Sorry y'all, but I'm not going to be on this acc much at all anymore. I'm way too busy with school to post anything, loved all of y'all that liked my old hsr meme posts. ❤️ Another time
not particularly a request if u don't want it to be but as a fellow wriothesley enjoyer I wanted to share this idea
fontaine is based off of france right? so the thought of wrio being able to speak french and absolutely using that to his advantage to be a flirt has been driving me insane. he would be INSUFFERABLE (especially if his s/o isn't fluent) and I'd be loving every second of it
(also love your works <3 it's the main fuel that's been making me so horrifically down bad for him)
OH ?!!? MY GOD ?!?! HEHAKJDJ FUCK I HAVE TO WRITE THIS I CANT NOT !! It's a little short and a little sweet, but i hope you like it!
(Translations listed at the end! I used google translate, so if there's any mistakes, please feel free to correct me!!)
Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!
Wriothesley has started to say things to you on the regular— but for the life of you, you can't understand. It starts first on a slow day. You're lounging in his office, reading a random book you've plucked from his shelves. He's just looking through some papers, doing nothing too important.
Then, Wriothesley glances up from his papers, lets his eyes fall on you. "Tu me rends si heureux."
And you're furrowing your brow in confusion, staring at him. It's a phrase form his mother tongue, that much you know. But you're not sure what it actually means. The way his smile is a bit too mischievous, you don't think that he intends for you to understand, anyway.
"I'm... sorry?" You ask. What else can you say? You're pretty sure from his insufferably smug expression that he's not going to tell you what it means anytime soon. At the very least, you're pretty sure he's not shit talking you to your face.
Your eyes narrow.
Probably.
He can see the question on the tip of your tongue, the suspicious glance you cast his way. Wriothesley just chuckles and goes back to the papers on his desk.
"Don't worry about it, sweetheart."
The next time, he does it as you're having dinner across from each other in the cafeteria. Your meal is halfway done, having been practically shoveled into your mouth. It probably paints an unflattering picture, but you're too hungry to really care. Resting on the table, he's stubbornly gripping your hand in his own, fingers intertwined. Even though it made eating much more difficult, Wriothesley would scowl and reach back for your hand whenever you tried to take it away, so you just considered it a lost cause.
Lost in filling your stomach, you're almost don't hear what he says.
"Je ne peux pas imaginer le reste de ma vie sans toi." Wriothesley mumbles, thumb stroking the back of your hand tenderly.
You narrow your eyes again, a silent question.
Wriothesley just smiles secretively and raises a hand to his mouth, miming zipping up his lips and locking it with a key, then tossing it away. He winks at you, and you roll your eyes. No answers today, apparently.
"Are you ever going to tell me what it is you've been saying?" you ask once you've swallowed your food.
"Mm. Maybe one day. If I feel like it." And he's grinning again— the cheeky one that he wears whenever he one-ups you, that showcases his dimples and his teeth. You kinda want to punch him, but it also makes you remember how handsome he is when he smiles.
"Fine," you grumble, sighing. You busy yourself once more with your food. "Keep your fucking secrets. See if I care." You do. A lot, actually. You're very curious now.
Wriotheley just smiles and lets you eat.
But he slips up, one evening. To be fair, it's late at night after a hard day's work. Both of you are exhausted— a tangled mass of limbs and sheets on your bed, both of you halfway asleep already.
Your head is cushioned on his chest, nose pressed against his collarbone, and his arms wrapped around you. Wriothesley's nose is pressed into the crown of your head, breathing in the smell of your hair. His breaths are deep and slow, and you can tell without even looking that his eyes are fighting to stay awake. You're no better, though.
Just before you nod off though, you can feel the brush of his lips against your hair. "Je t'aime. Je t'aime tellement," he says quietly, lips brushing the strands in affection. If you had just been the slightest bit more asleep, you might not have even heard it.
But while you may not be fluent in his language, may know little else aside from the most basic of phrases, you recognize that one. It's hard not to, when it's arguably one of the most popular phrases from his mother tongue. Je t'aime. I love you.
Something gooey finds its way into your chest, and the blood rushes through your body as you're overcome by the sheer sweetness of the man you're laying on. Slowly, you crane your neck up to face him, and can see the slight widening of his eyes, the quiet oh shit that runs through his head.
