those whom you care for are and are cared for by are man’s greatest property, which he is willing to protect. He doesn’t want to ever lose or see you sad, you deserve nothing but all the best. You’re the brightness of his life, and happiness of his days. At this point anything and everyone but you seem to be pretty worthless. He’s ready to give up on his everything for his darling, and he’s just asking for one thing in return: you.

Giving and receiving: Quality time

It’s pretty rare of him to be spending time with anyone else than you while he doesn’t have to; if he ever has a choice you’ll be the decision. He understands that you two can’t be sticking to each other 24/7 but would appreciate it if you could’ve been together more than you already can; he tries to set his schedule based on your and switches classes to match your plans so when you’re free he won’t have anything to do either.

He’d love it if he could be classmates too but that doesn’t seem really easy to approach, therefore he should get used to it. First thing he needs after a tiring day and sometimes sad is his darling; your beautiful smile on its own would surely brighten his day no matter how tired he is.

Though sometimes it’s the other way, you might not be as energetic as usual. If you ask him to leave you alone, he’d respect your opinion even as it breaks his hard. And if you don’t ask him to leave, he’d stay. If silence is what you need he won’t say a word, and if you need a listener he’d be all ears. He understands that you could’ve treated him like anyone else out there, like a normal friend or even a stranger passing by. Yet you let him of all people in and trusted him with your feelings, he feels so special. He’s thankful that you’re there for him and wishes to be always there for you in return.

Jamil Viper

Giving: Acts of service

He often tells you that he always hated having to babysit Kalim around. He didn’t ever like the feeling of being a servant, made him feel so empty and worthless. Yet he doesn’t seem to be thinking so when it comes to you, in contrast to Kalim he doesn’t really seem to mind helping you out even if it’s too much sometimes.

Of course he’d like his darling to have a rather strong personality so he’ll love you even more if you’re the type to handle yourself on your own, but if you ever need help with something, he’d be the first person to realize and will br surprisingly eager to help you out. He would be in serious trouble if anything happens to Kalim, but he’d be a lot worse if anything happens to you.

Growing up with Kalim has indirectly increased his protectiveness towards ones he cares for, sometimes to the point of doing everything he does for Kalim for you as well; you can say that it’s lowkey became part of his nature now. He doesn’t see it as overworking though, your troubles aren’t much and are rather taken care of easily. That’s nothing for him. In fact he just seeks his darling’s safety and wealth and with the way he serves you on it, you seem to be nothing lower than a Queen/King to him.

Receiving: Words of affirmation

It’s sometimes hard to understand what he truly needs; he mostly talks about him wishing to be left on his own for some time or being able to travel around the word alone. It’s okay to assume that he prefers to be on his own when he needs to but in reality, there are ways to make him enjoy being with another one when he’s feeling bitter as well.

Main reason of him asking to be left alone is that no one really makes him feel better when he needs to, they just seem to be a pain… repeatedly asking him to talk about what’s bothering him. He feels so misunderstood. He doesn’t need someone to question him over the details, all he needs is to feel better, to be understood. You’ve seen his pain and sorrow better than anyone else has, so no one can ever help him better than you can. He hates speaking about his problems therefore his darling needs to be wise enough to realize what’s wrong through his behaviors.

Tell him that you know what’s bothering him, that you understand his frustration and pain. Let him know that he won’t be judged for getting off his chest; doesn’t matter if it’s about the unfairness of his terms with Kalim for the hundredth time or a new student that has been getting on his nerves lately, all that matters is him feeling safe to talk.When he needs to hear you, phrase him. Make him feel almighty and important, he enjoys the feeling. He’s not a sadistic and power thirsty monster wanting to be respected and worshiped by the whole world, he’s just a young boy who deserves more attention and respect after all he’s been going through for so long.

Vil Schoenheit

Giving: Acts of service

As your partner he’s responsible toward you and your act, your problmes are also his, he shall not let you go through them all on your own. Know that he’s always there to support you no matter what and of course, Vil Schoenheit is the type of guy to step on anyone getting on his, or his darling’s way like a roach.

This isn’t all he’s up to though, helping you deal with such random problems is pretty simple compared to all the things he’d willingly do for you. He knows what he’s doing, so you’d better listen. While he can be quite protective over the way you look, what you eat, how much you sleep and what kind of skincare routines you follow, know that your beauty and health is all he cares for.

