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night-chant · 2 months

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STIFF - GAVIN BAI X READER

Warnings : semi-nudity, gets a little steamy towards the end but nothing NSFW, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : domestic fluff, a little spicy at the end though!

Word count : 1.1K words

Synopsis : Shower time with Gavin could become an interesting thing in the future.

Additional notes : this is completely based off those new karmas that dropped in the CN server (I am SWEATING!!) and not at all proofread lmfao. I dedicate this one to my beloved Cheri, who’s been tirelessly working on making content all the time, and who always deserves the special treatment with some Gavin loving ❤️ @cheri-translates hope you enjoy this! Sending you all the love ❤️

Requests : Are closed for the time being.

Want to support me financially? Here’s my CashApp!

Masterlist

A mild curse and a hiss came from the bathroom, causing them to look up from their seat in front of the coffee table, where they’d been lounging in the soft silken robe provided by the inn, with a nice warm mug of chamomile tea cradled in their hands. Setting the mug down on a coaster with something akin to worry on their face, they pushed themselves up to pad across the sitting room and to where the sound had come from.

They knocked twice on the door, tentatively calling out, “Gavin? Everything okay in there?”

“Um, yeah,” came his reply, a few seconds too late to be reassuring, the waver in his voice only convincing them more that something was wrong.

Their frown deepened. “I’m coming in,” they announced, barely waiting for his choked complaints and the sounds of rustling before entering.

He coughed a little awkwardly, and through the vapor filling the shower cubicle they could see his silhouette scrambling to pull a towel around his waist.

“A few seconds of warning would’ve been nice,” he managed to say, although they could almost envision his red-tinged cheeks as he did.

With a chortle, they rolled their eyes, “Nothing I haven’t seen before,” they settled down on a small wooden bench in the corner of the bathroom, “You alright? You sounded like you were having some trouble in there.”

“Er, not exactly.”

“Gavin.”

The stern voice they were using against him wasn’t one they were unaccustomed to using; after all, their boyfriend was prone to hiding injuries and the like under the pretense of being fine, and only when they used this tone did he usually crumble and admit the truth.

“Y-yes?” he sounded a little hesitant now, almost as though he were already aware that there was little he could do to prevent them from weaseling the truth out of him.

With a resigned sigh, they pushed up from their seat, “I’m getting in with you, you infuriating man. Have to check for myself.”

“No need for that, honest,” Gavin rushed to protest, and they could see the vague outline of his palms pressing against the cubicle’s door handle, “It’s just a pulled muscle. I’m a bit stiff, that’s all.”

Eyeing the door skeptically, they asked again, “Are you sure?”

“I promise,” his voice softened at that, just barely audible over the sound of the shower running, before he added, “It’s only because I was trying to wash my hair that I twisted in an odd position, I think.”

“Fine,” they relented, but still walked up to where he stood, “But don’t stop me from getting in with you.”

“Why?” he had a confused look on his face, but he seemed to not have much of a protest against them, seeing as he’d removed his hand from the handle.

They didn’t bother giving him an answer, opting to slide the door open and step in under the warm drizzle with him. The brunette looked a little surprised as they did, taking in their attire of choice, and watching as they quickly got drenched under the showerhead where they fumbled around.

“You’re soaked to the skin,” he worriedly pointed out, all care for his semi-nudity thrown out of the window as he reached out to them, “You’ll catch cold if you get out like this.”

“I won’t,” they insisted, “I’ll dress into your shirt or something,” they turned to him with the opened bottle of shampoo in their hand, “Can you bend down a little?”

“Ah,” Gavin finally realized what they were up to, a light blush dusting his cheeks as he obeyed, before he thought back on what they’d said before that, “But what about pants? You can’t walk around without any.”

Though a good part of them wanted to ask him why on earth couldn’t they, and torture him through having to answer, they only quipped, “Well, my boyfriend happens to be almost six feet tall, and practically any shirt I steal from him happens to serve as a dress.”

