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owls-longings · 1 year ago

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cw: yandere.

Barbatos and Rex Lapis cannot agree who you really belong to. The problem with godhood is thus; neither of them wishes to be outdone.

Your parents had not been able to agree where to raise you.

In those quiet years after the Archon Wars, when Teyvat was settling down, your mother and father had both argued for their side. Your mother, a Mondstadt native and a poetess, had spoken at length about the freedom of her land and the possibilities that Barbatos would lay out for you on fertile ground. Your father, a staid Liyuean farmer, had pointed to Rex Lapis's stolid and steadfast contracts, and the promise of a land that would build itself on wealth and commerce. A fortune, perhaps made for you.

In the end, though, they had built their little home skirting the boundaries of both. You had grown up worshiping your father's and your mother's gods, happy to have your family, happy to be in a time of peace. When they had passed away, you had seen no reason to choose to honour one over the other - you thought yourself blessed by both. The wind, just bold and abundant enough to play with your hair and tickle lightly across your skin, to make the Windwheel Asters in your garden spin. The rocks and bricks of your home and the cliffs that towered beside it unmoving and unchanging, an impenetrable fortress. You left out wine for barbatos just as often as you left out pretty stones you thought Rex Lapis would appreciate, perfumes and oils for the warrior god who protected a homeland you have begun to think of as half your own.

You think yourself above notice. A humble denizen of Mondstadt-and-Liyue, your little house a haven for travellers between the two who need a moment to rest. Perhaps they need their flask filled once more, a bite to eat on their arduous journey, company and talk after lonely days of walking alone. You strive to be a good person. Someone worthy of the charmed life you feel yourself to be living. You do not ask for much - but what you have, you have in happy handfuls.

You thank the archons for their blessings - devout, and grateful, and lovely . . . and the Archons take notice.

Not that you realise they do.

But your crops grow bountiful and storms do not batter at your doors and windows, and any who may think to do you harm - bandits or monsters alike - never seem to make it into your line of sight, much less to your door. You grow familiar with those who traverse from Liyue to Mondstadt often - those who have business between the two, those who visit their friends and their family. You know the drivers of the carriages and carts that take freshly caught boar from Springvale to Liyue Harbour's exclusive restaurants. You know the merchants carrying their cor lapis, carved in exquisite pendants, hoping to hawk their wares in Mondstadt too--

You know the handsome bard with the twin braids and the roguish smile, who plays you your favourite song in exchange for an apple and lingers with you just a little too long to be decent, elegant fingers plucking absent-mindedly at his lyre when his eyes flicker over your face. You know the melodic cadence of his voice - and you know, too, whenever you ask him to play a Liyuean ballad your father had loved, he laughs and shakes his head.

"But this is Mondstadt," he says to you, a smile on his face. "Let me play you something more romantic!"

You know the serious gentleman who sometimes strolls past your humble cottage with his nose in a book. He tells you that he is on his way to visit a . . . friend, in Mondstadt. He is unfailingly polite when he asks if he may rest a while - and he repays your freshly brewed tea and home-cooked treats with stories, told in a low, soothing voice that feels like waves lapping upon a shore.

His stories make you wonder if he was really there. He looks a mortal man - though a handsome one, with a sculpted face and sharp cheekbones and eyes the colour of warm amber - but he speaks like someone who has seen the world go by and expects to see even more of it. He tells you about beautiful things and terrible things, folklore and history wrapped up in velvet voice and dulcet tone--

But when you ask him to tell you a story you once heard, a fairy tale from Mondstadt . . . he shakes his head at you. The smallest smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

"This is Liyuean ground," he says to you, voice like water rushing over river stones until they have worn smooth. "I don't know many stories about Mondstadt."

Barbatos and Rex Lapis cannot agree.

"It is my wind that feeds their crops," says Barbatos, over wine, a sly smile on his face. "They grow dandelions in their garden." The delicate fingers and pretty face do not at all bely the steel that lays beneath his clothing, the tricksy words of a bard who knows how to get what he wants. Barbatos thinks of your mouth, sweet as dandelion wine. He wonders what your voice would sound like, pitching in pleasure.

