Yandere Genshin Impact - Blog Posts

A Dance With the Dragon I — The Tides Beckon

Yandere Neuvillette x Reader

[Part I — You are here] [Part II] [Part III] [Part IV]

The last thing you expected was to have caught the eye of Fontaine’s Chief Justice. You have no choice but to be swept into the dragon’s dance.

Warnings: Yandere tendencies, possessive behavior, forced imprisonment, unrequited relationship

It all started with your realization that Fontaine has some rather intriguing laws.

For as long as you could recall, you had aspired to become a marine biologist. Though you hailed from Mondstadt, you forged your curiosity in the tide pools and lakes around the edges of the region. You scoured over any novel you could find on marine ecology and animal behavior, spending endless hours lost in the Knights of Favonius library. On your thirteenth birthday, your parents bought you a Kamera, which launched your career in wildlife photography and research. You even went on to publish a book cataloguing pictures of your nation’s aquatic life. It came to no one’s surprise, then, when you were gifted with a hydro vision.

Although you loved your life in Mondstadt, the vast waters that surrounded the Land of Hydro beckoned you like the pull of a tide. So, on your twenty-fifth birthday, you parted with your family and homeland, traversing across Teyvat and experiencing its many wonders. You relished in the culture and cuisine in Liyue and marveled at the natural architecture of Sumeru’s forests. Yet nothing would ever be as breathtaking as your first glimpse at Fontaine, at the granite peaks rising above the crystalline waters teeming with life of all forms.

You had secured employment with a group researching the sudden uptick in seal strandings across the nation, taking you across Fontaine’s many beaches. Your main base was located near Romaritime Harbor, which prompted you to spend your lunch breaks exploring the Court of Fontaine.

You made quick friends with the Melusines, some of whom were still a bit nervous being around humans; however, you found their stories of the ocean fascinating and often invited them to join you for lunches or strolls through the city.

One in particular, Carole, had become your close friend after you encountered her being pelted with rocks by a mob of Fontainians. You didn’t hesitate to use your vision to immobilize the rocks and create a barrier around Carole, quickly ushering her to safety. You couldn’t comprehend the prejudices directed towards her and the other Melusines, but after that incident, you made sure to keep an eye out for all of your little friends.

One day, on one of your walks, you ran into said Melusine. She seemed despondent that only a handful of citizens were interested in her hand painted posters, so you decided to treat her to lunch and pastries to cheer her up. That’s when you first caught wind of the Hydro Dragon.

“Well, if you’re worried about the seals, you might call upon the Hydro Sovereign himself!” Carole chirped.

You tipped your head curiously, lowering the cup in your hands onto the cafe table. “Don’t you mean herself? Although I’ve never met the Hydro Archon, I’ve heard others refer to her as ‘Lady’ Furina.”

Carole shook her hands back and forth in front of her. “Oh, no, I mean the Hydro Dragon! He is responsible for keeping watch over Fontaine, which includes all of its resources and residents. I’ve heard that with every sea creature that passes, the heavens open and the dragon sheds his tears in mourning.” She took a bite of her croissant. “I have a feeling he’d be willing to help.”

You tapped your chin in thought. “You don’t say. Well, we are in a bit of a drought, which could be contributing to the beachings… Perhaps I’ll ask this Hydro Sovereign for his favor.”

On the days you were dispatched to Fontaine’s eastern beaches, you opted to sit by the Fountain of Lucine to wish for the Hydro Dragon’s help. It had become a tradition for you to do so ever since your conversation with Carole, for you swore that every time you prayed to his name, rain would grace the shores the next day.

During those research trips, your coworkers would invite you to attend trials at the Opera Epiclese, though you politely declined each time. You had no particular interest in the Opera and were much more inclined to spending your time outside and uninvolved with the court’s theatrics. Besides, you considered yourself to be a model citizen, so the proceedings of the court were beyond your worries.

Or so you thought.

~*~

The incident that led to your arrest was the violation of the order “no domestic pets shall be named after Furina”. Apparently the otter that paddled around the Harbor each morning was undignified of the title of “Focalotter”. You had thought the name quite clever and humorous—that is, until a horde of Gardes surrounded you during your shift one afternoon.

You were detained and led into the Opera immediately, which was where you currently found yourself. You frowned at the relatively large crowd—which, much to your dismay, included most of your coworkers—dispersed throughout the hall. Had they all come just to spectate your trial? Standing alone on the isolated balcony, you felt like an insect under a magnifying glass, an insignificant pest to be probed at for entertainment.

“And how do you plead?”

The deep, commanding voice above you wrenched you from your thoughts. Turning your eyes up, your (e/c) orbs were met with a penetrating gaze.

Pinning you with his lavender and silver eyes from atop his chair at the center of the court was none other than the Chief Justice of Fontaine, the Iudex himself, the face of the law in the Court. Monsieur Neuvillette.

This wasn’t your first interaction with the man.

Shortly your move to Fontaine, you had stumbled across his path. At first, it was just sightings from afar; he would be leaving the Opera, or purchasing a drink (Wait, is he paying for water?) from your favorite cafe. Your favorite flowers also began to appear at your doorstep, each time with a brief, cryptic note, usually something along the lines of To my little pearl —Sincerely, your guardian dragon. You didn’t think anything of it; if anything, it confirmed that your prayers to the Hydro Sovereign had been heard.

Then, however, Neuvillette began to periodically show up around your research stations, claiming to be investigating a court case. Even though the Iudex’s public appearances were supposedly rare, none of your coworkers, yourself included, thought to question his authority, answering his inquiries regarding the base’s activities to the best of your abilities.

You noticed that he tended to speak to you the most, even asking personal inquiries like your favorite drinks, foods, books, and hobbies, and about your marine photography especially. It must be part of the investigation, you rationalized. He was nothing but gentlemanly and always kept conversations curt and to the point, offering you a gentle smile as he departed.

If only you knew the true extent of his desires.

~*~

Naturally, he first caught wind of you from the Melusines. As his closest advisor, Carole regularly joined him for afternoon tea, and though he was not one for idle talk, the manner in which his friend spoke of you sparked his intrigue.

“And when those meanies were throwing rocks at me, (Y/n) was the only one who intervened! If it weren’t for her, I don’t know what would have happened…” Carole rubbed her head, as if remembering the sharp pain.

Neuvillette placed a hand over his heart. “I am eternally grateful for her presence. I cannot stand the thought of any harm befalling you.” The hydro dragon looked out the window of his study to the ocean, deep in thought. “Perhaps you could introduce me. It appears I have much to thank her for.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Carole raised a finger. “She mentioned lots of seal beachings recently, so I suggested that requesting rain from a certain dragon could assist her work!”

Neuvillette nodded, a slight smile pulling at his lips. “Ah, so that is why I’ve been hearing Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon echoing throughout my mind the past few weeks. You have quite the imagination, my friend.”

Carole shrugged playfully. “Hasn’t it been raining more often lately? Seems like her prayers worked!”

That they had, as Neuvillette could attest to.

The first time he heard your soft voice calling to him, he had sent rain the following morning—not for you, but for the seals. His position barred him from forming close relationships with humans, so the notion of attending to your inquiry face-to-face was eliminated immediately.

But when you returned again and again to implore for rain, he couldn’t deny his interest. The day after Carole informed him that his little supplicant and Carole’s hero were one in the same, he knew he had to meet you. He had actually left the Opera to see you for himself; whether he would actually converse with you was still uncertain, but your voice tickled an itch that he needed to scratched.

Neuvillette was an experienced and composed man, but setting his sights on you for the first time stole his breath. This, he thought, must be what it feels like to drown.

Your smile shone brighter than a Beryl conch, and your scent floated around him, sweeter than any marcotte. The light shimmering from the hydro vision on your hip reflected back in your eyes, giving them the appearance of twin pools of blue. You were sitting on a bench by the Fountain, a Kamera in hand as you gestured excitedly towards the screen. To your right was a Melusine he knew well, Kiara, who was clearly enraptured with the technology.

Though he knew of your kindness towards the Melusines—jumping in to save Carole alone was grounds for a medal of peace—seeing it before him sent the waters around his heart roiling. The Iudex was moved by the fact that, despite being a foreigner to Fontaine’s customs, you treated them with the utmost respect, going out of your way to befriend and include them in your daily life. Many citizens of Fontaine still harbored prejudice against the Melusines, but you… You even used she/her pronouns when referring to them, implementing the very law that he set forth.

“I use this for my research on seal behavior and conservation,” you explained to Kiara. “Having pictures of each individual helps us identify them in the future. We even give them silly names sometimes. See this one here? We call him Mr. Sealie, and this otter I like to call…”

When the pink Melusine started giggling over the nickname of your otter, a plan formed in his mind.

Whether attributable to his sense of justice or his draconic instincts, he knew one thing for certain. Like a shining pearl, you must be cherished and protected—and who better to serve than the Hydro Sovereign?

~*~

Those eyes will be my downfall.

Purple and silver locked with (e/c). Despite being newly appointed to the court, Neuvillette was the embodiment of both poise and intimidation. The very air around him seemed to shimmer with power and unyielding authority. His breathtaking eyes swirled with emotions—was that desire or disinterest?—you could not even begin to decipher in your current position.

Archons, help me.

You cleared your throat, hoping you didn’t appear too nervous in front of the judge. “Although I admit to using a version of the Hydro Archon’s name when referring to that otter, I was unaware of such a law against doing so. I’m not originally from Fontaine, so some of its, uh…lesser discussed laws are new to me.”

Neuvillette gazed around the courtroom as the crowd devoured the trial before them. It was baffling how naive humans could be sometimes; of course there was no rule against applying a silly nickname to a pet.

That is, until this morning when he had signed it into law.

Seeing you frightened and alone in the defendant’s box, however, was torture. It took all of his willpower to not to engulf you in his strong arms like waves around sand. But he had to maintain the facade of immovable judicator for a bit longer in order to mold you to his tide. Retaining his mask of composure, Neuvillette continued, “You do realize that previous defendants have been jailed for far less, correct?”

Frustration and fear flared within you. “But I—”

“Desecration of Lady Furina’s name is of the highest offense. Your behavior will not be excused, neither by myself nor the Oratrice.” Neuvillette raised the paper with your verdict, barely glancing over the words before he spoke. “The verdict stands: you, (Y/n) (L/n), are guilty.”

You clenched your fists heatedly. There was no arguing with the Iudex. Clearly, the polite and considerate version of Neuvillette that you had encountered earlier was an anomaly, for the figure looming above you was the complete opposite. Cold, calculating. Distant. A whirlpool cresting a bottomless sea.

Had this been his plan all along? Had you been the subject of his investigation? But why?

“However, because you are not from Fontaine, I will offer you a choice.”

You blinked up at the Justice, a knot of unease forming in your stomach. A choice? What choice did you truly have here? You pursed your lips warily but nodded for him to continue.

Neuvillete raised a gloved finger. “The first: you will serve a life sentence in the Fortress of Meropide.”

A wave of despair seared your insides like a brand. That was your fate? To be trapped beneath the region where you had always longed to live, never to feel the salty wind on your face or hear the calls of seals and gulls again? Surely, the second option was less cruel?

“Or, alternatively: you will dedicate your life to the court. You will abide by its laws without question and with unwavering commitment. You will relinquish your freedom; you will not be permitted to leave Fontaine and will be bound to this place for eternity.”

A choked sob escaped your lips. No matter what you chose, your life’s work and passion would be extinguished. You would be forced to either become an actress in the court’s performance or resign your soul to a watery grave.

Both option chained you to the Region of Hydro forever.

But one option at least granted you a semblance of freedom—a notion that you soon learned was as transitory as a bubble in water.

The crack of a cane against wood resounded through the Opera, quickly silencing the crowd’s mutterings over your sentence. “What is your decision?”

You could have heard a pin drop as the audience waited in rapt anticipation for your answer.

“I…I choose the latter,” you declared, tilting your chin up. You maintained direct eye contact with the Iudex all the while, holding onto your last bit of pride.

You could have sworn you saw Neuvillette release a breath of relief. “Very well. I hereby adjourn the court. Gardes, please escort the defendant to my office for further instruction.”

Two Gardes led you out of the Opera and onto an Aquabus to the city. They informed you that you would now be living in the Palais Mermonia and your duties would begin immediately. When you asked about retrieving your belongings and notifying your family, the Gardes exchanged glances.

“That won’t be necessary,” one said cryptically. “Monsieur Neuvillette will page your relatives and have your possessions seized.”

You frowned, wishing to object, but the Palais doors loomed before you like the entrance to a monster’s lair. You gulped but swallowed your fears, straightening your back pridefully as you were ushered inside and into the Chief Justice’s office. The bolting of the lock from the outside set alarm bells off immediately.

Neuvillette stood from his seat as you walked in. He coughed awkwardly, red dusting across his pale complexion. “Ah, Lady (Y/n). I do apologize for such a fast-paced series of events. You must be exhausted.” He motioned towards the sofa adjacent to his workspace. “Please, sit.”

You blinked at him in surprise. What happened to the unwavering judge from the court? Why was he suddenly treating you kindly? And why in the Archons’ names was he blushing of all things? Unsure how else to react, you obeyed and settled into your seat, with Neuvillette taking his own on the sofa across from you.

Neuvillette poured you a glass of what appeared to be plain water into an exquisitely ornamented cup. You took it wordlessly, noticing his eyes flare with a silver glow when your fingers brushed his own. Gripping his own cup, he raised the chalice towards you. “To a long and dedicated future together.”

You sketched a brow curiously but raised your glass in tandem to…whatever that was supposed to mean. “To not being in prison, I guess.”

“Indeed.” A breathy chuckle followed. “Now, I’m sure you’re wondering as to what this whole business regarding your sentence is.” Neuvillette took a long sip from his chalice. He frowned slightly when you simply placed yours on the coffee table separating the two of you. “Although you may have thought you’d be completing droll office work, your duties will be a tad unorthodox.”

At this, your brows furrowed. Wasn’t that what all those employees you had passed in the Palais foyer had been doing—pushing papers? You had cringed at the dark bags under many of their eyes, at how many were asleep at their desks, imagining how similar you’ll look once your sentence was completed. But based on Neuvillette’s words, it sounded like you would be doing something very different.

Oh, Archons. I’m fucked.

You braced yourself to speak, but Neuvillette beat you to it.

“You are to be my wife.”

You blinked once, twice, waiting for the punchline of the joke.

Neuvillette merely stared at you with his hands folded across his lap, waiting for your response.

After a pregnant pause, you couldn’t help the stunned scoff that escaped your lips. “You can’t be serious.”

“Quite, I’m afraid.”

You shook your head. “With all due respect, Monsieur—”

“Please, call me Neuvillette.”

Ignoring him, you continued, “I did not agree to be your wife.”

The Chief Justice leaned back against the posh blue cushions of the sofa. “Although that may be the case, you are in no position to refuse. In fact, your sentence mandates that you follow my orders.”

You stood abruptly, sending your goblet toppling over and spilling its contents across the table. “Marriage was not a part of that sentence.” Which was ridiculous to begin with, you added to yourself. I mean, a life sentence for a pet name? It’s almost like he wanted me arrested.

Neuvillette sighed and flicked his wrist, causing the chalice to right itself and the water to refill. “Marriage is the highest form of dedication, no? Is that not what you pledged to?”

“I dedicated my life to the court,” you clarified.

“My dear, I am the court.”

You emitted a low hiss, turning to the door. “I’m leaving.”

Before you could take more than a step, Neuvillette moved towards you faster than a crack of lightning across the sea. His large frame straddled yours, pinning you against the sofa. He grabbed your dominant wrist, a foreign bubbling under your skin erecting the hairs on your arms. Your mind reached out for your hydro powers to defend yourself, only to be crushed with the realization that your vision had been confiscated at the court.

Despite your struggles, you could only watch in terror as a glowing silver-blue mark in the shape of a dragon burned across the length of your arm. The leviathan’s scaly body twisted in ringlets up your forearm and bicep, ending in a slender head with twin horns that crested your shoulder.

As soon as Neuvillette loosed his grip, you shoved him away, panting heavily. The mark had already disappeared, but you could still feel the ghost of it under your skin.“What have you done?” you whispered breathlessly.

In total contrast to your own contorted expression, Neuvillette appeared completely calm. He smoothed out his robes and adjusted his jabot. “I have lived for centuries, and I have many centuries more. I’ve merely gifted some of them to you.”

Your body began to shake, from fear, sadness, or rage you did not know. “I don’t want them.”

“You do remember that you promised to serve the court for eternity, don’t you? How do you expect to persist by my side otherwise?”

Eyes locked on the exit, you tried for a different tactic. “Take me to the Fortress of Meropide.”

Neuvillette’s expression darkened, his patience clearly thinning. “I will not.”

Your eyes shifted back to his. Although Neuvillette intimidated you beyond belief, you’d be damned if you didn’t go down without fighting for your life’s hard work. “I want to change my sentence.”

He glanced down at your arm. “It’s a bit too late for that, my dear.” Taking your hand in his, he pulled you to his chest. His form towered over you, capable of resting his chin on the top of your head. “Please, understand. I mean to keep you from harm, even if it means being your jailor.”

“You’re insane,” you hissed, futility attempting to pull away. “Let go of me!”

Neuvillette’s grip was relentless. You stilled when you felt claws ghost up your back in a silent warning. “That is one thing I will never do.”

The fight in you slowly ebbed away—for now. Your resistance was clearly moot, like a gnat trying to down a dragon. You’d have to play the long game to learn how to get under his skin—and how to rid your own of this new mark. “I will find a way out of this,” was all you could promise, refusing to meet his eyes.

A deep sigh sounded above you. Neuvillette took a step back, looking at you with such longing you thought you’d combust on the spot. With one last stroke of your cheek, he strode towards the office’s exit and unlocked the door with a flick of his wrist. Looking over his shoulder, he fixed you with a forlorn gaze. “By the time you realize your place here, there will be nothing for you to escape to. Only I will remain.” He once more turned his back to you and stepped out of the room.

You suddenly paled, realizing the implication of his words. If his declaration was true and you were to live as long as him, then your family, your career, the world as you know it would be completely gone. Your only company, your only solace, the only one who would remember your name, would be him. “Wait, no, you can’t—!”

He closed the doors.

~*~

Neuvillette was many things, but a liar was not one of them.

True to his word, you remained locked almost exclusively in the Palais Mermonia. On the rare occasions he let you outside, the Iudex served as your only company, diligently making sure you were hidden. Your vision was permanently taken, supposedly to prevent danger to yourself. It didn’t go unnoticed when he would wear it on his hip at important or potentially volatile trials. When you finally asked—or growled at him, really—why he kept it on his person, he had merely frowned and replied, “I originally thought the idea of a fake vision preposterous, I admit. I have no need for one. Yet having it feels as if you are constantly by my side.”

The draconic tattoo he had branded onto your arm not only extended your lifespan but also gave you a minuscule drop of his abilities—though only when you were in his presence (and most definitely not against him—you had tried). That allowed the two of you to transport to and breath in the depths of Fontaine whenever you begged to go out. In his mind, it was perfect—not only was the sea his realm, but no one and nothing could touch you. You were his alone to hold, to see, to have.

Those trips were torture for you. Free, but trapped; floating, but tied down to the man who was supposed to be the symbol of justice.

You, on the other hand, had tried a variety of (fruitless) tactics to convince the judge to free you. Any attempt at conversation or advance in his part was met with either vitriol or indifference on your part. You had once tried to charm him into letting his guard down, hoping you could sneak away while he was preoccupied at the court. This plan epically backfired on you when he mistook your subtle touches as permission to devour you with kisses and love bites, covering you in bruises from his sharp teeth for the next week. You wouldn’t so much as let him tap your shoulder for the next month after—the spark of silver in his eyes while he kissed you foretold of a deep, overwhelming desire that far surpassed simple kisses. You feared what might occur if the composed Chief Justice were given the opportunity to release his more primal urges.

And so, each day was passed much in the same:

1) Wake up on the floor or couch of his suite in the Palais—like hell you’d be sharing a bed with him. Oh, how he had tried in the beginning to usher you into bed, into his arms. It was childish, yes, but at least your refusal have you some semblance of autonomy.

2) Ponder on how you would greet Neuvillette that day.

3) Choose between fury or pretending he didn’t exist, typically the latter.

4) Look for a way to escape after he left for the Opera. Fail.

5) Spend most of the day scouring court cases in his office for clues to overturn your cause. Fail again.

6) Look out the window pitifully at the water beyond the Court of Fontaine (were the levels rising?). You often thought of your family back in Mondstadt; what were they told of your imprisonment, if anything? How long had you been stuck with the Chief Justice? The days blurred like ink in water.

7) Immediately exit the office towards his attached suite the moment he returned—any other room was preferable to his suffocating presence.

Today, though, he had chosen to interrupt your musings out the window before you could make your exit.

“You know, I find the beauty of the bright sunlight is best appreciated from the indoors through a window.”

Turning your head from the glass pane, your attention was brought to the figure standing in the doorway. He was wearing nothing but a simple pair of dark blue slacks and a white tunic, his robes hooked over his arm. At the start of your captivity you had mused how strange it was to see him without his normal ornamentation; now his comparatively plain appearance was a daily sight for you.

You crossed your arms and leaned against the window, relishing the heat from the coastal sun against your back. It was nothing like the dark pits he practically dragged you to now that you could breathe underwater. “Personally, I prefer to enjoy it with the company of a cool breeze by the shoreline.”

The Chief Justice loosed a deep sigh as he approached you. He extended his palm, caressing your cheek gently. “If you desire it so, I will rearrange some meetings and escort you—”

Below the waves, where he clung to you like a Lumitoile to a rock? “No need. Present company would ruin the experience. I prefer to be above water.”

Neuvillette had the audacity to wince at your retort. “So you instead choose to wallow in your self-inflicted solitude?”

You wanted to laugh at the hurt edge to his voice. Self-inflicted your ass—every moment of your life now centered on him, depended on his permission. Solitude was a disguise for any reprieve you could get from his constant attempts to court you.

The ironic part was that, if he had approached you normally, you could have seen yourself falling for him. He brought and cooked your favorite foods and beverages, showered you with gifts and books on photography, and tried his utmost to make you comfortable.

But you knew it was as nothing but glitter in a gilded cage. Neuvillette had drowned your whole world. So no, you wouldn’t act like any of this is normal.

Resisting the urge to bite his bare hand, you glared at your captor. “You could simply, oh, I don’t know, let me go.”

Neuvillette’s jaw tightened. His patience might run deeper than the Trench of Elton, but it was not everlasting. “We’ve discussed this.”

At that, you shrugged his hand off. “Can I at least speak with my family? My friends?”

A pained look flickered across Neuvillette’s face. “That isn’t possible.”

Your lip curled in response to his expression. “Don’t act like you actually care.”

Pursing his lips, he settled onto the window seat next to you. Though you were twitching with the urge to escape, he placed a large hand on your thigh, a gentle warning. “(Y/n), there’s something we must discuss.”

You narrowed your eyes, though your heart rate spiked. By now, he recognized your silence as a sign to continue.

“Do you wish to walk around the Court of Fontaine with me?”

Blinking, your throat dried. You swore you heard him wrong. “I’m sorry?”

Neuvillette squeezed your leg in what he thought was a comforting manner. His eyes—fuck, you had to admit they were wickedly beautiful, silver and sharp as a sword—never left your own. “You have been justified in your anger with me. I have restricted you for far too long. I would like to extend an olive branch, if you will—an agreement that we will both retain civility. I will grant you freedoms, but you must adhere to your sentence. Any deviation will not be tolerated.”

Your head was spinning, so you didn’t even consider the implications of his words. He was letting you out. “Can we go now?”

Neuvillette smiled softly. “Of course.” Standing, he offered you a hand. You tentatively took it, more awestruck than anything as he unlocked the doors to the outside. You’d finally get to see your family, your colleagues, the sun—!

Fontaine was unrecognizable.

