#one-sided wriolette

[thekaiqueen]

Some of my genshin ships that aren't reciprocated

Most of the time when i see ships its reciprocated romantic relationships and i just feel like people dont really talk about other dynamics (one-sided, exes, etc)

not including queer-platonic ships because most of my ships are

1. Wriolette (one-sided)

I might not be remembering my lore right, but Wrio was a teenager when he went on trial, which is also when he met Neuvi. I think he was like Wrio's gay awakening or whatever.

2. Neuvichi & Clorchi & Chibedo (one-sided)

Childe is just that one tweet that was like "im pansexual which means im attracted to anyone who can beat me in physical combat" I doubt most of them last longer than a few days but still.

3. Wriorinde (exes)

They give exes-to-besties vibes. I hc both of them to be aspec (Clorinde arospec and Wriothesley Ace) and i feel like they would joke and say like "yeah, they're the reason im aro" or smthg

4. Kazugorou (exes)

Idk i think they'd have gotten together during the war cause of like "we could die any second, i wouldnt mind dying along side you" but realized afterwards that they just didnt work together, theyre still friends tho.

5. Dottolisa (exes)

Honestly i was writing a collei fic and thought it'd be funny if while Dottore was doing his thing he would talk about his ex-girlfriend. And then Collei finally escaped and went to mond only to meet said ex-girlfriend.

[evelynpr]

The Fontaine main cast are all so thematically, emotionally, and narratively connected to each other that you can ship them in nearly every way and it somehow works.

I'm talking Furina, Neuvillette, Arlecchino, Clorinde, Navia, and Wriothesley here.

Wriolette? The upholders of the order of Fontaine. One on the surface, and one in the depths.

Clorivia? Childhood friendship, betrayal, and now healing with the truth and past resolved.

Neuvifuri? 500 years of closeness and understanding, mixed with distance and regret. Only after her sacrifice are they finally both free.

Arlefuri? Changing their fates through sheer force of will. Protecting the people who need on them, while accepting nothing in return.

Wriolinde? They were going to protect Fontaine together if its the last thing they do. Their trust is unbreakable.

Arlevia? Protecting their loved ones beyond the law. With a system and world that did not care for them, they care for their family their own way.

Knavilette? The seemingly cold and distant with bleeding hearts. They always keep their distance for fear of what would happen in a moment of weakness, especially with their overwhelming power.

Navilette? Personal regret with injustice and loss, now healing with compassion and understanding.

Furinde? The selfless princess and her loyal champion. She has always been by her side, protecting her with her blade, but only now does she get to know the real "Furina"

There are even more I haven't touched on (lemme know if you'd appreciate it ig?). These characters are just so...so interconnected through Fontaine with its themes on justice, order, love, loyalty, and more. They really knocked it out of the park with creating such a beautiful and complex cast of characters.

[r0-boat]

hiii can i request for more neuvwrio x reader pls!! :DD thank youuu

Yes you may!!! I'm going to throw head cannons in your face now!

Wriolette x Reader Omegaverse! Poly headcannons

Omega!Neuvillette x Omega!reader x Alpha!Wriothesley

NSFW mixed with SFW so mdni

Sovereign Dragon Omega is not the same thing as human omega. Nuevillette for one is strong enough to hold back the urge to mate during his heat or when an alpha is in rut or not submit to when a mouthy alpha tries to snarl at him to intimidate him. However, that could only last for so long, struggling to keep his composure to the point he stammering to your and Wriothesley's bed.

The Poor Hydro Dragon is far too busy to make a nest, so he hijacks yours. He can't help himself! It smells of everything you, with a hint of Wriothesley, because you made him scent some pillows. If you try to kick him out, he'll give you the puppy dog face you'll ever see. Could you say no to that face?

Wriothesley is the "pack alpha" but really Nuevillette is the true leader. Wriothesley submit so sweetly when Nuevillette decides to be done playing nice. Wriothesley thinks being in charge is hot. But wouldn't want to actually demand his two lovers to do anything they don't want to do. He's just here for the sexy punishments, or the sexy rewards.

Nuevillette is the voice of reason. When Nuevillette tells you do something, you do it without question. There will be consequences if not

Sandwiched between two overworked partners, it is up to you to make sure these guys eat, sleep, and drink (Wriothesley) properly. And you rewarded with scary dog privileges. Your heart melts the way Nuevillette's eyes light up when he sees you coming into his office. Delicious soup in your hand, you place it on his desk, kissing him on his forehead before turning to leave, but he can't bear depart from you just yet. His hand reaches for your shirt, and he asks, "Stay with me, mate? Just for a little while."

Or when you give Wriothesley some water with his 4th cup of tea He grabs you and moves you into his lap wrapping his arms around you holding you gently. You could feel and hear him groaning against your shoulder. After a while you think it's cute until you noticed he becomes slack and extremely heavy.

Nuevillette in heat is more insatiable than Wriothesley on his first rut after being off suppressants. It's a good thing that dragon heats, and ruts only come about once a year rather than every month. Nuevillette will drain Wriothesley's balls before hunting you down when the poor Duke can't give him anymore. Sometimes, you already be being held hostage by him. The Dragon demands both of his mates.

Wriothesley is a provider; if you want one thing, he will get you five of those things. The guy doesn't really know how to do communication and talking and stuff. He doesn't know how to put his feelings into words, so like a happy puppy, he will bring you some flowers and hope you reward him with pets and kisses. That puppy will turn into a rabid dog when he sees so much as a scratch on your cheek. Can you imagine that you got into an altercation with someone, and you tried to hide the bruise on your cheek only for him to grab your chin gently yet firmly, forcing your head to the side so you can get a better look at yourself? His voice was low and threatening. "Who did this to you?"

[cheetomelitoo]

I have a wriolette hurt/comfort idea but I don't have time to write so I'm infecting tumblr with my brainrot.

Spoilers for 4.1 archon quest and neuvilette storyquest

Imagine Neuvilette actually making progress in opening up to wrio about his problems, wrio is perfect at handling him it feels almost otherworldly... except he has forgotten something important. How can there be a meaningful relationship if one side isn't really being honest.

Wriothesley isn't letting his guard down even after all of the things that have occurred between them. He is reluctant to really talk about himself or his personal life, neuvilette finds this bizarre since wrio was the one who convinced him to open up in the first place, yet here he is clearly bothered by something.

But then again how can wriothesley be honest to neuvi about his troubles when technically he has played a part in them. This would destroy the chief justice as much as it destroys wrio himself.

The truth is that even after all these years, he still has moments where he feels so empty and so alone. Orphaned at a young age and imprisoned half his life, he learned to toughen up. But when he is alone and noone can see him, deep inside he is still that kid who cried himself to sleep because he didn't know if he would have food to eat the next day, the kid who was beaten up every day, the kid who was alone. Sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat because the fighting of the prisoners outside reminded him of his youthful days.

He is embarrassed to admit it because technically its all over. He should be over this. The painful and humiliating reality however is that he keeps relieving these memories every day, they are his cruel reality. A little sound or a familiar image is enough to send him flashbacks. He tries to calm himself with tea but it doesn't always work, sometimes he is is just forced to deal with his own grief by himself.

How can he tell his beloved neuvilette that his judgement sucked the life out of him?

[yllirya]

Superhero landing, wriolette edition

Superhero landing, wriolette edition

landing on the opposite legs - cool coincidence or… possible physical hurt? Facts & HCs below for both ft. Neuvi's cane and Wrio's boxing stances (aka angsty ideas for physical pain)

---

Neuvi - landing on his left knee

There's the riddle from Enkanomiya with the vishap who broke his leg -let's say Neuvi has. But which one? He almost always has his cane in his right hand - the cane should go on the opposite side than the painful limb for a normal walking pattern.

But if the cane is in his right hand and his left leg should be hurt, why land on the left? He may be a bit masochistic - he would rather have this one taking the hit again. Or, think of how it is to stand up from that position. His right leg will push him up (aka the uninjured one).

Wrio - landing on his right knee

During his AA-seq., his right hand and leg are more dominant to hit with. Maybe he's used to having his right knee getting the hard stuff. As w Neuvi, maybe he rather takes dmg on st that is already fucked up, using the other to stand up. Or…

Look how his left leg is his stable point (ult very good example) - what if his right can't be that bc he has hurt it too much before? (Think of stability problem.) He has very fast footwork in 2nd-4th AAs. But in 1st, 2nd, and 5th AA, skill, and ult, he uses his left side as the pillar.

Conclusion: some things are controversial but imo they both land on the leg they hurt. (And for better angst, put self-depreciative mental reasons behind too bc why not.)

Feel free to use these facts&HCs in yours - I certainly will(🙂😈). I could write an essay about this with exactly named medical conditions but who would even care haha:))

[ddamnie]

i feel hella sick so why not to think about hanahaki wriolette au

that can partially justify the disease because only dragons can have it because that’s something too ancient and for strong creatures only (they had only paws back then, they were unable to pick up flowers so why not to throw up with them to attract attention of the needed partner wow so romantic)

and wriothesley just doesn’t get why one day they are pretty close buds with neuvillette and the other he ignores almost all of his letters and visits him only when the main aim of the visit is to talk to sigewinne

wrio misses his petite friend and he sneaks into the tube that leads to sigewinne’s cabinet

neuvillette is on one of the beds and the melusine is studying a bunch of pretty white and blue petals wondering what’s going on

because neuvi forgot about the disease just like he did with most of his dragon days

but his reaction to wriothesley is telling — he panics and starts coughing and stops only when the duke is by his side, he helps with his pretty hair that in no way should get dirty

one of the petals falls to the ground and wriothesley is quick to grab it before neuvillette does that and says that glaze lily’s his favourite flower because it looks just like the iudex, he then blushes and quietly invites him to his office to show how to properly make some tea with flowers and asks not to eat petals any more

sigewinne is quick to take a step back and laugh quietly while embarrassed neuvi just nods accepting the invitation

that time they don’t have the petals to try and make some tea so they just talk about something stupid

they don’t try glaze lily tea even after that because neuvillette has no more petals left

[chickenkupo]

Just My Luck

Just My Luck

Summary: The lands are ruled by ruthless gods of various levels of power. Humanity is only a means to an end for their endless desires, if they happen to gain their attention. Many lay low, do what they can to appease the gods and try to live their lives out, as best they can, given the circumstances. Wriothesley is one such mortal. Having committed a great crime as a young boy, he’s constantly fleeing from his past. Little did he know; however, his constant misfortunes lead to his destiny, and it is most certainly not what he was expecting.

