Hopelessly Devoted ~ Garroth x F!Reader

Ch 40: Eat the Rich (But Screw Them First)

Alternate Title: Night on the Town

Second Person:

Later that night, you lounged in the waiting room, basking in the candlelight that drowned out outside's darkness. Garroth emerged from the staircase, lighting up in relief at the sight of you.

"I was looking for you," he confessed breathlessly, plopping down next to you and settling into the velvet lounge sofa.

His desperation was endearing, but you couldn't outright admit you returned the sentiment. No, that would spare unnecessary complication. Instead, you blinked innocently. "It's okay, I don't need to be guarded right now." You pat his chest in a reminiscently mocking way, a self-satisfied smile tugging at one cheek bone.

He took hold of your wrist where it rested on him. "You sure? Your hands are all over me," He adjusted his grip from your wrist to your fingers, the corner of his lip quirking upwards.

You rolled your eyes to distract from the sell-out burning in your cheeks. "You're the one holding my hand," you countered.

"You're not letting go," he shot back, nodding to where your fingers intertwined with his. He ran his thumb smoothly across your knuckle while basking in your flabbergasted silence. He chuckled charmingly at your predicament: you, heavy-tongued and reduced to a quivering pile of hormones, unable to shoot back another retort. He cocked his head to the side, gesturing towards the back door. "Want to go swimming?"

You put on an enthusiastic expression, like a rock collector in a rock emporium. "Can we really? I could see the pool through that huge glass wall when we came in. There's lights under the water! Have you ever seen something so high class?"

By the looks of it, your superiorly-versed knight had—and plenty of times, at that. He assessed you with a dazed admiration, failing to contain his grin, even in lapse of attempting to shake it away. "Back home," he started, "inns always included as many amenities in their suites as possible. After tonight, you won't remember what life was like before the finer things. That's a promise," he declared, steadfast in his close proximity to you. "They might have a complimentary pool-package here waiting upstairs."

If they did, you figured you'd have seen it already. An accomplished knight's perception of 'average' was likely warped by special treatment—but you didn't want to add insult by pointing that out. Doubtfully, you played along. "Oh, for sure. Along with their all inclusive, take-home Chinese-exported silk towels that are totally a thing."

The glisten in his eyes went somber at your mood shift. "Hey," his tone turned reassuring, "we can look around downtown for some swimsuits. The strip is full of merchants."

Under the gathered bunches of multi-faceted gemstones on the chandelier overhead, you felt misplaced in the world of finer things. You, along with your demeanor, sank into the elegant couch cushion. A rapidly-dawning conclusion crashed down; that even if Garroth's high-class society was close enough to scrape, it would never be nearer than a fingernail's length away. Destructively touchable—still unobtainable.

Garroth started for your attention, swiveling his body to face where you'd drifted a bit further away next to him. He locked eye contact. "It's on me tonight. I meant what I said about treating you."

***

Even you lacked immunity to Garroth's convincing wiles as you found yourself strolling the stone-paved streets, draped like an adornment at his side. Not a soul could blame you; the city's splendor was even grander in its night life. Fairy lights adorned each entrance's cloth overhang, reflecting off of the pristine display windows underneath them. Cursive font spelled out each clothing shop's brand name on the window, casting loopy shadows on the cobbled sidewalk below. Tall, ornate glass lamps lined the street, their brazen, arched arms supporting additional candles. The smooth jazz of an accordion street-performer backed by a constant pulse of stringed instruments beckoned you down the corridor. The scene was timeless—classic in the craftsmanship of its romantic-era architecture. Y'all I'm cryin in the club rn bcos this is giving me nostalgia for that scene from Anastasia where she goes shopping down the Champs-Élysées with Dmitri :')