#I really like the fontaine tea pot | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lemon-boy-stan · 6 months

Note

Helloooo. Do we leave requests here? I don’t know. I’m just a potato.

anyway, what about Genshin tall men waking up in the middle of the night and thoughts come tumbling in? Could be safe, nsfw, comedy, whatever you like. (But please make Zhongli’s disgustingly sweet because I am so in love with him). Thank you for listening to my ramblings

if this is the wrong method… I’m sorry >.<

Hii!! This is the right way to request!! I'm sure you're not a potato 😭😭 anyway here's your request!! Also I hope you dont mind but I turned it into a full one-shot with zhongli!!! Ummmm yes he has two cocks in this teehee

HERBAL TEA - Rex Lapis x Reader

SUMMARY: Zhongli can't sleep as it's mating season. It's been centuries with him as your husband, but there are still many secrets he has kept hidden from you, many insecurities. GENRE: Fluff, SMUT. Kinda ooc. MINORS DNI. WARNINGS: monsterfucking, breeding, use of the word "pet", "mate", penetration, p in v, unprotected sex, some blood, messy cum, zhongli has a forked tongue, zhongli has two cocks. It's also mentioned that zhongli makes the reader immortal with his icor (that's the ooc stuff). Really filthy smut 😭😭. Also, reader is female!

It was late at night; early morning. You'd woken up suddenly, hearing a loud thud. You looked to the left side of the bed, reaching out for your husband.

Zhongli's side of the bed was cold, and empty. You turned on the bedside lamp, bare chest cold, you scavenged from r the nearest piece of clothing you could find, one of your husband's massive button-down shirts, drowning in it like a dress. You got up, the moonlight shining on your skin.

"Zhongli," you called softly for him. You hugged yourself, walking out of the master bedroom. Zhongli stood at the kitchen table, making a pot of herbal tea. You smiled softly, walking over. He was in his half-dragon form, arms black and shimmering golden. He was growing more comfortable like this, every century since you'd been immortal.

"Morax," you bowed, walking over. He put the teapot down, smiling softly, "my dear, what are you doing awake?" He took your hand and kissed it before twirling you so he could wrap you in his arms. Last night had been one of the best of your life. Zhongli was possessive, but evidently, dragons did not share their treasure, as you had learnt from flirting with a man in the court of Fontaine.

"Your side of the bed was cold," you complained, "I missed you." Zhongli was a light sleeper. As if reading your mind, he hugged you tight, kissing the side of your neck, the texture of his forked tongue making you arch your back in pleasure.

Morax chuckled, "I couldn't sleep, so I wanted to make tea. Then I was reading, but I got distracted... I finished my tea, and I'm making another one... Then I was thinking... My love," he whispered softly, "I need to mate soon." Was that shame in his voice? Why was he ashamed? He bowed his head, "I am getting restless. And now that you are ready, now that I've fed you my ichor for centuries, I must reveal all of myself to you. I can't control it."

Ah. So this at least, explained his sudden change in behaviour. Yes, many years ago, before getting married to him, before becoming immortal, Zhongli had asked, if you were able to withstand so many years of being alive. Yes, you'd told him, he was the man you loved, and you'd gladly be by his side forever.

But he still had so many secrets, he'd said, secrets he wasn't ready to share yet. He was a god, after all. He was a god, yes, but he was also the love of your life. You'd told him this, that eternity with him would be a paradise.

"In order to fulfil the mating process," he explained softly, "I must go through a series of changes. My human form, is quie different to my half-god form, which is why I always make love to you in my human disguise. When I am like this, my body is different. You will notice my tongue is forked. I apologise for hiding it from you for so long, my dear. In order to complete the process... I must... I'm afraid I must... Mate you with both... Both of my cocks."

You gasped, shocked. He looked at you, fear in his golden eyes, which were bright and on the verge of tears. "I am sorry for hiding it for so long," he choked, shame in his voice. "I tried to conceal it, but my body... It's why I was so different last night. Your scent, even after all these years... I needed to mate with you. I understand if you don't want to. I am not sure what will happen. I have never done this before, with a human. I-" you kissed him.

He groaned into the kiss, tightening his grip around your body. You looked up into his big, yellow eyes. "Rex Lapis," you spoke, making his ichor run through him, "you do not understand, do you?" And he cocked his head as you smiled, "I am yours. You asked me all those years ago. I was so in love with you. I am so in love with you. I want nothing more than this. I want nothing more than you, always and forever, to be your wife, to be your mate."

And Zhongli growled. He picked you up, carrying you to the bedroom, throwing you softly onto the bed. "Are you sure you want this?" You nodded, looking up at him, "yes, Rex Lapis, please." And all he did was laugh, "my love, you won't be able to take them."

Zhongli crawled on you, growling and snorting animalistically, the sound of his belt being unbuckled and clattering echoing in the room. "I am not stopping until this cunt is full of my offspring. Do you consent, pet?" You nodded meekly. He was so powerful, even after centuries of drinking his ichor you still felt beneath him.

"I need to hear it, my love. Do you consent?" He kissed your neck, licking his forked tongue up and down your body, making your toes curl. "I consent," you breathed lustfully, "I consent." He let out a hot breath of air, "good." And with that, Zhongli thrust both of his cocks inside of you, no warning and no preparation.

You screamed loudly, pain washing over you at the foreign feeling of his second cock. Had they grown larger? They felt bigger than usual. You sobbed loudly, gripping onto the headboard behind you. Zhongli was only spurred on by the tears. It hurt, but felt so good. This was why he had been training you, you realised, to take both his cock and a crystal toy at the same time. But nothing prepared you for this.

You could feel all of him. All of his rage, his jealousy, his obsession, his greed, his love, his sadness, his happiness, flowing through you, golden waves surrounding both of your bodies in the bed. You moaned loudly, feeling all of his emotions, all of his strength, his power. It was so much. "Feel what I feel," he snarled, "understand what it's like to be in your prescence."

Nothing but his name left your lips, "Zhongli, Zhongli, Zhongli," feeling far too good to think, to even notice the gold blood leaking from your cunt as Morax dragged both of his cocks along your walls. "Do you know how much I've had to restrain my true form?" He roared, ignoring your sobs, thrusting harder each time. "Do you know how fucking insatiable you are? Do you know how weak you make me? You? A mere human? The only human I've ever fed my ichor, the only human I've given my offspring, the only human I've ever loved before?" Do you know how obsessed I am with you?!"

You shook your head, "more, Rex Lapis, more!" Babbling the words through tears, smelling his thoughts and emotions, too overwhelmed with power. Too fucked by both of his cocks. He snorted, slamming them back inside you. You screamed, a painful orgasm crashing down on you. "Yes," he hissed, "yes. Cum all over me, pet. Yes... Cum all around my cocks, just like that. Yes, yes, yes..." Zhongli's groans filled the room, the gold waves growing bigger and bigger.

You were shaking of an orgasm, panting for breath. Zhongli roared loudly, and you could sense it coming, tears streaming down his face, the black and gold of his arms engulfing his entire body as he came, roaring wordlessly through the night, the entire house shaking, drowned in a gold light, smelling of sex. His cum dripped down your legs, there was just so much.

Rex Lapis was still for a while, and you were afraid he was injured. Then he smiled fondly at you, the black and gold evaporating from his body, his half-dragon form morphing back into his human form, although you noticed some things were still in tact. He pulled out and looked at you, uncertainty in his eyes.

"Was I okay?" He was still hovering above you, cleaning your legs and the sheets. You pulled him close to you, kissing him. The tears fell from his face and you realised he was scared. Terrified. You smiled at him softly, "you were beautiful, Rex Lapis, beautiful." And for the first time in his life, the god let out a soft giggle.

GENSHIN IMPACT MASTERLIST

NAVIGATION

Thank you so much for requesting, I hope you liked it!

#zhongli #rex lapis #morax #zhongli smut #rex lapis smut #morax smut #zhongli x reader #rex lapis x reader #zhongli x you #rex lapis x you #morax x you #genshin #genshin impact #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #zhongli imagine #rex lapis imagine #morax imagine

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harmonysanreads · 24 days

Note

hello <3

wishing you freedom and happiness from academic hell before diving in. you opened requests so 👉👈

forgive me if this counts as idea stealing since you posted about it but yan! neuvillette with a darling who wants to file for divorce would be such a messy situation. court proceedings go to him now that the oratrice is no longer functioning. how do you expect to win against the law of the land?

filing divorce in a different land also isn't an option, because it is written in your marriage contract that you cannot leave fontaine without your husband and he sure as hell isn't going to come with you for something like this

oh well.

Jeux de Vagues

Yandere!Neuvillette x Reader

cw(s): yandere, implications of forced marriage, slight dehumanization, manipulation, fontaine archon quest act one spoilers, old married couple bickering (literally)

wc : 3k

hiii zuri!! i have been brainrotting this fic since version 4.0 so thank you so much for just giving me the opportunity to unleash it lol. for plot reasons this takes place between act 1 and 2. i dedicate this fic to all the anons who brain-rotted with me and kept me motivated to think about neuvillette with their creative asks <3 btw you get a 🍪 if you can recognize where the title comes from :>

“Husband, I wish for a divorce.”

In Spring, the snow of the bygone winter thaws and raises the tides. They twirl to the edges of the shores ; push and pull, back and forth, mesmerizing the nation of Hydro with their temptatious dance. You wonder what it'd take to entice the waves to your direction, to have the power to make them rage and placate. When one desires to control something great, they see its reflection upon mundane things — just as you envision yourself dictating the tides upon cups of dainty porcelain, noon to evening and midnight to dawn — your spoon conducts its rhythm.

In Summer, the waters boil and vaporize upon the touch of sunlight to reach the heavens and complete the cycle. Just as wisps of steaming tea tantalize their way upwards from cups and tea pots. Beyond that translucent veil stares back a pair of watchful eyes, undecipherable are their emotions and primordial their age.

“The tides of time heed no one's orders or pleas. Very well, mon trésor, let us begin this trial.”

You're quick to catch the hint and slow to react, deliberate and relaxed as you bring the rim of the cup to your lips. The tea scathes your lips and paints your tongue bitter, bitter, bitter — a smile stretches across your tingling lips, deeming the liquid's taste adequate to your present temperament. You are bitter, not because of the contents of this ‘trial’ but, due to the delay of it. You've been crossing days after days from heaps of calendars, preparing all your accusations and aligning evidence to back up your claims for this chance only comes once every fin de siècle.

“I heard your justice machine broke?” a ‘clang’ accompanies the tea cup meeting the saucer. You focus on the chirping of birds and the noises of crystal flies buzzing past instead of the possible damage done by your words. You hear it, the swell of rising waves before they pacify with a purposeful cough. You don't let the event’s lamentable duration plunder your motivation, more precisely, you take it as a good start.

“Calling it broken is quite the stretch. You and I both know that the Oratrice Mechanique d’Analyse Cardinale—”

You swat a hand and the waves placate completely, sans any questions or any other brewing feelings. “I'm quite aware of what it's called, husband.” ‘I just could not care less’ goes unsaid.

You point your finger towards the Iudex of Fontaine, “You,” then return it back to yourself, “and I, both know the purpose of me bringing that incident up in our private trial.”

No amount of sensory loss would render someone ignorant of the mockery of your words. You bite the inside of your cheek in a lazy attempt to suppress a smirk, times like this really make you regret not having the privilege to face off against Neuvillette in the Court of this land ; you're quite sure your most recent stunt would earn you many bewildered gasps. If only the gates of your husband's manor crashed down, perhaps incapacitating him in the process for good measure.

“...Yes, we do. Your intention is to insinuate the impending prophecy and learn how we plan to prevent or battle it.”

Neuvillette's words resemble velvet in the manner they roll off his tongue, you catch his gaze drifting towards the chalice to his left, from where his reflection returns his stare. There are many tales passed among melusins of the equanimity practiced by your husband in even the most dire situations. But you have seen the depths of the ocean, where its secrets are forever concealed by an ever stretching darkness.

“Correct,” you affirm.

“Unfortunately, mon trésor, our investigations have not yet reached a decisive conclusion. While I can guarantee you that we'll do our utmost in the face of the prophecy, I cannot yet give you the specific details. Besides, this information is quite... arbitrary to our ‘trial’.”

The ocean returns your scrutiny, threatening to yank your breath away to that unknown darkness. You watch the ripples along its surface, wondering and devising plots to uproot the ocean's schemes from your safe space. You want to tear through that ataraxia and illuminate those depths for all to see its hideous secrets — so that your claims will no longer be deemed senseless.

“Well, you could try acting the part of the Iudex first.” you exhibit great interest in your nails.

“Apologies, mon trésor. The trial is now in session.”

The most preposterous trial there ever was, in fact ; spectated by cups of tea and plates of desserts, overlooked by the jury of birds and bees under the naked skies and one stubborn ‘judge’ to lay down the final verdict — who was also the accused in question. It'd be more fitting to call this some courtroom version of playing house and you wonder if Neuvillette sees it as exactly this ; since the notion of normal matrimonial life flies past his head.

You swallow your profound irritation at his nonchalance and that prickling soft gaze, the calm of the ocean surface is just a facade, you remind yourself.

“O honorable Chief Justice of Fontaine, riddle me of what I must do with my husband. He sees fit to cage me down while preaching justice simultaneously and allows me not to indulge in ‘rudimentary interactions’ with any other life forms. Do you not think that such hypocrisy is utterly ridiculous?”

Your hand cradles your heart, fully embracing the spirit of a mistreated spouse. Neuvillette regards it with an almost comical graveness, nodding as though he understands. Had it not been for the situation, you would've marveled at how willingly he's playing along with this fiasco.

A gloved hand stretches out to you in suggestion, “Perhaps it's because your husband just worries too much for your well-being?”

Your right eye twitches, “I’ve made it acutely obvious to him that I'm far from a toddler in need of constant supervision.”

The Iudex smiles succinctly, “I’m sure that he's not ignorant of that fact. But if, as you say, your husband guards you with such determination that you're not allowed to interact with any other forms of living organisms besides himself, it means that you hold great value to him.”