Just as they suspected, Gavin only blushed harder to the tips of his ears as they began to lather his hair, seemingly more than pleased with the idea of them dressed in his clothes. It was rather amusing to watch him still get flustered over the smallest of things, even after being together for quite a long while. Though they had to admit, as they gently massaged his scalp, this almost-showering together was a step forward they wish they’d taken sooner.

With deft hands, they conditioned the thin strands, making sure to be careful as they untangled the knots in his hair courtesy of the wind. His normally-alert amber eyes were heavy-lidded in relaxation, and he let out a delightfully soft noise from the back of his throat that showed just how much he was enjoying the treatment—a sound that they admittedly found a little too distractingly delicious to be able to ignore.

Feeling their own cheeks warm up as they rinsed his hair, they were suddenly all-too-aware of how the water ran down Gavin’s body, every drop tracing the planes of his taut muscles and descending below where his towel hung dangerously low. The view was almost tantalizing, and they had the sudden urge to cross their legs at the thought.

Brought back to their senses as they saw him slowly sweep his fringe to the side and stand upright, they returned the showerhead to its place with burning cheeks as their thoughts continued to race south.

Their boyfriend furrowed his eyebrows, not quite able to decipher the silence and leaning in a little closer to eye their expression closely, “What’s wrong?”

Clearing their throat, they turned their back to him, feeling more than just a little flustered under his intense gaze and pretending to reorganize the bottles to the side.

“How about we… have a little fun in the shower?”

A moment passed without a response, the only sound interrupting the silence being that of the drizzling water. Before they could turn around and check they hadn’t stunned him into fainting, a strong pair of arms wrapped around their waist, and his low breathing was louder than before as his head dropped.

“I’m not entirely opposed to the idea,” came a soft murmur, his freshly-cleaned hair tickling the side of their jaw as his lips softly pressed against the warm skin of their neck.

And as one of Gavin’s arms reached out to press against the foggy glass of the cubicle while his other calloused hand began to slowly push their drenched robe off their shoulder, they knew that they would be making joint showers a frequent thing very soon.

Taglist: @thispersoniscrazy

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night-chant · 3 months

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I was today years old when I found out there is a National Werewolf Day….

WHY DIDN’T I KNOW THIS SOONER????

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night-chant · 3 months

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A Birthday Surprise...?- Victor Li

Cassandra tries to plan a birthday surprise with her daughter for her beloved husband while he is away on business the day of his birthday. Unaware of the fact that he ended up returning home earlier than she expected…

Word Count: 1.3k

Notes:

It's been a while since I've posted haha.. I've taken a break from writing due to my personal life unfortunately

And recently, my account has been giving me issues in receiving messages with friends so I've been dealing with that lately as well

But those issues aside, of course, I had to post something for my favorite and beloved CEO~ How could I not!

Happy Birthday, My Love!, My Greatest Miracle, May this day fill you with happiness and contentment. I am forever grateful to you for being in my life. <3

Told in Cassandra's POV.

Enjoy~

“Mommy, Mommy!”

My four-year-old toddler squeals, scrambling into the kitchen where I was briefly tending to the cake propped on a cake stand. Looking down at my daughter, I smiled.

“Yes, my sweet girl? What is it?”

“I finished wrapping Daddy’s gift! Look!”

She beams excitedly, feeling quite proud of her work, she removes her tiny arms from behind her back, revealing the wrapped gift in question, wrapped up in crinkled wrapping paper topped with a slightly uneven and off-centered bow. Her wrapping skills were most definitely not the greatest but for a four-year-old, it seemed pretty up to par. I couldn’t help but let out a soft giggle at her attempt to wrap the gift she got for him.

“It looks beautiful, baby. You did such a good job! Daddy will love it.”

“Yay!” She bounced up and down cheerfully, her soft raven curls bouncing everywhere as she did so.

“Go put your gift with the others in the living room, sweetie. Then you can help me with the finishing touches to the cake.” I tell her with a smile, ruffling her hair with my free hand.

“Okay!” She dashed back to the living room whilst I continued decorating the last finishing touches of frosting.

