#court of fontaine region | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

draconic-desire · 9 months ago

Text

A Dance With the Dragon I — The Tides Beckon

Yandere Neuvillette x Reader

[Part I — You are here] [Part II] [Part III] [Part IV]

The last thing you expected was to have caught the eye of Fontaine’s Chief Justice. You have no choice but to be swept into the dragon’s dance.

Warnings: Yandere tendencies, possessive behavior, forced imprisonment, unrequited relationship

It all started with your realization that Fontaine has some rather intriguing laws.

For as long as you could recall, you had aspired to become a marine biologist. Though you hailed from Mondstadt, you forged your curiosity in the tide pools and lakes around the edges of the region. You scoured over any novel you could find on marine ecology and animal behavior, spending endless hours lost in the Knights of Favonius library. On your thirteenth birthday, your parents bought you a Kamera, which launched your career in wildlife photography and research. You even went on to publish a book cataloguing pictures of your nation’s aquatic life. It came to no one’s surprise, then, when you were gifted with a hydro vision.

Although you loved your life in Mondstadt, the vast waters that surrounded the Land of Hydro beckoned you like the pull of a tide. So, on your twenty-fifth birthday, you parted with your family and homeland, traversing across Teyvat and experiencing its many wonders. You relished in the culture and cuisine in Liyue and marveled at the natural architecture of Sumeru’s forests. Yet nothing would ever be as breathtaking as your first glimpse at Fontaine, at the granite peaks rising above the crystalline waters teeming with life of all forms.

You had secured employment with a group researching the sudden uptick in seal strandings across the nation, taking you across Fontaine’s many beaches. Your main base was located near Romaritime Harbor, which prompted you to spend your lunch breaks exploring the Court of Fontaine.

You made quick friends with the Melusines, some of whom were still a bit nervous being around humans; however, you found their stories of the ocean fascinating and often invited them to join you for lunches or strolls through the city.

One in particular, Carole, had become your close friend after you encountered her being pelted with rocks by a mob of Fontainians. You didn’t hesitate to use your vision to immobilize the rocks and create a barrier around Carole, quickly ushering her to safety. You couldn’t comprehend the prejudices directed towards her and the other Melusines, but after that incident, you made sure to keep an eye out for all of your little friends.

One day, on one of your walks, you ran into said Melusine. She seemed despondent that only a handful of citizens were interested in her hand painted posters, so you decided to treat her to lunch and pastries to cheer her up. That’s when you first caught wind of the Hydro Dragon.

“Well, if you’re worried about the seals, you might call upon the Hydro Sovereign himself!” Carole chirped.

You tipped your head curiously, lowering the cup in your hands onto the cafe table. “Don’t you mean herself? Although I’ve never met the Hydro Archon, I’ve heard others refer to her as ‘Lady’ Furina.”

Carole shook her hands back and forth in front of her. “Oh, no, I mean the Hydro Dragon! He is responsible for keeping watch over Fontaine, which includes all of its resources and residents. I’ve heard that with every sea creature that passes, the heavens open and the dragon sheds his tears in mourning.” She took a bite of her croissant. “I have a feeling he’d be willing to help.”

You tapped your chin in thought. “You don’t say. Well, we are in a bit of a drought, which could be contributing to the beachings… Perhaps I’ll ask this Hydro Sovereign for his favor.”

On the days you were dispatched to Fontaine’s eastern beaches, you opted to sit by the Fountain of Lucine to wish for the Hydro Dragon’s help. It had become a tradition for you to do so ever since your conversation with Carole, for you swore that every time you prayed to his name, rain would grace the shores the next day.

During those research trips, your coworkers would invite you to attend trials at the Opera Epiclese, though you politely declined each time. You had no particular interest in the Opera and were much more inclined to spending your time outside and uninvolved with the court’s theatrics. Besides, you considered yourself to be a model citizen, so the proceedings of the court were beyond your worries.

Or so you thought.

~*~

The incident that led to your arrest was the violation of the order “no domestic pets shall be named after Furina”. Apparently the otter that paddled around the Harbor each morning was undignified of the title of “Focalotter”. You had thought the name quite clever and humorous—that is, until a horde of Gardes surrounded you during your shift one afternoon.

You were detained and led into the Opera immediately, which was where you currently found yourself. You frowned at the relatively large crowd—which, much to your dismay, included most of your coworkers—dispersed throughout the hall. Had they all come just to spectate your trial? Standing alone on the isolated balcony, you felt like an insect under a magnifying glass, an insignificant pest to be probed at for entertainment.

“And how do you plead?”

The deep, commanding voice above you wrenched you from your thoughts. Turning your eyes up, your (e/c) orbs were met with a penetrating gaze.

Pinning you with his lavender and silver eyes from atop his chair at the center of the court was none other than the Chief Justice of Fontaine, the Iudex himself, the face of the law in the Court. Monsieur Neuvillette.

This wasn’t your first interaction with the man.

Shortly your move to Fontaine, you had stumbled across his path. At first, it was just sightings from afar; he would be leaving the Opera, or purchasing a drink (Wait, is he paying for water?) from your favorite cafe. Your favorite flowers also began to appear at your doorstep, each time with a brief, cryptic note, usually something along the lines of To my little pearl —Sincerely, your guardian dragon. You didn’t think anything of it; if anything, it confirmed that your prayers to the Hydro Sovereign had been heard.

Then, however, Neuvillette began to periodically show up around your research stations, claiming to be investigating a court case. Even though the Iudex’s public appearances were supposedly rare, none of your coworkers, yourself included, thought to question his authority, answering his inquiries regarding the base’s activities to the best of your abilities.

You noticed that he tended to speak to you the most, even asking personal inquiries like your favorite drinks, foods, books, and hobbies, and about your marine photography especially. It must be part of the investigation, you rationalized. He was nothing but gentlemanly and always kept conversations curt and to the point, offering you a gentle smile as he departed.

If only you knew the true extent of his desires.

~*~

Naturally, he first caught wind of you from the Melusines. As his closest advisor, Carole regularly joined him for afternoon tea, and though he was not one for idle talk, the manner in which his friend spoke of you sparked his intrigue.

“And when those meanies were throwing rocks at me, (Y/n) was the only one who intervened! If it weren’t for her, I don’t know what would have happened…” Carole rubbed her head, as if remembering the sharp pain.

Neuvillette placed a hand over his heart. “I am eternally grateful for her presence. I cannot stand the thought of any harm befalling you.” The hydro dragon looked out the window of his study to the ocean, deep in thought. “Perhaps you could introduce me. It appears I have much to thank her for.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Carole raised a finger. “She mentioned lots of seal beachings recently, so I suggested that requesting rain from a certain dragon could assist her work!”

Neuvillette nodded, a slight smile pulling at his lips. “Ah, so that is why I’ve been hearing Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon echoing throughout my mind the past few weeks. You have quite the imagination, my friend.”

Carole shrugged playfully. “Hasn’t it been raining more often lately? Seems like her prayers worked!”

That they had, as Neuvillette could attest to.

The first time he heard your soft voice calling to him, he had sent rain the following morning—not for you, but for the seals. His position barred him from forming close relationships with humans, so the notion of attending to your inquiry face-to-face was eliminated immediately.

But when you returned again and again to implore for rain, he couldn’t deny his interest. The day after Carole informed him that his little supplicant and Carole’s hero were one in the same, he knew he had to meet you. He had actually left the Opera to see you for himself; whether he would actually converse with you was still uncertain, but your voice tickled an itch that he needed to scratched.

Neuvillette was an experienced and composed man, but setting his sights on you for the first time stole his breath. This, he thought, must be what it feels like to drown.

Your smile shone brighter than a Beryl conch, and your scent floated around him, sweeter than any marcotte. The light shimmering from the hydro vision on your hip reflected back in your eyes, giving them the appearance of twin pools of blue. You were sitting on a bench by the Fountain, a Kamera in hand as you gestured excitedly towards the screen. To your right was a Melusine he knew well, Kiara, who was clearly enraptured with the technology.

Though he knew of your kindness towards the Melusines—jumping in to save Carole alone was grounds for a medal of peace—seeing it before him sent the waters around his heart roiling. The Iudex was moved by the fact that, despite being a foreigner to Fontaine’s customs, you treated them with the utmost respect, going out of your way to befriend and include them in your daily life. Many citizens of Fontaine still harbored prejudice against the Melusines, but you… You even used she/her pronouns when referring to them, implementing the very law that he set forth.

“I use this for my research on seal behavior and conservation,” you explained to Kiara. “Having pictures of each individual helps us identify them in the future. We even give them silly names sometimes. See this one here? We call him Mr. Sealie, and this otter I like to call…”

When the pink Melusine started giggling over the nickname of your otter, a plan formed in his mind.

Whether attributable to his sense of justice or his draconic instincts, he knew one thing for certain. Like a shining pearl, you must be cherished and protected—and who better to serve than the Hydro Sovereign?

~*~

Those eyes will be my downfall.

Purple and silver locked with (e/c). Despite being newly appointed to the court, Neuvillette was the embodiment of both poise and intimidation. The very air around him seemed to shimmer with power and unyielding authority. His breathtaking eyes swirled with emotions—was that desire or disinterest?—you could not even begin to decipher in your current position.

Archons, help me.

You cleared your throat, hoping you didn’t appear too nervous in front of the judge. “Although I admit to using a version of the Hydro Archon’s name when referring to that otter, I was unaware of such a law against doing so. I’m not originally from Fontaine, so some of its, uh…lesser discussed laws are new to me.”

Neuvillette gazed around the courtroom as the crowd devoured the trial before them. It was baffling how naive humans could be sometimes; of course there was no rule against applying a silly nickname to a pet.

That is, until this morning when he had signed it into law.

Seeing you frightened and alone in the defendant’s box, however, was torture. It took all of his willpower to not to engulf you in his strong arms like waves around sand. But he had to maintain the facade of immovable judicator for a bit longer in order to mold you to his tide. Retaining his mask of composure, Neuvillette continued, “You do realize that previous defendants have been jailed for far less, correct?”

Frustration and fear flared within you. “But I—”

“Desecration of Lady Furina’s name is of the highest offense. Your behavior will not be excused, neither by myself nor the Oratrice.” Neuvillette raised the paper with your verdict, barely glancing over the words before he spoke. “The verdict stands: you, (Y/n) (L/n), are guilty.”

You clenched your fists heatedly. There was no arguing with the Iudex. Clearly, the polite and considerate version of Neuvillette that you had encountered earlier was an anomaly, for the figure looming above you was the complete opposite. Cold, calculating. Distant. A whirlpool cresting a bottomless sea.

Had this been his plan all along? Had you been the subject of his investigation? But why?

“However, because you are not from Fontaine, I will offer you a choice.”

You blinked up at the Justice, a knot of unease forming in your stomach. A choice? What choice did you truly have here? You pursed your lips warily but nodded for him to continue.

Neuvillete raised a gloved finger. “The first: you will serve a life sentence in the Fortress of Meropide.”

A wave of despair seared your insides like a brand. That was your fate? To be trapped beneath the region where you had always longed to live, never to feel the salty wind on your face or hear the calls of seals and gulls again? Surely, the second option was less cruel?

“Or, alternatively: you will dedicate your life to the court. You will abide by its laws without question and with unwavering commitment. You will relinquish your freedom; you will not be permitted to leave Fontaine and will be bound to this place for eternity.”

A choked sob escaped your lips. No matter what you chose, your life’s work and passion would be extinguished. You would be forced to either become an actress in the court’s performance or resign your soul to a watery grave.

Both option chained you to the Region of Hydro forever.

But one option at least granted you a semblance of freedom—a notion that you soon learned was as transitory as a bubble in water.

The crack of a cane against wood resounded through the Opera, quickly silencing the crowd’s mutterings over your sentence. “What is your decision?”

You could have heard a pin drop as the audience waited in rapt anticipation for your answer.

“I…I choose the latter,” you declared, tilting your chin up. You maintained direct eye contact with the Iudex all the while, holding onto your last bit of pride.

You could have sworn you saw Neuvillette release a breath of relief. “Very well. I hereby adjourn the court. Gardes, please escort the defendant to my office for further instruction.”

Two Gardes led you out of the Opera and onto an Aquabus to the city. They informed you that you would now be living in the Palais Mermonia and your duties would begin immediately. When you asked about retrieving your belongings and notifying your family, the Gardes exchanged glances.

“That won’t be necessary,” one said cryptically. “Monsieur Neuvillette will page your relatives and have your possessions seized.”

You frowned, wishing to object, but the Palais doors loomed before you like the entrance to a monster’s lair. You gulped but swallowed your fears, straightening your back pridefully as you were ushered inside and into the Chief Justice’s office. The bolting of the lock from the outside set alarm bells off immediately.

Neuvillette stood from his seat as you walked in. He coughed awkwardly, red dusting across his pale complexion. “Ah, Lady (Y/n). I do apologize for such a fast-paced series of events. You must be exhausted.” He motioned towards the sofa adjacent to his workspace. “Please, sit.”

You blinked at him in surprise. What happened to the unwavering judge from the court? Why was he suddenly treating you kindly? And why in the Archons’ names was he blushing of all things? Unsure how else to react, you obeyed and settled into your seat, with Neuvillette taking his own on the sofa across from you.

Neuvillette poured you a glass of what appeared to be plain water into an exquisitely ornamented cup. You took it wordlessly, noticing his eyes flare with a silver glow when your fingers brushed his own. Gripping his own cup, he raised the chalice towards you. “To a long and dedicated future together.”

You sketched a brow curiously but raised your glass in tandem to…whatever that was supposed to mean. “To not being in prison, I guess.”

“Indeed.” A breathy chuckle followed. “Now, I’m sure you’re wondering as to what this whole business regarding your sentence is.” Neuvillette took a long sip from his chalice. He frowned slightly when you simply placed yours on the coffee table separating the two of you. “Although you may have thought you’d be completing droll office work, your duties will be a tad unorthodox.”

At this, your brows furrowed. Wasn’t that what all those employees you had passed in the Palais foyer had been doing—pushing papers? You had cringed at the dark bags under many of their eyes, at how many were asleep at their desks, imagining how similar you’ll look once your sentence was completed. But based on Neuvillette’s words, it sounded like you would be doing something very different.

Oh, Archons. I’m fucked.

You braced yourself to speak, but Neuvillette beat you to it.

“You are to be my wife.”

You blinked once, twice, waiting for the punchline of the joke.

Neuvillette merely stared at you with his hands folded across his lap, waiting for your response.

After a pregnant pause, you couldn’t help the stunned scoff that escaped your lips. “You can’t be serious.”

“Quite, I’m afraid.”

You shook your head. “With all due respect, Monsieur—”

“Please, call me Neuvillette.”

Ignoring him, you continued, “I did not agree to be your wife.”

The Chief Justice leaned back against the posh blue cushions of the sofa. “Although that may be the case, you are in no position to refuse. In fact, your sentence mandates that you follow my orders.”

You stood abruptly, sending your goblet toppling over and spilling its contents across the table. “Marriage was not a part of that sentence.” Which was ridiculous to begin with, you added to yourself. I mean, a life sentence for a pet name? It’s almost like he wanted me arrested.

Neuvillette sighed and flicked his wrist, causing the chalice to right itself and the water to refill. “Marriage is the highest form of dedication, no? Is that not what you pledged to?”

“I dedicated my life to the court,” you clarified.

“My dear, I am the court.”

You emitted a low hiss, turning to the door. “I’m leaving.”

Before you could take more than a step, Neuvillette moved towards you faster than a crack of lightning across the sea. His large frame straddled yours, pinning you against the sofa. He grabbed your dominant wrist, a foreign bubbling under your skin erecting the hairs on your arms. Your mind reached out for your hydro powers to defend yourself, only to be crushed with the realization that your vision had been confiscated at the court.

Despite your struggles, you could only watch in terror as a glowing silver-blue mark in the shape of a dragon burned across the length of your arm. The leviathan’s scaly body twisted in ringlets up your forearm and bicep, ending in a slender head with twin horns that crested your shoulder.

As soon as Neuvillette loosed his grip, you shoved him away, panting heavily. The mark had already disappeared, but you could still feel the ghost of it under your skin.“What have you done?” you whispered breathlessly.

In total contrast to your own contorted expression, Neuvillette appeared completely calm. He smoothed out his robes and adjusted his jabot. “I have lived for centuries, and I have many centuries more. I’ve merely gifted some of them to you.”

Your body began to shake, from fear, sadness, or rage you did not know. “I don’t want them.”

“You do remember that you promised to serve the court for eternity, don’t you? How do you expect to persist by my side otherwise?”

Eyes locked on the exit, you tried for a different tactic. “Take me to the Fortress of Meropide.”

Neuvillette’s expression darkened, his patience clearly thinning. “I will not.”

Your eyes shifted back to his. Although Neuvillette intimidated you beyond belief, you’d be damned if you didn’t go down without fighting for your life’s hard work. “I want to change my sentence.”

He glanced down at your arm. “It’s a bit too late for that, my dear.” Taking your hand in his, he pulled you to his chest. His form towered over you, capable of resting his chin on the top of your head. “Please, understand. I mean to keep you from harm, even if it means being your jailor.”

“You’re insane,” you hissed, futility attempting to pull away. “Let go of me!”

Neuvillette’s grip was relentless. You stilled when you felt claws ghost up your back in a silent warning. “That is one thing I will never do.”

