#Duke x Anxiety | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

anantaru · 4 months

Text

— does he like it when you're being clingy?

including wriothesley, neuvillette, kaveh, scaramouche x gn! reader

꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff & crack, lots of physical touch, established relationship, kissies, love sick genshin men

— wriothesley

as much as wriothesley shows off his strong demeanor for the outside world to see, he cannot lie to himself when it comes to you— because the duke likes seeing you be clingy with him and search for his vehemence.

to him, there was nothing better than having your arms all padded up around him while you kiss his little worries away— so for all he cares, let the outside world call him bewitched if they must, or caught in an angelic spell for that matter. to wriothesley it didn't sound bad nor did he really give a damn about what a so called nobody would say about his life, alongside the fact that he found it quite amusing whenever they did talk about him.

the duke was exceptionally gentle with you, but sometimes he just wants to be able to see you love him in a whole differing modus other than you simply uttering out the three delicate words— in fact, wriothesley too, cares about you so much that he's trying to keep you around all the time, having you enveloped in his arms like he always daydreams of whenever you were apart from each other— hoping that you'd visit him so he could listen to whatever story you might tell him about.

now, was this a new feeling? well, yes. simply put, it was one he had never experienced before. the man had always been faithful, protective and nurturing in his life, so when love solidified the senses of his body, wriothesley was able to finally share his love with somebody.

what you did not know was that wriothesley was slightly frightened in the early stages of your relationship, to someone like the duke it wasn't particularly a breezy walk in the park to open up to another individual and realize that for the first time in his life, he was able to trust someone undoubtedly without fearing a possible mistreat.

now, he admits his love to you when he felt ready to do so, and when he does spell out the three words that bonded a relationship anew, your lips curl deeper into a passionate smile as he kisses the sides of your mouth.

your company alone was an important determination factor of his mood, and although he doesn't want to trouble you with his work, nor was he really allowed to share important and confidential details, wriothesley was certain that you would always be there to listen to him no matter what crossed his mind.

interesting how his heart has not once melted in his entire life prior to finding his soulmate. that's why in his eyes, there is no truer language than the language of love.

a cruel world that has been so cold go him surely wouldn't give him such wonderful gift?

alas, it did— wriothesley could feel it in his bones whenever you held him close to your chest late at night, his ear shell quietly pressed right above your heart. the silent vibrations place a pure tepidness of passion on his soul when he finds himself gradually softening to it, on all occasions smiling as he falls asleep in your arms.

— neuvillette

in the early stages of your relationship, when you had first placed your lips on neuvillette's, the three letter announcement evaporates from his tongue as fluid as when sunlight enters the raindrops and emerges as rainbows from afar.

and yes, much to his surprise he didn't die because of it, who would've saw that coming? although the iudex wholeheartedly believed that he would suffer from a cardiac arrest due to the vast bursts of anxiety gradually chugging away his confidence.

"can i sit on your lap?" you smile gently, unsure whether his silence is that of enthusiasm or distaste.

neuvillette can hardly register it at first before he presses out a pathetic little yes when his excitement reaches the roof of his head and violently breaks through it, showing you those open and loving eyes that were the golden entry to his soul.

you hear a deep, breathless pant when you sit on him, witnessing how a hefty amount of redness catches up to his face until battering his ears, ultimately coaxing out a shiver from his spine.

don't misunderstand his unusual reactions— but neuvillette couldn't quite fathom that you belonged to him and sought out his body like that, it's always special when you nonchalantly rounded your hands on his face and replenished his energy anew, as if his frame was reborn in its most perfect form solely when he felt your trace.

and so, he cannot get enough of your warmth— no wonder when you remind yourself of the pure emotions that he harbored deeply for you.

instinctively, you rest your body against his chest, a soft glow rounding up your facial features, "ah, can't wait until you're done with this," you huff and point at his office desk being crowded by a bunch of papers as you press a small peck against the tip of his nose, ruffling his hair a little.

"it is rather late, you mustn't stay here," he insists, a barely distinctive curve of his lips turning all the difference in the choice of his tone.

"oh? does that mean you want to get rid of me?" how terribly skilled you were when you soaked your words in viscous sarcasm— so skillful in fact that neuvillette would always fall for it head first, or that's what you thought.

he raises a brow before curving one arm around your waist, leaning you against his chest so you wouldn't be able to move an inch, even if you tried.

"now," he playfully scolds, "you, my love, couldn't be farer from the truth."

"and here i thought you must know me by now?"

"i'm joking with you!" you panic, battering his cheek with little kisses as if he didn't know— but neuvillette sees how happy you were whenever you believed you fooled him.

he cocks an eyebrow at you, his mannerism in a questioning stance.

"apologies, aren't jokes supposed to be humorous?"

you scoff, "hmpf, now you're just mean!"

— kaveh

from an outer perspective, one couldn't possibly figure out who was clingier towards the other person— and even with someone being a close friends of the both of you, it's beyond the bounds of possibility to crown a winner.

you or kaveh? who yearned for the attention of the other more? to answer such difficult question, you should first know of the moniker a certain scribe has given you, in fact, within your friend-group kaveh and you had instantly claimed the title of most insufferable couple.

you might wonder, was that a bad thing? oh well, not at all!

and kaveh doesn't even attempt to conceal the priceless smirk on his face whenever he heard his roommate address the both of you as that— it turned him deeply fulfilled that everyone was able to see how crazy he was about you.

your heart feels full by his comforting arms that each throb rattles across your limbs and muscles, feeling weightless at the welcoming cradle— your love being whole, one touch and a gentle kiss on the lips and you feel on a bed of roses, tucked up in velvet.

"what is it?" kaveh leans at you, raising a brow at the way you peak behind his shoulder. during closer inspection, you catch up on a sneaky little smirk that frames his lips the more you focused on what's behind him, "c'mon baby, tell me," kaveh kisses your cheek.

"i think they're calling us insufferable again." you point behind his shoulder, specifically at a table with three people— one wholly focused on the cards in his hands and remaining unbothered while the others sneakily glanced over to you every now and then, whispering incoherent mumbles into each others ears with their palms covering their lips.

and your words don't achieve anything besides making him all the more amused when he wraps his arms around your waist, it's evident, very much so but kaveh was fond of the situation— perhaps he even prided himself on it, he has the audacity to act surprised though.

he laughs, nudging the tip of his nose against your jaw, "they're probably just talking about a way to beat cyno in tcg."

he continues, "we should leave early," and states firmly, "but i think alhaitham took my keys again."

"how does this always happen?" you note tiresomely before dropping your head onto his shoulder— a little too dramatically so that the scribe picked up on it immediately, revealing a triumphant smirk.

perhaps that is why they say love is such magic, this gift from the universe that was unable to be compared, this sweet addiction that no matter what situation you were in, big or small, if it's the two of you facing it together, it was nothing.

— scaramouche

even if scaramouche doesn't straight out admit it to you, he likes it whenever you were clingy with him— and after a good while of you two being in a relationship, he will more and more show his genuine love of it until he’s practically playing with the thought of begging for more.

in the beginning it starts by how fast his cheeks flame red and his focus dwindling as you hug him. after that particular encounter scaramouche memorizes what you did and decides that this must be a proper way to greet you as well— maybe even give you a little kiss on the cheek if he's feeling like it.

scratch that, what he lacks was the courage to go that far.

but no matter how often you would greet him this way, the action alone send him spiraling, shyly snuggling closer to you, inch by inch, although not risking it to hold eye contact and instead averting his gaze as he attempts to indulge in it nervously— stiff as concrete with both arms frozen on each side of his body when you wrapped your limbs around him.

he leans into your touch and closes his eyes— how warm, it's as if the sun itself would shine down on him and prickle on his skin, you feel so whole, like a home.

your touch, it's difficult to explain besides the fact that it carries such passion, and before scaramouche could register it— what was once scarred long ago expresses gentleness all of a sudden.

although not everything from his past could be forgotten, yet your presence made it bearable.

what was also a crucial task to scaramouche was his recent curiosity in understanding the concept of love and how he fell for it— while he ultimately came to the conclusion that the only way to understand love is to feel it, attempt to embody it, or embrace it in its complete form.

next time, you greet him with a blank look on your face as he applies your method on you first, slightly catching you off guard as he welcomes you home almost wordlessly, taking your hand in his cold one when he pulls you into a hug— it is a silent engage and the way he practically dragged you into him made your forehead smack his shoulder.

thankfully scaramouche doesn't have to speak in order for you to understand what he was trying to signalize here.

what's following next would be considered even sillier than him blatantly copying you, but when the two of you walk alongside each other through the hustling streets of sumeru city, you flinch a little at a strong grab on your hand ambushing you, "hey, nope— hold on, stop walking and give me your hand dammit," scaramouche scoffs as he chases after it, when with a quick motion, he traps it finally and tangles his digits around your own.

"there's no fun if i make it easy," you wink, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his jaw, "i like the faces you make when you're mad, you know? your expressions are so cute."

"don't you realize you're wasting time like that?" scaramouche clicks his tongue before squeezing your hand in his grasp, letting out an audible hmph before turning his head towards the street.

"honestly? that's fine by me," you coo softly, smothering him with the attention he craves as more of your fingers dig into the soft flesh of his palm.

"as long as you still love me, of course."

5K notes · View notes

hisui-dreamer · 8 months

Note

Hi, congratulations on 1k followers! I love your writing a lot and I was hoping you could do Villainess AUs with Malleus? Like isekai manhwa style? Thank you!!

the gazelle's sweet briar

Pairing: Malleus Draconia x f!reader

Synopsis: your first objective was to avoid the main characters, but it's not easy when you only have the memories of your friend's ramblings to work off of

Tags: cliché isekai plot, reincarnation, fluff, arranged marriage, tw (mentioned): bad parenting, patriarchal society, death

Word count: 1.6k+

Notes: @coralinnii has an amazing series based on isekai villainesses, so i definitely recommend you check out her work too! im so in love with it (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

Masterlist

Once upon a time, there lived a villainess of exceptional allure, her visage as enchanting as a moonlit night. However, this bewitching beauty concealed a heart blackened by a singular obsession with appearances.

From the earliest days of her upbringing, her mother, a woman who had managed to step into aristocracy by charming a noble, had instilled in her a cruel belief: that those who were not blessed with physical perfection were destined for lives of relentless mockery and eternal solitude. This twisted ideology consumed the villainess' every thought, blinding her to the virtues of education and morality. She became nothing more than a porcelain doll, admired solely for her aesthetic charm.

The King arranged a marriage between her and Duke Draconia, the enigmatic descendant of the dragons who ruled the northern lands, believing that such a striking bride would surely please the reclusive Duke.

However, the King remained oblivious to the swirling rumours that pervaded the courtly circles. Whispers spoke of the Duke as a hideous man who had never once revealed his face, perpetually concealed behind a forbidding black mask. When the rumours reached the villainess' ears, she threw tantrum after tantrum, vehemently refusing to wed a man whose appearance couldn't possibly match her own.

Yet, a royal decree could not be denied. Reluctantly, the villainess embarked on her journey to the northern realm in bitter acceptance. It had rained the moment she arrived, the castle dark and uninviting, with thorns crawling onto the obsidian walls. The Duke, an oblivious and shy man, did not greet her at the grand entrance. Instead, she was met by the Duke's advisor, a man with a curiously boyish features.

Humiliation welled up within the villainess' heart, for she felt as if she were being played the fool by the entire duchy. On the eve of her arrival, anxiety gnawed at her like a relentless spectre.

As night descended, the Duke, mustering his courage, attempted to approach the vexed lady.

But when the villainess beheld his masked face, terror seized her like a vice. "Stay back! You hideous beast!" she cried out, her voice trembling with fear, and she recoiled, her steps faltering as she retreated from him.

The Duke, wounded by her cruel words, attempted to console her, his outstretched hand beseeching understanding. Yet, her irrational dread overcame her, and she continued her backward retreat until, with a heart-stopping scream, she slipped from an open window.

That was how the villainess' life ended.

you hadn't actually read the book, but it wasn't difficult identifying who you got reincarnated as

especially with how your best friend obsessed over this villainess because, and i quote, "if pretty, why evil, huh???"

you woke up a week before the villainess would depart for the North, but that week alone was enough to make you understand the way she acted

every day, you were fed portions fitting of a child, had your skin rubbed raw as you were bathed, and not a moment of your mother's nitpicking about a sudden imperfection she found in you

in truth, you were more than glad to leave for the North, even if that's where your life would be on the line

the survival plan was simple: maintain an amicable relationship with the duchy until the night the heroine stumbles in to ask for a night of shelter, to which the heroine would heal the emotional wounds of the Duke, and share with him the beauty of love, bringing warmth into his heart

and so, you arrived at the estate, the castle tall and intimidating with the clouds dark and foreboding

still, you stepped out of your carriage (with wobbly legs) and met the advisor (your friend's favourite character, in fact)

the advisor, lilia, though seemed young, was actually the very man who raised the duke in the absence of his parents

he welcomed you as the lady of the duchy, and led you to your quarters

by nightfall, you were quite comfortable with living in the estate

everyone was polite, the food was delicious (and properly sized), and you had no doubt you'd settle nicely here

as a precaution to the death sequence, you decided to take a stroll in the rose garden after dinner

if you were already on the ground floor, you couldn't fall to your death, right?

but unexpectedly, you encountered a lone figure in the centre of the garden

he was incredibly tall, dressed simply, his emerald eyes fixated on the estate

upon closer inspection, you noticed he had long horns as well, perhaps he was a gazelle beastman?

either way, you were curious about what it was that held his attention so strongly that he couldn't notice your presence

"Excuse me, sir? May I ask what is so interesting about the building?" you timidly break the silence of the night.

The man turns to you, his eyes widening in surprise. "... Do you not know who I am?"

You blinked in confusion at his words. His words filled you with a sense of foreboding. You wondered if this person matched any of the characters your friend had so fervently described, but all you could recall was the beautiful villainess and the enigmatic advisor to the Duke.

"My apologies, I'm afraid I do not... May I know your name, sir?"

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he considered your question. "No... If that is the case, you may call me whatever you wish."

Perplexed by his response, you tried to come up with a suitable name. "Then... May I call you Mr. Gazelle?"

Upon hearing your words, he burst out in laughter. "Hahaha! What an interesting choice. Very well, I accept the name," he said. "In response to your first question, I was observing the gargoyles of the building."

on that night, not only did you learn more about the fascinating functions gargoyles serve, you also made your first friend in this life

strangely enough, you didn't meet the duke at all unlike the novel, which though strange, you greatly welcomed

if you didn't have any ties with him, then it'd be so much easier to just divorce him, get the money, and live a comfortable luxurious life far away from the main characters

though as you say that, you find yourself wanting to spend more and more time with "Mr Gazelle"

despite his intimidating appearance, he turned out to be a very generous person, frequently gifting you little trinkets he's made or bouquets he's arranged

he's started calling you "Briar", after the roses in the garden where he met you

you greatly appreciated the nickname, it felt better to be called that than the name of the villainess, that you could just be yourself and not play the role of a villainess avoiding ruin

you also find that whatever musings you've mentioned to him, they somehow manifest themselves

oh? you wish you could learn about embroidery? the next day there's a basket full of the highest quality threads and fabrics, with a gentle tutor to help you learn

(you still remember how cute "Mr Gazelle" looked when you gave him your first finished product, a handkerchief with an embroidered gargoyle)

what's this? you'd like to try more desserts from the capital you were never allowed to try? say no more! the next day the chef presents you with 10 different choices!

so you assumed he was an advisor of sorts to the Duke, because how else could your requests be granted so easily?

but one day, around two months after you started living in the duchy, "Mr Gazelle" asked you questions about the duke, whether you were afraid of him, would you prefer to meet him, curious questions like that

though surprised by the topic, you answered honestly, saying you don't really believe in the rumours (because you know from your friend he's an ethereal beauty) and yes, you would like to meet your husband

and what do you know? lilia informs you the duke wants to share dinner with you. what a coincidence!! :)

Nervousness held you in its grasp as you stepped into the room. Your gaze remained fixed on the carpet beneath your feet, and your knees bent gracefully as you executed the perfect curtsey.

"Your Grace."

You could hear sounds of shuffling, and then a pair of black boots entered your field of vision. Familiar hands found yours, guiding you to rise and stand upright. "Rise, my Briar," he murmured gently.

With hesitant anticipation, you finally looked up, taking in the obsidian mask that concealed his face. That voice, that nickname, and those enchanting eyes—it was all too familiar.

"Mr Gazelle..." you whispered in disbelief.

His eyes narrowed in mirth as he chuckled. "Although I hold great fondness for that name, I do wish you could call your husband by his name," he said as he began to remove his mask.

"Malleus..." you breathed.

A tender smile graced his lips, and his eyes sparkled with affection as he delicately brushed a stray lock of hair from your face—a gesture he had done countless times before. "My sweet Briar, I implore you to forgive me for deceiving you. I wished nothing more but to know you," he pleaded.

Oh, with how loud your heart was pounding in your chest, you realized that you were irrevocably and hopelessly ensnared in a love story that had deviated far from the original story.

