#🔮.the peddler answers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theluckywizard · 9 months

Note

Happy Friday!!! You know I had to go for the weird emoji one lol. For Cullen/Rose or Hawke/Rose, 🎪📯🔮🍾. Make of that what you will.

@dadrunkwriting

This is a triple prompt response for @kiastirling-fanfic, @melisusthewee, and @nirikeehan who each sent me smut emoji prompts and I am combining into one slightly madcap fic featuring Rose Trevelyan and Garrett Hawke who are half-roleplaying their counterparts in an Antivan smut called The Fires of Satinalia.

Summary: Hawke and Rose role play their way through a carnival in Montclair after the events of Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts. It's ridiculous, I'm so sorry.

🦺🚷⏭👶+☣️⏳️🥦+🎪📯🔮🍾

WC: 2978

Rating: Mature

CW: lots of general lasciviousness and talk about sex and sexy acts

“You knew there would be a carnival, didn’t you?” Rose accuses me, pinching me in the side. We stride out of Le Crapaud Doré, one of several inns that line the teeming market square in Montclair that skate by in mediocrity on the location alone.

“Of course I did,” I say, slipping my arm around her shoulders and squeezing. “I thought it would lift your spirits after getting stabbed. But you brought the wrong blazing mask. You’ll never pull off the Contessa without the fox.”

I’d slipped her the note before leaving Halamshiral.

I’ll wait for you in Montclair, Contessa. Le Crapaud Doré. -Barnabus

The night before I’d climbed a gutter into her bedroom when I’d learned she’d been stabbed by the Duchess— the disadvantage to being a mere agent of the Inquisition. I’d been necessarily excluded from their accommodations, finding my own access to the affair and my own quarters within the palace as a special guest of the court.

And she’d asked me to stay, too agonized by the healing wound and exhausted from the long night to do anything more than lie in my arms which I offered up without expectation. She’d run her fingertips down my face and lamented her inability to canoodle, to follow through with our earlier play acting as cover for our subterfuge. I laid awake beside her while she slept, my arm pillowing her head until it was tingly and numb and long after, my lips squashed against her forehead.

And so I devised this ridiculous plan when I heard a few of the servants speak of it. A carnival. Delightfully low brow. Greasy food and shitty ale. Bombastic masks and staggering crowds. I thought perhaps it would remind her of that well-worn copy of the Fires of Satinalia we’d recited to one another the other month.

And now we’re here.

“Well I may not have the right mask, but I’m in the right mood, Your Grace,” says Rose, her finger tips grazing my lower back over the same ridiculous plum colored get up I’d acquired for the Winter Palace. I restrain my urge to bend forward and kiss her and instead steer us toward the bazaar where we can purchase all manner of absurdities to deepen our homage to Ophelia and Signore della Verga.

As if in a divine answer to my recent complaints, a bejeweled fox mask stares back at us from the chromatic chaos jammed from floor to ceiling inside the stall. I pitch a coin to the peddler that should more than suffice and present it to to Rose with a flourish.

“Your mask, Contessa,” I say. “To conceal your comely looks properly.” She bats her eyes at me as we steer back into the crowd which flows thickly around us in every direction. She lifts the generic silverite plated Orlesian mask she’d arrived with from her face, gazing up at me in the amber light of dozens of torches.

“Might you do me the honors, Your Grace?” she asks, the mischief manifesting in her arresting eyes mirroring my own like we’re about to stumble our way through some serious hijinks. On the other hand, I’ve half a mind to sod the whole affair, scoop her up into my arms, carry her to my room at the Golden bloody Toad and let her have her way with me. Pausing in the midst of the crowd, I slip closely behind her and tie on the new mask, bending slightly to whisper in her ear.

“The perfect mask for your many wiles,” I say, invoking The Fires directly, my words grazing her ear on a puff of warm breath.

“But this dress will never do,” she says, gesturing to her plain gray woolen gown, which I own I have always found enormously fetching on her, but no. It will not do for the Contessa. She leads me by the hand toward the kind of bombastic costume shop that only Orlais could spawn. The red and white striped tent is deep and stacked with foppery, and the charming young shopkeep is eager to hustle dashing hats with Ostrich feathers and and studded belts. I catch Rose scanning the gowns and she turns back to me, leaning in close.

“Wait outside, Your Grace,” she says, sliding a finger up under the ruffles of my sleeve discreetly.

“Don’t keep me waiting,” I say in as sultry baritone as I can muster. She grins and disappears deeper into the tent and I wait impatiently by the entrance, my breeches tightening in anticipation of her getup. A rustle of skirts calls me to attention. I stifle a laugh into a snort. Barely contained indeed.

“I’ll be needing you to slash the weak points,” she remarks breathlessly, coming along beside me in an outrageously provocative black corset cinched tightly over a deep red silk shift, her breasts hiked high and mashed together, a line of cleavage reaching halfway up to her clavicle. Well at least my mask covers half my face, but my mouth hangs open witlessly. Rose pushes my jaw closed with a finger.

“Don’t get used to this,” she grumbles, but I see her enjoyment of the effect on me.

“I’d prefer you fair and bare anyway, Contessa,” I answer. “But it does give one ideas.”

“Oh Signore, what ideas could those be?”

“Filthy rotten ones. But I get the feeling we’ll need—“ I glance around and swing over to a shop hawking bottles of varying sorts and slide a crown over for their finest bubbly. “A little liquid courage can’t hurt our escapades.” I twist the cork with a pop and offer it to her. She runs her tongue discreetly around the lip of the bottle and then breaks character to snort a laugh at the ridiculousness of it which prompts me to laugh in kind. Rose takes a big surly gulp, wincing as the bubbles accost her sinuses. Amid the crowd of people she draws near enough to prompt that same instinct to pick her up and abscond with her to the inn as before.

“You must be thinking what I’m thinking,” she says, restraining her juvenile grin into a coy little smirk.

“I couldn’t possibly fathom the depths of your depravity, Contessa. Please. Enlighten me,” I invite her. She slips her hand inside my long jacket and fondles me through my breeches insistently. I wrap my arms around her shoulders to keep from stumbling back.

“Signore. Your Grace. I know what you’re thinking of doing to me,” she says, volleying back to me again. I shake my head at her, scolding her unwillingness to say it. I lean in and invoke the plot of the book.

“Fuck your tits?” I breathe.

“Exactly,” she says in that husky voice she conjures for the Contessa with an impertinent glance and then immediately melts back into Rose again. “But I wish you luck. There’s not terribly much to work with.” She clutches her hand over her mouth as the laugh tries to escape, her lips pressed tightly to hold it in.

Dash it all.

I lean down to kiss her with a grin, my mask knocking slightly askew.

“Let’s see what sorts of monstrous inspirations we can find for the Contessa and Signore, shall we?” I tell her, wrapping my arm around her shoulder again and strolling with the flow of the crowd. Thank the Maker for this roomy jacket to conceal my heightened state. She clutches my hand that’s slung over her shoulder, her thumb grazing my pinky lightly.

