“my Love,” Nanami Calls, Stepping Into The Living Room With Wrinkled Pjs And Damp Hair. You’re

can someone please change the fucking prophecy

me as a writer

god didn't give me a dick because i would read poems & get hard and then everyone would be mean to me

The sun does not crest the sky once today, but the town stays fully alight. The city center is teeming with life: music and food and drinks strong enough to shock your senses and flush your cheeks after one sip. For a calm and conservative culture, the festival is rather wild.

You've perched yourself at the outskirts, on a lounging bed. The dragonborns occasionally glance your way, more curious than anything else.

A bunch of younger girls ask to touch your hair in broken Common before Obi chases them away. The man has been busy catching up with friends and over indulging with his brother, but he often loops around to check on you.

Sorghum comes by where you are sitting and pushes a plate of food into your hands wordlessly. When she returns to her husband, she shrugs away his drunken touch.

Seeing her face leaves a hollow feeling in your chest. You don't eat anything she's brought you.

It's only a bit later that your beloved staggers over to you with open arms. He's dressed in fine, sheer robes, woven in beautiful, bright patterns.

"Oh," he breathes. "I'm mesmerized."

Obsidian kneels beside the fainting couch, resting his chin on the arm. He smiles up at you with a contemplative glee, eyes wet from the liquor. The party swells and moves around you, but Obsidian stays still, regarding you carefully.

"You are utterly radiant," he sighs. He nuzzles his face into his arms like a lovelorn schoolboy. "Like a star plucked from the sky."

Despite yourself. you melt a bit. You reach up and scratch the ridges on his head, tracing over each bump with your nails. "Obi..."

"Eternally, painfully, tragically beautiful. I am so lucky you fell into my life." It's the alcohol talking, you remind yourself, but his voice is so earnest. "So beautiful that you break my heart whenever you look away."

You turn out of bashfulness and the dragonborn whines, flopping harder into the couch. When you look back, he practically purrs.

"Are you warm enough, my fawn?" The dress is intertwined with warming spells, sown in by your lover himself. It's a traditional draconic dress, clearly not built to account for your breasts. It scoops low, low enough that your body threatens to spill over when you move the wrong way. "Are you too warm?"

"It's perfect," you say. "Thank you."

He judges his nose into the air, once, twice, three times, eyes half closed.

"Kiss me?" he asks.

You look around. "People are watching, Obi."

"Let them!" He rises to nudge his snout into your lips, the chastest of human kisses, then goes to rub the side of his face into your cheek. He purrs and clicks and runs his hand down your side, slidingyour dress down ever so slightly.

"Obi!" you giggle. "Obi, my hair!"

His horns are tangled in your braids.

"I will not stop until you kiss me back," he demands. He's being borderline lewd for dragonborn standards, especially since you two are not officially mates yet.

The memory of earlier suddenly rings through your teeth. There is no 'yet'. You two are not mates and will never be. Sadly, you give in, nudging him back. Obsidian's scales are so smooth against the sensitive skin of your face.

"Will you dance with me, my love?" he asks as he pulls away. "I will teach you the steps."

It's a group dance, the kind that has partners switching every couple of moments. You've danced like this before, it's nothing you can't learn on the fly, but you still shake your head.

"Maybe later," you say. He stands and starts backwards towards the dance floor, arm extended towards you the entire time. Truthfully, you want him to stay, but you couldn't ask Obi to stay by your side all night. He deserves fun, he deserves to dance, he deserves-

"My heart will be with you," Obsidian coos.

He deserves more than you can give him.

He slides into the rhythm of the dance without trying. It's beautiful to watch how they all glimmer in the firelight, their scales and jewelry glittery and shined to perfection. Obsidian shines brighter than any of them all, of course; it may be bias, but you swear that he's the prettiest one of them all, with those emerald green eyes.

You're so sweet on him that you almost don't see someone else had joined the dance, but a flash of white snaps you back to reality.

The girl is just as pretty as you had been told, even for human standards. The way she holds her head is regal, with a lifted chin and an upturned smile. Her build is small for a dragonborn, but it seems to be perfectly sized when Obsidian's hand slides around her waist. The two of them step in, step out, then twirl, eyes never leaving each other's as they dance. There's a shared laugh before they separate, moving on to the next partner, but the moment repeats in your mind, over and over again.

His hand on her waist. Black scales against white.

You don't belong here.

.

It's less than an hour later when Obsidian comes back to your chair and finds you gone. He pokes around the festival, expecting to find you pulled away by children or women, but every corner is empty of you.

"Sorghum-" Obsidian is suddenly sober as he approaches his sister in law. "Have you seen my fawn? She's not where I left her."

Sorghum huffs, bothered by the interruption. Her group of friends chitters on without her.

"Humans have legs, Obsidian. Maybe she used them."

That sets Obsidian's teeth on edge. "Malachite is a saint for dealing with your attitude."

There's a retort as he walks away, but he can't focus on that, not when his mind is on the brink of panic. Where could you have gone in this little town?

By the time he makes it to his family home, real, deep worry has started make his hands quiver.

"Fawn," he calls down the hall. "Princess."

He checks his room first, mostly out of muscle memory. He had gotten used to waking up beside you; sleeping alone made his heart ache.

Your room is empty as well. Too empty. It takes him a moment to realize your bag is gone, along with your coats and boots.

On the nightstand is a single earring, his own scales staring back at him like two little black voids.

theres a tiktok of a woman wearing lingerie her bf got her and when he gets home and sees her and literally drops everything to the ground and falls to his knees i just think that is so nanami and reiner coded... like wow that's a real man i've never seen one in the wild before

Lord, grant me the strength to throw away this box that i'll never use, the courage to throw away this box that i'll never use, and the wisdom to throw away this box that i'll never use

Story of my life

◟♡ ˒ ʾʾ 𝗄𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗇𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗆𝗂 hated himself every time he ended up arguing with you.

hell, even if it’s unintentional, he couldn’t bear to see you isolate yourself instead of communicating, knowing it was when you just want to be alone. but the awful thoughts in your head (like he had another woman) making him wish he could take them all out of your mind.

even though you told him to go away, and used his full name, nanami wouldn’t stop. he’d hold you and reassured you with kind, soothing words.

and if you did, he’d just hold onto you and speak soothingly to calm you down. he brought you to the bed and made sure you both got cozy. he leaned against the headboard while you were in his lap.

he’d wipe away the tears on your face and the ones gathering in your eyes. his other hand would softly brush your cheek, as he apologized for the hurtful words he didn’t intend.

he’d take your knuckle and kiss the marriage ring on your index finger. your heart fluttered, even though you couldn't stand him. kissing every spot on it, he would later rest your hand on his chest so you can feel his heartbeat, making sure you know he’s yours; all while looking at you with affection as his hand gently caressed your hair.

if he successfully comforts you, he won’t let you go, not even to use the bathroom. he’s refuse to sleep by himself, worried you might escape. he’d sleep on the couch, the bathtub, or even the cabinet, but for you? don’t expect too much.

and when you wake up tomorrow, you would notice a breakfast is already prepared beside the coffee table, with a little note “i’m sorry for yesterday’s occurrence, my love. i've to go to work, but i already kissed your forehead beforehand.”

you found yourself smiling widely at the sight.