Hello, I hope that you'e doing well! If it's alright, may I please request a fluffy oneshot with Nadia and fem mc? Where they're walking around in the garden at night, talking about the stars and the world. Then MC saying and doing this to Nadia,
Person A: I can fit the whole world in my hands.
Person B: No, that's impossible.
Person A: *Cups B's face*
Person B: * Blushes furiously"
What would Nadia's reaction and reponse be?
───south end rituals;
pairing: nadia satrinava x consul!reader
summary: you're far from coherent from working tirelessly on rebuilding vesuvia to its former glory and become bold in your actions towards the countess, your boss.
word count: 1.4k+
warnings: kind of canon divergent, nadia is only referred to as the countess
notes: i really tried making this request work but inspo for this just failed every time :( i'm sorry if it's not to your liking, anon, it's not my fav either
── check out my other works; the arcana masterlist & other masterlists
It only took six months of constant denials, operational mishaps, and nonstop rewrites to get approved, but it’s finally here—the logistics to save the Flooded District before it completely sank. If all goes well from here on out, the Flooded District can thrive once more in at least a years’ time.
Despite the major victory, you don’t celebrate for long, immediately diving into the next subject on Vesuvia’s restoration project. At least three dozen issues await to be fixed in the long list of purposeful disasters the last Count and his lecherous court committed. To an extent, the Countess is at fault too. Her apathetic negligence allowed the courtiers free reign to serve their own selfish agendas.
It’s why she hands you another document, eager to right her wrongs.
The South End was next on the list. Dealing with poverty and beautification is a top priority for the suffering neighborhood. You’re excited to work in your home district—engrossed in bridging the gap between the South End and the illustrious Temple District.
Initial excitement dwindles as the words on the document begin to bleed into one another. Blueprints for new construction projects start swirling into blue and white visual illusions. The scratches of the Countess’s quill transition into auditory hallucinations of the patrons from the Rowdy Raven. Another minute looking at anything remotely to do with city plans would surely put you to death, so you toss the black ink quill down onto a pile of amended policies, and harshly rub your eyes.
The Countess barely gives you a glance, waving her hand towards the door. “You are free to leave and rest, Consul. I need you to be coherent for the contractor meeting in four hours.”
Your legs twitch, aching to run towards your bedroom down the hall for some much needed sleep. But you know, she's feeling worse than you. Despite her collected appearance, you clearly notice the change in her demeanor since your promotion to courtier. Shoulders tensing, lips turning downward as headaches return the longer she stays awake; irritation flaring up easily at every minor inconvenience.
“And leave you alone to wallow in this mess? Not a chance, my lady.” The Countess hums noncommittal and continues writing, only pausing to take a sip of tea. “I do believe we need a break, though.”
She peeks over her gold half moon glasses, a disagreement ready at her lips, only remaining silent when you get up from your seat to stretch—joints immediately cracking. “Perhaps you are correct. A few minutes should not hurt.”
She leans back into her chair with closed eyes, folding her hands over her stomach. You watch her until her breaths steadily slow.
You exit the main room and step onto the balcony. The Palace gardens, grand and magnificent in true Prakra glory, calms your busy mind. Fireflies light up the garden below, flying around the impressive collection of flora the Countess has curated over the past several years. There are a few maids sitting near the fountain to the left, and you wave at them when you catch their eye.
Four fireflies fly up to the balcony dancing across the banister flowers. One lands on your outstretched palm. It crawls over your skin for a few seconds before flying away. You track its movements, body twisting when it flies behind you, only to land on the awakened Countess’s slender nose. A snicker escapes you before you can stifle it, and she shoots you an amused look as the firefly continues to explore her face. Soon enough, when it’s satisfied, it flies away to join the others.
“You have such a lively fauna, my lady.” You tease.
She appears softer than before, shoulders less tense, and the crease in her forehead has disappeared. “Thank you. Soon enough, all of Vesuvia shall rival my own. Especially the South End.” She joins you at the banister, a few centimeters separating the both of you. You can smell the faint lavender perfume she applied this morning. “How are the residents? I have not had the chance to visit since last.”
