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coffeequeenmartha · 9 months ago

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I'm never forgetting the Palestinian babies that were left to starve to death then rot in their beds by the IOF.

I'm never forgetting the Palestinian doctors surrounded by bodies of dead children begging the world to stop the slaughter.

I'm never forgetting the Palestinian children who held a press conference in English to beg the world to stop murdering them because they want to live.

I'm never forgetting the Palestinian Priest who said "We will not accept your apology after the genocide" to the world.

I'm never forgetting the Palestinian Imam who used the speakers of the Mosque, not to call people to prayer but to call out to God while the world around them was burning from American supplied Israeli bombs.

I'm never forgetting the grandfather who held his dead grandchild in his arms. Or the father carrying the remains of his two children in plastic shopping bags. Or the mother holding her dead child in a shroud. Or the father sitting among the rubble after he lost his whole family. Or the girl trapped under a broken building begging for people to save her family first. Or the boy who cried when he saw his brother alive. Or the girl who asked if she was still alive after being pulled from the rubble. Or the boy who carried the remains of his brother in his backpack. Or the old man the IOF used for a photoshoot before they shot him dead after getting pictures. Or the little boy wearing plastic gloves to pick up the remains of his family. Or the graves desecrated. Or the body of that small baby girl left alone in a tent because no one knew who she was or if her family was alive, small and alone and not one person who knew her name to bury her. Or the young boy who was shot in the street while his sister watched from the window. Or the men and boys who were stripped naked in winter. Or those tortured. Or those made to stand in open graves. Or the people who were raped by IOF soldiers. Or Palestinian workers kidnapped by the IOF and then labeled with wristbands, each one reduced to a number, then made to walk back to Gaza to be killed in the world's largest open air concentration camp. Or the people of Gaza starving because Israeli Zionists are blocking aid trucks. Or the Israelis dancing and celebrating the death of Palestinians. Or the lies spread by Zionists and their supporters. Or the people profiting off the oppression and deaths of Palestinians. Or the people of the West Bank being killed or kidnapped by the IOF. Or old woman who was older than the creation of the terror state of "Israel" who was shot by snipers for saying that. Or the Israelis dressed up as Palestinians to enter a hospital and kill three Palestinians in their beds. Or every single Palestinian currently kept in an Israeli prison. Or the journalists, doctors, poets, men, women, children, and the unborn all massacred. Or the fact that WCNSF exists now. Or the woman who refused to wash the blood from her hands. Or the dead, unburied and unmourned.

I'm never forgetting those who chose silence in the face of a genocide.

I may not know all their names but I will not forget the over 30,000 Palestinians dead. Or the over 60, 000 people hurt. Or the unknown number of people missing, still lost under the rubble. Or the 12,000 children slaughtered. An entire generation crippled or murdered.

I will never forget these things when Palestine is free.

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coffeequeenmartha · 3 years ago

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'Safe', After All (3/3)

Thoma x GN Reader (SAGAU)

Soothing, soft hands part the strands of your hair; in circular motions, they twirl and twist them, tugging delicately and continuously for what seemed to be hours. The surface of Thoma's palms are warm, comfortingly so, and their heat causes a feeling of drowsiness to well up within your mind.

Encouraged by the sight of drooping eyes, Thoma begins to smooth over your locks with much-renewed vigour, though this time, he also scratches at your scalp in perfect, methodical movements, too.

Hazed and glossy, your eyes attempt to resist the urge of slumber. It's tempting, oh so tempting to give in to, yet there are still a dozen or so questions lingering in your mind, all pleading for either rationality or reprieve.

Frosty blue flashes in the corner of your vision, returning every few seconds or so to complete a revolution around your laying form. The sphere of ice sends pulses of comfort radiating across you, lessening your discomfort so much so that a relieved sigh is able to escape your lips. You relax your head once more into Thoma's lap.

"Thank you, Qiqi," you whisper out, quiet and coarsely - a consequence of the dryness and lingering herbal taste within your throat.

Her head tilts the slightest bit to the side. "Does their Majesty feel better?" she murmurs, curiosity and concern evident in her monotonous demeanour.

The haphazard sigil hindering her line of sight is brought upwards: lifted until it is no longer atop her violet hat. A gloved hand is pressed atop her head - once, twice, and soon a dozen times in succession.

"I'm sure they do!" Thoma exclaims, still resuming the motions he makes to pat her hair. "All thanks to yours and Sayu's healing, no doubt."