“Perhaps something to eat, my darling Contessa?” I say, kissing her hair. “Unless of course you’ve tired of Orlesian gastronomy. Look— just there. A booth of Montclair delicacies!” We both dust off our best Orlesian again.

“One fermented peach macaron,” she orders immediately, but she knows by my look that I find it far too pedestrian for our evening of debauchery. I gesture with my head to a pile of pungent looking broccoli.

“Roasted aged broccoli in a velouté of neutralized wyvern venom?” she reads, regarding the steaming green mountain and saucier of neutralized venom squeamishly. Her eyes drift toward me in a desperate entreaty. I blithely ignore her.

“One of those, please!” I call before she can back out. “The wyvern hunt is a storied Orlesian tradition. We must partake!”

“No greater aphrodisiac than broccoli bathed in a lethal sauce, Your Grace,” she quips, flicking me a look.

“Neutralized, my dear Contessa,” I point out.

“Even so. We’ll be passing wind all the way back to Skyhold," she says and then promptly fails to restrain her laugh.

We carry away our Orlesian delights in waxed papers and tuck in between two tents to escape the crowd.

“Oh Signore,” she bemoans. “I’ve forgotten how to feed myself! How will I ever carry on without your assistance?” She runs her tongue over her upper lip and my amusement rides in on a wide grin.

“Allow me to guide the food beyond your luscious lips,” I say, moving in with a macaron, but my giggle escapes me and I turn, holding a finger up while I collect mysef. She wrangles my hand clutching the macaron with a barely suppressed smile and brings it to her lips. She takes a pert little bite, her brows rising immediately.

“Maker’s breath!” she cries, little crumbs springing forth from her lips as the divinity of the pastry strikes. She takes the same hand and crams the rest of the macaron in my mouth. It tastes like sitting in a peach orchard drowning in triple cream. Or fucking a peach perhaps. I’m instantly verklempt. From a pastry.

“Mmph,” I sigh, chewing a few times but truly uncertain whether I could ever relinquish such divinity by swallowing.

“We’ve peaked. There’s no greater pleasure,” she says, shaking her head.

“Femented peach macarons with a side of Garbolg’s Backcountry Reserve,” I muse. “It’s a foolproof combination.” She smiles and goes to push her mask up but I stop her hand.

“Ah ah ah, Contessa. We have one more delicacy to try,” I point out. Her lips turn in a resistant frown. “Perhaps your tongue might like to slide over this delicacy first.” She ignores me and tugs me to her by my hips, a gasp escaping me when I make contact with her hip bone which churns against me.

“You seem tense, Your Grace,” she mutters, swiping a hand across my cock again. “Perhaps I might— relieve some of it?”

“Oh you’re not getting out of it that easily,” I remark. I volunteer to taste the green travesty first and pop a crown past my lips. “Shockingly delicious. Piquant. I think you’ll like it!” I hold a piece up for her to taste and she takes it delicately between her teeth, gazing at me from behind her mask, testing the vegetable and sauce with a curious, hesitant tongue. She closes her mouth around it, surprise overtaking what little of her face I can see.

“The sauce,” she remarks breathlessly. She takes another piece from the paper wrapper and shoves it artlessly into her mouth.

“You— you’ve just—“ I gesture at the corner of her mouth. “Allow me to assist you once again, Contessa. Since you’ve clearly forgotten how to eat.”

She smacks me as I lean in and delicately flick my tongue over the velouté at the corner of her mouth. She pushes her mask up, that delightful fierceness she gets at times possessing her face moments before she accosts me, shoving my mask out of the way. It’s dark enough at least that our activities are mostly concealed.

“Is broccoli a known aphrodisiac?” I ask against her mouth.

“I don’t believe so. Fairly certain that you and I have no need for such things,” she remarks, reaching down to place my hand on one of her squashed up breasts. We raid each others faces with a fervor that will almost certainly leave her chin red and raw, our kiss more mouths than lips. Perhaps it is time to move this charade back to the inn. She’s almost certainly as eager for me to slash this infernal corset to bits as I am. My hands wander down over the stays, feeling for the laces.

“Does Signore wish to relieve me of me of my corset?”

“Oh, very much so. With my teeth probably!”

“What else might you do with that mouth?” she asks, running her tongue over my upper lip.

“I could get your boots off too,” I grin, taking a draw of bubbly and offering it to her.

“Is that Hawke talking or Signore della Verga?” she asks, raising her brow at me momentarily.

“Either or, if you so desire it.”

“Sounds like a challenge.” She yanks me down again for more of my impertinent mouth, clutching her hand firmly against my entrapped erection, sliding it up and down until a soft cry escapes me. The inn is what? Forty paces? My need for her aches everywhere, my groin, my fingertips, in my chest deep within my ribs like she's drawing my soul from me.

Across the crowd a horn pipes a jaunty little ditty and we fumble to a stop, wiping our faces with buzzing, adrenalized hands when a caller cries out.

“La cartomancienne renomée, Madame Manon le Mystique!” She looks at me with enthusiasm.

“A fortune teller, Your Grace,” she notes, “Perhaps one last detour before retiring?” Rose doesn’t wait for my answer, tugging me in the direction of the fortune-teller’s patterned tent, her exuberant pace causing champagne to jump from the bottle. I take a hefty swig to lower the level inside and trip after her, bumping into other celebrants until we arrive before the tent.

“Haven’t you had your fill of prophecy?” I ask Rose. Her lips twist as she gazes over at me.

“Somehow I don’t think Manon le Mystique is going to be peddling anything authentic,” she whispers and we’re ushered into the candlelit space swathed in violet and blue silks. The mystic herself hunches over a large seeing crystal and glances up at us.

“Lovers,” she says.

“My darling wife here wishes to know our future,” I say with such shocking ease that it nearly feels true.

“Ten crowns and I’ll tell you what the future holds,” Manon says in a gravely voice. She runs a hand over her crystal as she holds her other hand out in wait of the weight of silver. I set a stack in her palm and she counts it before continuing. The woman eyes us appraisingly and I draw Rose closer to my side.

“You…” she says, eyeing me expectantly as she waits for a name.

“Della Verga,” I fib. Rose’s hand slides over my thigh affectionately.

“And you?”

“Ophelia,” Rose says.

“I see… I see,” Manon mutters into her crystal. “Yes— it’s coming to me!” She lays out four cards across the table, the first a dark tower, those who were inside tumbling from it into an abyss below. The second illustrates people on the cards rising from the dead answering a the divine call. The third card depicts a mighty chariot driven quickly and the last is a card depicting a woman combines water from differing cups. Manon gestures at the cards widely.

“I see children. Three. Two dark. One fair.” Rose glances up at me shaking her head and I can’t help but agree. Setting aside the obvious charlatan before us, the last thing we need is adorable little cherubs for our enemies to kidnap. But the idea nettles inside me, its attraction catching me off guard. I cast Rose an anxious look which she returns. “I see that little exchange. If you do not wish to have them then I hope you are taking the proper precautions.”

