mistyacorn - Tumblr blog

mistyacorn · 6 months

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"you know, if being cute was a crime, you'd be guilty as charged!"

you have been at this for hours (it has only been a few minutes) now. wriothesley, who has been idly sipping his tea with a straight face, has not yet wavered at your terrible pick-up lines.

"that one was bad," he sips. you roll your eyes.

you clear your throat, "if fine was a felony, you'd be on death row," you give wriothesley an exaggerated wink.

he gives you a disconcerted look.

you pout, "okay, c'mon! that one was good!"

wriothesley puts his teacup on the table and moves his chair closer to yours, "i don't think death row should be associated with romance," he shakes his head, "that may have been the worse one today."

"i think that was, 'are you a crime? because i'll do you anyday!'" you laugh and grab wriothesley's teacup, taking a drink out of it so ordinarily.

wriothesley basks in this. tonight is a quiet night: the inmates aren't awake, sigewinne has clocked out for the day, and you are here. it's strange how you are one of the loudest people wriothesley knows of, yet you make the world sound so quiet when you're around. whatever your magic is, wriothesley isn't opposed to it.

everything about this scene reads domesticity, even though the two of you have been together for a couple of months. spending late nights together, sleeping in the same bed, drinking out of the same teacup? if someone had told wriothesley a few months ago that he would be doing these things (nevertheless with you), he would have called them mad. but here he is, sitting in his office doing nothing but drinking tea, while hearing you recite horrible pick-up lines.

"wouldn't it be the perfect crime if i stole your heart and you stole mine?" you push the teacup towards you boyfriend.

wriothesley winces, "maybe that was the worse one today."

"what?! i thought that one wasn't bad."

your boyfriend looks to the side, "it was really cheesy."

"clearly, you missed the point of pick-up lines," you lay your head down on the desk, "i'd like to see you come up with one."

wriothesley chuckles. you relish in the fact that you are one of the only people that have ever heard him laugh. it's an unexpected sound, and it always comes out more lighter than most people would think. but it's endearing, just like him; you always think that a light chortle from him would paint your dark skies to a clear blue.

"i'm saving myself from the embarrassment," wriothesley sips out of the teacup, on the same side you drank of, you might add.

"boring," you draw out the syllables of the word.

"what? did you run out of lines?" wriothesley teased you, taking another drink out of the teacup to hide his smile. he watched as your face morphed into a light grimace.

"i did not, actually," you raise your head off the desk, "in fact, i'm thinking of one right now."

"oh no..." wriothesley shivers. you shoot him a petulant look. he backs down.

when you think, you have this habit of sticking your tongue out of your lips, just ever-so slightly. your eyebrows crease just a little bit, not enough to be furrowed, but enough to not be at resting position. your eyes don't narrow, they widen. wriothesley thinks that if someone caught you like this on a kamara, your photos would go down in history.

finally, after what felt like years (it was one minute), you look back up at him. this time, however, your eyes are laced with uncertainty rather than flirtatiousness.

"if being in love is illegal, would you be my partner in crime?"

love. you guys haven't talked about it yet.

was that why your eyes were so full of nervousness? did you think he didn't love you back? if that was the case, then it'd be preposterous, for how can anyone look at you and not fall in love? although, wriothesley supposes that it's a good thing, because that means you're his to have.

one side of his brain is in doubt. it's just a joke, it says, they're not being truthful, it's just a pick-up line. but his heart says otherwise. if they were joking, then why do their eyes look like that? why are they fidgeting with their fingers? why are they gently tapping their foot on the ground?

love has never been a consideration for wriothesley. throughout his life, it has been abandonment and independence. there's only been room for one, not two. but you: you reconstructed his entire mind. so now, when he thinks about drinking tea, he doesn't drink alone anymore. when he's staying late to do paperwork, he doesn't have to be alone while doing so. when there was one, there is now two.

oh.

oh shit. your confession of love came from a pick-up line. and it actually worked on him, because he loves you back. he loves you back so much. wriothesley loves you back with his heart, his mind, his body, and possibly his soul. and he realized the extent of his love through a pick-up line. from you out of all people.

though, even though he's in love with you, he's not letting you get the satisfaction of your line working.

"i don't know. according to the my close friend, the duke of meropide, he says it's illegal to participate in criminal activities." wriothesley's tone is soft. his eyes are full of endearment. your eyebrows stop crinkling, and your eyes revert back to normal. you know. you know.

you give into an easy smile, "don't you think your friend, the duke, is a little too compliant to the law?"

"sorry, he's not changing his ways. but," wriothesley gets out of his chair and strides towards you. his hand meet your jawline, and his thumb traces the corner of your lip that's turned downwards due to your pout. with his thumb, he guides it upward, making it so you were smiling. he laughs slightly⎯twice tonight, which is something he did not expect to do⎯and moves his thumb to lightly caress your bottom lip.

he uses his hand to tilt your head up towards him. you know what's coming, and you excitedly lean in closer. wriothesley tilts his head down to meet your lips, carefully tracing every angle of your jaw as he does so. you meet him halfway, closing the gap between you two almost immediately. wriothesley can feel you happily grin into the kiss. you grab his shirt collar and pull him closer into you, and he obliges with no hesitation.

you are the first one to pull away, and it takes all of wriothesley's willpower to stop himself from pulling you back in.

"but?" you ask, chest heaving up and down. wriothesley, the bastard, is still breathing normally. "does the duke of meropide have any contentions?"

wriothesley shakes his head, "i think he could make some exceptions," he whispers, grinning while doing so.

he doesn't miss the beaming glow of your smile as leans in once more. and then, he knows that he'll be your partner in crime for a long time.

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mistyacorn · 7 months

Note

Wrio the slay calling reading clingy so reader sleeps on couch …😊 thx

x : DISTANCE :*+ﾟ

in which: you overhear wriothesley calling your affection too much, so you respect his wishes and give him some space. yet, why does he not seem like it?

warnings: 5.6k words (why did it get so long), hurt/comfort, gn!reader and wriothesley are married, pet names, no spoilers but set in canon, misunderstandings and miscommunication af, slowburn??, you might tug your hair out at some parts lol sorry, fluff with angst but happy ending, it gets emotional.

a/n: okay this was definitely not my favourite piece, i was experimenting with writing styles and writing in an omnipresent pov... so sorry if it feels clunky at some bits. overall, i'm pretty happy! also sorry for not sticking to the original prompt

Perhaps today was a bad time, you think as you leave the Fortress of Meropide, anxiety churning in your stomach and doubt weighing on your mind. Despite Fontaine’s sunrays shining brightly upon you, you feel anything but warm.

What started as a visit to your husband with kind, wholesome intentions of delivering some lunch to him on your day off ended with a visit that left you riddled with questions. Coming at a time when he was in a meeting nearing its end, you didn’t even get the chance to speak to him, yet his words rattled around your head, replaying like a broken disc.

“How are you and your spouse?” A rich voice echoes from his office, door slightly ajar signifying that whatever discussion was happening within was coming to an end.

“Y/n and I? We’re amazing, thank you,” Wriothesley answers. “I’m always happiest whenever I’m with Y/n.”

The company, who you have realised is Monsieur Neuvillette, responds. “That’s good to hear.”

“Although, Y/n has been quite… affectionate recently, to the point that it’s borderlining too much-”

The conversation is drowned out by a ring of an alarm on Wriothesley’s desk and the atmosphere from his office suddenly grows in tension. The voice of the two men turn from relaxed to alarmed in a matter of seconds, and that is when you decide it is probably time to take your leave, lest you intrude on whatever emergency has happened.

Dropping the lunch you brought for Wriothesley at reception, even the receptionist was confused by how quick your visit was since they typically lasted for an hour- even longer since Wriothesley likes to push the amount of time he gets with you. They don’t question it, though, merely nodding in understanding when you tell them to drop it off for him on your behalf.

Has Wriothesley always thought of your affection as too much? If it was overwhelming him, why didn’t he tell you? And why Neuvillette, the Chief Justice of Fontaine, of all people? You understood the nature of their relationship- how they both tend to confine in each other with whatever they are troubled by, but why couldn’t your husband come to you about this directly? You made an oath on your wedding day to be fully honest with each other and to never hide anything. Where did that promise go?