Violetgrass, vibrant and blooming in a bouquet, is pressed into a limp hand by small fingers. The stems of them prick and tickle at healing skin. Gentle, whispy leaves seem to curl around your wrists, cradling the mass of broken bones which were their composition so long ago.

Two pairs of giggles grace your ears; so humoured, so happy, that their mere noise causes a swelling of affection and awe to form within your chest. The warmth it carries is encompassing of all, and only serves to further drag your eyelids down by the weight of Sayu and Qiqi's childish amusement.

"Hey, all of you!" there's a sudden and joyful exclamation of. "All the preparations are set!"

Beidou's footsteps are stark and heavy: clicks and clacks crescendo their smooth descent in your direction. All to be seen is the shadow of her body, exuding such confidence alongside contentedness of the strongest magnitude. She hovers above you, blocking the luminescence of the shimmering, dim stars in the blanket of night.

"All that's left to do is take our Majesty home!" she says, adorning a wide and bright grin spanning from ear-to-ear. Poised like pincers, both her hands descend to pinch at the skin of your cheeks.

Rouge of a dark hue spreads across the surface of them both: a wildfire of fluster and embarrassment. There's a choking, gripping sensation taking hold of your throat, and only a mere squeak manages to escape it.

\\\

Desperity and pathos are a miasma, lingering about Liyue's streets in a thick, choking fog. It curls and grips around people's throats, forcing out the prayers and beseeches which escape all of their lips.

Despite your hands covering your ears, the begging is impossible to escape - for their cries are piercing, and echo through your mind like a record with no signal. Sobs, pleads, implorances. Sobs, pleads, implorances. Sobs, pleads-

"I'm so sorry, your Grace!"

"To think I could have been so foolish..."

"Forgive me!"

"...Not even death itself would be enough to atone for my transgressions."

Winds howl and whirl, their ferocity as harsh as your own; the hood concealing your features, however, does not falter in its duty. Piercing thunder bathes the night sky bloody, and in hellish delight the stars relish. Filling is the fear of thousands.

"Ignore them, your Majesty," Thoma whispers, spite and anger fueling his tone. Firmly, his index finger and thumb grasp at your chin, tilting it to the left. "Those heathens don't deserve your attention after what they did."

Though, it was impossible to do such a thing - ubiquitous and absolute, statues mirroring your image surround the harbour: within homes, atop balconies, between stores. The largest of all towers the city square, casting a cold shadow upon hundreds of sobbing, kneeling acolytes.

Excruciation marres its expression; meticulously carved into smooth slabs of stone. Lacking support, the position of the statue, of you, seems to be staggering; clutching at a wound weeping droplets of diamonds and stars. The same substance rolls down porcelain cheeks, dotting them with anguish and pain.

Slashed across its back is a jagged line, revealing rocks reminsicent of bone and muscle. Throbbing beneath the cloak over your shoulders, a past wound flares in remembrance.

"They think they can just ask me for forgiveness?" you murmur, voice raging and angered all the same. "After everything they did to cast me out? To hurt me, to kill me-!"

An aura of danger and mistrust seeps into the surrounding air. Suffocating and merciless, it sucks the life out of lungs, whips at skin like a burn, and causes citizens to cry out in torturous pain.

Glowing locks of hair float upwards, threatening to lift the hood hiding them from sight. Mind so full of hatred and wrong, you don't notice the crimson shield flickering around your body, until it's pulled into a sudden embrace.

"I know, I know..." Thoma speaks, rich in sympathy and understanding. Warm hands run along your spine's surface, soothing and soft to alleviate discomfort. "They don't deserve your forgiveness, nor your mercy."

Face blank and dull; such features juxtapose his gentle tone of voice. Emerald eyes narrow - dangerous intent flashes through them when catching sight of figures in the distance. Horrified and grim, their expressions mirror the erratic glowing of their own visions.

Clutched tighter against his chest, your chest heavily breathes in and out: hazy confusion begins to light up your face. "When... when will we be there...?"

"Soon, dear," he says, darkly yet close to a coo. "Let's get moving, the Qixing may catch sight of us."

\\\

Constant and unrelenting, the shadows of the night are a barricade to your vision - tightly wound with pointed vines, tendrils of darkness coil and curl to form a mass of branches and thorns before you. They shift and tighten at unknown intervals, baring aggressive fangs to those within their perimeter.

A prolonged, tired sigh loosens the tenseness of your chest. Within it is a sensation of want. Of longing. Though painfully minimal in amount, the luminance of the blue moon bathes your features in a soft glow; the window it all filters through acts as a hindrance.

