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felisol · 3 months

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For you, I'd steal the stars w/ Wriothesley

Modern Teyvat Au! Wriothesley x f! reader

cw: fluff, minor hint at soulmates.

word count: 3.5k

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠...

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Wriothesley couldn’t recall how he found himself standing on an unimportant cyan Tuesday afternoon in Autumn, staring at a painting in the Fontaine National Art Gallery not too far away from his office. The painting, Wriothesley reckoned, couldn’t be any larger than two sheets of parchment and yet it hung alone in the centre of a white room. A masterpiece of simplicity. Above him, a giant white ball spun in slowed motion as plain as the rest of the room, a compliment to the art. The canvas however was a deep navy blue, the same shade as the night. Covering this deep blue were speckles of white, spontaneous in their positions. Some gathered in clustered constellations unknown to man. Others, singular. In the middle a golden speck shone, overwhelming the image the longer he stared. He stared and stared until it appeared to be shooting out of the blues and whites and filling his vision. He couldn’t for the life of him understand why such a simple concept had moved him. Why an image alone in a room far away from all the other extravagant displays of artistic prowess had managed to give him such peace; for in the time that he had been staring at the image—lost to time and the world—he had experienced a thousand lifetimes. He’d been everything; from a small sapling to an ancient oak tree; from a huge wolf to a small squirrel; from a primordial narwhal to a tiny transparent fish swimming in the bottom of the darkest blue seas. He’d experienced nations crumbling and rising again and loves that transcended time and space. All beautiful. All but a millisecond in the eyes of the vast universe.

“To you in every universe,” an unknown voice said.

“Huh?” Wriothesley responded, his attention stolen. His reality returned to the same bleak normality which he had just escaped.

You nodded to the painting, “That’s its name.”

He stared at you with an uncertainty reserved for strangers. He hadn’t heard your footsteps as you entered the room nor had he seen you stop beside him, and yet here you were. A stranger. A golden fleck in his blue world.

“Are you interested in it?” You spoke using a soft tone that Wriothesley particularly liked. He hadn’t heard a voice like yours before. He hadn’t heard much past the same blue tones of business tycoons and wannabe entrepreneurs who wished to fill his and their pockets with mounds of green. Being a successful CEO of a Fortune 100 made one lose the many colours of life to shades of blue and green. At the end of a long day, he often found himself wondering what the sun might look like beyond the aeons of blue.

“In what, sorry?” he responded, confused.

“The painting.”

He noticed your name card pinned to your collar announcing you as a member of staff from the gallery.

“Oh, yes. I am,” he said almost sheepishly; his interest was still new to him. Wriothesley always prided himself on his curiosity though he’d never thought himself to be one interested in art. Yet on that random Tuesday when his assistant had got his meal wrong, he’d found himself wandering into the art gallery as if compelled by some supernatural force. “I’ve never seen this before.”

Wriothesley was sure that if he had known such a masterpiece was here, he would have come to see it.

“It’s new,” you said.

“Ah, I see.”

He felt your eyes linger on him for a second before you continued. “Most people are disappointed when they pay the five thousand mora to get past the security only to see this.”

He supposed objectively that he could understand why. If one was hoping for a room of mirrors or a light show they were bound to be disappointed. Then again five thousand mora did buy a meal deal at the local supermarket. But what was five thousand mora to him?

“How long has it been here?” he asked.

“As of right now?” you appeared to be looking up as if calculating, “Three weeks.”

“And how are the numbers?”

“At first people came for the exclusivity and the curiosity. But because the artist is anonymous, they didn’t advertise their art. It’s their thing, I guess. A sort of authorless art. I think it lets people project more. You know? Imagine themselves as the artist…”

Wriothesley did know. Even as a successful man, more than half of the projects happening in Fontaine were due to his discreet puppeteering. He did not like the limelight. He’d make appearances here and there but the people who needed to know him knew him, and those who didn’t could read the credits. It was his philosophy that one didn’t need their face everywhere to do their job.

“But now… I guess we are lucky if we get twenty people in a week. There is other interesting stuff to look at in the gallery so…” your speech faded off.

Wriothesley hummed in acknowledgement.

“Honestly, there aren’t many people that show true interest in this piece,” you continued.

He could feel the excitement seep from your pores like solar flares, and he almost found himself stepping closer to absorb its heat.

“Do you want to know about it?” you asked suddenly.

