𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐇 | Masterlist

x : LUNCH BREAK :*+ﾟ

in which: you don't visit wriothesley during his lunch break after last night's argument, so he goes to the court of fontaine just to see you.

warnings: approx. 1.9k words, PURE FLUFF, gn!reader x pathetic and soppy and lovesick wriothesley, canon setting, reader works at the court of fontaine, post-argument so very minimal angst, probs not in character LOL

a/n: there's not a lot of content regarding fontaine or wriothesley rn so i apologise if this isn't completely in character. what i do not apologise for, however, is the urge to make him as lovesick as possible.

There is a notable tension in the Fortress of Meropide, and although a prison isn’t a place for rainbows and sunshine, today it feels especially devastating. It seems that the lord of the prison is the one responsible for it.

Brooding at his desk, Wriothesley glances occasionally at the clock on his desk, growing more and more impatient with each document he has to read through. He is waiting for something: a knock on his door. He is waiting for the call of his name, the reason for their interruption, then your name will reach his ears and an unmatched excitement will bloom in his chest. Then you’ll slip through the doors with lunch for two, he’ll pull out a chair for you right beside him, and mask professionalism that betrays the eagerness your presence always brings out. 

Your absence must be because of the argument that happened last night. One that remained unresolved because he went to bed before you, too furious to try to talk it out. Yet, when Wriothesley woke in the morning, a wave of guilt washed over him when you weren’t pressed against him like usual. Instead, you were on the other side of the mattress, further than an arm’s length away whilst turned away from him and Fontaine’s chilly mornings had never felt colder.

If he didn’t need to go to work much earlier than you, he would have waited until you had woken up to leave, but being the lord of the Fortress of Meropide meant that his presence was demanded. So, with a lingering kiss to your cheek and then your temple, he leaves into the dewy mornings of Fontaine, looking forward to his lunch break that the two of you often share together.

Except now, lunch is almost over and there hasn’t been a knock on his door. No one has called his name- not people he cared about, at least. You haven’t slipped through the heavy set of doors. You haven’t come down from the Court of Fontaine to visit him, and Wriothesley’s patience is thinning.

His fingers itch with the need to hold you, to tuck you close to his chest and just keep you there for a few moments as time pass by. Especially after last night, Wriothesley needs you now more than ever. 

By the time there’s only one hour left in the work day, he snaps. Stands up from his seat with an unmatched sense of fervour because of the unnervingly quiet day and snatches his coat from the hanger, leaving documents unread as he makes a beeline for the exit of the prison. The guards listen attentively to Wriothesley’s final commands for the day in his absence and once the information is cemented, the dark-haired is off without another second wasted.

You, on the other hand, sit in your office drowned in piles upon piles of papers. Wriothesley is a passing thought every now and then, the memories of last night’s harsh argument settling like weights in your stomach. You miss Wriothesley, very dearly, and all you want is to settle things with him. However, the image of his furious eyes and clenched jaw terrifies you beyond belief, you’re not even sure if he’ll be calmer by the time you get home, so for the first time ever, you dread the idea of going home. 

What you are completely unaware of, however, is your lover that is storming your way, desperate to receive the medicine that will cure his moodiness and irritation. 

The knock on your door distracts you from the piles of papers on your desk. 

“Who is it?” you call out, voice reverberating around the spaciousness of your office.

“It’s Wriothesley, can I come in?” His tone is sharp and leaves no room for you to reject him, but the mere sound of his voice causes you to stiffen, grip on your pen tightening as the papers before you lay forgotten. 

What is Wriothesley doing here? He normally never comes up to the Court of Fontaine just to see you because leaving the prison would be far too neglectful. There was also half an hour before he was done for the day, so could there be official business that needs to be discussed? Something urgent, perhaps? 

If it was urgent, then why come to you and not Monsieur Neuvillette- or even Lady Furina?

“Yeah- yes, you can come in,” you mutter.

When the door clicks open, Wriothesley practically barges through, door shutting behind him as he marches towards you. Getting up from your chair, you’re frightened with anticipation due to  how intense his stance is. 

“Is something the matter?” You begin, panic seeping into your voice as he pauses before you, determination setting his eyes ablaze as he eyes you down like prey. “Wriothesley, you’re scaring me, did something happen at the prison-”

“Where were you at lunch?” He demands.

