#just pLEASE give me CLORINDE
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do you have a favorite fontaine character? 👀
Ok so like, multiple reasons I do not have a clear cut answer for this:
The thing about Fontaine is that they genuinely have such an incredible cast I legitimately cannot pick a favorite character. Like seriously this is such a hard question because so many of them are just AWESOME!!! Many are just well written, beautiful, so interesting, tragic, all of it
I am waiting for Clorinde's story quest...I have been waiting for more Clorinde content since Fontaine P1. Since her cutscenes with Navia and Wrio. I HAVE BEEN WAITING!!! I WANT MORE OF HER SO BADDDDDD BECAUSE!!! OMG!!! So far, she's had both such a serious and dutiful persona, but also she's so sweet and kinda awkward??? she also may or may not have family baggage because of her family heritage... If they do her character justice (haha) she might be one of my favorites
Ok currently the actual contenders for favorite are, like, Neuvillette and Furina. My stance on neuvifuri as a ship tho is a whole other mixed bag, but both of them individually are just so!!! YO!!! THEYRE JUST SO CHARACTER!!! Neuvillette, this beautiful, gentle, and truly dutiful dragon who learned to love humanity. Furina who's madness and goodness are what allowed her to fulfill her own duty. Man. They're both just so interesting and SILLY EVEN. Just wonderful little bbgs to mess around with.
Not to say I don't love Fontaine's other characters either. Far from it. I have not liked a character this fast ever (?) like I liked Chevreuse in just one event. Chevy is so goofy and passionate and genuine I like her a lot!!! Wrios is just. Such a cool fucking guy idk what to tell u man. He's both so chill but also godDAMN you do not mess with him. Navia!!! Such a lovely lady who's so strong, after all that she has gone through and all the responsibility she now carries!!! Truly girlidol girlslay girlboss she's incredible!!! AND OF COURSE THE TWINS AND FREMINET!!! Lyney and Lynette are such an amazing duo in their magic tricks, their agent duties, their siblinghood. Freminet is such a precious boy, please protect him he just wants to swim with the ocean creatures :<<<
Not to shade on the rest of the cast of course. Arlecchino (aside from being sexy as fuck) I'm also just waiting to see what else she actually has under her sleeve. Sigewinne and Charlotte are both nice and cute! By no means are they boring or uninteresting, just not my type, Chiori as well.
#evelynprtext#evelynpr genshin#I love fontaines cast like legit holy shit#theyre all so lovely and so fun#i love to mess around with them in my head#and also learn about them#like theyre so colorful and fun and interesting and also tragic and just mmdskfalsdjflajdsk#honestly just Banger after banger#just pLEASE give me CLORINDE#I WANT MORE OF HER SO BAD PLSPLSPLS#I NEED MY LOYAL PUPPY KNIGHT GIRLY PLSSSSSSSSSS#she also gay and purple so a bonus for me#genshin#genshin impact#clorinde#neuvillette#furina#focalors#chevreuse#wriothesley#navia#lyney#lynette#freminet#arlecchino#sigewinne#charlotte
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Them seeing you in a lingerie after they come home.
characters: Neuvillette, Clorinde, Arlecchino, Furina, Wriothesley x fem!reader (bonus focalors)
(nsfw) warnings: teasing, dragon in heat, handcuffing, fingering, spanking, fucking against window, etc.
Neuvillette
Poor guy gets flustered and hard fast! You really like to tease him, don‘t you? You, laying in the bed with a lingerie on, looking at your husband with a innocent smile as he looks back at you. Stepping closer, he unzips his pants, throbbing cock hitting his stomach.
“f-fuck— baby..i need you inside me..please...“
He crawls between your legs, pulling down your underwear while pumping his hard cock with his free hand. Your husband was never this clingy before (unless mating), now hes right between your legs, at your mercy. Neuvillette grips both of your thighs to spread them more apart with his strong hands, guiding his cock right infront of your wet cunt. You wrap his arms around his neck, smiling. Your man could be in heat right now, and you have to take care of him.
”My hydro dragon is so submissive.“
Clorinde
You weren‘t expecting the champion duelist to come home so early, seeing you in your bed in such clothes. Clorinde takes a step closer to you and looks you up and down, taking a look at your outfit.
“M—my love, what are you..“
You grin at the sight of Clorinde with a flustered face. She always looked so emotionless, but not today. You‘ve been waiting for this moment, but the duelist just wanted to take a break. She crawls onto the bed and hugs your warm body, burying her face into the crook of your neck. ”Clorinde, how was work?“ Are you seriously asking such innocent questions while in underwear only? Clorinde slides her hands lower until meeting your ass cheeks, giving them a slight squeeze. You let out a small gasp, smile turning into a smirk. You know that Clorinde can‘t resist you.
Arlecchino
It is a dangerous idea to show yourself to a strong harbinger like that, but you won‘t mind if she gives you a punishment. Waiting for her to come home, you‘ve been laying in your bed with a bored expression until the door opens, revealing the Knave. Her eyes narrow at the little of clothing you have on, black hand gripping the door handle firmly.
”Just what are you wearing?“
You smile nervously and crawl further into the bed, the scary looking woman stepping closer to you and quickly pulling you up by your leg. ”A-ah— A-arle! Its just so hot in here, you know?“
Excuses never work with Arlecchino. She pushes you back onto the bed on your stomach, slicing the lingerie panties in half with her sharp nails before delivering a harsh smack on your ass. You let out a yelp, trying to crawl away, but the Knave climbs on top of you and buries your head onto the pillow to keep you quiet. ”Do you know how much you‘re acting like a slut right now?“
She slowly slides her hand right to your entrance, before slipping three slender fingers in. The sudden move made you groan loudly. ”I-im sorry, Knave!“
”Be quiet and take this like a good girl, la mia troia.“
Furina
You did not tease her much as she needed had to have some time for herself after all the stuff that had happened in Fontaine lately. But living in a house now, she‘s happy that she did not have to continue acting as a god. Now that you know her true self, you decided to tease her today to see her reaction.
You‘re laying in her bed in your lingerie, two glasses of wine on the desk next to the bed. Furina comes home with bags of grocery and puts them on the kitchen table before walking to her bedroom with a tired face. Her eyes widen to see you half naked.
”w-wha- uh- what..wh— hey..um..“ hundreds of stutters come out of her mouth as she stares at you with a red face. ”p-please— um- put on some clothes..i..ah..wait don‘t..“
Furinas lips turn into a slight smile as she takes off her jacket and jumps onto the bed on top of you, cupping your cheeks, giving you a hungry kiss that caught you off guard. You kiss her back, soft arms wrapped around her neck, fingers tangled in her short hair from behind as she unbuttons your bra, slowly sliding it down before throwing it onto the ground. “Mon bébé, you wouldn‘t mind, right? I need you so badly. Right now.“
You nod with a pant as you crash your soft lips firmly against hers once again, her hand finding your panties, seductively taking them off, skillful fingers rubbing against your cunt.
“i need you..“
Wriothesley
That man has been pretty busy in the Fortress lately, barely coming home. You message him on your phone several times, and he only reads them. Eventually, he came home with a hum and opens the door, smirking at the sight of you in a lingerie, checking you out.
”Wow..someones extra playful today.“
You chuckle at his words and stand up, seductively touching his chest. ”Of course, love. I‘ve been waiting for you.“ He scoffs playfully and gives you a quick kiss before taking out his fancy handcuffs, putting your hands behind your back, handcuffing them.
”A woman like this has to be put in their place, yes?“
A blush appears on your face as he picks you up with one arm, bringing you to the kitchen before bending you over the kitchen table. ”This,“ He slowly slides down your underwear, ”has to be gone.“ your panties are quickly taken off as he works on unbuttoning your bra. ”And this too.“
A gasp escapes your mouth as you feel one of his hands grabbing your bare tit, his other hand working on unzipping his pants, revealing a bulge inside his boxers. ”Be a good prisoner, will you? I know you will. Great, now lets begin the punishment.“
Bonus - Focalors
That woman had always been a teasing one to you, and you wanted to tease her back. She came home with a yawn as she opens the bedroom door, revealing you in HER lingerie. The archon lets out a little shocked gasp before licking her lips seductively with a smirk, walking towards you.
”Oh..tch..so cute, so sexy. So vulnerable wearning my beautiful lingerie.“
She pulls you by your arm and picks you up easily before pinning you against the glass window, breasts pressed against it, seeing views of Fontaine.
”Is this girl so desperate for a punishment?“ she licks your earlobe.
Focalors whispers seductively into your ear, using her hydro powers to create a water cock between her legs. You look behind you, only to get your head pressed back against the window. People could see you like this! Legs spread open and breasts pressed against the window. She quickly takes the lingerie off of you, laughing softly at the beautiful view of you fully naked. She holds both of your hips before pushing in, feeling the cock slowly stretching you open. ”F-focalors— f-fuck- ah!“
”My pretty girl is gonna be so messy after this. So pretty. I can fuck you against this window and people would see your precious little face.“ Before you could talk back, she takes one hand away from your hip and stuffs two slender fingers inside your mouth.
”Shhh, we don‘t want others to see you, right? Good.“
#furina x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#focalors x reader#focalors smut#genshin impact#furina smut#genshin smut#fontaine#neuvillette x reader#neuvillette smut#wriothesley x reader#wriothesley smut#clorinde x reader#clorinde smut#arlecchino x reader#arlecchino smut
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it always ends with i love you ft. wriothesley — in which you, a small floral shop owner, meet the duke of meropide by a chance encounter—and then you meet a bunch more too…but not so much by chance anymore
contains: 20.3k work count (please give it a chance i put my soul into it) ; female reader ; mature content—not suitable for minors ; strangers to friends to lovers ; flower shop au + florist reader ; reader has a small backstory regarding her dead father ; use of canon flowers and and lore, meaning i did my best so please be gentle on me with my botany facts ; heavy spoilers for wriothesley’s story quest and backstory, explores themes such as murder and hints at child exploitation and trafficking—all pertaining to his adopted home life ; slight oc’s because i gave a few of his adopted siblings names ; a fun neuvillette and clorinde appearance! ; a not so fun childe appearance + jealousy ; a short argument ; love confessions and getting together ; wriothesley is scared of love (anyone who had to kill their parents should be tbh) ; reader sits on his lap/lays on him ; there’s sex in every scene lol i got carried away—includes vaginal fingering ; cunnilingus ; nipple play ; hand + blow jobs ; unprotected vaginal sex ; creampie
the first time you meet wriothesley is by accident.
he doesn’t exactly come up to the surface regularly—he sees the sun frequently enough to remember what sunlight feels like if he tries to recall, but not enough that most people of fontaine would know he’s the duke of meropide just by looking at him.
he likes it that way. the duke is no small title, and he’d prefer the trip through the streets of the court without being stopped for idle chit-chat.
he doesn’t intend on stopping on his way to the palais, but you’re a bit of a unique circumstance.
he hears the smashing sound of something breaking before the scream, quickly glancing over his shoulder at the noise. nothing could have prepared him for a flower shop to be the source of such chaos—what could be chaotic about selling petals on a stem?
except you’re clumsily chasing after a man as he stumbles past your door, knocking over the potted plants on display in the process as you follow him.
the look of distress on your face as the pot falls and shatters compels him to investigate the scene. (of course, there’s a note of distress on your face before the pot falls, but the way it deepens when it does is almost criminal. your face is too lovely to have such creases in your forehead, even if he won’t admit as much out loud).
“stop! please,” you call, “you haven’t paid for those!”
thievery. wriothesley knows a thing or two about pocketing things that don’t belong to him.
first, it’s because he spends a portion of his life on the streets, surviving more than living. those moments reduce him down to a simple pocket thief at times. (he had standards for his crimes: never too much and only enough to survive for a bit. always from someone who dresses expensively and looks like they’re comfortable enough not to feel the damage to their wallets. and, of course, never from women).
second, it’s because people, on the streets or in the fortress, love to steal from those who are weak and vulnerable. people who are sleeping are of that classification of individuals, so wriothesley learns how to keep his things hidden and how to be a light sleeper. he’s never had too many things that are precious to him, of course, but he owns little enough that he’d notice his losses harshly should they come.
he hates thievery. partly because it reminds him of his past and the darkness that taints it, but mostly because it always involves someone innocent who doesn’t deserve to lose. not even a little.
his feet carry him over to the scene before he can stop himself—not that he would stop himself even if he did have control over his body, but it’s just that this particular circumstance seems to have him in some sort of trance. one that won’t allow him to look away from your face.
“please,” you follow the man past your shop’s door, “those are the last of my glaze lilies—i promised them in an order!”
the man running doesn’t seem to care about your pleas, snickering as he turns to give you an amused look, as if your distress is entertaining. he doesn’t make it far, though, before he bumps into a muscled chest.
“what the—”
wriothesley cuts him off, raising a brow. “i do believe the lovely lady here has asked for her flowers back. or did you miss that part?”
“and just who do you think you are, mister?” the man barks, glaring wriothesley up and down. (it’s a bit funny, considering he’s much shorter, so it takes a tad bit of effort on his part to give wriothesley the menacing once over it’s meant to be). “i don’t remember asking you what she asked.”
“oh me?” wriothesley cracks his knuckles casually, shrugging as he says, “duke of meropide at your service. i must say, i’m not very popular around here—not a lot of people know me, it seems.”
your jaw drops. the man’s face pales—which is a nice confirmation, at least, that he does have some sort of a brain.
“w-what? and just why would i believe that? you expect me to think the fortress’s duke is just prancing around the streets as if he hasn’t got duties? as if!”
wriothesley’s lips quirk up at the edges as he hums, fishing through the pocket of his shirt before he pulls out an envelope, sealed with the stamp of the iudex himself. there’s writing on it in clear letters, bold and italicized, as if just to mock the man.
to: duke wriothesley
from: iudex neuvillette
“that clear things up for you?” wriothesley asks, traces of a cheeky glint in his eyes as he raises a brow.
instantly, the man is clasping his hands, head bowing as a string of incoherent apologies flows past his shaky lips. “i-i’m sorry! i’ve never done anything like this before, you can check! my records are clean! i-it was a moment of weakness, but it won’t happen again, sir. p-please don’t take me to monsieur neuvillette. or court. or—”
“your first thieving gig, and you picked flowers?” wriothesley snorts, “i almost don’t want to bring you to court just save myself from the embarrassment.”
the man flushes, bashfully shrinking as he mumbles, “w-well i just…i just wanted to get flowers for my girlfriend for our anniversary and these…th-they’re her favorite you know? b-but they’re hard to come by since liyue is so far and…and the lady wouldn’t sell them to me so…you know…i uh…” the man trails off, wilting as wriothesley’s stares down, unimpressed. “i promised her i’d get them,” he adds, as if it’ll help.
“what a tragic sob story you got there,” wriothesley deadpans. “your girlfriend must love your honesty.”
“if i may interrupt,” you call from behind, making both men glance over to where you stand some distance away.
wriothesley forgot you were there, truthfully. but now that he’s taking in your appearance up closer, he can’t help but appreciate it. your features complement each other well—like an assortment of carefully arranged flowers, hand-picked one by one by celestia themselves.
“hello miss,” he nods, raising a hand to half-wave at you, “don’t worry, i’ll get this man out of your hair in a moment with your flowers too. just give me a sec—”
“no,” you say softly, “no it’s okay. he can keep some of them…i’m sure i can make do with a shorter hand than usual.”
he blinks. you couldn’t have possibly offered to let your thief keep his earnings at your expense, could you? he can’t decide if you're just that naive, just that foolish, or truly just that kind.
maybe all three, if he’s being honest.
“uh…are you sure?” he tilts his head in disbelief, “you want to let him keep the flowers?”
“partially,” you confirm, “it’s alright. everyone deserves flowers on their anniversary. especially their favorite.”
wriothesley decides you’re just that kind—and in some ways, it’s worse than being a bit on the naive side. at least you can sharpen yourself to become untrusting and skeptical if naivety gets you in trouble. kindness is as easy to take advantage of as it is to take for granted, and it’s not just something people like you can turn off like a switch.
“oh, thank you!” the man exclaims as soon as the words come out of your mouth, not wasting a second to grin at you as he says, “you’re really so kind! if you’d just tell the duke here that it was all a misunderstanding and that you’d like to drop all charges, then i’ll be on my way with partial the flowers—”
“make no mistake,” your hands find your hips as your face hardens with a certain strictness even he’s a bit startled by, “if you should come here and cause trouble again, i have the duke’s word to press double the charges next time. i would tread carefully if i were you—don’t ever let me catch you stealing from me again.”
wriothesley stares at you and gapes. he’s sorely mistaken about you—kindness is not the absence of your spitefulness, and the man shrinks back as you stare down at him expectantly.
“o-of course,” he says quickly, “it won’t happen again.”
“good,” you nod, “that’ll be five hundred mora, please.”
“b-but—”
“is there a problem?” you raise a menacing brow, making the man scramble to shake his head.
“wow,” wriothesley snorts as the man scampers off after fishing enough mora from his pockets, “i suppose i underestimated your ability to handle the situation, miss.”
“i think i owe a good portion of my success to you, your grace,” you bow your head slightly, unable to meet his eyes as you nervously chuckle, “i don’t usually have robberies. the people in this area are familiar with me. they’re quite kind—i’ve never had someone as stubborn as him.”
“well, rest assured, if he bothers you again, you can come to find me for my word at court.”
“i’ll hold onto the offer,” you grin.
that chance meeting becomes history after a while. he comes and pays you a visit every time he’s at the surface, which isn’t all too often, but often enough that you start to look forward to at least one routine visit per month. sometimes, he teases you about whether or not you’ve had new thieves pay you a visit. other times, you make use of his strong hands and built muscles and cheekily order him around to move heavy bags of fertilizer around.
he likes tea, you learn—he takes a very piqued interest in the jars of dried petals you keep on shelves, ones you tell him are good for making blends for tea, or to boil with water for natural remedies, or to make syrups for beverages like lemonade. it’s a slow, steady, blossoming friendship until, all at once, you feel incomplete without the routine visit from the fortress’s warden. you’re too reliant on the familiarity of explaining flowers, their origins, what stories they share, and what they mean—and likewise, you feel incomplete without his stories from the fortress, what the inmates are up to, and what changes he’s developing to make things better for the people under his wing.
you like to think he feels the same way; otherwise, he wouldn’t come around as much as he does.
sometimes he walks you home, and sometimes you invite him for tea. you drink coffee, but you don’t mind the trouble of brewing two beverages if it means some extra time with him in your cozy little home.
like today, where he sits comfortably at your dining table while you cut fresh bulle fruit as tea steeps in the hot water. he watches you with fond eyes, listening as you ramble intently about your recent endeavors at your flower shop.
“—and i think i’ve finally managed to grow a cactus from sumeru long enough to bloom my own henna berries,” you grin, looking at him brightly, pride settling into the crinkles of your eyes, “it did take some trial and error—fontaine rains far too often for cacti to survive, but this one i managed to grow indoors.”
“couldn’t you just get the berries delivered from sumeru? since you have plenty delivered from there already,” he asks in amusement. you huff, rolling your eyes as you walk over, setting the platter of fruit down before him.
“of course, you’d want to take such a simple route—but plants are far more rewarding when you grow them yourself, you know. plus, every fruit i’ve managed to grow on my own here in fontaine has had a bit of a unique flavor as opposed to ones grown from their original nation. i’d like to see if that’s the case with these berries, too.”
“well, if that’s the case,” he hums, taking a slow sip from the tea you’ve brewed for him—it’s perfectly made to his liking, with two sugar cubes and piping hot just as you’ve learned he prefers. he closes his eyes and lets out a content sigh as the warmth trickles down his throat. “let me try one when they’re ready.”
“of course,” you brighten excitedly, as though the prospect of someone to share such a moment with is one you look forward to. there’s something that tickles in his chest, right beneath his ribcage, at the sight of your wide grin.
you chatter until the sun sets, warm, honeyed rays of orange and pink pouring through your windows and painting his skin vibrant hues. it’s about time for him to leave—you can tell even before he clears his throat and stands, grabbing the plate and mug and heading to the sink.
“i should go,” he says kindly, washing the dishes with so much familiarity that it almost feels domestic and natural to have him here. you shake the thought out of your head as quickly as it enters your head. “thank you for having me this evening.”
“oh, i think we’re past the formalities,” you huff a small laugh, “you’re doing my dishes.”
“technically they’re my dishes,” he chuckles, “since i did dirty them.”
you hum, walking over to where he stands as he turns the faucet off—until a small twist of your ankle has you gasping as you stumble forward. you brace yourself for the impact of the hardwood floor, but instead, you’re met with a firm yet soft chest as strong arms wrap around your waist and catch you before you can fall.
“oh,” you breathe as you open your eyes, staring into him with just as widened pupils as him.
“are you okay?” he asks quietly, voice just barely audible as he whispers to you—he’s so close, so painfully close, you think the only reason you heard him was because of the proximity.
“yeah,” you nod. it’s hardly a nod, really—if you were to move your head too much, you’d risk brushing your nose against his. or maybe even your lips. “i’m fine. thank you.”
