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pavo-ocell-me · 2 months

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𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝔀𝓸𝓮𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓪 𝓵𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝔀𝓷 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 ⋆ ࣪˖ 𓂃𓋜

al haitham x f!reader . sfw — hurt ﾉ comfort . established relationship . rewrite from an old blog ﾉ insecure reader ﾉ he calls u ‘ habibti ‘ + ‘ baby ‘ + ‘ sweetheart ‘ ﾉ non - sexual nudity ( ie. u bathe together ) ﾉ reader is heavily insp by me n' this is a piece i wrote to comfort myself over anything soo .. Ya ૮꒰ྀི⊃⸝ ⸝ ⸝⊂꒱ྀིა pwz b kind with ur comments thanku!!!! ꒱ྀི 3.9k wc

“i’m always clinging onto you… and i depend on you quite a bit… don't you find it to be bothersome?” (i’m sorry if my love for you feels harrowing, unbearable, suffocating; i’m sorry the only way i know how to love is like a child.)

all it takes you is one little step past the front door, and al haitham immediately realises you’re unhappy.

it's hard not to, when it comes as large as a raincloud hanging over the house.

first, a drizzle with the drag of your feet; steps that are normally light and fawn-like and struggling to catch up with his own long strides, a wee bit skittish and much more adorably clumsy than you’d care to admit, are now sluggish. devoid of their usual urgency and purpose.

then, a deluge, as he hears you heave a sigh from beyond his tome. you’re burdened by something, he notices, as you scuff along the hardwood floor, let your book bag—and subsequently your heart—tumble to the ground.

“welcome home.” al haitham raises from the daybed, coming to meet you in the foyer. “how… was work?”

something in his tone, the pause in his question and the uncharacteristic apprehension of it makes your heart wither and crumble. quick as ever is he with his eyes—most especially when it comes to you.

how you so wish in this moment that weren’t the case.

“fine!” your reply is light, “just, i’m a bit tired… is it okay if we just eat leftovers from last night for dinner? i’m really sorry…” when you smile up at him, it doesn’t meet your eyes, nor too do your eyes meet his own.

lies—you’ve never been all that successful at convincing him of them, due in part to the guilt that you can’t keep hidden from your countenance, as well as the callowness of your voice that seems to render any falsity you utter ring with an air of untruth.

“it’s nothing to apologise for.” he says slowly, standing before you as he awaits the hug you always give him when you arrive home from work, the press of your ear over his heart. you up on the tips of your toes as you ask him for a kiss and to cut up a peach so you might feed them to each other as you sit on the sill facing village hills.

you do none of these, and al haitham wonders why.

walking past you, he ruffles your hair, softly scritches at your scalp. “go wash up; i’ll set the table.”

you want to speak, say thank you, but you can find no words. a deep melancholy breaks over you like a hurricane. it terrifies you. but still you lift your head, look past his ear as you smile again to hide all the woe-rapture that festers within.

and this is all it takes for al haitham to resolve that he will do something about it.

the tahchin is bitter on your tongue today.

grains of rice pebbly between your teeth, chicken tasting far too much of chicken and not the blend of spices it had been marinated in. it’s near unpalatable.

and just as it is unpalatable, it is a most arduous task to even lift your fork. the weight of your melancholy is clamped to your wrist and your jaw—it makes eating all the more difficult than it need be, and a knot at the back of your throat that feeds the taste of bile into your mouth only serves to darken the shadow that your malaise casts over dinner.

how is it: your favourite dish losing its ability to console, its only purpose to be a vessel for sustenance. yet, even at that, what sustenance does it provide you with when each bite makes you feel as though you might hurl?

“you’re not eating.” al haitham observes sharply, glancing at you out the corner of his eye. it’s a serious shortcoming in his mind, obviously, for someone who does so dearly enjoy her meals.

you shrug despondently and sigh, “suppose i’m just not hungry.”

as much as he may want to, al haitham doesn’t push further—his hand hovering over a button before deciding to leave it untouched in fear of what may come. and you’re grateful, that he doesn’t ask you what the matter is, and simply hums in acknowledgement before returning to his food.

(his silence casts a harsh stroke upon your heart.)

you’re grateful, truly, you are.

(you hear his voice in your head—‘are you alright, habibti?’, and quickly, you seize a grasp of your heart to stop the bleeding that threatens to reach your eyes.)

now you’ve gone and worsened the spoil of your appetite.

resting your fork on the worn wood table, you sigh yet again—this time around a soft wispy thing that does little to soothe the ache of your lungs, and turn your head to regard his profile.

the relaxed ridge of his brows and the handsome slope of his nose, lidded teal eyes that are always analysing, never idling; he is just as a diamond is. all sharp edges that glimmer and glint, not only in body but also in mind.

al haitham is beautiful by way of his nurturing and guiding in a seemingly unorthodox manner. generous with his intentions no matter how hard he may try to prove otherwise, clever and witty and always five steps ahead and so incredibly attractive in his self-assurance—oh, he is just perfect—as is the ground he walks upon and the air that floats over his head and each word that touches his lips.

what is he like… winter fields blanketed by the sun and the tips of flower petals after a deluge, bubbles in wine, diamonds, diamonds, all diamonds. he is a brilliant blue diamond in your night sky.

and you, what are you like?

puerile at heart and loud with your love. a wee bit foolish and entirely silly, always fumbling and mumbling and messing up in spite of trying your best.

if al haitham is as a diamond is, then perhaps you would best be suited to a pearl—with those little dewy globes resting on your lashes more often than not, a heart smooth to the touch and all the more fragile.

which, yes, does sound rather precious when worded in such a way, but you can’t help but wonder, if for al haitham you are too much.

whether your whimsies are too fantastical, and your brain is too often in the clouds and not in your head where it belongs. or whether the apple-sweet naivety that offers your heart up to anyone who shows you even a modicum of kindness, be it honest or corrupt, is too much of an annoyance to look after. you worry whether your love is too strong for someone like him who has grown so comfortable in his own company, like fire scorching his blood or the waves of the sea crashing along a cliff or the sticky residue of honey on fingertips that just won’t wash off.

these woes slather uncertainty over your spine, and before you can think, you’re already reaching over to clutch at al haitham’s sleeve.

it’s an effort to command his attention, silently, for if you call him by his name instead, you fear the tears may fly out your eyes and the pathetic hiccups out your throat and you’d weep until the end of eternity. that’s how it feels, anyway.

“yes, habibti?” al haitham wipes the corner of his lip with his thumb and lays down his fork just as you’ve done yours. he waits for your voice to fill the heavy air of the dining room, but when he notices the nervous nibble of your lip and the twiddles of your thumb, he sighs, pulls you in closer by the leg of your chair. “you know, you shouldn’t be afraid to tell me if anything’s troubling you. i’ll do my best to help however i can.”

his hand swallows your fist in a comforting embrace, plucking your fingers free one by one so that he can thread his between yours. it’s a challenge to not look his way when he behaves so darling, and in his eyes you see a certain pleading softness swimming round the edges of his pupils.

it’d be hard to notice to an untrained eye, what with his acts of romance mostly always lacking the entirety of pomp and blare in the world, but you can tell—of course you can.

it holds you spellbound, compels you to give in, and so, you reach your trembling hands past your ribs and take hold of your burgeoning heart, pay little heed to the rose thorns that scrape and scar it as you tug it free of its cavity. placing the lame organ in front of al haitham, you wince at all its clotted ugliness and self-serving insecurity.

“that’s exactly it… i cause a lot of trouble for you, don’t i.”

(am i too much? am i too overbearing?)

“i’m always clinging onto you… and i depend on you quite a bit… don’t you find it to be bothersome?”

(i’m sorry if my love for you feels harrowing, unbearable, suffocating; i’m sorry the only way i know how to love is like a child.)

“it’s just—” there’s a fracture in your voice and then a whimper that follows.

you’re quick to avert your gaze from him and down to the worn wood table, at your grubby plate of food. the words, recited in your head over and over slip away from your tongue and leave it laid with only scribbled thoughts; they float up—up—up… and then your eyes squeeze shut and your fingertips press anxiously into the space between his knuckles and your shoulders shirk in on themselves.

as many a time have you weeped before him—over the loveliness of a perfectly sunny day or a particularly sweet and excellent bite into a zaytun peach, over all things nonsensical and silly and things that one ought not to be weeping at. but in this moment, you feel obliged to hide your tears from him.

you’d rather he didn’t see you cry, at least, not over something like this.

not over yourself.

“it’s just, i can’t help but feel as though you’d fare better off with someone more like you—someone more sound in mind and less chaotic at heart, perhaps. i dunno…” you pick idly at your food, the tooth of your fork accidentally sending a grain of rice flying to the floor under the pressure of its touch. how unfortunate. “i don’t know…”

(i wish i were more like you. maybe then i’d feel like less of a liability at your side.)

in all your days of loving al haitham, you’ve only presented your heart to him as a dog would to its human, but today you’re atoning. it’s near sacrificial—your laments and apologies for being too much, too little, not enough, whatever.

your heart waits anxiously before him: sliced down the precise centre, carmine, bleeding, beating.

and for the first time since you’ve come bounding into al haitham’s life, his house is silent, though, this silence seems to dislike being broken as he mulls yours words over—save for the sad hymns sung by the wind and the gauche scritches and scratches of your fork atop ceramic.

the tears begin to brim and froth behind your lash-line, like milk on the stove that boils and isn’t being kept a watchful eye over. yet, even as your vision begins to blur, you know al haitham is glancing your way.

he takes your heart into his mouth and cradles it gently within his maw.

“is this what’s been on your mind? silly girl.”

your lover leans into your personal space and flicks your forehead gently, coaxing your gaze from your lap to his face.

“your heart is rather big.”

(you make it easy to adore you. and i like that. it saves me so much trouble making myself adore someone.)

“you both love and loathe it in equal parts.”

(you will always be so free and blithe, as you will always be naive and afraid. such is the eternal nature of your heart—it will coddle and weather in its fragility until its last days. won’t you trust it to me to make sure of? to care for?)

“yes—you cry too often, and you forgive too easily, and you worry too much about those who aren’t deserving of your care, and you feel guilt too strongly over things you have no control over.”

(you are so precious, so pure, so full of infinite compassion for the world.)

“it’s easy for one’s heart to be trampled over if it’s held in their palms, for the world to see. just as you hold out your’s.”

(to me, your beauty lies heaviest within your fawn heart.)

al haitham’s are words veined with ice, and your lips freeze in their subtle pout—one that wobbles on the edge of a dejected frown, “it’s not like i mean for it to—”

“but don’t you realise that’s why i’m here? why i’ll continue to be here? to catch your heart before it has a chance to get trampled over, and to tend to it when it does?” the ice crackles through his words and they all break up, as if it were spring again. “don’t you realise this is what i admire most about you?”

(i love you.)

for a moment, your heart flutters queerly. the veil shrouding your thoughts lifts and you’re left to be shaken and pierced by al haitham’s tender tone.

“it sounds as though you wish you were more like me…” your lover takes the fork from your hand and raises with his fingers your chin, so that you may properly meet his eyes for the first time this evening. “but when we love someone, we love them entirely for themselves, not whatever thing we’ve twisted them into to fit our own image. if that were the case—we’d only be loving the reflection of ourselves we find in them. is this not what you once told me, sweetheart?”

(i love you, in all your adorably jejune whimsies and nonsensical musings and humble tidings. i love the darling tears that cling to the round of your cheek and your great excitability and childish curiosity—all things i lack. and of all things i love your mad, devout love; so… please, please continue to love me as you do without fear of abandonment.)

perhaps, after all, it is okay that you are nothing like him and he is nothing like you. that you are diametric antitheses, like earth and air or diamond and pearl. your eyes falter under his gaze, body rigid in his arms as he manoeuvres you into his lap and presses his palms to your hot cheeks.

“please, i…” you weaken and he smiles and then you tremble and soften and melt and the tears finally bubble onto your face just as a white rose slips past its sheath.

like a baby, you sob—free of guilt and shame, it’s the only thing you know how to do when you’ve already spoken the words in your mind.

you press a palm to his chest, fingers splayed out over his heart, head tilted down and hair hiding yourself from him. though, he can still see; and you know he can, even if all that’s in your periphery are clouds and fuzz, wobbly pearls of dew that dribble down your face. he doesn’t ask you to look at him—he already knows why you weep. from catharsis or love or joy or heartache or gratitude… all of them at once or perhaps none of them at all.

“i-i’m really sorry for r-ruining dinner!” your voice is stuffy with sniffles and you hiccup in between your words, eyes squeezed shut awfully tight so that your nose crinkles. how sweet.

there you are again, little flower. al haitham spares you a smile that twists your heart as he leans in to brush his lips against yours, exchanging breaths. i’ve missed you. “you didn’t ruin anything. now—” with one hand, he holds you by the dip of your waist to press you to his chest and uses the other to gather a bite of tahchin on his fork, “you need to eat.”

at the hands of your lover, the tahchin is savoury and full of life on your tongue, nowhere near as nauseating and boorish as earlier. “isn’t it fascinating, haitham?” you part your lips to take another bite and hum softly as the spices flush you with warmth. “how the tahchin tastes so much more delicious now that you’re feeding it to me?”

he watches on in awe as you chew on your food, tiny little hiccups from tears unshed that occasionally rack your chest and fluster you, the ones that have dried coming off your face as gossamer flakes. they’re angel tears, he’s certain of that much.

“you have the cutest cheeks, you know…” your lover takes the fat of your cheeks between his thumb and index finger as you eat, gently squeezing and marvelling at the suppleness of your powdery skin. “baby's just like a bunny.”

“stop teasing…” you grasp his wrist gently, swallowing your food and sucking in your cheek to bite down on it bashfully, look the opposite way of prying eyes. they’re lidded and lazy and there’s a smile that lifts them up at the edges—his eyes, you see—but also his heart. because you just make him feel like that: organs and limbs loose and relaxed and thumping with his calm pulse, vision framed by a glowy pink haze as though he were laying on marble under the sun by the sea. everything sweet and wonderful in the world.

“even after all the moments we’ve shared…” he smirks and pinches your bottom lip, bringing you in close. “you’re still just as shy as though it were our first.”

you can't help but burst into a lovely little peal of giggles as he kisses you and pampers you, your tippy toes dusting the floor playfully and your fingertips curling strands of his hair. your cheeks are stuffed with warm food and your eyes burn with the crystalline that brims at your lower lashes when you swallow thickly, so you push back the tremble to your voice and bury it under his love stored in bite after bite of tahchin.

and even after your plate has been emptied and love is about to burst past the seams of your heart and your tummy, and you lay half-asleep atop him in a growing pool of moonlight—even after much of your aches and pains have been put to rest, al haitham still has yet to be completely satisfied, awaiting to be placated by one final thing.

“come, you must be tired,” he ties your hair for you, takes you by your hand, offers to wash the lingering fogs out of your soul. “should we bathe together before we sleep?”

al haitham’s touch is soft as he strips you of your clothing, kisses downwards of your clavicle after he removes your necklace—your wrist, your rib, your belly, your thigh. he knows just how you like your baths: window propped wide open to waft in the fragrance from blossoming peach trees and the sweet lulls of nightly birdsong, padisarah petals coasting across the water.

he prepares the room for you as such, swathing your frame between his long, broad limbs in the tub, too tiny for two, mind you. yet, he finds it to be a simple task to ignore the annoyance of the ledge digging into his spine when your body curls up against him like this, cheek pillowed by the plush of his chest and your arms draped ‘round his waist.

“you like holding me close, sweetheart?”

it’s a fun little poke at just how tight you cling to him, but truthfully, al haitham is all the same. a hand on the small of your back or warm fingers massaging your chilly nape—he finds the utmost comfort in feeling your skin on his, familiarity in the clouds of chantilly cream and sumeru rose that seem to linger about in the air around you.

perhaps he is just as clingy as you are, in how he cuddles you close to his chest and takes a book from the stool next to the bathtub, preparing to read to you from it.

and you listen intently—no matter how the throes of sleep try to whisk you away—to the flip of parchment, the birds keeping you company at the sill, the handsome cadence to your lover’s voice that makes your cheeks feel all bubbly, the beat of his heart dovetailing yours through your back.

he reads to you until the moon casts her light over the water through the window and your fingers are pruned—short fairytales about butterflies dancing on honey cups, maidens falling in love with talking roses—all from a certain emerald-covered book handed down to him from the only person to show him the same tender care you do.

the tension is dispelled from your shoulders, the barely there coil of anguish around you fully snapping and resolving into something lighter, entirely less murky. and as you sit there in his embrace, you feel your nose twitch and the backs of your eyes sting.

again! again, you cry! how lame you are in love, indeed, silly girl.

because al haitham is romantic in the way he silently cares for you like this, looks at you as though you’re extraordinarily lovely, the greatest bit of knowledge he’d ever be able to wrap his head around; touches you as if you were the most delicate of flowers.

which, you are, because how can you not blossom under his affection and grow a little love-struck?

“h-haitham?”

the words halt in his throat and he looks down at your face, or as much of it as he can make out when you’ve near buried it entirely into his neck. humming sweetly, he coaxes you on with lithe fingers slipping beneath the water’s surface to rub shapes into your doughy hip. “yes?”

“i love you…” you pick mindlessly at the emerald on his chest, let the words flow freely from the blubbering mess that has become of your voice— “i really love you, a whole lot.”—look up at him and smile toothily, plainly, eyes all watery and full of hope, promise, just like the child in you. “you love me a whole lot, too, don’t you?”

and what can he do but mirror your smile. because from it a picture of reassurance has been born, flooding and twisting and seizing his entire being. sometimes, most times, he doesn’t know how to behave when this thing, this wild love so eagerly breaks his body and pours without end into the hollow of his heart.

but it is a nice feeling, a sweet feeling: when you look at him like this and he thinks, perhaps, he could learn to love as freely as this too. all he has to do is look. it won’t be hard.

after all, everything he sees holds your darling smile within it.

tusm for reading!!! i hope this was able to bring some comfort for those who also have little fawn hearts .. and worry about their love being too all-consuming . im actually rllie embarrassed n nervous to be posting this fic bcos it means an awful lot to mi ૮꒰ྀི◞⸝⸝⸝⸝◟꒱ྀིა that being said , if you hav any comments to share please make sure they are only kind .. thanku ♡

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pavo-ocell-me · 4 months

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07 - Decrescendo

Trial by Fire (Wriothesley x Reader)

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IMPORTANT NOTICE: Reminder that this fanfic contains dark and mature themes. The TW/CW are in the masterlist and are constantly updated as I add each chapter. Please reread the warnings, proceed only after you reread the warnings. If you don't like/can't handle the topics mentioned in the TW/CW, please DO NOT read. This work is 100000% fictional and any similarities to real life people and events are purely coincidental, and none of the characters (especially the villains) are real. Again, please DO NOT read if you are not certain you can handle these topics or are in a bad place mentally. Minors are strictly forbidden. I only create content, and I am not responsible for your personal content preference and moderation. If you think you will not like this story, please just scroll away. You have been warned.

Wriothesley didn’t know how long he sat there watching her sleep, silent tears long since dried out. He couldn’t imagine the trauma that (y/n) must have gone through. She’s really strong, although he wished she didn’t need to be.

A knock sounded at the door, and Neuvilette stepped inside.Wriothesley turned his head around and nodded in greeting, not caring about how he looked with puffy red eyes and tear stains on his face.

“How is she?” The Iudex placed a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulders.

Wriothesley scoffed, rubbing his nose, “Terrible. We both are.”

Neuvilette nodded, understanding.

“Dougier spilled once we brought in Chlorinde.” At the mention of Dougier’s name, Wriothesley bristled, hands clenching on his thigh.

“She hasn’t even touched him. Wriothesley, we found Arderne’s location.”

“Where?” Wriothesley was on his feet in an instant.

Neuvilette hesitated.

“I… I only came here to tell you that, since you deserve to know the update, but in your current condition, I’m afraid you have to sit this one out.”

Wriothesley couldn’t believe he was hearing this. “What? Why?”

“I am doing this for your sake, Wriothesley. I know that look in your eyes right before you pounced on Dougier. You were going to kill him right there.”

Wriothesley grumbled. As much as he hated it, Neuvilette was right.

“I mean he’ll be dead once he gets sent back to Meropide.” The raven haired Duke sat back down, feeling defeated. He also knew he was acting rashly when he straight up decked Dougier, but that was as if his body moved on its own. That yet again proved Neuvilette’s point. Well fuck.

“But until then, we will have to follow Fontaine’s laws. You know that better than anyone.”

Sighing, he could only quietly agree with the Iudex. He kept his eyes on (y/n)’s sleeping form as Neuvilette excused himself and left.

Part of him was frustrated, he wanted to do something, anything, to help with the case, especially at such a vital moment. But he also knew he probably wouldn’t be able to hold back once he got his hands on Arderne. If he were alone, he would risk it and he wouldn’t care about serving another sentence in Meropide. But he has (y/n) now, and he didn’t want to leave her behind

Rubbing his nose, he got up to splash some water onto his face. He has to stay strong for her, for them.

Once all traces of tears were gone, he came back to her side, leaving a kiss on her forehead, a silent promise that he would still love and cherish her through thick and thin.

“I’ll be back, my love. I won’t be long.”

Wriothesley needed to clear his head, and he knew exactly what to do. He exited (y/n)’s room and thanked the two men guarding his fiancee, he took a mental note to give Navia a hefty reward to distribute among her men later. They have been a great and reliable help.

Going back down to Meropide, he went straight towards the pankration ring arena, where there are always some boxing targets for him to use. It has been quite a while since he last came here to let off some steam.

After a quick warm up, he let his mind go blank and proceeded to strike the targets. Each punch he threw using a hundred percent of his power, putting in as much body weight into it as possible to make the blows harder. Wriothesley was in a world of his own, head empty and mind solely focused on the target before him, not caring about the eyes of inmates who watched their Duke exercise.

• • •

“So… I heard that it shouldn’t be too painful?” Wriothesley rubbed (y/n)’s shoulders comfortingly. They are at the abortion center of the hospital, awaiting the doctor to prescribe (y/n) the medicine that she would have to take.

“Nope, since the pregnancy is under 5 weeks, we can do it by medication.”

(y/n) swallowed, and gave Wriothesley’s hand a little squeeze. “Will it… Will it hurt the foetus?” As much as she hated Dougier, the experiments, and everything she was forced to go through, the foetus growing inside her, no matter the source, is still innocent.