The fight in you slowly ebbed away—for now. Your resistance was clearly moot, like a gnat trying to down a dragon. You’d have to play the long game to learn how to get under his skin—and how to rid your own of this new mark. “I will find a way out of this,” was all you could promise, refusing to meet his eyes.

A deep sigh sounded above you. Neuvillette took a step back, looking at you with such longing you thought you’d combust on the spot. With one last stroke of your cheek, he strode towards the office’s exit and unlocked the door with a flick of his wrist. Looking over his shoulder, he fixed you with a forlorn gaze. “By the time you realize your place here, there will be nothing for you to escape to. Only I will remain.” He once more turned his back to you and stepped out of the room.

You suddenly paled, realizing the implication of his words. If his declaration was true and you were to live as long as him, then your family, your career, the world as you know it would be completely gone. Your only company, your only solace, the only one who would remember your name, would be him. “Wait, no, you can’t—!”

He closed the doors.

~*~

Neuvillette was many things, but a liar was not one of them.

True to his word, you remained locked almost exclusively in the Palais Mermonia. On the rare occasions he let you outside, the Iudex served as your only company, diligently making sure you were hidden. Your vision was permanently taken, supposedly to prevent danger to yourself. It didn’t go unnoticed when he would wear it on his hip at important or potentially volatile trials. When you finally asked—or growled at him, really—why he kept it on his person, he had merely frowned and replied, “I originally thought the idea of a fake vision preposterous, I admit. I have no need for one. Yet having it feels as if you are constantly by my side.”

The draconic tattoo he had branded onto your arm not only extended your lifespan but also gave you a minuscule drop of his abilities—though only when you were in his presence (and most definitely not against him—you had tried). That allowed the two of you to transport to and breath in the depths of Fontaine whenever you begged to go out. In his mind, it was perfect—not only was the sea his realm, but no one and nothing could touch you. You were his alone to hold, to see, to have.

Those trips were torture for you. Free, but trapped; floating, but tied down to the man who was supposed to be the symbol of justice.

You, on the other hand, had tried a variety of (fruitless) tactics to convince the judge to free you. Any attempt at conversation or advance in his part was met with either vitriol or indifference on your part. You had once tried to charm him into letting his guard down, hoping you could sneak away while he was preoccupied at the court. This plan epically backfired on you when he mistook your subtle touches as permission to devour you with kisses and love bites, covering you in bruises from his sharp teeth for the next week. You wouldn’t so much as let him tap your shoulder for the next month after—the spark of silver in his eyes while he kissed you foretold of a deep, overwhelming desire that far surpassed simple kisses. You feared what might occur if the composed Chief Justice were given the opportunity to release his more primal urges.

And so, each day was passed much in the same:

1) Wake up on the floor or couch of his suite in the Palais—like hell you’d be sharing a bed with him. Oh, how he had tried in the beginning to usher you into bed, into his arms. It was childish, yes, but at least your refusal have you some semblance of autonomy.

2) Ponder on how you would greet Neuvillette that day.

3) Choose between fury or pretending he didn’t exist, typically the latter.

4) Look for a way to escape after he left for the Opera. Fail.

5) Spend most of the day scouring court cases in his office for clues to overturn your cause. Fail again.

6) Look out the window pitifully at the water beyond the Court of Fontaine (were the levels rising?). You often thought of your family back in Mondstadt; what were they told of your imprisonment, if anything? How long had you been stuck with the Chief Justice? The days blurred like ink in water.

7) Immediately exit the office towards his attached suite the moment he returned—any other room was preferable to his suffocating presence.

Today, though, he had chosen to interrupt your musings out the window before you could make your exit.

“You know, I find the beauty of the bright sunlight is best appreciated from the indoors through a window.”

Turning your head from the glass pane, your attention was brought to the figure standing in the doorway. He was wearing nothing but a simple pair of dark blue slacks and a white tunic, his robes hooked over his arm. At the start of your captivity you had mused how strange it was to see him without his normal ornamentation; now his comparatively plain appearance was a daily sight for you.

You crossed your arms and leaned against the window, relishing the heat from the coastal sun against your back. It was nothing like the dark pits he practically dragged you to now that you could breathe underwater. “Personally, I prefer to enjoy it with the company of a cool breeze by the shoreline.”

The Chief Justice loosed a deep sigh as he approached you. He extended his palm, caressing your cheek gently. “If you desire it so, I will rearrange some meetings and escort you—”

Below the waves, where he clung to you like a Lumitoile to a rock? “No need. Present company would ruin the experience. I prefer to be above water.”

Neuvillette had the audacity to wince at your retort. “So you instead choose to wallow in your self-inflicted solitude?”

You wanted to laugh at the hurt edge to his voice. Self-inflicted your ass—every moment of your life now centered on him, depended on his permission. Solitude was a disguise for any reprieve you could get from his constant attempts to court you.

The ironic part was that, if he had approached you normally, you could have seen yourself falling for him. He brought and cooked your favorite foods and beverages, showered you with gifts and books on photography, and tried his utmost to make you comfortable.

But you knew it was as nothing but glitter in a gilded cage. Neuvillette had drowned your whole world. So no, you wouldn’t act like any of this is normal.

Resisting the urge to bite his bare hand, you glared at your captor. “You could simply, oh, I don’t know, let me go.”

Neuvillette’s jaw tightened. His patience might run deeper than the Trench of Elton, but it was not everlasting. “We’ve discussed this.”

At that, you shrugged his hand off. “Can I at least speak with my family? My friends?”

A pained look flickered across Neuvillette’s face. “That isn’t possible.”

Your lip curled in response to his expression. “Don’t act like you actually care.”

Pursing his lips, he settled onto the window seat next to you. Though you were twitching with the urge to escape, he placed a large hand on your thigh, a gentle warning. “(Y/n), there’s something we must discuss.”

You narrowed your eyes, though your heart rate spiked. By now, he recognized your silence as a sign to continue.

“Do you wish to walk around the Court of Fontaine with me?”

Blinking, your throat dried. You swore you heard him wrong. “I’m sorry?”

Neuvillette squeezed your leg in what he thought was a comforting manner. His eyes—fuck, you had to admit they were wickedly beautiful, silver and sharp as a sword—never left your own. “You have been justified in your anger with me. I have restricted you for far too long. I would like to extend an olive branch, if you will—an agreement that we will both retain civility. I will grant you freedoms, but you must adhere to your sentence. Any deviation will not be tolerated.”

Your head was spinning, so you didn’t even consider the implications of his words. He was letting you out. “Can we go now?”

Neuvillette smiled softly. “Of course.” Standing, he offered you a hand. You tentatively took it, more awestruck than anything as he unlocked the doors to the outside. You’d finally get to see your family, your colleagues, the sun—!

Fontaine was unrecognizable.

The last time you seen the square of the Statue of the Seven, the roads were cobblestone. Now, strange machines roamed the paved streets, clearly serving as sentinels. None of the shops or restaurants were familiar—your favorite coffee shop, where you had so many chats with Carole, was now boasting signs for upscale fashion. A Melusine hopped by, wearing a Garde’s uniform, something that you remembered as being rare due to the increased chances of them being targeted. Your heart rate spiked in worry when the Melusine approached a group of children and their parents, only for a stunned expression to hit you when the creature was hugged by a little girl, her parents cooing in delight.

“Where…what?” you stammered. Fontaine had seemingly changed overnight—at least in your experience of time. Dread pooled in your stomach.

You attempted to pull your arm away from him, but his grip on you was steadfast. That same pained look from before marred his handsome features. “I did not lie when I said you have nothing to return to.” The Chief Justice sounded melancholic—he wished it hadn’t come to this, but he had to eliminate any prompts for you to leave.

“No, no.” Your heart dropped. “What… What year is it?”

The silence that followed was all you needed to know.

“How many years has it been, Neuvillette?” you repeated, your voice cracking with a desperate tone.

For once, Neuvillette avoided eye contact with you. He simply gestured towards a bulletin board, where the latest issue of The Steambird (at least one thing was consistent) was posted. You tore it from its pin, choking back a sob as you read the date.

Hands shaking, the issue fell to the ground. It landed in a puddle, its edges slowing soaking and blurring the ink. A steady rain had started to fall, quickly turning into a torrential downpour.

It had been over four hundred years since Neuvillette had taken you.

If it weren’t for Neuvillete’s hand on your hip, you would have crumpled to your knees. “H-how?”

Neuvillete looked to the skies solemnly. “Time passes differently for us long-lived species.” You cringed at his use of us, and how he actually sounded remorseful. “But this is our opportunity for a fresh start.”

Silent tears streamed down your face. For what could you do? Everyone and everything you knew was gone. Lost to the sea of time forever. You had nothing.

He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, placing a delicate kiss on the top of your head. “Cry not, my little pearl. No matter how many centuries pass, you will always have me.”

~*~

Neuvillette was many things.

And now, just as he dreamed since the moment he set his eyes on you, he was your everything.

And yet, you refused to drown.

As the years flowed like water through a stream, you began to learn the beat of Neuvillette’s dance. His emotions, his moods, his thoughts, all reflected themselves within the waltz of his life, and soon maneuvering around the steps became second nature to you. The balance of power laid within the count, and you were determined to be the one leading,

The dragon wanted to dance? So be it.

You’d give him the most challenging dance of his life.

#yandere #neuvillette #yandere neuvillette #genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x you #yandere genshin x reader #neuvillette x reader #fontaine #ao3 fanfic

1K notes · View notes

babeyvenus · 6 months ago

Text

Just a thought

Imagine Wriothesley's first time seeing your glider.

(I don't think anyone outside of Monstadt have gliders since Inazuma has their own ways of traveling by boat as well as Liyue and Fontaine, since Monstadt is the region of freedom/flight, so I don't think Wriothesley's ever seen a glider before. Anyhoo)

Walking around the upper floors of the Court of Fontaine, you see Wriothesley coming from the snack shop with a bag in hand.

Of course, out of excitement, you see him and call out to him, making him look around before looking up and seeing you on the walkway of the Palais Mermonia.

A smile pops on his face as he was looking to see you anyways, but his face drops into shock once he sees you rushing off of the walkway, free falling for a moment. He lets out a sound of distress and immediately drops his bags as he looks for a way to save you, until he sees wings from your glider sprouting from your back as you softly land on the ground next to him.

He's so confused.

"Why'd you do that?", is the first question he asks, more out of relief, but he was ready to chew you out for giving him a heart attack.

He picks up the bag of snacks he had before and checks it, just to see the smushed packaged snacks he bought for you with a sigh. He'd do it again, just to make sure you were safe.

#wriothesley #genshin wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader #first time writing for Wriothesley #vthots

371 notes · View notes

chigirisprincess · 1 year ago

Text

His Grace is no Gentleman ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

— Wriothesley

⊹ Details. 18+ minors dni, afab!reader (they wear a dress but are not referred to by feminine terms or gender pronouns), Wrio is taller than the reader (he is 6'6), author self insert coded fic, arranged dates, courtship, childhood friends, awkward tension, societal conventions, first date, semi-public sex, oral sex (reader receiving), clothed sex, unprotected sex, creampies, doggy style, Wrio is a gentleman, reader is a hot mess, slight insecurities, ambiguous ending. ⊹ Run time. 4.3k ⊹ Note. I started this fic before he was introduced in the archon quest so his lore doesn't line up 100% to canon so consider this a canon divergent fic <3

❝After years apart, you find yourself on a date with your childhood friend Wriothesley. With late summer heat that stifles and chokes and an unbearable amount of tension, you search for a way to reconnect with the stranger who stands before you.❞

The August air was stifling, a thick muggy heat hung low around the Court of Fontaine. Sweat and moisture clung to bodies like a second skin as summer held its last hurrah before fall elbowed its way in and left the region plunged in the wet season. Both were tortuous in their own ways but as you stood among throngs of hot, sweat-dabbled bodies, you’d much rather be shivering and damp as the cool autumn air rattled your bones. The small, lace-covered fan that hung off your wrist did little to quell the flush that filled your cheeks. It pushed around the warm air and swatted the heavy perfume that the woman next to you wore into your throat and eyes, making you choke.

Pushing your way out of the main gala room, you stumble through the halls, opening and closing doors until you happen upon a small empty room that looks upon one of the dozen decorative balconies that cover the outside of the building. The door shuts behind you with a loud slam but you pay little mind to it as you plop onto the first cushy chair within your reach. The cool evening air that filtered in through the open windows provided the slightest bit of relief. Plucking the gloves off your fingers you sigh, slouching further into your chair.

“I take it the gala has bored you?” A familiar voice asks, you jolt upright, your heart leaping in surprise, “I suppose I should have warned that the twins do take their time in setting up the stage for their performance.”

Wriothesley hovers near the doorway, fiddling with the cuffs of his jacket. You had been so wrapped up in making yourself comfortable you didn’t notice the door opening behind you. Rising to your feet, you attempt to mask the cringe that covers your expression.

“Your grace!” You exclaim, smoothing the layers of your skirt down in an attempt to make yourself appear presentable, “You have it all wrong! I was feeling faint from the heat.”

His pale blue eyes flit up and down your figure, “You do appear rather … flustered,” he states, tucking his hands into his pockets, “I extended to you an invitation to attend this gala with me.”

“Indeed, you did,” you blink.

“That makes me your date,” Wriothesley all but spells out, “You could have told me you were feeling ill.”

“Right.”

Guilt burns in your stomach. You had been a bit bored making small talk and you would have bolted at the first chance even if you hadn’t been sweltering. Wriothesley was a kind enough man and though you knew him during the tender years of childhood, the unfamiliarity that came with your growing pains left each interaction with him rather awkward. He was never the most talkative child and now as a man grown he’d become hardened by life and his stringent line of work. His austere gaze was disconcerting and unintentionally left your skin pimpled by chills.

“My apologies, your grace,” you reflexively dip your head into an apologetic bow, “I was not thinking clearly, I did not intend to abandon you, I assure you that I am very grateful to be here with you.”

It only takes a few steps for Wriothesley to stand before you thanks to his long stride. He appears somewhat disappointed in your response and you're an inch away from trying to kick yourself for offending him. A gasp cuts through the air when Wriothesley’s fingers wrap around your face, your lips forcibly protruding as he squishes your cheeks in the palm of his hand. The callouses that mar his skin are rough against your face, now that he’s just inches away you can see the blotchy yellow bruises littered across both of his knuckles and the barely visible mark on the underside of his jaw.

“I hate when you call me that,” he grits, a rare look of frustration crossing his features, “You know my name, you can say it.”

His voice is stern, but you don’t feel as if you’re being scolded though he regards you as little other than a petulant child.

“I want you to.”

You blankly blink up at him, gesturing with your hand to where he holds your face. Wriothesley releases you with an apology muttered beneath his breath, loudly clearing his throat afterward.

“Wriothesley,” the syllables of his name feel strange on your tongue after all these years, too many were spent turning him into some imposing, faraway figure, “You should know I have never been one to enjoy the festivities or formalities of court, the demands are far too taxing on my delicate constitution.”

He laughs at your slight joke and you crack a demure smile. It frustrated your parents and governess endlessly, your staunch refusal to partake in anything resembling formal gathering utterly maddening on the best of days. He’d seen the worst when you were six and he was ten but all that remained of that day was hazy memories of a tantrum, being dragged kicking and screaming down the stairs, and your parents' embarrassed expressions as they apologized to Wriothesley’s family for the dramatics on your behalf. But, you were no longer six and ten, a meltdown was no way to react to an invitation when you were well into your twenties even when the thought of spending time alone with a childhood friend felt all too daunting.

Every detail had to be nothing short of perfection when toeing about the court. Though, Wriothesley had been afforded the luxury of escaping such lessons as he grew far from the controlling hands of society. Etiquette lessons and expectations did not taint him or plague his mind as they did you. His gentlemanly disposition must have been pure charm on his part, he’d been kind to you and nothing short of gallant despite his rather gruff exterior. His reputation greatly preceded him these days and the weight of this evening was not lost to you. It wasn’t often he had time to himself, let alone time to entertain others. If you bungled this affair when your parents were hoping for a love match, you’d be humiliated and they’d be furious with you.

They held far more respect for a man gifted a title that was never his to own than they did for you, their flesh and blood. If they knew half of what you did, they wouldn’t feel so passionately but you supposed overflowing coiffers could breed enough ignorance to turn any man into an eligible bachelor.

“That I do,” he agreed with a humble nod, “That is why I chose a magic show, all the attention would be placed upon the stars of the show.”

“Thanks.”

Wriothesley gently cups your cheek, though his body seems rather rigid his expression is filled with sincerity. The gesture offers little comfort as he intended it to, but you feel the slightest bit better about continuing this evening. As you lean into his touch, chasing the tendrils of what used to offer relief when you felt unease, you smile at him as a sign of good faith. As if the slightest tick of your lips upward would erase the discomfort he brought you, when Wriothesley was here with his heart on his sleeve trying just as you were.

You force your lips into a smile in hopes of disguising the way your heart uncomfortably thrummed against your ribcage. The feeling of discontentment that soaked through your skin made your face prickle warmly with shame. You wanted to feel comforted by him but the weight of your parent's expectations crushed you like a bug beneath slippered feet. The heat of his gaze searching your face brought a whimper to your lips. It was throaty and low, quite pathetic too but you were sure that the sound wouldn’t reach Wriothesley’s ears.