Buzz Buzz.

“No,” he hesitated, glancing down at his phone. “Thank you.”

Your shoulders dropped but your smile remained.

“It’s okay.”

“Perhaps another time?” He found himself saying. He hadn’t known why he had proposed that. He had no intentions of coming back. He didn’t have the time to come back. To see; to stop; to experience, but he would. He knew that he would. Even if he had to make the time. He’d return in hopes of experiencing that feeling once more.

On a random cerulean Tuesday in Winter, he returned. It had been two months since he first witnessed the painting. Once again, he had wandered into the art gallery during a lunch break. And once again, he stood in the empty room. Alone. Lost in a dream within a dream. This time, as he stared into the painting that had once again entranced him, he became a blade of grass growing next to a beautiful flower. Watching it; admiring it; loving it. He couldn’t understand why in every instance you seemed to seep in. He didn’t know you, and yet it felt like he’d seen you in everything since that day.

‘A moment where time stops, worries fade, and everything feels right. That is the feeling we are chasing. That is the feeling we must never stop searching for. In those moments, I will recognise you in every lifetime. Across every state of being. My heart will seek out yours like eyes do at night, in search of a northern star. I will seek you in every beautiful thing. To you in every universe—’

Wriothesley leaned back, perplexed. The plaques lining the walls of the white room and under the ball held no information about the artist. What had it meant? He couldn’t fathom the thought of something so abstract.

“It’s you,” that same voice from before said from behind, tearing Wriothesley from his thoughts. He didn’t need to turn to know that the owner of the voice was you. Your silent presence had a magnetic quality, pulling him in without him realising it, and suddenly there you were, standing beside him.

“Hello,” he said, though the greeting felt insufficient when he laid eyes upon you. He couldn’t decide whether you had grown more beautiful, or his memory hadn’t held up the splendour that took his breath away when you stood with that genuine smile on your face, and your hands tucked into the pockets of the blazer you wore. You looked like a painting yourself, like something that had just stepped out of a Constable landscape and wandered into the gallery. An angelic apparition. You had a gentle sway to you like you couldn’t stand completely still. Wriothesley wondered if a gust of wind were to blow through the white room, would it blow you away too, like a leaf flees a tree in a breezy morning?

“Did you experience something different this time?” you asked.

Wriothesley’s features darkened. You couldn’t possibly see into his mind, and he wasn’t one to wear his emotions on his face. He’d learnt not to.

“Have I been standing here for a while?”

You shook your head. “No more than ten minutes.”

He blinked.

“It felt like longer, right?” you asked, cheerily.

“A lifetime,” he admitted, his voice softening.

“It does that.”

“Should I leave? Am I holding up the line?”

“No, you’re good,” you said. “No one comes here anymore anyway.”

You turned to the painting. It hadn’t changed, and yet for Wriothesley, the beauty of it seemed to spill out of the edges and illuminate you. Golden. Flickering. He found himself stealing glances at you, an intriguing stranger who had effortlessly piqued his interest. An intriguing stranger, who he only knew the name of and nothing else. Unconsciously, he leaned toward you, and you did too, as if pulled into each other’s gravitational field.

“Why is it alone?” he asked.

You stepped back and looked up at the giant white ball above, spinning in slow circles, and then to the plain white walls in the otherwise stark room.

“It’s not alone.”

“But it is,” he snapped, growing quite annoyed with his inability to understand your abstractness.

Wriothesley liked answers. Puzzles were fun, and they had their place in his world, but answers were like keys to locked doors.

“What makes you think that just because there is a singular piece in a room the whole place is not art?”

His brows furrowed.

Your smile widened as you turned to the painting. “If this room was filled with paintings, would you have noticed it?”

“No.”

“Why?”

He didn’t have time for this, but he couldn’t seem to tear himself away from you and your questions.

You took another step back, and Wriothesley watched you as you stopped directly under the giant white ball this time. With an open hand outstretched to him, he gathered that you wanted him to join you in the centre of the room. Eventually, he took one long step, and then another till he stood closer to you but not beside.

You lowered your hand.

“Let me put this another way for you, when you sit in your—” you looked him over, “meetings, and you attend your fancy work dinners, do you notice all the art around you? The furniture, the architecture, the choices made by your colleagues to look expensive. Do you stop to take it all in or does it become lost in singular shades of monotony?”

