love’s last vestige

idv imagines blog

[rosemaze-reveries]

❦ about

hi i'm prim, welcome to my blog

as of now, my posts are only related to identity v

ask box is open to chat or request!

i interact from @safflinas

❦ masterlists

❀ path to nowhere

❀ identity v

❀ twisted wonderland

feel free to add me in idv 😳✨ i accept every friend req (but I don't usually play on na/eu sorry!)

[rosemaze-reveries]

I had a strange question regarding one of your ficlets,, in "Patchwork love", what made the reader upset? Was it Mike? And if it was, what did he do?? This has been literally eating me up inside and I *need* to know...

I LOVE questions like this, it's not strange at all!!

yes, mike is the reason the reader feels glum. I didn't put a lot of thought into what he did exactly, but maybe the manor was taking its toll on him and that bled into his attitude with the reader. he can get a little snotty when he's stressed out

this was the concept behind that fic: "hullabaloo" has a lot of resentment towards mike. from his perspective, mike is the one who failed their family, not once but twice. so he gets protective of you because he believes mike is eventually going to break your heart. the second that mike does something to upset you, even if it was a minor thing, hullabaloo swoops in to "save" you. maybe he really likes you, maybe he's just compensating for the guilt he feels. who knows?

[rosemaze-reveries]

YOU’RE BACCKKKKKKK It’s so nice to see your writing again!! ⭐️🌀⭐️

hello!! its nice to see familiar names! i've been in otome hell this past year but i really really missed these manor puppets T__T ty for the warm welcome

[rosemaze-reveries]

(read the joker fic)

YESS YESS YESSS ITNSDGSHAHFKA THANK YOUUUUU 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

hehe ty for reading!! joker world domination 😔✌️

[rosemaze-reveries]

Hi 👉👈 hello 👉👈 I love the weeping clown soso much, I love him... could you write something about us reassuring him and loving and doting on him bc we love him soso much?

I'd really like that 👉👈 Regardless of what you do, I love your writing, thank you for posting <3

Joker is curled up in his bed, that awful, scratchy wool blanket pulled up over his face. It’s not unlike him to cloister away when a rough bout of melancholy tears his head apart, but you’ve finally convinced yourself to barge in after him. Sitting next to him, your fingers gently thread through his hair, the only part that’s visible above the covers. He tenses at your touch.

“Why don’t you get a nicer blanket?” you ask. Your question is not fueled by judgment, but the words burn on your tongue after they leave your lips. You know they were the wrong choice and you worry they’ll only create more distance between you and him.

“I don’t deserve it,” he says.

“Why not?” Your hands trail down the coarse fabric, where you rub soothing circles into his shoulders. He shudders then, breathing out a long, labored sigh. When it’s clear he doesn’t have an answer, you add, “Yes, you do.”

“No,” he insists. “I don’t deserve nice things. Like you. I don’t know why you stay with me.”

You lie down on your side, propping your elbow up on his pillow before you softly press your lips to his forehead. “I stay because I love you.”

“I don’t understand why.” He peeks up at you from under the blanket, dark eyes bloodshot and weary. Teardrops blot the bedsheet beneath him. Your hands move to cup his cheeks, feeling the warmth of his flushed skin seep into you.

“Does anyone understand love?” you say. “All I know is that I can’t imagine a world without you.” You peer into his eyes for a few slow moments, before the adoration overwhelms you; you pepper kisses between his brows and down the slope of his nose, then sweetly against his lips, and under the curve of his jaw. He squeezes his eyes shut at the onslaught of affection. His hand weakly grasps onto your sleeve, the only strength he has, before he nestles into your neck, his tear-streaked cheek settling into your tender warmth.

[noted-angel]

coughs maybe uh weepingclown forced kissing,,, and to make it not a 1 person post how about evelyn and ada as well !! (know you like them have fun)

Ohhhh but of course wonderful oomf!!! :3 heheh

I hope i characterized them well enough. Sometimes ita hard to think of "general headcanon" vc a prompt of how they would act... anyways I hope this is still enjoyable!