But, it did.

A splash of pink washes over the tip of his nose and the tops of his cheekbones. His brows shoot up into his hairline as his eyes widen in shock, “Are you … Alright?” Wriothesley choked out, blinking rapidly at you, “I have not made you uncomfortable have I?”

“I … I am quite well,” you murmur shyly, sweat gathers at the nape of your neck and your knees threaten to buckle from the intensity of his stare.

He’s rather fixated on your mouth, you can feel how his eyes trail over the dip of your cupids bow. His tongue, pink and wet, darts out to wet his plush bottom lip. You can’t help but stare too. Wriothesley had always been cute, cute in a way that had all the lords and ladies of the country constantly cooing over how darling he was. With unruly raven-coloured hair and round rosy cheeks, he was like a doll come to life and he didn’t go a day where he wasn’t reminded. It filled his mother with such satisfaction that you would have thought it was her constantly being lavished with attention. Now though, as a man whose stature brushed just under 6’6, he was anything but cute. He was rather handsome, that much you allowed yourself to admit when you set your eyes upon him for the first time in several years, devastatingly so. Had your nerves not been so scrambled, you might have taken a moment to admire the man he’d grown into.

“Are you sure?”

You nod your head so your voice doesn’t betray you but the moment is far too quick. It’s almost eager. The calloused pad of his thumb slides against your cheek, it nearly brushes the corner of your mouth. Your breath hitches and for a moment you allow yourself to wonder. Would it be so wrong to shirk societal convention? It couldn’t be, not when it was just you and he, alone in this room with no prying eyes to cast judgment upon each minuscule movement. He must know this too, why else would he gaze upon you with such heat in his eyes?

“Indeed, I am,” you whisper, your throat tightening, “Do I seem unwell?”

Wriothesley shrugs, his lips pursing, “You seem …” His voice trails off, growing gruff near the end, “Can I not simply inquire about my oldest friend?”

“You may if that should please you.”

His face nears yours, his breath fanning across the bridge of your nose as he inches closer. Tendrils of his hair flop over his forehead and tickles your skin as he looms over you. The heat radiating off his body draws you closer, chasing what you once longed to escape.

The tip of his nose brushes against yours, his mouth dangerously close to yours, “And what pleases you?” He rasps, allowing his eyes to grow lidded.

Your jaw slacks, your lips forming a slight “o” shape as you fight off the wanton sound that claws at the inside of your throat. His lashes, long and wispy, sweep across his cheekbones but they hardly hide the dark inky pools of his expanded pupils. You can almost see your reflection within them, you’re thankful it's obscured. If you look as off-kilter as you felt, you’d rather not know.

Any response you may have had for him shrivels up and dies on the tip of your tongue. Furling your fingers into the fine satin of his shirt you offer Wriothesley a pathetically pleading look in hopes that he could still read you as well as he did in your tender years of youth. It seems in all your years apart, he hasn’t learned the art of reading minds nor expressions because he peers at you expectantly, waiting for something other than worried noises to leave you.

You can feel his heart thrumming through the thin material of his dress shirt, “Wrio …” You sigh, your eyes flickering between his mouth and eyes, “It should please me if you were to kiss me.”

Your voice warbles and you have no choice but to avert your gaze to focus on the scarred expanse of his neck. His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, his veins bulge beneath his skin as he clenches his jaw. The cool breeze that drifts through the open window rustles your dress and rattles your bones as you shiver. You move to take a step back, but his other hand flies out to grab your waist. His fingers press into your thick corsetted top, nearly grazing the space where your top meets your skirt and your skin is exposed.

“I must admit this is how I hoped the evening would end,” Wriothesley confesses as he tips your chin upward, his mouth ghosts over yours and your breaths mingle as he speaks, “But did not anticipate my fantasy would come to fruition.”

His bottom lip brushes against yours, “Is it fantasy if I am here and I am asking?”

Wriothesley shakes his head before dipping down to bring his lips to yours, tentatively kissing you. The air in your lungs exits in the form of steam blowing out from your ears and you feel lightheaded. Years of pent up want pours out from your mouth and drips into his, he laps it up with a fervent vigour that will plague you tomorrow when you reflect on this evening. He’s the only person you could open yourself up to. Wriothesley cared little for societal convention and conducted himself without any of the fanfare that followed a title like duke. You and he were human; carved from flesh, blood, and want. The shared desire that flickered in the spaces between your bodies also harboured an unspoken understanding. If you were amiable, he could fuck you on the floor of this empty drawing room and there’d be no expectation of a ring. You were unsure if marriage was what you wished for but you couldn’t deny the want that lived like a beast in your belly.

You stumble backward as the weight of him presses into you. His broad stature threatens to full engulf you and your frame. You welcome it, allowing his rough and inexperienced grip to persist even when it becomes uncomfortable. His tongue slips past your lips to lave over yours. The needy little sounds Wriothesley draws are drowned out but the wet smack of your mouths meeting. Your ears burn with embarrassment but it’s nothing compared to the heal that pools in your belly. It’s difficult to discern whether it's the muggy cloud that’s descended upon Fontaine scorching your skin or if it was the bubbling desires that grew far past a manageable, quiet simmer.

Wriothesley possessed a cryo vision, you thought his touch would be frigid but he melts your rigid, nervous exterior as his hands move to grope your waist. There isn’t much to feel, your frame is swathed with layers of thick, expensive fabrics. You managed to talk your mother out of tying a hoop skirt around your hips to elongate your figure. Still, there’s an unwanted barrier between you and the rough calloused palms you wish would tug your corset loose and make their way between your legs.

“More,” you pant between fevered kisses, yanking on his hard enough to pop a few buttons loose and reveal his scar-covered, hairy chest, “I want more.”

Your unspoken words hang precariously between your aching bodies. Wriothesley knows well enough, he must with the way you eagerly press your hips flush against his.

“Should that please you?”

You nod before your mouth can form words, “Yes,” you whisper though it sounds far closer to a whimper, the cocky smile that stretches across his face squashes the growing embarrassment that blooms and prickles at your chest, “It would please me greatly if you were to get on your knees before me.”

His expression turns wicked at your confession as if he’s pleased by your honesty. It’s the first time this evening that you haven’t minced your words or lathered them in half-truths to avoid confrontation. Wriothesley makes quite the show of sinking to his knees before you, the fine material of his slacks grows taunt around his muscular thighs and offers you an eyeful of his bulge.

“And what shall I do now?”

Slipping his hand beneath the hem of your gown, Wriothesley curls his fingers around your ankle and rubs a small circle into the silver of exposed skin, “Don’t play coy,” you whine as you thread your fingers into his hair, turning the nicely coiffed style into an unruly mess, “It is unbecoming of you, you know what I want Wriothesley.”

“Do I?” He wonders out loud, his mouth only snapping shut when he catches sight of your displeased expression, “Fine, I do!”

The beginnings of a sneer are quickly wiped from your face when Wriothesley ducks his head beneath the layers of your skirt. Clamping your bottom lip between your teeth, you fight off the shudder that slithers up your spine when his hot breath hits your wet cunt.

“No small clothes?” He questions, you can hear the smug expression he wears bleed into his words.

“Shut up!” You stammer, reaching behind you to steady yourself on the side chair, “It is far too hot for all these layers.”

Whatever he murmurs next is muffled and falls deaf on your straining ears. Your nails dig into the plush arm of the chair as he plants a sloppy, open-mouth kiss on your mound. Your knees nearly buckle but the ironclad grip Wriothesley has on your thighs keeps you standing upright as he brushes his mouth along your labia. His teeth poke out from his top lip and graze against your throbbing clit. Your stomach leaps into your chest at the sensation, your head growing heavier.

“Archons above,” you sigh, allowing your eyes to roll back.

The soft pleasured sound that dribbles down your tongue must reach his ears because his mouth falls open and with it, his tongue lolls out. The wet, hot heat of his mouth on your pussy draws a wanton whimper from you. Your ribs rattle from the heavy pants of breath that pass your lips in quick succession. His tongue swirls around your clit before he wraps his lips around the bud to suckle on it.

Your nails scrape uncomfortably against the plush velvet of the chair but your grip only tightens as pleasure fans across your sweat-dabbled skin. Your head drops against your shoulder and your hips arch forward as if you could bring yourself closer to him. The muscles in your belly grow taunt, and the feeling of his rough hands on the bare skin of your thighs and hips makes your toes curl.

“Wriothesley,” you moan, cursing under your breath when he lays his tongue flat against your folds and licked a strip from your sopping wet hole to your pulsing clit.

It grows tighter, the little coil in your belly that reminds your brain that bliss is coming so you fight the panic-stricken urge to shed your constricting corset and relax. Your chest heaves, the fat of your breasts bulging and nearly spilling out from your décolletage. You try to tell him that you’re close, to spur him on but all that comes out is a mumbly mess of moans and half words that trail off into unabashed, needy whines.

You don’t register that his tongue and mouth have left your weeping cunt throbbing and unsatisfied until his dishevelled head pops out from beneath your skirts. His thin lips are puffy and glossed with your slick. It drips down his chin in a rather obscene manner that makes your chest ache with need until your brain begins to speed up. A petulant whine gathers at the back of your throat and is ready to pierce Wriothesley’s pride once you’ve realized that he has left you without reprieve. The forceful press of his mouth to yours wipes your mind clear of any lingering disappointment.

The taste of you lingers on him, it’s slightly musky and twinged with the salt of sweat. You groan into Wriothesley as he rolls your taste around your tongue and the gums of your teeth. It is filthy and uncouth but the sweltering pit of desire within you grinds your reservations to dust. His belt and the set of handcuffs attached clink against one another as Wriothesley uses his free hand to free his cock from his slacks

“Lift ‘em,” he grunts with a nod of his head, “I- hah, need to be inside you, lift your skirts and turn around. Now.”

The bulbous red tip of his cock oozes precum as Wriothesley gives the base a firm squeeze. Gathering the layers of your skirts, you tentatively turn around to face the armchair. With a warm, steady hand pressed to the small of your back, he guides you to rest one leg up on the plush seat and angles the rest of you to lean against the back. Your body burns with something that dances between utter mortification and thrill. Calloused palms smooth over the supple skin of your ass as he slides his cock along the seam of your cunt to gather your arousal.

“Yeah, that’s it.”

Your hands tremble with anticipation as you crane your neck to peek at him from over your shoulder. His bottom lip is smushed between his teeth, you’re surprised it doesn’t bleed, his eyes are pressed shut, and his head is thrown back. The two of you moan when Wriothesley presses his cock to your hole, the stretch burns and tears begin to prickle at your eyes from the slight pain. They spill over your lash line and slip down your cheeks when he thrusts into you. The heat of his body is suffocating as he presses his chest to your spin, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“You can take it,” he whispers gruffly against the shell of your ear, “I know you can.”

His chapped lips graze across your cheekbone and his tongue darts out to lap up your tears, “Wrio…” You whimper, burying your face into the arm of the chair, “You better make me finish.”

Your command comes out feeble since your cheek is smushed against the chair and your voice is thickly coated with wanton need. Still, his hand snakes around your body and beneath your bunched up skirts to stroke your clit as he thrusts into you from behind, grunting into your ear. Your head spins as his cock slowly slides in and out of your velvet walls, the rough pads of his fingertips against your clit steal away your breath as pinpricks of pleasure zip up your spine.

“Uhuh,” Wriothesley absent mindedly groaned, his teeth catching on your ear lobe, “You’re taking me so well.”

There’s a hint of accusation in his words, or maybe you’re reading too into his words. Your brain had always been your worst enemy. Amidst the hazy swamp of lust and pleasure, there’s a small panicky voice that reminds you that life will go on outside of these walls and you’ll be stuck with the memories of desire fuelled actions that cannot be taken back. It nags at your brain, eating away at the space between your lungs at a terrifying speed and you realize despite the awkward tension that permeated the air, you didn’t want this to be the end of you and him.

You aren’t afforded the chance to ruminate on it for too long, your orgasm washes over you and swipes away the tangled web of thoughts that have made a home against your skull. Your throat is raw and scratchy as you moan out the broken syllables of his name. His chest rumbles with endeared laughter when your hand flies back to desperately seek purchase in his sturdy, warm frame. You manage to hook your fingers around his dress shirt, and the hard lines of his body tremble and contract with each sloppy thrust into your overstimulated hole.

Sweat dribbles down the curve of your neck, “Please,” you plead for nothing in particular, your moving to speak words of no consequence because it needed something to do to stave off the overwhelming waves of pleasure that rolled through you with each snap of his hips against your ass, “Give it to me, I need it.”

Your words seem to bring him there, his thrusts begin to stutter and cant forward and rest flush against the dough flesh of your ass as he cums, his hands squeezing at your torso as he buries his face into your shoulder. His spend seeps out of your cunt and sticks to your inner thighs. You’re sure it stains the waistband of Wriothesley’s dress pants but he says nothing as he nuzzles closer to your heaving body.

“You’re going to take me on a date,” you pant, swiping your knuckles across your brow bone to wipe away the perspiration gathered there, “Next week, somewhere private and quiet.”

Your chest tightens as you await for his response. It takes Wriothesley to gather his wits, his heavy breath slowing into a calm rhythm, “I can do that,” he says, chuckling a bit to himself, “But, only if you wear this dress again.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” you mumble, “I think the fabric may be ruined from our sweat.”

You can’t see his face, but there's a smile on his lips that bites into his words, “A noble sacrifice, huh?” He jokes.

You nod a bit, biting your lip to hide your own growing grin.

“Only if you kiss me again, maybe then it’ll have been worth it.”

And he does, his stubbly jaw scratches against your face as he presses his lips to yours. You hope there will be more to come, on the streets of Fontaine and out in the wilds of the country. With the way he tenderly cups your jaw, and caresses the side of your face, you think there will be.

#wriothesley smut #wriothesley x reader #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #gi smut #wriothesley x you #genshin impact smut

787 notes · View notes

everparanoid · 1 year ago

Text

Wholesome Delinquent Behaviour┃Wriothesley

pairing: f!reader x wriothesley

genre: fluff , smut, light Angst

rating: 18+

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !

tags: consent is hot, it's all good till the backstory, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Reader is Not Traveler, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Squirting, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, biting kink, inappropriate use of cuffs, spoilers for wriothesley story quest, No use of y/n, Past Murder, Minor Original Character(s), Facials, PWP, Blowjobs, handjobs, everything between reader and wriothesley is consensual

wordcount: 9.5K

synopsis: The first time you met Wriothesley was completely by accident. Not that you remembered it too well; if you did, he wouldn’t confirm it without putting you through a gruelling test. No, the first time you remembered meeting Wriothesley was much later.

You are a prisoner at Meropide who meets and falls in love with Wriothesley over the years of knowing him, and he falls harder.

Originally posted: 30.10.23 on AO3

a/n: I am now reposting my AO3 stuff onto tumblr. If you know me....no, you don't. ;) Also check out my AO3 for more wriothesley fics.

Song Inspiration: ''Safeword'' by TV Girl.

I don't own any of the artwork used.

If everything could come to a stop, just for something she says,

The first time you met Wriothesley was completely by accident. Not that you remembered it too well, and if you did, he wouldn’t confirm it without putting you through a gruelling test. No, the first time you remembered meeting Wriothesley was much later.

You wiped away the sweat coating your brow with the back of your dirtied hand, heaving a deep sigh. The production zone, despite being at the bottom of the ocean, was like what you imagined the hot springs of Inazuma to feel like. You wanted to go there one day—to Inazuma. Although the borders were closed to the outside, the stories you heard of the beautiful Sakura blossoms filled you with the determination to get there. One day, you would. You were sure of it. If you didn’t get struck down by their archon first.

“Inmate, stop slacking! Unless you don’t want to eat tonight,” the guard manning the floor yelled at you.

You rolled your eyes and continued hammering at the heated chunks of metal. Your arms were weak, and your palms were sweaty. It was times like this when you wished you had a cryo vision. You wished for many things. You wished you hadn’t been caught. You wished Fontaine were a better place. You wished that Monsieur Neuvillette felt even an ounce of sympathy for your case, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and the court of Fontaine was as ‘fair’ as they came. The sky had down poured the night you were sent to Meropide. It was the worst Fontaine had seen in four hundred years. You hadn’t seen the sky properly since you probably never would. People rotted down here. So, all you could rely on was the glistening memory of bitter water, and your dreams.

It was better, you decided, to be punished here than in Sumeru, Inazuma, or even Monstadt. You’d been to Liyue once, but you weren’t there long enough to have a clear judgement of whether their form of justice would be any better. Then again you had been arrested before you got out of Liyue and they handed you straight back to Fontaine to be judged by your home region’s laws.

“Inmate!” The guard yelled snapping you from your thoughts. “You’re wanted at the administration area.”

You dropped your hammer, relieved for the break, and shoved past the guard on your way to the lift.

I thought the whole point was you were living on the edge,

“It’s your lucky day, kid,” another guard said as you meandered leisurely toward them.

This guard you liked.

Meropide inductions didn’t happen often. Most of the time the convict was thrown into their dorm and made to figure it out themselves. In the instances of special cases, you were brought out like a friendly face before the storm. You had no clue why it was you they chose, but you always got paid handsomely in credit coupons, so the particulars didn’t matter to you. You had long since abandoned the idea of fairness down here where the sun doesn’t shine.

