Wonwoo: Achilles Masterlist

Wonwoo: Achilles Masterlist

With a title like ‘humanity’s strongest soldier’, Wonwoo is the best of the best with zero weaknesses. But when the female titan betrays the scouts and runs away to Marley, Seungcheol decides to enlist the help of you: one of the people aboard the Marleyan ship sent out to sabotage them. And it’s then that Wonwoo discovers his one weakness that might just be his downfall.

(a/n: while this au doesn’t take place in the same universe as attack on titan [there aren’t any of those characters in this au and it doesn’t go off of the exact plot of aot so a lot of things might not and/or won’t match up] this story will still contain some spoilers from the actual anime, so if you’re watching the show i don’t suggest reading unless you’re caught up!!)

Info (contains AoT spoilers)

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Epilogue

leveling the playing field VI

summary: you didn't meet the requirements for the plinth prize, only to find out that you're not just missing out on that- you're missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime. your friend wants to help, because maybe you can help each other.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.6k (she's long today DAMN)

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do, kind of). implications and discussion of abuse, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing

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a/n: omg it finally happened?? i couldn't resist anymore i had to :,)

anyway i wanted to pop in for a rare note and say thank you so so much to everyone reading this!! it means so much to me that people are enjoying this as much as i am enjoying writing it :)

so if you are and you wouldn't mind,, please reblog or leave your thoughts in the replies! it really helps me out so that way it can reach more people, and also it really helps motivate me to actually keep writing it bc i'll be reminded people want me to :).

thank you for reading this long ass authors note! and thanks for making it this far in the fic!! 

i promise it's not over yet ;) we've still got a long way to go! so hopefully i'll see y'all soon when the next part comes out !

xoxo, raye

You walked back to the academy, still too high on adrenaline to even consider sleeping at that point. By the time Coryo made it back in, it was nearly eight am. You totally understand him wanting to get a bit of extra sleep, considering the night you just had- but who knows how long he was with Dr. Gaul.

Other mentors had started to arrive before he did, and almost everyone made it clear they didn't want to speak with you. You didn't have the energy to chat anyway, you didn't want to. You're endlessly relieved when Coryo arrives, notifying you of his presence with a hand on your shoulder. You jump at this, regardless of his effort to not scare you.

The chair scrapes across the floor and you feel everyone's eyes on you at the dramatic reaction. To him, it really wasn't shocking.

"Sorry- I'm sorry." You chuckle, quickly getting up to give him his spot back.

"Have you slept?" He asks, making no effort to reclaim the desk, noticing how your hands are shaking as you motion for him to sit.

You aren't sure what the safer answer is. Yes, I slept while I was supposed to be watching over Lucy Gray? Or no, I'm still running on the two hours I got a couple of days ago? Neither is very promising, so you decide to just be honest.

"No, uh, I've been watching for Lucy Gray." You point to the screen, unable to control the trembling of your hand as you do. "I couldn't sleep if I wanted to, so I just decided to start drinking coffee a few hours ago. Might as well commit." You explain, trying to force positivity into your tone and a smile on your face.

Coryo eyes you warily. "You should go home. Get some rest."

"No! No, I'm fine." You insist. "I'm not missing it."

"Go home and sleep." He says again, sternly this time. You tend to listen to him when he's commanding so he clung to that approach, but the look in your eyes immediately makes him regret it.

You look down, then back to your seat on the bench. You take a shaky breath before locking eyes with the blonde again. You're full of impulses that contradict each other. To listen to him, to snap and tell him not to speak to you like that, or to storm out and never come back. Realistically, he is under a ridiculous amount of stress. You can't blame him for being a little commandeering. After all, it's what he is meant to do. It's what he's been raised for. "I told you. I can't."

Realization dawns on him and he stares at you for a second, eyes widening. "Right." He nods slightly, shrugging off his coat and holding it out to you. "Just go lay down on the bench." He accentuates his point by shaking the jacket.

You smile, taking it gratefully. "Thank you, Coryo."

"'Course." He nods, finally moving to sit down once you walk away. You settle down on the bench and curl up, your head resting on his bunched-up uniform jacket like it's a pillow. You're not sure you've ever been so comfortable, and you're asleep within a minute.

Coriolanus wonders if his coat will smell like raspberries when you return it.

"What's he doing?" You hear Coryo's accusatory voice before you even open your eyes. As you try and shift, adjusting to the sounds of everyone around you, you come back to reality. No wonder your neck is sore as soon as you sit up, sore from your wooden bed, with no time to really wake up before you're hit with the realization of what's happening on the screen.

