Inazuma Mons

Inazuma Mons

*In the Cafeteria*

Savanaclaw student A: You can't just get away with things just because you are people's "favorite". Honestly, no one likes you they just keep you around out of pity

MC (who knows full and well half of these people wouldn't be alive if MC wasn't around): Watch me *walks over and sits at a table with Leona on the rare day he's in the cafeteria*

Leona: What do you want, Herbivore?

MC: *blankly* Buy me lunch

Leona: *tilts his head and smirks* Why should I?

MC: Crowley doesn't pay me enough to buy food.

Leona: …fine *goes and gets food for MC*

MC: *smiles at SsA*

SsA: that only proves you are pitiful

MC: *frowns but then smirks and takes a bite of Leona's food*

SsA (who is the only one looking): *horror stricken face*

Leona: *returns with food* *stares the plate then at MC with the fork in their mouth* explain.

MC: indirect kiss

Leona: *grabs the fork back with a huff but doesn't look upset* whatever

MC: *flips SsA off behind their back*

patching up

a/n: i think ik who my newest obsession is, gl on his banner!!

sigwinne sincerely has positive adjectives that she could use to describe the duke.

but at the moment, she’s certain that she certainly has more less than pleasant words in mind.

“your grace, please let me see your injury.”

incorrigible, aggravating, distressing, burdensome, enraging, stubborn-

“i’m fine, it's just a scratch”

a brat.

she’s really not sure how much longer she could keep her sanity with how headstrong wriothesley currently is, dismissing the very obvious gash on his chest accompanied with the VERY obvious pool of red staining his dark shirt around it. all she had wanted was to patch up the scratch so that it would not become infected - he should be grateful that she hadn't planned to mix up a new concoction for him to drink.

“sigwinne? is there something wrong?” your voice echos off the chambers of the hall, perking up both of their attentions. ah, she’s thought of a new idea. her eyes bore into his, reaching to be able to whisper in his ear.

“you know, i recently had an interesting conversation with her recently.” she knows the duke is interested in her next words. “she told me that she’s always wanted a man who is strong enough to carry her on her wedding day in her wedding dress.” she pulls back to see if the pieces of the puzzle clicked in his brain, yet the only thing she received is a slightly interested yet confused expression staring back at her. her eye twitches.

“ well, that means she's definitely looking at a certain prospect for her future lover, correct?” his eyes widen in realization. bingo.

“sigwinne? and your grace? what's wrong?” you finally appear at the door of the infirmary, your heels clanking against the metal floor as you descend the stairs.

“oh nothing much~” sigwinne replies, “just patching up this small scratch his grace sustained.” she grins in victory when she noticed wriothesley peel off the layers on his torso, leaving his chest bare and the gash finally accessible to treat. sigwinne can feel the heart jump out of wriothesley’s chest when your eyes sweep over to his form, and finally rest your stare dead on his chest (it's really just looking at the terrible wound but she supposes a man can dream).

“would you like to practice your skills on patching wounds? i'm sure his grace would not mind.”

“oh, if it is alright with him i suppose i would like to try.”

“mmh” wriothesley feels a little pathetic when he can't muster more than an affirmative nod, lest he shows he's desperate for you to be closer in proximity to him. how could he pass up this opportunity?

you beam at him, slightly bowing in gratitude before reaching for materials to work with. sigwinne skips to her desk, eager to observe from the side how much the duke is able to hold in. she observes how the duke shivers when your cold fingers press against his skin to observe the scratch, how his pale eyes trace your every movement and rests on your face more often than not, how he lightly moves to press himself closer to your hands whenever he could.

if she didn't know better, it looked as if the duke of the meropide fortress became a dog, chasing for the attention of its owner. oh how she can't wait to experiment more of how the duke completely melts around your presence, hopelessly pining for someone he believes wouldn't love a man like him, even though she can clearly see traces of pink tint your ears, hiding behind tuffs of hair.

sleepyhead. (version one.)

in which you can fall asleep at the drop of a hat, at the most unconventional of places, which is how the traveller and paimon find out about your relationship with him.

pairing. neuvillette, scaramouche x gn reader

tags. fluff, slight(?) crack, established relationship

notes. if scaras part doesn't make sense i apologize in advance

alhaitham & lyney vers.

“Neuvillette, there's a — Wait. You're not Neuvillette…?”

Aether and Paimon stare at the sight, slightly dumbstruck. You're sprawled over the Chief Justice's desk, hair splayed over your face as you sleep. Your head rests on top of a few documents, and you're curled up in his seat as if it was exactly where you belonged.

Paimon frowns, floating over to you. She gives your shoulder a poke. You don't react. “Should we wake them…? Paimon doesn't think people are allowed to sleep in here, anyway.”

Aether disagrees. You wouldn't have been allowed in here if you didn't have something to do, right? That explained your presence, but it didn't explain why you were asleep in Neuvillette's chair… Besides, where was he?

Speak of the devil. Or, rather, dragon. The office door cracks open, and the man of the hour strides in.