CW: forced kissing, forced affection/touching, mentions of violence, implied manipulation, stalking, obsessive behavior, somnophilia

Joker yearns from afar. He doesn't know how to approach, not quite having the confidence yet. He'll watch you sleep, giving you small quick kisses on the cheek, nose, and forehead while you’re blissfully unaware. Eventually he can't just watch anymore, his interactions with you while you sleep aren't enough. Any perceived rejection or resistance and Joker's overpowering you, apologizing but fervently telling you how much he loves you, he just wants you to love him back- can't you love him back?! Soon enough he's kissing you against your will. It's pure bliss for the briefest moment before he pulls away. Joker would be hurt if you turn your face away before he can deepen the kiss, enough that he may knock you out one way or another. You can't reject his affections when you’re unconscious, he knows that for a fact.

Evelyn is a bit overconfident, practically dragging you around by an imaginary leash once she's become interested in you. She already thinks you owe her your affections, finding some way to lure you in, you should be grateful for her attention really. Evelyn demands all kinds of kisses from you, her hands, up her arms, to her neck and chest- once you get to her lips she can be rather selfish. It's hard to please a woman like her, sometimes you think she likes to watch you struggle, but Evelyn is very doting when in an affectionate mood. She begins dominating the kiss when your meek pecks aren't enough to satiate her desires. Don't worry, she'll show you exactly what she wants from you.

You've seen how Ada is with Emil, overly affectionate and doting, yet always keeping an almost professional short leash. She's possessive, if a bit controlling, when she worms her way into your life. Honestly she moves fast, so touchy, leaning you against her lap or chest the same way you've seen her do to Emil- It's borderline patronizing how she treats you but, for some reason, you never really mind. Ada can almost coax you into anything. It never feels like things move too fast… you never feel pressured when Ada leans in close, lips grazing yours and hand cupping your cheek when you try to turn away. It never feels forced, yet you dont remember asking for this relationship either...

[rosemaze-reveries]

hello! you are very great writer (^^) I admire you very much!! so sorry English not my first language, hope to request for Norton and Alva (not together). (°=°'/) about everyone in the manor to find out they are married to kind and gentle reader before arrival. thank you!

it is ok not to do if you do not like or not understand me, sorry (;_;)

I only did Alva this time, but I hope you still enjoy ^_^ I also expanded on the prompt a little bit.

alva lorenz x you you reunite with your "late husband" at the manor

It comes as no surprise to you when someone asks about your last name. You’re used to the questions, the excitement, and the eager look in their eyes as they peer right through you, often seeing little more than fodder for tomorrow’s gossip.

Lorenz? As in, the inventor Lorenz? The one who was — their voices would lower to a whisper here — killed by his apprentice?

Once in a while someone will remember to throw in their token condolences. That’s getting increasingly rare, though. The accident happened over two years ago and it’s rapidly ebbing out of public interest. You’ve heard that Luca Balsa has been released from prison, but you haven’t cared to track him down. People say he’s not in the right state for questions anymore. Besides — you’ve worked hard to find your closure for Alva’s death. No point in opening old wounds, especially not when yours are stitched so precariously.

When you arrive at Oletus Manor, the first woman you meet wears her hair in tight blonde curls that cling to her shoulders. She seems polite enough, greeting you with a friendly smile and a bow of her head. When you introduce yourself as (Y/N) Lorenz, that familiar flash of recognition lights up her face.

“Lorenz? Lorenz, right?” Her eyes are wide and glittery, as if you’d just named a celebrity. “Excuse my being curious, but are you by chance related to Alva Lorenz?”

You don’t bat an eye at this usual line of questioning. Although Oletus Manor is nowhere near the town where you and Alva used to live, his name and story have traveled far. It’s not implausible that this woman might have heard of him.

