❝ so --- does the eyepatch got a story or are ya going to a costume party? ❞
@boareign a starter but i disappoint you.

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❝ so --- does the eyepatch got a story or are ya going to a costume party? ❞
@boareign a starter but i disappoint you.
@boareign, continued frm here :*
my friend, he calls him, and ferdinand feels his heart warm. all joking aside, it is nice to see dimitri in this light --- to see more of his face, to see him smile, and to catch a flicker of the leader that the lion is destined to be: strong, compassionate, and firm but still kind. ferdinand’s grin will soften under the sweetness of it all, glad to see that the young king is listening to his people --- to see him taking steps to take care of himself, after all he’s been through.
ferdinand did not always feel welcome here ---- always as though he has something to prove due to his... previous allegiances, always feeling like a bit of an outcast, tucked away on the outskirts and left to look in. but as time passes, that feeling fades away bit by bit, and baring witness to dimitri’s laugh further drives those phantom thoughts from his mind. ( the laugh replays in his head, once or twice --- he does not think he’s ever heard dimitri sound so carefree. even during their school days, he hadn’t witnessed such a thing. )
❝ truly, that is wonderful. i agree with whoever gave you that advice --- you look very dashing, if i may say so! ❞ he’ll say so, regardless of whether he can or cannot --- it is ferdinand’s job to give advice, and to reassure and help guide the leaders around him. this is but a small step in the right direction, and he would like to ensure that there are many more.
he gives dimitri a nod, and a smile full of warmth and genuine affection. the offer that’s extended to him is sweet, and it’s one that he would be a fool to turn down. ❝ it would be my honour to help you, your majesty. i may already have a few things in mind! ❞
kisses her :3 face
It’s almost funny, she thinks, how easily some emotions and expressions come to her nowadays to the point that she hadn’t even noticed the tug on her features currently. She doesn’t have time to figure out why Dimitri has an almost bemused look on his face before it softens into something like overly fond amusement, and she doesn’t have time to question that either before he’s already leaned in and stolen a kiss. He doesn’t linger long—it’s more of a peck than a kiss, really—but it’s enough for her to feel his smile and the affection it carries, and Byleth blinks almost dazedly with her confusion even as a heat barely makes its way to her cheeks. ( is it really good to be more expressive, if it means dealing with subtle pinks on her face? she’s capable enough of tamping it down and maintaining her typical neutrality, but then, why should she bother hiding it from Dimitri of all people? ) He’s gotten better at reading her expressions—or maybe she’s just that obvious, right now—because she doesn’t even have to say a word before he’s responding, a chuckle to his words that she may never tire of hearing again after so long without it. Apologies, my beloved, and she still isn’t used to the endearment, a tightening in her chest that leaves her almost overwhelmed, and the sound of her own pulse in her ears almost makes her miss the rest of his explanation—only catching something about how her expression had been cute, adorable even, to the point that he couldn’t resist the urge. It isn’t a term she often associates with herself ( save for those times when jeralt would tease her, as dads do ), to the point that she blinks again rather than respond immediately, and. “You’re a sweet-talker, Dimitri.” First mesmerizing smiles and casual springings of beloved’s, and now stolen kisses and off-hand remarks of her being … cute. Perhaps it isn’t so bad, having an unbeating heart, because she’s certain it might burst out of her if he keeps this up, the sight of his sputtering and red cheeks more than enough to to finish the job ( but of course, she can’t simply let him get the upper hand like this, reaching up to grab him by the fur of his cape to claim of kiss of her own, and hopefully nobody else plans to come along to this area lest they happen to get caught exchanging pecks and whispers like lovesick teenagers ).
unprompted // once more kiss me, and let me feel you very near
he reaches and tucks a piece of stray hair behind ferdinand's ear. dimitri cups the side of his face, thumb stroking along his jawline. "you, ferdinand von aegir, are absolutely beautiful. and it seems, i cannot get you out of my head." he leans down, angling his head to catch ferdinand's in a soft, loving kiss. he then moves, kissing his cheek. his forehead. pressing delicate, light kisses to every inch of his face that dimitri can cover. "please, stay by my side. forever."
it was a mild day in fhirdiad, which means, by ferdinand’s standards, a cold and dreary one. despite his time here, he’s still used to the empire’s lush, green trees and that familiar warm breeze dancing off of the sea; the smell of salt and wine in the air, looking up to see blue skies and pillowed clouds. the frigid, dead air of faergus differs greatly from that, along with its barren trees and grey skies and frost-covered land; everything he touches is cold, cold down to the bone. even in his quarters, with a crackling fireplace and freshly brewed tea and a blanket draped over his shoulders, there’s a shiver in his breath. there is but one saving grace for this frozen land; an anchor, a tether down into the snow.