Recommendations: None, this is a purely AU work, so you’re good to go, reader.

Warnings: 18+ content, ya’ll. We’re going to get a little spicy here. Not my usual sort of Wriolette content. Neuv is going to be a little dark and demanding in this one, so if that sort of content (I’d guess you’d say it’s very close to yandere), then this isn’t for you. Religious hints/themes are also present in this. Consent really doesn’t exist here. I have been thinking of this sort of god x human trope for a while now, and I just needed to get it out of my brain. So, I guess this is a little self-indulgent work that I hope others out there will appreciate as well? Also, it’s putting me in a mental headspace to make a little follow-up chapter to Coming Home, since it’s looking like ya’ll are wanting that, hehe.

Also, one more warning. This is me trying to write a SHORT story and not have this as a full-blown novel. However, if this does receive a lot of love, I will 100% rewrite this to be a multi-chaptered work. This is me practicing self-restraint and tldr make a short story, you freaking gremlin sorta thing. OH, also, this isn’t beta-read, but will 100% be if this makes it to being AO3-post worthy.

AN: I AM TOO LAZY TO UPDATE MY WARNINGS BUT I MESSED UP AND THIS IS SO LONG BUT ENJOY IT AND IF YOU WANT AN EVEN LONGER VERSION WITH MORE LORE AND ACTION LET ME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS PLZ AND I WILL POST ON AO3 I FAILED KEEPING THIS SHORT, I AM SOOOORRRY

Wriothesley grunted as he was pushed forward, his hands bound behind his back by a golden metallic rope that refused to give way, even in the slightest. The guards that stood beside him ensured that he continued walking down the extravagantly decorated hallway, figures lining each side wearing various elegant dresses and suits, some even in intricately designed armor that mortals were rarely blessed to see. They all watched as the bound man was ushered onward to a large set of doors, decorated with a carved design of a long, serpent-like dragon encompassing the entire outer border of both doors, as if it were protecting what was beyond them. Wriothesley tried to slow his pace, flexing his well-defined muscles, doing whatever he could to try to break the bonds that held him in place, but nothing worked. The guards beside him only stared at his pathetic attempts at breaking free, a few patrons from the sidelines murmuring to themselves, commenting on how he should give up and how silly mortals were, thinking that they could defy even the smallest demands of the gods.

He always found himself in the most unfortunate circumstances, but this was the worst fate that could have befallen a human. Most of his kind kept their heads bowed, living silent lives and avoiding the powerful gazes of the deities that ruled their lands. For mere mortals, the prime level of life that they could wish to live was providing high level sacrifices to appease their rulers, hoping that they would be blessed in return or even ignored, in hopes of being allowed to live their lives to the best of their abilities. If they failed to uphold to this standard and a god felt slighted, even in the smallest of ways, then they were bound to become cursed, and experience the worst luck imaginable, having them wishing for a swift death. No, the gods loved toying with their victims, extending their punishment for as long as possible, feeding upon their misfortune, until their victims took their very last breaths. It was a miserable existence, but as long as you dedicated yourself to providing sacrifices that satisfied their desires and obeying whatever they commanded, then you could potentially avoid their gazes and wraths.

However, Wriothesley didn’t feel as though that was an existence worth living. He was a man that was shaped by misfortune, and rarely feared it. Having been orphaned at a young age and shoved from one foster family to another, he knew exactly what misfortune was, without the direct punishment of the gods. Each family he was tossed to was worst than the last. From having one family relying on him to provide them with everything and having worked to the point of exhaustion to keep food on the table, only to endure harsh beatings regardless of the outcome every night, to being sent off to fighting rings to win boxing matches against young men his age and older, he had seen it all. He eventually had enough and turned on his last foster family, killing his adoptive parents in the middle of the night, fleeing the area and taking the other children that happened to have the same misfortune as him to wherever he was going to go. They did find refuge in small, abandoned buildings, and for once his luck did strike true as he was able to find families that would take his adoptive brothers and sisters in, and not expose them to the same fates that they had before. No, these people took true pity on them, bringing them in and giving them a proper home and a good foundation for raising them. The same families always offered Wriothesley the same conditions, but he would always deny them, saying that he was far too damaged and messed up to be worth anything, too far gone for any sort of redemption or happy ending. Before they could even try to convince him otherwise, he had already taken his leave and was moving onto his next venture.

The young boy grew into a young man, roaming from city and city, finding places to work manual labor that would provide him with just enough funds to survive off of. Whenever a place offered him a permanent position or abode, he would thank them, and then immediately leave, onto the next city, town or village. He didn’t know why, but there was a part of his soul that felt like he was always in constant danger, and needed to run from prying eyes, even if he had no enemies. Though he had murdered his foster parents in cold blood as a boy, there were no further investigations into this, almost as if the crime had never happened. He wished so desperately that this was the truth of the matter, but his suspicions never seemed to completely wane. Someone had to have known, whether it be a mortal or a god. He knew that he was going to have to face the consequences of his actions, however justified that they were. So, he vowed that he would continue moving onward, never stopping, always running.

So, that’s exactly what he did. He never stayed long enough for any human or deity to know him well, and he wanted to keep it that way. Discretion was key, and to be honest with himself, this type of living excited him and kept him feeling alive. For once, he thought that he had finally hit it lucky, this was the lifestyle meant for him and he was going to live it to the fullest. Though his suspicions and underlying fear ruled him deep down, there was an odd sense of freedom that he felt being out on his own like this, and he never wanted to lose this. For once in his life, he felt lucky to be in the position that he was in. He was afraid to feel happy, but he couldn’t help himself. His adoptive brothers and sisters were on their way to a better future, and maybe one day, so would he.

Well, as quick as luck had visited him, it was just as fast to leave. The young man was continuing his work assisting a local general store with helping them bring in heavy goods, a horribly weighted sack placed on his shoulder as he was able to transport it inside of the store before multiple guards, lesser deities by the look of them, all approached him at once. Wriothesley immediately dropped the sack and tried to take off, not even taking the time to question their motives, but he was easily detained. One deity grabbed him by the shoulder and twisting it, pushing him against the wall as another guard brought out a metallic, golden rope, that automatically tied his wrists together behind him. Wriothesley growled as he tried to resist, now finding the time to begin spouting questions as he realized the situation that he was currently in.

“The hell did I even do?! I just got here and haven’t broken any laws, let me go!”

“That’s not up for discussion. You’re to come with us, no questions asked. Any hesitation, and we’ll hunt down your adoptive family and have them suffer for the rest of their days.” one of the growls out, tightening the rope around his wrists ever so slightly, for emphasis. Immediately, Wriothesley shut his mouth and said no word and offered no resistance. So, his suspicions were correct, someone had been keeping tabs on his whereabouts and knew about his past, but what god or mortal alike would hold any sort of interest in him? Sure, he was handsome and had both women and men swooning for him, but that never held any sort of value to him. He also didn’t have any sort of money in savings to his name, using whatever little he earned from odd jobs to be able to afford housing and small, pitiful meals and other necessities.

His heart felt like it skipped a beat, as he immediately reminded himself about his biggest fear. Was this finally the retribution that he would be facing for his previous sins? Did the families of his abusive foster parents that he murdered finally send out their agents to find him, and a god had felt it was their time to shine to torture a mortal? There was no escaping it, even if it was the case. Wriothesley then opted to keep his mouth shut, hoping he was overthinking the situation. But, what else could this possibly be over, then? He needed answers, but he wasn’t about to try to fight against them for it.

Reluctantly, Wriothesley complied with their demands, and was ushered into a rather delicately designed carriage, one that clearly belonged to a higher-powered god, but which, he had no idea. The guards also remained silent on the manner, merely ushering him in and taking an odd interest in keeping him safe and comfortable, but still under their ever-watchful gazes. They continued onward with their journey, and eventually reached to where they were now, standing in front of those formidable doors, gods of various levels of power and renown surrounding them all, but their focus all centered on him and him alone. Wriothesley’s heart was racing in anticipation, knowing that he had no choice but to face whatever was beyond those doors, even if it ended up killing him, or worse.

A low, guttural growl was heard, seemingly originating from past the closed entryway in front of them, which had Wriothesley’s eyes widening in shock. Never in his life had he heard such a noise, no other god he had known or met personally held the sort of power that was radiating from such a sound. The others that were previously surrounding him were now shuffling away in fear, some were even shaking, staring straight ahead. A thought suddenly ran through Wriothesley’s head, he noticed that all of the deities were distracted, and he could easily flee from the scene. He tried to will his body to run, but instead it only stayed firmly planted in place, his body no longer under his control. His heart began to race in a sudden panic, and it wasn’t eased as the closed doors in front of him began to part, opening up to reveal a continuation of the current hallway that he was in, but a darkness was at the very end, hiding whatever it was that was awaiting him.

What happened next horrified the young man beyond measure, and by then he knew that he was doomed.

“Wriothesley, step forward, come to me, come to your destiny.” a regal voice called out, though the growl from before was also heard in the same voice, as if they were perfectly mixed together. Whoever was calling to him, this had to be one of the ancient gods of lore, mighty beasts that garnered so much power from its followers and victories of war, that it gained godhood. But, what would such a highly positioned god want with someone low and poor, as himself? Wriothesley wasn’t about to argue, however. Wriothesley tested his muscles, now being able to freely move them. He had regained control of his body, and along with that realization, the golden metallic rope that was previously wrapped around his wrists shattered, releasing their hold on him. Whoever this was wanted him to come willingly and freely, but also prevented him from having any other option. After taking a moment to mentally accept the situation for what it was and what it could possibly be, the man slowly but surely took step after step, inching his way forward, obeying the command that had been called out to him.

Once he was past the dual doors, they both slammed shut behind him, as if signaling there was no way to truly turn back now, the only way was forward. The young man jumped in response to the loud noise behind him, but didn’t bother looking back. Instead, the man glared as he looked forward, a figure now clearly standing where darkness once was, the hallway now oddly illuminated, as if showcasing the person directly in his path.

The god before him stood mighty and tall, long white hair with just as long blue streaks, decorated with golden ornaments, robes that matched the varying colors of the ocean’s brightest waters, swirling around his slim body in an ancient style of robes. His eyes were a sharp lilac color, and gave an odd feeling of being so similar to the eyes of a feline, slit pupils that were slightly dilated as his gaze was transfixed to Wriothesley.