Your answer is quick and matter-of-fact. “Yes, he was my husband.” 

The woman’s brows rise. “Oh,” she says, clinging to your use of past tense. “I noticed he didn’t have a ring.”

“He rarely wore it.” You smile at the memory. “The metal got in the way of his experiments. I told him I’d rather he keep it off than lose a finger in a magnetic mishap. How did you know him?”

“Oh. Um. Well.” Suddenly she becomes flustered. “I met him the day I arrived here, just a week or so ago. He hasn’t mentioned you once, so I had no idea he had a…” She eyes you up and down, scrutinizing you deeply. “...history. Excuse me.”

And with that she exits the room, leaving you feeling somewhat slighted. The bite in her tone took you aback. Not to mention, why was she talking as if she knew Alva personally?

Well, knowing what you’ve heard about this place, you wouldn’t be surprised if someone here was masquerading as your late husband.

Curiosity plagues your mind as the butler leads you to your bedroom. But your next few days at the manor leave you with more questions than answers. Nearly every person you meet comments on your last name. Some grow pale when they hear that you are Alva’s spouse, others make tasteless jokes about it.

“He never struck me as the type to settle down,” someone says. “Especially not with a sweet thing like you. How bad is it, having to compete with his research for his attention?”

Alva’s name is not unknown to the public, you know that well. But it’s so strange how the other manor guests talk about him. It’s almost as if he’s still alive. By your third day at the manor, these conversations have left a deep unease roiling in the pit of your stomach. You end up skipping breakfast, choosing instead to stay cloistered in your room.

This must be some scheme set up by the manor host. There’s no other explanation. A part of you feels angry about it. What sort of crude prank is this, using your grief as the brunt of a joke?

When the butler comes to check on you, you are peeved enough to press him: “Is there someone named Alva Lorenz here?”

· · ──── ·𖥸· ──── · ·

The butler directs you to the library, where you spot a lone figure seated at a writing desk. His chin is resting in his palm, brows pulled as if he is enduring some sort of frustration. But he is most definitely asleep. Or lost too deeply in thought to notice you. You wander around him, feigning interest in the bookshelves closeby.

“Was it not clear that this room was occupied?”

That tone of voice has a jaded edge to it that you’re all too familiar with. Beneath the ashen hair and sunken countenance, that voice is unmistakably Alva’s. You glance over at him, entirely unconcerned about his bitter question.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I thought this was a communal space.”

You hope for shock and recognition to flash across his face. You expect his eyes to fly wide, for him to jolt upright, slamming his palms against the desk. You can’t recall the last time you’ve heard your name on his tongue and right now you want nothing more than for him to remind you.

But the man sitting there only stares at you, still and motionless, burning your figure into memory.

“Do you plan on staying long?” he asks.

“I…” You step forward until you’re at the edge of his desk. “I came to see you.” Your fingers crawl forward, gingerly slipping into Alva’s hands. He goes silent again.

Then he takes your hands, firmer now, guiding them to rest over his cheeks. His skin is cold as ice, tingling under your warm touch. Those sweet blue eyes you once loved are lost beneath an abyssal black. You softly run your fingers over the fern-like scars that crawl up his face. The further up you trace, the more you feel yourself crumble, hot tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“I’ve had so many nightmares about what happened to you,” you murmur.

Despite his ghastly appearance, that weariness in his eye remains the same as before. That is one thing you remember well. He was perpetually exhausted, as if nothing in the world could spark him up again.

He stares at you for another long, slow moment. Just when he seems like he is on the verge of remembering, any semblance of recognition collapses again. He breaks away, shaking off your touch.

A fresh wave of tears surges, trickling down your face. “You don’t recognize me?” you ask.

“Something about you is familiar, but no, I do not.” A moment later, he adds: “My apologies.”

You search desperately in his eyes again for anything that might indicate your past love.