You blink. “Excuse me?”

“Why didn’t you come visit?” 

“Is… is why you came up here? To ask why I didn’t visit you during lunch?”

He nods, expression stern as usual save for a small pout.

“I was swamped with work,” you half-lie, gesturing to the desk behind you and although there is clear evidence on your table through the form of stacked folders and paper, a storm of uncertainty brews in his blue eyes. “I couldn’t visit if I wanted to get these done, I apologise.”

The dark-haired frowns. “Is that it?”

“Yes. That’s all.” His eyebrows furrow, creating crease marks in his forehead that you want to kiss away, alleviating his worries, but you hold yourself back from doing so in fear that Wriothesley does not want you touching him. 

However, a switch is flicked when Wriothesley’s stern expression softens, melting into one resembling a kicked dog. “So you’re not upset with me?” 

“Oh, is that also on your mind?”

“Of course, I don’t like it when you’re upset with me,” your lover mutters, looking away bashfully to conceal the reddening of his cheeks. “You aren’t though, right?”

“No, not upset. Scared, maybe, but definitely not upset.” 

His eyes are glossy when he looks back at you. “Scared, why are you scared?” 

“W-we didn’t end on a good note last night,” you rub your wrist nervously. “I didn’t know if you would be happy with seeing me. On top of that, you can be really intimidating sometimes, so admittedly, I was a little scared to come see you just in case that you did not want me there.”

Wriothesley visually deflates with your last statement, shoulders dropping and eyes glistening as he murmurs a small, pathetic, “is that so?”

He wonders what part about him ever made it seem like he never wants you beside him, and the thought that he had frightened you enough to prevent you visiting him is an upsetting one. You must see it in his eyes with the way you frantically begin to explain yourself. 

“Oh no, darling, I didn’t mean it like that-”

He turns his head away again, disappointed in himself. It’s one thing for his prisoners to consider him intimidating but it’s another for you, his own lover, to think so as well, and the thought that he had scared you creates insurmountable shame to swell within him. Yet, his whirlwind of anxieties ceases when your hand goes to cup his cheek, gently prompting him to look at you. Then, a kiss is pressed to the corner of his lips, and his heart skips a beat at the sensation, love blocking his airways when you pull away to smile up at him. 

“As scary as you might be, oh great lord of the Fortress of Meropide, I also know you will never hurt me,” you reassure. “Rather, I feel safest when I’m around you, please never doubt that.”

Wriothesley sighs, hand snaking up to grip your waist and pull you closer to him. “Thank you, my love. But I beg, even if you assume I am upset with you, please keep visiting my office during lunch, it is the part of the day I look forward to most.”

“If that is your request then maybe you just need to be good and listen to me instead of arguing until your head pops off,” you tease, patting his face twice and he huffs before muttering an ‘understood’. Anything to see you. “Is there something else you need from my office?”

“No, just wanted to see you,” he looks at the brown paper bag in his hands. “I brought you lunch, just in case you didn’t eat.” 

“Wriothesley,” you melt, “how thoughtful of you. I’ll make sure to eat it when I finish reading those contracts.”

“You should eat now, though. Don’t drown yourself in work, it’s not healthy.”

“I wish it were that easy, but these piles were dumped on my desk this morning and were assigned to be done by the end of the week.”

The hand that was on your waist comes up to gently hover over your cheek and Wriothesley studies you, icy eyes hardening due to the fatigue present in your expression. You grab his wrist, trying to diverge his attention, but you should know better than assuming that your wellbeing isn’t of utmost importance to him. “Unacceptable, I should have a word with your supervisor-”

“-no, no, Wriothesley! I insist, this is manageable.”

He frowns, deep and serious before surrendering to your pleas. “Fine, but if it doesn’t get better by the end of the week, then I will be interfering.”

“If you do so, my supervisor will be too scared to come in for a month,” you squeeze his wrist and gently guide it away from your face, ignorant to how your neglect for your own health hurts Wriothesley as well. He knows you love your job, but he still thinks that you deserve to live life carefree, that you should get everything you want without ever lifting a finger. “It’s alright, dear, you mustn’t worry about me when your work is a thousand times more stressful.”