But you didn't feel a single ounce of regret.

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

#bts of writing this #malleus fell so hard on the first night #he gave gifts as a form of courting #cuz dragon instincts #also lilia the whole time was like “young people and their love issues”#✧1k! another life✦#twstnexus #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst imagines #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #twisted wonderland malleus

1K notes · View notes

wipbigbang · 2 years

Photo

Round Two Of The Artist’s Claims Are Up!

We have 91 exciting stories looking for artists to claim them. In round one, you can claim three separate fics to make art for (just fill out the form three times with three unique user IDs if you want three stories). Stories are on a first come, first serve basis so hurry up and get a story while you can!

Updated List of Stories | Claim Form For Round Two

0 notes

dreamcubed · 7 months

Text

lover | mattheo riddle x reader

song; lover [taylor swift] pairing; duke!mattheo riddle x fem!baronet's daughter!reader genre; marriage of convenience, s2l, fluff, angst, hurt comfort word count; 9,1k timeline; bridgerton au (again lol) warnings; abusive parents (verbal, neglect, psychological), implied anxiety, panic attacks, near death experience (illness) summary; born into a loveless family, you had been denied the opportunity to marry for many years. that was, until, a duke noticed your situation and gave your parents an offer that they simply couldn't refuse - but would it be a love match?

suggested by @fictionisjustbetter ! (sorry this took so long)

icl mattheo is just so perfect for period aus

masterlist

"all's well that ends well to end up with you."

———————————————

Sir Vincent Malton was a baronet and nothing more. Of course, while being a low title, it was still a part of the aristocracy, which was much better than the alternative. He took his role very seriously, as his father before him had, and his father before him.

So, when the first Lady Malton of his passed during childbirth having sired not an heir, but a daughter, he had arranged for a new wife to marry ready for his first day of it being considered acceptable to be out of mourning. The second Lady Malton of his was more successful in the heir department: during her first pregnancy, she sired twins, both a boy and a girl. And then after two more girls (of separate pregnancies), she had another boy. Sir Vincent Malton then finally felt safe in the security of his baronetcy lineage.

But he never spoke to any of his six children. He left them up to the second Lady Malton, including his firstborn, who was not her blood. Where other ladies would have accepted their stepchildren as their own, Lady Daria Malton did not. As far she was concerned, Y/N was not her child and thus not her problem. But Sir Vincent was a traditional man who saw the children as the mother's business, so she kept up appearances to continue her life of comfort.

Sir Vincent didn't even bother with the marriage mart, instructing his wife to simply inform him when a suitor (with a title) proposed to any one of his daughters. And Lady Malton had - with her own eldest daughter, Samantha, when a baron asked for her hand. He was twice her age, but Lady Malton (like her husband) cared about title more than anything. Samantha was quickly married off to her new life as a baroness.

One thing Sir Vincent didn't know was that Lady Malton had never officially debuted Y/N. She brought her along to more casual soirées that other non-debutantes attended to keep up appearances, but as far as the one-and-twenty-year-old's actual debut - well, it was significantly overdue. The thing was, Y/N had received callers after such events before, but callers were received by the baronetess and not the baronet, and she quickly sent them away. Thus, the actual stage of proposal was never reached, so Lady Malton was by all technicalities following her husband's instruction.

Y/N knew that it was unfair, that her stepmother's abuse was unjust. She didn't see why she couldn't just allow someone to propose and get her out of the home: Lady Malton clearly didn't like her, so why not be rid of her?

But, she supposed, someone like Lady Malton must quite enjoy having a scapegoat around to target their frustrations at.

***

"Last year was a tremendous success by all means," Lady Malton spoke as her lady's maid attended to her corset, "To have Samantha married off in her first year as a debutante was a splendid result."

Y/N subtly rolled her eyes: Samantha was eighteen and her husband almost forty, it really shouldn't have been a permitted pairing. But, her husband was a baron, and title was all Lord & Lady Malton cared for. They couldn't choose to be fussy as the lowest titleholders of the aristocracy.

"Thus, Y/N, I do not wish you to cause any interference," she explained further, glaring at you through her reflection in the mirror, "I am bringing you along to Lady Bridgerton's birthday soirée out of necessity, as she always includes young ladies of whom have not made their debut."

You knew that: you had attended Lady Bridgerton's birthday event the year prior for the same reason.

"Rumour has it the Duke of Covenshire has returned from his travels to the Americas and will be attending tonight," she proceeded, "And it would simply be marvellous if Grace could secure him as a match in her first year as a debutante."

You glanced over at Grace, sat at the dresser as her lady's maid applied her makeup. She was putting on a remarkably brave face, but you could tell that she was nervous: she was too young to debut. After Samantha's success, Lady Malton had felt confident enough to debut Grace at only seven-and-ten. It wasn't entirely uncommon, but typically Mamas waited until their daughters were at least one year older.

Meanwhile you were one-and-twenty and still yet to have your debut. At this rate you would be a spinster before you had even entered the marriage mart.

You looked to your other side at Tia, your youngest sister at fourteen, who was more than thrilled to be allowed to attend that night. You never saw your brothers, really: Vincent (creatively named after your father) was away at Cambridge, and Henry, the youngest of the lot, was away at Eton.

"Right, is the carriage ready?" Lady Malton snapped at one of the servants, who quickly nodded.

And then with a curt bob of her head, the baronetess proceeded over to the door - a silent instruction for her daughters to follow - and they all headed to the front of Malton House, the London lodgings of the family.

***

"Lady Bridgerton! How good to see you," Lady Malton beamed at the dowager viscountess, "Such a lovely soirée."

"Why thank you, Lady Malton," the kind woman replied, "Pleased to see all your daughters could make it."

"Oh, is Samantha here already?"

"I believe Lady Halterton is over there," Lady Bridgerton vaguely pointed in a direction, "But how are all the Miss Maltons?"

"Grace is excited to make a match this year," the poor girl was pushed forward, "With any luck, she shall follow in her sister's footsteps."

"And what of the oldest Miss Malton?"

You looked up and gave Lady Bridgerton a hesitant smile.

"You know how Y/N is - still doesn't want to debut," Lady Malton sighed, "At this rate she shall be a spinster before even trying for marriage. But, we love her and support her decisions."

You scoffed internally, wanting nothing more than to blaspheme at your stepmother in that moment.

The conversation with Lady Bridgerton wrapped up and the focus then became the considering of various potential suitors. It was the first social event that you had the privilege of attending since the year prior, so you fully planned to savour the moments you were free from the house.

And then the room hushed into whispers as the door opened, it being remarkably noticeable how all the ambitious eyes of the Mamas zoned in on one particular man gracing the room with his presence.

"That's him- that's the duke!" Lady Malton whispered, mainly to Grace, but anyone close by could have heard her.

"Gosh, he's handsome," Tia mumbled to your left, "Shame I'm too young."

You kept your eyes glued on to the pale man with curly brown hair gelled somewhat neatly. His eyes were narrowed like that of a cat's, and his very presence commanded authority - yet he was polite to every hopeful Mama who approached him. Dismissive, but polite.

"Ah, Lady Bridgerton," he spoke, near enough to you for you to hear his gruff monotone voice as he bent over to kiss the dowager viscountess's hand, "Thank you for the invitation, and happy birthday."

"It is an honour you attended, your grace."

The man nodded, chatting to her for a few moments longer as the noise and bustle returned to the room, so you couldn't hear the rest of it.

"Now is our chance," your stepmother said as the duke's conversation wrapped up. She quickly sped towards him. "Your grace!"

The duke paused, and half-turned so he was fully facing your brood.

"Lady Malton, Baronetess of Catury," she curtsied, "And this is my daughter, Grace," she gestured towards the girl.

When his eyes flicked to Tia, she hurried to introduce her, but when his eyes flicked to you, she remained silent.

"And you are?" he inquired.

Your eyes widened: you were rarely spoken to, "Y/N- Miss Y/N Malton," you corrected.

"Don't pay her any mind, your grace," your stepmother quickly said, pinching you in the side as subtly as she could which made you flinch - as it always did. You didn't notice the way the duke's beady eyes followed the interaction. "She isn't a debutante."

"She looks old enough to be." He was clearly referencing the fact you obviously had a few years on Grace.

"It is her own choice."

You couldn't help the scowl that itched at your eyebrows, and the duke couldn't help but notice it.

"Would you care for a dance with Grace?"

The duke's eyes flicked over your sister again, "I have no intentions of dancing this evening- if you excuse me."

And with that, he departed, just to be ambushed by yet another Mama.

Your stepmother turned and glared at you, "You ruined Grace's chances."

"I didn't do anything," you said simply.

"You spoke. You know you're not supposed to."

"He asked me a question."

"I respond to the questions about you."

"Mama," Grace interrupted, shooting you a sympathetic look, "Is that the Earl of Kilmartin over there?"

Lady Malton's head snapped in that direction, "So it is! He has returned from India."

You couldn't be more grateful to Grace for the distraction.

***

"Saunders," the duke, Mattheo, called from his work study in Riddle Manor, his London residence. It was merely a couple hours after he had returned from Lady Bridgerton's soirée.

The secretary hurried into the office, "Yes, your grace?"

"What do you know of the Malton family?"

Saunders paused, "Sir Vincent Malton?"

Mattheo nodded.

"He is married to Dame Daria Malton and has six children. He attended Eton and Cambridge, studying history."

"And of his children?"

"Two sons and four daughters, I believe."

"And what of Miss Y/N Malton?"

The secretary immediately recognised the name, "She is the oldest, your grace. She is one-and-twenty and well-known for not having debuted yet."

Mattheo frowned, leaning back in his chair, "Is there a way in which she is different from her siblings?"

"I-" the secretary thought for a moment, "I believe she has a different mother than her younger siblings, if that's what you mean."

"Lady Malton is not her mother?"

"Well, yes and no. The current Lady Malton is not her mother, but the Lady Malton before her was. She passed in childbirth, I believe."

Mattheo hummed, "I see."

"Is that all, your grace?"

"Prepare the carriage to journey to Malton House tomorrow morning, Saunders, and locate my mother's engagement ring."

Saunders' eyes widened, but he quickly nodded, "Of course, your grace."

Nothing made Mattheo angrier than cruel parents.

***

Lady Malton and Grace were up bright and early the next day, as all debutantes and their Mamas were after a social event. They were to dress in some of their nicer but not so fancy attire ready to sit in the upstairs drawing room in await for any callers they may receive in the downstairs drawing room. You, however, stayed tucked nicely into bed until a more reasonable hour, since your stepmother certainly wouldn't want to catch sight of you until lunchtime - if then.

Still, you rose from your slumber at around eleven o'clock and called for your lady's maid, getting dressed in a simple baby blue piece that you had purchased a few years ago. You rarely got new dresses under Lady Malton's reign.

"I'll take my breakfast in here, please, Melinda," you smiled.

***

The Duke of Covenshire had been up at an exceptionally early hour, having taken a ride on his favourite stallion at sunrise, to then return to his city house and retreat to his office for a few hours accompanied by some breakfast.

He was still there at eleven o'clock.

"Your grace," Saunders began after having knocked on the door, "The carriage is ready for you."

"And the ring?" the duke inquired.

"Here," the secretary presented it, "It was still safely in the dowager duchess's bed chamber."

Mattheo had seen no point in keeping it anywhere else since that room had remained unoccupied for quite some time now.

"Excellent," he murmured, "Now, let us make haste."

***

It wasn't a long journey to Malton House, so really it was no time at all by the time that the Covenshire carriage pulled up to the smaller but still grand home. There were two or three other carriages parked outside, likely belonging to other potential suitors.

Mattheo wasn't worried: he was a duke, after all, and the Maltons were merely baronets. They would jump at the opportunity to marry a daughter off to be a duchess.

After knocking on the door, he was greeted by a short balding man with a seemingly permanently curved eyebrow.

"Here for Miss Malton?" he asked.

"Yes," Mattheo replied, although he had a feeling they weren't referring to the same one.

"Name?"

"Mattheo Riddle, Duke of Covenshire."

The butler's eyes widened, "Right this way, your grace."

Mattheo was led through the hallway into the downstairs drawing room, where Lady Malton and Grace were perched on an orange settee. On the other side of Grace sat an older gentleman, meanwhile on the settee sat across from them were two others. One of them was roughly the same age as the first, whereas the other was much younger - closer to Grace's age.

"Your grace," Lady Malton instantly said, shooting up to curtsy.

"Lady Malton," Mattheo nodded, "May I speak with Sir Vincent?"

"Yes, yes, of course," the baronetess said with widened eyes, "I'll go fetch him at once."

Typically she would have sent a servant to complete such a task, but clearly the shock had consumed her to the point she sprung into action. Once she had departed the room, Mattheo turned his eyes to Grace and the other three gentlemen who were all staring at him curiously.

"Who are you gentlemen?" he asked.

"Edward Cann, Viscount of Sancourt," one of the older gentlemen introduced.

"Gareth Warner," the other older one spoke.

Mattheo couldn't help but question the audacity of an older man to pursue the hand of such a young woman when he didn't even possess a title. Still, his eyes turned to the youngest man.

"Sir Charles Robinson, Baronet of Rackney."

"And how old are you?" his eyes were still on Charles.

"Twenty, your grace."

Mattheo hummed, that was more appropriate for Grace. Unusual for a man to seek a wife at such an age, but not unheard of.

"Lord Cann and Mr Warner," he began, and they perked up at his address, "May I ask what the devil men of your age are doing pursuing such a young woman?"

They were clearly taken aback by his blunt honesty, as were the servants littered around the room.

"I certainly will have to rethink my family's business with your estates in light of such news."

And with apologies to Grace and Mattheo, the two older gentlemen quickly vanished from the room, moments before the Lord & Lady of the house made an appearance.

"Your grace," Sir Vincent spoke, holding out his hand, which Mattheo shook, "To what do I owe the honour?"

"May we proceed to a more private location?"

"Of course, right this way."

"Your presence won't be required any longer, Sir Charles," Lady Malton said, clearly confused at the absence of the two other gentlemen.

Mattheo interrupted, "Oh, I'm sure it will, Lady Malton. I wouldn't dismiss the young gentleman."

Before she could ask what he meant, he was being led out the drawing room and to the baronet's office.

"I believe you know what I am here for," Mattheo stated simply, after declining the offer of brandy.

"I shouldn't want to get my hopes up, your grace."

"I would like your daughter's hand in marriage."

Sir Vincent nodded, "Of course, I shall dower her fairly-"

"Unnecessary. I have no use for a dowry, no matter the size."

"Oh- okay," the baronet paused, "Which daughter is this?"

Mattheo almost frowned: was Sir Vincent not aware of his daughter's status in society? Perhaps he left such matters up to his wife.

"Miss Y/N Malton."

"You're the first suitor that we have received for her."

The duke's breath hitched.

"This is such a relief - of course, we will arrange the wedding right away."

"I would like to marry her quickly," Mattheo said, "We will need to procure a special license."

Sir Vincent nodded, "Whatever you wish, your grace. It is an honour to be your father-in-law."

Mattheo turned to leave after saying his thanks, but paused and faced the baronet again, "You should definitely consider Sir Charles Robinson to marry Miss Grace Malton, he is a fine young man."

The baronet was clearly confused at such a statement, but absently nodded nonetheless.

***

You had been shocked when your father called you down to the drawing room: you couldn't remember the last time that he had requested your presence. Not that he requested your sisters' presences either, you were pretty sure your brother Vincent was the only of his children he spoke to.

"Excellent news for our family," he began, with Lady Malton looking thrilled at what she expected him to say, "Excellent news indeed."

You almost rolled your eyes, expecting that you had simply been called down to receive the announcement of Grace's engagement.

"The Duke of Covenshire has proposed."

Lady Malton stood up, "This is fabulous news! Well done, Grace."

"No," Sir Vincent silenced his wife, "Well done, Y/N."

Your head snapped up.

What?

"Whatever do you mean, Father?"

"His grace has asked for your hand in marriage," you had never seen your father so happy, "And naturally I accepted."

Lady Malton stood in absolute horror.

"I was beginning to become worried about your lack of proposals," he continued, unaware of his wife's reaction, "But clearly God was holding out in await for this massive surprise."

"But- what about Grace?" Lady Malton finally spluttered out.

"I am in the process of discussing that matter with Sir Charles Robinson, the duke recommended him himself."

You noticed the way Grace smiled to herself at that and looked abashedly to the ground. Clearly she was happy with such an arrangement - had the duke known that and so used his influence to help her?

"His grace wishes to be married quickly."

And thus, at the end of the week, you were married.

***

You had no idea what a honeymoon night was supposed to entail. Typically, a Mama would give a bride-to-be 'the talk' the night before her wedding, but Lady Malton would never do such a motherly thing for you. Thus, you were left completely clueless.

Plus, apart from the exchange of your vows, you had hardly spoken to the duke before, so you really didn't know where the evening was going to take you as you stepped out of the carriage outside Riddle Manor. You were both to spend the night in his London home before beginning the three day journey to his countryside residence the next day. It was a typical agenda for newly weds.