The last time you seen the square of the Statue of the Seven, the roads were cobblestone. Now, strange machines roamed the paved streets, clearly serving as sentinels. None of the shops or restaurants were familiar—your favorite coffee shop, where you had so many chats with Carole, was now boasting signs for upscale fashion. A Melusine hopped by, wearing a Garde’s uniform, something that you remembered as being rare due to the increased chances of them being targeted. Your heart rate spiked in worry when the Melusine approached a group of children and their parents, only for a stunned expression to hit you when the creature was hugged by a little girl, her parents cooing in delight.

“Where…what?” you stammered. Fontaine had seemingly changed overnight—at least in your experience of time. Dread pooled in your stomach.

You attempted to pull your arm away from him, but his grip on you was steadfast. That same pained look from before marred his handsome features. “I did not lie when I said you have nothing to return to.” The Chief Justice sounded melancholic—he wished it hadn’t come to this, but he had to eliminate any prompts for you to leave.

“No, no.” Your heart dropped. “What… What year is it?”

The silence that followed was all you needed to know.

“How many years has it been, Neuvillette?” you repeated, your voice cracking with a desperate tone.

For once, Neuvillette avoided eye contact with you. He simply gestured towards a bulletin board, where the latest issue of The Steambird (at least one thing was consistent) was posted. You tore it from its pin, choking back a sob as you read the date.

Hands shaking, the issue fell to the ground. It landed in a puddle, its edges slowing soaking and blurring the ink. A steady rain had started to fall, quickly turning into a torrential downpour.

It had been over four hundred years since Neuvillette had taken you.

If it weren’t for Neuvillete’s hand on your hip, you would have crumpled to your knees. “H-how?”

Neuvillete looked to the skies solemnly. “Time passes differently for us long-lived species.” You cringed at his use of us, and how he actually sounded remorseful. “But this is our opportunity for a fresh start.”

Silent tears streamed down your face. For what could you do? Everyone and everything you knew was gone. Lost to the sea of time forever. You had nothing.

He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, placing a delicate kiss on the top of your head. “Cry not, my little pearl. No matter how many centuries pass, you will always have me.”

~*~

Neuvillette was many things.

And now, just as he dreamed since the moment he set his eyes on you, he was your everything.

And yet, you refused to drown.

As the years flowed like water through a stream, you began to learn the beat of Neuvillette’s dance. His emotions, his moods, his thoughts, all reflected themselves within the waltz of his life, and soon maneuvering around the steps became second nature to you. The balance of power laid within the count, and you were determined to be the one leading,

The dragon wanted to dance? So be it.

You’d give him the most challenging dance of his life.

Darling [S/O]'s pov :

" I' m convincing myself that I'm schizophrenic cause why tf some fucking 10 out of 10 mf is haunting me down tells me he loves me forever?Should have take the pills earlier back then. "

*few minutes later*

" THE SON OF A BITCH FUCKING TOOK AWAY MY PILLS WHAT THE FUCKKKK"

SoulEaterxGenshin AU

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

this is kinda my overview on how Weapons and ArchonWeapons work in this universe. It’s really me rambling lol. This is mainly for my Zhongli x WeaponReader headcanons I plan to make sometime in the future- this might change in the future as I’m trying to finalize my outline for the au and what I want to be concrete and what to be ambiguous.

_Weapons_

How weapons work doesnt really change that much. A Weapon can transform a part of their body into their blade to fight, so they’re not defenseless on their own; it’s just more convenient to work with a meister. Even as a weapon, you can still talk and make yourself seen if you have a blade, this doesn’t change in the au. 

However, while a Meister CAN get a vision, they can only use it on the Weapon if they share a strong bond. Usually, a mutual goal or an unrivaled motive/feeling with the W weapon. It’ll feel like they’re becoming one as a weapon and meister. Meister and Weapon relationships are not necessarily physical but sealed by a mutual contract. 

Weapons are more sought after than any regualr weapons because of the soul possessingthem, strengthening and being able to accomplish what a normal weapon couldn’t and the fact that a Weapon can’t be recreated and is unique to the pesona. Though meisters get more attention in these societies than their partners, that’s where ArchonWeapons come in. 

_Archon Weapons_

Weapons can’t get a vision in the usual sense, only getting a vision when they’re chosen to become an Archon’s Weapon. Now, this doesn’t specifically mean that they’re tied physically to the Archon, but it’s an unwavering contract that if you are called to be used, you go without falter. Usually, only natives of a country could become their Archon's weapon.

An ArchonWeaon is a kind of like the Archon's personal soldier in some cases, being able to manifest their whole weapon without taking up a piece of their arm. This has gone out of date in present times of peace, but Archons still have a small court of ArchonWeapons that are located closer to them (the word harem can be used to describe them). Also meisters can use ArchonWeapons if their partner becomes one, it’s not like they disappear. It’s one a select few that are chosen that get to stay close to their specific Archon.

When an ArchonsWeapon’s moral life comes to a close, they will resort to their weapon form until they are broken. When this happens the persons soul is still present in the weapon (trapped in a way) but is no longer concious.

Usually, Weapons that are closer to the Archon can be summoned at will.*During the Archon’s War

An ArchonWeapon being summoned for another damn battle: “Aw shit, here we go again.” 

 Ei’s personal selected weapons would be in a section of her court. Zhongli’s weapons would probably band together to start a witch hunt on childe for ‘assassinating’ their god, but then Zhongli just shows up and is all like, “yo, I quit lol.” 

In the Weapon form, they will be tinted the element color with the Archon's name being marked into them (If you were Ei’s katana, you would have her name on the base of your blade where traditionally your family name would be). In human form, they appear to have a normal conventional vision, but in weapon form, they have the vision attached to a part of them.

A marking appears on the W weapons back when they become an ArchonsWeapon. The symbol for the Archons element on their nape, along with markings along their back, represents said archon. -

-Venti’s ArchonsWeapon’s back would be littered with teal light swirls, making out wings and wind around them. 

-Zhongli’s would be defined as bronze lines, emphasizing their muscles. A dragon representing Morax in the center of their back, curling around whatever weapon they were. 

( Zhongi’s adepti would use his ArchonWeapons. Ex Ganyu and Xiao )

-Ei’s would be jagged violet lines falling downwards, an eye between your shoulder blades, and a few traditional flowers forming along your spine. 

For delusions being used on Weapons grants them the same markings as a regular ArchonWeapon, but the markings themselves are forcibly carved into the body of whoever was using a delusion. It’s not impossible to use a delusion as a weapon it’s usually a very taxing and painful process, most of the people who use them either are forced to bear it. 

~ Debt repaid in full ~

Yan!Childe x Weapon!Y/n 

Note: I’m trying to explore my SoulEaterXGenshin AU with this headcanon/fic. Sorry that it got kinda sloppy at the end!! I’ll probably publish my overview of the au sometime but I keep on adding to it with many big-brain ideas. I’ll be opening requests for the au or just suggestions or questions about it! The next character I’ll be exploring will be Zhongli because I’ve been basing all my Archon headcanons with him, so it’ll be the easiest to write for! Also, I wrote this with Y/N being a chain spear weapon but it’s only brought up once, so g/n weapon? 

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: semi-detailed gore (mostly just blood), nonmajor character death, unhealthy dynamic, and relationship, Mentions of heavy violence, Childe just being a menace <;/3

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

The tales from the few delusion weapons that have worked with Childe tell of the many bloodbaths they’ve witnessed. Stories ranging from how he laughed as an enemy begged for mercy before reveling in the final blow to the wet sounds of the blood splashing underneath his shoes following where ever he went. But you could never guess that the man who killed hundreds of Meisters and weapons with only his vision and delusion was the same with the ever-so-charming laugh and showed the utmost kindness to his family. The complete 180 in personality from a cold-blooded murderer to a charming young man could give anyone whiplash. Childe has never sought to make a contract with a weapon himself, only ever using his vision, which changed upon meeting you. 

He first took an interest in you when he was stationed in Lyiue, helping to collect debtors who had been causing issues for the Fatui. This client has been failing to repay the loan they took from the Northland Bank for a few months, so it was up to him to step in where his lackeys failed. But what he didn’t expect was for you to step between him and your friend. You’ve known of Fatui’s methods of collecting a debt; many people ‘suddenly go missing’ after getting behind on their payments. So when you saw your meister being cornered by one of them, you couldn’t just stand aside. Pleading, begging almost, that you would get the money to repay them, you just needed more time. 

He admired your will to be able to stand up to a harbinger. The wildfire that lit up your eyes caused his pulse to skip a beat, like the adrenaline rush from battle. That was the day your ‘love’ story began. 

His interest in you only grew the longer he watched you. How do you take up various jobs around Liuye to help your friend with their due debts? He was thrilled beyond belief when he watched you help clear out some hillcurlers bothering an elderly couple on the outskirts of town. The question of if he would ever make a contract with a weapon came back to him as he saw your arm shift into a chain spear. You moved akin to a dance, moving your body to the rhythm of your attacks, doing quick work of the hillcurlers. He was so fixated on you that he didn’t even notice how he had started to shake in anticipation and a growing beaming smile that uncannily stretched his face. 

After his little watching session, he researched everything about you that he could find, memorizing the tiniest details from your favorite flower to your preferred sleeping position. He even went as far as to show up unexpectedly by you, revealing how your body went stiff. He’d try his charms on you, mixing flirtatious remarks with the ever-so-present time limit until the debt was due. He was quickly becoming somewhat of an acquaintance, much to your disappointment. But what he didn’t think of (or want) was finding out that the friend he initially came to get debt from was your meister. He’d show at night when your returning from a job, taking advantage of your worn-out self to try and plant seeds of doubt in your mind about how you are so much better than your current meister. It didn’t matter whatever relationship you had with this person; the only thing that mattered was that they were in his way of making you his.

The cool night air served as a sort of tranquility that you could lose yourself in any day. That is if there wasn’t a menace walking beside you, serving as a walking reminder of the approaching due date for the mora. You had lost interest in whatever he was talking about, being too exhausted from clearing out monsters for the past few hours to care. You didn’t need to be nagged and taunted by some harbinger who took it upon himself to annoy you daily. 

Your autopilot walking was interrupted when the ginger abruptly stepped in front of you, leaning down to be at eye level with you. “I don’t get it, really,” he began, staring at you as if he could look into your soul for an answer, “ Why do you even stay with that meister? You’re practically being held back by them. You need someone more...experienced than them!” He chuckled, seeing you glare at him, trying to sidestep around him, but he got in front of you again. Being so close to his face, you could see his eyes' hollowness that you didn’t notice before. “Someone like me.” With how quickly he changed, he returned to the annoying carefree Childe you were used to—laughing at how you looked like you saw a ghost. 

The rest of the walk had a heavy air as his words echoed in your head.

When the extended time limit came, you and your meister brought the exact amount to the Northland bank where childe was uncharacteristically quiet when the sack of mora was laid out in front of him. You can feel as if time had stopped when Childe presents that while you had gotten the payment for the loan, it had increased in the extended time he gave you. But he is not anything but generous and offers a compromise, saying he’ll erase all of your meisters debt if you agree to unify your contract with them and, in return, make one with him♡.

You’re both stunned and bewildered by his proposal. However, from how a sly smile creeps up on his face, you know he means every word. The audacity of the man in front of you. He so casually dehumanized you into a simple object that could be traded in a contract. Thankfully you and your meister both rejected his proposal, asking if there was anything else. 

He pretended to ponder the idea before stating that there was a way to settle this fairly, practically eating up your full undivided attention on him. He would challenge your meister to a duel, hardly hiding the fact that this was his plan. The vision at his hip pulsing to life as your meister begrudgingly accepted. You could only watch as the gruesome match began. You wanted to look away so many times as the screams of your now late meister rang through the air.

You didn’t even notice the tears streaming down your face as Childe walked to you, his prize. Staring down at you with those soulless eyes looked down at your crouched figure. He took off his bloodied glove and brushed your tears off as he cradled your cheek. Tilting your face upwards to meet his gaze, “I look forward to our newly formed contract (first)!” beaming a smile that didn’t match his void-like eyes. 

Childe would make you his right hand in the Fatui, taking you away from Lyiue to his home in Snezhnaya. He doesn’t need to chain you down when your contract does it for him, detailing your obedience to stay by his side. He takes pride in wielding your weapon form, proving that he is better than your old partner. That you should be thankful, he decided to help bring out your true potential, only under him, of course. You’ve taken to just trying to block out all the cries and screams of the people victim to the harbinger, though you haven’t been able to wash the iron smell from you for months now. 

New rumors of the infamous 11th Harbinger started circling through the low-ranking members and weapons in the Fatui. Tales of how where ever he fought, there would only be him and his weapon standing victor in the end. Dancing in a blood-filled ballroom, the red floor reflecting the sinful dance like a mirror—capturing how his hands tighten around your hand and waist, pulling you along to his rhythm—a mere victim to the beat of his war drum.

update:

I’ve been swept up in the genshin fandom as of late so I’m probably going to start writing for a SoulEater x Genshin cross over. I’ll probably release headcanons for it later since I’ve been having some serious brain rots about it. I’m still going to be writing for Tokyo Revengers but it’s going to be on the back burner for now! Also I’ve been trying to improve my writing so hopefully there’s some improvements! Also school has started back up for me so I’m most likely going to be slow with these updates!

—Master list—

—Tokyo Revengers—

Platonic Yandere Haitani Brothers- 

Pt1, Pt2

Sold out: Emma Drabble

Nail Polish bonding: Izana Drabble

Playdate: Hanma drabble 

A neglectful lover: Izana, Mikey Short

Cat and mouse- Haitani brothers Short 

Sick Days

-Genshin Impact-

SoulEaterAU: Childe x WeaponReader

-Twisted Wonderland-

{~~In the works~~}

Vil x Raven!Reader

Childe x Musician!Reader (Request)

Thinking about making the platonic hantani brothers a series of drabbles and whatnot

i swear i’m not slacking off im just tired and busy, my shoulders hurt really badly too i can barely stand hbdvhf anyway would anyone like to send asks? it can be anything i just need some motivation 

If anyone has hcs for yandere genshin/honkai characters send them I'm very bored and I'll try writing smth on them to help my writers block too!

Kamisato Ayato's Type (Yandere Idol!Ayato/Reader)

A/n: The CEO finally let me write “a/n” instead of “mother of Klee, Alice’s note” from now on now that the shareholder is missing! Anywaaaayysss… You look well-rested, Producer fox! What’s your secret? Won’t you tell mother Alice?

CW: hypnosis, panic attacks

Yandere 1k Idol Event

“(Y/n)... (Y/n), (Y/n), (Y/n).”

Kamisato Ayato chanted your name, voice dipping into a borderline death threat.

“My dear producer, isn’t this far enough? I am not playing games anymore. Why don’t you reveal yourself before I make you?”

You made no sound inside the closet you’ve claustrophobically folded your knees and arms to fit into. Both hands covered your mouth while your heart beat erratically– but the sensation surely had less friction compared to Ayato’s fingers. 

He chuckled darkly. “Not up to it? Oh, but what if I started counting to three?”

You bit your lip, holding back tears.

A moment ago, you saw him rip his pillows in half after realizing you were no longer sleeping in his bed. Cotton materials were littered above his azure sheets and some were swept by the wind, dangerously close to the closet you were hiding in. His elegant demeanor crumbled and you jolted at the sharp sound of torn cloth. Ayato repeatedly clawed through the bed, his breathing guttural and erratic as he fruitlessly threw the rest of the pillows away. Your name no longer sounded right to you. It doesn’t sound like it was yours with the way he mumbles it like a curse or a lost possession. 

Although his face couldn't be seen from this perspective, you can still picture his lips being uncannily spread from ear to ear. Your muscles tensed even more at the sound of his feral yet strained laughter. You don’t know where you are but based on how isolated the area was, you’re clued on a bit as to approximately where he’s keeping you hidden. 

This is not his estate. This is not any of Teyvat Production’s buildings. The answer is closer to these keywords: Grand Narukami Land Reform Program. 

You felt your heart pounding in your chest as his footsteps echoed louder– closer. Nausea started creeping in.

Be quiet… be quiet like a fox, (Y/n)…!

“Come now, Producer (L/n). Do you no longer trust me? I'll start counting. One… Two…”

—---

“It’s three o clock, sir– where have you been?”

Dressed in fine yet slovenly material, Kamisato Ayato enters the room. Looking from afar tells you what you need to know about him. Yes, he’s a byproduct of an aristocratic family who pursued an artistically sensitive path of politics, but by his smile alone, anyone can tell he's a notable outlier. 

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he stared at you. As always, his lean body stands firm, not unlike a Hinoki tree on a misty morning. This is precisely the reason why your eyes targeted his wet clothing and not his well-versed smile.

Unimpressed by his absence while you were out working for the entire day, you asked as politely as you could. You've been bombarded with tasks as of late, disastrously to the point that you even started managing the Inazuman food supplies in the cafeteria.

"Sir Kamisato, may I inquire as to why you look positively haggard?" 

The idol grins wryly at your voice before squeezing some locks of his hair near his scalp. His pursed lip belied both child-like innocence and weariness of a man without youthful aspirations. Some sweat also seeped between his fingers, which only served to amplify your distress.

Ayato averted his gaze, intent on answering you without giving too much of himself away.

"It was a difficult singing session and the space lacked ventilation."

"It's snowing." You deadpanned.

Ayato shrugged "It's a… mixture of both sweat and snow, I suppose."

You snatched the script off his hands. 

Needless to say, he was definitely not practicing a song.

"Didn't Thoma or Childe agree to accompany you?"

Before making the switch to idol work, Childe was once known as Tartaglia in the theater industry. You suspect he's the reason behind Ayato's current fixation on acting. It's not a secret that Sir Kamisato had been eyeing the barren sixth and tenth spots of the Commedia Del Arte troupe for quite a while now…

"Thoma attended a talk show with Aether and Zhongli whereas Childe was preoccupied with his training."

Archery training most likely for that man’s next athletic competition, but you're not Producer Sage so you don't particularly care. Your eyebrows furrowed. 

"Do you want to stay in ADDICKTZ longer than necessary?"

For a moment, his expression stiffened before it relaxed back into his usual languid smile.

If a well-dressed atheist quietly sits through a mass, most devotees cannot tell whether they're worshipping or attending. The same reasoning can be used to explain Kamisato Ayato's reputation. The juxtaposition of the perfect princely archetype paired with a stressed-out overachiever– that was your opinion on him the first few weeks you worked in Teyvat Productions. And you were right.  

Sir Kamisato had always been open to you about his detachment from the idol group. In his eyes, every ADDICKTZ-related activity is a mere play pretend worthy enough for him to generate fabricated happiness to fuel his agendas. His idol works are not so different from the nihonga pieces the Kamisato Clan collected throughout the generations– a beautiful artwork, but not something he's deeply involved in. His career thrived off countless facework and dramaturgical approaches in fan interactions, false but not cheap. He is what the creative director and his assistant made him out to be, and he doesn't seem content or completely dissatisfied with this arrangement.

It’s obvious that he’s not here to satisfy Ayaka’s obsession with the idol industry– he’s your boss simply because there’s a political gain you aren’t privy to know the details to. 

You'd wager a guess that this career shift likely had something to do with the Kamisato clan's land reform scandals… but you're not here for politics. Lady Yae always watches your every move to make sure you know little regarding the “real” paperwork Sir Kamisato does. 

However, you can’t help but feel as if you were involved with one of these scandals before… you just can’t remember what incident it was.

"My apologies, Producer (L/n). I will not do it again."

"As you should." You pouted. "You caused me a great deal of worry."

Ayato opened his mouth before quickly shutting it. For a supposed political heir, words had failed him. His posture resembled that of an abandoned puppy as he slouched and sighed.

You laughed softly.

Open mind, open arms– you let him hug you gently as Ayato mumbled something about his workload. You’re so used to this that you didn’t mind how uncomfortably damp his back was. This is a normal occurrence between you two. After nearly half a year, Ayato opened up about missing his sister's hug after a long day and you offered to be a substitute. You ran your fingers through his sweaty hair, feeling him breathing softly near the shell of your ear. 

“Producer (L/n)…”

“Yes?”

“I must memorize the script before sundown…”

You shook your head. How surprisingly predictable of him to bring that up.

“I won’t let you pick it up until you have a thirty-minute rest.”

“Why don’t we make this a game then?” He pulled back, a sly smile gloating just a bit to let you know he doubts you’d win. “This will be our second acting game– see which one of us can perform the script best. Win, and I’ll be the one finishing this week’s paperwork.”

As an older brother, Sir Kamisato has a habit of inventing games. The "reading game," "cursive-writing game," and "hotpot game" were all unmistakably created to discipline and make his younger sister Ayaka behave. However, she is now a young adult, and you are unquestionably much older than she is. You're not clear as to why he believed this "acting game" tactic would work.

But the “second” acting game? You’ve never read a script aloud with him before, though.

Oh, well. Picking up a script is worth trading the paperwork you were meant to be doing. 

“If it lessens my workload, I don’t see why not…”

Working for the idol industry can be very demanding, after all. If you win, you'll probably squander your spare time to snack on sweets... and work on a few chores– okay, so you're not the best at being still. You’ll probably multitask working on Ayato’s theater work either way. That, or you'd plan a new deck for your next 25-minute TCG game with him. 

He grabbed the script from behind you as his smile got bigger. Ayato handed the pages back after swiftly leafing through them and pointing at the highlighted passages.

“Scene IV – Act IV,” he said, his excitement subtly infecting his tone. “This is where my character helps Emperor Edel relax.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, confused. “I was under the impression that Hubert was Kaeya’s role.”

“Ah, I’ve forgotten to inform you but I’ve replaced Alberich since the eye incident.”

You know little about this “We Will Be Reunited” play 4/8 of ADDICKTZ are involved in but based on word-of-mouth, it appeared to be about an emperor and a retainer who had to betray former classmates to win a continental war. Seems like he wanted you to read the emperor’s lines.

He dimmed the lights to set the scene. Thankfully, only the two of you occupied his TeyPro's room. There's no one else lingering in the east wing, including Dr. Albedo's room next door.

“I see…” You muttered. “So, I shall be the first to start, correct?”

Sir Kamisato nodded. “Yes, you can begin with the ‘you think this can help me?’ line.”

You cleared your throat and repeated the phrase with much fervor.

“– I mean, I trust you Hubert, but I’d rather not face another disappointment in life again.”

Just like that, Kamisato Ayato’s demeanor shifted.

“My emperor (Y/n), I know that trusting another person isn’t easy, especially for someone like you with high status,” he spoke, voice laced with compassionate conviction. “But you have placed your trust in me, and of course, I will not let you down.”

As you listened to his delivery, you struggled to contain your grin of pride. For someone who looked ready to sleep on the floor when he entered the room, his voice carried the emotional weight worthy of becoming a professional theater actor. Hence, you decided not to comment on how he used your name instead of “Emperor Edel” for the sake of momentum. He knows what he's doing. This is the first time he called you by your first name– he's trying to fluster you.

“Hubert…” You muttered melodramatically, not knowing how the character should act or sound. “Fine, do what you must.”

“Thank you, my dear.”

You took another glance at the script and noticed that there weren't as many lines left for your character, which annoyed you. It seemed that Sir Kamisato deliberately set you up to fail. How can you win when he hasn't even gotten through one-third of his lines and you have already finished yours?

“Edel, I need you to look at me,” he spoke softly. “I need you to listen to the sound of my voice and follow my lead, understood?"

Since you weren't sure what to say in the first place, you didn't improvise any lines. You continued to sit next to him. He raised his hand near your face while he reads his lines. Your eyes naturally focus on his index and middle fingers as he points them up in the air. You don't understand the reasoning behind it, but there would be consequences if you check the script to see if that's written down. He would make up some nonsensical justification to deduct your points for this "acting game.” It's obvious. He’s not the only person in the world who can plot things like these.

“Are you still listening?” He muttered in a crisp yet low voice. 

Your eyes squinted a little in an unsuccessful attempt to focus on his hazy image. You were naturally more inclined to focus on the two fingers between your faces, struggling to keep yourself awake.

… Struggling to keep yourself awake?

He moved his fingers slowly to the left.

