#If you write a wish upon a paper and you place it into a glass bottle 🌙 《 dash comm. 》

[imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese]

Invitation

Wherein Eris receives an invitation and responds. (Takes place after the conclusion of Season of the Witch.)

Link to Ao3 if you prefer to read it there

Eris sat alone at the small table in her portal room in the H.E.L.M., surrounded by books, the portal to the Athenaeum glowing behind her. She sipped tea, both hands on the cup, enjoying the blissful silence.

The main door opened and she saw Crow at the top of the stairs wave to something.

A tiny red light floated into the room and approached her.

The corner of Eris’ mouth quirked upwards in a small smile. She set aside her tea.

The Drifter’s ghost floated slowly to her in complete silence. It came within a few feet of her, eye level to her as she sat, and tipped downward in what Eris assumed was a ghost-version of a bow. Something white was tucked in between the pieces of its shell.

She held out her hand. The ghost lowered itself down to rest on her palm and shook while opening its shell slightly.

A note.

The other side of Eris’ mouth also quirked up into a smile.

She took the note with one hand while holding the ghost in her other. Her thumb brushed along one of its welded seams.

You and me? Dinner tonight? 8? On that heap I call a ship?

Unaddressed. Unsigned. And yet, completely unambiguous.

The note was hand-lettered, the writing clean and neat, printed, not cursive. Eris wondered if he had written it out dozens of times to get the lettering so even and clean, or if his penmanship was that good. It could go either way with him. He would probably say he’s had a lot of time to learn how to… how would he phrase it… ‘write nice’... but would he have? Perhaps. She would have to gather more evidence to determine the answer to that question. This form of correspondence pleased her and she wished to encourage it.

Eris examined the writing carefully. Not a pen. A felt tip marker perhaps. Fine. The kind that would be able to write on glass or metal with just as much ease as paper.

The paper had weight to it. Card stock. Possibly for use as shipping labels or to slide into metal frames on the front sections of metal drawers. The medium was functional, but unblemished. Clean. No stains of grease or smudging. Carefully prepared.

There was room for her answer on the back, but Eris was loathe to give away the only sample of his handwriting he had ever given to her. She tilted her head.

…what’s it like?

Perhaps he might feel the same.

She ran her thumb along a different welded seam on the ghost in her hand. It briefly froze, and then tilted and leaned into her finger, clearly unused to such tenderness. She placed the note down on the table and put her other hand around the ghost, cupping it, gently lifting it, and then placing it upon the table next to the note and her teacup.

She held up one finger in front of it. It rose an inch above the table surface and tipped its front down in a nod, waiting.

Eris reached behind her and pulled out a piece of hive leather from the cupboard along with a sharp stone.

Too large.

She used the stone to cut the leather into a piece slightly smaller than the palm of her hand. She trimmed the edges so they would not be sharp and then turned it over in her fingertips. Small enough for a ghost to carry, but large enough to be an object which might bring joy to be touched, caressed, kept as a memento. He absolutely would keep it. He could be ridiculously sentimental when he allowed himself to be.

She put the larger piece of leather aside and held the sharp stone above her newly created stationary.

I accept? No. Too formal.

I look forward to it? No. Too eager.

Challenge accepted? Playful, but not quite what she wanted for this situation. No.

He would like that response, and it would match the coyness of his note. But, Eris was not feeling coy. She did not wish to simply call his bet, she wished to raise it. Something weighted, then. A message which could have layers of meaning, like its intended recipient.

Eris smiled fully.

Deep cuts with the stone, not enough to slice through, but heavy with the weight of emphasis. He would notice. He would run his fingertips across the cuts and feel their depth, sense the even, deliberate strength of the incisions indicating, in turn, the strength of the response.

One word, cut in sharp angles. No ambiguity and yet, ambiguously applicable to more than just the stated invitation. He would catch his breath. His hands or perhaps even his spine might tremble. He would wonder if it were the answer to more than the question he had asked. He would hope it was.

yes

Eris put down the stone and turned the piece of leather containing her response in her hands, imagining she were receiving it. She felt the weight of it, both physically and emotionally. Yes. This was imparting what she wanted it to convey.

She looked down to the mutilated ghost watching her work.

…you’re beautiful. Not in spite of the scars, because of them…

She held out her hand. The ghost floated over and gently rested in her palm, letting her feel its weight as it looked up at her. She took the hive leather response she had composed in her other hand and extended out one finger, stroking each one of the soldered scars on the ghost’s shell. It shuddered and opened up, allowing her to slip the leather between its misshapen plates.

The ghost’s shell pulled closed again, gripping Eris' note, and it hovered inches above her hand, twisting itself and then confirming with a small bob that her message was secure.

Still smiling, Eris brought her hand back up to touch the ghost, gently tugging it to her lips and pressing a small kiss on the side of its shell.

It trembled.

She opened her hand wider and leaned back.

The Drifter’s ghost floated up and dipped its tiny body to her in the air, bowing, its red eye briefly glowing brighter.  Then it wafted back reverently to the door.

It turned to looked back at her and bowed slowly once more in the air before it left the room.

Eris poured more hot tea into her cup and sat back in her chair, tea in one hand, her dinner invitation in the other.

She ran her fingertip back and forth along the surface of the note as she sipped and smiled.

This is the conclusion to a series of stories written during Season of the Witch that I called Kept Conficence, after the hand cannon with the lore that helped to inspire them.

Here is a link to all of them in order if you wish.

[pearlymel]

A Dragon and his Muse— Neuvillette

SUMMERY : As days turn to weeks, a wordless routine develops. You arrive, set up your workplace, then you lose yourself in your art. Neuvillette takes his usual seat, sometimes pretending to work but secretly admires at your creations.

WC : 8.5k

WARNINGS : Neuvillette x afab!reader, reader is a painter, fluff, smut, crack, a sprinkle of angst, love at first sight (?), inexperienced Neuvi, NSFW mating press, unprotected sex, fingering, premature ejaculation.

NOTES : this is one of my favourite piece out of everything I've written, probably because neuvi is my main and he's very sweet <3. I wish it was more slowburn but i suck at thoseI hope you enjoy reading it as much as i loved writing it.

His office is too quiet. His mind is too loud. Too messy.

Everything seemed just not in place, it was the constant overwork and less appreciation, not that he’s really complaining. But it was taking a toll on his energy nowadays.

Constantly for 400 years.

A thud on the glassy window wasn’t enough to grab his attention, but once the noise continued, he finally turned his attention away from the papers

Ah, it was a bird. Knocking on the window using it’s beak.

oh dear, it’s friend joined, but rather than knocking on the window, it flew straight into the glass and fell down.

Neuvillette stood up slowly from his stiff cushioned chair, walking towards the large window, his footsteps echoing softly in the quiet room.

Upon reaching the window, he gazed contemplatively down, lost in thought, his gaze was drawn once more to the two birds. The first bird, still pecking at the glass with a persistent curiosity, seemed undeterred by its previous failure to gain entry. The second bird, now recovered from its fall, fluttered its wings and joined its companion, pecking at the window with renewed vigor. There was something almost endearing about their determination, a small yet poignant reminder of persistence and companionship.

He reached out to open the window, so they can fly away. This place isn’t suitable for them after all.

His eyes fell to a certain melusine, unmoving. Just like a statue.

And there you where, someone he didn’t recognize, he noticed how your hands were covered in all sorts of paints and stains. Your hair had random streaks here and there, and the look on your face… you were enjoying yourself, despite looking a bit serious.

Hm, he tilted his head and continued to watch you paint the melusine, it was a bit relaxing to say the least, though he couldn’t help but observe your features more and the way you dressed up.

You definitely weren’t from Fontaine.

Perhaps… a tourist? He thought then leaned against the edge of the window, crossing his arms.

He was too lost in thought that he didn’t notice the paint on your fingers that are now on your face. A smudge of dark blue paint right under your eye.

The dear melusine abruptly stood up from the wooden stool chair, and it’s like she was able to read Neuvillette’s thoughts, she gestured you to bend down so she could wipe the stain off your under eye.

You both laugh, a sound that seemed to break the tranquility of the room in the most gentle way, although not quite audible from above, it was calming to hear such noise. Neuvillette observed this interaction with a faint smile, feeling a strange sense of warmth in his chest. It had been a long time since something so simple had brought such a calm feeling to his chaotic mind.

This is embarrassing…

With a shake of his head, he took one last glance down then returned back to work, where he unfortunately belonged.

—

he doesn’t even know why he’s standing by the window again, it’s been days since he admired, observed you painting.

One day it would be the nature, the next another melusine, then a random couple or a best friends.

But you weren’t there today like he expected you to be, it’s has only been a week since he was watching you, did you already leave Fontaine?

He sighed, he knew it wouldn’t be forever to watch some random stranger have fun with the colors, but he was a tad bit disappointed to find you gone so soon.

And now be finds himself in lyney and lynette’s magic show, sitting with the crowd on the front row, hands resting politely on his lap while he waited for the preparations and people to join in.

“I’m so sorry,” he hears a voice from behind him, followed by a gentle thud, the person most likely apologizing for bumping into somebody, he doesn’t pay much mind to it to turn around.

This person walks through the narrow row, carefully stepping past other seated passengers, muttering quiet ‘excuse me’s�� with each step. They finally reach his row and, with a polite nod, maneuver past him, their bag brushing lightly against his arm. After what feels like an eternity, they let out a long sigh of relief as they settle into the seat next to him, adjusting their belongings and making themselves comfortable.

Today is crowded, he thought, glancing around the packed space.

He blinked in surprise when there were fire poles starting at the stage, everyone clapping and gasping in excitement. A laugh emitting from next to him, followed by the rapid claps of their hands.

The laughter rings in his ears, it was almost familiar, listening to it in the air… relaxing as the colors splash—

Oh,

Oh.

Neuvillette is too afraid to even look to confirm it was you, sitting next to him all along. He was frozen in place, gloved hands gently clenching on his thighs as he kept his eyes glued to the stage.

Wait, why would he even be nervous? Maybe it was odd because he kind of knows you in a sense, but you don’t.

He finally got the courage to glance at your way, trying to be as discreet as possible. And there you were, the same paint-stained fingers now clutching your bag, probably full of brushes, eyes wide with wonder at the magic unfolding on stage. You turned slightly, catching his gaze for a brief moment, and he felt like he was caught in his act, both of you awkwardly staring at each other for a good five seconds before you awkwardly speak.

“It’s like a cinema,” you utter out to him, and he’s bewildered. A… cinema?

You both then awkwardly adjust back to your seats, continuing to watch the magic unfold like nothing ever happened.

Maybe he should’ve said something instead of leaving you hanging like that.

At the end of the magnificent show, the crowd claps in sync, and Neuvillette notices how your eyes shined in awe at the twins bowing down.

“Your first time?” Neuvillette decides to speak this team with a lot of thinking through.

“yes.” You nod, “I've never seen something like this…”

And he hums, observing how you were excited over this little thing he sees occasionally. Was it that rare?

“I feel like it is rude to be speaking to you without letting you know of my name,” he clears his throat, “I am Neuvillette.”

Such a unique name, you think. “I'm…” you say your name out firmly, “I'm a painter or an artist.”

“i know.”

You raise both of your eyebrows in shock, have you gotten famous already?

Upon seeing your expression, Neuvillette's eyes widen slightly in horror, it now sounds like he was some sort of stalker watching your every movement.

“What i meant is that.. that I've seen you paint.” he clarifies quickly, keeping his voice smooth and composed.

Seems like you've really earned yourself a medal.

“It's nice meeting you, Neuvillette. But i have to go…” plus you suck at small talks, so this was a good excuse.

“right, my apologies. Be careful on your way out.”

Neuvillette feels… odd, to say the least as he watches you leave in a hurry with your bag slinging over your shoulder.

You seem interesting, like a new breath of fresh air, and he wanted to know more about you. Anything to talk to you more to ease the unfamiliar fuzzy feeling in his chest.

Alas, he doesn't have time to make new friends, he'll only have to hope to bump into you next time.

—

Another broken quill.

Neuvillette watches as the ink runs down on the paper, completely ruining it, and he sighs to himself.

The weather is awful today, the rain just continues to pour down because of today's trial. What even is justice anymore?

He pushes himself out of his chair, maybe watching you paint will ease the amount of work—

But all he's met with is the harsh rain, remembering that obviously you wouldn't paint in such weather.

I ruined their day, Neuvillette thinks. And it only causes another frown to appear on his face, although the frown leaves as quickly as it came when he narrowed his eyes outside the window, watching a figure sitting under the building, seemingly waiting for the rain to pass.

Upon the realization it was you, Neuvillette doesn't hesitate for a moment. Without a second thought, he leaves his office with quick movement, the rain is still falling heavily, but he doesn't care. All that matters to him is reaching you.

There you were, sitting unbothered right outside, your legs stretched on the concrete with a notebook on your lap.

“You…” it was the first thing he managed to utter, and yet it was enough to catch your attention. “Oh, it's you.” You smile at him, standing up while dusting the dirt off you.

He should've told you to stay seated, to not bother you.

“I'm sorry about our last encounter, i didn't know you were the Chief Justice of Fontaine.” You quickly say out, your hands behind your back and your head lowered.

“No apology is needed.” He tries to reassure you, “I am more concerned about your well being. The weather is inconvenient for your art.” And the slightest frown appears on his face again, but you surprisingly don't seem as sad as he was. “When the sun comes and the rain stops, the prettiest rainbow and sight touches the sky. And it's worth waiting for—besides, I'm not bothered by it at all.”

Neuvillette only stares down at you when silence follows after, he feels reassured back that the rain, caused by his emotions, didn't make you upset.

And you notice, the way his shoulders seem to relax, his eyelids no longer weary, showing the slightest softness to it, and the downward curl of his lips disappearing in a matter of seconds.

The rain.

“Oh,” you watch as the rain starts to slowly stop, leaving only a few patters and drops of the earthy scent lingering in the air. “The rain stopped.” You seem more cheerful, he noted. You sat back down on the concrete, watching the sky brighten once again.

It's been a while since Neuvillette had seen something so simple and pure. And he would like to join you this time as you talk about your love for colours.

“I'm not sure if it's appropriate to ask someone like the Iudex to sit with me,”

“… i would love to join you. But please, just address me by my name.”

—

Today's sight was different, it was more colourful, more cheerful, was he the only one who was cooped up in his office while missing out the fun?

Neuvillette looks around, left and right, there are melusine's with colours and drawings adoring their faces, adding a bit or—more personality to each Melusine.

Even children and adults.

"Good morning, Sedene," he talks to the melusine right outside the door of his office, his eyes lingering on the butterfly painted on her cheek.

"May I ask what the face paints are for?" he inquires, his curiosity piqued by the unusual sight. “It's from the artist, Monsieur. One person asked for their face painted, so everyone wanted one.” She responds instantly, pointing at the drawing on her cheek. Neuvillette's eyebrows raise in surprise at Sedene's revelation. It seems your artistic skills continues leaving a lasting impression on everyone.

A small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he processes this piece of information. "I see," he murmurs, his curiosity only growing stronger. "And where might they be at?”

Sedene hums, turning around to point outside, “they should be right outside.” his gaze flicks to the entrance. So you're nearby, and he can't deny the flutter of anticipation he feels at the thought of seeing you again.

He clears his throat, "thank you, Sedene," he says before nodding in farewell and making his way towards the entrance.

There you are. Giggling while talking to each one in a soft matter, and the Iudex can't help but be mesmerized by the way you work, the concentration and care you pour into every brushstroke.

The sight of you amidst the children and melusines, their faces adorned with vibrant colors, is both heartwarming and intriguing.

“Monsieur!” Neuvillette visibly freezes when you call out for him, and he glances at you, your hand waving for him in the air.

He must've been too occupied admiring your work.

His legs seem to lead the way towards you on command, watching how your smile only brightened, “take a break, want me to paint your face? Or maybe your hand?” You ask, gesturing him to sit on the stool infront of you, and the others giggle.

“i suppose I can't say no…” he replies softly, taking the glove off his left hand to stretch out for you.

“and what symbol would you like?”

“a water droplet, perhaps?”