You were introduced to the various staff, including your new lady's maids - you now had two of them, as opposed to one - before you were both led through to the dining room. Your eyes fell on the long dining table, with the two distanced ends laid and nothing more.

You grimaced.

"Is salmon not to your tastes?" your husband asked you.

"Tis a very formal set up," you explained simply, but said nothing more as you assumed one of the seats.

"I mostly take dinner in my work study, so this will be a rare occurrence."

You ate the entire meal in silence, and then it was time to be shown your bed chambers.

"This is the duchess' chamber," he gestured to the door, "You may redecorate it however you so wish."

You hummed.

"My chamber is next door - we have an adjoining door, of course."

You said nothing.

"Are you going to enter?"

"But what of our consummation?" you asked.

Mattheo paused - he hadn't expected you to be so blunt.

"Lady Malton did not give me a talk like she was supposed to," you explained, somewhat shyly, "I do not know what is meant to happen, but I know that something must."

"Right," he said slowly, "We will consummate."

***

You lay awake in bed next to the duke the next morning, unable to get the memories of the night prior out of your head. Never would you have guessed that that was how babies were made, something that felt so heavenly, so good. But, you were also confused, many women muttered about it in fear, as if their consummation was unenjoyable.

Perhaps it differed with each man. Regardless, with Mattheo, it was completely and entirely soul-consuming, and you wished to experience it a countless number of times over.

A knock sounded on the door, "Your graces, breakfast is ready."

Mattheo was still sound asleep, "We'll take it in here," you replied.

You weren't used to having power in a household.

Also, how did the servant know you weren't in the duchess' bed chamber?

Mattheo woke up once the servants had wheeled in the breakfast selection, and once you were both loosely dressed, you began eating. It was then that he began speaking.

"Now is as good a time as any to set out the details of this marriage," he said, making you look up from your eggs, "I married you because I can't stand when parents mistreat their children."

Your heart warmed at that: he had noticed how Lady Malton treated you?

"I do not intend for love, but obviously at some point there will need to be an heir," he said, "You may have conceived last night, but it is unlikely. In the probable case that you haven't, we can wait a couple years to produce one should you so wish."

You thought over what he was saying - perhaps part of you had hoped that he had fallen in love with you at first sight, but you knew that was childish. This was a marriage of convenience.

"I only have one condition when it comes to children," you said slowly.

"Which is?"

"That you are an involved father," you said, "Like the Bridgertons are known for being."

Memories flashed through Mattheo's mind of his childhood: his father's coldness and distance all throughout the years until he returned from Cambridge a grown man. Only then did the late duke want anything to do with his son.

"I shall be involved," he said.

***

You couldn't look Mattheo in the eyes, you soon realised. He scared you, not in the way that Lady Malton had, but in a way you didn't quite understand. He made you nervous, made you unable to speak more than a few words at a time. Not that you did speak much: the entire journey to Covenshire Hall had been very much one of silence. The only sound to accompany you was the wheels and hooves against the cobbled roads.

The nights were spent in inns, in separate bed chambers.

Covenshire Hall was enormous: far bigger than the Catury estate that you had spent half your childhood on. It made sense, obviously, you were no longer a mere baronet's daughter, but a duchess.

"Your graces," the butler greeted you as you stepped out the carriage, "Welcome."

"Dantle," Mattheo replied, "Gather all the servants in the entrance hall."

"Right away, your grace."

The man disappeared inside, and you soon had entered through the same doors that he had, to be greeted by the largest entry room that you had ever seen. Symmetrical stairs curved around the walls either side of you, carpeted in plush blue velvet. The walls were decorated in a branch-design, but the once deep maroon colour had faded over time: it was evident to you that there hadn't been a lady of the house in quite a few years.

And then, quite quickly, the room filled with lines of house staff - more than you had ever seen for one household before. You were introduced to them all, including the primary housekeeper, Ms Godley. She was an older woman, with mostly grey hair that still held evidence of her brunette days, and a lightly wrinkled face that seemed more to do with the permanent pursing of her lips rather than age. Her eyebrows were ghastly thin, much like the rest of her, which could only be described as bony. She wore a pleated black dress down to her ankles, suggesting that she was in mourning.

You smiled politely at her, but she did not return it.

"I will leave you in her capable hands," your husband said to you, "She will provide a tour of the grounds."

"Where are you going?" you couldn't help but ask.

"My office."

You watched as he left, before turning back to Ms Godley.

"Where shall we begin?" you asked, attempting to be friendly.

***

You didn't like Ms Godley - not one bit. She reminded you of your stepmother, except this time you didn't even have younger siblings to provide a distraction. It was quite evident that she wasn't particularly fond of you either, although you had no idea what you could have done.

"This is the nursery," the woman said tightly, "It has been empty for some years now."

Gazing around the room of faded yellows and purples, you were cast back to when you were in your nursery, though you always got the short end of the stick when it came to beds. Nonetheless, it had been a relatively pleasant time for you, back when your sisters were too young to notice that Lady Malton treated you differently, so you would all play together as children do.

You didn't want any of your children to feel left out.

"Your grace," Ms Godley said curtly, "We don't have all day."

You sighed, exiting the room.

***

Loneliness was a familiar emotion to you, so a week of solitude in Covenshire Hall wasn't all that much of a change from your old life, other than the fact you now had servants waiting on your hand and foot. Although, you were growing quite bored: at least with the Maltons, you were always distracted by gauging your stepmother's mood.

You decided that you needed a distraction, and since the prestigious house was in desperate need of a fresh lick of paint, you landed on redecorating.

"You called for me, your grace?" Ms Godley stood before you in the duchess' office that you had taken to using regularly.

"Yes," you stood up, walking around your desk, "I have a matter to discuss with you."

It took everything in you to act courageous in front of a woman so similar to Lady Malton.

"I wish to redecorate the house," you said simply.

By some miracle, Ms Godley's lips pursed even more.

"Starting with the entrance hall - since that is the first room guests see, then-"

"No."

You paused - was she allowed to say that to you? "No?"

"No. This estate is not a part of your lineage, you have no right to tamper with it."

The amount of bravery that it had taken for you to have this conversation with her, just for her to pull a line that sounded so eerily similar to Lady Malton's.

"I am the lady of the house," you said, but it was obvious you weren't speaking as surely of yourself as moments prior.

"The dowager duchess was never permitted to redecorate either," she said, "And I imagine that the late duke would especially not want somebody as measly as a baronet's daughter interfering with his heritage."

You stood in shock for a few moments, eventually managing to splutter out, "You are excused."

Once she was gone, you finally gave in to the panic consuming you, feeling your breath beginning to dramatically labour and push against your corset. You felt trapped, suffocated, like you had your entire childhood, and you didn't like it. You had to escape.

So, you did.

You weren't running away by any means: you just needed fresh air, and the woods on the Covenshire grounds seemed perfect to hide away for a while. Just a couple days ago, you had taken a walk through them. Of course, that was on one of the paths that navigated between the trees, this time you simply started running straight ahead once you breached the tree line.

But you could only go so far when you had to hitch up your thick heavy skirts to make progress, so it wasn't long before you collapsed against a tree, your lungs pounding against your rib cage which were in turn pounding against your corset.

It was then that floods poured out of your eyes and down your cheeks, leaving a sticky, puffy trail behind.

You should have known better.

Just because you were a duchess didn't mean you suddenly had control over your own life.

You failed to notice the looming grey clouds gathering above, up until the sky thundered, and the familiar trickle of heavy rain commenced.

***

Mattheo was sat in his office, going over estate finances, when a knock sounded on the door.

"Your grace?"

He hated being interrupted during work, but still said a grumbled, "Come in."

"I am so sorry to disturb you, your grace," Dantle said, bowing his head, "But the duchess appears to be missing."

Mattheo's head shot up, "Missing, you say?"

"Ms Godley was the last one to speak to her, approximately two hours ago."

"Where has she gone?" the duke was now standing up.

Dantle appeared uncomfortable, "I do not know, your grace. Apparently she ran down into the woods."

"Ran?" Mattheo felt his blood boil, "Have you gone out to look for her?"

"No, your grace, the storm-"

"The storm?" he saw red, "The bloody storm?" He then let out a sound somewhat adjacent to a growl before pushing past Dantle out his office.

He was going to find his wife.

***

You probably had pneumonia or something at this rate, you thought to yourself. Your body was completely freezing and soaked, and your lack of cloak was becoming apparent as a massive problem in terms of your well-being. You should have gone back inside the second the rain started, but that was when you were still in the depths of your upset. It wasn't until you were too cold to move did you calm down a bit more.

To be honest, you were about ready to accept your fate.

"Y/N!" a faint cry came from nearby, and as much as you wanted to call out and alert them of your location, your voice was weak.

By some miracle, the man - your husband - managed to locate you.

"Y/N, oh, God," he blasphemed, "Are you okay? What are you doing out here?"

You couldn't even reply.

Mattheo scooped you up into his arms and began making haste back towards the mansion that you shared.

"Stay with me," he murmured at irregular intervals, right up until you felt the warmth of a fireplace hit you on the cheeks. You were in your bed chamber, you realised, upon noticing the faded floral pink wall decor.

Your skin was so numb you hardly felt your husband begin to peel off all items of your clothing, including your undergarments. Typically, you would have felt embarrassed, but you were completely spent.

As he picked you up again and carried you through to the bathroom, where a bath had been prepared, you couldn't help but curl into him.

"I ordered it be run before I went to find you," he said softly - the softest you had ever heard him speak.

The warmth of the water felt heavenly.

"What happened, darling?"

You shivered, this time not because of the cold, but because of the nickname.

"Godley," you forced out between your blue lips.

"Ms Godley? What did she do?" he asked as he began to wet your hair.

"I wan- wanted to redecorate the house," your teeth were chattering, "She said I couldn't change anything."

Mattheo said nothing.

"It's- it's the way she said it," you clarified, not wanting him to think you were a brat who had simply been told 'no', "She was so mean."

"How did she say it?" you didn't miss the edge to his voice that hadn't been there before.

"She said it would upset the- the late duke - and that- that he especially wouldn't want a measly baronet's daughter to-" you choked on re-emerging sobs, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, my love," you felt him press a kiss to your forehead, "I will handle this."

***

After you had warmed up in the bath and been wrapped up in thick clothing, Mattheo gently escorted you to one of the larger drawing rooms, where, to your horror, every single staff member of the house was gathered. Including Ms Godley.

"It has come to my attention that the duchess is not receiving the respect she deserves in this household," your husband sent an icy glare in the housekeeper's direction, "As the lady of the house, it is her right to decorate our rooms however she so pleases."

Ms Godley's lips pursed.

"The redecoration that her grace desires will commence immediately," Mattheo gave a forced smile, "Follow her every instruction. Any questions?"

"What of the late duke?" Ms Godley asked.

"What of a man of whom is dead?"

"Surely you should respect his wishes."

"How I choose to treat my father's wishes is none of your concern, Ms Godley. You are overstepping."

The old woman opened her mouth to say something, but decidedly shut it before saying, "My apologies, your grace."

"Apologise to my wife as well."

"My apologies," Ms Godley gave a stiff curtsy.

You had been glancing nervously between your husband and the housekeeper throughout the entire exchange, feeling overwhelmingly put on the spot. It was the second after Ms Godley apologised to you that your chest tightened and you erupted in a coughing fit.

"Darling?" Mattheo asked worriedly as you fell forward.

"Can't- breathe-" you choked out.

You felt a hand press to your forehead.

"She's overheating," the duke said loudly, "Help me get her to bed. And call the doctor."

Murmurs of, "Right away, your grace," came in reply.

"You're going to be okay," Mattheo said softly to you as he picked you up for the millionth time that day, "You must be."

***

The doctors concluded that you were pneumonic, which had been what everyone suspected but were too scared to say in front of you. But, you weren't an idiot, and understood what your symptoms meant.

There was a good chance that you would die.

It was dark outside: it often was when you came to from your fever dream episodes, for a few minutes of painful consciousness. You lurched up in bed, quickly producing horrific gurgling coughs and splutters, unable to stop yourself from groaning in pain in between. Tears pricked at your eyes as you placed a hand on your chest, your blurred vision just about making out the duke running in from the door between your bed chambers.

Mattheo grabbed the cloth from your bedside table and dipped it into the pot of water placed for this occasion, hurrying to press it to your burning forehead. You let out a brief sigh of relief, before you began coughing again.

He rubbed your back, "You can get through this."

You weren't sure if you could, in fact, you felt deathly, as it were. But, your husband's words gave you a sense of strength and hope, and it was all you could do but nod after the coughing subsided.

"If- if I make it," you murmured, falling back on to the pillows. Your voice was low and cracked. "Please- may we go to London?"

"Whatever for?"

"I..." you trailed off, "I would like to make friends."

And before Mattheo could question you further, you drifted back into unconsciousness and shallow breathing.

***

It was three days later, on a chilly but sunny morning, when you awoke naturally instead of being forced awake by coughs. Your breathing felt stronger, and you weren't overheating, which was the best feeling you had felt in forever.

You heard voices outside your door.

"Is she doing any better, your grace?" who you assumed to be the doctor asked.

"We were about to check," your husband's familiar voice replied.

The door opened, and you blinked a few times to clear your vision as the two men approached you.

"Mattheo," you said softly, your words still sore to speak.

"You're awake," he said simply, pressing his hand to your forehead. The physical contact comforted you.

"How do you feel?" the doctor asked.

"Better."

He raised his eyebrows, "In what way?"

"Every way."

He performed a more thorough examination, and concluded that while you likely still had a couple more days of illness, you had pushed through the worst of it and were well on your way to recovery. You were relieved to hear that, but even more relieved to finally be able to take a bath and and cleanse yourself.

"You wanted to return to London," Mattheo said simply at dinner that night, as he was taking it in your room with you.

"I said that?" you asked. You knew that it was what you wished to do, you just couldn't recall mentioning it to your husband.

He hummed, "While you were feverish."

He had been taking care of you?

"Well, yes- I wish to finally have a social circle."

"You mentioned that also."

You said nothing.

"Once you are fully returned to health, we shall make the journey," he said simply.

You couldn't help but beam, "Really?"

"Really."

"Thank you- thank you so much."

He shook his head, as if to say 'don't thank me'.

"I'm so glad you're my husband."

Mattheo chuckled, "I'll take care of you no matter what, darling."

***

Two weeks later, and the doctor had determined that you were back to being healthy and thus your convalescence was able to come to an end. It was then arranged for you and Mattheo to return to London for the remainder of the season but three days later, once you would have passed an appropriate honeymoon duration. While you were terribly excited to be able to properly socialise, you were also nervous. For one, your stepmother would be there, and for two, you weren't that experienced with the correct customs for socialising. The only comforting factor was that your husband would be there with you: a man who you held a lot of adoration for, and felt an immense amount of comfort from.

After the pneumonia episode, he hadn't distanced himself quite so much. Granted, you still hadn't engaged in your wedding night type of intimacy again yet, but you ate meals together, and frequently found yourself wandering over to his bed chamber in the night. The first time you had done it, it had been most nerve-wracking.

It had been a few days since you had snapped out of the fever dream episode, and were feeling much more energetic. Unfortunately, you had also been dealing with bouts of insomnia, which you suspected had something to do with your fear of falling asleep and re-entering the fever dream. Like usual, you found yourself up at the early hours of the morning, only the exhaustion was catching up to you and you could feel your chest tighten as hysteric panic began to set in.

Before you completely freaked out, you forced yourself up and over to the adjoining door, aiming to seek comfort from Mattheo even if the prospect of doing so petrified you. He stirred the second that you entered the room, at least it appeared like he did from what you could make out in the shadows. "Y/N?" he murmured.

You let out a sob.

"Come here," he said without hesitation and you gladly obliged, finding that you could finally drift into a slumber once in his arms.

And, thus, you went to him whenever you couldn't sleep.

But, now, you were in the carriage back to London, with your hands folded neatly in your lap and your husband sat across from you. You weren't sure why, but there was an awkward silence present.

***

Mattheo was conflicted.

He didn't know why he cared so deeply for you, why he was so willing to aid you whenever you were in need.

A strangled, screaming part of himself deep inside knew exactly why he felt how he did, but the part of him that he listened to feigned ignorance and told him it was simply expected of him to take care of his wife.

But the thing that confused him the most was the fact he felt the urge to tell you about his childhood, about his father, and about the lack of family and love he had endured. Why would he want to tell you such personal information that didn't even matter any longer, since the cause of it was dead?

Why did you make him feel this way?

"Mattheo?" he looked up at you sat opposite him. Your voice sounded small and timid.

"Yes?"

"Are you mad at me?"

He could have sworn he actually felt the searing pain of his heart breaking at that moment. He wasn't sure he was capable of being mad at you. "Of course not, why ever would you think that?"

You gave a gentle shrug, "You're quieter than normal."

"I'm often quiet." It was true: he was often regarded as a grumpy and brooding individual.

"Yes," you said tightly, "But not like this."