“What have we got this time?” you asked cracking your knuckles.

“A kid, your age.”

You paused. It wasn’t often you met people around your age down here. Everyone was either one foot in the grave or an adult.

What could this kid have done to end up down here with the downs and outs? You looked out the large glass window, it stared out into the deep blue Fontainian waters. The sea was dark, so you guessed it must be night. Time was more of an idea, a concept if you will, down in the depths. So, you enjoyed rare moments like these to re-calibrate yourself. It was a shame. You had hoped to at least feel the sun’s rays through the water’s refraction, but it was like you said beggars couldn’t be choosers.

The lift lowered down behind you, and you turned to greet this so-called new inmate. You were greeted by a tall scrawny boy, probably not even a year older than yourself with dull icy eyes and jet-black hair. He was drenched in that same bitter water.

You put on your brightest smile and offered your hand.

“Welcome to hell,” you said.

Not your best work but it caused a small snicker from the boy, and your favourite guard who stayed close by. Strange. They never stayed around. Were they that concerned about your ability to induct a fellow teenage delinquent?

Wriothesley paused. When he was given his verdict by the Monsieur Neuvillette he didn’t expect such a warm welcome. Well, warm as far as being greeted at its entrance.

He didn’t take your hand, instead opting to stare at you with those haunted eyes. You were disheveled at beast and downright filthy at worst. Nothing to sing or dance about. Nothing to fall head over heels in love with either, but you didn’t care. Who wanted to find happiness in misery anyway?

“Hell?” Wriothesley echoed. His voice was steady and stern like he was aged beyond his years; by the lack of life in his eyes, he probably was. “Is it that bad down here?”

You shrugged one shoulder.

“Depends,” you said.

“On what?” he asked, calculating. You could feel his brain working from where you stood.

Fascinating.

“Depends on how stupid you are,” you looked him up and down, chewing the inside of your cheek absentmindedly. Then, as if a rocket had been shot up your butt, you spun on your heels and gestured for him to follow with a lazy flick of your wrist.

He did so, catching up to you easily with his long legs and just as long stride.

“I didn’t catch your name,” you said as the lift doors closed behind you taking you down to the actual entrance of Meropide not the fancy entrance for visitors too afraid to see the truth. Fontaine was a giant opera, and you lot in Meropide were the hidden stage crew, slaving behind the scenes after losing your spot in the limelight.

“You didn’t ask,” he responded flatly from beside you.

“Clearly that was the hint for you to tell me.”

“It’s Wriothesley,” he said.

It didn’t sound like it was his actual name. Hell, it didn’t sound like a name at all, but who were you to judge? Meropide was a place to start a new; to redeem yourself from your sins, and nearly burn to death in the production zones breaking your back for an administrator who was a tyrant. What was a kid reclaiming their identity going to do to you?

“Nice to meet you, Ricecake.”

“Ricecake?”

“Hey, you give me a name I can’t pronounce you live with the consequences, Ricecake.”

The doors opened and the lift groaned as steam poured out of its pipes and vents. Some unfortunate soul was going to have to clean those later, and you prayed it wasn’t going to be you. You had a burn on the inside of your arm from the last time you cleaned those steaming pipes, it was a jagged ugly thing to look at, so you kept it hidden. Out of sight out of mind, right?

The receptionist sat behind the desk looking as melancholy as everyone else in this place. Wriothesley was going to fit in just fine, you thought, as you remembered that same almost dead look in his eyes.

“You coming?” you asked the boy who stood gawking at you from the lift. “It won’t take you back up you know. I mean you can try. It’s your sentence you’re lengthening.”

“You don’t recognise me?”

“No?” you said. “Should I?”

You tried to recall when you would have seen him before but only drew blanks. You’d seen so many of the same faces and watched so many of them die that telling anyone apart was a pipe dream for you. However, for some reason, you knew that Wriothesley would stick in your head. Not just because the name was so peculiar but because something about him intrigued you. He didn’t seem upset down here yet. No, he looked curious. Curiosity was dangerous. Curiosity got the smartest people in here killed or beaten half to death. No, Wriothesley stuck in your head because he reminded you of hope.

So, when those sounds start to drift down the hall, and stat to freak out the neighbours,

“No coupons, no meal,” the chef said, his voice booming through the place. You wondered over questioning who would be stupid enough to get into conflict with the head chef. He was a burly man, tall with a glassy eye and a wooden spatula the size of a person. The rumour was that he had been a Fatui skirmisher in the overworld. The truth was he was like every other soul in here, beaten and trapped. Upon seeing the familiar woolfy black hair, spiked in random places you inserted yourself into the conversation.

“Sorry about that boss. He’s new,” you said to the chef.

He waved his beefy, greasy hand at you to leave.

“Don’t let your friend come back unless he has coupons. This isn’t charity,” he said with a thick Snezhnayan accent.

“Gotcha,” you said and gave the chef a salute. Hooking your arm under Wriothesleys, you pulled him out of the cue. He nearly tripped over his foot. You dragged him to a secluded table a little away from everyone else, where your singular special box of bread and curry waited for you.

You let him go.

You pointed to the wall where it read, ‘If a man will not work, he shall not eat.’

“Sit,” you commanded pointing to the chair opposite yours.

Wriothesley stared at you like you had grown four heads.

“I have no food,” he said.

“I can see that,” you responded, opening your box and letting the steam waft out. Both of your stomachs groaned at the same time. It had been a while since you had had decent food from the chef, it would be even longer till you had another one; credit coupons weren’t easy to come by and they were better spent on other things like making sure you didn’t get smothered in your sleep.

“How much did that cost?”

“More than you’ll make in your first year,” you said breaking up the bread in your hands.

He gulped dryly.

“How do you know that?”

“You’re a fresher. You’re basically free labour until you have some experience behind you, and some meat on your bones. You’ll be lucky if they pay you a tenth of what you should be getting in your first year. Unless you can fight.”

You let your words settle in the silence between you.

“What did you do?” you ask.

“What?”

“Your crime? What did you do? The guards treat you like a danger to humanity,” you said glancing at the guard who watched you both intently. You could understand them glaring at you but why him?

Wriothesley shifted in his seat, straightening up as if preparing for something.

“I killed my parents,” he said.

He didn’t say anything more than that, he didn’t need to.

You blinked.

“Both of them?”

“Yes.”

You let it sink in for a minute and then nodded.

“I will not be offended if you run, after all this is the entire truth,” he said bluntly. His stomach growled again, and he clutched it willing it to silence itself.

“We’re all crooks and criminals down here,” you said. “But that doesn’t mean we are all bad.”

He lifted an eyebrow at you. You supposed it was because he was expecting you to run. Which meant he obviously didn’t know you.

“What if I am just a bad guy?”

You shrugged. It was not like you were the dog’s bollocks yourself.

“I have a good enough instinct to know that you aren’t, Ricecake,” you said and pushed your now broken-up bread and curry meal toward him. You were going to regret it. You hadn’t eaten a full-fledged meal in three months, but still, you gave it anyway. “Eat.”

You would have wanted someone to do the same for you when you got here. Friends weren’t made under the sea. His eyes widened and his pale face brightened for the first time since you had met him.

“This is yours,” he said, sounding flabbergasted.

“Now it’s yours,” you said. “Eat up and get some rest. You need to be strong if you want to survive around here.”

You noticed something in his eyes then, a spark. It was dull but it flickered. Your stomach flipped again.

You took a sip of your water before pushing it over to him. He was going to need it more than you.

“Thank you,” he said.

You shook your head.

“There is no need for thanks between us. See it as me looking out for a fellow delinquent.”

“Delinquent?” he said taking his first bite of the bread drowned in curry sauce and rolling his eyes in bliss at the flavours. He began to hoover up the box like it was running away from him.

You remembered when you were like that with every small crumb of bread you got when you first got here. Your stomach flipped. What kind of hell had Wriothesley come from?

“Slow down buddy meals like this don’t come around every day,” you said. “Take it slow, no one can kick you out of here to work anyway. Seems they’re too afraid of us.”

He did as you said. Licking off his fingers, he looked around the floor at the glaring stationed guards and occasional inmates. He faced you his eyes glimmered with light like a shooting golden star flying across an icy sky.

“So, how do I get them to trust me?” he said leaning in.

You leaned back in your seat, your arms crossed and a smile on your face. You were sure now, that feeling in your stomach was hope.

remember that it's good, clean fun,

“Happy Birthday!” you grinned, setting down a box you had smuggled up from the cafeteria into his room. He raised a brow up at you. It was the 23rd of November, the day he’d decided was his birthday; the same day he was sentenced to Meropide.

“Ah, thank you,” he said politely. His stomach growled at the delicious aroma coming off the box revealing, despite his calm thanks, his eager anticipation for your yearly gift.

Guilt riddled him, as he dropped the gauntlet he had been upgrading, next to the cashflow machine he had found and tinkered back to use. He had wanted to pay you back. Every year, on the day he arrived you came with a box and another ten pieces of meshing gear for his tinkering, and as much as he secretly loved it, he felt like he wasn’t doing enough to pay you back.

It had been six years and yet he hadn’t gotten you a single thing he considered worth the amount of your kindness. Aside from a necklace with a piece of meshing gear that he had forged into a Cerberus insignia. You wore it everywhere. You wore it then, the rustic insignia rested on your chest. He had already put aside the pieces for a matching bracelet, a little trinket from him to you. A subtle hint to show that you were his, even if he hadn’t said it yet.

He unravelled the box and two tea bags fell out of the wrapping.

You picked them up and shook them before him.

“Tea for the occasion,” you said.

He smiled and closed his eyes.

“I fear, you know me too well.”

He shook his head.

“I don’t know your favourite colour,” you said, brewing the tea in the teapot he kept on the wonky table.

“I don’t have one.”

Meaning he couldn’t choose one without them all tying to you. Maybe it was the colour of your hair, or eyes, or even the colour of your lips, he’d stare at those often. Too often lately. He was staring now. He looked away.

“Well, I guess I do know everything about you,” you chirped.

He thanked you as you handed him a cup of tea with two sugars just as he liked it. You knew these things. It wasn’t like you had spoken about them. No, you had been around him so much in the last few years that these things came naturally to you. It was like breathing. You sat beside him on the ground. Your tea warmed your hands.

“What else does the birthday boy want on his birthday?”

He fought back the blush though he was sure the colour still painted his skin.

“Nothing.”

“Come on! There has got to be something?”

Wriothesley shook his head and opened the box.

“Okay then if you insist. Share this box with me?”

“But it’s yours.”

“And I want to share it with you. Are you really going to deny me on my birthday? Remember, you are the one who asked what I want.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Fine.”

He broke up the bread inside one of the compartments in the box, the same way he'd watched you do it countless times. You reached in and dipped a large unbroken piece of bread into the soup before bringing it up to his lips. He stared at your hand.

“Open up. Come on, birthday boy, if we are sharing then you’ve got to have the first bite,” you said.

When it became apparent that you weren’t going to give up any time soon, he opened his mouth enough for you to slip the bread between his teeth. Both of you without the other's knowledge held your breath when he bit down, and his lips brushed the tips of your fingers.

A shiver ran through your body, one you knew would follow you to bed and into your filthiest dreams.

He pulled back and quickly cleared his throat, as he chewed without tasting.

“It’s delicious,” he said.

“It is,” you choked out, though you hadn’t tried it yet.

He didn’t bother to correct you, too lost trying to calm the riot in his chest. When he felt like he had better control of the battle in his chest he picked up a piece of bread, dipped it into the curry sauce and held it toward you. You blinked.

“You should try some too. You know since we are sharing and all.”

You took a bite from the bread letting the flavours wash over you. They too were lost to the way you noticed his eyes watching your lips enclose around the bread. You nodded and covered your mouth as you chewed.

“It is good,” you agreed, with a mouth full of mush.

He nodded and looked away from you, scooping up another piece of bread and popping it into his mouth. You would have thought he was unaffected until you saw his ears were deep shade of crimson.

Just wholesome delinquent behaviour,

“What’s this about?” You asked as he guided you with his large cold, calloused hands over your eyes. You envied his cryo vision, and his ability to stay cool down in that heat pit. He hid it well, but you knew he had one. You’d seen it one day by accident and not breathed a word about it since. Vision holders were targets down here and the last thing you wanted was to put him in any more danger.

“Patience. Don’t you know all good things come to those who know how to wait,” he said.

He had dragged you out of the production zone after finishing his work and disappeared off like he usually did only to reappear an hour later with that confident stride he had. You barely ever saw him these days, but when you did it would be like he was still the fresh-faced delinquent but older. You were both older. He guided you into a seat and then removed his hands. You missed the cool touch on your skin. It took a second for your eyes to adjust to the poor lighting.

“What is this?” you asked, staring at the giant box in front of you.

You looked up at Wriothesley. It had been twelve years since he came to the fortress and the once soft baby face was gone, lost to the grit of Meropide. Wriothesley commanded the trust and respect of everyone around him much to the administrator’s dismay. When you were working away in the production zone, to he would be off swaying the inmates and the guards, working his natural charisma on those around him.

“What happened?” You asked reaching up and grazing his split lip with your finger. He caught your wrist and dipped his head out of the way flashing you a half smile. He had grown even taller over the years and now you had to reach up to touch him. He glanced at the ring on your finger, and you snatched your hand away, your face flushed with embarrassment.

“I won some more coupons,” he said.

In reality, he had scrapped up the coupons that he’d hidden away in the case of a rainy day and used them to buy you the meal. A week earlier he had lost all his accumulated credit coupons in a single night to the Fortress’s administrator.

“You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“Is that so?” he sassed. “I suppose I should write a will.”

Your expression darkened.

“Kidding, of course,” he said.

“Of course.”

“I went to Sigewinne,” he assured you. “She said I would be fine as long I rested.”

“Good,” you said.

You turned back to the box.

Metal screeched on the floor as Wriothesley pulled his chair closer directly across from you. The place was unusually empty—only a few guards manned the area, but no other inmates could be spotted on the floor.

“So, what is this?” You could smell the faint fragrance of something familiar. Something you hadn’t smelt in years.

“Open it,” he said and gestured with his chin to the box.

You gave him a cautious look and lifted the lid. Inside sat four rolls of bread and two bowls worth of curry. Your heart fluttered. When you looked up at him, he was already watching you; his icy eyes shining like stars. You didn’t want to think anything of it… to hope. Hope was stolen from you. Hope led to you becoming trapped in a loveless engagement with one of the crooked guards.

“You really did it?” you said and ached a little inside.

This was supposed to be a happy moment but all you wanted to do was weep bitter water.

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his toned scarred arms over his chest. He looked so broad and solid; all that boxing had morphed his physique into something godly. “I told you I would pay you back.”

“That was twelve years ago, and this is more than triple what I gave you.”

“I added the interest,” he said.

“Why now?”

He looked down at your ringed finger again and frowned. His brows drew together in the way they did when he was annoyed or thinking more than he was going to let you in on.

“I’m going to fight the administrator,” he said bluntly.

You paused mid-snap of your bread.

“You’re going to fight the administrator?” you repeated, unsure of whether you heard him correctly. “Your sentence is up. Why would you do that? You’re going to die.”

He shrugged.

“I refuse to watch people suffer under the crooked ruling of a tyrant,” he said and eyed your ring again. Your finger felt like it was on fire; you dipped a bit of bread in the curry and handed it to him. He waved it away.

“Why are you like this?” you said, and dropping the piece of bread into the curry, you watched it drown and disappear into the thick liquid. “Is it not enough that you’ll be free?”

You blinked back tears, your hands clenched on your thighs. You had watched nearly all of his fights and every single time your heart was in your throat. Every time he bled, every time he shook hands with his opponent; every time the ringleader held up his beaten-up arm to declare his victory. You hated it. You hated all of it.

He said your name with a tenderness he reserved only for you. A tenderness you didn’t want to hear. A tenderness you blocked out with everything in your soul.

“Is it so strange that I would want to fight for those whom I promised a better life out of genuine care?”

“Why did you do that?” you yelled, your voice came out harsher than you intended but it was too late to take it back. That was the thing about words, they could never be unspoken. He cleared his throat.

“As I recall, I didn’t come here to live under the thumb of another driver, and I thought you would understand that more than anyone else, but I see now that I was wrong and clearly you have been broken down after all.”

You bit down hard on your lips, and your jaw clenched so tight that you were sure you would crunch a tooth.

“Ric—Wriothesley. That’s not fair,” you whispered.

“Indeed, it’s not but it’s the truth.” He glanced away for a second. “Look, I am in love with you, and I have been for the last twelve years. I can’t simply watch you be with someone you hate just to get a sentence lowered that you still won’t tell me about. I could have helped you. I am helping you. I’m helping everyone,” he pushed his chair back and stood.

“…What?”

“I’m fighting tomorrow. Show up, if you have some time, of course; or don’t, but I’ll be looking out for you. You can find me in my dorm before then.”

You fought back the urge to chase after him, to slap him, to kiss him, to hold his hand, to hold him so tightly and cry the way you haven’t been able to since the day you were convicted. Instead, you didn’t. You sat in silence and ate the bread and curry watching your heart walk away from you.

Oh, remember your safe word,

His dorm room was across from yours. It was sparse like everything else in the underwater fortress. A pillow and scatty blanket lay atop a barely functioning mattress in a corner. Wriothesley sat at the small table barely standing on its uneven legs. A tiny pot brewed a herbal smelling tea, and two teacups sat in front of him.