“What about that tower there?” asks Rose, fixating on the cards.

“Oh that. It seems there will be obstacles. A fall— a tumble from great height to impossible depths—”

“Well that seems vague,” Rose pushes.

“Most people who come do not wish to hear the dark truth,” says Manon. And she’s right. I certainly don’t.

“Ophelia,” Manon says, glancing at me as well. “Beyond sleep is where you’ll find him.” Maddened by this nonsense, I stand, urging Rose to join me before Manon le Mystique kills the mood stone dead with her doom and gloom and talk of actual offspring.

“One more thing, Champion,” comes the voice of the crone, and yet it’s more resonant, as if a second voice joins her quietly. “Remember— Do not hesitate to leap. You will fly.”

“Lovely!” I call over my shoulder, hurrying out. “Lovely, thanks.”

“I wanted to hear the rest!” she says, pulling backward toward the tent.

“Andraste’s scorched arse, Rose. Those are Flemeth’s words,” I tell her. “And babies. I’m sure she believes she’s telling couples what they want to hear. And that drivel about beyond sleep? What other nonsense would she have said? I would have been happy with ‘you will make your beautiful companion come a half dozen times before morning’.”

“I’m not sure you need a fortune-teller to tell you that,” she says, drawing me close by my lapels.

“Well it could have been fluff and not this dark garbage. And of course I’m going to think about it all together too much.”

“Come, Signore,” Rose says softly, pulling my face down against hers. “Let’s retire. I want to see you get me out of all these clothes with your teeth.” We stroll back toward Le Crapaud, arms around each other, weaving between staggering drunks and wayward children as we lean into one another lazily, trading the bottle of champagne back and forth. I try to banish thoughts of towers and Flemeth by staring down at the soft crease of her cleavage. Signore della Verga certainly would.

“Contessa?” I ask, readying myself for the smack.

“Yes, Your Grace?”

“Can I fuck your tits?” She swats my arse.

“You can try.”

🦺🚷⏭👶+☣️⏳️🥦+🎪📯🔮🍾

#hawke x inquisitor #hawke x trevelyan #role play #antivan smut #purple hawke #rose trevelyan #theluckywizard #enter hawke #i'm sorry about this one folks #post Wicked Eyes Wicked Hearts

6 notes · View notes

patchworkpuzzle · 2 years

Note

AHHH TAKE MY NOT MONEY *shoves my love at you instead* 🔮🧝‍♂️🌸🌿

My dearest and most trusted failing potion seller, I am in a Miya Osamu heartset today. Whenever that happens though, I always fear I am not pretty enough for the gentlemen as he is part of a set so very known for their good, athletic looks. What do you recommend?

(I also um, on the rare occasion I'm romantically interested in someone, I often desire to make the first move/gently extend the offer. Thoroughly undecided on how this lad would respond to that, though. Don't want to be a turnoff.)

My customs are resolute in one potion for one traveler, but a gift of crystalline to help me see visions unknown is a worthy enough prize for me to gift you another. A potion of undauntedness, and another of ardor, would work best for you my darling traveler. Common they both are, and together they work well - especially for your needs. Take this special vial, for it will hold them both side by side, for your utmost convenience.

However, word of caution.

Take only one at a time. If you manage to drink both at once, the aftermath once the potion's effects wears off will lead a person in bed for days.

But, then again, who am I to dictate what you should do in your adventure?

You stare at the bronze vial, admiring the handiwork that went in to create it; small swirls that wrap so pretty around the small containers that hold your special brews from the peddler you traveled so far to meet. Soft violet was in one, and silver seemed to swirl alongside it whenever you shook the vial gently. A rose colour was in the other, and it swam with darker pink streaks; entwining together to make beautiful patterns as well. You found yourself almost mesmerized but it all. And if you weren’t told explicitly to shake well before ingesting either, you would worry that you would ruin both potions altogether.

But the swirling dancing streaks of colour were helping you calm your mind. To help allow it to think more properly of the situation at hand. To help build your resolve to take the plunge and drink either so you may be able to talk to the handsome young baker; whose shop was a small walk away from your very home.

Osamu Miya.

He was quiet and almost stoic, but that small smile he would shoot your way whenever you walked into his little shop would have your heart flutter. You found yourself buying more bread than you could afford at times, a different kind of loaf for a different made-up occasion, just to see that smile.

You were a love-sick fool. And you knew it all too well. The way thoughts of him would pop up in your mind for no reason at all when you went about your day. It would not matter what you did; transcribing the work of scholars into journals, watering your garden, or even reading storybooks by the fireplace - all made your mind wander to him.

He intimidated you, and how could he not? Once more, his more quiet and stoic approach to you made you question if he even liked being around you. Not only that, but he is a tall man, with muscles that grew refined with lifting the weight of the large sacks of flour and sugar daily, and with a face you were sure was blessed by the gods as they so clearly favoured him…

You groaned, burying your face into your hands and your mind once again wander so fully into thoughts of the baker. It was torturous to you, mind running amuck with thoughts of whether or not he had fallen in love with you quietly like you had with him; and never having enough courage or confidence to find out whether or not any of those thoughts were true.

You wanted to know. Wanted to see if the possibility that a man such as him could want a girl like yourself; or if his heart lied to someone else. Though your heart would be crushed if the latter were true, it would leave you at peace. Instead of continuously battling the unknown of your mind when the answer was within reach.

The cool metal that pressed so gently along the bridge of your nose brought you back from your turmoil; gave you the resolve to finally take the hand-crafted potions you were so generously given and find the answer for yourself. Standing, you carefully opened both sides of the vial, allowing the smell of it to overtake you for a moment. Juniper berries and sage brought you some comfort as you took one last deep breath before downing the contents in one swig.

You could only pray that it will lead to a positive outcome. And that you would not be bedridden for too long afterward.

It burned, the warmth being felt all the way to your stomach. Before long than same warmth could be felt throughout your entire being; setting every inch of your body alight as you struggled to even your breathing. But even though the slight panic of wondering if you would burn alive, you could feel it work.

Your mind became unclouded, your body felt lighter than air - your feet gliding with grace at every step you took - and your face seemed more resplendent than you had ever seen it before. But, most importantly, you felt an urge of passion to see that baker and tell him how you felt.

And your feet led the way towards his shop.

You knew if your mind was not altered by that peddler's potions you would be protesting fully over the lack of control your mind had over your body; that you would be screaming and trying your best to stop yourself from entering his shop and telling him those secret feelings. But, the moment those thoughts of self-doubt appeared, they were swept away but the burning passion that filled your entire being. Allowing you to walk into his shop once more, unclouded and filled with determination.

This was not the first time Osamu had seen you in his shop; not even the first time this week. You always seemed to pop by every few days to buy another one of his homemade creations. From the simplest loaf of bread to his more expensive desserts, you were always here to treat yourself to something of his.