"I-I don't know!" Lysistrata says, assumingly replying to him.

You're squinting at the lights as you adjust, the figures of Lucy Gray and Jessup becoming clear as he chases her in her rainbow dress out of the tunnel and across the floor, booking it toward a pile of debris that would allow her to climb up into the stands.

"What's happening?" You ask pointlessly, standing now that you see Coryo is as well.

Lysistrata looks at you, shrugging helplessly as she stands next to Coryo.

"Hey! You promised me that if I-" You start, pacing toward the girl with determination, anger burning up in your chest and in your eyes.

"Y/N/N, wait-" Coriolanus holds his hand out to stop you, effectively his attack dog, from getting any closer. From telling her off for blowing your deal. He squints closer at the screen, not saying a word, just leaving you in a limbo- unsure what to do.

As the camera zooms in on the tribute, his theory is confirmed. Jessup has a white foam surrounding his mouth, and Coryo looks at you knowingly. Had Lucy Gray poisoned him? Surely not, he was her only ally. It was too early to take him out, but maybe she didn't think that through, maybe-

"Rabies." You say, hardly above a whisper, eyes locked back on the screen now as well. "That's why the medications didn't help."

Coriolanus is relieved by this explanation, it makes so much more sense. But only knowing what's wrong doesn't help Lucy Gray, Jessup is still fully feral, chasing her up in the stands on wobbly legs as she makes her way to what is left of a concession stand.

"If she can just stay away, he won't last long in this state." Lysistrata says, looking on with sadness in her eyes. "Poor Jessup..."

"Coryo." You say, ignoring her sympathies, seeing Coryo's mind running miles a minute trying to figure out what to do. "Do you remember those posters in the war? When the rabies breakout happened?" You ask, holding onto his arm, giving him a light shake to snap him out of it. "They said that-"

You don't get to finish before he's reaching for the comunicuff. Water, of course.

"Wait." Lysistrata stops him, grabbing the arm that was reaching for the screen.

"Don't touch him! Jessup's going to die anyway! All we can do is try to keep him away- you just said that!" You fire off at her.

"I know, Y/N." She lets him go, holding her hands out defensively. "Let me do it. He's my tribute, after all."

"Lyssie... You don't have to do that." Coriolanus tells her, and you feel guilty for snapping on her like that. She was just trying to help.

"If Jessup can't win, I want it to be Lucy Gray. That's what he would want, too." She explains, stepping back to her desk, tapping away at the screen and sending in water bottles on faulty drones that are more likely to knock the tributes out and smash the bottle than successfully deliver it to their hand.

Thankfully, this is what you want. You watch quietly as Jessup is bombarded with drones programmed to seek out his features, and Lucy Gray drops behind some of the seats to avoid any flying glass or stray drones. He swings helplessly at them with a board he picked up somewhere along the chase, and you glance at Lyssie for only a second, which is long enough to pick up on the fact that she's crying. God, that's probably your fault.

He trips and falls off the stands, bones audibly cracking on impact. Everyone in the room is silent as Lucy Gray reemerges, climbing down to be at his side.

"God, please don't let him die alone..." Lysistrata whispers, hardly audible even to Coriolanus, who's stood right next to her.

"She won't." He whispers back. "It's not her style."

You swallow, drowning in your own guilt while Lucy Gray is talking to the dying boy, stroking his hair and telling him to go to sleep until his eyes lose all sense of life, chest halting. She closes his eyes gently, which cues the buzzer announcing his death.

"Lyssie..." You stop her as she stands to leave, her eyes glassy. "I'm sorry, I didn't know what you were doing."

She laughs slightly, more tears spilling from her eyes. "Y/N. I know you, okay? I get it. Don't apologize if you don't mean it." Until she finished speaking, you didn't realize her laughs were bitter. "You can't keep taking out your anger issues on everyone else. I'm sick of it, everyone is sick of it- sick of you." She says, not giving you the chance to defend yourself before she's gone. You did mean it, but it's not like she'd ever believe that. You had done this to yourself.

You straighten your shoulders, turning to face the screen again. "Lysistrata will come around." Coryo says, sensing the tension radiating off your skin like a heater.

You just slightly shake your head. "Maybe I... Maybe I should go home. Just for a bit." You say, but it comes out more as a question.

"You should stay." He states, offhandedly sending some food in for Lucy Gray before turning to face you fully. He could guess why you don't want to go home, whether or not you were explicitly told to not return until the games were done, though, he doesn't know. Either way, for him, it wasn't worth the risk.