It stunned him how easily you could read him, but, then again, maybe he had never been close enough to anyone for them to know him. Maybe his emotions were obvious to anyone who cared enough to try and figure them out.

"Do you not wish to return to London?"

Mattheo paused for a moment. He hadn't put any thought into whether or not he wanted to go back to the capital, but initially it seemed like an obvious answer since he had always despised the season. Overbearing Mamas and their brood of debutante daughters were his idea of hell, but now he felt different. He realised that he did in fact want to go to London, not just because he was now married and off the Mamas' radar, but because you wanted to go. Mattheo was faced with the overwhelming realisation that he simply wanted to do whatever you wanted to do.

"Oh, dear, you don't, do you? We can turn around," you said quickly, making him snap out of his thoughts.

"No," he rushed to say, "We shall go to London."

"But you don't want to go."

"I do."

"But-"

"We are going, and that's final."

You opened your mouth to say something more, but decided against it, and turned your gaze to out the window.

The rest of the journey was silent.

***

"We need to discuss the rules for our time here," Mattheo said once you had settled into Riddle Manor for some dinner.

"We do?"

He hummed, "I will not be attending every social event we are invited to."

"But- people will think our marriage is rocky if you're not with me. The ton will talk, they always do."

"I said not every social event," he reminded, "I will attend some."

"You have to attend the first one," you said, "That one is the most important."

Mattheo agreed, "Of course, but from then on, it will be events here and there. You are welcome to attend alone."

You deflated a bit, but nodded your head, "Maybe we can host a ball at some point."

His eyebrows raised. Riddle Manor hadn't been the location of a ball in almost thirty years - there had been no lady of the house to host it.

"Perhaps," he replied pensively.

***

The next social event, to Mattheo's great horror, was the infamous Smythe-Smith musicale. Otherwise known as a torturous cacophony of four tone-deaf girls of whom were trusted with instruments that should have undoubtably never been allowed within five feet of them. You had heard what the quartet were like, having never attended yourself, and - honestly - you were rather excited to finally be a part of an inside joke of the ton that you had been left out of. Your husband was not nearly so enthusiastic, having attended exactly twice before, but not for a good many years.

Unfortunately, as selfish a woman as Lady Malton was, she was more than willing to sacrifice her hearing in order to secure impressive marriages for all of her (biological) daughters. So, you weren't surprised to enter the Smythe-Smith ballroom and see her stood with Grace closely by her side.

"Introducing, the Duke and Duchess of Covenshire," the man stood by the door announced, making your half-sister and stepmother quickly turn their attentions in your direction.

You squeezed Mattheo's arm tightly, to which he patted your hand and nodded when your family members approached.

"Your grace," Lady Malton gave a gentle curtsy - to Mattheo, not you, "How fares your marriage?"

It was a question that bordered on the edge of improper for polite society. "Most excellent," the duke replied coolly, making you smile to yourself.

Lady Malton gave the politest smile her sour face could muster.

"What brings you here?" Mattheo asked, trying to gauge why Lady Malton would put herself through the Smythe-Smith musicale with no daughters on the marriage mart.

"Marriage prospects, of course."

"Is Miss Grace Malton not engaged to Sir Charles?" he asked.

"Well- uh- yes."

The duke raised an eyebrow at the woman, and you must say that you were thoroughly enjoying this interaction.

"They shall be married at the end of the week," she said reluctantly, "But until the vows are complete, things can change."

That was when you realised: Lady Malton was praying on securing a last-minute proposal from someone of a higher status than Sir Charles. If it meant marrying into more wealth and more powerful connections, surely your father would agree to it.

"You should come to the wedding," Grace blurted out, "We thought you would still be in the country, so we didn't send an invitation."

You knew the real reason that you hadn't received an invitation was because Lady Malton would have taken control of all the wedding arrangements, and you were most certainly not on her invite list. But, she couldn't revoke the invitation to the duke's face and in a public setting, so she forced herself to smile and agree.

"That would be lovely," you beamed, purposefully showing as much enthusiasm as possible, simply to upset your stepmother, "Now, if you excuse us, I wish to secure front row seats."

Multiple people around you stared at you like you were insane - they just wouldn't understand your motivations.

"Trust me, front row seats are never the ones that need to be fought for here," Mattheo whispered to you as you both moved over to the rows of chairs set up.

You shrugged, "You're sitting with me whether you like it or not."

"Ah, Lady Danbury," he spoke as you came face to face with the renowned old woman sat in the very central front seat.

"Your grace," she raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Come to enjoy the musicale?" your husband asked, the sarcastic undertone impossible to miss - at least to you.

"But, of course," Lady Danbury smiled, "I attend every year."

You desperately wanted to enter the conversation, but you didn't know how.

"You're the eldest Miss Malton, aren't you?" she said towards you, making you freeze on the spot.

"Uh, yes - Lady Riddle now, actually."

She hummed, waving her cane around despite being sat, "Yes, Duchess of Covenshire. Quite grand, no?"

You awkwardly smiled.

The dowager countess turned her attentions back to Mattheo, "I must admit, I didn't think you would marry for quite some time, your grace."

"Nor did I," he simply replied, which for some reason, slightly hurt you. You had inconvenienced his life: you were a burden to him as a result of him being a good person.

"I fear that love does tend to have the effect of uprooting our lives," Lady Danbury said wistfully, a gentler emotion than you had ever witnessed on her from afar at the few social gatherings you had been allowed at.

Love.

"I only wish I had been so lucky as to have had it been with my husband."

You looked up in surprise. To be honest, you knew very little of the dowager countess' life: she had been a widow for as long as you had been alive, so it was hard to imagine her having a husband. All you knew was that she was widowed very young, and chose to never remarry. Part of you had assumed that it was because of how much she loved her husband, like the dowager Viscountess Bridgerton. It was clear now that you were wrong, but you knew better than to pry.

"Alas, let us enjoy this musicale," she said with a glint in her eye, "It is meant to be a joyous occasion, after all."

You knew she said it sarcastically, but, for you, this was indeed a joyous occasion. You were more than thrilled to finally be a part of London society - the ton.

Sparing a glass in Mattheo's direction, you were surprised to see that he was already looking at you.

***

The duke did not attend another social event with you for the rest of the week, but almost every night you were out. It was strange, not needing to be chaperoned as a married woman, but you quite enjoyed it.

The first two events alone you spent as a wallflower - albeit a married one - which weren't so enjoyable. But, once people realised that the Duchess of Covenshire was present at the social events, you began attracting a lot of attention from fellow ladies who aspired to be friends with someone of such a powerful status. Soon, you were mingling with the ton as if you had always done so, although your social skills were still inept. Thankfully, most were willing to overlook this due to you being a duchess.

Then, your sister's wedding came around, and it meant that you would have your second outing with your husband accompanying you. That made you more excited than you were willing to admit.

"Blue is most becoming on you," Mattheo spoke from behind you, making you jump. You hadn't heard him enter your bed chamber.

"Thank you," you replied, "I had it tailored on Tuesday."

"How much?"

You blanched - it had been quite expensive. You had felt guilty at the time, but found it difficult to say no to the Madam who had been dressing you.

"Darling, you are free to spend my money, I am simply curious," he reassured you, "My wife deserves only the best, after all."

Butterflies swarmed in your stomach. Was it normal - for you to feel this way towards your husband when it was merely a marriage of convenience? You were snapped out of your thoughts when he moved closer to you and began kissing along your neck.

"Mattheo," you murmured.

He hummed, "Shame you're already dressed," and then he reluctantly pulled back, "But, we must depart now anyway."

That was the first hint you had received that he wanted to repeat the intimacies of your consummation. And it made your skin feel hot and prickly.

***

Your half-sister was a gorgeous bride: her elegant dress matching her eye colour and making her glistening smile seem bright. It was obvious that she was elated to be with Sir Charles, the incredibly young baronet who hung off her every word. One could only describe it as a love match.

"Thank you," you said to Mattheo, who was stood next to you as you applauded the newly weds.

"For what?"

"For recommending Sir Charles - and for marrying me."

He chuckled, "There is no need to thank me, darling. I can hardly complain about having a breath-taking wife, can I?"

Yet again, butterflies, and the overwhelming sense of desire.

Soon, it was time for the first dance of the newly married couple, celebrated back at Sir Charles' London residence. After they danced the first number alone, more couples joined the dance floor for a waltz. You couldn't help but look up at your husband hopefully.

He sighed fondly and held out his hand, "My lady?"

"My lord," you murmured, taking his hand and allowing him to lead you on to the dance floor.

As you moved into position, you found yourself avoiding looking at Mattheo's face, as for some reason it scared you. Maybe it was the proximity, or the emotions you had been consistently feeling for the last few days. Regardless, you felt timid.

"Darling?" your stomach flipped, and you were forced to meet his eyes.

"Yes?"

"I prefer it when you look at me," Mattheo muttered before he could stop the words from tumbling out. Momentarily, he froze, unable to ignore the way his heart burned in his chest.

"Okay," you said breathlessly, now not being able to tear your eyes away from him.

"You're so perfect."

A lump formed in your throat, "No one's perfect."

"Perfect for me," he said so quietly you almost didn't hear, just as the dance came to an end.

You stood in silence for a few moments, unable to process his words.

Eventually, you spoke, "Mattheo, I- I..."

The look in his eyes beckoned you on.

"Heaven knows I know nothing of love nor what it's like to be loved, but- but I think I love you."

His expression was unreadable, and you felt as if you had said the wrong thing, right up until, "I think I love you too."

God, why were tears pricking in your eyes?

No one had ever said that to you before.

And then you shoved yourself into his arms, desperately seeking warmth and affection as if it were your life line. The other people at the wedding and propriety be damned.

Mattheo moved his head to whisper in your ear.

"All's well that ends well to end up with you."

————————————————

masterlist

written; 09/08/2023 —> 04/10/2023 published;05/10/2023 edited; —/—/——

541 notes · View notes

marc-spectorr · 1 month

Text

𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒘𝒊𝒎

pairing: duke leto atreides x fem!reader

summary: It's the night before your wedding to Duke Leto Atreides and he finds you struck by panic about your future in Caladan.

warnings: 3.1k wc. arranged marriage, panic attack, anxiety, mentions of conceiving. my limited dune-lore knowledge. soft!leto.

a/n: first leto fic ahhh!! i may or may not write more parts to this in the future. i had so many ideas but if i wrote them all in one fic, it would be a long one (not to mention it would take 1001 years to finish and post). anyway, feedback is very much appreciated! hope you enjoy :)

—

Caladan.

There is a beauty to it that you cannot deny. It's captivating from the very first glance. An indescribable sight, unparalleled to anywhere else in the universe.

Of all the worlds you could be in at this moment, a part of you is glad it's Caladan. In spite of the circumstances that brought you here, you try to be grateful for it. Surely, there are worse places to live on than this.

Here, the ocean is vast, stretching far beyond the starlit horizon. A fresh breeze carries the salty scent of the water towards you. It tickles your skin as if it were a feather, the light coolness sending goosebumps along your arms. You tug your shawl more closely around your shoulders.

It is far from the hot desert landscape you know and love. Despite its recent hardships, that planet was once home to you. It still is. You wonder how long it will be before you consider Caladan as such. It's been one week since your arrival, and you're in a period of adjustment, which in truth, has not been too easy.

The beach is empty, unsurprising as the moon has moved far past its highest point in the sky. You can't sleep. You haven't for so long. Similar to all the nights prior, you had tossed and turned endlessly under silken sheets before deciding to go for a walk. You found no comfort in your bed despite the mattress beneath you being the softest there ever was.

It could be the chambers themselves, surrounded by four dark walls that are still very much foreign to you. You must get used to it, you remind yourself. In fact, it's more than just a room that you must get used to.

Tomorrow, your life will change more than it already has when you moved to Caladan.

Tomorrow is the wedding—your wedding. Many esteemed members of the Great Houses will be in attendance, alongside your closest family and friends, who are now worlds away from you. They will all be present to witness you exchange vows with Duke Leto Atreides, a man you barely know.

You exhale a deep, long sigh and draw your knees under your chin. Gentle waves lap onto the shore, the white foam almost reaching your toes before ebbing away. You watch in comfortable silence, the hypnotic rhythm of the waves creating a sense of calm.

Unwittingly, your mind combs through recent events. You spent plenty of these last few days surrounded by those more interested in your upcoming nuptials than you are. You've grown weary of feigning smiles every second in their company, of pretending to be okay when you are far from it.

You feel alone. You are alone.

It’s a sacrifice—leaving behind the life you had to help your struggling home world. Things are changing faster than the time you have to process them. But you can't afford to wait—the sooner you marry Leto, the sooner your father and your people's burdens will go away.

You are doing the right thing. The noble thing. It's what you were raised to do. The last thing you wish is to be seen as a disappointment.

Still, it doesn't mean you have your worries and doubts. You lack experience, having never courted someone before. You question whether or not you would be fit to be a wife to the stranger who is the Duke of Caladan. You're well aware of the responsibilities you would have to uphold, the expectation that one day you will need to bear him an heir…

You shut your eyes, trying to push past the feeling of your heart starting to pick up and thud heavily against your ribs. But the pit of anxiety gnawing at your stomach grows and grows, and it's a losing battle. Not even the ocean waves that mesmerized you moments ago could distract you from the mounting panic inside.

Your thoughts batter you from within like a storm raging out of control. The pressure and expectations others have on you— that you have on yourself— can't be stopped.

They're too loud; they refuse to be ignored this time around.

Your body trembles, your breaths are short and shallow, and it feels like you are drowning; you're helplessly caught in a dangerous current that pulls you under the water. The weight in your chest drags you down and deeper, sinking and sinking until you hit the very bottom of the depths of your own mind, deprived of any air, any light.

It's only until a voice calls out your name over and over again that you resurface. Warm, gentle hands urge you to sit right back up, and you don't have it in you to fight against them. You don't remember curling up on your side, wound in a tight little ball, nearly burrowing yourself into the sand bed as if wanting to be swallowed whole.

"Breathe, darling... Listen to my voice and just breathe, alright? One... two... three..."

You can't see him, not through the hot, stinging tears obscuring your eyes. But you can hear him. His voice's hazy, soft lull is strangely familiar, yet you cannot place whose it is.

He coaxes you repeatedly, and you focus on his words as if they are your one and only lifeline—as if they are the calming waves reaching the shoreline.

You do as he says. You breathe.

"One... two... three... That's it, my lady. Deep breaths for me, and again— one... two... three... Good girl, and again. Breathe..."

You're unsure how long has passed by the time your heart slows, and your breathing evens out. Your blurred vision clears once your tears have settled, and your eyes widen when you recognize the face before you.

Duke Leto Atreides kneels beside you, dressed in a manner you have never seen him in. He has on a loose white shirt and dark lounge bottoms, his graying head of curls mussed by the wind blowing past.

You're uncertain why he's at the beach alone at this late hour despite being seemingly ready for bed. Perhaps concerned guards informed him of your wandering about the castle in the dead of night. Did he come all this way in search of you?

Leto’s dark eyes search your face for the reason of your distress. Embarrassment sweeps over your cheeks— you cannot imagine how much of a pitiful mess you look. God, what if you've ruined it? What if seeing you this way, so weak, and frightened, and pathetic, has Leto wishing to rescind his agreement to marry you? What if, what if—

"Hey, shh… Relax. There is no need to fret," Leto soothes. He must have seen the worry in your eyes, but instead of ridicule as you anticipated, he looks at you with concern.

You cast your gaze down, catching sight of your hand in his. He hasn't let go of it since finding you, and when he notices your muscles tense up from the anxiety that seizes your body once more, he squeezes.

Leto squeezes your hand firmly but nowhere near the point of pain. His words are a quiet murmur in your ears. "Don't go back there, darling. Stay here, on this beach. Squeeze my hand back so I know you're here with me. Can you do that for me, please?"

With his other hand, Leto places a finger under your chin to tip it upwards, meeting your eyes. Again, he holds your hand tightly and brushes his thumb over your knuckles. You concentrate on him, matching your breaths to his. The tension starts to slip away bit by bit, and when it does, you finally squeeze his hand back.

"There you go. Just breathe, you're alright," Leto murmurs with a small smile. It dawns on you how close he is when the sound of the ocean becomes second to his voice. "Better?"

You swallow, then nod following a brief pause, not trusting yourself to speak.

Moving slowly so as not to startle you, Leto picks up your shawl from the ground, dusting it clean of grains of sand before draping it over your shoulders.

You expect him to leave, seeing you have regained some semblance of composure. You much prefer that he would. You can't handle explaining to Leto what was wrong. Is wrong.

The air turns silent as you face the water, wiping the dried-up tears from your cheeks with your fingers. You don't see Leto in your peripheral vision, but he's there, watching you. You can feel it.

"Here," you hear Leto say. Glancing to the side, you find him still sitting next to you. He offers his handkerchief, gently motioning it toward you when he senses your hesitation.

With the slightest smile, you accept the piece of cloth, whispering a "thanks" and looking away.

It occurs to you then that this is your first true moment with Leto. Before today, you had only seen glimpses of him. The most time you have spent with him was during your first encounter, and even then, it wasn't for long.