Arriving home with a heavy heart, you immediately flop onto the couch, arm covering your eyes as tears sting the corners of your eyes. Perhaps it’s time you lessen your displays of physical affection before you drive the love of your life away.

Wriothesley, looking down at the contents of your boxed lunch, feels his heart warm in his chest at your display of care. How fortunate he is to have someone like you, he thinks before eating, satisfying his hungry stomach that has been aching for food since half an hour ago. He wonders why you didn’t see him personally and dropped it off instead, he would have liked to eat with you beside him.

Whatever the reason, he’ll make sure to drop by your favourite bakery to purchase some conch madeleines as a thank you.

When he returns home later in the evening, you’re asleep on the couch, curled up with only a book on your chest to protect you from the chilly air seeping into the house. Wriothesley quickly lays his coat over you, bookmarking the page you were at before retreating to change into more relaxing clothes. You still have not roused when he returns and as much as it pains him to disturb you, he doesn’t want you napping too late lest it disturbs your sleep schedule.

“Y/n?” He gently shakes you. Slowly, you come to wakefulness, eyes fluttering open as you gaze up at your husband.

“Wriothesley? You’re home?” You murmur, rubbing your eyes whilst slowly sitting up. “What time is it?”

“Nearing six in the evening.”

“Oh my! I didn’t mean to sleep that long! I’ll go get dinner ready, you should rest, you must have had a long day-”

Silencing you with a warm kiss to your forehead, you don’t melt into it like you usually would, his words from earlier slamming back into you like a brick. He doesn’t notice the way you tense, merely brushing your hair away from your forehead.

“Don’t worry about dinner, I’ll cook,” Wriothesley offers, grabbing something he left on the table behind him. “Have some madeleines I bought for you whilst you wait.”

He places a bag of the baked goods in your hands and you smile at him, lips chapped and eyes still drowsy, yet Wriothesley thinks you’re the most beautiful being to ever exist.

“Thank you,” you murmur.

“I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.” The dark-haired leaves you with another kiss to your temple before turning around to go into the kitchen. However, you stop him with a tug on his wrist which you drop almost immediately when he turns around, acting as if his skin was an open flame that licked you.

“Darling, you have a sticker on your arm.” You reach up to grab the piece of adhesive, ripping it off him in one smooth motion.

“Those melusines,” he murmurs, rolling his eyes with a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. For how much Wriothesley scolds them, he cannot bring himself to actually get mad at them, letting the little creatures play pranks instead of reprimanding them.

“I’m surprised they keep getting by you. Maybe you need to sharpen your instincts.”

“Quiet, you,” there’s no bite to his words.

“They put a little crab on you,” you giggle. “Must be going through an ocean-themed sticker book. You had a little shell on you yesterday.”

“I did? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I find it funny.”

He sits down beside you, dinner momentarily forgotten. “Do you now?” The dark-haired murmurs. “Turns out my own spouse is against me also.”

“If it brings me amusement, why not let the melusines play their pranks a little longer?”

“You are an awful influence,” Wriothesley winds his arms around your torso, pushing you down into the pillows of the couch. There, you almost sink into him, lured by the warmth of his embrace, but the memory of what you overheard sinks into your gut like an icicle, and your smile fades.

You pat his shoulders in surrender. “Shouldn’t you be working on dinner, dear? It’s already quite late.” You pray he doesn’t notice the way you have suddenly altered the mood, drying the playful atmosphere.

If he does notice, he doesn’t comment on it, getting up with a groan before retreating into the kitchen.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

There’s a whistle from the doorway to your bedroom, low and appreciative, and the culprit is no one other than Wriothesley. He walks towards you, draping himself over your figure sat in front of the mirror. “Where are you going tonight?”

“Clorinde and I are going to dinner together,” you tell him nonchalantly, as if all of his weight wasn’t on your shoulders right now.

He pouts. “When will you be home?”

“Not too late, that’s for sure. We’re meeting at the other side of the Court of Fontaine, though.”

“An evening without my love, whatever shall I do?”

“You’ll live,” you smile before raising a necklace up to him. “Help me put this on?”

With a huff, he raises himself off your back and gently takes the jewellery from your hands, careful with the jewels that adorn it. His cold touch grazes against your exposed skin, sending shivers down your spine as he successfully clasps it together. When you meet his gaze in the mirror, it’s full of adoration and admiration, and you have to busy yourself with your hair lest it flusters you too much.

Standing up, you swiftly walk out of the bedroom and towards the front door. Wriothesley trails behind you without much thought. “I’ll get going now before I’m too late.”

“Do you need me to accompany you there?”

“It’s alright, thank you for offering.” Disappointment floods him like an ocean as he watches you put on your shoes. With one final fidget of your clothes, you deem yourself presentable and turn to him. “See you tonight, darling-”

“-Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“What?” Your eyes widen in alarm as you begin frantically patting yourself down. “I brought my wallet, keys? They’re here, what am I forgetting?”

Wriothesley pretends like your cluelessness doesn’t hurt more than it actually does. He taps his cheek. “A kiss.”

“Oh, of course. How could I be so careless?” you laugh, the corners of your eyes scrunching with delight. Wriothesley has a remark resting on the tip of his tongue but it quickly dies when you step forward, anchoring your hand on his chin before you press a kiss to his cheek; to both cheeks for good measure.

“Love you,” you murmur when parting.

The desire to keep you home is a burning one, and pleads of ‘stay’ threaten to spill from his mouth. There is nothing more he wants than to be in your arms, to cling to you until the weekend is over in the blink of an eye, but you are your own person, and no matter how needy he is, Wriothesley should not stand in the way of your fun.

“I love you more,” he sighs, holding open the front door for you. “Be back soon.”

“I’ll try. Bye dear!” You blow him a kiss before walking out of your garden.

He watches you leave with a heart heavy with longing, closing the front door once you’re out of sight and tries to sigh the feeling of emptiness away.

Later that night, Wriothesley greets you the second he hears the front door being unlocked, urgent strides allowing him to turn the corner just as you open the door, looking as pristine as you did when you left. There’s a small, tired smile on your face, but you look happy, blissful expression brightening when you see him.

“Hello, love,” you say, slipping your shoes off.

“Welcome back,” he says, embracing you with one, muscular arm whilst pulling you in for a kiss. Your hands unusually fly up to hold his shoulders and Wriothesley thinks he’s imagining the way you push him slightly, as if trying to get him out of your personal space. Yet your grasp on him was so tight, creating temporary divots in his skin that he doesn’t really know what you’re trying to do.

Why are you trying to push him away in the first place? The thought of you not wanting him near is upsetting enough to make him unknowingly tighten his grip around you, causing you to stumble into him from the momentum.

You look up at him, shocked whilst he gazes down at you with a storm of terror gathering in his eyes. For the first time since the two of you got married all those years ago, a rift forms.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Whatever occurred that night isn’t a topic of conversation, ever. The two of you retreated to bed after a quick conversation of how your evenings were before devolving into other topics, like what the week ahead had in store, restaurants you two should visit sometime, new boutiques and bakeries you’ve been hoping to explore- little chats that hold more meaning as the days roll by.

During it all, there was an undeniable heaviness to the conversation that made it slightly uncomfortable. Wriothesley cannot remove the memory of how you tried to push him away and you cannot forget the shocked look in his eyes. The more you picture it, the guiltier you feel, heart sinking in your chest.

You thought that it was what Wriothesley wanted: more space from you, an opportunity to breathe without you overwhelming his space.

So why do you feel so bad about respecting his wishes?

“What a lovely view!” You exclaim excitedly, running toward a patch on the grass that sits a few metres away from a nearby beach, the sound of waves meeting shore a soothing lullaby and a testament to how calm the day is. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and you’re out on a picnic with the love of your life.

“Here’s a nice spot to set up, what do you think, Wriothesley?” You ask.