Wriothesley pictured the blues and greens of his life but dismissed the idea of you understanding his thoughts. “You don’t make millions by not noticing.”

You shrugged. “But you do become numb to it.”

“Correct me if I am wrong, but you’re saying that the whole room is art?”

Wriothesley couldn’t say that he was fond of modern art, but he did appreciate that it had a time and place.

“This room, stark and colourless, is as much a part of the painting as the painting itself. Without the painting, the room remains devoid of colour, but with it, the room comes to life. It’s as if the artist intended the painting to be a guide in an otherwise monochrome world. By which, you who see it realise that the painting was never confined to the canvas. But can see the beauty of the entire world, in all lifetimes, across universes. Or maybe it is something completely different, art is subjective after all.”

“To you, the world must be a beautiful place,” he mused aloud.

“And yours is not?”

He chuckled, “I can assure you it’s not as vibrant as yours.”

“What makes you think that mine is vibrant? What if mine is like this room? Bland and empty.”

He wouldn’t believe it, but then again, he wouldn’t not believe it either. It was always the people with the brightest souls who hurt the most.

“I’ll do you one better. What if it’s mine?” he asked.

“Are you seeing your golden star right now then, mister?”

“It’s Wriothesley, and maybe.”

Wriothesley noticed your eyes widen briefly before you suppressed a small smile and took a step back. “Well Wriothesley, I’ll have to agree. It is yours. It’s your mind, your world. The painting is your universe. At least that’s how I think the artist intended it.”

“There is no artist,” he said.

You tilted your head to the side slightly and clasped your hands behind your back.

“There always is,” you said and glanced back at him before returning to the painting. “If you have the time to hear about them, I will gladly tell you.”

In his pocket, his phone rang, filling the silent room. His time was up once again.

“Next time,” he said.

A sadness flashed across your eyes before you smiled.

“Sure,” you said.

A month passed, and the sad lingering look in your eyes haunted Wriothesley through his blue days. Green still rained from the sky, but every time he caught a glimmer of gold passing his office or on the street, he’d imagine it was you.

On a random Wednesday in Winter, one that felt more azure than usual, Wriothesley came again to the gallery. But this time, the white room was filled with modern paintings. Gone was the white ball and the night sky painting, and you. Gone was the security guard who would grumble every time Wriothesley dropped a small wad of mora in the man’s hand to let him into the paid exhibit. In its place, people heaved; phone cameras flashed and made snapping noises as they posed before the art, hoping to add it to their social media feed. Wriothesley didn’t enter the room; he couldn’t. He didn’t like crowded places, and none of the art was of interest to him. And none of them were you.

Wriothesley cleared his throat and straightened his tie as he approached the help desk by the entrance of the gallery. Behind it sat an older man, staring down at his mobile phone, humming along to a Vocaloid song that played in his earbuds. Beside him, a younger man, barely eighteen, who looked excited at the possibility of not staring into space any longer, waved Wriothesley over.

“Can I help you, sir?” the young man said. His name card, Timmie, glimmered under the artificial light.

“Yes, I think you can,” Wriothesley began. “There was an exhibit here about a month ago. One with a singular painting in it—no artist.” He wanted to ask about you but thought better than to do that.

“No artist?” Timmie asked.

“Yes, no artist.”

Timmie rubbed the back of his neck as if he couldn’t comprehend the idea of an exhibition without an artist.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“I am.”

After apologising quickly, he began typing aggressively at his keyboard. Typing and then deleting and typing again. Presumably, he was bringing up the list of art that had been exhibited over the last year. Wriothesley waited, tapping his foot, and watching people pass, nodding at the occasional person who stared.

“I’m sorry, Sir, I can’t seem to find the exhibit you are talking about.”

Wriothesley frowned.

“Oh? But it was here last month?”

“It’s not showing up on my files without an artist’s name unless you remember the name of the piece?”

“To you in every universe,” Wriothesley said, remembering only the colour of your eyes and the gold aura that seemed to follow you. He was sure he’d remember that name until all the stars left the sky.

Timmie typed it out, and for a second, Wriothesley had hope. Until Timmie looked up and said, “Oh, that. It’s moved temporarily to the International Modern Art Gallery in Inazuma.”

“Inazuma?”

Timmie nodded.

“As has the artist,” His eyes widened. “Who would have thought? She’s one of our own.”

Wriothesley perked up at the information.

“Did you happen to have her name by any chance so I might look her up?” Wriothesley asked, trying to mask his desperation with cool indifference.