"Actually, yeah, you're right." You sniff. "I'm just having a moment. I'll be fine." You force a smile, blinking rapidly to push back those stubborn tears that wanted to spill.

"No, no that's not what I meant. I just meant..." Coryo trails off.

"It's okay." You smile and nod. "Can I just get some air, then? I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Please. Don't rush on my account." He nods. "But don't stray too far."

"Yes sir, Mister President." You joke, giving him a lazy salute before heading for the door.

You had been gone for a while, far too long for Coriolanus's comfort. Lucy Gray retreated into the tunnels after receiving the food he sent and seeing Reaper come back into the clearing. Now, with Lucky rambling on about the weather again, he felt like he would snap.

He double-checks once more that Lucy Gray is, in fact, still hiding, before he gets up to go after you.

It doesn't take Coryo long to find you, due to him tracking down the sound of crying in the hall. No doubt in his mind it was you, but he'd never seen you cry before.

You stop at the sound of footsteps, frantically wiping your eyes and nose on your sleeve as you make an effort to stand. By then, he's in front of you.

"Don't get up." He says, crouching down in front of you. He doesn't know what to say, he doesn't know exactly why you're crying, or how to help. He wishes he did, he would do just about anything. "What do you need?"

You shake your head, forcing a smile and trying to stand anyway. Coryo stops you with a hand on your shoulder. "I-I don't.." You start, but as soon as you speak the tears start flowing again and you feel like you can't breathe.

"It's okay. Hey, you're okay." He says, pulling you into his arms, effectively onto his lap as he sits back. One thing he knows that works with you is a hug- it's all he can do while he thinks over what could be the root of your problem, or was it just that Lysistrata's comment pushed you over the edge? You were overtired, overworked, and this easily could have been the last straw.

Through your tears, you try to tell him that you're fine, but you just stutter and spit and you know you're a mess- a mortification to your family.

"I'm not sick of you, Y/N." Coryo says, rubbing your back. Feeling your hair between his fingers and trying not to tangle it or pull it by mistake. "I could never get sick of you."

It surprises him when you laugh. Of all things, a laugh. It was just so you.

His statement was more of a confession to himself than to you, and when you pull back he's scared. Was it not about that? Was he way off base, or incredibly unhelpful and somehow offended you?

You sniff, wiping your eyes again. "Thanks," You chuckle, shaking your head. "But you don't have to say that."

Coryo tilts his head, confusion knitted into his expression. "I do." He insists, able to look into your eyes now. "I have to tell you that because it's the truth."

You sigh, smiling slightly. Sadly. "You don't see it."

"See it? See what?"

You just shrug, making no attempts to move away. His hands on you, the feeling of him almost surrounding you is comforting. You want to live in it forever, but you know you can't. "Just... That I'm me, I guess." You say, voice cracking. "You're unflinching to it." You're abrasive sometimes, defensive, and some would call you an overall angry person. He doesn't see you that way, and you're not sure why. Today you were slapped in the face with the fact that your actions have consequences more serious than what your parents can make up for with money or unwritten agreements.

"What's wrong with being you?" He asks rhetorically, not giving you a chance for you to argue before he continues. "You did the right thing. They're jealous- that's all it is. None of them fight for what they want like you, they just sit around and wait for it to be handed to them on a silver platter, and you could too, but you're better than that. You're better than them. Stronger than them."

With his hands now moved up to your shoulders, he's shaking you gently, trying to get your mind to soak in what he's telling you. To believe it, because he knows he's right. The reason others avoid you is the very reason he is drawn to you- your ambition is unmatched, except, maybe, by his own.

"Do you understand, Y/N?" Coryo asks, pressing one hand to your cheek and staring deep into your eyes as if he could somehow look into your mind and grab hold of what Lysistrata said, replacing it with his vision of who you are. "You are perfect. They are fools."

Your smile had gone, ready to fight his point, but it returned by the time his rant was done, blush creeping its way across your cheeks and over your nose. "Perfect is a bit of a strong word." You speak softly. "Don't you think?"

"No. I don't." He shakes his head slightly, running his thumb across your cheek to wipe away a stray tear.

The air became thick with everything he said circulating in your head like a carousel. A relentless spinning cycle with Coryo's every word circling around itself and caging in your panic. The spinning seemed to slow after a moment, as if giving you a chance to catch your breath.