The doctor smiled and shook her head. “This pill was specially developed in Monstadt by the famous alchemist Albedo, and his assistant, Sucrose, who had used her anemo vision to enhance it even further. It will be completely painless for the foetus and the mother. Besides, the foetus has not developed to the stage where it can feel pain.”

(y/n) nodded, feeling more reassured.

“So now all (y/n) has to do is just take the pills twice a day for 3 days and it should be all good?”

“Yes, it should remove everything from inside her womb. She might feel a bit drowsy as a side effect, but it will not be painful.”

“I will. Thank you so much, doctor.”

• • •

“According to the judgement of the Oratrice Mecanique D’analyse Cardinale, Dougier and Arderne, you are deemed… Guilty.” Neuvilette’s voice seemed to echo through the Opera Epiclese, reverberating through the (y/n)’s chest.

It’s over.

“You have been sentenced to 60 years in the Fortress of Meropide, and you will have to fulfil your duties there, under the command of the Duke of Meropide, Wriothesley.

(y/n)’s eyes darted to Wriothesley, who stood under the balcony of the defendant, where she sat. She didn’t need to see his expression to know how satisfied he looked, it was reflected on the faces of Arderne and Dougier, the two main perpetrators of the facility. They stood on the balcony opposite her’s and their faces were pale as ghosts.

“B-but…” Arderne reasoned, wincing pitifully as his small movement jostled his broken leg, still wrapped in a cast. “But Iudex, surely we will be granted protection once we are back in Meropide-”

“I hate to break it to you,” Wriothesley stepped forward slowly, eyes flashing with a sadistic glint, “But the Fortress of Meropide is not under Fontaine’s Jurisdiction.” He has waited a long time for this.

Neuvilette nodded, repressing the urge to smile, “The Duke is right. The Fortress of Meropide has its own laws and systems, and anyone who has to serve a sentence there is not under the protection of Fontaine’s laws. I suggest you be on your best behaviour while you’re there serving… for the rest of your lives, it may seem.”

A giggle sounded from the back of the room. Furina, from her own balcony as the Archon, clapped her hands. “Bravo! Bravo! What a lovely finale to perhaps the most intense trial in the history of Fontaine! You two certainly broke the record for longest sentence ever given by the Oratrice. So in a way, congratulations!”

Neuvilette knocked his cane on the floor three times, “Lady Furina, if I may conclude the trial-”

“Oh let me do it!” Furina cleared her throat, and with an intonation almost perfectly mimicking Neuvilette, she said “And with that, this trial has concluded. Guards, take them away!”

It felt like a huge weight has lifted off (y/n’s) chest. She felt all the intense feelings she had just moments earlier melt away into misty grey numbness.

It’s over. Everything that happened could just be a bad memory now.

She took a shaky breath and looked downwards to seek her fiance, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“Looking for someone?” His voice appeared from behind her, as hands snaked around her waist.

“Wriothesley,” (y/n) turned around and hugged him, letting him catch her full weight as her legs turned to jello and gave up. “It’s over. It’s really over huh?”

Wriothesley kissed her cheeks, damp with tears, “Yeah, sorry you had to revisit old wounds, I know you want to forget everything, and keep the things that happened to you to as few people as possible. I hope not opening the trial to the public helped.”

(y/n) shook her head, “honestly, not really. But it was necessary, I know.”

During the trial, (y/n) had to be escorted out of the room a few times as she was starting to hyperventilate. Her therapist was there, always right by her side. It was unfortunate that Wriothesley had to stand below her balcony, joining the rest of the witnesses to this case. She would have felt better to have him right beside her.

She sniffed, wiping the remnants of her tears from her face. “Can… Can we go home now?”

Smiling, Wriothesley swept her off her feet and into his arms in a princess carry. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Walking out of the Opera Epiclese, (y/n) held onto Wriothesley tightly, burying her face into his neck. “So…”

“So…?”

“So what now?”

Wriothesley hummed, and (y/n) could feel the vibrations from his chest, “I suppose you have another therapy session tomorrow, so I’ll take you back to the hospital. But hey, at least now that you’re discharged, you don’t have to sleep there anymore.”

(y/n) smiled, “Yeah, I’ll be sleeping in our home, with you.”

“And we’ll do our absolute best to make things go back to normal, well… As normal as it gets anyway.”

She looked up at her fiance, who has been by her side through the worst of times, and still stayed despite how she had pushed him away in fear. She felt another feeling replace the numbness in her heart. Love.

Lifting her hand, she caressed Wriothesley’s cheek, and gently turned his head to face her. His footsteps faltered and his eyes closed automatically the moment he felt her press her lips against his.

Once they broke apart, (y/n)’s world was filled by the brilliance of the grin that stretched across Wriothesley’s face, “Well that was our first kiss after a very long while.”

Embarrassed, (y/n) buried her face into his neck again. Her ears tinged red, giving away the flush that had bloomed across her cheeks. “I just felt like doing that.”

Wriothesley chuckled, and continued walking, but this time he changed directions and went to the side of the road. He sat (y/n) down on short the stone walls that fenced the clean brick roads, and picked a rainbow tulip nearby.

“(y/n), love, I know I’ve done this before, and you’ve already said yes, but I think I need to do this again.” He got on knee, and fished inside his jacket pocket, taking out a ring that matched the one on his finger.

“(y/n), we have been through a lot these past months. The road was rough and the skies were dark. But even so, we pulled through together. You were so strong having overcome everything, and I couldn’t be more proud of you. You voiced out your concerns at your lowest point, and I wanted to reassure you again to make sure you never have such thoughts ever again. I love you so much, and I never wish to be parted from you from this day on. (y/n full name), Will you marry me?”

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{{(＞＜)} ☆ ～('▽^人)

Well that de-escalated quickly, I honestly was stuck and didn't know what to write after the previous chapter because I wrote the entire fic only for chapter 5 and 6, it was pure self indulgence that somehow blew up here on Tumblr. After that usually the ‘scenario I play in my head to fall asleep’ ends and I’m already asleep. So I think the next chapter would be the epilogue, to wrap everything up neatly (and emotionally). I will also post the originally planned plot of Trial by Fire after that, because I think you guys deserve to know it (frankly I think it’s much better than this blurb, and much longer).

Though I think this chapter could be better, heck this fic could be better in general. If it were more detailed and longer with better descriptions and scenes to show (y/n)’s recovery from the incident. Something more show than tell. But since the beginning, I did tell myself I will keep it short, since writing does take a lot of time and energy, and with the amount of work I have as an illustrator, it looks almost impossible. So perhaps my next work would be one-shots or just 3 chapters max. It definitely won’t be as long (but will be as angsty with hurt/comfort heheheheheh)

Now I’m a little curious. How do you fall asleep? Do you think of all sorts of scenarios or keep your mind blank? Or just scroll on your phone until you fall asleep? For me, it’s usually angst and hurt/comfort scenarios with my favourite characters. Some could be self-inserted, others not really. Not sure why that works best for me, but if it works, it works.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this story so far! If anyone wants to rewrite this to your own version, you can contact me, and please credit this fic when you publish yours. I’d love to read what you come up with!

Last but not least, thank you so much for reading! I hope you all stay safe and healthy, and I hope you have a wonderful year this 2024! Cheers!

Taglist: @almosteggs @quuela @tempest1art @yamanaka13-blog @arseneumbra @kimmeaahh @cottonfluffs @randomidk-123 @applejayee @keigo-hawks-takami-simp @mechanicalbeat1 @aribae14 @bforbiblio @supernerdycookietrashblrr @furblrwurblr @chifuyus-kitty @bunnibabe @the-real-fandom-person @idawnghoul @kitsunechan707

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pavo-ocell-me · 4 months

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Thank you hoyofair for the food

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pavo-ocell-me · 4 months

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To my darling

A/n: Merry Christmas and have a happy new year! I hope you enjoy it @pavo-ocell-me! This was a very fun event that I loved taking part in @2023gisecretsanta

Pairing: Lyney x gn!reader

Tags: Pure fluff! Modern au, implied school/college setting, penpals, pre-established relationship, reader is learning French, where reader lives doesn't have snow, one curse word just one ^^

"Take intermediate French they said. You'll be fine they said," you muttered to no one in particular as you read the Google translation over and over again. "My French teacher is going to kill me."

You rubbed your eyes, peeking out of makeshift pillow your arms made. Standing tall at the front of the class with a booming voice was your French teacher. She held a small, clear glass jar with folded bits of paper inside in one hand while placing a stack of letters on her lectern with her other.

"Speaking with natives is an excellent and necessary way to develop your language skills (unlike this soon to be 30 minute speech) so due to the cancellation of the exchange program for this year and the long dragged on meeting, we have decided to give you all pen pals!" she announced. Her arms held a wide stance, awaiting for something you were unaware of.

Some whispers and small squeals echoed through the lecture hall. Others groaned and put their head on the desk, waiting for celestia, perhaps even an archon to take them. You did neither.

"I wish I could turn back time," you sighed. After contemplating for an hour whether your teacher would ever find out that you used Google translate to write half your letter or not, you started handwriting it on a stack of fancy paper you really shouldn't have been able to afford. "Shell never know. It's not like he can tell her anyways."

As you dragged your pen along the piece of paper, you remembered the speech about how necessary this was, the small piece of paper you pulled out of the bag and the letter that came with it. With a small smile playing on your lips, you signed off and stuck the small paper that read "lyney" just below your name with a paper rainbow rose you made yourself. It had its imperfections but it's similarity to the fresh ones he sent you left you content.

"Oh my god why did he reply so fast?" you asked yourself. Not even 3 days later and you received another letter from lyney. You traced the grooves of the red wax seal made you shiver. He wouldn't ever know you used google translate right? With pursed lips, you opened it. Perfume immediately muddled your senses as you opened up the envelope. Your peers hadn't even sent their first letter, let alone receive their second.

As you skimmed over the letter, you took down some notes like where he's from–which was so uncessary–what he likes to do and some of his contact details. You hummed, giving yourself imaginary pats on the back for reading a whole three sentences before typing the other two paragraphs into Google translate. You really needed to switch classes, desperately.

It was only then you spotted that a sentence in french came out the same in the translation. "You really shouldn't be using Google translate for these letters," written at the very bottom. Well fuck.

"You are friends with your penpal? Well that's lovely (name)," your French teacher clapped with bright sparkles in her eyes. It blinded you for a second and you had to look away before you lost the ability to see forever.

Instagram

(potato_name):lyney sent a reel.

(potato_name):lyney sent a picture.

(potato_name):lyney sent you a mes...

I didn't use Google translate for this one. Are you proud of me? You wrote at the bottom before slipping the letter into its envelope and sealing it with the new wax stamp set you bought recently.

You rushed back home. You winced at the clatter of your laptop in your bag hitting the floor, deciding it was a problem for future you. Ripping open the envelope and skimming through the letter, you read at the very bottom 'I am proud of anything you do, mon Cheri."

A smile broke out onto your lips as you neatly kept it away in a small box your mother got you from Fontaine when you were little. The small box was made of white marble with gold outlining its edges and gathering in a few swirls in the middle where the golden clasp rested.

The Sun shone brightly despite it being the middle of December. Rays of Sunlight squeezed through your closed curtains and you wondered if it was snowing in Fontaine right now. Did Lyney like playing in the snow?

Letters became less and less frequent as your peers lost motivation in writing long drawn out of paragraphs with nothing but small talk. A year and a half had passed yet your teacher held a strong morale despite the head of languages not enforcing this penpals program anymore. Even they must have gotten tired of the back and forth.

A few days until Christmas holidays. Opening your phone, you checked to see if lyney had texted you anything. Nothing...

Your eyes kept glossing over your texts from Friday 11am. Its been a week. Pictures of him and his two siblings who added you back on Instagram. Even Lynette had texted you today, showing some new tea she bought from inazuma last week.

Lynette

My brother has been writing non-stop for the past few days. Are you guys still doing the penpals thing?

You

No, maybe he is writing to someone else?

Your stomach dropped as you reread your message. "Writing to someone else...I need fresh air." You took your phone and wallet and headed out the door.

"Where are you going?" your roomate called out but you were already heading to the lift. You ran your fingers through your hair, pushing it out of your face with a sigh. It shouldn't matter. It shouldn't matter but this is the fifth time you've checked your phone this morning and its been a week with only a read tag.

"I seriously need to ban myself from my phone."

Lynette

Oh...nevermind. I'll ask him then.

Sent Friday 10 : 39am

"The christmas carnival was so much funner this year," your friend said, laughing. Then one hiccup escaped from her mouth. And then another one. Until you and your other friend bursted out laughing. "Not funny!"

"Yeah yeah. I still can't believe (Name) won that plushie from that shooting stall," your other friend said. He tossed another chip in his mouth, after finally calming down from his laughter.

"I'm surprised too. Those games are typically so rigged, I mean did you see the look on the owner's face though?" you said.

Holding up the little classic brown teddy bear, you admired it at all angles. Its red bow had a little bell hanging from the centre, jingling as you walked.

Its silly smile matched yours and then you noticed it. The small teddy's bowtie resembled the one Lyney wore in one of the pictures he sent. And the small envelope the size of your palm that the teddy held was a real one made of paper.

"(Name)? Whats wrong?"

"Nothing! I just realised my parents wanted me back at 10 and well its 11 so I have to go," you said with a bright smile, "Bye!"

"You live in a dorm though?" your friend countered, "(Name)!" But you were already walking out of the festival gates.

Picking out the small envelope, you brushed your thumb over the grooves of the wax seal. The same wax seal that you used for the last letter you sent. Did he really get the same stamp?

A mini rainbow rose fell out. The vibrant colours provided a stark contrast to the humid summer night. One letter. Five words. I love you, Mon cheri.

Your eyes widened and you nearly dropped the letter, fumbling with it for a bit. Taking in the cool nighttime breeze, you looked up only to see the person you hadn't talk to in a week standing only a few metres away from you.

Lyney held a bouquet of vibrant rainbow roses in one hand and the other behind his back.

"How are you..?" You took as step back, your gaze falling to the floor then back up at him again.

"I told you I'm a magician in one of my letters didn't I?" Lyney started, "I would appear anywhere if it was to be with you."

#AAAH HOW CUTE. THANK YOU SO MUCH i love it 😭😭#merry Christmas tyvm for the gift #AAAAH. AAA #The cutest. the cutest ever

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pavo-ocell-me · 5 months

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06 - Embrace

Trial by Fire (Wriothesley x Reader) - TW/CW in masterlist

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The snow fell slowly, painting the streets of Fontaine white. Wriothesley's black jacket a stark contrast that stuck out against the white landscape as he briskly walked towards the hospital.

(y/n)...

The anger had slowly subsided, taking its place was a mix of guilt, worry, and something else he couldn't put a finger on. All he wanted that moment was just to hold her in his arms again, and let her feel safe.

Like muscle memory, he walked straight towards her room, but was stopped by a nurse.

“Your Grace, (y/n)’s room has been moved to a different one, a fire seemed to have started there but we managed to catch it before it caused too much damage.”

He cussed under his breath, “where’s (y/n)? Is she okay?”

The nurse nodded, “she’s alright, just a bit shaken. She told us fire suddenly burst out of the book by her nightstand just as she was reaching for it.”

And we’ve only got the information on vision injections today, what’s with this timing.

“Take me to her room.”

“Certainly, right this way, your Grace.”

The nurse, while explaining to him everything that happened, led him to a different floor from (y/n)’s previous room. He immediately knew which room (y/n) would be in once he spotted Navia’s 2 men in front of the door, who promptly stood up and gave him a salute, to which he nodded politely.

“Oh right,” Wriothesley turned to the nurse just as he was entering the room, “there are some new updates for everyone we rescued from that facility, one of Spina di Rosula’s men will be here soon with a copy of the files. Guys might need them for medical purposes.”

When he entered the room, his eyes immediately landed on (y/n), who he initially thought was asleep, until she opened her eyes. She must have noticed his grim expression, because she immediately sat up.

“Wriothesley? Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

He shook his head, taking a seat next to her. He wanted to spill everything and tell her that he knew everything. The things they did in the facility, the experiments, her… assault. But will it cause her to have another panic attack? Does she even want to know, or does she want to just forget? Does she have any idea what happened and how she could set fire to her book? Does she know her vision is still with her even now?

He blinked back his tears, refusing to meet her eyes, but (y/n) could tell from the way he gripped her hand, it was something serious.

“Wriothesley, love, you can tell me,” (y/n) placed a hand on his cheek, to which he automatically leaned into. “I can tell you’re probably worried about my mental state, but hey my therapist told me I’m doing well!”

He recalled, clear as day, the number of times he had tried to bring up questions about what happened at the facility. (y/n) had only managed to explain bits and pieces of information, but had been only the things she knew, she did mention painful injections but didn’t know that it was her own vision that was injected into her. Those sessions had always ended with her crying and panicking. He didn’t want to put her through that.

He smiled bitterly, “I know you are… I just don’t think you’re ready for this.”

(y/n) swallowed, “is it… is it about me?”

Wriothesley nodded, eyes still averted.

(y/n) squeezed the hand that held hers, “I… I think I’m ready to know more.”

Wriothesley looked up, now his steely blue gaze met with her concerned yet nervous ones.

“Are you sure?” his thumb rubbed circles into the back of her hand.

(y/n) took a deep breath, “yeah, I’ll tell you if it gets too much.”

Wriothesley nodded, and told (y/n) everything he learned. The experiments, the vision injections- (y/n) was really shocked at this, although she had a suspicion about it when she saw her book catch fire so suddenly. As he spoke, Wriothesley kept a close eye on her expression and gestures. He’s been with her long enough to know if she’s uncomfortable, or if it gets too much for her. Whenever her breathing hitched, he would stop for a bit and rub her back until she gestured for him to continue.

“That was all we got from the notes left behind at their base,” Wriothesley eyed (y/n) carefully. She was playing with a loose thread poking off the end of her blanket, eyes distant and looking as if she’s processing all the information.

Wriothesley knew he had to keep going. “and now we have Dougier under our custody.”

At the mention of his name, (y/n) visibly tensed up, “oh…”

“I heard he assisted in some of the experi- procedures.”

(y/n) hesitated, “did you manage to get more information out of him? Like how do we reverse the vision injections? How do I control it?”

“Apparently only Arderne knows that bit of information,” Wriothesley sighed, shifting nervously, “and right now he’s still at large. I assure you we’ll get him, and that you’re safe here, okay?”

(y/n) nodded.

The room fell silent for a few tense moments. (y/n) picked up her blubberbeast plushie and held it to her face. It smells like Wriothesley, as he had sprayed his cologne on it. It brings a feeling of comfort to her, as if a reminder that she is never alone and that he’s with her and keeping her safe even when he’s not by her side.

Watching her, Wriothesley hesitated, but he had to- need to ask her.

“(y/n).”

Sensing his change of tone, (y/n) tensed, her hand stopping mid stroke down her plushie’s back. She turned to him.

He seemed to hesitate, looking down at her blanket instead of her face. The silent stretched for what felt like hours before he finally raised his gaze to meet her eyes.

“At the facility- no. uhh… How do I say this.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, “How… How often do you throw up?”

(y/n) blinked, confused. “what?”

“Every morning these last few days, you wake up and rush straight to the bathroom. We did think it was a stomach bug, but when I asked the nurses for the diagnosis, it was as if they're hiding the information from me.”

She couldn’t breathe. It felt as if her blood was frozen but it burned at the same time. Fuck he knew. Wriothesley knew. He’s always been so observant how did she think she can even hide this from him?

“(y/n)... Are you hiding- uhh… Are-Are you pregnant?”

It was like a dam that burst. A sob escaped (y/n)’s lips, one that she tried to hold back but failed. That was confirmation enough for Wriothesley, who felt his own tears prickling behind his eyes. A split second later, (y/n) shot out of her bed, and with wobbly steps using her crutch, went straight to the bathroom. Wriothesley had gotten up to help, but was pushed away feebly. Quickly, she threw open the lid of the toilet and expelled the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

“(y/n)-”

“Don’t-” (y/n) sobbed, flushing the toilet and sinking down even lower onto the bathroom floor, “I don’t want you to see me like this. You shouldn’t have known about this.”

Wriothesley paused, then slowly took another step towards her, hands open as if trying to calm a scared animal. Before he had a chance to speak, (y/n) continued.

“I feel so dirty and gross. No matter how many times I showered and scrubbed myself I can still feel his hands.”

He took a step. “(y/n)...”

“I was going to take care of the abortion process myself, and just forget everything that happened. I didn’t want to tell you. I’m so sorry I couldn't tell you. I just feel so disgusting.”

Another step. “Darling please-”

“I don’t want you to look at me or think of me differently, I just want to put everything behind me, pretend none of that ever happened and just go back to how everything was.”

Wriothesley slowly sank to his knees beside (y/n), who scooted away from him, as if by reflex.

“Don’t touch me. I-I can’t… I know you’ll probably feel disgusted and hate me for it, for hiding it from you, for everything-”

On the contrary, seeing (y/n) like this only served as the final trigger that released his tears, which finally flowed freely down his cheeks. All he wanted to do was hold her and keep her safe, tell her he loves her and… She looked so broken he just wanted to hold her. Archons, please let me hold her.

“I’ll disappear from here if that’s what is best. Just say it. You don’t want me anymore-”

”(y/n),” his voice shook, “I’m so sorry that happened. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to get you sooner. No one deserved to go through what you did. Everyday I hated myself for it, I kept thinking I should have done this, or that. I should have gotten you sooner.”

(y/n) wiped her tears, only for it to be replaced by more. Her vision was blurry as she tried to look at him. Part of her was glad about it, as it probably hid the disgust in his eyes.

“I’m not disgusted by you, no, that was the furthest thing from my mind. (y/n) may I hold you? Please?”

(y/n) just kept sniffling and wiping her tears which seemed to flow endlessly, but made no move to scoot further away, so Wriothesley slowly approached her and took her hand in his. He placed a gentle kiss on it, which only made her cry even more.

“I’m sorry darling, I’m so, so sorry.”

He gathered her in his arms and held her tightly, as if afraid that she would disappear as soon as he let go.

(y/n)’s voice quivered as she asked “y-you don’t hate-”

“Sshhh…” Wriothesley placed a kiss on her forehead, his own tears fell off his cheeks and onto hers. “Something like this can never make me hate you, I promise. I understand why you wanted to hide it, but please know that you don’t have to. We’ll figure out our next step together okay?”