It always made his day to see you. He loved the mouse-like way you behaved and moved, the shy quiet grace you had always put forth was so endearing and sweet to him. From the moment he met you, when you stumbled about his new shop and asked quietly asked for assistance on what bread went best with the cream soup you were having for dinner that night, he had loved you.

Osamu just always wished he was able to display his emotions better. For he knew he intimidated you, it was clear by the skittish nature you displayed whenever he spoke to your or tried to assist you in any way. He was always worried he would scare you off, which is why he could never help but smile in happiness and relief whenever you waltz back through his door.

Like now.

Thought this time it was different. He couldn’t quite understand just how it was different though. Your attire was the same as it always was, with your hooded cloak around your shoulders; and your beautiful face was as it always was. So why did your entrance have him tilt his head in slight confusion?

Maybe it was the confident stride your walk had, boots sure on where you were going, unlike the usual timid-like steps you so quietly took. Or perhaps it was the way you held your head up high, allowing the world and him to see that pretty face so assuredly. Or maybe it was that bright smile that he finally had the pleasure to see that graced your lips. Whatever the reason was, you seemed more alluring than ever before and yet the only thing that seemed to have changed from before was the confidence he had yet to see you exude until now.

It made him clear his throat and look away from you, trying his best to compose himself properly before looking back towards you. But he never got enough time to help calm his nerves before you approached him; he could feel your warmth and when he did he knew he could not ignore you unless his goal was to hurt your feelings in some way.

“Hello,” He greeted you, his voice not betraying his nervousness “Nice to see you here again, was there something you forgot?”

“Yes,” You nodded your head, confidently and so sure, it made Osamu question your earlier interaction and if you mentioned something briefly before “I had something I needed to ask you.”

He tilted his head, allowing you the opportunity to speak without having to tell you. His mind was racing at just what bread would pair best with whatever dinner dish your mind could come up with, wanting to try and impress you in some small way.

“I would like to go on a date with you.” You spoke, your voice was so clear and sure it could not be misheard or mistaken for something else. It caused Osamu’s eyes to widen slightly as he stared down at you; unable to respond to your request.

If you did not have the powers of the potion you were sure that him staring down at you, not speaking for the moment or two that had passed, would be cause for you to backtrack; to tell him to forget what you had said and scurry on out of his shop and make yourself unknown to him for the rest of your days. But instead, you stood there, eyes never breaking contact with his dark-colored one as you watched him blink once, then twice, as his cheeks started to dust with pink. Your heart could not stop itself from fluttering when you saw him cough nervously, as he shyly nodded his head.

“I-I, uh, I would like that very much”

I do hope my potion gave you the desired outcome you had hoped for, traveler. But please, allow yourself bedrest in a dark room for a day or two, nasty what those potions do to your head. Though I do suppose you’ll have a wonderful guardian to watch over you now.

Do you want to take a chance on a failing traveler's potion?

#i hope you like it gracie #i went a lil overboard with it #small drabble where>#its cause I got too into my lil world I made #i expect all my drabbles will be like this #but hey #it's fun!#i hope you enjoy this i really do #and I hope you come and browse my wares another time if you feel the need to #though i doubt that will be the case #but my peddlers cart is here to stay for another few days if you feel the need #🧩.patchy's event #🧩.patchy the failing potion peddler #🧩.moots #🧩.my gorgeous wife grace #miya osamu #osamu drabble

6 notes · View notes

potionpeddlerpatchy · 6 months

Note

my darling patchy 💕 happy halloween! hope you’ve been staying warm in your shop. i’ve had the strangest affliction — a man name bakugou plagues my waking moments until he torments my dream! please, do you have a potion for this?

(mwah mwah i bring sweet treats and no tricks)

Afflictions can be quite the troublesome quarrel, that I know of. And it certainly is not a battle so easily won, dear Traveler. They are relentless and they do seem to come after us at our most vulnerable of states; during those times when we do not expect them to come our minds, to cause our feet to trip, and our minds to spiral out of control.

Though most are able to break through of this haunting trance after a little while. But I can sense, given the tiredness of your eyes, that you are not so lucky. That perhaps even in your dreams these thoughts make themselves know. So, to help aide you to rid yourself of this affliction, I give to you Drops of Perspicuity.

Allow but a few drops of this potion into your eyes before you sleep and perhaps then you will be rid of these begrudging thoughts. To help guide you to the linger answer that is hidden behind them all, and finally allow your mind the clarity it so desperately seeks.

Granted, of course, you are willing to face whatever answer it may provide for you.

You hated it.

Hated that every waking moment was filled with thoughts that always ended up pointing back to him. The rising star within the King’s guard. How his brash and boastful calls and jeers would ring withing your head far after he had passed you by within the gaggle of others giving him nothing but praise.

You swear you had never seen a man with such a large head, and even larger ego, than that of Bakugou Katsuki. You could not deny that the man had many a natural talent, those that all lend well to that of being perhaps one of the greatest knights that, not only this kingdom would ever see, but perhaps even known around the world. You had seem him spar, seen him with a blade and a bow, seen him train with the others within his regime. You saw just how much work and effort he had placed into his knighthood – all the evidence was there, for all to see, just how important it all was for him.

But he was merely a man, and like anyone else, he had flaws. Bakugou knew just how much better he was compared to the rest who were within his squad, fellow men who started from the bottom just as he did, who had trained the same time as him, and every day, no matter how hard they tried, they always paled in comparison. And Bakugou was not a humble man.

You first thought the loftiness within his personality when he boasted about himself was rather charming; how rough around the edges he seemed, but it all toward a good cause. But as the time wore on, you found his vanity to be more of an annoyance than something humorous.

There was little you could do, much to your dismay. For he, and the fair few that kept up with his pace, were in charge of protecting you and ensuring your safety. As a noble, they so proudly served you, but it left you little chance to reprieve yourself of his arrogance. Day in, and out, his smug smirk and taunting comments followed you wherever you went. It was nothing short of maddening.

Even after you had gone to your father, to plead with him as he sat upon his throne, for him to intervene and save you from further torment, truly there was nothing you could do to rid yourself of pieces of him. After your father gave him, and gave to you a new set of knights to help protect you as you traveled and lived your life, Bakugou was still there.

When you walked down the long and winding corridors of your castle, you could heel his strong aura surround you; sending a fierce shiver up your spine. When you wrote letter to your family and friends, you could hear his haughty tone within your hear telling you that you spelt something wrong. Whenever you fumbled with your sewing, or within a dance with yourself as you stumbled over your own feet, you could hear his smug laugh ring in your ears. It seemed, for a while, that your only true pardon of his being was when you had closed your eyes. In your slumber you could focus your mind on everything else that brough you joy and filled your curiosity.

But he took that too.

Now, whenever your eyes closed, images of him would replace the darkness that surround you. Memories of him with full armour as he rode one of the places horses, how he nudged into the side of yours in a taunting manner before riding off. Other times you could see him as he bowed before your family in respect, how that small smirk would grace his lips when he was before you. And there were times your dreams reminded of when you stumbled upon him as he spared with a fellow friend and knight, very little clothing between them, as the fought within the rain and mud; how his threw his head back with a boisterous laugh when he won.’