“I see that time has done you well, Wriothesley. You certainly grew into a rather handsome man. I will forever consider myself fortunate to lay claim on you so many years ago, before the others could.” At this, Wriothesley gasped, anxiety beginning to rise within his chest. A god laying claim on him? Ages ago? He would have remembered such a thing, seeing as though the deities usually made a huge spectacle when they took a human as theirs. It wasn’t an uncommon act, but according to what Wriothesley remembered hearing, a god had to be completely enamored with a mortal to do such an act. A claim meant ownership of the mortal by the god, sure, but it also bound them together in a deep, intimate way. The god would always know the whereabouts of the mortal, their control over them being absolute. For the mortal, it meant having a power being provide and protect them, but gods tended to be jealous beings, and this often resulted in a rather lonely existence for the mortal. There were humans that found this to be an absolute obsession for themselves, dolling up their looks and doing what they believed would get the attention of some sort of god that would claim them, but many found that staying away from this sort of deep-rooted obsession was better for them.

“I’m sorry, but I think you’ve got the wrong guy. No one’s laid claim on me and- “

“Then how would you explain your horrible luck then, Wriothesley?”

The young man shuddered, every time the god in front of him said his name, an odd wave of feelings started to phase through him that he couldn’t quite explain. It was like it felt right, and a small part of him wanted to hear the figure continue to say his name, until he couldn’t handle it anymore. The hell was wrong with him? He has never had such thoughts about others like this, why now?

“I-I’m not following…”

“I saw you kill your foster parents. I knew what you did was justified, my dear. They were horrible and their sins innumerable. You did what you needed to do to protect yourself and the little ones. It’s not often that I find myself observing humans as closely as you, and I knew from that moment forward, you were someone I wanted. Someone with such a profound sense of justice, and the spirit to carry out punishment. So, I cursed you.” The man continued to explain, as if it were common knowledge.

“Why the fuck would you curse someone that you’re interested in? Are you fucking insane?!” Wriothesley shouted out, stomping forward to stand right in front of the mighty being. The ancient one’s brows furrowed, glaring at the young man in front of him.

“Wriothesley…” the god said, his tone demanding respect and issuing a single and final warning.

Wriothesley bared his teeth at the ancient one, issuing his own, small, pathetic growl, in comparison. However, he understood and heeded the silent warning, not taking any further action, allowing the omnipotent being before him to continue on with his explanation.

“Of course. I didn’t want to take you away, especially with you being so young. However, I wanted no other god to look upon you in favor and want you for themselves. So, I placed a curse on you, and took care of anyone being aware of you committing murder. You would always feel as though someone or something was chasing you. A home would never be one for long, your soul aching to keep searching for something. If a suitor tried to approach you, you would take no notice or interest. They, also, would disappear from your life. Luck would abandon you, forcing you to follow your true destiny with hardships that would test you, mold you for your potential to come alive. You were to keep living your life, until I was prepared to receive you, and you were of a proper age. Now, is the time, Wriothesley…”

The powerful being before him then snapped his fingers, the area around them turning pitch black for just a moment, before the it was illuminated once more, showing a marble decorated room with various different nautical decorations adorning every aspect of it. Blues, golds and silvers lined and adorned every aspect of it, treasures beyond measure lay everywhere, as if the room itself were a museum of the heavenly bodies. In the middle of the room, and directly behind the god, was a giant, circular bed with blankets of the finest silk with the same level of intricate designs on them as well. Wriothesley’s breath stuttered, as he took a small step back, his head tilting to the side in confusion.

“Now is the time to consummate our binding, wouldn’t you agree? It’s been many years, and my hunger for you is insufferable…” the being in front of him stared intensely into his own eyes, unable to avoid him. A million thoughts were running through Wriothesley’s mind, but only one question was able to come out.

“W-w-who are you…?”

“Ah, yes. Sincerest apologies, my love. You may know me by many names, and by many forms, though this is my true self, that I will never hesitate to show and share with you. The title you humans appear to have given me in my temples is Neuvillette, god of all that is hydro, the waters of all are mine, of the lakes, the sea…” Neuvillette purred as he began to approach Wriothesley.

“Of every human body, but especially yours…”

The young man hastily started taking steps backwards, never keeping his eyes off of the powerful being before him, but it was to no avail for his situation. Suddenly, behind him, he felt a sort of cushion that he was then pushed down onto, sheets wrapping up around him as he became entangled in them. It took a moment for him to realize that the god before him must have teleported the both of them straight to the circular bed he had observed before, and now both of them completely nude and exposed to each other. Wriothesley shrieked as realized the position that the two were in now, him being laid out on the bed like a meal on a decorated platter, while the god above was draped over him in pure possession and domination, but that wasn’t the only reason why he screamed out. The young man also observed the full body of the god in front of him, perfectly chiseled muscles but with a slim, elegant figure. White, creamy skin that was free from any blemish or imperfection, and perfectly smooth with little to no body hair, except for his lower body, where white pubic hair trailed from below his navel down towards his lower pelvic region, where instead of one perfectly thick and long member, he seemed to have…two…

Oh, fuck, he was truly not going to make it out of this alive, whether Neuvillette realized it or not.

“G-Get the fuck off of me, just kill me!” Wriothesley screamed out, trying his best to push the god off of him, but once more, to no avail. Though his muscles were much larger than the deity that was draped above him, it mattered little. Whatever claim the god had on him seemed to hold true, he could never overpower him.

“Never, Wriothesley, never, you’re staying with me for the rest of eternity. I will show you how a god truly appreciates his claimed…” Neuvillette growled out, as he lowered his head and nuzzled Wriothesley’s neck, licking it repeatedly in a sensual manner, as if he were handling an absolute treasure. Wriothesley shut his eyes as he moaned in pleasure, not able to prevent himself from doing so, as his hips started rutting upwards, his member starting to harden from just the simplest of touches from this being. He blushed in embarrassment, but no one had ever touched him in this way before, no one had ever said such words to him. Everything he ever wanted to hear and feel from someone, Neuvillette was serving it on a silver platter for him, and he was a starved mortal, ready to accept it all.

“Ah, ah, what are you doing to me, Neuvillette…” Wriothesley breathed out, in a husky voice, fully immersed in all of the emotions and sensations he was feeling. Neuvillette only smiled against the skin of his neck, as his hands began to roam the young man’s body. Soft, but powerful hands continued to caress him, touching Wriothesley in places he never dared imagine anyone else doing so. From his muscled pectorals, down the sides of his stone hard abdomen, and then finally down to his rear as Neuvillette grabbed his cheeks, giving them a nice, firm squeeze, sharp nails digging into the meat of them, but never breaking the skin.

“I’m showing you how much you mean to me, you’re my desire, my passion, my reason to hold firm to my rule, so that no other may touch you like this. Only me, only ever me…” Neuvillette mumbled, burying his head back into the crook of Wriothesley’s neck as he continued.

Wriothesley let out a dirty moan as Neuvillette’s fangs elongated, rooting themselves deep into his neck, and tasting of his blood. The god made sure that when he released and his fangs retracted, that the wound would heal, but leave behind a deep scar that none other would question. He made sure in the back of his mind, to order one of his underlings to immediately begin commissioning a necklace for Wriothesley, that would accentuate his looks but also have the marks forever on full display for the world to see.

At this point, Wriothesley was hard as a rock, his member leaking precum as it begged for attention, for a release, for pleasure, and Neuvillette was more than happy to oblige. Removing himself from the young man’s neck, Neuvillette moved over to Wriothesley’s lips, licking them lightly, biting at him just a smidge, before he invaded them completely, inserting his long tongue and exploring the depths within. Wriothesley greedily allowed him to do so, wrapping his arms around the neck of the god, pressing him further down so that the kiss could be deepened even further, if that was possible. Neuvillette could only smile as he continued his assault, a hand now trailing down Wriothesley’s body, feeling the differences between the two. Where Neuvillette’s body was smooth and perfect, Wriothesley’s had dark hair that covered his arms, some of his chest, and definitely trailed down to his lower regions, oozing manly features. His body, though littered with scars from the trials and tribulations of his life, only seemed to further decorate how in his own way, he was powerful and worthy to be the claimed of Neuvillette.

As the hand of the god reached Wriothesley’s member, the man groaned, still stuck in the deep and passionate kiss, continued to raise his hips up, a while leaving his lips as his member demanded any sort of friction against it. Neuvillette grabbed him, stroking up and down, thumb teasing the leaking head. The kiss finally broke as Neuvillette desired to see Wriothesley’s pleasure, as he continued to pump the member of his claimed, doing every action so perfectly and true to the wants and needs of the young man. It wasn’t long before Wriothesley was breathing hard, his body shaking as he released all over the god, thick ropes of cum shooting out and even coating Neuvillette’s chest, as if adding to the creamy skin of his claimer.

Neuvillette could only continue to smile as Wriothesley repeatedly began to apologize, ashamed of what he had done but enjoying feeling every effect his god was bestowing upon him.

“Shhh, my soul, hush now with that. I do not want your apologies for indulging in what I give freely to you. Now, roll over…” Neuvillette growled out, the animalistic side of him starting to show. Wriothesley trembled beneath Neuvillette for a moment, but the god only offered him an odd sense of assurance as he gently led Wriothesley to roll over onto his stomach, directing him to keep his chest lowered onto the bedsheets but his rear raised high, on full display to his god. The young man, still embarrassed, tried his best to hide his face within the lavish sheets of the bed, but didn’t fight back. A part of him wanted this, needed this, wanting this session they were sharing to never end.

Wriothesley felt a warmness spread throughout his core, as he assumed Neuvillette had summoned some sort of water to assist with what was about to happen. The liquid was spread along the crease of his bottom and hole, delicate and soft fingers of the god above him caressing him, touching every inch of him, as if he were savoring his very existence. It wasn’t much longer after this that he could feel an odd flesh shape being pressed against his hole, one of his dicks, Wriothesley surmised. His heart started to pick up it’s pace once more, worried that such a formidable size wouldn’t be able to fit and he would feel nothing but pain as he was tortured into the act. However, that was far from the truth.