“Impossible.” He worries about you every second of the day. Telling Wriothesley to stop fretting over you would be like telling him to stop breathing. “Now eat.” 

You yelp when he pulls you towards your chair, sitting you down. From the paper bag, he takes out a sandwich, one that you recognise is from one of fontaine’s favourite cafés, and he carefully unwraps it before raising it to your mouth.

“Wriothesley… this is a little embarrassing,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around yourself.

He doesn’t say anything, just persistently stares at you, gaze intense enough for you to give in. As you lean in to take the first bite, you are bashfully looking away from your lover, who wears a pleased expression, satisfied with the fact that you’re letting him take care of you. 

The tension from last night’s dispute hasn’t completely melted away, there are still things that need to be discussed calmly, but as you keep trying to push his hand away and battle Wriothesley’s indestructible stubbornness, he knows it will work out in the end. You love him and he loves you, and if you ever forget to visit him during lunch break again, then he’ll have to tear himself away from the prison and come up, just to meet you.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

I want to KISS the person who made this display, that is AMAZING

Very brave of me to make a set of illustrations that's 90% hands

Anyway. This is about my personal theories/headcanons about the vision requirements

EDIT: I made a post elaborating on my theories/headcanons! Check it out if you wanna know a bit more :D

EDIT (again): Just so you know (bc ppl keep mentioning it in the tags), I am well aware Archons don't personally give out visions😅 The Archons' hands are supposed to be more symbolic, since it IS heavily implied they have a subconcious affect on who gets one, even if they don't actually have any active say in it

Video Game Idea.

A game that is marketed as your standard fishing game and for the first 20 minutes or so you catch normal fish like bluegill and bass and what have you. But the further you go into the lake you start to catch fish with mutations and it gets more and more intense until you’re pulling in Eldritch horror monsters and sometimes severed human limbs. You realize you don’t recall how you got to this lake in the first place and the objective becomes to find your way back to shore. You have no real weapons but you can throw the creatures you’ve caught far away from the boat as a means to distract whatever is underneath you, bumping into the boat sometimes. Additional items for the game.

A fishing pole with a radar that starts out with just beeps but later includes noises with hidden messages.

A GPS that displays texts and story elements.

You meet other boaters, all from various backgrounds, countries, and time periods. Some are friendly, others want to sacrifice you to the lake monsters.

You can also take the route of sacrificing others to the lake monster.

Or you can assemble a party and work to keep them safe.

The more fucked up looking the fish you catch, the closer you’re getting to a boss fight, which is usually running from something you can only see part of in the water.

????

And that’s my game idea.

as much as the concept of Jesus being a fairly normal lad has its charms, im personally very intrigued by the idea of him being just… extremely weird. not even in a mystical sense, just…….staggeringly BIZZARRE. 

you go to the well to get some water, and here’s Miriam’s boy, staring at the sky, completely still. his expression is unreadable. you hazard a hello and ask how he’s doing, and he slowly, unblinkingly, lowers his gaze on you (he’s 8 and is missing his frontal teeth, not that this is making you any less uncomfortable) and says “I cannot speak of the state of my being, Nathan son of Saul, my brother, but rejoice for the water you shall take today will be as pure as the soul of the children of Heaven”

…you start sweating

show, don't tell:

anticipation - bouncing legs - darting eyes - breathing deeply - useless / mindless tasks - eyes on the clock - checking and re-checking

frustration - grumbling - heavy footsteps - hot flush - narrowed eyes - pointing fingers - pacing / stomping

sadness - eyes filling up with tears - blinking quickly - hiccuped breaths - face turned away - red / burning cheeks - short sentences with gulps

happiness - smiling / cheeks hurting - animated - chest hurts from laughing - rapid movements - eye contact - quick speaking

boredom - complaining - sighing - grumbling - pacing - leg bouncing - picking at nails

fear - quick heartbeat - shaking / clammy hands - pinching self - tuck away - closing eyes - clenched hands

disappointment - no eye contact - hard swallow - clenched hands - tears, occasionally - mhm-hmm

tiredness - spacing out - eyes closing - nodding head absently - long sighs - no eye contact - grim smile

confidence - prolonged eye contact - appreciates instead of apologizing - active listening - shoulders back - micro reactions

To you, young sorcerer

Happy Father's Day to all the Dads, including anime Dads. And Nanami Kento, of course.