You begin almost right away, taking some blue and white paint, blue for the colour of the droplet, and white for the shiny details.

Your hand envelopes around his, and while it's a normal gesture, it doesn't stop Neuvillette to make him have weird feelings stirring in him, how your fingers brush against his skin, he notices that. Or when you squeeze his hand unintentionally to focus perfecting the shape, he also feels that.

“you have nice hands, Neuvillette.” You whisper while now adding some white highlights, and this time, he squeezes your hand unintentionally. “Thank you.” He manages to say something back to your compliment.

Just a normal compliment, nothing to overthinking about.

“All done.” The warmth of your hand leaves his, and he raises his hand infront of him to look over at the final finish.

A symbol that represents his love for water, he couldn't be more satisfied with it.

“I will see you next time.” You wave once again at him before tending to your other ‘clients’.

Next time, it's like you're also wishing to see him again.

That day, Neuvillette tried not to wash off the symbol on his hand, wanting to keep it on for as long as possible.

And now, here you both are again, about the next day.

Neuvillette listens intently as you talk to him over a cup of tea, his eyes fixed on your face as he absorbs the details of your story. The mention of your journey from one nation to another makes him sit up a bit straighter, his curiosity piqued.

"Indeed, that sounds like quite the long and eventful journey," he muses out loud, "But to uproot your life and come a lomg way here, it's quite a bold move.”

You take a long sip from your tea cup, “how so?”

"Well," he begins, "it takes a certain amount of courage and determination to leave everything behind and embark on such a journey. It's a significant change and a leap into the unknown, which most people tend to shy away from.”

To be fair, it was your first time travelling out of your nation, you never intended to visit Fontaine first, but you heard about the lovely views this nation has.

"I understand, for me... I just needed to see the other nation's aesthetic and culture. So I won't be staying here forever."

Won't stay. That's all Neuvillette heard that came out from you, "Ah," he whispers, his voice stiff, "I see. So you don't plan on staying in Fontaine permanently, then?”

You shake your head, "Oh no, i plan to stay for a certain time before visiting another nation... Maybe sumeru next.." you continue talking, not noticing how stiff the Iudex has gotten, mindlessly speaking and spouting about your next travel. Each word out of your mouth about your future travels and eventual departure from Fontaine causes a hint of disappointment to grow in Neuvillette's chest. He listens in silence, his expression growing more sullen with each passing moment.

He had grown accustomed to your presence, enjoying your cheerful banter and easy conversation. The realization that you don't plan on staying in Fontaine for good is a bitter pill to swallow.

—

“Monsieur, you have a gift.”

Neuvillette remembers Sedene delivering a vase filled with white flowers earlier, she says it's a gift from you.

And until now, hes continues glancing at the vase sitting on his desk while he handles some papers. The question was, what was your intention behind this beautiful gift? Or was he perhaps overthinking the whole situation? Maybe you just gave it because it has art or some meaning behind it… sure, he could think of that.

But he wants to think that you gave it because of something more, because your heart raced everytime you both talked, or how his whole mood would change when he hears you laugh as he makes a silly joke to try and be light-hearted.

Poor Neuvillette, he doesn't understand these feelings that he felt for you, he thinks he's being a creep with you.

What if you weren't comfortable in his presence? He doesn't know, he wants to understand, understand these human emotions he was feeling deep in his heart.

He feels hot from overthinking, even though the weather is good enough to walk around without sweating, his hands clench against the sides of the tables.

He can't concentrate.

Neuvillette calls for the melusine again, informing her that no one is allowed to enter his office for the next three days.

—

“he's sick?” Your frown deepens when Sedene explains to you to why she barricaded your way from entering the Iudex’s office.

“Monsieur Neuvillette told me not to let anyone enter for the next three days.” Sedene says cautiously and you both just stare at eachother. “What if he needs medicine?”

“he insists he doesn't.”

“Being sick isn't good, what if he's unconscious right now?”

“oh no, don't worry.” Sedene smiles to try and reassure you, and your shoulders slump in defeat. “… can you send him this instead then?” You hand her a paper bag filled with different desserts you both agreed to try—for a break.

“Right away.” She takes the paper bag and skips her way through her desk to put it on the back.

You're so evil for this, but you're determined.

You hurriedly and quietly make your way inside his office while she was distracted, and when she peeked her head up to see you gone, she just shrugged it off, thinking you left already.

You don't move further when you see his head resting on top of his desk, his hair splayed out messily and his arms under his forehead.

You're concerned, just how could anyone leave the chief of justice to suffer all alone when he's done so much? It didn't make sense.

You don't mean to startle him when you were by his side, your fingers brushing over the burning skin to check his temperature and your eyebrows furrow.

But your wrist were suddenly being grabbed by him, and you gasp. His eyes half-lidded when he starts examining your wrist, still unaware that it was you in this very room with him.

When Neuvillette takes in your scent that seems to linger on your skin, his eyes snap up towards yours and he pushes himself away.

“I-i’m sorry—” Neuvillette was quick to fix his disheveled self, one you've yet to see. The Iudex that always kept a presentable appearance seemed to be dazed at this very moment.

“I'm sorry,” you echoed his apology, not meaning to entirely frighten him with your sudden appearance. “I heard you were sick, so i wanted to check up on you.”

Neuvillette had one had gripping the wooden desk to the point his knuckles turned white, and his eyes diverted his attention away from your face, “i assure you.. I'm fine.” he stands up, hurriedly, turning around to somehow avoid you.

Only if you know, you'd be disgusted from him. He needs to drive you away from here—or else you'll drive him towards insanity.

“can i.. check up and take care of you?”

damn it. Who is he to refuse? Especially when you asked so nicely.

Neuvillette is now seated on the couch per your instructions, a blanket wrapped around him because you were convinced he felt cold despite his fever.

Sedene is now not even surprised you didn't listen to her, she only sighs as she brings the herbal tea you asked from her.

“It won't work.” Sedene tells you flatly at the door, but you take the cup anyway, “call me if you need anything more.” She says one last time before you wave her off.

“here, herbal teas are the best when you're sick.” You carefully hand him the tea cup, “it's hot.” You warn him softly, and he takes the cup just fine—thanks to his gloves.

“did you get the tea from Wriothesley?”

“… who?”

“no—nevermind, thank you.” He offers you a weak smile before nearing the cup close to his lips, then inhaling sharply to take in the scent of the strong herbs, just anything but your scent.

“Are you comfortable like this?” You ask while adjusting the blanket around him and he only nods while taking a slow sip.

Leave. He wants to tell you, it's already dizzying.

He crosses his legs before clearing his throat loudly, almost like coughing on purpose.

And you are already scooting closer while patting his back, you're doing the complete opposite of what he's trying to let you do. “Are you okay?” You tilt your head to take a better look at his face, his neck twisting to the other side. And you notice just how red the tips of his ears were.

“How about i fetch you some cough medicine?”

“I will be just alright without it, thank you.”

You press your lips together into a thin line, he seems to be refusing everything. Or maybe he's just stubborn when sick?

“you need to eat,” you stand up to grab the paper bag filled with croissant that you bought earlier from a nearby bakery.

You don't know what his favourites were, so you bought a variety of things.

“this one is not sweet, it's buttery.” you rip a small piece for him to try, but he still keeps his head away from you.

You are already frowning, “Neuvillette, are you upset with me? Could you please look here? I just want you to get better…”

That's all it took for him to snap his head back to your attention, he would hate to be the source of your sadness, and that little change in your tone said it all.

You smile when he faces you, “say ‘ahh’.” You laugh quietly to yourself as you near the piece closer to his lips, and he only watches in amusement at first.

“i didn't poison it.” You joke, and it manages to make his lips curl, “I'll eat it first to prove it to you,” you now piece of croissant between your teeth before on it with your mouth closed while humming.

The remenats of the croissant lingered on your lips, and he can't seem to tear his gaze away from your bottom lip.

You notice, of course. Assuming it was crumbs, you glide your tongue along your lower lip, leaving a glossy sheen to your lips.

You weren't even trying, his mind just decided it was attractive coming from you.

And his breath quickens, his pupils dilate, his hand slides along the couch right to your side, and god you smell just so swe—

“Neuvillette?” He blinks, and he's met with your confused face. Just then he realizes his head was tilted to the side, gestured to leaning in.

Oh god. You're going to so hate him.

“leave.” He abruptly stands up, brushing the blanket off his shoulders to walk towards the window, opening it for him to breath some fresh air. “… please.”

“Okay.” You don't argue back, you respect his privacy of being alone. And you stand up to carry yourself out of his office before shutting it close.

Sedene wants to ask you what happened, but she doesn't bother when she sees how your hand is resting above your chest to feel the quickening of your heartbeat as you slowly make your way out.

What was that?

—

“I owe you an explanation.”

“you literally don't owe me anything,”

“Do you hate—”

“Neuvi, i don't.” you tap at his arm, giving him a sincere smile before laughing. “It's not a big deal. Sick people tend to be stubborn.”

Neuvillette has healed after a week, and he immediately asked for you to hang out together again after he fully recovered, and you suggested you both talk over a picnic.

That's how you find yourself under a tree, above the cottony blanket beneath both of you with a basket of goodies on the side. You also brought two canvases with you, because why not?

Neuvillette contemplates whether he should tell you about his true nature, he fears you'll never talk to him afterwards.

“Something's on your mind,” you mindlessly speak as you put the canvas on his lap, “let's paint together, I'm sure it will ease our minds a bit.”

He now focuses on the way his brush strokes the white canvas, now filling it with different colours, he wants to try every colour, and you encourage for him to do so.

“i am not who you think to be,” Neuvillette starts as he continues gliding the brush.

“Mm, do tell. Are you a fairy?”

You earn a chuckle from him, and you chuckle right back, “or perhaps a merman?” You raise an eyebrow, yet your eyes don't leave your art.

“neither.” He sighs, “I am the… Hydro Dragon Sovereign.” He mutters under his breath, and he could see from his peripheral vision how you seemed to stop your work.

Both of your eyes meet, his of worry, and yours of curiousity and shock.

“no wonder,” your voice lowers and his eyebrows furrow before his eyes widen when you reach to brush your fingers along the shape of his ear. “It makes sense now. This is very interesting.”

He's at a lost. You were not upset, nor angry or anything, you were more amazed than any of these pessimistic emotions.

His shoulders relax, he was worried about nothing. It was you after all, the most understanding, gentle human being.

“thank you for telling me.” You now keep your hands to yourself, “as for me,” you turn to hold your canvas again to show him your newly art piece.

“I'm actually a turtle.” You try not to burst out laughing when you show him the detailed drawing of a baby turtle next to a pond, he looks quite shocked and mortified.

“… i would not like you to be a turtle.”

“why? Because they're slow?”

He shakes his head while trying to hide his smirk, “That's one,” he quips before it was his turn to show his canvas, “you remind me art.” You witness his painting, and you think it's the most beautiful sight.

It's a brown canvas with all sort of colours that blend well together, and you could clearly see the flower at the bottom of it, showing that it was growing. “I'm jealous,” you pout, “i should've painted a dragon, had i known you were one much earlier.” You groan before making a mental note to yourself of what your next art should be.

Neuvillette laughs. A genuine sound coming from him as his hand finds his cheek to try and hide any signs of redness. The sound makes you feel the familiar feelings whenever you were around him, shyness, happiness and the racing of your heart.

He calms down after a breath before speaking again, “I trust you won't spread our secret.”

“The secret will die with me.” You reassure him. “though i am curious now, maybe i should buy books about dragons?” You speak your mind while smiling mischievously and he shakes his head in response, “you shouldn't tire yourself with such matters.”

“it's not tiring, it's more interesting.”

"I understand your curiosity," Neuvillette replies with a gentle smile, his eyes softening at your enthusiasm, and he keeps his attention to you, since you're everything he ever thinks of these days.

“I will miss this.” You prop your elbow on your thigh as your chin rests on the palm of your hand, “i know you're a busy man, and having the privilege to meet you like this so often… i feel lucky.”

No. You? Lucky? He's the lucky one. You're the only person he's excited to see after a long trial. The only person he's enjoyed having company with in a very very long time.

He had grown quite fond of you in the short time you've known each other, he forgets that you'll leave soon, "When... when do you plan to leave Fontaine?" He asks, his voice reluctant.

“… in two weeks.”

Neuvillette nods slowly. A week... That's all the time he has left with you. He's quiet for a moment, processing the information. Then, he speaks up, his voice quieter than usual, "just a week, huh?”

You can feel his mood shift, and you can't help but be upset. You think you have upsetted him a little too much, you want to reach your hand out to him… but you keep them to yourself when you see how he seems to ponder in his own thoughts.

—

The weather is bad. You note, the clouds seem to darken as you continue your walk, a few droplets falling from the sky and right on your cheek, and you quickly hold your bag close to you, you can't afford ruining your art supplies now.

You wanted to pass by Chioriya Boutique, you hear it's a popular fashion label, but with the current change of weather, you will most likely postpone your plans to tomorrow.

Oh no, you need to seek shelter. Rain is pouring harder now, and you witness how the citizens expressions turn to disappointment.

The kids playing nearby stop their feet from kicking the ball around as well.

“hydro dragon, hydro dragon! Don't cry!” You're surprised to hear one of the kids chant and run, was this some fontanine thing that you didn't know about? Come to think of it, you heard it once when you were painting on one rainy day, but you didn't pay much mind to it.

You smile at the silly words as you try to imitate them, “hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don't…” your smile drops when you realise something, and your eyebrows furrow.

Hydro dragon? Crying? Could the rain possibly be—

You don't waste time when you begin running towards Neuvillette's office. The only place where you're guaranteed to see him.

The rain is pouring harder now, drenching your clothes and hair, the puddles splashing from your feet and dirtying your shoes and pants, but you're too focused on getting to him to care about your condition.

Finally reaching the doors to his office, you barge in, panting slightly from the rush.

“Neuvillette!”

Neuvillette turns away from the rain-soaked window, his eyes widening with surprise and a little startled as you burst into his office, panting and calling out his name. He takes in your drenched appearance, confusion and surprise etched across his face.

"Are you okay? Hurt?" He asks, striding towards you. He's worried. He's afraid of what must've happened to you.

"N-no but—the rain, are you.. upset? Is the rain from you?”

Neuvillette's eyes flicker away for a moment, avoiding your gaze. He had hoped no one would catch on to the connection between his emotions and the weather, but you being here, figuring it out after that children's chant, means he can't deny it.

His heart aches, yet he doesn't want to lie to you, "yes," he admits, "the rain is... it's a result of my emotions.”

You take a step forward while water drips from your hair strands, “is it my fault?”

He shakes his head vigorously as you blame yourself for his upset. "No," he insists, his voice firm yet gentle. "It's... it's not entirely your fault. Yes, you're leaving, and I'm... I'm not taking it well, but my emotional outburst isn't your responsibility." He, as well, moves closer to you, his fists clenched to his sides.

“i don't know, i don't like upsetting you.” You frown.

Seeing the sadness in your eyes, he reaches gently to touch your damp hair, his fingers brushing a few stray strands out of your face, "you're not upsetting me," he reassures quietly. "I... I'm just struggling to accept the thought of you leaving. That's all. It's not your fault.”

Your arm reaches out for him, Neuvillette stiffens a little when he feels you wrap your arm around him. Your shivering body against his own, your face buried against his shoulder... it's both soothing and stirring.

His heart races in his chest as he gently returns the embrace, one arm encircling around your waist, and the other holding you close, it's comforting, you feel warmer, even when you feel your eyelashes dampen a little.

His hug is gentle, tight, it's as if he's hugging your soul. Just when you were the one who wanted to comfort him.

“I will miss you.”

“so will i, although I'm just a normal person.”

“No, you're not.”

“how so?”

Neuvillette presses his lips together, "You make me feel things I've never felt before," he confesses quietly. "You make my heart race, my palms sweaty, my mind confused... yet, in a good way. You make me feel alive.” you lift your chin from his shoulder, your hand coming up to caresse the smoothness of his face, and your lip curls upwards.

