Wriothesley X F!reader - Tumblr Posts

l'avoir elle, c'est avoir les étoiles / / wriothesley . . .

wriothesley considered himself a pretty selfless man, until it came to you. wouldn’t you indulge him in his selfish desires for a moment of your time?

warnings: inspired by veil (manga), blind!reader, f!reader, ooc wriothesley?, wriothesley’s pov, mentions of smoking, mentions of neuvilette and sigewinne, fluff, domesticity

w/c: 1.25k

authors note:  i reread veil and i need an aleksander to call my own hmu if ur a russian police officer w red hair Plz. art cred: ルル on twt

“wrio? what’s wrong?”

wriothesley fully opens his half lidded eyes, noting your appearance as you lay on the table before him, not wanting to disturb his contemplation.

the only sound at this time of the night being your voices, the distant echoes of droplets from the pipes in the wall, and the soft jazz playing from his gramophone. you slowly get up and approach him, light steps clicking against the stone floor.

your hands find their way to his face, a light stubble itching against your fingers. he sighs, leaning against you. “...nothin’ to worry your pretty little head about.”

you hum, obviously not believing his lie. you drag your fingers to the back of his head, lightly scratching his scalp. you lean in towards him, the couch dipping ever so slightly. “mhm. is it the fortress again? ‘nother fight?” 

he chuckles, leaning his head back. the one thing he loved about you was your attentiveness. you’d read him like a book, or rather,  feel.

you tilted your head in confusion, your pretty and ever-so-long lashes fluttering while closed against your skin. “what?”

“nothin’ angel. just admiring you.”

“y’know, if you wanted to distract me it’s not working. the way to my heart isn’t just built on flattery. and anyone could see through those big sighs of yours.” and you go again, flashing that cheeky smile as you always did, the same as when you two were younger.

he laughs lightly, “of course 'ts not. i know you better than that.”

“and i know you better than that,” your hands stop, and you look at him with the most serious face you could muster, “tell me.”

he sighs and shakes his head, “it’s a lot more complicated than that sweetheart, don’t wanna bore you to death.”

and with that you relent with your own deep sigh, leaning back into the couch and off of him. he misses your warmth.

“don’t be like that (y/n).” he looks at you through the sides of his eyes, then gently reaches for your hand, caressing it with his thumb. “you got so much to worry ‘bout already, with how many are coming in all roughed up.”

“yes…” you mumble, “but, it’s just us now.”

he can’t see your eyes, as they’re closed, but he was sure they’d be glossy now—he wishes you’d open them once more. wriothesley leans in and plants a small kiss against your forehead, then leans his own against it.

he knows your weakness for touch, for physical contact. 

the way your delicate hands would softly caress every nook and cranny of a trinket he’d get you. the way you’d feel for a lamp when you thought things were too dim for your liking. the way you’d toy with the jewelry hanging on your neck, ears and wrists. it seemed like you couldn’t get enough.

he also knows about your compassion for him. always keeping tabs throughout the day, sending little sweets and snacks for him. you’d handle patients with sigewinne with gentleness, even when they were somewhat undeserving of it. and when you’d have work above ground, you make sure to send letters to sigewinne, keeping up with her updates about him. 

wriothesley knows you miss living up in the city. he knows you long for the soft tunes that would be performed in the dim-lit streets at night, tossing a few mora into their hats lying on the sidewalk. he knows you miss keeping up with the latest fashion trends and splurging your money on tens of dresses. he knows you miss your old life with him.

and so in spite of this, you still stood by him. ever so selfless and caring.

but he couldn’t help himself out of his own selfishness.

wriothesley pulls you into his lap, his rough hands pushing back the few loose strands of hair in front of your face behind your ears. to everyone he’d be known as the fearless duke of meropide, to you, he’d just be plain old wriothesley. your loving, plain, old wriothesley.

you’re reluctant at first, a pout standing firm on your face. your delicate features almost give you away as he slowly snakes his arms around you. he pulls you closer by your waist and you give in just like putty in his palms. 

your eyes are still comfortably closed, hands making their way lazily to his shoulders. you sniff the air around you two, scrunching your nose. “you’ve been smoking, my lord?”