“Neuvillette, there's someone sleeping on your desk!” Paimon informs him, “Should we wake them up?”

It's almost imperceptible, but Aether's gaze is sharp, and he catches the way the Iudex' eyes soften. He shakes his head. “No, leave them be. They will wake on their own accord.”

Paimon huffs. “That position definitely can't be comfortable… I say we move them to the couch there!”

Neuvillette seems to agree. Lifting you bridal style, he sets you on the couch gently. Swiftly, he pulls out a thick quilt from a cupboard and drapes it over you.

“You even have a blanket?!” Paimon squeaks, a little too loud. “Who even are they!?”

“My partner, of course.”

“YOUR PARTNER??”

Well, that was unexpected.

You stir.

Then, you bolt upright, leaping from the couch, eyes wide as your gaze lands on Neuvillette. “Shit, I fell asleep again, didn't I? I didn't mean to! I was going to surprise you but your chair is definitely too comfy for that and —”

He doesn't take more than three steps to reach you, easily snaking a hand around your waist. He only has to dip his head and his nose brushes against yours, silencing anything you had to say.

Aether has the strangest feeling that he's intruding on something too private.

“I assure you,” he murmurs lowly, “Seeing you is always a pleasant experience, surprise or no.”

You choke slightly, clearing your throat. “Don't be a sap.”

The both of you fall silent, just gazing into each other's eyes.

“Uhm,” Paimon interrupts awkwardly.

You screech, startling, head whipping back to see them. “You had guests over?! This is embarrassing. I'm leaving. Ta-ta!”

You bolt out of the room before anyone has any time to react.

“Was no one gonna tell me you were dating someone?!” Paimon accuses.

“Then, I must inform you that we are married.” There's a hint of a smile on Neuvillette's face now, as his eyes flicker toward the half-open door.

“I'm sorry, WHAT?”

“Hey, Aether, isn't that Hat Guy??” Paimon pipes in, pointing at Wanderer, formerly Scaramouche. “He looks really mad. Let's go see what he's up to.”

He did look mad. Furious, even. It's an odd expression to see on his face when Aether's used to his usual disinterest or mockery.

Except…

“Wait, he's walking towards someone. A sleeping someone. That's not good! We have to save them!”

The both of them rush up to him, interrupting his march toward his target. Aether stands in between you and Wanderer, acting as some sort of shield.

“What are you doing?” Aether asks.

Wanderer only scowls, swatting at him. “Get out of my way, you mewling quim.”

“No! We can't let you hurt them!” Paimon cries. “They're not even armed. They're asleep!”

He stops short at that. Confusion floods his features, which quickly morph into disbelief. “Hurt them? I'd never. Get. Out. Of. My. Way.”

Aether doesn't relent. The guy looks entirely too murderous to not hurt anyone. “What's up with them, then?”

Venomously, his lips part, probably to spew some insult but he's interrupted by a soft voice, thick with sleep.

“Kuni…?”

The change is instantaneous. Wanderer goes slack immediately, the usual tension gone. He brushes past Aether quickly.

“Idiot. Why were you sleeping here?” he snarks without bite, crouching down to your level.

That is a good question. You're at the outskirts of Sumeru city, dead asleep under a tree and against a rock. “Yea,” Paimon agrees, “Why are you sleeping here?”

You all but collapse into Wanderer's arms. He stiffens, and everyone can see his internal battle of whether to reciprocate or push you away.

He chooses the latter, sitting on the ground so that you're half in his lap. The shock is palpable between Paimon and the blond.

You glance upward at Aether and Paimon almost lazily, a casual smile on your face. “I was waiting for Kuni here, and I got tired.”

“Here is no place to fall asleep,” he snaps, but the effect is ruined due to the fact that you're in his lap. “You can sleep at home. You have a bed for a reason.”

“Geez, just say you were worried,” you lament lightheartedly.

Aether sits too, and Paimon follows. “Why were you waiting anyway?”

“We were gonna have a picnic! I have the basket right —” you turn to the ground near the tree, only to find it bare. You sigh, disappointed. “Oh. It's gone.”

“Nevermind that,” Wanderer sighs. “This'll serve as a reminder not to sleep outdoors like some street rat. We can get lunch at a cafe.”

“Okay, but is no one going to comment on this?” Paimon flails an arm between the two of you, and your positions especially. “Because this is just weird. Like. What is happening?!”

Wanderer turns his gaze onto her, violet eyes electrifying. “Speak one word of this and you'll never see the light of day again.”

Damn, okay then.

How to show emotions

Part III

How to show disappointment

swallowing hard

low, monotone voice

clucking their tongue

rubbing their face

shaking head

clenching hands

sighing

frowning

pursing of the lips

slumped shoulders

looking away

scowling

How to show relief

exhaling deeply

tension in their face going away

closing eyes for a moment

tentative smile

eyes brightening up

small giddy laughter

putting hand on their breast

joyfully tearing up

looking up

How to show desire

gaze dropping down to the other's lips

opening mouth slightly

small smile around the eyes

eyes widening

pupils dilating

biting lips

following them with their eyes

inhaling deeply

licking lips

How to show tiredness

closing eyes

slowly opening them again

long sighs

yawning

no eye contact

head lolling to the side

closed mouth, neither smile nor scowl

not moving a lot

doing everything slower

staring off into the near distance

How to show confidence

prolonged eye contact

nodding to show they are listening

putting their shoulders back

holding head high

leaning forward

standing tall

smiling openly

Part I | Part II

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++ 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘

[summary] wrio’s spouse winds up in prison. special treatment ensues.

