ok so about Nabil (from this post)
so i know its very much not common (and potentially illegal/not social accepted) for the time period the fic is set in but now i'm imagining the fic but with Male reader.
Reader being flustered and surprised at being asked to dance with another man and having their gay awakening once they realize they really only cared for dancing with Nabil and none of the other women but knowing they will never be able to be with him
and then Nabil sending a letter asking for Readers hand in marriage and Readers grandparents at first think no but deciding to allow it for political reasons but still disavowing it
and then Reader being pleasantly surprised when they hear the news and then when the marriage comes reader is all shy and just
gay shit man. i just love gay shit.
Well it's my regency abomination and I get to decide if the gay is illegal and I say no!
Hence the reader from that fic had a potential female werewolf suitor, so hell yeah get gay with Nabil!
Only as I worked on this did I lament how poorly received Nabil's fic was... My pretty harpy boy 😩
While your debut isn't as grand as say a daughters would be, it still feels like too much for you.
The banners hang heavy with the family crest, servants moving around the hall, too many nobles watch as you stand next to your grandfather. You can see the faces of so many daughters, aunts, widowed mothers, and even a few younger men watching with sharp eyes as your announcement of entrance is completed, bowing to the crowd as cheers call out from the gathered crowd, only straightening up when you see the signal from your grandmother. Everything from here on was under her control, who you danced with, who you were seen near tonight, and how you were to be sat at the dinner table would all be designated by her from the moment you set foot onto the hall's floor proper.
You don't have a dance card but your name is conveniently slipped on to several ladies long before the event opened for the evening, you know the steps and guide them through the movements with the ease expected of a young lord in high society but as each song plays on and each dance partner becomes more and more blurred together, you can't help but long for an escape.
The last cord of a song made for foxtrot plays out, and you bow to the older vampire woman that watches you with sharp red eyes waiting for the next of your near endless dance partners to step up, sighing as softly as you can when you hear the murmuring begin. Turning you find a well dressed harpy striding onto the dance floor, jewel tipped taking held out on offer of a dance, you look around and catch sight of your grandmother, her face is strange not quite upset but not clearly pleased at this turn of events, so you take the offer and let him guide you into the faster waltz that begins.
It's electrifying, each spin, dip, twirl, and sway with the harpy lord, you can feel yourself being drawn in. He speaks with you as he dances, introducing himself as lord Nabil before smoothly switching to questions and inquires about you, not your family or your business ventures, but you as a person, he coos and trills with your answers drawing you into him with each step you follow with him. There's nothing to call the experience but enchanting, you're enthralled by him even as he steps back and bows to you, cocking his head with a sly click of his talons against the polished hall tile before he is moving aside for your grandmother to take up your last dance of the evening, she is none to impressed as you watch Nabil leave over taking her hands for the last dance.
Come the nights end you will have been scolded, chided, and firmly reprimanded for your apparent social blunders.
But somehow you can bring yourself to care, the dance with the young harpy lord keeps your head in the clouds, grey with the idea you won't get to see him again but still firmly in the daydreams of what if and what could have been.
Unlike the others that your grandmother would have delivered to your desk to respond to, this one was kept aside, tucked into a draw and contemplated over for days before she would bring the pretty, dark red envelope to your desk. It looked almost like it painted her to explain who this one came from, the sharp click of her heels on the wood floor keeping pace as you read his offer to take your hand in marriage, signed with his full family name and the title he was granted by the crown prince.
Looking up at your grandmother you expect her to tell you to give up the hope that they will let you court another man, but surprisingly she stiffens and watches you for a moment before telling you to prepare yourself for a dinner with the lord Nabil and his parents.
You had to make a good impression if they were to agree to a marriage contract for you and him after all.