Seemingly, in your experience with him, compliments were few and far between. To others, anyway. Not that you were keeping track, but if receiving compliments from Coriolanus Snow was a race you would be winning by a mile, and that's exactly what it felt like every time.

He tilts your chin up again, the same way he had just a couple of days ago in the arena, drawing your eyes back to his. It takes every ounce of his focus to keep his hand from shaking.

Truth be told, the desperate honesty in his eyes was enough to convince you he was right. You are better than them, smarter than them, stronger than them. If Lysistrata and your other classmates chose to hate you for that, that was because of fear. You'd be lying if you tried to say it didn't make you feel better, even powerful. Coriolanus thought it was right, so how could it not be?

You smile, nodding slightly within his grasp. "You're right, aren't you?"

"Always." He validates your entire thought process just like that.

You can't help it anymore. The power of his words push you past the brink, leaning forward to meet his lips with your own. Coryo pulls you forward with his firm and gentle hold on your cheek, meeting you half way. And as he kisses you, heart pounding out of his chest, you both feel fucking invincible.

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the sticky tab series

× minors/ageless/empty blogs dni. you will be blocked. ×

seventeen (ot13) x gn!reader genre: mystery, thriller, drama series tags: journalist!reader, each member has their own apartment, explicit language, smoking, alcohol/drinking, ambiguous ending, no romantic relationships, past tense warnings are chapter specific.

× an apartment block remains uninhabited for six years, and sits a good three miles from any civilisation. local people call it the silent dweller, as there is no evidence to suggest anybody has ever moved in. you, a journalist, decide to visit the apartment block, only to discover a mystery in the form of thirteen residents. ×

× masterlist under the cut ×

× ground floor (0)

× sticky tab one: 6B

× sticky tab two: 5A

× sticky tab three: 5B

× sticky tab four: ??

× sticky tab five: ??

× sticky tab six: ??

× sticky tab seven: ??

× sticky tab eight: ??

× sticky tab nine: ??

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× sticky tab twelve: ??

× sticky tab thirteen: ??

× concluding notes

× if you'd like to be added to a taglist, please let me know ×

taglist: @hipsdofangirl × @strawberri-uyu × @asyre × @minhui896

× yoo-jeongneon ×

leveling the playing field masterlist

“take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die.

i don’t belong, and my beloved neither do you.”

summary:

you didn't meet the requirements for the plinth prize, only to find out that you're not just missing out on that- you're missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime. your friend wants to help, because maybe you can help each other.

tags/warnings:

capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do, kind of). implications, mentions and (non-graphic) depictions of abuse, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing but that's neither here nor there, implications of drug use, also typical hunger games universe stuff (violence, mainly, also use of weapons)

season one

I , II , III , IV , V , VI , VII , VIII

season two

IX , X , XI , XII , XIII , XIV , XV , XVI

epilogue (coming soon!)

playlist // moodboards

all your thoughts // let’s talk ab it

masterlists // fic recs // nav (please read!)

The Winding Path of Fate Chapter 7 - Summer: Paintings and Sunflowers

Masterpost

Pairing: Neuvillette x Female Reader Summary: Your relationship with Neuvillette continues to develop. Warnings: None except for restrictive gender roles, also for some reason Fontaine’s regency england (sort of) now?. Also someone walks in on someone coming out from the bath Note: I update this story on AO3 first so please subscribe to the fic there if you’d like to read it faster Note 2: If you want to be on the taglist for this fic, please make a reply to this post, send a message or send a private ask

Have a pic of Neuvillette hanging out in front of his fellow dragon apep's house

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“This isn’t working...” you sighed as you stared at your watercolor painting, which was more water than color due to the fact that your paints were heavily watered down to make them last longer. 

You were currently trying to update your art portfolio, which was woefully inadequate. You had heard that governesses who could teach art were in high demand these days, so you decided to concentrate on art recently. 

However, the blobby mess that meant to be the view of the sea from the garden was highly unlikely to impress anyone. 

The sun was beaming down on you heavily. Even your old straw hat was having a hard time doing its job. You took a sip of Snezhnayan water. Seriously, what is the difference between this and water from Fontaine? Maybe I’m just too unenlightened to understand. 

Ever since you and Neuvillette decided to be friends, things had been...quite different. The two of you talked about everything and nothing. Neuvillette liked talking about water and the Melusines, while you would talk about the books you had read. After a while, you sensed that he was learning more about you than you about him, as he always steered the subject away from himself and towards you. It was odd to have someone be interested in your opinions about things...but you found that you really liked that feeling. 