“...no.”

“you’ve got all these rules around the fortress about extending prison time if anybody ever so as brings in a lighter, and yet you’re here, in your office, all cooped up and–”

you squeal as he puts his lips to yours to shut you up. you taste like crepes and jam, courtesy of neuvillette. the soft velvet feel of your lipstick smears against him, some even getting on his teeth. sigewinne was in his office just a day ago asking about what shade of red or pink would suit you. it appears she chose well. he smiles into the kiss, hands digging their way into your hair. he makes a note to thank both for the gifts.

you pull away with a slight gasp before resuming like the sly fox you were. you were always able to catch on quickly, as you’d learn a few things from him yourself. 

you nibble on his lip. he lightly bites yours’ back.

you stifle your giggles at first, but then you laugh, and suddenly, your complexion was glowing — and he swore he’d seen an angel. 

wriothesley looks up at you with a fondness in his eyes, hands now at your waist. he was sure he looked silly, with the reddish pink all over his lips, but he knew you wouldn’t care. really.

“shutting me up with a kiss… how original of you.”

“but you liked it, no?” that earns him a flick against his forehead, ouch.

you sit up straight, wiping the edges of your lips, “if you’ll excuse me, sir, i promised sigewinne i’d help her in stocking the medical cabinet. we’ve just received our shipment of gauze from fontaine.”

he knew you wouldn’t notice it, but he couldn’t help but look at you with longing in his eyes, wanting to shield you away and coop you inside his office, inside his arms.

but he lets you go with a sigh on his lips and a gentle kiss of his thumb on the apple of your cheek. “yes, ma’am,” he pauses before he adds on. “you want me to walk you there?”

you stand up and he gets up synonymously with you, tugging and fixing your clothes without a word. “it’s fine, i can get around the place myself, i’m not a damsel in need of help all the time.”

you turn on your tippy toes and press a chaste kiss to the side of his mouth before quickly grabbing your coat and leaving. “i’ll see you again soon, okay?”

he smiles after you, watching as you leave with your shoes clicking against the stone of the floor. he looks back at his desk with grimace, the piles of paperwork enough to sour his mood.

he grabs a cigarette and reaches for his pockets, trying to find the cool metal of his lighter. instead, it appears, he was met with something else.

“what…?”

he realizes now that you truly were too sly for your own good, as he was met with the very same lipstick gifted to you.

cheeky.

l'avoir elle, c'est avoir les étoiles / / wriothesley . . .

wriothesley considered himself a pretty selfless man, until it came to you. wouldn’t you indulge him in his selfish desires for a moment of your time?

warnings: inspired by veil (manga), blind!reader, f!reader, ooc wriothesley?, wriothesley’s pov, mentions of smoking, mentions of neuvilette and sigewinne, fluff, domesticity

w/c: 1.25k

authors note:  i reread veil and i need an aleksander to call my own hmu if ur a russian police officer w red hair Plz. art cred: ルル on twt

“wrio? what’s wrong?”

wriothesley fully opens his half lidded eyes, noting your appearance as you lay on the table before him, not wanting to disturb his contemplation.

the only sound at this time of the night being your voices, the distant echoes of droplets from the pipes in the wall, and the soft jazz playing from his gramophone. you slowly get up and approach him, light steps clicking against the stone floor.

your hands find their way to his face, a light stubble itching against your fingers. he sighs, leaning against you. “...nothin’ to worry your pretty little head about.”

you hum, obviously not believing his lie. you drag your fingers to the back of his head, lightly scratching his scalp. you lean in towards him, the couch dipping ever so slightly. “mhm. is it the fortress again? ‘nother fight?” 

he chuckles, leaning his head back. the one thing he loved about you was your attentiveness. you’d read him like a book, or rather,  feel.

you tilted your head in confusion, your pretty and ever-so-long lashes fluttering while closed against your skin. “what?”