You cross your arms petulantly, it's not that you're forbidden from talking with everyone, many of Neuvillette's most trusted melusines do come to add flickers of color to your otherwise bleak existence sporadically. You're grateful for their kindness and brief companionship but, this small leeway does not outweigh the rest of your husband's misdeeds. Your eyes flicker to the patient eyes of the man separated by one small oak table, barely suppressing a scowl at his serene composure.

You despise it when he acts like the raw image of propriety, of an ideal husband ; so withdrawn from the covetous creature that he actually is — because it poses you as a lunatic, a lunatic who demands separation from what the rest of society perceives as perfection and debilitates all of your claims. The more you think about it, the more frustrated you get — you don't want to let frustration consume you, you don't want to lose this one opportunity for freedom. Your nails dig into the sleeves of your apparel as your mind scrambles to search for more accusations.

Why did you want a divorce again?

You control your erratic breaths forcefully, “Well, I don't feel safe in Fontaine anymore. A deadly prophecy is at our door and with no solution in sight. I'd much prefer to relocate to someplace with less volatile weather, like Liyue or Mondstadt.”

Neuvillette tilts his head, “Ah, you want to go on a vacation, am I correct? To be honest, I've been entertaining the thought of traveling to the other nations with you by my side for quite a while. Though, things being the way as they're now, that is not possible. I can promise you that after everything has been settled, we will go on a journey together, mon trésor.”

This time you don't bother to conceal your disbelief, of course he focuses on the part that most serves him and twists the narrative to further enrich his fantasies! You bite your tongue from yelling that you don't want a vacation, you want freedom from these suffocating high walls of marble. You don't just want freedom from Neuvillette, you want freedom from this cursed nation and it's solely Neuvillette's fault you were unable to do so with your kin five hundred years ago.

“Fontaine will face diplomatic and political consequences soon. Because you threw that Harbinger of Sumeru—”

“Sneznaya, mon trésor.”

“—I know that. My point is that we might face backlash from the Fatui in our vulnerable state and who knows? Fontaine might just collapse as a nation! I don't want to stay in a city like this.”

You freeze at the sigh that escapes Neuvillette's lips, you've been probing and digging for a normal human reaction from this man for a while, but at the instance that he actually gives it, you cannot help but find it jarring.

“Fontaine will not collapse from something as trivial as diplomatic pressure from the Fatui. Even though the prophecy looms above our heads, there are many factions that are actively working towards prevention. And even if Fontaine were to be drowned tomorrow, I have faith that not all of the citizens will be dissolved and you would always be my first priority. As for that Sneznayan Harbinger… we've merely followed the Court's protocols. If we did indeed convict him of crimes he did not commit, we'll most certainly compensate him to the fullest extent allowed by the law.”

For a transient eternity, all that echoed throughout the garden of the Chief Justice were the chirping of birds. Your mind carefully assesses the words from moments ago, searching for even a modicum of dishonesty. You watch the Iudex's unfettered gaze, at last giving a glimpse of the tumults raging beneath the pretentious still surface. You can hear the swelling of waves again, albeit not for the purpose to engulf but, with the determination to protect.

You'd recognize that look on Neuvillette's face even in your (unlikely) deathbed, the causation of your bafflement though is that, this is the first time you've seen it appear in correlation to something other than yourself. Your right hand idly smoothes your garbs and your left grips the wooden handle of your seat, you find both of your palms drenched in sweat upon contact.

“You’ve gone soft, ______”

You blankly admit in your semi-dazed state and it's Neuvillette's turn to take a deep breath. It's been a while since you've spoken that name aloud, the one that is only permitted to be uttered by you in private ambiances such as this and which serves as the origin for this clandestine marriage. For some reason you cannot quite comprehend — especially since your husband does not seem to suffer from it — your memory enjoys having a love-hate relationship with you. From what you recall at this instance, the last time you called the Iudex by his true name was when he gifted you this garden. Its utterance is so rare that even the bearer is rendered speechless each time.

Neuvillette copies your previous antics and pastes it onto the current situation with a prolonged look-over of your person, “Your apparel today suits you most exquisitely, mon trésor.”

You answer with a gracious eye-roll, “Don’t change the subject.”

The Chief Justice of Fontaine straightens his posture with a somewhat bashful chuckle, the afternoon sun's soft hues make the ivory strands of his hair sparkle. “Apologies, I've been meaning to compliment your appearance, not that it is ever short of radiant — I just could not find a suitable opening.”

You submit to the urge to slouch ever so slightly with a sigh, “You don't have to apologize for every little thing, you know?”

“Apologi—” Neuvillette corrects himself with a cough concealed by his fist, you watch with intrigue as soft coral dusts his pale cheeks, “As for your ‘question’, I will admit that throughout my coexistence with humans as Fontaine's Iudex, I've come to appreciate their ideals, characteristics and interpersonal relationships. In a way, I've understood myself to a great extent through observing them. Just as you wished I would.”

You furrow your brows in genuine confusion, “What do you mean?”

Your husband seems to steel himself for something, hands intertwined atop the oak table and eyes drained from his earlier playful light all too quickly. “You’ve always wished to become human. To view this world through the eyes of a mortal, to be able to have a taste of their myriad and complex relationships and... to die alongside someone you truly love.”

Somewhere in the crevices of your archaic mind, there's a vacuum hidden beneath the symphony of sea waves. Unchanging, uncharted and unperturbed by your attempts to identify what used to occupy that space. Neuvillette's cryptic admission creates a crack on what you assumed to be an empty spot occupied by white noise, the cleft dents your memories and spreads, a raucous scream threatens to rupture your eardrums.

“Are you, perhaps,” your fingers clasp onto the silk of your garb, “insinuating that you've granted me my ‘wish’?”

If you had gathered the strength to look up, you would've been blessed with the sight of the Iudex thrown off-guard. But the lapse in composure is short lived, “Of course.”

Something about his easy confirmation annihilates your decorum and replaces it with a rage of unknown origin, “So you think imprisoning me has made me happy? That it's made me feel human? That your kindness and preachings of justice have bewitched me so much that I've considered you as a lover for even a second? No, no and no! I have never and will never stop hating you, ______!”

But why do you hate him? Your thoughts echo back to you ; he's ensured you never have to ask for a meal, he's clothed you, he's provided a solid roof above your head and he's given you his heart — or at least that's what he says. For not once does a memory that he's mistreated you arise in your head but, what does bubble in your heart is an inexplicable hatred. A hatred so grave that it motivates you to not surrender to this unfair trial, contemptuous waves swell, rise to heights unseen, crash down—

“Do not forget that abandoned property belongs to whoever finds it first.”

And drag everything to the ocean's dark depths.

A jolt shakes your whole body, your eyes rise to meet the tempest in disbelief and suddenly, the dam shatters. Now you can see the serpent leering behind the charming flower, an unrestricted view of what the fair and ideal Iudex is inside those glimmering garbs of honor — a dragon with manicured claws and perfumed scales, seated to a chair of judgement yet, forever guilty of a sin he refuses to purge.

Only you remember that Neuvillette wasn't always like this ; in days not noted down in history he'd been an enigma, unsure of the significance of his existence, burning with contempt for the so-called Usurpers and sometimes cruel. But at least, he wasn't a hypocrite. He'd dug his talons deep into your heart and skin and engraved his name within your soul, he'd defiled the waters that construct your being with hatred and malice but at least, he hadn't refused to acknowledge that it was him who shackled you to this godforsaken nation, separated from the rest of your kin.

Neuvillette takes a deep breath upon noticing your erratic trembling, the tsunami recedes. “It always ends like this,”

It does. This excuse of a trial with your freedom as the wager, born of your husband's ironic belief of justice, that you should still be given a chance to speak up against iniquity. He'll take great note of any other issues that might cause you distress, but the actual concern will never be addressed — that's how it's been for five centuries. It is the kind of judge that Neuvillette has become in matters that concern you, finding loopholes to keep you attached to his name yet hidden from prying eyes ; all because of his principle that having a public personal relationship will bring the impartiality of the judiciary system to question.

“However, it must be done to ensure your safety.” you tense as he rises from his seat, gloved fingers trace the silk table cloth.

The grass crunches beneath his heel, “For who knows what the public's reaction would be if it was to be leaked, that the Iudex Neuvillette's spouse was the progenitor of the prophecy?”

You feel the familiar texture of Neuvillette's glove supporting your face, wiping the cascading tears that escaped without your notice. “Do you not remember, mon trésor, that you need me?”

Your vision blurs and all you see is blue, his blue or yours, your mind refuses to confirm. But what it does corroborate are Neuvillette's words, that you would not survive without his care, that you are the first who had wished to become human and that you are the first sinner.

You feel his touch more firmly this time, it's not warm like all the other times ; but soothing and sedating. As though, a cavity within your soul was given meaning and a portion of your memories hidden away. Your eyes are defeated against the temptation of slumber, but before the darkness engulfs you, you vividly hear the rumbling of an ensuing storm, the first of many tears of the sky hitting your skin.

“I suppose this must be my punishment. But, I would rather prefer being the recipient of your scorn and contempt than to not have you at all.”

But why go through such lengths? Neuvillette's conscience asks as he takes your limp body in his arms, the sound of heavy rain follows his footsteps back towards your shared ‘home’.

To this, he consoles himself : the words unspoken are the flower.

Trivia for Jeux de Vagues

#requests: batch two #answered #yandere #yandere neuvillette #yandere neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x you #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #yandere genshin #teabutmakeitazure #neuvillette

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it-happened-one-fic · 6 months

Text

Special Delivery - Wriothesley

Author Notes: It has been a journey in learning how to spell this man's name. This fic honestly just sort of happened. I didn't have a song I listened to while I wrote it and didn't really exactly have an idea either, outside of the fact that I've always though guys should get flowers just like girls. After all, flowers are pretty. I leave it up to you to decide what sort of flower was gifted here though. As per usual, Reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender-Neutral Reader/ Fluff/ Flirtation/ Teasing

Word Count: 1308

Just as it was with other nations, there were many, many different jobs and positions that one could hold in Fontaine.

But yours was very unique.

It wasn’t that you were anything nearly so grandiose as the receptionist to the revered Iudex or the widely-beloved Archon. And you also didn’t work for the Spina de Rosula or The Steambird.

No. You didn’t hold a position quite that illustrious. Instead, you were a delivery person.

You delivered ingredients, bandages, medicine, and, yes, even teas to the infamous Fortress of Meropide. After all, while such commodities were the norm of the Overworld, finding the same goods at the bottom of the sea was hardly possible. So you delivered them. Sometimes making two to three runs between the sunny upper side of Fontaine and the dark prison hidden in the depths.

Your delivery runs were always waited for with bated breath by the people within the massive prison complex. Especially when the denizens of the depths knew you were going to be bringing special commodities, such as books for Sigewinne sent from Monsieur Neuvillette himself.

You strolled through the metal hallways with purpose as you went to make your final delivery for the day, and no one looked twice as you marched right up to the warden’s office and went in with barely even a pause.

Most inmates had no clue as to what you might be delivering to the duke who guarded these halls. You almost always had to make a stop at his office, though, and most preferred not to think too hard about what might be in the box you were carrying.

But, despite their fears, you held nothing quite so terrifying as what they might suspect. In fact, the box you held against your hip always held the exact same thing. Namely, tea.

To be fair, he usually requested an assortment of varying teas, but the regularity of his orders was somewhat concerning, and it might be worth mentioning to Sigewinne as to whether excessive consumption of tea could be detrimental to his health.

You walked up the steps silently as you entered the well-appointed office that you were now quite used to. Though you did have to wonder where the man in question hid his doubtlessly impressive tea stash since all the shelves of his bookcases were filled with books.

“There you are,” Wriothesley’s pale eyes immediately lifted from where he’d been looking at a stack of papers so that he was looking up to where you’d appeared at the top of the staircase as he stood from behind his desk. Almost like he’d been waiting for you. Or rather, more than likely, his beloved tea.

He walked around the desk with a slight smile as he met you halfway and accepted the box from your arm before immediately sitting it down so that he might peer inside at its contents. And you waited patiently as his gaze scanned container after container of fine tea and tea blends, nodding approvingly at certain intervals before he at last looked your way once more, “Perfect as always.”

There was a subtly teasing lilt to his voice that had you smiling before you shifted and revealed what you’d been hiding behind your back with that hand that had not been occupied by tea.

“Special delivery,” You announced cheerily as Wriothesley’s gaze darted between the potted plant in your hand and you. His expression shifting amusingly from curiosity to confusion.

After a brief moment of silence, he sighed, almost as if surrendering, “Y/n, you’re gonna have to help me here. I’m not the most well-versed in the language of flowers, but is this some form of hate mail from the House of Hearth or something?”

You rolled your eyes before handing the fully bloomed flower to him, “No, Sigewinne’s been telling me about how you’ve been staying holed up in your office, and you’ve mentioned that you rarely get to see flowers since you’re usually stuck down here in the fortress. I bought this for you to try and brighten the place up,” You gestured widely to the room as you finished, still smiling at the man who continued to stare at you.

“So you bought this for me?” He clarified with raised eyebrows, causing you to nod in amusement before you saw the glimmer that entered his eyes at your wordless response. A small, childish part of you whispered that you never should’ve entertained the thought of buying him a gift, but you ignored such thoughts.

Instead, you focused on the man in front of you as you braced for whatever it was he was going to say next.

“Well, something coming as a gift from you certainly is a ‘special delivery,’ but I must say, you’ve done what most can’t. You’ve surprised me, Y/n.” He paused, eyeing you closely, before pressing a hand to his chest with a grin slipping onto his face, “I never expected you to try and woo me.”

Somehow, you weren’t even surprised by his words as you leaned relaxedly against his desk and sat the gift down, causing the flower to bob lightly. “And what makes you think that this is me wooing you?”

He leaned forward, that grin still on his face as he spoke once more, “Isn’t that what gifts of flowers usually mean?”