He didn’t know how long they both sat there on the bathroom floor, crying in each other’s embrace. It took a long while for (y/n)’s sobs and sniffles to die down. He kept one hand on her back, and the other stroke her hair, hoping to provide as much comfort as possible.

I love her.

“I wish you can see yourself through my eyes,” Wriothesley whispered in her ea, “it’s gonna be okay. I promise you, (y/n).”

His words were met with silence, as it has been the past few minutes.

“If nothing else I say sticks, at least please let this be the one thing you remember. It’s not your fault. I love you (y/n), you’re still the same old (y/n) I know and love, and Archons, no matter what happens I can’t imagine a life without you. I love you so much (y/n), none of this is your fault.”

He decided to wait a little longer before he noticed that her breathing was slower. Wriothesley peered at her face and saw that her eyes were closed.Tear tracks were still present on her cheeks, which he wiped away with his thumbs, before placing a gentle kiss on top of her head.

Slowly he shifted his position so that he was carrying her in a princess carry, with her head resting comfortably on his shoulder. He walked over to her bed and gently laid her down, tucking her in under the blanket, and placing her plushie right beside her.

For some time, he sat beside her, just admiring her features and tracing her cheeks all the way to her jaw with the back of his hand, light as a feather.

“We’ll get through this together, you and me. I promise you.”

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(っ˘̩╭╮˘̩)っ(ノ_<;。)

If you think reading this chapter is hard, imagine writing it :”D emotional damage

Apologies for the late update, and perhaps a steady decline in writing quality (I’m no writer, just doing this for fun!) as I have been swamped with work this past week after I was down with a bad cold for quite a bit (there’s been a bug around, and so many people were sick :”D) I sincerely thank all of you for your continued support for this series, I love you guys. Hope you all stay safe and healthy!

I hope the next chapter won’t be as hard to write because hoooo BOYE. my bf had to comfort me after I finished writing this chapter.

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pavo-ocell-me · 5 months

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💧Focalors✨

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pavo-ocell-me · 5 months

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While you were both dancing around... whatever kind of relationship you have, you had become intimately familiar with the fact that Wriothesley loved to call you terms of endearment. From anyone else, you'd gag and cringe at the cheesiness of the pet names, but somehow Wriothesley just made them work. Even some of the most cliche ones ever— Cheri. Love. Amour.

You had just been getting used to it, had just been getting used to fighting down the unbidden curl of your lips whenever he calls you by these names, when he decided to change things up a little.

"Hey, mon cher, come take a look at this for a sec," Wriothesley says easily, barely even looking up from the newspaper in his hand. You, however, stop in your tracks.

Mon cher. My love. Mine.

You're not entirely sure when Wriothesley started adding 'my' to the beginning of each of his cheesy little pet names, but you can't deny that every time you hear it, it sends you into a flustered little tizzy. You try to beat back the flutter of the butterflies in your stomach, try to fight down the heat that finds itself at your neck and the tips of your ears. Goodness, you have to will yourself not to hide your face in your hands, if only because that would make your predicament that much more obvious to him.

You nearly jump out of your skin when the very object of your embarrassment stands before you, his hand light on your shoulder. His brows are furrowed in concern, the back of his hand already raised to your forehead in a soft touch as if to check for a fever.

"Are you alright?" he asks, other arm holding you steady. You need the support, but not for the reasons he might think.

“Yeah— yeah,” you say, trying to shake yourself out of it. Trying to banish the thought of him calling you my love for the sake of your own sanity. “Yeah, I’m fine, no need to worry.”

“You sure? You’ve been kind of out of it recently.”

You gulp, gaze unsubtly trying to drift away. For a second you debate between being honest and merely shelving the topic for another time, but... something about his concern makes you want to dissuade his worries, even at the cost of your own pride.

Painstakingly, you try to clear your throat. “Yeah, I just…the… the pet names, they…”

Wriothesley raises a brow, blinking for just a second before a smug, pleased little grin finds its way onto his lips. “Oh? You mean, the little additions I added to them?” And when you only nod once, unable to look him in the eye despite how physically close you both are, his grin widens.

For the sake of your dignity, your racing heart and the steady heat crawling up your face, you wish that he’d give the teasing a break, but instead Wriothesley comes closer half a step, wraps both arms around you and leans down close enough that you can see the way the blue in his eyes shifts with the light.

“Does it get you all flustered when I call you mine, mon cher?” He practically purrs, just to prove a point. It makes you swallow heavily, makes you want to smack him out of sheer embarrassment.

You do, in fact, try to slap him on the chest but he just laughs like it was nothing— curse him and his muscles.

But he manages to catch your hand by the wrist before you can draw it back, placing a sweet kiss on the back of your hand, and you come undone.

He holds your hand tenderly, his arm still wrapped around you, keeping you cradled against his chest

"You know," Wriothesley admits softly, leaning close and keeping his voice low, like it's a secret he wants to share only with you. His smile is boyish. Cute. Filled to the brim with affection and honey. "I'm actually really happy that you like it, because I really like thinking that I'm yours, too."

[ #Taglist registration here !! ]

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pavo-ocell-me · 5 months

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05 - Divulgence

Trial by Fire (Wriothesley x Reader) - TW/CW in masterlist

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They say being pregnant means everyday is another day closer to meeting the love of your life. One anticipates meeting the fruit of their love with their spouse, looking forward to the bright sunshine days of taking care of that precious someone.

(y/n) did not understand that feeling. In fact she felt the exact opposite, as she slid down the walls of the bathroom, legs too weak to support her own weight. The pregnancy stick in her hand fell to the floor, bouncing to a stop face up, showing the positive sign. Why does this happen to her? What did she ever do to deserve this?

She has to call nurse Komaki, she will know what to do. The thing was still a cell after all, with no soul not consciousness, it should be perfectly fine. It would be so much more cruel to keep the innocent being and let it be born, only for them to later be neglected and unloved. No child deserves that. Not even one born from being forced into her womb by the person she despised the most.

It was nearing lunch, and she knew her fiancé would be back by then, he always makes time to have lunch with her. She has to tell nurse Komaki fast.

(y/n) took several deep breaths to calm herself, and then slowly got up to her bed again, pressing the call button.

A few moments later, she heard the door open.

"Nurse Komaki, I-" (y/n) turned her head, and came face to face with a different nurse altogether. It was not Komaki.

"I'm sorry, nurse Komaki is away right now, her shift will start later tonight. Is there anything I can help you with, miss (y/n)?"

(y/n) blinked back her tears, "n-no. It's okay, nothing too serious."

The nurse stood there, contemplating. "Are you sure miss?"

(y/n) nodded, racking her brain to think of an excuse or anything to justify calling a nurse to her room for nothing. "oh umm… may I have some water please?"

"Sure. It will be delivered here in a moment. Don't hesitate to call me if there's anything else that you need, okay?"

(y/n) hummed and thanked her. She watched as the nurse exit her room. She wanted Komaki, she's the only nurse (y/n) trusted at this moment, especially with something like this.

It wasn't long until the water is delivered to her room, which arrived at about the same time as Wriothesley.

He greeted her with a smile. It normally made her feel safe and loved, but right now, (y/n)'s heart sank to her stomach

"Hey, how's my sunshine doing?"

He leaned in and gave her a quick peck on the forehead. Wriothesley knew he should be careful around her, as her therapist had suggested to him, at least until she is less jumpy and can initiate affectionate gestures more. So far she's taking his affections very well, which made him happy about her progress.

"As usual," (y/n) forced a smile, briefly looking into his eyes before quickly averting her gaze back to her hands. She picked at a loose string on her blanket.

Speak more, he will notice something is off.

"The healers were a great help to my physical injuries. But they kept stopping after a little while, saying I should rest up because the sped up healing is also draining my energy."

Wriothesley nodded, "I was told, yeah. How's your stomach? Got anything you're craving to eat?"

(y/n) froze. "What?" She managed to not stammer, but her voice cracked as her heart was suddenly frozen with fear. Did he find out? How did he know-

"Just wondering how your stomach felt." Wriothesley tilted his head, confused. It was a small quirk she had found endearing.

"The doctors did say you can only eat soft food for a while to avoid refeeding syndrome, but yesterday you were finally allowed to start eating bread and some fowl. Also because you threw up yesterday."

"Oh…" (y/n) felt stupid, "it's alright now, although I don't really feel like eating."

Wriothesley watched her for a moment. He has always been someone perceptive, that's how he knew who to trust and who to avoid in meropide while still serving his sentence, and that's how he could rise through the ranks and become the duke, despite his humble beginnings. At that moment, something is off about his fiancée.

“Darling are you okay?” he took her hand in his, his other hand brushing loose strands of her hair behind her ear, “I feel like you have something weighing your mind. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

For a moment, (y/n) wavered. Is it really okay to tell him about her pregnancy? She knew Wriothesley wouldn’t blame her, after all, what happened was not something she wanted, far from it. So technically it’s not her fault right? But a small nagging voice in the back of her mind telling her to just keep it to herself for now. There were too many what ifs. It’s safer to just keep quiet about it and deal with it under wraps. She’ll tell him, of course she will, but not now.

“I’m fine,” she forced herself to look into his eyes, a small smile on her lips. “Just wondering how much longer I have to stay cooped up in here.”

Lunch went well with Wriothesley, he told her about his day. He went back to the Fortress of Meropide for a while, to keep an eye on how things are going there, before coming over to her for lunch. After this he planned to proceed with investigations, and perhaps wrap things up early so he could spend more time with her after dinner.

(y/n) managed to eat a little more, despite the anxiety induced nausea, at least enough to not make her look suspicious.

Once lunch was over, Wriothesley gave her another peck on the forehead and left to continue with investigations, with promises of taking (y/n) to the gardens near the hospital once the doctors gave her the clear, and perhaps visit Navia and Neuvilette, as the two are also her friend, as much as they are to him. He wanted more than anything to stay with her the whole time she recovered, but seeing how she often flinched if he moved a little too quickly, or how her eyes often went blank as if she was not really there, he knew he had to do something about it. The therapist assigned to her told him that she may need some time to process through the trauma, and that it was natural that she would be jumpy for the time being, and would need some space too, as stifling her would also be bad for her mental wellbeing.

He already discussed all the options, and what’s best for (y/n). Once (y/n) has recovered some more physically, and once she is ready, he would take her home and nurse her back to health. He would appoint someone else as the Duke of Meropide if that was needed to get him more time off. Right now, he has something else to do.

He did not tell her that he would be going back to the facility, specifically the hidden passage they found inside her cell. Chlorinde had done a great job in capturing the man, living up to her title of champion duelist.

The entrance was so well hidden in the room, so much so that they had to get Aether to use his elemental sight to find. They had followed the hidden maze-like pathway in the room (y/n) was kept in, and it had led them to an underground base, perhaps their real base of operations. Several men were captured, including Dougier, they seem to work directly with Arderne who unfortunately was nowhere in sight. They were all taken into custody. Wriothesley tensed as he remembered their findings.

"Wriothesley you might want to see this." He turned his head towards Neuvilette who a moment ago was rummaging through papers on a desk. The Iudex now held out a file towards him, his face grim.

The Duke took the file and opened it. There were more papers, this time it contained more detailed reports of experiments done to the people. He ruffled through the pages, skimming the words for one specific name. He found it.

Experiment Clearance Form

Title: Vision Trial Variation 2

Principal Investigator: Il Dottore

Assistant: Arderne

Subject: 1102 a.k.a. (y/n)

Vision: Pyro

This form acknowledges the approval of the experiment titled "Vision Trial Variation 2" conducted by Arderne. The experiment aims to implement the theory of vision injections on humans, followed by observation to discover the effects.

The experiment poses high risks to participants. Potential risks include memory loss, increased body temperatures, seizures, and the possibility of death. Steps have been taken to mitigate these risks. Subject is physically weakened before the start to lower the chances of the body rejecting the injection, thus increasing the success rate of this experiment. On the occasion that this experiment would fail, the study will move on to Vision Trial Variation 3, and the current subject will be discarded.

Fuck.

“Did we find any traces of Arderne?” Wriothesley’s voice dropped several octaves, Neuvilette knew what this meant.

“There are none so far,” he placed a reassuring hand on Wriothesley, “But we do have Dougier now, and we are taking him and the others to custody. We can get more information out of them-”

Wriothesley shook him off and landed a harsh kick on a table to the side, immediately breaking it. He wanted to murder them all, especially that bastard Dottore. He had heard rumours of him doing crazy experiments, but to think it happened right here in Fontaine, with his fiancee? His breaths were shaky with barely controlled rage.

“Wriothesley, I understand how frustrating this is. (y/n) is also my dear friend.” Neuvilette spoke in the most soothing tone he could muster up. “Trust me, I am just as upset as you are in this, but we have to keep a level head. For (y/n)’s sake and all the victims that were forced into this.”

They were deep underground, had they been up on the surface, they would see heavy rain mixed with snow, and thunderstorms raging outside, the weather mirroring the Iudex’s inner turmoil on the entire situation.

• • •

(y/n) wondered if she was dead or dreaming the moment she saw herself on the familiar bed of her room in the facility. Dr Arderne was standing at the foot of her bed reading through the information on his clipboard, while Dougier was securing her arms and legs with restraints.

She had been too weak to resist, having been starved for days without food, the only nutrition she got was through her IV drip and glasses of suspiciously blue coloured water, which she had no choice but to drink.

"Good morning 1102, ready for the next dose? Arderne readied a syringe. It was filled with shimmery red liquid, the glow seemed to pulse the closer it gets to her.

"F-Fuck you Arderne." (y/n) managed to mumble, making Dougier snicker.

Arderne held (y/n)'s arm and injected the contents of the syringe into her. At first it felt like nothing, but gradually she could feel it start to burn, as if fire was coursing through her veins.

It wasn't long until the burning sensation started to feel unbearable. Hot white pain spreads from the point of injection to all over her body. She bit her tongue, trying not to scream, she will not give them the satisfaction of seeing her in pain. She won't-

(y/n) jolted awake, her breaths heavy and ragged and her heart was pounding in her chest. Fuck.

It was a dream. She was safe. It was just a dream.

The room she was in, despite being a hospital room, it was completely different from the facility, with flowers her friends and fiancé got for her, and the comforting weight of her big blubberbeast plushie that Wriothesley brought from their bed at home. She hugged the plush tightly and pressed her nose to its soft fur. It smelled just like Wriothesley, as he had sprayed his cologne all over it, something she often did even before… all this.

(y/n) tried to remember what her therapist had told her.

My name is (y/n), I am at the Fontaine hospital, guarded by the Spina di Rosula, Wriothesley stays with me during the night, and stops by for lunch. I am safe, and I am recovering.

Her therapist told her that her dreams would eventually go away as her mind heals, but how long will that take?

Glancing at the clock, she noticed it was still early, too early for Wriothesley to come back from his investigation. He had left a book with her some days ago, which she picked up and started to read, trying to get her mind off things.

As she reached for the book on her night stand, suddenly (y/n) felt the familiar tingle in her hands, running all the way up her arms. It was warm and welcoming, it felt like home. A split second later, the book she was reaching for suddenly burst into flames.

• • •

Wriothesley watched Neuvilette from behind the one way glass as the latter asked Dougier more and more questions. The Iudex had presented all the evidence they found on the table. Laying it all out for Dougier as he asked question after question that Dougier only gave vague answers to, sometimes only responding with chuckles. The scum was a goner, his mind seemingly corrupted by the facility.

He wanted to be the one who personally interrogates the vile man, but Neuvilette had forbidden him from entering, for fear of what Wriothesley would do to the suspect. Still, watching from behind the glass was frustrating, he wished Neuvilette would let them do interrogations in Meropide, where it was outside Fontaine’s jurisdiction, so they could use other means to get information.

“This is going nowhere,” Wriothesley mumbled and pushed open the door leading into the interrogation room. Fuck the consequences, he’ll probably just get an earful from Neuvilette later.

At the sight of Wriothesley, Dougier’s eyes lit up in a nasty way that the Duke did not like at all. “Ah your Grace, here to play the bad cop now?”

“Seeing how you’re going nowhere with Neuvilette, I might as well do.”

Wriothesley grabbed the chair at the corner of the room and dragged it over to sit beside Neuvilette, who was glancing at Wriothesley cautiously.

“So do you feel like talking now Dougier? I thought you were a changed man after you were released.”

Dougier only scoffed, “then I had you fooled. You have no idea what kind of grudge I hold against you, Wriothesley. You ruined the community I built in Meropide.”

“Community? You call that community? You basically started a cult, and no one liked being in there.” Wriothesley scowled.

“Nevertheless,” Dougier continued, “I had my revenge. You should have heard how much (y/n) screamed when Arderne injected her vision into her.”

Wriothesley froze. He knew about what happened but hearing it from Dougier was different from reading it on the files they found.

Dougier, seeing the change in Wriothesley’s demeanour, continued. “She was a brave one, that bitch. Endured hours upon hours of our treatment, sometimes without anaesthesia. And that was after we put her in solitary confinement. We were wrong thinking we broke her spirit already, and yet she’s still fighting.”

"And you did this to all the people in the Vision Trials?" Neuvilette asked, the pen in his hand moving to take notes.

Dougier ignored him, his eyes still glued on Wriothesley's.

"How can we reverse the vision injections?" Wriothesley asked, trying to keep his breathing steady. He knew he couldn't try anything with Neuvilette around.

"You'll have to ask Arderne for that," Dougier leaned back on his chair, "but all I know is while (y/n) is still alive, she's a failure. She had her vision inside her yet it never seemed to work, not even when we prompted her."

"What do you mean prompted her?" Neuvilette asked, and this time, Dougier turned his eyes to him..

"Oh we threatened her, and when it didn't work, beat her, did whatever to make her call on her pyro element and use the vision in her. That never seemed to work."

Wriothesley and Neuvilette were tense, the former had his fists clenched so hard.

"That was when I took her to the basement, the cold weather should prompt the vision to at least keep her warm." Dougier turned to Wriothesley, a deranged look danced in his eyes as he smiled at him.

"I can see why you like 1102. She was so brave. She never once begged or called out for you even with all the beatings, that is, until I put my cock inside her-”

Suddenly Dougier was on the ground. Wriothesley had moved so fast Neuvilette barely registered him vaulting over the table and landing a fist on Dougier's face. He managed to hammer down his fists onto Dougier some more before he felt multiple hands pull him backwards off Dougier, who was unconscious in a bloodied mess.

"GET OFF ME." He yelled at the gardemeks who held him back, but Neuvilette soon stepped in front of him, blocking his view of Dougier who was being tended to by medics.

"Wriothesley," his voice was stern, "the punching can wait until after his sentence. If he is sentenced back to Meropide then it is under your jurisdiction."

Wriothesley was breathing heavily, "he… he also… Archons, (y/n)..."

"I already let you land several hits on him" Neuvilette placed a hand on his shoulder, "but we need him alive for more information on the case, and for his trials."

Wriothesley watched, seething with rage as Dougier was taken away by the medics for further treatment. He wanted the scum to suffer as much as, if not more than (y/n). How could anyone do this to her?

Neuvilette sighed and motioned for the gardemeks to release Wriothesley, "I think it's best if you go visit (y/n) for now. I think you two need to talk."

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(;;;*_*)--c<ノ°益°)ノ _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):_

A/N

…now I'm sad... why do I do this to myself :") wrote this while hugging my blåhaj because I needed that warm shorky embrace.

(Tuna says hi :D and hopes everyone is okay after reading this)

I apologize for the late update, some parts of the chapter had to be rewritten to make more sense, but in the end it became longer than I planned (and I had to cut it here and continue next chapter)

Thanks for sticking around this long, I hope the update hurt you all as much as it did for me to write :"))) please stay safe and take care, and hug your pets/plushies for me 💕

P.s. I’m not sure how to write a proper experiment clearance form TwT I hope that wasn’t too off.

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pavo-ocell-me · 5 months

Text

a moment too late

Characters: Ayato, Diluc, Childe, Cyno, Wriothesley, Zhongli

— your husband doesn't make it to you in time...

CW: ANGST w/ very little to no comfort, gn!reader (they/them pronouns), scars (Diluc), blood (Diluc, Childe, Cyno, Zhongli), death (all except Cyno and Diluc), kidnapping (Cyno), minor Fontaine Act 1 + 4 spoilers (Primordial Sea Water - iykyk), spoilers for Childe’s real name

val's no sympathy novemeber masterlist

I don't know if I can take a month of hurting my boys....

Thinking about them not making it in time...

Ayato, who had been in an important meeting.

He'd given strict instructions to all his retainers and the Shuumatsuban to not interrupt under any circumstance. So, when one of the newer helpers knocked on the door, the commissioner was less than pleased. Without letting the young man get a word out, Ayato cuts him off, a sharp smile on his face. "Please, wait outside. I'll deal with the matter after this."

When the retainer tried again, a feeble "but, my lord-!" sputtering over his twisted tongue, the change in Ayato's tone couldn't be missed, and it left no room for interjections.

When a second knock echoed through the room some minutes later, it took everything in the clan head not to sigh out loud in front of all the powerful politicians and businessmen. This time, however, when it was the familiar face of Thoma that stepped in, a scarily straight face as his expression, something shifted in the male. It didn't help that the pyro user didn't stop his advancement toward him, even at the call of his name.

It was like the whole world shattered the moment the blond leaned by his ear, the news that you'd been placed in the nearest hospital plummetting his heart into his stomach.

There's this inner struggle that takes over, the role of a leader and your husband fighting against one another - he can't just leave so abruptly, but he also feels like he might crumble if he isn't by your side in the next ten seconds.

It's the firm hand that's placed on his shoulder that breaks him away from his thoughts. Following the arm he meets the slight smile of Thoma, "I have this handled, my lord. Go, be with them."

He's up and out of the room in an instant, briskly walking in the direction of the hospital. When he gets there he borderline demands the receptionist to tell him your room number, off again the moment she gets the last syllable out. Just as he reaches the curtain separating you from him, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest, a doctor steps out.

"Lord Kamisato..." his tone is grave as he blocks the entrance with his body. Despite the obvious attempt to stop the young lord from entering, your husband tries to sidestep him. He's stopped by a simple raise of the hand and he feels a mix of disdain and unsettlement swirl within.

