HES SO DREAMY ISTG - Tumblr Posts
You mention to Wriothesley that you like his hands one evening. He doesn’t respond right away, just watches the way your delicate fingers trace over his skin, along each scar on his strong knuckles from boxing a ton and the barely noticeable healed cuts and calluses on the expanse of his large palm.
He enjoys the feeling of your touch, no matter how small and casual it makes him feel grounded. But he can’t imagine there’s anything to like about his rough, scarred, and battered hands. So naturally he’s a little curious about your comment, and a part of him believes that you’d think otherwise if you knew what he’s done with them before.
“Oh—? Is that so?” He raises an eyebrow and inquires with a chuckle as he smiles down at you. “And what’s so special about my hands?”
You offer an affectionate hum, a soft nod of your head as you make out the many reasons why his hands are special. They are nothing short of powerful and masculine—for they display the tales of his past and the result of his sentence by the judgment of the Oratrice. The scars on his body are a testament to his hardships and survival, the physical reminders of the pain and suffering he has gone through.
And yet, they show the strength of his kind heart and how he worked so incredibly hard to build a good life and make a name for himself while extending his generosity by providing comfortable living conditions in the Fortress of Meropide under his orders.
“They’ve been through so much. But they're always gentle when it matters." Wriothesley’s expression softens at your answer and he pulls you impossibly close to his chest where you’re settled on his lap, pressing a light kiss just below your earlobe. He rests his chin upon your shoulder, leaning in a little more and closing his eyes for a moment, quietly taking solace in the feeling of you in his embrace. He may be many things but the word gentle was never taken into consideration.
“Some things require a gentle hand. And they’ve learned how to treat their partner well.” There’s a teasing lilt in his voice and his fingers intertwine with yours as he slowly lifts it to kiss each one of your knuckles with the utmost care and tenderness to make his point. “You really don’t find the scars distasteful, in any way?”
You make a small noise and shake your head, and you hope he knows that you've never seen it as an issue. Because more importantly, you pay attention to how your hands fit perfectly together and how he never seems to be the one to let go first.