For his birthday cake, I made a 3 layered vanilla cake, topped with a homemade buttercream frosting dyed a vibrant red and decorated with a white chocolate drip along the top. I then added a simple buttercream border to the bottom of the cake and as well as little dollops to the top of the cake. All Isa needed to do was add the sliced strawberries to those dollops and the cake would be complete.

Isabella comes rushing back into the kitchen and right over to me.

“I’m ready!” She beams, excitedly. She’s been so excited for his birthday all week, she could hardly contain herself. I couldn’t help but smile, lifting her up into my arms.

“Alright, you get to be the lucky one to finish decorating the cake. All you need to do is add these little strawberries to these little guys right here. Can you do that for Mommy?”

She nods, “Yes!”

I handed her a strawberry slice, which she took happily, as I then leaned her closer to the cake so she could place it. She focused entirely on placing it carefully on the first dollop of buttercream, before repeating the same process with the others.

“Good girl! You did a great job!” I said looking over her work before smiling at her, showering her cheek with kisses once she finished.

Isa only giggled happily, wrapping her tiny arms around me, in a gentle hug.

“Come on now, let’s bring this cake to the living room. We have to go pick up Daddy soon from the airport,” I tell her, as I set her down. Isa nods as she heads back to the living room excitedly, only to see her father, Victor standing in the doorway of the living room looking at all the colorful decorations that were scattered throughout the living room–from various colors of balloons along the railing of the stairs, the streamers scattered throughout the room and along the wall, to a large and shiny ‘happy birthday’ banner hung up along the windows with a surprised expression on his face.

When she noticed him, her face lit up with joy as she immediately ran over to him,

“Daddy! You’re home!” She cheers happily, practically throwing herself into his arms.

Victor’s expression changes from one of surprise to one of contentment as he lifts up his daughter into his arms, showering her in kisses.

“Hello princess, I’ve missed you so much.” He smiled, as she hugged him tightly, giggling as she received several more kisses from him.

“I missed you too!”

Upon hearing his voice, I immediately left the kitchen, surprised that he was standing there in the living room and confused as to how he got home sooner than I expected him to. With the cake stand in my hand, I briefly set it down on the coffee table beside the gifts, as my mind questioned how he got home before we could leave to pick him up. I could have sworn I had more time…

When did his flight come in? How did he get home??

Trying to hide my confusion, I shake off the questions lingering in my head and walk over to greet him, smiling.

“ Hi, my love! I didn’t know you’d be here already.. We were just about to go pick you up from the airport, why didn’t you let me know you landed?”

Victor set down Isa, letting her go play with her toys whilst he pulled me into his arms, smiling with a chuckle,

“There’s my beautiful wife, I did, but I did not get a response from you. So I had Goldman drive me back home instead. I did not expect to see all this when I came in though..”

“Well…Surprise..?” I laughed slightly, “I was planning to keep it as a surprise for when we got back home… but then you came home..” I pouted slightly, a little saddened that the surprise didn't go as planned.

He pulled me into a soft kiss, one I couldn't help but melt into, smiling once we pulled away.

“I was still surprised, my love. I can tell you both worked very hard on this. Thank you. I did have a feeling you'd plan something like this.” He chuckles.

“Of course, I would! This is such an important day to me. I will always celebrate this day for as long as I am with you, my love. This day is the day you were born. Today, I get to show how much I love and appreciate you being in my life. How much you being alive has made my own life a much better place. How much I love celebrating you. This is the one day a year that will always be special to me, just like how you and Isabella are special to me. I love you. Happy Birthday.” I softly say, kissing him gently once more.

Victor smiled against my lips, returning the kiss with one of his own, holding me close, a look of contentment and happiness could easily be seen on his face once we pulled away. This. This is exactly how I hoped he would react.

“Thank you, sweetheart. I don't know how I got so lucky to have you and our precious little girl in our lives but I am so grateful. I love you both so much. Only you have made this day, what used to be so mundane and boring, so special and bright for me. I always look forward to whatever surprises you have in store for this day and no matter what, I will always look forward to celebrating my birthday as long as I have my special girls with me. Thank you for being in my life and for making me feel special.”

