Heart to Heart (Gilbert/Emma)🦌
Gilbert x Emma
Just some self-indulgent fluff.🦌
Uhm, no ratings, but they're chilling in bed and there are references to sexytimes so read at your discretion. Minors in general just DNI overall lmao.
(pls note I don't edit what I write because if I have to read it back I will delete it, so there could be typos everywhere! lmao)
Major spoilers for Gil’s route!
Like no joke huge spoilers for his entire route.
"I was just thinking about how lonely I would be without you."
Heart to Heart
The country of Obsidian is colder than Rhodolite.
Emma knows this - she had known it from the moment she had first stepped foot into the country. No, that was wrong. She had known it from the moment she had first met the gaze of Obsidian’s first prince, Gilbert von Obsidian, the worldwide disaster. His gaze had been so cold that it almost felt as though he were the country itself — or perhaps it was the other way around; perhaps the country is cold simply because he stands at the head of it. Back then she had been so scared to be in his presence at all, but now she craves it. She craves him.
Since first arriving in Obsidian, Emma has grown used to the climate and has started to enjoy hot cups of tea whenever she can, just to keep the chill off herself. She makes them for Gilbert, too, though nothing ever seems to quite warm him up, but if she’s being honest, she feels like if it did, she’d miss it.
Though, right now, she’s glad that his body is warm and beside her in bed, an arm lazily draped over her stomach. Peaceful slumber is not a luxury he often allows himself, too used to assassins or the like, but since she began sharing a bed with him, he’s seemed to even enjoy slipping into dreams beside her. It’s not often she wakes up and gets to gaze upon his peaceful face, soft and innocent, almost child-like. He has a soft smile on his lips, and as she gently traces her finger over them, she wonders what he’s dreaming of.
Falling in love with this cruel beast is not something she had ever imagined, but even the idea of being parted from him stirs a loneliness deep in her heart which brings a frown to her gentle lips. She is aware that he needs her, without her he has no heart — he’d ripped it out himself long ago, locked it firmly away to avoid getting hurt again, to avoid being disappointed by people; to protect himself from the cold reality of the world which had betrayed his innocence and optimism. But when had she begun to need him?
It doesn’t upset her to realise it, if anything it amuses her since the whole thing seems so utterly absurd — and yet the rain on the window behind the bed, and his soft breathing beside her, tell her that it is reality. That she is awake, this is no dream, nor is it another page of a book she’d once read. This is her life now. As usual, when she thinks of that, her breath catches in her chest and her hands shake slightly. Not out of fear for the man beside her, the one she moves closer to, seeking the comfort that only his closeness can provide, but just a fear of the future: the unknown. A few months ago she’d simply been a common girl working in a bookstore, spending time in a quaint town with her best friend —
Now she sleeps in the arms of the Emperor of a country which could easily trample all over her home - it all depends on his whims. Though he often says he will do it, something in Emma’s heart knows he wouldn’t—it would make her too sad, it would break her heart, something he wouldn’t allow. After all, he needs her heart; he needs her to continue being pure, to continue being bright and radiant in the dark, blackened detritus of a world — if it dimmed her at all, he’d lose his way to a place forever beyond her reach. That idea scares her more than the unknown of her own future, and Emma wraps her arms around him tightly.
It’s enough to stir him.
Still in the vestiges of his slumber, Gilbert tightens his grip on her. She’s become more comfortable around him recently, initiating affection more and more, but this time he knows it’s not been borne out of a pure desire to be close to him, but something else. He can feel it when she lets out a shaky breath, her warm breath hitting his chest. Lazily, he runs his fingers over her back, over the bite marks he’d previously left. It’s almost comical in a way, that she sought comfort and solace in his arms out of anyone’s; what awful taste in men she had, he almost pitied her if such a thing were within his realm of feeling. But he’s ultimately a possessive man, and he’s glad her taste in men is this way, it means she’s with him and no one else.
There’s an almost tenderness, a softness, when he runs his fingers through her sleep-mussed hair. It soothes her, and she closes her eyes, listening to the significance of his heart beating in time with hers. It’s a sound she was terrified of losing at one point, and now it’s the most important thing to her. It’s the sign of his life, the thing above all she wants to protect.
“Did you have a bad dream?”