“My liege, the pressure you’re carrying is an unimaginably heavy burden…” He slowly shifted his fingers to the right. His voice was barely above a whisper, and you were this siren’s only listener. 

There’s a rhythm in his delivery. The charisma that his singing voice would convey remained present in his speaking voice, “even the smallest of tasks have been assigned to you– each minor inconvenience stacking up stress you do not need to carry alone. But you must continue to trust me. Focus on no one else but me and my voice alone. Only I can help you relax.”

… Were you so tired from work that this acting is actually working on you?

His fingers moved to the left again. For unexplainable reasons, your breathing wasn’t as shallow as it was earlier. You’ve made a mental note of how deeper it was compared to when Ayato first entered the room. Still, it’s too much of a draining challenge to focus on his face that you allow yourself to become absorbed in watching his slender fingers instead. You can no longer see his blue hair or face clearly.

Unbeknownst to you, your mouth was slightly agape– 

and Ayato had been clenching his other hand tight in an attempt to resist the urge to capture your lips.

He dryly cleared his throat in a nearly inaudible sound.

Ayato needs to take this slowly.

He won't repeat the same mistake twice.

“T-This… ‘method’ may not be as comfortable as I would’ve hoped, perhaps a tad bit extreme, but I assure you that it is effective (Y/– Edel.” He bit the inside of his cheek. “Please, follow my lead…”

Of course.

“Left… Right… Left… Right…”

Your eyes moved as commanded.

“Left… Right… Left… Right…”

He chanted those words thrice and more.

… Why do you feel like you’ve done this several times before?

Sir Kamisato kept talking and talking…

His features blurred and the outline of his lips and nose disappeared, but his lilac eyes were clear. Eerily clear. As if it was the only feature of his visage left. You held back a yawn. You're sloppily reminded that the room remained dark, lulling you without questioning his face’s uncanny emptiness. 

Nearly faceless. 

You blinked laconically. 

What’s going…?

“Sir Kamisato I…” You yawned, unable to keep it in for much longer. “I-I think I might have to take a break…”

Kamisato Ayato smiled, but you couldn’t see that.

“An important dimens… to the concept of hyp…. thera… is how the therap… and their …ient perceive their environment. One impor… set of beliefs the patient must hold is their concepti… of trust they have for their therapi… and the safet… that co… along… with it.”

You could no longer follow his string of words.

Was that… from the script? Or is he talking to you?…

He continued, his grin growing wider.

“It warms my heart to know that you trust me, my b…ved. Trust me enough to beli… I would receive the… lead role– trust me enough to mindlessly believe that there’s a scene in …. that requires hypnosis therapy.”

“Take a break. You deserve the rest more than I do.”

That was the only full sentence you understood.

“Promise…” You yawned again, fluttering your eyes shut. “Promise you’ll wake me up?”

He laughed.

—------

Kamisato Ayato opened the door to the closet and your heart finally sank. You gasped as a pair of empty lilac eyes towered and stared down at you. He bent down and roughly grabbed you by the arm like one of his sister's stuffed animals, leaving you with nowhere to run. Your perception of an upstanding nobleman was shattered and stepped on as his twitching hands yanked you by the collar. 

His fingertips were red. His fingertips were warm– and it was all because of the mess he made with the torn-up pillows earlier.

He found you. 

The first game concluded, and much like the second game with “Edel” and “Hubert” in the present, Kamisato Ayato won this round.

“There you are. Why, I never would’ve guessed that you’re a sleepwalker–... (L/n)...? (L/n)? Why are you…”

Kamisato Ayato, a broken boy, hugged you. You can’t hear him– you can’t breathe enough– you can’t feel his warmth– all you feel is a restricting pain in your chest that screams this was the end of the line. You could no longer function.

He can't have that. He doesn't want to see you like this.

He loves you. Don't you understand that?

Then why were you shaking?

“No. No, no– b-breathe, breathe… W-Why do you look so terrified? P-Please… “ His hands trembled as he held you. No longer from anger, but from fear.

He doesn't want to break you.

“Please don’t be scared of me, (Y/n),” he whimpered desperately.

"T-Thoma! I need help, right now!" Ayato bit his lip, as he rubbed circles on your shoulders. He doesn't know what to do, but there's only one objective left in his mind–

Kamisato Ayato needed to find a way to put you back together.

---------

He nodded, playing with your hair.

It's been months since that incident now. Thanks to Lady Yae's help, you would've likely forgotten all about it. You're back, almost brand new, and your health had became his priority.

Kamisato Ayato, idol and heir of the Kamisato Clan, will not repeat the same mistake twice.

“Promise, I won't forget to wake you up, (Y/n). After all, it seems I'm close to mastering my skills on 'E█M█ th██apy'.” 

Ayato cooed and kissed your forehead, but you were already deep in sleep to know that.

“I promise I will no longer break you, unlike last time, my beloved.”

Ansytea: thank you, 🦊 anon for joining the match-ups~ and hehe happy holidays to you as well!!!

My Honest Reaction to all this:

In all honesty, thanks for answering my ask!

Will there be a part 2 of the "Attention" fic?

infidelity [gn/m.reader]

the answer to that is a solid yes AND a big apology for taking a hundred years to post this. this ask has been in my inbox for freaking months. and it’s mostly because i have been remaking this fic until i got the most satisfying fic LMAO. i’m sorry for taking so long 😭 i hope this is compensation enough. btw this part 2 to this! but honestly, you don’t have to read it lmao.

𖦹 crack taken seriously, hsr mention but this is mostly genshin, this is just a fic of me making fun of cheaters aka you, highly based on that one tweet of the “welcome home, cheater” one, pushing my grand overseer reader agenda like in my early fics teehee <3, sagau, sahsr au

“I should probably go back…”

Jing Yuan begged to differ. The general himself had his reservations about your sudden eagerness to depart. After all, you were a good company — one that amused him to the core and even kept him awake for the better part of the day. You are an interesting being to him after all — much after learning from the exuberant girl from the famed Astral Express suddenly emphasizing your importance when they left you under his supervision.

You, in much simpler words, are adorable in the Luofo general’s eyes. With eagerness and curiosity melding in those gaze of yours that could leave anyone transfixed — wanting and desperate.

You truly live up to the title as the grand overseer across worlds. You were the sole beholder of their sentience, despite the fact that right now, you’re barely aware of your status and your circumstance, it was more than enough for anyone go cherish your presence. How could they not? It was a blessing to see you descend from where you were, behind the great barrier that they all could only stare at when they looked to you for guidance.

Alas, that mattered little, not when you were beside the amused general and his coy smile, fingers raking through your hair; reminiscent of the pattern when he would do the same thing to Mimi when you visited his abode to meet the furry beauty that was his pet.

Quite frankly, you weren’t all too sure if this was something you were used to, being treated like an animal companion, with even the way Jing Yuan’s hand would suddenly roam behind your very human ears, scratching behind out of habit.

The only thing missing was him giving your food to you in a bowl, actually, and you’d be no different than Mimi at that point. Wait. No. You were sure Jing Yuan’s lion also ate out of a golden encrusted plate when you saw his hired caretakers come and feed Mimi.

“Bark for me, won’t you?” The general teased with a purr and it was more than enough for you to pull the plug at your willing compliance.

You removed his hand from your head and only shot him a subtle glare, “That’s a request I can’t honor even if my life depended on it.” You sighed, “I should get going now though, General… I made a promise to help our conductor in sweeping the floors. Apparently Caelus tracked some dirt inside when he decided to lug some trash.”

“Must you really? You’re the grand overseer, no? I believe such a title deserves a limitless freedom in doing whatever it is that they wish,” he coaxed in a suave tone, quick to win anyone over. And honestly, that sounds nice. But you’ve never seen Pom-Pom look so stressed when you saw an unwilling March and Dan Heng drag some trash either wrapped in gold bags or regular black ones inside the express when they came back from Belobog.

You somehow regretted leaving first — but even you had urgent matters to attend to at that moment.

“Ah—!” The lax Jing Yuan jolted at your sudden outburst.

“…Anything troubling you, Grand Overseer?”

“T-Teyvat! I completely forgot…!” Your eyes were blown wide as the panic settled within you. You had promised Nahida you would make it to the Interdarshan championship. She was so excited when she communed with you just days ago, completely elated that even your beloved Wanderer would participate as a representative in a Darshan.

Albeit confused by your sudden squawking, Jing Yuan understood and only watched you pace around while you lamented what sounds to be a rehearsed apology that you will no doubt tell to someone you hold precious.

“How envious, to receive an apology from you even sounds like a great honor.” Jing Yuan teased with a chuckle. “Well then, off you go now. Don’t be away for too long. I rather enjoy our time together.”

“O-Oh, yes, of course… I truly apologize for cutting our time together short. Do give my regards to Fu Xuan and Yanqing if they drop by. I have to go and talk to the crew and also bid my goodbye for now.” You bowed before turning away, briskly walking your way towards the door outside of the general’s office, only to bump into Welt and March.

“Oh! There you are! Ya ready to go shopping?” March held an exuberant energy as she asked, clasping your hand in hers tightly with an excited gleam flashing through her eyes.

Welt, however, was far more observant than March, “Judging from that look in your eyes… you have some affairs you’ve forgotten to tend to, Your Benevolence. Would I be correct in my judgment?”

“It’d be a miracle for you to be wrong at this point,” you laughed amidst your panic. “But yes, unfortunately. March, I hope you don’t mind a little bit of postponement… I have somewhere to be urgently.”

March’s bottom lip stuck out into pleading pout, “But you promised!”

“March, let’s not force them. It is as they say — an urgent affair.” Welt only looked at you with a small nod and an encouraging smile, “Don’t be too worried. I’ll let Himeko and Dan Heng know of your absence. Just be safe.”

“I will definitely come back and visit.” Your smile and reassurance was enough to quell March’s disappointment and Welt’s initial concern. “Please tell Caelus not to track more dirt inside. It’ll only serve to frustrate Pom-Pom further.”

“It’s a useless attempt, but for you, I’ll try,” March winked as she waved to you with Welt.

With a nod to the two of them, you were off to Teyvat — lucky that you have little need for the Star Rail in the first place to travel. Otherwise, it would most certainly take you the entire conceivable time just before you could even come back to one of the many worlds that you oversaw and to a fault, even took care of from afar.

You stepped into the familiar grassy fields of Sumeru’s rainforest, looking up to see that the city isn’t too far off. There was a gentle breeze that blew by, almost like a kiss from a certain archon, but you paid little heed to it. You normally always took your time to appreciate the sights in Teyvat, finding its vast lands and many biomes incredibly fantastical in sight. But even that couldn’t keep you from the fact that you’ve broken several promises that you willingly made to some residents here.

You can only imagine the disappointment in everyone’s faces once you’ve admitted to the fact that… other people may have swept your attention away in the first place — hence your sudden absence.

You owed your first apology to Nahida. She is after all, one of your far more favored archons around, treating her like your own, definitely something that would make Rukkhadevata proud among every other archon out there. And then there’s also a matter of apologizing to your dear Aether, you made another promise to him that you would spend your time with him in Sumeru’s far end by the Realm of Farakhkert to meet the infamous Sorush and the majestic race of the Pari (you once made a claim that Aranara’s are superior, and your endeared traveler was reluctant in protesting to your words it seems).

Now that you thought about it — you were sure you made quite a lot of promises to the residents of Teyvat. A lot of commitments were hammered into your special sanctuary that Aether had built for and with you inside his teapot.

Commitments that you’ve forgotten in favor of space travels with a couple of trailblazers.

Onlookers turned to your direction, completely flabbergasted at your casual appearance. What were you doing in Sumeru city (not that they were ungrateful for your gracious presence) — but it was as if you were solely taking a stroll on your own. Where are your entourage? Was the Acting Grand Sage even informed of your arrival? What about the archons that always accompanied you? Where is Buer?

Best of all, why does your face contort into an expression of what seems to be utter guilt?

You hiked your way to the Sanctuary of Surasthana, refusing any help offered to you by the guards that were courteous enough. You were prepared to face Nahida’s crestfallen look — prepared to start indulging her wishes to make up for the tomfoolery you engaged in. The corners of your mouth trembled as it itched to finally spill out the plethora of apologies that you’ve prepared.

“Oh. So you exist after all.”

Only for your well-rehearsed (by the last minute) apologies to fall apart when the Wanderer’s voice rang from above. You looked up to see him perched on one of the ledges just above the door of Nahida’s residence. He was stationed like a watchful hawk — and he was, constantly on the prowl for anyone suspicious daring to come up to the sanctuary.

Suddenly, a memory of you promising him to go fishing by the coasts of Sumeru had you wincing. And with the way the puppet’s mouth turned up in a smug smirk showed that he was aware of an engagement you swore you’d do with him.

“Ah… I hear you go by Hat guy now?” You tilted your head, giving him a reluctant smile.

“Spare me the meaningless prying. Where have you been?” His eyes narrowed, suspicious and a tad bitter at your absence and incompetence in attending a tiny little leisure that you yourself insisted he join you on. Who the hell even creates plans first and suddenly flakes out? The Wanderer has never felt more betrayed, quite frankly.

You suddenly looked like a guilty spouse that came from a messy affair, with the way you shifted your footing and how you averted your gaze quick. The Wanderer was intolerant of such a behavior however when he finally came down from his little high up spot to face you with no escape. He will summon a void and trap you in it halfway if you so much as make an attempt to escape.

“I’ve been… away…”

“Were you now?” His scrutinizing gaze only served to intimidate you further when he came up close, his nimble fingers tracing against your clothing. “Whose is this?”

And before you, he held a familiar long strand of white hair — possibly acquired when the general of Luofo decided to frolic around with you, coaxing (or coercing, more like) you to give him a much deserved head massage for his hard work (though in truth, he barely did anything that day).

“…A cat.” Technically not a lie. Jing Yuan does exhibit certain behaviors that you can classify as a behavior that a feline has.

“Is it now?” His voice went an octave higher — clearly mocking you if his churlish grin wasn’t enough of a sign about his suspicions of you and your… agendas prior to your unprompted visit in Teyvat.

A terse silence engulfed you and your Wanderer before he flicked away the hair and dragged you inside Nahida’s sanctuary.

“She was disappointed that you were absent the entire Interdarshan event thing. Where in the abyss were you?” The puppet hissed, his grip on your wrist tightening. Somehow you found it far more comforting compared to the times where people would treat you like some fragile object that could break at any second.

What’s not comforting however, were his words. You couldn’t bear the thought of letting Nahida down, and now you’re faced with that very thought becoming a reality that you now have to get through just for the sake of your sanity.

You smiled a little despite seeing the Dendro Archon’s back turned while she minded her own business. There was always something comforting when wasting your hours away inside the sanctuary. Just having to teach Nahida from your old world knowledge about people, and to an extent even teaching the Wanderer with your wisdom that rarely pops out (according to him, with full intent to insult you). It’s not as daring as the time Venti decided to fling you up and catch you or Ei’s insistence on you eating your tenth dango during your walks.

For now however, you had one goal in mind — and that is to make amends with your favored archon and puppet.

Teyvat altogether created an unspoken rule to never ever doubt you — the Grand Overseer. You have a position that transcends even farther than the Primordial One, your eyes that gaze on many universes and worlds. You are the one that took care of the blooming life in each planet that teemed with it, thriving under your guidance.

There was a collective decision among all gods and mortals alike to never doubt your endeavors, much less your love for them. You care a lot about them, and based solely on your constant descent towards their world, it seems as though above all other worlds, you favored them. They were the proof of your benevolence, granting the residents your presence while you walked among them.

Right. That was the case that everyone agreed upon.

However, there was an underlying layer of unease. Heaven forbid may it be doubt; they could never! But perhaps… a tiny bit of uncertainty in the layer of cautiousness as the residents watched you with adoration.

It first started with the wrong names.

When Albedo, Sucrose, and Timaeus wholeheartedly welcomed your help when you visited Dragonspine with Klee. Jean was far too busy with her work and while she wished to, could not have time to bask in your presence after the announcement of your sudden arrival. In turn, you only assured her and relieved her of her added duty in watching over Klee.

Klee was the one to visit big brother Albedo, to surprise him that you were finally back. And you complied. Dragonspine is an extension of Mondstadt, and you had plans to check up on every single resident of the nation.

Suffice to say, you were quickly hooked up in a chair, pulse detectors attached to your temples while you watched Klee doodle away on the floor. For a respected overseer, you certainly were a people pleaser, letting Albedo scan you out of his own volition (Sucrose was fussing the entire time, she didn’t want you to be hurt in the process, after all!).

“Look Grand Overseer! This is you and me and Dodoco!” Your vision was quickly filled with a flurry of bright colors on paper, one that was filled with an abundant amount of red and the other with the colors of your clothing.

“Ah! So it is! Good job, Hook!”

Everyone in silence soon tore themselves away from their work, looking at you with evident confusion.

Klee blinked, tilting her head as she looked just as lost and surprised as the other three researchers in the mountain, “Hook? That’s not how you say Klee…”

Your heart hammered against your ribcage and tried to save it with a cough, “D-Did I now? Ah, my bad… I meant to say was that you… did a great job! It immediately hooked me in!” It was a half-baked excuse — hell, call it a raw excuse even and everyone aside from Klee caught on as the explosive child beamed with pride, just happy that you loved her heartfelt creation.

Albedo eyed you in suspicion before returning to his work.

Then there was your misplaced reminiscence.

In your defense however, Snezhnaya does feel like Belobog. Sometimes… most definitely not because of the fact that both places are constantly subjected in a thick layer of snow.

The Tsaritsa was all but cruel to you. She loved you like any other archon out there and always basked in your presence — even keeping you for herself a week or two longer, leaving the next nation in your rotation of visitation completely restless at your tardiness. However in her gentle kindness was a terrifying beast that laid dormant.

Only then did you catch a glimpse of it on the morning that you and her spent on your appointed room in the palace, both you and the Cryo Archon siting on the balcony while you sipped on a hot beverage, enjoying the mountainous coated in freshly fallen snow.

You sat your cup down and blew on your hands. The Tsaritsa laughed at your actions, pleased that you can truly feel the love she embodied through the cold winds of her icy nation.

“Cold enough for you, Grand Overseer?” She jested with a light tone.

“…Yep…” your teeth lightly chattered. “…T-This place is a lot c-colder than Belobog, I’ll tell you that… B-But not more than Jarilo-VI as a whole…”

All of a sudden, you could feel the creeping coldness from beside you and looked to where the archon sat, her striking eyes looking at you with curiosity… with a smidge of coldness behind them.

“Pardon? Not colder than where?”

Her tone was pressed despite her sweet adoring smile. She took pride in her sovereign kingdom of cryo. It was all for you, to feel the comforting cold after you spent your last stay with Murata in Natlan. This was her giving you love, and suddenly, it wasn’t enough?

The better part of your mind decided to feign ignorance. And you lived to see another day.

And then the sudden secrecy.

By all means, of all people, Zhongli indulged in your stories the most. Whenever you visited Liyue, you were almost always found beside him if Ningguang wasn’t asking for your presence or if you weren’t getting coerced into another drinking competition with Beidou and her crew. And in this case, you were preoccupied with a little something while you accompanied Zhongli in his usual spot.

He listened earnestly to the storyteller while you busied yourself writing a little something on a parchment you had acquired from the Wangsheng parlor when you fetched Zhongli for his break.

And ever so slightly, he’d find himself glancing at your hunched over form, while you stewed in your little activity. He didn’t particularly mind the lack of conversation from you. Having you beside him was more than enough, actually. But it wouldn’t hurt for you to have him be just as engaged in your little agenda, would it?

The former archon peered at your work, only to be faced with scripts that were oddly reminiscent of Liyue’s characters. Albeit there were significant changes that made the language still all too different from his nation.

“…Might you be translating ancient texts, Grand Overseer?” He inquired and was met by a suspicious jolt from you.

It was a text Dan Heng gave you before to practice the language used in the Xianzhou fleet. Only now did you have time to do his little practices upon your descent. You had plans to check up on everyone as soon as you were done in Teyvat, and perhaps impressing Yanqing with your language prowess was a good party trick (and eventually not get bullied into eating something spicy because of your ignorance).

“Ah! N-No—! I— yes. No.”

Zhongli tilted his head and you were quick to recall your flubbed answer, shoving away the parchment into your little pocket. There was a frantic look in your eyes and Zhongli was concerned, naturally.

You used to be so willing in divulging everything to him in exchange for his stories, with the both of you managing to talk from dusk to dawn without fail with him needing little to no sleep and the time dilation that your body couldn’t seem to adjust to. You weren’t afraid to share what you were preoccupied with, and even often let him experience new things from your own world.

So why are you keeping secrets now?

But perhaps, the breaking point was your standoffish nature.

Aether has always cherished his raw connection with you and was proud to wear his closeness to your divinity, not because of infamy, but because of how incredibly special you treat him. While, certainly, you have made the people of Teyvat special on your visits, but what sets him apart from the rest is your adamant expression of affection towards him. For some reason, he was favored alone, not as a part of a collective unlike Venti and his people, or Zhongli and his. He alone was yours to indulge, even more behind closed doors in his teapot realm.

However… something was off after your abrupt visit.

Something had changed when you came home.

You were far more distracted, occupied with that tiny device you always held in your hand. Suddenly, Paimon wasn’t the loudest one in the teapot mansion with the incessant beeping that your phone made. It never did that before, it was always tucked away somewhere, sometimes even letting him place it in his inventory if there was little time to go back into the teapot.

He had always deemed your mode of communication useless. Especially on your travels. It was always so silent, like a useless artifact that you keep on you.

But suddenly it was teeming with life, buzzing endlessly that could drive any man with weak resistance into the threshold of insanity. You’d often pick it up and grant the little device a heavenly smile and proceed to be on it for hours upon hours.

It was a heartbreaking time for him.

It was heartbreaking whenever he would peer at your device, only for you to keep him in the dark as you made some lame excuse.

It was heartbreaking whenever he could no longer recognize your words when you talked about your own anecdotes, throwing name after name at him while he listened intently.

And oh was it heartbreaking when you called him by the name of someone else.

“[Name], have you seen my earring?” He took pride in his informality with you showing your comfortability and familiarity with the renowned traveler.

“Over on the table, Cae— ther… Caether… Aether.”

Not so much with that tiny slip.

Yes. Perhaps that was it. And all the preceding reasons.

Perhaps it was why you sat like a condemned criminal in the court of Focalors, as every archon looked at you with scrutiny and skepticism in their eyes. Only sweet Nahida looked at you in concern. Ah, your poor child. You’d rather her look away than experience the possible punishment you were about to receive.

“Grand Overseer, make no mistake, this is a trial born from the accumulated concerns of us all. This is a trial born… from our love.” The hydro archon’s voice bellowed through the courts. She normally wasn’t one to personally try the defendants, however you were a special circumstance.

You always were.

…Sure doesn’t feel like it…

“M-May I at least know what my charges are…?”

“Infidelity, Grand Overseer.” Ei answered for the collective. “I can only hope you are not found guilty.”

You grimaced. You’re quite glad that this was a private trial, with only the archons, retired or otherwise, gazing at you. Make no mistake however — this was an intimidating position to be in. You may be the Grand Overseer, but you’re quite sure the only thing keeping you alive is their thinly veiled fanaticism and adoration for you. Otherwise, you would have been incinerated long ago.

It might have been your luck. But it was something you would wholeheartedly thank as the moment Focalors slammed her gavel down, the horrifying screech of something you can only classify as a hideous ally pulled you out of your impending doom.

The alarm on your phone rang incessantly, a glaring reminder of your subpar and mundane reality, waking you up from a dream that you could barely remember.

You shot up, only realizing you fell asleep in front of your own computer. You looked up to see your game open, with your beloved traveler gazing down at you with a disappointed frown on his face.

You chalked it up to your awful sleep and rubbed your eyes, closing the game and migrating to the other, where your in-game phone was filled to the brim with messages.

Smothering a yawn in your hand, you can only shake your head.

“My games have been really weird lately. I should probably leave them alone for now. Maybe have fun with Elysia and the girls.” You muttered to yourself but not before powering your computer down.