Unperturbed by his teasing, you tilted your head, “Weren’t you the one who just implied that this plant was flower-coded hate mail to start with? And flowers are common get-well-soon gifts anyway; they don’t necessarily have anything to do with romance or wooing.”

“But I’m not sick,” He was quick to point out his apparently good health almost immediately. Straightening with an almost smug grin that had you shaking your head slightly.

You smiled at him innocently, though, automatically reminding him of Siegwinne’s concerns regarding his habit of holing himself up in his office, “But Sigewinne is worried.”

He mimicked your motions, propping against the desk and half-caging you in with his body but still leaving your escape open, “Is this why you've been delivering such especially high-quality teas?”

You grinned slightly, despite yourself, at the man before you gestured lightly to the now abandoned box that sat on his desk next to him, “That’s the brand you always request, Lord Duke.”

His title slipped off your tongue easily, and you stared at each other silently. Wearing matching grins and similarly bright eyes as you each waited for the other one to make the next move.

After a moment, though, he shrugged and leaned back. Seemingly giving up even though that tell-tale glimmer still hadn’t left his eyes, “If you say so. I still find it suspicious, though.”

You held out his receipt for the delivery, watching as he took and signed it obediently before handing it back over. You accepted the slip of paper, having to actually tug it out of his hand as his gaze held yours with that persistently amused smile. But this was becoming a steadily more common set of interactions with you. A careful dance of teasing that he almost always slipped some form of flirtation into.

You were still smiling as you finally managed to free the paper from his grasp without it tearing and without having to grasp it with both hands and yank it out of his hand, “Duly noted.”

He snorted slightly at your words but didn’t respond, and with that you were on your way. Not stopping until you were outside of his office and being greeted by Sigewinne.

“Did he like the flower?” The Melusine’s eyes were wide with giddy curiosity, and you paused.

A smile flickered across your face as thought back to Wriotheseley’s amused grin, teasing tone, and glimmering eyes before you nodded, feeling oddly satisfied with yourself, “You know, I believe he did.”

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otomiyaa · 2 months

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Lyney's Trick

A/N: Fic #3 for the 2-part fics! No tickling yet in this part, so the poll results will really have a lot of influence on how the fic will continue🤭

Summary: Lyney is at a birthday party with many of Aether's friends. Because Lynette and Freminet are a little awkward and stiff, he asks them to help him play a trick on someone. It will definitely guarantee some joy and laughter for his siblings, the person tricked, and everyone else.

It was a fun gathering. Sure it was. They were inside the marvelous Serenitea Pot Realm to celebrate the Traveler's birthday party, and it was rather impressive. Quite many people from all over Teyvat showed up to join the celebration.

The lively Gaming just came off the stage after giving a performance which was soon followed by Furina who was now in the middle of giving a fabulous show of her own. Lyney already had his turn and gave a magic show earlier as well.

"Enjoying yourselves?" he asked Lynette and Freminet. That was the only problem with this gathering. He noticed his siblings were a little shy to socialize with others.

From Fontaine almost all of Aether's friends were here, which was quite surprising. Even Neuvillette, and Wriothesley - but then again, even the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide wouldn't miss a chance to enter the Traveler's infamous Teapot realm and enjoy a cup of the finest tea.

From other nations there were people like the very loud Harbinger Childe, Venti the Bard from Mondstadt, Arataki Itto from Inazuma, Hu Tao from Liyue, just all those personalities combined made it quite lively, loud, chaotic and energetic, so he understood why Freminet and Lynette were a little overwhelmed by it all.

"Maybe we can join them?" Lyney suggested, pointing at the Sumeru table where a few people were playing cards, but Lynette shook her head.

"I'm fine. I drink tea," she said stiffly. Wriothesley, at the same quiet tea-table, nodded proudly.

"It's good tea," he said. Neuvillette merely nodded. Lyney shrugged. He would feel bad to leave them alone so awkwardly, even though he felt a little more tempted to engage with the others, to learn more about their nations, their friendship with Aether, maybe to show them more of his magic tricks and- oh.

A trick. Maybe he could get Freminet and Lynette to open up if they helped him with a trick! Not just a trick. The secret magic trick.

"Guys, do you remember my secret magic trick?" he asked Lynette and Freminet. Freminet shook his head.

"What secret trick?" Lynette asked.

"The one that makes people laugh. Even you, it made you laugh," Lyney said, and he winked. Lynette blushed.

"Oh. That one." She clearly remembered, and Freminet did too since he made a little squeak noise.

"You wouldn't," he said.

"You've got my attention. I am curious now, right Neuvillette?" Wriothesley said. Neuvillette nodded again.

Lyney hummed and gazed around the crowded space. "Well, the secret trick needs a person to try it on. It's a magical trick to make someone laugh, so..." he explained, while he considered the perfect victim. Not anyone from the Fontaine group, the chance was they had seen the trick, heard of it, or witnessed him playing it on people in Fontaine. It was quite popular and effective after all.

So...

His eyes fell on Gaming who was still gathering compliments after his show. He seemed like an easy target, a sweet bubbly and curious person who would definitely want to try it out.

Lyney then stared at Childe, the Eleventh of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers. Very tempting, but being a member of the Fatui as well, he would meet him a little more than others perhaps, and besides, Childe was clever. This scheme could backfire, but at the same time, if he would succeed... Lyney would feel more triumphant than ever.

"NOOOOOOOO!" Lyney almost fell over when a deafening yell could be heard from the Oni, Arataki Itto, who had just lost an Onikabuto battle against the Yashiro Commissioner, Kamisato Ayato. Itto looked like someone who would enjoy a trick like that, and he would most definitely fall for it.

While the Yashiro Commissioner and his sister looked quite elegant in a way that didn't really invite Lyney to trick them, at the same table sat a kind looking guy. Lyney knew he was called Thoma. He looked like he would accept and fall for it... perhaps?

The Mondstadt people were all too busy admiring Furina on stage, and the Sumeru group seemed very invested in their card game, however... Lyney noted the blond guy who seemed a little distracted.

"Kaveh? It's your turn," the fox guy said to him. Kaveh. Hm... Maybe him, but it was a question whether he would accept.

Lastly, Lyney glanced at Aether who was also staring at Furina's show at this moment. He had cute sparkles in his eyes. He was the perfect victim, but honestly, he was also the most dangerous. Lyney would definitely get his ass handed right back to him afterwards, but it could be worth it.

"Well? Who will it be?" Lynette asked, and Lyney smiled when he noticed she actually looked forward to this. Freminet seemed eager too.

With so many people together he was sure they would attract some attention soon, so he had only one chance to perform the prank- er, trick successfully.

#2partfics #genshin impact #lyney #tickling #tickle fic #otomiya!writes #lee!gaming #ler!lyney #ler!freminet #ler!lynette

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lvndrdaaze · 3 days

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Hi hi! I saw that you're accepting req & i want to send a req if you don't mind (you can decline it, up to you)! Sfw headcanons/thoughts/one-shot (it could be anything) for wriothesley with gn reader who secretly writing a fanfic about him with the reader, wrio finds out about it 'cause he finds the paper with their handwriting (oof). Thanks in advance!

hiii! so I'm not usually accepting specific story reqs, but this tickled my fancy for some reason so I wrote a short-ish one shot, I hope you like it!! <3

(gn!reader, reader is an adventurer, one light swear ('asshole'))

Wc: 860-ish

Life Imitates Art

Tea with Wriothesley in his office was normally an innocuous affair. You'd come down to visit between your quests across Fontaine, and share a pot of whichever blend had taken his fancy recently while discussing work or literature or the latest performance you had seen at the Opera Epiclese. All of this while desperately trying to hide your attraction to the surely unattainable Duke.

So, when Wriothesley brought up something he had read recently, nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. That is, until you had asked that fatal question.

"What was it about?"

Wriothesley's face lit up; he couldn't wait to tell you what the story had been about.

"Well, it was a romance story, about an adventurer and a Duke." His answer came in a light, conversational tone.

The whole world seemed to stop for a brief moment. The steady chug of machinery outside of his office went quiet. Even your heart had stopped pounding in your chest. Those papers you had lost...Archons, you prayed you had not left them in his office.

Meanwhile, he sipped his tea casually, hardly even looking at you as he continued to speak.

"The story was written from the adventurer's point of view, so you get to hear all of their deepest thoughts and secrets." Wriothesley said, glancing up at you with the slightest glimmer in his eye.

"I see..." was all you could manage to say, a hot flush growing in your cheeks as you dropped your gaze to stare into your teacup. He was toying with you, and you knew it.

"The adventurer had invited the Duke on a quest with them to Liyue, and they were staying the night in a hotel by the harbour. But, when they got there to check in, disaster struck- there was only one bed." He went on, an unmistakeable smirk in his voice now. "You see, it seemed the adventurer had some hidden feelings for the Duke. So, as you can imagine, sharing a bed with him would be quite the embarrassing situation for them."

"Yes, I can imagine." Your voice came out quietly.

"But, lucky for the adventurer, it turned out that the Duke had also been harbouring some...intense feelings for them. They barely lasted an hour in that bed together before the plot turned rather obscene."

You sighed, barely resisting the urge to facepalm.

"It was well written, all things considered." Wriothesley went on further, leaning back in his chair. Even without looking, you could feel the grin he wore in his words, the predatory gaze burning into your red cheeks as he knew full well he had you cornered.

"And I thought the plot was quite realistic, too."

That brought your attention back to him properly. Your head snapped up to stare at him, confusion written into your expression.

"What do you mean?" You asked in a low voice, a frown tugging on your brow. You didn't love the way he was toying with you in this moment, but his vague statement was enough to give you pause.

"I mean that I think a Duke like that really would reciprocate the adventurer's feelings." Wriothesley stated as though it were a simple fact. "After all, 'the warmth of their smile was enough to melt the ice that had shrouded the Duke's heart in coldness for so long'."

As he grinned wickedly at your gaping expression, you weren't sure whether to laugh or cry. This had been so humiliating for you, and this was the reason for his teasing?

"You're an asshole." You murmured, still burning bright red in a haze of embarrassment. Wriothesley chuckled softly, and pulled a couple of sheets of paper from his desk drawer.

"You left these last time you visited." He informed you with a wide smirk.

"Yes, I worked that part out." You huffed, snatching them from his hand. "And this is how you decided to tell me?"

He laughed again, a lopsided yet handsome grin on his lips.

"Can you blame me for having a little fun with it?" He asked, leaning forward in his seat to rest his elbows on the desk, mirthful eyes surveying you closer from this angle.

"I can, and I will."

But your voice didn't hold the bite that it should, and he recognised that.

"I thought the adventurer liked the Duke's 'dry wit and caustic sense of humour'?" Wriothesley teased.

"They changed their mind. The adventurer thinks the Duke is a cruel, cruel man."

Wriothesley laughed again, an expression of such smugness on his face, you couldn't help but stare. He was so handsome like this, so relaxed and gleeful.

"Well, if you ever change it back, I'd love to take you out sometime." The Duke said simply, dropping all pretence and glancing down to run his thumb over the rim of his teacup. Was that...a hint of pink in his cheeks?

Floundering. That was the word for what you felt. Like a cat tossed into a bathtub, you were in unfamiliar waters. Wriothesley was asking you out, but what could you do but accept?

"Alright, but you have to promise me you'll never bring this up ever again. Like, ever." You emphasised the words heavily, desperately, and Wriothesley flashed a mischievous grin.

"Sorry sweetheart, I'm not promising anything."

#wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x reader fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x reader fluff #wriothesley x reader oneshot

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daybreakrising · 6 months

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@ofluminance: for the moment, it feels like they finally have just that: a moment. so much has happened within the last few days it was hard to tell where one started and another began. the entire time, lumine had been right in the middle of fontaine's future unfolding and she felt.. as if there were still many questions left unanswered.

as charlotte leads sigewinne off to take some photos for the front of the steambird, lumine is left with wriothesley, and suddenly she's not sure what to say. " wriothesley, it's .. really good to see that youre doing well. " looking up at him, lumine's honestly just so happy to see that he's okay. -- but, is she.. okay? in truth, she's not. but, for paimon and everyone else's sake, she kept that fact to herself.

" i think paimon will be okay with charlotte for a little while.. i told her i'd be busy for a bit. can we.. have a cup of tea? " golden eyes lift to wriothesley's, hoping he's understanding of the true meaning behind her words. there's so much she wants to say, but not with all of the underworld listening in.

He has spent so much of his life watching other people. His keen observations were key to survival on the streets, within the Fortress. He's also a master of masking his own vulnerability, so it's easy for him to spot it in other people. From the first moment he met Lumine, he could see there were many things she kept to herself for the sake of those around her. He understood that. He respected that.

But everyone needs to let go once in a while. It's not healthy to keep it all shut away forever. That was something he had to learn for himself, and something he is keen to share with those who need it. So, when she asks for tea, he knows she's not really asking for tea. She's asking for a safe space to let herself feel.

"Do you even need to ask?" He smiles warmly, gesturing towards the door to his office. "In fact, that's a perfect excuse for me to slip away..." He detests the spotlight and, as determined as that reporter is, he's not going to give her any more opportunities to try and coax him into being a feature.

He maintains his easy manner until they are safely shut away in his office, the tea brewing in the pot. She might have only asked as a reason to get away, but he suspects she'll need a cup, regardless. He's picked a nice, soothing blend for that reason. He turns to her, holds out a hand - if she wants a physical connection to ground her, it's on offer.

"Now, while the tea is brewing..." He meets her gaze, softens his voice. "It sounds like you dealt with quite a lot. Are you okay?"

#ofluminance #muse; wriothesley (genpact)#source; g.enshin #v; seriously. don't break the law (main)#;pretending i'm not here (queue)

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fraink5-writes · 11 months

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In the Names of Freedom - Chapter 7

This just missed Mermay, but whatever.

@leio13 is the bestest ever. Thanks for editing my fic!