“nothin’ angel. just admiring you.”

“y’know, if you wanted to distract me it’s not working. the way to my heart isn’t just built on flattery. and anyone could see through those big sighs of yours.” and you go again, flashing that cheeky smile as you always did, the same as when you two were younger.

he laughs lightly, “of course 'ts not. i know you better than that.”

“and i know you better than that,” your hands stop, and you look at him with the most serious face you could muster, “tell me.”

he sighs and shakes his head, “it’s a lot more complicated than that sweetheart, don’t wanna bore you to death.”

and with that you relent with your own deep sigh, leaning back into the couch and off of him. he misses your warmth.

“don’t be like that (y/n).” he looks at you through the sides of his eyes, then gently reaches for your hand, caressing it with his thumb. “you got so much to worry ‘bout already, with how many are coming in all roughed up.”

“yes…” you mumble, “but, it’s just us now.”

he can’t see your eyes, as they’re closed, but he was sure they’d be glossy now—he wishes you’d open them once more. wriothesley leans in and plants a small kiss against your forehead, then leans his own against it.

he knows your weakness for touch, for physical contact. 

the way your delicate hands would softly caress every nook and cranny of a trinket he’d get you. the way you’d feel for a lamp when you thought things were too dim for your liking. the way you’d toy with the jewelry hanging on your neck, ears and wrists. it seemed like you couldn’t get enough.

he also knows about your compassion for him. always keeping tabs throughout the day, sending little sweets and snacks for him. you’d handle patients with sigewinne with gentleness, even when they were somewhat undeserving of it. and when you’d have work above ground, you make sure to send letters to sigewinne, keeping up with her updates about him. 

wriothesley knows you miss living up in the city. he knows you long for the soft tunes that would be performed in the dim-lit streets at night, tossing a few mora into their hats lying on the sidewalk. he knows you miss keeping up with the latest fashion trends and splurging your money on tens of dresses. he knows you miss your old life with him.

and so in spite of this, you still stood by him. ever so selfless and caring.

but he couldn’t help himself out of his own selfishness.

wriothesley pulls you into his lap, his rough hands pushing back the few loose strands of hair in front of your face behind your ears. to everyone he’d be known as the fearless duke of meropide, to you, he’d just be plain old wriothesley. your loving, plain, old wriothesley.

you’re reluctant at first, a pout standing firm on your face. your delicate features almost give you away as he slowly snakes his arms around you. he pulls you closer by your waist and you give in just like putty in his palms. 

your eyes are still comfortably closed, hands making their way lazily to his shoulders. you sniff the air around you two, scrunching your nose. “you’ve been smoking, my lord?”

“...no.”

“you’ve got all these rules around the fortress about extending prison time if anybody ever so as brings in a lighter, and yet you’re here, in your office, all cooped up and–”

you squeal as he puts his lips to yours to shut you up. you taste like crepes and jam, courtesy of neuvillette. the soft velvet feel of your lipstick smears against him, some even getting on his teeth. sigewinne was in his office just a day ago asking about what shade of red or pink would suit you. it appears she chose well. he smiles into the kiss, hands digging their way into your hair. he makes a note to thank both for the gifts.

you pull away with a slight gasp before resuming like the sly fox you were. you were always able to catch on quickly, as you’d learn a few things from him yourself. 

you nibble on his lip. he lightly bites yours’ back.

you stifle your giggles at first, but then you laugh, and suddenly, your complexion was glowing — and he swore he’d seen an angel. 

wriothesley looks up at you with a fondness in his eyes, hands now at your waist. he was sure he looked silly, with the reddish pink all over his lips, but he knew you wouldn’t care. really.

“shutting me up with a kiss… how original of you.”