Truly, your utter cluelessness is bound to drive everyone insane.

Fret not however, they will make it work. They will let you know of their sentience. They will make sure that you are aware of how much they admire you.

It’s only a matter of time until then.

It's basically this meme:

https://youtube.com/shorts/z7fT6PdBptU?feature=share

attention [gn/m.reader]

quick sfw fic to cleanse all of your palate from all that filth :). sagauauauauauu because my time in genshin dropped by a mile. definitely not because i’m playing honkai and have been into star rail beta lately. definitely not that. :) also definitely not an introduction to the possibility of me writing for the hsr men once the game comes out :))

𖦹 crack fic, subtle dark themes in the end, sfw sfw :D, whore overseer reader sigh, mentions of characters from hsr and honkai impact, but nothing to concern yourself over. though i would recommend you see them for yourself hehe

Quiet. It had been all too quiet. Everyone looked up at the skies where often your softest gaze can be seen as you waited for the world to prepare for your arrival. You, their ever so benevolent overseer, isn’t around to spend some time with them like you usually would.

Such a mistake can’t exactly be unforgivable. They know you have a life other than being the great overseer of their world. You’ve talked to the many other otherworldly beings in your world, and they’ve lent their ears on days where you weren’t feeling the greatest, often do they have to suffer seeing you in such a mess as well. But there was nothing that they could do but keep up the support, letting you just sit back and diligently puppet them around, watching with satisfaction as they dealt bigger and heavier damage than the usual.

But these days, it had been relatively different. The way you were absent was in a rather poor taste, according to your devoted characters. It left something within them that they didn’t particularly want to entertain, sensing that there was something that changed with you.

Suddenly, your usual schedule of nightly visits with them turned erratic. You would either come earlier, or much later, barely making it through the commissions before the daily reset.

Worst of all, the new area that the Dendro Archon has offered to you, the one that you promised you would explore with your beloved team was suddenly left at thirty percent. You promised you would dedicate yourself into exploring the new area more, seeing that you were so excited to see Jeht and the new characters, even the NPCs that had to play the roles of the bad guys didn’t mind your berating.

Your promise was yet to be fulfilled and yet every time you would log in, you would only finish up the commissions quick and spend the resin on leylines, not bothering to farm for the artifacts and talent books like you promised to the others as well. And after that, you’re quick to leave them alone again in the wake of silence that only you can fill.

It was painful to see you leave, the care that you always showered with them slowly dwindling — your promises that seemed to hold all the water in Teyvat suddenly breaking, turning into an empty vessel of lies. You were breaking their hearts.

The hardworking ones slowly finding less meaning in foraging materials for you when you would send them on expeditions. They used to be so eager to come back with more than what you expected, finding your surprised face and the way you smiled so gratefully at them far more rewarding than any mora they’ve been paid with for the expedition. You were worth it in their eyes, and no matter how high the mountains they may climb, no matter how strong the thunderstorms are, they did not mind. It was for you after all.

The children that you’ve taken in your roster, ones that you’ve cared for, were slowly wilting and losing their childish glee. You no longer played with them. You always took them out, claiming that your daughters can cause better chaos than any other Archon combination out there. But all you’ve ever used these past few days is your main team, and even then, they were only there to serve your commissions to be done quickly.

The Archons that you’ve nurtured and built so well were lost without your gaze on them. Their lives becoming far more dull without the anticipation of being selected to lead or support your current team. You always experimented on their capabilities and tested just how far you can drive up the skills they’ve accumulated under your mercy. But now, there was barely any suspense as you came and went, barely even having the chance for them to feel you.

The abyss was lonely without you. Often it had fun at seeing your torment when you lost a single star, only to come back again with different contenders. And even when you won, frustration was not the response you would get if the abyss was sentient enough to show you its feelings.

The traveler… oh, your dearest traveler was lonely without you. More than anything, you’ve always taken the time to just explore with just them in the team, indulging the personal time you’ve made for them, foraging for specialties even when you can easily locate them with the nation specialty experts on your team. But no, you shared this time just for them and them.

But now there was coldness that you left. You were always so busy but there was nothing keeping you either. But how would they even know when you barely talk to them anymore. You became so unnervingly quiet that it was uncomfortable for everyone, only seeing your eyes focused into desecrating every enemy on your hit list of commissions. They barely had time to appreciate your company.

Not when the last time you spoke, it sounded like being with them was a chore.

“Ugh. It’s almost reset time. Gotta make this quick.”

And just when they thought you’d stay for a few more minutes to continue with the reset, you’d leave quick.

They all wanted to break through their code, change the texts of their voice lines should you happen upon their profile accidentally and see that they wanted to know why you’ve become so distant lately.

Fortunately, your beloved characters are bound to get their answers on the day that you were interrupted.

Aether watched from the sidelines — just because he wasn’t visible in the team, it didn’t mean that he was completely shoved in the back unlike the others. He will always be around to talk to the other residents of Teyvat for you. He’s your voice after all, and he wouldn’t let anyone take that away from him. It’s the one job he has always enjoyed doing in comparison to all the commissions he’s taken on as an adventurer.

The outlander traveler watched as your team stayed still in place, gazing off in your direction, admiring the way your eyebrows knitted as the blaring call interrupted your time with them. Perhaps you still had some care within you, then?

Curiosity swept everyone like a massive tidal wave as you answered your little communication device, turning in your swivel chair.

“Speak before I change my mind about answering you,,” you huffed, a tad playful, but stayed silent as you listened to your friend. Even from the muted volume that the great barrier that is your screen provided, they can hear your friend’s rather loud laughter, possibly on a mission to destroy your poor ears.

“Ah, that? Yeah. I got into the beta testing. It’s wild, dude.” You chortled, before swiveling back to face your computer, those eyes of yours digging into your team’s bodies and boy were they glad they can control a shiver that you sent down their spines. There was always something so hypnotic about your gaze. Perhaps it’s why you’ve truly earned the title as their grand overseer. The way you seemed to just catch onto every little detail in the clothing they’ve donned on. It was a good feeling — to have your approval.

Your eyes never once left them as you continued on with your conversation, “It’s kind of like TCG, but with people. Hah… no. It’s kinda complicated, I’m not even going to lie, I have a feeling that people will really struggle if they don’t have the patience for this.” You smiled a little, “Yeah, people like you. …Apologize? What for? I’m only telling the truth. Anyway, even if you don’t have the patience, I’m sure you’ll bend your back for the characters.”

Now that piqued their interests. Even those who were situated in the backseat of your team, waiting to be used. “You’re not really wrong. You’ll see characters from Honkai there too. Yeah. Welt looks so old, dude. He’s giving DILF. You’ll like him.” You cackled.

Poor Zhongli felt offended. Wasn’t he the one to hold the distinction as the father you’d like to… copulate… with? You always made such flustering remarks every time he was out on a mission with you, putting him in circumstances that could leave him gasping for air, coming undone just from your comments that could leave any prudes fainting.

“Oh yeah, there’s a twink here too. Yanqing — he’s so adorable. You know I’m going to be all over him.”

The plethora of short men that you’ve showered with love and attention soon found themselves under attack. The threat of this… Yanqing suddenly breaking out in the surface. They hated the idea of someone else having your attention. As if it wasn’t already a pain to compete over you with others! It was always a battle with the short men (all except Aether, he knew he had a special place in your heart).

You hummed a little, kicking your legs and winced as you accidentally hit the legs of your computer desk. And while they knew it was wrong to see delight in your mild pain, it felt nice to see the cruel you get a little bit of punishment for your cruelty.

“Yeah no, I’m okay. Totally fine.” You hissed a little, opting to ride out the dull throb in your poor shin. “Anyway, overall, really good. You know who I’m going after though? Jing Yuan and Blade. I have to. I need them in my life. I need them and I need to be inside them—” a loud laugh erupts from the back of your throat as you listened to your poor friend choke on air at your words, ignoring their scolding, completely oblivious to the tall men that found complete displeasure in your words.

It wasn’t all too savory to see their beloved overseer suddenly turn your back on them, as you continued to rant away about the characters. Even the women that you took care of, and the children you’ve coddled were dragged into the mess, whining about someone named Kafka? Someone that the Shogun suddenly found herself narrowing her eyes at. You dare speak of other women on the day you said you’d visit her in her plane of Euthymia? Especially after surviving your mumbles about someone named Raiden Mei? Absolutely preposterous.

Your poor daughters wilted as you uttered about Bailu, gushing about her adorable face and wanting to protect her. Does that mean you’re giving up on protecting them? You seemed so hellbent on this new kid… oh, how it breaks their heart to be replaced by someone they considered as a parental figure…

And the endeared traveler in your heart grew anxious. Fear gnawed into the back of Aether’s mind as you shifted your attention to another character.

“Then there’s the trailblazer. Much like the traveler, you can also pick a guy or a girl. Of course I picked the guy, you know I’m already so, so weak for these tropes.” You turned back into the monitor and Aether watched in bated breath, now wishing that he wasn’t in the sidelines like always. He wanted to face you directly so you can see his heartbroken expression and perhaps take pity.

But your poor traveler could only listen to your words, “Yeah, I won’t say much. But he’s definitely interesting. I like him. A nice change, actually.” You laughed while Aether’s heart dropped to his stomach.

A nice change? What does that even mean? Were you implying that you were finally getting sick of him? That you no longer wanted to indulge him in your alone times together? Poor, poor Aether — how he wished to just break through the screen and drag you in their world.

For days, they’ve wanted to know what kept you away from them. But somehow finding out the reason only brought regret and bitterness. You almost forgot to spend time with them recently because you’re acting as an overseer in another world? Just how cruel can you get? You promised yourself to them the moment you swore your devotion as their overseer and caretaker.

You were theirs! Why can’t you see that?! Going off to other worlds, hopping in to gaze at other undeserving people that are probably not even aware of your presence unlike them!

Suddenly, there was an air of stagnancy around Teyvat.

Surely there has to be a way to convince you, right? For you to keep your eyes to only them and them. To devote your time only for them. To spend most of your time just taking care of them. Surely there was a way to delete the other worlds, no?

They’ve waited on you long enough, dearest overseer.

They should hope that you wouldn’t protest in their acts of rebellion, right?

And besides, you love them with all your heart and soul! You said that! Declared it even and proved it with their decked out builds and weapons and maxed out friendships! If that was the case, then you wouldn’t mind finally meeting them, right?

Right?

You chatted to your friend away, suddenly oblivious to the way your screen glitched. To the way suddenly this beta testing game you’re overseeing also fighting back, surprisingly just as sentient as they are.

There was a war brewing between these beloved pixels of yours. And hopefully you can appreciate just how much they will fight for the top place in that heart of yours.

Sagau idea (no crossover this time)

You'd get isekai'd to genshin and become a playable character (and the team at hoyoverse are trying to get you out)

(I know I wasn't the first to think of this idea but I wanted to bring this idea back and see what you guys can do with it)

Here's a another Genshin x Cookie Run Self Aware idea but this time it's just regular old sagau

We're in tevyat but this time one of kid cookies (or all of them) came with us while we were babysitting them in the kingdom (don't ask why we're babysitting them)

Imagine if Cherry Bomb and Klee ever met 😨 (Rip mondstadt 😰😰😰)

OMG! Thank you so much for this @rinriii 🥰🥰🥰 Keep up the good work and keep writing also good luck with school

[This is Home]

Genshin Impact x gn! Reader x crk

Where the reader was suddenly transported into the world of Teyvat along with their cookie friends, being chased around by people then suddenly being their god had you overwhelmed. Your stuck in this world, your creations wanting to go back to their home along with you, but where is home? Well home is right here in Teyvat my Grace

Idea came from: @strangefancrusade

Tagged: @g3n0dtt

This is so rush im so sorry I have school tommorow :0

You ran quickly as the mob chased after you, gripping your bag close to your body to protect it. Screams of dismay were thrown at you as arrows fired from left and right.

"hold on guys, just a bit more" you whispered, an arrow just barely grazed your face as you dodged the attack, your body rolling on the rocky ground.

Your hair was filled with mud and soil as you scrambled to stand up, your feet already running. You jumped down a cliff as you hoped for the best, luckily whatever being that was ruling Teyvat was on your side as you landed on a bush.

The mob going past you, their steps and shouts going farther and farther. You stood up, making sure no one was in sight, you quickly ran the other way to find shelter.

A random cave sufficed as you sat down, your face showing signs of relief as your lungs tried desperately to breath in air.

You looked at the bag you were holding, your hands scrambled to open it, trying to see if what was inside was damaged. "Your grace are you okay?"

A voice was heard from inside as more voices started to grow louder expressing their concerns. You moved towards the deeper part of the cave before sitting down, placing the bag on the ground.

The knight cookie, Madeline crawled out of the bag, his sword on his hand as he went to check on you. More and more cookies went out as they gathered around you "Beloved one, let me heal you" A soft voice of one of the very first cookies you baked comforted you.

"thankyou Pure vanilla, I really appreciate it" You huffed out, still having trouble to breath as your heart pumped blood into your system, the underline rush still present. "It's my pleasure beloved one" he comforted as he started to heal your cuts and bruises, slowly due to your size difference but it does the work.

Herb cookie was sitting on your shoulder trying to get the dirt out of your hair, his face was filled with sadness as he noticed cuts on your face and neck. You picked up the crying children, trying to shush them so you wont be noticed.

You felt water being splashed on your leg, your eyes noticing Sea fairy trying too wash away the dirt so Pure vanilla can heal.

Dark cacao was there trying to help the other cookies get out of the bag, it was really unfortunate how all of you were suddenly part of this big problem

It started out normally, you mixing up batter to make more treats as your creations watched in the sidelines. The Ancients, or the cookies you first created were there checking out the batter as Sea fairy and Herb were watering your plants near the window. The children running around the counter playing, while the dark cookies were there watching. The other cookies were busy chatting with you, trying to grab your attention.

Then suddenly all of you were suddenly transported in this unknown place, you were lucky enough to steal a bag to put all of them in to keep them safe.

You walked near the huge gate but even before you could even walk above it you saw a people gathered at the gate, a blonde lady leading them.

Then before you knew it they started chasing you, you tried to escape running for miles until you reached another City. And there again you met people gathered as if waiting for your arrival, not repeating the same mistake you quickly fled away.

And here you are, being bandaged up by your creations in a cave. For some reason ever since you came to this world, things have been unlucky, the winds would constantly try to slow you down, the earth creating rocks for you to get hurt on and lightning seem to come out of nowhere even with no storm.

Holly berry quickly rushed towards you, he face filled with panic "Greatest they are here!" Your face contorted quickly shoving them all in the bag, but you were to slow, once you ran towards the entrance of the cave they were already there.

"Your run ends here" A man with golden eyes said, his hand holding a spear pointing it at your neck. You quickly knelt down "Please! I-I haven't done anything, have I wronged you or have I offended you in some way!?" You begged.

"Just your existence has already offended us all"

Shouts and crying was heard in your bag, the bag shaking forcing you to drop it to the ground. You didnt dare make any movement as they eyed the bag.

"Hey! Whats wrong with you people?" They were all confused, a red headed cookie quickly jumped away from the bag running next to you "Chili please go back in the bag" you whispered.

"Please, please calm down, no need to harm our maker" The console cookie was quick to his feet trying to ease the situation.

They were all confuse, why were cookies talking?

"Please dont harm them" you begged as you pulled them closer to you, the cookies trying to calm you down.

They all looked at you, A lady signaling the knights to go forward.

Now here you are on a throne in your very own temple being prayed upon by thousands or even millions of people, each asking for your forgiveness.

The cookies were busy telling them off on how stupid they are, other than that everything was going well.

The kids were busy playing with each other, the ancients were discussing matters with the archons.

Herb and Clover have their own garden, and Sparkling had his own bar (he and diluc get along well). Lisa and Latte seem to get along as well, discussing about books and all, Albedo, Alchemist cookie and Espresso cookie were talking about alchemy stuff.

Everyone was getting along, but you couldnt stop the feeling of unease now everyone had their eyes on you. You tried asking Venti, or the Archon of the wind, on how to get back to your own world and he brushed you off saying;

"Ohoho why need to go back your grace, for Teyvat still needs your guidance, many wonderful things are still waiting for you here in your home!"

Its creepy, you tried asking help with the Archon of wisdom and she ignored you;

"your grace you still have knowledge to pass down to us, you cannot go back just yet"

Excuses were comming left and right, and the cookies are getting restless as well, they still had their own kingdom back at home but they couldnt just go back without you, plus they dont know how to go back.

"Home is here fellows, your grace is happy here so should you"

Why are you in a hurry to leave? Why not stay here in Teyvat, the world that you made with your very hands? Why choose them when you have us?

Tell me... What makes them so great?

The cookies tried to keep you safe, protecting you, but they were all picked up like toys and thrown in a cage. You were miserable, you were a bird of high divinity trapped in a golden cage without freedom.

You were their god first, so why do you treat them unfairly? It was only right to bring back their God, if you still hate them from before they'll make sure to earn your forgiveness, just stay with them okay?

Your eyes bore into theirs as you opened your mouth.

"this is why I left this godforsaken world"

Here's a Genshin x Cookie Run Self Aware idea

Genshin Imposter! Au but this time the cookies are here in tevyat to protect their baker

Any thoughts? Fanfic ideas?

Genshin impact rant; mostly about the community!

Dear Genshin Impact Community;

Please shut the fuck up, you guys are acting like entitled brats. “We spent money on the game we should get proper compensation!!” Yes I agree, but harassing Genshin Impact, THE ENGLISH ACCOUNT, at that is making you look stupid yes the anniversary rewards are lacking but look at everything else we got.

We have moonchase, community events, Aloy (yes I’m technically counting her, if you have a problem I don’t care). And those rating Genshin a 1 star for the rewards. Do you know the damage your doing!?

Genshin can be removed from the AppStore or PlayStore just because your mad about ingame rewards. Do they affect your gameplay? No. Are they still rewards? Yes. Are you guys hurting yourself? Big yes. Also stop bringing up Honkai and TOT.

You guys are saying we got a free S-Rank. Yes we did FOR THE THIRD ANNIVERSARY! Of course the rewards are gonna be better. But you guys just think we got it? Hell no, we had to work for it by doing small quests when all you have to do is login to receive the rewards.

Yes an anniversary for a game is big. But harassing the company for the rewards won’t change anything… your just wasting you rants on the game. So if you’re upset at the rewards please just take some time from the game and relax, get away from the game for a while.

If you take time to read my rant. Thank you!

Hiii! Omg I really loved the Khaenri'ah child!!! Would you be willing to write platonic archons with a child who is the daughter or niece of the Heavenly Principels?🙏

Heaven’s Little Star

Synopsis: The Archons find themselves faced with an unusual charge: a child born of Celestia’s will, the daughter (or niece) of the Heavenly Principles. Despite their vastly different personalities and histories with the gods above, they each develop a unique bond with the child, treating them as a precious yet mysterious presence in their lives. Whether out of genuine affection, curiosity, or cautious reverence, the Archons all find themselves drawn to this little celestial being. Pairings: Venti, Zhongli, Raiden Ei, Nahida, Furina, Mavuika x Celestial Child

Venti - The Carefree Guardian

Venti is the first to disregard whatever divine implications surround you. To him, you are not "Celestia’s child" but simply a child who deserves joy and freedom. He takes you on wild adventures across Mondstadt, letting you dance with the wind and sing along to his songs.

However, beneath the lightheartedness, there's a wariness he doesn't speak of. He avoids the subject of Celestia like a plague, but every time you mention your origins, a fleeting look of contemplation crosses his face. He doesn’t see you as a threat, but the history between him and Celestia is complicated.

He spoils you endlessly—dandelion wine is off-limits, of course, but fresh apple cider? Only the best for you. If you ever get upset, he’ll strum his lyre, voice soft as he hums a tune just for you. And if you ever feel trapped by divine expectations? He’ll take you somewhere the stars feel close enough to touch, whispering that no fate is unchangeable.

But even through his mischief, Venti knows what you are. If Celestia ever comes to retrieve you, he’ll be ready to play the trickster, to steal you away like a breeze that refuses to be caught.

“Don’t let them take you back up there, little breeze. The sky is beautiful, but you belong where you can laugh freely.”

Zhongli - The Wise Protector

Zhongli treats you with a mix of reverence and warmth. He is perhaps the only one who truly understands the gravity of your existence. Unlike Venti, he does not ignore your origins—he acknowledges them and prepares accordingly.

“Even the oldest of gods must respect the unknown,” he murmurs when Hu Tao asks why he is so careful with you.

Despite his caution, he ensures you are taught the ways of Liyue’s traditions, history, and philosophy, determined to give you an identity outside your celestial ties. Should you ever express sadness over your connection to the Heavenly Principles, he will kneel before you, placing a steady hand on your shoulder.

“You are not your lineage alone. You are who you choose to become.”

He also spoils you in a different way—gifts of fine tea, calligraphy sets, and jade trinkets are common. He takes you on strolls through Liyue Harbor, explaining the significance of each structure and telling you stories of the past. If you have any celestial abilities, he teaches you how to use them wisely, warning you of their consequences.

Should anyone dare to harm you, the old instincts of the Geo Archon resurface. He may have retired his godhood, but for you, he would summon stone and spear once more.

There is an underlying protectiveness in the way he acts. He never mentions Celestia openly, but there’s a glint in his golden eyes that speaks of caution.

“You must understand,” he murmurs one evening as you sip tea beside him, “power is a responsibility, not a right. No matter where you come from, the choices you make will define you.”

Ei - The Silent Guardian

Ei is distant at first. She does not know how to handle children, much less one tied to Celestia. She watches you carefully, as if expecting divine judgment to be passed at any moment.

But over time, her wariness fades. She begins to teach you the way of the sword, explaining the importance of discipline and strength. If you show an interest in the arts, she encourages it—perhaps as a way to make up for the time she lost with Makoto.

Unlike the others, she does not shower you with affection, but her actions speak louder than words. She ensures you have the best food, the best training, and the best security. If you ever fall asleep in the Tenshukaku, she will sit beside you in silence, keeping watch.

She does not see you as an extension of Celestia, but as an individual. And for that, she is willing to protect you with everything she has.

“If they ever try to take you away,” she says, eyes sharp as lightning, “I will be the storm that tears them apart.”

Nahida – The Understanding Guide

Unlike the others, Nahida understands what it means to be born into something greater than yourself. She sees the loneliness behind your celestial ties, the quiet yearning for normalcy. And so, she does not treat you as a divine being, nor as an anomaly. She treats you as you.

With her, you are allowed to be a child. To learn, to stumble, to grow. She introduces you to Sumeru’s people, lets you play in its forests with the Aranara, and gives you books filled with stories to dream about.

She teaches you dreams and stories, whispering truths and fables alike into your mind as she tucks you in at night. She tells you, “The world is vast, and even the gods do not know everything. If you ever wish to leave the shadow of the heavens, I will help you carve your own path.”

More than anything, she wants you to have the freedom she once lacked. And if Celestia ever tries to take that from you, she will use every ounce of her wisdom to keep you safe.

“No matter what they say you are, you are still you. And that is enough.”

Furina - The Dramatic Older Sister

Furina treats you like a beloved younger sibling—one she absolutely must spoil rotten. You are not just a child in her eyes; you are an audience, a confidant, and a co-star in whatever dramatic performance she has planned for the day.

She insists on dressing you in the finest Fontaine fashion, taking you to grandiose operas and teaching you how to deliver the most elegant of courtly speeches. She showers you with extravagant gifts, sometimes unnecessary, but always dazzling.

But beneath her theatricality, she is aware of the weight of your origins. There is a quiet protectiveness beneath the glitz and glamour. If anyone dares to treat you differently because of your divine bloodline, she will tear them apart with sharp words and sharper wit.

“You may be of Celestia,” she declares grandly, pulling you into an over-the-top hug, “but you are also of Fontaine! And as its beloved citizen, you deserve nothing less than the best!”