"And my land that builds their home," says Rex Lapis, voice low and dangerous, knife-edged. The gentleman Zhongli is gone for this meeting of minds; a crown of golden horns wreaths Rex Lapis's head, his teeth as sharp as his words. "Stones of Liyue that keep them safe."

Rex Lapis thinks of your fingers, and how they would feel curled into his hair. How small and delicate you would be beneath them; a treasure to be picked over, to be admired, to be treasured - a precious thing.

"The war is over," Barbatos reminds him, with a laugh. "We ought not fight now, old friend."

"Who says we are fighting?" Rex Lapis asks. He raises his own glass to his lips and takes a slow sip. He does not take his amber eyes away from the Anemo Archon for a moment - nothing is fair in love, and nothing is fair in war. Rex Lapis intends to have both.

"They're not some spoils to be claimed," Barbatos replies, and winks at his old friend. "Come, let's not fight over them."

"You say that only because you know you would be outmatched in battle."

Barbatos is usually able to take such barbs to his pride. But the thought of you . . . ah. He has, perhaps, let you invade too many of his senses. Let the ghost of you walk beside him when he strolls his land and watches his people from afar - come to look forward to the delight on your face when he plays you a pretty tune, the way you proffer only your shiniest, reddest apples even without knowing his true providence.

He should have taken you when he had the chance; spirited you away to some favourite green corner of Mondstadt to be his forever and always. Where he could watch you and sing for you and take you for his. Would you say no to being lover of a god?

Rex Lapis watches the flicker of his old friend's eyes. He thinks about you. Wishes, when he had the chance, he had claimed you - as a dragon would claim treasure. You are too rare and precious a thing to be left alone - even Barbatos has seen through his drunken haze to the vein of pure gold that runs through your heart.

He wishes he had taken you himself. Captured you in some adeptal abode, where time will not touch you - where only he can go. Where you will come to long for his voice and the touch of his clever fingers and his hands upon you.

If your home had not straddled the boundary . . . would they even have wanted you? If you were firmly in Mondstadt, would you have even caught Rex Lapis's notice? If you were in Liyue proper, would Barbatos have ever taken time to play you a song?

It does not matter.

Gods are proud creatures, and you are an enigma. A mystery to be unlocked, a riddle to be solved, a prize to be won and jealously guarded. Nothing is more of a frustration than a thing that does not seem to fit. It does not matter that you are a person and not a chess piece when the players have divinity on their side, and both want you for their own.

They clink wine glasses and smile at one another, but inside they are planning and planning and planning.

#yan reblog #reblog #holy shit OP this is so well written I love it????#your descriptions of reader and their life #and ventis and zhongli's obsession #chef kisses #god your writing style is just #SHEESHHHHHHHH im out here fanning myself this fic is so so good

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owls-longings · 2 years ago

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Thinking about Yandere!Sumeru Boys and the sweet, lovely bartender who's become the talk of Sumeru recently.

After receiving the news of the Sage's downfall and Lesser Lord Kusanali's rescue, you, who'd been out venturing Teyvat to learn about its global gastronomy and arts, decide to return to your homeland and help your father's busy Tavern. The knowledge you've gained from your travels prove to be fruitful as Lambad's Tavern reaches a new peak of popularity. Though, not everyone's point of interest is the menu — no no, in fact, many have become frequent patrons simply to get a glimpse of the new face behind the counter.

You and Kaveh click almost immediately. Your shared views on arts and beauty is one thing checked off, but the way your actually understand him? Unlike most people when they hear his story, you're not quick to put a lable on him ; instead, you make him feel heard and normal for the very first time. Listen patiently and don't throw factual advice on how to fix his life. No wonder he poured out his entire life story to you, all on his first conversation. He's left wondering where you've been all his life as you share a portion of your own struggles, views on life and snippets of your adventures. To this day, Kaveh recalls the conversation along with your benign smile and feels his heart thump as if he's become a teenager again.