Nobara hated this. For most other girls, it was a natural process, a part of life to be embraced, an inconvenience you groaned about to your girlfriends as you rummaged through your bag for a tampon. For her, it interfered with training. It might even be a hindrance on missions, where she might not be in the best physical condition, where every little ache and pain her body inflicted upon her could mean the difference between life and death.

Gritting her teeth, she made her way into the hallway of the main building of Jujutsu Tech, taking a shortcut to the student dormitories, even if it meant tracking mud and debris from her training session with Panda all across the pristine wooden floors. Her abdomen had been plagued with discomfort all afternoon, and now, after that particularly rigorous regimen Panda had put her through, the cramps were returning with a vengeance.

Even worse, another side effect, one she detested the most, was making itself known. Frustration, anger, resentment against her own body for failing her in this way, were all boiling up inside her in a way that made her throat tight and her eyes sting.

One hand on her belly, squinting slightly as another wave of pain assailed her, Nobara shuffled through the hallway, hellbent on reaching her room where a nice hot shower, some painkillers and the soft embrace of her blankets awaited her.

There were voices behind her now. It sounded as if Yuuji and Inumaki had completed their own session and were returning to the dorms as well. Nobara could hear Yuuji enthusiastically outlining his new method of deflecting attacks to his quiet companion, punctuated by the occasional "salmon", "fish flakes" or "salmon roe". Yuuji spotted her and she groaned internally.

"Hey, Kugisaki! Wanna hear about my new technique?"

"Not right now. Read the room."

"Whoa, you look ... not so great. You okay?"

She grunted as a way of reply.

"What's up? You not feeling too good?"

As well-meaning as Yuuji was, he really didn't know when to step back from a situation. Nobara didn't have the energy to whack him upside the head like she usually did, though. To her horror, the constricting sensation in her throat was coiling like a vice, the burn behind her eyes growing stronger. A single, fat tear slipped traitorously from her lash line, tracking down her cheek.

Yuuji looked horrified, and Inumaki, eyes wide above his collar, was rooted to the spot, neither boy sure what had brought this on. Hands flapping helplessly, Yuuji took a step towards her.

"Uhh, Kugisaki? Was it something I said? I'm really sorry if -"

"It's not you, idiot," Nobara muttered, hands scrubbing furiously at her eyes.

"What's going on here?"

Oh, for the love of God.

She had learned to recognize that clipped, smooth baritone from the time the sorcerer in question had been designated as Yuuji's mentor on some missions when Gojo wasn't available.

Nanami Kento, grade one sorcerer, wielder of the seven : three ratio technique. Nobara didn't know much about the man, having interacted with him only a few times. She knew that he was strict, no-nonsense, a stickler for propriety and good conduct, rather dour and gloomy if what Gojo described was accurate. Used to be a salaryman. He certainly looked like the kind of man who could blend into any boardroom, with his tan business suit and perfectly parted blonde hair.

He was now eyeing her from behind those reflective shades, taking in her bedraggled appearance, the leaves and mud on her clothing and hair, the hand clutching at her abdomen, the tear-streaked face. She wondered, momentarily, if he was going to dismiss her as yet another weak, female sorcerer with aspirations far higher than her ability. The thought made a fresh wave of frustration rise in her chest, moistening her eyes once again.

Nanami turned, expression unchanged, and addressed the boys.

"You two go and get supper at the canteen. Kugisaki, with me please."

He began to make his way out towards the student dorms, not bothering to check if she was following. Grumbling slightly, Nobara complied.

"Don't need an escort," she muttered.

"I'm aware."

"Then - "

"How bad are the cramps?"

She stared at the back of his head. Nanami paused and turned towards her slightly, one eyebrow raised.

"Well?"

"Uh ... pretty bad."

"Hmm."

He resumed his walk, and she followed, almost in a trance. Nanami spoke again, voice quiet and measured, before she had a chance to put words to her query.

"I had a friend, when I studied here at Jujutsu Tech. He had a sister who he was very close to. He used to visit her in the countryside, and they looked after each other. He could always recognize when she needed help of this sort. He told me everything. I had no choice but to listen. He was ... a talker."

"Oh, I see. What kind of stuff did he mention?"