“You came,” he said barely above a whisper. His confidence was a quiet one.

“You love me.”

“Would you like some tea?” he asked, gesticulating to the second cup in front of the spare chair.

You had been in here countless times; shared many cups of tea with him; helped pierce his ears and manage his wounds; watched him shadowbox the air as you sat crossed-legged on his bed; you had wondered what life would be like if Meropide was a better place; you had wondered if the people you left behind missed you as you laid next to each other on his floor staring at the giant fan on the ceiling. Not that either of you had anyone but each other. Wriothesley had said his siblings were strangers to him, and he was probably a ghost they would never want to see again. An unfortunate reminder of something they’d all rather forget, but he never forgot. He refused to. He lived his truth.

Every time he told you about his past you worried about how his view would change if you if knew your truth. However, Wriothesley never pressed too hard, never touched buttons he knew you didn’t want to be touched. Instead, he watched and observed, and took in all that you were willing to give him, just to see a glimmer behind the cracks of your mask.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked.

“Please.” He gestured to the chair. “Sit.” he filled your cup.

You took your seat and shifted around, unable to find comfort despite it being your usual chair. Feelings always made things feel different—uncomfortable. You knew this. Yet you still felt the discomfort, nonetheless.

“How did you know I would come?”

“I didn’t but I hoped and thankfully you didn’t disappoint, but you never do,” he said, filling his cup.

“No need to be modest with me, Wriothesley.”

“I am anything but modest with you,” he said your name softly.

You gulped. Wriothesley wasn’t one to mince his words, though tact was his favourite game.

“You must have heard about it already?” you brought the teacup to your lips taking a sip of the liquid. Credit coupons bought anything in this fortress, even the finest tea. “It’s all people can talk about when it comes to me.”

His expression darkened.

It was only a matter of time.

“You do, and yet you still love me?” you asked.

“I recall someone once telling me that we all are crooks and criminals down here but that didn’t mean we were all bad,” he recounted the words you had said to him when he arrived nearly verbatim. He leaned onto the table, and it shook on its uneven legs from the added weight. “Besides, I like hearing stories from their source.”

“Then ask.”

“What got you incarcerated?”

You took a deep breath. What did you have to lose? He had heard worse rumours.

For some reason, you cared about what he thought of you. You knew that feelings were fickle things, and yet, you cared that he loved you. You loved him too.

“Mariticide,” you said cooly, breaking the ice.

“But you were—“

“A child, I know.”

“I was illegally married off when I was eight years old to a man, twenty years my senior.”

Wriothesley remained neutral, you took it as your sign to keep going.

“He didn’t do anything to me until my twelfth birthday and then it started. At first, it was just touching and then it got worse. He was an influential Fontaine nobleman. One of the maids tried to help me report him but it didn’t work. So, one night when he came to my room, I had hidden a butter knife under my pillow. I castrated him and ran away, fleeing Fontaine. I wandered through Sumeru and then to Monstadt but even the city of freedom couldn’t protect me. So, I kept moving. It was when I was on my way through Liyue that the authorities caught up to me. The maid who had tried to help me was sleeping with the man and hence reported me. The hearing was quick, and I was put away fast. No one wanted to consider the implications of a thirteen-year-old being married to a thirty-three-year-old whom they all dined with. I heard he died a few years ago but my sentence keeps getting extended every time it gets close to the date of my term. I suspect it’s the maid. I was supposed to be here for eight years and well, I am still here. That’s why I must marry that Guard.” You took a long sip from your tea and then placed the cup down. “I’m damaged goods,” you said.

Wriothesley remained silent. He looked to be thinking of something and you had never seen his expression so dark.

“You’re not damaged,” he said, “and he’s lucky he lived after that.”

You smiled. It was a bitter smile; one filled with more exhaustion than remorse.

“Luck favours the rich.”

“If a man will not work, he shall not eat,” Wriothesley said, reciting the famous lines that painted the walls of Meropide.

You raised your teacup at him before taking another sip.

“Jokes aside, thank you for telling me,” he said.

He stood up and you feared he was going to ask you to leave. You wouldn’t be sad, at least that’s what you tried to convince yourself, but the sinking feeling came all the same.

He offered you his hand and you stared at it. Your brows furrowed before you hesitantly took it. He pulled you up to your feet. His cold hand intertwined with yours.

“Can I hug you?” he asked.

He’d never asked this before. Did you look like you needed a hug? Because you wanted one.

“Please,” you choked out.

You would never have described Wriothesley as warm, but when he held you in his arms and you heard his heart racing you couldn’t deny that he was undoubtedly warm. A single tear rolled down your cheek. Then another, and another, and another until you were sobbing into his shabby inmate shirt.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “I know.”

You’d been holding onto these feelings for so long. Letting them fester inside you like a sickness. No one had ever stopped to hear your side of the story and you thought you were okay with that. You thought if they stayed away from you then you could pretend to be like every other inmate brought in for stealing a slice of cake meant for Lady Furina. You thought you could hide your truth, but behind every fake smile, you wore it on yourself like a body of armor.

His shirt crumpled in your hands. He swayed from side to side and traced tiny circles on your back with his thumb.

“You did what you had to do. If he was alive, I’d kill him,” he said.

You wiped your eyes and looked up at him. “Please don’t fight tomorrow.”

He brought a hand up to your cheek and brushed away your tears. He decided then that he hated your tears, and he would do anything to see to it that you didn’t feel that way again.

However, he hated the idea of you living with this pain more. He hated seeing that diamond on the finger where his should be. He hated it even more that you knew that he hated it before he had admitted his feelings for you. If his resolve hadn’t been solidified before now it would be completely. He would free you, and if you decided you wanted to be with him once you sprouted your wings, then he would accept you with open arms. He wouldn’t put you in another cage. He’d hate to see your heart break because to him you were his heart.

Wriothesley’s attention dropped to your lips; they were wet with your tears. He leaned down and brushed his lips to the corner feeling your sadness.

You turned your head at the last moment and captured his lips.

He froze.

You gripped his shirt tighter and reached up on the tips of your toes pressing your mouth further into his; willing him to reciprocate. Your first kiss with Wriothesley tasted like bitter water. It was soft and desperate. It knew what it was without the need for words or discussion.

His chest heaved as he pulled away.

“Don’t leave me,” you whispered.

“I won’t…”

He wouldn’t—at least not tonight. Although, he didn’t know whether it was day or night outside of Meropide. The underworld was a different world entirely. It never truly slept. It didn’t adhere to the rules of the sun or the moon. It was filled with endless possibilities. Possibilities that could alter both of your existences and if he couldn’t free you above ground, he knew sure as hell would free you below. Although, one night of keeping you safe in his arms couldn’t hurt.

You sat down on his mattress. You looked so much smaller than he remembered, then again it had been twelve years.

He recalled your soot-covered face, and dull eyes when you had greeted him, the day he arrived at Meropide. The day he had begun his new life; his birthday. Although the circumstances weren’t great, he knew from the moment you said, ‘Welcome to hell,’ that he would love you.

He sat beside you.

“Tell me what you want?” he said, earnestly.

You leaned into him.

“I want you to be yours.”

It was true. You wanted him. Engagement be damned. Even if it was just one night, you wanted something for you. Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it was asking for too much, but you didn’t care. You had spent too long denying yourself the things you want to maintain a peace no one else upheld.

Wriothesley gripped your wrist and groaned what sounded like your name, but you couldn’t be too sure.

“Give me a word,” he said.

“What?”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he began.

“I am not fragile.”

Though in front of him, you were.

“I know you are not. Give me a word so I know to stop if it gets too much for you.” He tucked your hair behind your ear and rested his forehead against yours.

“Time,” you breathed.

That’s what you wanted—time. Time to love him, time to live, time to take back all the things you regretted and start again. Time to meet him before you both became who you were.

“Okay,” he said, leaving a kiss behind your ear. “Tonight, you’re mine.”

Only tonight. He reminded himself.

He could promise you that for certain. He couldn’t promise tomorrow, not because he was a pessimist but because he knew tomorrow was never certain. He had you now. He would make sure he had you forever but now would have to be enough. He would make it enough.

“Yours. Completely,” you said.

Another tear rolled down your cheek.

He pulled off his shirt.

Your mouth merged with his, your tongue slipping into his open mouth tangling, exploring searching. He cupped your face in his hands, his eyes closing despite the desire to see every expression on your face.

You broke the kiss and leaned back pulling off your shirt. His eyes dropped to your breasts.

“Just for me,” he whispered, taking them into his hands and kneading them slowly.

He traced kisses down your neck, wishing to mark you, to lay his claim to you. He wouldn’t however, not yet…not tonight.

You fiddled with the string to his bottoms, untangling it and reaching in to feel his erection. He groaned against your neck unafraid to let you know how good it felt. You grasped his cock. It was thick, thicker than you expected, and so hard. You needed both hands to grip him properly.

“Take off that fucking ring,” he hissed upon feeling it on his skin. You did, taking off the ring and dropping it with your shirt on the floor. You gripped his cock again, your hands feeling so much lighter without the mental weight of the ring.

“Harder,” he growled as you stroked him.

You tightened your grip watching as the crease between his brows grew. He rolled his hips into your hand.

“Oh, that’s it,” he panted.

You bit your lip and focused on the reddened tip.

Your thumb brushed the crown wiping away the drops of precum. He jolted, his jaw unhinging, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. You froze and released his cock. He opened his eyes, worried, only to see you on your knees between his legs.

He opened his legs wider and slid closer to the edge of the bed. He brushed your hair out of your face and gripped it in his hand as he used the other to keep him up on the bed.

“Go on,” he said. “Show me how much you want me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

Gripping, his cock you gave the tip a lick listening to his pleased grunts. Slowly you took him into your mouth, enjoying the sensation of his hand gripping your hair.

“Good girl, taking me so well.”

You were soaked just from listening to his praise. You slipped a hand into your underwear and began rubbing your clit.

His breath quickened, and his mouth felt incredibly dry from his inability to close it. His hips jerked, as you took him deeper. He heard you gag as he felt your throat quiver around his cock. He pulled out, letting you catch your breath before he thrust back into your throat. Your eyes rolled and drove a finger into yourself.

You bobbed your head keeping up with the brutal pace he was setting. You loved hearing his grunts and groans; you loved feeling his cock twitch and his pace stagger as he got closer. Despite how hard it was, you looked up at him. His mouth was agape, his eyes barely open. You released him just when you knew he was going to cum.

Wriothesley opened his eyes to see you waiting, mouth open, your mouth and chin dripping with saliva. You looked glorious.

“You’re stunning,” he breathed and released your hair, wrapping his hand around his cock and pumping it until the first spray of cum splattered your lips. “So perfect, with such a pretty mouth.”

You licked your lips and opened your mouth again, leaning closer till the tip rested against your tongue.

Wriothesley felt like he was in a dream or heaven or both.

“Swallow it all,” he panted as he pumped the rest onto your tongue.

You did so, licking your lips and opening your mouth to prove it.

At the sight of your flushed face, your blown lust-filled eyes, and your hand deep in your pants, he found himself hardening again. He had promised tonight, and tonight he was going to have. If he died tomorrow, he’d die a happy man.

“Get on the bed right now, naked and on your back,” he ordered.

You shimmied off your work pants and your underwear, laying on the bed under his hungry gaze. He stood and stripped the rest of his clothes away before joining you on the bed. It was barely big enough for both of you, but he was going to make it work. He kneeled before your closed legs.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Good.”

“Just good?” he teased, a smirk on his lips.

“Mhm just good,” you responded, reciprocating the expression.

“Oh, we’ll have to fix that,” he said, and scooping under your thighs, he opened your legs and pulled you closer to him.

You giggled at the speed at which he had your legs wrapped around his waist and his hard cock pressing against your soaked folds. He caged you between his arms as he rolled his hips slowly.

“I love you,” he said, staring into your eyes.

“I love you too,” you responded.

“I know.”

He kissed you with everything in his soul. At some point, he knew you loved him even if you hadn’t said it till just now. He knew it like how he knew the back of his hand but hearing it made it even better. It made it real.

He rubbed the head of his cock against your soaked hole, pushing in the tip just enough to feel you quiver before pulling out and running it over your pussy again.

“If I fuck you, you’re mine. No one touches what is mine. Do you understand?” He asked

Your heart stuttered.

“I understand.”

“After all, no one will be able to fuck you the way I can. Once I’m inside you unless you tell me otherwise, I’m not stopping until we both see stars,” he said, making sure he looked straight into your eyes as he did.

This wasn’t a game for him, he meant every single word and you knew it.

“Wriothesley, there will never be anyone like you.”

He groaned and slid in. Your back arched at the sheer size of his cock stretching you beyond your limits. You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw, grabbing onto the sheets for support.

“Breathe, relax,” he whispered. “Hold onto me.”

He continued to slowly push in bringing his knees closer giving him the right angle to get in as deep as possible. He gasped upon seeing himself completely disappear inside you. You tightened your legs around his waist, and dragged him down gripping his back, locking you into a mating press.

He waited till the need for release subsided before he began to move. The shitty bedframe, not built for the purpose it was being used for, squeaked, and hit against the wall. The sound of skin slapping against skin, and stifled cries joined the air disturbing whatever sorry soul had the misfortune of being on the other side of the wall. Neither of you cared at that moment. Within minutes you had already come twice.

Your chest heaved, and Wriothesley cupped them leaving bites all over your breasts, he avoided any place people would be able to see but needed to mark you somewhere. He moved back up to your ear and nibbled on the lobe.

“Show me how you touch yourself,” he said quietly.

You slipped a hand between your rocking bodies and began to rub your clit. Wriothesley leaned back till he was kneeling. Gripping your waist, he continued to fuck you watching with hawk-like focus the way your fingers played with your clit. It was like you were under display, laid out for him to observe and study, and you were.

“So, that’s how you like it?” he said, feeling your walls clench around him for the third time that night.

You whimpered in response, your words had long since failed you. You began to slow as your hand grew tired and your body became closer to a collection of jolting nerves than functioning limbs.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. You can give me two more, right?” he said.

You moaned as he replaced your hand continuing to rub your clit just as vigorously as you had started.

“Wriothesley,” you cried,

“Ssh, you’ve got this. Let go. Be a good girl and give me two more,” he urged you on.

You bit your lip and threw your head back letting out another cry which he swallowed eagerly. Your walls clenched again, and your body began to show the signs of a squirt. You sprayed, your legs shaking, your toes curling.

“Shit, you’re incredible. One more,” he captured your lips. “You’ve done so good. Just give me one more, my love,” he said against them.

One more and he would be satisfied. One more and he could guarantee that he would have enough resolve to follow through with his plans. Just one more.

You shivered again and bit down on his bottom lip as your final climax washed over you barely a minute later. He growled at the pain, tugging his lip from your mouth, and kissing you properly.

“Well done,” he said but continued thrusting at the same brutal pace. “I’m nearly there.”

You used what little strength you had to keep him inside. He said your name for what was the thousandth time that night.

“Not tonight,” he panted, smiling against your lips. “Trust me, I want to. I do, but not tonight.”

He pulled out and kissed you softly, stroking himself until his release painted your stomach. He kissed your forehead and rolled off you to not squash you under his weight.

You turned onto your side and cuddled into him. He wrapped his arms around you and entangled your limbs. You faced each other on the damp sheets.

It felt like time stopped. Everything melted away, you didn’t know whether it had been forty or four hours, and you didn’t care. You felt sticky and wet, the only thing cooling you down was the natural coolness of his skin on yours. Sleep drifted over you like a blanket not soon after. You tried to fight it off, wishing to talk to him longer; to try and convince him against fighting the administrator; to find a way with you because as long as you had each other you knew everything would be okay…

“Everything is going to be okay,” he said quietly as if he had read your mind, sending you off to sleep. “It’s all going to be okay.”

When you woke the next morning, well when the sound of the guards woke you from your sex-induced coma, Wriothesley was gone.

Remember your safeword.

You woke to cool scarred arms wrapped securely around your waist. Wriothesley’s head rested on your breasts. Flecks of grey mixed seamlessly into the stream of black hair reminded you that you were no longer in the past. You shifted slightly to free an arm. He grumbled something and nuzzled his head further into your breasts, securing his arms tighter around you as if afraid you were going to disappear. It was a habit he had developed over the years, an incessant need to hold onto you when he slept. You didn’t mind it too much, you liked being cold when you went to bed; it helped you sleep better.

“Wriothesley,” you whispered and ran a hand through his hair. You laid a peck on his forehead, and he stirred.

“Is it morning already?” he grumbled, though his eyes remained closed.

He had been awake for as long as you had been lost in your thoughts, silently listening to the sound of your pounding heart. He couldn’t help but wonder what thoughts ailed you on nights like these.

You admired the thick dark lashes casting shadows over his face.

“No, I just can’t sleep,” you said.

You knew his skin like the back of your hand. The scar under his eye, the scar on his neck that led down to the center of his breastplate and stopped on his sternum. The ones wrapped around his arms, the ones that scattered his waist and stomach, the ones on his thighs; even the small faint one on his calf from when he fell over as a kid. He told you that was when he knew his skin was going to be littered with scars. Wriothesley scarred easily and he scarred badly. However, despite their jagged appearances, none of them were too hideous for you to bear. You didn’t like them, but you loved Wriothesley, and as they were as a part of him as any other part of him, you learnt to love them too. They represented how many battles he had won. They represented every promise kept.