You chalked it up to Leto having no genuine interest in you. Why would he? He has duties that are much more pressing than entertaining you.

It's not much of a surprise. It would be wrong of you to expect for more. Ultimately, this marriage is not one for love but born out of necessity. A political alliance. A guarantee that your people will be well taken care of. That's the agreement.

Not to mention, you've heard them— those hushed talks amongst the servants and guards about how Caladan does not stand to gain anything from the union.

They are not wrong; many have supposedly expressed concern, including members of the Duke's inner circle. You wonder if he will come to regret his decision one day.

"You've had quite a fright there."

Leto's voice cuts through the silence between you. He shuffles from behind, sitting where he can better see you. You stop yourself from glancing down; it would be rude, and you don't want to tarnish both your image and your family's name even more than you already have.

"I-I am deeply sorry, my lord. You shouldn't have to see that," you manage to get out, catching the way Leto's brows knit together in response.

"There's no shame in such. Why apologize?" he asks you in a soft tone. "And please, there's no need for formalities. Call me Leto. After all, we are betrothed to one another."

Your throat suddenly dries at the reminder that the man before you is your soon-to-be husband. You wring your hands in your lap and give him a nod, skirting from answering his earlier question.

Leto is quick to pick up your nervousness. You can almost see his brain working to piece it all together and grasp what was happening when he stumbled upon you.

You dread what words Leto might say, fearing they will be judgments made against you. You hide from his piercing stare, picking at your nails until a pair of rough yet gentle hands gathers yours, halting you.

Leto squeezes your hands softly, very much like he did before, and it soothes the part of you that has always ached but you could never get rid of.

"You do not have to carry your burdens alone, my lady," Leto murmurs, leaning to catch your eyes once more, and he does. "Whatever it is, unload it on me. Now, tell me what's wrong."

It's almost cruel that your instinct is to doubt him. But if the sincerity bleeding into his voice wasn't enough for you to give him a chance, then it's the tenderness in his gaze. You see the understanding in them, the concern and genuine desire to ease your troubles away.

Your initial perception of Leto has been wrong. You've been wary of him. Intimidated. But this is no man holding no care for you. He could have easily walked away after finding you amidst a fit. Instead, he stayed. He's here when you were convinced he would never find the time to be.

You open up to Leto like a floodgate, admitting to him the thoughts that plagued your mind from the day you learned about this marital arrangement, your nervousness for tomorrow's wedding and your fear of solitude in Caladan in the days that would follow.

You feel selfish, guilty even, for saying all of this out loud. You have no right to complain when the locals here have treated you with only kindness. Others would dream of being in your shoes—of living in a beautiful land, gaining an honorable title, and having a husband who would make you the envy of many.

Why must a blessing cause you great grief?

Leto listens to every word with undivided attention. He lets you speak freely and honestly, never once interfering between your sobs and sentences. He clears his throat only when the whispering waves of the ocean have lingered in the space between the two for some time.

"You are right when you said some of my advisors opposed me marrying you," Leto begins softly, gauging every bit of your reaction as he speaks. "They told me it would bring no benefit to House Atreides—that all we'll do is use up precious time and resources for a dying planet already beyond saving. Their words, not mine."

There is a quiet beat. Leto glances towards the horizon, where the first faint inklings of dawn break through the skies. He continues: "I realized then that those men do not uphold the same values I believe in. Caladan has more than enough riches to go around. There is no humanity in turning a blind eye to people's suffering—especially when we have it in our power to provide aid.

"I've had plenty of disagreements with my advisors, but I couldn't allow those without hearts to remain on my council. My lack of presence is not because I had no interest in getting to know you. Rather, I was ensuring those who showed little care for my bride and her ancestral land no longer served as advisors of mine—a task that regrettably stole time I would have spent with you."

You fall silent. The breath that leaves you seemingly takes more of the load on your being. Your respect for Leto grows. You see now the kind, thoughtful, benevolent man he is.

How could you have been so wrong about him? You'd been irrational, too assuming. So afraid he would turn out to be the complete opposite when he gave you no valid reason that he's such. You should not have been quick to judge his character when you had known nothing about him in the first place.

"I... thank you, my lor—Leto," you eventually say, turning to him. Shame and remorse cling to your tongue. "I am terribly sorry again. Had my mind been sound, I would've realized my distress is unwarranted."

"Nonsense. You're overwhelmed; your worries were reasonable. All I want is the two of us to be on the same page," Leto replies. The warm smile that adorns his lips when you correct yourself and address him by name lingers. “Let's start over, shall we then?"

You watch as he stands on his feet, reaching out his hand towards you. With Leto's help, you pull yourself up from the sandy floor, shaking off the pins and needles stinging your limbs. He holds his hand out once more, this time for a handshake.

"Hello, I am Leto and welcome to Caladan. It is a pleasure to meet you and an honor to have your presence here."

A smile blooms across your face as you shake his hand, formally introducing yourself to Leto the way he had. "I cannot thank you enough for agreeing to this. I, my father, and our people are eternally grateful for your generosity."

Leto makes a small bow of his head, capturing your hand between his own. Something inside you feels lighter now. The air around you, once thick like water, isn't anymore.

"You will no longer have to worry about your home world. I will make certain they receive all that they need—as for you, as well. I am here for you, even if it's simply as an ear to listen."

A pause. Leto's voice melts a touch softer. He looks at you with eyes deep and brown as the bark of a pine. "In a matter of hours, you and I will wed. It's merely for formality's sake. What goes on between us as husband and wife is nobody's business but ours. Please know that I ask for and expect nothing in return for agreeing to this arrangement. You will never be forced to do anything you do not wish to. Ever. Is that understood?"

You take in Leto's words, becoming aware of the unspoken ones, those hidden between the lines. Their implications settle on you, and you let out a quiet breath of relief into the air.

"I do," you assure before adding, for what could be the hundredth time since Leto has joined you, "Thank you."

“You’re welcome, my lady.”

The sun peaks over the skyline, casting bright golden rays over Caladan. Leto briefly glances in the distance, the silver strands of his mane and beard catching the light, and they glimmer before your eyes. He smiles wide, the lines on his face crinkling as he watches the sunrise.

You also find yourself smiling, spending a moment more studying Leto's profile before turning to what's ahead of you.

Caladan takes your breath away, even more so in the daylight. You can fully appreciate it now that the storms in your mind have passed, and it's as clear as the skies.

"It's a beautiful day to get married." Leto remarks as the two of you gaze out to the water. After basking in the peaceful silence, he meets your eyes again, offering you his arm like a gentleman would. "Come, let me escort you back to your room. We both should rest up a bit before the festivities start."

Nodding in agreement, you quietly say goodbye to the ocean and allow Leto to guide you away from the beach. The sand beneath your shoes eventually turns to a rocky pathway at the foot of Castle Caladan, its grandeur towering over you.

A warm hand slips into yours.

"From now on, you will never feel alone," Leto says, pressing a soft squeeze to your hand. His hold is comforting, and reassuring. “You will always have me at your side, darling. I promise you that."

You smile at Leto, feeling something tender unfold in your chest when he returns a smile of his own.

You believe him, and for once, you think you will be okay.

—

taglist: @pigeonmama

please note that i’m starting a new taglist for my fics. if you would like to be included, let me know :)

#leto atreides x reader #duke leto x reader #dune fanfic #duke leto atreides fanfic #leto atreides fanfic #leto atreides x you #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader #my fics

363 notes · View notes

merlieve · 4 months

Note

Can you write a prince friedrich x brigerton! reader on how he would court you

say yes to heaven :: prince friedrich

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞, 𝐬𝐡𝐞/𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬, 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠.

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠/𝐬: 𝐍𝐨𝐧𝐞

𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞, 𝐬𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭!

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[ Note: this was INSANELY late for no reason at all but i’m posting this as a soft launch for my future fics that are upcoming :> but as of now requests are closed and i won’t respond to any new requests. ]

When Friedrich and [Name] came across each other, it had to have been unexpected. During Lady Trowbridge’s ball, he had been looking for Daphne ever since she excused herself from him, yet, he had met her.

[Name] was alarmed that the prince had found her outside, standing on the stone porch, taking in the serene beauty of the gardens stretched out before her. Once they locked eyes, from that moment on, Friedrich knew she had him wrapped around his finger.

Telling Daphne had to be the scariest, [Name] was concerned about how her sister would react when she brought it up, but Daphne quickly shut her down and celebrated her sister finding a possible suitor.

Expect the princess treatment because, in his eyes, she will be his future princess.

He would send her loads of large bouquets of her favourite flowers, filling up their drawing room with adornment of fresh posies. Whenever they see each other, Friedrich gifts her necklaces, bracelets, and hopefully a ring in the near future.

Hyacinth was beyond over the moon when she found out her older sister was being courted by a prince! She wanted to know everything that happened.

During balls, when ladies attempt to get his attention, Friedrich’s eyes would only look for [Name], as would she.

[Name] had to look flawless at all times, the ton was keeping an eye on her every move, waiting for her to make a mistake. Jealous and curious eyes follow [Name], everywhere, especially Cressida Cowper, who had feigned swoon in front of him.

“He lost Daphne to the Duke, that is why he’s pursuing her sister instead,”

Friedrich would take [Name] to the Kew Palace to either promenade around the gardens or play Pall Mall

Encountering the Queen was the most anxiety-ridden situation [Name] had to endure. It was true that Queen Charlotte did not like [Name] at first, she was not her diamond of the season! Yet, she knew how persistent her nephew was, so she took what she could get.

Regardless if Friedrich was a prince or not, Anthony, Benedict and Colin were overprotective of their little sister, so when Friedrich dropped by, he had to face their so-called ‘intimidating look’.

Violet told Gregory and Hyacinth to be on their best behaviour that day or else they won’t get any frozen dessert, but for extra measures, she told Anthony to not scare off Friedrich.

After courting for a month, Friedrich thought it would be best to call you his princess once and for all.

#merlieve’s fics ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚#prince friedrich x reader #prince friedrich #fluff #bridgerton #bridgerton netflix #bridgerton fic #bridgerton season one #freddie stroma #headcannons

320 notes · View notes

bubblegumfanfictions · 4 months

Text

Perfect to Me |Astarion x Fem!Plus-sized! Reader|

Fandom- Baldurs Gate 3

Ship- Astarion/Fem!Plus-sized! Reader

Warning(s)- fatphobia, negative thoughts about weight, mentions of Cazador, Swearing

Summary- Reader is upset after a rough day in Baldurs Gate, but Astarion proves that she doesn't need to be.

Word Count- 1,700

A/N- Sorry if this isn't perfect, it has been a while. But merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone! (I also changed the name of the fic)

After a long and perilous journey through the Shadow Cursed Lands, The Underdark, and the Mountain Pass to gain allies you finally made your way to Baldurs Gate. The bustling streets and lively atmosphere was almost alien to you after so much time surrounded by nature.

The faces of your companions tell you all you need to know about how they feel at present. Disgust, Excitement, and Fear. You felt for Astarion, it must be terrifying returning to your old hunting grounds after so long, seeing the families of people he had condemned, but that wasn’t who he was now. You felt a fleeting sense of pride that your friend had promised the Gur he would help take down Cazador and find out what happened to their children– Whether they were alive or not is a whole different story.

Karlach on the other hand looked positively elated at being here. Her excitement was certainly infectious, You pause your thoughts and look over at the disgust on Lae’zel’s face, Well maybe not totally infectious. Although you did take note of a glint in Lae’zel’s eyes, she was interested but hid it well.

But even with Karlach’s excitement, you were nervous as all hells. You knew from experience that Baldurs Gate wasn’t a fan of people with your particular build (Well, unless you work in brothels or Burlesque shows but that is a different story.) Knowing what you know about Baldurs Gate you had prepared yourself before you left to expect some comments, looks and even some shoves.

You thought you had managed to keep your anxieties under control and to yourself but that wasn’t the case. Unbeknownst to you, while you were hyperanalysing everything out of nervousness, Astarion was keeping an eye on you. He’d never seen you so nervous- That might not even be the right word, terrified seemed to be the better term.

He didn’t know why you were so scared of everything. He had seen you take down an Orthon just so he could have the information that Raphael promised him. You didn’t have to do that but you did. When he asked you why you simply smiled and said “Because it was important to you.” So he didn’t understand your fears at all. Are you scared of big crowds? Of the idea that someone could jump you? No, thats not it, you’d look more alert than anything, not dazed.

After a few hours of walking around Astarion finally spotted what it was that was scaring you so much. He noticed the glares and whispers being sent in your direction. He was happy that you weren’t an elf because you wouldn't have liked the things he was hearing. He was physically restraining himself from ripping out these peoples throat. You were beautiful. Why couldn't they see that? Why couldn't you see that?

“Isn't she ashamed of coming out here?” Just breathe, Astarion. You'll be no good to the group in prison.

“She's much too big to be in with that lot.” Astarion kept his rage to himself, but he was sure the rest of his group noticed. After all you were connected by those wriggling parasites.

Eventually you all made your way to The Elfsong Tavern when the Emperor decided to reminisce about his time working with Duke Stalemane. Astarion didn't care though, not after noticing how vulnerable you looked, how upset and withdrawn you were.

He wondered if maybe you could hear some of the comments. Or if you were so used to the treatment that you knew what they were going to say.

Karlach barrels into the Tavern with all the grace of… well- Karlach. Finally getting to sleep in a proper bed for the night. Everyone was excited for it. After the trials they had all been through they deserved some much needed rest, even just for the day.

Karlach decided to go down into the Tavern to spend her night eating and drinking, Lae'zel went to the courtyard to practice. The group had discovered a temple with a link to Mystra and naturally relayed this to Gale so that's where he probably is. As for the others? You had no idea.

You took it upon yourself to kick your shoes off and practically face planted one of the beds in the room you rented, barely taking any notice of Astarion's eyes watching your every move.

The energy it took you to not burst out into tears in the streets had taken its toll on you, you were just ready to sleep.

Astarion moved over to you cautiously, for once he was lost for words. He didn't know what to say to you, should he acknowledge the elephant in the room or ignore it?

“Astarion? Are you okay?” You lift your heavy head to look at the handsome Pale Elf that was watching you. His eyes dance with uncertainty. He seemed deep in thought. “Astarion?” You say his name a second time and manage to catch his attention.

He shook himself from his thoughts “Oh, yes, Darling? What were you saying?” He thought his recovery was smooth but his discomfort still showed on his face.

You sit up and pat the spot next to you. Astarion smiled absentmindedly, even burdened by the thoughts of horrible people you were still thinking of others first.

Astarion sits next to you, “I'm fine, but are you. Don't think I didnt notice the way people were looking at you.” He paused, not knowing if he should let on that he heard what they were saying. “Or how they were… talking about you.”

You stayed silent, looking down at your hands. Like Astarion earlier you didn't know what to say. “You noticed that?”

He looked baffled, almost offended that you thought he didn't. “Of course I did! Why wouldn't I? This is you we are talking about Darling, it's so hard for me to not notice you.” He places his hand on top of yours.

The coolness from his hand is a stark contrast to the warmth of his words to you. “Tell me, why do you allow a few rotten apples to treat you so poorly.” He uses his other hand to brush some hair from your face that had fallen when your head lowered with sadness.

“Because its true. I'm nothing special, no one will ever love me the way I want them too. I'll be alone… forever.”

Astarion's heart shattered, he knew what it was like to feel so vulnerable, so self-conscious. He hated that your life in Baldurs Gate made you feel the same.

“Oh, Darling. I wish I could show you just how wrong you are. These people? This group that you brought together, they adore you, I adore you.”

“But why? I feel hideous.” Tears well up in the corner of your eyes, prompting Astarion to lift you chin with one hand and wipe your tears with the other.

“You are far from hideous my gorgeous gorgeous girl, I think you are beautiful, a walking piece of art. You do not deserve to be treated the way you are just because you don't fit in with their callous beauty standards.” The mixture of Astarion's kind words, the nasty glares, and your exhaustion caused you to break down, tears streaming down your cheeks.

Without missing a beat Astarion wrapped his arms around you in a clumsy hug. He could feel your shoulders shake as the tears (sadly) soaked his new doublet.

“You think I'm beautiful?” You sniffled, pulling your head away from his chest but maintaining contact. He may not be physically warm but his actions and words warmed you through.

“Of course I do. Why wouldn't I? I'm not blind, Sweetheart.” A soft smile painted on his lips. Astarion could tell that his words weren't really getting through to you, he knew that it would take a long time for you to finally feel good about yourself, but he can damn well try his best.

“But-” you attempted to say before Astarion shushed you, a finger gently pressed to your lips.

“No buts. I have been around for a long time, I have bedded more men and women than I can count. But you are by far the most beautiful being I have ever laid eyes on. You are so incredibly and unapologetically you and I would do anything in my power for you to see yourself the way I do.”

“But I'm not thin like other people, how can you say I'm beautiful when I look like this? ” He moved his finger down to your chin so he could tilt your head up.

“Because you are. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, you're the best person for me. I don't want to imagine a life with anyone other than you in it. I adore you darling. I love you and I want you to be happy and I would love for it to be with me.”