[rosemaze-reveries]

IVE MISSED YOU TOO 🩵 and yesssss another potential friend to play with kekekekeke

Which characters are your favourites? Who do you main 👀

The reason why I started the game again was because of Ithaqua but I absolutely love Alice too, that sweet sweet dear 😭🩵

I’d love to play w uuuu !!! My UID is in my pinned ✌️ I main Bloody Queen, Puppeteer, and Dancer

itha is so cute i understand 😭♡ who are your mains?

here’s my tier list!

[rosemaze-reveries]

MARZIIII

I didn't realise...somehow...despite following...that you were also into IDV :D

I recently just got into it last summer, how are you and are still playing the game/interested in it?

AYA oh i’ve missed you!

yes i’m still vvv interested!! i’m a little behind lorewise but miss nightingale still won’t set me free .. everyday….. it’s back to the manor grind……….. 🐢

[rosemaze-reveries]

Mary,Luca and FG with a S/O who's basically the cooking equivalent of a mad scientist with very hit or miss experimental dishes

🪞 Mary hadn't anticipated this quirk of yours to be such a challenge for her. Before meeting you, she was firm that she would never allow a mediocre chef to jeopardize her stomach. But she finds it impolite to reject a dish prepared by her lover, so she indulges your cooking for the first few instances. This plan falls apart right away. When you start bringing her plates of ??? and fruit jelly with "something" moving inside of it, she loses faith in even your best dishes. She tries, but it's just not in her character to grit her teeth and thank you with a smile. You can have fun making messes in the kitchen away from her.

⛓️ Luca can empathize with your compulsion to create, create, create. He offers serious feedback on every dish, even keeping a detailed log with his notes, drawings, and impressions. With some of the wilder experiments he expresses some hesitation before trying it, particularly when you throw together unusual flavor combos. But when it comes to the technical side of experimenting his enthusiasm might even rival yours, like that time you suggested making fried ice cream.

⛏️ Fool's Gold does not eat much. In fact he can't really tell the difference between most textures. Some part of you thinks it must be nice, being able to eat bones stripped bare as if they're just as filling as a tender steak. It certainly would be a gift to his survivor counterpart. Fool's Gold has made snide comments about you wasting food, but he still tries a little of everything you make. No matter how bizarre, his feedback doesn't usually go beyond a cursory "Tastes fine."

[rosemaze-reveries]

you show up to me on tumblr every few months and it feels like a jumpscare every time

HAHA i'm sorry!!! i've become a (very inconsistent) seasonal fruit

[rosemaze-reveries]

Omg when I saw your requests were open I sprinted!!

I was wondering if I could maybe get an ithaqua X reader where the reader talks to a different hunter a lot during a duo hunter match and ithaqua kinda crashes out?

I love your writing 😭, also have a great day!

― conflict of interest

night watch → reader ← fool's gold

Through gritted teeth, you prop a knee up on one of the crumbling tombstones in Eversleeping Town. Sorry, you think, to whoever may have been resting here. You have seconds to spare before Fool’s Gold catches up with you. You rip off your sleeve to tie it around your injured leg, praying it will at least curb the bleeding. Then a pickaxe whirls through the air and strikes the grave, millimeters away from your skin.

“Give it up, sweetheart. You can’t run with that leg.”

He’s right, but he’d have to knock you down before you ever yield to him. Your nose crinkles as you steel yourself to run just a little farther. If you can give your teammates even ten more seconds to decode, then this spearing pain would be worth it. You circle around a row of graves, locking eyes with Fool’s Gold, who has caught up just a few meters away from you.

“I see why Ithaqua likes you,” he says, taking his pickaxe back from the grave. “You look so easy to break.”

The earth rumbles around your feet, and you lurch forward to catch your balance.

“Is that why you’re chasing me? To spite him?” you huff.