It was those dreams that always tried to venture into lands far too lascivious than you were comfortable with. You did not, could not, want to view him as a creature your budding lust was after.

It was in your desperation that you sought out other means than that of strong tea and honey before you slept. It was your torment that led you to venture off into the dense forest, that stood proudly behind vast castle, to make it to the small village that was hidden just on the other side.

You heard tales of a peddler, one that made themselves known in many a village, town, and even royal court. You heard of how they made potions, tinctures of vast array of effects, that could aide anyone with any kind of ailment. There were rumours of love potions to grant a person the affections of who they desire most. Potions of valour, to help who drank it the ability to face their fears. Even your friend had hold of you an oil they were given that helped make their beauty shine in a manner like the stars in the sky.

If the rumours were true, then you needed her help. And if your friend was right, then perhaps you may have time to stumble upon her as she made her way through the eastern towns. It did not matter if your feet hurt, and your body begged for some form of rest, you had to ensure that you met her so that she could provide with you anything that can bring you relief from the man who plagued you at every turn you made.

“Hello there…” A warm voice called out softly to you as you stumbled over a tree branch that was hidden beneath the many leaves that littered across the ground.

It startled you. Caused you to let out a loud gasp as you turned to face the only person within the boundless woods you found yourself in; the very same woods you thought you found solitude in. Your body tensed as she approached, her long skirts moved with the wind and stole your attention away from looking upon the wide-brimmed hat that sat so poised on her head.

“You seem lost.” She concluded, her stride halting mere feet away from you as she looked upon you with concern.

“I am not lost.” You responded, you tried to sound strong – brave even – but your shaky words betrayed your false sense of bravado “I know where I am going.”

“And pray tell, where do you plan on going?”

“A small village, near the capitol of Musutafu” You squared your shoulders and lifted your chin as high as you could, to continue the false airs of bravery in the only matters you knew how to try and make this woman leave you me.

“Musutafu?” She replied, her head tilted in curiosity as she watched you nod you own head to affirm what you had said; though you felt dread fill you veins as you watched her lips form a playful smirk “Well, if my memory continues to be strong, and I do like to think it is, Musutafu is in the east, and you are currently heading west.”

You felt all the strength leave you as you heard her mutter those words before you quickly caught yourself as you turned your head away “And how can you be so sure? Hm? How do I know you are not tricking me?”

“Pretty simple. I travel along the many villages and towns this time of year, before the weather gets too cold, in hopes of trading my wares.” You watched as the woman pulled upon the strap of her long bag higher upon her shoulder, you could faintly hear the clatter of glass as she did so “I then travel west to go back home, like I am now.”

She paused to allow you a moment, what that moment she was expecting you to use it for you were unsure, for you felt frozen in place as dread filled your veins. Truly were you lost? And if so, how long would it be before you could make it toward that village? And once you did, how could you be sure that you would make it intime to take advantage of the potion maker that was supposedly there?

“My my, you are an avid thinker” Her musing tone broke you from your thoughts, her smirk replaced with a smile more akin to something gentle. “Suppose that wandering mind of yours is why you seem to exhausted.”

“I… I beg pardon?” You replied, as your hand touched your chest in a manner showcasing your offense

“I mean no disrespect” She bowed her head to showcase her apology “I simply am able to tell what ails a person. If you would like, I may have something that could help you?”

“Like what?” You could not help but scoff, truly there was only one person who could help you and there were miles from here, but still you relented and allowed the woman before you to rummage through her large bag; the small distraction was providing some semblance of rest you needed.

“Ah, here it is!” She explained gently, a small vial of clear liquid before holding it out to you. She chuckled when you merely stood there awe at the vial “I could tell you were in need of this, I am merely happy to have left that village when I did to stumble upon you.”

“You… you’re that potion maker.” “Peddler, most people call me.” she mused “But it is true, I do have a knack for making such creations. And I suspect this is what will help calm that lovely little mind that constantly turns itself in circles.”

Gingerly, the peddler took hold of your hand to place the cool vial delicately upon you palm before folding your fingers over it to secure its newfound home. She spoke of how a few drops within your tired eyes will allow you the chance to finally gain the clarity, and thus the solace, you so desperately needed. “Perhaps we shall see each other again someday” she mused before she sent you on your way, even provided a compass for you to use so you may be able to make it home safely without the possibility of becoming lost once more.

That night you did as what was instructed by you, warily you placed a single drop into each eye before you laid your head back down into slumber. Your mind did what it has done for longest time now, and filled the darkness with visions of Bakugou. The sides to which he showed everyone, how loud and arrogant he could be. The quieter side that showcased when he was sure no one else could see. And the trifle he caused you whenever he could; all of it flashed before your eyes.

And then it did not.

What was once a rush of visions soon narrowed down it all down until one remained. The memory of when he was first introduced to you as your knight. How he bowed to you, showcasing the courteous manner he so rarely showed, before he took your hand in his and gently adjoined his lips to your knuckles. You remembered how giddy you felt. How you had to use all your strength to forbid the bubble giggles that wished to rush forth once he showcased such an action toward you. It was in that moment it all made sense. That you truly gained the clarity that the potion that peddler had given you promised.

You were in love with him.

And when you woke the next morning, you greeted the sunrise with a sigh as you pressed your palms to your eyes; pressing gently into them to provide yourself the needed pressure to rid yourself of the haze that was held behind them and to try and wake our tired brain up further.

“Just what am I going to do?”

I never did say that the answer that would provide you clarity would be one that you wanted to hear. Though I can say that you mind will now be more at peace, as you have one focused thought rather than the many that were once tangled together. Granted, trying to find a way to confess such feeling is never easy, so should you need another potion to help you gain some courage, I am more than happy to provide.

Oh, and one more thing. It would be best if you were to avoid bright lights for the next day or two – would hate for your sensitive eyes to suddenly go blind.

#I can see how he would react once he hears the news too #and well I do not envy you in the slightest #but I do wish you luck and hope your future together is bright #🔮.the peddler answers #🔮.the peddler's peculiar potion sale #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader

21 notes · View notes

potionpeddlerpatchy · 27 days

Note

Hi, Patchy! Do you have a favorite trope you love to write?

Well hello new friend! Thank you so much for stopping by!!

This is a GREAT question - one I am not sure I have an answer to! I do love Royalty stuff, so lots of tropes around that, but I typically write what fuels a good idea, no one real trope I love more!

Lots of tropes I love to see though! Like Enemies/Friends to Lovers, Corruption, Blind Dates, Drunken Confessions, Office Romances, the list can go on!

what about you?? A favourite that you are drawn to?

#🔮.the peddler answers

8 notes · View notes

potionpeddlerpatchy · 1 month

Note

hi patchy!! does sero have any nicknames for you and vice versa?