“yeah, no problem,” his eyes are still trained on yours, and neither of you can find it in yourselves to pull away. you can’t, and he definitely doesn’t, and nothing seems to give as you stare at each other. you’re pressed against his chest, and his arms are wrapped around you, and there’s a strange beating in both of your chests that you think you can just barely make out.
they almost seem to beat in sync, rapid and untamed. so, so fast, you wonder if it’s even healthy.
you don’t know who does it first—or maybe it was the both of you. all you know is that one second, you’re staring at each other, and the next, your heads are tilted so that your lips meet tentatively. he hesitates at the first brush of your lips, but your hands cup his cheeks and pull him forward, making his eyes flutter shut as he shakily breathes into your mouth. it’s so slow, so dizzyingly slow, that you wonder if time has just stopped altogether to grant you a moment with no interruptions.
he fits perfectly against you, the soft flesh of his cheeks spilling over your palms, your thumb rubbing affectionately into the skin as he nips at your lips, kissing you like he’s waited his whole life to feel you. the curves of his mouth connect with the curves of yours like pieces of a puzzle, like he was carved to match you from the same stone.
you’re not sure how long you kiss like that, but slowly, it grows needier, more quick and hasty as your hands leave his cheeks to wander to his hair and gently tug at the strands as his hands wander to your waist and lower back, feeling every curve of you as he groans into your mouth.
he tries to pull away, but you chase after him, unwilling to let go.
“w-wait,” he mumbles, “maybe we should stop—”
“you really want to?” you ask breathlessly, and all it takes is one glance down at your glossy, swollen lips for him to close his eyes and shiver.
“no,” he admits hoarsely, “i don’t. are…are you sure about this?”
“yes,” you whisper instantly.
he doesn’t waste a moment, quickly pulling you into your bedroom as you both collapse on the mattress. you climb onto his lap, crotch pressing against the semi-hardened erection in his pants, the press of your heat against his bulge earning a low, drawn-out groan from him that shoots straight to your clit with a dull ache.
“sweetheart,” he says in between kisses, making you inhale sharply at the pet name, “you’re killing me here.”
“okay,” you smile against his mouth, pecking it sweetly before you add, “then let me do something about that.”
he doesn’t expect you to drop down between his legs, face to face with the obvious tent in his pants—wriothesley is a gentleman, a giver before he is a taker. his first instinct is to protest as he opens his mouth and starts to say, “hang on—you don’t have to—”
“i want to,” you pout, looking up at him, “please? i want to.”
when was the last time someone looked up at him like that, staring up at him like pleasing him is the only way they’ll survive? he doesn’t recall, doesn’t think it’s ever happened, in fact. he groans, head falling back against your bed frame as he nods slowly.
“okay,” he concedes, lifting his hips up so you can pull his pants down his legs, leaving him in his boxers. there’s a wet patch where his tip meets the cloth, the evidence of pre cum drooling from his swollen head that makes you hum in satisfaction as you leave a tender kiss on the spot through the fabric. he gasps, hips jolting as his thighs clench at the teasing touch.
“can i?” you purr, hand rubbing soothingly over his tense thigh as he swallows and nods, looking anywhere but at you as he breathes harshly.
“y-yes,” he grunts, “please.”
you’re freeing his cock as soon as he utters the plead, letting him spring free and meet the cool air. he hisses, gritting his teeth as his chest rises and falls erratically, labored breaths that he tries to use to calm himself as he stands painfully hard between his legs.
“pretty,” you murmur, entranced at the sheer size of him—he’s flushed an almost painful red at his thick tip, leaking enough pre cum that you’d think he might have already had his release with the way it runs down the side of his hardened length.
your hand wraps gently around the tip, thumb smearing the pre cum along the tip before coating the rest of his cock, using it as lubrication for the steady stroke of your hand along the girth. he throws his head back, groaning as his hips buck into your touch before he stops himself, frantically trying to keep himself still and let you take your time.
“f-fuck,” he rasps, “that…that feels nice.”
“yeah?” you breathe, smiling as you press a kiss to his thigh as he chokes on a grunt while your hand slowly pumps him. “am i doing it right?”
“you’re doing just fine,” he assures, biting his lip as he finally can’t keep himself from bucking impatiently into your fist any longer, “feel free to do more, though.”
you giggle, pressing a soft kiss to his lip before gliding your tongue through his slit and watching as he melts against your bed frame at the gesture, body loosening up like he’s limbless as you slowly take him into your mouth, swallowing around his cock and bobbing your head, pumping the rest with your hand that you can’t fit down your throat.
“shit,” he curses, hand cupping the back of your head as he guides you up and down his length, moaning your name when you swirl your tongue around the tip, “you…you’re so good at this, yeah? take me so well in that pretty mouth of yours.”
you hum around him, making him cry out at the vibrations around his cock, one hand running through his hair as he tries to keep himself grounded, the other still cradling the back of your head. he’s a gentleman, though, living up to one just as much as he always lets on to be when he doesn’t force you to take more of him by pushing your head down or burying himself deeper into your throat by fucking his hips into your mouth. he lets you do things at your own pace, and you think it’s enough when you feel the telling signs of his release as his panting grows harsher and his cock twitches in your mouth.
“w-wait, wait,” he says frantically, “i’ll cum—i’ll cum. not yet, not until i have you.”
you reluctantly pull away, a trail of spit connecting from your lips to his tip that makes him close his eyes and groan, clenching his jaw as his near-orgasm dies down to nothing again. his cock is achingly hard, hot and swollen and throbbing after denying himself for the sake of feeling you.
“c’mere,” he motions for you to climb onto his lap. you do, sitting on his thigh as he slowly trails a thumb under your shirt, rubbing the skin with a feather-light, heated touch that has you shivering against him. “you sure you want this?”
“i want it,” you whisper, leaning to press a kiss to his lips that he reciprocates with a low hum of approval, “with you.”
“such a sweet way with words,” he murmurs, slowly pulling your blouse over your head and unclasping your bra, tossing them to the side as he marvels at the view of your tits. “such a sweet view, too. beautiful.”
you flush at the praise, looking away. but his hands grab at your breasts, large as they cup them and massage lightly, thumbs running over the pert nipples as you shudder and breathe out a light gasp.
“wriothesley, need more—”
“give me a moment,” he shushes you, “and then i’ll give you what you want.”
he admires you like that for a bit, sat on his thigh as your eyes flutter shut and his thumbs tease your nipples, wetness pooling in your core that he can feel on his thigh—you’d be embarrassed, you really would, but it’s not as though his cock is any less leaky at the head.
finally, he inhales sharply, sitting up slightly to unbutton his shirt, revealing the scars down his chest before he helps you out of your pants. you stare at the harsh, jagged lines that pain his skin, raised, discolored skin, the only evidence of some brutal, vicious past that he survived.
your thumb traces down the lines, making him shiver at the fragileness behind the touch.
“where’d you get this?” you murmur, staring at him curiously.
“hmm? oh the scar on my body? it's from a gash i got while battling a gigantic undersea monster that tried to take over the fortress of meropide…” he stares at you cheekily as you blink, looking at him unimpressed. “hah, just kidding.”
��do you ever take anything seriously?” you shake your head and huff, but there’s endearment on your face as you fight back a smile.
“on the contrary, milady,” he murmurs, grabbing your hips and pulling you back slightly, exposing your drenched cunt before he slowly sinks two fingers into your folds and curls them against the back of your walls, “i take this quite seriously.”
you gasp at the feeling, his digits rubbing against your walls and angling to hit a sensitive, achingly sweet spot at the back of your cunt. it’s precise, the way he pumps his fingers into you, slowly sinking in a third digit while you mewl and throw your head back. the heel of his palm catches against your clit, the sweet friction building your orgasm up slowly, slowly, until suddenly, you’re near the edge all at once.
“c’mon, don’t hold back now,” he drawls, voice low and sweet and so attractive, you feel like the sound of him alone is enough to send you tumbling over the edge, “why don’t you be a sweet little thing and let go for me, hm?”
you do—instantly, you do, crying out his name is choked garbles as he works you through your orgasm with his fingers, still thrusting into you with a precise pace. finally, when you’re done clenching around him, he pulls his digits out, the slickness of your pussy coating them as he hums in satisfaction.
“think you’re ready?” he asks softly, cradling the back of your head with his good hand as he pulls you closer, “or do you need one more from me?”
“i’m ready,” you huff impatiently, “i need you, need to feel you already.”
“okay, okay,” he laughs, amused but not anymore patient himself as his cock pulses between his legs, “i’m not trying to wait any longer, either. do you have a…uh…y-you know…”
you snort at the way he trails off awkwardly, flushing at the thought of asking for a condom as if he’s not completely nude under you. “no,” you giggle, pinching his cheek as he huffs, “but we don’t need one. it’s fine.”
“okay,” he nods slowly. his hands grab at your hips, firm yet so gentle with the way they lift you up and guide you to angle over his swollen cock, slowly helping you sink down on him as he chokes on a grunt when his head pushes past your folds.
you gasp as soon as he intrudes into your tight hole, splitting you open on his thick girth as you take him inch by inch until you’re sat on his lap completely, buried completely with his length as his jaw clenches at the tight squeeze of you around him.
“wri—wriothesley,” you sob brokenly, unable to say anything else besides cracked repeats of his name. he’s so big, buried so deep, and leaving you so full, you’re not sure if you have it in you to fuck onto him from this position.
he takes things into his own hands, though—roughly grabbing your hips and pulling you back before helping you sink back down on him again, rolling his own hips upward to bury deeper into you. your head spins, and all you can think to do is weakly plant your hands onto his shoulders before you roll your hips, grinding down on his length and sloppily fucking yourself onto him.
he bullies past your folds, curves deliciously into the most intimate parts of you, fat tip slamming against the soft, sensitive spot that makes you see white. pleasure burns up your spine, building a coil in your belly that grows tighter, tighter, tighter—so close yet so far from snapping and letting you plummet into your second release.
“that’s it,” he grunts, “fuck—you’re so tight, so good. i’ve…i’ve never felt anything so good. it’s like you were made for me, weren’t you? take me so well, fit around me so well.”
his hand moves to your clit, thumb pressing against the sensitive bundle of nerves and rubbing merciless circles against it as you mewl, head burying into his neck as your nails claw at his shoulder. everything is so good—so hot and filthy and leaves you impatiently desperate for some form of release. the friction of his cock dragging along every ridge leaves your mind hazed, and the harsh press of his tip against your sweet spot leaves your vision blurry.
you’re not sure how you even have the strength to rock yourself onto his stiff length, but somehow you manage, and he seems keen on helping you, too, with rough, bruising hands that grip your waist with a punishingly tight grasp.
“c-can’t hold on much longer,” you cry, voice a strangled sob that’s muffled into his skin, “i’m s-so close. please.”
“me too,” he pants, voice just as strained as yours as he moans through a cracked voice when you clench down on his particularly tightly, “me too, sweetheart. i’m right there with you, alright? let go—c-c’mon.”
once more, you cum around him—this time on his cock instead of his fingers, and if the first time felt good, the second time is devastating. your vision practically goes white as your walls spasm around him, slick and dripping with your release and mixing with his own as he follows you not long after. his cock jolts, pumping hot, sticky ropes of his seed deep into you, and both of your bodies are slumped against one another as you barely roll your hips, sloppy pace with no rhythm as you focus on getting yourselves through the ecstasies of your orgasms.
his thumb is still pressing against your clit, and your hands have left his shoulders to bury into his sweaty hair, tugging fiercely at the dark strands and making him groan at the mix of pain and pleasure.
finally, you both ride out the final few waves, him slumping against your bed as you fall against his sturdy chest, face still buried into his neck. sweat clings to your skin, but you don’t mind the feeling of his damp skin against yours, not when the warmth of your body makes the afterglow feel so sweet. your fingers thread through his hair, soothing over his scalp with the rake of your nails where you’d just tugged so harshly, and his palms glide up and down your hips, rubbing gentleness back into the parts where he dug bruises along the skin.
“wait, is that watering can supposed to be a dog?” he asks out of the blue, making you lift your head and look over your shoulder.
“yes,” you quirk a brow, watching as he lets out a small snort as he looks at the watering can by your plants in wonder.
“it’s pretty ugly.”
“rude!” you gasp, pulling away slightly as he shakes under you in laughter, “i think it’s adorable!”
“do you now?” he bites his lips, attempting to suppress the smile that threatens to take over, “you have…interesting taste.”
“oh, you’re dead to me,” you spit dramatically, collapsing back against his chest as you bury your head into his neck again. “dead to me, i say.”
“my apologies,” he snickers. his hand rubs slowly into your hip, quietly humming for a moment before he asks, “what made you so passionate about plants?”
“i can’t just really like them?” you challenge.
“sure,” he shrugs, eyeing the watering can again as he smiles, “but you don’t give the impression that you just happen to just really like leaves, and that’s it.”
“there’s more to plants than leaves,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. and then, much gentler this time, “my father was a scholar from sumeru. an herbologist.” your voice is a quiet murmur, a low hum as you speak into his neck while his hands are still rubbing into your hips, “i used to be fascinated by his journals and all the plants he’d seen. he died when i was young, so sometimes…sometimes i try to grow them here in fontaine myself. just to feel close to him.”
“do you?” he asks quietly, staring at the various plants that decorate your small home. it’s cozy, he thinks, so lively and warm that it almost doesn’t feel like you’re the only inhabitant. “do you feel close to him when you do?”
“if it works,” you admit, “it’s not always easy to recreate the same conditions they’re meant to grow in.”
“i think you do an impressive job,” he praises, earning a slow smile from you that he can feel curve into his skin, “i’ve yet to come across a flower shop in fontaine with as much variety as yours.”
“you flatter me, your grace,” you chuckle, pulling away as you stare at him, the tousled hair from where his hand ran through, the swollen bottom lip where his teeth sank in, the flushed skin where heat settled. you take all of it in slowly, admiring him as he looks up at you through lidded eyes.
“do i? i meant it seriously, not in flattery,” he raises a brow and smirks, “if i wanted to try flattery on you, i think i’d have some other choice words.”
“don’t be so insatiable,” you gently swat at his chest, earning a chuckle from him. “will you be able to stop by tomorrow?”
“i’m afraid not,” he sighs, “i have a meeting with some people from the palais tomorrow at the fortress. it’ll run a bit late.”
“oh,” you try to hide the disappointment in your voice, but he seems to sense it instantly. “that’s okay. i just had a blend i thought you might like to try—for tea, that is. it’s um…i dried the petals myself, and it’s new. i thought i’d let you be the first to try it to let me know what you think.”
you try not to giggle at the way he perks up at the mention of tea.
“ah, i’m afraid i won’t have time tomorrow. but…” he coughs, trailing off as he looks away, contemplating his words.
“but…?” you press.
“but…well, i have a few guards returning tomorrow from the surface from a few tasks i gave them. i could have them stop by the shop to escort you down to the fortress if that works for you…it’s okay if you can’t, though! i can always come by sometime this week when my duties aren’t as—”
“that sounds nice,” you cut him off, grinning widely, something close to excitement blooming across your features, brighter than any set of petals in your shop, he thinks. “you can give me an official tour of the fortress, perhaps. i’ve only ever heard about it through stories.”
“as you wish, my lady,” he winks.
he leaves not too long after—you try not to focus on his lingering scent in your sheets once you settle back in after bidding him goodbye. it’s oddly peaceful, being surrounded by him even when he’s not there, and sleep lulls over you quicker than usual.
the scent is faded by the time you wake up, so you take one last deep breath to inhale it before you set off to get ready for the day, counting down the hours before you get to see him again.
——————————
as promised, a group of fortress guards stop by your shop, politely waiting for you to close up before you join them on their return.
the fortress is darker than you expected—but not at all as small as your mind anticipated. in fact, it’s huge. you follow the guards, making idle chatter as they take you up an elevator, up, and up, and up—until finally, you finally arrive on the floor of his office.
you’re so busy taking in all you can of the fortress that by the time they escort you to his office door, you remember why you’re here in the first place. to bring wriothesley dried petals of sweet flowers that you grew yourself—flowers often make for a wonderful tea blend, and learning his passionate liking for the drink makes you feel compelled to share with him every one of the various floral teas you’ve learned about in your time as a florist.
you knock on the door of his office—except, oddly enough, there’s more than one voice you can make out from the room. you didn’t think his meeting would still be in session by the time you arrived, making you anxiously regret the knock as soon as your knuckles leave the surface of the door.
but he answers before you can think too much of it. “come in,” his voice calls.
“your grace,” you hum, stepping in, “if this is a bad time, then i can…”
you trail off. both fontaine’s chief justice and champion duelist stand in his office, gathered around his desk as he sits and sifts through files. of course, wriothesley is a duke, which is no small title by any means, but you’re caught more than a little off guard as you step in and share the room with two of fontaine’s more important figures in the justice system.
“no,” he says casually, “come in, you’re right on time. i was just telling miss clorinde about the delicious tea blend you would bring for her to try. she couldn’t wait a moment longer.”
“if you want to try it so badly, just say so,” she rolls her eyes.
“fine,” he huffs, lips curling into a slight pout, “i’d like to try the tea you promised me. clorinde will pass, though.”
“i think i’ll try it, as well,” she chimes in, suppressing a smile as wriothesley crosses his arms.
“but you just said—”
you giggle, walking over as you hand him the bag with dried petals, grinning at the amusing dynamic, and murmur, “i believe it would be the polite thing to do if you made an extra cup for the madam while making yours.”
“picking her side, are we? such an act of betrayal won’t be forgotten,” he huffs. still, almost as excited as a child opening a present, he opens the bag to add the petals to the tea maker he keeps at his desk. you watch with fondness at the action. “you still owe me a present, by the way. and tea won’t do—i’ve just received a batch.”
“then i suppose i can gift you a new tie,” clorinde hums, eyeing the loosened tie around his neck and making him furrow his brows as he subconsciously straightens it, “something that fits your neck better so you look a bit more put together.”
it’s almost like she sees through the both of you, eyeing between you and him with a hint of a knowing glint in her eyes. wriothesley scowls, giving her a petulant glare.
“there’s nothing wrong with my tie. i look just fine.”
“i do believe it’s a stylistic choice,” neuvillette pipes up from the side, “it doesn’t seem to be an issue with the tie itself.”
you snort at the way the joke flies over his head. “you’re right, monsieur,” you join in the banter, “i do believe his grace has a rather…unique choice of style.”
“i wonder if he ever plans to properly wear the coat he always seems to keep hanging over his shoulders,” clorinde adds, the earlier grin she attempted to fight back now fully curled into her lips. you laugh, much to wriothesley’s dismay.
“perhaps he just values being prepared,” you hum, “one can never tell when the fortress will suddenly be too cold. someone as busy as the duke surely can’t afford the wasted time to go and fetch a coat.”
“ah,” she nods, “i suppose you’re right. he is too busy learning legal codes as of late.”
“i take it that my gift has been useful, then?” neuvillette brightens, turning to a miserable wriothesley as he rubs his temples wearily.
“most helpful,” he sighs, not bothering to explain to the iudex that he’s once more missed the point of the joke.
“oh, we’re only joking,” you laugh, taking the tea cup sitting at his desk and pouring him a glass of the now freshly brewed tea, “it’s all in good fun, your grace.”
“wriothesley is just fine,” he mumbles, “as you can see, this isn’t a very…formal meeting.”
he watches as you carefully make his cup, one sugar cube as opposed to his usual two—before he can point it out, however, you beat him to it. “i know you’re particular about your tea. i can see it on your face you’re about to insist i give you two, but this is a very sweet blend as it is. one will suffice.”
“careful when it comes to his tea,” clorinde warns, “he’ll be in a foul mood all day if it doesn’t live up to his standards.”
“not true,” he grumbles. as if to prove a point, he takes a sip, slowly blinking before he looks at you with an awed grin, “it’s lovely. you’re right, it is just perfectly sweet with one cube.”
“perhaps you’re the only person he won’t make a fuss with then,” clorinde teases, “he’s got quite the list of grievances if i make him a cup of tea.”
“that’s because you don’t know how to make proper tea,” wriothesley rolls his eyes, “there’s a set of steps you’re meant to follow, you know.”
“water is a most simple beverage,” the iudex cuts in, “one that has many complexities in flavor, as well. perhaps you should consider it as a fitting option if tea gives you too much trouble.”
“i would hate to think of the wrath the poor inmates would have to face if he were to miss a single tea time,” you grin, fighting back a chuckle as wriothesley takes a tired sip from his cup, resigning himself to his fate as the target of your banter, “water simply won’t do.”
“well, i believe we should be off,” clorinde looks at neuvillette, “perhaps we should leave them to themselves.”
“ah, yes,” the chief justice nods politely, “there are many more files for me to read through at the office.”
“do you ever take the day off?” wriothesley raises a brow, “wouldn’t hurt.”
“even his dreams are of legal cases, i’m sure. he wouldn’t last a day on vacation,” clorinde hums.
