Hiii catte, just wanted to appreciate your work towards the whoreslay nation I EAT UP everything you put out.
Hmmmm as for wrio thoughts, maybe him making pink coloured tea after finding out it’s your favourite colour 😏 better yet, a pink themed tea party.
(yes I am encouraging you to write something self-indulgent because the yoinking accessories off your person fic has been rotting in my brain despite my irl aesthetic being like wrio. I just think it’s cute :])
Take care and have a lovely day/evening/night✨
anon i literally love youuu thank you for enabling me to be self indulgent tee hee ♡ take care too baby !!
Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!
It's something so offhanded— you hadn't expected him to give it much importance.
"Something wrong with the tea?" Wriothesley asks one afternoon, brows furrowing when he notices that you had yet to take a sip of your teacup. Instead, you had been staring at your drink for quite some time, lost in thought.
His question startles you out of whatever thoughts you were having, though. "What? Oh— no no, nothing like that. It's just... the color's really pretty," you tell him bashfully, a small smile on your face.
Wriothesley looks down at his own cup in thought. To him it's just... pink? It tasted good, don't get him wrong. Sweeter than some of the other teas he had served before, thanks to the dries strawberries and raspberries that had been infused into the tea. But he didn't realize that it was something you found particularly entrancing.
That one instance with the tea makes him notice something afterwards: you always had something pink on your person. Whether that be a charm, an accessory, a piece of clothing, or if your whole outfit was just the color pink. Even the color of some of the foods you eat— cakes with pink berry cream, milk colored pink with strawberries, you name it. If there's food with anything pink on it, chances are you're going to try it. Wriothesley honestly wonders how he doesn't realize it sooner.
When you walk up the stairs to Wriothesley's office, you're expecting it to be just any other afternoon tea session with him. Maybe, if he wants to spice things, he got his hands on a foreign blend that he wants you to taste. Maybe he brought some cakes and crepes from a new bakery in the city.
What you are not expecting, however, is for his dark and relatively industrial-looking office to be covered head to toe in pink.
All you can do is gape, mouth open as you try to take in the barrage of pastel pinks, creams, and whites that decorate the whole space. Even Wriothesley himself, who meets you at the landing of the staircase, has donned a little bit of pink against his otherwise black outfit— one of your pink neck ties replaces his usual red, and a heart shaped earring dangles from his ear, both obviously pilfered from your collection.
"What—" you can't help but giggle, giddy and overcome with wonder. "What is this?"
"Nothing special," your boyfriend says humbly, even though what he did means the world to you. "Just wanted to do something nice for you, is all. You really seem to like the color pink, so I thought to myself... giving you a pink tea party is definitely something I can do."
You can feel your heart swell, choking up because damn you love this man so much, and he loves you even more. You can't bring yourself to say anything, can't even will away the tears gathering in your eyes because you're so touched by this sweet, sweet man and all the love he's handed to you on a silver platter. You sniff, and you can already feel the waterworks coming.
Wriothesley panics when he sees the way your lip wobbles and the way your eyes shine with tears. He grimaces, hands immediately going to your arms to hold you and pull you close. And if anything, that just makes you cry even more.
"What's wrong, baby?" he murmurs into your hair, hand petting your back in an attempt to soothe you. You just hiccup, burying into his warm chest even further, neither of you caring about how you're getting tears on his shirt.
You cry for a bit more and Wriothesley lets you, cooing into your ear. He hugs you close, kisses your forehead, and runs his hands through the ends of your hair, carefully undoing any tangles. And when the tears die down, you pull away from his chest with a small sniff, just enough to be able to look at his face.
"All done?" He asks, and you nod, rubbing the tears from your eyes. No doubt you look like a mess— bitten lips, tear stains, swollen eyes and messy hair, but Wriothesley still looks at you like you're the only thing in this world worth looking at.
"Sorry," you begin, voice hoarse, "I- I just really love this—" you cast a glance around the room, eyes tearing up again, but you try your best not to cry this time. "And I just really love you. So, so, so much. You make me so happy," you tell him, leaning close and pressing a kiss to his cheek.
Wriothesley's heart races. His face flushes and his hands shake and gods he can feel an itch in his eyes that he does his best to tamp down, because no doubt if he started crying, so would you, and the tea he worked so hard to prepare would go cold, and he can't have that. So he inhales deeply, wipes away your tears with the pad of his thumb, and leads you by the hand to the pink table where your pink tea party awaits.
"I love you too, sweetheart," He murmurs, sitting across from you, still holding your hand over the table. "Forever and always."
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