The water continued to warm and relax the skin that it touched, his muscles feeling lose and somewhat stretched even before he knew he was being entered. Neuvillette lowered himself once more, kissing Wriothesley’s back and nibbling here and there with his fangs, building up Wriothesley’s desire for him, which he did. Once he heard the young boy beginning to pant, spreading his legs even further and raising his rear even higher, he knew he was ready. Slowly, the god started pressing the head of one of his cocks into the greedy hole of his claimed, and it accepted him with ease. Wriothesley continued to plant his head directly into the sheets of the bed, moaning so loudly and continued to pant like a dog, but he desperately wanted this, needed this. It was only a matter of time before the god was deeply planted inside of him, taking a moment to relish the feel of the warmth that his length was now experiencing. The god then started to pump into his claimed, clawed hands holding onto his waist for support.

The thrusts started out small, and careful, but the pace was quick to change. The more that Neuvillette was planted in Wriothesley, the more that he desired, so his thrusts began to continue with their assault, becoming deeper and rougher.

“Yes, yes! More, more-gah, FUCK!” Wriothesley yelled out as his thoughts started to lose all sense but being completely consumed by pleasure. Within seconds he lost the ability to form any coherent words, only feeling and appreciating the ecstasy that his god was providing for him. Time seemed to go on forever as the thrusts continued, and Wriothesley had begun grabbing onto the nearby sheets, twisting them until they were a complete mess from the perfect state that they were in before.

Another deep, animalistic growl was heard above him, which made him moan even harder, as he felt Neuvillette’s balls slap against his ass from how deep he was thrusting in, the second cock now also fully erect was also slapping against his ass, warm and thick. It seemed that the god did have some form of pity for him, as he had only inserted one of his members this time. But that didn’t stop the conquering of his mortal body. A few more grunts were heard as Wriothesley felt something spill inside of him, so very warm and copious amounts kept flooding in. The young man sighed in absolute bliss, eyes fluttering shut as his body fell down back to the bed, Neuvillette easing him back down, but keeping his member deeply planted as more cum continued to be released inside of his claimed one.

Little did Wriothesley know this was the final act to solidify their bond. The god of hydro had marked him with his essence, and it will never fade. Every god and mortal will instantly know who he belonged to, and Neuvillette will always know what he was feeling, where he was, his thoughts and feelings now completely forfeit to him.

Oh, how lucky this god truly was.

[leagueofvillainsobsesser]

Angsty wriolette fic I've written at 2 am. Not proof read.

. . ♡ . .

"Wriolette but Wriothesley dies and they build a statue for him and neuvi leaves flowers every single night without fail."

—

Warnings: Character Death, Angst, Neuvillette crying his eyes out infront of his lovers statue.

~☆~

The people of fontaine have become accustomed to the rain that happens every night. What used to be a rare thing is now so incredibly common, if only they knew the grief behind the dark clouds above.

Infront of a statue of his once dearly beloved, completely soaked as he didn't even bother to bring an umbrella, stands the mighty iudex of fontaine. Crying his eyes out.

He's cried plenty of times before, but never like this.

He had made a promise to never get close to mortals, he made a rule. And just once in his life he thought to himself, "What if I break that rule?"

Infront of him at the base of the statue were flowers and some of Wriothesley's favourite tea bags.

On good days, Neuvillette would try and have a cup of tea next to the statue, even pouring some into the water so that the Duke could enjoy it too, wherever he was.

And on bad days like this one, he'd stand in complete silence. Too grief stricken to keep looking at the cold, stone face. But too deep in his love to look away.

They had shared something special.

Something that carried beyond death, beyond everything. And even as it was stripped away in the blink of an eye, Neuvillette can't help but think to himself that surely, one day, he'll join his lover on the other side. And they'd drink tea together, chat with all the fallen melusines and past friends.

He could already imagine Wriothesley and Clorinde sharing tea. The thought of it would bring a smile to his face if not for the heavy rain and constant tears.

~☆~

Authors Note: GUYS IM NOT OKAY AT ALL 😭😭

[tenthousandyearsx]

Thanks so much for the tag, @magpiefngrl! I loved reading your bucket list.

I’m half longing to write more fanfic, half completely engrossed in my non-fanfic writing at the moment and out of the fanfic loop, so I have a feeling I won’t achieve even 1/8 of this??? And that feels very optimistic.

Anyway, here it goes:

The most immediate one: Kinkuary! I’d love to write at least a couple of Drarry fics if I can manage. I can’t believe it’s February 3rd already though, so who knows.

Finish my Drarry fall-in-love-or-die fic that’s been in the works forever.

Finish my Drarry omegaverse fic – or just scrap it entirely and start another (I haven't decided).

Edit and publish some holiday-themed Drarry fics that have been in my drafts folder for years at this point.

Write more Haikaveh, because I love them.

Write more Joongdok, because I love them.

Write at least one SCTIR fic (HJYJ), because they’re unhinged, and I’m dying to try out that dynamic. Yoojin's birthday is in 4 days, but I think that ship has sailed. Maybe I'll do something for SHJ's birthday.

Write at least one Little Mushroom fic (Luzhe), because there’s very little English fic out there, and I can’t stop thinking about them.

Write at least one ORV side story fic (specifically Lee Hakhyun x Killer King), because there are literally only two EN fics for this pairing on AO3 and this is killing me.

Write a Link Click fic??? Maybe??? (I still need to catch up with the new season.)

Reread TGCF and edit the Hualian fic currently sitting in my drafts. This might be the least likely because, unfortunately, it’s the one fandom where I just can’t get over fanon mischaracterisations, which means that I don’t usually read fics and thus get less excited about writing my own.

Wrap up and publish the Wriolette fic currently sitting in my drafts.

Catch up with TCF, settle on a ship 😂 (likely Cale x Choi Han?? probably?? I didn't expect whatever is going on with Alberu), and write a fic about them.

A final Drarry one: write more smut in the KYHOM universe, which I’ve been wanting to do since I posted the fic but actually never got around to. (I've also meant to re-edit that fic and never got around to doing it, but anyway).

Welp, that’s a lot more than I thought, and I haven't even listed everything.

Not sure whom to tag or what everyone is up to since I barely do anything these days except for writing, reading extremely long webnovels, and browsing the related tumblr tags, but if anyone who sees this feels like sharing theirs, feel free to and tag me back! I’d love to see what everyone's bucket lists look like. x

[cavalierious-whim]

Socially Awkward, Chapter One (Wriolette)

Wriothesley and Neuvillette are both lonely, socially stunted older dudes terrified of dating, and so they do what the youngsters do-- accidentally initiate romance over social media by way of 'lewd modeling'.

'Socially Awkward'

Part 1 of 11

modern au

old dude cliche rom-com

Read here on AO3. You can also, follow me on Twitter and Blue Sky.

--

“You do know that your phone has died, right?”

Wriothesley's face tilts towards Clorinde, who leans over the offending piece of tech. It’s propped against a stack of weights, and no, he didn’t know that—he was too busy counting out his current set and staring off into the distance. He curses, dropping the dumbbell in his hand to the mat. 

“Ah.” Clorinde’s mouth curls into a smile as she watches him scramble. “So you didn’t—”

“I don’t need to hear it from you, miss, ‘I have a flip phone��—”

“It isn’t a flip phone,” she replies tersely. “Or, it is, but it’s still a fancy smartphone and certainly newer than yours.”

“You traded up because of nostalgia.” Wriothesley shoots her a knowing look before leaning over to pluck his phone from the floor. “But, you lack the technical know-how of how phones work.”

Clorinde raises an eyebrow. “Says the man who didn’t realize his phone was dying?”

“I wasn’t looking!”

She snorts softly. “I know how to text and answer a call. That’s all that’s needed.”

Clorinde would say that. Clorinde is allergic to anything that doesn’t involve CrossFit, sharpshooting, and butting into Wriothesley's business. Like being nosey and peeking at his phone. 

“Well, just in time, I guess. I’ve been needing a break. Hungry?”

“I wasn’t, but now that you’ve said something…”

Wriothesley shoots her a grin. “Want to call it an early day and go to Café Lutece? An order of Crepes Suzette would really hit the spot—”

“Right in your gut,” cuts in Clorinde, following him to the locker room. It’s an unspoken rule that Clorinde is allowed on the men’s side, no questions asked. Besides, it’s not as though she’s looking with intent—her eyes wander in an entirely different direction, and the gym is small enough that the others don’t care. “What happened to the diet?”

“I’m still bulking up!” A flimsy excuse that has Clorinde giving him the look. “Look, there’s nothing wrong with a treat here and there, and you know how good the Conch Madeleines are—”

“Alright, alright, you don’t have to sell it to me.” Clorinde waves a hand. “You had me at Café Lutece. Besides, you need a break, I need a drink, and we need to talk about plans for the week.”

“It’s—” Wriothesley looks at his watch. “—barely noon, Clorinde. Surely it’s too early for booze.”

“Have you never heard of brunch and mimosas? But no, I was thinking about a nice latte. I know their tea is mid—”

“It isn’t that bad.” Wriothesley tugs off his sweaty shirt and drops it into his bag. He pats himself down with a damp towel, paying particular attention to his neck and face, and then it too is tossed into the bag. “It’s drinkable. Besides, like I said—the madeleines.”

While Clorinde’s comment about his diet was mostly a tease, he could be better about his occasional treats. But the madeleines are just too good, and they enhance even the most subpar teas.

He tugs on a fresh shirt and looks at her. “Decent?”

Clorinde leans over and sniffs, her face wrinkling comically. “Decent enough to sit outside. As long as no one is within five feet, we should be safe.”

Rude. Wriothesley reaches into his bag, grabs his soiled shirt, and chucks it at her in response.

She stands there as it smacks her, and then she drawls, slowly and deadpan, “Delightful.” She peels away the article and tosses it right back into his bag. “And you wonder why you’re single.”

Wriothesley shrugs. Reaching for a comb, he attempts to groom his wild rat’s nest of hair, grunting slightly when the tines get stuck on the coarse strands. “You act as if I’m trying to be anything else.” 

Because he isn’t. Wriothesley isn’t wired for relationships. They require too much trust, too much vulnerability, and he isn’t about to dip his toes into that. Clorinde should get it because she’s the same, and that’s why they are two peas in a pod. 

She’s too quiet though—quiet enough that he looks at her again. Her expression is soft and contemplative. 

“What’s with that look?”

“Hm? Oh, it’s nothing, just… Well. We aren’t getting any younger, right?”

