i think this is the right ask box and if it isnt i am so sorry!! but can you do medicine pocket with the "i think i love you prompt" I KNOW IN MY BONES THEY'D SUCK AT EXPRESSING THEIR FEELINGS 😭😭 PLEASE AND THANKS
Hiii! It is! No worries ☆
Hope it's fine
MEDICINE POCKET - I think I love you
-I think I love you-
Those words reached their ears. MedPo couldn't believe you just said that, in the middle of a Storm emergency.
Maybe it was the gravity of the situation that made you spill out your feelings;like you had the feeling this could potentially be your first and last time to confess.
Absurd, that was absurd. You were an Arcanist as well. Why now? And why on Earth were you saying those words before they could?!
-What did you say? Have you heard yourself?- They didn't mean to sound this harsh, but MedPo's head was troubled by the annoying sound of the alarm and the numbers multiplying on the screens.
-Now it's not the time.I'll say I love you once the Storm is over - They moved their gaze to your face -Because we are going to survive this;like with the others - They tried to salvage the situation. Plus, they wanted to be the one to confess even if, in a way, they were late.
You gave them a nod, a smile stretching on your lips. MedPo was right;you were going to be fine. Maybe even make progress while at it. The Storm was not impossible to cross.
You were also looking forward to hearing them say the same words you blurted out to them.
NOTE ... Italian people hmu LMFAO I felt so dumb writing this cause I don't speak it
CHARACTER(S) ... pavia
WARNINGS ... he's gross bro idk, spit kink, just making out idk
EXTRA ... gn!reader, suggestive
SEOCHI'S DICTIONARY ... amore means love, accidenti is used as damn it (pls correct me if I'm wrong) and gelato al cioccolato is chocolate gelato ♡
"What do you want?"
Pavia's tone wasn't hostile. It never was, not towards you. Rather, it was skeptical.
When you had decided to lean over, a gentle smile touching your lips, he knew exactly what you were suggesting. Still, he didn't find a reason not to give you the benefit of the doubt.
His narrowed eyes and angled head, like a bewildered dog, expressed disbelief. Almost as if he couldn't believe the implications of your quiet gaze.
"Just a taste?" The request would've quite honestly been a death sentence for anyone else. "Please?"
If you were someone else, there would have probably been a bullet hole clean between your eyes.
Luckily, you weren't.
Still, you didn't expect him to actually share, did you? His precious sweets? No, of course not. He would consume every last drop of the sugary treat, and that would be the end of it.
But who was he to deny you of the pleasures of gelato al cioccolato? It would be a crime to deprive you of the only heaven he would ever reach.
"Open up, amore." His calloused thumb felt rough on your lower lip as he tugged at the soft skin.
The sugar was cold and sweet on your tongue, a mild, creamy taste trickling viscously through your parted lips.
Your shocked face coaxed an annoyingly smug grin from his own, pale eyes crinkling on either side from behind his sunglasses as he watched you silently contemplate on what to do with the chocolate infused saliva on your tongue.
"You wanted a taste, didn't you?"
The way he bared his teeth so wolfishly made it clear he was teasing you, but his eyes never wavered all the same. He was toying with you, but there was a certain challenge behind it all.
You found yourself swallowing without another thought, letting your jaw hang open once more. To show him your work or to ask for more, you weren't quite sure, but he seemed to take the latter as he pulled you closer, kissing you like he wanted to swallow you whole.
His lips were practically frozen, teeth chilled under your tongue as you pushed yourself as far into him as you could, licking into him almost desperately.
The rich creaminess of the chocolate marauded your senses, a sharp contrast to his usual leathery fragrance. It sent a frigid shiver down your spine, giving him the perfect margin of weakness to trap you between the scratchy cushions and his warm body.
Though his fingertips felt cold on your neck, the rest of his body was strangely warm. In fact, you found yourself craving the heat, your hands reaching to untuck his shirt to make space for themselves. It was easy to undo the buttons of his shirt, the little buttons making easy work of threading through the stitched slits down the left-centre of his colourful shirt.
His proximity yielded a woody aroma, the powdery, green perfume of his body momentarily making you forget about the cold, wet kiss he'd trapped you in — not that you minded, of course.
He only pulled away when his snack began to drool down his arm, making a sticky home for itself in the crook of his elbow.
"Accidenti—! Ah, well, I was going to wash this anyway. Why don't you get me dirtier before that, eh, amore?"
NOTE ... does this make sense idk I'll edit when I'm alive again
CHARACTER(S) ... dikke
WARNINGS ... religious imagery, insecurity and self deprecation, fucking Shakespearecore English
EXTRA ... gn!reader, "dove" and "deare" used as terms of endearment
Your lover was bona fide.
Honourable Chancellor Dikke, the Supreme Chief of the Special Court; she was justice, kissed upon the soul by the blessings of Themis herself. She had an identity, and it was pure morality.
Who were you to love such a concept you lacked so fervently? What was your heart in the hands of something so grand? Unvirtuous amour had no value to the light of principle — that, you knew well.
So why was it that she embraced you in the eye of the Lord and his children? Why didn't she hide the sin of your shameful affections? Why did she lay with you, brush her lips against your skin, love your mortal existence without fearing His wrath?
"Fie!" Cried she upon your admission of unworthiness, voice akin to thunder. "Speak not of thyself in such terms. Hark, deare: humility be a virtue, but hatred of oneself bringeth naught but misfortune."
Even her holy words carried a purpose. The law accentuated every letter she pronounced with meaning, speech carrying the same power as her words.
And despite her passionate voice, which often reached far into the minor crevices of your body and filled you to the brim, her hands were gentle. The gentle hands of a loyal servant of the Lord, pulling the sinner out of its miserable life of aimlessness, giving it a purpose as the Lord had given her.