"If only I could just..." you mumble, a defeated and forlorn tint to your tone. Squinted and thin, your eyes scan behind and about: the kitchen to this cottage is bare, and all of importance is your own presence.

Within countless cupboards of oak and fir, you can picture the rows of plates and bowls. Spotless and sparkling, their ability to reflect as well as a mirror was truly a phenomenon to marvel at - such a mere shame, that the cabinets were sealed tight by lock and key.

A breeze passes by. Though faint, its gentle caress against flushed cheeks is unmistakable.

Stillness consumes musings of curiosity, and for one lingering, eternal moment, it is the sole existence upon Teyvat. Leaves, grass, nature discover themselves paralytic, and the wind whispers of newfound revalations.

Absolute, is what becomes of your focus. Narrowed and thin, it is a striking force; leaving four senses null, and only touch to rely on. You reach out to the window, newfound purpose lodging itself into the forefront of your mind.

As expected. It is faint, once again - the sensation of a cold, miniscule gust of wind against the pads of your fingers - yet moreso, it is familiar.

So sudden and so strong, adrenaline rushes through sacred veins, dominating all heeds of rationale. A wrenching, twisting sensation grips at your heart: desperity prospers, and your lungs seize, a mere morsel of pure, untainted air begged for.

"Come on..." you rasp out, irritation grating against the hollow of your throat. "Open up, please."

Violently, the latch to the window rattles, shaking in stressful tandom with its hinges. Yield, the pressure does not, despite cramps stabbing at the tendons of your fingers - further invigorated, they grip at unrelenting steel, turning tender skin blistering red and white.

Cracks resonate within the joints of aching bones, and with one final, forceful, and heaving shove, displaced hinges give way to streaks of wind. Like twirling ribbons, a turquoise hue illuminates your surroundings. Anemo bounces upon your cheeks in a tender embrace.

"Thank goodness..." you whisper, choked, as the essence of time is grasped tightly within a closed fist of yours. Hiking a leg upon the windowsill, your conscience prepares for the onslaught of frostiness to hit it from the outside environment.

Grass blades part beneath the surface of your bare feet; earth shakes as the tips of your fingers tremble.

"Where do you think you're going?"

The shift in temperature is immediate. Scalding, scathing heat encircles your wrists in a too-tight grip. Murals of flame nip and bite at flushed skin, surrounding all in walls of crimson ember. Courtesy of constricting arms, no longer is the caress of anemo an experience to revel in. Pyro is all that's left to savour.

Though soft and furred, the carpet beneath you burns: feet digging into fine wool, you attempt to thwart the motions he makes to pull you back - further away from the opportunity of escape, further and further from freedom. Knees knocking back into Thoma's own, you thrash violently in his grip.

"Get off!" you cry out, a harsh lump forcing itself down your throat. With strength mightier than ever before, you grasp at his face, utilising pointed nails to shove and claw at clear skin. "Let me out of here, goddamnit!"

Immovable as stone, he remains, despite the rough discomfort of elbows digging deep into his sides. "I can't do that, your Majesty. It's unsafe out there."

"I don't care, let me go!"

Walls, floors, frames. Walls, floors, frames-

Stars flash, lights shine bright; tapestries of swirls are all to see, melding into one blurry, dizzying canvas. Nausea encompasses your senses, and swells of sickness rock against the tissue of your stomach. Though, desperity remains a fuel to your shoving to and fro, relentless against Thoma's muscled arms.

"It seems you won't come to reason..." he murmurs, sadness gentling his tone. Two hands squeeze at your shoulders - their grip tight and suffocating. The chest behind your own inclines with a forlorn sigh. "I apologise, your Majesty."

Predatory, is the sensation of cloth across sacred skin: so sudden and slow, paralysed your muscles become. Such a thin strip of fabric, and yet its gaze, you sense, is one of danger. Gleaming eyes stare down upon your own, watching, waiting, daring a mere twitch.

A slash. It pounces.

Wrestling arms, clawing hands, kicking legs: all encircled, all trapped, all pulled back into Thoma's chest. Constricted and stuck, valiant retaliation strains upon bonds - seam by seam, freedom rips. "Enough!" you shout, rough coarseness evident within your throat.

The world tilts. Descending are the clutches of gloved hands, warmth and care a constant. Into the crook of his neck, encompassing is the heat in which Thoma possesses. "Ssshh..." he hushes, calming whispers tickling at the inner surface of your ear.

When had you even reached the bedroom?