Of course he’s got other standards as well. He tends to lead his darling into having their appearance alongside with theirmanners improved; he genuinely supports them into developing a better personality. Manners and behaviors are greatly important.Doesn’t matter if you’re totally new to his strict dos and don'ts or not, he’s got the patience and enthusiasm to teach you everything step by step, never in a hurry. While he might take it hard on you so you’ll slowly learn to get used to the routine, he doesn’t mean it to bring you pain and frustration under his rules, therefore he’s always careful not to go too far. Beside that, he’s really into spoiling you.

He doesn’t mind spending hours applying your makeup or helping you get dressed. Time seems to be pretty worthless at this point. You’ll all that matters so when he says that he cares for nobody like he cares for you, know that he means it.

Receiving: Quality time

He does really enjoy being phrased and told that ‘how stunning he looks’ all the time; appreciation isn’t something you should deny, after all. Though he really loves it when you as well are fond of his beauty and tell him how breathtaking he is, he still prefers to actually spend time with you rather than just hearing words. He’s already aware that many are around him are just trying to take advantage; thinking that Vil is one to be easily fooled by just being worshiped by a bunch of dogs like them. Also: He doesn’t need anyone to tell him how gorgeous he is, he already knows it anyway.

While Vil enjoys leaving others breathless by his outstanding elegance and beauty, he isn’t gullible at all; he’d easily find out if someone truly cares for him or is just faking it. Vil wants you to spend more time with him; he doesn’t insist on you doing anything special or trying to make a big deal out of it. As long as you’re doing fine and he gets to see you everyday it’s fine. He just wants to make sure that you enjoy spending time with him just as he does, he does care if his darling still loves him or not.

To add to that, he loves spending time with you as well. Sometimes it’s also an opportunity for him to get flirty, or even soft. He likes to leave small braids on your hair when you two aren’t doing anything special, just sitting together and enjoying the quiet pace.

Rook Hunt

Giving: Words of affirmation

Probably the most romantic guy within this list, isn’t he? Being in a love relationship with Rook has got a fairytale aesthetic which is pretty rare to be seen these days. He wants to show you the love you’ve read through stories; to him at least, tales of eternal lovers who sing of each other’s love are way more than simple stories.

He finds words quiet powerful and strong, sometimes sharper an arrow’s blade. Words can kill, words can heal. And he’d make sure to have his words chosen rightly therefore his darling would never stop loving him back. Not a single soul dislikes being phrased, the only point is finding the right way of doing it.

Telling you how much he loves you everyday? Of course. Taking his time to recite you love poems which will probably have you weak? Why not. Writing you love letters and leaving them on your bed before you return home? Sure then.

You are beautiful and absolutely lovely, you surely deserve to be loved and cherished like he does. Better know French, because he’s planning to convert his secret love massages in french, though he’d enjoy it more if you end up having to look up the words in dictionary and suddenly melt as you realize what Rook has told in French. Oh god, just how much he loves it when his words leave you all blushy and flustered. So adorable, so cute.

Receiving: Quality time

He obviously appreciates each and every of his seconds spent beside you, talking, walking, sleeping and even nothing more than him silently following you, which you won’t necessarily be aware of. He lives the life of a hunter and has spent most of his time silently watching, doesn’t matter if it’s a poor prey or just another ordinary human being passing by, he enjoys it anyway.

And just what may more entertaining than watching you, his favorite person of all people? It can sound both romantic creepy and romantic at the same time, but his darling should know better; Rook can be obsessed and his obsessions aren’t necessarily the safest.

There’s a pretty low chance of it, but he’d definitely love it if you, his darling, have got the same unhealthy tastes as him, even in lower terms. He clearly enjoys stalking on people and wouldn’t mind having his darling as a partner, you’ll be a perfect due indeed. May sound mad, but he can’t help but to find it dreamy. Wouldn’t it be so romantic?

Epel Felmier

Giving: Gifts

He isn’t the best at usuing words, and his fragile body on the other hand often holds him back from helping you with chores as much as he’s willing to, which lowkey frustrates him. Best he can do for his darling is to show his love and affection through gifts; something that doesn’t need a masculine body to be afforded and is also a great way for you to remember him.

If he’s got a chance, he’d go for something expensive and luxurious such as perfumes, jeweleries, shoes and if possible, something huge like a car or motorcycle. He can have a pretty imagination about what he wants to give you but reality often bounds him to small, simple gifts he can actually afford.

It makes him feel really bad that he can’t give you the gift you deserve but still doesn’t feel to come up with something that shakes your heart. He’d mostly go with making matching bracelets for both of you to wear or baking homemade apple pies using his family recipes. If possible he leaves another small gift or a love letter too when he hands his gifts to you, shyly asking you to accept them with a pink blush all over his face. His gifts may not be perfect, but they’re surely cute and sweet. Just like Epel himself.