“Surely you aren’t thinking about dating again.” Wriothesley hisses softly as the comb finally slides through a tangle. “Clorinde, you’re my wing-woman—”

“Wouldn’t that imply that you are dating?”

Wriothesley snorts. “An occasional fuck and run isn’t dating. Don’t leave me stranded.” A few more tugs of his comb make his hair presentable. “Besides, didn’t you swear off men years ago?”

Men, yes. Women, though? 

“Women are fair game,” replies Clorinde, the expected response, one repeated so often that Wriothesley mouths the words alongside her the moment they slip from Clorinde’s mouth. She reaches over and nudges him sharply in the ribs. “Enough of that, though. I’m hungry.”

Only because Wriothesley suggested they grab a bite to eat. Still, he shoots her a smile, and shoulders his gym bag. 

“Yeah, let's get out of here before we’re cornered by Sigewinne.”

#

“So, the schedule for the weekend.”

Wriothesley is halfway through his bite of crepe when Clorinde broaches the topic. He groans, shoving the fork into his mouth and swallowing. “Do we have to talk shop here? Can’t it wait?”

“It could,” she says,  “but it’s better to just get it out of the way, no? Besides, you’ll bounce the moment we’re done and then we’ll have to have this chat over the phone—”

“Which you’re allergic to. Got it.”

Clorinde levels him with an unamused look. “I do remember saying that phone calls were fine. It is you who decidedly dislikes them.”

Wriothesley cringes at the accusation. It isn’t his fault that he dislikes it. Direct messages and emails are easier.  Clorinde only gets a pass because he’s known her forever. She carries the distinct titles of “bestie” and “ex-roommate”, and is the only person that he remotely trusts. Others are email-zoned, as it were. 

“Okay, then, the schedule,” he begins, shoving his food around his plate. 

“I knew you’d come around,” she replies, earning herself another groan and a roll of Wriothesley's eyes. “You have a boxing match, right? I think I saw it on the gym calendar.”

Wriothesley nods and hums softly. “Yeah, that guy from Mondstadt. Mr. Dark-something or other.” He chuckles. “Last time we crossed mitts he told me he preferred a fight name which I get, but like…” Wriothesley waves his hand. “He could’ve picked something less comic book-y.”

“I remember that being a good match, though. Excited to have another go at him?”

She knows that he is, and Wriothesley shoots her a grin and winks before shoving another bite into his mouth.

“So, Saturday’s booked up. Good to know. Does that mean you’re streaming on Friday like usual?”

“Nine P.M. on the dot.” Clorinde nods and sips at her latte, silence stretching between them. And it’s fine—Wriothesely can sit there and just enjoy space beside her, but he’d be a fool to not use the shared lunch to needle her in the same way that she did him.  “So, about earlier… got eyes on any girls?”

“Wriothesley—” Oh, that’s a terrible tone. “—we are not talking about that.” 

He behaves, his mouth snapping shut. Clorinde has shot him in the ass for less things, so he pulls back his teasing and doesn’t push. 

After a moment, though, she sighs, and says, “But, to humor you, the answer is no. Every recent date has been…” She trails off, her mouth contorting into a sour frown. 

Yeah, that sounds about right. 

“It’s a nightmare out there,” says Wriothesley in solidarity. “Especially for folks our age. That’s why it’s easy to go for something with no strings attached. Besides, you like being alone. Remember when you kicked me out?”

Clorinde’s mouth twitches slightly at one corner. “I’d seen one too many bare asses belonging to your conquest of the day.”

“Yeah, yeah, you had to preserve your sanity, I’m sure.”

“I’d prefer to think of it as self-care,” replies Clorinde smoothly. 

It isn’t a fight with weight. They’d slummed it together as roommates for nearly a decade and even Wriothesley decided that he’d needed the space, so it worked out in the end. He loves Clorinde, truly, but it’s been nice to just… stretch out and make a place his.

Plus, she doesn’t get to yell at him for leaving out dishes any more. Like yeah, it gets lonely but he thinks they’re better for it. Clorinde is there nearly every other day, especially to help with—

“Oh, that reminds me,” he says suddenly. “Are we still on for tonight?”

Clorinde drags a hand down her face and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Gods, I’d hoped you forgot. Can’t you figure out how to use the timing option on your camera?”

“I know how to use it,” Wriothesley tells her, a smug expression pulling across his face. “But you always get the best angles to show off my assets—”

“Please never say that again.”

Wriothesley will. It’s a standard phrase in his vernacular used specifically to annoy her. He leans over and steals a madeleine from her coffee cup saucer and takes a bite. “Your help is apprecass iated. As thanks, I’ll pay for your coffee.”

“I deserve more than a damn coffee having to see your ass hanging out of—”

“And that’s a little too much info to be tossing out there in the open, Clorinde.” Wriothesley shoots her a glare and then looks frantically at a table just feet away sporting a couple and their young child. “Really?”

Clorinde snickers and steals the madeleine back. “Get your own damn cookies.”

“I’m paying for it!”

“Don’t remind me.” Her reply is as dry as the Sumeru desert. “But yes, tonight. Just try not to blind me.”

Wriothesley promises no such thing.

#

Clorinde gives him a once-over with a critical eye. She looks unimpressed, a furrow between her brows, and her bottom lip caught between her teeth. That doesn’t bode well. She taps her chin, walking around him, taking in the sight from every angle. 

Wriothesley presses a hand to his bare chest, not so much self-conscious, but concerned about his chosen attire for this particular photoshoot. Before he can ask, Clorinde reaches out and tugs on the loosely knotted tie hanging limp against his sternum. 

“Do men actually find this attractive?”

“I’ll have you know that my audience is equal opportunity when it comes to gender,” Wriothesley retorts. 

Clorinde meets his face. “You’re wearing a tie and a glorified jock strap.”

“It’s proper underwear!” Even if the ass is cut out. The point is that everything important is covered, fully, and the waistband even reaches his hips. 

“I don’t find this remotely sexy.”

“You’re a lesbian.”

Clorinde hums. “Again, another reason that I’m the wrong choice to help you.”

She’s the best choice, actually, and she knows it. Not only does Wriothesley trust her but she has a solid camera eye. Even untrained, Clorinde manages to get his good side, leaving Wriothesley looking less like a man pushing forty and more like a silver fox to be admired. Truly, he owes his entire channel to her, which is why she gets critiquing rights. 

“Look, I took a poll and this is what won. Shirtless—that’s a no-brainer. Everyone wants to see these guns—”

“I will shoot you,” deadpans Clorinde from where she sets up the camera from across the room. 

Wriothesley flexes his muscles just to spite her. “As for the bottoms—”

“Can you actually call them that?”

“—these are the highest quality, made of moisture-wicking bamboo viscose. They leave no lines underneath your clothing and—”

“Your ass is hanging out.”

Wriothesley frowns. There’s no need to point it out for a second time. “That’s the entire point,” he reminds her. He turns and looks at himself in the floor-length mirror to the side. “I work hard on these gains so naturally I should show them off.”

Clorinde gives him a cursory glance and fails to hide her grin. “I’ll grudgingly admit that of the male asses out there, yours is above standard.”

A rare compliment. Wriothesley shoots her a grin and tucks it away for a rainy day. “So, where do you want me, O Mighty Photographer?”

Her teasing over with, she looks at him again, thinking. “Well, as you said, we should offer up the gains. Bend over and show me those glutes.”

Wriothesley chokes on his laughter, wheezing as he coughs through it. Oh, the things she says. But this is also why they have a rapport he shares with no one else. Clorinde knows him like the back of her palm, almost better than he knows himself. She’s aware of everything; his gritty and grimy past, the things that haunt him in the present, and his trust issues. 

They’re old—old enough to be wiser but there are times that Wriothesley feels like he knows nothing at all. Clorinde makes it easier. Bearable. It’s nice to have a friend to share those woes, and who’s willing to snap photos of his mildly hairy ass for the sake of Wriothesley's dubious side hustle. 

So, he could complain but he doesn’t. He just kneels onto the mattress, jutting his backside out for a good angle. Wriothesley shoots her a glance over his shoulder, schooling his gaze into something sultry, and says, “Good enough?”

Clorinde says nothing but the click of the camera is loud in the room.

#

The photo set is a hit, which comes as no surprise. 

Clorinde’s teasing aside, Wriothesley knows that he is, objectively, handsome. Enough people toss him money to gaze upon his half-naked form that any anxieties that may have once wracked him have gone right out the door. 

It’d been a mid-life crisis thing—starting up a ThirstTrap account. He’s aging, going gray, and it’s harder and harder to snag cute guys when out on the town. So Wriothesley thought: What is the harm? He posts up a few lewds, gets a few bites, and maybe makes a couple hundred on the side. Being a personal trainer pays his bills, but a slush fund is nice, and Wriothesley deemed it worth the ill-advised idea™. 

Clorinde had laughed at him. Literally. Wriothesley spilled the beans the next day over coffee and tea cakes at Café Lutece, and she’d laughed so hard he thought he might’ve broken her. He’s known Clorinde for decades and that is the only time he’s seen her double over and lose it. 

She’d stopped laughing after the first payout because Wriothesley was an instant sensation, a rough and tumble, silver fox showing off the goods. As it turns out, there’s a market for decent-looking middle-aged men with gnarly scars, and a bomb-ass physique.

The streaming came naturally. His fans love his photo sets, sure, but a chance to see him in action? No, not a camboy—Wriothesley would never. He’s too embarrassed to pull out his dick and stroke it in front of a crowd, but lewds? Implied content? Shaking his butt a little to ooing and awing audience members?

Worth the money, at least. 

“So, what did we think of the last outfit, hm? You all voted on it and I think that it was a hit.”

The chat of his stream goes wild with comments, and Wriothesely gives a silent shout-out to Clorinde who moderates from the privacy of her own home. Bless her. Seriously. Wriothesley has a thick skin but some of his followers are… well, they’re something. 

Parasocial relationships know no bounds. 

“I know that I’m done up more than usual today, but you know the rules—the more donations that come in, the more that comes off.”

Wriothesely lounges on his couch in well-cut trousers and a nice button-down that defines his biceps. He fiddles with the tie around his neck—loosely knotted, just like the photo set from a few days prior. “I was thinking,” he says, “that tonight we’ll indulge in a follower favorite. What do you think about me reading aloud to you?”

The chat pops off and Wriothesley grins, pulling that tie open entirely and letting it hang across his shoulders. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Let’s settle in for—” Wriothesley looks at the book procured by Clorinde and instantly regrets it. 