Thrashing ensues. Once more, the tingle of hushes and murmurs grace your senses. "Ssshh. There's no need to be afraid anymore, you're safe here."

"Stop it, stop it!"

His palms' soothing caresses run down the surface of your spine, cradling, stroking, drawing you in once more. Relentless their status remains - the touches, the coos, the stifling warmth.

"You need to get some good rest, dear. Just relax..." he mumbles, the faintest motion of rocking beginning to overcome your body. Back and forth his cradle goes: forwards and backwards, backwards and forwards, back, forth, back and forth... "It'll all be better in the morning, I promise."

A sweet, pungent scent invades your senses, thickening scarce air with a magenta tint. Wide eyes droop hazily; cotton stuffs itself within muffled ears. Phantom claws scratch at the surface of your scalp, and coherency trembles and tremors.

"That's it, I've got you..."

Blurring flames sway in the corner of your vision. Fleeting and flickering, their wrath spreads across violet petals, vibrant in hue. The erratic bites at air are mesmerising, your mind tiredly acknowledges, yet once more you're tilted away from the sight. Denser, the gas returns, diffusing into limp and exhausted tendons.

"You can't- can't keep me here..." you softly sigh, snuffing out your last remnants of energy. Inclined downwards, useless muscles drop heavily upon Thoma's shoulders - in an instant, his arms cradle them close.

"I can, your Majesty." Mumbling lips press against the skin of your temple, their edges curling the slightest inch upwards. "It's the only way to keep you safe from everyone else, after all."

The end! :) Thank you for reading.

Please inform me of any grammatical errors, or references to any specific gender within this post.

Primarily inspired by @nicebonescomrade

Those who were interested in another installment: @chocoenvy @raidengaile @mikachu2x @creation-magician @iloveyanderes @funkypusy @5-stirling-heartstrings @alextheknight707 @harmonbrooke @brieflanguageapricot @sweetbatherodonkey @ratqueen-spleen @thai @yourfaveisblack @midnightraindropme

#tw yandere #tw injury description #tw drugging #tw bondage #tw captivity #yandere genshin #genshin cult au #yandere thoma #yandere genshin x reader #yandere beidou

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coffeequeenmartha · 3 years ago

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Punishment For Her Wings

Requested by @thatonedummysimp

GN Demon!Reader (SAGAU)

"Farewell, my dears."

Their reactions are immediate. Wailing, pouting and cries are abundant within your vicinity, amplified by the bare, inky black walls of the domain within which you were stood. There's pleads, desperate and raspy, alongside pained howls of both monsters and creatures alike.

Spectres of anemo brush against your cheeks; faint wisps of wind nudge into them, their intent clear and morose. You croon, gently squishing one between your fingers as a wordless comfort.

"I've been here long enough," you chide, though amusement tinges your tone of voice. "You're all aware of how time is different in the Abyss. It's quite a surprise how none of my dear acolytes have come down to complain about it, I must say..."

Footsteps echo behind you, their falls brave and sure. The figure's cloak drags along the ground, concealing their tall, lithe shadow with a cloth so dotted in stars, it is as if the whole cosmos resided within its seams and stitches.

There's a sour, upset expression upon Dainsleif's features, though it dissipates no sooner than when your own eyes meet the navy pools of his. Grasping the sides of his face, you pull back blond strands of hair, then lean forward to press your curled horns against his forehead. Their sharp points angle close to his pristine skin, and yet at ease he still remains.

"Do not fret, my dear Dainsleif," you murmur, pressing a kiss to his temple. "I'm afraid the mortals of Teyvat need to be kept at bay. They grow restless at any disappearance of mine. I promise, I shall be back in due time."

Your lips curl back. Revealed are numerous pairs of pointed fangs, lining blood-red gums like daggers of bone. It's too overpowering, overbearing of a grin - much too large for a being of such kind and loving nature.

Not a second passes before Dainsleif nods, reverence flowing deep within his veins. He raises a hand, and abyssal energy pulsates as he curls it into a fist. Starry blue swirls about the both of you, as does it form a barrier in front of the creatures whimpering and clawing in your direction.

He falters at the sight. Though, his wrist is soon encircled by a long tail, which bends to form a shape similar to a heart. It softly brushes at his skin, like another kiss from your divine presence, and such is enough to focus his efforts oncemore.

"Nothing shall trouble you so long as I am here, my dear."

Concealed by a mask, rouge tints the surface of his cheeks. "Of course, your Majesty."

"Oh, do not call me by such a name, it doesn't befit me at- all..."