Every ensuing visit to the Tavern has his belief strengthen as well : you two must be soulmates. He's even started (half) jokingly calling you one as well, which never seems to move you the way he wants though as, all you do is adorably giggle and ask him to pay for his order. Oh well, he supposes that's an indication that you do not pity him solely because of his financial status. Kaveh's life had gotten a lot better with your presence ; he no longer drinks himself to oblivion, sleeps better than before and doesn't even pay heed to his roommate's sharp comments that'd otherwise end in a massive argument, thoughts preoccupied with what kind of trinket he could bring to impress you. For a brief period, Kaveh had felt like he'd finally found his light, his reason to keep living. He'd only wish he hadn't introduced his friends to you.

You first ‘officially’ meet the dusty-rock-of-a-roommate of Kaveh (his words) when you took the responsibility of dropping him to his place of residence after the architect had passed out from taking a sip of the Sneznayan Fire-Water. You weren't sure what you were expecting from Alhaitham, but a talk over books that spiralled a little too late into the night and ended with him walking you back home certainly wasn't it. You can see where Kaveh came from, The Acting Grand Sage did not have the countenance that invited friendships. You'll have to thank your profound interest in all genres of books and an equal ease to share your opinions to not be at the recipient of that attitude. It takes you a little too much time to notice that since that night, the Scribe has found himself a second home in your radar. You see him at Puspa Cafe, the Grand Bazar, the streets and after a little while, even at your father's Tavern almost frequently. So, much so that calling him something of a friend might not be so far-fetched now.

In Alhaitham's defense, he's simply intrigued, it's not everyday he meets someone who can keep up with him. It took him only a glance at you to realize you're the person who has Kaveh blushing and giggling like a madman at random times. The architect's creepy behavior aside, at least, it seemed as though some of your sense of responsibility had rubbed off on him so, less headache for Alhaitham. You're easy to talk to ; granted, you don't always have agreements but that doesn't pose as an impediment from keeping the conversation flowing. In fact, you treat him no different ; neither his status nor his prolonged disappearances that'd no doubt affect anyone else can change your easygoing persona as he approaches you, the coffee and dishes you make are rather good too and— ah. Alhaitham understands now why Kaveh is so smitten with you.

Lambad's Tavern is a prominent destination for fans of Genius Invocation TCG, you like the game, too. But because of your duty, you can only resign yourself to watching from the counter as some rejoiced in victory and others had their heads in their heads from loss. It's entertaining to a degree, frustrating to another as you have to remain silent while the players make dumb choices. You digress, whatever they do is none of your business. But if you had to pick one group that produced the most entertaining show out of this game ; it'd be the friends Kaveh brought along with him. Most of the times, they'd just be reduced to Kaveh's ranting pillows and really, only one of them—and by that you mean the General Mahamatra who seemed to truly care for the game. You're curious about him, actually. He seemed so different from the rumours that were floating around. And thanks to Kaveh's impulsive announcement that you'd be dueling Cyno one night, you had the opportunity to satiate that curiousity — and flex a win against the master of TCG altogether.

To say Cyno was flabbergasted would be the understatement of the century. He'd repeatedly demanded for a second match that time (all the while Kaveh looked like he could die of pride) but you'd shut it off with the (not really) threat of charging extra for your lost time. Since then, he'd been hot on your tail, too. Trying to coax you into a second match with every strategy he can think of : bribing, bargaining, cracking awful jokes to befriend you — his hard work paid off, but the sight of a win against you still seemed to be far. At one point, those concerns were lost as you both simply found fun in each other's presence. Cyno, in the meantime, had noticed that your amiable personality was both a blessing and a curse. Do you not see the corrupt glints in their eyes? The wanton touches and disgusting saccharine lacing their words? No can do, they do not deserve your courtesy. Do not blame him for taking matters into his own accounts or show any semblance of concern after the personnel mysteriously disappear the next day ; its just a little favor for his TCG buddy.