Summary: After confirming the death of his latest target, Xiao’s secret mission is interrupted by an eccentric stranger in green, who claims to be Xiao’s protector! But the reality is much more convoluted… What destiny could possibly link Xiao with Venti—an assassin of hitmen?

This chapter can also be found on Ao3 here. Without further ado, please enjoy!

Xiao woke up lying on top of his sheets. He couldn't remember falling asleep, but, after multiple days on high alert, his exhaustion must have caught up with him. In the gentle morning light, the Wangshu Inn looked exactly as Xiao remembered it from his childhood stays back when Zhongli went on "business trips": the same wooden furnishings, wall scrolls and lanterns. Even the potted plants had been trimmed to appear unchanged throughout the years. There was the usual chaotic harmony of birds nesting on the roof. But with that, there was an undeniably human whistle—Venti.

For the brief moment Xiao had been transported to his past, he had been able to forget about Venti, but that little peace couldn't last. Xiao had brought Venti here for only one purpose—to get an explanation. His expectations weren't high, but he wouldn't let Venti slip away without answering at least one question.

Xiao had hoped that the calm atmosphere and privacy of the Wangshu Inn would help him broach the tough subjects, but Venti had been drinking incessantly yesterday as if to prove him wrong. Today was Xiao's last chance though, so no matter how disgracefully Venti acted, Xiao would interrogate him.

Venti, back to Xiao, was sitting precariously on the fence of the rooftop balcony, with one foot tucked under the other, dangling leg. His lyre was not far from him, leaned up against the rail.

Xiao inhaled—

"Good morning, Xiao!" Venti swiveled around, a mug in his hand. "This tea's really good! I could drink all day with this—do you have any wine?"

"No."

"Aww… That's what the kitchen said too…"

"You went to the kitchen?"

"Yes—oh! I brought back some almond tofu. It's on the table. Feel free to eat it."

"No thanks." Xiao closed his eyes for a final millisecond of peace. "Venti. We need to talk."

"You want to talk? How uncharacteristic of you!"

Venti looked like he could keep poking fun at Xiao's request forever, but Xiao cut him off. "That's not what I meant. About the other day…"

"Why do we need to talk? After today, I'll be gone—just as you wanted."

Xiao didn't appreciate the provocation, but he chose to ignore it, cutting straight to the point. "I need to understand what happened the other day. Since I was involved, I can't just write it off without any explanation."

Venti brought his mug to his lips and just stared at Xiao over the rim.

"You already know my weakness. It would be a fair trade if you explained your motivations."

"You don't really want to trade information with me, what with my reputation and all."

"You are the one who initiated this relationship."

"You're so stubborn," Venti groaned and put his mug by his foot. "What if I played you a song instead?" He picked up his lyre and began plucking a few notes.

"Venti…"

Without missing a beat, Venti snapped back. "Don't you know it's rude to interrupt a bard's performance?"

Xiao grumbled silently. Normally, he wouldn't tolerate such obnoxious behavior, and he loathed making an exception for Venti, but he also knew Venti well enough to realize this song was the only answer he would receive.

The cheery melody from Venti's lyre mellowed out.

In the lakes of Fontaine, there was a school,

where each small fish hadn't even a name.

The tiniest fish knew only to swim,

and every day proceeded the same.

But one strange day, she strayed far from the group,

lured by the music from the shores above.

Upon the banks was a lonely human,

whose songs taught the fish the meaning of love.

Music freed the fish from monotony,

and, each day, she would listen to his song,

longing to escape her watery cage,

for upon the earth she wished to belong.

Alas, one night, the bard's songs became screams,

and his body was set adrift at sea.

The fish wept, for the dream had also died.

The luster of humankind had faded.

As the fish's tears bled into the lake,

her grief transformed her from fish into girl

with human breasts and a shimmering tail,

and a voice as rare as an oyster's pearl.

And with her new voice, the mermaid did sing—

ballads of the past and odes of yearning.

Her siren song would lead sailors astray

into the depths, past hope of returning.

Although it was Xiao's first time hearing the poem, it didn't surprise him very much. The romantic themes and dubious ending blended well with Venti's existing repertoire. And even Xiao had to admit that Venti's music was probably his most honest form of expression. Still, it was too abstract for Xiao to draw any solid conclusions.

“So this fish…” Xiao began to prod, “Are they really from Monstadt?”

Venti didn't look up from his instrument, still plucking the occasional note. “…Yes.”

Venti's evasive response confirmed Xiao's theory: the poem really was about him. While his origins were unclear, they were unimportant to who he was. The critical moment was when Venti met an unnamed bard who inspired Venti to go into the field himself. Still, whether the two had actually met was a mystery, but it was obvious that Venti had developed an infatuation. Then, the bard died, and Venti's life spiraled out of control. Even if Venti breezed over it lightly, this was the part Xiao was most interested in. "There's one detail I don't really understand—why does the mermaid kill humans?"

"Huh?" Venti's head popped up.

"She lures them to their deaths with her voice." Xiao paused, waiting for Venti's nod in agreement. "Why? Does she hate humans?" What drove you down this path? It was an imprudent question, but maybe under the thin guise of the song, it would work.

"Hate humans? No, never. The mermaid fell in love with humanity a long time ago." Venti's gaze drifted beyond Xiao. "But she can never forgive the humans that kill each other…"

So then his target really was only murderers—including hit men. It was a distorted version of justice, inspired by the unfair death of the bard. But something still didn't add up…

"Then why are you helping me? Why didn't you kill me when you had the chance?"

"Well, that's like asking why you're a hitman!" Venti laughed.

"How is that alike? It's my job because I'm good at it."

"You kill people just because you're good at it? How callous…"

Xiao's blood simmered. "That's not the point! Stop deflecting!"

"Well, the answer's not all that interesting… My intel from previous missions pointed me in your direction. As the best in the business, surely working with you would provide me with plenty of opportunities. As for why I saved you that time, that's even easier… We're partners."

"We were just cooperating temporarily."

"That's what partners do."

"I'm not suited to having a partner, and nor are you."

"In other words, you think I'm going to try and kill you when I'm done with you?"

"Isn't that how you dealt with your previous 'partners'?"

"That's impossible here. When will I ever be 'done with you'? You have so much more potential left untapped! And…" Venti's grin darkened. "There's no point in killing someone who's not alive."

"What are you suggesting?"

"Just that. Right now, you're just a pawn in someone's hand—a weapon for murder. With no drive or desire, do you know anything about being alive? You'll never learn by just listening to orders; you have to discover what it means to be 'Xiao' by yourself."

Xiao clenched his fists. "What do you get from criticizing my way of life? You're nothing but a self-righteous hypocrite. How can you know how to live when you hide behind the shadow of someone already dead?!"

"How dare you say that?!" Venti jumped off his perch. With his eyebrows furrowed and lips scowling, his face was a rageful red Xiao had never seen before. "I have to do what I do—because I'm the only one left! Maybe you wouldn't understand because you've never cared about anyone!"

There was a knock on the door. “Xiao?” It was Yanxiao. He must have grown concerned when Xiao hadn't paid him a visit.

Without a word, Xiao turned to the door, but Venti quickly slipped past him. He opened the door and slid past a confused Yanxiao. Then he disappeared with a cold whisper. “He's all yours.”

Yanxiao awkwardly waddled in. “There's almond tofu downstairs. Are you hungry? Or did you already eat?”

“No, I haven't. Thanks. I'll go eat in the kitchen.”

“Good. That'll make the boss happy.”

Xiao followed Yanxiao down to the basement kitchen. Verr and Huai'an were already sitting at the small table tucked away in the corner. Greeting Xiao's arrival with excitement, they both seemed eager to hear his stories, but Xiao wasn't in the mood to talk. He was still reeling from Venti's outburst.

Venti was wrong about Xiao—he had people he cared about. In fact, he was eating breakfast with two of them at the very moment. Xiao didn't need to devote his life to avenging them because he would never let anything happen to them.

But even Xiao had to admit his line of thinking was too harsh. He was simply incapable of understanding Venti's grief—because he was lucky, and because he kept all his emotions sealed. As an assassin, there was no skill more invaluable, but maybe from another perspective Xiao was incapable of seeing, he was lacking. He had no idea how he would react if Zhongli, Verr or Huai'an were to die; would he be overcome with sorrow or rage? Or would he feel nothing? Xiao shivered at the prospect. Ugh… What did Venti's words matter? He was gone now. All Xiao needed to concern himself with was the mission ahead. Still, the thought of Venti being right about him shook his resolve. He shoveled almond tofu in his mouth to avoid thinking, but even his favorite tofu felt rough.

#Genshin Impact #Xiaoven #Xiao #Venti

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dearly-beeloved · 15 days

Note

umm multiples of 5 for herpetology because i'm insane for them idc <3

so am I heehee

thank youuuu

5. Describe their cozy night in.

each of them selecting a course to make for a three-course meal (so, for example, Zhongli makes the soup, Baizhu the main, and Aedin the dessert) for all three of them (and the children, as and when they eat with the three of them), and pot after pot of tea. Zhongli starts telling stories as the night winds down.

10. Describe their first date.

Baizhu and Aedin went stargazing, and Aedin and Zhongli went for a walk through the harbor at night so the lanterns were lit (not beating hte moth allegations)

The first date Zhongli and Baizhu went on was to Qingce Village, to go bamboo gathering for Zhongli and for Baizhu to run an errand, but then they made a date of it!

15. Do they always say ‘i love you’ before leaving?

they don't always say I love you, but they do always kiss (or something similar, if Aedin is sick--she doesn't want to get Baizhu sick. that's not an issue going either way for him with Zhongli, so they kiss goodbye with abandon, and Zhongli kisses Aedin no matter what for the same reason)

20. Choose one song that perfectly describes their relationship.

Hozier's All Things End

"And just knowing That everything will end Should not change our plans"

25. Do they have any hobbies they share?

Aedin and Baizhu share botanical pharmacology; Zhongli and Aedin share tea as an interest more than a hobby but the point stands; Baizhu and Zhongli have some historical shared interest but don't really share any hobbies (and they work together sometimes)

they all share low-intensity hiking as a hobby too c:

30. Your OTP gets to pick out each other’s outfits; what is each wearing?

Aedin is taking that vest and coat off Zhongli for the love of god. it's a gorgeous coat but good lord (of geo) she's leaving him in his button down and slacks and going to be fawning over him and checking him out all day. for Baizhu, she's putting him in comfy pajamas/loungewear (but no satin or Changsheng is going to slip off his shoulders XD)

Zhongli would pick out ancient formalwear for Aedin, since it's just for one day. she can put her feet up or focus on her writing and nothing else all day. For Baizhu, he'd pick something modern and pretty from Fontaine. (he has a good chuckle at Baizhu in a cravat)

Baizhu would pick an herb-gatherer's apparel for Aedin, tutting about this is what she's supposed to be wearing to go gathering. For Zhongli, he would pick out something warm and probably woolen.

35. Who’s more artistic?

Aedin! (then Zhongli, then Baizhu.)

40. Who has an insatiable appetite? And what does the other do to help?

Zhongli, hands-down. Dragon's maw takes everything into it except seafood.

45. Can they fall asleep without the other?

They each can, but prefer to sleep around one another (Zhongli has the easiest time sleeping without either of them; Baizhu has the hardest)

50. who’s more likely to do something out of spite?

Zhongli hehehe

55. Do they like watching clouds or star gazing?

they like doing both! Aedin has gone stargazing with both of them individually and together, and they cloud-watch casually many days!

60. Who pulls the other closer when they’re sleeping?

Zhongli; he gets "this is my hoard" dragon-y about both of them XD

#thank you!!#herpetology 💚🧡💚#Dae 🐉🌻

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after-witch · 3 years

Text

A Simple Cup of Tea [Yandere Scaramouche x Reader]

Title: A Simple Cup of Tea [Yandere Scaramouche x Reader]

Synopsis: You have to be prepared and poised and perfect. But it’s hard to be all those things, even with the looming threat of your husband sitting next to you, when you’ve got a secret hidden underneath your clothes...

Word Count: 1875

Notes: yandere, forced marriage, abuse, bondage, NSFW

Poised.

You must be poised. Every movement, every gesture, must embody a quiet grace. Your face must be pleasant, without seeming garishly joyous. Your voice must be soft, melodic, clear; yet loud enough to be heard without being required to repeat yourself.

You must know how to keep a conversation going smoothly, like water in a stream, yet understand when to keep silent. You must know all of these things and so much more, and act on them at all times in the proper degree; all in order to avoid embarrass yourself and more importantly, embarrassing your husband.

In other words, you must be perfect.

And you try--you have to try, because what other choice does Scaramouche leave you?--but it’s difficult. You were never born for this stifled life he’s pushed you into, for a life spent mostly within the walls of his home or at most, behind the high, impenetrable walls of the courtyard.

A life draped in rich clothing, overseeing fine details of the estate that make your head spin. How many bags of this or that must be ordered per week? When should the bedding in that room be washed? What is the appropriate amount of money to put in a servant’s purse when sending them to the market? Questions you never imagined yourself asking yourself, which now fill your day with a gilded tedium.

There’s a deceptive leisure lurking underneath everything here. True, you no longer have to travel far and wide, selling your family’s wares from heavy baskets carried on your back; you no longer have to search the edges of the forest for edible plants to toss into boiling broth on days when you could not afford meat. You never want for food (unless he takes your dinner away as punishment) and any comfort you could need is within reach, so long as you’re behaving.

But you are on edge, always. Preparing yourself for another pitfall that might open up beneath your feet, and always looking for ways to improve yourself. Or at least ways to avoid earning your husband’s sharp disapproval. Regardless of your efforts, you have been on the wrong end of a harsh insult, a slap, a pinch, a cane, more times than you care to count.

Be prepared, be poised, be perfect. It’s the mantra you repeat to yourself every morning.

The mantra you repeated to yourself this particular morning, in preparation for a meeting he insisted you attend. A meeting which apparently required your finely-tuned skills in pleasing conversation and your much-practiced ability to “pour a passable cup of tea.”