There's a sudden, unbearable weight which pulls at your chest: violent and so excruciating that it causes weakness in your knees. The whole world tilts, your vision blurs - it's impossible to breathe.

Flashes filter through your head, too quick to comprehend. There's screams, cries and sobs hounding your sensitive ears, blasting like a broken record. The lips they emanate from are spluttering, dribbling rivulets of unending gold. They cough, gag, and choke on something acidic and jagged within their throat.

Dainsleif's arms encircle your waist, acting as an anchor to your drooping body. It twitches and convulses harshly, and his eyes soon become wide and frantic. You can't hear his words, can't comprehend his questions; only see the figure in white that's crying and begging for your aid.

A burning, raging sensation throbs at the centre of your chest - so old and so foreign, that millennia have passed since it last controlled your conscience. Sadism casts shadows upon your thoughts: no more of your own are left.

She needs help.

"What do you think you're doing?"

All of Teyvat stops.

It gazes upon your flickering form, descending to the snowy grounds of Dragonspine at a hellish speed. The earth tilts harshly as you land, and the echoes of crumbling mountaintops and a dozen avalanches follow soon after. Pounds and pounds of snow begin falling at rapid speeds, downwards to trap all those within your perimeter with sheer, numbing cold.

The large, curled horns atop your head glow at their tips, and all of Mondstadt bows. The citizens, the knights, the archons. Their heads are pushed deep into the ground, as are their scraped and newly-bruising knees.

Rasping breaths. They're too quiet. Too lacking. She splutters and coughs, attempting to rid of the ichor blocking her airways. Inky blackness by your command latches onto her torso; wounds repair themselves; bones are replaced with resonating snaps that cause your sister to whimper in pain.

Though, you realise with a low growl, the bloodied, feathered stumps at the back of her shoulders remain absolute - and so does she, for her chest shakes with the force of her tearful sobs.

"I-I can't feel my wings! What happened to them? T-They're not there anymore!"

Crimson thunder strikes within the sky. Its echo shatters the ears of the archons kneeling before you, who cover the sides of their heads with mewling cries. Searing, fiery heat stifles the atmosphere, emanating from the cosmos tinged red with the extent of your rage.

"I created this bountiful land from the kindness of my heart..." you and a thousand unseen voices intone at the same time. "...I shall enjoy watching it burn for daring to harm my sister."

Cracks tear the ground beneath your hovered feet. The molten, toxic lava flowing beneath the crust of the earth blazes forth, disintegrating all in its path. Venti, Ei and Zhongli can only tremble as their frozen, kneeling bodies begin to succumb to the punishment brought forth upon them.

"To Khaenri'ah, my dear sister..." those dead say with you, their shadows surrounding the both of you. "Where the only true worshippers exist."

Thank you for reading! :)

This work was a mixture of two asks which @thatonedummysimp requested:

Inspired by the SAGAU works of @nicebonescomrade

Please inform me of any references to a specific gender for the reader within this work.

Please inform me of any grammatical errors.

#tw violence #genshin cult au #genshin x reader #imposter au #genshin impact x reader #dainsleif x reader #your sister is an angel

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coffeequeenmartha · 3 years ago

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Baizhu in the SAGAU?

Surprisingly, I haven't seen a single drop of Baizhu in the SAGAU, despite him being an interesting character to have.

There's quite a few theories that his snake's eyes and his own are both slitted because of a connection between them. Perhaps that makes it easier for him to recognise who his God is?

Feel free to send in some of your prompts or thoughts!

#baizhu x reader #sagau #self aware genshin #self aware au #genshin cult au #genshin x reader

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coffeequeenmartha · 3 years ago

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'Safe' From Inazuma (2/3)

Thoma x GN Reader (SAGAU)

It's warm within Komore Teahouse; stiflingly so, you've quickly come to realise. There's lingering, unbearable heat trapped within its bare walls, that with each waking moment of the day latches itself upon your scarred and bruised skin. Though worst of all, atop your forehead, shining an unnatural shade as a result of the clamminess festering there.

Blankets upon blankets are constantly wrapped around your body, starkly similar to a butterfly confined within a restricting cocoon. There was no escape to the endless warmth that encompassed your entire being - whether that be in the physical, or the emotional sense.

It's faint, though undeniable. Your heart (a poor old thing, for you were sure it was cracked beyond possible belief) had been beginning to feel quite... content in the coming days. As if a hole in it had been mended; the missing pieces replaced with ones of working nature.

And you were sure the girl by your side was the cause of such a phenomenon.

