A/N: I literally posted today that I don't have a lot of time but I did manage to finish this!
Matthias x Reader, kiss fic
WC: 500
He’s standing on the balcony, his palms resting flat against the mottled gray stone which you know from your time in Achroite must be cold to the touch. Out here, on the easternmost side of the castle, the night winds blow a little wilder as they dance in the dark along the ramparts and climb the imposing towers. They play and shriek and whistle, carrying the frigid echoes of the snow-capped mountains they have previously caressed. Matthias’s placid gaze is turned towards those mountains, but there is something paradoxically soft in the lines of his handsome face, something that counters the starkness of the jagged stone and cliffs. He looks at them and at the star-filled sky and he feels peace.
He is at home.
You break the silence by saying his name and he turns towards the sound.
Light illuminates the gray clouds of his eyes, turning them silver, and he holds open his arms in silent invitation.
As if you would ever decline.
He pulls you against him, wrapping one arm around your waist. He is warmth in the cool night. He is your beacon in the shadows. You begin to snuggle into his embrace. His other hand catches your chin before you can tuck it away and holds you still as he leans down. Your heart never fails to flutter when he draws so close, a tiny snowstorm of emotion that shoots through your veins in whorls of yearning and love. You press yourself even closer, hungry for him and the heat of his kiss.
Matthias appreciates truth and so you play no games. You do not hide how much you want him. Your kisses are eager, your hands roam across soft fur, thick wool, enticing skin. All the fire in your veins, stoked by the swift beating of your enamored heart, is palpable.
He can’t help but give in.
To the outside world he is as solid and immovable as his beloved mountains. A paragon of conviction and strength. But in your arms, he crumbles. He melts. He yields to the unwavering heat of your desire, bends to the will of your lips and tongue. Your hand slides up into the soft, pale mass of his hair, thrilling in the way it slides between your fingers like spun sunlight. You tighten your grip.
He does not growl or groan. The sound that rumbles through his chest is closer to the tremulant purr of a large feline, a satisfied roll of thunder that you can feel in the press of his hips against yours, the possessive grasp of his hand on the indentation of your waist.
The Lawman, the Defender of Justice, is a step away from falling off the cliff of reason. Logic and rational thought dissipate like morning fog in the face of your molten need for one another.
Matthias suddenly lifts you into his arms as if you are light as a snowy owl’s feather.
The sky and its multitude of stars, the dark mountains and their icy summits, are left behind.
His world has narrowed down to one singular, pulsing, fundamental need:
Ahhh I hope I'm not too late! Thank you for opening requests! This is exciting! Would you mind doing some headcannons for Cyran, Chevalier, Clavis, and Matias with Emma at a Festival At Night prompt? Thank you! ❤️
A/N: Here you go @echoes-in-the-forest!
A final entry for the Sunshine and Starlight CC hosted by myself and @lorei-writes.
Featuring: Cyran, Matthias, Clavis, Chevalier
Note: Requests that were not written for the challenge may still be written! I just didn't have time to get them all done for this.
WC: 2k
Cyran
The stars above blaze with cold light like diamond-bright pinpricks across the black velvet sky. Over Cyran’s shoulder, the town answers with its own glow: the flickering of white fairy lights strung along the buildings and the stronger, warm orange of the bonfire at the town’s center. For a moment, the sight grabs your attention, holding it prisoner in illuminated chains. But Cyran reclaims it with the grip of his hands on your hips, the hot press of his lips to your cheek. Your eyes fall shut, enshrouding you in darkness but heightening every other sense: the whisper of the wind through the trees as it blends with the gruff sighs of your beloved when you pull him closer; the sweet echo of sparkling wine you can still taste on his tongue; the feel of the rough tree bark through your blouse, against your back; the soft linen of his tunic under your palms, the summer-sun heat of his mouth as it meets yours again and again.
“Seems like coming tonight was a good idea.” You hardly recognize your voice, your breath so shallow, the words rising and falling on an ocean of yearning. He grins against your lips, pulls you even closer. “It will be,” he murmurs with a playful bite to your lower lip. You would chastise him, but you’re laughing too much, giddy with desire and wine and Cyran. Not many have access to this side of him, this passionate, soft, sweet soul that has allowed you in where few have ever tread and holds you there, safe and loved.