“As we progress in the restoration project, they become more hopeful. Many of the ideas for South End improvements actually came from residents. My old neighbors offered their services if needed.”
The Countess visibly relaxes with a deep inhale. “It delights me to hear it.” She turns to you and you repeat her actions. “I appreciate your efforts, Consul. If it were not for your tenacity, I doubt I would have made any progress. A trait you picked up from the South End, hm?”
You smile. “There’s a little ritual we had as children to keep our spirits high despite our mishandled circumstances. When life got too much, we’d hold onto what we believed was the most important thing to us—to ground us to the little happiness we could have. Some children held plushies; others held candy. For those moments, we felt like we could hold the whole world in our hands. Make life a little less daunting, even now.”
The Countess sucks her teeth softly. You remember when one of her sisters, told you how Didi always had a callous attitude, even in her youth. No doubt a byproduct of being the youngest of seven.
“You don’t believe in it?” You say it more as a statement than a question.
“Falsely giving oneself hope is suitable for children but for adults?”
“If I may be so brazen, I can prove it to you.” With a raised brow, she nods. You hesitate for a moment, biting your lip, to contemplate whether you should continue.
When you were hired a year ago, the Countess would have never let her guard down. She remained aloof for the majority of your employment until you promoted yourself to her unofficial personal assistant. As you take on more responsibilities, she slowly decompresses in your presence. There’s a little camaraderie now—enough for her to do nice things for you. Like the time she personally delivered food to your office after realizing you had not eaten all day. Or the few times she immediately delegated your responsibilities to someone else when you were clearly overwhelmed. Sometimes, you feel her gaze linger on you longer than necessary, especially on nights where you two are alone. Which happens often as of late.
It didn’t take long to develop feelings.
The only thing keeping you from revealing those feelings revolved around her being your boss and the Countess. But in this moment, when you’re bleary-eyed and barely conscious of your own behavior, all caution is thrown to the wind.
You cup her cheeks into her palms. A soft gasp trickles into the chilly air, heating the short distance between the two of you. “See? I’m holding the whole world in my hands.”
With a fierce blush spreading across her cheeks, her eyes darted towards the garden and your gentle smile. Although she remains in your embrace, you think she’s anxious at your touch.
“Have I discomfited you, my lady?” You slowly remove your hands from her skin. “The long nights without sleep have caused some irrational thinking—”
“No, I—” She grasps your right hand, returning it to its original place. “I am not used to romantic affection.” She pauses to gather her thoughts before sighing, leaning into your palm with a warm expression. “I must admit, you continue to surprise me. First your tenacity, candor, and now… Will you continue to be emboldened, Consul?”
“I aim to please you, my lady.
She trembles as your hands and fingertips trail from her cheeks down to the back of her neck, firmly gripping the exposed flesh. You bring her flush against your chest. Lavender engulfs you whole as your lips ghost against her own.
She’s given you permission to express your affections because she wants it. You’re lit ablaze with this knowledge. Body vibrating, hands shaking as you wish nothing more than to indulge in your fantasies without worries of responsibilities.
“I fear I may miss the meeting if you allow my boldness to continue.” You whisper against her lips.
The Countess’s breaths have gotten deeper, eyes downturned, staring at your parted lips. She nods once and matches your tone. “Correct, as usual, Consul.” As soon as you step away from her, she clears her throat and places a few fingers on her collarbone. “After the meeting, perhaps we can continue…” She looks away, blushing the vibrant red you’ve come to love.
“I would love nothing more.” You pick up her hand and press a kiss to the back of it, momentarily relishing in her heat. “Sweet dreams, my lady.”
You throw her a wink, and a trembled sigh emits from her before you leave. Tonight’s events no doubt will keep you awake. It doesn’t matter, though. You’ll take a nap before seeing the Countess in a few hours to be rejuvenated for whatever she has in store for you.