“Can i…” your eyes are glued to his lips, and you don't sense yourself nearing closer to his face. Neuvillette's were wide when you come closer and closer to his face, his hand fisting the fabric of the back of your clothes too tightly, and he gasps quietly as your cold, damp lips meet his own.

he's too stunned to respond.

But as your lips remain pressed against his, he slowly melts into the kiss, his eyes fluttering shut. This was his first kiss, and it was with you, the person who'd stolen his heart in such a short span of time.

Neuvillette can't believe what's happening. Your lips against his, the way they fit together perfectly, it makes his heart race in his chest, his head spin. He reciprocates the kiss, his lips moving gently against yours.

Your arms wrap themselves around his neck to push yourself closer, your fingers brush at his hair, and it makes him shudder.

you kiss him harder, your lips ravishing his own. He follows your lead, his inexperience showing in his slightly clumsy, but enthusiastic response as you smack your lips in soft kisses over and over again.

You seperate your lips away from his, but it doesn't last before your thumb parts his lips gently, “open your mouth.” You whisper, he obeys, slowly opening his mouth, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps.

An involuntary moan escapes Neuvillette's lips as you plunge your tongue into his mouth, tangling it with his own. He's never experienced anything like this before, his arms tighten around your waist, his fingers digging slightly into your hips, as he responds to your kiss, his own tongue clumsily trying to match your pace.

It's addictive. His taste, his touch, you feel selfish enough to want him all for yourself.

You both pull away when you fell the oxygen run out from your lungs as you inhale back sharply. Your hazy gaze meets his half-lidded one's and you think you've never seen such a prettier sight.

“… have i gone overboard?” You whisper, and he swallows thickly before resting his forehead against yours to close his eyes, “no..”

The rain has stopped, the pattering against the window nothing more than a soft drizzle.

He runs his fingers through your damp hair, feeling how it clings to your face, and how your eyes seem to lit up.

A soft smile plays on his lips as he gazes at you, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. The world outside seems to have calmed along with his emotions, mirroring the peace he feels in your presence. He leans in, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, savoring this intimate moment between you.

“you have your own life, your own path to follow. I can't keep you here, it's not fair to you.” He wants to keep you to himself, he's too selfish, and he knows it.

And you're greedy, and you know it.

You part your lips to protest, but his eyes tell you everything. He just wants you happy, to continue living your human life and not waste it.

That he, will be just a memory to you. A precious one. Just how you will be the most treasured memory that he will keep in his heart.

—

“Monsieur Neuvillette, i got you the macarons.” Sedene taps his desk lightly to grab his attention as sets the plate and water cup in front of him.

“Ah, thank you, Sedene.” His fingers pull at the plate to take a better look at them, ever since you left Fontaine about a month ago, Neuvillette never stopped ordering the sweets you used to give him every now and then.

Every day, Neuvillette finds himself missing your presence.

He goes about his duties, attending to his role as Iudex, but his mind is often elsewhere. Despite his attempts to focus on his work, he keeps finding his thoughts drifting back to you, memories of your time together replaying in his mind.

At night, he lies in bed alone, the silence in his quarters almost deafening. He finds himself reaching out, almost subconsciously, as if looking for a body that isn't there.

Or when his fingertips brushed along his lips to try and feel your cold lips that day, was it a goodbye kiss?

“Is it about that artist?” Sedene speaks her mind when she notices how dull the Iudex gets as the days go by, even though he tries to act unaffected per your words. He wouldn't want the nation to drown in his tears just because of his own reasons.

“This reminds me,” She takes out an envelope from the pocket of her uniform before standing on her tip toes to hand it to him before making her way out.

The envelope was neat, with a pretty designed stamp on, Neuvillette opened it carefully before taking out it's contents.

It's you. Or, a photo of you. Smiling brightly with the aranaras, it makes him smile to himself as he traces the photo. You look even more charming than he remembers.

There's another note with the photo, but it's a vague message. A written location here in Fontaine, with a specific date and time.

Neuvillette is confused, was this a message of your return? And based on the date, it's three days from now. He will try to clear his schedule for the set time, he doesn't know what to expect, maybe a gift awaits for him, he wishes you wrote more, but that was the end of it.

—

Neuvillette stands in front of the wooden door, hesitant to knock on it. This is the place, the exact date and time. The sun is disappearing for today, and it's the moon's turn to show it's face.

He knocks twice, the sound ringing in the still air. Just as he was about to go for another knock, the door opens, and he barely comprehends what's going on before he feels a hand pull him in, and he gasps.

He's startled in the moment, but all of Neuvilette's worries and frustrations melt away when he realizes it's you who threw their arms around his neck, he wastes no time in returning the embrace, pulling you tight against him.

He holds you close, his arms practically enveloping you as he buries his face into your shoulder, relishing the feel of you in his arms again.

“Such a vague message you sent me,” he tries to speak light-heartedly, and you giggle in response. He's now assured it's your laugh.

“I've missed you.” He whispers next to your ear to make sure you hear the words, “I've missed you more.” You whisper back, mimicking his gesture.

“impossible.” he retorts, the corner of his wrinkling from how much he's been smiling.

And the moment your lips meet his to shush him, Neuvilette feels like he's come alive again. He responds instantly, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you flush against him.

He knows how to kiss you now, hopefully he does it the same as the last time.

He kisses you passionately, now devouring your lips, hungrily trying to make up for every moment you were apart. The taste, the texture, the feel of your lips against his, it all floods his senses, reigniting the spark that's been missing since you left. And he remembers it all.

Neuvilette follows your lead, stumbling a little as he's guided backwards towards the bed. His mind is filled with a haze as you strip off your coat, he finds his hands roaming over your body while panting softly as you staddle his lap. His emotions are a mess, but what he knows is that he needs you more than he's ever thought.

“Neuvillette,” you utter his name in a soft, low tone. It makes his jaw slack a bit when you kiss at the skin of his neck, and he tips his head back to give you more space. He's all yours.

He thinks he's about to go dizzy, it's all unfamiliar, he's overwhelmed that he doesn't know what to feel first. But you going slow for him makes him want more and more—

His head goes blank when your middle and ring fingers slip inside his black glove to feel his skin against yours. You slide the material off with each to intertwine your fingers together.

You're incredible, he thinks—knows.

“Can i go further?” You ask, and he doesn't hesitate to nod, “paint your lips on my body.”

He expected to feel the graze of your teeth along the curve of his collarbone, what he didn't expect was for you to palm his bulge, stroking him through the fabric of his pants. The tips of his ears grow redder and this is the most embarrassed he's ever felt. He can feel himself growing harder with each touch, his body reacting instinctively to your ministrations, and he can't help but thrust upwards.

“M-mon amour, i… i—” he cannot bring the words, not when you're showing him too much love and affection all at once.

He's never experienced such intense pleasure before, and the thought of reaching his release so quickly is both exhilarating and terrifying. He wants to savor every moment, to prolong this incredible feeling, but his body apparently had other plans.

You stop when you hear him almost whimper, it takes you by surprises. When your eyes search for his—all you're met with is his half-lidded full of lust gaze. You realize what had happened when you felt the damp spot sitting on the fabric.

he grabs the back of your neck gently to pull your face right in his hair, “give me… a minute.” He clears his throat before giving your intertwined hands a squeeze.

“May i?” He mutters, “mhm,” and his hands beginning to undo the buttons of your blouse, revealing the smooth skin beneath. He leans forward, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone and down to the swell of her breasts, which makes your grit your teeth together because you know you'd be moaning too fast with whatever of his touch landed on your skin.

His fingers trace the lacy edge of your bra, feeling the material before Neuvillette's lips find yours again, his tongue delving into your mouth as he deepens the kiss, and his hand slips beneath your bra to cup your breasts. And this time it successfully managed to make you moan against his lips.

One clasp, and your bra falls from your body to reveal your bare self, he thinks it's a sin to stare at such a perfect body.

“you're perfect,” he rasps against your skin. His hands map the contours of your body, memorizing every dip and swell, as he trails lower.

Neuvillette's mouth finds one pert nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud as his hand cups your other breast. He lavishes attention on your chest, alternating between licking, sucking, and gentle nips, until you are arching into his touch, your breathy moans and whines filling the room.

His other hand slides down your stomach, fingers dancing along your hip bones before dipping between your thighs after having rid of the unecessary barrier between you both.

He wants to touch you in the way you like it, and so sensing his hesitation, you take his hand in yours, and he groans at the wetness he finds there, his fingers gliding easily through your slick folds.

When you guide his fingers through your slit, you stop at your clit, and he takes it as cue to circle your clit with the pad of his thumb which ultimately makes you moan louder, your hand leaving for him to take control.

Neuvillette captures your lips in a searing kiss as he keeps your thighs parted for him when he feels you wanting to close them together.

Your heart races, with each tight circle around your sensitive nub, it makes you pant softly, your lips parted before gasping in surprise when you feel him slowly pushing one long finger inside you, relishing the way your walls grip him tightly.

It's warm, it's tight, how would he even fit inside you?

He experimentally curls his fingers repeatedly before setting a steady rhythm, curling and thrusting his finger to hit that perfect spot inside you. He was already so hard that it was starting to ache and throb, he wishes to have some self control just for now.

“gonna cum—” the minute he heard you say that, he withdrew his finger out of you which makes you whine at the loss. “Wh—” the words die on your tongue when you watch him undress, his hand holding his prettily flushed cock right at the base to position himself between your legs, “I am an impatient and greedy man, forgive me,” his voice is soothing as he pecks your lips before you feel his fat tip starting to stretch you at your entrance, and you both groan in relief.

Your hot and tight walls clamped around him when he thrusted forward to bury all of himself in you at once. Which literally, almost makes him cum if not for the way his gripping your thighs so harshly.

He presses your thighs down until they reach the sides of your ears, it makes your back arch, and your cunt swallowing all of him as he buries his face into your neck, “H-hah please relax—i can't, you're going to make finish sooner again—” you listen to his quiet pleas, and you try to relax your body, you also want this to be a lasting moment.

Neuvillette's heart pounds in sync with the rhythm of his thrusts, he can feel your nails digging into his shoulders, your hips rocking to meet his movements. The sounds of skin slapping together in the air is so lewd that he tries to divert his attention elsewhere.

His thrusts grows sloppier by the minute as he breathes heavily, his cock twitching inside you before he starts increasing the pace to reach both of your release, one hand leaving your thigh to rub circles around your swollen clit, and suddenly, you're crying out, your body convulsing beneath him as your orgasm crashes over you. He groans, the shivering sensation of your cunt squeezing aroud him sends his face into your neck, muffling his cries of ecstasy as he empties himself inside you. He cums harder than the first time, as if emptying everything he has to give you until a white ring forms at his base.

Your eyes roll back when you feel so warm and full, your legs giving out tiredly as you both relax in the comfort of one another.

Yeah, you're tied to him now.

—

“I'd like for you to treasure this painting.” Neuvillette frowns when you gesture towards the large canvas that took you months to finish.

It's you, and him.

Living with Neuvillette feels right, although he doesn't steal your freedom and passion to continue travelling around different nations, as long as you come back to him, your home.

you wish for him to travel with you one day. He already promised you to after all.

“It's marvelous,” he comments, almost breathlessly. He'll have to hang it where it's only visible to his and your eyes.

He knows why you do this, why you create simple art that's a memory of both of you. Favourite food? You'll draw it. Favourite hobbies together? You'll catch the moment right on the canvas with extra vibrant colours.

“One day when i—” he doesn't want to hear it, he doesn't want to hear how one day you'll leave this world permanently and he'll have to live on. Painful years after years without you.

“I want to treasure every second with you,” he lifts your hand up to his lips, for him to kiss the back of your hand before his thumbs rubbed over your knuckles.

You give him a reassuring smile, “you are going to be a wonderful experience until then.”

“and you… will be everything to me, even after that.” Neuvillette smiles back before exhaling deeply.

[solspina]

Hello! I saw that your request box is open if this doesn’t suit your taste you can ignore this.

Could you write a hurt to comfort fic that involves a workaholic Guilliman and his politically married wife?

They knew they had being married to a primark would be rough but they didn’t think it would be so emotionally draining/lonely. Guilliman finally decides to do something and acknowledges his wife when one day she’s considering divorce and there are TOO many suitors waiting to have her hand.

Could you add how Robute pines for her but doesn’t know how to show how he loves her because he’s trying to manage a dying imperium and he doesn’t think he’s worth loving?

Never Again Will I be Gone

roboute guilliman ⋆˙⟡

i deeply apologize if this is rushed, i couldn’t figure out how to end it and it may be a little all over the place, but i hope it is enjoyed nonetheless!

why spill blood if things can be handled peacefully? guilliman is far too afraid of becoming attached or falling in love with his wife, and eventually she places the most dreaded option on the table for him. when tragedy befalls her, guilliman can hold his act of withdrawal no longer

warnings: blood, distant ass guilliman

how she had gone from being an incredibly privileged noblewoman to the wife of the last remaining primarch, she did not know.

there was a point in time she had believed she was a beacon of hope for her people. once her father’s reign was over, she would finally be able to restore peace to her planet, heal the sick and the dying, uplift the thousands that resided there from poverty. It was only when she stood on the altar and was encapsulated within the piercing blue gaze of roboute guilliman that she realized her people could not be saved.

the planet she resided on, the one she was supposed to rule, had an astonishing militia. the imperium did not wish extinction upon an innocent colony, nor did they want to challenge a planet that would undeniably put up a fight. teaching her father the ways of the emperor was far easier than trying to convince him that a woman could lead or be of any importance.

that ideal had been drilled in her head her entire life. she was to be married off from the day she was born. not a single suitor met her father’s standards, for none of them held enough power, until guilliman.

but it was fulgrim who convinced guilliman to take a wife in the first place. her planet was dangerous. if a peaceful negotiation was on the table, why sacrifice any lives?

fulgrim relaxed in his chair, pulling his wine glass away from his lips with a sly but genuine smile on his face. “you don’t have to love her guilliman. ive wed dozens of women. we do this out of necessity for peace, not out of love.” he said, his tone aloof and dismissive. guilliman hated to admit that his brother was right, thousands of his sons and innocent humans did not need to lose their lives when peace was on the table. “besides,” fulgrim added, his eyes gleaming with mischief and something akin to lust. “she is quite beautiful. i’d watch your back, i’ve heard others deeply desire an opportunity with her” guilliman’s expression remained stale and unmoving from the papers on his desk, though an unfamiliar feeling flickered through his eyes at the thought of someone else coveting his soon to be wife. was this possession?

“sure thing, brother.” guilliman replied, cold, unfeeling, and professional as usual.

he did not get to meet her until their wedding day, and quite beautiful she was. gorgeous fragile, and timid. her cowardice in his presence was something he was not anticipating of a noble, let alone the daughter of an incredibly cruel king. yet her eyes, glassy with tears, looked upon her people with great sympathy and sadness. they looked back at her the same way. she was not cruel, she was kind. these people were being ripped away of the only kindness they had been shown from their rulers.

when her father approached the two of them, she seemed to shrink into guilliman, clinging to his arm as if her father would rip her away the moment he got close enough. the king’s gaze shifted back and forth between guilliman and the girl, before her wrist was grabbed with such force guilliman swore he heard a crack. “i’d like to say goodbye to my dearest daughter” the man said, cooing as she whimpered at the pressure on her wrist, her hand turning blue.

guilliman’s eyes narrowed as he wrapped an arm around her. “release her, and say your goodbyes here, then.” he stood sternly, eyeing the girl’s hand. her father let go, not expecting such a protective tone from the primarch. “i will not depart from my wife.”

he protected her from her father, sure. but his words were a lie. for he did not have to love her.

throughout 6 months of marriage, he had only allowed himself to see her a dozen or so times, each meeting brief and rushed. his sons took great care of her in his absence, always sure to carefully to reply to every “where’s lord guilliman?” with a flat and prompt “he’s busy”.

the only time she remembered physical contact with him was the kiss they shared their wedding day, and the occasional brushing of hands when she handed him his paperwork. being allowed to sit in his office and watch him do his work was a rare and very awkward occurrence. she had her own room. her own space. she should spend time there instead. neither her or her belongings were allowed in guilliman’s personal quarters, anything to stop her sweet and intoxicating scent from getting on his sheets. anything to stop him from falling in love. he does this out of necessity, he has no time for love. he did not have to love her.

he’d admire her from a distance instead, or he’d submerge himself in papers and documents to avoid catching a glimpse of her. she’d sit in her room, contemplating the blank tear stained divorce papers that sat upon her dresser as she traced her fingers over the contours in her wedding ring. all the paper needed was guilliman’s signature.

her quarters were still close to his despite being separated. he heard her cries at night, incredibly often. comfort, she needs comfort. she needs warmth. he’s been in that room before, it’s so… so cold. he knew, and yet never once did he act on it. instead, he sat alone in his room doing paperwork by the warmth of his fireplace, the cracking flames helping drown out her sobs. he did his best to ignore them. he did not have to love her.

sometimes he couldn’t help but stop and listen, pressing his ear against the cold wall, knowing just how freezing and lonely it must be past the walls of his massive and elaborate quarters. his bed was more than big enough for the both of them, and he mulled over the thought many times. it didn’t matter, a little cold wouldn’t kill her, he did not have to love her.

one particular night, though, guilliman did not hear her crying as usual. her sobs and the sounds of the fire were replaced by heavy footsteps approaching his door. the heavy metal boots of cato sicarius were unmistakable as he made his way toward the primarch, a stern but panicked look across his features. Something about the look on cato’s face caused guilliman’s heart to quicken.