"Is that what you've been saying?" you ask, voice just as quiet as his. Wriothesley hesitates, arms tightening their hold on you.
"... generally, yes."
You smile gently, scooching up enough to press a kiss to his jaw, then to his lips, giggling when he leans down to make it easier for you. You bury your head into his neck then, resting your cheek against him. "I love you too, Wrio."
Translations:
Tu me rends si heureux. — You make me so happy.
Je ne peux pas imaginer le reste de ma vie sans toi. — I can't imagine the rest of my life without you.
Je t'aime. Je t'aime tellement. — I love you. I love you so much
I just read the “you won’t regret marrying me” for wriothesley and let me tell that this man is definitely going to cry on the wedding day
related 'you won't regret marrying me' fanfic here ! OH OH OH OHHH HE SO TOTALLY WOULD ?!??!? Like;;;; anon. when i tell u i got a vision when i received ur ask and i had to type it IMMEDIATELY thank u for sharing your thoughts im a mess now LMAO
Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!
GUYS I LOVE THIS ONE SO MUCH I ALMOST CRIED WRITING IT DONT LET IT FLOP PLS 💔
i like to think that you're both a bit unconventional with how you go about your wedding— for one, you had gone to each others' fitting for your wedding day outfit. Wriothesley had damn near cried when he saw you in the wedding garb that you would eventually choose as your piece— he had barely managed to keep it together when he saw his engagement ring on your finger, and you dressed in white, looking so breathtaking, and his to be together with forever.
He had to turn towards the corner in the fitting room for a second, frantically wiping his eyes and willing not to cry, because he was up next after you, and he didn't want his fitting to be with puffy red eyes. You had clung to his back, giggling at how cute and sweet he is, all the while you petted his back and hair comfortingly.
On your wedding day, though? All cards are off the table. He doesn't care about keeping his composure in front of the audience. Doesn't care that even Furina is there, or that Neuvillette is there, or even Navia or the traveller. He doesn't give two shits about how he's the Duke of Meropide, and he has a reputation to uphold.
The moment those big, grand doors open and you walk yourself down the aisle, a beaming grin on your face, he fucking cracks. He sniffles first, and there's itchiness in his eyes, and then fuck, tears are genuinely welling up in his eyes, and he groans, pressing his palms into his eyes to stem the stream of tears, but it's absolutely no use.
Because fuck, he's here, you're here, you're both wearing white, there are the rings, and you're about to get married. You're about to spend the rest of your life with him, and you look so excited for it. It makes his stomach flip like crazy, makes his brain turn to mush because he loves you so much, doesn't want to spend a single day not being yours for the rest of eternity.
He sobs into his hands, and Neuvillette, who's officiating the wedding, hands him a handkerchief, which he dabs at his eyes with, to no use. He can't stop the tears from flowing, because he's so happy.
And oh, you have a trembling smile on your face when you reach him, willing yourself not to cry too because you just know that if you do, you'll be a teary mess just like him, and the wedding will never finish at that rate. But you can't stop yourself from rushing into his chest, wrapping your arms around to hold him, and he holds you back too on pure instinct— buries his face in your hair as you bury yours in the crook of his neck.
"We made it," you tell him, squeezing his body to yours, smiling through the tears.
Wriothesley gives another hiccuping sob, holding you so close you think you could pop like a balloon. He leans further into you, like he wants to melt into your very person. "Yeah, sweetheart," he breathes, voice shaky. "We made it."
It's nothing dramatic. It's nothing grand. It's simple and easy and so very very very much like him.
It happens in the early morning, under the sheets of your shared bed. It's barely past five in the morning, and although you're still one foot in dreamland and one foot in the waking world, Wriothesley has been up for a while now. His chest is pressed to your back and curled around your person. Ever since he had awoke some time before you had, his hands had busied themselves with playing with yours. In particular, you couldn't help how he seemed to frequently trace the knuckle of the fourth finger of your left hand.
You don't say anything even when you rouse from your slumber, and Wriothesley doesn't stop playing with your hands. Even as you slowly wake up, as he presses kisses to the part of your nape not covered by your (his) shirt, you don't ask him what his hands are doing.