Anyone else might assume it was meant to be an insult, but your time with Scaramouche has led to you to understand that the slightest praise towards you, while minuscule to others, was something you were meant to fall on your knees and thank him for. Sometimes literally, depending on his mood.

Why he wanted you to pour tea for some delegates from Fontaine, and what their increasing presence in the area really meant, you didn’t know. But it wasn’t your place to ask him, and the memory of recent stinging pain on your backside keeps you from feeling even remotely tempted to broach the subject.

So here you are. Dressed elegantly, but not garishly, as is proper for his wife. With a tea pot in your hand and perfectly arranged cups and the ghost of a pleasing smile on your face. Charming words drip from your lips, pleasantries, pleasantries, pleasantries--the type of words Scaramouche loathes yet drums into you all the same.

Prepared, poised, perfect.

Except for the slight tremble of your hands.

Except for the uncomfortable hitch in your breath as you speak.

Except for the fact that there are ropes tied snugly around your breasts, wrapping around your chest and criss-crossing between your breasts with an uncomfortable pressure, all hidden underneath the outfit he’d chosen for you that afternoon.

You’d balked, first--then begged. Begged not to be humiliated like this. What if someone sees? What will people say? You’d even tried to appeal to his pride, suggesting that if you couldn’t fully concentrate on your duties, well, how would that reflect on him?

All that earned you was a glint of a smirk and a tug as he knotted the rope encircling your breasts, making it even tighter than before. His final threat at your continued pleading--”I can always make you go out in nothing but the ropes”--finally shut you up.

And so, here you are. Face hot with shame and something more, silently pleading that your clothing won’t somehow shift and reveal the secret underneath. Despite the layers covering you, you still feel naked, exposed. As if the people indulging in polite conversation can see right through you, see the way your breasts are framed by the itchy ropes. See the way your body is responding to such a total humiliation.

It’s not just the chafing rope that bothers you. It’s the pressure itself. It feels… no, you don’t want to think about how it feels.

Instead, you hone your focus in on the task at hand. Pouring the tea, a nice subtle blend made with Violetgrass flowers. A previous round of guests from Fontaine had enjoyed it so well that Scaramouche had you tell the teashop to start stocking up for future visits.

You wish you could hide the way your hand trembles ever so slightly as you pour the last cup of tea for a woman whose name you regrettably can’t remember. You normally repeat their names over and over in your head, lest you forget and endure Scaramouche’s sharp tongue (if not his cane) later on; but your predicament made it impossible to keep track of new information.

You might be able to enjoy the tea, enjoy the facsimile of polite conversation weaving its way around the table, if only you weren’t so distracted by the tightness, the chafing, the undeniable fact that--oh Archons above, that all of this was making your nipples humiliatingly hard underneath your clothing.

“Do you agree, wife?”

All eyes glance at you. Whatever Scaramouche just said had clearly be addressed to you, only you were too distracted to notice.

In the moments that you’re left half-gaping, mentally groping to somehow pull his previous words out from the ether, his hand snakes around your waist. You feel his fingers on the outside of the soft fabric, searching until they find their intended target--the knot--and tugging hard to tighten it further.

You gasp, your body lurching upward and forward at the sudden sensation of your breasts being squeezed, and the tea pot you’re still holding drops to the table. Time seems to slow to a thick crawl, and you can see the pot is not cracked, but tipped over, hot tea spilling onto the table underneath with abandon.

The sight of the dark brown stain spreading, trickling underneath saucers and cups, leaves you helpless until you force your shaking hands to grab the pot and set it back up on the table.

“I, I--” you start to stutter something. An apology? An explanation? But the constricting ropes and the dawning realization that you have just committed an extensive social faux pas--in front of guests, no less--leaves you helplessly unable to speak.

The guests, for their part, look suitably uncomfortable. The woman whose name you can’t remember is holding onto her cup, saving it from being intercepted by the trickling tea. You don’t know whether their looks are because of your embarrassing display or because they know your husband’s reputation, and feel pity for you. Perhaps a bit of both.

Scaramouche’s voice cuts through the tension, though it does nothing to lessen it.

“I apologize for my wife’s clumsiness,” he says. “I should have realized that she wasn’t up to the apparently complex task of serving tea.” His voice is dripping with condescension, making more heat rise to your cheeks.

Humiliation does not begin to describe what you feel as he gently--public appearances, you think--takes your arm and stands, bringing you with him.

“Perhaps you are ill.” He looks you up and down, faux-concern written all over his face. But you know what he’s really thinking about, as his eyes linger on your chest for a fraction longer than they should.

You swallow hard, and do your best to nod. It doesn’t take any effort to look ashamed at what’s transpired.

“I--I have been feeling unwell,” you say, making sure to project loud enough for the audience he’s curated for you. “I may be too tired.”

He shakes his head, as if he can’t believe your silliness. A silly, silly wife--that’s what you are. Never mind that it’s all his fault. Never mind that he chose to do this to you, and chose to do it in front of guests.

A small, bitter part of you resents the guests for being there at all, resents the fact that they probably know you’re an unwilling ornament to the Harbringer’s obsession but do nothing about it.

But what good does resenting them do, when it won’t change your fate?

He takes your hand and gives it a pat, each touch patronizing to the core.

“Apologize to our guests and go rest. And send someone more capable to clean up your mess.”

You have to apologize for the fact that you spilled tea due to his decision to engage in some perverse bondage in a public fashion. You have to apologize for the fact that he deliberately made you do it, too, knowing how you might react when he pulled the rope.

It’s horrible and humiliating and unfair.

But you do it anyway.

Turning towards the guests, gaze downcast with shame, you force out an apology; keeping your voice soft and melodic and clear, as expected.

Then you retreat as calmly as possible, feeling everyone’s gaze--but especially his--on your back as you leave. You catch the eye of the nearest servant as you make your way back to the bedroom, laying out the quickest version of events and not relishing the look of anxiety that crosses their features at the thought of dealing with Scaramouche after such an apparent social travesty.

But you only have enough energy to consider your own anxieties, so you continue on without thinking more about them.

Walking only seems to make the feeling of constriction worse, and you bite down on your lip as your sensitive nipples begin rubbing against the fabric with every step. It feels good, it feels bad--whatever it is, it’s all too much, and you want nothing more to cut off the ropes and hide until the morning.

Not that you have the courage to risk such an endeavor.

You don’t feel any calmer by the time you reach your shared bedroom, but at least your humiliation is a private one, now. And you can rest, at least until he’s finished for the evening. For a moment, you simply stand still, bringing your arm across your chest and pressing to provide some pressure, some relief, to your sensitive breasts.

There’s an undeniable twist in your stomach when your arms brush against your nipples, and you hate it, and you love it, and you feel just as sick and perverse as he is when you slide a hand inside your clothing and give one aching nipple a pinch. You rub your legs together and ah, there it is--the pleasurable tingling and beginnings of wetness, and well, why not give yourself some pleasure, you think; why not give yourself something good and pleasant before he comes in and ruins everything with whatever sick punishment he’s concocting?

It’s not until you make to curl up on the large bed, eager to relive the tension building inside you, that you see the scroll wrapped up on the pillow. With a sense of justifiable dread building in your stomach, you sit, and unfurl it.

The words are written in Scaramouche’s familiar handwriting:

“Take off your clothes. Lay down and spread your legs on the bed until I return. Don’t touch yourself. I will know if you haven’t followed my instructions.”

Bastard, you think. As if your humiliation today wasn’t strong enough. Your hands go to undue the fastenings keeping your clothes together, and the first hints of bare skin leave you with anticipatory goosebumps. How long would you be expected to be on the bed, presenting yourself for his apparent pleasure?

Bastard, bastard, bastard.

But--well. At least he didn’t tell you to bend over the caning stool again.

#yandere scaramouche #yandere genshin impact #scaramouche x reader #yandere #afterwitch writes

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jeongyunhoed · 3 years

Photo

8 Stories, 8 Movies from the Golden Age (1930s to 1960s).

It’s the golden age and 8 men are the most sought-after actors in Hollywood. Lights, camera, action!

A tale of love and suspense, Park Seonghwa is haunted by the memory of his deceased wife, a shadow looming over the halls of his mansion. When he marries again, his new wife now comes to realize that even in death, his wife still remains.

Daphne

Warnings: Mentions of murder, death, suicide, and illness. Might have some innuendos, might not. But I’m putting these warnings out there regardless.

Other things to note: There are OCs. I might mention other idols (most likely NCT).

A/N: This is the first series of 8, and broken into three parts. Tag list is open if anyone is interested. Enjoy.

Masterlist

Part 1

An overcast day at a resort. She managed to get away from the crowds of men in suits and women snootily drinking cups of coffee and tea, among those women being her employer, Mrs. Oh. She walked along the pathways, sketchbook and pencils tucked under her arm as she admired the perfectly manicured gardens. She had been here before, they always made it a point to come back every now and then, mostly for her employer to rub elbows with the elite. That didn’t interest her much. She preferred the simpler things and was more than content with her situation, save for her employer herself.

From a slight distance, she could see a figure standing near the edge of the cliff. It was a man, tall and lean and fashionably dressed with jet-black hair and his hands were in the pockets of his trousers. She stopped in her place, observing what he was doing. He seemed to be looking over the cliff a little too closely, almost as if he was about to jump off.

“No! Don’t do it!” She yelled, hurrying towards him.

The man turned around. He was incredibly handsome yet his expression only betrayed confusion. “Excuse me?”

She paused. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to stare, it’s just because you were standing way too close to the edge, I thought you were about to-”

“Jump off?” He said. “I wasn’t going to jump off. What are you doing here?”

“I was only walking by when I saw you and I-”

“Then keep walking.”

“Sorry,” She muttered, feeling the embarrassment sink in. He passed by her without another word. He looked troubled, and she was certain that if he wasn’t thinking of jumping off, he seemed to be thinking of something else that was just as sad, or as his expression was, troubling. She watched him get in his car and drive away. She turned to go back down the path where she came from, figuring that Mrs. Oh was probably yelling for her already, or at least sending a waiter to look for her.

That was her life, a paid companion to an aging socialite or as what many might have bluntly described it, caregiver. Of course, she also knew Mrs. Oh would never dare use the more direct term, as it would only imply that she was getting too old and that she couldn’t keep up with her peers, both young and those of her age.

By the time she arrived, she saw Mrs. Oh already sitting by the door, sipping coffee and helping herself with a few biscuits from the tin on the table. She sat down across from her employer.

“I don’t think I’d want to come back here after the peak season. There’s hardly a single well-known person in this place,” Mrs. Oh frowned, putting her cup down. “This coffee’s gotten cold, waiter!” She raised her hand to try and get a server’s attention.

“I don’t think they can hear you,” She replied.

“Then make yourself useful, will you? What are you being paid for?” Mrs. Oh said, almost gesturing for her to get up from her seat until she stopped, her eyes lighting up like a wolf having seen its prey. “Oh my, that’s Park Seonghwa, look, he’s coming this way,” She gestured for her to look over.

Her eyes widened slightly when she saw the same man she saw earlier by the cliff now coming towards them. Mrs. Oh knew him, and she figured it wasn’t surprising that she did, from the way he was dressed and the air about him as he approached them. “What are you looking so surprised for?” Mrs. Oh asked her, having noticed her expression.

“Nothing, I just-I just saw him earlier on my walk,” She said quietly.

Mrs. Oh ignored her. “Mr. Park Seonghwa! How do you do? I’m Mrs. Oh, do sit down and have some coffee,” She held her hand out to him and Seonghwa gently shook it. “You can go now, Mr. Park and I will have coffee.”

As soon as she was about to get up, Seonghwa shook his head. “I think you’re mistaken,” He glanced at her. “Both of you should have coffee with me,” He stopped a waiter that was passing by. “Excuse me, I’d like three coffees at this table.”

The waiter nodded and walked off, and Seonghwa sat down across from them. She felt his gaze from time to time and the more she couldn’t help but look back, the more she noticed how handsome he really was. Yet, there was also a kind look to him, a big shift from his troubled aura earlier.

“I recognized you just as soon as you came in. So, how are you enjoying your stay here, Mr. Park? I assume you’ve been playing the tables at the nearby casino? You must be very good at baccarat,” Mrs. Oh said, her voice dripping with sweetness that it almost made her a little sick.

Seonghwa smiled, thanking the waiter for bringing over the pot and pouring coffee for them before walking off. “I’m afraid I’ve gotten bored of those games,” He answered, taking a sip.

“I don’t blame you one bit. If I lived in a place like the Fontaine, I would never really come here anyway,” Mrs. Oh replied with a high-pitched chuckle that she reserved when talking to someone in her social circle in public. “I heard it’s one of the biggest places in the country.”

“Would you like some more coffee?” Seonghwa sat up, one hand already holding the pot and poised to pour.

“Oh yes, thank you, Mr. Park,” Mrs. Oh smiled, as the man poured some in her cup.

“And you?” Seonghwa turned to her. “Would you like some more coffee?” He asked.

“Oh, n-no thank you, I’m fine,” She managed to say.

“How are you enjoying this place? Or aren’t you enjoying it?” He asked, his tone was a lot softer this time.

She felt her cheeks heat up. “It’s slightly artificial, at least to me,” She muttered, putting her cup down.

Mrs. Oh side-eyed her. “Girls her age, spoiled, aren’t they? Anyone would give their eyes just to be able to come here.”

“Wouldn’t that defeat the purpose?” Seonghwa smiled from behind his cup and she couldn’t help but purse her lips to stifle a laugh.

“Are you staying here very long? Now that we’ve found each other again, I hope we do see each other a lot here,” Mrs. Oh asked him.

“No I’m not, I’m afraid,” He replied. “Are you?”

“We’re staying quite a bit, yes,” Mrs. Oh replied. “Maybe she can make herself useful and help you with your bags.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have much of those either. I’ve always said, he who travels fast tends to travel alone, you probably haven’t heard of it, excuse me,” Seonghwa put his cup down, got up and walked off.