Still, the show must go on. He shoots his most charming smile at the camera, and finishes with, “Double Your Pleasure, Double Your Fun: The Accidental Eggening of My Beloved Archon.”

#

Monsieur Neuvillette, the Lead Prosecutor of the Court of Fontaine and number-one choice for the next Chief Justice, does not take time off. 

He lives the latest of nights and survives on coffee (which he hates) and takeout (force-fed to him by his beloved paralegal Navia Caspar). Neuvillette has learned how to function on several hours of sleep a day. He’s perfected the interested look of disinterest—even if his mind is barely there you would never know because it would seem that you have his full attention.

Neuvillette is socially awkward, his best friends are books, and he has only three vices to his name—one being a cool, crisp bottled water from Chenyu Vale (something that Navia would grouse about being a capitalistic nightmare spurred on by rich-inclined folk such as he who choose to splurge on what she calls, “Frivolous”. It is not frivolous; there truly is nothing that tastes quite like it, and Neuvillette’s taste buds thank him at the end of a long and grueling day of case reports and courtroom arguments only to be outvoted by a hulking, mechanical device with a too-long name and a startling amount of personality for a computer). 

This night is like most others. Neuvillette lets himself into his dark townhouse, kicking off his shoes before placing them neatly and side by side next to the door. First, off comes his coat. Then his tie, loosened and pulled open gently. His keys are tossed into the bowl on the entry table.

He peels his layers slowly as he walks to the bedroom. His suit jacket is hung up for another wear, provided there is no staining, and perhaps the trousers follow suit if they aren’t too soiled. His shirt is dumped into the laundry, mildly rumpled. 

Neuvillette’s bathroom routine is short; he washes his face with a cleanser and water. He dresses down for the night in soft, silk pajamas, and a loose robe. 

A midnight snack is often next. As the leftover consommé heats up in the microwave, Neuvillette pulls open his second vice: Kameragram. He scrolls through a slew of new notifications from his last post—a daring profile shot of him in a navy three-piece suit. From the neck down, as always. His hair swept back so the ends barely show, and others are unlikely to recognize him. 

He still has a backlog of pictures to post so he picks one and uploads it; the same suit, only this time his jacket stripped off and hung over his shoulder for a more casual look. 

Neuvillette did not set out to enjoy social media—he barely knows how it works—but Navia had talked him into checking out this particular application. 

“I think you’d like the aesthetic of some of these creators,” she’d told him, and she was right. Neuvillette was instantly hooked by accounts that showed crisp and sleek fashion sense, and the ambiance of what he has come to know as Dark Academia.

The microwave dings just as his picture finishes uploading. 

And then there’s another notification that pops up on his phone, his third vice. Neuvillette stares, reading it over, considering just how to spend the rest of his night. He could indulge, or he could indulge. There are differing levels and rarely does Neuvillette give into his baser instincts and truly let loose.

But it was a long day of Focalors running him ragged. 

“I have the day off tomorrow,” he muses, thumbing his chin. His eyes fall on a bottle of unopened wine on the counter of his wet bar. A gag gift from Furina. Neuvillette rarely drinks, disliking the way it dulls his sharp-wittedness. But here in the comfort of his home… there is no harm, correct?

“Why the hell not?” he says, the rare curse stinging his tongue.

The pop of the cork is almost foreign to his ears but the blood-red splash of the wine into his glass feels like a welcome friend. The first sip is acrid and acidic—but perfect. That, paired with the consommé will spell out a divine end to the day. 

#

Neuvillette’s third vice comes as an embarrassment in the form of ThristTrap account Cerberus69.

He is a picky man—to the point that he doesn’t date. He can’t remember the last time he was properly fucked, unwilling to let his eyes linger on anyone who doesn’t fit his standards. The Duke is not his type. He isn’t. And yet Neuvillette is hungry for this man in a way that he cannot comprehend. 

And so, the indulgence. 

Perhaps it is because The Duke isn’t a cam model in what most would consider its purest form. Neuvillette has sat in on other streams and was left unimpressed. Those models, those men, naked, leaving nothing to the imagination. There is no tease to it, no opportunity to be edged, just hands on their dicks and empty words cooed at their audience. 

The Duke, though, is different. Classy. The mask settled over his face is handsome despite hiding everything above his nose. Never entirely undressed, just stripped down, that mouth of his pulled into a smirk as he turns to and fro. Just enough skin is revealed to entice. Curate clothing this side of tight to show off his assets, which apparently, are more than just his muscles because Neuvillette finds his gaze locked on the bulge in his trousers tonight. 

Yes, this is what he likes, what he finds pleasure in—the art of the striptease. He’s left dreaming for more, coming back time and time again just to hear his voice, to wonder just what his cock might look like, imagine how it might feel—

Neuvillette has had too much to drink tonight. 

The Duke reads aloud a smut book. Neuvillette is stretched out on his bed, watching the stream on the television hanging on the wall opposite him. He can feel the flush of his face and the tightness in his sleep trousers. Wicked thing. The Duke. And Neuvillette’s cock. It isn’t behaving tonight. 

So Neuvillette takes another sip of his wine, thinking that he can trick it into settling down because he’s too tired to fuck his hand. 

But it’s tempting. It’s been long enough that he sighs at the thought, hand drifting lower to rest against his clothed cock. Just to sit there. The weight is nice. Focus on The Duke. Yeah, he can do that. 

Another sip of wine. 

The book The Duke reads is terrible, the sort of fodder geared towards middle-aged women who spend their brunches grousing over their children. But with The Duke's mouth curled around the words, it’s tolerable. 

“It isn’t that I doubt my mate. His ovipositor is long and thick, and it will fill me just right. I pull him close for a kiss, relishing his heavy weight against me. My pussy tightens, wet enough to drench the insides of my thighs—”

So, maybe it isn’t tolerable. Neuvillette drags a hand down his face, willing those words to just melt away, focusing on the raspy timber of The Duke's voice instead. 

“A rare treat,” drawls The Duke. He’s relaxed on his couch, shirtless, toned abs and built pecs reflecting the ring light that’s tilted towards him. Neuvillette’s eyes drag across his form taking in every delicious inch, every scar that mars it, every dip and curve. “Whilst my beloved mate often shares these less-than-human traits, this one is left for special occasions. ‘Are you sure you aren’t in rut?’ I ask huskily, nipping at his ear. ‘And what of the risk for hatchlings?’ I barely hear his response—a quick, clipped, ‘I’m too old to worry about unprepared eggs’. A pity. My pussy clenches at the thought of having a few fucked deep into me.”

This isn’t the standard fair of what The Duke typically reads loud. His content varies, of course, but eggs—Neuvillette shudders as The Duke says something particularly dirty. “His cock—” The Duke's voice is like sin. “—is good, but his other length, the one meant for eggs, is an entirely different beast. Long and thick, tapered at the edge to ease penetration. It’s hot against my palm as I give it a stroke.”

Neuvillette cannot stand it anymore. Usually, he just watches and there is enough satisfaction in that, eyes tracing over the Duke’s edges before dozing off to the dulcet tones of his voice. Tonight the wine has made Neuvillette bold. Arousal burns through his veins, white-hot and heady. Pleasure coils in his gut, his cock twitches, and fuck, the sight of The Duke just makes it blaze hotter. 

That hand he has resting against his cock grinds harder. He’s fully hard and aching, leaking a mess into his trousers. Ridiculous. Neuvillette is better than this but just for one night, he can give into his baser needs. The heel of his palm catches against the tip, raking the soft fabric of his sleep clothes over it. He hisses. His hand would be better. He could fuck it properly, stroke himself until he’s wet and needy and spilling all over his stomach. 

The wine. He’s never drinking again, he thinks as he takes another sip. 

“‘Like this?’” purrs The Duke. “My thumb slides over the tip of his length, the draconic one, the one that has my pussy clamping from just thinking about being filled. His precome is thick, and viscous, sticking to the pad of my thumb in a long string as I pull it away. I desire to taste it.”

Sinful. Utterly sinful, the way that The Duke reads something so absurd aloud. Neuvillette curses softly, shifting in his bed, lifting his hips just enough to slide his trousers down his thighs. His cock slaps against his belly, dribbling from the tip. He groans, finally getting his hand around it. A quick stroke has him sinking into the sheets, the pillows, the softness of his bed.

“‘Darling,’ I say to my mate, the taste of his come settling into my tongue. ‘I need you to fuck me.’”

Yes, yes, yes. Neuvillette doesn’t listen to the words themselves, just The Duke’s voice as it settles across his bones. He lets it caress his being, his skin. He pumps his cock, eyes closed, imagining that—perhaps—it was the hand of another man. Would the Duke have callused fingers? A tight grip? Would he whisper praise into Neuvillette’s ear as he stroked his cock?

Neuvillette would like to think so. The Duke seems like a pleaser. After all, isn’t that what he does here? Pleases his audience? Neuvillette’s gaze flickers back to the screen because The Duke has paused in his reading.

“Oh,” says the man, leaning up from the couch. “A generous donation from—” He chuckles, and oh, that sound. What Neuvillette would give to hear it, hot and damp, next to his ear. “OneWildNightInSnezhnaya. Such a generous amount. I think we should thank them, chat.”

It is an obscene donation. Neuvillette silently thanks the person for their generous wealth the moment that The Duke stands from the couch. He tilts from side to side and hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his tight trousers to pull at it. “These next?” he muses, his mouth pulled into a crooked grin. “You know the rules of course—never much more than this. But…” 

The Duke’s hands move to his fly. The buttons are undone slowly, and his trousers drop, inch-by-inch as he turns to show off his ass to the camera. The art of the strip tease is what Neuvillette is appreciative of. The Duke still wears briefs underneath those trousers but he may as well be naked with the way that they cling to his thighs tightly. Little is left to the imagination. Neuvillette’s gaze rakes across the thick length trapped behind that soft cotton and he suddenly needs; needs something more, something out of his reach.

Neuvillette blames it on the alcohol, not his loneliness, or his pickiness. Why date when he can occasionally fuck his hand to a handsome streamer? No muss, no fuss, and the clean-up is easy. He goes to work the next day with little worry, mind clear, and body ready for the long work day. 