“Sounds amazing, darling,” he responds, setting down the picnic basket when you’ve laid out the blanket. You sit down with an unglamorous huff, leaning back onto your hands to let the morning sun soak into your features.

Morning picnics were one of yours and Wriothesley’s favourite date ideas. The best time to be together was before the sun would rise to its highest peak, bearing hot sunrays that make everything uncomfortable for everyone. Fontaine’s sun is never merciful either, which is why the nation is perfect for diving and all other water-related activities, but when you are simply walking around, it becomes rather suffocating.

The Fortress of Meropide’s administrator takes a seat beside you and you indulge by resting your head on his shoulder, hoping that he isn’t uncomfortable under your touch. The dark-haired hasn’t shaken you off yet, so you keep resting against him.

“How did you discover this place?” You ask.

“Siora told me of it, said that a passenger on the aquabus was talking to her about it. She thought that it sounded like a delightful place to take you to,” he answers and you can’t help but smile, fiddling with your fingers.

Melusines and their wholesome ways. You’ll find a way to thank Siora later. “How kind of her and how fortunate for us.”

“I take it you like it here then?”

“I love it,” you tuck your legs closer to your chest and Wriothesley leans back on his arms as well, letting your hands rest beside each other as the sea continues to crash on the shore before you. There are seals resting nearby too, ships pass by here and there, and seagulls stop near the two of you before flying away, but the only thing that matters to Wriothesley is you leaning on his shoulder.

Sharing with him the breakfast sandwiches you packed, no words are exchanged, merely the sound of waves crashing against the shore occupy the tranquil silence. It’s not until a few minutes later that Wriothesley speaks.

“Will you be visiting me at the office today?” He asks.

You tear your gaze away from the horizon. “Perhaps. Do you want me to?”

“Would I really be asking if I didn’t?”

“Please, forego the sass, your grace,” you snort and he rolls his eyes, an affectionate smile pulling on his lips.

“Seriously though, I would like you to. You know how dreary and boring weekends at the prison get, would be much better having you there.”

“Are you trying to butter me up?”

“Is it working?”

“Maybe,” you mutter, grinning. “Would you like me to bring lunch with me or shall we go find a place to eat?”

“How about takeout? Hey wait, now that I think about it, why didn’t you stay the other day when you brought lunch for me? I would have much rather seen your pretty face than the receptionist’s.”

You ignore the butterflies blooming in your stomach because of his compliment. “An emergency happened just as I reached there. I didn’t want to be caught in the middle of it, so I left.”

Confusion shines in his eyes, his expression giving away the cogwork ticking in his brain as he tries to pinpoint what emergency you could be referring to. When the pieces click, his eyes widen a little. “I see. You did the right thing, my love,” he presses a kiss to your cheek.

“I’ll visit you today,” you whisper, toying with the hem of your clothes as you wait for his response.

“Amazing. I’m looking forward to it, then”

You stay true to your word, walking down the path you recognise like the back of your hand. The guards need not think twice about welcoming you in, guiding you straight in the direction of Wriothesley’s office.

Since being with him, you’ve grown less and less afraid of how daunting the Fortress can feel, adapting to the chill knowing that there is someone in there who will set himself ablaze to keep you warm. Yet, today you walk in with apprehension clasped around your ankles, threatening to pull you under with each step.

It’s ridiculous, you know Wriothesley would never turn you away or shun you, but the mind is the worst enemy and yours can’t stop replaying the conversation you overheard weeks ago. You know Wriothesley could open those heavy doors of his and greet you with something more grim than loving and cast you aside, and you have to hold your breath when the guards knock on your behalf.

Your heart skips a beat when they push open the doors, revealing your husband crouched over his desk, hands mussed in his hair to keep them out of his eyes. He looks up at you and the way a smile manifests on his features is akin to that of fire melting ice, fatigue dissipating as you step inside his office.

“Hello, dear,” you greet, tone soft and controlled, unlike the thrashing of your gut.

“Hi,” he stands up and takes great strides towards you. Naturally, you open your arms for him; unnaturally, you merely hug him instead of greeting him with a kiss. Wriothesley keeps you locked in his arms as he digs his nose into your neck and you feel the way his eyes flutter close against your skin.

“Long day?”

“Draining too,” he murmurs.

“Oh dear, we cannot have your grace tired, whatever shall we do!” You gasp overdramatically, clearly poking fun at him because you are perhaps one of the only people who could do so in this entire building.

The dark-haired accepts it and doesn’t bother to correct your use of formalities. Instead, he retracts his head out of your neck to look at you with hopeful eyes instead. “You could give me a kiss.”

“Did you do anything today to earn it?”

“I need to earn my kisses now?”

“You should shut up sometimes,” you murmur before placing your hands along his jaw, pulling him in for a gentle kiss. He smiles against you, biting back a quip when his hand comes to the base of your neck, holding you against him. You can tell he needed the proximity, judging by his little exhale and the way his shoulders slouch, so you let him take his time and ignore the nagging in your heart.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Wriothesley is losing his mind. He has been since you left the Fortress of Meropide, and was left to freeze in the ache of your lack of affection. A goodbye kiss is customary between you two and when you didn’t give him one before leaving, it felt like a slap to the face. He would have much rather you just slapped him, actually, so what gives?

You’re not rejecting his advances, but you’re not explicitly initiating anything either. Does that mean he should back off, too? Did he do something to upset you, and if so, when? All this thinking and speculating is making him feel like a pathetic headless chicken who can’t even talk to his spouse-

“-Wait!” You exclaim, just as he was about to grab the knob to the front entrance and step out. Instead, Wriothesley turns around to be greeted by the sigh of you frantically scrambling to him, and his heart can’t help but come alive, silencing his thoughts.

Stopping to a slide before him, he can’t hold back a soft grin. Despite just wrangling out of the claws of sleep, you’re so breathtaking, delicate in the mornings when no one else is around but him. The dark-haired is grateful that only he is able to witness you like this, that you trust him with this vulnerable side of you.

You don’t meet his gaze, eyes pinned to his chest instead. “Your tie is crooked,” you murmur hands reaching out before he even gets a chance to look down. “Let me help you.”

How can he deny such a kind request of yours? You’re gentle with him, undoing his knot and weaving it together until it looks proper, but Wriothesley couldn’t care what his tie looks like. You could be making a total fool of him and he wouldn’t care, too entranced by your glow to tear his eyes away from you. There’s a little scrunch in your forehead as you concentrate, mouth slightly parted and you’re not oblivious to his gaze either, too familiar with the intensity of it to get shy.

Finally satisfied with your work, you let go, patting his shoulders and smoothing out any wrinkles in his garment. “There. All done.”

“Thank you, dear,” he murmurs.

Wriothesley is expecting a kiss from you, waits for the moment that you’ll rise onto your toes and place a peck on his lips to fill him with some energy for the day. He waits for the familiar feeling of your lips pressing against his, and waits for the rush of adrenaline that your touch always manages to ignite.

Except it never comes, and it hurts most to confess that some part of him preempted this. You step away from him without another word, or kiss, and his heart burns at your retraction, unease fluttering the lining of his stomach when you turn around to retreat into the living room. Wriothesley moves without thinking, a hand coming up to your waist to stop your steps as he forcefully pulls you back to him, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, one far more intense than the ones you usually give this early in the morning.

You notice the desperation that bleeds from him; a certain fervour uncharacteristic in situations of morning domesticity.

There’s a bright glimmer of surprise in your eyes when he pulls away, as if he had kissed away all your fatigue and shocked wakefulness into you.

“Have a good day at work,” you murmur, barely able to choke the words out.

“I will,” he replies, opening the door. You stay and watch him go, still trying to recover your breath over his passionate display of affection.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The day his racing thoughts get to him is the eighth day of this strange treatment of yours. At this point, he’s become insatiable, barely able to hold it together as you remain in the centre of his world. He wants your affection again, he wants your displays of love, he wants you near him so badly that it’s driving him up the walls of the Fortress.

It’s irrational for him, a grown man, to skirt around his problems as if he was a teenager. For some reason, Wriothesley has no issue locking up and containing some of Fontaine’s most dangerous criminals, yet when it comes to you, he becomes a lovesick fool who craves everything his partner can give.