You could ask Neuvillette for money to buy new paints, a voice said in your mind, but you shook your head. You couldn’t ask that favor of a friend, and besides, it was better that you didn’t rely on him too much, or you would get used to it in the future. 

Maybe I'll go check out the art supplies store again and see if they have anything on sale, you thought. Standing out here wasn’t going to do anything.  

Deciding to do just that, you went up to your room to change and spotted your sister’s letter on your desk. That reminded you that you had to buy her a birthday present soon. Since you didn’t have to worry about money as much these days, maybe you could buy her something nice this year.  

“Marie, I’m going out!” you called out to the parlor where she was dusting.  

“Okay, Madame,” Marie said, poking her head out from the door. Her eyes widened upon seeing your long-sleeved dress. “Are you truly going to wear that dress in this weather?” 

“Yes. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. It’s in solidarity,” you said, thinking of Neuvillette’s heavy, multilayered getup that he wore every day. You idly wondered if he sweated.  

“Solidarity?” Marie repeated in confusion, but you were already out the door.  

“Ugh...” 

You were quickly regretting your choice to wear this particular dress. Your hair was already matted to your forehead with sweat.  

It was late afternoon, but the temperature showed no sign of dropping. Looking at the cold drinks held by pedestrians, you decided to stop by the Café to get some iced Fonta first. Ah, just the thought of it made your water. 

As you approached the establishment, you stopped in your tracks. Sitting in the corner table, far out of sight (but not far enough to not attract stares from other patrons) was Neuvillette and Menthe. Both of them reminded you of wilted flowers. 

“What kind of water do you serve here?” you asked the manager, Arouet.  

“...Just regular water, Miss?” the manager looked confused. You couldn’t blame him. 

“Alright, please get me a glass of cold water, an iced Fonta, and an iced coffee, please,” you said.  

After you got your orders, you walked over to the table. “You two look like you could use a pick-me-up.” 

“Ah, Madame,” Neuvillette said and attempted to straighten up in his chair. He looked as impassive as ever, but you had observed him long enough to know that he was in quite a lot of misery right now. “Such pleasant weather we’re having today, perfect for a walk in the city. I see that you have the same idea as well.” 

You stared at him. Is he being serious right now? “Please don’t force yourself, sir. We both know you can’t stand this weather,” you placed the drinks down on the table and sat down. “Here, water for Monsieur Neuvillette, and an iced coffee for Menthe.” 

“Thank you, Madame,” Menthe said with a yawn. “I needed this.” 

“What are you doing here?” you asked Neuvillette. “You know better to than to be out and about, dressed as you are.” 

“I was out for a quick shopping trip, and then I saw Menthe looking a bit dispirited, so I thought I would take her into the shade to rest.” 

I think you’re the one in need of rest here, you thought as you watched Neuvillette wipe at his forehead with a handkerchief. So he does sweat after all. 

“You were shopping? Why didn’t you just get someone to do it for you?” 

Neuvillette cleared his throat and looked away. It was only then that you noticed something wrapped in parchment paper in his lap. “I didn’t wish to entrust this to someone else. I was shopping for a present for someone important.” 

“Oh, I see,” you nodded. Was it a Melusine’s birthday today or something? “What a coincidence, I’m out shopping as well. For paints, and if I’m lucky, a birthday present for my sister.” 

“Paints?” Menthe looked at Neuvillette. “Oh, Monsieur—” 

“Ahem, Menthe,” Neuvillette cleared his throat.  

“Oh, um, I mean, Monsieur Neuvillette told me that you paint really beautifully, Madame! He really likes your paintings of the sunflowers back in your hometown.” 

“Her sketches are wonderful as well,” Neuvillette said, sounding oddly proud. “You should show the Melusines your sketchbook some time, Madame.” 

“Ooh, may I?” Menthe looked at you with big eyes.  

He’s making too much of me, you thought, hiding your embarrassment by chugging down your Fonta. “Alright,” you said. 

“Yay!” Menthe clapped her hands together. Just then, the great clock in front of the café let out a chime, signalling the end of the hour. “Oh, I must get back to work. Goodbye, Monsieur, Madame!” 

“Goodbye, Menthe. Please take care of yourself,” Neuvillette patted the Melusine on the head, who giggled and skipped away. You found yourself feeling oddly jealous. 

Now it was just the two of you. You looked at Neuvillette, who was sipping his water. He looked back at you.  

“Um, I hope the water is to your liking,” you said. “I know it’s not the fancy imported stuff you enjoy.” 