“We should at least find somewhere….not quite so woodsy.” You love him and you want him, but you’re also very aware of the sounds of the music, still audible even from the trees where you have hidden yourselves, the laughter of the festival crowd punctuating the air. With great control, he steps away from you, pausing a moment to brush your hair from your shoulders, tuck an errant strand back into place tenderly before looking back at the twinkling village, his bright eyes scanning the night. Then he smiles, slow and satisfied.
“The carriage is not far away. I believe we told the driver we’d stay until midnight which gives us over an hour–” He doesn’t need to say another word. You’ve already threaded your fingers through his, leading the way.
Matthias
He watches the dancing crowd with serious blue eyes, the flickering flame of the torches illuminating their azure depths like frostfire. His tall, strong body radiates a stillness contradictory to the energetic fiddle music that surrounds you. You reach out, sliding your hand into his, wrapping your fingers around his prominent knuckles. A slight tug is all it takes. He glances down at you and tilts his head in inquiry.
“You want to dance?” It doesn’t take a soldier’s hawk-eyed vision to see the hope in your face, the bright question in your eyes. Anyone else would get a cool shake of his noble-head, a frown on his beautiful lips. But you aren’t just anyone. For you, he’d move mountains. For you, he’d raze villages. For you, he will dance.
Effortlessly he takes you into his arms and steps seamlessly into the moving crowd. Under his steady guidance you glide across the cobblestones of the town square as if they were smooth as ice, faster and faster. You are a petal in the wild wind, stardust blown across the snow-capped peaks of the Acroite mountains. You focus on him as the world spins around you. The warm torchlight highlights the blond of his hair and he looks as if he has been kissed by the flames. He quite literally takes your breath away.
You spin like twin planets to the fiddlers' spirited playing until, sadly, the bows pull their final stroke across the strings and the music comes to an end. With your heart racing and your cheeks warm with joy and exertion, he leads you away, sliding a strong arm around your waist as you try to catch your breath. He bends down, his lips close to your ear. “Is everything alright?” You nod, leaning into the strength of his side. When you meet his gaze, you find him studying you, concern tugging his mouth down into a frown. “It was a lively dance and we spun so quickly.” You pause, offering him a gentle smile. “But I do so love dancing with you, Matthias.”
The sincerity of your words pierces his worried demeanor and softens his expression, washing his handsome face in the soft watercolor of love. Spontaneously, he cups your cheek and bends further to kiss you, once, with more tenderness than anyone would think him capable of. You know there is more in that gesture than words could do justice. “My Rosebud.” And then he smiles, soft as morning mist over the mountains. “I love dancing with you, too.”
Clavis
The liquid in your hammered tin cup is a very aggressive green, even in the light of the bonfire at the town’s center. Skeptically, you raise your gaze to Clavis, meeting his delighted golden gaze. “What did you do to my whiskey?” He is still in the process of tucking the small packet of powder back into his jacket pocket. His grin never falters as he looks into your cup and then into your eyes. “Try it, my sweet lamb. I promise I’ve only made it even tastier than usual.” Noting the furrow of your brow, he traces his finger along your cheek. “Trust me, darling. I’d never deceive you.”
You soften at his words. He’d never do anything to hurt you…or make you ill. Ignoring the way your body wants to rebel at the noxious color, you bring the cup to your lips and drink. Flavor explodes across your taste buds. It’s the warmth of a hearthfire on a cold winter’s night. It’s the smokey-voiced whisper of a lover asking you to come to bed. It’s an explosion of amber rioting en masse on your tongue. It’s powerful and comforting and unlike anything you have ever tasted.
“Clavis,” you gasp, gripping his arm with your free hand. “This is amazing.” If he were a peacock, he’d be splaying his tail feathers right now. “I told you, my love.” He links his arm through yours. “Come with me, let’s go watch the fire eater. I’ve heard amazing things.” You take another sip from your cup. “I drink more of this and I bet I can give them a run for their money.” He laughs as you walk together towards the grassy area where you can watch the display. “Perhaps I should be sure.” Pausing, he catches your chin and tilts your head up before leaning down to kiss you. You melt into the familiar feel of his lips, the comfort of his scent and touch. He takes a moment longer to open his eyes, savoring the taste. “No more flames here than the usual ones every kiss from you causes.” You shake your head, unable to keep from giggling.