It's Wriothesley that finally speaks first. He buries his face into the base of your neck, break shaky when he inhales. So vulnerable, here, under the soft sheets. So fragile and easy to break. You could shatter him with just a few words, if you so desired. And he'd let you, too.
"We don't have to get married any time soon," he begins quietly, voice so low you almost don't hear. "Not if you don't want to. Hell, if you don't want to, we don't have to get married, either. I'm happy just being together with you, whatever that may be."
Wriothesley pauses and his breath hitches in his chest. His hands pause, enveloping yours, and in an act of comfort you lace your fingers together and reassuring squeeze.
I'm here. I'm listening.
His hand squeezes back, and his heart restarts in his chest.
"But if you let me," he clears his throat, "If you let me, I’ll prove to you that I’m worth spending your life with. That I'll make you happy. That you won’t regret marrying me."
And you want to turn around so badly. Want to see the shine in his eyes and the flush high on his cheeks. Want to take in how the warm fluorescent lights bounce against his hair and his cool grey eyes. But his hold on you is tight (but never painful. Never anything that cages you in.) and you can do little more than hum and bring one of his hands to the plush of your lips in a soft kiss.
You pause to think your words through, and Wriothesley buries his face into the back of your neck again. Goosbumps rise wherever his breath touches, and you can feel how his hands subtly tremble in your hold.
“You don’t have to. Prove yourself, I mean." You bite your lip. If he's nervous, so are you. But you know what you want, and it is him. "I’d be more than happy to call you my husband one day, you know.”
And he doesn't say anything more— not a word or a gasp or even a sob. He just burrows further into the back of your neck and his hands come to pull you closer against him. His hands are so warm on your chest, where they have anchored against you, and the race of his heart against your back is enough for you to want to hold him tight and never let him go.
Nothing else needs to be said between you. He keeps holding you as the morning grows later with each passing second, never faltering. You don't bother to squirm, content to sit in his embrace for as long as he likes. You don't mention the way his hands keep trembling against you, even after his fear and nervousness should have passed. Instead you take them into yours and once more press a kiss to the scarred knuckles, just as you always have.
Taking his left hand into your own, you look at them side by side, and wonder how pretty it would look when you both get matching rings.
!! Hello !! Haven't even had a shot of tequila for the night yet but I'm already writing, look at me go !!
[ #KAZUHA ]
This guy has the absolute comfiest sweaters and hoodies!!
They're the ones that are warm and soft from use, and that you know he's cared for over the years. They're also so good because they smell like him, too! Smells like sunshine and a light breeze, if that makes sense?
Kazuha's hoodies and sweaters are practically free range for you— at this point, half of the cozy clothes in your closet have been pilfered from him!
And he always encourages you to steal from him, too!
It's a cold day out today? Here, have his hoodie. No, don't worry about returning it. Just keep it over at yours and he'll pick it up sometime. (spoiler: he does not, in fact, pick it up)
Oh, he left his sweater behind at your place while you were hanging out? It's okay, just keep it for now.
But really, he does enjoy seeing you in his clothes! Like, for one, it's you wearing his cozy clothes, so he's insanely attracted to you when he sees that. And for another, it makes him happy seeing you all cozy and bundled up, you know?
[ #WRIOTHESLEY ]
For Wrio, his leather jackets and black button ups are the premiere option to snatch from him.
His jackets are insanely comfy! His leather jackets always keep you warm, and the way it drapes over you and smells like his cologne makes it kinda feel like he's giving you a hug :(
And as for his button ups, he buys the high quality ones, you know? None of those itchy ones that chafe or anything. His button ups are so good to wear, whether you button them up and use them as an actual shirt, or just wear them as an outer layer over another shirt.
Funny thing is though, though Wriothesley doesn't really care about which of his button ups you snatch, he's very particular when it comes to his jackets.
Like, he'll let you borrow them of course, and if you're on a date and you get cold, he'll drape it on your shoulders and let you wear it while he walks you home. He even lets you steal a few right out of his closet and scurry them over to your home, pretending that he doesn't see that your bag is noticeably bigger than when you came over.