Ooooo what a fun fun question! I actually, for once, have an answer for this!!

So, Sero calls me 'mi corazon' so much that if (and when) we have kiddos they assume that is my name for the longest time.

I sometimes, jokingly call him Tangerine, as that's his favourite snack (and he, in turn, calls me Lemon). But I mainly call him the usual pet names like sweetheart, pet, love, and stuff like that.

But yeah 😊💛

#and of course he calls me the usual pet names too #but those two are like SPECIFIC #ya know??#what about you?? does Izuku call you adorable pet names??#🔮.the peddler answers #🔮.fellow witch mimi

8 notes · View notes

potionpeddlerpatchy · 2 months

Note

all i'm saying is that with how bashful and you are and how straightforward bokuto is

the dialogue possibilities for when he finally gets to touch you are out of this world

you can't tell me that when he finally gets you cornered, the cute little hospital colleague he's been chasing around for months, it isn't the hottest thing ever.

just imagine

him, staring down at you with half-lidded eyes roaming all over your figure, ducking into your personal space because you're not stopping him

he's stealing your breath. ducking his head into the space between your shoulder and neck, watching your reactions. his warm breath is making your head feel all light and fuzzy, sedated.

he hasn't even kissed you. he isn't even touching you. but he goes on like that, as if he's waiting for a word from you. his nose so close to your hairline. his lips so near to your ear. almost like, an animal being checked over.

"bokuto-san," you whimper, and it goes straight to his work pants.

"yeah, bunny?"

"why are you doing this to me?" you wrap your arms around his neck, despite yourself- feeling like you might fall.

he's not sure what you mean. why did he interrupt your private lunch hour? or why has he been courting you, so shamelessly, for months, at your own work place? or why is he breathing down your pretty neck right now?

either way, the answer is the same. his smile is a full moon, beaming.

"because i know what i want, and i work for it." there's something determined in his eyes then, almost wicked.

"i can wait, too," he coos, "i can be good."

the desperation in his last sentence makes you pulse between your legs.

"you're so..." you want to say big as he towers over your frame, taking up all the space inside your office and inside your head, "...much."

he laughs. "does that scare yah?"

"well..."

this hesitance, however small, disrupts his lustful thoughts. bokuto, of course, never wanted to actually intimidate you.

but, much to his suprise, as he moves to back away, the arms locked around his neck don't budge. pulling him, until he's flush against you.

"it's just- you're-" you struggle to explain yourself, "always looking at me like i'm your next meal."

it's whispered, embarrassed, and you're staring at the ground while you wait for his reply.

nevertheless, you hold him there.

bokuto's cheeriness at your efforts to keep him close are obvious. two big fingers lay hold of your chin.

"well, that's nothing to be scared of."

you scoff, but bokuto speaks again.

"i wouldn't hurt you, bunny," he tilts your head, then, guiding you, shepherding you to his mouth.

"i can eat real nice and slow. can even have manners... if you want me to."

The fact that you think he calls me bunny always makes my head spin!! He's such a gentle giant, a himbo, a golden retriever in human form!! But this!?!

How wolf-like he is!?! Has my head SPINNING!! 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

I just... I love him and wouldn't mind if he took a bite or devoured me

#again gracie has the best asks #and like???#this treat!?!#this golden gem of an ask!?#god he makes me weak and you KNOW it #🔮.the peddler loves bokuto #🔮.the peddler answers #🔮.close companion gracie

7 notes · View notes

potionpeddlerpatchy · 5 months

Note

Send to 10 other bloggers you think are wonderful. Keep this going to make someone smile. 💚 (no pressure)

Archer, this is so kind of you - always love getting these in my inbox! It's a good reminder to know that people as lovely as you, not only exist, but wish to remind other how lovely they are!

I typically don't send this into other people's inboxes - as I already bug them enough - but I shall now tag all the people who I love and think the world of

Staring with you 😊: @archer-fb @melodramaticmatter @karamfilmare @tteokdoroki @blkladyelle @mintmatcha @minninugget @boosyboo9206 @kingkatsuki @kingdumkum @oooohno @jozhenji @hiagainyou @dienamights @scarlettriot @katsukikitten @kaidabakugou @vampyrsm @crowned-peony @weird-dere-fics @bluebellhairpin @kweenkatsuki-fics @luffysprincess @moonbuuns @http-virilitas

#if you're not on the list #I apologize!! going off of memory #i love all of my mooties i truly do #thank you all for being here and being my friend #🔮.the peddler answers #🔮.fellow mage archer

11 notes · View notes

potionpeddlerpatchy · 4 months

Note

HELLLOOOOOO so your selfship with blonde twin 👀 how did this start? what is the origin story, i must know how you fell for each other.

Hello Marquie, my darling!! How sweet it is that you want to learn about a silly little self-ship of mine!

Truly, its all @melodramaticmatter's fault! Her husband is Osamu, and when I made the comment that if I was with Atsumu we could be sister-in-laws she took that and RAN!!

The story goes, Osamu and Gracie always love the ritual and community a Sunday night dinner has and would bring. And seeing as I am her bestie, I of course am always invited. And well, Osamu can't shake his brother off to save his life, so he's always there too.

And well, seeing each other once a week, and having certain people *cough Gracie* subtly place ideas in our heads (mainly Atsumu's) a crush was born. One that I am begrudgingly accepting. But it had led to some very cute scenarios I cannot lie!

One of which, is the fact that the twins always fight and though Atsumu is always the instigator, Osamu always wins them. And then Atsumu would have to endure me scolding him as I patch him up over being so childish and so on, all while he looks down with complete adoration. As well, there are breaks in the scolding cause I have to kiss his boo-boos better.

And yeah.... its adorable but I have yet to fully and truly embrace it cause he's such a little shit...

#anyway thanks for listening to me ramble #and well your interest in this in general #atsumu is a new beloved and he's such a shit about it #smh 😤😤#I hope you've been well!!#would love to hear about your own self ships as well!!#love hearing about people's self ships so much #🔮.the peddler answers #🔮.fellow witch marquie #🔮.the peddler's self-ship

8 notes · View notes

potionpeddlerpatchy · 6 months

Note

Hello potion seller! How goes your day?

May I have a potion?

My thoughts are once again turning to Osamu Miya this time of year. That handsome bastard…

My day always fares well, dear Traveler, when I am able to interact with people so kind as yourself. And I always do love the company of those that cannot find it within themselves to admit to those begrudging feelings that surround their hearts.

Ah, I can tell by the way you are now looking at me that you haven’t the faintest idea as to what I am speaking of; or perhaps you are feigning ignorance. Either way, you have before me to hopefully get a potion, am I right?

This Tonic of Perception will be what you need. I suggest having this within either within your favourite tea, or even more so, something that is very sweet. For it is a bitter liquid that can be hard to swallow if taken on its own.

Perhaps you could even have it with a sweet from the bakery down the road?

“Something sweet, huh?” You mumbled to yourself in a begrudging manner as you paced along the cobblestone path that led towards the one place you knew you could find just that.