As you settle down onto the cool grass to watch the fire eater, Clavis sneaks a glance at your profile. Beloved, beautiful, the most dear sight in the entire world to him…..even if your lips have turned a most vivid shade of green.
Chevalier
There is so much to see! Acrobats tumbling across the grass, a bonfire right in the town’s center. Fairy lights are strung from building to building. Vendors ply their wares, selling everything from homemade jewelry and woven scarves to meat pies and whiskey. A lively band plays a jig and townspeople dance with glowing abandon, clasping hands and fluttering eyelashes. Young couples sneak off into the bordering forest while others take to the cover of the shadows between buildings. You finish your last bite of powdered pastry and turn to Chevalier who is watching the revelry with a neutral expression. “Do I have any sugar on my face?” He glances at you and the corner of his mouth lifts in an amused smile. “Naturally.” He reaches up, using the pad of his thumb to wipe away the dusting of white at the corner of your mouth. You’re contemplating playfully biting that thumb when you hear a wail from quite nearby.
A small child of about five years old is crying, clutching a red balloon in one hand. She has dark curls that spill down her back, the rest of her hair tied up and out of her face with an enormous yellow bow at the back of her head. Her white stockings are dirty as is the smock of her buttercup yellow dress. Oh dear. After exchanging glances with Chevalier, you approach the little girl, kneeling so you are at her level.
“What’s the matter, little one?” The child tries to speak through her sobbing, knuckling at her teary brown eyes with her free hand. “My b-b-balloon flew away and I w-went to catch it. I followed it d-down an alley but once I had it, I looked and my mum was gone! I’ve lost her!” She collapses into tears again. You reach out, placing a soothing hand on her narrow back. “Shh…it’s alright.” You glance over your shoulder at Chevalier. He’s watching you both, his blue eyes dark in the dim light. “We’ll help you find her.” The little girl considers your words as tears slide freely down her round cheeks. She sniffles. “You will?” Then she pauses, suddenly realizing her situation as she takes a step back. “I’m not s-supposed to talk to strangers.” She reminds you of a fawn, trembling right before it sprints into the cover of the forest.
You glance over your shoulder and then turn back to her. “It is a good thing that he is a Prince of Rhodolite.” Brown eyes widen as she looks at Chevalier with newfound awe. “You’re a prince?” He nods once, curtly. “Indeed he is,” you continue. “And it is a prince’s duty to help his subjects when they are in need. Isn’t that right?” You give him a very pointed look and he blinks before answering. “Correct.” The young girl’s crying is forgotten as she studies him. “So princes have to help their people.” He nods again. “It is one of their most important tasks,” you add. She considers this a moment and then mirrors Chevalier’s nod. “Alright.”
You stand, turning to face the crowd of people. After a moment, he addresses the young girl. “You require a higher vantage point.” She nods as if she understands what he means and then lets out a whoop of delight when he lifts her up high onto his shoulders. Her red balloon still held firmly in one hand, she automatically scans the crowd. “There! I see her! By the popcorn stand!!” She thumps Chevalier excitedly on the head and you have to suppress your own laughter. Gruffly he lowers her and without hesitation, she grabs his hand, tugging him in the direction she saw her mother with you in tow.
When her mother spots her, she rushes forward, wrapping the little girl in her arms. “Oh, my love, you gave me such a fright.” A waterfall of gratitude falls from her lips as she thanks both you and Chevalier for your help. The little girl gently breaks free of her mother's relieved embrace and hurries towards Chevalier. She stops right in front of him and smiling brightly, holds out the balloon. “A present. For being a good prince and helping me.” He looks uncertain a moment until you press a gentle, unseen hand against his back. Clearing his throat, he takes the offering. “You’re welcome,” he answers solemnly.
The little girl and her mother take their leave. As they depart, you can hear the mother’s voice as it fades. “A prince? Oh Lorei, do stop with your wild stories.” When they have disappeared from sight, you reach up, wrapping your arms around Chevalier’s waist and hug him tightly. He embraces you back with one arm, head tilted. “Yes?”
You lean back to look at him, the red balloon bobbing above his head and smile. “I love you. That’s all.” He offers you one of his rare, open smiles in response before dropping a kiss on your forehead. “And I, you.”