But sometimes, you'll get a call from him late at night— "Babe, is my jacket with you?" "Which one?" He then names one of the many, many jackets you've stolen. "Oh. Yeah iIthink I have that with me." "Can I come over and get it? I want to use it when I go for a drive tonight." "At this hour?"
[ #NEUVILLETTE ]
Oh, Neuvillette's coats are to die for!
They're the good ones, the designer ones. My guy doesn't shop in the discount aisle— no, he's bougie.
His coats are incredibly cozy and stylish without being too bulky or heavy. They're big, though! Neuvillette is a big, tall guy, and his coats are the same.
It's almost like drowning in an ocean of (expensive) fabric when you steal borrow his coats. But you do it so often because they're so so so warm and cozy!
You always snatch some of his coats if you can— and Neuvi never voices any complaints. He just smiles, and sometimes even makes playful jokes about you going shopping in his closet.
It's to the point that whenever the weather's cold and he comes to pick you up, he brings a spare coat just for you.
He does the thing where he puts it on you, straightens it out, fixes your collar, makes sure you look presentable and nods to himself when he deems that you are— then ends it all with a kiss placed on your nose.
"That's your rental fee for all my clothes you've scurried away," apparently.
[ #KAVEH ]
HIS SWEATERS !!! They are sooo comfy !!
Kaveh buys his sweaters oversized and the kind that gives him sweater paws— those are the ones that you always go for when given free reign of his closet.
Can you help it?! They're oversized sweaters with sweater paws! And they smell like your boyfriend! And they're incredibly comfortable !
It's especially cute when you both go out in his sweaters— both of you look so cozy and warm, wrapped up in your big sweaters, holding sweater paws.
He probably spritzes his clothes with whatever perfume or cologne catches his fancy that week, so that you smell similar to him when you go out.
And! If one of the sweaters has one of those kangaroo pouch things, you guys hold hands inside the kangaroo pouch, so your hands stay nice and warm <3
He's such a cutie about it too. Kaveh always grins sooo wide when he sees you wearing his sweaters. Makes sure to hug you lots too, because you look insanely huggable like that.
No but ehat if like wriothesley had an s/o or maybe someone hes romantically interested in who he sees mostly in the fortress and then they go outside together one day and he's like "i never realized how beatiful you are in the sun" and hes all cute and blushin and shit OUGGH OUGH OUGH I'VE BEEN SHOT THROUGH THE HEART WRAAAAAGHHSHDH
OUGHHASDAS YOU AND ME BOTH U AND ME BOTH
Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!
When you set out on your day off, you weren't expecting to run into your boss— certainly not in a cafe, of all places.
"Your grace?" you ask hesitantly, approaching the table that Wriothesley and Sigewinne occupy. There's a litany of small desserts before them, as well as a teapot and two tea cups filled with rather aromatic tea. You run a hand over your top, trying to smooth any wrinkles that there may be. You certainly hadn't been expecting to run into him here! Oh, if you knew you would have dressed a little bit better. As it is, you were just here to hunt down an afternoon snack, and you certainly looked it.
But Wriothesley lights up at the sight of you, a small smile curling the edge of his lips. Sigewinne grins too, waving in welcome.
"Hello there!" She says pleasantly. "We weren't expecting to see you here!"
You chuckle. "Same here."
"But it seems like you've come at quite the opportune moment," Wriothesley says, beckoning you into one of the empty chairs of the table. He straightens a bit, slouching less in his seat, and leans forward on his elbows. That smile is still on his lips, and his gaze hasn't left you for a second. "I'm afraid we may have gone a bit overboard with our order. You'd be doing us a favor by having some." Sigewinne nods in agreement. You feel the blood rush to your face though, turning it warm.
"Oh, I couldn't impose like that, your grace—"
"Sure you can," Wriothesley's smile broadens then, and you get a hint of his canines in his smile. A slight hint of a dimple on his cheek. "I already said that you'd be doing us a favor, didn't I? Besides, you can drop the 'your grace' while we're here. Treat this like... a serendipitous meeting between friendly parties, rather than between coworkers."
And oh, if you thought that your face was warm before, it had practically doubled in temperature now. Not wanting him to hurry you any further, you plop in the seat. Sigewinne giggles, pouring you a cup of tea and handing it to you which you take with a word of thanks.