But truly you were doing anything in your power to avoid entering that littler bakery. It was why, when you feet followed the familiar path, you tried to divert it. To do whatever you could to avoid the alluring smell of fresh bread and cake that always drew you in whenever the days grew shorter and the air colder.

That was why you ended up in that strange peddler’s company. To try and prove to yourself that you meant to finally visit the strange parlour you had been avoiding like it was the plague, and not as a diversion. To not admit to yourself that your feet were falling into old habits, and that your heart follow suit.

But, of course, fate always had something else in mind.

As you wandered about within the peddlers home, your eyes slowly took in all the strange, yet marvelous, vials and trinkets that cluttered the many shelves around you. You read each label, even took a few into your hand out of curiosity, all in pitiful attempt to waste as much time as you could to then allow you excuse of how late it had gotten so you could go home without venturing further down the road.

Yet, despite it all, a vial did catch your eye. You supposed it was the simplicity of it which is why it stood out to you. The bottle, small, but nothing more of note. The liquid was clear, looked just like water. If you did not know better, and truly the thought did cross your mind for a brief moment, you would assume that this peddler just placed water into a vial and was trying to sell it off and a powerful tonic.

“Do you like them?” She asked, when your eyes could not stray from the strange bottle before you.

“Suppose they have my curiosity” You replied with a shrug of your shoulders, finally tearing you eyes away to look upon her – her knowing grin made a frown etch the sides of your lips.

“Not surprised this one called for you,” She mused, “You seemed to be avoiding something.”

“Am I?” You questioned as she plucked the vial from where is stood so proudly before holding it out for you.

“This will help with that, Tonic of Perception is a good brew for those that are adverse to dealing with situations set before them”

“A potion, huh? This looks more like water…” You mumbled, as you examined the vial more closely before a sheepish smile graced your face as you watched the peddler bow her head in slight annoyance.

“I can understand your trepidation” She hummed, a humble smile upon her lips as she gazed at you “But I can assure you I am no fraud hoping for a quick coin from desperate people.”

It was her tone that made you wish to believer her. That and the knowledge that she was more than happy to bequeath the little vial to you free of charge. Truly there was nothing for you to lose should you decide to take her up on her truths and drink it – if it was a dud then you did not waste any money/

But there was something you could lose. If you stepped foot in that shop again you would feel his eyes upon you. You remembered the last time you had a conversation with the baker, Osamu, just before the first rainfall of the spring season. How he teased you over your constant presence in his shop. How your sweet tooth was the only thing keeping him in business. You could not understand why you were so offended, but you were. Perhaps it was the more monotone drawl he used as he teased you that plucked a nerve. All you did know if that if you showed up there again, after the season had changed to autumn, you would be proving him right and yourself a hypocrite.

Not like you wanted to be there all the time. But when the months got colder, the days would be filled more with moonlight that the sun’s rays, you felt the need for a form of comfort; of warmth. And truly the most warm place you had ever felt welcomed was that of your aunt – a confectioner in her own right. But since you had moved away from home, from where you grew up, you had yet to feel that level of warmth again.

Yet when you were in the bakery, that same sense of warmth filled your heart the same way it did when you were but a child. And over the harsh months of winter you found yourself there more and more, just wanting a glimmer of that inner warmth you so craved. You enjoyed his company as well, though eh never said much. But just knowing that his presence was there was enough for you to feel a sense of connection that helped you as you struggled with the day-to-day that life brought.

Perhaps that was why it hurt you so much when he made that jabbing comment?

Whatever it was, it did not matter now. Certainly not at this moment as you stood at the familiar doorstep of the bakery; with a deep inhale, one that you couldn’t not help but have turn into a pleasurable sigh as your lungs filled with the scent of fresh bread, you took another look at the vial you had been clutching tightly since it was given to you.

“Perhaps it will give me courage?” You muttered to yourself uncorked the lid the lid that separated you from it.

The liquid was bitter, almost intolerable, as it brushed your tongue and went down your throat. It caused you to sputter and cough as you did your best to not cause a scene. Though the bitterness soon became the least of your worries as you felt your body lose its strength and your eyes began to roll back until your vision was no more.

Darkness filled you.

But only for a moment. Just as quickly as it cascaded over you light flooded your vision once more. Then, a clear picture of the world around you as your vision grew accustomed to the light. You were in the bakery, surrounded by plenty of bread in all its forms, those cranberry muffins you always loved to eat, and a few tarts that looked mouth watering.

And yet, none of it filled you with that same sense of warmth that you grew so fond of. In fact, where you were was not familiar to you at all. You seemed to be in a kitchen, preparing to bring out all the mouth-watering goods to the display counters.

It was then that it dawned on you, perception, if what she claimed this potion was. If only you remembered that a few moments prior; though you could not further beat yourself over such a mistake given how far your mind had gone. But now, you were in the mind of someone else. Clearly it was Osamu, only he was ever allowed in the kitchens of this place. But that only heighted your confusion. For how could he not feel the same warmth you did when he looked upon his work; you knew him a proud man, one that adored the life he had made for himself. Yet? It was if something was missing. Something felt incomplete as you continued to be a passenger within his own mind, as you viewed the world from his eyes.

A thud, not loud in nature, but still enough to take your (and his) attention away; to feel the sense of confusion and worry as he made his was from the back of his bakery toward the front entrance. You felt the panic that entered his being as he saw you, laying so helpless upon the ground. You could not help but share in his sense of urgency and consternation as you watched yourself get pulled into the shop.

Then, a tingle was felt through the panic and mayhem. A sense of relief of knowing you were alright, as well as… something else. Almost akin to homeliness as you were privy to him as he watched over you; as you watched his thumb gingerly pet across your cheek.

It was then that you realized that sense of warmth, one that showcased to you within these four walls, did not come him in the form of the bakery as you so thought.

It came from you.

Oh dear, suppose I should have warned you about what would happen should you decide to drink the potion. Though, I was suspecting that you were going to be sitting down and enjoying a treat to go with it; but I digress, a warning still should have been given.

As well, was not the best move to drink the whole vial – again my fault for not providing you the knowledge needed – as merely a few drops would have sufficed. I’m afraid you will be stuck as a passenger for a little while longer, but no more than three hours at most. Once that time has passed you shall wake with no issue.

Though, I do not envy you the headache you will face.

#in hindsight I suppose I was less than forth right #but hey! at least you weren't hurt!#you can always come back for a cure for that nasty headache though!#🔮.the peddler answers #🔮.the peddler's peculiar potion sale #osamu miya #osamu x reader

10 notes · View notes

potionpeddlerpatchy · 6 months

Note

PATCHYY BABY!!! hope you’re doing well my love! this event is so cool, can i have a potion for dealing with nanamin please?🥺

MWAH!! big kiss for u ily🩷💛

Oh Traveler, how grateful I am to have you here, it brings me so much joy to know you wished to visit my little shop, let alone grace me with all those kind compliments. Truly your heart is far more kind than I am sure you allow yourself the credit for.