“Partially,” he cracks a wide, stone-cold smile. He rounds the corner after you, steadily closing the distance. Your blood runs cold. There’s nowhere for you to go. You scan the area for a pallet, a rock, anything to throw at him, but he has backed you into a corner. Fool’s Gold once again hurls his pickaxe at the wall behind you, then glides forward, sealing your fate. Your eyes screw shut, expecting to be knocked down.

“Don’t think I’ve been ignoring the way he lets you escape every match,” he continues. The jagged fingers of his ungloved hand crawl up your collarbone, while his free hand rests on the pickaxe embedded in the wall. You’re caged between his arms. “Let me get one thing clear: I don’t care if he keeps ‘toys’ around the manor. But disrupting my kill count is where I have a problem.”

“Sh-Shouldn’t you take that up with him, not me?!”

The ground rumbles again. Tremors roll through your calves, weakness overtakes your muscles, and as you much as you try to resist, your knees buckle beneath you. With you crumpled at his feet, Fool’s Gold drags you to the nearest chair.

“I’m making sure he won’t get a chance to spare you this time.”

He does not leave your chair after that.

Something vicious has bubbled up inside of him today. Your teammates begin piling at your feet like flies because every rescue attempt results in a terror-shock.

At some point, Florian finds the strength to stand up again. Seconds before your timer is up, he unties you. You take the chance to sneak away while Fool’s Gold is monitoring something in the distance. The headstones shield your frame, and through the cracks you keep a close eye on your hunter. Then you realize what has caught his attention: from the tram tracks come the hollow clinking of stilts against stone, accompanied by Ithaqua’s emerging silhouette.

Your heart catches in your throat. Ithaqua has never threatened the other hunters to spare you, nor does he expect them to give you special treatment. You both know the rules of this game. Other hunters have chaired you countless times after you began associating with Ithaqua. But one look at him now makes it clear that he is upset, and you’re not entirely sure why.

“What are you doing?” Ithaqua hisses. He gestures at the unsuccessful rescuers, slugged and mounded around your vacant chair.

Fool’s Gold shrugs. “Couldn’t chair them all yet.”

“Where’s (Y/N)? Don’t lie to me.”

“Probably still hiding in the graveyard.” He picks up Florian, having downed him again, and callously tosses him in the chair. Ithaqua scours his surroundings, ears pricked for any hint of movement. You’re not sure what to do now. Keep hiding? Would Ithaqua protect you? Going against the rules so overtly would put himself at risk. It’s not like this game is leaning in your favor, though—all of your teammates have gone down.

You opt to peek over the headstone. Ithaqua’s eyes latch on you immediately. He takes in the grime dotting your cheeks and the bloodied bandage on your leg, then surges forward, weaving through the gravestones to grab your arm.

“You’re hurt,” he observes bitterly. His hand hovers above your leg but he doesn’t venture to touch it. “Why did you let Campbell find you?”

“I-I tried to run,” you argue.

“Liar. Why did he attack everyone but you? What were you doing with him?”

“Nothing! He hit me too!”

Ithaqua’s head cocks to the side as he picks you apart, scanning your arms and turning your head from side-to-side to check for any other wounds. When he decides there’s nothing else to fuss about, he shoves you behind him, then turns to face Fool’s Gold.

The other hunter clearly isn’t keen on the idea of letting you go.

“We’re one away from a flawless victory,” he says, jutting his pickaxe towards you.

Ithaqua’s grip tightens around your wrist. “I don’t care. Get out of my way.”

He doesn’t give Fool’s Gold a chance to react before he glides forward, ice axe poised. You wish you had the foresight to tug him backwards; it’s just like Ithaqua to let his control slip like this.

“There it is,” Fool’s Gold mutters, clearly unenthusiastic about this little tussle. A harsh scraping sound fills the air as their axes clash.

This is not the outcome you envisioned. You should take the chance to sneak away, to search for the dungeon while your teammates inevitably bleed out. With your movements stifled by the scuffle in front of you, you crouch down, edging along the row of graves. The dungeon could be just across the street. At least, you really hope so.

