#i love mhyk like . aough everything abt the game is so pretty

[mcdonaldsnumberone]

the dragonfly prince

“can you stop time for me?”

dragonfly! heathcliff x reader

gender neutral reader

synopsis: love between a dragonfly prince, no bigger than a hairpin, and a human, no smaller than a budding tree, seems more daunting and unlikely than anything else in the world. but you two make it work, and you both revel in what you’re allowed to have.

He kissed your fingertips whenever you met him.

Heathcliff claimed that it was his way of greeting you. Lives of insects were so fleeting in comparison to that of humans, and lives of humans were so fleeting in comparison to that of mystical beings of magic. He couldn’t kiss you like a proper human lover would, but a flimsy excuse was nothing in the face of unbridled love and truest affection.

So he kissed your fingertips. 

You had never met someone so delicate yet so lovely. No bigger than an apple yet with more magic within his tiny heart than an entire village combined, Heathcliff looked more like a fairy than a prince. Whenever you called him a human, he’d scrunch his face up and correct you with a voice that sounded like the first rays of sunlight, and whenever you called him a prince, he’d shy away and swat at your palms with his own.

You had never seen anyone so princely. His hair was the same color as the wildflowers that bloomed in the gentle spring days, and his eyes were the same color as the vivid splashes of a waterfall carving its history into a stoic cliff. From his back, a pair of wings sprung forth like a spell being uttered from his lips: a rainbow of colors reflected from the light and into your curious eyes whenever he shifted them. On top of his head rested a crown of twigs and leaves, and in lieu of gemstones, drops of sap and frozen dewdrops adorned his brow. 

“They don’t like me sneaking out to see you. They say that it’s bad for a dragonfly to fall in love with a human,” he whispered. A bundle of oxymoron slipped past his lips, but he silenced them by pressing them into your fingertips.

You glanced at him, the prince resting on top of your folded knees. “Does it matter to you?”

“Nothing matters to me anymore. Nothing except the heat in my skin when you hold me, the twinkle in my eyes when you look at me, the tightness in my chest when you tell me you love me,” he laughed. His hair flung across his forehead like a meteor shower at dawn, and you couldn’t help but lift your fingertips greedily towards his mouth again.

“I love you, my prince.”

Heathcliff shook his head. “Don’t call me that.”

Your lips quirked upwards into a wry smile, and you watched with intrigue as he pressed another kiss to your hands. Your skin tingled with a sort of electric joy that only he could ever give to you, and you leaned forward to press your own lips to the top of his head. You wondered what it must feel like on his end to be kissed, to trust and adore someone leagues larger than you to risk your entire world for a singular kiss.

But he let you kiss him anyway, he let you give your kisses to him.

A crown of kisses, a crown that only the dragonfly prince could lay claim to.

“I love you, Heathcliff.”