Astarion could see your expression change to a more hopeful one. “You love me?”

“I do.” He responds, his eyes darting down to your lips and back to your own again. “Can I kiss you?” The question slipped from his mouth before he could think. You nod your head, still shocked by the sudden confession.

He slowly closed the gap between your lips, when they finally touched Astarion could sense all of your worries melt away. His free hand squeezing the thickness of your thigh as you shared a loving kiss. Astarions fangs brushing against your lips and occasionally nipping them as the kiss deepened.

“Fuck yes! Finally!” You both turned your heads, seeing Karlach stood in the doorway watching as the two of you kissed.

“Man Gale is going to be PISSED. He owes me 60 gold.” She senses the awkwardness she had just caused with her entrance and sheepishly backed away “Don't let me stop you, I was just leaving.”

She slams the door behind her but you could hear her yelling that she was going to be a rich woman and that she knew she had an eye for romance.

The two of you just laughed. This was perfect.

325 notes · View notes

marswritesstuff · 7 months

Text

kinktober day 2: roleplay

pairing: wriothesley x gn!reader

warnings: roleplay, consensual dubcon, power play, wrio calls reader “filthy” a few times

a/n: can you tell i am down bad for him (i pumped this out in half an hour)

“Your Grace?” You timidly entered the Duke’s office, arms nervously folded in front of you. “You wanted to see me?”

“Come in. Sit.”

The Duke’s deep voice sent a shiver through you as you approached the desk and sat in front of him.

“Did you need something from me, Your Grace?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact.” Wriothesley rose from his seat, slowly striding around his large desk as he spoke. “As a convict of the Fortress, it is your duty to obey my every command as your Warden, correct?”

You couldn’t tell where the Duke was going with this, looking up at him with anxiety as he came to a standstill less than two feet in front of you. His hand suddenly came up, gripping your chin with no small amount of force as his eyes bore into yours.

“Answer me, pet. You are my prisoner, are you not?”

“Yes!” You yelped as his hand squeezed your face none too gently. “Yes, sir. You are my Warden, and it is my responsibility as a prisoner to obey you. Why… Why do you ask, Your Grace?”

Wriothesley’s hand released your chin to run through your hair, seemingly rewarding you. “I’m glad you ask, pet. I am in need of an assistant. You likely know that I will take on convicts as assistants for various projects, but I need someone to lend a hand for some more… personal stress relief, if you will.”

You gulped, suddenly very aware of why you’d been called into the Duke’s office. Did he ask for you specifically? Had he noticed your eyes trailing him when he walked the halls of the Fortress? Or, instead, had you caught his eye? Or maybe he had just sent out his guards to find the nearest warm body and send them to his office?

No matter- to find yourself in such an opportune position was a rare occurrence, and you wouldn’t be caught dead wasting it.

You pushed your head against the Duke’s hand gently, responding warmly to his touch.

“I am a duty-bound citizen, Your Grace. Anything you need from me is fully at your disposal.”

“Well then, citizen,” Wriothesley drawled, taking a step back to lean against his desk, his hand slipping away from your hair as you held back a whine from the loss of contact, “on your knees. Now.”

You slid out of the plush, comfortable chair and onto your knees on the hard, metal ground. Sitting back on your heels, you watched with bated breath as Wriothesley undid his pants and pulled himself out.

“Wow,” you couldn’t help but breathe out, scooting forward until you were right in front of the Duke. “You’re so big, sir.”

Wriothesley chuckled, reaching a hand down to tug at your chin again. “You shouldn’t need much direction from here, I presume?”

You shook your head minutely and dove in, intent on being only the best for the Duke.

Wriothesley let out a low groan, hand fisting in your hair and his hips bucking loosely before settling again and letting you move your mouth around him.

If he had looked big, then he felt even bigger, but you persisted, eyes watering as you bobbed happily on the Duke’s dick.

“Look at you,” the Duke groaned, fist tightened in your hair, to the point where it just barely hurt. “So filthy, ready to get on your knees for me when I’ve barely even asked. A ‘duty-bound citizen’, you say? Don’t make me laugh. A filthy convict like you is only good for one thing.”

He started thrusting into your mouth in earnest, taking control of the pace instead of weak and aborted motions of his hips. His hand in your hair became a vice grip, keeping your head where it was while the Duke’s cock kept your mouth obediently stretched open. You moaned around the cock in your mouth, your brain slowly giving up all thoughts except the Duke, inside you and around you and everywhere.

What felt like hours later, the Duke slowly pulled out of you. Unlike the ruthless way he’d been using and fucking you for the past good while, now he treated your body with reverence, cleaning you up in a practiced way.

“Are you ok, love?” The Duke asked hesitantly as he wiped you down. “I wasn’t too rough?”

“No, darling. It was perfect. You felt so good.” You grinned down at your now blushing boyfriend.

When you’d first suggested the idea of playing as a criminal during one of your nights together, Wriothesley had looked at you like you were insane. But from the lust in his eyes during your scene, and his flushed satisfaction now, you knew this wasn’t the last time you and your boyfriend would be putting on this act.

#wriothesley #genshin impact #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact x reader #wriothesley smut #kinktober #genshin smut #wriothesley x gender neutral reader #wriothesley x you

374 notes · View notes

a-rat-called-remus · 1 month

Text

Remus: *coughs blood*

Virgil: Don't die,Remus

Remus: Don't tell me what to do!

#remus sanders #ts remus #sander sides #tss #thomas sanders #intrusive thoughts #the duke #ts anxiety #ts virgil #virgil x remus #virgil sanders #dukexiety #sanders sides incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes #incorrect sanders sides

66 notes · View notes

a-r-a-h-a-s · 8 months

Text

This one is for @the-duke-of-nuts thank you for all the little notes, they always make me smile

#sander sides #sander sides fanart #remus sanders #tss #virgil sanders #dukexiety #anxiety sanders #duke sanders #sander sides au #virgil sanders fanart #remus sanders fanart #remus x virgil #vimus

25 notes · View notes

chernabogs · 1 month

Text

Elegy

Inc: Malleus x Reader, Lilia, 1 kobold who deserves a raise Warnings: Little bit of angst/crisis, little bit of fear of death, and anxiety WC: 4.3k.... lmao Summary: Sprites are unpaid therapists, guardians are good at catsitting, and a prince has his third life crisis in 1 year. PART 1 | PART 2

The final part of the series!

He did not anticipate ending up in the mausoleum again, and yet it’s as though something had a lure on him from within, which dragged his unwilling body along until the scent of dirt and death took away all his other senses. The crown prince did not shuffle, but he did drag his feet a little as he disturbs the earth, and his gaze moves across the room. The air is stagnant and makes him feel like a burden for stirring it so.

The last time he came here was when he was a child. He had plenty of opportunity to come back since then, but every time he would look at the dark entrance into this abode, he would feel a terrible sense of fear which would send him scurrying back to his grandmother with his tail between his legs. The fear has since diminished now that he has endured the events at NRC. Although a sense of unease still stirs in his heart, he forces it down as he sits on a stone bench fixated in the middle of the room and looks to the tombs.

His mother and father look back, expressionless and dead-eyed.

“... hello.” His voice breaks from lack of use as he speaks to the ghosts that linger. He has said scarce few words since his return to Briar Valley for the summer, instead letting his retainers, and servants, and senate do all the talking for him. He clears away the dryness before continuing. “I figured it would be best to quickly visit and check on you. I see the groundskeepers have done well at clearing away the weeds.”

The stone statues offer no response to his comment as he takes in their features. He has inherited much of his mother, and extraordinarily little of his father. He does have Levan’s ears, and his lips, but Meleanor’s eyes and aquiline nose trump these features and demand observers’ attention. His fingers reach up to touch his face as he looks at hers, mapping their features together as he once did when he was younger.

Then with a sigh, he drops his hands back to his lap and clasps them tightly together. He has come for reasons other then a familial obligation to check on his parents' tombs. His father had been a Duke, only a rank below his mother’s status, and so he isn’t too sure if his plight is even something he can rationalize to them.

Not that they can hear, anyway. His mother is nothing but dust and his father isn’t even in the bloody tomb.

“I am having,” he begins slowly, before gesturing outwards. “A crisis.”

Well put. He is certain the mice and kobolds listening to him are nodding in their sympathies right now.

“I am feeling a lot of things that I am not fully understanding, and I would quite rather brick myself up here then talk about them with anyone.” He already had Lilia giving him looks the entire boat ride back to the Valley. That had been two days of seasickness (which he still can’t rationalize how he has) and unbridled guilt eating away in his mind. “But you cannot comment, so I reasoned yours would be the best ears for listening to this.”

He hears a chattering from somewhere in the back corner and pauses long enough to frown in the noise's direction. Kobolds, indeed. He would need to pass word to the groundskeepers about that. After the noises cease, he turns back to the tombs.

“There is a human who I seem to have developed quite an attachment to.”

His mother would have cut him off right about here. From what he’s gathered, she was not the biggest fan of humans. His father on the other hand would have shushed her and bade him continue. Malleus finds himself creating very inspiring visuals in his mind of the entire interaction.

“At the same time, I find myself seemingly paralyzed—”

“Silly rats, make silly hats!” A sharp, rasping voice causes Malleus’ jaw to snap shut and an unamused look to cross his face. The kobolds, again. He looks over his shoulder to see one of the small, gaudy creatures shambling along after a rat, which is scurrying as fast as possible to its nest. The kobold gnashes its sharp teeth while chanting, “Run, rat, run!”

Malleus exhales through his nose before turning away for a second time now. “As I was saying, seemingly paralyzed at the prospect of doing anything regarding these feelings. I have lied to them numerous times now to remove myself from situations, and a few times I have acted beneath myself in their presence, and yet they have stubbornly remained by my side. They are sympathetic, and they seem to understand, but they are—”

“Rat! Rat!” The kobold’s shrill voice causes Malleus to grit his teeth again before twisting around on the bench.

“Oh, for gods sake, I am trying to peacefully have a crisis here!” He finally hisses at the creature, which freezes in its place and looks at him with beady eyes. The rat takes this moment to skitter into a hole in one of the tombs. Only when its tail vanishes does the kobold look at where it last was with a forlorn expression.

“Rat…” It rasps out. Then it looks back to Malleus. “Starving.”

“Aren’t we all?” Malleus grumbles before turning to the tombs again. He barely gets a word in before the kobold has skittered to his side and onto the bench. He can feel the muscle in his jaw twitch as he looks down at the creature.

“Young master, hm?” It croaks as it begins tugging on his sleeve, likely trying to see if he has anything to offer. Malleus waves a hand and a plate of meat appears, delighting the creature as it begins to eat.

“Anyway, I am at a loss.” Is what he concludes with as he looks at his parents once more. “My fear holds my tongue and I sense the opportunity of something slipping further away from me. Perhaps I should have remained sequestered in these halls if only to prevent such a cacophony of emotions from erupting in me.”

“Fear inhibits us.” The kobold rasps as it pauses between bites. It licks its lips with its blackened tongue and looks up to the prince. Kobolds are cunning creatures, even if they may not present themselves as such all the time. This one assists in cleaning the tombs—for a fee. “What does young master fear?”

“Death.” Malleus replies dryly, entertaining the kobold for now. He’s already treating his dead parents as his therapists—why not add another thing to the mix?

“Inevitable.” The kobold chokes on a piece of meat before correcting itself and continuing to gorge. It pauses between bites to keep speaking, however. “Why fear what is unavoidable? Silly. As silly as my silly rat. Best to live. Best to welcome him into the home when he comes knocking. Bam! Bam!”

The kobold lets out a shrill cackle, which causes Malleus to shake his head.

“I don’t think you understand the delicacy of my situation. Death will not come into my home before it does the home of my present disruptor.” He scoffs. “I already am surrounded by enough silent tombs. I have little interest in adding another.”

“Young master doesn’t know Death’s schedule. Death could be in his home tomorrow. Death could be in his home right now.” The kobold cackles again as it licks the remaining blood from the plate. “Silly to let Death cage you before he is required to.”

Malleus falls quiet as he watches the kobold. It speaks so plainly to him, pointing out the holes in his mind’s argument. He knows he’s orchestrating this to keep himself safe from the pain of loss, but it feels as though he’s only hurting himself more by withholding from his wants.

The minds battle with the heart—a war as old as time.

“Is young master not hungry?” The kobold asks as its black eyes meet with his. It licks away blood from its fingers. “Does young master not wish to indulge? We fae are creatures of indulgences. Silly, to deny nature. Perhaps young master is my silly rat instead.”

It gives a wide, sharp grin, which Malleus returns with a sneer before waving a hand and vanishing the creature to another part of the tomb. The plate clatters onto the bench next to him, and the scent of copper lingers.

The kobold had a point, and the more he thinks about it, the more the point makes sense. Death could be in his home tomorrow. Death could be in his home right now. Malleus didn’t know when he would go, nor when the Prefect would go. He couldn’t control that—but what he could control is what he could do right now. His fingers tap a pattern on his thigh as he looks at his parents.

They married during a war. They had him during a war. They lived every day knowing the same thing he does—that Death could be in their home within a few minutes. And yet, they embraced life anyway. They loved, and were loved, and left a legacy behind.

Hells.

Lilia was wrong when he said Malleus wasn’t ill—what he should have said was; “Malleus, I fear you may have a case of idiotitis.”

His parents, still together despite one having gone well before the other. You, still by his side despite all that he’s done.

Malleus swears under his breath before pushing himself to his feet again. He brushes a few stray vines away from the hands of his mother and father, which are carved to be holding each other before moving towards the tomb's exit. He has a letter to write, a mistake to rectify, and an order for a large quantity of meat to be sent to this tomb.

_____________________________________________________

There is nothing as banal and painful as waiting for a reply. Malleus wonders if he should have telephone lines installed all throughout the Valley, if only to save him the agony of waiting for your arrival. His hands are pressed against the glass of the window he leans on for the third time today as his eyes burn holes into the gates down below. He could have sent you a text by now, asking if you’re on your way yet.

Goddamn phone lines.

“I should get the royal painter.” A sly, teasing voice snaps him out of his focus as he looks over his shoulder. Lilia hovers close by—close enough that Malleus wonders how long he’s been here—with a coy glint in his gaze. “This is quite the artistic scene.”

“I am in misery.” Malleus declares as he presses his forehead to the glass. The hard thunk of his scales connecting with it makes Lilia wince briefly.

“And you’re bound to get a migraine if you do that again. Be patient, Malleus. Prefect did say they would be here today.” Lilia pauses. “With Grim in tow.”

Malleus scowls briefly as he turns his head to look to his guardian again. “You are on Grim duty. Go take him to the ponds for an hour or so.”

“Sacrificing those poor fish to that bottomless pit of a stomach...” Lilia sighs and shakes his head in false despondence. “A noble death they shall have.”

Malleus refuses to deign him with a response as he looks back to the gates. A few of the royal guards are pacing their routes, and in the courtyard below he can see the servants rushing through last minute preparations. His declaration that a ‘friend’ was arriving (because he can’t give away his motives too easily) had sent the entire palace into a frenzy. Malleus had never invited someone over, save for Silver, Sebek, and Lilia.

“You won’t be able to see the carriage until it arrives. The bend on the mountain pass certainly makes sure of that.” Lilia drifts over again and frowns out at the scene beyond. “I do think we should set up a mirror in Black Scale. If you intend to invite more people over, then we can’t keep shuttling everyone through The Leaky Pint. The poor bartender will be overwhelmed.”

The Leaky Pint, the only tavern in the town that surrounds Black Scale, serves as both a community hub and a makeshift transport stop. It’s the only building with a magic mirror since the security risks of placing one in the palace were far too great. Lilia’s point of overwhelming the poor bartender had some merit; if Malleus did intend to start inviting more people—or at the very least, one person many times—it would be good to think of alternative routes.

He doesn’t get an opportunity to consider any solutions, however, as the sight of a carriage rounding that very pass captures his attention. He straightens up suddenly—

—and then feels an undeniable sense of anxiety. It plunges to his core, rooting him on the spot and causing a cold sweat to touch his neck. He stares at the carriage as it draws closer, closer, closer. Suddenly he wishes to make some vague excuse again to lock himself in his chambers and only interact with you when surrounded by scores of other people. Not alone. Not like he intended.

“Malleus.” Lilia waves a hand in front of his face. His gaze follows it slowly straight back to Lilia’s scarlet eyes, which watch him with that familiar seriousness eons of experience can bring. When they meet gazes, Lilia’s expression softens to a small yet warm smile as that hand then ruffles Malleus’ hair.

“All will be well,” he hums, and the way that he says almost makes Malleus believe him.

_____________________________________________________

Malleus doesn’t actually get to see you until the evening, which may have been a good thing considering how long it took him to ease his nerves. This is yet another new feeling that you inspire in him—anxiety. He’s anxious if he looks good enough, anxious about how he is to approach this, anxious about what your response will be.

He spent a good portion of time preening in front of his mirror before leaving his chambers, and he isn’t afraid to admit it.