[cws] gender neutral reader. fluff.

“What you did was incredibly stupid.”

“I’d like to think it was very brave, actually.” You quip back, lips pursed as you turn up your chin. “You should be proud of me, really.”

“I should be proud that you got yourself thrown in prison?” You don’t have to look up to know that Wriothesley is sporting an incredulous expression. “Did they knock your head around a bit before bringing you down here?”

“You’re acting like I murdered someone.” You finally meet his gaze, and you resist the urge to sink down into your seat at the clear disapproval in his eyes. “All I did was—”

“Break into the Opera Epiclese and destroy government property.”

“That’s such a trumped-up charge!” You huff and roughly cross your arms over your chest, eyes narrowing as you think back on the charges that had been slapped down onto you by that damned archon. “You trip in the dark and accidentally fall into the oratrice and all of a sudden you’re a criminal. Hmph!”

“Yeah, exactly. It also doesn’t help that you broke in—”

“—I left my bracelet in there after the trial! Was I just supposed to leave it behind and potentially lose it forever? The condition of the lost and found in that place is downright terrible—the guards pocket all the good stuff.”

“You could have bought another one.”

“Not like this one.” You look down to the gray bracelet encircling your wrist, and a warmth spreads in your chest as you gently twist it around, finger rubbing over the messily written engraving on the inside of it. “This was a gift.”

“Hardly.” He sighs, and your eyes flick up to watch as he runs his hands through his already messy hair. “It’s just scrap metal I bent up and welded because I couldn’t buy you proper jewelry back when I was a prisoner.” It’s his turn to look at the bracelet.

“You were so creative back then.” You smile a bit wider. “I remember you used to have something new made every time I came to visit you. What was that one thing you made? The one that we painted together?”

“The ballerina music box.” He groaned, looking a bit embarrassed, and you snapped your fingers.

“The ballerina music box!” The ballerina was a bit oddly shaped, and the box had sharp corners on one side and rounded on the other, and the song the box played was distorted and sounded more creepy than relaxing due to some disfigured cogs, but you loved it nonetheless, and had even sobbed in thanks when he had first presented the gift to you. “I love that little box.”

“It looks like a child made it.”

“A child in the throes of eleazar, yes,” you nod, and his mouth opens a bit in surprise before he huffs out a laugh. “But I still love it… because you made it.” You give him a sweet smile, and you can see him soften up before your very own eyes; broad shoulders losing that rigidness, lids lowering, crease between his dark, thick brows disappearing.

“You’re tryin’ to butter me up.”

“Mhm,” you nod. “Is it working?”

“Not at all, jailbird.” He gives you a smile of his own, and despite the clear sarcasm in it, you can’t help the little flutter your heart does at the sight. “No special treatment for you.” So he says, yet he had placed a cup of tea down for you the moment you were brought to his office, and had even tried to inconspicuously nudge the basket of cookies in your direction, pretending not to notice when you reached for one. “Spouse or not.”

“What a mean man.” You slouch down in your seat. “I treasure the gifts that my lovely, amazing, strong, handsome, and so so so incredibly smart husband gives me and what do I get in return? A criminal record and unfair treatment! I’m suing the entire nation the moment I’m free!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves his hand in the air as if fanning away the conversation, and now it’s your turn to huff. “For the few days that you’re here, you’ll be working directly with me in exchange for coupons.” He takes a slow sip of his tea, adams apple bobbing as he swallows, before gently setting the cup back down onto its small plate. “I’ll make your first job real easy to get you in the swing of things.”

“How kind of you.”

He just barely contains an amused smile. “Very. Now…” He shifts in his seat. “Give me a kiss.”

“I’m married, Your Grace.”

“I’m sure your husband won’t mind. Kiss. Now.” He taps a finger against his lips, and after a moment you stand up and round his desk, hands finding his shoulders as you bend at the waist so your noses brush.

“My husband is a very good fighter, by the way. When he finds out you twisted his spouses’s arm like this, he’ll pummel you.”

“I can handle him.” A hand snags you by the waist, forcing you down into his lap, and you only have time to let out a quiet yelp before Wriothesley’s lips are on yours. The kiss is slow, sensual, and it brings a warmth to your cheeks and covers you with a bashful cloak when he pulls back to let his eyes roam over your face. “I’ve gotta say… your husband is a real lucky guy to snatch up someone as cute as you.”

“Hmph. Seems like you’re trying to butter me up now.”

“Is it working?” He presses his face into your neck, his lips pulling into a smile against your skin, and you have to fight back one of your own.

“Not at all, jailbird.”