She treats you with indulgence, giving you gifts, lavishing you with admiration, yet there is always an underlying tension. She fears the day you might outgrow her influence, or worse—the day you might be taken away.

And if it ever comes to that, Furina, despite all her fears, would stand atop the Opera Epiclese and demand a trial against the gods themselves.

Mavuika - The Fiery Mentor

Mavuika is fascinated by you. She does not fear you, nor does she treat you with excessive reverence. Instead, she welcomes you with open arms, inviting you to Natlan’s grand festivals and teaching you the ways of her people.

She trains you to be strong, to carve your own path despite the divine blood in your veins. If you struggle, she does not coddle you—she pushes you forward, making sure you learn through experience.

But she is not unkind. When the weight of your origins becomes too much, she lets you rest against her, patting your back with a warm, steady hand.

“Celestia may have given you life,” she says with a grin, “but the world is yours to shape. Don’t let them decide who you are.”

Something Like Consolation [Yandere Alhaitham x Reader]

Title: Something Like Consolation [Yandere Alhaitham x Reader]

Synopsis: Follow up to this yandere Kaveh & Alhaitham imagine scenario. You don't want any comfort from Kaveh in this moment, but you don't imagine you can get any from Alhaitham, either.

I read this post from @j0succ last night about gentle lies and immediately got an idea for a line of dialogue that solved how I wanted to approach a lil follow up to this scenario. Mostly written on my phone so uhh yeah.

Word count: 1376

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader

The sight in the bathroom mirror is a far cry from what you saw only minutes before. Daintily applied makeup, finished off with carefully painted star, are ruined--streaking. Ugly. That’s what you see in the mirror. Splotches of color and red eyes and a face scrunched from bitter sadness. 

You look ugly. Mouth quivering as you fight to keep your sounds in, the blur of Alhaitham behind you, moving to shut the door. 

It’s the soft click of the bathroom door shutting that does you in. And pitiful mouth-pinched sobs that shake your chest become thick, choking cries echo off the panels of the bathroom walls. 

You aren’t hoping for Alhaitham to take you in his arms and rub your back and pull you close to his chest, and he doesn’t. Instead he reaches for one of the cloths hanging on the wall and turns the sink on, the heavy sound of water mingling with your own cries. 

He holds it out. “Wash that off, then we’ll get you changed.” 

The thought of taking that cloth makes your arms feel leaden. 

You look up at him, mouth downturned and pitiful and quivering. 

He sighs, and shakes his head. 

“I’ll wash it off for you. Stay still.” 

And you do, coughing out your cries as he dutifully dips the cloth in water again and again, scrubbing your face with the same methodical firmness that he scrubs the rest of you when he deems you too unruly to bathe yourself. 

If it were Kaveh, you think, he would be using the softest of touches. Cooing in between strokes as he gently wipes the makeup away. Kissing your cheek to calm you down. 

But you don’t want Kaveh right now. Not when he hurt you. Not when he lied to you. And if he lied about this... what else was a lie, then?

The way his fingers nimbly stroked your back when you were upset, the soft downturn of his lips when Alhaitham was verbally berating you for being so disobedient, the sweet kisses tinged with wine from a bar you’ll never be able to set foot in? 

Were they all falsehoods, too? Pretty things he created to calm you and soothe you and shut you up? 

When Alhaitham deems your face clean enough, he pulls away the cloth and drops it in a wicker hamper to be taken care of later. 

“Wait.” You reach out and touch his forearm, your voice is soft and thick. A frog in your throat, but the frog is a heavy chest and broken dreams.

He pauses, and regards you with a frustratingly neutral expression. 

Your tongue unsticks from your mouth and you bite your lip to keep sobs from trembling out, so that you can say something to make him stay. Something that might make you feel better, even, if that can be managed. 

“Kaveh…” You fight for the words. You can’t say anything awful. Not just for your own sake--you can’t possibly thrust Kaveh entirely away, not here--but because you never know when Alhaitham would rather lecture you on proper respect than acknowledge when he or Kaveh has done something awful to you.

“Kaveh lied.” That’s what you decide on. It's a fact, and surely not something that you can get in trouble for saying. "Why... why did he do that?"

Alhaitham sighs. At first, you don’t think he’ll say anything. You think he’ll remove your hand from his arm and go get you dressed and tell you to read a book and be quiet.

But he does speak. And what he says takes you aback.

“He should not have lied to you.” He talks down to you even now, the same way he does when he’s instructing you on what you should be doing that day, or how you should sit or how you should eat. For the moment, it doesn’t bother you, because he's clearly on your side. Your side!

“The moment you asked to go to the festival, he should have told you no.” 

A pause, and his voice lowers. There’s something akin to softness in his tone. Maybe you’re imagining it. Maybe you’re so desperate for sweetness that you’re placing the gentle curves of Kaveh’s voice into the man before you. 

“Letting you get your hopes up like that was very cruel of him.”

And you nod--you nod, for once, agreeing with Alhaitham, and you’re so busy looking downcast that you don’t see the pleasant surprise that flickers in his expression for a moment. 

You don’t think before you move. You just do it. You step forward and wrap your arms around his back, pressing your head against his chest, the same way you do to Kaveh when  you need comfort. Which is often. 

Alhaitham is not one for gentle embraces and soft hugs. But you hear him sigh, an annoyed, resigned thing, and you feel his hand pat your back. Just the once. He doesn’t stroke it or pull you close and cluck and coo, but there’s something comforting about the solid weight of his chest underneath you.

His hand, too, is what breaks you again. You cry pitifully into his chest, turning your face this way and that, getting his clothing wet with hot tears and probably snot that he will make you clean up later.

“I… I…” What do you want to say? What can you say? You think about your outfit, the carefully embroidered flowers, the painfully tight stitching that took you hours upon hours. An outfit you sweat and quite literally bled for, the callused little pinpricks on your finger pads as proof.

“I worked hard on my outfit,” you say, squeezing Alhaitham tighter as your voice gets thinner and pinched. “I really did.” 

You worked hard on it, because it was your ticket to something you wanted, and what was the crux? It was something for you, for once. Not Kaveh. Not Alhaitham. You were going to run around that festival and breathe in the smell from the food stands and ask them to win you prizes and enjoy the exhilarating pounding in your chest from the fireworks at the end of the night. 

Every stitch you made was one step closer to that. Only it wasn’t. Only it was for nothing at all. And now you’re sobbing in a bathroom while Alhaitham listens, letting you cry it out, and what was any of it for? 

You’re about to pull away when Alhaitham hums underneath you. 

“The embroidery was well done.”

Your breath feels like it stops, and there’s a soft, stuttering sort of gasp that escapes your mouth. Alhaitham… never compliments you. Not like that. Not in a way that you can hold onto and carry with you. 

You pull back, sniffling, wiping at your face with your hands as you stare up at him. 

“It… it was?” You gulp down your cries, and your eyes widen, and you want so much from him in this moment that you don’t know what to do.

He nods, and his hands push you away a little, holding onto your arms with his fingers wrapped around your upper arms. Not to get you away from him, but to steady you, you think. To keep you firm in his embrace, and not the other way around.

“Yes. The stitches were remarkably straight. And you managed the flowers without having to redo them.” 

You offer a tearful smile. 

“I-I read about the flower techniques in the book you gave me about sewing, after I asked for some supplies.”

And is that a smile of his own? Aimed at you, no less? It makes you swallow your tears in the same way Kaveh’s kisses might have done. 

“Good. You should always take the time to read the books I give you. It’s better for your education.”

And you, weepy thing, distraught thing, nod again. Yes, Alhaitham. You’re right, Alhaitham. 

He does pull away this time, and regards you with a look that might almost be described as pleased. 

“Come. We will get you dressed and then you can sit with me while I read.”

And you, wiping at your tears, catching a stray bit of makeup that didn’t come up with the cloth, nod again. 

You follow him out the door and pretend not to see the figure of Kaveh in the corner of your eye, watching the two of you warily. 

6REEZE Yandere series Part 3

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Content warning(s): Yandere themes (unhealthy obsession)

Let me know if I missed anything.

-----

Part III: Main Rapper - Xiao

"Good morning. How are you all doing today? I hope you all are well."

Such a simple greeting, uttered so beautifully, so gently, with a voice so sickeningly sweet. Such a simple greeting, yet Xiao's face couldn't help but slowly turn a pink shade upon hearing such an angelic voice from his earphones.

"If you're not doing well, I hope that I can make your day a little bit, if not very much better."

So alluring, so enchanting, that his ears immediately shut out any other sound besides your recorded voice, as well as the thumping of his heart against his chest.

"Come on, let's start the day off energetic."

Every single morning, he turns on his laptop just to listen to the exact same video before he gets ready, it's almost as natural as breathing. It belongs to an ASMR channel, your ASMR channel, the video itself being a sort of "morning routine call".

Being an idol is no easy task. Every single day is practice and practice for the next song, or for the next concert. Sometimes one can get deals to be featured in some reality show or magazine, which requires extra energy and social effort, the latter of which Xiao lacks.

"You can do it, one step at a time." No matter how tired he feels…somehow, just the sound of your breath through his earphones is enough for him to re-energize.

It's because it lets him know you still exist. There's that teeny, tiny chance that you too, are a fan of 6REEZE, right? Though Xiao keeps reminding himself that shouldn't get too ahead of himself.

He is physically unable to get up from bed and do anything productive without hearing this audio recording of your sweet voice assuring him that you will "accompany" him throughout his day. Nothing makes him feel better more than you, asking him how his day has been.

When in reality, those words aren't directed to anyone in particular. But who can blame him? Anyone will be so infatuated with your voice that they'll think you're talking to them only.

…It's a small part of him that makes him wonder whether he is still an idol, or if he has become the creepy fan.

"Hey Xiao, it's practice time," Kazuha told his fellow group mate, who sat quietly in the corner of the canteen.

"Okay," Xiao responded, but his attention was solely focused on his phone screen, "I'll be there in…5 minutes."

"But you and Venti are the main features of this song. We can't practice without you," Kazuha tried to reason with him to be punctual, but was met with silence.

"..." The white-haired idol really wanted to figure out what exactly was on his phone that Xiao was so interested in. Xiao was so focused that he didn't realize Kazuha was taking a small peek at his phone.

"[ Non-ASMR ] Just a chat stream"

That was the title of the livestream Xiao was giving all his attention to.

Kazuha didn't say another word and quietly walked away.

"Hmm…" Xiao watched as you read the live chat with a smile. He didn't dare to touch the chat box, he feels like you're too good to be reading anything he spouts.

Even when it's not an ASMR video, your natural talking voice, too, is too angelic for one to listen to anything else. Your voice is so soft, like a blanket he would cuddle as he falls asleep after another hard day of idol work.

"What do I think of 6 — is it a six?" You stumbled upon a question in the chat, "Oh, it's supposed to be a 'B'...then, '6REEZE'? Aren't they a really popular boy band? I hear my friends talking about them a lot."

Xiao almost had a cardiac arrest when he heard you mention that name.

You won't say anything good about him, will you? No, he's got ahead of himself again. You didn't even know how to pronounce their band name, so you probably won't even know a person named 'Xiao' exists—

"I remember one person in particular that my friend keeps fawning over is the one who always wears that cool looking mask. Can anyone tell me his name?" You asked, recalling the music videos your friend shows you nonstop. Looking through the chat, you hoped to find someone who knows.

As expected, a lot of your subscribers also happened to be 6REEZE fans too. Over and over again, chat messages saying the name 'Xiao' (some are completely capitalized for extra dramatic flair).

"Xiao?" If cardiac arrest wasn't enough, Xiao was ready to drop dead on the spot. There's no way you just said his name. If it was a regular person, something like this would've been completely normal. But this is you we're talking about! The you, who is Xiao's angel sitting on his right shoulder.

"It sounds like a name from Liyue. That's interesting! So the members of 6REEZE seem to be multicultural. Because I also remember there was a guy from Inazuma as well, right?" The words from your mouth keep flowing, but Xiao's mind still lingers on the moment you said his name.

He must be crazy, reminding himself over and over about something so insignificant.

"But yeah, it might be because my friend showed him to me the most, but Xiao looks the coolest to me. His rapping is really clear too, in my opinion," you said, so genuinely and from the bottom of your heart, "Then again, I'm not a boy band connoisseur. Maybe I'll give 6REEZE a try, now that you mention it."

Stop it. Stop it right now. Xiao might actually die. And he still needs to practice soon. You're gonna try listening to 6REEZE music now, and you think his rapping is really neat…?!

Xiao has this sudden urge to get up and practice his ass off. He's counting on that one chance that you watch the upcoming music video he is supposed to practice on, so he can show off to you. He couldn't bear to turn your stream off just yet, but knowing that he now has a reason to put his all into being an idol—

"Xiao? Why do you look so…" Aether saw the look on his friend's face as he finally walked through the doors to the huge practice hall. "Fiery? Up for practice?" Heizou finished the sentence.

"Also, why are you late?" Jean, the manager, glared at Xiao, "It's been 9 minutes past the scheduled practice time." Kazuha whispered to her, "I tried to call him, but…"

Xiao wore his signature cold, nonchalant look on his face,

"That doesn't matter. Come on, let's get this over with."

This feels like a lamb talking to a wolf in sheep’s clothing and I absolutely adore that

If you’re still open for character interactions prompts, could I ask for Ayato + “Ayato, i’m so sorry to ask for such a shameful thing but… There’s been weird stuff happening around lately and it’s scaring me. Could I please stay with you for a while, until things calm down? I’m so sorry to bother you like this, I hope you’ll forgive me…” ? Thank you a lot <3

Ahhhhh I love this, ty anon

//Yandere themes, gang stalking

----

“…This is the first time you've mentioned this to me.” His eyebrows raised. He set his cup back down on the table. “Care to elaborate?”

You shifted in your place on the floor, tightening your grip on your own cup, holding it firmly against the low table. You shifted your gaze downward, rather than where he sat on the opposite side.

You had been waiting to ask, but you felt rather guilty about doing so. After all, he was the one who had graciously invited you here for tea, and you had accepted as you always did, only this time to make such a burdensome request of him… you swallowed.

“It’s… it’s really dumb, really, I’m probably just being paranoid—”

“I insist.” His voice was firm, but not angered, more of a concern in his tone. “Your face makes it obvious that you’re worried. You wouldn’t be so much so if it was completely unfounded.” After a moment, he added, “if it is just paranoia, you know I would be honest with you and tell you so. Perhaps I can help you understand the situation better?”

You bit your lip, looking around the room. Expensive-looking furniture and décor lined the walls, the floor. Even the table you rested your arms against had an ornate design carved into the sides, a fine polished finish on the top.

Being at the estate always made you feel slightly uncomfortable for that reason, you felt almost nervous being around so many expensive things, you felt out of place… but you’d gotten used to it over time. Still, it reminded you of how important he was, and thus bothering him with what you figured to be trivial issues in your own life (at least compared to the significance of the matters he dealt with on a daily basis) made you feel that much more reluctant to bring it up.

Still, you were truly quite frightened by the matter, so you forced the words out of your mouth anyway.

“I just…” you fidgeted, shifting the position of your calves as you sat on them, “I’ve noticed over the past few months that… I keep feeling like there are people following me around,” you started, stumbling over exactly how to word it. “More than one person, too… I don’t know. I feel like I keep seeing the same faces over and over and notice people walking the same way as me for a long time… the thing is, when I make eye contact with them, they always dart away. I dunno, that especially seemed... strange."

He was quiet for a moment. You couldn’t quite read his expression. He didn’t show any outward emotion in particular, but his eyebrows seemed to furrow slightly, he sat more upright, fingers drumming against the cup. He appeared to be thinking seriously about your words.

“If you’ve noticed it this frequently, it’s likely serious,” he replied, after a moment of quiet. “That sounds perfectly reasonable to be concerned over, in my opinion."

“N-no, I don’t…” You shook your head. “I don’t know. I’m probably being paranoid and convincing myself of it... why would there be people spying on me anyway? It would be one thing if it was one person, but…” You inhaled, and sighed. “I can’t think of any reason multiple people would follow me. I’m not involved in politics like you or anything.”

“…Yes, that’s true.” He leaned back, tilting his gaze to the wall. His eyebrows furrowed further, and he sighed, almost with a frustration to it. With his next words, his voice took on a hint of irritation. “If assigned to watch you without being noticed, it sounds as though the individuals in question are perhaps not performing their job very well.”

There was a quiet that followed. The sentence felt like an odd choice of response, and the tone bizarre for such a thing to say. It thus threw you off, leaving you unable to form a reply. You merely looked at him for a moment at you thought through it. "You think it's like... their job to watch me?"

His gaze flickered over to you, and seeing the expression on your face, he seemed to go rigid, quickly straightening his posture, tilting his head downward and giving one shake of the head back and forth. “Just one possibility… but never mind that.” He looked back up at you, eyes directly meeting yours. “You really should not have waited for me to invite you over to tell me about this.” He leaned back just a bit, releasing his grip from his cup, hands intertwined and resting on the table. “In truth, I’m a bit bothered to know that you would delay telling me this. You should have come to me as soon as you had this suspicion.”

You felt a twinge of guilt and distress at the tone of his voice. He always managed to maintain a certain calm, dignified tone of voice, but you could hear the frustration in it, even if restrained. “O-oh, I’m sorry. I just…” You averted your gaze, looking everywhere but at him. “I didn’t want to bother you. I know you’re busy.”

He shook his head. “I’m never so busy that your safety would not take priority. I would prefer it if you prioritized your safety as well. Don't be careless."

You swallowed, quickly nodding. "Y-yes, you're right... I will." Although the answer seemed obvious now, you reiterated your original question. “So… that’s a yes, then? I can stay here?”

He blinked, eyebrows raising as he realized he’d momentarily forgotten the question itself. “Ah, apologies,” he closed his eyes for a brief moment. “I got caught up in talking about the matter.” He smiled, that pleasant, soft smile of his that always felt so reassuring. “Of course. You don’t need a reason to stay here, you know. You’re always welcome.”

“Thank you! Thank you, I…” You closed your eyes, letting out a deep exhale of relief. “I… well, thank you for the tea, too, but I should probably go get my things. I didn’t bring anything with me because I just… wasn’t sure if—"

“No need.” His response was immediate. “I will send someone to collect them for you. It’s already nearly sundown. I don’t want you walking out there, given everything you’ve told me.” He paused, and then, in a quieter, lower tone, added, “…besides, I need to have a talk with some of the Shuumatsuban anyhow. I’ll see to it that they take care of that as well.”

You felt guilty for imposing such a burden, but you nodded your head. You knew he would insist upon it if you tried to refuse. “Thank you, Lord Kam…” you trailed off as his expression changed – a raised eyebrow, a soft smile of amusement. You remembered how many times you’d been over the matter now. “Ayato,” you corrected yourself, flashing a sheepish smile. It still felt almost wrong to your tongue, no matter how much he insisted, to be so casual with someone of his social hierarchal standing.

He merely chuckled, seeming to find it endearing. A few moments passed in silence. He stared down at the cup in his hands, grin slowly fading, eyes falling half-lidded. After taking a deep breath, and taking a moment to tuck a tuft of hair behind his ear, he abruptly stood.

“If you’re done, just leave everything on the table. I’ll send someone to clean up. Please, make yourself at home." He smiled at you once more, although this time, it seemed just a touch forced. "I’ll send someone to show you to a guest room in just a moment as well. And be sure have your keys on hand to give to them, they'll need it to get into your residence."

His voice was pleasant, amiable, and yet, there was a faint coldness to it, as if rushing things. You supposed he was truly worried, which was sweet, you thought. You still felt guilty about it all.

He took a few steps towards the door, sliding it open, but paused before exiting. He turned his head back towards you.

“You know, if you want to move here permanently, that is also an option that I would be happy to offer to you. This whole estate is very well-guarded. It’s far safer than the city.”

Your eyes widened. The statement, such a generous offer, caught you off-guard. “Oh, no, I… I could never ask you to—”

“Really. It’s no trouble. It would be quite reassuring for me to know you’re safe.” He waited a moment, but seemed to understand from your bewildered expression that you would not be formulating a response for the moment. He closed his eyes pensively for a moment, before opening them again to look at you once more. “Well, I’ll let you think it over. Someone will be by in just a minute, so, wait here for now.”

You gave an awkward smile. “Oh, ah… alright. Thank you.”

He only nodded, saying nothing more before exiting the room, leaving you alone in the quiet. For some reason, despite the reassurance, you still felt a faint hint of unease in the back of your mind… you concerns must have just bothered you more than you’d realized.

♤ Deus Vult - II

Translation: God wills it

Includes: Self Awareness, Yandere, (Implied future) Harem, Religious, and Cult AU

Warning: Yandere, talks of religion, mentions of death, implied k/idnapping, implied dru/gs, paranoia, obsessive behavior, existentialism, manipulation, weird (sensual?) behavior, off-putting behavior displayed.

Word count: 4.9k

A/N: Finally, after 2-3 months… it’s done! Hope you guys like it and that it makes up for the wait.

This was written with mature audiences in mind.

Zhongli was a man of traditions, he liked things done a certain way — the way they had always been done. Today, as Teyvat awaited your awakening, this particular trait found itself shining more than ever.

Were these truly the finest silks the land had to offer? Maybe the scholars were wrong and this shade wasn’t your favorite, did he have time to reread that passage and confirm it? Are the flowers truly at the center of the tables; they don’t quite look right to him.

A perfectionist in every sense of the word, Zhongli’s thoughts raced around his head with such intensity it made him overthink the very act of breathing.

It wasn’t like the others were much better, the Crux had run into trouble — albeit carrying important passengers such as the Yashiro Commission's Kamisato Ayaka and Thoma, even the Raiden Shogun (much to a certain poet’s annoyance and distaste) and the ever-loyal Kujou Sara, even the Anemo archon himself, who is known for his care-free nature, was running around the premises fixing a few of his last-minute arrangements, all while the Ordus Favonius finalized the preparations for your escorting with the help of the Millelith and other high-ranking officers from around Teyvat. The halls of the palace, courtesy of Zhongli and Albedo who spent weeks using their powers and knowledge to create the most serene and prestigious building they could humbly offer you, were all but bustling with chatter and high energy — maids and servants of the highest caliber ran around cleaning and fixing what was out of order, chefs and cooks from all corners of Teyvat prepared their dishes and finished their courses.

It had been a long, long time since Dragonspine had been this lively.

His thoughts are broken by a high-pitched voice, one he’d grown to associate not with its owner but rather her companion, shouting his name. As a man who’d lived over six millennia, it took the former archon much self-control not to turn around and tape the floating “emergency food”’s — as she had been so nicely nicknamed by the Traveler — mouth shut and trap her in a crystal for a good hundred years; there wasn’t a moment to spare, not to mention they should be watching over you and not prancing around.

“Zhongli, Zhongli!” Paimon’s voice rang and the aforementioned turned around and found himself standing face to face with Lumine and her friend, both looking excited and slightly panicked, a mix that set off alarm bells in the, slightly irritated, god's head.

“Hmm? Traveler, Paimon,” he acknowledged them, raising an inquisitive eyebrow as he took in their heaving chests and panted breath, what exactly could be so important as to have them leave their post - thought the former-archon, “shouldn’t you be looking over Rem*?”

There’s an accusatory tinge to his voice that has their floating companion’s eyes widen and let out a nervous laugh that has his heart stop in his tracks – a laugh like that from Paimon meant something, good or bad - big or small - happened, things shouldn't be happening –– not now.

“About that,” Paimon explains, a long pause hangs in the air before she whispers hurriedly, “they’re with Mister Albedo right now, you see– they’ve woken up and, well, there seems to be a tad bit of a problem…”

Albeit a whisper, it seems everyone must have heard, or maybe it was due to the sudden change in Zhongli's demeanor that caught their eye, because as soon as the words are uttered silence fills the once noisy halls. Questioning gazes are sent between guests and the people around the premises: had they heard right? Were you truly awake? Others note the last few words; a problem? Were you alright? Had they brought in the wrong person?

Some continue working while others are too stunned to continue their tasks, opting to gossip amongst themselves.