Yet when he finds you, it’s as though all of this build-up of fear and what if’s are wiped from his mind. You’ve been directed to the greenhouse which contains his portion of the rose garden. Years of plantings are blossoming in the warm summer night, filling it with a sweet scent that can lull one into a blissful peace. You’re sitting on a bench, one arm slung over the back and your head looking up at the sky. The glass is clear enough to see the numerous stars that spill across Briar Valley.

That’s one good thing about the lack of modern amenities within his homeland—the light of the celestial is not hidden by the light of man.

You seem lost in your own world, and for a moment he worries it might be intrusive of him to approach, until you finally notice his idling and a warm smile break across your face.

Gods. When the bards learn how your mere look can make the scion of the fae fold, they’ll have material for centuries.

“Well look who finally decided to say hello.” Your tone is teasing as he exhales and approaches, sitting down on the spot next to you—albeit a bit more gracefully. He can feel the heat of your arm near his back. “Lilia dragged Grim off to go fishing or something. Personally, I think nine at night is a weird time for that, but he was very insistent that the best time to catch the largest fish was right now.”

“Was he?” Malleus hums, utilizing this as a means to ease into the conversation he wants to have. “I would trust Lilia’s judgment on the matter. He has been in Briar Valley long enough to know the most ideal times for any activities.”

“I think Grim was just keen on getting more food. He wolfed down his dinner, and then my dinner, and then the dinner of a few others.” You grimace at the memory. “Reckon I might need to write a few apologies before we leave.”

“I’m sure all will be forgiven.” He’ll make sure all will be forgiven. Respectfully.

The two of you lapse into a moment of silence before you begin launching into how your trip to Briar Valley was, unprompted but certainly appreciated. Malleus listens intently as you regale him of your pilgrimage to the Mirror Chamber at Crowley’s behest (and not because Malleus sent a secondary letter expressing the urgency of your arrival—which meant no two day boat ride). You then detail the arrival to The Leaky Pint, the way you almost missed your carriage because the bartender roped you into helping him, and the several stops you made along the way to take photos—at the carriage drivers’ misery.

As you speak, Malleus finds himself relaxing to the sound of your voice. The way it changes with each emotion you put into your story, as well as the inflections and the quirks it carries. He doesn’t even realize he’s smiling or that you’ve moved closer together until your tale ends with your breathless laughter over Grims behavior during your welcome feast.

“—truly he’ll get us arrested one day. I’d rather it be here, though. At least I know you’d bail me out.” You send him a smirk. “Although I also feel like you’d make me wait a while. Just to keep me on edge.”

“You think me so cruel?” Malleus chuckles softly as he watches you. “I would have you out in a heartbeat, were you to be kept in my cells.”

“How valiant. Be sure to be riding a white horse when you come sweeping to my rescue then, yes?” You laugh and lean back against the bench. Your arm is still draped around the back, still resting against him. Your warmth has crept through his body a bit too efficiently. He feels a burning in his cheeks as he turns his head away.

Another pause of silence falls then, broken by the sound of a distant fountain and an owl calling a mournful song from beyond. He hears you clear your throat as you shift and withdraw your arm.

The absence of your warmth is profound.

“I, um.” You seem to be turning many thoughts over in your mind as he looks at you, waiting for you to continue. “I know this happened a while back now, and maybe bringing this up isn’t the best idea, but the night that you and I were on Main Street together—”

Main Street. You were sitting together quite like you are now, facing each other. His mind had been in turmoil, and your gaze had been on his lips, and it had been too much—at that moment.

“I wanted to ap—”

He cuts you off mid-way through with a swiftly raised hand. The sound of your words catching in your throat and your eyebrow raising dubiously would normally fill him with amusement, but not tonight.

“There are a few things I need to say beforehand.”

Malleus once said to himself that loving you was for someone much bolder than he, but that had been a lifetime ago now. That had been when he was a recently broken boy lying on a hospital bed, trying to come back to himself after one of the most traumatic moments of his long life. That had been before his parent’s tomb, before the kobold, before he realized that to get what he wants he needs to be that bold.

He can be bold. He can be brave. He can say this.

“I was not ill that night, nor are you at fault for that. I was... I am afraid.” He confesses. Your mouth closes and now you wait for him to continue, which he soon does. “You are... gods. You do something to me. You inspire many feelings in me, and it is so overwhelming that my mind cannot wrap around them all.”

Oh, now he feels himself beginning to ramble a bit. This is very uncharacteristic of him. He faults you for this, again.

“I am afraid because I have never wanted something before. Then there you were sitting beside me when I was in that infirmary after everything that happened, and you were just talking about Grim and your day like you did just now, and I,”

He stops again. This is harder than he imagined it to be. He’s usually quite eloquent, and yet right now the words to describe what he wants to say seem to be running paces ahead of him. He shakes his head and looks out to the roses. For a moment, nothing happens, until he feels your warm hand on his arm again and it somehow spurs him to continue.

“You are... a disruptor. I had my entire life planned out before me since birth, and then you came crashing in like a comet, usurping all of that in one fell swoop—and I enjoyed it. I enjoyed your presence by my side during those evening walks, I enjoyed seeing you in Diasomnia, I enjoyed every moment you gave me. Yet that enjoyment was tainted by the fear that those moments would not last forever. You will likely die far before I do, and this thought just sits in my mind whenever we’re together. That this won’t be forever—this won’t last—and it scares me. It scares me.”

Malleus hears his voice break and for a moment he’s startled. His mind wars with his heart again—get control of yourself!—but a stinging in the back of his throat takes him off-guard and his hand flies up to cover his mouth as though in shame.

If it wasn’t intercepted by yours, that is.

“What are you afraid of?” You ask, your voice serious as he finally looks your way. You’re watching him with such focus and such warmth in your eyes that he wants to shrink back, return to his chambers, pretend this never occurred. He doesn’t. Instead, he speaks.

“... you.”

Not death. It had never been death to begin with. What he was afraid of was how much you had come to mean to him, because this was never supposed to happen. You were never supposed to come into his life. You were never supposed to impact him so much, make him want so much.

“Malleus.” Your voice is calm as you hold both of his wrists in your hands. “What do you want right now? What do you need me to do?”

You know he’s shaken which is why you’re letting him control the situation. Your kindness should be sickening, but instead it’s pulling him closer towards you, and in his fit of delirium he speaks.

“Let me know you. Make me remember every damn moment so when the inevitable does come, when Death enters our home, I have something to hold onto.” He rasps. There’s a flicker of fire in your eyes but he hardly lets it ignite before he’s surging forward and finishing what you started on Main Street.

Kissing, to his surprise, is not as the books write it to be. His lips collide with your own and your teeth hit as he kisses you hard, like a starved man before a meal. His eyes shut tight and he holds his breath until he feels you respond as your hand releases his wrist to rest on the back of his head instead. His body relaxes against your touch as you both move to find a proper rhythm.

No, kissing is not as the books write it to be, but this isn’t a terrible thing.

When you finally separate from him, he’s all but ready to move in again, only to have you move so that your lips are against the shell of his ear instead. He can’t help but shiver at the sensation as you speak. “Malleus, breathe for a second.”

Funny words coming from someone who sounds so breathless, but he obliges, resting his face against your shoulder as he does so.

“Listen carefully.” You begin as your fingers slowly thread through his hair. “I will not be going anywhere for a long time. Yes, I will not live as long as you, but I will live as long as I can for you. You wish to remember every moment, so I’ll give you enough memories that you’ll have a new one for each day you remain beyond me.”

Malleus takes in your words slowly. They sink into his mind and his body, and he can feel himself relaxing into your touch. A new memory for each day he outlives you. He can capture those memories, store them in a glass ball so that he may watch them whenever he pleases. You will never truly be gone if you can both make it work.

Semantics dictate that this will be a hard relationship anyway. He is a prince—and heir to a noble bloodline—and you are... well. You. But you are also you, and someone that he’ll go to hell and high water for. Come what may—he will end things with you by his side.

He says your name against your shoulder. Each syllable rolls off his tongue and fills the air like a melody as he withdraws just enough to see your face. You seem surprised—he has never really said your name before—as your hand comes up to wipe his cheek.

Look at him, breaking like a blubbering mess before you over a few reassurances and touches.

He says your name again, if only to see the warmth in your eyes before he moves in to test his theories about kissing once more.

Love is for the lonely.

Love is for fools.

Loving you is precisely how it’s meant to be.

#twst x reader #malleus draconia #twst malleus #i never write kisses and yet... just 1. a treat #bc i made you all suffer through the other parts <3

145 notes · View notes

jaysgirlx · 3 months

Text

❝ 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄 ❞

❥ pairing: dick grayson x civilian f!reader (part 2 of a series)

❥ summary: dick has to find you after all he put you through you don't deserve what your ex is doing to you.

❥ warnings: moreee angst, fighting, acts of violence, many mentions of depression, anxiety and thoughts of death

❥ wc: 3.8k

"I think the best plan here may be to pay the price, Grayson," says Damian walking into the Batcave, nearly dragging a half-awake Tim.

"That's just dumb, for all we know he'll just use the money to take her away with him. Steph and I will get her back. This guy is clearly a coward" Cass says in an annoyed tone while leaning on Duke who kept quiet.

"What if he has used his own money to hire people to fight us, he can't be that sure that we would actually pay the price," Bruce says interrupting the conversation. "And I do mean "we", y/n is practically family Dick if you decide you want me to pay the ransom we will"

"That's quite a lot of money to risk Bruce," says Barbara "Cass may be right, he might just take her away once he gets the money"

"Stop it you guys, just let me think!" Dick nearly screamed, trying to hold himself together. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see that it was Jason, "I know you're not exactly happy with me right now. But out of all of us, we need to be strong Dick. In a situation like this, we need you as our leader"

Dick didn't know how to feel, of course he needed to be the leader but he couldn't even manage to be a good boyfriend to you. Could he even save you? Were you still even alive? The blood on that envelope had been dried for fucks sake. And Steph had told him she hadn't seen you in 2 months, not since you moved back into your place.

No wonder he couldn't track you, you had been kidnapped for 2 goddamn months, and was his fault. He fucked up and left you alone to heal, he didn't realize how stupid of an idea that was. But for now, he needed to let go of that, he needed to find you and rescue you.

"We're not paying the ransom, even if y/n is still alive…he'll most likely take her with him," Dick says, causing everyone to stop their chatter. "Babs I need you to try and locate them, I know it may be a lost cause but it is our only bet"

He pauses for a second formulating a plan. You had been kidnapped for an estimate of 2 months now and if you were still alive, that meant your ex was still here. Which means he needed money.

"Tim, could you do a background check on y/n's ex? Find out his patterns, if he doesn't get money from me he'll definitely be looking for other ways to obtain some" Tim who was half awake, nodded and opened up his laptop to work alongside Barbara. Dick kept silent for a while before asking the rest of them to try checking abandoned warehouses, or any other places they possibly thought you could be.

Bruce tried talking to Dick but he tuned him out. Over the years he learned how to pick out the bits and pieces Bruce wanted him to hear and ignore the rest but right now he was tuning him out completely. The thought of you being dead made him sick, things weren't supposed to be like this. He was supposed to protect you, he loved you that's all there was to it. He felt a hand on his shoulder and it was Jason. He didn't say anything and that's exactly what Dick needed. He needed a moment to breath and just think.

He knew you ex was crazy but he didn't really know anything else about him. He didn't know if maybe there was a past of crimes he overlooked or maybe your ex was even the man he claimed to be. For fucks sake, he wished he had listen to you more when you talked, when you had practically begged him to. He thought that he was doing you a favor but all he did was put you in danger.

He could only hope that you would forgive him.

It was cold and empty. The air felt harsh to breathe and you never felt so dead. You weren't sure if something was holding you down or if you just couldn't move.

Everything hurt.

There where flickering screens in the background while soft hum got louder and louder. You could barely make out what was happening around you and maybe you didn't even want to know. Your eyes searched the room, you were in a bed covered by what seemed to be a blanket. You were tied down, your body was just weak. Where were you? What time was it? When was the last time you had eaten food? Were you dying?

The flickering screens finally caught your attention and there you saw him standing in front of a bunch of TVs, your ex-boyfriend and all your memories came flooding back. He kidnapped you...how long ago was that? And where were you? Your mind could only think of one person: Dick Grayson. You meant it when you told him, you couldn't be with him any longer but that didn't mean you didn't still love him. You'd be crazy not to when you and Dick had met you not he was some flirty playboy who flirted with every girl until he showed you otherwise. After dumping your crazy ex and going to Divk for comfort, you realized how caring he could be. So you entered a relationship with him with high expectations that he'd always treat you so well and everything between you to have been perfect.

Then he'd started cancelling plans last minute and you knew something was up. Dick didn't like secrets and it was the biggest surprise when he confided in you that he was Nightwing. You were obviously worried, worried one night he wouldn't come home but you accepted him because you loved Dick Grayson, not Nightwing. You met Jason soon after and the two of you hit it off, Dick wasn't fond of the friendship but Jason didn't mind looking after you. Jason saw you like family. Yes, he was dangerous but he knew it would break Dick's heart if anything ever happened to you.

A quiet sob fell from your lips while you thought about Dick. You hadn't even realized your eyes were filled with tears and that your fingernails were digging into your palms. You wanted to cry and shout, but you knew that was dumb. You didn't know if anyone was coming to save you but that didn't mean you wouldn't try and keep yourself alive.

While you tried you calm yourself down, you saw a black figure walking over towards you. You knew it was Roman so you closed your eyes.

Pretend to be asleep.

He won't notice.

You steadied your breaths and allowed them to fall into a pattern while his steps grew heavier and closer. His hand gently stroked your face, making you mentally gag. "You used to be sooooo perfect for me...but then you put your nose where it didn't belong" You felt something cold and thin press across your face. A blade. If you hadn't been scared before you definitely were now.

The fear inside you wasn't just from the blade but more of what he was going to do with you after. You know he isn't going to kill you because he would've done that by now but no possible way he wants to stay in Gotham. Were you still even in Gotham? There were still so many unanswered questions, but all I knew was that this room was decorated with old TVs that it seemed that Roman had been using. Still, all that didn't matter, staying alive and staying put did. If there was any chance you were in Gotham and anybody was looking for you, all you had to do was just hold out a bit longer. Dick would come for you, if anybody would, it had to be him.

The cold feeling of the blade eventually left your face and after a couple sentences of mumbling and mutters, those heavy footsteps finally walked away and slammed a door behind him. A opened your eyes and your breaths became more frantic, you knew for sure now that you were alive and that you could handle this. Small bits of pieces of what you had experienced here popped into your head but you shoved it back down. Now wasn't the time. You need to calm down and think. For all you know staying put may not work. You wanted to still be angry with me but how could you be when all you wanted was to be in his arms again. You need to see him again, even if it's just to hug him.

You needed to see Dick one last time because you were still so hopelessly in love with him.

Dick is standing in front of your favorite cafe. It was on the verge of closing and he could never understand what appeal you found in it. You said the coffee was really good especially when you put a bunch of sugar in it but didn't that apply to most coffee? For a brief moment, he smiled at the thought of maybe being able to share coffee with you like that. Just one last time, if you'd still have him.

Dick had always been fascinated by you. You were so accepting of him and his family and there was never a moment where he doubted your love. He never meant to accuse you of cheating, if he could take it back he would. If he could re-do that entire night over, he'd do it properly. He'd apologize for canceling your date and explain to you how he had been feeling for your safety. He shouldn't even have let you go that night, he should have told you the truth.

For the last month, while Tim and Barbara endlessly searched Gotham's cameras CCTV, and public records the rest of the siblings spent their free time tearing through every abandoned warehouse in hopes of finding you but they failed every single time. Every day Dick contemplated paying the ransom and risking losing you if you weren't already gone. He needed you back and he wasn't the only one worried about you.

Your parents were worried sick, all they know is that you were kidnapped but it still hurts them. Your relationship with them may not have been the greatest but that didn't mean they wanted to lose you completely. They never liked Dick, they tried to be supportive but Dick once showed up. He knows now how badly he mistreated, how much he fucked up. All you did was love and care for him and he let you down time and time again but wouldn't this time. He was going to find you and never leave your side again.

He left the cafe and went towards the phone store nearby. Dick had bought you your latest phone but never got around to connecting it to Barbara's location system which tracks all of them including Bruce. Which meant he had to go to that store and see if they could track it using the information when it was bought. He even managed to find the box it came in in your apartment.

He was able to find out that your phone was either dead or broken because it was disconnected. He thought he had reached another dead end until the cashier said its last location was tracked which was supposedly a play near Gotham's most popular TV company's buildings. The only abandoned one is the former headquarters but just getting into there is difficult, there is no way you'd be there and no one knew right?

He left with that thought on his mind and a cup of disgusting coffee full of sugar.

The quiet hum of the computers and the small chat between his sibling filled the room while Dick tried to eat his dinner. He picked at the fried rice Jason had picked up for him and the rest of his family. All it did was remind him of you and the way you always wanted to order out instead of eat something home cooked. It wasn't cause you were bad at cooking but more because you loved trying new foods every once in a while. Dick bit down on his tongue hard, tasting a cold metallic taste that barely brought him back to reality.