But The Duke—Neuvillette imagines his hands sweeping over him, catching on the angles of his hips. Those fingers opening him up, spreading his rim wide. The words he’d purr against his ear as he fucks him deeply. Neuvillette would keen at the stretch, gasping in the sheets as The Duke moves within him. 

Gods, it’s been a long time. Neuvillette’s hand moves faster on his cock, tugging it from base to tip. Not wet enough. He grunts, pulling away to dig in the drawer of the bedside table to find a mostly full bottle of lube. Pathetic, but not as pathetic as pouring it across his cock and imagining that his hand belongs to another.

“My mate is a needy creature. ‘Yes,’ he cries out as I stroke his length, paying extra attention to the flared head of his cock. ‘Yes, just like that. Sweet girl.’”

Neuvillette lets his fantasy run wild. The Duke, settled over him, pulling over his cock. “Yes,” murmurs Neuvillette, back arching in the bed as he fucks his hand with a rolling thrust of his hips. His brain is fogged by the wine. The room is sluggish and his throat is dry. All he thinks about is the tight grip he has on his dick, and of how The Duke might take care of him. 

“My mate’s cock twitches against my palm. I dip closer and kiss the tip, and instantly his hand finds the back of my head to hold it there. ‘Are you going to come?’ I ask.”

He will. He’s so close, heat curling in his gut, coiling tight.

“His breath hitches as my tongue swirls around the tip of his cock. And then the slit, dipping into that larger opening meant to push out eggs. Gods, I want that, to be full, to be bred. He wants that too, judging by the way his hips buck, forcing his length into my mouth.”

Neuvillette’s hand moves faster, and squeezes tighter. His thighs are tense as he arches in the bed, head tipping back as his pleasure begins to mount. Hot, he’s so hot. His head is fuzzed and he needs this, to come, The Duke’s hand on his cock, the praise Neuvillette knows he’d dole out.

“My hand strokes what my mouth doesn’t reach. ‘Good girl’, says my mate, guiding my mouth to move. I’m drunk on the praise, on the taste of his precome on my tongue. ‘Just like that. Yes, yes—’”

Neuvillette comes with a whimper, spilling over his fist and stomach. He jerks himself through it, dick twitching against his palm with overstimulation. He hisses, his pleasure turning sharp and hot, and then mildly uncomfortable. He drops his cock and it falls against his belly with a wet slap. Neuvillette lays there, a blob in his sheets, breathing heavily as the air suddenly turns cold around his heated skin.

Mortification sets in. He drags his clean hand down his face as he comes to the reality that he just masturbated to his favorite streamer. Never has he crossed that line, never has he debased himself to the point fucking his hand to the sound of The Duke’s voice. Keyed himself up, yes. Fucked his hand after the stream is cut? Occasionally. Neuvillette rarely touches himself, to begin with, but never whilst actively listening, watching—and the fantasy of it…

He groans. “Sovereigns, I’m pathetic.”

He’s lonely. He’s drunk. Navia is going to laugh at him the next morning when she sees the circles under his eyes. Then she’ll pity him, pulling out her concealer and clicking her tongue as she sweeps her thumb across the offending skin. 

“A bath,” Neuvillette tells himself next. Crisp, clean water calls to him. He hasn’t paid an absurd amount for the nicest hard water filter to not abuse it. He rises from the bed, cringing at the mess he’s made. On the television, The Duke still reads aloud, his sonorous voice moaning softly as the explicit content in his bed picks up its pace. 

Right. A bath. To clear his head. Neuvillette is unsteady on his feet, wobbling about in his tipsy haze. No more wine. Never again is easily said, only to be quickly forgotten the next time he feels like this. Worth it? Maybe. Neuvillette will disagree in the morning, but his sore muscles certainly don’t disagree now when he finally settles into the steaming hot water of the bath he draws. 

The tub is large enough to submerge himself. Neuvillette’s worry eases at the warmth but the mortification is still firm, like a solid rock in his gut. He’ll never be able to watch The Duke again. 

“This is why I don’t do people,” he murmurs once resurfaced. “This is why I keep to myself. Interpersonal relationships are…” Too complicated. Especially for him. Neuvillette already fails to understand the intricacies of friendships, but with his position as a prosecutor, things become awkward fast. 

He simmers in the bath until he’s soft and pruny. He rises again, wrapping himself in a soft, fluffy bathrobe. “Self-care,” said Navia when she’d gifted it a few years ago. Self-care indeed. Neuvillette already feels better. 

Or maybe it’s because he’s sobered up a smidge.

Neuvillette walks back to the bedroom on sea legs. His brain is still muddled, but he’s better instead of worse for wear. The Duke is still live, this time chatting to those lingering in his chat. “Yes,” he says, lounging on his couch in nothing but those damnable, tight briefs. Neuvillette swallows as he stares. “I do have hobbies, like anyone else. Social Media scrolling is soothing, no? I have a penchant for handsome men on Kameragram.”

What? Neuvillette stills, the covers pulled back, one knee already pressed to the mattress. His head tilts as he glances at the screen. 

“I’m not particularly fashionable myself but there’s nothing quite like a man in a well-cut suit. I am a fan.”

Never before has The Duke mentioned his preferences in such detail. He’s talked about enjoying both men and women, yes, and his content is tailored to both, but when asked about himself he always redirects to the chat, and what they enjoy. Tonight he seems chattier, laughing and smiling wide. 

“Mmhm, yeah, you understand me, TheSpooniestBard. Muscles, a nice and tight fit, a collar pressed just underneath a sharp jawline.”

The Duke is, inadvertently, describing the entire aesthetic of Neuvillette’s personal Kameragram account. He slides back into bed, settling the comforter over his lap. He sits there dumbly, listening to The Duke ramble on about handsome men in suits, that deep voice of his soothing.

He always checks his phone for last-minute work alerts before turning in for the night. This time, though, Neuvillette opens up Kameragram and assesses himself. He is not unhandsome. His suits are high quality and of the finest fit. Even without his face in the frame, he paints an appealing picture. 

“It’s just so pleasing, the thought of peeling it off. What’s hiding underneath? Are they built? Soft? It wouldn’t matter, I’d love it all.”

Neuvillette is still tipsy enough to make dumb choices. 

ThirstTrap has an in-app messaging system that Neuvillette has never even thought about using but on this night he navigates to it and drops his Kameragram link accompanied by a very simple message: 

>> I see that you like men in suits. Our tastes seem to align. I think that you may like my account in particular. Enjoy.

--

At the moment, my written work is my only source of income whilst I'm between jobs. Other ways that you can support can be found below-- even if 1/3 of my followers on Twitter follow my $1 Tier on Patreon, it'd be life-changing income for me, so if you love my work, please consider it!

You can find my Ko-Fi and Commission Info/Shops here.

You can purchase Digital PDFs of some of my works here on Ko-Fi as well.

Pre-Orders for physical books of selected works are still open for preorder in my Big Cartel Shop here.

Socially Awkward updates early on Patreon so be sure to follow the $5 tier for early access!

[cocrante]

#1 First Kiss

[Flufftober 2023]

note: initially I thought about writing a collection of short oneshots about haikaveh, but it's also true that on this account I write about them daily, and there's hardly anything I haven't written about them yet. Additionally, for the next month I also intend to participate in haikavember challenge, time permitting, and repeating the same ship would just make everything monotonous. So, I thought maybe I could introduce a new ship, new characters that I'm trying to get to know and handle with extreme care. I thought about writing some small drafts, wip pieces, of what could be a possible modern au/family au about wriolette, and this challenge is giving me the opportunity to do so. I can't guarantee that all the prompts will be focused on the au or even the ship, perhaps some will be standalone oneshots, but we'll see what this journey has in store. Good reading ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ I hope you enjoy these little wips or potential oneshots

tag: @choicesprompts

IN THAT KISS THE CLOCK OF TIME HAD STOPPED and rewinding its hands it was as if their years had been halved, bringing them back to a younger time, discovering the happiness hidden behind a kiss given under the eternal gaze of the world.

That's how Neuvillette felt when the lips of the man who lived downstairs touched his. It was a perfect kiss that concluded an equally perfect night, spent wandering the bright streets of Paris in the glow of the moonlight. Walking side by side, smiling nervously, and stealing shy glances at each other like two teenagers in the throes of their first crush. But they were far beyond being young boys, and their age was beginning to show for what it was. Neuvillette pulled away from those lips that had welcomed his, dragging him into an experience he would define as transcendental and that he hadn't felt for many years.

"What are we doing?" he murmured as if awakened from a trance.

"We're kissing" his lover replied, still holding him by the hips. Neuvillette tightened his lips and curved them into a gentle smile. They were still so close that they could feel each other's warmth.

"Aren't we too old for such frivolities?" he chuckled to himself as if it were a very funny joke but concealed the bitter truth: they were no longer youngsters but two grown men with the aches of old age, and yet there they were, under the dark cloak of night, with the man he had met just three weeks ago leaning against the wall of some respectable person's house, kissing as if they were still in the prime of their years. But to those invasive thoughts, the man who had been kissing him until a moment ago put a stop "Ah! What a cruel world to deceive people into believing there's a time for everything" replied Wriothesley, caressing his man's tense face, who was now pouting. "And to make them feel guilty for creating their own happiness" Neuvillette added, placing his hand on top of the one that was gently stroking his face, welcoming that delicate form of warmth and love he never thought he'd receive again. It wasn't wrong to let go, there was no limit to how many kisses could be given and received, nor was there a limit to the shape of love that best suited one's desires.

[CONTENTS]

chapters 1

chapter 2

chapter 13

↬ masterlist

[mikazuki1709]

Out of place | Wriolette Fic

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Ship: Wriothesley/Neuvillette, Wriolette

Rating: G

Words: 1.983

Tags: Party, Pre-Relationship, POV Neuvillette. Wriothesley loves Neuvillette, Neuvillette is bad at feelings, Oblivious Neuvillette, Feelings Realization

Summary: Neuvillette is not a fan of formal celebrations, and neither is Wriothesley. However, when they do meet at one such event, it brings them closer together in an unexpected way.

Preview:

Neuvillette had never understood the appeal of formal social gatherings. For the longest time he had blamed it on his identity as a non-human being among humans. Especially in the old days when he had just been appointed as Iudex of Fontaine it had been hard. The social formalities among the higher families had been extremely rigid back then, and that had been very foreign to him. He still remembers how he had felt under attack from several different directions. As an outsider to Fontaine and - even more general - human behavior, there had been pitfalls everywhere around, and as a ‘young man’ new to his position in the court, a lot of competitors had been willing to take his skills to a test and challenge him. And once the high-born ladies with their unmarried daughters had found out that he was a bachelor, he even had to deal with their approaches. All of this had made formal parties a nightmare to him, and he remembers working a lot of overtime just to avoid attending them. 