“They’ve woken up?” Zhongli asks again as if in utter disbelief, attempting to confirm what he’d heard; he’d waited for this day for so long, to have this news delivered to him, and yet he found himself doubting the words spoken to him. He turns a blind eye to the gawking gazes from the workers and focuses on trying to control his thumping heart.

“Yes.” Paimon laughs again, clearly uncomfortable by the atmosphere that now presented itself in the room, almost hoping everyone would turn around and go back to their tasks rather than ogle at the trio but she couldn't bring herself to blame them for their interest.

“Very well…” He pauses, trying to collect his thoughts and not to turn into the giddy mess his body wanted to become, “everyone; let’s hurry up, there’s no time to waste,” Zhongli says, his voice commanding - he doesn’t even spare anyone a glance, too doused on the adrenaline pumping through his veins as the news settled in, “do not disappoint our providence.”

After that, it doesn’t take long before Venti, who’d overheard the news from his hiding spot as he tried to rid himself of some responsibility, and himself are running down the intricate hallways to find you. The next few hours after your awakening had been meticulously planned, they were originally meant to meet you with their fellow archon, and yet they can’t help themselves but be drawn to you.

Beelzebub would be mad, not only was she behind schedule but she wouldn’t witness their god’s first waking moments but honestly, Barbatos didn’t mind nor did Morax.

When they arrive at your chambers, a temporary accommodation - of course (as they all wished you move into their respective regions), they’re greeted by your puzzled stare. Your figure was almost lost in the sea of silks and pillows that had been laid around you but your aura was too strong, it was impossible not to recognize who you were.

“Your highness,” Venti awed, his eyes widened in admiration and disbelief – so many years chasing after you finally felt like they'd paid off, “you’re here, finally!”

It takes Zhongli, his long-time friend (and technically co-worker) to slap a hand on his shoulders and force him to stay put for him not to throw himself into the bed beside you and drown you in thousands of years of pent up love.

“Behave yourself,” he mutters just loud enough for Venti to hear, his stone-cold exterior betrayed by the golden glow in his eyes as he took in the sight before him, “your grace," he cleared his voice, "apologies for my companion and his sudden actions, we’re all simply overjoyed for your arrival.”

There’s a silence that seems like it’s meant to be your cue to say something but nothing comes to mind – your mind drowning in what you can only describe as a drunken haze –, something that wasn't particularly helped by the fact you had no idea what was happening.

“I’m sorry but,” you laugh awkwardly, hoping to alleviate the tension in the room, “what’s going on?”

This felt like a dream, a dreadful dream where you were seized in your sleep and taken to some sort of historic chateau and forced to play the role of a sovereign or divinity. You were surprised you hadn’t shrieked at the blonde woman who had been staring at your sleeping form when you’d woken up, you would have thought your reaction would’ve been more aggressive and confrontational - cuss words being cried and more throwing of cushions or even punches and kicks, instead - you timidly inquired about your locations, too drowsy (which would later be confirmed to be due to the liquid Albedo has you ingest earlier) and with little memory to react normally. The woman, whose name sounds familiar - Lumine -, answers with all but too much eagerness, her tone pleasant as she beams about how you’re in Dragonspine and Teyvat before an ocean of thanks are sent your way as she credits her achievements and efforts to you – some sort of deity in her life that had aided her in trying and tough times. Unfortunately, you can’t quite say you remember the woman in front of you — something that shocks her greatly and seemingly sends her into a panic when you inform her.

“Oh heavens,” she mutters, looking around in a panic, her previously joyous exterior now replaced by an uneasy look in her, honestly, soft and lovely face, “Albedo…”

She looks at you once more, golden-brown eyes filling with sorrow as she asks once more; “Are you certain you don’t remember me?”

“Or Paimon?” Her companion, a floating pixie of sorts, asks - her high tones contrasted by the downcast look in her eyes and your heart breaks at the sadness your words seemed to bring.

“I’m sorry but no.” You admit, your memory is all but a gray fog; your past feels dream-like, you remember being a student of sorts and working a job, some sort of family, and few friends, but everything felt like it was coated in a layer thick goo making it impossible to properly recognize or even tell apart what was fantasy from reality. You’re mortified to admit it but you don’t even really remember the faces of your parents or if you even have siblings or relatives at all, even less about any hobbies or interests, the only true indication something was off being the uncomfortable thumping of your heart — if it weren’t for that and your concerning lack of memory nothing would’ve felt too wrong at all.

A blond man came into the room after that, he'd been fetched by the two - who'd rush to find him, he carried a notepad and seemed confused - about what you didn’t know, you had little to no clue what was going on in your head, it was practically impossible for you to try and guess pretty much anything - he came to a halt beside the bed you laid in.

“Your highness, it’s an honor to finally meet you — I’m Albedo, Chief Alchemist of the Knights of Favonius and your humble follower,” he bows, his turquoise eyes analyze you in, what you think is, marvel and affection once he stands back upright, “the Traveler told me you seem to be suffering from some sort of memory loss and since I’m the one who brought you here - it’s my responsibility and duty to look over your health, I'll make sure to see all matters that pertain to your health personally.”

“I… I see.” You murmur, overwhelmed by his looks and the words coming out of his mouth — neither made much sense to you but at this point, your head is pounding and you’re too weary to try and figure either out. How a man could look so handsome and elegant, yet adorable and pretty baffled you – much like the beauty Lumine seemed to unknowingly have.

He took a bunch of tools, none of which you were familiar with or looked particularly modern, and began examining you while the blonde woman left with her friend. It took him a couple of minutes before declaring nothing was wrong other than your seeming memory loss.

“We’ll perform a couple of tests to see what could have happened,” he says, he begins putting his things away before a thought seems to come to him having him correct himself, “if that’s what you want, of course, if you find my analysis wrong - please tell me.”

“I think you're right,” you nod, “...and it'd be nice to fix it.”

It’s then when the two figures come into the room followed by Lumine and you find yourself where we started a while ago.

“It seems they’re suffering from some sort of amnesia,” Albedo explains to the two confused men, “their memories aren’t clear and it seems like they don’t recall much.”

“And how did this happen?” Venti asks, his voice shaking — did his god not remember him? All of the sacrifices and vows he took in their name?

“We’re not sure, it might have to do with them being asleep for so many years,” the alchemist sighs, “or it could be that they were away from Teyvat for too long, it’s possible that when they came back their memories were affected — whatever the case is, I’m sure it’s not irreversible.”

The archon nods, though it’s clear they’re attempting to mask their disappointment.

“Well, if that’s the case,” the shorter god exclaims, clapping his hands in an attempt to cheer up the mood, “then we better fill them in!”

“Right,” amber eyes break away from you, finally allowing you to breathe, “if I’m not mistaken, dinner should be ready too, I’m sure you must be hungry.”

Zhongli turns to address you, his eyes take a sudden glow; one filled with love and admiration and you’re taken aback, you instinctively want to shield yourself away from the intensity in his eyes but force yourself to nod - albeit stiffly.

“I… I guess.” You mumble – you hadn’t been paying much attention to your body - you weren’t starving but eating something would be nice, you think to yourself.

“Lumine,” Venti looks at the outlander, “go tell the others to set the table while we prepare our highness for dinner.”

"We haven't introduced ourselves," the taller male realizes, his eyes widening in embarrassment, he coughs into his hands before bowing – similarly to how Albedo had done, "My name is Zhongli, though you might have remembered me as Rex Lapis or Morax – I'm the former geo archon in charge of Liyue, and the oldest of your followers. I want to humbly thank you and, if you would allow me, serve you for as long as I am of use to you."

"I'm the archon in charge of Mondstad, Barbatos the anemo archon, though I have been going by Venti," the short bard follows his friend's suit, bowing down as a sign of respect, "I want to thank you, not only for your blessings but the protection you have extended to Mondstad. For as long as you want me to, I am honored to serve you personally."

"There's no need to bow," you wave your hands nervously, shocked by the humble actions performed by the two men, "and there's nothing to thank me for... I have no idea what you're even talking about."

"That's only because you've lost your memory," Morax said, "it's only natural we attribute the good in our life to your kindness."

"And don't try and argue us on that," Venti smiles, "now, let's go! We should be getting you ready for dinner~"

You’re led to a luxurious bathroom, one you’re certain isn’t yours based on how expensive and elegant everything looked - albeit a bit old fashioned, maybe extremely old fashioned -, and told to strip bare and climb onto an already, suspiciously to your liking, prepared bathtub that’s probably bigger than any tub should be.

"You two will be here?" You ask, you had thought they'd escort you and wait outside yet neither made a move to leave.

"We can't," the amber-eyed archon cleared up, "we need to make sure nothing happens, it would be a tragedy if anything were to happen to you and we weren't there to prevent it or help you; we wouldn't be able to forgive ourselves."

You stared at them baffled, you might not remember much of your life prior to these last few hours but you were certain you were in no position of power or significance to need such care and attention.

"It's not like I would die if you weren't here, though, I won't fall over and hit my head and, like, bleed to death underwater." You mutter under your breath, it was getting hard not to be overwhelmed by the amount of care and detail they seemed to dedicate to you – it's almost as if they thought you'd touch the water and evaporate!

It seems your words only concern them more, the mere thought of your death seems to have caused Zhongli an internal heart attack as he tries not to lose his composure – Venti's eyes widen almost comically as he tries to convince you to let them stay.

"Your grace, don't even say that as a joke!" Venti pants, as if in physical pain, "W-we have to stay here and look over you! You can't be left alone because... what if you do fall underwater a-and bleed to death, we wouldn't be able to live and -!"

“Fine, fine!” You finally comply after Venti almost bursts into tears, "Just, turn around while I get ready!"

You don’t quite understand why you’re doing as you’re told, then again — you didn’t understand much at all. You slip off the sleeping garments and awkwardly make your way into the tub, the water splashing and signaling the men to turn around and make their way to service you (much to your embarrassment).

"You don't have to do this," you squeak when you feel long fingers find their way to your shoulders, "I can wash myself, t-thanks!"

"Please," you hear a deep voice near the shell of your ear and you almost jump into the water, "I've wanted to do something like this with you for such a long time."

"And you're pretty tired, right?" A sing-song voice peaks beside you, "Why don't you let us take care of you?"

"... Okay." You let out, trying not to enjoy the feeling of their hands massaging away your stress.

"Ah," you hear Venti moan, excitement evident in his voice, "you're too kind to us~"

A few minutes go by of pure silence, the only sound is the rustling of the water and soap against your skin.

“When can I go home?” You ask, finally breaking the silence, you might not remember much and you were certainly growing to enjoy the pampering but you know this is not your home; though familiar, as are the faces that surround you, you just feel it somewhere deep in your gut that this isn’t where you belong nor where you’re from.

“Hmm? Your grace,” the bard laughs, his voice as charming and delicate as a dandelion floating in the wind, “but you are home.”

“I’m not,” you shake your head, a million and one reasons as to why this isn’t your home come to your head and yet you find articulating them hard, like a child struggling to reason with a parent, “Why don't I remember anything?”

The thought bothers you greatly, the lapse in memory - this vast blank space that now resides in your mind - aggravated you, it made you feel as if you were less you than before, your memories were vague and they left an ache in your body; you felt incomplete.

“It must be distressing,” Zhongli agrees with you, his hand comes to rest against your bare skin, “but you’re safe, no harm will ever come to you here - we’ll accompany you until your memory returns and continue to do so afterward.”

“Zhongli is right,” Venti nods enthusiastically, “you’re the most precious person in Teyvat, your happiness and safety will always be our priority.”

There it was again – those names that felt familiar.

“Exactly, Beelzebup, Barbatos, and I will always be there for you,” Zhongli says, “even if this doesn’t feel like home to you today, eventually it will.”

Morax, Barbatos, and Beelzebup, Lumine, and Albedo — why did they sound so familiar? Like something you should know, like something you knew but forgot, it was such a distressing feeling it made you want to scream.

“Is something the matter? You look concerned.” Venti asks, his hand resting upon your bare shoulder as if trying to ground you.

“No, not at all,” you shake your head, they don't seem to believe it so you add, “I’m just tired, that’s all – it's just been very eventful.”

They nod in understanding, your lackluster answer seemed to be enough, before resuming washing you – fresh smelling soaps and fragrances were used with no hesitation, all which looked particularly expensive much to your surprise – it felt wrong to have such luxuries used on you. You notice that their touches are delicate, not too soft but not too harsh, almost a fleeting in their contact but concrete enough you knew they had happened - they kept treating you as if you were a doll made of the finest of porcelains and you’d crack under the slightest of pressure; which, considering you had two gods, and one of them is known as the Ruler of War, who'd fought their fair shares of battles and wars it’s safe to say that there was a chance you’d break if they weren’t careful (even if they tried to convince themselves they couldn’t possibly harm you).

Something (read: your health being affected) neither they nor Teyvat, in its current state, could handle — not when changes seemed to be coming from all horizons and especially when they’d been waiting nothing short of several millennia for your arrival. It stood without a doubt to everyone, even those that didn’t believe in you as God, that you were perhaps the most important person in the continent, a being whose mere existence meant more to the earth and the ones walking on it than any other had or ever would.

By the time you’ve stepped out of the bath and re-dressed in new clothes, which you can only call more “period” or “world” appropriate, you’re given a couple of minutes to yourself.

"We'll be waiting outside your door to escort you," the geo archon says, his posture almost mimicking that of a butler, "call us when you're ready."

They soon left you alone with your thoughts and a pounding headache that ambushed you.

From the moment you’d gained consciousness, you’d been victim to, what felt like, a wave of headaches that came and went as they willed. Your overridden senses had blocked most of the pain out, the constant new stimulation of new parties and their reactions in addition to your lack of awareness and dizziness left little to no time for your brain to process the pounding headache that is currently tormenting you – it was almost as it was attempting to make up for the time it hadn't been there.

The bed you’d once laid in had been made, its sheer size and luxurious look overwhelmed you — you rack your brain in an attempt to figure out the multiple questions that plagued your mind; where on earth were you? What was Teyvat or Dragonspine? Who were Barbatos, Beelzebup, and Morax? Why did their names and Lumine’s sound so familiar? Who brought you here?

Who were you?

Were you truly some sort of respected being? Were you originally from here at all? All memories, all vague and messy memories, you had depicted you living an almost horribly mundane life, one where you were just another faceless person in the sea of society. No luxuries, no titles, little to no friends, was there even a family? This was a world so different from the one you seemed to have come from, filled with people you simply didn’t recognize, and yet here you were, practically shoved into a situation you didn’t understand nor consent to.

You sniff as you feel tears well in your eyes, you let yourself flop into the bed, the same that felt foreign on your skin but was seemingly made for you; you were crushed.

Your questions were ignored or you couldn’t even voice them, too scared and bewildered to even make a peep. That and the fact that when you’d finally gotten the chance to be with people who seemed to at least have some idea of what was going on your brain seemed to give out on you - giving in to the peer pressure and letting them do as they pleased -, you wanted to slap yourself and berate your idiotic, foolish actions.

“A dinner where my question will be answered,” you mutter, remembering the offer made by Zhongli, “…”

If you were honest, dinner didn’t sound particularly appetizing – not with how sick to your stomach your worries made you – but you wanted answers, desperately so. You sough once more, you take a glance at the room, making sure to note if anything looked fake - like a set for some television show - hoping this was maybe a cruel prank -, before making way to stand up and call for one of the two men who’d been assisting you, as they put it, when something catches your eye.

A couple of feet away from the bed laid a vanity, one you hadn’t paid much mind to at all before, but it currently seemed to emanate a certain glow, it was mesmerizing with the way it seemingly dyed its surroundings a captivating purple and you find yourself almost not noticing the pair of amber-brown eyes that minded you through the glass.

“…!” You gasp, instinctively climbing back into the bed and far away from the vanity — a blond man looked at you, his face youthful and reminiscent of Lumine’s, his eyes were somber yet they held a tinge of hope as they softened at your shocked reaction.

“It’s alright,” the man says, he raises a gloved hand and touches his side of the mirror, “I just wanted to see you, I won’t harm you - ever.”

You almost want to reach out to him, walk up to the vanity and mimic his movement to see if you could touch him; “… Where am I?”

You unconsciously crawl the bed to get a closer look at the figure speaking to you – had you lost your mind?

“Hmm, they haven’t told you?” He inquires, his eyebrows furrow — you don’t question why he knows there are multiple people.

“No,” you add quickly, almost as if trying to defend them, “but they did say I’m in Teyvat.”

“Then you know.” He looks at you quizically, as if that were the answer to all of your questions and you were foolish for not knowing it.

“I’m supposed to know,” you insist, growing slightly agitated — why did everyone assume you knew and get disappointed when you didn’t instead of telling you, “but I don’t, I don’t even remember what happened before I got here, damn it and no one has tried telling me either, I'm just – ugh!”

“Please, calm down, I'll explain it for you,” the man sighs and his voice suddenly takes a softer tone, "it must be upsetting to not know and I don't blame you for being annoyed," he’s deep in thought before continuing, “Teyvat is another continent from yours, it’s, how can I say it, simply another world. You were brought onto Teyvat because they,” he motions behind you, “think you’re their God.”

”Me as their God?” You want to laugh, a god? You? Please, you’d make a better clown than a god, “Are they… are they insane?”

“Probably,” the man laughs, your heart skips a beat at his smile, “at least now you know where you are.”

“And another world? How is that… why?”

“It’s just how things are sometimes,” he doesn’t bother to try and explain it further and you don’t pry — it was all too much, “I know you probably don’t believe me, but things will become clear in due time.”

“You’re right, I don’t believe you,” you mumble, other worlds and godhood? You want to laugh.

“As I said, things will make sense eventually,” he shrugs, his next words confuse you, he seemed more relaxed than before, “if you ask me, while you’re certainly special, I don’t know if I think you’re Rem.”

“Gee, thanks.” You look away from him but still answer.

“Do me a favor,” he continues, paying no mind to your dry answer and clear doubt, he rests his cheek against his palm, “don’t tell anyone you met me.”

“If I told anyone a man in a mirror started talking about me being God and inter-world traveling I’m sure no one would believe me if I tried,” you finally return your gaze to the man.

Silence rings as you both stare at each other, seemingly taking in the other’s presence – it's not awkward, the silence feels comfortable and you find yourself quickly growing fond of the mysterious man.

“What’s your name?” You finally ask, and he lets out a chuckle before answering.

“Aether, and yours?”

“[Y/N]."

“It’s a nice name,” Aether comments though it seems like he might have already known it, “it's good to know you’re safe… take care until we meet again, alright?”

“You're leaving already?” Your heart suddenly feels heavy at the thought of the only person who'd attempted to explain and listen to you leaving, "... Take care too, Aether."

"... if you ever feel like things are too much with them," he adds, his voice turning serious once more as if detecting the sadness in your tone, "tell me and I'll take you away, darling."

After his curious words, he turns around after taking one last longing glance at you, and just like that he’s gone.

As you take in what had transpired in the last couple of hours, you feel yourself wanting to cry and simply sleep forever; from claims of godhood in your name to waking up in an unfamiliar bed, surrounded by strangers… that uncanny feeling of familiarity that gnawed at your mind, the encounter with a mirror man, and the fact you just… went along with everything.

You stand up, lazily rubbing your eyes and looking around, you hear your stomach groan – you're hungry –, it's then you remember the two men standing outside.

Weren't you just lucky a banquet was now being held in your name?

Could someone be a dear and remind me who it was that wrote a pantalone fanfiction where the reader is Dottore's child? I don't remember whether it was gender neutral or not. Thank you very much in advance.

Title: Clingy.

Written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Wanderer x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 5.0k.

TW: AFAB!Reader, Modern AU, Non/Con, Blood, Intimidation/Threats of Violence, Toxic Relationships, Emotional Abuse, Slight Financial Abuse, and Codependent Behavior.

On your third date, your boyfriend-at-the-time demanded that you give him a spare key to your ‘shitty shoebox of an apartment’, despite refusing to so much as let you into the penthouse Ei had leased for him while going to a university a hundred or so miles away from the multi-story, marble sculpted, beachside mansion he’d reluctantly flown you out to when he got sick of listening to you ask why he still hadn't introduced you to his moms eight months into your relationship. That probably should’ve been your first red flag, but somehow, you’d persisted. He brought out your competitive side, like that.

He made you want to dig your nails in, plant your teeth in your neck, and refuse to let go. It wasn’t good for you, but nothing he did was good for anyone. That never stopped him from doing it, though.

You could only assume that this – Kunikuzushi, your boyfriend of eighteen months and your ex-boyfriend of one, splayed across the couch in your living room, the keys he’d never given back dangling from his ring finger and the phone you’d forgotten when you left for work that morning in the other – wasn’t going to be good for you, either.

You didn’t say anything at first. It was all you could do to groan, to shake your head, to pretend you didn’t see him or didn’t care long enough to throw your messenger bag onto the nearest chair and tear off your jacket. He’d clearly made himself at home. A textbook was open on your coffee table, a drink from the cheap, trendy café he’d always whined about having to take you to sitting half-empty next to it. He wasn’t looking at either, though, his attention entirely centered on your phone. You didn’t have the energy to pretend to be surprised. He used to like to go through your conversations and delete the contacts he ‘didn’t trust’ when you were together, too, but you’d been more willing to write it off as the cute-but-concerning tick of a jealous boyfriend, back then. You must’ve fallen out of practice after your breakup.

You opened your mouth, but he was ultimately the one to break the silence. “You know Ajax?”

You crossed your arms. “Why are you here?”

“I mean, I know you’re in the same microbiology course, but c’mon, him? The fucker couldn’t tell a proton from a nucleolus. Honestly, I’m surprised he hadn’t flunked out yet. Give it another semester - he’ll be gone by spring, I promise.”

“I didn’t say you could come over.”

“I texted you last night. Did you try to block me again?” You’d blocked him, then reported his number, then changed yours when he’d started using burner phones to drunk dial you in the small hours of the morning and leave disjointed, rambling voice mails about how well he was doing without you, how much time he had now that you weren’t pestering him, how many people he’d slept with since the last time you'd seen each other. All of it was bullshit, obviously, but it was his bullshit. Somehow, he always knew just how to get under your skin. “Scratch that – I’ll take care of it. I should’ve known you wouldn’t be able to get through a month without my help.”

You grit your teeth. Swallowing as much of your anger as you could, you stepped in front of him, snatching your phone out of his hands and retreating before he had a chance to take it back. You were tempted to look at what he’d been scrolling through, see which conversation had gotten him so upset, but you forced yourself to turn off your phone completely, to set it down on the far side of your coffee table and think about something else. It’d take hours to fix the damage he’d done, to unblock all the acquaintances he didn’t approve of and the apologize to all the friends he'd insulted under your name. You’d rather get rid of him first, then try to fix everything he'd already started to tear apart. “Get out.”

He scanned over you, his eyes lingering on the wrinkles in your button-up shirt, the cheap material of your dress pants. “Y'know, if we were still together, you wouldn’t have to put up with that shitty job. You could just quit and finally move in with me.”

Once, you’d let him buy you a new laptop when yours gave out in the middle of the semester and you didn’t think you’d be able to scrape enough up for another before you next exam. It’d been a used model, already a few years out of date, and you swore up and down that you’d pay him back when you had the money, but he’d held it over your head for months, smirked and gloated and taken every opportunity to remind you how grateful you should be to have a boyfriend so willing to spoil his oh-so-unfortunate partner. He hadn’t let you pay him back. He hadn’t let you pay for anything until he’d gotten tired of playing savior and went back to acting like a brat, too desperate for your attention to care if he was in-charge. You doubt he’d be any more bearable if you actually moved in with him, if you lived in his house and relied on his good-will. If you actually depended on him.

But, rather trying to say any of that in a way he’d understand, you sighed, clenching your eyes shut. “It’s an internship and I need it for my major. Get out.”

His scowl wavered. “When did you get so bossy? This isn’t going to work if you think you can tell me what to do.”

“I’m not bossy, you’re just a prick. Get out.”

He sat up, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Cut it out. I’m not going to want to get back together if you keep acting so immature.