“i don’t typically dream when i sleep,” neuvillette frowns, still so serious that you choke on a snort as you try to hold back you giggles. wriothesley looks at you with an amused grin, biting his lip to hide a chuckle himself.
“i’ll be seeing you,” he waves as the two leave, “and hopefully with my present ready next time,” he calls to clorinde with a pointed look. she rolls her eyes, fondly waving as she heads out the door.
“i didn’t know you were friends with such important people,” you murmur as they leave, making him raise a brow as he takes another sip.
“friends isn’t the best title for it—consider us work acquaintances.”
“with banter like that, i hardly believe it,” you chuckle, earning you a half-hearted glare from him over the rim of his tea cup.
“did you have your fun at my expense?” he asks dryly—but there’s no real bite to the words, “it seems you got along quite well with clorinde.”
“monsieur neuvillette is lovely too,” you giggle, “even if he’s not exactly…the earliest to catch onto jokes.”
he laughs at that, setting down his empty cup as he stands, eyeing the door to his office quickly before stepping closer to you, eyes staring down at your lips as you chew on the bottom and wait for him to make his move.
“thank you for the tea,” he murmurs lowly, lips just barely a millimeter away from yours, “it was quite sweet. i enjoyed it.”
“there are plenty of other floral blends i have for you to try,” you hum.
he grins, hands finding your waist before he whispers, “surely i couldn’t take all that from you without offering something in return, could i? i wouldn’t want it to seem like i'm taking bribes.”
“oh?” you breathe, grabbing a hold of his tie and tugging him closer until your lips meet his in a slow, heated kiss. it awakens a sick, insatiable heat in your core almost instantly. “what did you have in mind, your grace?”
he groans at the way your voice teasingly lilts at the title, hungrily chasing after your lips again. it’s more tongue than it is anything, messy and almost too scandalous to take place in his office where anyone could knock and come in at a moment’s notice. he seems to know it, too, because slowly, he guides you backward, slow steps that don’t interrupt the lock of your lips until your back meets a door.
“why don’t i show you,” he breathes—and then the doorknob is twisted open, and you’re gently pushed in with an arm curled around your waist to guide you. there’s a bedroom connected to his office, you realize.
not entirely a shock—you’re sure the duke of the fortress has his own quarters to sleep in away from the other inmates, but it doesn’t surprise you less enough that you don’t pull away to take a glance around.
it’s empty, mainly. not too many things besides a few scattered files and another tea maker with a few cups surrounding it at a desk in the corner. the sheets are dark grey, plain, and neatly made, with two pillows and nothing else. it has no more than what he needs, no more than what’s necessary. no hints of anything that’s his, anything that makes the room belong to him outside of being a mere sleeping quarters.
“not one for decor?” you hum, wrapping your arms around his neck as your fingers fiddle with the collar of his shirt.
“i only come here at night to sleep,” he shrugs, “never felt the need.”
“everyone needs a space that’s theirs, don’t you think? even a few flowers would brighten the place up.”
“offering me more business?” he chuckles, making you roll your eyes, “and they’d die. there isn’t much sun down here.”
“i can think of a few options that would thrive,” you murmur.
“so it is business,” he quips. sigh exasperatedly, and he grins cheekily at you before you’re gently pushed to fall onto his bed, his body moving to hover over you as your legs wrap around his waist. his cock is semi-hard through his pants, and you wiggle your hips to press against it, the friction making him groan as you feel him stiffen even more from your actions.
“i think i’d like my payment now,” you hum, making him raise a brow.
“eager?” he asks, making your hand travel to squeeze at his bulge.
“and you aren’t?” you challenge.
“fuck,” he grunts, shuddering at the feeling, “looks like you got me.”
it happens faster than you can process—the shedding of clothes, the way his fingers slowly sink into you, pumping in and out expertly as your head spins from the way he brushes against your sensitive spots. he’s quick, the way he stretches you apart with his digits, adding a second and third finger with little to no time to waste. you hardly have time to accommodate the third when you feel a familiar ache building up steadily.
“c-close,” you say shakily, voice brokenly whispering against his mouth as he drinks up your moans, “i’m going to—”
“i know,” he hums, “shh. just let go—you’re doing so well.”
the praise shatters you—you break at the way he sounds so in awe of you, of the way you suck his fingers into your slick cunt, so tight and wet with every clench. your back arches, and your hips roll into his hand, whimpering as his palm rolls over your sensitive clit.
“god,” you gasp, “wriothesley, please.”
“please what?” he drawls, “you already got what you needed.”
“please let me feel you.”
“such a demanding price for some tea,” he sighs, “alright. i guess i can afford it.”
the nudge of his cock against your folds is enough to make you mewl, a sweet, whiny little cry that he groans at—every sound you make leaves an ache shooting up his stiff cock in the form of a twitch, like your every cry calls out to him. he responds with a rough thrust of his hips, burying himself into the depths of you, so deep and so close you can practically feel his pulse alongside yours.
“so full,” you gasp, panting as you try to adjust to the sheer girth of him. he waits a moment, jaw clenched and teeth grit as he waits for you to nod your head and signal him to move.
“and you’re so tight,” he grunts, moaning softly against your ear as he nibbles on your earlobe, “i wouldn’t mind it if you charged interest either, just so you know. i’ll pay it over as many times as you want.”
“oh be quiet, would you?” you roll your eyes at his words at first, but then they roll back at the feeling of his thick, swollen tip pressing against the deep, sweet spot in the back of your walls. he lets out a breathy laugh, kissing the corner of your mouth so he doesn’t muffle the precious little moan you let out.
“sure thing,” he hums, “i like listening to you more, anyway.”
“oh,” you gasp, “oh—wriothesley!” his finger teases over your clit, making your walls quiver around him as you feel your second orgasm creep up on you. “w-wait—i’m close.”
“why would i wait?” he asks in amusement, “that’s the idea.”
“t-together,” you whimper, pouting up at him through swollen lips and watery eyes, “please. please.”
he curses, closing his eyes and inhaling shakily at the way you look so fucked out, so drunkenly hazed on pleasure from the drag of his cock along your every ridge. you ask so sweetly—and who is he to deny such an innocent request?
“fuck—okay, sweetheart. fine by me,” he pants, rolling his hips harshly as he works himself to his own orgasm. his thumb teases your clit cruelly, fast and merciless one second, and a slow, bare feather’s touch the next. it keeps you right on the edge, a drooling mess of broken pleas as he finally approaches his own high. “close?”
“so close,” you gasp, twitching as he buries himself deep into you again.
“me too,” his voice cracks, “c-cum with me—please.”
hearing him plead sends you over the edge again—your first orgasm pales in comparison to your second. you didn’t even think that was possible, but the thick of his cock bullying into you is infinitely better than his nimble digits. the blunt head hits all the right spots, curves in all the right angles, and fucks you through your high expertly without even trying.
you both cry out each other's names like prayers, muffled strings of curses, and breathy gasps that you swallow up between slow, sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. finally, when the last few twitches of his cock finish painting his release into you, he slumps on the bed beside your body, body shaking in slight tremors as he catches his breath.
“you okay?” he asks through a labored voice, “didn’t hurt you?”
“i’m okay,” you breathe, smiling softly. he closes his eyes, relaxing into the mattress, pulling the covers to tuck the both of you in before he stares up at the ceiling, arms folded behind his head while he seems to be deep in thought. “what’re you thinking about?” you murmur.
“just how good you got along with clorinde,” he hums quietly, almost in wonder. “she’s not exactly the easiest to banter with so quickly.”
“well, i guess it’s not too hard if it’s at your expense,” you tease.
“ah, yes,” he sighs, pretending to woefully shake his head, “i’ve been reduced to the butt of the joke one too many times today, it seems.”
he grins to himself at the sound of your quiet laughter, so soft and sweet, so perfectly filling up the quietness in the room, bouncing off the walls and ringing in his ears like a symphony. you stare up at the ceiling yourself, eyeing the pipes, the dark amber metal that makes up his home. it’s quiet like that for a bit—not awkward or uneasy, almost like you’ve known him for ages. almost like this is natural.
“can i ask you something?” you murmur after some time, shifting under the covers to face him.
he raises a brow, looking at you curiously. “you’re scaring me with that look. going to confess some wicked crime you want me to help you hide?”
“it’s not like that,” you huff, rolling your eyes. carefully, as if treading unknown territories (you are, in all fairness), your fingers find his bicep, running along the skin soothingly. it’s an affectionate touch—you and wriothesley only touch each other for physical pleasure, nothing more. this is new, something you’re freshly navigating with a weak compass that points back and forth between your heart and your head, unsure whether to follow logic or emotion.
“well, go ahead and ask,” he insists, “you’ve got me curious, anyway.”
“what…what did you serve for? when you were an inmate,” you say quietly. he tenses under your touch, muscles becoming rigid as you instantly regret the question. your fingers pull away at the same time as you start speaking, “it’s okay if you don’t want to answer! i just got curious and—”
his hand catches your retreating wrist, gently pulling it closer, closer, until your hand rests on his chest. this is definitely uncharted territory—but his hand firmly lays over yours as he presses your palm over his bare chest.
“it’s fine,” he mumbles, “it’s not exactly something people in my inner circle don’t know.”
“oh,” you whisper, “i’ve been promoted to inner circle, huh?”
“you’ve seen me naked,” he snorts, eyeing you with a hint of amused disbelief, “you’ve sucked me off, in fact. i think there’s a special other circle inside the circle just for you.”
“okay, no need to get all…”
“all what?” he teases, waiting for you to finish.
“all uncouth about our activities!” you huff, face feeling hot as he grins.
he laughs, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you against his side so your cheek presses against a muscled pec as his warm hand traces circles into your hip. you gasp slightly at the sudden gesture but relax all too quickly, your own hand moving to rub into his chest slowly, feeling the rough scars and tracing them with your fingertips.
“i was adopted when i was young from an orphanage. when i was a bit older,” he swallows, voice quiet, serious—so oddly vulnerable, you think you’re talking to a new version of him altogether, “i found a diary in my mother’s drawer. i didn’t…i didn’t mean to snoop. i was just looking for some paper for my sister to color with.”
“you had a sister?” you ask softly, looking up to see his jaw tighten slightly.
“i had quite a few siblings,” he admits, voice strained. “older and younger. my parents would adopt a few children at a time and raise them until they were old enough to be adopted into families of greater means. and then they’d adopt more younger children. i thought they were perfect parents,” his eyes stare off distantly, unfocused as they look up at the ceiling, hand mindlessly wandering along your hip as you listen.
“until…?”
“until i read that diary,” his voice hardens, still strained as he clenches his jaw and swallows thickly again, “they were records. of my older siblings, the ones i thought were adopted off. all of their names were followed by prices, and the ones who didn’t have prices had been crossed off. i didn’t understand until i saw my own name and my brother antoine’s. we had blank spaces next to ours.”
“how come?” you furrow your brows, looking at him in jarred curiosity.
“because we weren’t sold yet,” he smiles ruefully, “i realized we were being sold off like livestock. and i started to piece together why i had never heard from any of my siblings even when they’d promised to write. i…i never knew what became of them.”
“oh, wriothesley,” you say gently, so delicate, he closes his eyes and lets out a shaky breath. you press a soft kiss to his chest under you, hand moving up to cup his cheek, “what awful people.”
“i…i should have kept it to myself,” he whispers shakily, “i didn’t…i couldn’t figure out what to do, so i told antoine—i thought…i figured maybe…” he trails off, eyes closed once more as he breathes heavily, trying to collect the composure he fights so fiercely to keep.
“it’s okay,” you kiss his jaw, “we can forget about it. i’m sorry for—”
“no,” he shakes his head. “i want you to know.”
it should make you feel special—maybe even a little happy that he trusts you enough to want to share. but nothing about this makes you feel anything but pain—you can feel his pain, every inch of it. from the way his hand clasps around your waist in a shaky grip to ground himself to the way his jaw is tight under your lips as they press a soothing kiss to the angle of it. every part of him is in pain, and you can feel it. deep in your own bones, like a lingering ache. one that runs years deep, living in the deepest, most intimate parts of your body.
you don’t mind it, though. you don’t mind sharing his pain, not if it’s him.
“okay,” you nod slowly, “okay.”
he inhales sharply, taking a deep breath before he continues. “i told him because i knew we were next. i thought maybe we could have figured out a plan together. but he asked my mother about the diary, what the prices meant, and why we’d never heard from the others once they’d left. he was gone the next morning—my mother told us he was adopted, but i knew. i knew he was merely disposed of. and it was my fault.”
“it was not your fault,” you turn your head swiftly, looking up at him in disbelief as he scoffs and shakes his head.
“if i hadn’t told him, if i handled it on my own—”
“then what? he would have been fine? you don’t know that, what if he was sold off for something awful? or found out on his own without you? you were a child, and you didn’t know that he’d choose to do that.”
“but i still could have kept quiet,” he chuckles dryly, voice cracking as he adds, “i could have gotten us both out of there. on my own.”
“you shouldn’t have to have done it on your own,” you cup his cheek, bringing him to face you as your forehead presses against his, “you didn’t want to be on your own, did you?”
“no,” he admits, lips trembling, “i didn’t.”
“and that’s okay,” you murmur, rubbing a thumb over his cheekbone, “you didn’t deserve to be alone.”
“maybe it was for the better, though,” he sniffles.
“a lot of things are. we can’t hope to predict everything for what would turn out better.”
“he died,” wriothesley chokes, “my brother. he died that night—i…i knew he did. so i ran the next day, when my parents were busy, i snuck off and ran. i didn’t come back until a few years later and i…” his breath catches in his throat, glancing at you for a moment. there’s something fleeting in his eyes. doubt, maybe—perhaps even fear.
you’re not entirely sure, but you press a kiss to his lips, soft and tender, so unlike your usual heated ones. something that’s shared not for the sake of pleasure but for the sake of knowing you’re there—that he has you. you’re both here, together, just the two of you. he can feel your warmth, and you can feel his.
it eases the tension somewhat, making his rigid muscles relax as he pulls you closer.
you pull away first, murmuring a soft, “i don’t care what you did. whatever it is.”
“you say that now,” he chuckles weakly, “but you don’t even know what i did.”
“i don’t care,” you say seriously, “i don’t. whatever you did, it was because you didn’t have a choice.”
“i killed them,” he says against your mouth, such harsh, dark words that don’t belong against your soft, pure lips—he thinks he might have just tainted them. almost like you know his thoughts, you prove you don’t care when you peck his mouth lightly. “i killed them and set the other children free.”
“you were just a kid,” you breathe, “a baby.”
“a teenager,” he huffs a laugh hoarsely, “maybe not that young.”
“a baby to me,” you say firmly, “no one that young should be pushed to such extreme methods.”
“you’re oddly calm about sharing a bed with a murderer. was the sex that good?”
you roll over, laying on top of him, pulling a soft oof from his lips—you know it’s exaggerated. he’s strong and broad under you, capable of taking your weight and then some as his hands find your waist to keep you in place, eyes boring into yours. so bare and so easy for you to look into, to read, to see so plainly for all he is.
he doesn’t even blink—as if he’s offering himself to you, trusting you to see as much as you want, see as much of him as he can show you.
“is that all you see yourself as? a murderer?” you ask seriously.
“of course not,” he denies, breathing softly into your hands as they cradle his face, “but it’s the part of me that matters most. that defines me the most. whether i want it to or not.”
“not to me,” you shake your head, “and not to you either, i can tell.”
“i know why i did it,” he tells you, staring at you so intensely, you feel like maybe he’s seeing you more than you’re seeing him, “i did it for my siblings. because i knew it was the only way to get them out. no one else would do a thing. but when you strip my title as duke from me, whether you put me in the underworld or put me in the overworld, i am a murderer. that won’t change.”
“and?” you raise a brow, “do you regret it? what you did?”
“never,” he says instantly. he means it. “but i’m aware of what i am to others. what they see me as. i’m not naive enough to believe my past will go away.”
“and it shouldn’t,” you shake your head, “i don’t think it should. i don’t think murder is what matters most about you—i think a child raised like livestock, betrayed, and taken advantage of, matters most. a boy who willingly gave up his freedom so his siblings would have theirs is what matters most. a man who served his time and chose to stay so he could make things better for everyone who followed is what matters. death was a kind fate for your parents, wriothesley—i for one, believe there were more fitting fates for them. far crueler ones than a peaceful demise.”
he chuckles at that last part, staring at you in wonder, in slight amusement, in so much awe that you almost feel shy.
“now i’m really questioning if the sex was that good—you’re really rationalizing my crimes, aren’t you?”
“oh, you’re such an asshole, do you know that?” you huff, “i think that’s what defines you best. a complete, utter, shameless assho—oh.”
he kisses you—abruptly so. his lips are pressed hard and firm against you, kissing with so much conviction, so much need, you’d think that you were disintegrating in his arms, that this was his last opportunity to kiss you and commit how you feel to memory.
“you sure it’s not my stamina?” he wiggles his brows, “how about my—”
“i’ll see to it that this is the last time we ever engage in such activities if that’s all you can focus on—”
“okay, okay,” he laughs, pouting as he pulls you down to lay on him, your head tucking under his chin as he kisses the crown of your head, “enough sex jokes. i promise.”
“so crass,” you scold, “have some decorum, will you?”
“my apologies, milady,” he sighs regretfully, voice exaggerated and theatrical as he adds, “i won’t allow myself to forget my manners again. from here on out, i’ll make sure to discuss more…gentlemanly topics for your liking.”
“you’re a real handful,” you sigh, “poor sigewinne. such a sweet little angel to put up with the likes of you.”
“you met her?” he smiles fondly at the mention of her.
“briefly, yes,” you nod, “the poor thing must be tired of your antics.”
“i’m on my best behavior around her!” he insists, “you can ask her.”
“i don’t think she’ll vouch for you, you know.”
“yeah, you’re probably right,” he withers in defeat.
you giggle, kissing his collarbone softly before nuzzling against him as he relaxes. it’s comfortably silent, just your body against his, warmth seeping between the space that hardly separates your bodies, spreading across your skin. you share your heat, and he shares his. it lulls you, slowly but surely, and you can feel it lull him, too as his breath slowly evens out under you.
sleep is just a breath away from clutching you when you mumble, “wriothesley?”
“hmm?” comes his sleepy hum.
“thank you,” you whisper, yawning, “for trusting me. enough to tell me.”
“go to sleep,” he grunts tiredly, “you can be sappy and sentimental in the morning.”
“okay,” you grin tiredly, pressing closer into him, “i’ll hold you to it.”
sleep comes quickly after that—so easy, so natural in his arms, you wonder how you’ve rested all these years without him.
——————————
your routine to meet with wriothesley ebbs and flows between the surface and the fortress. sometimes, he stops by just like before, and sometimes, he sends for guards to fetch you when he’s too busy to make an appearance himself. your meetings more or less end the same—catching your breath together, bare bodies huddled together in a tired mess as you share quiet, whispered words into each other’s skin. it’s a routine that both of you are too used to by now, that even a short gap of not seeing each other makes the both of you impatient for the next time you’ll get to see each other.
on days you can’t afford to see each other, your days at the shop drag by slower when all you can do is think about him. sometimes, the guards will be relieved to come to escort you, woefully expressing the awful mood the duke has been in, shuddering as they recall how unpleasant he is to be around when he’s unhappy. they seem to insist your visits are what help end his supposed awful temperament—your instinct is always to flush and insist they must be mistaken.
but it’s an intimate sort of development—the way the two of you slowly learn to depend on each other for comfort. you on long days at the shop, him after tiresome affairs with the fortress. every delicate touch and every saccharine word you exchange slowly peels away the harsh layers of the week, leaving you raw and bare to each other.
it’s nice. something you’ve grown a bit dependent on, in fact. a part of you would like to be scared, but wriothesley doesn’t let you fear anything—it’s just the kind of guy he is. everything about him feels too safe for you to consider being scared.
you miss him terribly, too. you haven’t gotten a chance to see him in over a week—it’s the first week of spring, the blooming season for a number of flowers. you have shipments from across the continent—cecilias from mondstadt, silk jades from liyue, sakura blossoms from inazuma, and padisarahs from sumeru. there are plenty more—too many for you to list off the top of your head, but those are the ones you’re sure will sell out the quickest.
there’s a certain man who stops by every day, a mop of ginger on his head and an interesting aura about him as he asks you if you’ve received kalpalata lotuses yet—they’re for my sister, he tells you, i bring them home for her every time i visit sumeru. but i won’t have a chance for quite a while.
you learn he’s a harbinger, the eleventh in rank, and hardly one to step foot in his homeland for too long at a time. but he’s due back, he tells you, for a project that won’t allow him to leave for quite some time. mingling with a fatui operative is hardly on your list of possibilities for the week, but you realize even a harbinger can appreciate the beauty of flowers. so you promise him your batch's biggest blooms as soon as they are delivered.
and he’s patient, coming every day in hopes that they’ve been delivered, helping you organize the deliveries you do get, going as far as to join you to loch urania amidst a terrible storm to assist in picking lakelight lilies when you’re low. you appreciate the small companionship you’ve formed with him—childe, as he’s called, he tells you. a code name for his place as a harbinger that you relish in being given the knowledge of.
the day finally comes when the lotuses are delivered, and for all his help and kindness, you try to repay him with a free bouquet.
he declines persistently. “no, no miss,” he chuckles, waving his hands in dismissal as you offer the beautifully bundled flowers, “i couldn’t possibly accept them free of charge.”