You still are not initiating any displays of affection, keeping to yourself unless it is him acting first.

But after being locked in his own study for hours, unable to distract himself from you when he was really meant to be reading some new court documents from Neuvillette, he snaps. Pushing his chair out with more force than necessary, he searches for you in the living room, where you are curled up in the corner, reading.

“Is everything alright?” Wriothesley’s interruption shocks you, and you jolt your head up to meet his gaze.

You are met with the sight of him leaned against the wall, muscular arms crossed over his chest. “Why wouldn’t they be?” You ask, not letting your gaze linger for too long on his arms before sitting up just a little straighter.

“Dunno. Just double checking.”

“Okay,” you hum softly, nodding. “Are you alright?”

“Me?” How could you switch this up on him so quickly?

“Yeah.”

“Fine, amazing, just dandy.”

You raise an eyebrow at your husband, not truly believing him but you decide it’s best not to press on. “Alright… but if anything is wrong, don’t be afraid to tell me.” You go back to your book and your hair falls perfectly in front of your face to hide it from him.

Wriothesley shifts his weight from one leg to the other, trying to find the words to speak up and ask why you were acting so weird. It’d been two hours and twenty-four minutes (and counting) since you last saw him when he disappeared into his study, were you not concerned for him in the slightest? Sure you dropped off a plate of fruit and refilled his teapot with hot water, but normally your check-ins would be a little more frequent, and a little more encouraging than just a morale boost through food.

Where was the cheek kiss you always gave him before you left?

Deciding not to press on any further, your husband sighs before leaving, his arms and heart feeling emptier than usual. You are only in the next room, but why do you feel like you’re on the other side of Teyvat?

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The day Wriothesley snaps is the day Sigewinne asks him to be nicer to the guards of the Fortress because his foul mood is darkening the already glum prison. His subordinates must have sent her knowing that he couldn’t possibly lash out at her, and they were right, but she really didn’t need to comment on the way his veins have been more prominent recently, or how creases are forming on his forehead from how hard he’s been scowling. To top it off, she said that he should delay the appearance of wrinkles for as long as necessary, because there’s a good chance they’ll come earlier than he wants.

He’s not even a day over thirty, and yet, he is being reprimanded for ‘ageing’. But he knows the problem, and he’ll be damned if he lets it drag out for another day.

“Welcome home, baby-” your greeting is cut off unceremoniously by your husband, who practically drags you into his embrace, closing you in with no space for you to breathe or move. Your cries of alarm are muffled against his chest, and he easily picks you up before striding the path to your shared bedroom. There, he all but throws you onto the bed, your neck resting on the pillows as he climbs on after you. “Wriothesley?”

He shushes you.

“What-”

“-I need this,” he wraps around you like a vine and breathes you in with the fervour of a man starved.

When you try to shuffle away from under him, or at the very least sit up, Wriothesley groans, borderlining a growl as he tightens his arms around your middle. You don’t question or disobey his wants, merely sinking your head into the pillows in understanding that he must have had a particularly rough day.

So instead of repelling his touch, you give in and let a hand snake up to his hair, playing with it as you let Wriothesley lay atop you. Slowly, the tension in his shoulders melts away, and the way you’re scratching his scalp is enticing him to rest, except there is a barrier keeping him from reaching a haven of dreams and he won’t rest peacefully until he’s broken through it.

“Why have you been so distant lately?” He garbles, voice a lot shakier from the usual stoic Wriothesley that you are used to.

You heard him loud and clear, but a pathetic ‘pardon?’ slips past your lips.

“I said, why have you been so distant lately?” This time, he’s firm, determination seeping into his tone as a hand of his sneaks out from underneath you to search for your hand. After patting around, he finds it and holds it gently, raising it to press a long kiss to your knuckles.

It’s silent. You don’t have anything to say in response and it’s past the grace period where you can give an excuse and make it sound like the truth, and Wriothesley looks up at you with expectant eyes. There’s hurt in them but as much as you’d like to mend the heartbroken expression of his, admitting the truth is difficult, because it has eaten you alive, gnawing at your heart for days on end.

“I…I don’t have it in me to tell you,” you murmur quietly, looking away and slipping your hand out of his, but Wriothesley is tired of this dance of yours and chases after your touch, this time roughly grasping your wrists. Not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you rooted.

“I didn’t do anything, did I?” He asks, raising your hand to his cheek.

Your voice is quiet when you confess. “If I said you didn’t, I’d be lying.”

The dark-haired stiffens. “What?”

“Nothing,” you cough.

“No, Y/n, be honest with me here.”

“You’re going to laugh at me, or find me ridiculous.” Wriothesley’s heart clenches at your admittance, frowning at the fractures of insecurity piercing you like glass, but most of all, he hates that he can’t stop you from feeling this way. “I thought what I did was what you wanted.”

“Which was?”

“Some distance, just- not me crowding your personal space all the time.”

“Why would I ever want that?”

“I can get overbearing sometimes, and I don’t know, just assumed that would annoy you.”

“You’re not telling me everything, I can tell something happened to make you feel this way. Please, darling, just tell me the truth. I promise you I won’t judge or think differently of you.”

You sigh. “I… I overheard you and Monsieur Neuvillette the other day- when I dropped off lunch. You said that my affection was sometimes too much, and that I was making you uncomfortable, so I thought that you wouldn’t want me to be around you anymore. I didn’t want to drive you away so I, y’know…”

Confusion fills him stomach like water and it takes a few moments before it hits him, the memory coming back to him. You heard his conversation out of context- he wasn’t complaining about you, no, quite the opposite, but it just seems that you weren’t there for the parts that mattered most, and now you can’t even bear to look him in the eye.

“Honey, please look at me,” his voice thins into a vulnerable whisper that pleads for you to glance his way so you can see how he is head over heels in love with you.

When your gaze finally meets his, he almost cracks under the weight of your sadness, and it dawns upon him that you can’t feel the adoration he holds for you, dripping from his heart into your hands. You can’t see the mountains he’d overcome just to end the day resting in your arms. You don’t know the extent he would go just to win your love.

It’s a fact that kicks at his knees, shuns him down and bruises his heart. If the Fortress of Meropide has taught him anything, it’s that there is no point holding your feelings back from living fully. There is no point to contain the human heart that has every desire to live with others, he has seen the sorrow of prisoners saying goodbye to loved ones, and how they dwell over words they should have said. Even his own time as a prisoner taught him so, because everytime he sat behind those bars, the faces of people he should have been more open to kept him awake at night.

Wriothesley would rather drown in primordial water than see you, the most important person in his life, hurting over his own negligence. You have been feeling half-loved because of him and he doesn’t know how he can make it up to you.

“You misunderstand. I wasn’t talking about you negatively, I was talking to Neuvillette about how loved you made me feel that way, and how grateful I am to have someone like you as my partner,” he confesses earnestly, eyes pleading for you to believe him.

You blink at him, comprehending his words carefully. “Really?” You ask.

“I would never think otherwise,” he whispers.

As if a weight was lifted from your shoulders, a smile pulls at your lips and suddenly, a laugh spills from them, causing your expression to scrunch up with joy, looking the most lively Wriothesley has seen you in a while. He laughs with you too, just a little.

“I’m sorry,” you confess through dying fits of laughter. “I shouldn’t have assumed like that, how stupid.”

He shakes his head, “you have nothing to apologise for, you’re not at fault. But I beg you, never hide things like this from me again and tell me whenever something bothers you.”

You nod, “I will.”

“Promise.”

“I promise.”

“Never ever think that I want to be away from you,” Wriothesley grumbles, hiding himself in the crook of your neck. “That was the worst week of my life.”

“Sorry for putting you through all that.”

“Stop apologising.” He demands. “Just, no more secrets.”

“I love you, Wriothesley.”

He sighs shakily, relief tangible in his tone. “I love you more.”