dimitri touches him and he doesn’t feel cold. he’s warm, warm down to his soul. dimitri is his sea breeze — his blue sky, his honey wine, his sweet green trees and white, white clouds. his kiss blazes a fire into his cold bones and thaws him all the way out, and ferdinand wants nothing more than to press harder into him, to feel that spark light a fire over his skin. but he takes what he’s given; the king’s soft and steady warmth is just as good as his blazing fire, and ferdinand snakes his arms around his waist as he feels it spread over him, encompassing their embrace in a kind, flickering glow. he feels every touch tingling on his skin well after dimitri’s placed it — the thumb across his jaw, the puff of his breath, the press of his lips across his skin. he shivers at it, steps into him, steps closer for more of that warmth.
it’s unfair, really. how much his heart yearns.
his words are just as electrifying as his touch — ferdinand’s cheeks burn red at his praise, at his quiet confession. salt pricks at his lashes, stinging but in the sweetest way; he’s overwhelmed by his gesture, this affection. it rattles him, it wakes him up from that cold slumber —- he drags a hand up from dimitri’s waist, along his chest, his neck, until his fingers curl in thick blond hair and hint to pull his head up, just a touch, so he can look him in the eye and feel his soul melt under the heat in dimitri’s gaze, the compassion that stirs there.
❝ for you, always. ❞
and it’s the truth. for no matter how strong the nostalgia that ferdinand feels for the life he once knew and longed to have, that time has come and passed. this is where he is, now — this is the future that he’d dreamed of, and though it’s different, so very different from what he’d imagined as a boy, it is his. this future is his. this swollen heart, this new dawn, this mending soul that’s tethered to his own among the frozen tundra outside their door — it’s his.
dimitri is his.
it’s his turn now, to deliver on that promise — to tilt his head up and capture the blond in a kiss, firmer than his soft one, the fur of dimitri’s cape tickling his skin. his next words are spoken between kisses, pulled from his soul like a pearl from the deep.
❝ my king. my sweet. my love. ❞
@boareign: "I love you." He cups her face with both hands, cradling her, holding her like she's something to be treasured. Dimitri leans down, pressing a kiss to every inch of her face that he can. To her forehead, down along her neck, her chin, on both eye lids, the corners of both mouth before meeting her lips with his own. His thumb strokes along her cheekbones, and Dimitri rests his forehead against hers. "I am so in love with you, my love. My dear. My heart. My beloved. Mine."
It’s overwhelming—the emotions she can see, the emotions she can feel, foreign and strange but somehow so comforting. She knows of his strength and how capable he is with it, but it only makes her heart ache all the more at how he touches her: gently, gingerly, as if she were fragile and delicate and not some war-beaten oddity. Something about it all almost hurts, her eyes fluttered shut and a lump in her throat and the barest flush to her cheeks, and every touch of his lips leaves behind a tingle despite ( or because of? ) how lightly he presses. His words ( soft-spoken, half-whispered, so close she can feel his breath ghost her cheek ) only serve to further the weight in her chest and the heaviness of her tongue, all topped off with a gaze so loving that ... It’s scary, to feel so strongly—confusingly—and maybe it’s silly to be scared of something like this when she’s seen so much more, but Byleth can only blink her eyes open at him from under her lashes, gaze into the blue of his eye and feel the warmth of his person, breathe a silent oh that’s more like a quiet sigh. Her hand reaches up to one of his against her face, much too small to do much but rest on top of it, and a moment passes as she lets herself admire his features. Her heart feels as though it could burst at any moment, a desperate attempt to do something it never has in all her years of life, but it’s somehow a pleasant sort of squeeze ( and emotions are so weird, she thinks, to enjoy this feeling of something almost painful ). She looks and stares and she grips his hand just a bit harder before her eyes lid shut once more, reaching up on her tiptoes to kiss him briefly—on the corner of his mouth, on his lips—before her own smile can’t be contained against them. ( it’s scary, she thinks, but maybe a little wonderful and wondrous and something she looks forward to figuring out, together. ) “Yours,” she agrees, barely pulling back enough to be able to utter the words, “and you, mine. I love you, Dimitri.”
unprompted // my words cannot provide the volume of my heart.
@wildroar. ♡
the throne room is a gaping, intimidating thing --- a space so grand and virtuous that never fails to make ferdinand feel small. he’d spent much time in adrestia’s own throne room --- playing in it as a child, and later on, standing by his former lady’s arm. they both feel so different. worlds apart. this one, cold and unrelenting,
apart from the man that sits upon its throne.
❝ my king. ❞
his voice echoes, catching off the marble walls. ferdinand kneels upon approach, steel-clad knee meeting soft red velvet. the minister has been off in what was once adrestia for the last month and a half, trying his best to unite the lords who will now live under a different rule. he will remain kneeling, until dismissed --- ferdinand lifts his head to meet the eye of his king, warmth blooming in his chest at the sight of him. ( selfishly, he cannot help but count the seconds until their advisors will depart from the chamber. selfishly, he has missed his love. )
❝ ---i am glad to announce that i have much to discuss with you. ❞
@boareign replied to your post: kisses her :3 face
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any time nat’s dimitri breathes in my general direction it’s like my brain flips a switch to be like Oh, So I Have To Write The Grossest Sappiest Most Romantic Thing I Can Manage Now
miss you so bad
nat. // always accepting? // ur blog is so new i can’t @ you
well now i just have to redo your personal tag again.