“I don’t want to get back together with you.” And then, gesturing towards your door. “Get. Out.”

If nothing else, that seemed to shut him up.

It took a few seconds, but eventually, he responded. There was an airy laugh, a thin smile, a certain air of hurt disbelief as he sat up. “You really aren't kidding, are you?”

You didn’t indulge him with a reaction. Rather, you watched with a pressed scowl as he pushed himself to his feet and stepped toward you. He was in his usually ‘too cool to try, but too bored not to’ get-up – ripped jeans and long sleeves striped in black and violet, half a dozen rings and bolts pierced into the curve of each ear and a belt from a brand you couldn’t name, but knew you were supposed to tacked on to further feed into his ego. He must’ve been here all day. His short hair was more disheveled than he usually liked it to be, and you could see more irritation in his dark eyes than you were used to, paired with a certain type of frustration that only ever slipped out when you managed to keep him waiting. You hadn’t, technically (you couldn’t be late to meet someone who you didn’t want to see), but you didn’t bother trying to point that out.

“I thought it’d be nice to see you after… How long? Five weeks?” He glanced down, starting to toy with something in his back pocket. “I thought we could order lunch, talk for a while, maybe watch a movie or something. Then, I don’t know…” His smile took on an apologetic lull, almost pleading. “Kiss and make up? It’s not like any of this is new for us.”

He wasn’t wrong. You’d been together for a year and a half, and most of that had been spent caught up in ear-splitting, tear-inducing, world-ending fights. He’d burn the notes you borrowed from your classmate, and you'd refuse to talk to him for a week. You’d decide you were over his constant mood swings and go on a date with the cute guy from your calculus class, and he’d mail a slab of raw meat to your best friend because, in his own words, ‘you couldn’t come up with such a stupid idea by yourself’. It wasn’t balanced, you would never be able to give as much as he took, but still. When he started yelling, you did too, and when he showed up at your door a few days later, his eyes still bloodshot from crying, you always took him back. Because he was Kunikuzushi. Because you loved him.

Because you knew he’d make your life hell, if you didn’t.

Which was exactly why you couldn’t just… kiss and make up, this time. Not if it’d mean swallowing your pride and letting him get everything he wanted.

You sighed, but kept your arms crossed, your expression stern. “I’m tired, Kuni. I don’t want to do this anymore.” You paused, bit down on the side of your tongue. “It’s not good for either of us. We’re not good together. I don’t want to pretend that we are.”

His smile wavered, but didn’t fall. “What do you mean, babe?”

“I mean,” You braced yourself, shut your eyes. “I think you should leave.”

At least he seemed to hear that. You watched with as little sympathy as you could manage as his grin cracked and fell away, as his shoulders slumped downward, as he let out an airy chuckle that cracked halfway through. “You’re breaking up with me?”

“We broke up a month ago.” And he’s been insufferable ever since. “And we’re not getting back together.”

Parted lips, glassy eyes. He raked a hand through his bangs, doing what he could to blink away the tears slowly forming in the corners of his eyes. This wasn’t new, and yet, you still found yourself struggling not to break, not to embrace him and mutter soothing nothings while he sobbed quietly into your shirt and wrapped his arms around your waist and, inevitably, ended up on his knees, his face buried between your legs as he made you cum until you forgot why you’d been mad at him in the first place. “Fine. That’s fine. Honestly, that’s great. I don’t know why I’d ever want to be with such a heartless bit—” His voice broke before he could finish. He made a half-hearted effort to wipe at his eyes, but that only drew more attention to the tears starting to roll down his flushed cheeks, only made you more tempted to pull him into a kiss and act like this had never happened. “Fine. If you’re really that sick of me, I’ll go.”

He pushed past you, starting towards your door. That was what you wanted. Kunikuzushi gone, your apartment empty, your life just a little less fucked than it always seemed to be when he was a part of it. You should’ve let him go. You should’ve stood there until he was gone. You should’ve let him leave.

But you heard another hitched sob, a string of muttered swearing, and something in your chest broke open. With a shallow sigh, you dropped your arms to your sides, forcing yourself to speak through clenched teeth. “…do you want a hug before you leave?”

Kunikuzushi glanced over his shoulder. “A hug? What do you think I am, a toddler?”

“It's the only thing I'm putting on the table. Do you want it or—”

You never got the chance to finish. His arms were already around you, pinning your arms to your torso as he buried his face in your shirt. You choked back your protests, forced yourself to fight the instinct to push him away, and in a few excoriating seconds, his hold on you loosened, his back straightening, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder and his lips pressing into your neck. There was a lingering8 kiss laid onto your jugular, then another to the corner of your jaw, but you didn’t bother to try and push him away. Instead, you only shifted in his arms, nudging at his chest. You’d gotten yourself into this, called him back when he was a few steps away from leaving. You only had yourself to blame. “I didn’t say you could—”

“I knew you’d change your mind.” A hand fell to the small of your back, the heel of his palm pressing into the base of your spine. “You always do. You always make the right choice, in the end.”

You opened your mouth, ready to remind him that you weren’t taking him back, but you hesitated. He was always weird, just a little too hostile, just a little too desperate to keep you close to him, but you didn’t trust the levity in his voice, the way his smile pressed into your skin despite how close he’d come to crying a few minutes ago. “I think…” You trailed off, bit down on the side of your tongue. “I haven't changed my mind. You have to—”

Something flat and stiff pressed into your back – the blunt edge of a switchblade. His switchblade, you realized, dredging up hazy memories of bandages wrapped around thighs and hollow promises that he’d be more careful, next time. You heard his nails drum against smooth metal, felt something cold and sharp cut into the skin above your shoulder blade, and you froze, your mind instantly going blank.

He laughed, the noise cracking and airy. Warm breath fanned over the crook of your neck, and he melted into you, nuzzling into the curve of your throat. “I love you.” And then, pressing the blade into your flesh. “Say you love me too.”

Automatic, robotic. The only thing you could spit out through grit teeth. “I love you.”

Another laugh – more giddy, this time, more eager. If he noticed your reluctance, it clearly didn’t bother him. The switchblade was pulled up to the nape of your neck, then drawn in a loose arch to your collarbone, the tip never leaving your skin. “I mean, yeah, obviously. That’s why we get to stay together, even when we’re at each other’s throats.”

He paused, burrowed into you. In turn, you were dragged further into his chest, but pushed away just as quickly, allowed to get just far enough to make it possible for Kunikuzushi to raise his free hand to the collar of your shirt and drag you into a clumsy, rushed kiss – too rough and too forceful for anyone but him to enjoy. His teeth scraped against your lips, his tongue dragging over yours, but he pulled away with a breathy groan, his pale cheeks flushed and his eyes still glossed over. “…you didn’t get with anyone while I was gone, right? You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”

How could you? He hadn’t given you room to breathe, let alone get past anything more than a first date with someone new. Even when you’d been together (actually together, not fighting or on a break), he’d been so suffocating, so possessive, you’d never been able to get any further than heavy petting, oral, his body on top of yours and your legs wrapped around his waist before he said something you couldn’t brush off and the night devolved into something... less romantic. It was hard to be with someone like Kunikuzushi, someone who acted like they’d rather give up the air in their lungs than a second of your time. Even after a year and a half, it was hard to let your guard down around him when he seemed so willing to give you every reason you ever could've needed to keep it up.

You guessed you should’ve expected this, looking back on it. He’d was bound to get tired of waiting for you to trust him eventually.

This was just his way of letting you know that he’d never really needed you to, in the first place.

Stiltedly, you shook your head, and he let out a relieved sigh. “Perfect. That’s why we’re supposed to be together.” He kissed the corner of your lips, then your forehead. “You’d never hurt me.”

He didn’t give you time to respond. Instead, he took you by the hand – his fingers intertwining with yours as he turned and tugged you forward, moving to lead you further into your apartment. The switchblade left your skin, falling momentarily to his side, and for a few brief seconds, you considered trying to get away, jerking yourself out of your hold and running as far away as you could get from him and his fucking issues. You made a passing effort, but Kunikuzushi’s grip turned crushing as soon as you began to shift, and you gave up before he could break something more vital than your heart. He was between you and the door, you and your phone. He had a knife, a weapon. He had you, and until he decided he was done, he wasn’t going to let you go without a fight.

With little ceremony, you were drawn out of your living room and into your cramped bedroom. Kunikuzushi let go of your hand, but you didn’t have time to run before you were being pushed onto your unmade bed, before he was straddling your waist and pinning you to the center of the mattress. The knife was brought back to your neck, but quickly plunged lower, slid beneath your uppermost button and used to separate thread from fabric. Somehow, annoyance managed to overshadow your panic, if only for as long as it took for one rational thought to be followed by another. This was your nicest shirt, one of a handful you’d splurged on for your internship, but it wasn’t like Kunikuzushi would ever understand anything like that. It wasn’t like he’d ever tried to, before.

The tip caught on the slight dip below your diaphragm and you winced, a few dots of red immediately seeping into white fabric. You winced, beginning to protest on reflex. “Kuni’, that—”

“I’ll take care of it.” Absentminded, only half conscious that he was speaking at all. He reached the hem, pulling his switchblade free and letting your dress shirt fall away from your chest and over your shoulders, as useless as it was embarrassing. “I’ll take care of everything when we’re done. Just sit pretty and keep your mouth shut for a while.”

Really, you could only wonder why you hadn’t dumped him sooner.

Your pants were next, slits carved into the material over your hips and ruined fabric torn away. He moved to cut off your boxers, too, but seemed to hesitate, to linger, to find the strength to pause just long enough to drag two fingers over your clothed slit and press the pad of his thumb into your clit. You hissed at the friction, but Kunikuzushi only smiled, dipping his head low enough for his lips to ghost over your collarbone, then the midline of your chest, then the tender spot just below your navel. The last was accompanied by a slight groan, throaty and deep. You did what you could to block it out. This would be better if you didn’t think about it, if you just imagined he was trying to win you back after a fight, that there was a wilting rose in his other hand and not a knife already stained with your blood.

It was almost a mercy when his hands finally slipped under the hem of your boxers, doing away with your last layer of protection with only a slight laugh and a lilting smile. You did what you could to relax, to lean back and close your eyes, but Kunikuzushi’s weight was an ever-present anchor to reality, only made worse as he shifted lower, as he pulled your legs apart and threw them over his shoulders. He pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses into the inside of your thighs, his teeth ghosting over tender flesh as he sucked harsh bruises into whatever he could reach. This was his favorite part, by far. He’d always been clingy – possessive to the point of total, nail-biting, jaw-locking paranoia. At first, you’d been able to write it off as a sort of overeager enthusiasm that came with a new relationship, but he’d never stopped. He was always ready, always desperate to dig his teeth into your skin and leave as many marks as you’d let him – or rather, as many as he possibly could before you were able to pry him away. Even then, you’d tried to think of it as cute, just one of the quirks of your immature-but-loving boyfriend. Now, all you could do was hope it’d be over soon.

It took him full minutes to actually reach your cunt, for his tongue to lave over your slit. Instantly, you stiffened, clenching your eyes shut and attempting to ignore the heady sounds of his whimpering moans, the feeling of his tongue tracing patterns in your entrance. It was sloppy, messy, all drool and teeth and clutching hands, but warmth flooded into your core as the bridge of his nose ground into your clit, as his hands wrapped around your hips and dragged you that much closer to his mouth. Everything he did was dirty, but he knew you, knew your body, knew that you’d have to spread your legs as soon as his tongue thrust into you.

You arched your back as two fingers slid into your entrance alongside his tongue, scissoring you open while his attention shifted to your clit – his lips sealing around the sensitive bundle of nerves while he sucked gently. If he hadn’t been so vocal, it might’ve been more bearable, but no, he couldn’t seem to stop whining into your cunt, to stop sending waves of those awful reverberations from your clit to your core every time he whimpered or grunted or moaned. Before you could stop yourself, your hips were rolling weakly against his mouth as he nursed you through your sudden climax. When you fell limp, his mouth fell away, but his hand still cupped your pussy, his fingers still curling and thrusting inside of you.

He didn’t slow down, didn’t let up, not until you were crying out and clenching around him, not until you could feel the slick running down your thighs, soaking into your sheets. He didn’t stop until you were babbling – spitting out incoherent pleas for him to slow down before the overstimulation turned from overwhelming to agonizing. You were forced to endure another kiss to the inside of your thigh, the wet sound of his tongue running over his fingers, but he pulled away in a few seconds, finally letting you have just enough space to breathe. Even that was temporary, cut short by his lips crashing into yours. You could taste yourself on his tongue, as little as you wanted to. You could feel him panting against your lips, and it was all you could do not to scream.

He pulled away abruptly, grinning. “You’re a virgin.”

It wasn’t a question, but you found yourself shaking your head, denying it on instinct. “I never—"

“You didn’t have to.” There was a peck to the corner of your lips, another to your cheek. “I know everything about you. Your parents were too strict to let you date in high school, and none one’s ever lasted more than a couple of weeks with you before me. Since you wouldn’t so much as take off your shirt around me before our three-month anniversary, I’m going to assume you weren’t a total slut before we met.”

You narrowed your eyes, shoving gently at his chest. You just needed space. You just needed him to get away from you. “So?”

“So,” he leaned in, his smiling growing that much wider. “I’m going to ruin you.”

It was something about his tone, the dark glint in his eyes as he leered over you. Your heart dropped in your chest, and very distinctly, something very large and very sharp began to crawl up your throat.

You started to shake your head, but he was already edging jeans downward, already freeing his cock – the flushed tip leaking precum in fat, white pearls. His weight was enough to keep you pinned down as he aligned himself with your entrance, as he traced the head over the length of your slit, and his eyes never left your face, your expression painted with heavy strokes of horror and disbelief. He never wavered, never blinked, even as he thrust inside of you, bottoming out in a single uninterrupted motion. Even as you cried out, the sound more pained than anything else. Even as you felt a single, warm teardrop fall off of his cheek and onto yours. You hadn’t realized you’d shut your eyes, not until you forced yourself to open them, not until you found him cloudy-eyed and grinning above you.

He was crying, again.

Huh.

You thought he would’ve given up on that, by now.

He wasn’t gentle. He’d never been delicate with you, but right now, it felt like he was trying to be rough, to pin your legs against your chest and split you open every time he moved his hips, every time he found a way to hit something deeper and more sensitive inside of you. You tried to scream, but your voice caught in your throat, strangling itself into something more akin to a cracked whine and a few broken whimpers. The stretch, the pressure was more than you could take. You couldn’t stop yourself – going rigid underneath him, your eyes rolling back as your mouth fell open in a silent, agonized cry. Your reactions, however involuntary, only seemed to spur Kunikuzushi on, his pace growing more erratic and his breath now coming in quick, shallow pants. No matter what you did, it just made him worse.

You could hear him talking, distantly – little mumbled tangents forming between thrusts. “You’re just so—” He cut himself off with a long, wordless moan. “We’ll do this every day, until— until you know you don’t need anyone but me. Then, you’ll love me, and you’ll never have to—” He thrust deeper into you, letting out a fracturing laugh. “And then, I’ll rip out your tongue and cut off your legs if you try to leave. We’ll always be together. No one will ever, ever take you away from me again.”

You weren’t with him. You didn’t want to be with him. If it wasn’t for his immaturity, his manipulativeness, his fucking knife, this wouldn’t be—

His knife.

Both of his hands were on your thighs, his nails digging into your flesh, keeping your knees pressed into your chest. He wasn’t holding it. He couldn’t be.

Without daring to look away from him, you groped around the mattress blindly, your fingertips eventually brushing against something cold and metallic – his switchblade lying abandoned on the edge of the bed. You took it up before you could hesitate, gripping the handle tightly enough for the sharp corners to bite into your palm, for your hand to cramp and go numb by the time you found the strength to actually lift it up. You didn’t aim. You didn’t have time to, not unless you wanted to think about what you were doing, not unless you wanted to let Kunikuzushi win. Not unless you could—

The curved tip just barely made contact with the skin above his collarbone before you faltered, before he had time to catch your wrist in an iron-clad hold. You tried to let go of the switchblade reflexively, but his hand shifted to wrap around yours, to keep the blade pressed into his chest – applying just enough pressure to break the skin. “Do it.” Soft, drawn out, too eager to mean anything good. “I’d let you carve your name into me, if you wanted to. All you'd have to do is ask.”

You didn’t ask. You didn’t want to. You didn't want any of this, but Kunikuzushi pressed the blade in his skin regardless, letting out muttered confessions of love and loyalty as a thin red line formed in his flesh, as blood dripped down his chest and disappeared behind the loose collar of his shirt, blotting against the dark fabric. He guided your blade to his lips, next, making a small nick in the corner of his mouth before taking the switchblade out of your hand and tossing it onto the floor, out of your reach. It would’ve hurt less if he’d tried to hurt you, too, taken the blade to your skin after his own. If would've hurt less if he’d acknowledged that you’d tried to do anything at all.

You didn’t have much time to linger on that thought, though. He was already moving again, already making up for time lost by fucking into you like a man crazed. With no preparation, no warning, he jerked forward, his chest pressing into yours as he kissed you, as he forced his tongue past your teeth and smeared his blood over your lips. It felt like you were drowning in nickel, being slowly suffocated by some nameless, slick, oppressive force. It felt like you were choking, despite being able to breathe, to think as clearly as you’d ever been able to around him. It felt like you were going to die.

But, you weren’t. He’d never be so kind, he’d never let you have that kind of comfort, not when he was still grinding into you, not when his cock was twitching against the walls of cunt and he was groaning into your mouth without reservation. You could feel your poor overstimulated pussy clenching around him, your vision burning white around the edges as, for lack of anything more stable to hold onto, you wrapped your arms around his neck and raked your nails over his back, clawing into whatever you could reach. If he noticed, if he cared, it only worked to drag him that much closer, to leave him as deep as he could possibly be when he finally finished, when you felt something warm and vile flood into you.

He stayed like that for a long moment, silent and unmoving, his chest pressed into yours and his lips trailing from your mouth to your throat, settling just above your jugular. It was a small mercy when he finally pulled away and straightened his back, easing himself out of you and wiping the blood off of his face, his neck. You watched from a distance as he fixed his clothes, before pushing himself to his feet, never sparing you so much as a second glance. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Pack your stuff, and make sure you’ve gotten your shit together by then. I’m not letting a mess like you into my apartment.” He paused, lingered long enough to smile. With no sense of visible urgency, he walked to the side of your bed, retrieving his switchblade and kissing your forehead softly, gingerly, with a kind of tenderness you could only wish he’d found a few hours earlier. “I love you, babe. Even when you act like a fucking idiot.”

His grin pressed into flesh, cutting and cruel.

“And I’m so, so glad you’ve realized that you love me too.”

scaramouche + "bite me please."

LMAO, anyway, love your writing!

note: yandere, forced marriage, sassiness, mild sexy times

--

The sound Scaramouche makes is akin to a splutter.

"What did I do," he mutters, fingers trailing over your partially bared skin, "to deserve such an unbecoming, lewd--"

"Aren't you the one currently in between my thighs, husband?"

At this, he shuts up entirely. You can practically hear the indignant expression on his face. Beautiful.

You sigh, amused, pleased at his reaction, and splay your arms out over the silken sheets underneath you. Oh, how you relish the swishing sound they made. You imagine that you were supposed to revel in the luxury afforded to you, being the wife of a Harbringer and blah, blah, blah.

But what you reveled in wasn't the thread count or the cost or the envy of the servants who made the beds, but the funny, satisfying sound the silk sheets made when you wiggled around on them.

"Obstinate," he mutters, breath puffing out against your skin. "In every way."

"You could always petition the Tsaritsa for a divorce, if you're so bothered by me." You make the grin plain in your voice, since your husband is oh-so-lovingly occupied with the opposite side of your body.

You think you've won, but then, a sudden harsh, gripping pain in your thigh forces a squeal from between your lips and you bolt upright in the bed.

Skin flushed, you look down at the red teeth marks square in the middle of your inner thigh.

He bit you!

Scaramouche smiles thinly up at you.

"I only did what you asked, dear spouse."

You huff, and prepare to gather your robe up and storm off--a good tantrum might set him straight--but he pushes you back down on the bed and looms over you before you can blink.

Oh. Oh dear. You know the look in his eyes, you know this force in his grip. Not true anger, but a rush of flushed huffiness that always makes him want to control you. Steer you somewhere, whether you like it or not.

"Where else should I bite, hm?" He asks, eyeing your skin. Your lips, your neck, your chest, and everywhere else.

Your fingers twist against the silk sheets. Swish, swish, swish.

"Anywhere you please," you say, voice twisting into mockery of a subservient, cooing spouse. You still can't decide if that's what he truly wanted out of you--why else force you into this?--or not.

There's a flush to his cheeks, a prickling heat that seems to radiate off him, and it makes you grin.

"Just know, husband, I'll bite you back for each one. Twice."

Yandere Creep! Scara who sets up cameras in your bedroom…

While checking the live footage one night, he finally gets to see you masturbating, so ofc like the gross perv he is, he excitingly takes this chance to jerk off….but something catches him off guard and has him pause his movement? Did you say something? He’ll need to replay that..

Did you just moan his name?

This took way longer then it should have, even though it’s short 💀

God knows how he snuck in to place them, or how small they’d have to be so you don’t notice,— probably climbed into your window when he knew you would be out for a decent amount of time, and hid very small cameras behind your shelves and ornaments— as well as making sure he got just the absolute perfect placement where he had access to view every single angle of you.

The first few nights that he has the live footage of your room pulled up on his computer are slow— you’re just doing ordinary stuff like studying at your desk for hours, or leaning up against your bed frame while you scroll through your phone. Repetitive activity that anyone would yawn at, but not him. Not Yandere Creep!Scaramouche who stares at your every movement through the screen with a small and content smile on his face. How he’d sit at his desk for hours, with the only time he’d look away being to rub the blur out of his eyes and to use the restroom.

You’re just so fucking adorable without even knowing it, he thinks. Every time you get up and walk out of the room to grab or do something, his eyes are carefully following your figure like a hawk— praying that you hurry up and come back into frame where he could see you, because he didn’t have enough cameras to put around your whole house. God, he just gets so excited watching you that he can’t help but let’s his hands wander down into his pants and start jerking off the boner you unknowingly had caused him.

How he’d grip his nails into the arm of his chair in desperation and thrust his hips up to counter the pace of his hand, throwing his head back and sobbing out your name in lots of pathetic, shallow whimpers when he squirts his load of cum all over his keyboard. His breath is inconsistent as he rides out his emotive orgasm, face flushed into a deep shade of vermillion with beads of sweat trickling down from his forehead to his neck. But not once. Not once do his eyes leave you as you sit quietly at your desk, with a towel wrapped snugly around your body and drops of water occasionally rolling down your glowing skin.

He bet you smelled like heaven its damn self, and he wanted nothing more then to be sitting beside you and stuffing his face into the crease of your neck to breath in your heavenly aroma— but sitting behind a screen and watching you from behind a camera was enough for him, for now. Scaramouche slightly adjusts in his chair and watches in anticipation as you stand up from your own seat and stalk over towards your bed, stopping right in front of the edge of it.

His slight curiosity quickly morphs into full faced shock when your hand reaches up to your towel to slowly untie it— and he physically feels his breath stop as the material almost elegantly falls from your body and dropping to the floor under your feet. He’s stunned, eyes blown wide and with each second that passes, he can feel how his heart rate quickly increases by the beat. “Oh… my fu— fucking god.” He staggers, his cock physically twitching in to the palm of his hand. You’re naked,

Jaw slacked, Scaramouche— who’s still in his state of shock, stares so intently as your ass allures him in almost teasingly when it sways side to side as you crawl into the middle of your bed, and lay back comfortably onto the mattress. Perfect, you looked absolutely perfect as your hands trailed down your skin and towards your— your… wait a minute, are you about to do what he think you’re about to do? He leans in so close where his head is almost touching his monitor, his hands planting on the desk surface to keep him from toppling over out of excitement— and trying so hard not to blink until you finally…

Finally bring your hand down to your thighs and spread them apart ever so slightly so your fingers can slip in between and access your pussy. He moans, a full fledged moan falls from his lips when you start teasing your cute little clit with your fingers. “Fuck, fuck, no fucking way—” is this real? Finally, what he’s been waiting for this entire time, for you to finally (and unknowingly) show him that filthy side you’ve been hiding away.