I couldn’t help but smile so wide, proud and overjoyed, I pulled away from his embrace, taking hold of his hand. I led him over to the couch and had him sit down where his birthday cake and all his gifts both from me and Isabella were on the coffee table. Isa comes rushing over, climbing her way up onto the couch and onto Victor’s lap which he gladly accepted, holding her close in his arms, kissing the top of her head.

I lit the candles on the cake, bringing the cake closer, while doing so I started singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to him. He smiled once I finished, with Isa happily clapping her hands. He leaned over, kissing my cheek.

“Thank you, my love. Truly. This day turned out to be better than I could have ever expected.”

“You’re welcome, my sweet. Here, make a wish and blow out the candles.” I smiled.

He looked at the cake briefly, before looking at me and Isabella in his arms, smiling he gently took hold of my hand with his free one, lacing our fingers together.

“My wish…has already come true.”

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night-chant · 5 months

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this garden you've grown ⋆˚✿˖° part three

a continuation of part one and part two, where an unexpected meeting with the Duke of Meropide becomes a budding romance between the two of you that the entirety of his fortress watches unfold with anticipation. But the closer the two of you grow, the closer you're brought to question whether you're deserving to be called "duchess".

♡ This addition to the series was commissioned so I send all my love and biggest thanks to my first commissioner ♡ This request was simply a dream come true!

Wriothesley x fem!reader II romance, fluff!

The sound of the lock on Wriothesley’s door clicking back into place upon your exit marks the third time today you’ve left The Duke’s office with messy hair and smudged lipstick.

You swear you were only in there to get his approval on some adjustments you’re making to the garden and ask him questions about his preferences, but you can only get so far into your schpiel before the dreamy way he eyes your lips throws you off kilter.

“My lord,—”

“—Wriothesley.”, he corrected with a stern edge in his voice that asserted his statement was not a request. The voice he normally uses with convicts and unruly subordinates, but that gets the butterflies in your stomach flitting about like they’re on a sugar rush. He’s not blind to the way it turns your cheeks pink.

“Wriothesley,” you complied with a shy smile, “I’d like to change the fertilizer we’ve been using in the garden…”

You watched as the look in his eyes grew soft and he tilted his head to gaze at you from a different angle as he stood behind his desk before you—you took notice that he always stood when you entered the room, a sign of respect you hadn’t seen him replicate for anyone else. The affection in his demeanor made your heart sputter, but you persevered.

“...the…the one we’ve been using salinizes the soil, so I’d like to try this brand from Sumeru.”, you slid the paper detailing what the soil contained and its cost over to him. He didn’t break his watch on you to look at it or its price, he simply nodded. After burning under his infatuated gaze for another handful of seconds, you averted your gaze to try to get through your next statement without him derailing you.

“...I know it’s a little more expensive than the brand we’re using but…”

“I’ll put in the order right away.”, his firm, definitive statement sent your heart skipping once more.

You tried to thank him, but your words caught in your mouth when you turned your attention off of the floor and back to him. He was staring at you hungrily again, an expression he’s neglected to fix ever since the first kiss the two of you shared in his office a couple of weeks ago. An expression that told you exactly what he was thinking about. You’d thought two long kisses today from the last two check-ins you had would be enough to satiate him, but that was clearly not the case.

With a soft, dreamy sigh, you gathered your courage to lean up and press another soft peck to his lips, he watched you the whole way up with that handsome, proud smirk on his face. He ate up any affection you’d show him with the greatest satisfaction, and found your nervousness to give it adorable.

Of course, he met your shy lips with fervor, bringing a hand up to tangle in your soft hair and encircling your waist with one of his arms to draw you closer.

Once the two of you had crossed the threshold from distant, longing looks to close physical affection, you found that the serious, dignified Duke was fiendish for touching and kissing you. He was like a man starved, craving you every minute of the day. Any type of allowance you’d give him was met with gratitude, whether it be capturing your lips with his or something as small as holding your hand. In every case, you couldn’t be in the same room with him without him getting his hands on you. He loved the softness of your skin, the flush of your cheeks, the sound of your shaky, excited voice. It made him greedy, but he wouldn’t apologize for it.