"Please, let me speak with them," Ayato nothing but begs, something he never does. He's known as a negotiator, a logical reasoning man, he doesn't need to beg for what he needs in the political world, but for you, his world, he'd gladly grovel at this man's feet just for you.

The aforementioned man licks his lips, adjusting his clipboard so it rests against his chest, "I'm sorry Mr. Kamisato, but that won't be possible..."

The urgency rises and Ayato moves the doctor out of his way, stepping into your room. It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together about what was trying to be said, but your lover can't bring himself to believe it. Not you too.

The moment he's at your bedside he leans close, trying to wear a smile as he places his hand on your shoulder, softly shaking you the exact same way he did that very morning. "My dear... wake up. This is no time for your silly tricks, we have to go home and have dinner together like I promised." His warm hands move up to your cheek, brushing his thumb along your equally warm skin, but when you make no move or noise the reality finally sets in for him.

His broken smile slips and all he can manage is a soft call of your name. Of course, there's still no answer, and Ayato is stuck flipping between the different stages of grief.

What if he'd listened the first time? Let the retainer who initially walked in speak? Would he have gotten a chance to speak with you? To tell you he loves you? To say goodbye properly?

You can't actually be dead, right? There's no way this is happening to him again.

He starts to promise to spend more time with you, he'll take off as much time as you want him to, he'll take you to that restaurant you've been wanting to go to but couldn't bring yourself to without him, he'll visit the land of Liyue with you - he knows you've been gushing about the scenery and culture recently. He'll do it all and more, you just had to open your eyes again for him.

Silence.

"Damn it all..." he whispered, face twisting in agony. Of course he couldn't have it his way this time. As if his parents weren't enough, the world just had to take you away from him too.

The doctor watches for a moment as one of the most powerful men in Inazuma sheds tear after tear before him, the droplets falling and hitting your lifeless body. As Ayato sinks to his knees before you, the doctor takes this as his cue to step out.

For the next few hours, the hospital is noticeably quieter, no one daring to interrupt a man who's just lost one of the dearest people to him.

For the next few hours, Ayato's tears slowly soak your shirt, his grip on the bedding knuckle white, his sobs muffled by your skin as it slowly grows colder and colder, fighting to commit everything about you to memory.

That night, he could not bring himself to eat dinner, for all he could remember was you, the way you smiled at him and how it was all ripped away from him, never to be seen again.

———

Diluc, whose connections are spread all over the world yet no one could locate you.

It should be impossible. The owner of Dawn Winery only associates himself with competent business partners. So, how could it be that the best of the best from all walks of life and all backgrounds couldn't locate the one person he needed to find?

Tirelessly, the redhead looked for you. Many sleepless nights weighed on him from shouldering so many responsibilities at once. He constantly asked for updates on the investigation and every time the news that there were no advances was just another layer of stress for him. So, of course, the moment the word of your location reached his ears, Diluc was up and out the door, claymore in hand, a fury in his eyes that few have seen only a handful of times.

When he got there, there being some far corner of Starfell Valley on the mountainside, there was no time to process or ask questions. All he knew was that you needed help if you wanted even a chance of making it out alive.

By a stroke of luck, you managed to escape the Abyss Mages that had been holding you hostage, an atrocious act that was no doubt aimed to make The Darknight Hero suffer. However, weaponless and exhausted, the creatures of down under easily caught up to you, surrounding you and throwing you around like a ragdoll. Diluc counted seven - one hydro, two electro, two cryo and two pyro - each using the elements to keep you from running too far.

With a few swift strikes of his enflamed claymore, the cryo and hydro mages disappeared in a cloud of red and black. Of course, they'd be the easiest of the group to get rid of. The last four would be the real challenge.

In between strikes, Diluc managed to get close to you, bending down to your fallen form. “Are you alright? Can you walk?” He did a once over of your body, noting that dirt clung to you and a couple cuts littered your skin. You could barely move too, having the shit kicked out of you.

“Not very far…” you groaned, raising your body slightly off the ground. Your lover nodded, glancing at the enemy before helping you stand.

“That’s alright, just get to that tree over there. I’ll come get you and take you home soon.” Diluc watches for a moment as you nod and begin to make your way over, turning his back to you once you've made decent progress. Taking up his weapon once more, it's a brutal clash of sparks and fire as he lets his adrenaline and rage fuel his every move. Soon, one electro mage goes down, and then the second and then one of the pyro ones until all that stands between him and getting you medical care and a nice bath is a single pyro Abyss Mage.

The demonic creature cackles loudly, a shrill sound that echoes in the silence. As it begins to wave its staff, a shock of recognition strikes Diluc and he glances around, looking for where the fire-breathing faces are going to appear. When he doesn't spot any dread fills his being and he chances a glance towards you, praying to the Archons that what he's thinking isn't about to play out.

The gods weren't in his favour.

Time seems to slow as he watches the triangle of heads surround you; he watches as you slowly turn to face one head-on, your tired eyes widening as you register the situation. Dilcu's only able to catch you turning your face away before he attacks the mage while its guard is down, interrupting its early dance of victory.

The next few minutes are a blur, both for you and your husband. Everything hurts, any slight movement or breath sends shooting pain through your body. When Diluc picks you up off the ground you let out the most heartbreaking cry he's heard and it took everything in him not to just stand there and soothe you.

He mumbled apology after apology, offering words of comfort as he ran as best he could without harming you further. When he made it to the cathedral he was ushered out of the room, every nun available flocking to your side. Despite the overwhelming emotions building in him, Diluc lets you go, waiting with as much patience as he can muster, which isn't a lot at that moment.

It takes about an hour before a sister approaches him, every second that he waited excruciating. She tells him that while your face was unharmed, you having managed to lean out of the way just in time, your upper arm, shoulder and the base of your neck on your left side were burned pretty bad and that scarring was almost guaranteed.

"But are they alive?" is all he asks in return. He cares that you were hurt, but he cares more to know if you'll live to spend another day with him. All the sister can do is nod, informing him that recovery will be slow, but you are alive. She adds right after that while you passed out from everything he was still allowed to enter and sit by your side. So, he does.

The nun didn't lie when she told him that things would be slow. It took several days before you could be discharged, and even when you were the days and nights that followed were filled with more torture than the usual joy.

Your burns would irritate at the slightest things, and you started to doubt your looks, wondering if your husband would still love you by the end when the wounds were all healed. At night you were haunted by nightmares of your time in captivity, and by the face of the abyss spell that burned you. It didn't help that the face was red and fluffy, just like Diluc's hair, leaving you to back away from him every time you woke up from that recurring dream, your mind tricking you that that thing had come back.

And all Diluc could do was hold you close to his chest once you saw that it was just him. He'd rub a warm hand along your back as you sobbed and shivered, quietly blaming himself for not being fast enough - to find you, to defeat the enemy, to get you out of the way of the fight. If he had been, if he succeeded in any of those things, then maybe you wouldn't have to live with this pain and trauma.

You were alive, but at what cost?

———

Childe, who was all the way in Inazuma for a mission.

Your husband left you that fateful day with a tight hug, a promise to come home and a kiss on the lips. As he walked further and further away from you all you could think about was greeting him in the same fashion. Your touch was his favourite thing after all, a reminder that you're there with him and that you love him despite all his wrongdoings.

The day came when Ajax set foot back in his homeland, and the first thing he did was search for you at the dock. When he didn't spot you, he'll admit he was a little disappointed but didn't think much of it. You were most likely just relaxing at home.

Yet, when he walked through the door he couldn’t find you anywhere. “Strange… where could they have gone? Maybe mom and dad’s?”

A quick trip over there reveals nothing however, just the tidbit of information from his mother on how it’s been a couple days since you’ve visited and that you last told them you were needing to chop some firewood.

Now he was not only confused but a sense of dread plagued his chest. Hoping it’s just his normal worrying, Ajax bids farewell to his family and heads back home. Sure enough, he spotted some stacked logs off to the side. What didn’t make sense though was the lack of an axe and the footprints that lead further into the tree line behind your home.

Following the tracks, the male’s eyes widen and his expression falls as the patterns in the snow go from clean prints to frantic clusters, as if you began running. What really injected fear into him though was the barely visible Treasure Hoarder insignia buried in the snow, its gold sheen glistening from the sun.

At this point his feet had a mind of their own as he picked up the pace, his mind running a mile a minute with the scariest thoughts his brain could conjure.

He wasn’t sure if he should've been relieved or frightened when he found you lying in the snow. Either way, he sprinted the rest of the way to you, calling out your name. You were on your side, back to him; you must’ve rolled into the fetal position to stay warm.

And that’s when he noticed it, the pink tint of the usually pure white snow surrounding your fallen form. Panic shoots through him as he rolls you onto your back, his hand recoiling at the state you were in, covering his mouth.

"No..." your cold gaze stares up at the sky, skin lacking the warmth he craves after a long day. Between the folds of your undone coat reveals where most, if not all the blood flowed from, now dry from days passed. With a shaky hand, he moves the cloth aside, surveying the damage.

The cut was deep but didn't hit anything major from the looks of it... you would have bleed out slow and painfully, and the mere idea makes him sick to his stomach. More and more he looks at the damage done to you and the more his blood boils and his heart stutterers. You were innocent, his spouse, his best friend, you had no intimate dealings with Fatui work, so why you?

His eyes narrow back in the direction of the insignia, the sorrow morphing into anger; they were fucking cowards, going after you instead of him. At the sanctuary of your home no less.

Looking back at the body that once housed your soul, he noticed something odd about your hand. It was clasped shut like you were holding onto something.

He starts to pry your fingers open, and for just a moment he can imagine that you're alive, back in the warmth of your home, grasping his scarf in a game of keep away. He'd pull you close, wrapping an arm around you and trapping you to his chest, grasping your wrist and trying to get the red fabric from you. Your husband would laugh merrily, "demanding" that you give him it back or else, to which you'd tell him no, because as long as you had it then he couldn't leave for the day.

When your palm finally opens up is the same moment time really stops and the world doesn't feel real around him. Picking up the small object, Ajax clasps it in his own hands, bringing it close to his chest - his heart - in hopes of feeling just the last bit of you left behind. He won't ever know this, but what he's doing now was exactly what you did in your final hour - you held the tangible promise you made with him close to you, your thoughts filled with him and only him as you took your last breath.

From that day onwards, your wedding ring rests against his collarbone, a string looped through it. He never takes it off, nor does he remove his own ring, because to him, you were the only one fit to take the place at his side in life. He doesn't want anyone else to love him, because no one could ever love or hold him in such high regard like you did.

It was everything or nothing, and you are his everything. Since you're gone, he'll gladly settle for nothing. Anything else and he'd label himself a cheater to your love.

———

Cyno, who prioritized catching the mastermind, lest any more innocents get hurt.

The General Mahamatra trudged back through the desert sands, clouds of dust trailing behind him. His grip was tight against the criminal’s wrists, leaving no room for escape. While part of him was solely focused on the captured mastermind, another part of him was thinking about you and how he's going to make it up to you for neglecting you the last few weeks. How could he ever possibly thank you or repay you for your neverending patience?

Rounding the last rock, Cyno finally makes it back to where he left you, having instructed you to wait there until he returned. You know that it was vital to stay put, so why is it that you've disappeared? Eyes red like the sunset scan the camp, finding that nothing was missing among your personal belongings or supplies.

As he continued to try and piece together the clues, you stood frozen in the shadows, an arm pulling you against a chest, keeping you in place. The hand over your mouth didn't help quell your fear, nor did the warm, rancid breath that tickled your neck.

How hard do you have to stare at the back of your lover's head for him to just turn in your direction!? Apparently very hard, because no matter how much you will a telepathic message his way, he still fails to find you. Tears begin to slide down your face - is this really it? Will this be the end? When he's so close to you? Will he turn and walk in the wrong direction, giving the man holding you time to escape with you in tow?

The looming threat that if you step out of line you risk harming yourself and Cyno plays in your mind, but you also remember nights lying in bed with your husband, whispering reassurance to him that no matter the situation you knew he'd always save you. You had full confidence in his abilities.

Gathering your resolve you take a leap of faith and elbow your captor, biting the hand that impairs your voice. Making a mad dash from the hiding spot, you scream for Cyno, watching as his head whips in your direction.

It all happened so fast after that. One second there's just you, him and the two Eremites and in the next, you're surrounded. The mastermind Cyno had been holding manages to retch his arms free, whistling a tune causing other desert dwellers to pop up from seemingly nowhere. A capture net is being thrown over you, aiming true and trapping you once more. Cyno, now flanked from all sides, can only watch helplessly as two men grasp the ends of the net, dragging you like you're nothing but a sack of goods.

You squirm with all your might, but it does nothing as you're effortlessly tossed in a caravan, screaming and sobbing for your husband. Amidst the scuffle, the leader orders the others to "shut them up" and right after a powder is poured on you, the effects taking seconds to kick in.

You begin to quiet until you slump on your side, and Cyno feels the urgency build even more. He channels all the strength he has into at least breaking through to get to you, but the moment he does the snap of reins echoes out and the cart takes off.

So, he runs, because for once something much for valuable that his life is on the line. Because he can't afford to let the bad guy get away this time.

But a man cannot match the pace of a horse, and it isn't long before his stamina reaches its limit and he stumbles, and you disappear over the horizon.

———

Wriothesley, who believed he could save everyone.

By no means was the warden of the Fortress of Meropide lacking in skills. He's proven time and time again that he's worthy of the title of Duke among the underwater structure, able to shoulder the responsibility of keeping each and every inmate well cared for and as comfortable as possible.

Perhaps that was the reason he's failing now to protect those he really cares for, for you were no inmate, but rather the person he swore to spend the rest of his life with.

He knew that this day would come, but he was still so, so unprepared for it. The damn seal was due to break sooner or later, and it chose today of all days to do so. The evacuation was quick, maybe even quicker than the first one, but there was one difference this time around. Today was also the day that a couple Melusines had come in Monsieur Neuvillette's place, delivering some reports to Wriothesley while also taking this time to speak with Sigewinne.

"Where are they?" The Duke grits his teeth, running through every area he can reach. You weren't far behind, having insisted a second pair of eyes was better than one. When another room turned up empty he slammed his first into the wall, cursing loudly.

You did another look through in the places he missed before sighing, placing a hand on his chest, "We'll find them Wrio. Take a deep breath, please." He stares at you for a moment, doing as you suggested. You offer a small smile, "There aren't many rooms left, they've gotta be here."

"I know," he sighs, running a hand through his messy hair, "but we're running out of time."

Just as he says that the building rumbles and shakes, the sound of a pipe bursting in the distance sending fear through your body. All it takes is a shared look for you two to start running again, eyes and ears sharp as you try to catch even the slightest signs of life.

There were only two rooms left to check when you heard a call, not by a Melusine but by a pair of inmates. Turning to look, your stress levels spike.

“Shit, this isn’t good,” Wriothesley mutters, surveying the situation the moment you both made it over. One of the inmates was trapped underneath a metal panel, and his buddy wasn’t strong enough to lift it off him on his own.

They plead for help and you can see the cool grey eyes of your lover start to unfocus, a million thoughts passing through his mind. Time is running out, and as he's internally about to lose his cool the sound of your voice brings him back.

Laying a hand on his shoulder you squeeze firmly, "Listen, how about we split up? You deal with this and I go find the Melusines. We'll be faster that way."

His eyes widen at your proposition, and he doesn't even have to think twice about denying, "Now, hold on just a-!"

Another tremor, and you have to harden your tone to get your point across, “We don’t have time Wriothesley, help them and I’ll search the two rooms. When you’re done get them out of here, I won’t be far behind!”

He wants to say no, wants you to get to the surface and he'll take care of the inmate and missing Melusines, but as he looks at the crumbling Fortress he finds himself biting his lips before nodding. "You better stay safe, or else."

You smile, turning and disappearing into the second last room. A quick search proves nothing and when you leave you see your husband beginning to pull out the stuck inmate. You're able to meet gazes for a moment only to break it off, rushing into the last room.

It's easy to spot the brightly coloured blue beings amongst the dreary Fortress walls. "Thank Archons!" You sigh, almost tripping over your feet in your hurry to get them, scooping them up in your arms, "we have to go now you two!"

There's a groan of metal and the clatter of something collapsing in the distance, and it's safe to say you didn't waste time sprinting out of there. As you pass where you last saw your husband, there's a momentary wave of relief at seeing him no longer lingering there. You know then that he's gotten out, and that he's probably waiting anxiously for you.

The thought pushes you to get out faster, jumping over any puddles that have formed or debris. But just because you can jump doesn't mean you can dodge.

One piece then two fell from above, but when you look up dread courses through you upon the realization that a good section of the roof is about to drop. You acted before you could fully think and tossed the two tiny beings in your arms, sprinting just a little faster before leaping yourself. You're glad you managed to throw them out of the collapse zone, but you weren't so lucky, your leg getting trapped from midway to your knee and down under the pile of rubble. All it took was one attempt at tugging your leg out to know it was stuck under there good.

"Go," you pointed in the direction of the exit, immediately beginning to dig yourself out. The least you could do was get them to safety. The Melusines however hesitated, looking at each other before looking at you again. You knew they weren't strong enough to lift anything off you, so you repeated the one-word order, adding that you'd be right behind them.

You hear more than you see them run off, and after a minute of struggling you manage to free yourself, continuing towards the exit.

Wriothesley didn't stick around the entrance, instead busying himself with checking on everyone. If he didn't then he'd go mad and rush back in to get you. As he made another round he spotted the two creatures of the sea clutching onto the Iudex, their heads buried in his neck. If they were safe, then you must've made it out too, right?

Wriothesley gives the order to close the Fortress of Meropide off completely, and he watches unaware as he cages you in. It's only by chance that, once he's almost to the surface, he looks out the window of his escape submarine and through one of the windows of the Fortress. The horror sets in.

Even if it's useless, you stumble and limp up to the glass, banging on it, screaming for him. You're not sure what he'd do though, maybe you just wanted to see him one last time, wanted to tell him you love him, that it's not his fault. You stare at him, tears streaming down your face before turning your back to the ocean and sliding down to the ground.

Even if he can't hear you, you whisper out your love for him, how you'd never hold this against him. You pray to the Archons, to the Traveler, to Neuvillette, to Clorinde to watch over him for you.

You eye the rising water, and to make it just a little more bearable you pretend it's the first time you got Wriothesley to go swimming with you. You had dip your toes in first, as a show that the water wouldn't bite. He wasn't scared of the water, and he knew how to swim; he wasn't ashamed of the scars on his body either. No, he refused to go swimming back then because he didn't want to freeze, and it took you and the trust he placed in your word to tell him the water was perfect.

So, you repeat that same action, imagining Wriothesley is right beside you like that day years ago.

From the water pod, your husband watches frozen as you vanish in an instant, continuing to watch as the water rises until it's above the height of the glass. In that single moment, most of the warmth in his heart vanishes along with you.

"You promised you'd be safe... I trusted you..."

It was the first and last time any prisoner would see the almighty Wriothesley cry out, for he swore sometime later that he'd close off his heart and never let anyone get as close as you did. He knows deep down that's not what you'd want, but he knew he could never go through the same pain again and still continue to live.

———

Zhongli, who you were fighting side by side with.

It's always been like that, you and him up in arms against the world. It was like that in the Archon War, in the Cataclysm and any other time someone threatened the safety of the Lord of Geo's territory. You had his back and he had yours, something that only grew stronger as your relationship developed from war buddies to friends then finally to lovers.

It was... naive of you both to think that you'd be able to spend eternity together without issue. You were too blinded by the fact that you were both going to withstand time and he believed that there was no way he'd fail to protect you, not with the strength he possessed.

Your downfall was not due to time or a lack of strength, but rather your own desire to keep the man you love safe from harm.

Zhongli did not see the sword pierce your skin, but he did hear the strangled cry you let out. He felt the fear wash over him, he saw the bloody aftermath as you fell forward into him, no longer able to hold yourself upright.

Instinctively he wraps his arms around you, sinking to the grass with you. Crimson stains his hands and clothes fast as if the wound was his own and he knows right then that your time together is limited.

The pain you feel is searing and with each breath you take you're fighting to keep that air in your lungs long enough to get more. Your husband spoke softly as he stroked your shoulder, "Why did you take the hit for me?"

When you looked up into his warm, amber eyes you knew then that this was the last time he'd hold you, the last time you'd speak with one another. How interesting it is that you both realized at different points that this was the end.

"You..." you cough, body trembling in his hold and Zhongli almost regrets asking you to speak. He just wants to make you comfortable in your last moments, to act as if everything is okay. "You... were going to get hurt."

The man you knew to never weep lets a single tear slide down his face, a light chuckle getting stuck in his throat, "ah, how like you to put me above yourself. I'm the same way with you, so I suppose I can't point fingers, now can I?"

“No… you can’t,” you smile back, but it’s tough to force it through the pain. You cough again and this time a little blood comes up as well.

It’s getting harder and harder to breathe as the seconds tick by. “Morax.”

The former Archon stiffens; you rarely ever call him by his real name unless you're serious about something. "Yes, my dear? What is it?" When he sees you trying to lift your hand to his cheek, Zhongli dips his head, placing his own hand over yours.

Glazed eyes watch as you swallow, stuttering on your own breath, "I'm... I'm very proud of the man you've become compared to the Archon I first met. I'm very proud of the things you've done for Liyue, and I'm grateful for the things you've done for me."

Your eyes droop a little, and he knows your time to depart is near when he sees you rest your head against him more and with the way he has to hold up your hand for it to stay resting on his cheek. He swears he won't let you slip away until you've said your final peace.

"I... I need you to promise me something Morax."

"You know I will always do my best to honour your wishes," he tells you, his grip tightening on your hand. A sudden breeze picks up, blowing his hair in such an elegant way that your face softens, never not amazed by his beauty. Tranquillity washes over you, and it may sound crazy, but the scent the wind brought to you smelt like home, like a simpler time in your life.

All other sounds are drowned out, the wind blowing them far away so he could hear you clearly, "You have to find happiness again... even though I won't be there for you. Can... can you promise me that?"

He pulls you impossibly closer, removing your hand just to place a gentle kiss on your palm before returning it to its place, "I promise." In that moment he feels like he's lied to you, for he believes he'll never truly recover from your death, but that doesn't mean he won't try for you. And as you smile up at him for the last time, Morax feels that he could live with his answer to you.