“oh, don’t be silly,” you huff, “you’ve done plenty for me. an extra set of hands in the shop is as rare as glaze lilies blooming in midwinter!”
“i was happy to help,” he chirps, “i had a good time occupying myself as i waited to depart fontaine.”
“and archons know when the next time you’ll return is,” you sigh, “which is why you should accept these as a parting gift.”
“a parting gift, huh?” your eyes widen at the familiar voice—wriothesley. it’s been almost two weeks since you’ve heard it, and you beam as you look over at his approaching figure.
“wriothesley!” you hum, “what are you doing here?”
“thought i’d come to pay a visit,” he says gruffly, eyeing childe, who grins tightly at the warden. “i wasn’t banking on seeing an ex-inmate, though. what a shocking surprise.”
“the fortress’s duke in broad daylight,” childe coos, “what a fascinating sight.”
it’s tense—you can feel the atmosphere shift all too quickly as the two men stare each other down.
“i didn’t know childe was a prisoner at the fortress,” you murmur, making the warden scoff as he glares at the harbinger.
“well,” childe shrugs, eyes sharp as they gaze at wriothesley, “i like to consider myself wrongly sentenced. justice isn’t always fair in the courts of fontaine, it seems.”
“ah, is that why you escaped from your sentence early?”
“i believe my escape proved to be quite helpful in saving the people of this nation in the end, didn’t it?” he asks, voice low, almost predatory, as wriothesley grits his jaw, glancing back at you before crossing his arms.
“is the fatui boy giving you trouble?” he asks, making you shake your head frantically as the harbinger lets out a dry chuckle from the side.
“oh, no!” you insist, “no, childe has been quite helpful, i promise. he’s given quite a hand, in fact!”
“is that so?” wriothesley perches a brow, tongue poking his cheek as he glares to the side at the smug ginger.
“oh, absolutely,” childe nods, “you see, i’ve been offering the lovely lady my assistance as i waited on my delivery. we even visited loch urania together to pick lakelight lilies for a bouquet she needed to deliver.”
“he treated me to lunch,” you beam innocently. you might have missed the way wriothesley’s jaw tightens, but childe certainly doesn’t, making his grin spread even wider. “he’s nice, wriothesley, i promise. i hope you both can sort out whatever differences you had during his previous sentence.”
“perhaps next time, you could join us for lunch,” childe drawls, “it’ll be on me.”
“a kind offer,” the duke chuckles dryly, a rueful grin on his tight lips as he adds, “but i’ll have to decline.”
“please, i really insist you take these lotuses,” you hold the bouquet out to the harbinger, and much to wriothesley’s dismay, there’s an evident amount of extra care put into the floral packaging. your careful handwriting in soft, looped letters spelling out his name across the paper, with a heart beside it as though you took time to thoughtfully scribble each letter just for him. “give your sister my best regards.”
“you know his sister?” wriothesley grits.
“oh no,” you chuckle, “but he tells me of her. the flowers are for her!”
“like i said,” childe hums, taking out a heavy pouch of mora and placing it on your counter—both yours and wriothesley’s eyes widen at the sheer amount of mora you’re sure is inside. it’s undoubtedly far more than a small, simple bouquet would cost, but he waves it off like it’s nothing as he says, “i insist on giving you the payment you deserve. you’ve certainly made my last few days here at fontaine interesting. it’s made up for the less than…welcoming treatment from the beginning of my trip.”
wriothesley’s eye all but twitches.
“that’s far too much to accept for a small bunch of kalpalata lotuses, you can’t—”
“consider it a payment in advance for the next time i return to fontaine,” he winks, “i’ll be sure to visit for more of your lovely flowers. i’m sure my mother will appreciate a bouquet too.”
with that, he waves at you, walking off with a grin as you sigh and shake your head fondly, waving him off as you call, “you’re quite the handful, you know. do visit again next time you’re here!”
“oh, i wouldn’t miss the opportunity for anything.”
wriothesley scoffs at the final exchange of words, watching the retreating figure of the harbinger with hardened, distant eyes while you exhale softly and grab the pouch of mora.
“are all harbingers this loaded with mora, do you think?”
“who knows,” he mutters, looking away as he swallows before adding, “i came to visit on my way back to the fortress. i had business with neuvillette.”
“oh,” you hum, smiling as you ask, “is he doing well?”
“fine,” is all wriothesley says.
“that’s good,” you nod, “we haven’t been able to see each other in quite a bit, huh? i’d have visited, but the deliveries all week have kept me busy.”
“good thing you had the harbinger to lend a hand, huh?” he remarks, raising a brow.
“well, yeah, i suppose so,” you frown slightly, watching as he takes a slow, deep breath before fixing his tie. “is everything okay?”
“yeah,” he says instantly. “may i walk you home?”
“of course,” you smile—it doesn’t reach your eyes, and he wishes he could find it in himself to do something to reassure the lingering worry in your irises, but he doesn’t. instead, he quietly waits for you to close the shop, so uncharacteristically silent that you can practically feel the tension in the air tangibly.
the walk to your home is just as silent. wriothesley doesn’t say anything, and you don’t have the confidence to break the silence yourself. you’ve never seen him like this, so bothered and visibly so. you’re not entirely sure what brought it on, either—but you are sure it has something to do with childe.
you finally reach your home after a long walk, quietly standing in front of the door as you turn to him and inspect his face. hard-lined lips, distant eyes, and crossed arms. he doesn’t look like the usual wriothesley you know—the one who grins and gives you a slight bow as he says, we’ve arrived at your lovely home, milady.
“thank you for walking me,” you murmur, looking at him carefully as he nods.
“sure,” he responds flatly, “my pleasure.”
“you didn’t have to trouble yourself if you were tired from your meeting,” you add.
“not tired,” he shakes his head. “it was no trouble to me.”
“are you sure?” you raise a brow, sighing as you cross your own arms, “you don’t seem too happy to be here.”
“what do you mean?” he shrugs lamely, avoiding your question, your gaze. you know that one look into your eyes is all it takes to make him spill, and normally, you don’t take advantage of that, but you think tonight you will.
because you’re tired of dancing around half-truths and coded words you have to decipher. you want one straight, laid-bare conversation with him. so you reach over and tilt his jaw, making him inhale sharply at your touch as you force him to face you and look at you.
“what is up with you? and don’t even think about saying nothing.”
“nothing is up with me,” he mumbles stubbornly.
“wriothesley,” you warn, looking at him unimpressed, “i was not born yesterday.”
“my apologies,” he says sarcastically, a rueful smile curling on those chapped lips of his, “i suppose i’m just a bit shocked i’m not the only customer you offer your affections to. i suppose that was silly of me—it must be good for business.”
“excuse me?” you recoil, staring at him in disbelief. a little hurt, too—he regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, flinching slightly at the implications. “how dare you insinuate i’m a common whore?”
“that’s not what i was trying to say at all,” he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, “it came out wrong.”
“then what were you trying to say?” you demand, looking at him expectantly, hands on your hips and a raise of your brows that almost mockingly tells him, i’d love to see you work your way out of this one.
“you never told me you and the fatui boy were so close.”
if there’s one thing wriothesley is good at, it’s shifting things to focus on other people. so he can observe. watch closely. take note of all the little things so he can figure out what he wants to know without asking at all. all without having anything told to him right out. it’s how he works—and you won’t entertain it.
“the fatui boy has a name,” you point out.
“his name is not actually childe,” he snorts—there’s no real amusement in the action, just as sarcastic and sardonic as everything prior. “is that what you believe?”
“if you’re not going to say the problem with your words like an adult, i’m going to go inside,” you spit, “we’re both wasting time here if we’re just going to talk in circles.”
“yes, because i’m the one who’s not admitting things,” he chuckles dryly.
you glare at him—because enough is enough, and you’re sick of taking one step forward just to stumble ten steps back. with one swift move, your hand grips his wrist firmly and yanks, pulling him to stumble into your home as the door slams behind him. you’re tired of having bystanders walk past you and listen to your pointless discussion, and you’re tired of getting nowhere the longer you stand outside. it feels like the more you talk, the less you know. every word he says confuses you more and more.
and that’s the thing about him—he never tells you things, not since that night he first opened up. you thought you broke some newfound trust, a new ground to walk on with him that leads somewhere further than just two people who seek each other out for pleasure. you feel something for him—and you thought he did too, but it’s always something vague or another with him and you’re tired of it. tired of wondering where you stand, what he wants, how he feels. you want to know, and tonight, even if it kills you, you’ll find out.
“what is it you want me to admit wriothesley? huh?” you scowl, “tell me so i can tell you what you need to know so you’ll finally answer my question. i’m tired of the back-and-forth game with you.”
“you don’t need to admit anything to me,” he shrugs, “it’s not my business.”
“you don’t even believe that yourself,” you scoff, “even i can tell that much. is this about childe? you don’t like me mingling with the fatui? he’s just friendly, that’s all. and good business.”
“right,” he nods slowly, disbelievingly. you almost see red—how dare he hint that you’re a liar.
“what do you think i’m doing then?” you challenge, “let’s hear it. fraternizing with the fatui? is that the accusation you’ll pull out?”
“well, if he’s helping you pick flowers and buying you lunch, then you certainly can’t be strangers,” he smiles tightly, “perhaps next time he can join us in our canoodling too if you’d like.”
“so that’s what it is?” you shake your head exasperatedly, “you’re moody because you’re jealous?”
“i’m not jealous,” he narrows his eyes, “i have no reason to be.”
“i’d believe you sooner if you’d said the underwater beast really was the cause of your scars,” you scoff, pursing your lips. “why is it so hard for you to just speak your mind?”
“then let’s start with you,” he retorts, hands throwing up in the air as he takes a step closer and glares daggers at you, “why are you dancing around what your relationship with the harbinger is?”
“there is nothing between me and the harbinger! nothing at all, and i don’t appreciate you assuming things about me. i’ve only been intimate with you!”
“you don’t need to hide it,” he smiles bitterly. finally, as if the conversation has chipped away at his resolve enough that bits and pieces of his inner turmoil can show, you can see the lingering hurt in his gaze. the betrayal. the doubt and fear—all of it pools in his eyes, swimming in the many, many flecks of his eyes as you stare into them. “it’s not as though we’ve committed to anything here.”
“i’m not hiding anything,” you say firmly, “you don’t have to be jealous.”
“i’m not jealous,” he shakes his head. it feels like he’s convincing himself more than you. because more than you, admitting to himself he cares is hard. all of this is hard—you know that. the last time he dared to trust someone, to love someone, he’d lost more than he could fathom. more than he was ever ready to lose.
so you sigh, dropping your shoulders as you let the anger dissipate.
“i wouldn’t blame you if you were jealous,” you say softly, extending the olive branch with a slow, hesitant hand to his cheek. he stiffens, but he doesn’t pull away, “it would kill me, too, to think you were close to another woman. but the harbinger is a customer i’ve become friendly with and nothing more. don’t you believe me?”
he closes his eyes, letting out a shaky breath as he hesitantly leans into your palm, letting your thumb brush soothing strokes along the scar under his eye.
“i was jealous,” he admits, quiet. hoarse. strained. it takes every ounce of him to admit as much to you—the progress makes you smile softly. “i…i was so jealous i couldn’t think straight. and i took it out on you. i’m sorry.”
“maybe it’s time we had a discussion,” you say softly, “about…well, us. what it is we’re doing. it’s long overdue.”
“i’ve been avoiding it,” he confesses.
“i know,” you murmur, smiling tightly, “i know you have. that’s why i didn’t bring it up. but we can’t dance around it forever.”
“i’m no good at this,” he opens his eyes, defeated and so lost, you can’t help but lean in and press a soft kiss to his jaw.
“you’re not so bad,” you hum, “give yourself a little more credit.”
“no,” he shakes his head, “you don’t understand. i’ve never been good at this…at trusting people and getting close to them. i don’t even have real friends—i see clorinde and neuvillette every few months, and briefly at that. one of them was the judge at my trial, and the other knows as much about me as the files say. i don’t like talking about my feelings, and i hate sharing things about myself. i’m not jealous of childe because he threatens me—even i know you’d never give a fatui member a chance. but i’m no good for a stroll in the park, or picking flowers, or lunch at a cafe. i live underwater in a large prison that i run, and i rarely come up—at least, not often enough to be a healthy, functioning member of society, that is.”
“so what?” you frown, “i don’t care. nothing is easy at first—isn’t that why we try? who says you have to share all your feelings immediately? we can work up to that slowly. this was sharing, wasn’t it? what you just did? that’s a step in the right direction.”
“and look how much we had to battle for that little bit,” he lets out a sharp, self-deprecating laugh that makes your heart ache, “you’ll grow tired of me.”
“you don’t get to decide that,” you shake your head stubbornly, “i would never grow tired of you. never you.”
“i might be a duke now, but i was a murderer in the past,” he adds, a low and cheap attempt to convince you he’s not worth it. you roll your eyes at the statement.
“i’m aware,” you say blandly, “i don’t care, wriothesley. i don’t. those are all excuses—if you want this, if you really want this like i do, because you care about me just like i care about you and you feel the same way, then you’d realize these are all petty excuses your head is coming up with. i’ll wait for you to be better at communicating if you promise you’ll try. and your past is just a small stain on the cloth that we can ignore.”
“it’s murder,” he says in disbelief.
“i said what i said,” you huff. he blinks once, then twice before letting out a breathy chuckle.
“you’re insane.”
“thank you,” you nod, grinning, “and you being at the fortress is just a small obstacle. we’ll make it work, you and me.”
“how?” he asks, voice small and unsure.
“you act like it’s impossible, you silly thing. i’ll come see you, and you’ll come see me, and we can spend nights together wherever is most convenient for the time. why are you overthinking it?” you ask like it’s obvious. maybe it is—maybe his brain just doesn’t let him see how simple of a solution it really is.
“the fortress is no place for someone who’s used to the surface—”
“enough excuses,” you scold firmly, “i won’t have any of it.”
“you don’t know what you’re getting into,” he shakes his head—you cup his cheeks, pulling his face close as you press soft, delicate kisses along his skin. like he’s fragile. like he needs to be handled with care.
no one has ever handled wriothesley with care. even as a child when he was defenseless. when his parents saw a commodity to raise and sell like livestock instead of a child to love and cherish. when the streets saw a rat with dirty clothes and nimble fingers only good for theft. when he woke up in a hospital bed with cuffs to his hands, wrists shackled, and a caseworker sat a comfortable distance away, even without his gauntlets. when they saw him as nothing more than a murderer on trial as opposed to a child with no other way out. when the world showed him no mercy and left him to fend for himself in a dark, ruthless corner of the nation under the sea with no sun, no grass, no fresh air, and no hope.
no one has thought to treat wriothesley with gentleness, with kindness, with grace—as if he mattered. not until he made himself matter, taking what he wanted through a pen, paper, and meaningless title.
no one until you.
“i know exactly what i’m getting into,” you whisper, “you know what i see? when i look at you?”
“what? big muscles?” he teases, voice weak. a last, feeble attempt at keeping himself guarded. it’s useless, and he knows it as well as you do. he’s already far more vulnerable than he’s comfortable with.
“a good man,” you say firmly, “a good man who is worth the effort. one who has a good heart and no one to share it with. someone who knows when change needs to happen and makes it happen. someone who knows a thing or two about second chances. who shows people mercy if they’re willing to be better—because that’s all he wants. for things to be better.”
“you’re giving me a lot more credit than i deserve, sweetheart,” he says shakily, trying to give you his usual smirk. his lips wobble, much to his dismay—you kiss them to help him hide the tremor like the angel you are.
he’s not sure why the archons, celestia, or whoever is in charge of fate would send him such a perfect, pure angel in his arms. but they did. he’s certainly not one to miscount his blessings—they’ve been few and far between as is.
“no,” you murmur, whispering between kisses, “i’m not. i’m giving you as much credit as you deserve. because no one has ever told you these things about you, and it’s time someone did.”
“doing the dirty work, huh?”
“i wish you’d stop with that,” you smile at him sadly, “i wish you would treat yourself with the same kindness you treat everyone else with. that you treat me with.”
“you’re an angel,” he murmurs, pecking your cheek, “that’s the difference.”
“you can’t be that bad if that’s the case,” you grin cheekily, “what kind of angel picks such an awful guy?”
“one who thinks the fatui harbingers make good friends,” he snorts, “one who’s a little on the naive side.”
“i like to think of it as seeing good in people,” you wink.
he laughs, arms wrapping around you, pulling you flush against his chest as he kisses you. and kisses you. and kisses you—and kisses you some more until you’re forced to pull away and breathe. even then, he’s not satisfied, lips finding the sensitive skin along your collarbones, traveling up along your neck and finding your jaw, peppering soft presses of his lips until they hover over your mouth again.
“you good?” he asks smugly, “need a minute to catch your breath?”
“you’re such a pain,” you huff, pressing against his mouth and closing the gap as he hums against you.
“what were you just saying about me just a few moments ago? something about a good man?”
“come here,” you sigh exasperatedly—and then you’re tugging him into your bedroom, stumbling and giggling as you both impatiently find the bed. you fall back, the mattress catching you along with him as he hovers over you and doesn’t waste a moment to nip at your neck.
“next time you need help with flowers in a dangerous, stormy place, you ask me,” he says lowly, breath fanning over your skin and making you shiver, “you don’t need the fatui boy.”
“okay,” you laugh, breathless as your eyes flutter shut when he nibbles on the sensitive spot over your pulse point, “you might have to temporarily drop your duties as a duke for that, though.”
“consider it done.” his hands tug your blouse over your head, doing quick work to toss it somewhere on the floor as he grins at the lacey red bra you have on underneath. “this is new,” he comments, “i like this.”
“of course you do,” you grin in amusement, “so predictable.”
“hey,” he pouts, “i’m an easy guy to please. just need you, maybe a few accessories…i don’t ask for much.”
“well,” you look at him in anticipation, “are you going to stare all day? or are you going to take it off?”
his eyes darken—hazed with lust and desperation as he quickly works the bra off of you and tosses it off to the side, too, but not before he stares at the label quickly. “chioriya boutique,” he reads, nodding, “remind me to give her my thanks. and business, too, in the future.”
“shameless,” you scoff, shaking your head.
“grateful,” he corrects, grinning cheekily at you. you don’t even get a chance to retort before his lips are around your nipple, teeth lightly grazing the pebbled nub as he sucks, making you gasp as your hands find his head, cupping the back of it as your own head throws back against the pillows.
“wri—”
“you know what i see when i see you?” he hums, pulling away from one nipple and latching onto the other, tongue rolling over it slowly as his thumb finds the other, not to leave it neglected, “i see the woman i would defy the gods themselves to possess. who i would commit far worse crimes for, and serve time all over again for. one who commands my every thought. do you know how many times i’ve neglected my duties just thinking about you alone? when i see you, i see the one thing that’s finally mine—mine alone.”
you whimper as his lips reattach themselves to your breast, sucking and grazing his tongue around one nipple and pinching and toying with the other with his hand. your hands tug at his hair, pulling a soft groan from his throat as he pulls away and stares at you. you’re a panting, heaving mess already—he grins in satisfaction.
“pretty,” he hums, nuzzling his nose against your throat, right where your pulse is erratic, “so, so pretty.”
“all this flattery, and you’ve yet to do something,” you rasp, just to rile him up as he lets out a deep, gruff sound of disapproval, eyeing you with a raised brow.
“oh, you want me to do something, is that it? i thought we’d take our time,” he grazes his finger along your waist, tracing the edge of your skirt before looping his finger under it, tugging slowly, “but if you insist, i guess we can pick up the pace.”
he pulls the skirt down your legs, eyes widening as he takes in the matching red laced panties from the bra earlier—you grin cheekily as he does. “like this one too?”
“oh,” he chuckles, breathless, “sweetheart, you have no idea.” wriothesley is a giver—you’re reminded of this fact as soon as his head buries between your thighs enthusiastically, kissing your clit through the lace as your breath hitches. “did you pick this little set up just for me?”
“don’t be silly,” you tease, “i obviously got this for myself. consider yourself a lucky witness.”
“and a lucky witness i am indeed,” he nods, humming as he slowly, carefully inches the lace down your legs, admiring the way it contrasts against your sweet, supple skin. “i owe chioriya boutique my life. i’ll even give my thanks to madame chiori myself.”
“please do not,” you say in horror, making him chuckle, “that would be utterly undignified.”
he’s not even listening, you realize. his lips attach to your clit as soon as the fabric is discarded somewhere to the side like the rest, a soft groan rumbling from his chest as soon as he tastes you, spreading your legs for better access as he glides his tongue to your folds, pressing between your folds and looking up to watch as your head throws back with a soft gasp.