His hands are quick to reach back down to his cock, before he quickly starts to masturbate again— this time however, he has something to look at while he does so. His hand is moving at an almost inhumane speed up and down his shaft, and he knows that if you keep it up— toying with your cunt and laying so erotic looking on your bed— he won’t last for much longer.

God you sounded so fucking cute too. When you’d let out little whimpers as you slowly start to insert a finger inside your hole, Scaramouche is grunting out your name and pretending you’re making those sounds right next to his ear while he fucks into you. How you’d let out small whines and use your free hand to play with your nipples, his tongue flops out of his mouth and glides over his bottom lips to imagine he were the one doing it. The whole sight of you touching your self just has him so hot and heavy that he can’t help but grip onto his cock harder then normal and tug at it like it was going to run away.

Just as Scaramouche is about to cum, as he’s hunched so far forward and sobbing out your name in a broken tone— he hears a static sound from the audio of the camera, before your cute little voice enters his ears again. He has to pause, the rapid movement of his hand stops along the shaft of his cock as well. What was that? Was he hearing things, or did you really just—

“Mmhm— Scara!”

Oh, wow.

“Ah…” it takes a while to register, his brain racking for an answer before it finally clicks. You just… moaned his name… while you’re playing with your pretty cunt with those pretty little fingers, thinking about him. Only him, no one else. “Oh… my fucking fuck!”

Yeah… Scaramouche has never cum so hard in his life before.

Also rushed to see if he was screen recording or not. Imagine his anger if he wasn’t l m a o 💀

How do you think Yan!Wanderer would react to his darling trying to hurt him?

He grabs your wrist mid-air and hold onto it so tightly that you swear he is about to crush bone. "What the hell do you think you were doing?"

You struggled against his hold. "Let me go-"

"Shh shh. No talking, only listening." He cut you off, twisting your arm behind you back so that he could easily talk into your ear. "Because I love you, I'm going to give you one warning; causing me any kind of harm is off limits."

The pain was getting excruciating. He might look weak, but beneath that initial layer is someone who knew how to deal damage.

"Now I hope that you have enough of a mind not to try this again. But by all means, go ahead and test you luck. I don't really care, because you're never going to win. Just don't get mad at me for doing the same to you as punishment."

𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 Chapter Three

The work of a pantie thief!

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Scaramouche and his disturbing— unhealthy obsession towards you, his gorgeous little classmate. (Soon to be more)

Yandere Creep!Scaramouche/Wanderer x Fem!reader.

Yandere, creepy, obsessive and disturbing behaviour, character death (he kills someone *shocked face*), strangulation, worshiping, masturbation, pantie stealing/sniffing, mentions of cum, everyone is 18+, dark content ahead! modern/collage au, mdni, afab reader. 2.6k

Yandere Creep!Scaramouche’s eyes are locked solely onto your almost comically glowing figure, and he’s one hundred percent sure that if he were to squint his eyelids hard enough— there would be a pair of Angel white wings sprouting from your back, and a golden halo floating above your head. You looked so god damn ethereal, he thought. The harsh blaze of the sun shining against your face so elegantly that it made you look almost unreal, how your skirt blew softly along with the breeze. He has to quickly swipe the back of his hand over his mouth and make sure he’s not drooling at the sight— humming in annoyed amusement when the feeling of his saliva leaves a small, wet spot on his skin. Ignoring the weird stares he gets from other students around him, Scaramouche rises up from his spot on the grass and walks over to annoyingly insert himself in the group conversation you and your friends were having.

He doesn’t care about the glares he receives from them, because he’s more focused on the way you turn and smile at him welcomely, greeting him with that same soothing voice of yours that has his mind spinning in circles. He nods back at you in response, his eyes slightly dropping in rapture at how he’s finally close enough to you where he could do stuff like this. Everybody who was conversing with each other before he arrived, had stopped talking so freely— instead they choose to whisper their words because of the abrupt, awkward atmosphere that he had unintentionally brought over. No one there likes him, not one bit. His behaviour is creepy, not only in general— but directed towards you. Sometimes, his obsession towards you unknowingly breaks through his grumpy stature and slips up that he’s not sane. How his lips turn to a snarl when you mention hanging out with a certain friend, or how you’re coincidentally always paired up with him for assessments. Strange… yeah, they’ve noticed, and he’s noticed their more passive aggression towards him.

Yandere Creep!Scaramouche who bites down on his own tongue to muffle his heavy breathing when he hears your friends voice their concern about his relationship with you, as he’s stationed behind the wall to the women’s restroom— listening intently to their annoying voice. Oh how badly he wanted to pounce on and bash their skulls into the ground— but then that would really scare you off, so he dismisses it and continues to harshly scratch at the now growing scab on his thigh. You wouldn’t abandon him, would you? You did agree to be his ‘friend’ for life, even though you were drowsy from a two hour mid term test and probably had no idea what he was asking, you still agreed. Scaramouche feels his heart swell love when your sounds of disagreement enter his ears— wow, you’re sticking up for him? Arguing that he’s just a misunderstood and lonely boy, Saying he’s not as weird as everyone thinks? That you think he’s quite… cute? That last one allows a bright, red hue spread across his face, as well as his eyes pretty much dilating into hearts— a flush on his face which quickly rushes down his pants and to his dick, making it painfully prod against his now tight underwear. Though he of course wants to hear more of your silky voice echo though his ears with praise, directed at him, he hurries off to the male bathrooms so no one will catch him with a boner outside of the girls. That would definitely raise more alarms.

While Scaramouche is angrily pumping the shaft of his cock and rutting his hips up into his palm, gripping onto the tile wall of the stall he crammed himself into— he’s thinking of ways to rid of those wretched vermin you declared were friends. When the first wave of cum sprays from his dick and spreads jolts of pleasure throughout his body— he decides that they should no longer study at the same university as the both of you, and plans to fake an incident so they’ll be kicked out. When he’s moaning out your name in a shallow, pathetic whimper, squirting his fourth round of sticky cum up and all over the stall door— he thinks that, that wasn’t punishment enough. For trying to get in the way of your love, they should be gone entirely. Erased from existence with absolutely no way to interact with you, ever again. Hastily tugging up his pants, patting down his shirt and ruffling with his purple locks— Scaramouche exits the stall he had just orgasmed in and straight past the sinks, dismissing the thought of cleaning his hands and instead heads off to his next destination. Not caring about the cum he had painted all over the wall, in fact— he was more than smug about the thought of someone seeing the mess that he had left. (Because he’s yucky like that)

Yandere Creep!Scaramouche who— two weeks later, walks into his next class and takes his rightful seat beside you without a care in the world. As if he had not broke into one of your friends house during the middle of the night and strangled them in their sleep, just the night before. It’s was a slow and merciless process— one that he had relished in tremendously. The sight still vividly remains in his mind, how she had gasped and struggled around under the weight of his body. How his hands— tenuous as they were, wrapped around her throat and squeezed with all his strength. His eyes were downcast and luxuriating in the way her own had slowly started to loose their life, as her disgusting hands— which he knew had countlessly touched all over your graceful ones— had, inchmeal, lost their grip and fell from his arms that they were so desperately clawing onto for dear life. He hopes that they would forever remember the sinister smile he had on his lips the entire time during their suffering, because god does he wish that his face will haunt them for the rest of eternity.

He’s your shoulder to cry on when you hear of the news, when you had flung your head into the crease of his neck to weep your worries— he’s grinning like a mad man into your hair while patting your back lovingly, taking the thrilling opportunity to draw in a long and deep breath of your aroma which had fogged up into his nose. Your delicate hands are gripping onto his sleeve as you shed tears of sadness over the loss of your dear friend, all while he’s smugly lavishing in the tender warmth of your touch. Just as he had visioned, having his beloved in such a distressed state where she can hardly form coherent words, he takes this chance to voice out his words of so called solace. “Truely such an unfortunate end for them to face… if you would like, we can leave class early and I’ll walk you home. It’s not a good idea to stay here while you’re in such a… vulnerable state.” And take you home he does. From collecting your belongings and leaving the room, to whisking you away from nuisances who tried to console you themselves, Scaramouche holds your hand tightly while you both walk the path to your house. You were so wrapped up in your head that you don’t notice how he had known the exact direction without having to ask you.

The first thing Yandere Creep!Scaramouche does when he trails behind you through your front door, is rack his eyes over every wall in the entrance way for sighs of other males. Wether family photographs or shoes that he knows aren’t yours. He sighs out in relief when there is nothing for him to fret over— So he tightens his grip on your hand and trudges in the direction to your living room, right next to your bedroom. Your… bedroom… he’s almost foaming at the mouth. He’s just mere meters away from entering your bedroom for the first time ever. A place which you sleep, where you study, where you… masturbate. He pauses his steps, eyes slightly widening in realisation at the thought. You would definitely touch yourself at night, right? Maybe you grip onto your bed sheets in desperation as you’re plunging your fingers into your tight and wet pussy. Do you muffle your bonny moans with your hands out of embarrassment? Or do you let loose and allow them to echo of the walls of your room. He’s hoping option number one, for he does not want anyone other then himself to hear those cute little noises you let out. Scaramouche snaps out of his day dream when the feeling of your hand leaves his, and unconsciously, he reaches out to grip onto it because he’s already missing your warmth.

He excuses his actions of needfulness as a way to console you further, because he ‘does not want you to feel alone in this time of need.’ And encourages you to sit down and rest away your worries, as he’s by your side the entire time and tending to your needs. When you have tears leaking out from your beautiful eyes, and snot dripping from your nose— Scaramouche is extending a tissue into your hand and hovering his palm over your knee. When he notices the way your racked sobs slowly start to level with your now calmer breathing, he’s finding his way around your house and to the kitchen, searching each and every cabinet for a glass and filling it with water— back by your side before you even had the chance to notice his brief absence and handing it towards you. (Not before he keenly rummaged through your fridge and took a mental note of the foods you like to eat.) Scaramouche, with one hand, lifts the cup of liquid to your lips, while his other lands on the back of your head to tilt it upwards— and god does he feel like your boyfriend in this very moment.

Yandere Creep!Scaramouche who twiddles with his thumbs expectantly when you excuse yourself to the bathroom to freshen up, saying you’ll just quickly try and shower off your disturbance and be out within minutes. He nods quickly, and waves you off, muttering that he’ll wait right here on the couch for you, and watches as you waddle off in the direction he assumes is the bathroom. And he does stay put— for the first couple of minutes. Because when the sound of water rushing through the pipes, enters his hearing— he’s jumping up from his seat on the couch and making a beeline straight for your bedroom. His mouth slightly parts when he’s in the doorway, and his eyes dart around the room in excitement. Your dresser… your desk… your bed. His stare is dead set on your bed, and he’s about to start waking over to it until he accidentally steps on something soft that was lying on the floor.

When he looks down— he can basically feel his heart stop beating, because under his foot, is a cute little pair of pink underwear. Your underwear… Scaramouche doesn’t even register what his body is doing out of his control until he unconsciously drops down to his knees, in front of the item, hands cautiously reaching out to grab them as if they would try and run away. “Holy shit…” he mutters the moment his hand curls around the fabric, pinching it between his fingers and raising it up to his face. He swears he can still smell the scent of your pussy lingering on them, and he’s imagining the way your slick folds rub against the cotton with each step you take.

Scaramouche gulps down the lump in his throat, his grip tightening around the cloth as he slowly inches it closer to his face. And as much as he wants to saviour this moment, he knows that time is limited and he has to act, fast. So without a second left to waste— his hand is thrusting the material right up against his nose and taking a deep inhale. He moans, a loud and needy moan falls out his mouth and thankfully, muffles into your panties so you have no chance of hearing it. His eyes roll to the back of his head as he feels a jolt of electricity flow throughout his body. He hunches forward— his free hand planting on the ground to stabilise his trembling body. “Mhm god, so…fucking good.” He mewls, unaware that he had started drooling all over the fabric like some sort of feral animal.

God your scent smelled so good— way better then he had envisioned in his mind. Way, way better that it has his mind running fucking haywire. And although he doesn’t want to, he pulls them away from his nose to take a breather. His breaths are erratic, tongue lolling out from his lips while his eyes blink rapidly in desperation to try and rid of the black spots around his vision. He’s just in a complete state of pure euphoria as he hurriedly stuffs his face back into your underwear, his teeth clamping shut over them.

He’s wasn’t aware how long he had hunched over the floor with your panties basically shoved up his nose until he hears the faint sound of the shower turning off from the bathroom. He pauses, eyes anxiously darting up and racking around the room in a panic. Of course— just as his hand was slithering down his stomach and towards his aching dick, he knew time was up. So with all his remaining strength, he lifts up from the floor and tries to steady his shaking legs. He’s so dizzy, there’s a line of drool leaking down his chin, and his eyes are drooping in pleasure.

Scaramouche tries so hard to steady his breathing, he really does— and he’s one hundred percent sure he looks like some sort of crazy person with the way he stumbles around the room. So with one last whiff into the fabric, he quickly stuffs your underwear into his back pocket and stumbles his way towards the door, grabbing onto walls and shelves to ensure he doesn’t topple over. Thankfully, by the time he’s back in the lounge room and hunched over the couch— you emerge from the bathroom with damp hair and new clothes, an elegant scent of strawberry’s lingering off your body. (He’ll have to ask what soap you use one day.)

Yandere Creep!Scaramouche, for the next ten minutes, tries so hard to cover his boner from your gaze— he’s cupping it with his hand and grabbing a couch cushion to shield it away from you— all while he’s nodding along to whatever you say. It’s so painful, he’s occasionally taking deep, shaking breaths (which he blames on the sadness he feels for your friend) as he keeps shifting around in his seat to try and ease the tension. By the end of the day— as the sun slowly starts to set, you decide to call it a night and thank him for his time, walking him to the front door. He nods at you, eyes cast to the ground and saying to email him if you ever need anything.

Let’s hope you didn’t notice the way he tried to pull his shirt down to cover his hard cock— or why there is something pink, slightly hanging out from his back pocket.

Probably puts your underwear on his sex doll of you, lol

Omg I love your perv scaramouche sm,, imagine pervy scara daydreaming about being buried in your thighs, mouth watering at the thought of servicing you- his God. He'd thank you for letting him drink your juices like they were some magical elixir he swears he could live off of. Omg just him thinking of all the ways he could service you as your loyal follower, but for now, reenacting with his pillows and sex doll will have to do. GOD I LOVE SOGGY OBSESSIVE SCARA SM HELP

In love with you and your brain, nonny. 🥺 he’s imagining you in all sorts of lewd positions in the most random times— like the middle of class lol. Sorry this is so short, currently writing part three.

Yandere Creep!Scaramouche who can slowly feel his mind slip away with each second the professor rambles on about whatever boring subject the class is learning, how his thoughts go from where you should go to for your next ‘date’ to what you would look like with your pretty thighs wrapped around his head as he’s slobbering all over your cunt. He lets out a shaking breath and looks to the side, where you’re sitting next to him and taking notes— unaware that you currently have his cock painfully prodding against his underwear. He has to keep uncomfortably adjusting around in his seat to try and ease down his growing erection.

The pen that was previously in the grip of his hand— falls onto the desk with a clatter, while the other, subconsciously slides under the table to hover over his clothed cock. His eyes anxiously dart around the room, making sure there is nobody watching his actions before he slowly starts to unzip his pants. It wasn’t the first time he has masturbated in the middle of class, but he had never done it while you were seated right beside him. If anything, it makes him even more excited— how there’s a very high chance that you could catch his hand pumping up and down his dick from under the desk. Scaramouche leans back in his chair, his head slightly tilting back in relief when he’s finally able to pull his cock out of his pants.

Would you grip onto his hair and whine at him to go faster? While his tongue is lapping up all your juices, his hand gripping onto your thighs for dear life. Or maybe you’d get embarrassed at the weak side you were showing and hold your breath, clamping your hand over your mouth and looking up at the roof so you don’t have to see his how purple hair peeks out from between your thighs. He’d loudly moan into your folds, hump his hips into the mattress to try and rut his cock against the bed. He’s begging you to put your hand on the back of his head and push him deeper into your cunt, as he wants to be as close as possible and have you squirt into his mouth— which he’ll gladly swallow every last drop of.

Yandere Creep!Scaramouche feels his cock twitch happily in his hand when the thought of you, squirting all over his face as you ride out your orgasm enters his mind. His breathing is starting to eradicate with each pump he aligns up and down his cock, and he can feel how his knee keeps quietly thumping against the underside of the desk. Thankfully, you haven’t noticed how he has completely disregarded the lesson up front and instead chose to stare at the side of your face, why one of his arms kept moving up and down at a fast pace, or when he would occasionally whimper under his breath when his thumb rolls over the slit of his cock head.

The first thing he does when he steps foot in his bedroom after class had ended, is run straight to the closet to pull out his sex doll and throws it carefully onto his bed. Impatiently shedding off every piece of clothing while he makes his way over— following suit and straddling the doll while positioning his cock to lay flat against the silicones stomach. “Fucking Christ… that’s right, I’ll service you until your pretty pussy is begging me to fuck it.” Scaramouche is mewling out you name as he humps the doll, his hands latching onto ‘her’ shoulders as his dick rubs up and down ‘her’ body— all while he’s imagining it’s you, wrapping your perfect legs around his waist and pulling him in closer. :(

Title: Supersede

Pairing: Yandere!Wanderer x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 1.2k.

TW: Mild Spoilers, Unhealthy Relationships, Mentions of Past Abuse, and Obsessive Behavior.

A few weeks ago, a traveler with golden hair and stars in their eyes tried to tell you that your husband was not the man you’d come to know.

You’d obviously laughed off their attempts to explain how a ‘world tree’ and the plots of Fatui Harbingers would leave you married to a stranger who’d, in a past life, supposedly taken you as his hostage spouse and punished your escape attempts with bolts of lightning and electric shocks, neither of which your dearly beloved had ever shown any affinity for. It was gibberish, all of it – the meaningless drivel of a madman with all the time in the world to construct a story about time travel and false gods and century-spanning calamities. You couldn’t possibly be asked to believe a word of it. You refused to believe a word of it.

Or, you would’ve refused, if your husband hadn’t suddenly started acting… unlike himself around the time of the traveler’s visit.

Even now, he was doing something he’d done before – pouring over tomes older than the two of you combined, searching for something you couldn’t begin to name in the faded text written across tattered pages. He’d read before, sure, but his preference had veered towards travel guides, folk tales, the occasional light novel when you were passing through Inazuma and something about blacksmith heroes or star-crossed lovers caught his eyes, and he would always try to drag you into it, pulling you against his side as he tried to explain the tangled romance between a war-hardened general and rebel spy sent to win her heart (he had a soft spot for stories doomed to end tragically). Seeing him like this, buried among texts as dry as Sumeru’s desert, making no effort to pull you into his lap or coax you out of the bay window you’d balled yourself up in – it felt like you were boarding with a scholar, not a wanderer. It felt wrong.

The fact that you had a window to sit in at all was bizarre. You could count the number of inns you’d stayed at since meeting him on a single hand. Neither of you were fragile, and you didn’t mind sleeping under the stars, seeking shelter in shrines and treetops and stifling your laughter as you tried to teach your husband how to start a fire from scratch for the thousandth time. You preferred it, in all honesty. Cooping yourself up inside always made you feel anxious, trapped, like a fox about to stumble into a lurking snare. Your claustrophobia must’ve slipped his mind, though. That, or he just didn’t care.

You leaned against the glass, curling your tail around your folded legs. Your tapered ears pressed into the sides of your skull, but you ignored it, clearing your throat before you spoke. “You know, I’ve heard there’s a plot of uncharted ruins just west of Apam Wood.” He glanced in your direction, and you grinned, letting your head lull to the side. “Sounds fun, right? If we leave tomorrow, we should be able to—”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Why would I want to waste my time in a glorified pit filled with cave paintings and ruin guards?”

He’d proposed to you in a pit – Liyue’s Chasm, to be more specific. You’d been stranded with a group of miners at the bottom of a temperamental elevator shaft, and he had absent-mindedly admitted that he’d always pictured himself dying as your husband, not your lover. The elevator was ultimately repaired before you suffered any causalities, but he’d made good on his word. You still weren’t sure if the one-eyed captain you’d found performed an entirely legitimate ceremony, but you could still remember how brightly he smiled, what his lips had tasted like when you'd kissed him that day.

If it hadn’t been real, if it hadn’t really happened, then you wouldn’t be able to remember it so clearly. If he wasn't your husband, then you wouldn't see

“How about Vanarana, then? The sky there is supposed to be such a sight, no poet can describe its beauty in fewer than a dozen pages.”

“I’ve heard the same kind of thing said about Yashiori Island, and Dragonspine, and Cuijue Slope. I’m beginning to think the poets are the ones at fault.”

You shrunk into yourself, pursing your lips. Finally, he seemed to notice your melancholy, pushing himself to his feet with an airy sigh and reluctantly shutting his tome. In a few seconds, he was at your side, seated across from you in the cushioned windowsill. All he had to do was uncross his arms and you were lurching towards him, slotting yourself against his chest and burying his face in the fabric of his shirt. There was a breathy laugh, more demeaning than anything you’d heard from him before the traveler’s visit, but you chose to ignore that, to melt into the arm wrapped around your waist, the fingernails slowly raking over the base of your ears. That, at least, hadn’t changed. He’d always found your circumstance – as an unaging puppet with no heart and an immortal kitsune with no supernatural abilities – particularly romantic.

“I know you’re bored, but what I’m doing is necessary.” Right. His all-important mission, handed down from Lesser Lord Kusanali herself. It wasn’t that you didn’t believe him – it just wasn’t like your husband to care about the goals of archons. You two had never stayed in the same place long enough to be bothered by the ongoings of gods and goddesses, before. “We’ll be traveling again in a couple weeks. And when we are, I promise, you’ll be treated to every mediocre view and monster-infested colliery this shithole of a nation has to offer.” He flashed you a grin, kissing your cheek. “Think of it as... compensation. For how good you've been for me, so far.”

You were quiet, for a moment.

Then, you brought your hands up to rest on his arm, asking softly, “Do you remember where we met?”

His hold on you tightened ever so slightly. “In Inazuma, obviously.”

“Do you remember how?”

He opened his mouth, then hesitated. Instantly, you felt your heart shatter in your chest.

But you didn’t pull away. If anything, you only sunk further into him, going near-limp in his hold while he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips just barely ghosting over the column of your throat. Even his affection was had changed, all lingering touches and sparse hints of fondness where there used to be stolen kisses, unabashed praise, as much love crammed into every possible second, like the hundreds of years you’d spent together still weren’t enough for him. Like this new person in front of you, this distorted imitation of your dear husband, was simply too used to having you in the palm of his hand to ever entertain the thought of a world wherein you might’ve been anywhere else.

“Are you…” You started, reluctantly, quickly trailing off. It took you a few seconds to find your voice, to swallow down the knot of tension forming in the back of your throat, but he waited, more patient than he’d ever been before. “Are you still my husband?”

He didn’t hesitate, this time. “Of course,” and then, with his lips still pressed against your skin, “I’ll be whatever I have to be, for you.”

The comfort was minimal, if there truly was comfort to be found in his words at all. He was a stranger to you, a replacement, and yet, you stayed quiet, bit your tongue as he pressed slow, open-mouthed kisses into the crook of your neck, the dip of your shoulder. You burnt where he touched you, and you didn’t trust the way his teeth scraped against your skin, but what else were you supposed to do?

Your husband was gone. If the traveler's words were anything to go by, he was all you had left.

The unexpected third and final part to the series I never gave a name to, otherwise known as a continuation of the jealous Venti, overworked reader, and treasure hoarders fiasco

Warnings: general sagau, blood, implied death (not main characters)

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