A damp patch forms on your collar bone right where his tears would fall, and you place a kiss on his forehead for each drop you feel on your skin. There is still much to discuss, much to mend between the two of you, but his hands run along your skin like he’s trying to memorise and mark you, so you never doubt his devotion again.

*sighs and puts hands on hips* i don't really like that ending either so don't judge lol

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mistyacorn · 7 months

Text

oh my heart

STUPID CUPID .ᐟ

✩ — in which you thought cupid was stupid for making you fall for a guy like wriothesley.

✩ — wriothesley x gn!reader. fluff. no cws. wc: 753 (woah). reader is down bad for wrio LOL theyre so me fr. reblogs are very much appreciated !!

you never found wriothesley attractive.

well, that was before, at least. now, you’re currently undergoing a love crisis because how and when did he even become so attractive in your eyes?

since when did wriothesley look so good in rolled up sleeves? (one of the rare times where you’re thankful that the uniform has long sleeves, really.) since when did wriothesley look good in fitted clothes? since when did his chuckle start replaying in your head at random times during the day? and archons, since when did you even start liking the way he says your name?

just when did wriothesley start to become your type?

a few months ago, you didn’t even spare him a glance when it wasn’t needed. yet now, here you are, most probably on the brink of losing your sanity just because of a guy who you’re 100% sure doesn’t even think of you the same way.

you don’t share that many conversations with him, but when you do, it feels like you are floating. maybe it was simply because of how good his voice sounds, or maybe it was because you’re actually talking to him—who knows?

the words that your friends had said before started to echo in your head, “you know, when you’re in love, you’ll feel like your dreaming every day.” you didn’t believe them at first, of course; it just sounded impossible for you. but the tables just had to turn on you, didn’t they?

“as i was saying, i think it’s best if we take another approach to doing this project—are you okay?”

oh shit. this just proves their point even more, you completely forgot you were in the middle of talking and planning about your project with wriothesley because you were thinking about him!

“huh? oh yeah, don’t worry about it.”

he nods in acknowledgement and continued to voice out his thoughts and archons, you were so close to melting. no way in celestia that even you even find him attractive as he is explaining his ideas, right?

right?

who knew that a project could bring two people together?

you managed to find out all sorts of things about wriothesley. a few of those would be: he has a little sister named sigewinne and he lets her style his hair whenever he’s at home, he usually does morning walks during the weekends to watch the sunrise, he really likes drinking tea and doesn’t like talking too much because his throat becomes too dry for his liking, there’s also—

yep, you’re falling deeper than you initially thought.

stupid, stupid cupid!

cupid must’ve been stupid. there’s no other explanation for it. because why did you just have to fall for a guy like wriothesley? wriothesley, who’s way out of your league. who you’re positively sure doesn’t like you back (and has no plans on doing so). wriothesley, who wasn’t even your type yet, here you are, going crazy over him!

just why did you have to fall for wriothesley who's… currently walking towards you right now with a bouquet of tulips in hand?

“what’s with the tulips?” you asked him.

you didn’t have to be a genius to know what tulips symbolized—love and happiness is what they mostly meant.

“are you going to give them to sigewinne?” you followed up on your last question. “ah, they’re actually for you," he replies, keeping his eyes on the bouquet in his hands and refusing to look you in the eyes instead.

wait.

did he just say they were for you?

“huh? for me?”

he silently handed you the said bouquet and proceeded to put his hands in his pockets. there, you noticed a little note attached.

i love watching the sun rise, but i’ll love it more if i get to watch it with you.

“if you don’t feel the same, it’s completely fine with me. i just wanted to let you know that i hold romantic feelings for you and—" he started to ramble, which is very out of character of him since you’re well aware that he doesn’t like to talk too much.

you didn’t believe everything at first. wriothesley suddenly giving you a bouquet of tulips was already unbelievable enough for you, but to read this note that was obviously written by him? you’re probably just dreaming, right? yeah, that must be it. maybe you just fell asleep, and now you’re dreaming of this whole thing—

“i’d like to watch the sun rise with you as well.”

maybe cupid wasn’t stupid after all.

tagging: @ryuryuryuyurboat, @oveloof, and @yinyinggie <3

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mistyacorn · 7 months

Text

crying

𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇

synopsis: wriothesley finds out you have a crush on someone and somehow manages to guess it’s on literally everyone but himself

characters: wriothesley x gn!reader

wc: 1.4k

warnings: fluff, a tiny pinch of angst and insecurity, my poor attempt at humor, slight miscommunication, friends to lovers, coworkers to lovers, swearing, first time writing for wriothesley so he might be ooc

notes: i almost made this angst to fluff but then decided i need to stop adding angst into literally everything i write (even though there’s like a tiny pinch of angst in here too 🙄). anyway, wriothesley is a lot harder to write than i thought he would be so i apologize if he seems ooc here

“Heard you gotta crush on someone,” Wriothesley teases as he walks into his office where you sit on one of his couches. You don’t even hear him walk in, too engaged in the book you were reading to pass time until you had to go through hundreds of inmate records to find something Neuvillette had requested.

His declaration is so sudden it almost makes you spit out the tea you had stolen from him.

Your eyes go wide as you stare at where he moves to lean against the front of his desk, arms crossed and waiting for an answer with that stupid smirk of his, “Hey now, that tea is expensive, so don’t go wasting it, okay?”

“Who told you about that?” you press for answers, a hint of anger in your voice as you ignore his previous statement about the tea. He had plenty to spare anyway.

Wriothesley’s smirk widens a bit, “So it is true.”

Damn him.

You don’t even bother trying to make an excuse, knowing your best friend all too well. He’d pick apart your words like weeds in a garden, finding meaning in them that you hadn’t even intended.

“And what if it is true?” you cross your arms defensively, glaring at him from across the room.

“At least tell me who it is,” he says as he rests his palms on the wooden desk behind him. When you don’t give in to his pleading, he playfully scoffs, “Oh c’mon, I’m your best friend! It’s kinda an obligation for you to tell me these things.”

You turn away, fixating your gaze on a nearby wall adorned with some weird painting he had hung awhile back, “Oh yeah? Since when? Last I checked there aren’t any rule books for being friends with someone. I don’t have to tell you a damn thing.”

“It’s Neuvillette, isn’t it?” he smiles knowingly. Perhaps that was why you were always the one receiving tasks from the Chief Justice instead of him — a guess at best, but enough evidence to convince him Neuvillette was the one.

No, you idiot. It’s you.

You snap your head back toward him, “What? No! I don’t like Neuvillette…not like that, at least. He’s nice and all, but I don’t think I’d be able to date the guy.”

“Damn, I really thought I had that one,” Wriothesley mumbles in defeat, pushing himself off the desk and instead moving to walk around the room as he thinks. It scares you. The fact that he’s so particular with facts and little details that it’s only a matter of time before he collects all the pieces to the puzzle and figures out he’s the one you like. What would he say when that happens? “Too nice, huh? So you like someone a little colder, then.”

Damn it, he got you again!

You don’t answer him.

“Not even going to try to deny it?”

“No,” you grumble to yourself, slumping further into the couch, “you’re only going to dig further anyway.”

He gives a satisfied hum, “Right, so it’s Clorinde then. I mean c’mon, we don’t get a lot of visitors, so it has to be her. She fits the description too.”

You exhaustedly sigh and swipe a hand over your face dramatically, done with his antics, “It’s not her either. And there is no ‘description.’”

He perks up in a way that makes you way too uncomfortable, “Navia?”

“No, I’ve never even met her aside from like one time two years ago,” you refute, sliding further down on the couch to fully lie down and shut your eyes, “I don’t get why you’re so excited over this.”

Wriothesley thinks for a moment before squinting his eyes, “Don’t tell me you have a crush on a prisoner?”

You teasingly peek an eye open while leaning back to look at him, “And if I did?”

“You better not,” he warns, pointing a stern finger at you like you were a prisoner and not his coworker.

You laugh to yourself at his sudden change of mood, “Relax, I was only joking!”

“Not funny,” he says unamused, prepared to pull out the prison’s rule book and slap it over your head if you did, “I’m really runnin’ out of people here.”