“I mean if you want,” Timmie said.

In the art shop attached to the gallery on an emerald Friday, more than a year later in Spring, Wriothesley found you assisting an elderly woman, wrapping a print of a painting. He paused, captivated by the sight of you. You were even more stunning despite the time passed and in comparison to the modelesque women he saw in his everyday life. Your beauty, accentuated by the soft lighting of the shop, and your radiant smile, seemed to light him up inside. He lingered amongst the shelves waiting for you to finish up with the elder woman, who was eagerly telling you about her seventh great-grandchild, to which you seemed to listen with just as much interest. He found himself mirroring your joy as he admired you until he stumbled upon a postcard of the piece he had spent months searching for. The one that had moved to Inazuma, then to Mondstadt, then to Snezhnaya, Sumeru, and Natlan, till he bought it at an auction, white room, giant spinning ball, blue painting, plaques, and all. In this picture, the last plaque was too small to be noticed, just as it had been when he’d stared at it both times in person. But he knew it was there, the final part of the collection of plaques. And the full name of the exhibition.

When the elderly woman left, he approached you, his eyes locked on you who had become his universe.

You looked up and smiled, “It’s a beautiful piece,” you said, gesturing to the postcard in his hand.

“It is,” Wriothesley replied, his gaze fixed on you rather than the inferior postcard print. Nothing could compare to the real thing. “But the exhibition has gone.”

“It has,” you confirmed. He was sure you knew that it was him who bought it. It wasn’t hard to figure out, he was obvious despite his outward coolness.

“Are you leaving too?” he asked, a hint of concern in his voice. He had thought you were a dream. You’d been gone for so long that he feared he would have to wait a lifetime.

“Why?”

“You weren’t here,” he said, trying to keep his voice casual.

“I was volunteering at a cat shelter,” you lied. “Did you miss me?”

“Mildly,” he responded, though he too was lying.

“Only mildly?”

He laughed, “Okay, maybe a bit more—”

“Just a bit?” you interrupted, your eyes sparkling.

“I missed your commentary,” he admitted.

“My commentary? Wow,” you said, feigning surprise.

“Oh? Not enough for you?”

You shook your head, your eyes dancing with mirth. He pretended to think, but in truth, he was searching for a simple way to express such complex emotions.

“I missed your sunny presence,” he finally said.

“My sunny presence?” you echoed.

“Are you going to keep repeating everything I say?” he asked, unable to suppress his smile.

“Maybe,” You leaned forward on the counter, your intelligent eyes tearing down his icy walls. “What have you been up to? Aside from missing me, of course.”

“I just abandoned a meeting to chase after a shooting star,” Wriothesley confessed, for once wearing his heart on his sleeve.

“And? Did you catch it?”

“Half of it,” he affirmed. “When does your shift end?”

“I’m just finishing. Why?” you asked, curiosity piqued.

“I was wondering if you’d like to grab a coffee with me?” he proposed, hoping he wasn’t too late. He’d already blocked off the rest of the night. He’d block off the rest of the year if he knew he’d get to spend it with you.

“I don’t like to drink coffee this late.”

“Tea, then? With dinner? I would love to hear about the artist of that piece. What was its full name again? For the painting and the room.”

“To you in every universe—” you began.

“For you, I’d steal the stars,” he finished. “Very sneaky of you by the way.”

Your lips parted as you took in a breath.

Wriothesley could feel every nerve in his body fighting to touch you, to be closer to you. You who brought gold into his monotonous world. You who he’d steal all the stars in the universe to be closer to.

“You know I never believed in coincidences,” Wriothesley said.

“Neither have I,” you said.

“I learned a long time ago that if you want something you have to fight for it. So, no pressure of course, but does tea and dinner sound good?”

Your grin was a small act that set his night sky ablaze with more glimmers of gold. To him, the shop couldn’t be filled with any more colours than they were then. Gone were the shades of green and blue, washed away by a spectrum of magnificence; where suddenly he was him and you were you, existing in the same universe.

“It sounds perfect,” you said.

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KO-FI MASTERLIST

#RAAAAAAAAAH #OH #MY #GOD #YIPPEEE #MEEEEEEOOOOOW

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felisol · 3 months

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we fucked up

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felisol · 3 months

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You‘re a mermaid, and there‘s a person you always love visiting. Focalors, the one who controls the water around you.