Much like his friends of old, he knows he'll see you in the little things around the city - a lantern, a blooming flower, a cup of tea, the fires in fireplaces - as if you're watching over him. He'll continue to walk forward as everything passes him by, mingling with the ever-changing people and culture and surrounding himself with friends, because that's what he promised you, and he wants you to see that even when you're not by his side to experience it yourself.

"I'm happy now, see? But I will never be as happy as I was with you"

Tag list (both regular and event exclusive): @spoopy-fish-writes // @that-enby-alien // @xenuuu // @kaeyaloml // @x-zho // @mariposa666haruka // @quackquackmfs // @kunikuzushiii // @genshin-impact-writings // @ventisweetheart // @lordbugs @leena-shi // @ari-the-wr1ter // @xiaos-wife // @milkwithspiceyicecubes // @stygianoir // @francisnyx

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04 - Investigation Continues

Trial by Fire (Wriothesley x Reader) - TW/CW in masterlist

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“The production zone could use a hand in inventory, I think the work there may suit you more than manually making the Gardemeks, that one requires a lot more strength,” the guard looked up from his clipboard and gave her a smile, "don't hesitate to come to me if you have any problems."

That was three days ago.

(y/n) was honestly taken aback. She had expected people- prisoners to be more… Rude? Rough? But everyone here seemed to be nice with each other.

Shaking her head, (y/n) reminded herself that it's only a matter of time. She's innocent, a victim caught in the spider web of investigation and lies, and Navia is on the surface working to get her out. If there's anyone (y/n) can trust, it's Navia.

Anyway, (y/n) needed to speak with the Duke. He was away when she first got to the Fortress, and the production people had kept her busy since then. Perhaps after hours at night? Is he even back yet?

She sighed and resigned herself to stacking boxes of spare parts on shelves. (y/n) had categorized each area assigned to her so that it becomes easier for her when the time comes to get specific boxes ready.

(y/n) eyed the final box, it was filled with scrap metal, but it was completely full. The only empty spot that goes for that category would be the one further up. She looked around for more empty boxes, perhaps splitting up the contents would work-

Distracted by her thoughts, she did not see - nor hear, the sound of heavy boots walking towards her. Suddenly the man was already beside her and picking up the box.

"So does this go into that empty slot up there?"

(y/n) turned to look, and came face to face with a tall muscular man, her own height barely passing his shoulder. He donned a black shirt under a grey vest, with his jacket draped over his shoulders. His hair seemed to have a permanent bed head style which shows off the grey tufts in between the black ones. He looked like someone who would enjoy energy drinks while listening to heavy metal music, she thought, before she snapped out of it once she noticed his steel blue eyes looking into hers, awaiting an answer.

"Um… yeah there." (y/n) pointed at the empty spot.

He placed the box there seemingly without effort. He clapped the dust off his hands and loosened his red tie. "You're new here."

It wasn't a question.

"Yeah," (y/n) replied.

-and I'm not supposed to be here, I'm innocent. I was framed.

"Sorry I wasn't here when you came in. I'm the Duke."

(y/n) stared at him. So that's why he was dressed so differently from the other guards, despite the similar colour scheme.

"Y-your Grace." She nodded at him politely, "I'm (y/n), I was hoping to see you to discuss some things regarding me being here."

• • •

After further checks from the doctors, she was given the clear to see more visitors. Navia had rushed inside after that. She was the first familiar face she had seen after Wriothesley. (y/n) missed her friend dearly.

However, (y/n) could tell that Navia was being careful with both her words and touch. Navia did not ask anything about her time in captivity, instead choosing to speak more mundane everyday things, like what cake she likes lately. Wriothesley must have warned her, or maybe the nurses did. Eitherway, the visit was kept short, a nurse then came to get her when the time was up.

Once visits were over, Wriothesley was the one who kept her company while she had dinner, then he had to leave to meet up with Neuvillette to discuss matters in regards to… the recent events. He had made sure that she was asleep before he left, leaving her room at the capable hands of the two guards outside.

It felt almost like a routine now. Every few days Wriothesley, Navia, and Neuvilette would meet at the safety of Neuvilette's office, occasionally joined by Aether and Paimon, which was the case this time.

“Wriothesley,” Paimon greeted, ”how’s (y/n)?”

“Her recovery is progressing nicely. Now that visitors are allowed to see her, why don’t you stop by to say hi sometime.”

Aether nodded, “sure, we’ll stop by before we go take another commission tomorrow.”

“It was nice to see her again,” Navia smiled as Wriothesley took a seat next to her, “still, (y/n) felt different, sometimes her eyes glaze over as if she’s elsewhere, then it focuses on you again. I can suggest you some therapists if you’d like? I’m sure (y/n) would need one eventually.”

Wriothesley nodded at her, “I would really appreciate that, thank you for lending us your men too, Navia.”

Clearing his throat, Wriothesley went straight to business. "Anything new?"

The two shook their heads.

"The Spina di Rosula managed to track down a handful more men who worked under Arderne,” Neuvilette explained, “but none of them have any useful information. The only other person they seem to think has any information is a guy named Dougier. They say he worked directly under Arderne.”

Wriothesley paused, the name sounds familiar. Wasn’t he…

“He’s part of the Berrett society, wasn’t he?” Aether asked, “Is he still in Meropide?”

Wriothesley frowned. “No. His sentence was over a month ago, right before… Before my fiancée was taken.”

“Hmm… so he’s involved,” Neuvilette took a sip of water out of his fancy glass. Why is it that only Nuevilette can drink plain water that elegantly? “I’m not surprised. After all, the man did have a grudge against you for uncovering his schemes that time, Wriothesley.”

"That explains a lot." Wriothesley mumbled, he unclenched his fists, not realizing when he started feeling that tense.

"We'll need to track down Dougier next then?" Aether asked.

"Yes, I'll dispatch some of my men to ask around my network." Wriothesley answered.

"Spina di Rosula have been scouring the area for him but there were no traces, they reported that it was as if he disappeared." Navia pondered, crossing her legs as both gentlemen looked up at her, "but we all know people don't just disappear into thin air, it's possible we overlooked something. Let's go over the chronological order once again.

• • •

(y/n) jolted awake. Another bad dream, she’s safe now, there’s nothing to worry about.

She directed her gaze at the sofa, which was devoid of her husband. Is he still outside? She knew he was investigating her case, so perhaps he’s meeting up with Neuvilette and Navia.

Suddenly she felt nauseous.

Again?

These past few days she kept waking up with nausea, but this was the first time she felt the strong urge to vomit. (y/n) quickly pressed the call button and clumsily stumbled to the toilet using her crutches. She lifted the toilet bowl and emptied the contents of her stomach.

“(y/n)?” She could hear nurse Komaki in her room.

“I’m here.”

The door to the bathroom swung open, and nurse Komaki quickly rushed to her side. She held up (y/n)’s hair as she continued to retch and dry heave into the toilet bowl.

“Did you just wake up before this happened?”

“Yeah.” (y/n) felt tears pricking behind her eyes. She remembered clear as day the things that happened to her in the facility, but part of her refused to accept a specific event that kept recurring.

It can't be… right?

"Uh... Nurse Komaki?" (y/n)’s voice was shaky

"Yes dear?"

(y/n) hesitated. She didn't want to do this but she had to make sure.

“May I… Is it possible to get a pregnancy test?”

Nurse Komaki’s eyes widened, she leaned in closer to her, eyes filled with a mix of sympathy and worry. “Of course dear. No questions asked. I can also arrange to test for any STDs, with your consent of course.”

“T-thank you. I'd need that.” (y/n) sighed in relief, but then straightened up when she remembered her other point.

“And uh… I believe with the doctor and patient confidentiality you can at least do this much… uhh… Please don’t tell Wriothesley about this.”

• • •

"There, that's it!" Navia's exclamation turned all eyes on her, "you said you found her unconscious and she was not breathing, but she showed little to no signs of memory loss or brain damage, on top of her vision being taken too."

Wriothesley knew where she was going with this.

"Humans will suffer brain damage if the brain is not supplied with oxygen for over 4 minutes." Navia continued.

"Are you saying… her breathing stopped within four minutes of me arriving at her cell? I didn't see anyone come in or out."

Navia nodded, "that is very likely."

Neuvilette squinted at the maps spread out in front of them. "Then… there's a chance that a hidden passage or room is present in the location where she was found."

Paimon hummed, a bit confused, "What about how she retained her memories even without a vision?"

"For now we don't really have an answer to that," Wriothesley got up, "but I'm sure at least Dougier does."

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nurse komaki -> (*´ー)ﾉ(×_×) <- (y/n)

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04 - Investigation Continues

Trial by Fire (Wriothesley x Reader) - TW/CW in masterlist

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That was three days ago.

(y/n) was honestly taken aback. She had expected people- prisoners to be more… Rude? Rough? But everyone here seemed to be nice with each other.

Anyway, (y/n) needed to speak with the Duke. He was away when she first got to the Fortress, and the production people had kept her busy since then. Perhaps after hours at night? Is he even back yet?

Distracted by her thoughts, she did not see - nor hear, the sound of heavy boots walking towards her. Suddenly the man was already beside her and picking up the box.

"So does this go into that empty slot up there?"

"Um… yeah there." (y/n) pointed at the empty spot.

He placed the box there seemingly without effort. He clapped the dust off his hands and loosened his red tie. "You're new here."

It wasn't a question.

"Yeah," (y/n) replied.

-and I'm not supposed to be here, I'm innocent. I was framed.

"Sorry I wasn't here when you came in. I'm the Duke."

(y/n) stared at him. So that's why he was dressed so differently from the other guards, despite the similar colour scheme.

"Y-your Grace." She nodded at him politely, "I'm (y/n), I was hoping to see you to discuss some things regarding me being here."

• • •

“Wriothesley,” Paimon greeted, ”how’s (y/n)?”

“Her recovery is progressing nicely. Now that visitors are allowed to see her, why don’t you stop by to say hi sometime.”

Aether nodded, “sure, we’ll stop by before we go take another commission tomorrow.”

Wriothesley nodded at her, “I would really appreciate that, thank you for lending us your men too, Navia.”

Clearing his throat, Wriothesley went straight to business. "Anything new?"

The two shook their heads.

Wriothesley paused, the name sounds familiar. Wasn’t he…

“He’s part of the Berrett society, wasn’t he?” Aether asked, “Is he still in Meropide?”

Wriothesley frowned. “No. His sentence was over a month ago, right before… Before my fiancée was taken.”

"That explains a lot." Wriothesley mumbled, he unclenched his fists, not realizing when he started feeling that tense.

"We'll need to track down Dougier next then?" Aether asked.

"Yes, I'll dispatch some of my men to ask around my network." Wriothesley answered.

• • •

(y/n) jolted awake. Another bad dream, she’s safe now, there’s nothing to worry about.

She directed her gaze at the sofa, which was devoid of her husband. Is he still outside? She knew he was investigating her case, so perhaps he’s meeting up with Neuvilette and Navia.

Suddenly she felt nauseous.

Again?

“(y/n)?” She could hear nurse Komaki in her room.

“I’m here.”

The door to the bathroom swung open, and nurse Komaki quickly rushed to her side. She held up (y/n)’s hair as she continued to retch and dry heave into the toilet bowl.

“Did you just wake up before this happened?”

It can't be… right?

"Uh... Nurse Komaki?" (y/n)’s voice was shaky

"Yes dear?"

(y/n) hesitated. She didn't want to do this but she had to make sure.

“May I… Is it possible to get a pregnancy test?”

“T-thank you. I'd need that.” (y/n) sighed in relief, but then straightened up when she remembered her other point.

“And uh… I believe with the doctor and patient confidentiality you can at least do this much… uhh… Please don’t tell Wriothesley about this.”

• • •

Wriothesley knew where she was going with this.

"Humans will suffer brain damage if the brain is not supplied with oxygen for over 4 minutes." Navia continued.

"Are you saying… her breathing stopped within four minutes of me arriving at her cell? I didn't see anyone come in or out."

Navia nodded, "that is very likely."

Neuvilette squinted at the maps spread out in front of them. "Then… there's a chance that a hidden passage or room is present in the location where she was found."

Paimon hummed, a bit confused, "What about how she retained her memories even without a vision?"

"For now we don't really have an answer to that," Wriothesley got up, "but I'm sure at least Dougier does."

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nurse komaki -> (*´ー)ﾉ(×_×) <- (y/n)

Taglist: @almosteggs @quuela @tempest1art @yamanaka13-blog @arseneumbra @kimmeaahh @cottonfluffs@randomidk-123 @applejayee @keigo-hawks-takami-simp @mechanicalbeat1 @aribae1234-blog @bforbiblio @supernerdycookietrashblrr @furblrwurblr

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04 - Investigation Continues

Trial by Fire (Wriothesley x Reader) - TW/CW in masterlist

[<<< previous chapter] • [masterlist] • [next chapter >>>]

That was three days ago.

(y/n) was honestly taken aback. She had expected people- prisoners to be more… Rude? Rough? But everyone here seemed to be nice with each other.

Anyway, (y/n) needed to speak with the Duke. He was away when she first got to the Fortress, and the production people had kept her busy since then. Perhaps after hours at night? Is he even back yet?

Distracted by her thoughts, she did not see - nor hear, the sound of heavy boots walking towards her. Suddenly the man was already beside her and picking up the box.

"So does this go into that empty slot up there?"

"Um… yeah there." (y/n) pointed at the empty spot.

He placed the box there seemingly without effort. He clapped the dust off his hands and loosened his red tie. "You're new here."

It wasn't a question.

"Yeah," (y/n) replied.

-and I'm not supposed to be here, I'm innocent. I was framed.

"Sorry I wasn't here when you came in. I'm the Duke."

(y/n) stared at him. So that's why he was dressed so differently from the other guards, despite the similar colour scheme.

"Y-your Grace." She nodded at him politely, "I'm (y/n), I was hoping to see you to discuss some things regarding me being here."

• • •

“Wriothesley,” Paimon greeted, ”how’s (y/n)?”

“Her recovery is progressing nicely. Now that visitors are allowed to see her, why don’t you stop by to say hi sometime.”

Aether nodded, “sure, we’ll stop by before we go take another commission tomorrow.”

Wriothesley nodded at her, “I would really appreciate that, thank you for lending us your men too, Navia.”

Clearing his throat, Wriothesley went straight to business. "Anything new?"

The two shook their heads.

Wriothesley paused, the name sounds familiar. Wasn’t he…

“He’s part of the Berrett society, wasn’t he?” Aether asked, “Is he still in Meropide?”

Wriothesley frowned. “No. His sentence was over a month ago, right before… Before my fiancée was taken.”

"That explains a lot." Wriothesley mumbled, he unclenched his fists, not realizing when he started feeling that tense.

"We'll need to track down Dougier next then?" Aether asked.

"Yes, I'll dispatch some of my men to ask around my network." Wriothesley answered.

• • •

(y/n) jolted awake. Another bad dream, she’s safe now, there’s nothing to worry about.

She directed her gaze at the sofa, which was devoid of her husband. Is he still outside? She knew he was investigating her case, so perhaps he’s meeting up with Neuvilette and Navia.

Suddenly she felt nauseous.

Again?

“(y/n)?” She could hear nurse Komaki in her room.

“I’m here.”

The door to the bathroom swung open, and nurse Komaki quickly rushed to her side. She held up (y/n)’s hair as she continued to retch and dry heave into the toilet bowl.

“Did you just wake up before this happened?”

It can't be… right?

"Uh... Nurse Komaki?" (y/n)’s voice was shaky

"Yes dear?"

(y/n) hesitated. She didn't want to do this but she had to make sure.

“May I… Is it possible to get a pregnancy test?”

“T-thank you. I'd need that.” (y/n) sighed in relief, but then straightened up when she remembered her other point.

“And uh… I believe with the doctor and patient confidentiality you can at least do this much… uhh… Please don’t tell Wriothesley about this.”

• • •

Wriothesley knew where she was going with this.

"Humans will suffer brain damage if the brain is not supplied with oxygen for over 4 minutes." Navia continued.

"Are you saying… her breathing stopped within four minutes of me arriving at her cell? I didn't see anyone come in or out."

Navia nodded, "that is very likely."

Neuvilette squinted at the maps spread out in front of them. "Then… there's a chance that a hidden passage or room is present in the location where she was found."

Paimon hummed, a bit confused, "What about how she retained her memories even without a vision?"

"For now we don't really have an answer to that," Wriothesley got up, "but I'm sure at least Dougier does."

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pavo-ocell-me · 5 months

Text

Wriothesley x GN!Reader fic: Aftermath

You were one of the members of the now-disbanded Beret Society. Now that it's all over, Wriothesley invites all the people involved to his office one by one, to apologize and offer what little comfort he can.

Word count: 1677

Genre: Comfort

Content warnings: Mentions of trauma (no details)

Notes: Reader is gender neutral. Relationship can be read as either platonic or as a budding romance.

Read below or on AO3.

Before the Beret Society debacle, you and Wriothesley were on amicable terms. Not quite friends yet, but there was a mutual interest. He’d strike up a conversation when he saw you sitting at the cafeteria or when you ran into him in the halls. He had even invited you for tea once — something that turned out to be a common interest.

Then you joined the Beret Society, and it alienated you from the rest of the Fortress — including Wriothesley, your friend in the making. You wanted to talk to him, everyone in the Society wanted to talk to him in some sense, but no one had the guts or the clarity of mind. Telling the Duke everything that was going on was obviously the rational thing to do, but humans aren't as rational as they'd like to believe. A plethora of emotions is more often the root cause of actions they do or do not take. In this case, the prime emotion was fear. If the pay-off seems uncertain, and the price for failure seems infinitely steep, it is a scary thing to even consider taking that necessary action. And so everyone kept silent. You kept silent and kept your distance.

But now, Wriothesley has finally solved the case. You sit in his office. Every victim of Dougier was invited individually. Not for a stern lecture, but for comfort and apologies. From those who had gone to his office before you, you have already heard that there would even be financial compensation for Wriothesley's "lapse in delivering justice swiftly".

One by one, everyone was called to his office. It had taken a long time before your name was called. In fact, to your surprise, you had been the very last. Does he not want to see you? He may be hurt by your sudden distancing when you joined the Society, you fretted. And once you sat down inside, your worrying didn’t stop. Thoughts still whirl inside your head.

Despite the couch's comfort, your body is tense. You don't lean back against the sofa; instead, you sit upright, hands on your knees, legs close together. As if trying to take up as little space as possible; as if the very room is pressing down upon you. Wriothesley had turned on some music earlier, but even the soft tones of the piano resounding through the office don't manage to put you at ease.

"What kind of tea do you want?" His voice pulls you from your reverie.

It takes a moment for the question to register, and then another moment before you start stuttering and mumbling "I-I don't k-know, whatever you w-want."

From the corner of your eye, you see him turn around and frown.

"I'll just make you that oolong tea from Liyue that seemed to be your favorite when we were..." — he seems to weigh his words carefully — "... talking more often."

He puts a teapot warmer on the table in front of you, lights the candle below it and places the pot on top. "Now, let's let it steep for a couple of minutes." He finally sits down next to you on the sofa, but still at a respectable distance.

"Let's talk.” He takes a deep breath. “I'd like to sincerely apologize for not recognizing sooner what kind of place the Beret Society was. It has done immeasurable harm to people, and as warden of this fortress, it is my duty to prevent such things from happening. I failed. I am sorry."

You can’t find a single word to say. What is this? You knew he'd apologize, but now that it's actually happening, a flurry of unexpected emotions overtakes you. Relief and confusion, fear and happiness.

"If you want to talk about what happened, I'm here to listen. It’s the least I can do."

It’s the straw that breaks the Sumpter Beast's back. You cry. Not prettily; you bawl. The tension, built up over months, comes out all at once. You hide your face in your hands, trying to somewhat lessen the sound of your sobs, but it's to little avail. Suddenly, you feel a hand on your shoulder. Wriothesley’s hand seems hesitant, as if he's afraid to touch you. But his voice is soft and comforting: "You can cry as much as you like. It's okay. I'll be your shoulder to cry on."

You bridge the distance between you and him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. After a moment, he wraps his arms around you.

"It's okay, I'm here now. Everything is going to be alright."

You let the tears come. For several minutes, you sit like this, his warm arms wrapped around you. Then, finally, you untangle yourself from his embrace. "It was terrible." Your voice is soft and shaky, but the words come out. Wriothesley listens attentively while he pours tea and hands you a cup.

"To have that stuff injected, it's just... the worst possible nightmare."

"Mm-mm."

"And even when it's over, it's not really over. The memories are there and the fear still runs through my veins, like my whole body is riddled with it, like my whole body isn't my own, like it's possessed by an evil spirit that—" You bite your lip trying to hold back the tears.

Wriothesley's arm wraps around your shoulders again. "I'm sorry I couldn't stop it sooner. But I'm here now. You're safe. I'll do whatever I can to make you feel safe again. You won't live those nightmares again."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I'm sorry I took my distance from you, I just—"

"Hey." He places a finger on your lips. "None of this is your fault. Don't apologize."

"But I must've hurt you!" Your voice is barely more than a whisper, but your heart seems to scream it out.

"Well, I can't deny that I was a little disappointed to see you take your distance. But I didn't want to force you to hang out with me, so I just let it be. But that last time we spoke, even though you seemed glad about your membership in the Society, I thought I saw a glimpse of fear flit behind your eyes. In truth, that's what brought me to investigate. To make sure you really were in a good place."

You stay quiet for a moment. Wriothesley did that... for you?

"In that sense, you were instrumental in solving this case. I wouldn't have been on the trail otherwise."

“Thank you.” Your voice is barely audible.

“It’s my duty and my pleasure to take care of you. It’s my job as the warden of the Fortress to make sure everyone is safe, but it’s my desire to see to your safety specifically. I’m fond of you.” He softly squeezes your shoulder reassuringly. “If there’s anything I can do for you, let me know.”

You want to speak but are a little nervous. Wriothesley notices. “Whatever it is that’s on your mind, just speak.” His tone is almost commanding, but not unpleasantly so. It’s just the push you need to speak.

“If possible…” You swallow and gather the courage to continue the sentence. “Can we stay like this a little longer? I felt so lonely for so long… I need to feel someone's warmth beside me.”

Wriothesley grins. “Why did you think you were the last person I called to my office? I have no other things to take care of today, so you can stay as long as you like.”

“Thanks,” you murmur and snuggle next to him, careful not to spill the tea you’re holding. You take a sip. It’s as good as you remember, and you close your eyes in relaxation. Wriothesley knows how to make tea the right way.