You lifted his head up and kissed the scar on his face, the one right under his eye.

You could feel his hardened cock pressing against your thigh. His pupils were blown when he finally opened his eyes.

He loved you so much it hurt. Yes, physically but also mentally. He loved how you accepted him, he loved how you chose him, and he loved how you chose you too. Most of all he loved how you looked when you teased him, so raw, so ripe, so ready to dismantle you completely.

“Oh, I can think of ways to help with that,” he murmured.

“I don’t know if I have the stamina, your grace,” you teased.

He let out a guttural noise.

He nibbled and sucked on your nipple, messaging your other breast in his cold, rough hands. Your breath staggered as you gave in to his touch. The sound went straight to his cock. He had fucked you into the sheets earlier that night, till you were blubbering and couldn’t remember your own name. Still, it wasn’t enough. It was never enough; he would never get enough of you. Despite your fear that one day he would disappear, he never would. It was Wriothesley who worried that one day you would grow tired of his incessant need to be near you; to have you, to consume you. So, he savoured every squirm, every shiver, every breathy gasp of his name that you would spare him, terrified that they’d be his last.

“Ah, well it’s a good thing that I have enough stamina for the both of us,” he said switching his attention from one boob to the other. The earlier hickeys had already darkened on your skin. “Think you can cum again?”

He would kiss each one later wishing for them to last forever.

“You’re insatiable,” you blushed.

“Why wouldn’t I be? I have my favourite meal right where I want her,” he said and began to trail his tongue down your stomach towards your sensitive clit. He wanted you on his tongue, in his senses… everywhere.

“Do you remember your safeword?” he asked. It was what he always did before you both did anything sexual beyond intimate fondling and brisk kisses.

“Time,” you said.

“Good girl.” He half grinned.

He continued teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue, absorbing every twitch and shake of your body.

“Wriothesley,” you spluttered. “I need you.”

“You’ve got me,” he said.

He slipped his tongue into you, circling, lapping, like a man possessed he devoured you. His nose brushed against your skin. It was knowing his eyes were on you the entire time that made everything feel ten times more stimulating. You let out a quiet gasp and gripped his hair.

“You’re so good for me.” He gave you a broad lick. “So perfect.”

He replaced his tongue with his fingers, curling them inside you and scissoring them open to stretch you out not that you needed much with how well he had fucked you before. Still, it was the thought of giving you pleasure that spurred him on.

“Wriothesley,” you said.

He hummed to show you he was listening, the vibration made you quiver.

“I want your cuffs.”

He paused and pulled away, perking up. He secretly loved it when you surprised him.

“Oh? What for?”

You smiled and gestured for his cuffs. He scrambled off the queen-sized bed and walked butt naked to where he left his cuffs. You admired his ass from the bed. He had a great ass, he knew it too, it was why he wore his jacket around Meropide. His nickname Ricecake had gotten around the Fortress years ago and whilst it was okay when he was a convict, he didn’t need that level of familiarity as the Duke. Besides, you were the only one he wanted observing his ass.

He climbed back onto the bed and handed them to you, the spiked metal looked so good in your hands. His eyes flickered to the rings on your ring finger—his rings. The ones he gave you when he officially proposed.

He never ended up fighting that day due to the administrator’s sudden disappearance.

He recalled how you had run around Meropide searching for him, your hair a mess, the beginnings of one of the love bites he had left dauntingly close to view, poking out of one of his shirts that you had thrown on instead of your own. He recalled how you had slammed open the door to the administrator’s office, breathless, beautiful, with your eyes full of tears to him sitting behind the desk organising the abandoned files. He recalled how he claimed you again there, in that office over and over and over again. The other man’s ring was long gone somewhere down the many drains of Meropide, and your sentence cleared not long after. There were perks to becoming the administrator of the fortress of Meropide. Perks that had the maid of that man who hurt you disappear to a place only known by Celestia, the Archons, Navia, and Wriothesley. Neuvillette knew too but unless there was a trial, he would keep his nose out of it.

You knelt on the bed swinging the cuffs on your fingers.

“Where have you gone?” you cooed bringing him back to reality.

“Mm, nowhere, just admiring the view,” he said coolly.

You shook your head and pushed him to lay back against the pillows.

“You’re working too hard, your grace. I can fix that,” you said and straddled him.

Reaching above him, you cuffed his arms to the bed frame.

He cocked a brow and playfully tugged against the restraints.

“Ah, I hope so,” he said.

You kissed the corner of his mouth, smirking.

His cock twitched at the memory of your first time together.

“Remember the safeword?” you asked.

Seeing you sat on him, your eyes filled with life, he couldn’t care less that you didn’t remember your past before Meropide. He didn’t care that you didn’t recall how he was the boy you gave bread to once when you spotted him wandering away from his home. How you had given him, a complete stranger what looked like your last piece of food because he was sitting alone. He didn’t care if all you remembered was your last two and a half decades together… because you were here now with him. You chose him just as he chose you.

“Time," he responded.

masterlist

Reblogs w/ tags and comments are very much appreciated! If you enjoyed this, please feel free to consider dropping a follow as well! <3

Also, if you like my writing and wish to support me, please consider buying me a coffee via Ko-fi!

#wriothesley imagines #genshin impact #wriothesley fanfic #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley smut #genshin smut #fluff #smut #angst #light angst #angst with a happy ending

520 notes · View notes

genshinmp3 · 9 months ago

Text

Eschatologia Iudicata from Pelagic Primaevality Qian Ding, Lunan, HOYO-MiX

#genshin #genshin impact #pelagic primaevality #fontaine #combat:boss #fontaine:combat #all devouring narwhal #qian ding #lunan #court of fontaine region #archon quest #chapter 4: masquerade of the guilty #plays during phase 1 (whale form) against the all-devouring narwhal

21 notes · View notes

riminiscensce · 6 months ago

Text

WEDDING DAY

CHARACTER … neuvillette

SYNOPSIS … neuvillette starts to learn more about wedding ceremonies all because of you

NOTES … my last post about this man wasn’t enough

CONTENTS … sfw , angst , you’re called as bride , not entirely proofread

Word count … 1491

Neuvillette doesn’t know much when it comes to wedding customs.

Throughout the past years he remained in Fontaine as the Chief Justice, he had never attended a ceremony wherein people vow their amour for the one whom they devote their love to. It wasn’t like he never received an invitation for an occasion as such, he just never had the time nor the knowledge on how to.

The closest Neuvillette got to a marriage was a few that regarded an offensive case that he had come upon to adjudge in court. Not really a flattering way to introduce the concept to him.

But ever since you’ve been engaged, Neuvillette always found himself ogling at the perfectly sized ring around your finger. How can he not? It always glistened so beautifully underneath any light’s dazing glare, it was hard not to look at it when you were the one now in possession of it. Neuvillette always feels a sense of wistfulness whenever his eyes catch it, a poignant smile following after.

He is truly happy, he tells himself that.

The engagement was an open window of opportunity for Neuvillette to learn more about this custom, no longer looking at it from the perspective of crimes and judgment, but more on a sentimental view.

Neuvillette knows weddings are a big deal, especially in a city filled with romantic concepts of culture and history. From the charmingly expensive wedding closet, to the tasteful selection of cookery that was specifically made for such a matter, it was something the people of Fontaine always enjoyed preparing for.

Expectedly, many people will also attend. Not only your friends and family, but most likely some people who have worked in the Palais Mermonia with Neuvillette. You and him have known each other for a long time, the people were curious how a wedding with the Chief Justice’s aide will turn out. For what sounded like a mere canard, it started to become true.

Then Neuvillette caught you while you were carefully folding shut an envelope in your hands, soon sharing it to the melusines just outside of his office. The wedding was one of the things that stayed in the melusines’ mind throughout the week. He can’t help but smile at your gesture, welcoming the melusines he cares for, he didn’t even need to tell you about it. The friendly bunch always expressed their excitement whenever they would pass by Neuvillette.

Then one of them gave him the envelope you made, his eyes carefully scattering over the soft trails of elegantly trailed ink once the paper inside had been unfolded. It was kept simple yet opulent, something Neuvillette realized that he really liked. He wonders if you made it specifically for his own preference, likely not, perhaps it was just the standard way of arranging an invitation for wedding ceremonies; Neuvillette didn’t know.

He decided to keep a copy of it in his office, something to be kept as a reminder for when he has the time to reminisce in rue in the future.

The next thing Neuvillette knew about was the buffet. A wide selection of delicacies of the city and even of other regions. It was him who joined you on the day when you were to meet with a chef about your own preference for the food. You sat beside him in a lavish room with two servings of pastries on the glossy table.

For the rest of the time, it was you who mostly decided. Neuvillette didn’t want to influence much on it, though he gives his own opinion whenever you would kindly ask him what he personally thinks.

Neuvillette found himself to be amused whenever you’d have such a difficult time picking on which would end up on the wedding. You didn’t have the heart to pick only a few when there were many choices to choose from on the table. That was when Neuvillette suggested picking everything.

At first, he thought he must have done something wrong when your face of shock made itself apparent to him. But it wasn’t until you expressed your bashfulness at this, considering that it was Neuvillette paying for the food. In the end, he insisted, treating this as one last gift from him before the wedding.

The next thing he heard you were going to check upon was your wedding gown. That time, Neuvillette didn’t come with you to the tailor, he figured that your dress was something to save for the actual occasion itself.

After you had gone, Neuvillette was left to muddle over his own attire for the ceremony. What should he wear? It would have to be something equally as attractive as your gown, though not as much as he doesn’t want to be the main focus of the wedding. That should be you.

Then the day finally came.

It wasn’t until then that Neuvillette found out that the bride and the groom were to not see each other before the actual ceremony started. It was Furina who told him that, as well as the melusines who kindly helped him get ready for the event. That morning, Neuvillette finds himself unable to see you.

When he was getting ready, that was when Neuvillette learned a lot more about weddings. How the order of people would be lined up, who comes after who, certain roles like bridesmaids and ring bearers. In a way, he took the time to learn about it as much as possible that time, maybe because he has already decided this would be the last time he’d entangle himself with a custom like this.

“You look extra fancy today, Monsieur Neuvillette!” One of the melusines greeted him, they were already making their way to the front entrance. “We’re so happy for the bride! You must be really happy too!” Yes, he truly is.

A few family and friends of yours greeted him by the entrance, surprised and honored courtesies were exchanged. You still haven't arrived yet, perhaps only after everybody is inside will you get there. Other guests started to greet him politely, expressing how his presence in this wedding was one that many of the people will forever remember. Though Neuvillette thinks this was rather an exaggeration.

Then the music inside the venue started to play, it was something Neuvillette liked as well. He realized that you must have taken his suggestion on having the venue to be indoors rather than outside. Everyone knows how unpredictable Fontaine’s weather can be, this helps a lot. He likes it this way as well, not just because of his own preference, but for convenience’s sake.

He wouldn’t want to ruin the wedding with heavy rain coming down, befalling on every corner of the land. As much as Neuvillette doesn’t want it to happen, he can’t help but feel a forlorn as the corner of his eyes catches the other attendees. He could feel a pensive bubble building up in his chest, wanting to escape through his throat in a form of a quiet cry.

Then you arrived. That was when Neuvillette could feel how misty his eyes had become. But no tears fell, rather it was rain. This continued as you walked down the aisle with a bundle of flowers native to Fontaine. He was thankful that the music was able to cover the heavy pounding of the rain outside, relief also washed through him when he realized no eyes would fall on his figure; every attention was on you.

The wedding vows and the slipping of newlywed rings was something that passed by so fast in his eyes, though in reality, Neuvillette didn’t intend to pay full attention to it. But he felt like he needed to watch you promise your everlasting love. He felt like he needed to as your friend. At the same time, he desperately didn’t want to feel like a weep would break out anytime he would breathe.

Before he knew it, it was finally time to take pictures. An image to be kept for whenever you would reminisce in revelry in the future.

He heard the shuffling of your family and friends around, he was also included in by the other guests and the melusines. He even wonders if he’s proper enough to be suited for a wedding picture. Neuvillette smiles before the bright flash of the camera flickered before the sound of the device snapping.

Finally, it was time for the bride and the groom to take their own picture.

Neuvillette smiles. Something he found odd considering he wasn’t included in the picture this time.

What was the sound of the camera snapping and the people cheering, only the sound of heavy rain was what Neuvillette could hear during that time. What was accompanied by a whimsical ballad of the piano’s romantic notes, only a tearing sonance befriended Neuvillette. It was neither a longing breath nor a regretful grieve, it was only something that the heart could make.

rimi’s notes

haven’t posted in a while because I was focusing on my senku fic omg but like I just had this idea for neuvi and wanted to write it

tbh i started to drop genshin and hsr and focused on my other hobbies so that’s also why 😭

hearts / reblogs / follows are very much appreciated !

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #neuvillette x reader

143 notes · View notes

valwrote · 1 year ago

Text

A PREPOSTEROUS PREDICAMENT

pairing : neuvillette x fem!reader

summary: a baker gets framed for a crime she didn't commit. neuvilette comes to her aid as they embark on a crime solving journey full of banter, mysteries and connections.

contains : mention of poisoning, murder and death, usage of she/her pronouns, hurt/comfort if you squint, playful banter, a bit crack energy, neuvillette is such a softie, mentions of voicelines from neuvillette's chatacter quest (no major spoliers), more of a story than a romance based but it has its fluff moments, slight ooc, alot of dividers (sorry), may be incorrect in terms of court proceedings and laws overall because I am not a law student :')

a/n: this was based on @sxttoruu 's idea. thank you for inspiring me to write something. This isn't as romantic because I want to keep it realistic as people who are getting to know each other closely for the first time don't immediately fall in love. Enjoy!

p.s. italics are for flashbacks or events that have already taken place.

not proof read.

w/c: 4.5k words

I heard they were enemies turned lovers."

“Rotten to the core!”

“You are the murderer!”

Neuvilette has beheld this sight yet again. His deep hues gently rested their gaze on the commotion before him. Despite upholding his position as the Ludex of the Fontaine Court – it seemed nothing more than a theatre segment.

Recently, cases were mundane and yawn-evoking. Lady Furina had attained severe apathy towards all conflicts.

However, one thing which had created the slightest amusement in his life was one bakery and perhaps the best bakery in the Court of Fontaine region. The owner was a kind soul with the brightest smile and the sweetest loaves of bread in her arsenal. That baker was Y/N.

Though Neuvillette never exchanged words with her, that smile was enough to brighten his day. The bakery was always bustling with not a single moment of solitude. Many asked the secret behind these one-of-a-kind baked goods, to which she would always reply with “Love.”

Yet things spiralled into turmoil on one faithful day.

It was the 50th anniversary of Fontaine’s most prosperous business company. Mr Cornielle was a reputed man with expertise in his niche. He had commissioned the baker as his caterer for the occasion, to which the baker complied.

The party was a grand set-up. Fontaine’s most influential people had been invited as the guests but would be deemed incomplete without the Ludex and the Archon herself.

The blissful environment with bubbling refreshments was a sight to behold. Neuvilette acquainted himself with few folks, yet his eyes drifted across the room, searching for something or perhaps someone.

Was it the baker he sought? He didn’t know himself. Neuvillette constantly had his head boggled with numerous unanswered questions that he kept to himself. Yet it was unequivocal that the baker piqued his interest. Neuvillette just couldn’t pinpoint the reason.

The laughter that surged through the hallways turned into chaos and screams of distress as the host. Mr Cornielle crashed to the floor, mid-conversation, seemingly foaming at his mouth.

“Everyone, please remain quiet and step away from the victim,” Neuvillette spoke up, creating distance between the guests and the fallen man. “Such gal! To commit such a heinous crime that to in my presence. The perpetrator must not fear anything.” Lady Furina marvelled at the audacity of the offender while taking in the situation up-front.

Neuvillette brushed over her antics and turned to face the person conversing with the victim before the incident, his eyes searching for answers.

“He was talking about the company and its achievements while sipping on the wine before…this.” The person in question stammered out, shaken from the whole ordeal.

“Anything else?”

“Well, he was taste-testing the delicacies before the wine.”

Gasps erupted from the crowd as the heads turned towards the baker, who tended to the service trays. Y/N lifted her head, a sweet and proud smile dancing across her lips that soon disappeared after noticing all the eyes on her.

“She did it! She killed Mr Cornielle.”

“Arrest her!”

“Lady Furina, do something!?”

“Seize her,” Furina spoke up, pointing at the baker, whose eyes had widened like saucers. “No, please! I didn’t do anything, I swear! Don’t take me away!” The baker's pleas received no sympathy as the guards dragged her away. She could hear the murmurs amongst the crowd.

“Such heinous act.”

“Wonder if all those years of goodwill were a mere facade?”

The baker’s head hung low from shame. “I have failed you, father.” she grieved and was taken away from the scene.

The stage lights flashed open, highlighting the accused. Trials in Fontaine are like drama, is a saying that lived up to its name.

“Charges have been pressed against the baker regarding murder through poisoning. All shreds of evidence are in opposition to the condemned. Would the accused like to speak up for themselves?” Neuvillette’s voice bellowed throughout the hall as all eyes narrowed at the person in the middle.

“I didn’t do it, I swear!” the baker pleaded.

“Nonsense! Who else would dare poison such an influential man?”