She wonders if he wants to tease her — wonders if he will tell her only he’s allowed to give her nightmares, that her bad dreams should only ever involve him and how terrible he is, but despite his constant announcements that he is the vile, wicked villain, she knows truthfully that he isn’t. He’s jealous, awful, possessive, and does bad things —but she knows his heart isn’t entirely stained black, that there are flecks of goodness in him. She knows it — she believes in it strongly.
“No,” Emma replies truthfully, moving to rest her head on his chest now. “I’d just rather talk with you than sleep and not be able to.”
He freezes in surprise for a moment, but then she feels his body shake with his silent laughter. “Say dangerous things like that and I mightn’t ever let you sleep again.”
It’s an empty threat, or perhaps a promise, but it makes her stomach warm.
“So…”
She stiffens in his arms as he begins to speak, his arm pulling her flush against him.
“Tell me what’s making you frown.”
Emma remains silent and Gilbert lets out a small sigh, and then follows it with a small chuckle. “Tell me, or be made to tell me.”
“I hate you.”
Gilbert laughs again. “That’s not what you said last night-”
“Oh!” She buries her face into his chest as her cheeks burn bright red. “You’re awful.”
“Yes, we already established that. It’s not a secret.”
“True.”
“So?”
Emma sighs. He’s demanding, he always gets his way, he’s petulant like that — like a child who won’t take no for an answer, yet it’s not as if she wants to keep it from him. Slowly, and rather shyly, she voices what she’s feeling. “I was just thinking how lonely I would be without you… so…. I’m glad you’re alive.”
Again, he freezes in surprise. He wants to laugh — he wants to shake the situation off in a way which hides how he really feels, but he can’t bring himself to. Yes, he knows what that loneliness is like; it’s not something he’d subject her to. She’s trapped him, hasn’t she? If he goes and dies he’d bring that upon her, and—
By tying her to him, hadn’t he really been the one tied up? Yet he’s not disappointed to find the roles are reversed, if anything he likes being in her control even if he will never let anyone else see it. She’s his first love, his only love — one he had believed he didn’t deserve, one he’d never have-
Somehow she’s here with him, and again he thanks her absolutely abysmal taste in men.
“Gilbert….?”
He looks at her and pouts. “I told you — call me Gil. I like it.”
“But- I-!”
He quickly moves her to be on top of him, in a position where she can’t hide anything, especially not that beautiful redness on her face. “Call me Gil, or be made to call me-”
“You’re so demanding.”
His hands run down her sides before resting on her hips and gripping them with a force which hurts only slightly, but it’s something she’s used to now — something she enjoys, if only because it’s him doing it. “If you’re glad I’m alive, then-”
“Oh I should never have told you-” she sighs and shakes her head, bowing her head so her hair falls over her face. “You’re an impossible man.”
“Yes, I am. But you chose to love me.”
“Love isn’t a choice, it doesn’t work like that.”
Gilbert watches her, his mismatched eyes intent. He knows she will give in to him, he likes watching her fight with her shyness before she says it — yet he can’t wait for the day she calls him it so freely without a single onze of hesitation. Then she looks up at him, her bright eyes alight with a determination that he loves to see. “I love you, Gil.”
His lips form from a pout into a bright smile which causes her to freeze, wide-eyed as she stares at it. It’s true he puts a smile on a lot, it’s rare to not find him smiling, but this is different to those ones — this is her smile, the one he saves for when they’re alone together, the one only she gets to see. It makes her heart flutter in her chest, like a bird trapped in the rafters of a building desperately trying to find a way out. She’s certain he can hear it, and he laughs in response, wrapping his arms around her tightly to pull her down on him.
It’s these blissful moments, these soft instances that she cherishes most. Little pockets of time separate from everything else, their own world where no one and nothing else exists — where he can just be himself — they’re the most precious moments to her. So significant in his life, that he’s still here. Emma clings to him as she closes her eyes, intent to let her sleep be not disturbed this time, as she vows silently to the both of them that nothing is ever going to take him from her. Even if she has to fight to protect him, she will gladly do so. Perhaps it should frighten her, the woman she’s become since being with him, yet lying in his arms she finds there’s only a peacefulness in her heart, and she knows she’s never been more sure of anything before, than the fact that this is where she belongs, and where she will always belong.
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