Receiving: Words of affirmation

He often tries to hide it but it’s pretty obvious; Epel is an affectionate boy. While he hates getting go be called soft and being open about his feelings with most of the people around him, he doesn’t you babysitting him at all.

People around him often make him feel insecure and dumb, especially as they look down on him because of his appearance and sensitive attitude; perhaps this explains some of his aggressive behaviors at the time.

He doesn’t mind being open about his fears and pain around you because you don’t humiliate him like many did, you never even called him weak. He doesn’t feel like a helpless baby around you. Having you around, he realizes that he’s really got a lot he needs to get off his chest. For so long, Epel has needed someone to be there for him when needs to, someone to share his tears and laughters with.

Sometimes all he needs is a warm embrace and being told that everything’s going to be fine, and the only one Epel wants to hear these words coming from is you.

Idia Shroud

Giving: Quality time

He wants to be left alone, everyone knows it. He would’ve immediately asked anyone in his room to leave if it wasn’t you. You’re an exception. Calling you into his room might seem to be no big deal since it’s just the two of you in a room, but know that you’re one of the very few people who’d ever gotten to be this close to him.

He does chitchat but isn’t really good at long conversations. He still needs to have his social skills improved but yet he wants to take advantage since he feels comfortable around you. He may just ask you over to watch him while he plays video games in silence, but it’s not a bother.

The point is him wanting to spend his time with you instead of just locking himself as usual. You’ve got to be so very special to him to get this close without him holding you back. Know that letting people around him is the hardest thing Idia can ever do, yet he still lets you and only you into his safe zone.

Receiving: Physical touch

Why would anyone ever want to touch him anyway? He is isolated, cold and socially awkward. People on the other hand either call him dumb or find him creepy. Social media was the only solution to overcome his lack of communication, a way to be somehow accepted as a independent being but- Physical touch isn’t something you can get online.

He may not realized it but he wants it so bad: He needs it. He needs to be hugged, he needs to be kissed, he needs to be touched. But not everyone can be trusted with it, it’s too hard for him to let someone in after locking himself away from the whole world all this time.

If he lets you in, know that you’re the only one who can give him the love he seeks. Hold him tight, make him touch you back and feel you, it’s all new to him so be the teacher who learns him how it should be. He needs time getting used to it, even with simplest of stuff like holding hands.He needs to take baby steps in love so make sure to take it slow with him. Let him get used to being touched and touching you back, let him embrace the pleasure of having you close, to feel that he loves someone who loves him back.

Malleus Draconia

Giving and receiving: Gifts

Malleus isn’t one to easily fall in love but if once ne does, he’d to do anything they can to make his darling person happy and to immerse themselves into these feelings. He’s totally acceptive toward anything his darling wants; ask him and he’d shower you in roses and diamonds.

His gifts ore always delicate and unique; when he decides on giving you jeweleries, for example, know that it’s going to be extremely glamorous and charming, no need to mention that it will be no cheap either. No one’s willing to bring happiness and wealth to your life like he does; he’s ready to do whatever it takes to make his darling smile, anything for you.

While he’s quite dedicated in serving you like his beloved prince/princess when he gives you a gift, he’s pretty affectionate and soft toward simple gifts which many may find silly. His attachment to his small tamagotchi can be a good example of it; it isn’t just him being hooked with his childhood interests after leaving for decades, but it’s rather a sign of how much a single gift can mean to him.

Whatever you give him, even as it’s something as simple as a paper flower or friendship bracelet, he’d make sure to take his best care of it, he may even put magical spells on them so they won’t be easily destroyed or ruined. If possible, he’d be always holding your gift as a lucky charm in his pocket. Doesn’t matter how silly the gift is, it’s still something from you, his dearest ever. To add to that, it’s also a sign of you thinking about him, which is enough for the Fae to be satisfied.

Receiving: Quality time

It still fascinates him to see that you aren’t scared of him. Do you really fail to see the monster he hides within? Would you still love him even as you know that deep inside, he’s nothing but pure evil?

You were such a mystery, ever since you stepped into Malleus’s life. The moment he saw you, he knew that there was something different about you; something that separated you from the rest of the world though he didn’t know what. Perhaps this was how he took his first interest in you, which ended with you being his new habit, sometimes to be called obsession.

Just after a short while talking pending time with you turned into one of his daily priorities, to the point of him having special hour saved to be spent with you and only you, no one else matters. He doesn’t want to be a bother therefore he’s much of a listener than a speaker in your normal conversations. He wouldn’t mind listening to you for hours but, know that he’d be really amazed if you get him into talking. Ask him questions:What are some of his favorite childhood memories? What does he enjoy doing the most? What was the wildest dream he’s ever had?