"Many things. The kind of tea that eased her pain. The stretches she liked to perform. The bath salts he used to purchase for her from the store at the shrine. The food she liked to eat."

In spite of herself, Nobara quirked a small smile.

"Sounds like ... a pretty good guy."

"He was."

She was silent for a minute, taking in the tense with which Nanami had referred to his friend.

"Did he - "

"Yes. Many years ago."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"No need. We all know the dangers of this profession. Haibara knew too."

They'd reached the dorms and Nanami opened the door, motioning her through. Somehow, coming from him, the gesture didn't seem condescending. She stepped through and he followed, moving off to the side into the small kitchenette that was reserved for the students' use.

Nobara hovered awkwardly in the doorway, wondering what she was supposed to say next. Nanami was busying himself with the cupboards, boiling water and pulling open the fridge. He glanced over and she realised that, at some point, he had removed the shades that normally concealed his stern gaze.

"Go and get yourself cleaned up. Then come back to the kitchen when you're done."

"Um, sure. Goodnight, Nanami."

"Oh, and Kugisaki?"

"Yes?"

"You're a strong and capable young sorcerer. We all have moments of weakness. From time to time, remember to let yourself be. We are sorcerers, but we're also human. Sometimes, recalling that simple fact is enough to hold your mind together when nothing else will."

Nobara's throat was tightening once again, but this time, she felt little to no shame. She was beginning to realise that the sorcerers who were responsible for them knew exactly what they were talking about. No wonder he had come across as so perceptive. How many nights had he spent, alone, in pain, wishing he were stronger, better, wishing that the boy who once smiled alongside him was still amongst the living? How weak had he felt, back then? Had he wished an adult had said these very words to him?

"I'll remember that. Thank you, Nanami."

"Goodnight, Kugisaki."

After a long, hot bath, Nobara changed into her most comfortable pyjamas and slowly made her way back to the kitchen, as Nanami had instructed. As ridiculous as it sounded, she felt a small sense of nervous anticipation. What had he done in there?

Entering, the scent of something delicious made her mouth begin to water. There, on the stove top, bubbling merrily in a small cast iron dish, was a cheese and corn, green onions snipped neatly as garnish over the top. Covered dishes of miso soup and rolled omelette with diced vegetables stood to the side, still steaming slightly. In a pot on the stove, next to the cheese and corn, Nobara sniffed out something warm and herbal, some kind of tea blend.

Mood lifting immediately, Nobara set the table and dug into the food. As simple as the fare was, it was exactly the kind of comfort food she had been craving. Right then, it tasted like a five-star meal to her.

As she polished off the last of her food and gathered all the dishes together to wash up, she noted that her cramps had eased considerably, probably due to the warm bath, the medication and her satiated appetite. Soap forming soft suds under her fingers, Nobara surprised herself by humming slightly.

Nanami had certainly turned out to be different than she'd expected. From the little she'd seen of his interactions with Yuuji, she had assumed that he was quite a cold person.

She remembered, in that moment however, that Yuuji had never had a single bad thing to say about Nanami. Granted, Yuuji was one of the most accepting and easy-going people she knew, but there was a certain admiration and respect evident in his voice when he spoke about Nanami that she hadn't noticed in his descriptions of other people.

She was beginning to see why.

Leaving the dishes to dry on the rack, she poured out the remaining tea and carried the cup to her room. The porcelain was warm, steady and comforting between her fingers, like his eyes had been in the dim light of the kitchenette. She had never seen him without his glasses before.

Growing up in that small village, Nobara had learned to prize a particular quality above all others, one that she would now add to the growing list of words she could use to describe Nanami Kento.

Kindness. 

That's his energy-saving form, he's having a day off from work 🥰 He's just a baby dragon, protect him at all costs (he'll definitely protect you in return)

(@/visualkid_art 's picture of him as melusine lives rent free in my mind)

Yan Genshin Boys / Regretful Mornings.

Warnings: Fem Reader, not SFW themes, unhealthy relationships, yandere themes, past dubcon, alcohol mention, dark humor, Scaramouche being himself, it’s mentioned in passing that darling stabbed some poor sod while 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️-ing away. 

In which darling is intimate with the genshin boys, only to be in for a rude awakening the next morning. 

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Gotta keep a straight face u guys

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