“my lord” cato’s voice was close to trembling, sweat pooling on his forehead “it’s lady guilliman… she’s hurt” cato’s voice echoed despite his panting. guilliman rose to his feet with an urgency he had never before felt toward his wife, his heart filled with a mix of panic, confusion, and anger.

“how badly?” he asked with a hint of controlled fury behind the question, every millisecond that passed causing him to dread every possible answer more and more until his heart felt as if it would beat out of his chest.

“she is in critical condition, my lord” the worst possible outcome rang through cato’s lips, but fell on deaf ears as the primarch plowed past him, walking directly to the medical unit and ignoring anything attempting to grab his attention along the way.

guilliman cursed to himself. to hear her cry was one thing, to long for her was one thing, but to be absent and allow her to become fatally injured?

when he arrived in the medical bay, multiple medicae surrounded the bloody and trembling body of lady guilliman. tears poured from her eyes despite her state of near-unconsciousness, the clear wound left by none other than the claws of the night haunter was swollen and crimson, it’s bright redness mixed with black screamed at guilliman. he should’ve been there. there was not an excuse in the universe that would satisfy the fact he was blind enough to let konrad curze get his filthy hands on his wife.

“where’s… guilliman…” she choked out, past her exhaustion and teary eyes.

one of the nurses seemed to tense up at her sad and confused expression. despite his constant absence, despite the papers for divorce he had found on his desk, she still cried out for him. “i apologize my lady, he’s busy” the nurse responded, watching her face twist into a look of defeat. he’d already signed the papers, had them prepared for her, and placed them on her nightstand in her quarters.

his heart could hold its true feelings no longer as he felt it begin to crumble. “i’m here.” his voice announced his presence as he approached her bedside, the nurse who cared for her widened her eyes in shock, swiftly stepping to the side to allow guilliman to see his wife. she reached up weakly with a single one of her tiny hands. her eyes were half lidded, confused and full of sorrow.

he stepped forward, reaching out his own hand to grab onto hers. “you’re really here…” she whispered, a small smile upon her features. “you found my papers, guilliman?”

his smile, once mirroring hers, faded into the slightest frown. “yes.” he responded. his voice cold and yet sorrowful. “they are signed but,” he paused, wanting a moment to consider the weight of the words on his tongue. “I cannot let you return home until you have recovered.”

she frowned. “i don’t want to go back home, roboute.” he tensed at her use of his first name, the only piece of his identity that was truly his own. “but there i had my people, and here i have nothing at all…” her voice broke as she cried, the pain of her wound overwhelming her as the machines stitching her wound together brought healing alongside pain. Exhausted and in something akin to agony, tears began to stream down her face.

“then i will give you everything” he replied with a solemn vow, turning to face the nurse as she nodded toward the primarch, the machine finishing its work and signaling to him that she was free to go as long as she did not walk or strain her body for a few days. he, for the first time, lifted his wife into his arms with more gentleness than that of which a primarch was capable.

he carried her into his room, past her own freezing cold quarters. he’d have her personal belongings moved within the next few days. Gently, he lay her on the soft rug next to his fireplace, not wanting to stain his bedsheets with her blood or hurt her as his period of scheduled rest passed. he removed his own armor, placing it to the side with ease before moving over to his bed. He did not lie down, instead grabbing a soft blanket and draping it over her body, ensuring she stayed warm. He sat next to her, placing her head on his thigh as she nestled into him for both comfort and warmth.

perhaps his scheduled rest meant nothing at all. damn the schedule. he had more important things to attend to now, and those marines of his were more than competent enough to handle it. his focus now was on nothing more than his wife, the girl who lay with her head in his lap as he stroked her head, memorizing every hair on her scalp like he should’ve long ago.

she shifted in her sleep, her body instinctively cuddling closer to her husband, thankful for the warmth she had always longed for. she did not cry on this night. he placed his hand over her shoulder and leaned back against the wall, his heart finally willing to admit the truth. he did not have to love her, but he did. by the emperor, he did.

[pinkthrone445]

Hello, I hope you’re good!

I have a Melissa x reader prompt. I listened to Sweet Nothing by Taylor Swift I thought it would be a perfect story. Can you make it? But in a way that Mel and the reader are not together yet in the beginning but it has a happy ending with them being together? Thank you ❤️

-We need each other in all lives-

Pairing:Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Gender:soft, fluff, love

Warnings:cursing

Summary:Mel was always there to take care of you because you were good friends.

Hi sweetheart! That was a beautiful song! I didn't end it exactly how you want it, but maybe I'll write a next part where they go to prom or something. I hope you like it! I love request with songs! ❤️

Changes, there were times that were good things and others that complicated your existence. Some changes pushed you forward and others made you stagnate in place.

Many years you begged and listened as others begged wishing that Ava would be a better director, but you never thought that the moment when that would happen, you would wish you could go back in time.

After the break, when you returned to work, Ava had made a 180° turn, a turn so radical that it surprised everyone. You had high hopes for this new Ava, until it started banning everything you wanted or enjoyed doing, including breaks.

With so few breaks and teaching two classes at once, you were on the verge of a physical or mental breakdown or both, something that didn't go unnoticed by Melissa.

The redhead and Barbara had almost adopted you since you had started working at Abbott, your sarcastic joke caught Melissa's attention and at the same time your maturity in certain things, caught Barbara's attention and they immediately liked you. The years that followed only strengthened the friendship, although you had to admit that you were closer to the redhead than to Barbara.

There was nothing you could hide from Melissa, she could tell when you lied or hid something, she even noticed how you felt before you told her. She was very aware of how these weeks with more demands had affected you, for that same reason, she was paying much more attention to you than before, even controlling that you ate and drank water.

Since you could no longer take advantage of your free hours to check the kid's work, you started doing it while eating so you wouldn't have to do so much at home.

-"Do you want to go out tonight to eat and drink something?" - Mel offered while you ate with her and Barbara. The red-haired woman slightly pushed your glasses that were on the table towards you so that you would realize that you should be wearing them so that your eyes wouldn't burn afterwards, you smiled slightly at her putting them on and kept correcting the sheets

-"I can't, I have a date with Geral for our anniversary" - The older one commented, and Mel looked at you, giving you a chance to answer

-"I have too much to do... Besides I'm to tired for going out Mel-Mel" - You commented, still looking at the sheets of paper and moving your red pen over them

-"So it's decided, tonight you're coming to my house and I'll make something to eat for you. And don't say no, you need to rest and distract yourself a bit, you're not even eating right now so you can correct those papers" - she commented in an authoritative tone and you nodded in agreement with no other choice.

When night came, you drove to your friend's house with her favorite wine in hand. When you opened the door, a savory aroma surrounded you and the redhead laughed when she saw the joy in your eyes when she noticed how that gave you happiness.

Upon entering the house you sat in your usual place on the counter while she finished cooking, soft music played in the background that was sometimes interrupted by the noise of the pans or the knife chipping something on the board. Mel told you about a new bar she wanted to visit while you showed her pictures of a dog you were thinking of adopting, every now and then silence fell on you but it wasn't awkward, before you resumed the conversation with another topic.

When the food was ready, the two of you went to the living room to watch a movie while enjoying your friend's tasty creation, which also was your favorite food.

Even if you were worried that you weren't correcting the exams, it was nice to take a moment to rest, being by her side always calmed you down not matter what was happening.

When the dishes emptied, you paused the film to wash them quickly; whenever Mel cooked you washed the dishes and vice versa, then grabbed chocolate from the shelf where you knew she kept them and went back to the couch to watch the rest of the movie.

When you had settled down next to her, Mel didn't press play on the movie and that made you curious, so you looked at her with a raised eyebrow

-"Play..."-You whispered and she continued to stare at you

-"What are you thinking? I can see the guilt in your face, you're thinking so loud that subtitles are about to come out of your ears" - Mel asked and you laughed

-"I was just thinking about school..."-You answered and she rolled her eyes

-"Today was supposed to be a night to distract you and relax... Don't tell me that the only way you're going to relax is by doing that thing that we did..." - she whispered with a mischievous smile and you shook your head blushing

-"That only happened once and that was because I was so stressed and tired that I couldn't sleep" - You muttered embarrassedly and Mel opened her arms smiling. A few years ago, you had to take an exam for your teacher application while you were teaching at Abbott, the night before you were due to take the exam, Mel had come to your house to cook something to eat and help you study. When it got late, you begged her to stay with you because you were nervous and scared. She when to bed with you but you couldn't fall asleep, so the redhead hugged you to her chest until you relaxed and fell asleep. That's when you discovered that having her that close calmed you down in an incredible way without having to take any pills or anything.

-"But it worked, so let's do it again."-The redhead commented and you sat on her lap blushing, you carefully hugged her waist and rested your head on her chest closing your eyes momentary as she scratched your hair-"Now I can feel how you stopped thinking, I'll press play on the movie" - The redhead hit play while still stroking your hair and you watch it still resting on her chest.

A few seconds later, your cell phones rang at the same time and that could only mean one thing, a message from school. The redhead grabbed her cell phone while still  stroking your hair and laughed as she read it, making her chest vibrate against your cheek.

-"You and I are in charge of being chaperones at the graduation party Ava wants to throw for the kids" - she muttered and put her cell phone down again

-"Good...I've never had a graduation party or been to one..."- You murmured against her chest with your eyes almost completely closed because of how relaxed you were.

-"Then I'll come pick you up with a corsage for you since you Wil ne my date to prom"-she commented jocking

-"I would love that" - You responded with your eyes finally closed, her perfume invading your senses, her warmth hugging your body, her gentle heartbeat synchronized with yours, the vibration of her voice against your ear every time she spoke, it was enough to block your overthinking brain and relax you completely-"Mel..."-You whispered sleepily and she urged you to follow with a soft hum-"do you think we are friends in another lifes too?"-Mel laughed at your question, whenever you were falling asleep, you would start asking weird and unexpected questions

-"I'm sure of it hon... In every life there is a Melissa who is dedicated to taking care and be next to one (Y/N), there can be no Melissa without you to accompany her, we need each other in all lives..."-she whispered kissing your forehead and you smiled with your eyes closed, almost asleep on the redhead's chest

-" I love you Mel-Mel"-You whispered babbling and the redhead's heart jumped and she doubted if you could hear it or not, how is it that your "I love you" had more effect on her than when her previous partners told her they love her, if you were just friends?... Why was she excited to think about being your date at prom when you were just friends?... Maybe what she was feeling from a few months now was just because she didn't had a boyfriend now... Or maybe you just were really good friends... Yeah... Friends... Why it hurt her thinking about you two just as friends?... Fuck, she was fucked...

-"I love you more hon, more than you know" - she whispered hugging you tight with a million questions in her head, sadly, you were already asleep to listen to her words and the meaning behind it.

[m1dn1ght-hag]

Hi! Can I request diavolo reacting to reader who had become his wife/queen being hit on by another king who us visiting the devil domain? Saying things like "you are a lucky man", being overly touchy with reader, even going as far as asking if diavolo was willing to " share"?

note: I’m SO sorry this took so long to come out 😭 I just graduated so hopefully I should have more time to focus on being mentally ill 😝💪 the ending doesn’t rwallt fit the mood of the rest of the writing but i like jt too much tk get rid of it

somewhat proofread 😭

Content warning: uhhh catcalling???, inappropriate comments, objectification, jealous Dia

Fem!MC

—

It had been a slow day for Diavolo, and knowing he had to attend a formal party after work helped a little to ease his nerves. The thing he’d be looking forward to all day is seeing you, who’d be accompanying him as his plus one. (as if you weren’t going to be invited anyways.)

He appreciated all the effort his citizens put into celebrating him, however he was simply too exhausted after how slow the day had been dragging on. It was his birthday and he was still forced to attend business meetings and keep up with his paperwork to avoid falling behind. (Barbatos’ orders. He’s scary when he’s angry, and Diavolo did NOT want to feel his wrath.)

A simple knock on his door alerted him of Barbatos’ presence, speak of the devil, before the butler let himself in. Upon entering the room and seeing Diavolo hunched over his desk, slowly dwindling away at the stack of documents he clicked his tongue.

"Young lord," he started, drawing Diavolo's attention away from the paper, "it's time to get prepared, we must leave in the next hour."

With a relieved sigh, Diavolo stood his stretched his aching limbs, glad to be going to the party seeing it as a distraction from the endless paperwork he had to sign.

——

Being with you at the party definitely brightened his mood as the two of you chatted and laughed together, occasionally interrupted by a demon cheering birthday wishes.

“Oh, Dia, I’ll go get us some drinks.” Diavolo smiled as the nickname naturally slipped past your lips, “what do you want?”

“Whatever you’re getting, my dear.” seeing the unamused glare you sent him made him chuckle.

“You better not complain,” you reprimanded jokingly, patting his arm before heading to the beverage table.

He allowed his eyes to follow your figure before he heard a whistle next to him. He turned his head in the direction of the noise to see someone eyeballing you. Diavolo quickly noted the other demon was the crowned prince from another kingdom, visiting in place of his father to celebrate Diavolo. He also noted that he was very, very drunk. A risqué compliment slurred past his lips followed by a hiccup before he noticed Diavolo.

“Oh! Lord Diavolo,” He laughed too loud for comfort, “congratulations!”

“Thank you.” Diavolo replied with fake gratitude, curtly nodding.

“Yesss, you caught a real beauty alright.”

“Excuse me?” Diavolo scoffed, ‘caught?’

The other prince tipped forward, gasping when his drink nearly spilled over before, sloppily, regaining “balance” and downing another flute of demonus. He called over a waiter who, begrudgingly, handed him another.

“You know-“ a hiccup interrupted his speech, “-you should sharee, she’s a pretty one and I’d like a bite if her myself.”

“Excuse me?” Diavolo repeated, feeling his blood begin to boil.

The demon bellowed, waving the new glass of Demonus in the air, “you heard me, yes you did!” He hiccuped, “you’re a lucky man, alright!”

Diavolo glanced over towards you, and felt a wave of relief upon seeing you were still at the beverage table, now chatting with Lucifer. He was silently thanking his friend for occupying you at the moment; he could only imagine how uncomfortable it would have been for you to listen to some drunkard babbling about your body so inappropriately.

You caught his gaze and sent him a pleasant smile, waving. The angry expression he wore faded momentarily as he returned the smile and waved back, before turning his attention back to the drunken demon standing before him, who’d tipped his head back and downed another flute of white wine.

You quickly finished your conversation with Lucifer and dismissed yourself, eager to get back to your boyfriend.

“Hey Dia,” you greeted, interlocking your fingers with his and rubbing your thumb along his, “sorry I took so long.”

Diavolo flinched at your touch and inwardly cursed, sending the demon another nasty look before trying to drag you away from the offender. “That’s quite alright my dear, you could have stayed longer.”