She always came to the empty beach, only to see you, a pretty mermaid the archon has taken interest in. You always come out of the water waving at her, and it truly makes her heart melt. She could turn you into human any time, just not now.

Everyday, it‘s like this. She waits and waits for you always at the same time, waiting until she sees your head popping out of the water.

“Pretty girl, come here.“

You smile sweetly, and god, she loves your pretty smiles. You swim towards her, slowly crawling onto the sand before falling gently into her arms. She gently rocks your back up and down, resting her head against your shoulder.

”I missed you..did you too?“

You couldn‘t speak much human language as you only live in the water, but you can say a couple of words, and understand some of them.

“M…mhm.“

She chuckles softly and gives your forehead a small kiss, then both of your cheeks. It‘s like the both of you are partners in love.

“My dear, will you take care of someone for me if I suddenly disappear one day?“

Huh..? You didn‘t quite understand a couple of her words but you nod nonetheless. Focalors reaches out to her bag next to her and takes out a blue flower crown that fits perfectly on top of your head.

“There, it belongs to you now. Hah, you look gorgeous, my mermaid.“

After some while, she stands up and gives you a small wave before walking away, and you swim back into the water, ready to meet her again tomorrow.

But, she hasn‘t been coming back for a while now. Why? You kept looking up at the time she was supposed to come, but she‘s not there. A day later, another day later…no visit.

Months later, you kept looking up to the water if she‘s there. Nobody. You go back down the water and swim back to your underwater house, putting down the blue flower crown you always had on, on a table.

But something happened. A person visited the beach, and your head pops up to see a woman with the same blue heterochromia eyes as Focalors, the same hair but short, and has a blue top hat with blue-black colored clothing. She looks like Focalors, you thought.

The blue womans eyes slightly widen, and she comes closer, to look at you, a little surprised to see a mermaid in the waters of Fontaine.

“Hm?“

As the woman crouches down to look at you, you suddenly jump on top of her and hug her tightly with a big smile. The sudden movement made her gasp.

“..Fo…calors..!“

The blue woman smiles nervously and pats your back, keeping you in her arms, but she is feeling a little uncomfortable.

“…Huh? My name is not…i‘m— i‘m Furina.“

You ignore her words and kept hugging her, and Furina sighs softly, keeping you in her arms, but she feels a little confused and shocked to see a mermaid suddenly hugging her out of nowhere.

So, everyday you‘ve been meeting this woman you thought was Focalors, and Furina seems to have taken a liking on you. She visits you too, bringing desserts to eat together, sitting together to watch the sun and much more.

One day, she came back and sat down on the beach, waiting for you, waiting until she saw your head popping out of the water. Furina gasped excitedly and beckoned you to come closer, and you did.

“Ah, come here, come…I want to show you something!“

As you came closer, she took you in her arms and put a flower crown on top of your head that fits perfectly. It looks like the flower crown you got before, and it makes you smile. Furina chuckles and cups your cheeks before leaning in, leaning in to give you a kiss.

And so she did. She kissed you slowly, and gently. You kissed her back in a sloppy way and it made her chuckle to see that you don‘t know how to kiss, so she pulled away, only to lean back in and kiss you again, helping you a little with the kissing.

Now, Furina pulled back and stared at you with a gentle smile, gently gripping your waist.

“Will you be mine, pretty little mermaid?“

You tilt your head in slight confusion, and she does too. Do you not understand human language? She thought to herself. She tries again to see if you understand.

”Be…um..my girl— girlfriend, pretty mermaid?“

You slightly seem to understand her words more now, and you nod excitedly, letting yourself fall into her arms.

The next day later, Furina came back with a weird blue potion in her hand and handed it to you, staring at you with a waiting look. You take the potion in your hand and drink it slowly, and her eyes widen in excitement to see it working.

Your tail is slowly forming into two human legs, and you‘re now slowly able to walk. Furina gently picks you up, but her eyes widen once again in slight embarrassment to see you naked.

”N—nhhah? Ah— sorry for lo— wait— take my jacket.“

She hands you her jacket and wraps it around your shoulders, but after doing that, you fell down on the ground because you don‘t know how to walk, and she sighs in embarrassment.

Furina gently pulls you up once again and picks you up, starting to carry you bride style away from the beach, with the flower crown still on your head.