Not only would he indulge in you while secluded in his expansive office, but also in the various nooks and crannies scattered about Meropide that he’d catch and pull you into throughout the day.

He was like a wolf, constantly hunting and circling you…but you found it exciting. To be something desired so vitally by him that he felt the need to seek you out sent thrilled shivers up your spine and had you looking over your shoulders in anticipation every so often while tending to your garden throughout the day.

You giggle to yourself as you remember the feeling, walking down the hall while fixing your hair and waving shyly at staff you happened to pass by on your way out with The Duke’s approval of your new fertilizer.

Your love affair was Meropide’s biggest “not-so-secret” secret—giving the fortress’s gossip industry a delicious meal to savor and share.

Speculators would discuss a possible marriage proposal in the works; the women of the fortress swooned over what he might say to you, how and where he may do it…

Would he spring the question on you in the middle of your garden? No, they wouldn’t have that—a proposal for the beautiful relationship the two of you share must be equally if not more beautiful! Maybe he’d take you to a destination? They’d chat about what areas of Fontaine looked best during this time of year, or ask the outlanders about the prettiest harbors and havens of their homelands. The Duke’s closest subordinates were tasked by the nosy citizens with delivering pamphlets of travel guides, classy event decorations, jewelers and any other inspirations for a proposal to his desk, hoping he’d catch the hint and just make you their duchess already! You were so endlessly caring and kind to them, so crucial to the lifeblood of the fortress, they couldn’t risk their Duke letting you get away. Beyond that, they were tired of watching you labor away in the dirt wearing your common clothes and aspired to see you strut down their halls adorned in his noble colors! Archons knew you deserved it.

Many of the older ladies of the fortress also mused about a possible heir to the duchy in the making and if the two of you were already in the process of creating one. They giggled and blushed at the thought, peeking at you from around corners to see if you’d gained any weight in your belly, asking you if you’d been feeling sick recently or offering you certain “aids” such as ginseng tea—all to your great confusion. You appreciated their doting, but you couldn’t imagine what for!

And special deliveries of figs and oysters to Wriothesley’s office certainly had him raising an eyebrow.

They even made a list of baby names in preparation for the announcement they were praying for, secretly polling the Meropide residents on which name they liked best. Meropide’s citizens took the decision very seriously and some even formed election parties in favor of a specific name. You’d wonder why you were overhearing so much bickering over matters so small as the distinction between “Maximus” and “Maxwell” as you walked about the fortress. Why ever would a discussion of a name get someone so heated? Little did you know, this was their future Duke or Duchess they were fighting over—the heir would have to have a name befitting their title! (like it was their decision and not yours and Wriothesley’s. And there wasn’t even a baby or discussion of a baby between you two to begin with!)

“Caspian” and “Tallulah” won the popular vote.

While the whole of Meropide was planning your proposal, wedding, and design for your baby’s nursery, you and Wriothesley were still in an unspoken period of stasis.

Neither of you had blatantly confessed your feelings to the other; the both of you just wordlessly moved forward in tandem, like the big step of physical affection you took together wasn’t a step at all—it was just the natural course you were to walk together. This left you to only assume the intentions of the other. You unfortunately believed you were most likely just a passing entanglement for him; he was a Duke after all, his serious hunt for a partner would no doubt be among the rest of the nobility. You were just a commoner, a new citizen of his fortress, that’s all.

He, like the rest of Meropide, believed you were his future wife, and acted accordingly.

Although you tried not to get your hopes up, the things he would whisper to you while you were in his arms would have your fluttering heart wishing and pleading for something more…

“You smell like heaven, my lady.”, his voice would rumble, his nose against your temple as he pressed soft kisses to your hair. “Just like your lavender. I wish I could keep you by my side at night, I’d sleep so well. But it’s better that I don’t, otherwise, I’d have to keep you there—I could never rest without you again.”

He’d hold your face gingerly in between his hands and brush his thumbs across your cheeks in awe, saying, “If you told me you were a doll come to life, I would believe you.”, then press a soft kiss to your nose, “you’re too perfect to be real.”.