A whistle startled you and caused Diavolo to let out an irate sigh. You turned your attention to the source of the noise, a brow quirked. “Excuse me?”

“Mc, no,“ Diavolo’s plea fell to deaf ears as the demon started talking.

A hiccup followed by a string of coughing as the demon slurred out a provocative comment, waving around the, now empty, flute merrily and swaying closer to the couple.

Diavolo instinctively stepped in front of you, holding you behind him so the demon wouldn't try grabbing you. "End this behavior at once or I'll have to ask you to leave."

"Ohhh-" the demon gagged and swallowed, "don't be that way, I'm just sayin' we could share her, y'know?"

Before Diavolo could react, the demon reached forward to touch you, barely grazing your arm before Diavolo harshly elbowed his arm away. Barbatos interfered before anything got too out of hand and grabbed the drunkard's arm, twisted it behind his back, and escorted him away from the scene, telling him that they’d be sending him back to his kingdom and informing his father of his behaviour.

Diavolo would have to remember to thank Barbatos later.

He turned to you, both hands on either shoulder, his previous anger dissipated and was replaced with concern. “Are you alright, my dear? I deeply apologize for the way he was treating you.”

“I’m fine,” you cup his cheeks, watching the way he melted in your hands, rubbing into your hold, “are you okay, Dia?”

He angled his head to place a tentative kiss to the palm of your hand, a pleasant smile returning to his face, “I am now, my dear. Thank you.”

You gently pinch his cheek, earning a giggle from him before you also began giggling, “what for?”

“For choosing me.”

“Oh, Dia you big sap,” you pinched his cheeks again before pressing a kiss against his lips, feeling him smile against yours. You would have kissed him so more it you two weren’t in public, surrounded by the presence of many nobles, who’d frown upon the un-princely show of affection, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, my dear,” he cupped his hands around yours, before pulling them away from his face and straightening his posture, “now that we won’t be interrupted again, where are the drinks you were wanting me to try?”

“Oh,” you cupped your free hand over your mouth, “I forgot them by Lucifer, I saw you and got distracted.”

Diavolo laughed, squeezing your hand, “well lets go over, together this time, shall we?”

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Lumine, Eula, Noelle (obviously), and anyone else of your choosing with a late night working S/O, how would they go about persuading their S/O that they need to go to bed and sleep?

(Genshin Impact) Jean, Noelle, Shenhe, Dehya, Lisa, Xinyan, and Ei forcing their S/O to sleep

...Maybe I should sleep after writing this considering it's 12:45 AM. Also, Lumine and Eula's parts were done in a prompt very similar to this one!

"My goodness my glass house is sparkling delightfully in the morning sun, what a nice day to indulge in my favorite hobby of projectile mineralogy! - Yahtzee Croshaw

Yeah, Jean has absolutely zero room to criticize her S/O for working late into the night.

She does the exact same thing, usually passing out for doing so.

But ever since S/O had come into her life, she had been working on adjusting her schedule so she can properly rest at the behest of Barbara, for both their sakes.

Not to mention S/O was also concerned for her well being, so a compromise is made between the two.

(Jean) "If you rest S/O, then I will too. Like Lisa says, there's always tomorrow."

The last thing everyone needed in the Knights was two workaholics falling unconscious after all.

Noelle also has no room to criticize S/O for working too hard.

That being said, Noelle usually brings some tea for S/O, gently sitting it next to them.

(Noelle) "S/O, I know that I may not be the right person to say this, but you should get some rest."

Similar to Jean, Noelle also makes sure to take better care of herself so S/O doesn't have to worry, and hopes that they would do the same for her.

She has no problem helping S/O get tucked into bed before quickly settling in next to them.

WIth Noelle, she doesn't take long to convince them at all.

(Shenhe) "You should be resting S/O."

Shenhe is quite confused as to why S/O is up at this hour.

They should be resting, surely the work can wait until tomorrow?

At first she offers to stay up, thinking it was something related to no one keeping watch.

Only for S/O to explain it was just some work they could be finishing tonight instead of the morning.

(Shenhe) "It'd be far more efficient to have a clear mind and work later, would it not?"

Shenhe stares at S/O with an innocent expression, eventually making them break and relent.

It makes her feel more at ease, knowing S/O won't suddenly pass out from exhaustion.

(Dehya) "Jeez, you're still at that? Come on, it can wait till morning!"

Dehya playfully wraps her arms around S/O's upper body.

If they refuse to budge she'll make a loud and obnoxious sigh.

(Dehya) "If you don't put the paper down, I'll pick you up! It's reaaaal easy for me to do that, y'know!"

When they relent, Dehya chuckles and stretches her arms.

(Dehya) "Finally. Some shut eye will make you feel better too. Can't get paid for your work if you're paying for medical bills."

Part of her wishes that they would try to continue working, just for the excuse of getting to pick them up and embarrass them.

But alas, that would have to wait for another day.

Lisa refuses to bring any work home once she's done for the day.

And by all the damned souls in hell, Lisa will enforce that rule upon S/O as well.

(Lisa) "Darling, no bringing work home.~"

Despite her teasing tone, she is 100% serious.

Lisa was a hard worker herself, but that was only when she was supposed to be on the clock.

Their home was a place to relax and not think about work, so she'll first take S/O's hands gently and have them wrap around her hands instead.

Archons forbid S/O tries to continue working, then the tone of her voice becomes more lethal as S/O starts to feel electricity in the air.

(Lisa) "Won't you pay attention to little ol' me instead of some papers, S/O?"

(Xinyan) "S/O, get your tush into this bed! Don't make me sing some crappy ol' love song, I'll do it!"

The tone of Xinyan is half playful and half serious.

She doesn't want to play some cheesy song just to catch S/O's attention (mostly).

Xinyan just doesn't want S/O to overexert themselves when they don't have to.

Even she didn't write songs that late into the night

...Well, mostly, but S/O didn't need to know that little detail.

(Xinyan) "Trust me, your brain will make the work flow waaay better when you sleep, speaking from experience here!"

Ei convinces S/O to rest, though not in the way most would imagine.

Being an Archon, she could simply use her godly authority to force S/O to heel.

Or if it was the Raiden Shogun, then smiting S/O was an option.

Instead, Ei has S/O stop their work simply by being herself.

(Ei) "S/O, if you are going to stay awake during this time, can we eat some dessert?...It's too late at night? If you're working, then we can drink some dango milk!"

Simply put, it was annoying them for sweets if they stayed up for too long.

While it was because she was concerned for their well being, since humans are meant to rest, she was holding out for some hope that she can sneak in extra dessert for the night.

So far, it didn't work, much to her quiet dismay.

[alpydk]

To @auroraesmeraldarose - I said I would write something romantic for you so here it is. With only a sprinkling of angst (because I just can't help it) - I present to you:

The List.

Romance/Angst/Mostly comfort (I hope) - 1397 words Gale x Tav (They/Them no description) - SFW

Gale had watched for some time how Tav had scribbled on the notepad before gazing into the campfire as if searching for the answers buried in the ashes. Their head would lift only to fall again, a word being written, then erased. It reminded him of his own days with a mostly drunk glass of red wine and a quill in hand, trying to come up with the next line of poetry that cause the lover to fall to their knees for him.

He slowly approached, his heart increasing its pace with the apprehension of what was to come. He enjoyed Tav’s company, always feeling he was learning something new. Being seen for who I am. Tav was a good person, one that had helped, listened to everyone, cared more than anyone he had ever met before, and despite the more pronounced ache he felt whenever he was near them, he fought through it for the quiet moments alone with them. He remembered the night channelling the weave, the way their hands had brushed up against one another, the way he had felt their longing, and the image of a tender kiss placed on his lips. Is this love? No, not for me. It can’t be.  

He swallowed nervously before he spoke. “My friend, may I ask what it is you are writing?”

Tav jumped a little, surprised by Gale’s sudden words, and placed the paper face down onto their lap. “This? Nothing… nothing at all.”

Gale nodded his head and took a small step back, trying not to acknowledge the feeling of rejection that was surfacing beneath his pleasant expression. “Ah, my apologies then. I will leave you to your thoughts.” He turned to go back to his tent as he heard the hesitant voice behind him.

“No…” Tav pushed their hair back and relaxed their shoulders. “Join me, please.”

Gale tried to hide his enthusiasm at this simple gesture. He was aware his year alone had made him too eager for basic conversation and he’d now got into a habit of remaining distant with people. Part of him was aware his social skills had diminished, and another part didn’t want him to form connections based on his own dwindling condition. He placed himself next to Tav, keeping a respectable distance and ignoring the dull thrum of the orb excited at the prospects.

Tav lowered their head, a soft smile masked by the focus of turning over the pages and looking at the cluttered mess on the paper. “I don’t think you would want to help me so much if you knew what it was I was writing.”

Gale placed a comforting hand on Tav’s arm, feeling the delicate cotton of the shirt under his palm. Warmth rose in his cheeks, and he silently cursed his body for betraying him. A glade of calm and tranquillity. “Well, let me be the one to decide upon that. As you know, I’m quite the connoisseur of the literary arts. Even Volo’s poetry has not turned me away from reading or writing.”

Tav chuckled at his response. “You know how tomorrow we are going to the Goblin Camp? There’s a real chance we might not…” They danced around the words, trying not to appear insensitive but ultimately giving up. “We might die.”

“Hm.” Gale understood perfectly why Tav was struggling and why they hadn’t initially wanted to discuss this with him. Talking about potential death with someone destined to die was not the easiest of conversations to have. How could they even relate to his situation? “So, you are writing your last wishes, I assume?”

Tav wordlessly handed over the paper and Gale held it towards the firelight, trying to make out the scrawl in front of him. The handwriting was unique to say the least, but the out of context words made it all even more peculiar. Stars…. Hollyphant…. Falling… “Tav, I may be able to decipher some of the most ancient of texts, but I must say, this has me baffled.”

Their voice was quiet as they replied, embarrassed by the list that lay between them. “It’s a bucket list.”

“But my dear, I have little doubt that you will survive the days to come. Why create something like this?” A small part of him felt heartbroken to even think of Tav’s death as imminent and yet a part of him was curious. What dreams lay in his friend’s mind? Could any of them ever hold a small place for me?

“I wish I had your optimism. No, I’m making it because all this-“ They gestured to their head, the tadpole writhing within. “-It just reminds me that life isn’t as long as it was before. That each day moments go by that I should have seized. From the big things, like travelling and love…” They looked over at him with a softness in their eyes that made him wish he could just kiss them there and then. “…To the little things, like watching the stars at night, or giving a gift to a friend.”

Gale looked curiously at the list, trying to make out more of the words. Falling in… “You’ve done none of these things before?”

Tav shook their head. “Time just seems to escape me. We have so few stars in the city and if I’m honest, I’ve never had many friends.”

“Hm, that I can unfortunately relate to. Might I offer a suggestion, though?” He moved closer to them, his heart thumping, his mind rushing through various scenarios over various outcomes. Kiss them. It’s too soon. Wind your fingers in between theirs. Hold them and never let go. Love them. Falling in love…

“And what might that be? Compare notes? I can assure you; my list will be longer and more pathetic.”

He placed his hand over theirs, trying to act casual and not bring attention to the vulnerable state he was putting his body in at this moment; the orb screaming into his system at the proximity of another person after so long. “No, my dear, let me have the list. Think of it as a gift, a puzzle that I can work on during the long nights. And from there, maybe I can assist you with the rest of your wishes.”

Tav smiled, scratching off a line from the paper. “I guess that makes it one wish fulfilled, then.”

Gazing at each other, they both seemed to become lost in one another’s eyes, an unknown energy pulling them together that neither wanted to fight against. Tav brought their hand to Gale’s face, both coming together wishing to make the previously imagined kiss a reality. He could feel the heat of Tav’s breath upon his lips, smell the earth and pine from their clothes, and in that moment, he wanted them. He wanted nothing more than to feel those lips upon his and lose himself in them.

It started with a pinching in his hand but slowly grew; the orb letting both be aware of its presence and Gale was forced to pull himself back, attempting to make his body relax from the tension. He looked at Tav, his deep brown eyes apologetic, a feeling as if he had been misleading them. I’m sorry for what I am.

Tav brought their hand away as Gale had flinched backwards in clear pain. “Are you okay?”

“Do not concern yourself with me. It’s just with my condition…” He sighed deeply, wishing it didn’t have to be this way.

“I understand.”

Tav pulled themselves close to him, so they were sitting shoulder to shoulder, still touching, but no longer as intimately. He gazed at them as they looked up towards the sky, and he traced the line of their neck up to their jaw, imagining gentle kisses being placed and their hair draped over his face as he nuzzled into them.

“I suppose this is another I can cross off already.”

Gale drew his attention from his friend, instead following their line-of-sight upwards. The sky was clear of clouds, allowing the stars to shine down on them brightly and they sat for some time in silence, enjoying the quiet moment together.

Eventually, sleep beckoned and Tav retired to their tent, leaving Gale alone under the night sky with his thoughts. I could create stars like this for you… I would become a star for you.

[moodymisty]

I cannot stop thinking about what you wrote about Lorgar having a corruption kink. It’s infecting my mind. Lorgar x fem!reader please. I would love to see you write this. You have such a delectable way of writing.

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's note: Yesssss!! I have been so eager to write something for this so I'ma 'bout to go ham. Lorgar is my type of pathetic man and I am obsessed with him. Also I decided to combine a few requests together just to lessen my workload a bit. I so deeply apologize for how overly dramatic and verbose this is.

TL:DR, In my opinion Lorgar's corruption kink goes two ways; One is he himself wants to be corrupted, to be forced into listening to his baser desires without the guilt of doing so himself. It's all that religious trauma. The other way is the more traditional route where he has a sweet little beloved who he knows he's gonna fuck up once he touches them.

Summary: Lorgar is burning up, and you don't even know you're doing it.

Relationships: Lorgar/Gn!Reader

Warnings: Some vague mentions of NSFW acts, Mentions of Kor Phaeron abusing young Lorgar, Lorgar being mercurial as usual and extremely emotionally conflicted, Slight manipulation, The consent could maybe be considered dubious, Religious trauma and religious undertones

Word Count: 1901

"My Lord, are you well?"

The Astartes warrior looks towards his genefather with the slightest hint of concern hidden behind his helmet, hand tightened around the hilt of his polearm. Lorgar lets out a gentle laugh, and looks towards his sons with a gentle smile before giving a gentle platitude.

"I am well, worry not about me."

He looks down from them, back to the papers that scatter across the massive and ornate desk he calls his own. Ink stains mar the wood, along with the scratches of his tools and his own fingertips. His sons are not entirely convinced, and in their worry for their genefather as his quill struggles to put words to paper, look to each other before the one slightly elder speaks up.

"Father, are you s-" Lorgar looks up, and the look in his golden eyes alone makes the two Astartes close their mouths behind their decorated helms.

"Drop this topic of conversation."

He leaves no room for rebuttal. They cease, and Lorgar waits for the quiet sound of a vox crackling in their helmets, but finds none. Even if they don't communicate with each other however, the Primarch decides they don't need to witness him in this state any longer. He has no desire for an audience, nor to unsettle any of his sons further with an issue plaguing only himself.

"Take your leave. I need a moment to myself."

The Astartes listen without question, footsteps almost in sync as they leave the room. the cloth draped over their armor like robes swishes gently as the ladder out closes the door behind him.

Once gone Lorgar lets out a sigh, his chest relaxing. The sun is still bright, light distorted by panels of stained glass tucked between pillars with openings to a grand balcony. He wasn't making much progress of anything anyhow, and so he sees no harm in having a moment of respite to let his mind calm.

Though, it seem his mind had decided take it upon itself to wander when he wanted it least, golden eyes glancing to a book teetering on the edge of his desk with a delicate filigree across the binding.

He had thought this sickness, at first.

The way that his thoughts seemed unable to stay their path and seemed to be led astray. Lorgar was normally not one with trouble focusing, so when he'd found himself rereading pages and rewriting notes, he'd quickly begun to grow irritated at himself.

But soon, after days and nights of a foggy mind and a hunger he couldn't place, he found the source of his torment in a moment of clarity.