The two of them exchanged looks, Mrs. Oh looking particularly taken aback by his abrupt departure. She helped her stand, handing over her cane that she had leaning by the chair. “Well, what do you make of that?” She muttered. “...Was he intending to be funny? He must not have realized-”

She led Mrs. Oh to the elevator, glancing back every now and then in case he was still around. The doors opened. “Going up?” The elevator operator asked, and they nodded, Mrs. Oh still trying to make sense of what just happened.

“He probably mustn’t have realized it, poor thing. He’s probably still trying to cope with his wife’s death,” Mrs. Oh said as they got in. “They said he simply adored her.”

She went to sleep that night thinking of her unusual encounter with Seonghwa. It seemed too good to be true what happened the previous day. He told her off one moment, he was having coffee with her the next. Even with his shift in mood, she found him charming, and it wasn’t at all surprising knowing that he was once off the market. But knowing that he was once married and now a widower as Mrs. Oh had said, made her think that men like him don’t usually hang around with girls of her sort.

Leaving Mrs. Oh to eat her lunch the next day, she brought her sketchbook and pencils to go on another walk along the path, partly hoping that she would see him again. She entered the hotel’s restaurant, making a beeline for the table that only seated one person and as she sat down, she accidentally knocked over the small vase of flowers on the table. Water spilled out and she got up, flustered and trying her hardest to clean it up before the water could flow out any further. “Oh I’m so sorry,” She apologized profusely, while a few waiters gathered around the small puddle to try and clear up.

As she stood back up, clearing herself from the mess, she saw Seonghwa, seated at the next table. “You can leave that, you can join me here at my table,” He said to her, standing up as if to greet her and gestured to the empty seat across from him.

“That’s-that’s very kind of you but I couldn’t-”

“I wasn’t trying to be polite,” Seonghwa pointed out. “I should’ve already asked you to join me earlier if I knew you were that clumsy, but even if you weren’t, I’d still have invited you. Come, have lunch with me instead,” He said. “We don’t need to talk to each other if we don’t feel like it.”

He was unlike anyone she had ever met, and it fascinated her all the more as she accepted his offer, carefully seating herself down at his table. It almost felt like she wasn’t worthy yet she couldn’t refuse his offer any more than she did the first time. “Thank you.”

“Where’s your friend?” He asked.

“She’s having her lunch in her room. She came down with a cold last night,” She replied.

“I’m sorry for my rudeness yesterday,” Seonghwa said. “I don’t have much of an excuse but that I guess I’ve become a little more standoffish since I’ve been living on my own at the Fontaine,” He explained. “Is Mrs. Oh a relation to you? Or is she just a friend?”

“No, she’s my employer,” She said quietly. “I’m what you call a paid companion.”

“I didn’t know companionship could be bought,” Seonghwa looked down at his cup of coffee. “Are you going out to sketch again?” He said.

“Yes, yes I was,” She nodded, glancing at the thick book and the pencil case at the side of their table.

“Where are you planning to go?” He asked.

“I-I don’t know yet.”

“I could drive you in my car,” Seonghwa offered.

“That’s very kind of you, but-”

“I insist,” Seonghwa reached over, his hand on top of hers. “Let me drive you around, you’ll get to a place you might like much faster.”

She felt her heart pound at the contact. She was finding it hard to look him in the eye yet she could see from her peripheral vision that he was smiling. If he smiled at her any longer, she might’ve already fallen in love, and she had a feeling that she was going to.

The drive outside the hotel and around the scenic parts of the resort was quiet between them. Even when Seonghwa was at the wheel, she couldn’t help but admire his features, and the calm look on his face as he steered, slowing down every now and then in front of spots that he felt she might like. She felt like Cinderella, being taken around by a handsome prince. Cinderella with a sketchbook in hand, she thought as they finally stopped at the spot she preferred. If anything, she’d want to sketch him instead of the view.

She brought out her pencils and flipped her sketchbook open as she sat on the bench overlooking the view of the ocean. She noticed Seonghwa get out of the car as well, pacing back and forth at the side as the wind hit their faces. The troubled look on his face had returned, and it made her cross out the drawing she already had in front of her and turn the page over to a fresh one.

“A perfectionist?” Seonghwa suddenly asked her, having observed her this whole time.

“You’re not exactly a very easy subject,” She admitted. “Your expression keeps changing.”

Seonghwa looked a little surprised. “Wouldn’t it be better that you draw the view instead of me? The view out here is a lot nicer,” He said.

She didn’t argue, and instead started sketching the waves that crashed against the rocks and the sky. She didn’t want to keep him waiting, and she paused, noticing that he was staring at the boat that was tied next to the rocks. It was making her curious as to what he was thinking and why he looked as troubled as he did, especially whenever he was looking out at the sea.

“I went on vacation in this seaside village once,” She tried to keep up the conversation again. “I was at the souvenir shop when I saw a postcard that had a very big, very beautiful house on it,” She recalled. “I asked whose house it is and they said it’s the Fontaine.”

“Yes, the Fontaine is beautiful, to everyone,” Seonghwa mumbled, sounding grim. “To me it’s just the place I was born in and the place I’ve lived in all my life.”

She sensed that there was something with the way he said it. She looked over at her drawing. It was of him, standing at the side, his handsome side profile prominent against the backdrop of the ocean. “Well, at least we came here when the weather is good, right? At least the weather is good here at this time of the year. The water’s warm, I could stay here all day,” She said. “It’s terrible when it rains, I heard a man drowned here last year, but I’m not really afraid of drowning, are you?”

Seonghwa’s expression changed, from slightly troubled to even more so. “Why did you say that?”

“I- Did I say something offensive? I didn’t mean to, Mr. Park,” She said.

“Let’s go, I’ll take you home.”

He passed by her again without another word, this time to go back to the car where he sat in the driver’s seat. She glanced over at him. She felt the need to apologize, yet there seemed to be no point in doing it. It made her remember what Mrs. Oh said about him. Seonghwa must still be grieving over his wife’s death.

She returned to their suite at the hotel a little while later, still trying to process the definite shift in mood earlier. As she removed her shoes and jacket, she overheard Mrs. Oh talking to someone on the phone.

“Yes, yes, I knew him well. I knew his wife too,” Mrs. Oh said. “She was the beautiful Daphne Yoo, you know. The most glamorous woman in this part of the world. She drowned, poor thing, while she was sailing near the Fontaine, god bless her soul.”

It hit her. There it was, the reason why Seonghwa got upset.

The days after that seemed like a blur to her, as they spent mornings driving around, taking the scenic routes. It was Seonghwa’s suggestion, that she spend hours in a day away from Mrs. Oh at a time, but she didn’t complain. She wouldn’t have it any other way when it came to him. He was really like a prince, mood swings and all. Every time he was near, she felt her heart pound, and her cheeks would heat up whenever his hand touched hers and it made her wonder how on Earth did she get the chance to spend time with someone as prominent as Park Seonghwa.

“Sometimes I wish someone invented a machine that could bottle up a memory like how you do with perfume,” She mused as they looked out at the view from the car. “So whenever I wanted to revisit a memory, I’d just open it.”

“What kind of moment would you like to keep?” Seonghwa turned to her, a small smile on his face as he turned the engine on and began to drive.

“These-these last few days,” She said, a dreamy sigh escaping her.

“Those bottles can sometimes hold demons that have their ways of popping out at you just when you’re desperate to forget about them,” He muttered.

“Of course, of course,” She nodded.

“Stop biting your nails,” He suddenly said.

It made her sit up and put her hand down. “Sorry, I didn’t know I was,” She said quietly. “Can I ask you something, Mr. Park? Why did you ask me to come out here with you? I know you want to be kind, but why did you think of choosing me for your charity?”

Seonghwa slowed down on the gas. “I asked you to come out with me because I wanted your company,” He said. “You’ve somehow blotted out the past for me more than all the lights in this place, but if you think I just asked you out of kindness or charity, you can get out and walk home instead,” He snapped as he stopped the car and pulled over.

Before she knew it, hot tears were streaming down her face and she looked down, not wanting Seonghwa to see her cry. But he did, and his expression fell upon realizing what he said. “I’m-I’m sorry, I’m sorry for snapping at you like this, I didn’t mean to, it just came out,” He took the handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Wipe your eyes, blow your nose,” He murmured.

“Thank you, Mr. Park,” She said, wiping the tears away from her face.

“Please don’t call me Mr. Park,” He said. “Seonghwa, just Seonghwa. Sometimes my family calls me Mars.”

The nickname made her chuckle in the midst of wiping her eyes. “That’s a cute nickname.”

“I’m glad you think so,” He said. “Hwaseong, Seonghwa. Just call me Seonghwa, or Mars, whichever one you prefer.”

“Okay,” She paused. “Seonghwa.”

“But I did mean what I said, that I wanted your company, in fact I enjoy your company very much,” He admitted. “Can I ask you something this time?” He said, turning in his seat to face her.

“Yes” She said.

“I really want to kiss you, may I?” Seonghwa asked.

She stopped, having wiped off what she hoped was the last tear that rolled down her face. She felt her heart soar, the butterflies in her stomach fluttering, and relief that he looked at her in that way. “Yes you may, Seonghwa.”

He leaned in, pressing his lips on hers.

She felt like she was on cloud nine, still in disbelief that a man like Seonghwa, Park Seonghwa, would take an interest in her. But she would later be presented with a rude awakening in the morning, when Mrs. Oh told her that they were leaving to go overseas. Just when she was going to be with Seonghwa that they had to leave. She had to tell him the news. She knocked on the door.

“Come in!” She heard him say, and she opened it, carefully stepping inside.

Seonghwa was in his robe, his black hair slightly tousled but it only made him more handsome. “Hello” She said, wondering how she could break it to him.

“What brings you here?” He asked, approaching her and enveloping her in an embrace.

“I’ve come here to say goodbye, Seonghwa,” She said. “We’re leaving now.”

Seonghwa pulled away, staring at her. “What do you mean?”

“It’s true, we’re going now, and I’m-I was afraid I wasn’t going to see you again so I had to come here and tell you,” She said, her hands clasped in his.

“Where is Mrs. Oh taking you to?” He asked, his voice laced with concern.

“Overseas. New York, to be exact,” She looked down. “I know I’ll hate it. I’ll be miserable knowing I won’t get to see you.”

Seonghwa squeezed her hand, catching a glimpse of himself at the mirror. “I’ll just finish getting ready. I won’t be long,” He said, pulling away completely and walking into the bathroom.

“But I can’t stay much longer,” She said.

“Can I ask you something? Which would you prefer, New York or the Fontaine?” He suddenly asked, his voice muffled from behind the slightly open bathroom door.

She sighed. “Don’t joke about it. Mrs. Oh is waiting and I-I should probably say goodbye now.”

“I’ll say it again,” Seonghwa peeked over. “Either you go to New York with Mrs. Oh or you come home to the Fontaine with me.”

She stared at the sliver of his face, watching him finish brushing his teeth. “You mean you want an assistant or something?” She asked.

“I’m asking you to marry me.”

Her eyes widened at the sudden proposal. “Marry you?”

Seonghwa returned, wiping his mouth with a hand towel. He approached her. “What do you think?” He looked into her eyes, as if trying to search for an answer in the way she looked at him. “Well, I guess my suggestion was a little too sudden, wasn’t it? I’m sorry for springing that onto you.”

She shook her head. “No, no, I know what you said, it’s just, I don’t think I’m the sort of person men marry.”

He tilted his head in slight confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s just- I don’t belong in your world,” She looked down slightly, avoiding his gaze.

“What kind of world do you think I live in?” Seonghwa took her hands in his.

“The Fontaine, well, you know what I mean,” She admitted, squeezing his hands. She didn’t want to let go.

“Shouldn’t I decide whether you belong in my world or not?” Seonghwa let go of one hand to tilt her chin up. “Of course, if you don’t love me, that’s something else entirely.”

“I do love you,” She said. “I love you very much. I was crying all morning because I thought I wouldn’t be able to see you again.”

Seonghwa smiled and cupped her face. “I’ll have to remind you of this one day, and you won’t believe me. Is it a yes?”

“Yes,” She nodded. “I’ll marry you,” and he kissed her.

She knew Mrs. Oh wasn’t going to take the news of her sudden engagement to Seonghwa well, at least as well as she would expect. In front of Seonghwa, she displayed the smile she knew all too well from her years working for her. It was the smile of someone who absolutely hated what was going on.

When the two of them were alone, Mrs. Oh’s expression fell. “But of course you know why he’s marrying someone like you, don’t you?” She asked. “The empty house got on his nerves, he didn’t want to go on living on his own. Did you really think he actually loves you? He was married to Daphne Yoo, the most beautiful and the most cultured woman in this part of the world? Well goodbye, and good luck,” She turned to leave. “Mrs. Park.”

#kdiner #ateez #ateez fic #ateez au #seonghwa #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa

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darkershining · 4 years

Text

Just watched episode 15 of Healin Good Pretty Cure.

The episode begins with Rabirin and the Healing Animals heading to the school to deliver Nodoka’s recorder for music class, as Nodoka had accidentally left it at home. On their way back, the Healing Animals spot a strange looking daruma doll that Rabirin finds cute, but due to the reactions of the other two Healing Animals, she refuses to admit it.

In the villains’ realm, Batetemouda tries to get closer to Daruizen in his quest to rise in the ranks among the bad guys, but Daruizen has no interest in talking to him, and decides to head out on his own.

In the night, Nodoka finds Rabirin secretly fawning over a poster with a picture of the daruma doll, and offers to help Rabirin obtain one of her own by taking part in an event. The two end up going together, and have a fun time together among the lavender flowers, and Nodoka manages to get one of the dolls for Rabirin.

However, the two run into Hinata and Nyatoran on the way back, leading to Nyatoran teasing Rabirin about the doll. Rabirin insists to Nyatoran that she doesn’t like the doll, but this gets her into a quarrel with Nodoka, who asks why she would be lying about this when they were having so much fun together.