There's a small, button nose buried deeply into the junction of your neck. Nuzzling, cuddling, and seeking comfort within your ever-silent presence. Short, stubby arms clutch tight onto one of your own, reminiscent of how one would treat a plush throughout their early years of age.

She's adorable. There was no denying it.

Intermittent snores, muffled against your shoulder, are the lone noise gracing your ears. Even so, there's a soft sense of familiarity flooding you from the mere sound of them. It's gentle against your heaving chest; a result of the current emotions knocking about within your skull.

Their constant speed and their constant rhythm were something you could follow - a guiding light within this land of Teyvat that so desperately enjoyed to throw such torturing obstacles your way, and your way only-

"There's someone coming, your Highness."

Exhaustion is evident within Sayu's tone, though juxtaposing such a feature was the sharp, focused glint present in her violet eyes. It's abnormal to witness aggression of any kind upon her expression; those furrowed brows and down-turned lips ultimately end up forming a pang of unsettlement within your heart.

"It's alright," you whisper out, though for what exact reasoning, it isn't quite clear. There's a sore feeling in your throat as it bobs with a thick swallow, and you speak out, "I'm sure it's only Thoma."

Is that a reassurance for yourself, or for her?

There's a short, sudden pulse of discomfort between your brows; it draws out a gasp from your lips. They press together, tight, as do teeth which grate against one another. It's pure, agonising pain, lingering for a moment too much.

Gentle palms lay themselves across your forehead - enveloped in cool, soothing leather that acts as a comfort against clammy skin. There's another two alongside those, grasping at your hands in a too-tight, trembling grip.

"It's okay, Sayu. I've got them," affirms a quiet voice: Thoma's, your mind supplies. "I should've arrived sooner. If I'd known that their injuries were to flare up again..."

Everything is unbearable; the sharp ringing piercing your ears, the flare of open wounds covered by bloodied bandages, the sweat forming upon your brows at the stifling, burning heat emanating from his mere presence. All of it is sudden, and all of it is pain.

"Here, just enjoy these snacks that I've brought back for the three of us, okay?" Thoma murmurs. "I'll reapply our Majesty's ointment. They need it to get better, after all."

Shuffling commences close-by to where you're now laying, somehow a smidge more restrained than before by fabrics of fluff. There's plastic crinkling, and a seal unzipped. What follows is a strong, remarkable scent drifting your way; so delectable, so tantalising, in which it puts Earth's mere treats to shame.

"Oh my, your Majesty," Thoma chuckles out not a moment later, fondness evident in his tone. A thumb descends, which gently swipes at the side of your lips. He muses, "If I'd have known you were one with such a sweet tooth, I would have bought much more dango for you."

"We can share!" Sayu chirps out. "Even though the Traveller said that eating a lot more food would help me grow taller, I don't mind delaying that for you, your Grace!"

Your vision, though moderately hazy and fogged, spans wide enough to witness her arms shoot up in the air, and a beam to stretch across the whole of her expression as she exclaims so. It's adorable, and the soft resonance it causes within your mind and soul is only proof of the obvious.

Thoma chuckles, the force of such hilarity shaking his entire chest. One hand of his reaches out in the direction of her: a pat soon follows, pressed onto the surface of her hood which conceals the look upon her face at such an action. Though, the effect of it is immediate, and her small tail flicks so sudden and so angry.

"Hey!" she shouts.

\\\

Mutters, mumbles and murmurs are what first greet your senses; indistinct as they flitter through your head. There's a sensation of fullness within it, almost as if thick cotton were stuffed down your ear canals, lessening your capability of listening. Shaking your head a little to and fro, an attempt is made to rid of the feeling.

Beneath your fingertips is a rough, wooden surface, which you faintly begin to trace the grooves of. Though, it is an arduous task when everything seems to be moving, rocking backwards and forwards despite the sheer inability for such a thing to happen within Komore Teahouse.

You pry your eyes open - forcefully, so as to avoid succumbing to the unbearable urge of slumber once more. Everything is blue, you quickly come to realise: from the vast, empty skies spanning miles above, to the omnipresent waves surrounding the boat on which you were now sailing aboard.

It's too confusing of a sight to be real. "Am I dreaming...?" you whisper out, though loud yet lazy currents of seawater prevent your words from being heard.

"Oh! Your Majesty, you're awake!" the voice of Thoma exclaims. "I knew you were powerful, but to have the power of foresight even while unconscious? I never even thought such a thing to be possible."

There's a small gasp nearby; footsteps sprint in your direction, creaking the boards of polished planks bellow them. After, follows the patter of much more relaxed ones, seemingly heavier compared to the first.