“You really do have good taste,” he says softly. You open your eyes and find him, too, sipping from his own cup. “Oolong is a tea I don’t often have by myself, but maybe I should.”

“Right?” Some amusement creeps back into your voice. It’s been a long time since that last happened. “It’s such a unique taste. It’s simultaneously delicate and strong.”

“Like you, then.” He smiles.

“I—… What?” You look at him in shock, while his smile turns into a genuinely joyful laugh.

“It’s good to see you flustered like this! I like it! But” — his tone turns more serious — “it’s also true. I know you’re hurt. What you went through is horrible. Unspeakable, in more than one sense of the word. But I have full faith that you’ll get back up. You’re strong like that.”

“Am I, though?” you whisper to yourself without thinking.

Despite speaking so softly, Wriothesley still catches your words. “I believe you are.” His words are simple, but he speaks it with such certainty and authority that you are tempted to believe him. “And if you ever feel like you can’t take it anymore, I’ll be here for you. You don’t have to walk the path to recovery alone.”

Instead of speaking, you rest your head against him and close your eyes. You’re tired. You hadn’t realized it earlier, but speaking with Wriothesley, crying against him, shaking, letting go of all the tension… You’re exhausted. And he’s so comfortable. His arm is still wrapped around you. It makes you feel warm and safe.

“Tired, huh? Rest as much as you need.”

The scent of the tea, the soft fabric of the sofa, the piano piece on the gramophone, Wriothesley’s strong arm around you, and the warmth he emanates — they all lull you into the most peaceful sleep you’ve had in months.

***

As you fall asleep, Wriothesley carefully takes the cup from your hands, still half full. He looks at you with a smile. They’re so cute. For a long time, he gazes at your sleeping form leaning against him. Then, with his free hand, he grabs a book that is, fortunately, within arm’s reach. He’s willing to stay here for a few more hours if it helps you rest, body and soul.

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pavo-ocell-me · 6 months

Text

For you, I think I would learn how to love

For my lovely anon who asked for husband Neuvillette, I bring you a whole fic. This man has me in a chokehold and I need everyone to know how much I love him.

Pairing: Neuvillette x fem! Reader Word Count: ~7k

Summary: Tired of waiting for you to find a husband, your parents find one for you. One who happens to be the Chief Justice of Fontaine. A new city, a new life, a new husband. So much new, and you could only hope, deep in your heart, that you would find happiness and love in Fontaine.

The first time you meet him, it's rather formal.

It's not as though you have much of an option. Though you certainly couldn't say you expected when you woke up to be told that your parents had found a husband for you, and that you'd be married in a week.

They had been pushing marriage lately, saying you were the right age, but the thought had been far from your mind. You thought you still had time, and the next thing you knew, you were being brought to Fontaine.

It's certainly different from Liyue. The hills and mountains are different from the Stone Forrest. The air feels different, there's water heavy in it.

You wait, in an ornate room that feels much too fancy. You've been left alone for a brief moment, the most your parents have allowed since you were told the news.

Part of you wonders if you could escape if you jumped out the window. A quick glance told you that it was much too high to entertain that idea. You'd end up breaking a leg before you got out of this marriage.

The door opens. A man appears, with long white hair with blue streaks in it. Simply from his appearance, you can tell that this is someone important. Your spine straightens as sharp eyes land on you, zeroing in on you.

You felt small, for a moment. As though he was judging you for simply existing in a space you'd rather not be in. Though your parents didn't care if you had plans or wished to find a husband on your own.

The man doesn't say anything. He closes the door behind him with a click, and makes his way over to you. Despite the desire to shrink back, you stand your ground, until he finally stands before you.

Up close you can see more details. He towers over you in height, but you suppose most people would feel short compared to him. His eyes capture your attention the most, the pupils such a strange shape, but gorgeous nevertheless.

"I apologize for leaving you waiting," he starts, almost looking as lost as you on how to start.

You wave your hands frantically in front of you. "It's fine! I didn't expect anyone to come in. I was told I would be meeting-"

Saying future husband felt much too strange. The man in front of you notices your pause, and arches a single silver brow. You frantically try to remember the name of the man who is meant to be your fiance.

"Ah, sorry, I was meant to meet a Mister Neuvillette?" your voice stumbles awkwardly over the new word, still struggling with the accent.

On the trip to Fontaine, your parents had tried to give you lessons on the language, as though you would become fluent in the few hours it took to travel.

The man blinks. And then he blinks again, as though he's trying to figure out what you just said.

Apparently the lessons hadn't worked.

"Sorry, my accent needs work," you apologize. "I hear he's the Chief Justice?"

The man nods, slowly. "That is correct."

You hum, non-committal, waiting to see if your company decides to keep the conversation going. When he doesn't, you find yourself unable to think of words.

Well, this felt awkward. And from the way the man still seemed at a loss for words, he also felt the same.

The tension could almost cut a knife.

He clears his throat after a moment, the sound almost makes you jump.

"Yes, well..." he pauses, gesturing towards the couch. "I am sure monsieur Neuvillette will be here soon."

You take a seat near him. Not close enough to be inappropriate, but close enough that it would be clear that you were talking. Maybe "monsieur Neuvillette" will see the two of you and decide that this marriage wasn't something he wanted a part of.

"Congratulations on your engagement," your new friend tells you after a moment. You give him a tight lipped smile.

"Thanks."

Once again, silence descends over you two. You fidget with your skirt, smoothing out the wrinkles from travel. Hopefully, it wasn't something your new husband would be upset about.

At least the silence didn't feel as oppressive this time. You let yourself relax, taking a deep, steadying breath.

"Can I ask you something?"

The man beside you nods. You still haven't gotten his name yet, you realize. You'd have to ask later, after some other questions. Who knows when your parents and future husband will be coming.

"Um...how is Neuvillette?" you tentatively ask, to which you only receive a rather blank, if not curious look.

You suppose you'll have to be more direct. Though it almost pains you.

But at least, if he's not kind, you would like a warning. Some way to prepare yourself for what the rest of your life is going to be like. Some women, they don't even get that. They were woken up on the day of their wedding, and the rest of their lives was at the whims of their husbands.

You steel yourself, and fully turn your attention to your friend.

"Is he kind?"

Something in him softens at that. He looks at you with an emotion that you can't recognize in that moment. Pity, maybe?

He opens his mouth, but before you can get your answer, the door opens.

Your parents lean in for a moment, see you sitting on the couch, talking to a stranger, but strangely have nothing bad to say about that. In fact, they look delighted.

"Are you two getting along well?" your mother asks you, somewhat reminding you of a cat just having caught a bird.

The satisfaction on her face made you uneasy, like there was a secret you were missing.

"Fine, thank you," your friend replied for you when you couldn't manage words. "Your daughter is very polite."

Your parents beam at that. The uneasy feeling in your stomach gets worse.

"Thank you, monsieur Neuvillette."

Somehow, it hadn't dawned on you. Your stomach feels like it falls into the floor, but Neuvillette doesn't seem to have any other reaction, looking at your parents. They don't even wither under his stare.

You never wanted to shrink into the floor more. You had just asked your future husband about himself. And more than that, you asked him if he was kind.

Your parents talk with Neuvillette, allowing you a moment to feel invisible and wallow in your self-pity and embarrassment.

At least, until you feel a small tug on the sleeve of your blouse.

It's one of the melusines, you had found them to be very cute upon first seeing them. Your parents hadn't explained much about them, so you found yourself blinking down at the small melusine.

"He is," she says to you, nodding.

You tilt your head to the side. Briefly, you feel eyes on you, but when you look at your parents, they're still talking to Neuvillette, and taking his attention.

"He's what?"

She hands you a long ribbon. It's a deep, ocean blue, the same color that Neuvillette is wearing.

"He is kind," she explains, patiently, as though you were a child. "I heard you ask."

Your cheeks felt like they were on fire, especially as she climbed up next to you, weaving the ribbon through your hair, and both your parents and Neuvillette turned to stare.

"Y/N, that is very rude to ask," your mother scolds, because that is the lot of women in life, only to worry about when men think of you and what might make you undesirable. You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"Nonsense, it is a very reasonable question to ask. Why wouldn't someone want to know who they're marrying?" Neuvillette cuts in, before your mother can scold you any more.

Your parents fall silent, nodding their heads in agreement as though they hadn't been about to lecture you like a child. You would have laughed if it wasn't for the Melusine finishing with your hair.

"There," she says, with her self imposed job done. "Will you be having a wedding?"

You weren't sure your heart could take any more surprises today. Your cheeks hadn't even lost their blush from the first moment, at this point you didn't think they'd ever go back to their normal color.

"We'll have to see," you murmur, because you weren't completely sure yourself.

She nods, taking in your word and opinion as though it was law. Neuvillette didn't contradict you either, but did finally turn back to your parents.

You don't get too much of a chance to participate in most of the conversation. The Melusine, Sedene, as you learned the name of, asks you more questions that keep you occupied.

It's a welcome distraction. It's better than awkwardly listening to a conversation about your future where at least two of the three people here wouldn't even care for your input.

The jury was still out on Neuvillette.

Eventually though, it grew late, late enough that Sedene was sleeping with her head on your lap. It seemed that finally the other three were tired of negotiating over your life.

Before you knew it, you looked up from your lap just in time to see Neuvillette leave without even a goodbye, the door clicking behind him. Your parents look much too pleased with themselves, which you somehow didn't think was possible.

"I told you, the match would be a good one," your mother tells your father, pride seeping into her voice.

You're not so sure. You can't be sure. At least not yet.

"Yes," your father agrees, with the same fond voice he always had when he didn't want to argue with your mother, and it's easier just to agree.

It seems, just like the foundation of Liyue, that your future is set in stone.

You hope Fontaine will be kind to you.

-x-x-x-x-

You do not have a wedding.

It's actually fine with you. More than fine, really. Apparently as Chief Justice of Fontaine, Neuvillette is well liked and popular. The amount of people you'd have to invite to the wedding would be too many for you.

So you simply don't. You sign a document and in the eyes of the law, and of Neuvillette, that is enough.

Though a part of you aches that you will never have the traditional Liyuen wedding you dreamed of as a child. But you suppose that dreams of childhood should stay there.

You move into Neuvillette's home. Fontaine comes as a culture shock, almost.

The amount of times you get absolutely lost in this fish-bowl of a city manages to astound even you.

It's not your fault, really. Liyue Harbor is easy to navigate, warm and welcoming. In Fontaine, the streets all somehow manage to look the same, though the shops sell things you never even thought of. At some point, you're pretty sure you even see a woman standing outside of a building with a mechanical bird.

You end up seeing other Melusines more than your new husband. You don't really blame him for this, his job is important and needed, so each day he bids you a single "good morning" along with a look you couldn't decipher, as he heads to the Opera House.

That's a whole other thing about Fontaine that you still haven't investigated.

It's not as though you're upset that you don't see Neuvillette often. But he is one of the few people that you know here, and it doesn't take long for you to be lonely in the new city, without any of your friends.

Though you find the Meluine's to be kind. They help you when you get lost, and press small gifts into your palms as they take your hands to lead you around.

They tell you to tell Neuvillette to take some time off work. To spend some time with you. You nod and agree that you'll tell him the next time you see him.

But when the man quickly leaves in the morning and doesn't return until late, you never really get a chance to.

If you didn't know any better, you would have thought he'd been avoiding you.

It's like that for almost a month. He says good morning, disappears, and you wander the city to familiarize yourself with it. He never comes home until the sun has almost set, and night is almost there, while you wander until the rain finally starts for the day.

You asked the Melusine's about it once, commenting that there wasn't so much rain in Liyue. They tell you of the hydro dragon and the tears it cries. You hope that someday you will get to meet this dragon and see what makes them so sad.

At least, it stays like that until it doesn't, as most things tend to do.

You were lost, which wasn't too much of a surprise, but unlike the times before, there were no Melusine's to bring you back home or to a place you knew. The rain had started earlier today, earlier than anyone seemed to expect, and before you knew it, you were huddled in an alley, your clothing absolutely soaked and shivers running down your spine from the wet and the cold.

You missed Liyue. You missed your friends, your parents, you missed the smells and sounds of the harbor. Tears burned in your eyes and mixed with the rain on your cheeks.

Standing there simply isn't going to fix things though, so you eventually left your small, but dry, protection, and decided to finally figure out this city.

Your confidence fades the longer you walk around.

It takes almost two hours of wandering around in the rain until you finally recognize something. Not the path home, but to the first place you ever meet Neuvillette, despite not knowing at the time.

You push open the door. It's late, though that doesn't seem to mean the place is devoid of life. Wrapping shaking arms around yourself, you spot a sliver of light coming from Neuvillette's office.

It felt much too late to be working, but perhaps it was Sedene, fixing up things. Tentatively, you knock on the door, and the faint scratching of a pen against paper suddenly stopped.

Suddenly, this felt like a mistake. You took a single step back, but before you could change your mind and leave, the door swung open and Neuvillette stood there, a look of mild concern on his face.

Neither of you spoke. Neuvillette looks you up and down, brows furrowing, and you realize all at once that you must look like a sight, absolutely soaked and dripping water on the floor. If you weren't so cold, your cheeks would be flushed.

"Why are you here?" he asks, glancing around as though that would provide him with the answer.

Your shoulders slump. You can't really explain why. Maybe it's the disappointment at the sight of you, or the lack of a warm welcome. Not 'what happened to you' or 'why are you soaking wet' but instead a question that felt almost like he questioning your presence in general.

"I-um," you stutter through chattering teeth, "I got lost and didn't know where to go."

That felt like an understatement of what happened, but you weren't sure how else to answer the question.

Neuvillette didn't seem to know either.

When he didn't say anything more, you shifted from foot to foot, wincing at the cold and the squish of wetness. You'd be lucky if you didn't get sick, after this.

"You got lost?" he finally asks, as though the concept was foreign to him.

You don't know what to say, so you shrug, peering around him. It seemed Sedene had already left for today, and there went your hope for an escort home.

"The streets all look the same to me," you manage, shivering again. "Uh-you can just tell me which way to go, and I'll get out of your hair. I didn't mean to be a bother."

"And why didn't you ask anyone for help? Anyone could have told you where I live."

The question almost comes out cold, for how logical it is. You huff, a small noise of frustration. All you wanted at the moment was to get out of these wet clothes and to be warm again. But it seems that isn't going to happen any time soon.

"Never mind," you murmur, suddenly so tired. Of course he wouldn't understand why you wouldn't want to ask for help. Your Fontainian was still in it's learning stage, and while you could ask a couple of questions with a thick accent, you had no idea how to ask someone to lead you home.

Plus, wouldn't it reflect badly on him, to have a wife who didn't even know how to return home? But you supposed, if it didn't matter to him, then it shouldn't matter to you.

"I'll see you at home, then," you murmur, turning on your heel to leave.

It was the last thing you wanted to do at the moment. The rain seemed to be coming down even harder, you could hear the thunderous roar of rain against the roof as you went to the main door.

A little more rain wouldn't hurt, and you were pretty sure you knew the way home from here.

You step out into the rain, but surprisingly, you don't get any wetter than before. The rain hits something above you, and you glance up to see an umbrella.

Neuvillette stands slightly behind you, umbrella extended over you. You still hadn't stopped shivering, teeth clattering together. Neuvillette almost looks pained as he looks down at you.

"You'll catch your death out here," he says, as though that explains everything.

And then, in true Fontaine fashion, he extends his arm out to you to link your own through, a true and proper escort.

You take it, if only for the stability. And maybe the warmth. And also the umbrella is hardly big enough for two, if you don't stand close, then Neuvillette would get wet as well.

That's the only reason.

He makes quick work of the walk home, and you were almost dismayed by how close you had been the entire time. By the time you walk up the steps, still shivering from the cold, the rain had finally stopped, the sky clearing to reveal the stars.

"I shall make you something to eat while you dry off," he says, as though it is the law of the land.

You wonder if that is how he sounds in court, when he's trying the cases. You almost want to argue just for the sake of it.

But being dry and having a warm meal sounds much too good to ignore, so you only nod, and go to change your clothes. You debate on taking a bath, the call of the warm water ends up being much too tempting for you.

You emerge feeling like a new person. The water washes away the feelings of the day, and the coldness in your bones. You emerge feeling like a new person, if not a bit more tired and ready for bed than before.

Neuvillette is true to his words. Your hair drips with water as you peek into the kitchen, only to find him sitting at the table, waiting, with two bowls of soup in front of him.

"Come," he says when you don't move forward. You do as asked, sitting beside him and inhaling the rich aroma of the soup.

You had found here that the food varied greatly from what you were used to in Liyue. It certainly wasn't bad, but it was an adjustment. Even the soup was a bit creamier than you were used to, but you ate it eagerly, allowing it to chase away whatever lingering chills the bath hadn't rid you of.

"I'd like to apologize," Neuvillette starts, his own food barely touched, like it's an afterthought for him.

You tilt your head, exhaustion falling over you from the soup and warmth. "For what?"

He looks embarrassed. It's a rather cute look on the normally stoic man. Neuvillette struggles for words, almost seeming to give the words spoken to you the same value that he gives to the court.

"I was not aware that you were struggling to adjust here, I should have foreseen such an event occurring."

He almost looks upset, suddenly. You understand, at least you think you understand. It must be hard having a wife who couldn't even navigate the city of your home.

"It's okay, I'll do better in the future," you reassure, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder as you stand.

It's the first bit of contact you've had since you were married and he placed a kiss upon your cheek at your parents badgering. He looks a bit annoyed though, so you retract your hand to not make him more uncomfortable.

"That's not what I meant. I meant that I should have been here to help you adjust."

"Oh," you say, honestly confused. "it's alright. You're very important here, I don't want to be a bother when you're so busy."

Your words seem to have the opposite of your intended desire. If anything, he looks more upset, leaving you with a rather sour taste in your mouth.

You seemed to be more of an inconvenience than you had even considered.

You hoped this wouldn't turn into an argument. You were tired from wandering and walking for hours, from being caught out in the rain. You rested your head on your hand, trying to think of something to say.

Before your tired mind could think of anything, Neuvillette sighed, a long suffering thing that sounded much older than he must be.

"You should go to bed."

You don't need to be told twice. You take your dish to the sink, leaving it there to be washed by you in the morning. Neuvillette rises, though it seems more to see you off than to actually leave.

"Good night, y/n," he says quietly, still as upset as before.

"Good night, monsieur Neuvillette."

You fall asleep as soon as you're tucked underneath the covers of your bed. You wonder if it's the bed that you're meant to share with your husband, but he never joins you.

And that's fine with you.

-x-x-x-x-

He's still there, in the morning.

It's a sight that makes you freeze coming out of your bedroom, just able enough to peek down the hall and see him in the same place as last night, at the kitchen table. He holds the paper in his hands, the same one that you've seen just about everyone in Fontaine obsessed with.

Did you wake up early? A quick glance at the time told you no, that in fact you had woken up later than normal. Neuvillette was meant to be long gone by now, off to court.

As though sensing your stare, the paper falls, and startling purple eyes lock onto you.

"Ah, you're awake."

You nod, because what else are you going to do? Neuvillette folds the paper back into its original shape.

"Let me know when you are ready to leave."

Well, you couldn't say you expected that to happen. You nod after a second, before disappearing to get yourself ready.

While you don't look your best, at least you aren't soaked and shaking. Really, the amount of time that you've spent with Neuvillette could be counted on one hand, and you did not like the thought of one of those times being when you were in such a sorry state.

A little bit later, you were back by Neuvillette, looking at him with nothing short of confusion as he prepares to leave.

Oh, the disappointment aches for a moment. Like a child being promised a treat only to have it taken away.

"Well? Come along then."

His voice snaps you out of your thoughts. You take a few, tentative steps forward, until he offers you his hand.

You take it, after a moment, brows furrowed with confusion.

"Don't you have court to attend to?" you ask, as he leads you outside.

"I have sent notice that I will be taking today off. I have recently become aware that my wife needs a tour of Fontaine, and I consider that a much more pressing item on my agenda."

Your cheeks color. You can't tell if it's at being called Neuvillette's wife, or from how he doesn't let go of your hand even when you walk outside.

Before you can ask him if he's sure, if he can really take time off, Neuvillette gestures down the street, and begins what has to be one of the most in depth tours of Fontaine to exist.

This time, getting lost in the sights and sounds is fun. Neuvillette explains every building you pass, the history behind it, and what is happening there now. He lets you pull him in random directions when something catches your eye, and answers every question that you can even think of.

It's fun. Neuvillette is well liked by the people, and suddenly that seems to mean you're well liked as well. The food vendors give you free samples, pressing them into your palm and insisting that you take it despite your protests.

Even the Melusine's stop, chatting with you more than Neuvilllette, much to his surprise. He even comments that you know their names, and seems very ashamed when you point out that you've spent more time with them instead of him.

You feel like you can actually navigate the city, by the time the sun is setting. Your bones ache from the exhaustion that the excitement has left you with. When Neuvillette notices, he starts herding you home, despite your protests.

The last thing you want is for the day to end. Going back to how it was before seems unbearable now that you know how it could be. If Neuvillette knows of your plight, he says nothing of it.

He simply wishes you a good night, and lets you head to bed.

If it's a dream, you hope that you will remember every detail of it.

-x-x-x-x-

Things don't change after that, much to your relief.

Neuvillette stays in the morning, talking with you sometimes. Most of the time he reads, while you make coffee for yourself, and subsequently him. He likes it with two sugars, no milk.

The information feels nice to have. Especially when, on the very, very rare occasions you wake up before him, you can have a hot cup of coffee waiting for him.

The little things before you grow before anything else. Conversations in the morning. Coffee. Neuvillette bringing you home treats that you love, especially the conch madeleines.

There are other things, as well. When you mention missing a certain dish from Liyue, Neuvillette goes out of his way to procure it for you. You're not sure how he manages to do it, but if it means you can get slow cooked bamboo shoot soup whenever you like, then you're happy not to know.

He comes home earlier, as well. As soon as the case is done for the day, it feels like he's on his way to find you. You're happy to do just that, telling him of everything you managed to do during the day, or whatever else is going on in your head that you want to share.

Neuvillette always listens. And he remembers. You mention once, in an off handed comment, about how beautiful you thought the rainbow roses of Fontaine were.

The next day, you woke up to a bouquet of them at your bedside.

You do your best to return the favor, going to collect him at the Opera house when his day is finished.