You especially felt like something more than just a bit of fun to him when he’d had a bad day at work and would ask for you alone, to slip his arms around your torso and hold you desperately close; like he lived off of you, like you held him together. You’d let him hold you like that for as long as he needed, sometimes even hours.

But you didn’t want to get ahead of yourself, because if you were to get your heart broken by Wriothesley, you’d never ever recover. You’d made such a life for yourself here; you loved the garden you kept down here, you loved the citizens of Meropide and were devoted to making sure they’re fed nutritious and lively meals…and you loved Wriothesley. You loved him more than you thought it was possible to love another person. You wanted to stay by his side, stay here in Meropide, for the rest of your life. But if you were to confess and be rejected by him, the humiliation and grief would be unbearable. You’d have to leave, move back to the city in the overworld, abandon your home, all you’ve worked for, and all you loved. So you were content to remain a wordless association with The Duke; you’d take what he’d give you and ask for nothing more….

…If only you knew that he’d give you the world—you were his, and he cherished you like the most precious pearl the ocean has ever and could ever make.

He thought he’d made that painfully clear, but shy little thing you were, you needed to hear it.

Which is why it caught you so off guard when, in the middle of you watering a new section of the garden you’d prepared to experiment with legumes, Wriothesley had snuck up behind you and slipped your free hand into his, interlacing your fingers and giving you a small squeeze before springing a question you were wildly unprepared for on you.

“My lady, would you do me the honor of joining me as my date to the Epiclese ball tomorrow night?”

The way a man of such high stature would refer to you as “my lady” never failed to make you flush; it was one of those small things Wriothesley would do that made you feel like something greater than you are, like someone special to him that he put on a pedestal—a place above himself. But in this moment, you were less taken aback by the honorific and floored by the question.

The Epiclese ball was the grandest event in Fontaine, held at the famed opera house once a year for the Fontanian nobility—only those sitting in the highest places or holding the most important positions were invited to attend. Naturally, Wriothesley received an invitation, since he is arguably one of the most important men in the nation…but you were very far from important, let alone memorable. Not a single individual of the nobility knew who you were or your name, and they were justified in their ignorance—you were inconsequential at best, nothing at worst.

This invitation meant you’d be wrapped around Wriothesley’s arm in a place you were never meant to be in.

…would he really be proud of being seen with you?

In your shock, you’d stared at Wriothesley with wide eyes and parted lips for too long of a moment. He’d find this expression quite cute if it didn’t make him nervous that he caused you some form of discomfort.

“...I don’t have anything to wear.”, was all your jarred mind could come up with.

His concerned expression melted away into his charming grin once again, making your heart flutter and temporarily forget what you were so anxious about.

“I’ll prepare something for you.”, he said, a glimmer in his eye betraying the fact that he already knew what he wanted to dress you in…or that he’d already prepared it.

That excitement in his gaze broke your resolve; you couldn’t say no to him when he looked so happy at the prospect of attending with you, even if the thought made your knees want to buckle and anxiety twist in your stomach.

So you nodded, your acceptance met with a grateful kiss to your cheek.

“I’ll have it waiting in your room when you have finished with your work tomorrow. We’ll leave for the party at 9:00 pm. Alright?”, he squeezed your hand reassuringly once again, drawing a sigh from you as you took comfort in his touch.

“Alright.”

❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･❀

The high rotunda ceilings and large, crystalline chandeliers that hung from them over the fanciful ballroom of the Opera Epiclese had you both struck with wonder and feeling incredibly small. You’d never been more out of your depth in your life. You couldn’t help but nervously shift on your feet as you and Wriothesley waited at the top of the stairs to be introduced.

You had no reason to feel intimidated, with the way you were adorned, not a single individual in the room would take you for anything less than a duchess.

When you’d entered your living quarters after finishing up in the garden earlier that day, to your surprise, several attendants and beauticians were waiting for you alongside a vanity full of products. You felt a bit silly that Wriothesley had led you to believe you’d be getting ready alone, but maybe he neglected to inform you since he predicted that you’d make a fuss about not needing so much care and resources. If you were too timid to ask for nice fertilizer, how could you accept his offer to be made-up like a queen? You wouldn't, so you supposed he’d made the right call.