“I would like everyone to maintain the decorum of the court.” Neuvillette commented. “As all evidence seems to line up against Ms Y/N. I hereby declare her guilty until further investigation on this matter. Guards to escort her to the Fortress of Meropide. The court is adjourned.”

The rainfall after that trial was full of doubt, leaving a gloomy aftermath.

“Oh! hydrodragon, hydrodragon. Please don’t cry.”

The Fortress of Meropide, in all its grandeur, was the last place the baker wanted to be in. She longed for the bright sun and brisk winds. The cold shackles clung to her hardworking palms as she sat behind bars. It was not long before footsteps echoed down the dark hallways. She could make out a faint outline of a familiar silhouette.

“Monsieur Neuvillette?” the baker croaked out. She could see the Ludex of Fontaine in all his glory right in front of her eyes. An aura of authority followed him. The baker found her words stuck in her throat.

“I want the truth.” He said, getting straight to the point.

“I didn’t do it. I made those dishes with my own two hands. I swear upon my father’s legacy that I lack the spine to commit such a felony.” The baker stated without a single falter. Neuvillette seemed pleased with the answer. He admired the baker’s willpower to stand up for herself. Humans were unpredictable.

“Answer this. If given a chance, would you do anything to prove your innocence?” He asked that question. Humans were peculiar in terms of communication. One word may sting them to their core, while the other may send them over the moon.

“You are going to grant that baker a monitored bail?” Furina asked, baffled.

“Yes. I hope you don’t object to my actions, Lady Furina.” Neuvillette nodded, reinforcing his previous statement.

“But why? All the attestations are against her?”

“...” Neuvillette remained silent before getting up and leaving.

“HEY! NEUVILLETTE! Where are you going!?” He could hear the last of her words before exiting the room.

You will see much in the human world, from the delightful to the depressing. One day, when you have dwelled amongst humanity long enough, you will bring judgment as a spokesperson for Fontaine’s past.

Those words made Neuvillette question his emotions. He was in a battle between his sense of justice and morality. Part of him couldn’t accept the baker as the culprit. There had to be something that was missing. Something purposefully hidden from the public.

“I will. Anything to prove my innocence.” the baker affirmed his question. Neuvillette had to suppress the smile threatening to show itself. “Very well. Then, I shall grant you a monitored bail during the next hearing.” He spoke, maintaining the formality in his tone before turning around to leave.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Monseiur, who will monitor me?”

“Ah yes, That would be me.”

"As per the law, a person without a lawyer has two choices. Either get a government-assigned lawyer to defend them or fight for their case themselves." The Court was crowded and bustling. It irked Neuvillette just a bit. To these people, trials were drama shows they could flock to. Neuvillette never liked trials being dramatic affairs in his time as the Chief Justice.

"How would the accused like to defend their stead?"

"I will fight my case myself." Y/N spoke up, slight uncertainty in her tone.

"Is that woman crazy?'

"No way. This case keeps getting interesting!"

The cacophony of mockery and laughter made her confidence plummet to the ground. It was hopeless. How could she possibly fight her case alone? She should go with the lawyer.

"Granted. You have two weeks to gather evidence to prove your innocence under a monitored bail. If you fail, life imprisonment for homicide will be your sentence.”

"You will be monitoring me, Monsieur?!"

"Yes. Any objections?"

"No, just why?"

Neuvillette remained silent. He seemed to be threading his words carefully.

"....to find answers to certain questions. So far, morality is winning."

"Huh?" The baker tilted her in his cryptic response.

"Nothing. The hearing will begin at 8 a.m. sharp. Be punctual."

"The Court is adjourned."

Y/N stood in the now-empty courtroom before she spotted Neuvilette approach her. “Here, this should help you on this journey of fighting for your innocence.” He handed her the book and bid her farewell. Y/N brought the book closer to her face to analyse it better.

GUIDE TO CONDUCTING INVESTIGATIONS AS A NOVICE.

ANYONE CAN FOLLOW THIS QUICK AND EASY GUIDE!

Y/N blinked in utter confusion before chuckling at his antics.

STAGE 1: FAMILIARIZING YOURSELF WITH THE PAST

Additional: Familiarize yourself with the Chief Justice.

The clock was now ticking.

The investigation had kicked off. Y/N found herself more immersed in her thoughts. She was digging out potential clues and links. Delving deep into Mr. Cornielle’s past gave her an insight into the whole matter. Who was he meeting? What were his plans? Which people did he get into a disagreement with often? All questions seemed to answer themselves one by one.

Y/N sat in her room, deep in thought. She was under house arrest as of now. Neuvillette would accompany her around when she was outside. When busy, she would just hang out in his office. Y/N had developed a sense of truth when it came to Neuvillette. He had certainly earned it with his actions. He was a man clouded with mystery.

Though, he did seem to have a strange liking towards melusines and magic shows. She found that endearing about him. Neuvillette was a man, gentle and poise, gracing every place he went to. Though he was a dork when it came to said things.

He would mutter curses each time his hair or robe got stuck in one of the chairs. He tended to be a food critic. He may be polite about it, but he wasn't the best at hiding that he disliked dry food. If the food wasn't wet, he didn't want it. Both of them had grown to appreciate the other’s company.

"If my memory serves me right, Mr Cornielle in a political rivalry with Mr Etienne? They both clash heads. Their history is notorious among the locals. He can be a potential suspect."

"I have worked for that Etienne fellow. Before I started my business as an independent baker, I used to work for him to earn my daily meals. I knew that man is never up to any good. I have heard him threaten to kill Mister Corneille on multiple occasions."

"That is a big lead. You can work on that and visit the crime scene to scope the evidence."

"Wait. Are you helping me, Monsieur?" she mused- a smirk creeping onto her face.

"No. I am mere brainstorming. All the brains applied here are yours. I am simply giving my input."

"Uh-huh..."

"The investigators found a discarded poison vial. It had moisture on its exterior. From the taste of the water, it must've been transported here from Sumeru to Fontaine's port."

"I see. That can be a big clue if we find the receipt- wait, did you say– from the taste of the water??"

"..."

"Monsieur Neuvillette, are you implying that you licked the bottle and figured out it came from Sumeru? More importantly, how do you even know the difference between the waters of different nations?!"

"I think Lady Furina is calling me. Farewell."

"You aren’t denying that you licked the bottle! HEY! COME BACK! I NEED ANSWERS!"

STAGE 2: GOING TO THE CRIME SCENE

Additional: Getting jump scared and falling into a secret room only to get spooked again.

Y/N felt like she was an incarnation of Sherlock Holmes. She kept inspecting every surface for potential clues, scoping out corners in classic detective fashion. She couldn’t spot anything connected to the crime. That was until she entered the changing rooms. Something didn’t seem right to her. She didn’t put anything in the delicacies. It must’ve been one of the waiters who must’ve tinkered with the food.

The room was dimly lit and elegant. The lockers were neat and had mirrors on the end of the room. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

“You are supposed to inform me before wandering off by yourself. Might I remind you that you are still under monitored bail,” Neuvillette approached her from behind. Y/N, startled by his appearance, lost her footing and fell towards the mirror. To their shock, the mirror flipped open. She crashed into a dark, dusty room.

“Are you okay?” Neuvillette asked with worry before entering the room behind the mirror. It was hard to make out what was in there.

“I am okay.” She groaned before opening the flashlight. The room was empty. She walked a bit further, swaying the flashlight left-right to emit any corner hiding some clue. She spotted what seemed to be an identification sigil.

“Monsieur, I found something.”

“Hm? What is it?” Neuvillette approached her and inspected the sigil. “It is a Fatui sigil. One which operatives use.” She made a mental note of it and flashed her flashlight up ahead, only to meet a horrifying sight that made her shriek and cling to Neuvillette’s tall stature. He was startled as well.

“What’s wrong?”

“Up ahead! It’s a man tied up.”

The statement raised his guard as he took the flashlight and pointed it straight. It was a man tied up with ropes and a gag in his mouth. He seemed to be unconscious and only in his underwear. “I would like to propose a theory.” He started. “It would appear that the culprit caught his man and disguised themselves as a waiter to sneak into the party undetected.”

“That can be a possibility. After all, I did suspect that one of the waiters messed with the food.”

“I will call the concerned authorities to get this man to a doctor. You can get off me now. I never knew you so easily frightened.” Neuvillette mused. He thought he had been amidst humans long enough to know about their behaviour. However, every time, a new antic would reveal itself.

“Scared? Me? Of course not! I was just making sure you weren’t scared!” She defensively retorted.

“By clinging on to me for dear life? How so?” Neuvillette mused at her.

“How about we save the man in bondage first?” She brushed over his question and changed the topic. Neuvillette chose not to pry further and left to call for assistance.

STAGE 3: ONE CLUE LEADS TO ANOTHER

Additional: Quality bonding time with the Ludex.

“I am not fighting a Fatui Operator. I am a baker! Do you expect me to fight someone with a baguette!?” Y/N gaped at him.

“If you fight with a baguette or any pastry for that matter, the Operator will first chuckle at your antics and then proceed to dispose of you,” Neuvillette stated the obvious and kept walking straight. Mont Esus East was a mountainous terrain. The walking made the baker’s leg feel like jellies.

“How much longer do we have to walk!” She whined and stopped walking. “A bit more. Don’t give up now. We can’t let this turn into a futile attempt.” Neuvillette ushered her to keep going. After traversing for what felt like an eternity, they spotted a small camp.

“Okay. Monsieur, I am serious. How are we going to fight those tough guys.” Y/N patiently waited for him to explain his plan, but nothing came. “We go and engage in battle. It is a straightforward plan.” Neuvillette began approaching the camp. He didn’t strike her as someone who could fight off bad guys. She watched as Neuvillette made quick work of the Operators.

“Woah- you don’t come off as someone who can brawl!” Y/N marvelled, her eyes twinkling in admiration.

“I don’t recall ever reading about a judge who can fight.” Neuvillette shrugged.

“You are right, Monsieur. The stereotype of all judges being oldies is quite common among people. No offence.”

“Offence taken.”

“What? HEY! We both know I was joking!” Y/N quickly replied. She didn’t want to anger him unintentionally.

“So was I.”

“Huh?”

“Nevermind,” Neuvillette sighed. It appeared to him that he had to work on his people skills. The baker brushed over the awkward atmosphere and examined the records inside the camp. There were all sorts of legal documents. Old, damp or torn, you name it.

“Gosh, so hard to make out what exactly is written on these.” The baker rummaged through the piles of paper only to find a slightly torn document. It was from a small-scale herbal pharmacy in Sumeru. The document talked about a poison capable of killing someone in under a minute. What stood out the most was the signature at the bottom of the recipient.

“This is it. That is no doubt Etienne’s signature.” Neuvillette spoke, seeing the document himself.

“Let’s go. We must show this to everyone.”

“Not so fast. Night has caved in. We should stay here and leave tomorrow at sunrise.” He quickly shunned her advances.

“But Monsieur!”

“No buts.” He remained firm on his decision. Had it been just him, he would’ve departed despite the darkness, but now, with a person by his side, he felt responsible for their safety and chose prevention instead.

Silence engulfed the camp before the baker spoke, “It's funny how quickly people change opinions. All this time, I have done nothing but feed people and bring smiles to their faces, yet I got accused of something I didn’t do. People can be so shallow.” Neuvillette’s gaze soften. He understood the feeling of becoming an outcast better than anyone. “I agree.”

“Monsieur, why are you helping me?”

“I apologise if it comes off as something I am doing for my gain, but I am doing this to help you. I can’t explain it, but some part of me kept telling me that there is more than what meets the eye and that I must delve deeper. As the Chief Justice, I can’t afford to be shallow and only go off based on what I see. There is always more to the truth than rumours and gossip.” Neuvillette voiced his reasoning. He could hear hiccups from the baker, an indication of tears.

His heart ached. This situation was Neuvillette’s flaw. He always seemed to get emotionally affected by the plight of people. “I am aware that I am not in a position to say this, but you are worth fighting for. Everyone is. Each individual deserves a chance.” He wasn’t the best when it came to comforting people. He could only try.

“Y-you think so? I don’t know how I will rebound from this incident. My business will be in shambles. I won’t be able to fulfil my promise to my father.” she wiped her tears away. “I may not be the best at giving solutions, but if you trust my judgement, I’d like to quote, “When there is a will, there is a way.” That captures my advice for you.” Neuvillette mustered his best uplifting tone, a contrast to his usual authoritative one.

“Thank you." The baker paused before continuing, "Oh! Look, it’s raining.” The baker pointed out. “Apologies, this is going to be an inconvenience tomorrow.” Neuvillette sighed.

“Why are you sorry, Monsieur?”

“No reason.”

The baker sighed. Neuvillette was a tough one to figure out.

“Hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don’t cry.” The baker muttered under her breath, which caught his attention. “You believe in that local legend as well? I don’t get why people think that the hydro dragon weeps. Perhaps he gets stirred by all the tears that fall on this land.” Neuvillette pondered about the legend in slight exasperation.

The baker chuckled at him. “Perhaps people think that the hydro dragon deserves comfort as well.”

Monsoon had dawned upon Fontaine.

"When is this rain going to stop?"

"My vacation plans are spoilt."

Neuvillette could hear them all. A solemn feeling engulfed him as the raindrops collided with the floor, creating pitter-patter Sorrows, grievances, questions, mysteries and conflicts, all get washed away with the flowing waters.

The human world was both delightful and depressing. Neuvillette had grown accustomed to his responsibilities, yet when the clear sunny skies shined above him, he was mindful of enjoying the warmth they brought, reminiscing the memories of his friends who wished him stress-free days.

“Hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don’t cry.” he heard a young boy yell that phrase amidst the rain.

“Archenoul! Honey, come inside. You will get wet!” his mother called out.

“Coming! I was just comforting the hydro dragon!”

He couldn't stop his lips from curling up into a smile.

He had always questioned his existence. He tried to connect his past, answering questions that remained unanswered. Yet the sunny days and small moments like such burnt all those thoughts away with their radiance and brought light to his life.

“Comforting the hydro dragon? A silly idea. It is endearing.” Neuvillette spoke after breaking away from his thoughts.

“I know. Wonder who came up with it.” The baker chuckled. The rain slowly came to a halt as time progressed.

STAGE FOUR: FIGHTING THE CASE

“I would like to request Mr. Etienne to come up front.” The baker stood with confidence in front of all eyes.

“Very well. Why exactly do you require my presence?” Etienne stepped up. He was an equally influential businessman. His involvement only made this trial more interesting. “You are known to have a long history with Mr. Cornielle. Both of you were involved in a toxic rivalry.”

“Are you implying that I killed him?” The man’s face showed hints of anger.

“I never said that.” The baker quickly replied and moved on. “There was a vial in one of the dustbins. It contained the poison that killed Mr.Cornielle. It originates from Sumeru.”

“How can you prove that it is from Sumeru? That is unless you purchased that bottle yourself, Ms. Y/N.” The man turned the tables. It was now a game of volleyball. The only question that remained was, who’s court will the ball end up in by the end?

“You are right. I can’t prove the bottle’s origin, but this paper does.” The baker pulled out the torn sheets found earlier at the camp. “These are receipts of purchases. Multiple items were imported from Sumeru, including a vial. These documents happen to have your signature on them.”

“Let’s be real Mr.Etienne. Either you confess your crime, or I will narrate your ‘masterplan’ in front of everyone,” Y/N looked him dead in the eye.

“Fine. I did kill that bastard with my own hands.” Gasps echoed in the hall. Lady Furina had an expression of shock on her face. “That stupid Cornielle. He always found a way to be an obstacle on my way to success. If he had kept his nose out of my business…”

Everyone could tell at that given moment that the man was a lunatic.

“I did sneak into the party that night. I disguised myself as a waiter and snuck the poison into his food. The Fatui were very helpful in the import of the goods without raising suspicions. Just as I had planned, all the blame was pinpointed at you, Ms.Y/N.” He started laughing sinisterly.

The atmosphere had turned eerie and cold. People could feel goosebumps on their arms. “My plan was perfect, but an anomaly snuck in.” The businessman gazed at Neuvillette, who sat in his chair, eyeing the entire scene.

There was a moment of brief silence.

“It seems that it is clear now. Mr Etienne killed Mr Cornielle out of sheer jealousy. He used his alliance with the Fatui to obtain the poison to kill him in cold blood. Then he skillfully made it appear as Ms Y/N’s fault who was sent to jail while Mr Etienne roamed free. Mr Etienne, you are declared guilty of homicide, framing the innocent, inflicting violence and importing illegal goods across national borders. You are sentenced to life imprisonment till your execution date.” Neuvillette stated and ordered the guards to take the businessman away.

“I know you were involved in this Ludex! I will make you pay!” the man screamed till taken away by the guards. Neuvillette sighed before continuing,

“I declare Ms Y/N not guilty and wish her a prosperous business from here on. The court is adjourned.” He finished as the Court slowly began to clear out. Y/N let out a breath of relief. It felt like a huge boulder was taken off her shoulders. She had proved herself innocent.

STAGE FIVE: CELEBRATE YOUR VICTORY

Additional: towards the future with a new special someone.

It had been a few months since that fateful incident. Everyone's tongues had the same question. How did the baker do it? Neither the baker nor the Ludex reveals it. The bakery’s business was booming more than ever. People came, enjoyed their meals and left. Life was back to normal.