After a lot of walking in Fontaine, she finally appears at her apartment and carries you in, walking into her bedroom and slowly putting you on the bed. She opens her closet to take out a pajama set that you can put on, and it‘s also matching with hers.

So after Furina helped you put the clothes on, she puts her own ones on as well and lays down next to you, putting the blanket around the both of you.

”Comfortable?“

”…mm!“

She smiled and took you into her arms, mumbling ”i’ll help you with human language soon, so that you can understand my words of affection.“ before falling asleep. You soon feel asleep too, right in her arms, where you belong.

#RAAAAAAH #OMGGGGGG #WHENISMYTURN #PLEASEE #MEEEEEOOOOW

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felisol · 3 months

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Made With Love [Neuvillette x reader]

Summary: Neuvillette has feelings for you, but doesn't know how to act on them. The Melusines try to help, but ultimately he wants to start and act on his own emotions.

A/N: Neuvilette in the last act of the archon quest made me sad :(

Warnings: dialogue heavy, reader is shorter than Neuvi, reader is a baker

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"Wait- Monsieur Neuvillette!"

A small voice called out. The Iudex was just about to go out for his weekly walk around the city, until a little Melusine stopped him. They were the ones who suggested he go out for some fresh air, since they sensed that he was still stirred from Fontaine's recent crisis along with handling his duties.

"Hm? What is it Sedene?" He asks, stopping in his steps so that she could catch up to him.

"Are you going to see (y/n)?" Sedene asks, putting her hand curiously to her lips. Straight to the point, the Iudex thinks. His breath gets caught in his throat for a split second, surprised at her words.

Despite being familiar with Melusines and their unique sixth sense, he feels like a deer caught in headlights when they suddenly mention you. Because they know about you- yet they never say the obvious thing directly.

The Melusines have noticed a change in his behaviour, and it started happening when he went out for his walks. One day the Chief Justice came back with a box of macarons, which was quite curious since he usually didn't eat sweets, and so he gave one to each Melusine he passed by. As time went on, more Melusines started noticing Neuvilette smiling... for seemingly no reason at all.

No reason except one that the Melusines instantly picked up on. In fact, you didn't exactly have to be a Melusine to recognize you and the Chief Justice's behaviour, both skirting around your feelings for each other. It didn't take them long to find out about you, and find your bakery from the thank you card in the box of macarons he bought. Monsieur Neuvillette in love... how exciting, they think.

However, with developing emotions comes confusion for the Iudex.

"Yes..." Neuvillette answers directly, yet a bit shyly, a bit surprised at his own forwardness with admitting it. Sedene gestures for him to bend down, to which he complies. She reaches up, and uses her hands to smooth out the top of his head.

"There we go, perfect!" she says cheerfully. Neuvillette realized what she was trying to do, and can't help but smile, though a little embarrassed. The Melusines have been trying to encourage him to act on his feelings, or at least make you realize that he is interested in you. Right now, Sedene was preening his hair, as if to get him ready for a date. He could only imagine the thought of that happening.

"Thank you Sedene, it is much appreciated. I'll be off now."

"You're welcome! Have a nice walk, Monsieur Neuvillette!" she calls out, waving cutely.

He should not be nervous since he was just walking to a bakery, is what he tells himself. However, the Iudex finds himself smoothing out his robes, suddenly thankful of Sedene's gesture with his hair. He takes a step inside the cute little shop as the bells dings.

"Welcome- oh! Good afternoon Monsieur Neuvillette!" Your cheery voice greets him warmly. He seemed a little spaced out to you, but you wait patiently for his response. You take the time to admire his features- You can't help but feel that he felt ethereal in a way. You had to admit he was quite handsome, with how beautiful his eyes were, and how tidy he kept his look.

"Good afternoon." You brush your hands on your apron and quickly walk towards him to have your weekly chats. "How was your week?"

"Busy." You say with a long sigh. "We've gotten so many orders lately, it's hard for me to keep up... Actually something interesting happened- I felt like my boss was about to fire me."

"What?" Neuvillette says in a surprised tone.

"No no! I was kidding! Well... kind of. I'm not sure." The truth about the bakery's rising sales was because of Neuvillette's constant visits. People are naturally shocked to see the Iudex doing things like this, which quickly lead to the Steambird catching this on the paper. You guessed the message was that if Neuvillette kept coming in, that meant the pastries were good.

However, your boss was suspicious thinking it was too good to be true. She noticed that Neuvillette would mostly direct his attention to you, which created the comical hypothesis that you were a criminal and the Iudex was onto you.