When you were younger, you read stories of people falling in love instantly, with a single look and it was easy from there.

You think now, as a married woman, that the stories are wrong. Love comes in the small gestures, in the moments spent together.

-x-x-x-x-

It's pouring rain outside. A heavy downpour that has been going on for the last hour.

It's also the time Neuvillette normally comes home, but it doesn't seem that way today. The change in routine throws you off more than you'd like to admit.

You wait another half hour before you grab your cloak, a heavy thing that Neuvillette insisted on buying you so you wouldn't get soaked in the rain any longer, and head out to the Opera House.

You're not too fond of the aquabuses here. They're faster than walking, but something about them feels so awkwardly slow. But with a bit of tension in your shoulders, you bite down the complaints and make small talk with the Melusine piloting the aquabus as you arrive.

Neuvillette only took you over here once, to show you the Fountain of Lucine. You suppose, on another level, it was also to make sure that you knew where the Opera House was in case you needed him and didn't want to get lost.

You're thankful for his planning.

Everyone else has already left, except for a very dedicated couple by the fountain, praying for blessings upon their child. You wonder if someday that will be you, but dismiss the thought with a blush.

It takes you much too long to find Neuvillette. For a man who cuts such an imposing figure, you wander around in the rain looking for him for much longer than needed. Eventually though, you find him at the back of the Opera House, standing in the rain as though he doesn't notice it.

"Neuvillette?" you call, quiet, as to not startle him. It seems you do so anyways, from how he jumps. "Are you alright?"

He nods, but doesn't speak. You reach out to take a gloved hand, everything about him feels cold.

You lead him back home, and he follows you as though he has no mind for anything else. It takes too long to get home but also not enough time. You hold his hand the entire way.

"Was court today rough?" you finally ask, when you're in the security of your shared home. Neuvillette lets out a hum, not agreeing but not disagreeing either.

You usher him to the bathroom to clean himself up, and go to make something warm, when the irony of the situation hits you all at once, because it must have only been a few months ago that Neuvillette did the same thing for you.

It felt nice to have the roles switched.

Neuvillette doesn't seem hungry, so you usher him into your own bed, since truthfully you've been suspicious that he's been sleeping on the couch or at his desk in his office to prevent you from feeling uncomfortable.

You sit down, and urge him to lay his head in your lap. You brush your fingers through his slightly damp hair, and you hum a Liyuen lullaby your mother used to sing to you.

Neuvillette never talks about court. You asked him once and only once about it, curious since everyone in Fontaine seemed to think that the cases were some kind of show. But Neuvillette had simply said that it was very usual, and not worth discussing.

At the time, you took him at his word. Now though, you wonder if it's something more.

"I believe an innocent man was sentenced today," Neuvillette says, after a moment. His voice is so soft, you almost can't hear it under the pouring rain outside.

"Is that so?" you ask, a silent prompt. Does he want to continue? Or leave it there?

He sighs after only a second, pressing further against your hand in his hair. Like a cat seeing attention.

"I'm sure it will be resolved soon, I simply need to investigate things more."

You nod, remaining silent. Neuvillette doesn't explain more, but eventually, as his breathing evens out, the rain comes to a stop outside.

You can't bring yourself to move. It would no doubt wake up Neuvillette, and that seemed like the last thing anyone needed. So you settled amongst the pillows, and close your eyes.

If you wake up tomorrow, still close to another and sleepy limbs tangled together, you said nothing of it. Neither does Neuvillette.

After that though, your bed becomes just the bed, and you're not opposed to that at all.

-x-x-x-x-

The Fountain of Lucine ends up being one of your favorite places in Fontaine. Not for any particular reason, you tell yourself, it's simply pretty to look at.

And that's not a lie. It is pretty to look at, and it's fun to visit and listen to expecting parents wish for good things for their children. It was nice to see the sights and sounds without the hustle and bustle of the city.

The first time you end up going out though, you can't say you had the most pleasant experience.

You had gotten the idea in your head, perhaps you were too bored lately, that you should visit Neuvillette at work and bring him lunch. So you packed a small bag, and made the journey.

Only to be stopped at the entrance of the Opera House by one of the gardes.

"Court is in session, no one is allowed in, miss, without a ticket."

Your head tilts to the side, truly puzzled. A ticket? People bought tickets to court, as though it was a show?

"I'm not going to see the court, I came to drop something off for Neuvillette," you explain to the man, holding up the small box.

The man eyes it with a bit of suspicion, and part of you almost wants to ask if he really thinks you've poisoned it. Another part of you is sure that if you ask, you will absolutely get accused of that.

"That's nice, miss, but you still can't go in. I'm sure you know monsieur Neuvillette has many admirers, and we can't stop court simply because you wish to give him a gift."

Wow. You weren't even sure how to unpack that. You crossed your arms over your chest, not budging.

"I am his wife, here to bring him lunch. Do you want to explain to Neuvillette tomorrow about how you banned his wife from visiting him.?"

The man, you still haven't even gotten his name yet, isn't looking at you any more. He's looking behind you, a look of mild panic on his face.

Oh, this was going to be just like one of those soap operas back in Liyue, wasn't it? You knew without looking who was going to be there.

"Monsieur Neuvillette!" he said, giving the salute of Fontaine. "I was just telling this young woman that we do not allow visitors during court."

"That is true," Neuvillette says, you can almost hear a bit of smile in his voice. "However, I think I can make an exception for my wife. Thank you though, I will handle it from here."

The man scurries away before you can say anything. If he had a tail, it would have been between his legs.

"I think you scared him," you said, turning to your husband.

You ignore your racing heart at hearing Neuvillette call you his wife for the first time. You couldn't stop the smile from spreading on your face though.

"I think if anyone scared him between the two of us, my dear, it was you," he muses, and yes, it is amusement you can hear in his voice.

You two stand there, smiling at each other for a moment before you remember just why you made the journey out here.

"Oh, I brought you lunch." You place the small package in his hand. "I'm sure you're busy here and I wanted to make sure you were eating. I didn't know I needed a ticket to get inside. How did you know I was here?"

"Ah, Aeife told me you had arrive, and I suspected that you would encounter a problem."

He gestures to the side, and sure enough, the small Melusine is there. She gives you a wave before going back to skipping and offering help to those who need it

"She's sweet."

"She is," Neuvillette agrees. "I think most of them like you more than me."

"Who wouldn't like me?"

The smile Neuvillette gives you almost makes you blush, but you barely manage to get a hold of yourself.

"Yes, they'd be fools not to like you."

And now you were blushing. You gently swatted Neuvillette's arm, and only received a chuckle for your antics.

"Thank you," Neuvillette says, genuinely. "I must return now, but I appreciate the thought."

A tiny sliver of disappointment ran through you, but you pushed it down, nodding your head. "Of course, of course. Don't let me keep you. Off you go now."

You made a little shooing motion, the smile on your face letting him know you were simply teasing. But he didn't leave.

"Any time you wish to come and see me, there will always be a ticket waiting for you at the booth." He gestures to the sales booth, which very much looked closed, but you didn't say that. "I'll be sure to tell you the next time Lyney and Lynette do their show."

You visibly perked up, which gained you a small chuckle. You hadn't been shy about saying you wanted to see the show, though apparently it was impossible to find tickets to it.

"Thank you, I'll be sure to take you up on that."

You stood up on your tip toes, pressing a brief kiss to his cheek. He seems surprised at the touch, but after a moment manages to compose himself, saying a quick goodbye before returning to work.

Aefie tugged at your skirt, a gentle motion almost as soft as a breeze. You knelt down to her level, allowing her to whisper in your ear.

"Thank you for making Neuvillette so happy."

-x-x-x-x-

You fell a lot, as a child, as all children do.

Scraped knees and bruised elbows. What is childhood without a few injuries? Without those precious moments that make them realize oh, sometimes life has pain.

The first time you heard of the concept of "falling in love" you had thought it was like that. Falling on the ground and bruising your knees.

Now though, you think it is something else. Like the feeling of falling into a warm bed at the end of a long day.

Neuvillette is already in bed tonight, laying on his side facing where you normally lay. You tip toe over to the bed, just in case he's already fallen asleep.

He hasn't though, and your eyes meet his vivid purple ones as you lay down, facing him as well.

"I thought you were asleep," you murmur. Tentatively, you reached for him, only to have him meet you halfway. Your fingers laced together with his.

"I was waiting for you."

Such a simple declaration is enough to make you blush. A year of marriage and he still managed to make you blush.

"I'm here now."

Something changes in his eyes, and he looks at you, so, so, fond. "You are here."

You both lay there, either unwilling or unable to fall asleep, feeling so close but somehow still so far away. It's one of the nights when the rain isn't falling. When you first came to Fontaine, it felt as though the rain never stopped, but now it's only occasionally.

"You never answered my question, you know."

Neuvillette frowns for a moment, thinking. You take pity on him before he can worry if he made you upset.

"I asked if you were kind," you murmur, gentle.

It felt like ages ago, talking to a stranger without knowing who they were. Neuvillette looks at you, waiting, knowing you weren't finished.

You had been so worried about everything. And though Sedene had told you, you didn't know if you could believe it or not.

"And what have you found?" Neuvillette asks. His voice is small, as though he's actually afraid of how you might answer.

You don't hesitate.

"You are," you whisper. You inch closer, knees brushing against his own. "You are so, so kind."

He kisses you. Lips sliding against your own, slotting there as though they were meant to be there. And desperately, with almost a full year of longing in you, you kiss back.

You're breathless by the time that he pulls back. He looks the same, and for the first time you see a small blush on his cheeks.

"I love you," he whispers, a reverent noise just for you.

You smile, leaning in to kiss him again.

"I love you too."

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pavo-ocell-me · 6 months

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01 - Make It Out Alive

Trial by Fire (Wriothesley x Reader)

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Wriothesley growled and pressed the Fatui agent's face further into the ground "I'll only ask you one more time," fire roared on his left side, "Where is she?"

"Lowest b-basement!" The agent choked out, "the doctor kept her locked in a cage, but I'm not even sure if she's still-"

Wriothesley roughly smashed the villain's head into the ground, knocking him out immediately.

She's alive.

She has to be.

"Wriothesley." Clorinde gestured to the dark hallway looming before him, "Go. Me and the others will clean off this place."

With a quick nod, Wriothesley shouldered past them and rushed further down the hallway, all rational thoughts abandoned.

He's getting closer now.

He ran down the stairs which lead to the basement. Even so he felt as if he's moving too slowly.

Will he make it in time before she..

He shook his head, not wanting to finish the thought. Not when he's this close to getting her back.

The basement was a stark contrast to the upper floors. While upstairs it was clean and almost hospital-like, with individual rooms for patients- he refused to call them experiment subjects, the basement area looks unkempt, as if it was simply abandoned. It was dusty with cobwebs on every corner, and the cement floor damp in some areas from dripping water.

Running through the basement, Wriothesley opened every door he passed by. Most of them revealed empty rooms, and some cluttered storage areas, but a handful of them opened to reveal rows upon rows of cages that held people in them.

They were kept in terrible conditions, as if they were imprisoned or left for dead. With each room he opened, and each cage he searched, Wriothesly felt his heart sink lower and lower.

After yet another room searched with no sign of (y/n) he gestured for his men to help the prisoners while he continued his search.

If (y/n) isn't here, there's a good chance she somehow escaped, so that should be a good thing, right?

Or dead.

Pushing the thought out of his head, the steely blue eyed duke came to a halt in front of the final door. This one had a door that sagged on its hinges, tilting in a way that did not let it fit into its frame. It was slightly open and a foul sewer stench seemed to emanate from it. Shivering, he pushed the door open and went inside.

The door opens to a long, rectangular room that resembles a prison, like the previous rooms. There were floor to ceiling bars to his left and right.

Wriothesley went further inside and peered into each of the cells.

Empty.

On the far end of the room, however, there was a smaller sized cage. Something used for an animal, big enough to hold a tiger, but too small for a human to stand upright.

The door was slightly ajar, and there seemed to be something inside it. Something dark and unmoving.

Squinting through the darkness with his heart racing in his chest, he peered inside, gasping when he found that the object is clearly a person. Someone very familiar to him.

It was female, with her hair tangled darker than its usual shade. She was only wearing the bare minimum, a sort of hospital dress, but even so, it was tattered and bloodstained, barely enough to protect her from the cold winter. She laid on the floor of the cage facing away from him, tucked into herself at the very corner as if trying to stay as far as possible from the door.

"(Y/N)!"

He quickly shoved the cage door open further, reaching inside. She was cold. Very cold.

No...

His heart plummeted down to his stomach as he reached in and pulled her broken form out the cage carefully, as if afraid she would shatter upon his touch. She was completely limp, showing no response to his voice and touch.

Now he understood why they didn't even bother to lock the door.

"(y/n)," he turned her over, feeling his heart clench at the sight of her face. Blood from a wound on her forehead covered the left half of her face, while her right eye was swollen shut. Her lips, once soft and pink, now split and cracked.

Blue eyes scanned down her body for more damage, found that it was near impossible with the way blood and dirt stuck to her like second skin.

He noticed how much more skinny she had got, nothing but skin and bones.

"Archons, what did they do to you?" he whispered, caressing her face.

Wriothesley felt tears prickling behind his eyes. Was he too late? He quickly removed his jacket and wrapped her in it, hoping it would warm her up even if just a little

"I-I'm here, you’re in my arms now, you're safe. Please open your eyes, (y/n)..." he rocked her gently, "(y/n)... come on sweetheart, it's me, I'm here. I'm right here." No reaction. She was completely unconscious, her head lolling backwards.

No…

Wriothesley leaned down to listen for her breaths, anything. He was only met with the deafening sound of silence.

“No no (y/n), please, don’t do this to me.”

As if handling glass, he placed her gently on the ground and tilted her head back. Pinching her nose, Wriothesley pressed his lips against hers and blew rescue breaths into her. Blue eyes searched her face for any hint of a reaction as he placed his hands in the center of her chest, one hand laced on top of the other. He locked his elbows and began pumping.

“Come on, breathe.” He commanded, her bruised and battered body rocked with each forceful pump.

How long since she stopped breathing?

He felt the crack more than he heard it. One of her ribs had probably cracked or worse, broken. “Fuck!” his voice came out in a breathless whimper.

Again he leaned down and blew into her some more rescue breaths.

I’m hurting her, I hurt her- No. A few broken ribs will heal, but she needs to breathe.

“Come on (y/n), breathe. Come back to me.”

Wriothesley refused to give up, not when she’s right here. His arms burned from the effort of keeping her heart beating. Even so he pushed himself to maintain his steady pace. He was about to blow more rescue breaths into her mouth when she sputtered and coughed.

“(y/n)? Can you hear me? (y/n)?" his breath shook as he gently rolled her to her side until her coughing fit subsided. (y/n)'s arm, the one against his chest, seemed to try to push him off, a feeble attempt considering his stature was like a brick wall.

Before he knew it, she had gone limp again, the arm that tried to push him rests on her stomach.

Wriothesley gritted his teeth and slowly gathered her in his arms. "I'll get you out of here, (y/n). You're going to be okay."

He walked as quickly as he possibly could, trying not to jostle her too much. But even so it didn't seem to make any difference. (y/n) still remained motionless, her body sagging almost lifeless in his arms.

Walking out of the basement, he was greeted by Neuvilette and Aether. The two had finished battling the meks that went haywire, seeing how so much debris was strewn all about. Their hopeful expressions upon seeing him fell once their eyes landed on the bundle wrapped up in Wriothesley's arms.

"(y/n)? How-" Neuvilette cut Aether off by placing a hand on bis shoulder. Not good. Wriothesley's grim expression and watery eyes told them everything.

"She's alive," Wriothesley spoke past the lump in his throat, "but she will need immediate medical attention. I'm taking her to the hospital." He nodded towards the Aether, who knew immediately he should prepare to teleport them back to Fontaine.

In a flash, Aether, Wriothesley, and (y/n) was gone.

• • •

Neuvilette looked as if he wanted to say more to the three who had just disappeared, but then his eyes landed on Chlorinde, who had stopped beside him.

"I couldn't find her vision," Chlorinde's eyes were downcast, betraying her emotions despite the steely mask she had at all times, "they either ran off with it or destroyed it. The latter is more plausible."

She opened her hand, there rests a piece of golden metal twisted into an intricate frame. Where a glowing red pyro vision stone used to reside, it is now empty.

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.....(つ . •́ _ʖ •̀ .)つ [ ٩(×_×#)۶]

Whew first chapter! Been a while since I wrote anything so I hope that wasn't too clunky! Chapter 2 coming soon-ish!

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pavo-ocell-me · 6 months

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How to Steal the Duke's Heart 101 (2)

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Pairing: Wriothesley x (gn!) Reader

Summary: After Wriothesley managed to get you back out of prison again you wanted to go back to living your life. However, things wouldn't go so smoothly, especially since you missed the man you had grown to love during your time in the Fortress. However, maybe fate is smiling down on you for once...

Tags: Fluff, lots of kissing, you were in prison (but innocent), swearing, french kissing (we're in France after all)

A/N: People asked for a Chapter 2 - I got an idea - here we are. Hope you enjoy and thanks for the crazy support on part 1 ;_; <3

In the following days, you stayed in the Infirmary. Your concussion and the accompanying migraine flare-ups made it hard to do anything but lie in bed with closed eyes.

Sigewinne, who was introduced to you as the head nurse, took care of you during the time you were at the Infirmary. And she religiously made sure that you didn’t leave the bed under any circumstance. She came by twice a day with some funny-tasting shakes which, despite their flavor, worked like a charm against your headache.

Wriothesley also stopped by at least once a day, no matter how occupied he had been around the Fortress otherwise. And every time he walked through the door with confident steps, and pulled a chair by your bedside, your heart was about to burst straight out of your chest. Even more so when he leaned closer to you to press a fleeting kiss to your lips as if it was second nature now.

Both you and him often stayed up late to chat the night away and tonight was no exception to that.

You were leaning against the headboard of the bed, and he was sitting on the opposite side of the bed with his back leaned against the footrest himself. He had brought a thermos flask filled with freshly brewed tea and two cups over to the Infirmary and you were both happily sipping away on it together. A small smile was displayed on his lips as he engaged in conversations with you – just like you had always done while dining together at the Cafeteria. There was just this unspoken feeling of comfort in the room whenever you could spend time with him and you wished it would last forever.

“How are you feeling? Getting any better?” Wriothesley inquired, tapping two fingers against his temple, symbolizing the location of the pain he was speaking about.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think it’s getting better finally. Sigewinne’s shakes and potions definitely helped–”

“You can actually drink them?” He chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling upwards.

“They’re definitely not good, I won’t lie. They taste like seaweed and sand. It’s like–”

“Like you ate an entire beach and every time you close your mouth it feels like you’re grinding dirt between your teeth.” He finished the sentence for you with another low chuckle that made your heart skip a beat.

“Exactly! How do you–?”

“Well, let’s just say I’ve been on the receiving end of these shakes a couple of times myself.” He smirked, took a sip of tea from the metal cup in his hands, and sighed. “But tea is infinitely better.”

“Oh, without a shadow of a doubt. I agree.”

A comfortable silence settled between you as you each quietly sipped on your tea. You eventually find your eyes wandering across his form - his broad chest and shoulders, to the sliver of skin showing below his neck. Even though he was trying to cover it up with black belts, the deep scars that evidently littered his skin couldn’t be hidden fully. The same applied to the scar right below his enchanting eyes.

Especially the scars around his neck looked like they came from a wound that would take a miracle to heal and recover from and you couldn’t help but wonder what could’ve caused it.

It was as if your body had started moving on its own when you leaned forward, tracing the long scar below his eyes with your index finger, down to the ones down his neck, stopping just short of his collarbone.

Despite the deep scars and slightly bumpy texture, the skin felt soft and you could feel a slight shiver run down his spine as you ran his finger over them. He observed your facial expressions closely as you did and eventually put his bigger hand above yours to stop your motion and pressed your hand against his chest with a smile. Although there was hurt lingering behind his icy blue eyes.

“How did you get these scars?” You mustered up the courage to ask, your eyebrows pulled into a frown.

“Oh, that? I battled a gigantic undersea monster when I conquered the Fortress of Meropide. Guess who emerged victorious?” He smirked.

“Wait… really?” You ushered in surprise.

“No.” He replied dryly while averting his eyes.

You retracted your hand from his chest while apologizing. You felt like you had overstepped a boundary by asking.

“It’s –” He hesitated before pointing to his neck. “This one right here is the reason I’m here.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” You reassured, not wanting to pry into his private life if he didn’t want to tell you. He took hold of your hand once more and gave it a reaffirming squeeze before sighing deeply.

“I… killed my parents. Well, adoptive parents. I’m an orphan.” Another long sigh escaped him as he averted his eyes to where your hands were intertwined. “To keep it short, they seemed like nice and law-abiding citizens at first. Like a picture-perfect family. But eventually, they treated us, me and my siblings, like trash, and sold us out one after another. I know for a fact some of my siblings did not survive because of what they did and one day… I just– snapped and ended things and set the remaining children free. They didn’t go down without a fight and that’s that. As for the others?” He brushed along his arms with the fingers of his right hand. “I’ve gotten into fistfights and the like down here a lot, nothing too special about those, really.”

He fell quiet, fiddling with your thumb, clearly nervous about how you’d possibly react to this revelation. Would you resent him? Push him away?

But you did neither of these things. You couldn’t even imagine how hard growing up must’ve been for him. And then being sent from one hell straight into another because you defended yourself and others from harm? Fontaine’s justice system was a lot – but after your case and especially after hearing his now, one thing was evident: It was everything but just.

“You’ve never been free. Not even for a single day of your life?” You questioned.

“I guess not. Although I can’t really complain. My position allows me more freedom than some people above ground have. My sentence ended a long time ago but I have no reason to go back up permanently now. Besides, I’m needed here.” He chuckled dryly before looking back up into your eyes which were now glistening with tears as you were on the verge of crying.

He took your face between his hands, wiping your eyes gently with the pad of his thumb before bringing it closer to his to press a sweet kiss to your lips.

But it wasn't long before you were interrupted by the door being flung open, swiftly followed by little tippy steps. Looking over Wriothesley's shoulder towards the doorway to the room you spotted a very displeased and borderline angry-looking Sigewinne.

"Your Grace." She almost hissed with one of her little arms stemmed on her hips and the other pointing to the wall clock that read 1 a.m. "My patient needs rest and this doesn't include staying up way past midnight and drinking caffeinated tea!"