Later in the night, the two haven’t talked to each other, and Nodoka notes that she feels terrible, and realizes that this is the first time she’s gotten into a quarrel with one of her friends. The next day, Chiyu and Hinata try to cheer her up and figure out how to sort the situation out, with the Healing Animals doing the same, with Nyatoran and Pegitan apologizing to Rabirin for making fun of the doll and suggesting she go talk to Nodoka.

In the meantime, Daruizen heads over to the lavender place, and infects a leaf element inside the tea pot. This of course alerts the Healing Animals to the situation as Latte falls ill, and Pegitan and Nyatoran go to fetch the girls while Rabirin stays with Latte. The girls soon catch up to them and prepare to transform, but because of the conflict between Nodoka and Rabirin, the two are unable to complete the transformation, and Cure Fontaine and Sparkle must fight on their own.

Nodoka and Rabirin take Latte to safety and watch the fight, wondering what to do. Latte, despite still being sick, manages to muster up the strength to push Nodoka and Rabirin to talk things out, refusing to leave them in their current state. Nodoka begins apologizing to Rabirin for being insensitive, but Rabirin admits its her own fault, since Nodoka couldn’t have known what she was feeling just like that. Rabirin apologizes, and the two make up, allowing them to transform again. Cure Grace joins the fight, and together the three Cures quickly manage to find and purify the Leaf Element. To show their gratitude, the Leaf Element gives them a new Element Bottle to heal up Latte after the battle.

Nodoka and Rabirin spend more time at the lavender place, winning another daruma doll so Nodoka and Rabirin each have one. The two talk for a bit, wondering if there’s a way to avoid quarrels in the future. However, even after concluding there might not be one, they feel reassured since they at least figured out how to resolve their conflicts.

It was an okay episode, with some cute moments between Nodoka and Rabirin. I don’t have that much to say about this one, except I enjoyed the part where Latte showed her serious side when getting Nodoka and Rabirin to talk things out. I thought it was a really good moment for her, giving her a bit more characterization.

Looking forward to seeing what happens next!

#pretty cure #healin good precure

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alj4890 · 4 years

Text

New Year's Eve

A Choices Fan Fiction of The Royal Romance, Red Carpet Diaries, and Perfect Match

A/N Oh my this thing is so long and still not finished, LOL! I believe I should have it completed with part three. Maybe an epilogue post. I have to stop now or this will end up beyond my control. But here again is some of @krsnlove ‘s favorite pairs in the stickiest of fluff worthy of a toothache.

Masterlist

@lxaah11 @alleksa16 @penguininapinktuxedo @blackcoffee85 @stopforamoment @hopefulmoonobject @krsnlove @annekebbphotography @gibbles82 @cora-nova @bella-ca @hopelessromantic1352 . @sunflowergirl05 @desiree-0816 @greywitchyshots @lilyofchoices @moodyvalentinestories @emceesynonymroll @dr-nancy-house @aworldoffandoms @ab1901 @pixieferry @flyawayboo @i-bloody-love-drake-walker .

Song: What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?

Part 1

Part 2: The Anticipation

December 30th...

The Garden restaurant at The Four Seasons...

"You've got your gown, right?" Maxwell asked.

Amanda nodded while pouring her tea. She reached for a warm blueberry muffin to butter and nearly dropped it when she saw Thomas Hunt being led to a table.

"What is it?" Maxwell looked over his shoulder.

"Nothing." She quickly replied. "So, have you heard anymore about who has been invited?"

He nodded. "We have a conglomeration of diplomats, nobles,--"

"The usual." Amanda muttered.

"And artists--"Maxwell tried to continue.

"Naturally with Joelle's artistic streak." She muttered again.

"And people from Hollywood." He said in a rush before she could interrupt him again.

That caught her attention. "Really?"

"Yes." Maxwell reached for the pot of coffee. "Joelle and Hakim are friends with actors like Jessica Clark, and um, who is that guy that directed Victoria Fontaine in Meridian?"

"Thomas Hunt." Amanda replied, immediately looking over at the man.

Thomas picked up his coffee cup and looked around the restaurant. His eyes widened a moment when he met her hazel.

"Oh dear Lord." Amanda whispered.

"What?" Maxwell turned around again. He looked down at his shirt then touched his face. "Is something on me?"

"No." Amanda set her half eaten muffin down. "Excuse me a moment." She slid out of the booth and tried to not look over at Thomas as she walked toward the restroom.

She would have succeeded in appearing calm and collected if she hadn't tripped over a lady's purse and tumbled down the five steps leading out of the restaurant.

Please let me die, she silently prayed when she heard the gasps and exclamations around her.

"Are you hurt?"

She closed her eyes at the pain in her ankle and nodded. "I'm fine." She looked into Thomas's concerned face and tried to stand up. "I'm--" she gasped when she put weight on her right ankle.

"You're not." He argued. He gently helped her to sit down on the step.

Maxwell rushed over. "I heard the commotion and thought it might be you." He nodded a greeting toward Thomas. "How bad is it?"

Amanda wondered if her face would ever regain its once pale complexion. "I think I merely sprained my ankle. Nothing to be concerned with."

"Oh good." Maxwell exhaled. "Then you won't miss out on the ball."

Thomas frowned as he carefully pressed at the swelling already forming. "I believe you should have this looked at."

"I assure you I am well acquainted with sprains and that is definitely one. Just a rather painful one." She held onto the railing and pulled herself up. She then calmly reassured the lady who's purse she tripped over and the manager that she was fine.

"I think I will go to my room." She told Maxwell to finish eating and turned to Thomas once her friend left. "Please go and enjoy your breakfast. I will be fine as soon as I get to my room."

"You need to elevate it and add ice." Thomas told her.

"I will." She promised. She reached out and took his hand. "Thank you for coming to my aid." She felt his fingers grip her hand and looked down in surprise.

"I will escort you back." He told her. "Since your friend is now elbows deep in pancakes, you need someone to help you." He motioned to the manager and had him cancel his order.

"No!" Amanda said in a firm tone. She recognized he would not budge on this and spoke to the manager. "Have Mr. Hunt's breakfast sent up to my room." She gave her room number and insisted on it being charged to her. "And add a pot of tea, coffee, and a basket of pastries."

Thomas let go of her hand and placed his arm around her waist. "Lean on me instead of that ankle."

She nodded, suddenly speechless, and allowed him to escort her back.

___________________

Near a gangplank in Liberty State Park...

Riley yawned behind her hand as she stood on tiptoe to look at the passing people.

"This is crazy." She muttered. "I'm willing to give up precious sleep to take some guy to the Statue of Liberty just so he won't feel so alone."

"Riley!" Liam called out, smiling when he saw her.

So handsome, she thought. "Hey Liam!" She took his arm and motioned toward the ferry. "Ready to see her up close?"

"I am." He replied. He knew deep down he should tell her who he was, but he had enjoyed the conversation they had late into the early morning hours. He just wanted another moment to be around her sunny optimism. He wanted her to treat him as just some average, normal guy.

"Our boat awaits." She tugged him along the gangplank. "Are you up for some Lady Liberty trivia?"

"I am." Liam smiled as she became more animated to try and make the history more interesting.

"Well, did you know that the Statue of Liberty resembles the Roman goddess, Libertas, who represents freedom from oppression and tyranny?" She asked, reaching out to smooth his coat's lapels.

"I did not." His voice was a touch deeper with the emotion he felt for such an innocent yet significant action.

Liam watched her closely, taking in all her mannerisms. She had a tendency to use her hands when discussing something she was passionate about. She kept her body turned toward his as they chose a bench to sit. Her knees were pressed against his as she gave him her complete attention.

He set his arm along the back of seat while sharing bits of history he knew of the Statue. Her eyes never once left his face. She laughed at his humor and he found himself fall even more under her enchantment.

He had not known such simple happiness existed. It was if his true self had woken from a deep slumber and realized there was a world out there, one with someone like her.

_______________

On this same ferry...

"Here you go." Rashad handed Hana a cup of hot chocolate he had purchased.

"Thank you." She softly replied. She took a sip of the watery drink and tried not to grimace at its dull flavor. "That was very sweet of you."

"I remembered you saying it is one of your favorite treats." He leaned against the railing of the upper deck and looked out at the water, enjoying this moment with her.

"How thoughtful." She mumbled, cradling the cup between her chilled hands. "And completely unnecessary."

Rashad turned back in surprise. "I..."

"Please do not take me for a complete fool." Hana pleaded. She tried to keep her voice from wavering. Why did he have to be so incredibly kind? Why did she have to like everything about him? "This is not the first time one of my father's business associates has decided to, for lack of a better term, court me in hopes of making my father happy, thus reaching a satisfying deal."

"Hana, I didn't--" Rashad tried to explain.

"I'm not a pawn to be sacrificed in such a manner." She snapped. "I have feelings and I do not want you to continue to manipulate me through them. Let's just part ways once we are back on land and meet up at the party. I will assure my parents you were a perfect gentleman and everything will go well."

"Hana, the business deal is already completed. There are no more negotiations or hold outs or whatever else you're imagining." Rashad took her cup out of her hands and set it on a bench. He then took her hands in his. "Yes, your father coerced me into bringing you."

Hana tried to pull away, not wanting to hear anymore. Who would ever want her if her parents continued to do this?

"But..."Rashad continued, looking down at her beautiful face.

She looked up at him. "But?"

He tugged her closer. "If I had met you before he suggested our attending together, I would have coerced him into letting me bring you as my date."

________________

Outside the shops along 5th Avenue...

"We've found your dress, shoes, mask, and way too many other things. Where to now or am I free from shopping?" Damien asked.

"Umm..." Nadia stalled.

"Um, what?" He asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Nadia, what are you about to talk me into?"

"A tea?" She replied timidly.

"As in buying you a glass of tea?" He asked.

"As in escorting me to an afternoon hosted by Duchess Joelle." Nadia looked up at him with a look of desperation. "It is for the artists she wishes to know better."

"Nadia." He dropped his head back. "Why am I just now hearing about this?"

"Because I love you and didn't want you to dread being around me as we shopped." She admitted.

Damien hefted her bags and waved down a taxi. "Get in." He ordered.

"Damien..." She bit her lip in worry.

"Well come on." His smirk formed. "We better get to my place so you can pick what I'm supposed to wear to an afternoon tea."

She jumped up and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tight.

_______________

The Four Seasons, Amanda' suite...

Amanda sat with her foot propped on a throw pillow and wrapped in ice. She watched Thomas go about giving orders to both the staff and those he had traveled with.

He hadn't stopped in trying to divert her attention during their shared breakfast with talk of films and such. He then had insisted he wrap her ankle with the ice pack, setting timers to make certain to remove it once ten minutes was up. She didn't know what to think of his actions.

"Yes” Thomas said with a hint of impatience as he paced while talking on the phone. “Tell Joelle something unexpected came up this morning that demanded my attention. I'm well aware I'm not in my room right now." He looked down at Amanda. "Yes, it is something important." He said goodbye and then picked up her room phone.

"Send up more ice." He covered the receiver. "Do you want anything?"

"Some iced tea would be nice." She said.

"Iced tea for two. Better bring an extra carafe." He hung up and sat back down beside her.

"This is all very kind," Amanda began, "but I don't want you to feel that you should cancel any plans you've made. I will be fine."

He leaned forward and checked her ankle. Bruising was already forming and it was now nearly the size of a naval orange. "You can't get around easily and you should not be attempting to right now." He removed the ice pack when his alarm went off.

Amanda sighed softly. "I better call Maxwell and tell him he has to go to the tea alone." She searched for her phone and frowned slightly. "Where did I..."

Thomas held his phone toward her. "Call it and we will find it."

She dialed her number and eyes widened at the sound of Maxwell answering. "How did you get my phone?"

"You left it at the table." He replied. "I thought I could give it to you when I come by on the way to the tea. You're not going to believe who I saw once you left! Jessica Clark! I got her autograph and took a selfie with your phone."

"Max!" She interrupted him describing his meeting Matt Rodriguez. "I'm not going to be able to go to the tea."

"No! Drake and Olivia both said they weren't either and I can't get a hold of Liam." Maxwell pleaded with her. "Isn't there some way you can hobble in there. I'll make certain you get a comfy chair."

"Tell him, no." Thomas said once he saw her wavering.

"Who's that?" Maxwell asked when he heard the voice. "Is Thomas Hunt still with you?!"

"Yes." Amanda responded. "He has been sweet in helping me care for my ankle, which is still incredibly swollen. I can't put a shoe on easily much less walk around in heels right now." She looked up at the ceiling as she admitted the next part. "And it looks like I won't be dancing at the ball."

Maxwell groaned. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was that bad. Need me to skip the tea too and bring you something? A doctor to add to your handsome man collection you got going on in there?"

She laughed. "No thank you. Please make my excuses to her grace."

"Alright. I'll still come by and drop your phone off. Maybe a miracle will have occurred with your favorite director caring personally for you."

Color flared on her cheeks when she noticed that Thomas heard that. "Thanks Maxwell. I will see you soon." She handed Thomas back his phone. "Thank you."

He nodded on his way to answer the door. He had the tray set on the table and then tipped the porter. He poured them both a glass of tea before settling back on the couch. "Now that all that has been taken care of," he said. "Would you like me to try and find us something to watch or shall we pick up where we left off in our discussion?"

She looked up at him. "Thomas, you shouldn't feel obligated to entertain me. You've already done so much."

He turned more toward her. "Perhaps I should explain something about myself."

She lifted an eyebrow for him to continue.

"I do not do these," he motioned toward her ankle, "type of tender mercies."

Confusion marked her features. "But you--"

Thomas stopped her by taking her hand. "With you though, I can't think of anything else I would rather do right now than to try and take care of you."

_______________

At the top of the Statue of Liberty...

"It's..." Liam looked out toward the city in awe. "Breathtaking."

Riley smiled at his reaction. "It really is."

"Do you come here often?" He asked, still lost at looking at the snow covered city."

"Not really. This is more of a tourist thing." She explained.