“but you liked it, no?” that earns him a flick against his forehead, ouch.

you sit up straight, wiping the edges of your lips, “if you’ll excuse me, sir, i promised sigewinne i’d help her in stocking the medical cabinet. we’ve just received our shipment of gauze from fontaine.”

he knew you wouldn’t notice it, but he couldn’t help but look at you with longing in his eyes, wanting to shield you away and coop you inside his office, inside his arms.

but he lets you go with a sigh on his lips and a gentle kiss of his thumb on the apple of your cheek. “yes, ma’am,” he pauses before he adds on. “you want me to walk you there?”

you stand up and he gets up synonymously with you, tugging and fixing your clothes without a word. “it’s fine, i can get around the place myself, i’m not a damsel in need of help all the time.”

you turn on your tippy toes and press a chaste kiss to the side of his mouth before quickly grabbing your coat and leaving. “i’ll see you again soon, okay?”

he smiles after you, watching as you leave with your shoes clicking against the stone of the floor. he looks back at his desk with grimace, the piles of paperwork enough to sour his mood.

he grabs a cigarette and reaches for his pockets, trying to find the cool metal of his lighter. instead, it appears, he was met with something else.

“what…?”

he realizes now that you truly were too sly for your own good, as he was met with the very same lipstick gifted to you.

cheeky.

l'avoir elle, c'est avoir les étoiles / / wriothesley . . .

wriothesley considered himself a pretty selfless man, until it came to you. wouldn’t you indulge him in his selfish desires for a moment of your time?

warnings: inspired by veil (manga), blind!reader, f!reader, ooc wriothesley?, wriothesley’s pov, mentions of smoking, mentions of neuvilette and sigewinne, fluff, domesticity

w/c: 1.25k

authors note:  i reread veil and i need an aleksander to call my own hmu if ur a russian police officer w red hair Plz. art cred: ルル on twt

“wrio? what’s wrong?”

wriothesley fully opens his half lidded eyes, noting your appearance as you lay on the table before him, not wanting to disturb his contemplation.

the only sound at this time of the night being your voices, the distant echoes of droplets from the pipes in the wall, and the soft jazz playing from his gramophone. you slowly get up and approach him, light steps clicking against the stone floor.

your hands find their way to his face, a light stubble itching against your fingers. he sighs, leaning against you. “...nothin’ to worry your pretty little head about.”

you hum, obviously not believing his lie. you drag your fingers to the back of his head, lightly scratching his scalp. you lean in towards him, the couch dipping ever so slightly. “mhm. is it the fortress again? ‘nother fight?” 

he chuckles, leaning his head back. the one thing he loved about you was your attentiveness. you’d read him like a book, or rather,  feel.

you tilted your head in confusion, your pretty and ever-so-long lashes fluttering while closed against your skin. “what?”

“nothin’ angel. just admiring you.”

“y’know, if you wanted to distract me it’s not working. the way to my heart isn’t just built on flattery. and anyone could see through those big sighs of yours.” and you go again, flashing that cheeky smile as you always did, the same as when you two were younger.

he laughs lightly, “of course 'ts not. i know you better than that.”

“and i know you better than that,” your hands stop, and you look at him with the most serious face you could muster, “tell me.”

he sighs and shakes his head, “it’s a lot more complicated than that sweetheart, don’t wanna bore you to death.”

and with that you relent with your own deep sigh, leaning back into the couch and off of him. he misses your warmth.

“don’t be like that (y/n).” he looks at you through the sides of his eyes, then gently reaches for your hand, caressing it with his thumb. “you got so much to worry ‘bout already, with how many are coming in all roughed up.”