“Yeah, okay,” you say sarcastically, resisting the urge to roll your eyes, “thousands of people live in Fontaine. You’ll figure it out eventually.”

You really hope he doesn’t.

The following ten minutes consist of Wriothesley irritatingly pacing around the room and mumbling all sorts of names to himself. Some of which you recognized, others you had never even heard of before. And, despite all of your countless no’s to his guesses, he never gives up. Nor does he realize the answer is right in front of him.

“Just give it up already,” you finally interrupt as he stops in front of you.

A heavy sigh falls from Wriothesley’s lips as he collapses onto the couch, narrowly missing where your legs were outstretched. Defeatedly, he lays his head against the back of the sofa, shutting his eyes as he thinks a little harder. “Oh my god,” he says suddenly, head shooting up to look at you, “…don’t tell me.”

No way. Did he figure it out?

Your breath captures in your throat as his eyes flicker back and forth between your own, searching for some sort of truth. He knows. Your best friend knows that you have feelings for him — and not just the platonic kind.

His brows furrow and his face morphs into one of disgust. It makes your heart drop; the way he’s looking at you.

He doesn’t feel the same way.

“I can’t believe it,” he clicks his tongue in disgust, crossing his arms and turning his attention away from you, “you like Furina.”

Your jaw drops to the floor and suddenly you don’t feel bad anymore, “I actually can’t believe you just said that. Archons, I think you need to visit Sigewinne. I mean, seriously! Furina? Of all people!”

He grins and shrugs carelessly, “I don’t know? She was the last person I could think of.”

“Something is seriously wrong with you.”

“Clearly not so wrong that I couldn’t figure out that the person you actually like is me.”

“Oh please, I don’t even—wait, what? You knew?!”

A boisterous laugh erupts suddenly as you stare at him with wide eyes. You sit up on the couch quickly, slapping his shoulder as he continues to laugh, “Sorry, sorry!”

You don’t find it amusing, “I—when did you figure it out?”

His laugh eventually subsides into a drawn out sigh and his blue eyes soften a bit as they gaze into your own, “I’m not an idiot, you know? I wouldn’t be running this place if I was.”

“Right,” you mumble awkwardly, averting your gaze from his, “so, um, were you just doing all that to lighten the mood so you could let me down easily or…?”

“Or…what?” Wriothesley mocks you, a playful smirk pulling at his lips.

You roll your eyes with a scoff, “don’t make me say it.”

He spares you, luckily. It’s unlike him, but he doesn’t care to joke with you any longer when the subject is so serious, “Yes, I feel the same way. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“No, I totally wanted to hear you say you hate me and want me dead,” you say sarcastically, trying to fight a smile.

“I’m being serious, I really do like you,” Wriothesley presses, ignoring the way you’re becoming awkward from the nervousness floating in the air.

You finally exhale the breath you had been guarding in your chest, relieved that this didn’t go as horribly as you once thought it would.

The alarm sounding for dinner goes off after and you both stand from your places on the couch, “So what do we do now that that’s out of the way?”

Wriothesley falls into step next to you, holding the doors to his office open to let you out first, “We have our first date in the cafeteria, of course.”

Your face drops and you stop in your tracks to glare at him, “That better be a joke.”

He laughs it off quickly, not thinking you’d take it so seriously. Eagerly, he grabs your hand tightly in his as he pulls you to the exit of the Fortress, “Relax, I’m just teasing you! You deserve only the best, after all.”

“You are so annoying.”

“Only for you, sweetheart.”

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mistyacorn · 10 months

Text

oh my gosh so CUTE

𝐃𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆’𝐒 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐑 ִ ࣪𖤐

MASTERLIST | wc: 1.1k | gn!reader

contents: dan heng’s sexy red eyeliner; reader is childish (we love to see some contrast)

“Come on. You’ve been in there for ages. I can feel myself growing old.”

You’re on the bed with your feet resting on the headboard, pretending to draw stars on the ceiling. Since your boyfriend’s closed you out from watching his morning routine, you’ve got to entertain yourself somehow.

After your whines, the door creaks open. You let your head fall back, barely able to catch the sliver of turquoise through the crack.

“Two minutes,” Dan Heng barely manages. Somewhere in those microseconds before he could finish those three syllables, Dan Heng hears rustling, a dull thum, followed by a flurry of footsteps.

“Please, please, please. Can I help?”

It doesn’t even take a glance for Dan Heng to know there is a pair of twinkly puppy eyes staring at him, waiting for him to give in.

Dan Heng doesn’t spare you a glance, drawing short red stripes on the back of his hand. When the ink comes out even, he brings the brush to his eyes.

“No. I want to be quick,” he says.

Your whines grow louder and louder, accompanied by angry stomps. “You never let me help! You’re so selfish!”

Dan Heng’s hand stops, the tip of the brush an eyelash’s length away from his eye. His blue eyes narrow.

You panic, not expecting that he would react to your hysteria. But you’re keen on getting your point across so you take the opportunity to shove some more insults in there. “Selfish and mean. No one’s going to marry you, you grumpy meanie.”

He rests his hands against the sink. “That’s quite a vocabulary you got there.”

You roll your eyes, making a grand show out of your exit by closing the door in his face. But before you hear it click, you’re already tumbling into Dan Heng’s chest.

A low sigh leaves his lips as he lifts you onto the cold countertop. He places the eyeliner into your hands, folding your fingers over it.

“Don’t make it so easy for me next time, yes?”

Facing Dan Heng at this distance makes your heart a little too trigger-happy, threatening to leap out of your chest. You nod slowly, feeling all the brattiness evaporating under his gaze.

“Okay. Have your way with me then,” he says, letting his hands rest next to your thighs.

What was supposed to be encouragement freezes you on the spot. Your cheeks heat up and you hear each thump of your heart loud and clear.

“Regretting it already?” Dan Heng raises a curious brow. “I can do it if you want—“

You jump, holding his eyeliner in your outstretched hand. “No! I’ll do it!”

Dan Heng laughs. “No one is taking it away from you.”

You snicker at how much he’s enjoying this, cutting him off by taking his face into your hand. You tilt his face slightly and let your dominant hand hover over his cheekbone.

“Let me know if you’re going to blink.”

Dan Heng can’t even respond since you’re squishing his cheeks with your grip.

You continue nevertheless, running the brush along his lower lashline with expertise. It’s not very surprising for Dan Heng who has to do his eyeliner with you inches away from his face every morning.

You lean back against the mirror, admiring your first masterpiece. You nod to yourself.

Dan Heng speaks through pressed lips, “Can I see?”

“No. I’m not done.”

You tilt his head to the other side and begin to draw. Just as you reach the outer corner, his nose scrunches up.

“Sit still,” you warn. “Don’t—“

Dan Heng pulls away from your hand, squeezing his eyes shut. “Achooo!”

“—move,” you exhale.

“Sorry about that. I couldn’t hold it,” he says, wiping at his nose with a towel.

Meanwhile, you’re just staring at him. Dan Heng has no idea about the abnormally thick line curling up towards his temple. He tilts his head.

“What?”

You gesture to your eye and then to his. That’s when Dan Heng finally caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. The squiggly line resembles a little caterpillar.

“It’s cute.”

“Don’t mock me.”

“I’m not.”

The way he says things is always so matter-of-factly. You really can’t tell when he’s being sarcastic.

“Let me fix it,” you say, reaching out your hands.

Dan Heng takes the eyeliner from your hand and steps out of your reach. “No.”

You jump off the counter, following him as he walks backwards around the bathroom and then into the bedroom, the eyeliner held above his head. You keep jumping around like a little puppy by the playpen’s fence.

You look up at him who’s standing on the bed.

“Give that back! You said you’d let me help today!”

“And you did. I like it like this.”

You plop down on the bed with your arms crossed in front of your chest. “Well, I don’t,” you grumble. “It looks like I did a shit job.”

Dan Heng’s smile is wiped off of his face. He scrambles over, sitting by your feet. He really underestimated the severity of the situation.

“Are you okay?”

You huff.