Steam flowed into the room from a bath that was drawn for you in your restroom, and the most beautiful gown you’d ever been honored to be in the presence of was laid out for you on your bed. You couldn’t believe you would be wearing such a thing tonight; it was so refined, you feared that it may just slip off of you on its own for not being a worthy enough wearer.

The attendants spent hours on your look—carefully tucking and curling each strand of your hair in silver clips and coils, gingerly coating your lips and cheeks with rouge, silver glitter on your lids, shimmer on your shoulders and collarbones so they’d glow when hit by the ballroom’s lights. You had no idea how Wriothesley knew your measurements, but the dress fit like a glove—and it held onto you tight, it wasn’t going anywhere. Your gown was of his colors, a deep red velvet fabric that ran all the way from your sweetheart neckline down to splay out on the floor around you. The dress was sleeveless, but a black fur was draped over your shoulders and clipped together at your chest to hang around you and shield the majority of your exposed skin from view. The look teetered between displaying your beautiful features and keeping them obscured for only one person’s view.

When you finished being dolled up and dressed, you stood back to look at yourself in the vanity mirror.

The woman looking back at you was just as surprised as you were when you met her eyes—you’d never seen her before in your life. She was beautiful. She looked like the perfect picture of elegance and grace. You tilted your head at her, and she tilted hers back; her eyes held that same shade yours did. Her bone structure and arch of her eyebrows, length of her neck and arms, pout of her lips and angle of her nose, all the same…but she was so much better than you. It made your stomach grow heavy with envy—she was exactly the woman that deserved to be with a person of the nobility, especially one as special as Wriothesley. You were so jealous of her…

But you realized, that was you.

You would’ve cried at the sight of yourself if it weren’t for the attendants fanning your eyes and fretting about you ruining their hard work.

You were just so overcome with emotion. You looked like you belonged exactly where you wanted to be—by Wriothesley’s side. You were wearing his colors, adorned with silver pieces that matched the same shine as the buttons on his coat and handcuffs at his hip. The way you were dressed not only told the world that you were worthy to share a room with nobles, but that you belonged to a specific noble in particular; one of the most prestigious at that, and the one that claimed your heart. With one look at you, no soul in the room would doubt that you were Wriothesley’s and Wriothesley’s alone.

You tried to steady your breathing as your date took your arm in his and brought you forth to the top of the grand staircase. He noticed your panic and gave you a reassuring smile—a warm expression that greatly differed from the typical wolfish grin that made you fizzle. This one quelled the tension in your body, it made you feel safe and cared for.

It promised you that you could relax when you were with him; nothing could go wrong when Wriothesley was looking at you with that smile

As you two stood at the precipice of the herald announcing your arrival to the ballroom, he leaned in close to your ear and whispered in a quiet rumble, “I hate this part too, but I’ll enjoy it this time—I’m looking forward to hearing my name said with yours as a pair.”

The heart in your chest stuttered at the confession. You hadn’t thought about it like that; here, you felt like you were being thrown to the crocodiles, when really, you were being introduced at the side of the man you loved…

With a soft smile, you realized you were looking forward to hearing your name paired with his too. It’d give you a moment to live out a daydream where you could pretend you and Wriothesley were an actual couple.

The herald must have needed his eyes checked, because although you and Wriothesley were not married, instead of introducing the two of you as Duke Wriothesley and his date, he confidently called to the room with his full chest;

“The Duke Wriothesley and Duchess [name] of Meropide.”

You comported yourself, white knuckling your grace and taking care not to show your shock and embarrassment to the crowd although your mind was shrieking. You braced for Wriothesley to correct the herald, for the herald to make the distinction to the crowd that you and him were, in fact, not together…but the humiliation never came.

Wriothesley just held you closer with the most satisfied smirk on his lips as he led you down the steps into the ballroom, taking care to look back at you and make sure you were holding your head high.

It was hard not to when he looked at you like you were the brightest star in the sky.