“yes…” you mumble, “but, it’s just us now.”

he can’t see your eyes, as they’re closed, but he was sure they’d be glossy now—he wishes you’d open them once more. wriothesley leans in and plants a small kiss against your forehead, then leans his own against it.

he knows your weakness for touch, for physical contact. 

the way your delicate hands would softly caress every nook and cranny of a trinket he’d get you. the way you’d feel for a lamp when you thought things were too dim for your liking. the way you’d toy with the jewelry hanging on your neck, ears and wrists. it seemed like you couldn’t get enough.

he also knows about your compassion for him. always keeping tabs throughout the day, sending little sweets and snacks for him. you’d handle patients with sigewinne with gentleness, even when they were somewhat undeserving of it. and when you’d have work above ground, you make sure to send letters to sigewinne, keeping up with her updates about him. 

wriothesley knows you miss living up in the city. he knows you long for the soft tunes that would be performed in the dim-lit streets at night, tossing a few mora into their hats lying on the sidewalk. he knows you miss keeping up with the latest fashion trends and splurging your money on tens of dresses. he knows you miss your old life with him.

and so in spite of this, you still stood by him. ever so selfless and caring.

but he couldn’t help himself out of his own selfishness.

wriothesley pulls you into his lap, his rough hands pushing back the few loose strands of hair in front of your face behind your ears. to everyone he’d be known as the fearless duke of meropide, to you, he’d just be plain old wriothesley. your loving, plain, old wriothesley.

you’re reluctant at first, a pout standing firm on your face. your delicate features almost give you away as he slowly snakes his arms around you. he pulls you closer by your waist and you give in just like putty in his palms. 

your eyes are still comfortably closed, hands making their way lazily to his shoulders. you sniff the air around you two, scrunching your nose. “you’ve been smoking, my lord?”

“...no.”

“you’ve got all these rules around the fortress about extending prison time if anybody ever so as brings in a lighter, and yet you’re here, in your office, all cooped up and–”

you squeal as he puts his lips to yours to shut you up. you taste like crepes and jam, courtesy of neuvillette. the soft velvet feel of your lipstick smears against him, some even getting on his teeth. sigewinne was in his office just a day ago asking about what shade of red or pink would suit you. it appears she chose well. he smiles into the kiss, hands digging their way into your hair. he makes a note to thank both for the gifts.

you pull away with a slight gasp before resuming like the sly fox you were. you were always able to catch on quickly, as you’d learn a few things from him yourself. 

you nibble on his lip. he lightly bites yours’ back.

you stifle your giggles at first, but then you laugh, and suddenly, your complexion was glowing — and he swore he’d seen an angel. 

wriothesley looks up at you with a fondness in his eyes, hands now at your waist. he was sure he looked silly, with the reddish pink all over his lips, but he knew you wouldn’t care. really.

“shutting me up with a kiss… how original of you.”

“but you liked it, no?” that earns him a flick against his forehead, ouch.

you sit up straight, wiping the edges of your lips, “if you’ll excuse me, sir, i promised sigewinne i’d help her in stocking the medical cabinet. we’ve just received our shipment of gauze from fontaine.”

he knew you wouldn’t notice it, but he couldn’t help but look at you with longing in his eyes, wanting to shield you away and coop you inside his office, inside his arms.

but he lets you go with a sigh on his lips and a gentle kiss of his thumb on the apple of your cheek. “yes, ma’am,” he pauses before he adds on. “you want me to walk you there?”

you stand up and he gets up synonymously with you, tugging and fixing your clothes without a word. “it’s fine, i can get around the place myself, i’m not a damsel in need of help all the time.”

you turn on your tippy toes and press a chaste kiss to the side of his mouth before quickly grabbing your coat and leaving. “i’ll see you again soon, okay?”

he smiles after you, watching as you leave with your shoes clicking against the stone of the floor. he looks back at his desk with grimace, the piles of paperwork enough to sour his mood.

he grabs a cigarette and reaches for his pockets, trying to find the cool metal of his lighter. instead, it appears, he was met with something else.

“what…?”

he realizes now that you truly were too sly for your own good, as he was met with the very same lipstick gifted to you.

cheeky.