The evening sun was making its descent. The shop was now empty and Y/N was busy cleaning the counters.

“Is the shop still open?” a familiar voice made her ears perk up. “Monsieur Neuvillette!” The baker turned around to see the familiar blue and white robe and tall stature. “Greetings I hope you haven’t faced any unpleasantries up till now.” the man asked as the baker tackled him into a hug. It caught the Chief Justice off guard, yet a warm feeling spread across his chest.

“Oh- sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” the baker profusely apologized.

“I believe it is fine. We have spent time together long enough to be well acquainted.” Neuvillette waved his hand dismissively.

“Come! Sit down! I will get you something.” The baker offered, but Neuvillette shook his head and politely declined.

“Maybe next time. I was just passing by so, I thought I would pay a quick visit. My schedule is full till next month but I will be sure to come whenever time permits.”

“You better come! I will serve you all of my bestsellers!” the baker shot him a toothy grin.

“Is this perhaps a way for you to mug me off my money?” Neuvillette raised a brow at her. Will she get his attempt at humour this time?

“Mug you? No! It is called a business strategy.” The baker proudly chimed with her hands on her hips. She did take his joke this time.

Neuvillette was enjoying this small yet sweet conversation with the baker. It was lively, and lighthearted and felt nice after a long day. He could get used to the baker’s effervescent personality.

He feels a bit queasy. What are these feelings? Such unrestful emotions are similar to what humans feel when they enjoy someone’s company. Why is this happening all of a sudden?

"Neuvillette!" His thoughts are cut short by her gleaming smile. "Thank you."

It had been a while since he heard those words. His statement from earlier had now become a concrete thought in his mind. The baker was worth choosing his morality over his judgment for.

A smile finally shined on his face.

"You're welcome."

©definitelysel

please do not copy, claim as your own or translate. plagiarism will not be tolerated.

thank you for your time <3

#neuvillette x reader #neuvilette x you #genshin impact #genshin x reader #neuvillette #neuvillette fluff #neuvillette x y/n #genshin fanfic #genshin fic #genshin fluff #neuvillette genshin

380 notes · View notes

fancyfeathers · 11 months ago

Text

Yandere Wriothesley encountering his escaped darling (normalized yandere AU)

Connecting with the Yandere Neuvillette and Wriothesley series- Yandere Neuvillette & Wriothesly’s darling thoughts, Nothing You Can Take From Me Was Worth Keeping , I’m Bad But Then Your No Prize Either , post story headcannons, Pankration ring rules, Heartbreaking comparisons, Wriothesley’s darling escaping

took inspiration from this scene from Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes

Wriothesley’s darling escaped with the help of her mother to Natlan, having nothing but the clothes on her back, a bag of food, her vision, and her father’s guitar. There she encountered a group of traveling musicians, like her, some of them on the run, others just didn’t have a family outside of this chosen on, no where else to go. She joins them and becomes apart of this family, spending nights under the open sky, looking at the stars above as they sing around the camp fire and sleep by each other for warmth, and the days, traveling from town to town, and doing the only thing they know how to, preforming. With them she went from angry, stubborn, and depressed from when she was with the Duke to strong, joyful, and sassy in the best way possible with this family.

Meanwhile for the Duke of Meropide it has been years since he has seen his darling and it was draining on him. He missed her snide comments, he missed her voice, he missed how she would bite at his lips when he tried to kiss her, it was still her touch. While the Duke is draining away his darling is thriving, finding family, and perhaps even love as she opens her heart again to one of her band members, a cello player, and a brilliant young man. So while Sigewinne is worrying about Wriothesley’s health, his darling is miles away kissing another man who actually treats her like a person, who doesn’t kidnap her, but gives her freedom.

It has been years and call them stupid but their groups decides it’s time they explored the world outside of Natlan. So they set out from region to region, Mondstadt (stopping to say hello to the darling’s family who fled there after helping her escape) Liyue, Sumeru, and so on, until they reach Fontaine. The group agreed to only stay there a few days and only give one performance, specifically in one of the poorer parts of the city, as to not draw the attention of the wealthier crowd, they’ll earn the keep plus some and then leave. Then on the night of the performance the darling sits down with her new lover and tells him of the put in her stomach, this feeling she has of something horrible happening. He tells her it’s just nerves and not to worry but she makes him promise that is something does happen that he’ll take the rest of the crew and run, don’t look back.

At the same time as all this Wriothesley gets forced out by the head nurse to get out of the Fortress and to go get some fresh air. So he sets out into the Court of Fontaine and hears whispers as he goes to a tea parlor that a traveling band is passing through. The wealthy women he is listening to scoff at the idea, such lowlife they say, but Wriothesley has nothing to loose so he decides to go watch since it may take his mind off his missing darling.

The performance buzzing with people, families, couples, children, the old, men, women, it’s just a lively environment. Then he hears whispers about how they can wait to hear her sing again, and how it’s been so long since she left Fontaine, let alone preform. The is a feeling of hope in the duke’s mind at this, a foreign feeling to him now and one what he cannot place. He shakes those thoughts away as he stands in the back and watches…

That’s when his heart stopped…

It was her…

Her dusty skirt twirling as she stepped onto the old stage, guitar in hand. She spoke to the crowd in that charismatic manner that she did to everyone, everyone but him. She was talking to her home again, a place she hasn’t been in what feels like forever. He watched as she held her guitar and began to sing, oh the first time he had heard her sing since she taken to the fortress and it was beautiful. His eyes were fixed on her as she sang, the lyrics should be like knifes to him with their meaning but he didn’t care…

Then she saw him, his heart soared…

and her heart sank…

she wanted to vomit when she saw the Duke, wanted to run, to scream, but she couldn’t…

Wriothesley watched as she trembled on her words but pushed on with the song and she looked away from him, her gaze shifting to another man, the cello player beside her, stepping over and pausing her singing to lean over and kiss the musician on the cheek which made the crowd cheer. The Duke felt his blood boil, but he could only silently grit his teeth and watch, starting a scene here would cause a panic…

for now he would let her enjoy her last preformance…

and don’t worry she won’t be dragged to the fortress alone now…

no her whole group broke the law, crossing the boarder without documentation…

is that not a law? Don’t worry he’ll talk to the Iudex of Fontaine about that, the man who’s darling was the singer’s best friend, who she ran with in the beginning and who she would share the same fate with in the end.

#yandere genshin #yandere genshin x you #yandere genshin imagines #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere wriothesley x reader #yandere wriothesley

158 notes · View notes

aquatik · 11 months ago

Text

it’s cold outside , neuvillette 𓆝

synopsis from the shark lover -> not many know much about fontaine’s iudex, but one thing is for sure he does not particularly like the cold. so there must be a reason behind him wanting to visit one of the coldest places on teyvat, right?

@franciosn merry christmas! hi, its your secret santa for @2023gisecretsanta :) i tried to include a little bit of furina and kept it as canon as i could! hope you enjoy <3

genshin impact masterlist

characters -> neuvillette x reader, furina appearance

word count -> 2.2k

content -> oneshot; fluff, (mostly)true cannon, pre-archon quest, mutual pinning, friends to future lovers — gender neutral reader

the people of fontaine know little of their chief justice, truthfully speaking. it was rare to see the iudex out on the lively streets of the court of fontaine where countless gathered and proceeded with their lives. if it wasn’t for his consistent appearance in opera epiclese seated at the chief justice’s post, the people of fontaine would’ve assumed he was a phantom in their nation.

nobody knows his true name as he wishes to be referred to as his surname.

he has always rejected any form of relationship with the people of fontaine outside of the court in order to remain professional. the only exception to this is the melusines, as he is always found sporting a small smile whenever talking to them. he’s truly does view them as the pride of fontaine.

and most importantly, he’s never been seen absent from the opera epiclese, ever so dedicated to his role as the chief justice of fontaine.

at least, this is what furina knows.

“EHHH!” furina exclaimed, shaking her hands outwards in disagreement. “No, no, no, that won’t do! Who’s going to be here to—uhm—run the court proceedings! Yes, run the court proceedings!” she smirked triumphantly, her hands resting on her hips.

she huffed proudly, taking a few steps towards neuvillette, “my dear iudex, you can’t simply abandon your post…what about all of the cases?”

she can confidently say she knows her chief justices by the back of her hand, in and out after all these years they’ve worked together. so why on teyvat would he be requesting a leave?

granted it was only for 5 days, but five days is five days! he’s never requested a leave, even refusing to take sick days!

he sighed, turning away to grab a glass of water, “lady furina, correct me if i’m wrong, but aren’t you the god of justice, focalors? surely you can handle a few days dealing with court proceedings, can't you?” he responded, fighting a chuckle from erupting from his throat at the expression now casted on her face.

“b-but—you don’t even like the cold! why in the name of teyvat would you visit one of the coldest places in the seven nations!” she stammered, taking small but quick steps towards him.

he was drinking from his glass, and she glanced to the side to see the glass bottle labeled from the cider lake found in mondstadt. she recalls him mentioning how the water in mondstadt had crisp and pure notes, not that she ever could tell the difference between the different waters of the nations. but wait, mondstadt?

she glanced back over at the chief justice who was still drinking from his glass, but the clear vessel gave furina a straight reflection on the light pink dusting his cheeks. on that note, she could also see the tips of his ears blushing the same color.

she recalls again the faint whispers of rumors of the recent appearances of the chief justices in the the streets, who recently began glancing at one specific floral vendor stand. it was common for this vendor to have a lot of visitors, after all, they offered flowers from the seven different regions. what was uncommon was for the iudex of fontaine to consistently begin visiting the vendor, leaving every time with a bouquet.

many thought their chief justice had a secret lover that he kept buying arrangements for, but furina knew otherwise. after all, how could she be the god of justice if she couldn’t solve such a simple case. it was clear to her: the secret lover, or at least, the one who caught his eye was the florist themself.

well it would explain why new vases of freshly cut and cared for flowers kept filling his office.

he shook his head, clearing his throat as he put the glass down, “well? am i wrong, lady furina?” he attempted to distract her, but he could see the playfulness in her eyes.

furina smirked knowingly at the distant view in the chief justice’s eyes, “fine, fine. i suppose i can handle the court for a few days…i will cast judgment upon our courts!” she exclaimed, laughing while one hand rested over her stomach, the other lifting her top hat as she twirled it in the air.

such theatrics only fitting for their archon.

“monsieur neuvillette, are you sure you can accompany me?” you asked, reaching to grab your travel bag. “i should be fine on my own, you needn’t worry about me.”

the iudex chuckled gently, shaking his head, “like i said, i’ve been meaning to visit myself. it’s no worries.”

as you both walked to romaritime harbor, you hummed. “monsieur, if you don’t mind me asking…” you started, waiting for his response.

he nodded, “please, go on. you have no reason to hesitate to ask me any questions.” he answered.

“well, forgive me if it’s forward, but why must you visit dragonspine?”

his eyes widened ever so slightly and you began to wonder if you indeed did overstep. before you could correct yourself, he gently laughed.

“i suppose i didn't say why. please forgive me,” he said, turning to you. “i have a particular— well, i guess you could call it a hobby. i like drinking and tasting different waters. i’ve heard the water in dragonspine has a distinct taste to it, and it’s best to drink it as fresh as possible.”

you hummed once again, nodding, “well that does make sense. different minerals and the area surrounding the water source do play a role in the taste of the water, i’d suppose.”

his eyes widened gently again and this time he turned away. what you didn’t know is that usually whenever he brought up this hobby of his, people usually brushed it off, saying that all water tasted the same.

strange…what was that feeling in his chest…

he paid no mind to it further and you both continued your journey to romaritime harbor.

after you both made it to the romaritime harbor, you landed in qingce village. from there, you both began to travel towards the city of freedom. you both had planned to stay the night at an inn and in the morning head off to dragonspine.

“you said it was a variety of cecilia you were looking for, correct?” neuvillette asked as you both entered the borders of the land of anemo.

“correct!” you answered with a small smile. you walked over to a small patch of cecilia’s you had spotted. crouching down, your palm rested on the petals of the white flower. “cecilia’s are a flower native to mondstadt. once when i was exploring the foot dragonspine, i found a different variety which grew in the colder climates. truthfully, those cecilia’s started my love for botany.”

neuvillette hummed, crouching down to your level. you glanced over at him and saw a rather serious expression, failing to notice his eyes softening.

you thought he was bored of your conversation but before you could apologize he hummed, “could you tell me more?”

“tell you more…?” you spoke with a hint of surprise in your voice.

he cleared his throat, standing back up, “well, yes. or perhaps that may be a conversation better suited for tomorrow’s expedition.”

you nodded, enjoying the subtle breeze passing by the both of you. “right…good idea. it’s about time to check in anyways.”

“monsieur neuvillette, are you sure you don’t require another jacket? i’d be more than willing to get you another one—“

“it's quite alright, i don’t mind the cold,” he spoke through chattering teeth, betraying his words. even so, you found it rude to push otherwise.

you both barely began to tread up the snow covered path and you could already tell he was uncomfortable by the cold. you had heard before how monsieur neuvillette wasn’t the most comfortable with the cold, which is why you found it strange he wanted to accompany you in the first place. surely there were companies that could send over dragonspine water?

nevertheless you sighed, rubbing your hands to create heat through friction, “alright, if you say so…”

besides the cold, the path up dragonspine always amazed you with its beauty. you could even see neuvillette appreciating said beauty though his shivering.

your original goal was to make it to starglow cavern, it’s where you’ve found the most cecilia’s in dragonspine in the past. but from the looks of it, you might have to call it early. you both made it to the entombed city and try as he might, you could tell neuvillette was starting to get uncomfortable with the cold.

“there should be a small patch of the cecilia’s up ahead from what i remember. we can grab those and head back down.”

neuvillette hummed, speaking through a shiver, “but surely you need much more than a small patch…”

you nodded, turning over to him, “well yes, but i’d rather not compromise your well-being. you might develop a cold at this rate,” you said, pointing at his nose how it had become red with the cold. strangely enough, it became redder in color when you called it out.

you turned around quickly, not wanting to keep him in this weather, “i think i see a few up ahead!” you began walking quicker as neuvillette followed your snow covered footprints.

and you were right, there was a patch of cecilia’s that had a distinct blue glow to them. you hypothesized a while back that they adapted to the climate of the mountains and this was the result of that adaptation. you carefully picked them and placed them into your basket that was lined with cryo packets to keep them fresh.

you hummed gleefully, “alright, let’s go!”

neuvillette sighed, shaking his head, “my apologies, i didn’t mean to cut your trip short…”

“it’s alright, sometimes we don’t know our own limits,” you smiled gently at him. “now come on, i don’t want to be responsible for getting the iudex sick.”

he wordlessly took the basket from you, carrying it for you as you both began to descend the portion of the mountain. “rest assured, i rarely get sick.”

“then let me make sure this isn’t one of those rare occasions,” you playfully added.

neuvillette was waiting for you in front of the gates of mondstadt as you both had agreed on last night once returning from dragonspine. it had been about 10 minutes after your agreed time and he was beginning to worry. at this point, he almost contemplated warning a guard, but he was your figure walking towards the gates.

your eyes widened. you didn’t expect him to be at the gates yet, wasn’t your meeting time in an hour? that’s when it hit you: you might’ve lost track of time.

“where have you been? i was starting to worry…” he started, walking towards you.

you laughed sheepishly, “sorry, i got sidetracked. but here, this is for you!” you said, reaching into your travel bag to get a flask of water. “i have a few more in my bag, don’t worry, it should stay fresh with the cryo packets.”

while you were explaining how the water should hopefully taste fresh, he had to think for a moment. water? well, yes. that was the original purpose he came along with you, or so everyone thought. but as he looked at you, you seemed to be in the same outfit from when you both went up dragonspine…

“thank you. but, did you go back up the mountain?” he asked, his eyes ever observant.

“not really,” you lied, “i had commissioned someone to get a few more cecilias and i thought it was a good opportunity to commission some of the flasks of water you wanted.”

“then why are you in mountain-climbing attire?” he asked, pushing more.

you hummed, “well i did have to meet them a bit into the mountain, i didn’t want to get cold.”

it took him a few moments but he nodded, “very well, my apologies for doubting you…”

then it dawned on him— you remembered his reason for joining you. you even went out of your way to commission someone to fulfill his wish. truthfully, he had exported water from dragonspine previously. he has heard water from dragonspine tastes better when freshly collected, but truthfully, he didn’t care about that this time around. he just wanted to spend time with you.

his cheeks dusted with pink at the realization as he turned away, coughing into his hand. “we should get going now.”

you nodded, “yeah, let me go change…” you gently responded, cheeks dusted with a blush that could’ve been confused for cold weather.

thankfully, he didn’t catch on it seemed. you did go back to dragonspine. while you could’ve commissioned someone to get more cecilias, you pride yourself in hand picking all the flowers in your store. there was also the fact you wanted to get neuvillette’s water. it made your heart race a little knowing he wanted to come with you and you felt bad having him leave empty handed.

both of your white lies seemed to pay off.

while you both rode back to fontaine, neuvillette wondered how he could tell you the truth. perhaps over a nice dinner would suffice…

note -> merry christmas everyone <3

@yyuangss @2023gisecretsanta

#favoniuslibrary #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #fontaine #neuvillette x reader #neuvilette x you #neuvillette #furina #gixrsecretsanta2023

185 notes · View notes