Dan Heng holds the eyeliner out for you, his other hand resting on the edge of the mattress. You look at him finally, an indiscernible look on your face. Being unable to read your expression is slightly freaking him out.

While Dan Heng racks his brain, figuring out just how upset you are, you take the opportunity to snatch the brush and draw a long red dash on his cheek.

Dan Heng blinks his blue eyes while you erupt in laughter. You fall back onto the matteess, hugging your stomach as you chuckle to yourself.

After you manage to calm down, you sit up to see Dan Heng staring with a blank expression. “Happy, now?” he asks.

You nod. “Very.”

“Anything you want to add to this?” Dan Heng waves a hand in front of his face.

You pretend to think long and hard. Then, you lean in, pressing your lips on the soft skin of his cheek. There’s a sticky residue of lip balm left on his face.

“There. Now I’m done!” you exclaim, the tip of your nose almost touching his.

He touches where your lips were moments away, looking at the faint pink mark he collects on his fingertips. Then, his blue eyes meet yours.

Dan Heng slides his hand over the back of your neck, molding your lips together in a soft kiss. You feel his lashes flutter just before he pulls away.

Dan Heng licks his lips. “Strawberry?”

“Raspberry.” You throw a throw pillow at him. “That’s what you were trying to figure out? You weren’t trying to kiss me?”

“Well, yes.” He dodges another pillow zipping across the room. “But it’s also an excuse to give you another one.”

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mistyacorn · 10 months

Text

THIS IS EVERYTHING:(

a fun little dan heng x reader thing, college au ?? maybe ?? if you'd like me to do this w more characters lmk :) i'm so sorry for inactivity, nothing i write feels good rn 😞🙏

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mistyacorn · 1 year

Note

Hii!!

Is it okay if I request Gepard x reader? Where he isn't educated in romance and stuff so he reads and watches cliche romance stuff and tries them out on us.

(Bonus if he swoops us off our feet randomly and bites a rose from it's stem to look like those cringe catcallers but HE looks like a suave mf)

Different ft. Gepard Landau

Ever since he's got into a relationship with you, he realizes how 'bland' and 'simple' his way of approaching romance is. To capture your heart more, perhaps, a few change is in order..

Tags: sfw, no pronouns used but reader is shorter than Gepard

Sheltered and wholey inexperienced of romance - is often the idea that swims around as gossip in Belobog in terms of the Captain of the Silvermane’s single romantic life.

This, fortunately, is not entirely true.

As a Landau, yes he was mostly driven to a path made for him since young, depriving him of normal childhood, friendship, and well, romance.

But the young man is not entirely clueless to it. In fact, he was taught about romance from when he was a teenager.

He was expected to find an admirable figure to court and brought back to the Landau family, hence he was taught to be a gentleman, and how to ‘court properly’. So even though he’s not so clueless in the romance department.. His method can feel entirely.. Stiff, and scripted.

Planned dinner dates at the best restaurant in town, daily letters sent to your mailbox, messages every morning, evening and night to check up on you when he’s away at the Frontline.

He’s sweet, really. He knows he’s doing something right (despite the eye roll and the teasing from his sister) when he sees you blush, smile or giggle at his attempt.

But whenever he sees your attempt at confronting him with your love, in comparison, he feels like his method is a bit too mellow to your bright light.

But this is the best way Gepard knows how to court and show your love properly with someone.. How can you be so creative at showing your love to him? He doesn’t know.

But he will find out!

So he went on his secret journey and mission to achieve a way to sweep you off of your feet (literally and figuratively).

He asks Serval - obviously, for a guide, considering that her lifestyle is more carefree than he is and that she’s a close friend of yours. He asks for advice from some of the Silvermane guards who're already in a romantic relationship as well as Dunn to help! And he even went out to ask the Trailblazers about how to ‘woo you properly’.

The last attempt is what sparked the idea of your current predicament.

The Trailblazers are a creative bunch, considering that they came from beyond the sky, their methods are also.. Beyond the sky. March 7th and her silver haired friend was the one who lent him a videotape containing a compilation of cheesy romance movies from across the galaxy!

So, being the Landau he is, he studied it intensely.

As intense as he could, to the point that one of his soldiers can swear that they can hear him rehearse some quote under his breath during patrol duty.

But learning alone won’t do! Gepard strives to take action! As soon as he finds himself to be well prepared, he makes his move.

Inviting you to the rooftop of one of the tallest buildings in Belobog just on the outskirt of town, heater are properly arranged, a set of blanket and pre-heated meal waiting for the two of you under the starry and beautiful night of the city.

Gepard was there first, naturally, to make sure that everything was prepared and every backup plan ready to go.

When you arrive, the show begins:

Sitting there on a single lone chair is Gepard himself. Outside of his uniform, he wears an oddly simple white shirt (that seems to suspiciously wrap his figure well), as well as a pair of black dress pants. His legs are crossed over the other, one of his arms is leaning on the back of the chair while the other is propped on his knee.

And that wasn’t the weirdest part of it all.. Gepard is.. Biting a stem of rose..?

“Wha..” You hold your stifle, “.. Love, what are you doing?”

“Waiting for you, my rose.” He finally speaks up, his speech entirely different from his usual polite and straightforward manner, as he pulls himself up from the chair swiftly, and plucks the rose off from his lips to give to you, “For you, dear.”

Now you can’t help but giggle and give him the stupidest grin yet as you take the rose from him and took his offered hand as he lead you to where the picnic set is waiting, with your arm linked to his leaning onto his thin shirt, you finally gave in and snort, “Alright, alright, out with it Gepard, did Sampo set you up for this? Or did you lose a bet with someone?” you giggled at the rose he gave you, "This is.. A bit out of character even for you."

“Wh- No, no no, of course not,” nearly caught off guard with his own stuttering, he coughed to his hand, “I’m just.. Trying to be different today, that is all.”

“Different?” You look up to him with a raised eyebrow, “Different why? What do you mean?”

“Well, I..” He sighed, his shoulder dropped, as pink finally creeped up to his cheek. Serval was right - this plan is way too difficult for him to go through. He may be well versed in Preservation when it comes to battle, but when he’s supposed to mimic and maintain the persona of a flirt from a movie directed in an entirely different planet.. Perhaps his skill doesn’t really cover him in that area.

“I just wanted to do something different for you,” he puts his hand above yours, squeezing slightly with a small smile, “You’ve been busy yet you always shower me with your various ways of showing your love. So I just.. Want to do something for you, in return.”

He pulled your hand up and lowered his head, to plant a more firm, and more genuine kiss to your hand, “Sorry if it ends up a little.. Weird, or awkward to your liking. I was told by the Trailblazer that this was uh, a famous way on how to charm your partner, so.. I thought you might like it.”

You took your time to process his words, yet any fancy way of reciprocating it is immediately wiped away by the melting of your heart at the explanation of his attempt. So instead of saying anything, you cupped his cheek and planted a quick kiss on his lips.

“You don’t have to be different to make me happy, Gepard,” you plant another kiss on his cheek, “Whatever you do or give to me - I’ll always cherish it.”

This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. He glared at you with a conflicting gaze and reddened cheek. He was supposed to be the one who made your heart go ‘doki doki!’ as one of the illustration books he borrowed from the Trailblazer - not you making his heart flutter!

So he commits to the final act by putting his arms under you and picking you up swiftly bridal style in his arms, earning a surprise yelp and a tight clutch of your fist on his shirt. Finally, He caught you off-guard and made you flustered instead by his action.

Still dazed and surprised by his sudden boldness, Gepard sneaked a kiss on your nose, before nuzzling your neck, and carried you over to the picnic area he’s settled with a proud smile on his face.

He’ll most likely ditch whatever embarrassing attempt he did before, but this? He’s definitely going to do a couple more of this in the future.