It had been nearly a month since you had gone missing. Daimen thought you were dead. Cass and Steph kept going through your apartment, looking for something to stop them from giving up. Jason was silent. Bruce was angry, he saw you as the perfect fit for Dick. He had never seen his son happier. Babs knows you're a survivor, you wouldn't die on her like that.

"Dick, snap out of it", Barbara said slowly reeling him back into reality. You and her had always gotten along so well, especially after Barbara got shot, you were there for her like a sister. That when he knew, that's exactly when Dick knew he was in love with you and couldn't handle watching people he cared about in pain. "Tim and I found some stuff...we have good news and bad news"

"Just tell me" He grunted out, whatever it was he could handle it, as long as there was a chance you were alive. You had to be alive, you still loved him and he had so many apologies to give you once he had you back into his arms again.

"Once I hacked the CCTV of y/n's apartment I was able to get a couple of photos of this "Roman Jennings" guy and I had Tim cross-reference them with what we knew already knew about him.." she paused as if what she said next could break Dick "This guy doesn't exist in Gotham. Not only do no records tie to him...there's no information on him anywhere"

Dick knew that most of Roman's murders had been made look like suicides and hadn't been caught but he hadn't realized that maybe "Roman Jennings" doesn't exist and that they might've been following a false lead the entire time. How could he waste a month on this? What if she's really dead-

Calm down, Grayson.

Worrying will get you nowhere.

"I'm guessing that's the bad news?"

"Yup, the good news is that, on the cameras near that abandoned TV company's old headquarters, I found the same guy leaving and entering the building every day for the last 6 weeks. I'm not completely sure but I think that's our guy" Dick was sure he heard her completely but that didn't matter. Your phone had last been located in that area and it was the only lead they had. He knew you didn't have much time and there was no way he was just going to sit here and wait.

"I'm going to check it out, Babs sends me the coordinates," Dick said as he put down the food on the counter. The silence that was surrounding him, should've been a sign that for the words that come next but Dick just couldn't think about all that right now. He needed to get to you, bring you home. Bruce felt a need to interject but he felt that it wasn't his place. But Jason had no problem with interfering especially in this situation, "Y'know you're not going in alone right? And definitely not without a plan"

Jason grabbed onto Dick's arm, roughly pulling him away from the door. The tension between them had never been resolved, no matter how many times Jason tried to make it clear that he never had any romantic feelings for you. Jason saw you as family and tried to be there for you especially since most of the time you got upset because of Dick. Bruce was ready to step in now, seeing as Dick was now angry, stressed, and running on practically no sleep. Dick rips his hand away in anger and pushes Jason, "Jason I really don't need your opinion on this, y/n has been trapped for almost 3 fucking months now. If I don't go right now, she could die"

"If you go in alone and angry, you might just be the reason she dies. Do not fuck this up for the rest of us" It hadn't really occurred to Dick that maybe this wasn't just about him and that the rest of the family had cared about you. Dick had always seen Jason as a wedge between the two of you but he never really thought he actually cared. He thought Jason just did it to mess with him. Before Dick could even respond, Steph spoke up, "She's our family too Dick, we all want her home but we have to do this right"

"Y'know she's the only one, I can talk to about menial matters," Damian says quietly, "She made it easy to just talk about those small things even the stupid ones" Maybe the stress of the situation had caused him to forget how much of positive impact you had on his family and how much this was affecting them. "Look I'm sorry guys I just…

"Want her back?" Bruce says looking over at him "we all do, so just give us a couple more hours to plan how we're getting inside and what we will do?"

Duke who had been quite quiet finally speaks up, "I think you should rest Dick. If you're going to be the one to get her out of there you need rest. Proper rest"

"I second that!!" Cass says, appearing from behind Duke. All Dick could do was nod, he was tired and stressed and just needed a little bit of sleep. He left with a weak smile and found of the guest rooms in the manor. Once he hit the best he was out like a light. That night he dreamt of you, your smile, your cute hobbies, your contagious laughter, and more. While he slept he dreamt of you, kissing you, loving you and even marrying you. Dick Grayson was utterly in love with you and couldn't wait any longer for you to come home to him.

The next morning after that was stressful, to say the least. Barbara and Tim had calculated the best time to infiltrate the headquarters when Roman wasn't there. Except that was during daytime which meant no Nightwing. Attracting attention could only get more people hurt and Dick wasn't going to risk it. Jason, Cass, and Steph agreed to come along while Damian was on standby with Duke and Bruce. Tim and Barbara would be feeding Dick information through an earpiece and would be doing the same for everyone else.

Their plan wasn't perfect but it was the best they had. Dick would in with Steph, while Jason and Cass stayed outside to not only stop Roman from entering but also catch him. Jason and Cass had no problem being ruthless if they had to be but since there was still light out they would have to keep a low profile. Officer Gordon borrowed them police uniforms which they hoped would be enough to scare Roman away if he even sees them. If not, they were ready to fight if it came to that.

Dick and Steph quietly entered the abandoned building, they went through a back door Tim was able to locate after finding the building's original floor pans. The entire building was very old and quite huge so, Tim mapped out the building for them so it would be easier for you to be found. If you were even in there. Inside the building was extremely cold but it didn't seem abandoned. It actually looked like a home. Which was a good sign, it confirmed someone was staying here. It meant there was a chance you were here. "Did she talk about me?" Dick asked Steph, trying to break the harsh silence. The two hadn't spoken up since the two of you had broken up. Steph didn't take sides but she wasn't exactly happy to hear how Dick was treating you and behaving.

"Depends, what are you willing to hear"

"Anything at this point"

Steph was quiet for a while, the two of you had searched through about 2 offices and 4 other open spaces and nothing had come out of her mouth. Dick was just about to let it go just before Steph finally spoke up, "She hated loving you. Not in a bad way, just in a way that made her miserable but feel ungrateful. She thought that she was difficult to love especially since you had been the one to approach her. She hated fighting with you but she hated the thought of her not being enough more"

Dick knew he had fucked up at every turn of your relationship but he hadn't realized how much that really had affected you. how much damage he did. In his mind he was just hurting himself but this whole time you had been the one suffering. "We all have underlying issues Dick so not everything that went wrong was on you and believe me y/n really loved you. After she'd been done ranting, she'd always think of how happy you made her and how sweet you were to her when you actually showed up. There's no doubt she would have married you"

"Would have?"

"You accused her of cheating Dick, she loved you endlessly and you just threw it in her face," Steph said after checking another room that was once again empty. "You hurt her in a way that shouldn't be forgiven and you'd be very lucky if she did forgive you"

"I know, I know! I would do anything to take back what I said to her, what I did to her. Do you know what I would give to be able to restart our entire relationship from the beginning? Do you know what I would give to open this next door and believe she's in it?" Dick kicked open the door in anger, the room was filled with lit-up TVs that seemed to be surveilling the abandoned building and parts of Gotham.

Dick wasn't sure if was he hallucinating from all the anger, stress, and need but there you were in what seemed to be an air mattress with a blanket and a book. You looked weak, like you hadn't eaten much but you seemed okay? Like you weren't hurt physically because Dick knew the deepest scars were always mental.

"y/n?"

Your name barely left his lips but it was just loud enough for you to hear. You turn to look at him and first he can see the surprise on your face and the relief but that quickly changes to a soft smile. A smile that could break his heart and fix it in an instant. A smile that he hopelessly missed. Dick never stopped loving you and he could only hope you still loved him and maybe, just maybe in that moment that's all that matters.

❥ taglist: @meowkn, @kazzattack @chichinaylo, @yourlocalcringydaydreamer, @orchidsangel, @nia-jul, @mayfieldss, @millyhelp

117 notes · View notes

captain039 · 7 months

Text

Intertwined with a mortal

Ascended Vampire Duke!Astarion x human!reader

Bridgerton x Astarion 👍🏻

Warnings: Olden times, swearing, age gap, tension, slow burn, vampire Mates, vampire things, angst, sexual, harassment, bigger reader, fat shaming, 18+, angst, Astarions trauma, anxiety, depression, learning to touch and love, big dislike for children lmao, AOB, artist reader, manipulation

Elves and humans will be the only races, they don’t like each other lmao. Baldurs gate will be built differently too, more like olden London(like Bridgerton) just called Baldurs gate xD

Think that’s it

Changing Karlach race to Human for this xD

Baldurs gate was known for its wealthy family’s and grand party’s at the alpha grand dukes palace, the grand duke Gortash was known for his handsome smirk and witty remarks as well as keeping the city in check. Upon social season the grand duke would hold a total of ten balls while some of the lower ranking members often had party’s once a week maybe less, depending it was an exhausting time.

You were not keen to flutter your eyelashes and drop your fan ‘accidently’ as some books suggested for the attention of a alpha suitor. Gods forbid you actually want to do something than marry and birth twenty children. Your father would often chuckle at your bold claims when you were only ten years of age, you would stomp your foot, say you were not going to have babies, they were hideous and ugly cried. Your mother would roll her eyes and sigh while your father would throw his head back and laughter before giving you a high five. As you got older though you realised that truely was your purpose, nothing else was approved for a young lady heading out into society. You dreamt of love though, seeing how your mother and father held a strong bond, you wanted that, wanted that connection with someone, a lover to call your own, a husband to indulge you as you indulged him, this was your first year running and your anxiety was higher than grand duke Gortashs highest tower. It was the first ball of the social season, lead by the alpha grand duke Gortash himself. You couldn’t shake the way your stomach churned all day, your mother was fussing over your dress, hair and makeup. You were ready to collapse on your bed, you’d already taken two years off the social season, begging your father mainly to allow you to study art. Problem was you were an only child and you had a duty to continue this line. Going to the actual ball was more nerve wracking than you wanted it, your mum still fussing over the way your dress sat. Your father would smack her hand lightly and she’d huff at him before she settled for a bit. When you arrived you held your fathers arm tightly, feeling overwhelmed. Your fathers calming scent was what you were trying to focus on as you entered the large palace. You were hit with music, chatter and too many scents. You gulped visibly as your father lead you in, you kept your head down instantly till your mother tsked and pushed your chin up. Your eyes darted to everybody and you wanted to hide behind your father.

“Just take a breath” your father said softly giving you a smile and patting your hand as a family approached, the Hallowleafs. You sighed a bit seeing their daughter Jen with them, her husband no where to be seen.

“Hello” she smiled and you smiled letting go of your fathers arm realising you must look stupid.

“How are you?” She added.

“Ok, nervous-“ you said and she chuckled softly.

“Nothing to fret about” she said going to stand by you and took your arm. You were thankful for the alpha as she scanned the grand hall.

“So have you picked anyone?” She asked and you froze cheeks going red as she laughed softly.

“Do I need to?” You whispered and she shook her head.

“If only we could, unfortunately the suitors come to you” she sighed lightly.

“Do I have to pretend to drop my fan?” You asked softly and she laughed rather loudly making her cover her mouth instantly as you laughed softly with her and she huffed at you.

“That only works in books trust me” she chuckled as you looked through the crowd knowing many of these faces. You frowned slightly though seeing a white haired elf, a duke you hadn’t seen in a while.

“Odd” you muttered and Jen frowned following your gaze.

“Duke Ancunin?” She asked and you nodded.

“I thought he never came to these?” You asked softly.

“Probably here to find something to warm his bed honestly, but you didn’t hear that from me” she rolled her eyes and you gave her surprised eyes.

“What? That’s all he does! Never had taken a potential partner” she huffed as you watched him. His white hair seemed to sit so perfectly against his face and elf ears, the elegant black and red clothes he wore sat perfectly on his body, gold embroidery adorning the suit. Lady’s even gentlemen surrounded him, he turned your way his handsome face coming into view, hooded eyes looking to you. You felt yourself freeze a bit as he stared at you through his pale lashes ignoring the group around him. You felt like he was staring right through you and quickly looked away, he probably wasn’t looking at you anyway.

“Oh the dancing starting” Jen said suddenly and you realised nobody had asked you to dance as they cleared the middle of the floor. Couples began to dance and you felt somewhat jealous, but shook the feeling off quickly.

“A dance milady?” You frowned glancing to your left seeing Duke Ancunin by your side, you hadn’t even heard him come over.

“Oh-“ you hesitantly glanced to Jen who gave you a cheeky smile making you groan internally.

“Of course” you said taking his hand as he lead you to the floor. You felt yourself shake a bit as you stood opposite of him with the other lady’s. you gave a courtesy before the men bowed. As the music began you stepped closer pressing your hands together before pulling back with a step before leading into a simple waltz, you could do this. Had your heart not been pounding and your mind so focused on the steps you might’ve engaged in conversation.

“You’re practically shaking my dear” he finally spoke and you looked to him cheeks hot.

“Apologies my Duke” you said embarrassed as you tried to steady your heart. You tried to focus on his scent his rank, but all you smelt was the cologne he used bergamot, rosemary, and brandy, no alpha, beta or omega undertones, just coldness. His body was cool too, not like your overheated one, he was firm to touch, but his whole body moved with elegance.

“Have you danced before?” He asked and you frowned slightly, was your dancing that bad?

“I’ve had my lessons, I’m sorry I’m not up to standard, my duke” your tone came out harsher than you meant, gods you would never find a suitor. He chuckled lightly though and you looked to him again, red eyes captivating you.

“I meant with a real partner, darling, you dance very well” he said voice lowering a bit to send a shudder up your spine.

“This is my first season” you whispered looking away.

“Is that why you’re shaking?” He asked head moving slightly closer to yours a small smile on his face.

“It’s nerve wracking yes” you said as he spun you around and brought you back in.

“I don’t like this many people to may scents, sounds” you babbled before realising what you’d done.

“Apologies my duke” you said wanting to disappear as you kept your eyes on his chest.

“Speak your mind darling, it does not bother me” he said and you felt yourself relax a little.

“I don’t usually dance at balls” he added and you looked up again.

“Are you not unmarried, why would you not?” You asked curiously his smile still there.

“Curious thing aren’t you?” He asked teasingly and you flushed.

“Sorry, again my duke” you mumbled.

“I do like how you say ‘my’ duke” he grinned and you felt your stomach flip.

“It is your title” you said quickly.

“Hm, but it sounds so sweet on your tongue” he had leant down to whisper that in your ear and your whole body tensed.

“I should go-“ you said quickly feeling your heart pounding as you pushed away and quickly retreated to your mother. You left him standing a frown on his face and people whispered softly.

“What happened? You were dancing so wonderfully” your mother cooed as you held her arm.

“Can we go please?” You begged hearing your heart beat loudly.

“Oh- of course sweetheart” she muttered calling over your father politely before you left.

The ride home you just stared out the window trying to ease your heart, you couldn’t think straight. Upon arriving home you ignored your mothers worried calls as you ran up the stairs and into your room. You fell on your bed screaming into the pillows which calmed you down a bit. You sighed rolling over onto your back with a loud huff afterwards and stared at the ceiling. You cursed the dress and got up struggling with the laces with a frustrated groan. A knock came and you tensed before hearing your fathers voice. He walked in slowly as you sat back down on the bed with a huff.

“What happened little flower?” He asked sitting by you.

“You were dancing amazingly with Duke Ancunin” he added.

“I’m not going to find a suitor” you stated and your father frowned.

“Why do you think that?” He asked.

“Because I-“ you growled in frustration standing up.

“I was shaking horribly, he picked up on it! Then I snapped at him!” You said frustrated as your father tensed a bit.

“What happened what did you and he say?” He asked.

“He asked if I ever danced with someone and I got defensive and said I’ve had lessons, I’m sorry it’s not up to your standard” you mocked and sneered.

“Oh boy” your father muttered.

“See! Can’t I just be sent off somewhere and die alone with my paintings?!” You sighed and sat back down dramatically.

“I’m afraid not, what happened after?” He asked.

“He laughed” you mumbled and your father relaxed.

“You didn’t offend him them, see?” He tried to encourage, but you just raised an eyebrow at him with a huff.

“Come now it’s your first ball, there will be more to come and you’ll have practise! Just because tonight went bad doesn’t mean they all will” he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and tugged you to him. You gave in and sighed before giving a small nod.

“If it truely goes horrible this season I’ll see what I can do” he gave you a gently squeeze and a kiss on the head.

“For now, sleep, you’ll feel better tomorrow, who knows maybe your dance with the duke got you some attention” he shrugged and left with a soft goodnight before you laid back on your bed with a sigh.

The duke had frowned when you practically ran off from the dance floor to your mother and left. Apparently, his charms hadn’t worked on you, you were easy prey, young and fresh to the social season. When he saw you across the room he felt his fangs ache and his body being tugged your way. When your sweet sweet scent hit his nose he knew he must have you, hearing your blood pump through your veins like a melody was better than any music being played. Your warmth was radiating, he knew you’d be on fire with a single caress, he was going to have fun this season, you only needed some enticing.

Part 2

#astarion x reader #Duke astarion #x reader #aob #acsended astarion #bg3 #vampires #Bridgerton inspired

222 notes · View notes