“wriothesley,” you gasp, pulling his hair in a tight grip to ground yourself.
you’re the most gentle with him when you handle him—but you’re also the roughest. the way you grasp him so harshly, mercilessly in your grip, makes his eyes flutter shut in a sick, twisted sort of masochism. he loves the pain, the dull throb in his skull from your pleasure.
“yeah, i’m right here, sweetheart,” he chuckles lowly, “feels good?”
“yes,” you whine, “s’good—so good.”
“i know,” he hums, pressing soft kisses to your clit, along your inner thigh, until he’s back to your folds, hovering over them as he whispers, “i can tell just from the way you’re dripping. isn’t that cute?”
you whine in embarrassment, closing your legs around him as he grins against your cunt, grinding down on his mouth until he’s back to devouring you, tongue slipping deep into you as far as he can, exploring your tight, wet hole with fervor.
“close,” you whisper, voice bordering on broken, “i’m s-so close—oh, wriothesley!”
you come undone on his tongue with one more roll of his tongue over your clit, shaking as he sloppily eats you out through your high until your whole body is a shaking, quivering mess along with your walls.
“got anything else from that boutique you want to show me?” he murmurs, moving back up to hover over you, burying his face into your neck as your arms snake around his shoulders, rubbing into his back.
“maybe,” you say vaguely, grinning, “it’s a secret. maybe if you behave, you’ll find out.”
“yeah?” he chuckles, “consider me on my best behavior, milady.”
“then take this off,” you tug at his shirt, pouting as you add, “not fair that i’m the only one undressed.”
“as you wish,” he agrees. you watch as he strips—it’s not embarrassing like the first time or two when you looked away with a hot face and ears. now it’s intimate, watching him bear his soul to you, with every scar and imperfection, every flaw and tainted part.
his cock is hard, standing between his legs as it throbs, a bead of pre cum coating the tip. your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him close again as you feel his hardened length poke at your thigh, making you press against it and pull a groan out of him.
“i want you,” you whisper, “i’ve never wanted anyone else. not like this. not like you. i don’t think i ever will.”
“you can’t have met too many people then,” he teases.
“oh, i meet plenty of people. romantic ones at that—flowers are a love language, you know.”
“and you still want me? they must all be taken.”
“they’re not you,” you correct, pulling him into a sweet, slow kiss, taking your time to mold your lips against him and feel him against you, “nothing close to you. no one comes close.”
the bees should come to your lips for nectar, he thinks. flowers bloom from your mouth, delicate and sweet petals that light up his world and color him every shade of love.
“in that case,” he whispers, pulling away from your mouth to press a soft kiss to your nose, “i’m the luckiest man in fontaine. maybe teyvat.”
“i would agree,” you wink cheekily, “aren’t i such a lucky catch?”
“oh absolutely,” he laughs, amused, fond, so deeply enamored. then his lips are back on yours, and his hips are angled so that his cock teases your folds, grazing the entrance of your cunt as he coats his tip with your dripping slick.
you both shudder at the feeling, gasping against each other’s mouths as you exchange hot, labored breaths.
“i want you,” you repeat, “please.”
“you have me,” he whispers, letting out a soft moan as he pushes the tip past your entrance, “as long as you want.”
“that’ll be forever,” you say breathlessly, “think you can handle that long?”
“i’m sure i’ll manage.”
finally, he pushes all the way through, buried to the hilt and stretching you apart until he splits you open on his cock. he presses so deep into you, you can feel him nudge against that sweet, spongy spot without even trying. it’s like he was made for you—like the laws of this land declared him yours from birth and made him fit you in every way possible. the slot of his fingers with yours, the mold of his lips against you, the press of his cock into your cunt. all of it fits you so well, you wonder if you’ve lived your life just to find wriothesley.
you both moan into each other’s mouths, strangled sounds that you swallow from each other’s mouths as your lips sloppily press into each other.
“wr-wrio—fuck,” you stammer, nails raking along his back as he rolls his hips, slamming into your deepest, most rawest parts.
“yeah, baby,” he pants, kissing the corner of your mouth, “m’right here, sweetheart.”
you sob when a rough, callused thumb finds your clit, rubbing circles into the bundle of nerves perfectly in tune with the harsh thrusts that fill you so deep. deep—he’s so far into you, you wonder if you can feel him in your throat, in your lungs, and in your heart, knocking the air out of you as you breathlessly try to call his name.
“faster,” you plead, clinging to him, “more—please, need more.”
“think you can take it?” he chuckles, cutting himself off with a strangled grunt when you squeeze around him particularly tightly, “i think you’re falling apart as is.”
“more,” you whine, back arching as your hips desperately buck up to meet his in tandem, trying to feel him closer, deeper, harder.
“if that’s what you want,” he hums—you want to scoff at him, but you’re too delirious. you’d tease him for acting like he doesn’t want the same, like the ache of his cock doesn’t crave more friction, doesn’t want to slam into you with little to no self-control outside of chasing his pleasure. you feel so good around him—so good, his head falls to your shoulder as he pants harshly into your ear, murmuring stammered praises. “s-so good, sweetheart. you always take me so good, like the pretty thing you are. how in teyvat did i score the affections of fontaine’s most radiant lady? o-only the gods could know.”
“why don’t you ask them,” you breathe, head pressing against the pillow as your back arches and your toes curl when he slams his swollen tip against your sweet spot once more, hips rolling in perfect precision, “ask them how you got so blessed.”
“maybe i’ll ask the divinity right before me,” he hums smoothly, chuckling when you mewl as his thumb rubs faster into your clit, “how did i get so lucky?”
“because i need you,” you whine, “n-need you—only you.”
“what a sweet answer,” he groans, pumping his cock into you faster, feeling the familiar twitch indicating he’s close—and you are too. he can tell from the erratic squeeze of your walls. “always spoiling me, right sweetheart?”
“wriothesley,” you cry, “i-i’m close. m’so close, please. please.”
“no need to say please, baby,” he grunts, “you can have whatever you want. when you want it, yeah?”
and just like that, you break—his thumb is still rubbing those harsh circles into you swollen clit as you cum, clenching down on him through your high as your mouth parts and your head presses deeper into the pillow. he’s fucking into you, still slamming his hips into you as mercilessly as before, riding you through your orgasm as you chant his name.
“wri—wriothesley,” you sob.
“yeah, sweetheart? what is it?” he teases—it doesn’t last long, though. his bravado falls apart as soon as the first twitch of his cock indicates his own orgasm. you feel the hot, sticky, endless ropes of cum fill you up, coating your walls as he stiffens over you and shudders, groaning lowly as he empties himself into your sweet cunt. “f-fuck, you feel so good—you’re the only one. the. only. one.”
his hips thrust into you to punctuate the words, cock pushing his release deeper into you, messy and leaking down your thighs and forming a ring at the base of his length. it’s so filthy you almost think it’s a sin. but how could it be when it feels so right, so good?
finally, he slumps over your body, spent and panting as he finishes. you catch your breath under him, labored breath one after the other as your sweaty skin clings against his own.
“you’re beautiful,” he murmurs after some time, kissing the damp skin of your neck.
“i know,” you whisper cheekily, making him chuckle as he rolls over, pulling you into his chest.
“so humble,” he snorts.
“of course,” you beam, “but feel free to leave more compliments.”
“oh don’t worry, i won’t run out any time soon.”
it’s quiet for a bit, apart from your giggles and his low chuckles. soft, peaceful, and so painfully comforting, you wonder if heaven itself wishes for a place beside wriothesley.
“when you first came up to the surface after your sentence,” you mumble after a few moments of quietness, tracing small loops into his chest as he silently hums for you to continue, “what was the first thing you did?”
“i got a croissant,” he answers thoughtfully, thumb rubbing circles into your hip where his hand is comfortably rested.
you blink, tilting your head to look up at him. his lips curve into a knowing grin.
“pardon?”
he laughs—it’s a beautiful thing. like a boy, eyes crinkled and lips freely curved so wide, you’d think his cheeks were endless with the way they expand to accommodate for such a large stretch. it’s the one time he doesn’t seem like the rugged man you usually know. something younger, more innocent, more raw comes out when wriothesley laughs.
“they go well with tea,” he shrugs, looking down at you, quickly stealing a peck of your nose, “and…” his voice is softer as he trails off, smile faltering.
“and?” you press delicately. so delicately, you’d think you were speaking to a house of cards, one word that’s breathed too harshly away from toppling over.
“and i wanted to visit a bakery i went to as a kid,” he murmurs quietly, voice dropping to a whisper as if he’s admitting something he’s never told anyone. something tells you he just might be. “there was an old lady who used to feed me sometimes when i was a kid on the streets. after i ran away. she’d give me a chocolate croissant and warm tea. i thought…i thought maybe there was a chance she’d still …”
he swallows, cutting his words off just before his voice has the chance to break. it’s a measured gesture. you know it is because you know him. just like you know the feelings of petals and thorns with your eyes closed, you know wriothesley. just like you can tell flowers apart from scent alone, you have him memorized. just like you know what every petal and its origin means, you understand him like it’s your job, too.
except you get paid to do this with something better than mora. with open-mouthed kisses and lingering touches. with coffee in a mug to complement the tea next to it. with strong arms to shield you when rain pours hard over your unsuspecting heads. with a gentle voice that learns to whisper back the language you speak better than anything else.
it says you’re the one i need the most, like rainbow roses. i miss you so much, i ache for you, like mourning flowers. i’d shed blood for you to live, like dendrobiums. you’re what i desire more than anything else, like romaritimes. each word is carefully formed, fragile as it hangs from a singular point. like petals on a stem, his words blossom from the tip of his tongue, falling one by one to your awaiting hands as your thumb traces his lips.
they all tell you one thing—whether he says the words out loud or not, he tells you he loves you through the things he does say. every little promise, every compliment, every form of praise. they say one thing—i love you.
you have always felt loved around wriothesley. you know he loves you, even if you question it sometimes, even if you ache to hear it, you’re always reminded he does when those eyes soften as they look at you, training on you like they never want to look away.
he loves you. he loves you not. he loves you. he loves you not. he loves you.
he loves you.
he loves you.
he loves you.
it always ends with he loves you.
“was she?” you whisper, finger tracing up his chest, along his neck and jaw until it cups his cheek tenderly. he shivers at the touch. “was she still there?”
gentleness isn’t something wriothesley is very familiar with. it raids his skin, takes over the territory that’s only known harshness, and conquers the scarred patches that are barren and empty from all the pain and desolation.
“no,” his voice is barely audible. “her son owns it now. the croissants still taste the same, though.”
“some things never change, i suppose,” you smile softly, leaning closer as your nose presses against his, “even when everything else does. it’s not so bad if you hold onto what you can.”
“and what if you have nothing?” he challenges, closing his eyes when you kiss his jaw sweetly and slowly inhaling a soft breath.
“i’m sure that’s never true,” you murmur, “there’s always something.”
“yeah? how optimistic of you,” he chuckles.
“i’m serious,” you pout, “there’s always a way to make do. look at cacti. they go ages without water, don’t they? and did you know naku weeds can survive being struck by lightning?”
“do you just compare everything to plants?” he asks in amusement, eyeing you with a charmed glint.
“of course,” you huff, “don’t you compare things to what you love most?”
he looks at you for a moment. really looks at you. grazes his eyes over your supple skin he’s traced so many times, over the small crinkles by your eyes permanently etched from smiling so often, over the curve of your nose and lips he’s pressed his own against, over the two eyes that stare back at him and see him more than they do look.
and then he nods.
“yeah,” he admits, “i do.”
your lips are as sweet as the warm chocolate that coated his lips and chin as a child. your touch is as soft as the hands of his mother when he thought he could trust her. your eyes are as bright as the sun when he first saw it after years of dark, rusted walls. everything about you reminds him of his past, the better parts and the worst. all of it.
some of it is healing, and some of it hurts so raw he thinks he’ll bleed out. but your hands are dipped in gold, he thinks. they’d make the most infertile soil rich and filled with life, letting him blossom new again right where his blood spilled.
he’s reminded of you in everything he sees. tea reminds him of your coffee with too much milk. paperwork reminds him of how distressed you are by wasted pages and killed trees. his gauntlets remind him of your hands so small in comparison. he’s doomed, he thinks. cursed, even.
cursed to always remember you in everything.
so, of course, he compares everything to what he loves most. because why else would you reside in his mind so endlessly, taking up the space from one end all the way to the other? why else would you remind him of you in even the mundane of things if he didn’t love you so deeply, so purely, so easily, that you’re everywhere all at once, even when you’re nowhere in sight?
he presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and inhaling sharply before letting out a slow, shaky breath.
“i lied,” he admits, making you frown.
“about?”
“about the first thing i did when i got to the surface,” he says quietly. “i went to my parents' graves.”
“to visit them?” you raise a confused eyebrow.
“no. to make sure they were really dead.”
“oh,” is all you say, staring into his eyes as he waits for you to say something more. “well, were they dead?”
“yes,” he snorts, closing his eyes and huffing out a small laugh. “very much so.”
“well, that’s a relief,” you giggle, “otherwise, you’d have served a sentence for murder for nothing.”
“good thing i didn’t, huh?”
“good thing you didn’t,” you nod, grinning as he stares at you softly.
“i’ll take you one of these days,” he hums quietly after a moment. you look surprised, eyes widening as you process the words.
“to your parents' grave?”
“to the bakery,” he rolls his eyes, letting out a breathy laugh. “i don’t think my dead mother would appreciate me bringing back a woman after i killed her.”
“oh, very funny,” you scowl, glaring at him.
“you think so?” he winks, laughing when you gently shove his face away, making his hand grab at your wrist and bite gently into the skin.
you squeal, giggling as he nibbles into your skin. “stop that, you brute!” you demand in between laughs.
it’s quiet for a moment as the laughter settles down, just you and him. him and you. silence echoing off the walls and warmth radiating between your bodies, the sheets clinging to your bare skin. you can feel his bare hip brush against yours. it’s intimate—far more intimate than either of you are used to, but not unwelcome.
he turns, pulling you into his arms and pressing your foreheads together. you think that’s his favorite position to be in—when your faces are so close, they touch. when his eyes can bore into yours. when he can feel the warmth of you tickling his skin as you breathe, as you talk, as you exist before him.
“you’ll like the croissants,” he adds quietly, thoughtfully, “the blackberry ones are particularly nice with the lemon and mint tea—”
you cut him off. before you can think. the words fly past your lips, swept with the breeze like dandelion seeds, and carried through the room as they find shelter in every little crevice. they’ll be here, in every corner, in every little place, a memento of your first real confession.
“i love you.”
he pauses as you cut him off, blinking as he stares at you. something flashes in his eyes—fear, excitement, a small bit of shock and doubt that makes your heartache. you can read him like a book.
it’s not doubt because he thinks you lie. it’s doubt because he thinks it shouldn’t be him. you know that, and you’re prepared to patiently prove him he’s wrong. little by little. day by day. one kiss at a time.
“that’s really enthusiastic,” he shoots you a teasing grin, too easy and too practiced for your liking, “if i knew you liked croissants that much—”
“no, wriothesley,” you say gently, like your words could rock the boat and topple you both into a dangerous, unforgiving current any moment. “i love you. i love when you tell me things you don’t like sharing, and i love when you show me things that are hard to revisit. i love you. because you try, and you’re good at trying. and that’s enough.”
“getting sentimental on me?” he asks hoarsely, smiling tightly.
your hand cups his cheek again, pulling him in so you can kiss the corner of his mouth as you whisper, “yes.” your lips find the other side of his mouth, still at the corner as you whisper again. “because you deserve to hear nice things. even the cheesy ones.”
his eyes close. one moment turns to two, and you let him take his time. let him swallow as he takes a shallow breath before he opens them again and looks at you.
he’s laid bare before you. in more ways than one. being nude is easier than being seen—he trusts you enough to let himself be both.
“you deserve to hear nice things, too,” he admits. it’s not the same as admitting he loves you too, but it’s as close as he can get—still difficult enough that his voice breaks. like it’s hard for him to confess something like this.
it is.
it’s hard for him to tell someone he loves them. the last time he did, he felt the sucker punch of betrayal in his guts, so young that he hardly understood what it meant to be betrayed at all. he watched the same eyes he used to think were his saviors die out as blood spilled in the living room, where his tiny feet padded across as he ran around and played. he misses them sometimes, even now.
his mother’s beautiful green eyes that greeted him in the mornings as she kissed him awake, warm and gentle on his forehead. his father’s deep blue ones that would look at him proudly as he grew and grew, clasping his shoulder with that firmly affectionate grip.
sometimes, he misses them, misses what he thought he had. other times, he’s glad he did it. sometimes, in the dead of night, when it’s just him, he mourns the old him. the one that didn’t have blood on his hands, the him that didn’t have to take two lives to set so many free. the version of him that was allowed to be a boy who existed freely, no taxes to pay for the love he so desperately wanted.
love is wicked like that—it creeps up on you, takes pieces of you, and changes you until you can hardly recognize yourself. until you can hardly recognize everyone around you. how long has it been since he’s seen his siblings? can he even still call them that? do they remember him? would he even recognize them?
he still loves them in his own way. his precious little sisters camille and lucie, and his sweet baby his brothers alexandre and nicolas—he came back and set them free just before it was their time. he didn’t want to leave them, but he had no choice. there were ones who left before him, a time that he can hardly remember anymore. a time before him and antoine. but he recalls them being so delicate with him just as older siblings should be. did they make it out of whatever fate they were sealed to? were they disposed of with no witnesses to bring their demises to justice? he doesn’t know. it’s easier not to know.
it’s easier not to love at all than to open up the risk of hurting. every person he’s ever loved has caused him pain. even the innocent siblings who did nothing wrong—all he’s ever known is pain. the pain of not having them around anymore. the pain of their quiet demise. the pain of setting them free and letting them go. the pain of never having them to himself like a proper family.
loving is so hard for him, so hard on him. so unforgiving to him. so cruel and harsh to him that he hides away behind guarded fists and loaded punches. and you know it, too—he knows you do because you reward his confession with the softest kiss you’ve ever given him as soon as he spills the words.
“i love you,” you murmur the sweet words into his mouth between warm kisses, “i love you. i love you.”
“say it again,” he pleads. it’s easier to let you love him than it is to love you—you don’t mind letting him be a little selfish. he deserves it, in fact.
“i love you. more than anything i’ve ever loved.”
“promise me,” he begs.
“i promise,” you say firmly. “and you don’t have to say it back, not yet. but i want you to know it because you should know you’re loved.”
all at once, the vines wrapped around his chest release, one petal blooming across his heart and arteries at a time until the nectar is running through his veins.
it’s warm. it’s sunny. it’s soft. it’s so, so safe. it doesn’t hurt. it never does with you. you never let it.
“i love you too,” he croaks. he shivers as he says it before he’s grinning slowly, chuckling in wonder as he lets the words sink in before he repeats again, “i love you.”
“yeah?” you beam, eyes crinkling as joy tucks itself into the crevices.
he nods. “yes. and your weird nature lectures.”
you pout, making him laugh. “hey—”
“and your annoyingly aromatic house with petals everywhere—”
“they’re not everywhere—”
“and that ugly dog watering can of yours—”
“it kind of reminds me of you, so—”
“i love them all, and i want them for the rest of my life. i hope you take it easy on the snapdragons, though. i think i’m allergic.”
“such a romantic at heart,” you grumble, rolling your eyes. but they’re glassy, swelling with unshed, precious little tears.
he kisses your eyelids as you close your eyes, murmuring, “i’m doing my best here. cut me some slack, i’ve never dated someone before.”
“oh, wriothesley,” you sniffle, tears coating your sun-soaked skin. and despite the evidence of tears, he’s never seen joy on your face like this before—so clear and radiant. “who taught you about romance? you’re hopeless.”
“hopelessly in love with you,” he shoots back smugly, wiggling his brows.
“i’m doomed,” you snort, letting out a watery chuckle.
“yeah,” he says cheekily, “you are. i hope you’re prepared.”
you kiss him in reply. he kisses you, too. you kiss each other. flowers bloom everywhere your lips touch—wriothesley swallows every petal gratefully.
you love him. you love him not. you love him. you love him not. you love him. you love him not.
you love him.
you love him.
you love him.
it always ends with you love him.
and he loves you, too. you both love each other. the words bounce from both of your tongues like you take turns tasting them, feeling them, familiarizing yourselves with them.
it doesn’t matter who whispers the words first or who murmurs them last. no matter who breaks the silence, it always ends with i love you.
ITS FINISHED. WOW. i never thought a flower shop drabble was going to turn into this—i actually had a completely different flower shop au idea that was going to be a long fic but i just wanted to write a tiny practice round drabble to get the itch out my system before i had time to sit down for the full fic. well as you can see…the practice run kind of took a mind of its own so now we have this. LOL. i think perhaps i will also write the other idea but we will see!!! this one kind of replaced the other one in my heart as flower shop wrio lore lol 🥸
ANYWAY!!! i hope you all enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing it. idk if wrio was ooc or not or if i did his past and trauma justice but i certainly tried!! all the things about his past with the siblings and his mother's diary and the croissant at the bakery are all headcanons i carefully crafted and hold so so so dear. they are my truth!!! and they make me fall in love with him so much more deeply :( anyway! if you liked it then as always, reblogs and comments are appreciated. now if you’ll excuse me, i will be doodling his name in pink glitter pen with hearts in my diary and giggling.