Just as you reach the last of the tombs, the pickaxe once again whirls through the air. It lodges into the fence next to you and misses your nose by a hair’s breadth. You freeze in place, already bracing for what comes next.

“Itha—!” tears out of your throat. Your voice quakes with the earth and your knees buckle. Fool’s Gold comes to retrieve his axe, and as he does he roughly hooks his fingers under your collar. You’re wrenched forward, legs scraping against the gravel.

It’s only a matter of seconds before you’re slammed into that familiar chair again.

Leather straps cinch tight around your arms. In front of you, Fool’s Gold straightens, letting out a terse sigh. Ithaqua has gone still. You lock eyes with your Night Watch, a little bewildered by what just happened.

“...I’ll find you back at the manor.” he says. It’s the last thing you hear before the game ends.

[rosemaze-reveries]

call me a forest survivor the way id get lost in that BUSH! i mean what

[mellowmageglitch]

[strych-ix]

stay away from that manor girl

[foulworth]

red lobster inn

you share a dinner date with fellow (inspired by ch.13 of pinocchio)

Fellow isn't sure when it happened, but The Red Lobster Inn has started to leave a bitter taste in his mouth.

From his seat tucked in the far back corner of the tavern, he pins his cigar between his lips for a leisurely draw off of it, eyes set on the sweeping flow of diners. The more well-dressed among them all greet each other with identical smiles on their faces, while others puff their chests up high so their magestones catch the light just right. He smiles at a woman who notices his stare, then lets out a breath of smoke, watching it curl and rise into the ceiling.

His favorite table is the old and rickety one in the back. It’s next to the gramophone, shadowed in a corner, where all exchanges are drowned out by the innkeeper’s collection of old Pyroxene scores. He always takes the bench by the wall. Usually Gidel joins him, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder or curled up at his side with his coat for a blanket. His guests tend not to look happy when they realize a child will be present for their chats, but they never push.

He sits alone today. Shoulders rolled forward, elbows propped up on either side of his crystal glass. The patrons passing through here remind him of a time he’d rather forget. He’s only here at your insistence, making this the second time he’ll be dining here with you, but he wishes you would have agreed to go somewhere a little less . . . awkward.

He robbed you the last time you were here.

“What? No Gidel today?”

You emerge from the blur of tavern-goers, sticking out like a beacon that beckons him home. There’s a glum pout tugging at your lips once you notice the empty space beside him. Your eyes are still the same as they were the day back then—meek, sweet, simple. Fellow isn’t sure what kind of spell he managed to cast on you, but you look at him as if he’s the key to everything you’ve ever dreamed of. As if. You should know better than that now.

“Gidel? No, he should be around here… somewhere,” Fellow says. He sets his cigar in an empty dish to fiddle with his glass, giving it a mindless swirl. He knows exactly where his little feline companion is but he chooses to omit that detail today. Neither does he mention the trip he took to Ramshackle just this morning, the rapidfire apologies to Yuu for what happened at Playful Land, and the itty-bitty request he saved for the end of his insufferable jabberfest, which went like this: “Say, while we’re here, why don’t you keep ole Giddy some company for a while? He’s been begging me to shadow a student here for ages! Yes, yes, I knew I could count on you! My dear prefect, you are a lifesaver. Okay, goodbye now!” and the mad dash down the hill before Yuu could manage a single word of protest.

All of that is better left unsaid, he’s decided. There’s no real reason to keep it from you. It would certainly put your mind at ease to know that Gidel is somewhere safe and not off scavenging the backstreets like an alley cat. Maybe it’s that last measly strand of pride that’s keeping him quiet. Not that he’s got anything to prove to you. You’ve seen him at his ugliest and angriest and most vulnerable. Sometimes he wonders why you haven’t turned your back on him already.

“Hmm…” You tilt your head, sensing something odd about Fellow’s vagueness. He always keeps tabs on Gidel’s whereabouts, even when they’re not together. Wondering if they had gotten into a squabble or something, your lips part to ask, but they don’t get the chance to form a single word before Fellow jumps upright.