You.

The way you listen to his words with not just the awe of a scholar, but of someone wishing to know more of him. Of what he knows. Quickly he'd gone from you only be cast the basest of glances from across massive libraries, to the Primarch looking for the unique shape of your robes.

How you of all managed to capture him like this, he's yet to discover. But no matter how you had, you'd taken over his heart and soul none the less. He has what could be called an obsession for your eyes, that eagerness in them, grasping for a guiding hand. His guiding hand. You're a peaceful company, gentle and kind to him. He wishes to have seen such kindness in his youth.

But it wasn't just that. He quickly realizes over the scrolls he's meant to write, but only finds himself only glossing over already written words and nonsensical scribbles his hand forms from habit. He's forced to scrap the parchment and start over, biting the inside of his lip until he tastes iron on his tongue.

He doesn't just want your company. Not just your gentle voice or the feeling of your soul close to his.

He wants your touch. To feel your hand brush over his skin, to feel your lips on his own. In private- where he can unravel you to your soul and only he can see it all. To see your body draped in only the silks that lay over his massive bed, asleep.

It infuriates him.

He should be stronger than this. Love is an emotion he understands, he feels it; Towards his adoptive father, towards the Emperor, towards his sons.

But lust; He never thought himself weaker than it. He refuses to be weaker than it. To feel it's grip on him enticing him closer. You dance on the edge of a cliff beckoning him to fall as well. To think you don't even know you're doing it to him.

He had thought Kor Phaeron had beaten these feelings out of him in his youngest years; The few where he didn't tower over his human pater. He's been diligent in keeping this a secret from him, as there would be no consoling him if he found the Primarch lusting after you.

Oh, if only you knew of the thoughts he has of you when you are near- drenched in sin until they drip like a cloth soaked with blood.

He wants to feel your skin, hear the way your voice cracks as you cry, cry for him, the way your body writhes underneath his own as he ruins you for anyone but him. He wants to write on your neck, in places that your clothes fail to hide the blossoming bruises.

He wants, he wants, he wants.

But he can't just want anymore. He wants to have. To be the only one your eyes look towards.

He calls one of his sons to return, and speaks to them from across the room as he rises from his chair. He leaves his parchments scattered across the desk, unfinished and ink drying. He issues them to fetch you from where ever you may be, as he adjusts the shoulder of his robe.

"And do emphasize haste."

He doesn't know how much longer he can wait, with the way a fire overtakes his blood and his robes feel far too tight. Things like his hand can no longer suffice. He wants you.

The sanctuary of his personal quarters have never felt so relieving, when he arrives to it. Books are evenly stored on shelves all throughout, tomes of his own collection and many he had written himself. Or that his pater had, before and after his expulsion from the Covenant.

He looks away from them before he gets lost in thought on matters unbefitting of the now evening. You should be here at any moment, and Lorgar wishes to provide you a respite, not drown you in bitterness.

Anything to soothe your worries, he will do; He knows to look upon and be in the presence of a Primarch can unsettle mortals, for reasons both spiritual and physical. Lorgar turns away to look towards the quickly setting sun, just as he hears footsteps. Lorgar swears he can feel his heart begin to beat faster.

You enter slowly, head peeking around the edge of the massive door as you slip inside with the permission of the guards posted just outside.

You see him standing and staring out through an open window, over a vast stretch of palace ground. He can hear your footsteps, and turns to greet you with a warm smile and gentle look in his eyes. Lorgar has moments of fury, but so many of the times you see him, you're charmed by the surprising softness that he can show. Not many others say the same, much to your surprise.

"There you are. I've been waiting for you." You mistakenly take his sentence as a slight for being tardy.

"Apologies, I came as soon as I had gotten word." Lorgar is barely even listening to your carefully chosen words, he's too distracted by the way your hands are wringing themselves in front of you. He steps away from the window, and you speak again.

"What do you require of me, Lord Primarch?" His eyes are gentle as he brushes you off. He can see when you swallow, the way your throat bobs.

He could just order you into his bed. He knows you would do it, you're diligent and dutiful but Lorgar doesn't want to. He wants to unravel you underneath him, piece by piece, until you're just as drenched in his sin as he is. Until your body is crying and weeping for him, begging to be filled by him and only him.

"No formalities. We are past that sort of nonsense. You are more than welcome to call me by my name. As I do you." You hesitate. Your lips shift and he catches each little motion.

"Then, Lorgar, do you need something from me?"

He can hear the way his name tastes odd on your lips, but falls so smoothly from them.

Lorgar moves closer to you, up until it would take only one step for you to step on the bottoms of his robes. And then does he take a knee, lowering slowly until his right knee touches the floor. You hear the moment it does as his body weight rests with a dull thud. You're waiting for something of importance, but what he says instead is so far removed from the possible options you had in your mind, that you can only stare.

"I need you."

Your eyes widen, and he can hear you utter in your confusion,

"What?"

Lorgar recoils for a moment as you both look at each other.

You can feel your skin becoming heated at the decleration, but never had you thought this sort of thing becoming a reality. You'd thought the idea absurd, meanwhile Lorgar had been consumed by it. How you can bring a Primarch to his knee by the way his name falls from your lips. To cast aside the pleasant language he's written in for many years:

He wants to fuck you. He aches for you.

His hand moves of it's own accord, drifting closer.

"Let me touch you. Let me show you how you've overtaken my mind."

You feel his massive hand on your waist, shifting your clothing and almost revealing your skin. His fingers almost seem to shake, the same as his voice when he hisses out the words through his teeth.

"You've taken over it like a sickness, like a curse,"

He's been leaning closer to you this entire time, and now you can feel his breath on your face. His golden eyes flicker over your expression as he abruptly goes from anger, to an expression filled with adoration and something else.

"I, I'm s-" Lorgar shushes you.

"Don't be."

Your lips unconsciously part as he drifts closer, his hand still on your waist. the other joins it on the opposite side, and you can feel how much more skin they cover than a normal human's would. Lorgar might not be the largest of the Primarchs, but he still towers over you.

He crosses the distance and presses his lips to yours, feeling the warmth of his lips and his tanned skin against your own. You feel so much emotion in it that it's almost overwhelming, hands moving to rest ever so gently on his collarbone.

You could never reject his affections. And you don't want to. His lips glide across yours as he speaks.

"Let me show you it all, my beloved."

[writtenbyrinnie]

ieyasu | forbidden tea˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

★彡ieyasu x fem!reader

★彡 word count: 1,649!

★彡 sfw, fluff, kisses~

after a long and tiresome morning spent cleaning the azuchi castle, i was excited to finally visit ieyasu in his room. he had previously told me that he would be in his room all day, logging the new herbs he had acquired from the merchants. and that i was more than welcome to visit him anytime, if i wished to. so here i was, at his manor.

"my lady, please welcome in."

his maid welcomed me in as i bowed with a bashful smile. still wasnt used to getting called "my lady"...

"is the tea for ieyasu? im heading to his room, so I can take it if youd like." 

i asked, noticing the tray filled with tea leaves and a teaset. my curiosity and desire to help getting the best of me again...

"but my lady-"

"please, i insist."

i added, holding onto the free edges of the wooden tray. the maid seemed to have given in as we exchanged a smile, and she left the tray in my hands. bowing slightly as she returned to her duties.

i gently knocked on ieyasu's door shortly before entering with the tray in my hands. he seemed to be entirely focused on documenting the herbs that were messyly laid down on his desk. there was a slight crease between his brows and a concentrated look on his face as he adjusted his glasses. i wasnt aware he wore any up until this moment, but i would be lying if i said finding him like this wasnt cute.

his gaze remained on the paper for a few more moments before he slowly but surely raised his head, finally acknowledging my existence. the initial look of surprise quickly turned into a soft smile as his eyes met mine. i couldnt help but feel warm inside whenever he smiled so genuinely.

"i was starting to think you werent going to show up."

"well, not only did i show up, i also brought...tea!"

i said proudly as i laid the tray on the small table in the middle of the room. 

"thank you."

"no need to thank me, just continue your work and ill brew the tea~ then, when you're done, we can enjoy the tea together."

ieyasu nodded with a smile as he fixed his glasses once again and resumed his writing. it wasnt everyday that i got to see him and his desk covered by so many beautiful flowers and herbs. i was truly enjoying the view. 

i began adding the tea leaves to the teapot, being careful not to spill any. reaching for the hot water, my eyes landed on the handful of dried leaves placed inside a cotton cloth on the table. i gave it a sniff, and it smelled quite similar to basil. maybe i could add it to the tea.. to give it a mint like freshness? adding a small pinch of what i assumed to be dried basil to the tea pot, i begun to slowly pour the boiling water all over the leaves.

the rich, aromatic smell of freshly brewed tea began filling the room. ieyasu must have noticed it too. after briefly looking in my direction, he met my eyes with a soft smile as he continued finishing up his work.

after filling half of a cup, i took a small sip to make sure the basil flavor wasnt extreme. the basil i added perfectly complemented the high quality tea leaves, leaving a deliciously fresh taste on the tongue. i was excited for ieyasu to try it as well, growing a little impatient from waiting.

raising from the floor, i made my way over to his desk. his journal was filled with immensely detailed drawings of flowers, with the qualities of each written down in beautiful handwriting. i watched him work in awe, slowly lowering my head onto his shoulder. not sure if it was the scent of many flowers laid upon his desk rubbing on him or his scent alone, but he smelled awfully sweet.

"hm?"

ieyasu hummed in confusion when i placed a gentle peck on the smooth skin of his neck. giving me a side eye, he took off his glasses. it wasnt my intention to distract him, but i just couldnt have ignored the urge to kiss him when he stood there so perfectly.

"dont give me that look..."

with a guilty whine, i buried my face in the crook of his neck. it was partially due to my embarrassment and partially due to the fact that he smelled rather intoxicating.

cant a girl miss her lover..? I know i MAY be acting slightly clingy right now, but-...

"i will. you did that on purpose..."

"well,.. did it work..?"

i asked, raising my head to meet his gaze again. the edge of his lips curled a little, and with a casual tone, he answered.

"nope."

i knew it was a lie, and so did he. the second he had taken off his glasses marked the moment he had become too distracted to continue his work. but i played along still, knowing it would be near impossible to get him to admit that.

"the teas going to get cold."

"mhm."

"come on, take a break already..."

i sighed, tugging on his collar to urge him to get up. he eventually rose from his seat, rolling his eyes with a slight grin as he did so.

"hm, whats gotten into you..? miss me much?"

ieyasu teased, a rather confused look on his face. (he wasnt used to her being impatient like this, especially over...tea? really..? not that he was going to complain...)

carefully, i began pouring the brew into the elegant tea cups as the fresh basil aroma began overflowing. ieayasu scrunched his nose, raising a brow at the unfamiliar but pleasant scent.

"what did you put into it? smells nice..."

"just some basil; it smells fresh, doesnt it?"

"basil..? from where?"

ieayasu seemed puzzled, his expression slowly evolving into one of surprise as i pointed over to the remaining leaves on the cloth. taking a better sniff, his eyes widened further.

"i dont think thats...basil."

he leaned in with a somewhat worried look on his face, placing a strand of stray hair behind my ear.

"you look...a little red. do you feel feverish?"

"i mean...i feel slightly heated, but its probably just the tea making me feel hot."

i smiled sweetly as he caressed my cheek, the concern in his voice stressing me out a little.

"why..? am i not allowed to turn into a blushy mess around you anymore?"

i teased, feeling his thumb grace over my lips, reminding me how much I had actually missed his touch. that managed to earn a chuckle from him.

"you know thats not what i meant, ...idiot."

the crease in between his brows had softened, but his expression still remained firm. i felt his gaze fall onto my lips for a second before he sighed, looking away, the faintest blush on his ears.

"give me a second; i just want to be sure..."

he muttered before taking the cloth filled with basil leaves over to his desk. flipping the pages of his journal swiftly as he scanned them with his eyes. i couldnt help but pout and sit there, upset at the sudden loss of physical contact and intimacy as i watched him.

he rubbed his temples briefly before closing the journal and looking back at me.

"whats wrong?"

i asked, tilting my head to the side as i tried to gauge his expression. 

i mean...even if what i added wasnt basil, it couldnt have been anything poisonous or bad. after all, ieyasu only keeps medicinal herbs around...right? not me dying from drinking tea...haha...ha.

"nothing. well-... uhhh, nothing important."

ieyasu scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, avoiding my gaze as his ears grew redder. which only left me with more confusion than ever... he walked over, plopping down next to me on the tatami floor. 

"care to elaborate on the 'nothing important' part?"

"nothing important, as in...sadly, you'll live."

he chuckled a little, pulling me closer as i rolled my eyes.

"just...stay the night; ill help your fever die down."

"that sounded...oddly...inappropriate."

"im quite serious though. thats what you get for messing around with plants you dont know the effects of."

my face immediately flushed deep red when i felt his breath hit my ear. speaking in a low tone, he added...

"ahem, you see... those leaves you added, happen to have a... aphrodisiac side effect."

ive never wanted to evaporate this bad..i felt my face burn up with embarrassment, and for a moment it actually did feel like i couldve evaporated if i got any hotter.

"and as much as id love to believe that i was the one making you feel all hot and bothered, its probably your forbidden tea concoction. so, stay the night."

ieayasu added as he pulled himself back to give me a much needed breather. his last sentence had etched itself into my brain in a way so inappopriate that my mind had already begun making up outrageously lewd scenarios. i slapped my cheeks to regain whatever composure i had remained and turned to him. my body involuntarily itching to stay closer to him.

"why do you-..?!...even have aphrodisiacs in here..."

ieyasu cleared his throat, blushing slightly.

"hey-.., they are also considered medications, you know..."

he protested, fixing his already wide enough collar with one hand as he placed the other on my waist. even such a simple gesture was enough to get my imagination running wild again, letting myself get pulled closer and closer.

"youre practically burning up."

"yeah no shit sherlock."

"sher-.....who..?"

"f-forget it..!"

ieayasu, rolled his eyes, but the corner of his lips had begun turning into a smile when he felt my arms wrap around his neck.

"geez, soo needy..."

"shut up."

there goes my first ever english fic...im feeling pretty anxious about posting this, since im not confident in my english nor my writing abilities BUT...i guess i had to start somewhere :;(∩´﹏`∩);: 🌷

[eddiemunson-mylove]

Tender Loving Hair Care

author's note -

Hi!! I don't have much to say other than please be gentle!! I haven't written in about 6-7 years so this is my first attempt I suppose.

Huge thank you to @lovejosephquinn for helping me to become inspired to finally write for our dear boy.

warnings -

none :) although I think Eddie says f**k like... once

word count -

2.3K

masterlist

_______________

The sudden downpour hadn’t been forecast that day. No strong winds gusting from the north. The clouds had been gentle and scarce. But as you rouse from your sleep, still wrapped firmly in the blankets that had shielded your skin from the harsh pricks of the early spring, the worn metal of the Munson trailer rattled under the weight of the raindrops, generous in both size and frequency. 

Idly rolling your head to the right to glance out of Eddie’s window, the makeshift curtain consisting of an old red sheet long fallen on one side, you caught the streams of water racing down the glass. The biting cold of the air was not the only absence of warmth that you had become very suddenly hyperaware of. Your eyes flickered down to the pillow next to you, a hand reaching up to brush over the centre. The pillow was flat, cold to the touch. But most importantly, void of Eddie. 

Reluctantly pulling yourself from the all-encompassing scent of your seemingly missing boyfriend, your feet carried you through the short hallway, the thudding echoed from the hard floors beneath the thinning carpet. The rest of the trailer had only proven to be as vacant as the bedroom, with Wayne already away across state on a construction site, and Eddie whose whereabouts had yet to be made apparent.

Wincing under your breath as your feet made contact with the linoleum in the kitchen, you were quick to stand on the small withered rug placed haphazardly in front of the sink. Reaching out and grabbing a glass from the draining board, you poured some water in order to clear your throat that was still thick from sleep. Leaning your hip against the countertop, you find yourself once again gazing out of the kitchen window, taking in the wide expanse of the park. The rain had not let up, still beating down, droplets bouncing once they hit the floor. 