Naturally, all of this happened hundreds of years ago, and a lot of things changed since then. There was now not a single human being left who remembered Neuvillette as a newcomer to his position, and there were very few people who dared to challenge his position. Not that Neuvillette would have minded the competition, but there simply seemed to be no one who saw any reason to question his expertise. Nowadays, even the etiquette of the men and women around him rarely bothered him anymore. The formalities of the Fontanian society had become much less strict over time, and Neuvillette had learned a lot about how to adapt. He still rarely dared to feel like one of them, but he now knew how to maneuver his way through a lot of situations. He was like a shard of glass that had been thrown into the ocean where the tides had done their work and smoothed out the edges. He may still have been something like a foreign object, but at least he no longer posed a threat to his environment and could hardly hurt anybody by accident. 

Unfortunately, having learned how to navigate through social gatherings did not equal enjoying them. This was something Neuvillette understood once again when he looked around from his place in the festival room he was just standing in. For the Iudex of Fontaine, invitations to parties like the one he found himself in the middle of right now were frequent, and he did not always find a reason to turn the offers down. And sometimes, this was just a necessary sacrifice to accept, Neuvillette thought while he took a side glance at the little Melusine who was chatting happily with a lady he knew that worked for the Steambird. 

It had been Sigewinne’s request that Neuvillette would attend the party, and he rarely found it in him to turn the lovely Melusine down. The party was held in celebration of the release of a new skin care product she had helped develop, and so of course, for her, this was a happy day. Watching her now, Neuvillette could not help but admire the way she blended in with the crowd despite all the differences between their species.

After he had convinced himself that the head nurse of the Fortress of Meropide was fine, Neuvillette allowed his gaze to wander through the room. It soon stopped at the sight of a familiar face, the face of a man who was also just watching Sigewinne with a friendly smile on his distinctive face. 

So Wriothesley was here, too. The Duke of the Fortress of Meropide was a rare guest at occasions like this one, and for some reason, he stood out like a rusty nail from a freshly polished plank. 

Why was that? Neuvillette wondered. Wriothesley was a young man like many others in this room - although the Iudex knew that he would have objected to being called ‘young’, even if it was undoubtedly true, at least from Neuvillette’s perspective. Also, he was an important person in Fontaine’s society - even if he admittedly tended to keep a low profile about this. So what was it that made him stand out? No matter how much he thought about it, Neuvillette did not quite manage to find a reason. 

[...]

Read the full fic on ao3

[iudexofficial]

Greetings. I am the Chief Justice, or "Iudex" of Fontaine, but you may simply address me by using my surname, "Neuvillette." Not because I wish to keep my distance from you... No, I am merely conscious that being overly familiar may bring the impartiality of the judiciary into question in some people's eyes.

If you have any requests or concerns, then — to the extent permissible by law, at least — we can sit down and discuss them together as we partake of some imported water from Qiaoying Village.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~💦⛲️⏳️🌊📖📜⚖️~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mod is @shikitsune. Posts not made by Neuvillette will be tagged as #ooc and/or #mod speaks. Mod is in her 20's and English isn't her first language. Since this is a side blog, Neuvillette cannot reply to posts or send asks outside of anon and follows come from Mod's blog.

Roleplays can be blogverse based or one on one third person, in which case I would prefer to do it in the dms. Anything from one liners to lit is fine, but I won't expect anyone to match my length in replies so I would appreciate some slack towards me as well <3 Especially since my energy levels fluctuate a great deal.

Shipping and nsfw is fine, but I would appreciate a discussion beforehand. Nsfw option is for 18+ roleplayers only. My preferred ship for Neuvillette is Wriolette from the top of my head but I am a multishipper so feel free to discuss any ship! (Excluding ships with themes of pedophilia of course).

If you have any questions, feel free to shoot Mod or Neuvillette a message. Looking forward to interacting with you all!

P.S. My other roleplay blogs are:

@bornfromchalk for Albedo

@thoma-the-housekeeper for Thoma

@wangshengconsultant for Zhongli

@songforanapple for Venti

@tighnarisforest for Tighnari

@hearthofmagic for Lyney

[ironunderstands]

Honestly im more neutral/postive towards neuvifuri now, I realize what made me dislike it originally is how one sided it feels? Like furina now that she’s free just wants to experience life and doesn’t really want to keep her connections to the past, and unfortunately for neuvillette that includes him, even if she likes him personally getting into a relationship with him would mean being tied back into the life she doesn’t want to live anymore. And for neuvillette? Well I guess I kind of hate how in true context of this ship, some people make him seem like his entire personality and existence involves being in love with furina, which is really annoying because he is a person and so much more than that. Also no offense neuvifuri shippers, for the most part the people on tumblr are normal but oh my god some of the people on TikTok and YouTube are some of the most insufferable human beings on the planet. Like they will go onto ship posts of other furina or other neuvillette ships and be like “erm neuvifuri canon actually” or try to make other neuvillette and furina ships out to be the most toxic shit in the world even if that completely contradicts canon (wriolette). Also, as always with straight ships in this fandom, it has a serious case of the uwuification of furina and making neuvillette into some fucking alpha wolf bad boy which never fails to make me want to gouge my eyeballs out. Honestly the only not straight ships I’ve seen have this problem are Kavetham and zhongchi, but that’s mostly because they are so damn popular that of course some of the content about them is going to be like that (dishonorable mention to Chiscara).

[seraph-of-sizes]

Writing ideas

Here are some writing ideas I have, I'm already working on the Fontaine siblings (Human Freminet, Borrowers Lyney + Lynette) but y'all can pick what others you find interesting. :D

Lumine + Aether w/ borrowers Lyney, Lynette, Freminet (modern au)

Freminet w/ borrowers Lyney, Lynette

Wriothesley, the DUKE, giant lowkey equivalent to Atlas, LITERALLY holding the primordial sea at bay as his sentence. Neuvillette finds out. (Wriolette fluff)

Scara’s consciousness occasionally gets shot into the husk of Shouki no Kami, its stressing him out but he refuses to talk about it, believing it's just a nightmare. Nahida figures it out when she catches the Traveler going down into the workshop one night through a hole at the base of Sumeru City’s tree roots, scaralumi/scarather will be neutral so you can read it per your preference.

After the mirage in the bottle, Eula and Collei head back to Sumeru to see Nilou perform. Unfortunately, Eula isn't as familiar with Sumeru’s rainforest and loses collie after being attacked by a Rishboland tiger. Thankfully a particular forest watcher was nearby.

Navia, sizeshifter that runs Spina di Rosula. After Act two of the 4.0 Archon Quest, she's constantly tiny. And it rains, a LOT. When Poisson begins to have a small crisis from the downpour causing flooding, she makes the journey with the Traveler to see Neuvillette and straighten out the hurt in her heart. (Why the Traveler thinks this will fix the flooding, Navia has no idea.)

Neuvillette, who can be as small as an otter (and sometimes confused with one) or as large as the sovereign he is the incarnation of, as his body winds along the trenches of Fontaine. Loud pops make the water churn as he stretches completely for the first time in one hundred years. However, when he opens his eyes, he wasn't really prepared to be face-to-face with the infamous child diver Freminet, and neither was Freminet prepared to actually see the hydro dragon in all of his scaled glory.

Zhongli has had a few forms over the years, but never has he stayed so long without donning his Exuvia, an itch to be large and powerful itches under his skin. It's not until the traveler introduces him to the Iudex of Fontaine and a low territorial growl escapes him that it truly becomes unbearable. Escaping into the wilds of Juyun karst, he dives into ancient caverns to hide from the people of Liyue, after all Rex Lapis is supposed to be dead, not roaring his head off in the woods somewhere.

Kaveh had explored a fair number of ruins in the desert of Sumeru, he even stumbled across the one that trapped Faruzan for a century (he gave it a wide berth, no thank you), but the tiny dais before him was something so foreign he couldn't help but open it. I mean, yes, it LOOKED like a tiny coffin, but the worst that was going to happen was a dead lizard falling out of it or something…. Turns out the 'or something' is a tiny person. That looks almost exactly like Alhaitham. Wait…is this King Deshret?

Kazuha gently kneels before the sword and masterless vision that lay right where he had left them. With the vision hunt decree and sakoku decree abolished, he was a free man. He could help being bitter about how he made it to the other side alive and whole, and yet had lost so much along the way. He shook his head, such negativity would get him nowhere, even the wind was whispering of new beginnings, chances to make amends… “Niwa?” What he had assumed was a discarded doll suddenly moved towards him, speaking. Kazuha centric, character study. Kabukimono formed from the lost doll scara had. Wanderer comes in later.

[blazewatergem]

Man I’m sorry I gotta get this off my chest honestly.

But being a Genshin fan on Twitter must be MISERABLE from what I’ve been witnessing!

Gods forbid you’re a multishipper, so many people of opposing ships seem to hate each other - as if you can only pick one or the other(in this case, Wriolette V Nevifurina)

And then apparently you have to know if you want one specific person “on top” or not! Because some people will block switchers?! Oh oh and don’t forget even if it’s the same ship, there’s different names based on who is “on top” example again with Wriolette and Nevuiristy(?) like holy shit what happened to one ship gets one name, or like a cool code name.

Leaving shipping behind, it feels like people rally around hating fans who…are just enjoying the game??

Like, if you don’t want the game to be harder you’re a “normie”(wth?) if you complain about finding it hard you’re a “casual”(as if that’s a bad thing?) and if you actually LIKE the game and dare to say so you’re “on Mihoyo’s payroll”.

COMING FROM OTHER GENSHIN FANS.

Like damn no wonder people side eye the fandom. Hell it put me off from wanting to play for so long, I’m glad I finally gave it a shot.

Don’t even get me started on the Honkai Star Rail stuff, I’ve been dodging land mines there and that has made me not even want to touch the game —

All of this is just my own opinion, of which I HAVE been blocking and muting. It just manages to filter through, it’s that immense.

Damn. Wild morning already :’D like I said, I just had to get this off my chest after the last few days. I’m curating my experience and all of that, but I just wanna scream into the void for a minute lol