“Well!” he claps his hands. “The important thing is that I’m here, isn’t that right?”

If he’s being honest, Fellow would have felt much more comfortable with Gidel here. But that boy was the one who insisted he arrive solo. Something about the importance of having time with you alone. The only reason Fellow agreed was the thought of tomorrow, when he’ll head to Ramshackle for pick-up, and hopefully find a treasure trove of trinkets stuffed in Gidel's little patchwork pockets. Blame it on Yuu for being such a sucker.

You cross your arms, eyeing down your date’s sweet, glistening smile.

“It’s a little suspicious, that’s all,” you say. Fellow never shies away from an opportunity he deems ripe for the picking. You learned that well the last time you were here. “I might have to tie you to a chair this time.”

“What?!” His voice jumps up a pitch and he clutches his heart in offense. “How low you think of me! But, my dear (Y/N), if that would make you feel better, then I suppose I have no choice but to let you do as you please with me…” Coyly, he turns away, then offers his wrists like a prisoner to be cuffed. You’ve known him long enough to see through his fluttering lashes and practised pout. As if he wasn’t the one who left you to foot the bill the last time you were here. Still, his little dramatics feel off, even for him.

You take a slow blink.

Something’s got his nerves all strung. He’s so obvious. He hasn’t spoken to you like this in a long time—back when his kisses didn’t mean anything and every compliment was tossed your way in hopes you’d throw a couple of thaumarks back at him. The way his voice rises with that lilt makes it a dead giveaway. And he doesn’t call you my dear. Not when it matters, anyway.

So, you decide not to hesitate: “I’m tying you to the chair.”

You round the corner of the table to reach him, and Fellow snaps out of his modest act. He throws a hand up to stop you while the other bunches his tail against his chest. “Hey, hey, I was just messing with you! Honest! Let’s not get grabby now! I wasn’t gonna dash out on you again, I swear! And coming here was your idea, case you forgot—oh!”

You lean down to palm the sides of his pockets, searching for his fraying brown wallet that’s weighed by the candy wrapper. It’s not like you actually packed rope to tie him up, but the tease in you still wants to give him a little rush.

Fellow jolts and slams his hands on top of yours. “Naughty thing! We’re in public.”

Instead, that little rush comes to you. “Stop being weird,” you hush.

“Me!” he gawks. “I’ve been minding my business!”

You manage to slip out the leather pouch you were looking for. A flash of confusion crosses Fellow’s face, before his furrowed brows relax, and he slumps back in defeat. You leaf through wrappers and thaumark bills until you’re satisfied with your finds. He gives you a smug harrumph.

“See? I’ve always been an honest fellow. It’s in the name,” he sips his glass.

“An honest man wouldn’t brag about how honest he is.”

“All honest men are suspicious,” he returns. The two of you have shared this exact exchange dozens of times before. It’s like a duet, familiar and rehearsed, a reminder that the man sitting here is uniquely yours. You toss his wallet back at him before sliding into your seat. Shoulder-to-shoulder, like Fellow prefers, though he’s never admitted it out loud. 

“Anyway,” you reach across him to grab the tavern menu. “Where is Gidel really?”

“Ramshackle,” he yields.

“For the night?”

“That’s the plan. His plan, by the way. I’m all alone and defenseless.”

You turn your gaze to the menu, deliberating. Rarely do you and Fellow ever get a night to yourselves. Realizing the many paths this evening might take, you take a small sip of the drink he’s been nursing on. It’s just a sweet apple cider. You don’t think he intended for his last comment to be taken the way you understood it, considering how mopey and dramatic he had sounded, but he quickly realizes how it came across to you. Your trailing thoughts are clear on your face.

“Oh, did I say something?” he teases. “You know, I’d love nothing more than to make all your dreams come true, but before I get to you I’d really like a nice stew first.”