Sighing deeply, you turn slightly so that your back was now leaning on the cabinets. Nursing your glass and aimlessly flashing your sights over the small kitchenette and over to the cluttered living space. Despite the organised chaos of the Munson men’s attempt at decorating around the home, you did notice a new addition amongst the disarray. 

The half emptied glass now pushed thoughtlessly back next to the sink, you move swiftly over to the coffee table that had piqued your interest. Placed delicately on the table was a scrap of paper, likely torn from a notebook with Eddie’s scribble on it:

‘Princess, I’ve only popped out to get you a little gift. Don’t worry! This one doesn’t involve spending anymore money :) 

I am actually hoping that you’ll still be asleep before I get back (I just left this so you wouldn’t worry) so for my sake can you go back to bed and be totally surprised when I get back?!

Can’t wait to see you… 

Teddy’

Your grin could only be described as lovesick, the tops of your cheeks appearing in your field of vision, lips that were still chapped from your previously dormant state now stretching. Eddie never failed to surprise you with his devoted escapades, always keeping you on your toes, trying to impress you as if you hadn’t already handed over your heart to him. Following his ‘strict’ instructions you carefully place the note back onto the table in an attempt to appease his wishes. Starting the short walk back to his room you take one last passing glance out of the kitchen window but stop when the realisation hits you that his van is still parked where it was left upon returning home the evening prior. 

You’re suspicion only clouds with dread when the sudden gusts of wind howl through the crevices of the aged trailer. Eddie had left home on foot, and if there is one thing that you have gaged from your time together is that this man does not dress for the weather. You make quick work of gathering towels and fresh clothes for his return, even going as far as to setting some water on the stove, ready to turn on when he appeared. Now all that was left was to wait for Eddie to show his face, whatever state he may be in. You settle gently onto the couch, feet strewn carelessly to the side, leaning your head on your hand upon the armrest. Closing your eyes, you started to rehearse how you were going to berate him for leaving in the torrential rain. 

_______________

The first drop could’ve been a figment of your imagination. The second was more convincing, accompanied by a soft lull of your name, the voice hoarse but still exuding warmth. The third drop was a certainty, your body being lightly shaken into consciousness. 

Once your eyes had cracked open just enough to make sense of the environment, you were promptly made aware of the large figure leaning over the couch. A hand was still resting on your shoulder, the icy temperature almost felt as though your skin was burning. Your gaze flickers upwards, just making out the lopsided grin plastered over the lower half of Eddie’s face. Your eyes continued their journey up, finally meeting the glinting eyes of your boyfriend, his lashes clumped together and damp.

The fourth drop was a catalyst for the memory of your first attempt at rising that morning. Your eyes swiftly drop to your knee, managing to catch sight of the water cascading down towards the couch cushions beneath you. Springing to your feet and startling Eddie in the process, you wordlessly shuffled towards the stack of towels in your drowsy state. Even whilst barely conscious you still had the overwhelming urge to attend to Eddie before yourself.

“Eds… what were you thinking?” you were quick to engulf Eddie in the towel, the perfect excuse to finally hold him in your arms like you had wished for when you had originally woken up. 

“I was thinking that I really wanted to surprise my girl. I couldn’t sleep and thought it was a better use of my time than twiddling my thumbs” Eddie grumbled, his distasteful tone being a direct result of his drenched state rather than aimed towards you.

“You could have at least worn a coat,” you mumble into his shoulder, “It doesn’t matter now anyways, go and get changed,” you twist his body slightly towards his room, “there’s some clothes on the end of your bed.”

Eddie turns in your arms, his own lifting in order to quickly cradle your face on either side, placing a chaste kiss to your forehead in gratitude.

As he sullenly retreats to his bedroom, you pad back into the kitchen to switch on the stove for some tea. Waiting for it to boil, your quick to notice the large glass of water that had been placed on the dining table by the front door. The glass is now being used as a makeshift vase, holding a substantial collection of what could only be handpicked flowers. There was no intricate organisation to how they were bunched together, the aray of colours placed aimlessly in the glass. So perfectly Eddie…

You recognised a few variations of them, having seen them around the park and the surrounding woodlands. You’d even remembered pointing them out to Eddie on numerous occassions, but had assumed that your observations had fallen on deaf ears. 

Your heart rippled in your chest, the warmth spreading down to your stomach and up to your cheeks simultaneously. Never had you experienced such attentiveness. The want to do such beautiful things to put a smile on your face, as opposed to the need in order to keep the peace. Eddie had truly been plucked from the sky and created just for you… a celestial being.

The thumping of feet nearing you tore you out of your sentimental spiral, head naturally following the increasing sound. Eddie appeared once again, slightly less dishevled with a towel in his hands. His eyes gravitate to you immendaitely and he grins, suantering over to you. With one arm snaking its way around your back and pulling you into his chest, your face made contact with the damp of his shirt. His hair falling limp over his shoulders, soaking through the fabric.

You pulled back slightly in order to see his face, nose red from the biting cold. He’s stares out of the kitchen window, a grimace slowly returning to his face as the kettle starts to whistle. Reluctantly parting from his frame, you shift the pot onto the back of the stove, turning the knob to extinguish the flames. You decide that the water should cool slightly before pouring over the tea, so as to avoid the bitter taste that you knew Eddie wouldn’t appreciate.

Turning around to inquire about Eddie’s ‘surpirse’, you’re stopped suddenly in your tracks. Horror flashing across your face as you reach to swat at his hands that had found themselves carelessly shaking his head amongst a scratchy towel.

“What do you think you are doing!” you cry out, jaw dropped and eyes bulging.

“Uhhhh… drying my hair? If you hadn’t noticed princess, I’m dripping water all over the kitchen” he shoots back, head cocking slightly, confused by your outburst.

 Eddie’s oblivious tone had rang red flags all through your brain. This is how he’s been caring for his curls? All this time, he’s been drying his beautiful hair with a starchy, hard towel? You immediately pull the rag from his grasp, flinging it violently towards the sink.

“Will you please tell me what in the ever-loving fuck is going on?” he exclaims, starting to reach for the towel to continue the assault on his head. 

“Eddie, so help me god, please tell me that is not how you dry your hair on a regular basis” you start, pinching your fingers between your eyes.

“What? Like a normal person? What, do you used pressed silk or something?” he smirks, amused by your exasperated manner.

“Eds, please just go and sit on the floor in front of the couch, I’ll be there in a second” you push out followed by a heavy sigh.

“Sit on the floor? What is going-”

“Eddie! The floor” you point to where you had been sat not even 30 minutes ago, “please” you stress slightly.

_______________

“How long is this going to take” Eddie shifts again, rocking between each hip as the hard floor took its toll on his joints.

After practically demanding your infuriatingly clueless boyfriend to plop down on the carpet, you had hurriedly poured his tea and handed him his steaming mug before zipping of into his room to collect a cotton t-shirt. With Eddie’s clothes typically strewn on various surfaces, it took a few digs and a few more label checks to find what you needed. With a determined spring in your step, you had made your way back to the couch and clumsily navigated yourself to sit behind Eddie, a leg on either side of him in order to begin your masterpiece.

It had been around 10 minutes of continually squeezing sections of his hair with the shirt, blotting out the extra moisture much more gently than that wretched towel. You would switch between scrunching Eddie’s sections up towards his scalp and wring the clumps around your fingers to try and put some life back into the curl pattern. Years of hair care neglect had left his hair frizzy and dry, and now you had seen first hand why that was the case.

You still adored Eddie’s hair to bits, it being one of the main eye catching attractions when you met. But, Jesus, you had always thought that it could use a little extra TLC. He had no products at all, simply having to rely on the already wet state and your hands to make each ringlet into a somewhat consistent pattern. 

You rolled your eyes at his whining. You knew full well that he was lapping up every second of this special treatment by the way his head would loll when slightly tugged to one side and the small contented sighs that escaped his lips. 

“I’m almost done handsome…” you coo, leaning forward to place a light kiss on his temple. He hummed at the contact and sipped at the last of his cooled tea. The domesticity of the situation you were in made the back of your eyes sting slightly, not enough to produce tears, but enough to feel that warmth spread once again throughout your chest. You allow yourself to wonder whether this would become a regular occurrence, or if this would become a fond memory down the line; the intimacy to be long cherished by the both of you for years to come. 

You reached around to grip the bottom of Eddie’s chin, tilting his head upwards so you could gaze at his face. All the muscles that had been hardened and tense upon his earlier return had now fully softened, nothing left but half-lidded eyes and a lazy smile.

“All done, sweetness” you beam down, lightly stroking his bottom lip with your thumb.

“Does it look good baby?” he prompts, eyes opening just a little more to gage your reaction.

“Oh yeah, totally metal Eds. Got my very own Kirk right here” you both giggle as your eyes locked on one another. You took the sudden initiative to gently lean down to him.

You pressed your lips firmly onto Eddie’s, the feeling making your head spin, the taste only describable as saccharine. He hums into it, quick to return the kiss with just as much fervor. You’re the first to break away, eyes opening to see Eddie still leaned forward with his eyes shut, lashes twitching against his flushed cheeks.

“What was that for sweetheart?” Eddie breathes out, eyelids now hesitantly opening to up gaze at you through his lashes as though you had hung the stars in the night sky.

“I never thanked you for the flowers Eds,” you beamed at him, “So that was my thank you”

Eddie simply grinned and jutted his chin to lean up once more…  

[frogonamelon]

Previous- Next

“If you write a wish upon a paper and you place It into a glass bottle And it’s washed away by the ocean then someday There’s a chance that it may just come true”

"Regret Message" by Vocaloid, English lyrics by Lizz Robinett

[tavyliasin]

Forbidden Papers - Drabble~

A short Raphael/Haarlep warmup from earlier - not too spicy, but there might be a little hint of a callout to those of us who fill our pages with art and fiction of our beloved fiends~ It was meant to be shorter, but as often happens when I start writing dialogue for these two they just took over and I had 350 words in a 15 minute sprint (my average is 200-250 usually). So, some mild smut below the cut, and if you feel like continuing from where this leaves off please be my guest and reblog with your additions! (Also I forgot to mention, Raphael is in cambion form here, but is still just half an inch shorter than Haarlep because it's funnier that way~)

Raphael pushed his glasses back up his nose to meet the crinkle above the bridge that began at his brow. The pages before him were unceremoniously slammed back to the desk with a heavy sigh, his hand moving up in a vain attempt to iron out his frown. “Oh dear, Archduke, are mere mortal words enough to vex you now? Here I thought you ready to take over all nine hells, a rule that will last eternally under a tight fist.” The smirking incubus peered over his shoulder, snatching a page from the top of the stack before the cambion could relax. “Ah, well I see there certainly is something to do with a fist here~” “Do not try my patience, Harlot, you will find it thinner than your control over your libido.” Raphael gave up on that page, quickly dismissing the others to some unseen locked drawer with a swift wave of his hand. “I thought these were some of your contracts? You gave them the inspiration to write, to create art, and…” Haarlep stifled another laugh a little too slowly. “You have to let me meet some of these clients. They are quite fascinating~” The cambion seemed to have a change of heart about letting the mocking incubus keep even a single page, swiftly standing and turning to grab it from crimson fingers, knocking his chair to the floor in the process. Unfortunately for him, his reach was just a fraction too short as Haarlep held it aloft, their other hand coming to grip his chin. “Remember your place, Master. You are in your House, but my room.” Their talons dug in to his skin, blood pricking along his jawline. “I’ve been needing some new reading material, won’t you bring more back for me?~” Their tone changed from threatening to saccharine in an instant, not dissimilar to how Raphael’s own voice would switch around manipulations with his clients. “Absolutely not.” “I’ll make it worth your while~” They punctuated the promise with a kiss, quickly deepening it to catch his tongue before he could utter any further protest, delighting at how swiftly he began to soften as he gave in to the lust. Their grip on his chin eased to a caress, drifting up his cheek, coming to rest with their fingers entwined in his hair. A lie of affection that was not to last long. The grip tightened, pulling on his hair to drag greedy lips away from their kiss once more. “Now, bring me plenty more of this,” they waved the paper in the air above them, “or I will keep you from pleasure’s bliss until you do.” Raphael looked about to complain, the crinkle at the bridge of his nose returning…but he soon relented. Pages appeared in his hand with a curl of heatless flames. “Fail to satisfy me and you will get no more than this.” “Fail? Me?” Haarlep did not hold back their laugh this time, wings rising behind them as a silent threat. “You are simply adorable, Archduke. Now, I suggest you remove everything from that desk that you do not wish to be broken, then place yourself upon it.”

[afticxs]

DEAD MEN TELL NO TALES chapter 2

the two men stumbled into their room, their laughter continuing from earlier’s events.

william had decided to wake michael up and challenge him to a duel aboard his ship. at first, michael complained about it being too early but in the end it turned out to be fun.

he learned about posture and technique. he also learned that his father was getting old and used it to his advantage.

then, they ate in one of the taverns deeper in the town for lunch and laughed about old memories which they continued to now.

“ah, you’re getting too old son,” william sighed, patting michael’s shoulder to which he laughed and pushed him away, “shut up, old man. i still have places to see and things to do!”

the two chuckled before henry knocked on the door to let william know that something had been faulty with their planning. henry apologised and left profusely, but william still had to leave.

he apologised to michael, ruffling his hair momentarily before leaving the room. with a sigh, michael slumped onto his bed. he looked over at his satchel and thought about writing to you. if he put it in a bottle and let it drift, would you recieve it? it was worth a try.

michael swiftly searched through the satchel, pulling out last night’s stationary and writing a quick note on a ripped piece of paper: hopefully you get this, but i’m here. a bit early i know.

he then pulled out a glass bottle from his satchel that he had collected previously like his father suggested he do, saying he could wish upon the sea. michael tucked it away, screwing on the cork. before he left his room, michael shoved it in his bag and let the strap go over his head.

it was the same route as always, the stairway, the bar, the door, and down the coastline. michael squatted down and watched as his discarded message in a bottle drifted with the tide. he remained there for not a very long time, barely a minute before the bottle abruptly disappeared into the water and in its place your head appeared.

“i think early is an understatement,” you smiled as you swam closer to michael’s rock. he shrugged, “i wasn’t busy.”

“how do you know i wasn’t?” you teased and michael frowned, “were you?”

nonetheless, you shook your head, “i was biding my time.”

“what do you call biding your time? swimming upside down?” michael taunted with a snort and u splashed him.

“no, i was exploring,” you trailed off, looking in the distance, “if you follow the sand, theres a cave. it has a different opening for you and me.”

michael watched as you disappeared underwater, but your tail gave you away. he walked back on the rocks, following the trail of sand. michael didn’t fail to keep an eye on you, your tail occasionally flicking up to direct his eyes. you were showing it to him after all.

eventually, he came across an opening and slipped through it being met with sand into waves. michael watched as you perched ontop of a rock, freely able to display yourself as nobody was at risk of seeing you.

“its a nice spot, don’cha think?” you put your arm up and tilted your body like you were posing. michael nodded, it’s really nice. too nice, “this where you sleep?”

you shook your head, “no, i prefer it outside. caves aren’t my ideal sleep spot.”

with a dramatic sigh, you flopped backwards into the natural pool. water exploded around you, hitting the surface like rain. your head appeared closer this time and michael couldn’t help but get nervous with how you stalked up to him, “you arent gonna eat me, right?”

with a chuckle, exposing your teeth, you shrugged, “as long as you’re on the sand you’re safe.”

“that’s not exactly reassuring..” michael sweatdropped, crossing his legs and drawing shapes in the sand.

“it wasn’t meant to be,” you hummed, swishing your tail towards michael and flicking water at him. he looked at you in irritation, “stop.”

you giggled and did it again, this time michael sat up straight, “stop that!” it continue with michael sputtering at you to stop until he was cold. he shivered, digging at the sand in a cusp and throwing it at you. it was an easy dodge, you sunk below you and watched as the grains sunk lower than you could.

while you were underneath the water, michael spotted a pearly object glinting in the sun that was exposed in the opening in the top of the cave. he picked at it until the heavy sands budged and saved way through the gaps of the object to reveal an peculiar looking comb. it was decorated in pearls and shells. promptly, michael pocketed it in his satchel just as you rose. he looked at you before u spit wster out at him like a fountain. with a yell, michael shuffled back before he could get sprayed again.