Violet eyes meet your own, framed by a short fringe of grey hair. Joy casts a spark within them, and they crinkle as the emotion soon taints tiredness to excitement. Sayu's hands clap together: slowly, so as to not initiate a pulse of pain upon your fragile, aching forehead.

"Hi, Sayu..." you greet, uneasy and unsure. "What do you mean by foresight? Why are we... where are we...?"

"Well, our rendezvous point is just over there!" Thoma, with a smile so calm and wide, responds. He raises a hand to his left, and its index finger points in the direction of something unseen. "We should be picked up pretty soon by my contact, and then we'll be taken to Liyue by them! I'm just surprised that you woke up right before that happened."

"T-To Liyue?"

A sharp spike of discomfort lingers across the surface of your back, dragging downwards from the very tips of your shoulders to the lowest point on your hips. Throbbing beneath bandages of linen occurs; an old, ever-present scar from your last... visit to Liyue aches.

There's heavy sloshing within your stomach, brought on by your sudden movement made to stand upon the ship's decks. Everything hurts, stitches become undone, and yet the urge still persists: to search for a way off of this dreaded route to Liyue.

His hands encase your waist. A crimson shield surrounds the both of you. It's all too much, all too familiar.

"I-I can't go back to Liyue again!" you cry out, thrashing against his cradling arms. "Not after what- after what Zhongli did!"

"Your Grace, it's alright! I promise, no one will dare to think about hurting you."

"They already did, Thoma!" Tears begin to well up within your glossing eyes. "Things will be the same, I can't go there again!"

His own soften considerably. "Shh, shh... Your Grace, I don't want to... I don't want to bring you there asleep."

"Asleep? What are you...?"

There's a horn; blasting loud and clear for what seemed like miles about. It's startling enough for the air within your lungs to be grasped - pulled out and replaced with burning hot steam. Thick, cloudy mist parts before your very eyes, and the sights further behind than the immediate vicinity of the boat are revealed agonisingly slow.

Baring sharp, wooden teeth emerges the sculpture of a dragon head: following it is the mast of a ship so large that it pales in comparison to your own. A figure is visible upon the edges of it, a crimson sword laid atop their shoulder as they stood evidently proud.

The Alcor.

Adrenaline dissipates out of your body, fast, leaving your body limp and still in Thoma's gentling grasp. "No..." you whisper, defeated as ever. "Beidou's going to tell Ningguang. That can't happen, it can't... not after what Ningguang did."

"Everything's alright, your Grace. Shh..."

Your addled mind can't bring itself to compute his mumblings. Your surroundings blur - shadows spread through the corners of your vision like creeping hands. There's too much going on.

Something is held beneath your nose. It's sick and sweet aroma evades your senses, enters your nostrils, and conceals your mind with a haze.

What's happening?

Thoma's arms tenderly embrace you as you fall, just as there's a joyful greeting shouted by the figure aboard the Alcor.

Thank you for reading! :)

Please inform me of any grammatical errors in this post, or any references to a specific gender.

Primarily inspired by @nicebonescomrade

Those who requested a second part: @ratqueen-spleen @yourfaveisblack @midnightraindropme @iloveyanderes @mikachuarts

#tw yandere #tw implied drugging #yandere genshin #platonic yandere #yandere thoma #yandere genshin x reader #genshin cult au

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coffeequeenmartha · 3 years ago

Text

Chess Beside the Hearth

Diluc x Male Reader

"Checkmate."

That one line, one word, practically pierced the current thick tension within Dawn Winery's walls. It was only a second later that a disbelieving scoff, laced with utter confusion, escaped (Y/N)'s mouth. "No way!"

Narrowed eyes gazed downwards, scanning over the black-and-white chessboard set up in front of them. It was with great annoyance that (Y/N) came to the realisation that his king piece - once standing tall and proud - now laid toppled over beside a knight piece of the opposite colour; also surrounding it were two bishops and a singular rook.

Diluc let out what was close to a chuckle at his reaction. "Care for another round?"

It was instinctual when he removed his and Diluc's intertwined hands from one another, instead opting to fold his arms and mumble a touch petulantly, "That's the third time I've lost today, all in a row! How are you so skilled at this?"

"I've indulged in chess for as long as I can remember," the redhead replied, reaching over and gently grasping his partner's hand once more. "There's more to it than just practice."