The hall was filled with hushed whispers and gossip regarding the two of you, the nobles squabbling about not having known that the duke had gotten married and why they hadn’t been invited to such an event. As you walked by, you caught whispers of your name—whispers you’d prepared yourself to hear beforehand about not being fit to stand next to Wriothesley…but instead, you heard oohs and ahhs about how beautiful you were, how you and The Duke looked like a perfect match, how they wanted their husbands to look at them the way he looked at you.

That last comment made you snap back to reality and turn to face Wriothesley again, only to be met with his warm, amorous eyes drawing over every inch of you as if he was committing your image to memory. He looked enthralled by you—like the entirety of this ball and all of its regalia could fall away and he would still be more than satisfied with having you alone. Nothing else mattered to him.

The way your cheeks painted with rouge grew even pinker when you met his gaze made him chuckle. He couldn’t understand what still had you so shy around him. He certainly wasn’t shy around you anymore, but still, he found it adorable. He leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips; not a scandalous one shared between lovers at an otherwise dignified banquet…but a respectable, loving one between a husband and wife. The way it felt to be treated so dearly to him, especially shamelessly in a place where he needed to maintain heirs, made you feel like you weren’t just some moment in Wriothesley’s life, you were forever.

When he pulled away, his heart swelled at the expression on your face; soft and puppy eyed. His signature wolfish grin shone back at you.

“What did I do to earn such a look, fair lady?”, he hummed in amusement, standing so close that you were almost wrapped within his long coat alongside him, so he could lean over and listen to you speak close to his ear.

“...are you going to tell them we aren’t married…?”, you asked, timidly.

“I’m more inclined to tell them we happened to have forgotten our wedding bands on our bedside table.”

His comment sent those butterflies in your stomach that adored him so much fluttering again, but you pouted at him impatiently.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”, he countered with ease, bringing your left hand up to his face to ghost his lips over your ring finger. “If you’re worried about the title, don’t be. I wouldn’t want anyone else to have it.”

Your heart felt like it was just one more word away from rupturing. You’d spent so long bottling up your hopes, so long reminding yourself that you were not enough…to be given exactly what you’d been dreaming about since the day Wriothesley had entered your garden would certainly make you burst.

“...why not?”

He smiled down at you like the answer was obvious.

“Because the title is for the woman I love. So it is yours.”

You really did nearly explode, your knees buckling as your breath caught in your lungs. He pulled you flush up against him to steady you, laughing lightly at your reaction. You fussed too much, but he adored that about you; he just hoped that as you settled into your title, you’d allow yourself to be more demanding with what you deserve.

Until then, he’d shower you with all of the assurances you needed.

“Do you need to hear it again? I love you, [name]. The love I have for you was made by you—you sewed it within me with your own hands; it is a feeling no other has raised in me nor will be able to replicate because it is yours alone. You claimed my heart like you’d claimed that barren patch of land I met you in and grew love from it like you did the lavender that helps me rest at night.”

He was relentless with his musings, tilting your chin up with his thumb and forefinger to make sure you were accepting every word he was giving you. The glitter of your eyes on him promised him that.

“Then I brought you home, and you continued to grow your love in my fortress and cared for my people hundreds of leagues under the sea. They love you, I love you, and I would never let another dig their hands into the soil you cultivated, no matter who they are or how noble their blood. Both Meropide and I have accepted you as ours, so the place of duchess is rightfully yours.”

Now, you really were going to cry. You could hear the shrieks of anguish from the many attendants who'd doting on your makeup all afternoon. Wriothesley only chuckled and fetched his handkerchief, using his hold on your chin to tilt your face so he could dab at your tears before they smudged your mascara.

You sniffled and spoke through your shaky breaths, "I love you and Meropide more than I've ever loved anything else. I'd be honored to be your duchess."

Without another word, you leaned up your teary face to press an ardent kiss to his lips---like you were sealing a contract between the two of you.

You'd be his, and he, his fortress, and the entirety of his duchy would be yours in return.

Yours to continue to bless with life, yours to care for and maintain, and yours to bring to blossom full of love---he'd watch and admire you every step of the way.

And you'd both be confidently fibbing to the inquiring other guests tonight that you had indeed left your wedding bands at home.

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