"I think I would have a hard time staying away." He admitted.

"Liam?"

They both turned around.

"Rashad?" Liam shook his hand and tried to stop Hana from dropping into a formal curtsy.

"Your majesty, it is an honor to meet you." She said.

"Majesty?" Riley looked at Liam. "Why did she call you that?"

"Riley, I can explain." He quickly said. "I am the King of Cordonia and--"

"King of Cordonia?" Her eyes narrowed. "Being a king must mean you have a number of subjects, staff, people at your beck and call?"

"Yes but--"

"But you decided to lie to a poor waitress and tell her how lonely you were." She snapped. Tears of humiliation filled her eyes. "I can't believe I decided you would be worth me working exhausted tonight." She jerked her hand from his grasp. "Goodbye, your majesty!"

"Riley!" He chased her back down the stairs. "Stop! If you will give me a chance to explain."

She brushed at the tears as she hurried down the spiral staircase. "Don't speak to me!" She yelled back at him. "I don't ever want to speak to you again!"

He continued his pursuit, pleading with her to listen.

"My father died and my brother abdicated." He said once they were past a group of people heading up. "I never expected to be king."

She tried to ignore him as she hurried down.

"Yes I have friends that I am close to and yes there are a number of associates and such that come to the palace. Yet, knowing my chances to find someone I could care for seemed impossible." He picked up his pace, huffing and puffing at the speed she was going. "That feeling was what made me realize how lonely it is to be given such responsibility over an entire country. One misstep and I could harm the livelihood of my people."

Riley began to slow somewhat as more tears fell. She didn't want to be moved by his explanation.

"If I do find someone I love, how can I ask her to live a life of endless pressure? A life where I could possibly lose her as my father lost my mother. How could I live with myself after that?" He stopped and ssat down on a step. He covered his face with his hands and slowly let them drop. "You're right. I should have told you from the beginning who I was officially. Know this." He peeked down at her.

Riley stopped and looked up at him, tears still forming.

"I let you know the real me last night. The man who wears the crown." He stood up and started walking down toward her. "And that man could not resist the chance of spending another moment with you."

Riley took a deep breath and slowly released it. "Anything else you decided to leave out?"

He paused in shaking his head. "Well, perhaps one."

She folded her arms. "And that is?"

"Would you like to go with me to a masquerade ball tomorrow night?"

________________

Afternoon tea at The Garden, The Four Seasons...

"Well, she seems..." Damien tried to find the word.

"Nice." Nadia decided.

"I was going for something more to describe her artistic temperament, but yeah, she seems okay." He muttered.

"Should we mingle?" She asked gripping his arm.

"This is all your call." He whispered. "I haven't one clue how to act right now."

"I--" her words died when she saw the man with the extraordinary blue eyes walk in. He was greeted affectionately by the duchess hosting them and by a few other nobles.

"He's here!" Nadia gasped.

"Who?" Damien looked around the room. "Ryan Summers? Yeah, I saw him when we first walked in.."

Nadia whipped around. "How did I miss seeing him?"

"I don't know. Should we sit? I think we should. That duchess woman seems to be encouraging everyone to take a seat." Damien pushed Nadia toward a nearby table. He looked down at the fragile china and lace table cloth. "Why did I agree to this?"

Nadia stared at the man she had trouble not day dreaming about. He was walking their way while smiling and greeting those he passed. He looked up and made eye contact with her. His delighted dimpled smile appeared. He hurried over and eyed Damien in question.

"Don't worry. I'm just the friend." Damien told him, a slight smile forming. "Nadia here, is single and thinks your eyes are not blue but a mixture of blues. She also loves your dimples." He reached for the teapot and filled his cup. He sat back in his cushioned chair with a satisfied smirk.

Nadia wanted to die on the spot. "Why?" She asked the man she once thought was her best friend.

He leaned close to whisper. "Time waits for no one. Don't be afraid to let him know you're attracted to him. What have you got to lose?" He nudged her with his elbow. "Go for it.”

She squeezed his hand and turned to Maxwell. "Hi."

His dimples deepened with his smile. "Hi." He motioned to the empty chair beside her. "Mind if I sit here?"

"Not at all." She answered. Nadia cleared her throat. "Um, are you a noble?"

"Yes, sorry." Maxwell shook himself out of thinking how cute she was. "Lord Maxwell Beaumont, younger brother to Bertrand, the Duke of Ramsford." He leaned a little closer toward her. "Are you an artist or an actress?"

"Artist. I'm Nadia Park. This is my best friend, Damien Nazario."

"Don't mind me." Damien replied while looking down at his phone. "I'm here for protection."

Maxwell leaned away from her. "I see."

"He's teasing." She quickly said, kicking Damien under the table. "Tell him."

"I'm teasing." He grunted when she kicked him again. "I'm the one in need of protection from short people."

_______________

AMC Orpheum 7 Movie Theater...

"Do you feel guilty?" Drake asked once they picked a spot to sit.

"For what?" Olivia reached for her box of candy and reclined back in her chair.

"For missing the tea." He settled comfortably back in his own chair. He turned away from the movie screen showing ads and waited on her to respond.

"Not at all. Why I was invited is a mystery." She opened her box and offered him some. "The only art I appreciate are the ones that show historical battles."

Drake chuckled while settling the popcorn between them. "That's why I picked Tommy Phelps's latest movie."

"You know, Amanda says that his movies lack a storyline with any depth or emotion. She thinks his films are nothing but an excuse for a man to continue to play with fireworks." Olivia turned to see how he would react to that being said about a director of who's movies he rarely missed.

Drake rolled his eyes. "Who needs depth when you got a character taking out the enemies trying to destroy his or her life?"

"I'll drink to that." She lifted her soda and took a sip. "So what are you most looking forward to in this one?"

He slipped his hand in hers. "Other than your company, the fight choreography is supposed to have been created by a former Navy Seal. I want your input on it."

Olivia's smile brightened. "Excellent. There is nothing I like better than to critique someone's fighting style."

"Better than some tea?" He asked, pressing a kiss to her neck as the lights went out.

"Much better." She replied turning to kiss him.

__________________

Early evening, Amanda's suite...

"Hello?" Thomas said in a low voice.

"Alright, where are you?" Holly demanded. "You have been MIA all day and now you aren't even back for dinner! What is going on?"

He gently smoothed the hair out of Amanda's face as she moved in her sleep against hin. "I can't go into it right now. Go on and enjoy your evening out. I will most likely order room service."

"How?! How are you going to do that when you aren't even in your room?" She snapped. Ryan tried to get her to calm down. She glared at him but took a deep breath. "Sorry. I don’t mean to snap. That tea was not only dull but only provided sandwiches that were small enough to be barely visible to the naked eye.”

Thomas curved his arm around Amanda as her head dropped off his shoulder. "Go to dinner without me. I will call later." He ended the call and turned his body more to make the lady who fell asleep on him more comfortable.

Her phone ringing a few minutes later had them both jump. She blinked sleepily at it and him. "I'm sorry." She mumbled. "I didn't mean to doze off."

"Your response was appropriate. It was a boring movie we were watching." He told her, his lips curving at her sleep induced bemusement.

She checked the missed call and brushed her hair out of her face. "I really don't feel like explaining my ankle again." She mumbled.

Thomas stood up to stretch. "Then don't."

"I have to explain why I'm not going out to dinner. My friends rarely accept a simple, go without me." She explained.

He chuckled while calling for more ice. "Send one of those text messages. I hate the things but desperate times and all that."

Her lips trembled with suppressed laughter. "I don't think I have ever heard of someone who hates text messages."

"You can't properly read inflection in a text, no matter how many of those weird pictures one uses." He explained.

A laugh escaped her lips. "Weird pictures?"

He grabbed his phone and pulled up a message from Addison as an example. "Those." He pointed at the small yellow faces in different moods.

"Emojis." She said for him.

"Yes." His eyes narrowed while a frown formed as he tried to decipher Addison’s latest message. "Their very name evokes a desire within me to throw this piece of technology out the window."

Her laughter brought a slight smile to his face. She shook her head and composed a brief group text telling them she would not be going to dinner and for them to question Maxwell. "There, and just in honor of you, I did not use one single," her eyes shined with mirth, "weird picture."

"I and I am sure countless others appreciate that." He picked up a room service menu and brought it over to read with her.

She pushed her unruly hair out of her face and turned some toward him, "Thomas, you have been stuck in here with me all day. Part of which, I am ashamed to say, I fell asleep on you. Do go out and enjoy yourself with your friends this evening."

"I have not been stuck here." He corrected, while reading over the entrees. "My room is down the hall and I could have easily left to return to it if I wished." His dark eyes cut to her face. "I chose to remain here and am offering to buy you dinner." He leaned closer with the menu. "Now what would you like?"

She remained in quiet study of his profile for a moment, then reached over to squeeze his hand in gratitude. She knew he would dismiss her words once more if she tried to thank him. A surprised smile formed on her face when he held on to it. She rested her head back on his shoulder and pointed out a few options from the menu that they could share.

________________

Liam's penthouse, The Four Seasons...

"Where have you been?" Maxwell demanded of the three when he walked in. "I have been on noble duty all day! It ended up being a valuable lesson: Liam, I will never try and take the throne from you." He collapsed face first on the sofa. "I'm exhausted."

"What happened to Amanda?" Olivia asked.

"She tripped at breakfast and fell down some stairs, sprained her ankle, and somehow managed to have Thomas Hunt as her personal in room nurse." He explained. "Now where were you?"

"I didn't feel like talking about art." Olivia replied. "So I spent the day around the city doing what I wanted to do."

Maxwell turned suspicious eyes to Drake. "And you?"

Drake rolled his eyes. "Since when do I voluntarily go to afternoon teas?"

"Good point. Liam?" Maxwell turned to be able to see him.

"I went to the Statue of Liberty today." He admitted with a hint of sadness. "I lost track of time." He stood up and went toward the window. "How did it go?"

"Fine." Maxwell replied, yawning. "Everyone seemed to either enjoy it or too nervous to admit otherwise."

“Good.” Liam muttered. When he noticed his three friends looking at him with worry, he forced a smile. “Where shall we eat tonight?”

________________

Later that night at the Ty Bar of The Four Seasons...

"Let me see if I understand this." Daniel said while mixing the drinks for a table filled with famous people. "The guy that was in here last night is a king?"

"Yes." Riley said.

"And you spent the day with him as a tour guide of sorts?" He asked.

She nodded while yawning.

"He then, like Prince Charming, asks you to a ball tomorrow night?" Daniel poured a few more.

"Yes." Riley muttered.

"And you said NO?!" Daniel looked at her incredulously.

"That's right." She picked up the tray and walked away.

_______________

At a table in Ty Bar of the Four Seasons...

"It's weird." Holly continued. "I know Thomas avoids a lot of things, but to just be missing all day and night..." She thanked the waitress and took a sip of her drink.

"Maybe not so weird." Ryan nodded toward the man walking into the bar. "If the king is here, then most likely that woman Thomas was staring at is--"

Addison whipped around in her chair.

"You're going to get whiplash if you keep doing that." Seth teased.

"Addison." Matt muttered.

"What? I had to see what he had on. You know I love fashion." She explained.

"And Liam." Jessica added, dodging the balled up cocktail napkin thrown her way.

“He’s all alone.” Addison pointed out. “Should we invite him to sit with us?”

“We could.” Ryan said at the same time Matt said, no.

Addison jumped up and dragged Matt with her. “Come on. He’s from out of town and all alone. He looks like he could use a friend.”

Once they were near Liam, her nerve froze and she couldn’t think of what to say.

Matt rolled his eyes and cleared his throat. “Excuse us, but we were wondering if you would like to join our table. We are part of Duchess Joelle’s guests for New Year’s.”

Liam looked up and noticed that Riley was working the section their table was and nodded. “I would love to.”

A muffled squeak escaped Addison’s lips.

Matt made the introductions once they were all seated.

Liam smiled at them. “I am a fan of many of your movies.”

“I have made a number of great ones.” Seth joked.

“Two. He’s made two movies.” Holly muttered.

Laughter and conversation flowed among the group with Liam mostly listening.

“Your majesty,” Addison began once her brain had regained control over her mouth.

“Just Liam, please..” He said with a warm encouraging smile.

“Oh!” her hand raised to her heart. ”Liam, are you looking forward to tomorrow night’s ball?”

“We’re all excited.” Jessica added.

“I--” He paused when Riley came by to check on them.

“Is there anything else I can--” she stared in surprise at Liam. “get you?”

“I could use a refill.” Seth handed his glass to her. “Another margarita please.”

“Sure.” She dragged her eyes away from Liam’s face. “Anyone else?”

The group looked back and forth at her and Liam.

“We’re good.” Ryan replied to cut the tension.

Once she walked away, Holly turned toward Liam. “You okay? Seems like there was something there between you two.”

“I asked her to the ball.” Liam admitted then shook his head in regret. “It is of no matter. I should be going. It was a pleasure meeting you all and I look forward to seeing you tomorrow night.” He gave a short bow and left.

“What do you think happened?” Jessica asked.

“I don’t know but it wasn’t good.” Addison turned around toward where Riley was last seen. “I’ll be back.”

She hurried over to the bar and smiled at the bartender. “Hello.”

Daniel smiled at her. “What can I get for you?”

“Um, our waitress, do you know where she went?” She asked.

“She wasn’t feeling well and went home.” He explained.

“Oh.” Addison noticed his slight frown. “Did she leave because of Liam?”

His head shot up. “Did he say something to upset her?”

Over at the table the group watched Addison work her magic of getting information out of people.

“She missed her calling.” Matt said when he noticed both her and the bartender smile. “She should have been an interrogator for the CIA.”

Addison ran back over. “Come on. We have work to do.”

“What happened to our vacation?” Seth whined.

“No rest for the wicked.” Ryan told him.

“We have to find a dress.” Addison explained. “We have just become fairy godmothers.”

#choices the royal romance #choices red carpet diaries #choices perfect match #new year's eve prompt

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