“gods, you are persistent..” he muttered, side eyeing you in annoyance while you giggled, “i can’t go back soaking wet again.”

“just sunbathe,” you advised, “the sun’s directly on you.”

michael was already laying back, resting his arm over his eyes. a small vibration went through the waters, affecting you gravely.

“i have to cut our visit short, mikey,” you pouted, “i’m sorry, there’s just something wrong.”

michael shrugged, sitting up on his elbows and squinting at you, “alright then, cya.”

you dipped down below, swimming off to where michael could not see you.

where were you off to in such a hurry? gods, you were an interesting myth.

[cyberbirb-arts]

Accompanying piece to a Gency ficlet under the cut! :D

Angela would tirelessly dedicate a good portion of her week to monitor Genji's enhancements, double-checking his oxygen levels and considering new filtration systems for his biotic fluids. She then worried about the adjustments to his cyborg body and new pain medications, second-guessing her own decisions one too many times.

But Genji always reassured Angela that everything was fine, and that if there were any issues he'd tell her at once. He did not like seeing her so stressed and anxious.

He fondly remembers their late night conversations, sharing a dish of her favorite apple pie and cups of stale coffee. He'd listen to Angela ramble for hours about the same subject, boredom never crossing his mind. How much sleep she was getting exactly, however...

Genji found her too often collapsed at her desk; glasses somehow tossed on the floor, papers and documents scattered across, and her tablet dangerously hanging off the edge. He quietly retrieved her readers and caught the tablet in time. He carefully placed a cushion under her cheek and draped a small blanket over her shoulders. It's the least Genji could do, he didn't want to disturb her workspace.

He believed that she always had wings, even without her field suit. But angels needed their rest, too.

"Take care of your own needs as you do for others," he told her. "Please don't leave yourself out."

"I know," she smiled genuinely. "I appreciate you looking out for me."

That evening she was wide awake and the moonlight complimented her pale blonde hair so beautifully, it seemed like tiny golden halos were escaping the loose ponytail. Genji called her ethereal to himself, even as she apologized about her smudged eyeliner and tired, weary smile – all evidence of long hours and few breaks. And the extra coffee probably wasn't the greatest idea. So, her picture-taking skills were a bit clumsy with shaking fingers until Genji held up the other end of the phone.

She waved at him through the screen and started the countdown for the photo timer, but Genji noticed some pie crumbs on her chin.

"Hold still, Angela...", he whispered, using the softest part of his pinky finger to swipe them away.

She laughed, "Quite the professional I am."

"...The best one I know."

She met his gaze, and suddenly Genji wished he didn't plan his return trip to Nepal to contemplate consciousness; a place so far away from the one he could never call home anymore, bearing witness to the great blanket of stars enveloping the snow upon the mountains.

Because at that moment, he fell in love with the entire universe in her eyes.

He entertained the idea briefly, and in his mind he saw Angela's worried expression as she'd approach him, unpacking his bag. Genji would say nothing but tuck a loose piece of her bang behind an ear – the one that would always fall unceremoniously in front of her right eye – he'd selfishly wanted to do that.

Maybe softly kiss her cheek; a quiet thank you for everything.

He'd have to write an extensive apology to Zenyatta, for the desire to stay a little longer with the amazing woman who saved his life...

But of course, he could not stay.

His spiritual path beckoned him to the Shambali once more.

And her hands were full already as an engineer and field medic for Overwatch.

As Genji finally caught himself staring at her after a bit too long, the both of them reluctantly glanced back at the phone screen and their bashful smiles.

Angela silently cradled his gentle hand in hers and nearly gave it a kiss – but she stopped herself.

The camera timer was about to run out.

"Make sure to write me a letter, Genji..."

No one could smile like her.

"I will not forget, Angela."

As beautiful as the Moon.

"...Danke schön."

[dancedance-resolution]

i started a supercorp portrait of a lady on fire au like three years ago. i'm never going to finish it, but the writing style is pretty cool, so i want to share it. so um enjoy the prologue and a bit of chapter one?

---

Prologue. Bonnelles, France. 1786.

“First, my contours,” Kara said, her voice soft and level. She looked out upon the dozen or so young women, their eyes darting back and forth from their papers to Kara herself. “The outline,” she continued. The increasingly swift sound of scratching charcoal prompted Kara to further instruct, “Not too fast. Take time to look at me.” She paused. “See how my arms are placed.”

At that moment, Kara saw the painting.

She swallowed and took in a breath; she schooled her expression before letting out the air with a pathetically soft “My hands.” Her students’ gaze followed her verbal direction, now observing as Kara’s fingers curled with remembrance. Their own hands now began to sketch the slope of hers—the slope that had once coaxed breathy moans from a lover, the slope that had once created that very painting in all of its hollow longing.

Kara felt her heart rate accelerating, and her attempts at calming deep breaths only made her shoulders shake unsteadily. “Who brought that painting out?” Her eyes darted around, landing on each possible offender, as she tensed her core and adopted a stern countenance.

Every student dutifully turned to look at the work.

It was an especially young girl who finally lifted her hand. “I brought it. From the stock room. Should I have not?”

Kara’s “no” felt like a brick, its weight threatening to pry tears from her reddening eyes. So Kara took another swallow, a handful of blinks, a few more steadying breaths.

“Did you paint it?” the girl asked innocently. Nia, her name was? She stared at Kara, oblivious to the flood of sound overwhelming Kara’s mind and echoing in the cavern of her heart.

“Yes,” Kara uttered softly, the word barely audible as they fell from her lips. “A long time ago.”

Nia’s head snapped back to examine the painting once more. It stood on an old but sturdy easel, tattooed and scarred but still standing. The artwork itself was brooding, with a white sun bleeding into a dark vignette. Heavy clumps of clouds occupied the sky and caged some of the sun’s rays, so the fire burning behind the woman was bright enough in comparison to create a dragging shadow of her figure. The flames crawled up the back of her windswept dress, bringing sharp tension to an otherwise lulling, melancholy landscape.

“What’s the title?”

The sound of the sea began to swell in Kara’s head. Her lips trembled. Her body unwittingly swayed slightly. “Portrait of a Lady on Fire.”

---

Chapter I. The island of Brittany, France, and the surrounding sea. 1779.

Kara squinted into the distance, her face scrunching up a bit as she desperately tried to shield her eyes from the harsh glare of the sun on the water. For all its gorgeous teals and sparkling peaks, it certainly did make her wish for one of those brimmed hats the rowers were all wearing. With every one of their paced paddles, the cork-like little canoe bobbed haphazardly. Kara rather felt as if she were in the wine glass of a thoroughly drunken Marie Antoinette.

At least she wasn’t prone to seasickness.

She still felt quite unsteady, though, being thrown about and forced to pathetically grab onto the boat’s low walls. She leaned forward, trying to regain her balance and ground herself despite the absence of ground.

The wooden pallet holding her canvas was, apparently, as unstable as she was, and the next thing Kara knew, it had been lurched off of the boat like vomit from a drunkard. Kara watched helplessly as it thrashed among the choppy waves, the sea carrying it a few feet from the boat.

The chief rower met her desperate look with exhausted resignation; he ceased his paddling as Kara shed her overcoat and placed a precarious foot on the edge of the canoe.

With a strained creak from the boat’s wood, she jumped into the water, dress billowing behind her. Her first gasp for air upon emerging from the water was audible; she could feel the effort in her throat. Her arms moved in laborious little arcs as she slowly made her way towards the floating pallet and finally made a desperate reach for it. Kara’s fingers grasped onto a wooden board, and she pulled herself up onto it with a grunt.

---

The incessant wind upon the sea was certainly not helping Kara. Dripping wet, she wrapped herself up in her overcoat in a pitiful plea for warmth. She held the edges of the garment up to her lips, the sensation of the dry fabric bringing her some comfort as she closed her eyes and left herself to the mercy of the mighty sea.

But the interminable rocking of the feeble boat wouldn’t allow her any rest.

Kara wasn’t very religious, not anymore. Yet, the sight of the cliffs and coast of Brittany moved her to relieved prayer.

---

The sun had already begun to set as Kara trekked up the sandy coast. Her legs ached with every stumbling, unsure step—maybe she was a bit seasick after all—and her hands were tired of having to grip her full skirt to keep it out of her way.

She paused on the rocks, taking a moment to manually wring some of the water out of her skirt. She filled her lungs with an arduous breath before slinging the rope holding the pallet over her shoulder. Next came the fabric sling, which housed her trunk of personal items—she positioned it on her back with careful poise.

The journey up the cliffs and towards the trees was exhausting. Kara’s skirt required repositioning every few seconds, the rope was digging into her shoulder, and the pallet and trunk slammed into her back with each wobbling step. By the time she reached the straight path up to the residence, her breaths were heavy and pained, and the sun was nearly fully hidden beneath the horizon.

A soft light emanated from the windows above the mansion’s door, helping Kara feel a bit more secure as she knocked. A short blonde woman answered her summon and introduced herself with a flat “I’m Eve.” She opened the door a bit wider and gestured with her body for Kara to come in.

Eve held a small candle as she guided Kara up the stairs, the sounds of their shoes echoing through the grand yet starkly undecorated hallway. The walls of the stairwell were cement bricks, and the wrought iron bannister was rather plain and geometric.

They came to a stop in front of a similarly void room, bare save a few heavy curtains and a daybed. The raised panels along these walls matched the white-painted wood of the window frames, and they gave the chamber some elegant character.

While Eve entered the comparatively less intimidating room, Kara stayed back a moment, taking in the shafts of muted blue light from the windows and the contrasting warm glow of leaping flames from the central fireplace.

Eve crouched down to poke at the fire as Kara set down her belongings. “It was a reception room,” Eve explained. “Though I’ve never seen it used.”

The fire crackled pleasantly. “Have you been here long?” Kara inquired.

“Three years,” Eve answered, directing her attention back to the fire.

Kara peeled off her overcoat and draped it along the wainscoting. “Do you like it here?”

“Yes,” Eve said simply as she stood up. She turned to Kara, meeting her eyes now as her hands smoothed over her skirt. “I’ll let you get dry.” And with a nod, she was on her way.

Kara watched her every step.

Once the door closed, she hastily began removing her overskirt. It fell to the dark herringbone floor with an unglamorous thud.

---

There was no method or grace to the way Kara wrapped her hand around the rusting crowbar, but with a few jerks, she’d managed to successfully pry the top off of the pallet.

After setting down the wood cover, Kara extended her hand, letting it fall clumsily onto the slick canvas in front of her. It was still wet, and her hand’s small circular movement caused moisture to pool at her fingertips, as if her touch had beckoned the water. So her hand withdrew, and Kara slid the canvas out from its container. Her eyes danced over the surface as she considered how to dry it, holding it in front of herself like the Communion host of an evening Mass.

---

Kara decided to accompany her drying canvas, which was now positioned next to the fireplace. Stripped naked, she sat in front of the fire and pulled her legs towards herself—she was vulnerable, sitting there bare and in a new environment, and the action made her feel a bit more small, compact, and safe.

Kara set down her candle so she could light her tobacco pipe with the flames. Her large, smoky exhales grounded her, in a way, with the familiar sight and smell acting as a sort of sedative. And she stared forward, expression blank but unmistakably worn.

---

Kara walked barefoot along the cement floor, making her way through the hall and to the pantry room wrapped in nothing but her robe-like smock.

[aquagirl1978]

Sending you an ask for the Spring event! 😁

Sariel + 13 + 🌧

Please and thank you! 🤓

Thank you @katriniac for this request! Hope you enjoy!

The Letter - Sariel Noir x Reader (Ikemen Prince)

A/N: Part of the Spring Showers Spring Flowers event I am co-hosting with @violettduchess

Pairing: Sariel Noir x Reader

Prompt: cherry blossoms + angst

Tags: angst

It was a beautiful day and you should have been happy. The sun was shining, the cherry blossom trees had just blossomed, and you had the afternoon off from work. But as you walked around the park, pangs of jealousy stabbed your heart as you saw couples in love enjoying a nice day in the park.

You spotted a large charry blossom tree in a secluded section of the park, it’s pink flowers creating a fluffy umbrella. Taking a seat on the grass, you rested your back against the tree’s strong trunk. Reaching into your bag, you pulled out an envelope, a wistful smile on your lips.

A gentle breeze blew by; pink petals drifted down into your hair as you simply held the envelope for a few moments before opening it, reading and re-reading your name in familiar, elegant script. Turning the envelope over in your hand, your fingers traced the seal, the imprint of a snake clear on the violet wax. 

Your fingers trembled as you broke the seal and opened the envelope, pulling the single sheet of paper free. Unfolding the paper, you held it in your hands gingerly as you began to read the letter.

Dear Belle,

It is late in the evening as I write this. I wasted the entire day as the palace was infested by rats thanks to Prince Hellcat. Fortunately, Cyran was there to clean up after his master’s prank. 

Putting the letter down for a moment, you laughed heartily, imagining rats running down the palace hallways, Cyran chasing after them with a broom.

My stomach was in pain all day. Oh, how I wish you were there when I finally retreated to my room. I know your touch would have soothed me so.

Sighing, you noticed a droplet of water on the page. Quickly, you wiped it away before it could trickle down and smudge Sariel’s words. Looking up towards the sky, all you saw was crystal clear skies - not a single  grey cloud in sight. It was then that you realized the droplet was a tear sprung from your eye. 

Oh, how you wished you were with him, too. You would have held him in your arms, kissing him. Each kiss a reminder of your love, soothing him of all his worries. You would have held his hand, soaking in the comfortable silence that fell between you before you both fell asleep in each other’s arms.

It was so easy to close your eyes and recall fond memories of Sariel. The way he touched you; the way he kissed you. The way he looked at you, his amethyst eyes peering at you through his glasses, piercing you to your place before approaching you.�� His scent, a mysterious mixture of exotic spices, filling your lungs as he tilted your chin with his thumb, his touch electrifying, sending jolts of excitement through your body. And that smile, a wicked one that one would only expect from a devil, bestowed upon you before brushing his lips against yours. 

You looked up and saw a figure approaching you; from this far distance, with his short, dark hair and glasses, your mind tricked you into thinking it was Sariel, finally coming to see you. As the figure got closer, your heart sank as you realized it was not your love. Tears stung your eyes once more, forcing you to shut them tight, willing the tears to go away.

Breathing deeply, your focus returned to the letter in your hand, your eyes slowly scanning his words, his voice whispering each word in your head as if he was seated next to you on the grass under the cherry blossom tree.

The only thing that gets me through the day is knowing this separation will soon be over.

Wiping away your tears, you clutched the letter to your chest, much like you would do to Sariel if he were here with you, his words filling you with a small bit of hope. Soon, you reminded yourself. Soon, you reassured yourself. Soon this forced separation would end, and Sariel would come and collect you, returning to Rhodolite with you by his side. Where you belonged. Together.

Before placing the letter back in its envelope, your eyes lingered on his elegant signature on the bottom of the page. You took a moment to trace the lettering as you always did, knowing each stroke was made by his careful hand. When done, you folded the piece of the paper and carefully stuffed it back into its envelope. Tucking it safely back in your bag, you pushed yourself up from the ground, shaking any cherry blossoms that fell on you.

Smoothing your skirts, you strolled through the park leisurely before returning home, ready to countdown the days until you were reunited with your love.

Tagging: @redheadkittys @alixennial @rhodolitesroseforclavis @atelier-the-sleepy @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @chaosangel767 @queengiuliettafirstlady @queen-dahlia @ikehoe @ikemen-writer @talfollowingstuff @kpop-and-otome @kisara-16 @altairring @lucyw260 @lordsisterxotome @violettduchess @jet-ivory @bellerose-arcana @yarnnerdally @crypticbibliophile @scorchieart @tele86 @nightfoxqueen @midnightarxsia @wordycheeseblob @wendolrea @aceuuuu @randonauticrap