#writing tag#wriothesley x reader#wriothesley x you#wriothesley smut#genshin x reader#genshin x you#genshin smut#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact x you#genshin impact smut
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BE MY MUSE
synopsis: "paint me like one of your fontaine girls..."
featuring: navia, clorinde, furina, lynette
rating: 18+ smut (men and minors dni)
warnings: artist! reader, sub! afab fem reader (navia, clorinde, furina), dom! afab fem reader (lynette), voyeurism, mast.urbation, not full on smut but it is heavily implied, cunnilingus (reader giving), fing.ering, degradation (furina), praise, teasing, sensual touching, might be ooc.
art credits: blue period
NAVIA
Navia chuckles to herself as the last piece of clothing is discarded on the floor. Her slim, feminine, body perched elegantly against the satin sheets of the cushion, basking effortlessly in the dayglow of Fontaine’s sun like the Goddess she seemed to be. You swallowed your mouth dry. Taken aback with how ethereal she looked in the moment as her golden locks framed her face like a portrait hung in your gallery.
Navia purses her lips together, a curious, yet amused smirk causing a heart to form at her mouth. She chuckled, a prick of heat burning at your insides.
“Never seen a woman naked before?” She smiles, nude body all on display with no shame whatsoever. She was the one who had asked you to paint her, after all, of course she wouldn’t be embarrassed. It was her request…
“I have.” You quickly retorted back, gripping the stem of your brush with a tighter hand. “…Just not as exquisite as you.”
Her cheeks pinkened at your honesty, before she quickly covered it up with a smile.
“You flatter me, Artist,” she giggles, leaning back in her seat to leave all her assets on display. “Tell me then, does my request to paint me nude, make you nervous?”
She hugs herself to squish her breasts together, a sight that has you clearing your throat and looking away nervously. “Of course not, I’ve done commissions of all bodies. Clothed, and nude.”
Navia smirks at this.
“Then…is it normal for the Artist to get so flustered over her muse?”
There’s an essence of mischief in her tone. It has you clutching your paintbrush with strength similar to that of a stress ball. “I am not…flustered.” You say in a gritty tone, avoiding her bright blue eyes as you start to mark out the lines of her figure. “Let’s just move on with the painting. Please, get in a position that pleases you, my lady.”
Another smirk. That didn’t seem good.
“Like this?” Navia taunts with pleasure, lying back against her seat and leaving everything out for you to witness. You swallowed again, eyes wandering over her smooth, supple, chest. Areolas a pretty, puffy, pink color that stiffened the more she exposed them to the drafty air.
“Ah…that’s good.” You say with a stiff mumble. “Are you alright with staying like that for an hour or so?”
“Hm, perhaps not.” Navia tuts with fake afterthought. “I think I’ll choose a different position.”
She suddenly spreads her legs a bit wider, a gasp catching in the back of your throat as your eyes landed on the flower that sat between Navia’s legs. It was cleanly shaven —not waxed, but you could tell she had shaved before your appointment— and soft from the way she pressed against one of the folds. She flashed you a suggestive grin, before giggling at the sight of you all enamored by her pussy.
“Are you going to start painting soon?” Navia asks in a delighted tone. “Before you begin, let me just…” She suddenly dips one of her fingers into her cunt and sighs, a breathy moan leaving her lips. “There, all done…”
If you were blushing before, you were a lava cake by now. Navia could practically see the steam coming out from your face, and she chuckles before circling her clit with her thumb. “I guess a woman has never toyed with herself in front of you, hm?” She groans, slowly rubbing circles around her clit until she’s wet enough to appear glistening. “Are you embarrassed?”
You shook your head no. Clearly enamored by the sight of the Spina di arousal president masturbating in front of you. “Was this your goal the whole time? To…taunt me with your body?”
Navia laughs at this and shakes her head no, “Of course not, mon amour.” She uses two fingers to spread her two walls apart. “I want you to touch me.”
Almost like a song, you were drawn to where she was seated, dropping your brush to the ground and forgetting about the painting entirely. Navia smiles tenderly at the way you follow her command, pushing you down until you are kneeled by her feet like a priestess worshiping her divinity. “I was thinking the portrait could be from a different point of view,” She mutters under her breath. “It’s important for the Artist to commit it to memory…”
Combing her fingers through your hair, she slowly pushes your face into her folds and gasps, head tilted back in ecstasy, while your tongue begins to taste what heaven feels like.
“Ah…”
CLORINDE
The intimidating, Champion Duelist of Fontaine was currently lying sprawled out against your couch with her muscular body out on display. Amongst the obvious parts of her body that caught your attention, her muscles were what drew you in, as the Champion Duelist had rough, toned scars lining her chest from years of dangerous battle.
As an Artist, you were infatuated. Using the tip of your brush to stroke each line on her abs and highlight every curve of her legs. Which, mind you, we’re chiseled to perfection under the lamp side lighting of your room.
“…Thank you for taking the time to…paint me.” Clorinde whispers under a husky breath. “Especially considering the…circumstances…”
She blushes slightly at her position. Rough, calloused body proving a beautiful muse for you to work on as you’ve had the honor of painting Clorinde’s body nude. (Courtesy of her request)
“It’s no problem, Captain Clorinde.” You say in a professional tone, trying to ignore the ache between your legs when you see her thigh flex its toned structure. “I have done this countless times. You are in the hands of an expert.”
The Duelist smiles softly at your reassurance, deciding to sit up from the sofa.
“Miss Clorinde, I’m not done yet—”
“Could you come over for a moment?” She speaks in a low tone, catching you off guard with how smooth she was being. “Just for a moment. I want to see your hands.”
“…My hands?” You chewed your lip for a moment before getting up from your seat and walking over to the couch. Clorinde leaning back and letting all her muscles move with precision. “Yes, your hands,” she murmurs ever so huskily, reaching over to cup your wrist. “I want to look at them…”
You felt the rough, battle-worn calluses of her fingertips wrap around your hand and pull you closer. An intimate, quiet moment falling between you two, as Clorinde bites her lip and examines the calluses of your own battles.
“Such soft hands, yet they hold their own roughness from your artwork,” the Captain murmurs, almost as if she were enamored by just the sight of you. (She was)
“Captain Clorinde, please…” you laugh shyly. “You speak of me like I’m the art. I’m merely just the artist.”
She growls a little at that statement and shakes her head no. “I may be your muse at the moment, but I can’t help but wish to see you nude in my place.”
In that moment, you find yourself seated on the lap of the very naked Champion Duelist, who has helped herself with teasing you under the leggings of your clothes. You can’t help but agree to every little thing she does, as she begins nibbling against your neck to leave her own works of art.
“I’d like to try a hand at painting myself,” she murmurs hotly into your ear, “Care to be my canvas, Artist?”
You can’t find it in yourself to say no. Shakily nodding your head as she begins to rub circles against your clit with her strong, calloused, fingers.
“That’s a good girl.”
FURINA
Furina chuckles amusingly at the sight of Fontaine’s world renown artist currently hiding behind her easel. The archon herself was used to people kneeling before her, but she found entertainment in the way the cute, bashful artist she hired to commission was too nervous to look her in the eye. “What’s wrong, young artist…” Furina chuckles wickedly, “Are you really that shocked at your archon’s pure beauty?”
She crosses one leg over the other, her nude figure perched confidently by a table as she takes a sip of tea like usual. The way she was acting around you made you think she was doing this on purpose.
“I…you are beautiful indeed, my archon,” you respond to her nervously. “I just didn’t expect for you to disrobe so quickly.”
Furina sneers at the way you fidget so anxiously, tipping her teacup down to the point you worried it might spill. “Aren’t you an artist?” She chuckles behind her hand, “An artist who specializes in nude paintings as well. Tell me, does the sight of your beloved archon all skimmed down to her nudity really bother you that much?”
“No, of course not!” You quickly retort defensively. “It’s just quite a shocker to have your archon disrobe in front of you so…quickly.”
You bite your lip and look away. “You got out of your clothes quicker than I could get out my paints…”
Furina laughs hysterically at your quiet little stammer before running a hand over the smoothness of her thighs. “Oh…you’re just too cute…” she sputters under her laughs. “I definitely made the right choice in choosing you…”
She leans back against the chair and bites one of her manicured nails. That stuck up, haughty smile prickling you with annoyance as your archon seemed to treat this as a game. “You should be grateful I even asked you to paint me at all,” she snickers before uncrossing her legs. “You have the blessing of seeing Focalors’ body in the flesh.”
Your throat tightened at the sight of her legs now spread wide for you to see just how wet she was beneath her clothes. According to what you saw, she had been dripping for a while, but hid it well due to how she crossed her legs while seated right in front of you.
“M-Miss Furina…I…” your cheeks burned and you couldn’t look away.
“I…I…what?” She smirked mockingly at your stutter and teases you even more by pinching one of her nipples. The sight alone causes a burning ache between your legs, and you couldn’t help but stare entranced at the way she squeezed her own breast. “Go on, spit it out. If you say the right thing, I might just let you touch me yourself.”
“Pardon!?”
“Oh, don’t be so modest,” she snaps her finger and beckons you over. “You think I don’t notice the way you look at me so hungrily? What a pervert you are, dear Artist…”
The way she wags her finger at you almost has you on your hands and knees, crawling towards her like you were being pulled on a leash. Furina is delighted at the sight, looking joyous as she gives you a proper show of spreading her pussy lips even wider. Her slick, dripping essence cascading down the milky white thighs of your archon, and looking like the perfect muse for you to commit to memory.
“I want to see just how lithe an Artist’s fingers are,” Furina tuts, degradingly tapping your nose before propping you up to become face to face with her cunt. “Impress me, then perhaps I can give you an extra tip for a job well done.”
“But Miss Furina, your painting…”
“Silence.” She pulls you up by the hair and sneers. “This is a much better use for your hands, hm?”
LYNETTE
Lynette was definitely on the shyer side when she asked to become your muse. She had always admired your artwork, silently wishing that one day, she could take the place of one of your nude paintings, basking in an ethereal afterglow of your brushstrokes, as she wanted to be the center of your attention. (And only your attention)
You were surprised, needless to say, when the quiet magician’s assistant asked you after her show to become your muse. Even more surprised when she silently requested for it to be a nude drawing. Though you masked your surprise quite well, a small part of you was curious to see the beautiful body of the mysterious magician’s assistant, as she was very secretive with her personal life to the point not a lot of people knew about her.
You took up the commission, currently setting up your easel and waiting for Lynette to disrobe from her clothing. A comfortable silence falling between you two, before the sound of fabric hitting the floor caught your attention.
“…I’m ready.” Lynette spoke quietly, causing you to peek out from behind your canvas.
The cat woman was currently perched atop your couch in her full, nude, glory. Chest perky from the way the cold air hit her nipples, along with the smooth, supple skin of her back arched beautiful against the satin cushions. Her ears flattened in slight embarrassment from being in such a provocative situation, yet you couldn’t take her eyes off her as she was just so breathtakingly beautiful.
“Oh, how sweet…” you murmur with a smile, caught in awe with how stunning Lynette is. “Get in a comfortable position for me, will you? You’ll have to stay like that for an hour or two.”
Her ears flattened even more and she nodded, stiffly moving so that her body was sitting upright in a rather erect position. She looked quite firm and…not relaxed at all, placing her hands on her knees and sitting as if she were waiting for her appointment at the doctor’s office.
“…Oh dear,” you chuckled a bit at the way she was sitting. “That position is a bit too stiff for my liking. Here, let me help you.”
Setting your paint sets down, you walked over closer to where Lynette sat and saw her visibly tense up. You frowned a little at her discomfort and raised your hands in the air. “Don’t worry, I won’t touch you anywhere you don’t want me to. I’m just going to lightly guide your body to a more comfortable position.”
You smiled warmly at her and saw her ears twitch with acceptance. Slowly, she lets you guide her body down to lie on the couch, your eyes locked on hers and causing a small blush to adorn the cat woman’s pale cheeks.
“…Thank you,” Lynette whispers, her voice soft as she gazes up at you with longing. “I am a bit…embarrassed, however.”
“There is no need to be embarrassed,” you chuckle comfortingly, patting her head like you would with a cat. “The human body is beautiful, and yours is just as exquisite as any of the other muses I’ve had the pleasure of painting.”
She blushes softly at the way you call her body beautiful, and Lynette lets out a soft little purr of pleasure under your pets. “Can you…help me relax a little?” She asks in a quieter voice, almost embarrassed with her request. “My body is too tense. I need my muscles to…relax…”
You smile softly at the way she paws at your hand and slowly drags it downwards. Your fingers lightly stroking down her neck, her chest, her stomach, before finally reaching the twitching ache of her walls beneath you.
“Here?” You ask with a certain tenderness, lightly pushing against her clit like a button.
“Yes…!” Lynette whimpers, grasping onto your back with her nails. “Right there…”
#navia smut#navia x reader#clorinde smut#clorinde x reader#furina smut#furina x reader#focalors smut#focalors x reader#lynette smut#lynette x reader#genshin smut#genshin x reader#genshin women smut#genshin women x reader#genshin imagines
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Trial By Combat - 3
Requested By: No One. Original Work.
CW: Post-Impostor SAGAU,
Summary: Focalors apologizes
Note: This is so late and I apologize for that!
If vou haven't finished the Fontaine Archon quest, please exit stage left.
Part One Part Two Part Four
The rain drops pelted the windows. It seemed never-ending. The sky still looked tormented by the thick overcast of gray clouds that blocked the morning sun. Fontaine hadn’t seen a day of sunshine in days and the Chief Justice couldn’t bring himself to work another day in a row.
No many how many hours he wasted staring at the file created for your case, it did nothing to relieve the amount of sadness he had in his heart. Neuvillette is the most trusted and respected person in the entire nation but even he couldn’t see past the empty accusations the Hydro Archon made.
Once the trial began and he saw your face he had his doubts, your physical appearance was beyond comparison. He didn’t want to believe that you were an imposter, that you had ill intentions but he couldn’t let his personal feelings get in the way of justice.
He wasn’t the only one with these thoughts, people who sat in the audience began to whisper amongst themselves wondering if you really were a fake.
However a few words from Furina were enough to get many people on board.
‘Do not let yourselves be fooled by their appearance my dear people, they want us to let our guard down! I will personally reveal the truth behind their deceit.’
Yet you do not stand trial, you ask to duel for your innocence and he accepts.
That was his biggest mistake.
He knew that you were no match for Clorinde and he knew that he could’ve intervened at any time, but he didn’t.
You laid on the dueling grounds blood quickly poured from your body. Medical staff and Clorinde were quick to carry you away from the public but Neuvillette will never forgive his inaction.
Suddenly he blinks as a raindrop slides down his cheek.
-
Just like she promised, Furina returned to your room at daybreak. Once you were in her line of sight she bows slightly speaking in a soft tone.
“Your Grace, thank you for allowing me to return.”
You say nothing, watching the people down below navigate through the weather with their parasols in hand.
She takes a step forward. Would you allow her to get close to you again? The last thing she wants is for you to yell even if she deserves it. She takes small steps forward, paying close attention to your face taking note of any displeasure you may feel from her presence.
Eventually she was close enough to touch you, she readjusts her hat slightly before kneeling down resting her hand on top of yours. The Archon smiles slightly feeling a sense of relief wash over her.
“I am a fool,” Furina breathes out, “I should’ve been the first to recognize you but I didn’t and now I will pay the price…”
She feels her lips tremble. Was she going to shed tears in front of her God again?
“I know that there’s no way I can fix this but-“
“You’re right Furina,” you interject, “there’s no way you can fix this.”
She looks up at you with watery eyes.
“But I was doing some thinking last night and I want to move on from this.” You finally look down at her examining her expression. “that doesn’t mean I forgive you and I definitely won’t forget what you did.”
Furina let’s out a breath, you truly were a benevolent being. She was ready to do anything for you to give her another chance, even if she had to pull her gnosis out of her chest.
“Thank you for this opportunity Your Grace,” she gives you a smile, “I will do everything in my power to prove my loyalty to you again.”
You decide not to respond to her statement instead turning your gaze to the bundle of flowers on your bedside table. The stems were going limp and the color of the petals were fading. Whoever brought them must’ve forgotten to water them, they’re almost dead now.
Furina stands up wiping her wet cheeks as she gives you a small smile. “Your Grace, would it be alright if I show you around Fontaine? I know everyone would be very happy to see that you’re doing okay.”
You look out the window once more, she was right. There was a large crowd of people who stood outside the building you were in. Many of them holding gifts that they hope to give to you.
You open your mouth to respond but another voice cuts you off.
“Lady Furina that’s not a good idea…”
Clorinde leaned against the threshold of the door, she had dark circles under her eyes as she stared at the two of you. “Their Grace’s wounds are still healing. Walking for extended periods of time could be dangerous.”
Furina pouts slightly at her words but she knew Clorinde was right. If you were to tear your stitches you might not survive another operation, and the mere thought of you dying sends shivers down the Archon’s spine.
“You should let them get plenty of rest for now.” Clorinde suggests, “The medical staff will return tomorrow to change their bandages and give an update on their condition.“
You can see Furina visibly deflate at her words, “I know, I know…”
With a bit more pushing, Furina soon left with Clorinde leaving you alone in the room once again. Suddenly you feel a wave a fatigue wash over you, maybe not getting any sleep throughout the night was a bad idea. You stand from the windowsill and walk slowly over to the bed sinking into the soft material. A sigh leaves your mouth as you close your eyes listening to the sounds of rain against the glass until you eventually fell asleep.
-
You wake up to the sound of small footsteps, their voices are hushed as they walk around the room. You decide to keep your eyes closed, curious what their intentions of coming here were.
“Let’s change the flowers before they wake up. We don’t want to get caught.”
Hmm. So they’re the ones bringing the flowers.
You open your eyes sitting up in bed and your meet with…
…a Melusine?
“Oh no! We’ve been caught!”
The two hang their heads down sadly, as if they were were just caught by their parent.
“So you two were the ones who brought flowers to my bed?”
The Melusine look at each other then at you.
“Monsieur Neuvillette asked us to bring these to you.” One of them confessed.
You blink, “Neuvillette? He asked you to bring these?”
She nods holding the flowers out to you, “will you take them? It would make him really happy if you did.”
You hesitate for a moment, staring at the bouquet in the Melusine’s hands. Even if you couldn’t forgive any of them now for what happened. What good would holding a grudge do?
You take the flowers bringing them to your face to smell the sweet scent. “Thank you for bringing these to me, tell Neuvillette I said thank you.”
The Melusine give you a closed eye smile nodding as they walk towards the door. However before they were fully out of earshot, you hear one of them say:
“Maybe we’ll have some better weather now.”
You look down at the flowers, they truly were beautiful. They were Romaritime flowers, ones they could only be picked with the hydro element. You feel a small smile spread on your face as you replace the other bouquet with the new one. With a busy schedule like his, Neuvillette must’ve went out of his way to get these for you.
-
-
Underneath the cover a darkness, a large ship docks right outside the court of Fontaine.
It was unusual for a ship to come at this time but there was no mistaking that symbol that steered any citizen away as quickly as possible.
“Lady Harbinger, we’ve arrived.”
The Knave stands from her seat, she wasn’t here for diplomatic reasons or for her comrade that rotted in Fontaine’s prison. Her reasons for returning home were purely selfish.
She steps off the boat her heel landing in a puddle the was slowly drying from the warm breeze Sumeru’s desert nearby. The Knave looks up expecting to see rain clouds but is met with thousands of stars spread across the night sky. It was a clear night.
“All of you head to the Northland Bank and do not reveal our true reason for coming here to anyone. I will retrieve Their Grace myself.”
-
© avocad1s 2023
Tagging: @bittersweetorpheus @esthelily @tempestlart @angelofdarkness2 @mmeatt @dxprived4-starboys
If your @ is bolded, for some reason I cannot tag you! :(
If you wish to be removed from the tag list you can comment or inbox me and I’ll take you off :)
#genshin cult au#sagau#genshin impact sagau#genshin sagau#genshin cult#sagau x reader#imposter sagau#sagau impostor au#self aware genshin
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Both the parts for people finding out we're dating the characters are so good! Can I please request you to include Wriothesley in the next part if you're writing it?
how people find out you’re dating them
Wriothesley, Capitano
Wriothesley
ONCE AGAIN THESE GODDAMN MELUSINES
Most specifically SIGEWINNE.
she’s such a cutie patootie. you just wanna eat her up whenever you see her! Sigewinne, the adorableness she is, is not the smartest.
Whenever you come down so often to come visit Wriothesely, she comments on how you are such a good friend to always keep him company! and you just can’t bear to explain to her that is not the case!