He threw you a half-amused, half-apologetic look before sliding off the bed in one smooth motion. Spreading his arms out to both sides, he turned around with a sly smirk and looked at the head nurse.

"Ah, my apologies. It seems I must've forgotten the time again."

"Hmph… and also, while we're at it – you should rest more and drink less black tea as well." Sigewinne remarked matter-of-factly while looking at Wriothesley disapprovingly.

"I'm getting quite enough sleep, thank you very much for your concern."

"Your eyebags would beg to differ."

"Touché."

Sigewinne crossed her arms with a triumphant smile painted on her lips as she watched Wriothesley walk out of the room with an apologetic shrug in your direction.

The head nurse promptly rushed to your bedside to fluff up your pillows and tuck you back into bed. She quickly checked if your bandages needed to be changed again before quickly wishing you goodnight, extinguishing the lights as well and closing the door behind her.

This was what a lot of evenings that week looked like. Staying up late with Wriothesley, chatting the night away, drinking tea with the occasional kiss thrown in.

As soon as the week had passed and Wriothesley had ripped your criminal record into shreds in front of your eyes you would’ve been able to return to your old life. But you still hadn't fully regained your strength yet. So upon doctor's orders, you stayed a little longer than you needed to. Not that you particularly minded - especially since you were allowed to stay in a guest room right below Wriothesley's office, which was infinitely more comfortable than the Infirmary.

Just a couple of weeks ago you could've never imagined staying here longer than you absolutely needed to, but now you found yourself not quite wanting to leave anymore – at least you weren’t in a hurry to do so.

You spent most of your time lounging around in Wriothesley's office, scanning the bookshelves, reading some books, going through his tea collection with growing fascination, and generally just lazing the time away in his presence.

You grew incredibly closer during that week. You spent almost every free minute he had to spare together. Mostly on the sofa in his office with your head resting on his lap while he worked through some files with his feet resting on the coffee table.

But as soon as the day came where you were officially escorted back out of the office he was nowhere to be found. You had been told to pack your things by the guards because you were about to be escorted out of the Fortress again soon. And while you prepared your things you looked for Wriothesley around the Fortress as well, since you didn’t want to leave before saying goodbye.

So, you stopped by the Infirmary, asked Sigewinne if she’d seen him already, asked several guards and Wolsey at the Cafeteria, but to no avail. It was as if the Primordial Sea itself had swallowed him.

And thus you were meeting at the pickup spot with the guards and were escorted out without seeing him again. You knew that, back then, his reassurance that you’d see him again had been a lie and the chances for that to happen were slim. Especially since he seldom ever left the Fortress. So you entered the elevator you had arrived in with a knot in your stomach that was the size of a boulder.

During the ride up you felt how the air that wafted into the elevator shaft became clearer and fresher again and you couldn’t help but wonder about your feelings that had developed for Wriothesley. Did they just emerge out of your circumstances? Was it just because he was the only one you really ever talked to down here? For the sake of your aching heart, you hoped that was the case and you’d forget this little crush once you returned to your old life again.

Surely that would be the case.

The elevator came to a halt and opened with the same mechanical hiss it did back when you arrived at the bottom of the ocean. You stepped outside, breathing in the fresh air as some droplets of rain collided with your skin.

At last. Freedom.

You didn’t even know where to go or what to do first so you simply ventured towards the City. You had exchanged the coupons you had for Mora again and buying some tea and fresh ingredients for your favorite dish sounded like a good start.

You first went back to your house, to drop off your things and change into something more presentable than your inmate clothes that smelled like oily grease.

You took a warm shower and slipped on your favorite clothes before heading back out with a pep in your step. The bruise on your face was still slightly visible but that wouldn’t hinder you from enjoying your regained freedom.

You happily walked into your favorite tea store that was close to your home, greeting the old lady behind the counter enthusiastically whom you always had friendly chats with before your time in prison. She briefly looked up in your direction before knitting her brows and returning to noting things down in her notebook without ushering a single word of greeting in return.

You became slightly unsettled because it seemed like the atmosphere in the room had changed when you entered. You had never seen her behave like this before, she had always been forthcoming, friendly, and extremely chatty. Nonetheless, you went up to the counter with a smile, greeting her once more.

“Hello, it’s great to see you again Madame Dubois. I came to buy a pack of my favorite tea again.” You cheered with a wide smile, feeling ecstatic about being able to do mundane things like grocery shopping again. You fondled with your wallet, taking out the Mora you owed, still remembering how much it cost – but just as you were about to put it on the counter you saw that the woman hadn’t moved an inch and was still scribbling away in her notebook.

“Hello? Madame?” You asked in confusion, trying to gain her attention.

No response.

“Madame?”

She slowly looked up at you again and was now clearly annoyed.

“Please leave my store. I don’t want to have my reputation tarnished by serving a criminal.”

You opened and closed your mouth a couple of times, ringing for words of protest but your mind simply blanked because of the sheer audacity of the situation. So, instead of standing up for yourself you simply walked out without another word.

You were innocent and always had been, so why would she treat you this unfairly? And even if you had actually committed a crime, wouldn’t you have served your sentence and redeemed yourself again now?

With a tarnished mood you continued your way down the street until you came by a clothes store you used to frequent. You began browsing the clothes rack outside to get your mind off of the unpleasant encounter and even found two pieces you wanted to try on.

Throwing them over your arm you walked inside the store and right into the direction of the changing room. But just as you were about to enter it, the store owner stopped you, taking the clothes you had picked out of your hands without a word.

“Uhm, I wanted to… try these on.” You ushered in defeat, already suspecting where the conversation would venture from here. You were beginning to sense a pattern here.

“You can’t try that on.” The vendor said with determination.

“Why?”

“Pft.” She scoffed eyeing you from top to bottom, clearly not in a hurry to give you any sort of reply. “You’re not fooling me. I know that you’re going to steal something if I let you go into the changing room.”

“Madam, I’m innocent. I was never a criminal to begin with. I was falsely accused and convicted.” You protested weakly, feeling the lump in your throat grow in size.

“Mhm, yeah sure. And I’m the Hydro Archon.” She scoffed once more and pointed you towards the exit.

With sagged shoulders and the urge to cry you found yourself outside of the store again and we're just about done with the day at this point. You half-considered just going back home again and pretending this all was just a bad dream but that would mean you'd just give up.

Was this how all former criminals were treated in Fontaine after being released? If so, it was truly no surprise that no one actually ever returned from the Fortress of Meropide if this was how they were welcomed back. Not because the Fortress wouldn't let them leave even after serving their sentence – but because they were unable to leave. Because they were brandished and irredeemable in the eyes of society.

The voice of Wriothesley from months ago now echoed in your head: “Once you get used to the Fortress you’ll find yourself unable to want to leave.”

Back then you had no idea how true that sentence would ring eventually. Not only because you missed him dearly already but also because you knew things would never return to how they had been before you had been to prison. Nothing you could say to the people on the surface would change their perception of you, because they wouldn’t believe you.

You continued to walk down the street and eventually came by your favorite cafeteria. You had often spent time here before being unrightfully incarcerated. You remembered that you had always gotten along well with the owner of it – but you had the suspicion that that would change now as well.

Unsure whether or not you should even try your luck you eventually walked towards a table and sat down. But your suspicions would remain correct – you would be politely asked to leave from here as well by the man you once got along with quite well, too.

He can’t risk the good reputation of his business and the other customers might feel unsafe sitting next to a convict.

How were you ever supposed to return to a normal life again if everyone treated you with so much disdain?

You decided to just give up for today and plopped down on the side of the pavement, next to some small rose bushes out of sight, and started crying. You needed a valve for all the anger and frustration that had accumulated over the day, and if that was it, so be it.

You wanted nothing more than to return to your old life, or heck, even go back to the Fortress of Meropide. But neither of those were possible. Society had decided you were a sinner and the Fortress was off-limits since people without a criminal record couldn’t get back in. Only former prisoners with a record could go back and decide to stay there, normal citizens, however, were not given that opportunity.

“Is everything alright?” A high-pitched voice addressed you with concern.

You looked up and looked into the face of a purple Melusine with blue hair in the famous blue Fontainian officer uniform. Her eyes were filled with worry and she was leaning over slightly so she was on eye-level with you.

“Mhm, everything’s alright.” You sniffled, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.

She didn’t look convinced and her brows furrowed even further. She looked around and hurried off before swiftly returning with a cup of tea and some pastries from the cafeteria you were unable to get even basic decency from just ten minutes ago.

With a genuine smile on her face, she handed you the items proudly.

“Here, take this. Maybe this will make your day a little better. Remember that just like after rainfall the sun will eventually shine again, there will be brighter days after crying again, too!”

Lost for words and touched by the kindness, you accepted the gift from the friendly Melusine who was already happily hopping away again. At the end of the path, she turned around once more waving and pulling the corners of her mouth up with her hands, signaling you to smile, before returning to her job.

You didn’t know whether to continue crying because you were still feeling like you were drowning at the bottom of the sea or because the only one who had shown you an ounce of humanity today had been a being who wasn’t technically human.

Just what were you supposed to do now?

A couple of weeks passed after that day and things had gone just as bad as they had on your first day. You had found a handful of shops that would still accept you as a customer, and while they weren’t your favorite of all time, they served their purpose of letting you survive.

However, you were seemingly unable to find a stable job again. Your old job no longer wanted you as an employee and all the letters of application you had sent out, had stayed unanswered. You still had enough savings to make ends meet ends for a couple more weeks but after that, you would most likely have to start selling your belongings.

And as if that wasn’t bad enough already, the realization that contrary to what you originally wanted to believe – that you’d quickly get over what you and Wriothesley had after being free again – couldn’t be further from the truth. Reintegrating into society was made impossible to you so there was also no way to distract yourself from craving to see him just one more time. Also because he would be the only one who would show you kindness, understanding and love in a time like this.

No day passed where you didn’t find yourself daydreaming about the times you had sat together and chatted the night away, how you had met up for lunch and dinner, how attractive his smile had looked, how good his aftershave had smelled – and how perfectly intoxicating his lips had felt on yours.

Why did he not wish you goodbye when you had to leave?

And much worse was that everything reminded you of him. The coat with the red silk lining you saw while passing the clothes store. The familiar tea smell that lingered around the tea store. The whiff of perfume out of the perfumery that smelled just like him. Everything just made you miss him more and it was beginning to become excruciating.

And on one of those days when you sat alone at home, reminiscing about your time in the Fortress of Meropide you suddenly had an idea. In your present state – without a criminal record – you were legally unable to enter the Fortress… unless-

You jumped up from your seat, your heart practically beating out of your chest over the realization that there was one way out of your predicament.

One solution.

You needed to commit a crime.

You grabbed your jacket and rushed out of your door without a moment of hesitation. You set out for the market and were practically rushing down the street now. You were dead set on your decision. The more you thought about it the more excited you got.

Once you arrived at the plaza you spotted the booth of the jeweler and headed straight in the direction of the table with big, determined steps. You already made out an expensive ruby necklace from afar that was dangling freely from the jewelry stand. That thing must be worth thirty thousand Mora minimum. Stealing that would surely land you a prison sentence for a while – and once you had that, you were free to stay in the Fortress of Meropide for as long as you wished after. You would have the necessary criminal record to make it your forever home.

Smugly smiling to yourself you arrived at the table, eyes still transfixed on the necklace that now dangled teasingly in front of your eyes. Time felt like it was moving in slow motion at this point. You purposefully reached your hand out, clutching the gem with your entire palm. The look on the face of the jeweler was changing with every millisecond that passed. His brows lifted, his eyes became wide and his mouth formed into an o-shape, ready to scream protest over the theft of one of his most precious items on display. Yet, before any of that happened – before you could yank the necklace down from the stand and make a run for it – a bigger hand enveloped your own calmly.

You could feel a chest pressed to your back and a hand on your shoulder, still expecting your plan to work. One of the guards must’ve sensed your intent and just stopped you before you could make a run for it. But the change to a calm look and the smile on the face of the jeweler told you that the situation wasn’t quite like you believed.

“This is the one you like, darling?” A deep smooth, voice inquired from behind you.

Shock shot through your system. You knew that voice like the back of your hand. You had been craving to hear it again for weeks. You had been craving for it since the day you left the prison.

What was Wriothesley doing here?

“We’ll get that one.” He declared towards the jeweler, motioning to the ruby necklace that you still clung to. He handed a small coin pouch to the man behind the booth, who was now happily smiling, weighing the Mora in his hand with a pleasant hum.

Scarred and callused fingers wrapped around your cramped fist and carefully opened your fingers, gently taking the beautiful necklace out of your grasp.

You were still standing on the spot, unable to move as you were frozen in shock about what just happened, while the man of your dreams put the most expensive jewelry you had ever touched around your neck. Where did he even get this much money to splurge for an item like that?

No. Where did he even come from?!

“Thank you.” He nodded towards the jeweler with a handsome smile before leading you away from the booth calmly. But you could feel how tense he really was, by how hard his digits dug into your shoulder.

He dragged you into a secluded side alley behind some crates that hid you from prying eyes and promptly pushed you against the wall. An icy gaze pinned you down and the iron grip on your shoulder became impossibly tighter.

“What in God's name do you think you’re doing?” He hissed through clenched teeth.

“Nothing.” You feigned innocence. But your voice was barely even above a whisper and you found yourself unable to look him in the eyes.

“Nothing?” He gasped in disbelief. “You were about to steal that necklace just now.”

And to undermine his point he pressed the gem into your skin, which now sat between your collarbones.

“Are you insane?! You only just gained your freedom back!”

“Freedom?!” You bit back exasperated with tears welling up in your eyes out of anger and frustration over the downward spiral your life had been in for so long now. “This ain’t freedom. This is hell. I can’t do this anymore.”

“That’s not a reason to want to go back to prison!” He hissed, pushing your shoulder against the wall even harder.

“Don’t you dare lecture me about anything?! You didn’t even have the courtesy to say goodbye to me when I left.” You hissed.

“I didn’t want to make it harder for you. It was for the best.”

“Shut the fuck up.” You swore fiercely. “You don’t know anything. You don’t know what’s best for me because fuck, this isn’t it. Everyone shuns me, I can’t find a job, I can’t even buy groceries. I don’t have any–”

Before you were able to finish your tirade you were abruptly interrupted by his lips hungrily crashing into yours.

Immediately the million questions you wanted to ask him and the shock about the situation were forgotten.

You inhaled sharply and shut your eyes and your hands immediately reached up to grab a fistful of his hair, lightly tugging on it while deepening the kiss. A low satisfied grunt vibrated through his chest as you did, sending a shiver down your spine in return.

He pressed himself up against you, trapping you between himself and the wall. One of his hands found his way around your waist, greedily squeezing at your flesh below his palms. Further pulling you into him as he held you impossibly closer than you already were while devouring you like he was a man starved for air and you were his oxygen.

His other hand found comfort at the back of your head, preventing it from crashing into the brick wall he pressed you against.

Slightly parted lips danced across your lips down your jaw to your collarbones. Only interrupted by his heavy pants and roaming hands that didn’t seem to know where to touch first.

“Fuck,” he muttered breathlessly with half-lidded eyes, “You drive me insane.”

For someone who had been blessed with a Cryo vision, you were surprised at how his touch could set you ablaze so easily. Pure flames licked at your skin where he touched you. Hot open-mouthed kisses were placed wherever he could reach. Silken lips entangled with yours as you dangled on the edge of consciousness from being overwhelmed with raw emotion.

It was as if time had stopped for both of you. Lost in the intimate moment of your shared passion, somewhere in a back alley of Fontaine.

He was so close yet you wanted him to be closer. You wanted to hold him and never let him go. You wanted him to kiss you until your lips were sore and you no longer had any air to breathe.

If the kisses you had shared in the Fortress of Meropide had been addicting already then this right now was the most dangerous drug in existence. You were intoxicated by the taste and feel of his lips for no one had ever kissed you like this before. Nor did you want anyone but him ever kissing you in the same way.

At this point he wasn't a want, he was a need. You needed him like you needed air to breathe and water to drink. And he felt the same about you.

He carefully parted his lips, prodding the tip of his tongue against your bottom lip, practically begging for entry. And you allowed it as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

The butterflies in your stomach did somersaults and were about to burst out of your chest when he slung both of his strong arms around your midriff to pull you even closer once again.

A string of saliva connected your lips when he separated from you to catch some air. His eyes were still clouded with emotion as they still hungrily looked at you. His face was still so dangerously close you could feel the tingling sensation of his breath on your lips.

His arms maintained their position around your waist and he pressed his face into the crook of your neck with a deep inhale.

“I missed you so much.” He muttered into your shoulder with a meek tone.

You felt like all the weight of the past weeks was lifted off your shoulders at once and you were finally able to breathe again – all despite being buried between the wall and a 6’3” man who was hugging the dear life out of you right now.

“So did I.” You sniffled, only now realizing you had begun to cry because you were so overwhelmed with joy.

“Please, take me with you. Don’t leave me again.” You pleaded, desperately clasping a fist into the fur of his coat. “I don’t want to stay here anymore. Not like this. Not without you.”

He sighed deeply, moving his palms to your shoulders, gently squeezing them. He looked at the floor pondering before directing his gaze back at you again.

“Are you truly sure about that?” He inquired seriously to which you just replied with a determined nod.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.” You answered and placed a quick peck on his lips once more. “I’d have committed a crime only so that I could be with you again.”

A low chuckle echoed through his chest and he placed a kiss at the crown of your head.

“Please don’t do that.”

You looked at him with a pout because how were you supposed to come with him when you weren’t allowed at the Fortress?

“I might have a different idea.” He announced smugly.

“And that is?”

“Work at the Fortress.”

“But… I don’t have the required qualifications for the job. I would never get accepted, let alone be even invited for an interview.” You complained, furrowing your brows.

“Well. Are you willing to learn?”

“I-I guess?” You hesitantly answer, looking up at him in confusion. “I’m not sure I follow.”

He took a step back, directed his gaze to the ground, and put his index finger to his chin, acting deep in thought.

“Well, then you’re hired.” He suddenly declared with a smug grin painted on his lips.

“What?” You huffed perplexed, causing him to snort out a laugh.

“My love,” He took your hands into his, lifting them to his lips to press a soft kiss to your knuckles. “Have you already forgotten who I am? I am the one who makes the rules down there.”

After you promptly agreed to his impromptu interview and hiring process, Wriothesley accompanied you back to your house to pack your things. He was barely able to stop himself from smiling from ear to ear. And you reciprocated that feeling. You would be getting a separate room in the Fortress that you could customize to your wishes. And the best part about it was that you technically could always return to the surface still – because, you weren’t imprisoned. You were about to start a new chapter of your life and you couldn’t be more excited.

Sure – things didn’t go like you had expected them to, but all’s well that ends well. Maybe you should stop by your old friend's house sometime to thank her for framing you for the crime you were falsely convicted of back then. After all, it netted you the Warden of the Fortress of Meropide at the end of the day.

As soon as you stood back between the high iron-clad walls that smelled like machine grease and oil you felt right at home. It was as if you had never left. But unlike the first time you arrived here, you were happy.

You were free, you weren’t a criminal, no one would judge you here and you would be able to spend time with the man you loved. In fact, you’d even say you were happier than you probably had ever been.

Wriothesley led you to your new room, which happened to be below his office, and told you to make yourself right at home. He sat down on your bed and stayed around for a while to chat with you while you unpacked and decorated the space to your liking. Ultimately he had to excuse himself because he was called by a guard for some official business. And with a quick kiss that both of you smiled into, he was off.

You continued unpacking for only gods knew how long until your eyes eventually began to fall close on their own. When you checked the clock on the wall again you saw that it was nearly 11 p.m. already and you decided it was probably time to head to bed.

You headed to the bathroom that was next to your room and got ready for the night, brushed your teeth, and washed your face before slipping into your favorite pajamas and settling down on your bed.

But as soon as you turned the lights off and lay down on your pillow, something hard was poking your temple. You reached below the pillow and touched something hard and round that felt incredibly cold to the touch.

What the heck?

You grabbed it and quickly pulled it out from below the pillow. The dimly lit room was immediately enveloped in a light blue light. But whatever it was that you had expected it to be it wasn’t this. The light of the orb in your hands was pulsating steadily like a heartbeat and you were quick to discern what that foreign item in your hand was. A cryo vision.

You furrowed your brows and concluded that it must be Wriothesley’s. He did sit on your bed earlier. Maybe it fell off his coat.

You shuffled out of the bed and headed back upstairs, hoping to find him in his office.

While climbing up the stairs you could quickly make out the smell of fresh tea as well as the quiet notes of a gramophone playing classical music.

As soon as you got a view of the room you found Wriothesley sitting on his desk with closed eyes, a cup of tea held to his lips. Seeing him just enjoying himself made a smile creep up on your face as you approached him.

“Hi.” You whispered as you walked towards him on tippy-toes.

“Hi.” He set down his cup. “Did the music wake you up? I figured you must already be sleeping.”

“No, nothing like that.” You shook your head, taking the hand holding the vision out from behind your back to show it to him. “I found this under my pillow, I think I must’ve lost it earlier.” You discerned, looking at the glowing vision in your hand.

Wriothesley eyed you and then the vision curiously as he jumped up from his desk and walked up to you.

He gently put his palm around your hand that was holding the vision, closing your fingers back around it again with a soft smile.

He lifted your chin so you looked him in the eyes before speaking again.

“It’s yours.” He declared.

“What? Stupid! I can’t keep your vision! You need it!” You began protesting but were quickly shut up when Wriothesley slipped the coat off his shoulder, revealing the blue orb that was still danging down from one shoulder.

“It’s not mine.”

Your mouth fell open and a thousand thoughts started racing in your mind. How could this be? You? A vision bearer? But you didn’t even feel anything. Wouldn’t receiving a vision be more flashy than simply finding it below your pillow?

“It seems like even the gods think you’ve finally found your place in the world.” He ushered proudly, slinging his arms around your shoulders and pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head with a gentle smile.

“I don’t even know how to use it.” You muttered with uncertainty.

“I’ll show you.”

If the gods think you’ve managed to find your place then you’d simply have to trust their judgement. And if you honestly listened to your heart you would probably agree with them.

Whenever you looked at Wriothesley, you felt like you had finally found the place where you belonged.

You were home.

Because home is where he is.

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

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