"Here," says Wriothesley. He gestures for you to hand him your plate, and as you do so, your fingers brush. It sends tingles up your arm, and you damn near drop the plate out of reflex. Wriothesley, judging by how he clears his throat, his ears turning several shades redder, is not unaffected either.
He fills the plate with lots of confectionaries, desserts, finger foods, and sandwiches, and all sorts of other things. Sigewinne points out some things for him to give you on occasion, and he happily takes her suggestion and gives you some. Well. You've certainly got your afternoon snack and thensome.
As Wriothesley hands the plate back to you, he pauses just as you've taken hold of the other side.
"You know... I think this is the first time I've seen you in broad daylight," he muses. His cheeks redden a bit, and he chuckles at himself under his breath. "The sunlight makes you look even more stunning than usual."
And you make an embarrassed noise, because archons, you might just be in need of medical assistance by the end of this, because there is no way the flipping of your heart is normal. You take the plate, looking down and away so he doesn't see your flustered expression, but he has anyway, if his small laugh is any indication.
"If you ever want to come back here, feel free to say so. My treat." Wriothesley offers, gazing at you with his chin resting on his palm. He looks at you like he never wants to look away. "I'd be happy to see you in this sunshine again, if you'd let me."
hay it's me the strip poker kazuha anon but i am now a weak mess for neuvillette. you did an awesome job when you wrote about whether wrio would initiate things etc in a relationship - what are your thoughts for mr neuvillette? 👀👀👀
?!?!?!?!?!??! YO ?!??!! STRIP POKER KAZUHA ANON HELLO OH MY GOD ?! you're still here ?!?!? AAAAA HI HI HI I MISSED YOU ?!?! THANK YOU FOR STILL BEING AROUND ?!?!?!
Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!
Frankly speaking, I don't think Neuvillette would be one to initiate a relationship with you, but he will lay it on pretty heavily that he's into you, and will wait for you to figure things out on your own.
Noovy is an absolute sweetheart, and if he's into you, he only becomes more of a sweetheart. He begins bringing you small gifts that he thinks you'll like: a simple necklace he thought suits you. A flower that he saw on the way to the Palais Mermonia. Even small snacks from food vendors that he passes by that he thinks suit your tastes— he never misses an opportunity to get you some gifts.
He begins to dote on you more and more as time goes by. He's careful in his concerns, making sure that it's clear that they come from a place of sincerity rather than with ulterior motives.
"Have you eaten yet?" Neuvillette asks, receiving the papers from your outstretched hand. He's careful to keep his tone neutral, but the furrow in his brows betrays some of his concern.
"Oh, no I haven't yet," you tell him, shifting on your feet. "There were some documents that came right during my lunch break, and I wasn't feeling hungry yet so I volunteered to go through them so that Sedene and the others could have their break."
Neuvillette blinks at you, staring for just a second, then he's placing his pen down and rising to his feet. You scramble to attention as he rounds the desk, a smile on his face.
"Well, we can't have you working on an empty stomach, can we? Come, I'll treat you somewhere. If that's alright with you, of course."
At some point, practically everyone knows that the Iudex of Fontaine is doing his best to court you.
The melusines are some of the first to know, easily picking up on the subtle flush on Neuvillette's face whenever you talk to him or when your fingers so much as brush. They giggle whenever they see you two together, but are still careful to make sure you don't see them. Monsieur Neuvillette wouldn't want them to ruin the surprise now, would he?
The citizens of Fontaine are aware of how you've got Neuvillette wrapped around your finger. After all, he's seen most often with you whenever he wanders the city, and it's hard to miss the fond glances he shoots your way, or how he always vehemently insists on covering the bill whenever you both eat out. Once even going so far as to pluck the mora right out of your hand so you couldn't pay!
Even Wriothesley, of all people, who lives in a fortress at the bottom of the ocean hears the news that Neuvillette has been courting someone. He comes up to the Palais Mermonia the very same weekend that he hears the news, all just to see Neuvillette practically melt the second you step into the room. Wriothesley grins the entire time like he's watching a particularly entertaining performance, and Neuvillette has never wanted to kick him out of his office more.
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