"She thinks I'm... going to try you?"

"Yes, it's kind of funny actually." You fish out a newspaper from last week, pointing to his picture photographed with headlines about him visiting the bakery. Neuvillette found it odd how he never seen this before. That, and how his hair looks from the back.

"My apologies, I didn't mean to-"

"Don't apologize! Like I said, I find it quite humorous. Besides, I'm happy that more people have enjoyed our baked goods." You quickly reply. He smiles, giving you the relief that he doesn't need to feel sorry. "How have you been, Monsieur Neuvillette?"

"I've been feeling a little troubled as of late..." Usually when you ask him how things are, he provides a neutral answer. But today he decides to let his feelings out a little. You want to ask him, but you're afraid of crossing that boundary, that it might be personal. You feel bad, after seeing his furrowed eyebrows and downcast eyes, seeing how he might be dealing with something difficult.

"I hope things turn out better, Monsieur Neuvillette. If you want, I'm always here to listen." He smiled, which you now realize is quite a rare but beautiful sight. Neuvillette always admired your kindness, and it compelled him to get closer to you. He was aware he is no good at small talk, or even regular casual conversations, but he is willing to get better at it.

"Thank you, (y/n). I'm afraid this is something I have to deal with on my own." You nod, as a way to affirm his statement, then go around your counter to decide to grab something.

"Did Aeval like the raspberry flavoured macaroons I tried making? I wish I could've seen her reaction in person, but I haven't taken the Aquabus lately."

"I'll be sure to ask her for you, though I'm sure she does. Many of the Melusines are fond of your pastries, ever since I brought them some." He remembers that day. Your smile was just as bright as it is today.

"I'm grateful." You say happily... though there's something else you want to mention. "Speaking of the Melusines, is that a gift from them?"

You point to the top of his head.

"Oh, my hair ribbon?" He says fiddling his hand through the back of his hair. However, you shake your head.

"The tiara."

"The tiara-..." Neuvillette moves his hand to the top of his head, where he feels the tiniest tiara. He could not see it, but from the textures he felt some small shells and rocks. The Iudex realizes this was probably what Sedene was doing with his hair. You giggle, catching on that even he is just discovering it. "I suppose it is. Sedene must have put it in my hair just before this."

Neuvillette deducts that the tiara must be something from Melusine tradition that they wear for special occasions or gatherings. You watch as Neuvillette gives a chuckle, probably at how cute the Melusines actions were. And you couldn't disagree.

"You know, the Melusines have been saying a lot of good things about you." You say, trying to lighten the mood.

"Is that so?"

"Yes, they keep telling me how kind and intelligent the Iudex is." Neuvillette nods. The Melusines are very kind to him, so-

"And how tall he is."

Oh.

"And handsome."

Well.

Neuvillette politely covers the lower half of his face with his hand to hide his expression. He gets flustered at the thought of the little Melusines flattering him to you, while knowing their intentions.

"I apologize, I think the Melusines-"

"It's alright! I know they mean well. Besides, it's not really a surprise to me..." You say the last part shyly, but it doesn't go unnoticed by him. In fact it's the part that is highlighted the most, and almost prompted him to blush furiously before you quickly said something else. "I like it, it suits you." you smile, gazing up at him.

"Thank you, (Y/n)." Is all Neuvillette is able to utter, after seeing your beaming smile.

"You're welcome! Take these, they're on the house! I hope it'll make your day better." You present him a small box of some assorted sweets. all different flavours and decorated with different fruits.

"You're too kind, but I couldn't possibly take these without paying you."

"Oh please I insist! They're made with love." you coo the last part as a way to try and convince him, to which Neuvillette finds himself getting flustered at. It's a common phrase, and yet he interprets a slightly different meaning from it.

In his eyes, he finds you attractive, yes- cute when you wipe your nose when he tells you that you have flour on it, radiant when you smile while giving macaroons to the Melusines. He's come to know more about you the more he talked to you, and how kind you were. And though his weekly walks in the city were to ease his mind, he couldn't imagine not seeing you as a part of his routine. You are the reason why he has this foreign feeling inside him- one that makes his heart beat faster when you accidentally brush fingertips with him, or give him a compliment.

"Made with love..." He whispers, mostly to himself. You get flustered when you hear him say those words, thinking he might have caught onto your feelings. You hold your breath to prepare yourself for what he might say. "I quite like that."