This goes on for A MONTH. A GODDAMN MONTH and she has not figured it out.
Even when she bursts into his office to find you maybe massaging his back, arms, hugging him, holding him- she is completely OBLIVIOUS to the point Wriothesly wants to test out kissing you in front of her.
However, her obliviousness comes to a stop one day and for the stupidest yet funniest reason;
He’s not drinking his tea.
She’s shocked. Like jaw dropped, absolutely still shocked. She’s constantly trying to get him to drink or EAT anything other than tea so when she sees him with a MILKSHAKE?! A FUCKING MILKSHAKE.
She’s ready to lose her shit.
and then she sees YOU with the opposite flavour milkshake and she immediately knows and screams it out for the ENTIRE prison to hear.
A prisoner comes in injured; “Have you heard Wriothesly and Y/N are together?!”
On her next vacation, she’s running to Neuvillette, Furina, Clorinde- EVERYONE.
Well, it was a month of peace.
Capitano
It’s funny because he genuinely isn’t even trying to hide it from the Harbingers.
He doesn’t not tell them because he’s worried for your safety- he’s the fourth fucking harbinger he will GLADLY beat anyone’s ass for you even if it means it’s his own coworkers.
The man just doesn’t talk. That’s literally why no one knows. Like yeah, he’ll murmur a few words every now and then but like, he doesn’t see a reason in bringing something up if someone doesn’t mention anything related so he stays quiet.
He does talk a bit more though, and he’s willing to actually sit with the harbingers whenever they sometimes hang out.
It’s weirding them out.
The weirdest thing though,
WEIRDEST.
Is when he speaks to Childe.
Even Childe is absolutely shocked- like what do you mean the guy he’s been like practically simping over fight wise is actually soeaking to him?!?!!!
They have to ask Pierro if he’s sick, and even Pierro doesn’t know and Pierro is the ONLY one capitano talks.
They literally find out from YOU.
You walked into the castle once, being escorted by a guard who is quick to leave once he’s finally let you reach the insides of the castle.
“Sorry to disturb,” You spoke nervously, somehow ending up in some sort of lounge room with the Harbingers. “I’ve brought lunch for my…boyfriend? Uh, Capitano? Do you know where I could find him?”
“Yeah, down the hall, first room on the left.” Arlecchino murmurs, reading through the latest Snezhnaya newspapers.
You smile at her, although she doesn’t see and everyone just returns back to normal.
Until they all realize WHO the hell are you and BOYFRIEND?!?
They all give each other a look before they are RUNNING to you, ready to ask questions and capitano is shocked when suddenly all the Harbingers are in his office and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop them from questioning you on everything.
He likes the way you laugh at them all- it’s cute. He should bring you more often.
follow me on Twitter!; @II_makelemonade
#genshin impact#genshin fic#wriothesly x reader#wriothesley#wriothesely x reader#wriothesely genshin#capitano x you#capitano genshin#capitano x reader#capitano#genshin x you#genshin x y/n#genshin x reader
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Imagine a horribly clumsy creator in the sagau... like trips over their own feet, starts coughing due to choking on air randomly, knocking a vase off a table that was in the middle of the table somehow???? Silly goofy stuff like that (I pull these silly goofs often personally)
(obv goes w/o saying sorry for being so late to reply /gen) ;-;
clumsy reader is so me core idk why i didnt think of this lmao
(this gif is liek the modern equivalent of Charlotte posting ur embarrassing clumsy moments on insta Steambird acc lmao)
(so sometimes im lazy and dont include the ask stuff esp if its shorter like this, so here's at least the characters in this one: Fontaine ppl <3 along with a G for general audience, barring cuss words)
Navia would politely ask you to go the edge or whatever area ur in whenever she pulls out her cannons/guns LMAO
every time you and either Clorinde or Neuvillette are walking next to you, or doing rlly anything, its like night and day
ur out here finding all the cracks in the sidewalk, bumping everything that could even possibly have a liquid in it, and have constant bruises from hip checking/stubbing toes on mechas walking around
Clorinde is impressed at that point bc mechas are actively programmed to get out of your way, so how u managed to put them back into ur way rlly fascinates her 😭😭
Neuvillette would like to wrap u in fabric/bubble wrap equivalent for his old ass, in an attempt to desperately stop u from hurting urself lol
u get a new coat or new pants from him all the time, u just thought at first he was rlly into giving u Fontaine fashion until Furina pointed out that it was spring/summer and you wouldn't wear thick woolen pants and fur-lined coats everyday 💀
(poor dragon guy doesn't rlly get the practical side of clothes, he likes fashion, but he inadvertently subscribes to the "hoes don't get cold" philosophy by being an ancient dragon lord)
Wriothesley is unfortunately nice enough to constantly try and catch his poor god, which ends well for neither of you 50% of the time
its not even ur weight takes him down, he's buff as hell after all, and he's dealt with rowdy inmates, its just.. ur clumsiness spreads.
if ur tripping, and the poor Duke reaches out to catch you, ur reaching out at the same time to steady urself on a side table w/a vase full of water, which u then knock off, drenching ur back and his face at the same time LMAO
he doesn't learn, despite u literally begging him to stop trying to help u, then u try and compromise to just let u fall and help u afterward asdfghkl-
Wrio's too chivalrous tho, the most u can get him to do is always grab ur arm instead of trying to bodily catch you
if u think after the first like, ✌️ TWO times Lynette is willing to help you, u r so wrong lmao
she's seen her brothers clumsiness, she knows theres no saving u
she does comfort u after slipping (not even falling but just flailing dramatically) for the 5th time in the puddles around water fountains tho
Lyney and Freminet are lowkey legit convinced someones cursed their god atp 😰
Freminet always had bandaids for u, and Lyney keeps a supply of ur fav candy to cheer u up after embarrassing urself by falling ass backwards right into the Fountain of Lucine right in front of Opera house lmao
...
...Charlotte thinks this is all vv hilarious, no she has no respect for ur godliness, her archon was Furina like LMAO- IM SORRYYY
(she has started a small section in the steambird of a near daily- DAILY picture of u being clumsy 😭)
(u, not srsly, threaten to smite her and she just giggles)
(its ok they take it all in a cute/endearing trait type of way)
☆
again, sorry for lateness, when i reopen askbox (soon, FINALLY-)
ill try and stay more on top of it and try and sort whatre just chats/non-requests better too 😭😭
hope u guys are having a good week!! tysm for being patient and nice to me :')
Safe Travels Kai,
💀♒
If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"
(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")
♡the beloveds♡
@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily / @justinsomniachild / @nanithefuck / @questionotmystopit / @chinuneko / @silvers-tongue
@kiyomi-uchiha777
<3
#genshin sagau#sagau#genshin isekai#my asks#aqua asks#genshin impact sagau#genshin x reader#genshin imagines#gender neutral reader#oh tags#my beloathed#idk anymore to put pls just take this#anyway u think sigwienne would do that blunt child thing where they kinda read you to filth#bc i do#i rlly do#and i think this is one teyvat god reader that would not handle it well 😭
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incorrect quotes with my new fav trio
starring wriothesley, clorinde and neuvillette bc i said so
Wriothesley: What do you think Neuvillette will do for a distraction?
Clorinde: They’ll probably, like, make a noise or throw a rock. That’s what I would do.
*Building explodes and several car alarms go off*
Clorinde: ... or he could do that.
...
Wriothesley: How's the sexiest person here~?
Neuvillette: I don't know, how are they~?
Wriothesley: I-
Clorinde, from across the room: I'm doing great, thanks!
...
Clorinde: Do you ever want to talk about your emotions, Wriothesley?
Wriothesley: … No.
Neuvillette: I do!
Clorinde: I know, Neuvillette.
Neuvillette: I’m sad!
Wriothesley: We know, Neuvillette
...
Neuvillette, to Wriothesley and Clorinde: *holding knife out in front of them* Are you or are you not an enemy of the people?!
Wriothesley: ...
Clorinde: ...
Wriothesley: That is such an open-ended question.
Clorinde: Yeah, it really depends on a lot of different factors-
...
Wriothesley: We need a diversion. I say Neuvillette gets naked.
Neuvillette: No.
Clorinde: Who are we trying to distract again?
...
Clorinde, at Neuvillette: Would you like to stay for dinner?
Wriothesley, from the kitchen: Would you like to stay forever!?!
...
Clorinde: Ooh, somebody has a crush
Wriothesley: Pfft, I don’t have a crush on Neuvillette I just think they’re cool, it’s not like I stay up at night thinking about them.
*Later that night*
Wriothesley, very much awake: Uh oh.
...
Neuvillette: There's no way they like me back.
Clorinde: Wriothesley would throw himself in front of a moving car for you.
Neuvillette: Wriothesley would throw himself in front of a moving car for fun.
...
Neuvillette: Why is everyone so obsessed with top or bottom? Honestly, I’d just be excited to have a bunk bed.
Clorinde:
Clorinde: I'm gonna tell them.
Wriothesley: Don't you dare.
...
Wriothesley: Is there a cactus where your heart should be?
Clorinde: What’s up your ass this morning!
Neuvillette: *walks in* ...Hey.
Clorinde: Hmm… nevermind.
Wriothesley: WAIT NO!
...
Wriothesley: Do you cook?
Neuvillette: I made a cake once.
Clorinde: Yeah, it was good.
Neuvillette: Really?
Clorinde: Don’t make me lie twice, Neuvillette.
...
Neuvillette: Is letting someone win at chess sapiosexual bottoming?
Clorinde: Can everyone in this godforsaken group please learn the skill called "Think Before You Speak"?
Wriothesley: Ya know... it might be.
...
Clorinde: Did Wriothesley just tell me he loved me for the first time?
Neuvillette: Yeah, he did.
Clorinde: And did I just do finger guns back?
Neuvillette: Yeah, you did.
...
Wriothesley: Where are my fucking keys?
Clorinde: Wriothesley, Neuvillette is around, can you say it a little nicer?
Wriothesley: May I ascertain the whereabouts of my FUCKING KEYS?!
...
*Neuvillette dies in a game with ships*
Wriothesley: This ship is no longer a ship of love, it's a ship of vengeance, a gavel of justice against all that is wrong in the world, showing no mercy, as no mercy was shown to us.
Wriothesley: The spark of love will now fuel the fires of destructive glory as I wage my war across the world with righteous fury.
Clorinde: Legend has it that Neuvillette still haunts the ship, stealing my fucking drinks.
Neuvillette: Of course I do.
...
Wriothesley: How do you tell someone that you wanna have sex with them in a polite way?
Neuvillette: Excuse me [insert name]. Would you give me the honours of indulging in sexual activities with you?
Clorinde: What the fuck is wrong with you two?
...
Clorinde: Hey, no, you stay out of this, this is between me and Wriothesley!
Neuvillette: So Wriothesley knows about this?
Clorinde, walking away: No, this is between me and me!
...
Neuvillette: *is wearing silk pants* How does this look?
Wriothesley: Like its slips on and off really easily.
Neuvillette:
Wriothesley: No, I didn't mean it like that-
Clorinde: We know what you meant.
...
Clorinde: What have you done with Neuvillette?
Wriothesley: Nothing. Why, do you think I should?
...
Neuvillette, gardening: Hey, can you bring me the hoe?
Wriothesley: Yeah, sure.
*A few minutes later*
Wriothesley: Here you go.
Neuvillette:
Wriothesley:
Clorinde: Why am I here?
...
Wriothesley: I’m this close to falling in love with Neuvillette.
Clorinde: Your fingertips are touching.
Wriothesley: Exactly.
...
Neuvillette: Would you take a bullet for me?
Wriothesley: ...yes?
*Clorinde angrily burst into the room*
Neuvillette: *running away* Great, thanks!
guys i love them a healthy amount i swear. NOW DIE ON THIS HILL WITH ME
PART II is now up!
#wriothesley#clorinde#neuvillette#i love them#they are my new babies#they are so silly#this devolves into a ship really fast but hush#platonic (mostly?) male and female friendships#wriolette#just a sprinkle#headcanons#genshin headcanons#incorrect quotes#genshin incorrect quotes#will become a series
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This moving arc is going crazy ngl. This season is really peak, JJK could never
I know you didn't even mean for this to be an ask but:
(Genshin Impact/GFL) How helpful Lisa, Eula, Noelle, Navia, Furina, Lumine, AK-12, AN-94, AK-15, and RPK-16 would be during your move
After fighting boxes and moving trucks for the last 6 straight days, this has been on my mind.
(Lisa) "Oof, these boxes are going to kill my back tomorrow...!"
Lisa has experience carrying heavy books from her days studying in Sumeru and being a Librarian in Mondstadt.
But do you really think this beautiful woman is going to help you carry the seventeen boxes of glass kitchenware that you have no recollection of even owning?
Absolutely not.
That is too heavy, even for her.
But at the very least when the moving and unpacking is over, she will give and demand the very best cuddles to recover from the process.
Expect her to say that she was sore with helping you last night in an intentionally weird way to get a rise out of you and anyone in the vicinity.
Help Rating: 2/5, Call Lisa in for the love, not for physical labor.
(Eula) "Good grief, how much dust is in here?!" ACHOO! "Ugh...! If this was some elaborate scheme just to hear me sneeze the entire time, I will enact terrible vengeance upon you!"
Quips of revenge aside, she is actually very helpful!
Eula can carry the boxes no problem, and makes sure to have the proper posture when doing so.
If she can swing her claymore around like they're nothing, then surely your belongings will be jut as trivial?
She is also extremely gentle putting down boxes that she knows is full of your stuff.
The only real negative thing you have to deal with is just her constant muttering if a box is giving her too much trouble.
Help Rating: 3/5, You now swear vengeance upon the boxes thanks to Eula saying it over and over
(Noelle) "Please, allow me! I can have these put away in no time!"
The boxes will be hearing boss music upon Noelle's arrival.
For when there is a mess, Noelle is inevitable.
She somehow packs everything into the boxes into such an impossibly efficient manner, that you didn't know you could fit that much stuff into a small cardboard box.
Noelle also does it under a few hours without breaking a sweat.
The scary part is that she can go faster while keeping the same immaculate level of care if you give her a kiss on the cheek or praise her.
And it'll mean even more to her by the fact you're still helping her. It's the thought that counts!
Help Rating: You don't even need to be there/5
(Navia) "Here, just tell me where these boxes are going in your new home. Packing? Hm, no need!"
You know what she does instead of packing herself?
She hires someone else to do it.
When it comes to more personal items, she'll gladly help you wrap it carefully and with love.
But all your furniture?
Yeah, no. That's what the hired help is for.
You and Navia will be directing people left and right where to place the furniture and boxes of your belongings without really needing to lift a finger yourself.
Help Rating: 5/5, the best help is the kind where someone else does the entire job for you.
(Furina) "Oh, it is about time you come to me for aid, dearest! Allow me to help!"
In the wise words of Sergeant Johnson:
"Hmph, MY ASS!"
This woman didn't even unload her boxes when she moved into her apartment, what makes you think that she'd help you unload your stuff properly?
She may be an Archon but her arm strength and experience with moving is next to nothing.
Furina will act all cool and try to lift a box only for it to nearly collapse on her, or throw her out her back.
Her little familiars can't help with your boxes since you know, they're made of water.
But at least the pouting face she'll make will be cute. Kinda like Aqua, huh?
Help Rating: Just get Clorinde or Neuvillette, don't ask the blue gremlin/5
(Lumine) "We really need to get you a teapot! Anyways, let's get to work!"
Lumine doesn't mind to help, and her arm strength despite her appearance is insane.
She'll be carrying 3-4 boxes like it's nothing, though she struggles to actually see anything in front of her.
Paimon helps as much as she can, so you get a 2 for 1 deal asking Lumine!
She's a little unused to moving furniture herself since Tubby and the Teapot took care of that for her own home, but she makes moving very fun!
Help Rating: 5+1/5, but Lumine will question your taste in decor.
(AK-12) "Ah, moving dorms? Well, at least it's within the base and not too far.~"
Even though 12 is a combat android, she can only lift so much.
She might complain about the servos in her arms going haywire and that you'll need to fix them, but in reality she's just teasing just to get a rise out of you.
And despite her eyes being closed, she has better sense of her surroundings than you do, not once bumping into anything or hitting the doorframes.
Once its finished, 12 will just say that you 'owe her one' for helping with the move.
Help Rating: 3/5, it'd be higher but she's too damn smug about lifting more than you.
(AN-94) "Moving assignment understood. Providing assistance."
94 is a little stiff about the moving process at first.
But as it progresses, she uncharacteristically gets distracted by the items you choose to keep and throw away.
She'll ask with a curious expression about why you're throwing away old but usable items, and 94 ends up learning a lot about you.
While the move itself is very normal, it ends up being a nice bonding experience for the two of you!
Help Rating: 4/5, very sweet
(AK-15) "This weight is trivial. Please, stand aside for a moment."
15 is an absolute monster when it comes to the physical labor.
She will stack the heaviest boxes into one pile and carry it without even moving her hair.
15 helpfully moves any of the things you'd struggle with, all the while her expression doesn't really change.
She'd question why you'd thank her for simply doing her job, but it's something she'll appreciate with the slightest blush.
Help Rating: 5/5, she can probably lift you, me, and the boxes in one hand.
(RPK-16) "Hm...I wonder if humanity were to go extinct right now, what would the new race think of finding your belongings?...Hah, your face! Don't mind me, just thinking aloud.~"
16 is not really that strong, but since she's an android, boxes aren't too bad of a gig for her.
After all, she lugs around an LMG.
Regardless, she helps you pack but be prepared to answer a LOT of questions on why you own the items you do.
Both out of genuine curiosity, and to annoy the shit out of you.
But hey, you'll at least get through the moving somewhat quickly thanks to her.
Help Rating: 3/5, Thanks to her, there's now a lot of weird cryptic questions floating through your mind. Such as if the bug that finds its way into the box knows that it had walked into its tomb?
#genshin impact x reader#girls' frontline x reader#girls' frontline headcanons#lisa minci x reader#eula x reader#noelle genshin impact x reader#navia x reader#furina x reader#lumine x reader#ak 12 x reader#ak 15 x reader#an 94 x reader#rpk 16 x reader#lisa minci#eula lawrence#navia genshin impact#furina genshin impact#ak 12 gfl#an 94 gfl#ak 15 gfl#rpk 16 gfl#genshin impact headcanons#girls' frontline imagines#genshin impact imagines#noelle genshin impact
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darling...
forethoughts: like i said, right after i get clorinde, new fic will drop 🤩. enjoy!
notes: fem!reader, protective possessive!arlecchino, arlecchino (alledgedly) killing a man for you
Arlecchino only had two things she kept close to her heart. The House of Hearth members, and you. Her prized lover, her world, her one and only. Hers. And she was yours. You were her other half; of course she would want to protect you until her dying breath. While Arlecchino mostly stayed silent and watched you experience life like a toddler taking their first steps, always there to give you a lending hand whenever you needed it.
“Arle! Arle!” You grabbed the Harbinger’s hand, dragging her deeper into the heart of Fontaine. “Check it!”
The Harbinger allowed you to wrap your delicate fingers around her sleeve, following you to wherever you wanted to go. On the rare days she had a free hour or two, she’d always spend it with you doing whatever you wanted to do.
“There’s a new restaurant that just opened! Come on!” The corners of your mouth shot up to your eyes, a sight that the Harbinger treasured and held dear to her heart. All she wanted to do was to see that smile on your face, that smile that was devoid from stress and worry, and only shined with excitement and joy. May the Archons show their pity on the ones who stole that smile.
You wrapped your arms around the Harbinger’s, as the two of you walked up to the waitress.
“T-The Knave..” The waitress stared at Arlecchino, who kept an indifferent and expressionless look on her face. Arlecchino knew about her status and what it meant, especially how having an energetic and passionate girl by her side looked for her. She was not that big of a fan of being in the public eye with you, but just seeing your puppy eyes was enough for Arlecchino to relent.
“A table for two, please.” Arlecchino stated with a monotone voice.
“R-Right!” The waitress scrambled for the menus, before leading the two of you to a secluded and private room inside the restaurant. “Please enjoy yourself with the amenities in our VIP suite. I-If you need anything please call one of our staff. The buffet is outside.”
“Woah! VIP!” You explored around the room, taking pictures of the flowers and paintings, while Arlecchino took her seat, opening the menu. “Hmn. Would you like to go out to grab some food first, darling? You look ravenous.”
“What about you, Arle? Aren’t you going to get something too?” You turn around and look at the Harbinger, who was engrossed with the drinks options.
“Of course.” Arlecchino placed the menu on the table, uncrossing her legs as she strolled towards you, placing a hand on your shoulder. Like an unspoken command, you walked out of the VIP suite, clamoring towards the buffet line, perusing all the food and dashing around. Arlecchino kept a close eye on you; you were never too fast for her crimson gaze. Arlecchino knew how you loved to have your own space and explore around, and the Knave agreed. Like any child, they needed their space to learn and grow in a new environment. She took a plate from underneath the tray of food, and strolled around the salad bar, keeping one eye on you.