But I digress, you are here with a most simple problem that many face. It is hard to come to terms with ones own emotions, let alone having to then confide them to someone else. That level of vulnerability is not for the faint of heart, and though I can see your heart is strong, it too is guarded when it comes to wishing to let its feelings be know.

Determination Draft shall help you with this, though I do advise you drink the whole phial. Would very much hate for your pluck to run out while you are in the middle of your confession.

You did not want to have to come here. To beg a peddler for her wares. You did not want things to go as far as they did. But alas, you could not change the fates design for you, let alone the one they chose for your heart to claim as your own. And you were willing to set your pride aside if it meant you got a semblance of levity from the way your heart ached so painfully.

It was not as if Nanami was bad man. On the contrary you were hard pressed to find any other that was as selfless and kind as he was; he always showed no qualms in stepping in to help where it was needed, with never a want to be repaid – not even needing a thank you once all was said and done.

It was just, he had a demeanour about him that always was a little off-putting to those that did not know him well. How demanding, and oft terrifying it was it be within. It never lent itself to making someone feel wanted if around. And you, despite how selfless you wished to be, always hoped that he would showcase a tiny semblance of enjoyment of having you near him.

Ever since you met him you were drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. And perhaps that is why you always felt so hurt, after all a moth cannot stay in the light without sacrificing its life. Not that you were willing to go to such a degree. But you could not help the way your heart would beat so forcefully, as if it needed him, whenever he was near. At first, you thought it was merely a crush, the kind you had gotten when you were but a younger girl; that you merely were so enamored by his handsome visage and strong physic.

Yet, as time passed, and you were privy to many a small moment that showcased a different side to him, you began to feel an allurement that claimed you, and as more time passed it began to tighten its hold over you; growing ever more tight, until you ended up where you are now – breathless and unable to do anything but try and hold on.

It became clear to you that this was not a mere infatuation, not some silly school yard crush that would leave you with blushing cheeks and giggles. This was far beyond that and you were at a loss of what to do. You were not exactly known for taking a leap, of becoming brave and admitting forthright how you felt. Or perhaps maybe you were, but you could find yourself the pluck to do so with him. The moment his eyes would land upon you, a meekness would overcome you to the point where you wanted to do nothing more than to scurry away; half the time you did.

Though, it was not to say that you were entirely a timid mouse in the jaws of such a lion. You had, in your own small ways, showcased to him your attraction. Be it with the need to always wish him good morning, to always ensuring that you got him his favourite coffee, to the small gifts you would hide within his jacket pockets. Yet it never seemed to work. A nod of acknowledgement is all he would give to your cheery greetings, you would find the exact change that his coffee would cost sitting upon your desk every time you came to back to it at the end of the day, and those small gifts always seemed to find its their way to his desk to remain unopened.

You knew the solution. A pluck more of courage to tell him directly what you felt. Even if he did not feel the same as you, at least you would have an answer and can move forward from this stagnant, purgatory-like, situation you have placed yourself in. Yet it never came to you.

It was why you were here as you scanned vial after vial, all marked so beautifully with scripts of their names, as you tried in vain to find one that you would recognize as something that could help. Your fingertips brushed over an array of colour, from blues, to greens, to purples, to now the bright crimsons as you muttered to yourself some affirmations that you were possible on the right track.

“May I help you find whatever it is you seek?” The calm voice of the woman who let you in asked, as she stood nearby and watched you with curious eyes.

“I suppose?” You whispered out, a little timid to be caught talking to yourself, nonetheless you turned to face her fully and embrace the help she was so willing to give “Looking for something that will give me courage.”

“Ah, I see. You need not feel embarrassed, even the most brave of knights come here to ask for a boost of pluckiness to help them through their next mission.” She smiled before taking a step towards you and the many vials behind you, as her eyes darted over the carmine creations “Though, I do think Blood of a Lion is far too strong for what you need.”

“N-no! Truly I do not think that right!” You tried to protest, as you followed her away from the alluring bottle of red courage towards those of a softer nature “I can barely even allow myself the courage to speak to him, let along confess such strong feelings.”

“Yet you still do bring yourself to talk to him, which makes you more brave than most” She smiled, eyes shining with warmth as she continued her search “I know it must be hard to place your faith in the hands of a stranger, but trust me I shall not lead you astray.”

She placed within your hands a phial filled with liquid that reminded you of a petal of a pink rose. Determination Draft she called it, it would allow you the ability to speak what was on your mind to anyone; even those most frightening of creatures would not deter you from speaking the truth upon your tongue.

It was just the push you needed to allow you to finally take a stand and no longer be a helpless passenger in what you called your life; you could take control again. Even if it led you down a bumpy road of humiliation that rejection would bring, you would still take it over being held back and frozen in place from the meekness that had taken over.

You just wished the perfume that wafted from the phial was not so strong; though it was a pleasant aroma it still made you gag when it first touched your nose. Though it still could not deter you from what you wanted. You simply pinched your nose before you brought the vial back to your mouth, and in one fell swoop, you downed the entirety of it all.

A heat followed the liquid, from where it danced upon your tongue, down your throat, until it pooled within your belly. It was that warmth, that fire, that reignited your vigor and set you blood aflame. If this was how you felt with a weaker potion, you could only imagine was beasts you would slay, the foes you would conquer, should you have had the more crimson blood potions you first fought for.

With that spike of adrenaline coursing through your body, you knew you had to act quickly before it left you once again. With a deep inhale you marched your way down to where you knew Nanami would be hiding away at this time of day; to try and allow himself some peace and tranquility before his colleague would call him forth and cause him ire. You had made contact with his door, you could barely hear the loud rapt your knuckles made over the sound of rushing blood that filed your ears; though the sound of your name from his lips rang clearly though it all.

“This is certainly unexpected” His voice had an unfamiliar lilt of surprise to it “How many I help you?”

You did not wait until he opened his door further to allow you in, instead choosing to push you way past him into the small space he was hiding out in. If your mind had not been freed of any semblance of decorum, you would be horrified of your actions. Yet, you decided to ignore the small glimmer of shock in his eyes as you squared your shoulders and tilted head so you could finally look him in the eye.

“I have something to tell you.”

I can already tell just how well it all went; given you have yet to come back and ask for another potion to aide you – whether it be to allow you the chance again for some pluck, or to help you through your heart break. Though, please, I would for you to stop by again to hear how the rest of the story went.

Oh, and before I forget. Might be best to avoid as many people as possible while that potion still runs hot through you. I would hate for you to say what you truly felt about someone, especially those you are not fond of. I never like knowing squabbles arose from my hand.

#i was going to write a whole confession scene #but then I noticed how long this was getting and knew I would add like another 1K words #and I just didn't have the strength #but he likes you back!#probably even gives you a smooch #🔮.the peddler answers #🔮.the peddler's peculiar potion sale #nanami kento #nanami x reader

14 notes · View notes