To your surprise, the Iudex reveals to you one of his rare subtle smiles as you bring the box to him. You can't help but agree with his statement, except you meant it for how handsome he looks when he does that along with how soft his eyes get. You hope to see it more.

"I keep baking things for the Melusines, though you never told me what kinds of things you like. What do you like, Monsieur Neuvillette?"

For a moment, Neuvillette stares at your lips, then back at your eyes that are looking so sweetly at him. He feels his heart beating faster...

"You..."

He almost says that word- that dangerous one word.

"Neuvillette..." you say so softly that it's almost a whisper. Oh, he's starting to adore how you say his name without formalities. He reaches his hand out briefly, then retracts it and clears his throat. He wants to ask you.

But...

"I apologize." He realizes he doesn't know what he's apologizing for. "I... am not really sure what kinds of things I like."

"Oh." you say a little confused. The Iudex feels a little embarrassed, but you always know exactly what to say. Your smile doesn't falter when he gives his strange answer. "Well, when you do know, tell me!"

"I will." He says, in a little more firm tone- more like a promise.

➽────────────❥

A few hours passed, and it was evening now. It started raining shortly after his recent interaction with you. As the hydro dragon himself says, he does not weep, he is just stirred. He went back to his office, but wasn't able to concentrate on his work. He mulled over the interaction he just had with you. He feels like his emotions are about to leap out of his chest, and they almost did in that moment. Neuvillette is still in the process of getting used to expressing himself. He didn't know what to do next.

He wanted to ask you to dinner or something else you may enjoy, but found himself being held back. He was afraid of making you uncomfortable, the fact that he was essential now responsible for all of Fontaine, and furthermore his true identity which you do not know of. The Iudex even considered writing a letter to the traveller and Paimon to ask them for help, but didn't want to trouble them.

"Neuvillette!" he hears a faint voice call out for him. "Monsieur Neuvillette!"

He turns back, recognizing that the voice was you. But he couldn't see you in the city that was slowly getting more grey... except an umbrella with legs.

"Monsieur Neuvillette- you don't have an umbrella, you're going to get soaked!" you say in concern for him.

He realizes he can't really see your face since the umbrella was covering you... it's quite adorable. It makes him smile for a brief moment. He reaches for the handle and raises it up so that it now covers the both of you. The Iudex's breath gets caught when his throat tightens, when you are revealed to him.

Through his eyes, he can see you telling him something- however, he is not focused on that. He can't help but admire how your eyes glimmer even in these grey skies. How even when he was drenched you are happy to see him.

His overflowing heart cannot stop him anymore, for his free hand reaches to softly cup your cheek, his body bending down to your height. You let out a small gasp and immediately stop talking. Your heart is beating furiously as well.

"May I?" Neuvillette asks you with the most delicate of whispers.

"Yes," you say, unable to contain your smile. "Of course, Neuvillette." Yours and Neuvillette's eyes close as you bring your hands under his damp jaw. He is the one who closes the gap between you two, and kisses you with fervour, while not forgetting to be gentle. His lips are soft, melding with yours perfectly. His hand still holds your cheek throughout with a featherlight touch.

You and Neuvillette are all butterflies when you look into each other's eyes, relishing in what just happened.

"I believe I know the answer to your question earlier." The Iudex says breathlessly. "You have captured my heart, (Y/n)."

"And you have captured mine." You reply lovingly. Though, after saying it out loud, it seems you both knew this is how you felt for a while now.

"If I may ask, would you like to accompany me to have dinner and see a play at the Opera Epiclese after?" Neuvillette finally gets the confidence to express what he wanted to ask you. And he's even happier when he already feels he knows your answer from how you're smiling.

"I'd love to." You say, wrapping your arms around him. He returns the gesture with his one free arm, with both of you basking in the moment for a while before you head to your destination.

"The rain seems to be stopping." You say, gazing up at the sky seeing less droplets fall. Your eyes curiously watch how the rain magically decided to stop.

"So it is..." He does the same, except his eyes quickly fall back to you with a sigh of relief.

➽────────────❥

Thank you for being patient! I hope you all enjoyed. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are appreciated. Stay tuned for a milestone event and more of my drafts being released! <3

#OOOOOHMYGOOOOOOD #RAAAHHHHHHHH #ILOVEHIMM #UEUEUEUEUE

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