“Woah, you’re quite the feisty one, aren’t you?” Arlecchino’s ears pricked, her eyes instantly shooting over to where she captured you last. You were in the middle of grabbing food, when a random man walked up to you, no plate in his hands. She pretended to be grabbing salad from the trays, inching closer and closer to you.
“Ummmm… what?” You said, continuing to grab your food.
“What’s a gem like you doing out alone?”
“Eating. And I’m not alone, actually!”
“Yeah? Don’t see no guy around. Come on, let me treat you to a meal. Come over to my table. I’ll show you some pretty interesting things.” The man grinned at you, his hands started to move closer to your waist.
You shrugged it off, an unbothered and innocent look on your face. “I’m not allowed to, sorry.”
“Not allowed to? Who’s controlling your decisions, kitten?” The man moved closer, his hand snaking around your waist.
Arlecchino nearly grabbed her plate a little too hard, spilling salad onto the counter. Her fingers curled into a ball, her crimson eyes glowering.
“My partner!” You exclaimed with a cheerful tone, spinning out of his grasp around your waist. “Okay, I’m going now, mister. Have a good one!”
As you skipped back to the VIP room, you noticed Arlecchino trying to melt the brie cheese with her eyes. You tapped her on the shoulder, a smile on your face. “Made new friend, Arle!”
You extended your index finger towards the man, putting him in the spotlight in the Harbinger’s gaze. “There!”
The man locked eyes with the Fatui Harbinger, and all the color disappeared from his face, travelling down to his trousers, displaying itself with a dark spot. The Harbinger had to control herself and the corner of her mouth from flying upwards, her crimson gaze softening to a glow as she looked at you. “I see, darling. Take this plate back, hmn? Eat your greens.”
“Okay!” You smiled at the Harbinger, giving her a wink, before skipping back to the VIP suite.
Arlecchino turned her head back around, and as she suspected, the man had scurried off. The Harbinger exhaled through her nose. No matter. The man could relish the few more minutes he had on this world. After all, there was no place on Teyvat where he could ever remain safe from the Fourth of the Fatui Harbingers.
“Darling, did you finish your greens?” Arlecchino closed the door behind her, her crimson gaze softening as she observed your messy face, sauce all over your lips and aloof smile.
“All clear!” You beamed at the Harbinger, holding up the plate to her face. Arlecchino let out a chuckle, her eyes glancing at the small crack in the porcelain. No matter. She’ll just let the man compensate. The Knave took her seat, placing the plate of food she had taken prior to her little… trip.
“Good girl.” Arlecchino purred, her thin lips turning into a small smile as she planted a kiss on your forehead.
Your eyes lingered on the Knave’s face, your eyebrows furrowing. “What’s that on your cheek, Arle?”
“Oh?” Arlecchino brushed her finger against her cheek, picking up the fresh blood that ‘accidentally’ splattered onto her face during her little…mission.
“Nothing you need to worry yourself over, darling. Eat up. Eat as much as you want.” Arlecchino picked up a fork, urging you to eat as well.
You shrugged, shoving a spoonful of chocolate mousse into your mouth. You knew better than to invoke Arlecchino’s ‘protectiveness’ of you. As long as you were hers, and she was yours, you had nothing to worry about. Never shall you worry again.
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freminet x an archon male! reader? so we’re the hydro archon instead of furina basically (still just as over-the-top ofc). basically after totally exposing them in the opera house we go to apologise and meet freminet and it’s just BOOM instant LOVEEEEE moment. then just general hc’s of freminet dating a literal god and also how the whole of fontaine and ‘Father’ would react to it? (can’t imagine all those eyes on freminet would be very easy on him so some comfort would be cute) idk let your imagination go wild i’ll be happy with anything! 🩵 (ESPECIALLY smexy time at the end ykyk 😩😩)
fuckass app crashed when i was writing and it got deleted 💀💀 i hate this place
after you embarrassingly got all your evidence debunked and realized you falsely accused the two magician siblings, and then exposed the fact they were fatui in front of everyone...you felt like you needed to apologize, you laid awake at night thinking of it
so finally you got some treats and came to their house, trying to ignore the people and cameras surrounding you, it's not everyday the hydro archon himself goes outside, not even clorinde by his side
however, instead of the twins you expected, you saw the most beautiful boy you've ever seen?? and you've been alive for a long time, you've seen many boys before!
"oh hydro dragon bless me..." you mumbled, the boy's eyes were widened, having not expected that the literal archon would be outside his door! the same archon who almost took his siblings away from him...
he noticed the cameras and sunk into himself, it was bad enough he hated attention, but now everyone knew he was fatui and it felt worse, like everyone was judging him harder
you cleared your throat "ahem! why are you all still here? this is obviously a private moment! do you want to be sent to the fortress of meropide so badly?"
quickly the people ran off, knowing you, their very... enthusiastic archon, you were not kidding, you looked pleased with yourself, now alone with this majestic boy
"you didn't have to do that..." his voice was quiet but you still swooned! "oh please, anything for a beautiful young man like yourself!'
after that day, you visited alot more often,and even requested his presence at the palais mermonia, freminet was always awkward and felt out of place, why did the archon seem to like him so much? maybe he was just doing this to try to suck up to his siblings or father
in reality you were crushing hard on this boy, as the archon you cant exactly go out and form meaningful connections without the people trying to be nice just so you don't send them to jail, though the most time spent together with him, even freminet started to grow feelings for you
eventually you cannot hold back your overwhelming feelings and confess, despite being quite scared of his reaction and how his family would react, the both of you became boyfriends! it was quite the sight for the people of fontaine, a over enthusiastic archon with a shy and quiet diver?
to say his family was shocked was a understatement, especially the knave, she would've expected someone like lyney would manage to seduce the archon, but freminet? she can't say she wasn't proud though, you can bet she'll be bragging to everyone how her son bagged a archon though, specifically the one she was investigating head on
and now she has more ways of connecting to you in a attempt to solve the crisis, and even for her own wants of the nation, and of course finding out some of the secrets of the archon
but freminet couldn't even go outside without being bombarded by paparazzi anymore, it was overwhelming and he hated it, and you understood perfectly! which is why now there's a law where you cannot even speak to the hydro archon's boyfriend unless he gives permission! perfect, isn't it?
as for the more intimate encounters, freminet can't help but feel more confident in himself, whether he's getting fucked or he's fucking you, either way he's with the most beautiful man in fontaine, and a literal god, it's hard not to feel pride knowing everyone wants you and he has you all to himself
especially if he was dominant, knowing he's got you under his control willing to listen to his demands? he feels like melting, if he's submissive, he feels the same, knowing that you were on top of him, balls deep every night? he wants to giggle and kick his feet
he'd rather drown than tell his family he's having sex though, even when arlecchino starts telling him about safe sex...knowing he's already far past that point!
what really matters to him though, is how happy you make him, he didn't realize, but he's smiling more often with you, lyney pointed it out to him, and he couldn't help but blush, he just loves you, he wouldn't care if you were a normal person or a god, he wants to stay with you forever
he starts going out more often, even going to his siblings shows alot more, just to see you, sometimes you even get him to sit beside you on your seat! the only people even allowed there were you, neuvillette and clorinde, the whole of fontaine slowly get used to seeing their archon very publicly kissing his boyfriend, you can't help it!
you just want to kiss him all the time, even neuvillette can't help but feel like a proud father, arlecchino knew she still had her own mission to investigate the oratrice and the prophecy, but she also knew freminet since he was a kid, and she knew freminet has never been happier
so maybe, just maybe, she's generally happy for her son, he really deserves that love after the shitty things he's been through, maybe she'll also attempt to have a better relationship with you, she can't have you scared of her when she'll have to walk her son down the aisle afterall
#genshin impact x reader#genshin x you#genshin fluff#freminet x reader#freminet x male reader#freminet
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Furina: Can't you go with me to Liyue?
Neuvillette: Unfortunately, I can't leave. Someone has to manage the pneumousia process.
Furina: Aren't you a Sovereign? Can't you just lend someone that power?
Neuvillette: And who do you propose manage it? It's deceptively difficult.
Furina: You could give it to that Duke! Or- or Clorinde, maybe even that madam from the Spina!
Neuvillette: ... you just want me to accompany you, right?
Furina: ... Please???
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Hey there! Could I please request Furina, Clorinde, and Navia with an S/O who fancies themselves as something of a vigilante (secretly or not is up to you, I have no particular preference) and generally likes to play pretty fast and loose with the laws? Thanks, hope you have a great day!
Them with a vigilante reader
characters: Furina / Clorinde / Navia x gn!reader (separate)
warnings: slight(?) angst in Clorinde’s part, light spoilers for the 2nd Arc of the Archon quest in Navia’s part
a/n: I have no idea if you wanted this to be angsty or fluffy, since the reader turning out to be a vigilante has more than enough potential for soul crushing angst, especially in the Nation of Justice, so I played it safe and go with the fluffier option whenever possible, that being said the Clorinde one is a bit more angsty, I think.
Also, I'm still trying to get a feel for the characters, so if I got some of their character traits wrong, then I'm really sorry
So I hope this matches what you envisioned, if not, tell me and I’ll try to write it again.
Anyway, hope you enjoy!
Navia
While the main producer of Sinthe had been convicted and she finally got rid of her father’s undeserved epithet, Spina di Rosula’s work was not yet done. The biggest supplier may have been dealt with, but as long as there were still people making Mora from selling that substance, neither you nor Navia would rest, not after witnessing what it did to people’s lives.
Navia and you making for good partners shouldn’t have come as a big surprise for anyone. Both of you held an enmity for anyone related to the Sinthe-trade, neither of you held an unwavering trust towards the justice system and the both of you had known each other since long before she took up her fathers mantle. And while your operation wasn’t technically legal, considering how the Hydro Archons last encounters with Navia went, the state decided to turn a blind eye for as long as Spina di Rosula didn’t betray its new found reputation.
You couldn’t remember when the last time was that just the two of you got to eat together like this. For weeks your nights were short and full of investigating, and even when you got to close your eyes, your dreams were filled with the case. But now that most of the Sinthe dealers were locked up behind bars, Navia felt it was only right for the two of you to take some time off.
“Where are Silver and Melus?”, you couldn’t help but ask when you didn’t spot the two men. They were always by her side, no matter when and where she set off, something even more impressive considering Melus’ age.
“I sent them to take some time off, they deserved it. Well, that and I wanted to have some alone time with you”, she explained with a smile, grabbing the plate with her baking and handing it to you, causing you to grab a macron or two before returning the smile, your heavy eyes feeling just a little bit lighter.
“You seem tired, didn’t you say you’d try to fall asleep earlier?”, Navia noted upon seeing the circles under your eyes, causing you to wave it off.
“I did, but then I thought of something and before I knew it I was looking into something”, you tried to play it off, only for the Boss to frown.
“The biggest threat is dealt with, give it a break and get some good night sleep. Not sleeping much isn’t good for your health.”
“Okay mom”, you sarcastically responded, a playful smile growing on your lips. One Navia quickly matched.
“If you don’t stop playing with the reports so late at night, I’ll have to confiscate your toys”, she responded in kind, causing both of you to let out a few snickers before turning your attention to the food.
“Can you pass me the black tee?”, you eventually asked before pointing at the kettle, only for Navia to stop in the middle of her bite and glare at you.
“No. I wasn’t joking, you’re going to sleep early tonight. Even if I have to force you.”
Furina
You were nothing more than a proactive private Investigator. A proactive private Investigator that followed the law, obviously. Vigilantes were criminals, criminals with good intentions, but criminals nonetheless and for the God of Justice’s closest companion, being a criminal was obviously out of the question. Because she would never protect and keep a criminal by her side. That would be ridiculous.
That was the deal, and what Furina made sure you'd remember.
Had this sort of secret been kept by anybody else, Furina might have considered it a twist worth listening to. It would have made for a trial she wouldn’t have been able to wait to attend. But why did it have to be you? Had the Archon found out about your secret earlier, you would be sitting behind bars since a long time ago. Nobody but the state, nobody but her, was allowed to determine whether someone was a criminal or not.
But by the time you eventually confessed it to her, it was too late. Were it her feelings that made her choose to keep shut or the knowledge that having news that the all knowing God of Justice didn’t notice her closest companion’s secret identity would deliver a considerable hit in her both trustworthiness and popularity as an Archon was irrelevant. The only thing counting being that you remembered those three important rules.
“Hand them over to the Gardes at the earliest possible opportunity, deliver evidence that there’s a crime that justifies me arresting them without the legal clearance to do so and don’t be seen.” While it would have been a lie to say that your lackluster recitation didn’t annoy Furina in the slightest, the fact that you remembered them word-by-word was reassurance enough that you would do your best to follow them.
For anyone unfamiliar with the person behind their god’s confident facade, it would have been a surprise to see their Archon nervously pacing around the room, but for you it was hardly a rare occurrence. Whenever you gathered enough information about a suspect to be certain they were a serious criminal and the only step left was to make them face justice, she’d sit you down in her room before hammering those rules into your brain..
“Exactly, and you better remember each and every one of those. I may have kept our- your secret so far, but don’t even think for a second I’ll hesitate to throw you into the dungeons myself if I hear you as much as consider breaking one of them”, she tried her hardest to keep her composure, and although the thought of making a small jest crossed your mind, doubting the validity of her threat, it wouldn’t surprise you if anything but a 100% serious answer would be enough to make her pass out, and so you cleverly decided to shut up and nod.
“Good, I could see from the moment I first laid eyes on you that you weren’t a criminal, so rise and do what you have to do”, she continued to cling to the image of the well spoken, righteous Archon her citizens surely knew her as before just as quickly collapsing onto the same chair the moment the door closed behind you.
“Why do I keep doing this to myself???”
Clorinde
While your family wasn’t wealthy enough to pay for you to get any kind of training, you were always a fascinated with sword fighting, so much so that the moment you finally saved enough to buy a good sword you asked Clorinde to teach you how to properly use it, something she saw no reason to refuse.
You had gotten a lot better since the first time the two of you trained, not nearly good enough to best her, but more than certainly enough to hold your ground against most enemies and threats in the wild. A part of her wanted to feel proud about her accomplishments as a teacher, but she couldn’t, not when she knew what you were using those acquired skills for.
Clorinde wasn’t blind. She knew something was going on the moment you started returning home in bruises and wounds from your “late-night walks”. At first she assumed some petty criminals must have started extorting you, but when you didn’t seem to be missing anything and she heard about a mysterious person apprehending criminals, it didn’t take her long to realize just what you were doing.
“What do you think of that ‘vigilante’ everyone is talking about?”, you asked while trying your best to block whatever attack she threw at you, your eyes landing on her for just a split second before fixating on her blade again.
Well, you couldn’t be more direct.
“I’m not sure. I know desiring justice is a noble trait, but if it’s justice they’re after, why not report the cases to the Gardes?”, she responded calmly, trying her best to keep her suspicions as hidden as possible.
“Maybe they don’t trust Fontaine’s law enforcement to do their job?”, you countered just as calmly, not averting your eyes from her weapon for even a split second.
“And what’s your opinion on the way the court does its sentencing? Just between the two of us”, her gaze left her own blade long ago, slowly but surely making their way down towards you.
“It’s certainly an entertaining spectacle”, you explained, only for her blade to suddenly change course and hit you in the chest. The only thing stopping it from sinking into you being the fact that it was a dull training sword. Before you knew it, Clorinde was silently staring you down, staring straight into your eyes and sending a shiver down your spine. Before finally speaking up once again.
“Then I hope they don’t get caught. The last thing I want to do is have to fight them in a real duel.”
If it took her, a duelist, nothing but a closer look to figure your secret out, it wouldn’t take a prosecutor long either. For your sake-, both of your sakes however, she hoped you’d manage to keep any suspicion away from you… at least long enough until she didn’t have to worry about you losing against her fellow champions.
#furina#furina x reader#furina x y/n#furina x you#clorinde x you#clorinde#clorinde x reader#clorinde x y/n#navia#navia x reader#navia x you#navia x y/n#focalors x reader#focalors
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How bout wriothesley x reader angst ft clorinde. They get shipped a lot. But happy ending or sad ending depends on you.
Gender neutral reader, I've decided to go for a sad ending here. Reader's basically the third wheel. I really wouldn't define this as a 'sad' ending, but it's one where the reader moves away to leave Wriothesley.
--
The constant flirting you had seen from Wriothesley, along with Clorinde, was funny at the beginning. Seeing Wriothesley laugh awkwardly when she scowled at him was hilarious at the start of the three of you making time for each other. Three friends together since both you and Wriothesley met in the fortress- you imprisoned at a similar age at the same time as him, and Clorinde happening upon the two of you on several occasions - and you were happy with being the 'golden retriever' of the group who didn't feel awkward about not being flirted with.
Funny how things change when you begin to feel a tightness in your chest whenever Wriothesley gave a glance at Clorinde before firing a compliment her way. When you picked up on her eyes giving away the fact she was getting flustered before firing back an insult at him, and him joking as he raises his hands.
You recognised, in that moment you knew you caught feelings for Wriothesley, that people who kept looking at your table were merely pitying you.
Pitying you for being the fool that was happy with being left behind in the group when the magnificence of the duo in front of you moved on. Pitying the fact that you were too stupid to realise you were out of place since day one, and you barely spoke because you couldn't do any more than observe.
Once you realised your predicament, you only really had one choice to redeem yourself in your eyes - you had to leave the fortress the moment your extended sentence was completed. You deserved better than to be the third wheel when you thought you were all just friends.
You weren't brace enough to tell Wriothesley, but you had told Clorinde, who respected your decision.
"Don't let your worth be whittled down to an idiot." She shrugs. "I see you you look at him - I don't have any interest, but he hasn't caught on. While I can't convince you without a shadow of a doubt I can stop him, I can tell you that there are plenty of fish in the sea." She continues, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Find someone who loves you. You deserve that much at least."
To your surprise, the sentence you had was lifted. Turns out, you were sentenced based on false allegations - allegations that Neuvilette hadn't known about until Clorinde had literally shoved the evidence in his face. Packing your bags, you knew Wriothesley was the first to be informed of your sentence being lifted.
But he never went to meet you.
In all the years he knew you, he never gave a shit about you.
It stung when you recognised it, but it lifted the only doubt stopping you from leaving. Your singular bag in hand, you take a deep breath to stop yourself from bawling, you walk towards the exit with Clorinde, your best friend leading the way.
Before you could part ways, she pulls you into a hug.
"I'm going to miss you, _. Please keep in touch." She sobs uncharacteristically. "I wished I had seen his true feelings earlier. Maybe then-"
"Don't be silly, Clo!" You reassure her, patting her head as you wrap your arms around her. "If you hadn't spoken to me, I'd still be foolishly telling myself he cares enough about me. Forgetting about him, I know you had produced a very good defence for my actions during the crime I had been sentenced for."
"If it wasn't for you, Clo, nobody would have known that I was merely fighting off an attacker during the night by myself." You smile.
"I promise to keep in contact with you wherever I go - I owe you a luxurious meal at least." You smile.
Clorinde gives you one more hug, and you can tell that she genuinely cares for you.
Wriothesley never even acknowledged you during this whole thing - if he had cared, wouldn't he have approached you to tell you he missed his 'fellow inmate'?
Enough about that, you recognise.
Now that you had on hand Neuvilettes contact details, as well as the details of why you were imprisoned, you had an idea of what you wished to do.
You would move from Fontaine, to another country where people barely knew of your crimes, and upon applying for your educational improvement you would display your current knowledge along with the crime that would show upon a request for your prior crimes.
Anywhere from a different place Wriothesley was in was enough from you, and Sumeru was a good start.
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Guard!Women letting in Doppleganger!Reader for a booty call.
Monster fucker!Genshin Women when?
OOOOO REVERSING THE ROLES 😳
I can see Guard! Jean or Guard! Clorinde losing their cool when a Doppleganger as cute as you is begging at the window to be let in. Your cute, puppy-dog like eyes looking so wide and innocent as you cup your hands together while quietly muttering “please let me in…”
The blood splattered all over your clothes is a dead giveaway you are a fake, but the Guard! Genshin women just can’t bring it in themselves to get rid of you. So! They let you into the apartment complex, where you sneak into their office and give them the monster fucking of their life 💕
#🫧feeding the fishes#doppleganger au#reader would be so cute as a doppleganger#the guard women are so weak to her
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I'm back on my Genshin bullshit, so:
Give me Celestia wanting revenge for Focalors' and Furina's deception
Give me the Unknown God appearing on Teyvet for the first time since the Cataclysm and demanding that Fontaine surrender Furina
Give me the people of Fontaine being NOT okay with that
Give me Furina screaming, with tears in her eyes, that she will leave with the Unknown God—"just don't bring down the gods' wrath on Fontaine, please"
Give me Clorinde, Navia, and the Traveler vehemently protesting this
Give me Neuvillette (who was in the Fortress of Meropide, auditing one thing or another with Wriothesley) tearing apart the Palais Mermonia when he resurfaces and learns that Furina sacrificed herself AGAIN
UGH
Just
Gimme
Pls
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