Still, the sinner, that is, you, found no purpose, no talent to gift to Him. Instead, you clung to the woman, the vessel of your saviour, and fed off of her love, her strength.
"I'm so sorry, Dikke," you lamented sorrowfully, grasping at the hem of her robes with your sinful hands. "I love you. I love you, and I don't know what to do, Dikke. I'm so sorry. You don't deserve this. Please forgive me."
She hadn't the faintest clue what you meant; after all, the two of you had been, say, courting for a long while. "Speak clearly. Thou discourseth in riddles."
You weeped pitifully at her feet. It was where you belonged, really. It was impossible to put into words, and thus, you didn't.
"Soft now, enough of this. Stand." Her bleeding sword's belly kissed the pike of your shoulder with a comforting weight.
Dikke wasn't a gentle woman. Any average human was soft. Sweet on their lover and doting on their father. But she was anything but average; she fancied you, wooed you with a stony gaze and a single rose. She never once minced her words to fit the shape of her love, filling it instead with chivalry and verity to cleanse your corrupt heart.
Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself, said the Great Commandment, and it rang true in the ears of your beloved.
"I am not the Father; wherefore dost thou treatest me as an idol? By the Holy Lord's decree, I bear mortal sin just as thou dost." Her voice rang low, stony hand lowering like an angel from the heavens to greet your cheek. "Love be not a sin, sweet (#)."
Her words licked at your soul like a flame, momentarily engulfing your awareness of her rare physical affection. "From someone like me, even love can become a sin. My heart—"
"Thy heart corrupteth naught. I am not the Lord, nor an angel, and thou art not the devil. We stand as equal in His eye."
White enamel dug into the subtle rose of her lip as she lowered herself onto one knee, letting her pride melt to nothing, scorched by the embers of her love.
Justice itself kneeled before you — no, not justice, but your beloved.
For the first time, you met the steel eyes of your lover, and not those of justice. It was beautiful, lustrous, but most importantly... it was human.
"Stand, sweet (#), for thou shalt not abandon dignity, nor self respect, under the guise of humility." She offered you a hand, eyes growing soft.
A lovely rose dusted her cheeks like a summer breeze as she brought you to your feet, sword long abandoned at her own as she presented you with a single flower, stripped of thorns, and the very same as the one she had offered in order to court you.
Perhaps you didn't understand yet. Values? Morals? It was all maddeningly complex. But for now, you knew one thing for sure.
As an arcanist in a world of humans, you could never truly fit in. Still, you found comfort in the presence of someone like you... perhaps loneliness was something best enjoyed with company.
notes : gn!reader, comfort-esque
a/n : rilesy caught me abt to post this uhm 💀
You always felt... detached from the world, in a way.
Growing up in a human society was strange to you. Though you were born and raised among them, there was something innate that didn't quite integrate into their culture. Suppression and diversion didn't help either, only intensifying the feeling of separation that hung over you at all times.
Meeting Vertin had changed everything, really. She was the gateway to a whole new world — one you had longed for internally throughout your life... and yet, there was something still missing. Though you didn't belong with humans, their culture had seeped into your entire being, corrupting you: mind, body, and soul.
You belonged in both worlds, but neither of them all the same. It filled your heart with tremendous loneliness, weighing heavily behind its cage of bone throughout your life.
Sometimes, you would meet arcanists like yourself; arcanists who were born away from arcane communities, mixed arcanists, and even sentient objects or nonhuman animals. But strangely, they seemed perfectly fine. Well-adjusted and bright to contrast you and your somber melancholy of detachment.
The first time you felt the weight shift was when you met her. Tennant.
A scammer (or a con artist, as she insisted) by trade, she showered you in words genuine as her jewels, offering false promises of the stars and heavens when all she would spare for you was a single Columbian rose that would wither away in some four weeks.
But all you could see was the somber cloud above her head.
Birds of a feather, she made you think, seeing the way she withdrew — avoiding true connections with most. You were much more intrigued by her elusiveness than her charm, though, and followed her past the illusion that she created to steal the hearts and riches of wealthy women.
On one night, in particular, you found yourself in her company. Her guard was lowered due to a wine being more potent than she had originally anticipated.
Even when intoxicated in such a way, she maintained her flow of speech — something that she was well versed in as an occupational liar, you assumed. Though, you could note that the threads binding verity behind her lips had come loose in the process.
"I suppose... I am lonely," she began softly, eyes distant in the glass of the table. "I say it quite often, but I never wish for anyone to receive it quite in the way I feel it."
Lonely. It was not something foreign to you either.
"In a strange twist of irony, loneliness seems to be the only company for people... arcanists like us," she added thoughtfully, smiling in that same distant manner.
You knew what she meant. Loneliness had accompanied you through life. Disconnect had become a comfort. It was just how it was. And sure, it could be melancholy at times, but it was your life — your identity.
"We have similar perceptions of the world, I think." You finally spoke, eyes dragging languidly along the glossy, reflective surface of the table.
"What a pity," she chuckled. "Someone like you feeling like this... one of the universe's cruellest masterpieces, truly."
You shook your head, pressing your lips together firmly. "There is much worse in the world. This isn't all that bad."
"Oh?" She lifted her head, her sand-toned hair falling over her face in response.
She was doing it again. What she said was true, but she twisted her demeanour, playing with the observer's perception, not unlike a lie.
"l'm satisfied like this. Talking to you. It's like we share a mind's eye."
There was a long pause. You could hear your ears ringing against the silence, the room so quiet that it was becoming deafening.
Then, she nodded, smile softening. "I feel the same way."
For the rest of the night, the two of you drank in a companionable silence, a quiet appreciation for one another between you. The loneliness was still present, but neither of you would be alone now.