“It’s perfect,” he said. “Just what one needs on a day like this.” 

You looked at his outfit. His cravat was tightly tied around his neck, and his cuffs were buttoned neatly, showing not a bit of skin. He must be dying on the inside right now, but he still managed to look put together. You felt very shabby next to him. 

“I know you said that you always dress according to your standing, and I respect that. But I feel like you could at least take off your gloves, or loosen your cravat a little when you’re on break. I doubt anyone would mind.” In fact, they might go crazy over it.  

“Very well,” Neuvillette said, then proceeded to take off his gloves. The silver ring on his finger glinted even in the shade. 

“You're still wearing the ring!” you blurted out in surprise. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Neuvillette raised an eyebrow.  

You didn’t know how to answer that. 

“And you’re wearing yours as well,” Neuvillette said, indicating your right hand, which was mostly covered by your sleeve. To be honest, you put it on every morning without even thinking about it anymore. It was a reminder to yourself that as easy and comfortable as this “marriage” was, it was still a marriage, and one that was a means to an end. That was what you told yourself, anyways. 

Neuvillette continued to sip his water. He seemed to be enjoying it, which pleased and baffled you at the same time. You still couldn’t quite wrap your head around the idea of water from different places having distinct flavors, but Neuvillette swore up and down that the difference was real and that anyone could taste it if they savored the water patiently enough. Even now, you still wondered if he was secretly testing you or something.  

Still, what a shame it is that he doesn’t enjoy Fonta, you thought. He’s missing out.  

Back in your hometown, only the basic, original flavor was available. But once you moved to the Court of Fontaine, you were introduced to a veritable rainbow of Fonta flavors. You had even spent a week drinking nothing but Fonta. You suspected Neuvillette might have a heart attack if he heard about it. 

Neuvillette finished his water, and then stood up with the box tucked under his arm. “I must return to work. I shall see you at home, in the evening.” 

You nodded. “Make sure to stay cool, sir.” 

Neuvillette was about to walk away when he suddenly turned around. “Ah, Madame. Are you still going to visit the art supplies shop?” 

“Yes. Why?” 

He looked like he was about to say something, but then shook his head. Was he...smiling? Before you could look closer, he turned away. “It’s nothing. Please, enjoy your day.” 

You watched him until he was just a blue speck in the distance. 

Afterwards, you headed to the store. Unfortunately, none of the good quality paints were on sale. Maybe I should just make my own, you thought glumly. The owner, on the other hand, seemed to be in a very good mood. 

By the time you got home, it was already evening. You decided to take a nice long bath to wash away all the sweat. Ah, baths are the best, you thought as you soaked in the bubbles. Back at the boarding house, you had to share two bathrooms with twenty other girls. This was heaven. 

Just then, you heard a knock on the door. That was probably Marie. You wrapped yourself in a towel and went to the door. “Coming!” you shouted and opened the door. “Marie, what—” 

Your words got stuck in your throat as your eyes took in the tall figure standing in front of your room. He was holding the wrapped package from earlier in his hands.  

For a few agonizing seconds, the two of you simply stared at each other. You saw his hands start to shake, and redness creeping to his cheeks. 

You slammed the door in his face and hurriedly put on your bathrobe. Your thick, fluffy bathrobe with a sturdy tie that could be fastened tightly, leaving nothing to the imagination.  

Taking a few deep breaths to control your pounding heart, you flung open the door, catching your bright red face in the vanity mirror in the process.  

Neuvillette was still standing there. You were pretty sure that he hadn’t moved a single inch. His face was now visibly red. As soon as he caught sight of you, he closed his eyes and turned his head away from you.  

“M-My deepest, sincerest apologies to you, Madame,” he said. His voice sounded as though it was being uttered from the deepest trenches of the sea. “I have committed a disgraceful act—” 

“Let’s just forget about it,” you interrupted him. “We’ll both pretend that it never happened. And besides, um, I wasn’t completely naked or anything, I was wearing a towel, and we’re technically married, so...” 

What in Archons’ name are you talking about? Your mind screamed. Neuvillette seemed as though he might never look at you in the eye again. 

“So, anyways, that present is for me?” you said. Does that make me the important person? Despite the situation, your heart grew warm. 

Neuvillette nodded and held it out to you. It looked like he wasn’t going to speak to you again either. 

You carefully accepted the box and tore open the packaging. You let out a gasp when you saw a rosewood box with a carving of roses on the lid. 

It was the watercolor set from the art store you had always admired from a distance. It was too expensive for you to even dream of owning it, of course. 