He may be quite confused at your questions at first since he isn’t really one to talk, but once he gets used to it, you can see that he truly enjoys sharing ideas. Is spite of his seemingly cold and unapproachable aurora, he can be quite expressive and chill. The main reason of him being silent most of the time is that no one else really cares to talk to him. Most of the people he’s got around either hate him or are too scared to say a word; most of the people except you. Spending time with you has made Malleus experience things he wasn’t ever expecting to go through, the feeling of loving someone and to be loved back is just one of them.

Lilia Vanrouge

Giving: Physical touch

He would measure his limits based on how comfortable you are with this; but it won’t ever go to the point of him not doing this at all. It can be ranged from cuddles to deep sensual touches not many would go through, depends.

He sees no point in other ways of showing love: Gifts are nothing but money wasted on normal man-made creations , words can be easily faked, you can’t say if someone considers spending time with you as ‘quality time’ or just 'wasting time’, and acts of service? It’s something Lilia has already given to many for free over the yesrs, so it’ll be no big deal.

He wants to give you the best he can ever give a special one, and that’d be directly showing love to you. Not that he’d always go wild with it, it might just be you sleeping on his lap after a long day or kissing you on the forehead when you tell him how much you love him. The question is, how wild do you want him to be?

Receiving: Words of affirmation

He can’t deny the fact that he finds pleasure in being phrased again after all these years. It’s rare for him to be judged as anything else than weirdo or sassy grandpa these days; so if you are going to be the one doing otherwise he’d make sure to take the opportunity.

He wants to bahave as he wishes to, anything he enjoys doing even when others consider him a weirdo because of them. So he doesn’t really mind others shallowing his wise sides because of his late wild habits.

If you can still get to see his hidden strength and intelligence, you’re surely something. Lilia would love their darling to try not to judge them based on appearance but rather personality; to be able to see his true brilliance. Phrasing might somehow end up in being worshiped but he doesn’t mind it at all, keep going. The more you say , the more he likes. But, don’t let it get to the point of him taking advantage of you, giving him -too much- power isn’t always a good idea.

Silver

Giving: Acts of service

That’s what he’s got to do, protecting you at all cost. You mean the world to him and he’s ready to give up on his all for you. Doesn’t matter what you’re having a problem with, he must help you with it and make sure to make a progress through it.

He might sometimes be overly protective due to his concerns, but don’t hold him back when he is. He just means to help you. He’d normally escort you to the classes and back to your dorm whenever he’s free, even if you insist on that being unnecessary since you can take care of yourself, but he isn’t hearing a word of it. One can never be too prepared.

His will to protect you cannot be measured by words , and his own self be the first he’d hate if anything bad ever happens to you.

Receiving: Quality time

He often decides to keep it in, but he does need someone to at least talk with.

He’s been raised by a fae and spent most of his life with far-from-humantity creatures; he didn’t ever get to have a real friend of his own specie, someone who wouldn’t judge or look down to him for being a human.

His darling would probably be someone who can make up for the pain and loneliness he’s been feeling over the years by giving him the love and attention he deserves. He isn’t asking for much , just having you around whenever he needs to will do. It’ll often end up with him falling asleep in your embrace but know that it’s going to be a peaceful sleep; nothing calms his busy mind down like you and your sweet words would do.

Sebek Zigvolt

Giving: Acts of service

He is doing his best; for his people, for Malleus, for you . He’s ready to kill or die whenever he needs to, he’s ready to lose it all because of you . He doesn’t care of hard it would be, he must protect and help you at all cost, all of you.

He might sound a bit dramatic over it but he does mean it when he says that doesn’t want to be alive without you. His existence is bound to yours , because he lives for you. He worships you. Even as his darling ends up being a bit toxic he can’t help but to obey like a good puppy.

He often goes to far with it but there’s no way of you changing this about him; it’s his nature to put those he truly cares for before himself. To him, the best way to show love is to prove your loyalty and reliability to your beloved, therefore they can trust you as their lover and ally.

Receiving: Words of affirmation

He is always working his hardest, yet the fear of not being enough keeps on hauting him. He may look rough on the outside, but he’s no more than a little anxious puppy on the inside.

A very single compliment from you is enough to make him drown in happiness and pride, knowing that you’re satisfied with how he’s doing as you motivate him to continue to get stronger. Let him know that you don’t want him to over work himself to the point of losing it; tell him that you love him as he is.

He tries not to show how your words make his heart melt but would always fail to. He doesn’t shout it out loud, but that’s in fact what he really wants : To be accepted, and loved.

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