Still not good at my reading comprehension, much less my Japanese language skill. If you depend on this to be accurate, you have made a major mistake in your life and should rethink the path of events that brought you here.
(Just your everyday innocent daydreamer who the Geneva Conventions want a word with)
One day while staying in Achroite, Emma was invited to the castle’s dance hall by Matais.
Unlike Rhodolite’s dance hall, the polished wood floor had geometric patterns that created a warm space and made Emma’s heart flutter. Her breath was misty white, but she was in such awe that she didn’t even notice the cold.
Matias reminds Emma that during one of their conversations, she had mentioned reading about the dance hall in a book and had wanted to see it for herself. Emma is impressed that Matias remembered that casual remark, and thanks him for thinking about her.
Matias is looking at Emma, before remarking that her ballgown suits her. Emma is confused, she’s not wearing a ball gown. Just in case, she glances down and, yes, she’s still wearing her normal work skirt and blouse, with the addition of a coat.
Matias apologizes and agrees that he doesn’t think her workwear is a ballgown. He asks if Emma can dance, and she tells him that she has gone back in Rhodolite. Privately, she fondly recalls Sariel’s harsh lessons.
Since she can dance, Matias offers to bring her to the next dinner party hosted here. Emma reminds him that she’s just a commoner and a bookstore clerk at that, but Matias hurries to reassure her. Achroite is progressive enough that even those without peerage can join balls at the palace.
Besides, Emma is his friend. That gives her some privileges in his home.
(We wouldn't take advantage of him . . . right?)
Emma is surprised at being called Matias’ ‘friend’ and he grows concerned. Aren’t they friends? Was he wrong?
Emma quickly reassures him that she’s happy and honored to be considered his friend. Matias smiles in relief, the attractiveness of it making her dizzy.
Well, then, since they’re confirmed friends, Matias would like to give her a dress to memorialize the event. Emma starts to refuse, but Matias insists. It would be difficult for a commoner bookstore clerk to prepare the dress herself, so he will gift one to her, as to not overburden his new friend. Besides, he’s already made some plans.
He’s currently deciding between a pure white dress as lovely as a snow spirit, or a red dress as passionate and bewitching as a rose. Oh, but don’t worry, it will be neat and modest while still enhancing her beautiful waistline. And, like any dress, it will be one that she’ll have to gently hold up to avoid tripping and falling over the hemline . . .
Emma tries to get Matias’ attention, and he comes back to himself. He assures her that she won’t have to worry about her dress in any way, and tells her to leave the arrangements to him. His determination radiates with a sensual sexiness, and Emma gives in before her heart fails her.
Emma tells Matias that she now owes him and needs to make up the cost of this dress. Matias is confused at this, but then leaps on the chance, he asks if she wouldn’t mind practicing dancing with him. He wants to dance perfectly for the upcoming ball, but unfortunately cannot find a dance partner.
Emma is confused, Matias and his sexy, sexy self should be able to find a partner without any problems. Matias explains that he has asked several women to be his partner in the past, but the practice failed. For some reason, they would just stare at him and not dance properly, or act like a predator who has just captured their prey. Unlike his other female acquaintances, Emma can speak to him normally.
Emma begins to wonder what kind of experiences Matias has had with other women.
Matias concludes his thought by adding that having Emma as a friend is very precious, and worth the cost of a dress.
(Just a friendship date)
If that’s what he thinks, then Emma would be happy to comply. Besides, its been a little while since she last danced and she could use the practice. Matias is pleased and suggests they start immediately. As in right now. When Emma balks, Matias reminds her that it is quite cold and moving would warm them up.
Accepting Matias’ hand, Emma is led to the center of the dance floor, and the warmth of his hand spreads through her body. Matias’ steps were precise and perfect, to the point that Emma doubted he really needed to practice. Even though she was rusty, thanks to Matias’ lead, her steps were smooth. She was having a lot of fun dancing with him.
Matias notes that it’s fun to dance with friends, and Emma agrees. The hand on Emma’s waist holds her close, the distance between them taking her breath away.
Matias asks if Emma will accompany him during the ball as his partner, as he has no intention of letting another man dance with her. Emma considers it, thinking that Matias’ voice is even sexier up close, making her imagine wicked things.
Emma had been cold at the start, but before she knew it, her body was boiling hot.
annaxmalina
titsay
gummygunk
germansingergirl