But now, it was in your hands. 

You opened the box and was met with robes of paints, brushes, and an even a small palette.  

“Y-You got this for me?” you said, looking up at him. He still wasn’t looking at you. “Why? H-How did you even...?” 

“I-I did say that I wanted to help you achieve your goals, and I...I noticed that you were in need,” Neuvillette said. “And, do friends not give presents to each other?” 

“Yes, but...not anything so expensive!” you stroked the lid. “I cannot possibly repay you.” 

It was then that Neuvillette finally turned his head and fixed his gaze on you. “There is no need for repayment. I bought this because I wished to. Just seeing you content is enough for me.” 

His words struck something deep within you. You were so used to receiving hand-me-downs, of stretching things to their limits, that you had no idea what to do in this situation. Your hands felt like they should be doing something, but what? 

“Thank you,” you whispered, and before you knew what you were doing, your hands reached out and clasped his hand tightly. You could feel its warmth even through the glove, and the contours of his ring. You shook his hand vigorously. “I will treasure this gift for the rest of my life.”  

Neuvillette stared at you for a few moments, and then he turned around and walked away. It might have been a dramatic moment, if his brisk pace didn’t cause him to step on his coat tails and almost trip. 

For the third time in the hour, Neuvillette glanced at the clock. He was currently attending a banquet hosted by an important government official, which meant he had to attend. 

He forced another bite of the dry steak into his mouth. He reached for his glass to wash it down with wine. Wine wasn't his first choice of beverage, but it was better than nothing. 

The other dignitaries sitting near him engaged him in conversation about politics and other related topics, and he did his best to respond in kind. But perhaps because his mind was unfocused, his answers came out short and curt. The others seemed to take this as annoyance at being bothered and excused themselves. 

He held back a sigh. Even though social events like these weren’t his strong suit nor even his hobby, he generally tried his best to perform his role and to fit in. But tonight, he was suddenly feeling very impatient to go home. He had been feeling this feeling a lot recently.  

Neuvillette absentmindedly stroked his ring. I wonder what she is doing right now... 

For the past few days, his wife had been working on something and had promised that it would be finished by today. She had refused to let him see it until it was ready. All he knew was that it had something to do with painting.  

Neuvillette glanced at the clock again. There were still hours before this banquet was supposed to end. He closed his eyes and took another sip of wine, imagining calming things in order to quell the restlessness he was feeling. A perfectly flat water surface at night, a cool sea breeze, the smiles of the Melusines, his wife’s smile when he gave her the watercolor set, the feel of her hands around his... 

“Ah, Monsieur Neuvillette, thank you for coming,” a voice interrupted his thoughts. He opened his eyes to see the host of the banquet standing before him. There was a young woman standing next to him. “May I introduce you to my daughter?” 

The young lady curtsied gracefully. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur.”  

“Likewise,” Neuvillette nodded.  

The young lady stepped closer, and he caught a whiff of her perfume. He couldn’t help but compare it to his wife’s scent when she came out of the bath that day— 

“Oh, dear, Monsieur, are you okay?” the young lady and her father looked at Neuvillette with worry as he coughed violently, having choked on his wine. 

“P-Please excuse me,” he said after the fit subsided, and then proceeded to walk out to the balcony to catch his breath. There was no view of the sea from here. It was going to be a long day. 

The sky was dark by the time Neuvillette arrived home, but even from the front door, he could tell that his house was uncharacteristically noisy. 

There seemed to be a crowd of people in the parlor. Neuvillette paused at the door, listening to the snatches of conversation. 

“Madame, are you almost done with Rhemia?” 

“Blathine, don’t rush her. She has been sketching for hours now.” 

“Madame, could you teach me how to sketch too?” 

“Sure. It’ll be good practice, anyways.” 

Neuvillette opened the door. A group of Melusines were sitting on the couches and floor of the parlor. Even Marie was there. They were all holding sketches in their hands, and watercolor paintings were scattered on the floor. In the center of it all, his wife was sitting in his chair, sketching a posing Rhemia.  

“Monsieur Neuvillette, you’re home!” Sedene was the first to notice him.  

His wife turned her head towards him, and the corners of her lips turned up slightly. Neuvillette felt all the restlessness and fatigue he felt earlier drain away.  

“Welcome back,” she said and stood up, giving him back his chair. “How was the banquet?” 

“It was fine,” he said. “What are you all doing?” 

“Well, the Melusines all came over and asked me to show them my paintings. Then, they wanted me to sketch them, so I did.” 