There was a glare that had begun to form across (Y/N)'s face; firm yet somewhat half-hearted in manner. After a few tense moments or so, it was as if all the anger, annoyance, fight dissipated out of his system. Rigid muscles relaxed into the couch they were seated on, taking comfort in the smooth leather and soft cushions of it.

"I really need to work on my game, huh?"

"I'd be happy to teach you." The answer was said with no hesitation.

"That sounds great," (Y/N) sighed, a wide smile beginning to dance across his features. Two arms, one of which was sporting a glowing Vision, reached forward, resting themselves upon Diluc's shoulders and loosely connecting at the back of his neck. "But let's save it for another time. That way we have an excuse to go on an entirely different date and spend more time together."

A chuckle rose within the wine tycoon's chest. In a fluidly-smooth movement, his hands were soon laced around his partner's hips, and then, a moment later, his head was leaning into the warmth of their right shoulder (though not as hot as his own, he still found comfort in it all the same).

There was a peaceful silence now; only consisting of their soft, in-sync breaths and the crackle of a nearby hearth's flames. They licked and bit at the air - sending tufts of smoke into the atmosphere and tainting the room with a faint, smoky scent. Though, (Y/N) would argue that it paled in comparison to the rich, fruitful aroma currently emanating from his fiancé.

He couldn't help the whisper of, "Your hair is so soft..." that rolled off of his tongue.

A lock of soft, crimson hair had been wound around his index finger now, being twisted and tugged in a surprisingly delicate manner in order quell his urge for affection. The strands of it felt like silk; softer than a pillow, a feather, softer than anything he could have ever imagined.

"I've been meaning to ask," (Y/N) piped up, a curious tilt edging its way into his tone. "What products do you use on your hair?"

"Adelinde is the one who has been providing all sanitary items within the Manor, I believe. If memory serves me correct, the batches of hair nourishment that she import contain wolfhook and lamp grass essence." Diluc inched the slightest bit closer to his companion, a new thought making itself known in his mind, being, "I'd be happy to provide you with a supply of it, you only need ask."

(Y/N) whispered a quick word of thanks, and then he was back to curling red tresses around his fingers - soothingly and keeping care that his motions didn't force tension upon the strands. It was to be expected that this would soon have an effect on Diluc, acting as a relaxant and coaxing his muscles to sag even further forward; so much so, in fact, that (Y/N) almost felt his form slip off of the couch that they both occupied.

His eyes widened. In a spur-of-the-moment action, he shifted his body to better allow for Diluc to lean on. "Here..." he mumbled, and only then did the weight of the man finally rest completely upon his chest. This time, (Y/N)'s hands were occupied with stroking the top of his hair, massaging and placing firm pressure atop his scalp.

Hot - nearing the precipice of scalding - breaths blew onto his neck. They were fleeting in nature, and yet still sent an exhilarating sort of shiver shooting through his spine. Nerves akin to tingling were left coursing through his veins.

There that scent was again, (Y/N) faintly realised: a blend of berries and oak exuding from locks of fiery amber. It enchanted him, lured him in. Before he even knew what was happening, he had engaged - leaning forward to give a gentle kiss to the tip of Diluc's nose. The returning nuzzle he felt only sent his thoughts into a frenzy, becoming fuzzy with every minute longer they spent in each others company.

Blushes the same shade as an inferno spread across the both of their cheeks.

Extra! (tw! NFSW joke)

"I still don't understand how you can stomach that... grape juice of yours."

An exasperated breath of air escaped Diluc's mouth, followed closely by his sigh of, "Darling..."

"No, seriously. It tastes like five fruits crammed into one bitter concoction, not even mentioning the texture of it," said Vision-holder spoke. Laced within his tone of voice was a subtle bit of utter seriousness, yet at the same time, it held a spark of light-heartedness. He noted on, this time with a notable boost to his charisma, "I can name one thing that tastes and feels better on my tongue, I guarantee that."

It was with a small, fond smile that Diluc allowed his partner's voice to filter through his ears - it felt like waves of water, of music, affecting the whole of his senses in a soothing way. His eyes gazed downward, idly staring at the plates of meat and vegetables laid before them both.

The tilting down of his head, however, did not one thing to halt (Y/N)'s expression to shifting when out of Diluc's sight. Knowing and sly, a smirk settled across his features; as if aware of something that his fiancé was not (that something being a particular joke he had just now spoken without thought).

Thanks for reading! :)

Like my Albedo x Reader oneshot, this was also an old work that I'd wrote for a mutual of mine.

Please inform me of any grammatical errors in this post.

#genshin x reader #diluc x reader #male reader #diluc x male reader

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