It’s not often, but every once in a while, Fellow might be a little too honest with you. At least he has clear priorities in order, you suppose.

“Very charming,” you huff. The irrational part of you still has the gall to feel flustered. You try desperately to disregard that until later tonight. Focus on dinner first.

“I don’t even remember what I ordered last time,” you muse.

“You didn’t eat more than a walnut kernel and some bread that night,” Fellow recalls. A certain someone had you far too preoccupied to care about the food. It feels cathartic to be here again, knowing everything that’s happened in-between. The man sitting next to you is a presence you’ve grown so dearly fond of. Such a contrast from your last experience here.

You stop perusing the menu to gaze at him for a moment, at the contour of his jaw and slope of his nose. The wispy tangerine curls that sweep down his neck. You lean over to rest your head against his shoulder, and although he doesn’t meet your gaze, he sneaks a hand down to entwine with yours.

[thiolliers-consort]

Amanda Gaddis x Reader headcanons

Warnings: no beta reader we die like Andrew Kreiss, suggestive content, apathetic Amanda, implied sapphic Amanda, GN reader, alcohol.

Headcanons under cut

🎩 you are very aware of her issues and all she asks of you is that you understand that she doesn’t want to be mean to you it’s just that she doesn’t see how what she says or does is mean.

🎩 for example, if she thinks you don’t look good in a certain outfit, she will tell you immediately. She thinks that since she’s being truthful then she’s being nice. Who wants to be lied to?

🎩 not someone you should vent to if you want someone to tell you you’re right, but she does give every helpful and honest feedback. If you’re being a jerk she will make it known. She is not a yes man.

🎩 huge flirt but in a very specific kinda sapphic way. Very serious until it reaches the “punchline” of the flirt where she compliments you. If she’s going through old photos of you she might tell you to smile so she can point out that you still have “the same pretty smile” or something like that.

🎩 it’s very unexpected and it’s very rare.

🎩 loves longer hair. She doesn’t like doing her hair because her scalp is tender, but if you allow then she’d never stop braiding yours. Whatever style you want she can do. Longer hair also means more hair to grab.

🎩 showers twice a day and brushes teeth after every meal, first thing in the morning, and before bed. She can’t stand when someone isn’t clean. If you’re depressed and can’t take care of yourself then she’ll do it for you. She will bush your teeth and wash you herself no matter how much of a fight you put up.

🎩 not the biggest fan of receiving in any way. She wants to initiate everything and wants to be the dominant figure in every situation. Especially if you’re larger and more intimidating than her, then she gets the biggest sense of pride possible.

🎩 her lips are really dry and cracked due to her constant chewing on her them. Kissing might be a little uncomfortable but she tries to make up for it by letting you kiss other parts of her. Even if you say you don’t mind, she insists that you deserve better than her blistered and bloodied lips—unless you’re into that.

🎩 very soft and flat body and very soft and flat breasts. She doesn’t usually like receiving much touch, but she will accept it occasionally. She doesn’t like to admit it but it feels nice knowing you want to feel her (and grope her breasts).

I’m a pervert sorry.

🎩 doesn’t leave situations she knows is bad. Things aren’t usually bad for her, but they might be for you or someone else. She knows how to flip something on its head and is not easy to manipulate by any means. She’ll certainly let you try though.

🎩 likes cheese, coffee and wine. Manor AU ahead, but she goes to the bar a lot and drinks with Antonio, Sangria, Richard, Joseph and Demi. She doesn’t choose to be with them specifically, but they’re always at the bar at the same time as her. She doesn’t really get drunk often, but when she does it’s not all that different. Also coffee keeps her from being 100% exhausted everyday—she has no clue it’s making her sleep even worse.

🎩 doesn’t sleep regularly but loves to watch you sleep. If you have insomnia or just can’t sleep then she has many remedies. None of them work on her anymore, but she’d love to experiment them on you if it means you get to rest.