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mistyacorn · 1 year

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Dan Heng and MC have built-in handles

This is how March 7th gets them to go places with her

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mistyacorn · 1 year

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don't worry about me

sypnosis; dan heng gets pretty badly hurt after fighting a monster one day and you have to make sure your boyfriend’s okay!

pairing(s); bf dan heng + (trailblazer) gn! reader ⟿ featuring; established relationship, flustered dan heng (hehe), kinda dialogue heavy at the start

❀ wc; 1,585

a/n; ok to explain my inspo, whenever i play hsr and dan heng is dying, i heal the lovely man ofc, and his voiceline literally is "don't worry about me" (꧆▽꧆). anyw this turned out way sappier than i imagined loool

You have just arrived in the Astral Express after a long day of helping Natasha with the clinic. You’re feeling tired, and going around Belebog alone today just added to the exhaustion.

You actually missed having Dan Heng tell you to make rational choices during your quests. Without your boyfriend today, you ended up fighting probably double the enemies you needed to.. Plus, (you’d never tell her this) but you secretly missed March’s bright voice.

Speaking of her, as soon as you step into the parlor car, you’re greeted by the smiley girl. She’s sitting on one of the couches with Himeko, and they wave you over.

“y/n!” She sings, “come look! I took these today.” You approach the pair, greeting Himeko with a friendly smile and look at March’s phone with them.

“See here… this was when we were on the way to Rivet Town!” She shows you guys a selfie of herself grinning widely, with a deadpanned Dan Heng behind her. You and Himeko giggle. “The town was pretty cool. It was all dark and eerie, like some sort of ghost town! I wanted to film for you guys but the place was flooded with monsters so Dan Heng told me to put my phone away and fight. What a party pooper.….”

You smile softly as the girl continues showing you and Himeko pictures she took (and snuck) of herself, Dan Heng, and the town. “Oh yeah! On our way back here, we encountered this huuuge monster. He was big and angry, it was scary!” She widens her eyes. “Thankfully Dan Heng was there! He fought that monster like his life depended on it. Which, it did.”

She scrolls through her gallery and exclaims, “Hey, look! I managed to snap a picture of it before we fought.”

March turns the phone to show you two. The image is a little blurry but you recognise the monster. You’d fought it sometime before, and truthfully, it wasn’t an easy fight. The last time you defeated it, you were fighting with Selee, Bronya, Dan Heng and March. If it was tough for a five person team… just how much harder was it for two?

“It looks really strong, March.” Himeko speaks the words in your mind, “did either of you get hurt?” You turn to March, eyes wide with a little worry.

The girl thinks for a second before shaking her head. “Nope. I’m okay now!” She nods, pausing straight after. A sheepish smile takes over her face. “To be honest… Dan Heng did most of the fighting with that monster, heheh… I was knocked out 3 minutes in…”

You blink, heart beating just a little faster. “Is- is he badly hurt?” You ask.

March replies quickly, “Don’t worry, he said he was alright! Just a few scratches, a little sore.”

Himeko nods. “I did see him before he went to his room earlier, he didn’t look like he was in pain.”

You hum in reply. Dan Heng is strong, you know that. But you knew your boyfriend, and he never shows his pain. Even if he was a breath away from death, he’d still say ‘I’m fine’ with a blank face to anyone who asks.

You decide to excuse yourself to check on him. Nobody knows what state he could be in right now. Bruised? Bleeding? Dead??? (Okay so you are overthinking a tad bit but hey, it’s possible.)

As soon as you get to his room door, you nearly slam it open. You scan the room frantically before seeing Dan Heng, who’s sitting down on his makeshift bed with his back against the shelf behind him.

You immediately dash to his side and study him. In front of him is a box of bandaids, a bottle of antibacterial solution and a bag of cotton balls. He’s holding a soaked cotton ball too. The boy has his shirt off, and you clearly see the bruises and scars on his torso and arms. You can see the little cuts on his face, one or two looking awfully deep. Your eyes start to water at the sight. It must hurt so badly…

“you’re back already?” His voice sounds, making you look up at him. You feel like you can’t talk so you nod. Dan Heng already knows how worried you are of course, as soon as he meets your glistening eyes. He sighs. “y/n, I’m okay.”

You blink, eyes still watering as you furrow your brows slightly. “Are you sure?? It look bad babe..”

“It’s.. not as bad as it looks. Trust me- Ow.” He tries to assure you, although he accidentally winces when you touch on his cheek lightly. You widen your eyes as he closes his eyes and sighs.

“Sorry!” You peep, suddenly aware of every move you make around him. You didn’t want to make things worse.

He shakes his head, eyes fluttering open again. “It’s alright.” He replies, then moves to continue tending to his wounds on one arm. “I just need to- disinfect these.”

You watch him wince between every few words. As he proceeds to clean the rest of his cuts, you stare like a hawk, as if doing that will make the process less painful for him.

Dan Heng clears his throat. You glance up at him again and this time, you can see he looks a little shy. You tilt your head in confusion. “Um…” his eyes flicker and he looks down shyly, “would you be comfortable helping me with the cuts on my back? I can’t reach those.”

Oh! “Of course.” You nod quickly, scooting forward to plant yourself right in front of your boyfriend. You grab a cotton ball and soak it in the antibacterial solution. Meanwhile, Dan Heng turns himself around, back facing you. Secretly, he’s glad he can turn away from you, so he can hide his embarrassment.

Since the start of your relationship, you and Dan Heng have never really been a physical couple. Mostly due to the fact that he’s not the physically affectionate type. He often feel guilty about it. You never complain though, since to you, your boyfriend expresses his love in other ways that are cute and sweet.

Having never been physical, you also haven’t seen him shirtless. So this situation being the first time, Dan Heng feels a little flustered. You, being so focused on making sure his wounds are cleaned properly, don’t realise it at all.

The whole time as you’re disinfecting each wound with care, his cheeks are burning and his ears are bright red. He’s so grateful that you’re too busy to see him like this.

With all that on his mind, he barely reacts to your cleaning. Before he knows it, you’re done.

“Okay, I’m done here.” You announce, sighing in satisfaction. “You can turn around now.”

Dan Heng slowly turns back around, not really wanting to because he can still feel his face burning. You ready yourself with another soaked cotton ball. He glances at it in your hand and furrows his brows, an invisible question mark appearing above his head. “What’s that for?”

You smile softly, eyes filled with nothing but care as you scan the few cuts on his face. “Your face silly, there’s a few.” You point out. You move even closer now, placing yourself on his lap in order to do so. You focus on one scar at a time, tending to it. “Tell me if it’s really bad, okay? I’ll be gentle.”

“…Yeah.” He barely whispers. Now your faces are less than three inches apart. While you are staring at his scars, his eyes are on you and your focused face. His heart is thumping like crazy. Seeing you being so careful with him makes Dan Heng feel warm inside. He feels like he’s falling in love with you even more right there and then.

Besides a little white noise, the room is comfortably silent. Occasionally his breath hitches from the sharp pain but it’s nothing too painful.

There’s one cut left to disinfect, and this one is visibly deeper than the rest. You softly dab on it, but the stinging catches Dan Heng off guard and he flinches. “Sorry baby.” You say softly, an apologetic look on your face. “Just a little more.”

He nods, quietly speaking. “Don’t worry about me. I… It doesn’t hurt.” You simply hum in response. It’s clear that he’s lying. He never wants to cause trouble for anyone, especially for you, and you grin softly knowing that.

Moments later, you finish up by sticking a bandaid on the cut. You can finally breathe a sigh of relief. “There we go.” Your eyes meet his again, and this time you notice the flushed look on his face. You smile confusingly. “What?”

“Um.. you’re- I- uh…” Your boyfriend stutters, barely able to look you in the eyes. You’ve never seen his this flustered before. It takes a moment before it hits you.

You’re sitting in his lap. He’s shirtless. Oh. OH.

“Oh my- sorry!” Your eyes widen, cheeks getting rosy. Dan Heng looks to the side, his cheeks burning, shaking his head to say ‘no it’s fine’. You move to get up from his lap.

In the very moment, Dan Heng doesn’t know what washes over him but he grabs hold of your arm gently to stop you from getting up. Your eyes interlock, both of you flushed. “Thank you for helping me.” His whispers.

And before you can reply, his soft lips are planted onto yours.

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mistyacorn · 1 year

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Geppie is so goddamn cute oh my god

asiogdsfhoigfdoih

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