“I see,” Neuvillette said, peering at the sketch of Rhemia. “They are wonderful.” 

“Thank you.” His wife seemed to be putting the finishing touches on the sketch. Neuvillette studied her profile. She looked completely focused on her work. 

“It’s done,” she announced, and handed the sketch to Rhemia.  

“I’m next,” Blathine said and stepped forward. 

"I think Madame Neuvillette needs to rest her hands a little bit,” Marie clapped her hands and gave Neuvillette a knowing look. “Why don’t we go into the kitchen for cakes?” 

The Melusines followed her outside, leaving Neuvillette and his wife alone in the parlor. 

“I apologize for their rowdiness,” Neuvillette said as he watched her gather the scattered paintings in her arms. “Please feel free to decline their requests if they inconvenience you.” 

“It’s no problem,” she said. “It was nice having so many people here. It reminds me of the old days. And I’ve never drawn Melusines before, so it was a fun challenge.” 

Neuvillette also stooped down to help her. He didn’t have the discerning eye for art, so he couldn’t make any comments as to technique, but he found that his wife’s paintings had a quality to them that made him yearn for something unidentifiable, which was what made them so fascinating to look at. 

“By the way, I finished your surprise,” she said. “Would you like to see it?” 

Neuvillette nodded, and she led him upstairs to her room. 

“It took me some time to work on it, because I had to use my imagination instead of drawing something I see,” she said, speaking a bit quickly. “And I wanted to use the paints you gave me carefully.” 

“Are they to your liking?” 

“Yes. The colors are so vibrant, and the brushes are so smooth, that I’m afraid that they are a bit wasted on me, since I don’t really paint because it’s my passion, so...” 

“But they are useful to you, are they not?” Neuvillette said. “Isn’t that enough?” 

“...I suppose so,” his wife said after a few moments of silence. She then cleared her throat and turned towards the covered easel near the window. “Here it is.” 

She lifted off the blanket, revealing a small canvas. At first, Neuvillette didn’t know what he was looking at. Then, his eyes recognized the amorphous blobs, the blurry line of blue in the distance. 

“This is a painting of the garden in rain,” he said, looking to her for confirmation. She nodded. 

“It hasn’t been raining at all recently, so I had to try hard to picture the scene in my mind.” 

“What made you choose this subject?” 

“Well...before, I’ve never really paid attention to the rain. It was just an excuse to stay home for me. But...then I would see you standing out in the rain, and I would suddenly notice all these things I haven’t seen before...so...” her voice trailed off, and she looked down. “I just wanted my first painting with your gift to be something you like.” 

Neuvillette felt an unfamiliar feeling in his heart. If he had to compare it to something, it would be feeling the heat of a warm current all around you after ages of swimming in the cold ocean.  

“Do you like it?” his wife asked, looking up at him. 

Neuvillette had to think about how to answer that. “...Yes, I do,” he said at last. “It’s my favorite of your works.” 

His hand reached out towards her head, his fingers running over her hair, gliding over her cheek, and rested on her shoulder. His wife stared at him quizzically. “Sir?” 

“...It’s nothing,” Neuvillette said. He wasn’t sure what came over him. 

“Monsieur Neuvillette!” Sedene’s voice sounded from downstairs. “We have a request for you!” 

“Sounds serious,” his wife quipped. 

The two went downstairs to the kitchen, where the Melusines were looking at paintings of houses with sunflowers standing in front of them. 

“Monsieur Neuvillette, what do you think of planting sunflowers in front of the front door, just like in Madame’s hometown?” Sedene asked. 

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Neuvillette said. “One rarely sees sunflowers in the city.” 

“I can ask my family to send us some seeds,” his wife said. “But one thing I’m worried about is the lack of rain lately, since sunflowers need a lot of water to grow.” 

“I’ll see what I can do,” Neuvillette said, drawing a confused look from her. 

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Taglist:@just-simping-over-genshin, @xalphafox, @jqnehr, @favficdump, @thetwinkims

Sip of Love masterlist

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol/Reader

Summary: Despite the fact that your family business was running a magic teahouse with tea that was able to make your deepest and most impossible wish come true, you never thought you would find love on a random Wednesday.

Genre: Fluff, magical world (kind of, since it's the normal world but you and your family have some sort of magic)

Masterlist

Part 1.

Part 2.

Part 3.

Part 4.

Part 5.

Part 6.

Part 7.

Epilogue.

Please keep in mind that the number of parts might change as the story continues.