Out of all of them, Tighnari took you the longest to get to know properly. Given his usually passive personality in the presence of others, no wonder he'd strayed a little from your attention. The forest ranger wasn't behind in knowing you, though. In fact, it seemed as though he had been picking up on clues his other friends were missing. Tighnari had been the first to take notice of your ennui, which he had surmised to be a result of all the people you have to deal with everyday. Turns out even you have your moments. One evening as Kaveh, Cyno and Alhaitham were preoccupied with debating over who-knows-what, Tighnari took the opportunity to approach you about it. He couldn't ignore the darkening circles under your eyes or the brightness in your optics dimming any longer — he's glad he did ; in truth, your life had gotten crazier than it was back when you were traveling, you'd confessed. You no longer felt truly...alone, even in moments that you're sure is securely private. Tighnari listened intently, for once the roles being switched. He sent hand-made remedies to help with your stress, frequently wrote to you to check your well being when he couldn't visit personally, anything within his power.

He felt sympathy for your state, such a precious thing like you doesn't deserve this, you should be treated better, he could treat you better — now if only you're at arms reach to the forest ranger. Alas, for now he'd have to be content with this development. Tighnari has an inkling about who is, or are, responsible for your building misery. Does he intent to do anything with that knowledge though? Yes, coaxing you to his side, preferably.

The innocent, nameless wandering boy you'd taken with you on your return to Sumeru, suddenly returned home with a glowing anemo vision in the span of a few hours one fine afternoon. Nothing really seemed out of the ordinary though, he was still as glued to your person (though nowadays he seemed to venture out more than usual), he was still the harmless boy you'd grown accustomed to. So then, why did it feel like something was amiss? Was it how often he'd find himself at the brink of an angry customer's fist? Or was it because that only occurs when you leave the counter to get something and that same customer just so happened to have been pushing you for a date beforehand? Your suspicions always end up fleeting though, you can never even raise an eyebrow at the boy, not when he looks at you with those glossy puppy eyes. In the end, it's always the other man that's handed over to the guards, it's always the others, in general at the face of your displeasure — not Wanderer, never Wanderer. If only you could see the same grin he directs at the retreating men behind your unassuming back.

You never did regret letting him trail behind your person (except maybe the bombarding allegations from your family of him being your significant other, it took one whole week to convince them otherwise, after all.) ; he was sweet and so.. clueless, as if he were but a newborn child. Your heart couldn't resist the poor thing and that's what brought you to this situation. Wanderer revels in others' jealousy at the sight of you two's closeness (who could guess this same man tried to take over Sumeru). He can do many of the things your other admirers can only dream of ; lean on your shoulder, fall asleep on your lap, play with your hair as you prepare a drink, whisper things in your ear with a purposefully lowered voice and get away with anything. All is well with the lost boy you'd picked up from the last turn of your travels, it's just that, you can't quite shake off the feeling of a strange familiarity everytime you look at his otherwordly eyes.

what do you call this? a love hexagon? 🤔

#ohhh great read #I love how you write the bois op its very pleasant to read #reblog

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owls-longings · 2 years ago

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An Attempt (Tartaglia/Childe x Recruit! Reader)

A/N: At last, I finished my first fic! I had sooo much fun and now I'm prolly a preacher of the Harbinger x Recruit agenda. Though this might have taken a little yandere side, so do be warned.

Warnings: Childe is a warning on his own, abuse of power, yandere-ish (?), mentions of violence, I suck at warnings.

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You felt smart for picking tonight. The Fatui has scored some important victories, both in Scheznaya and abroad. Many troupes were coming back to enjoy a little time with friends and family; What better way to celebrate these victories than festivities lasting throughout the night?

They sure knew how to throw a party; On several occasions, even a few higher-ups would join in, even if it meant waking up with a killer hangover. Tonight was raucous, more so than most parties you've seen. The alcohol dosage was growing faster than the attendees' numbers, so give it half an hour and everyone will be shitfaced. You were among the most expected guests, due to your own achievements and status. Now, they were all going to forget about you.

As they should.

You can't stay any longer. You cursed your younger, stubborn self. How you thought the organization's cruelty and cold-blooded attitude could be handled with grace, perhaps even getting used to it. But as you grew into your duties and the importance that required you to be more present, you knew you were wrong; Some of your assignments still gave you nightmares at night, and not a day went by where you didn't shed a couple of tears for those on the receiving end of the orders you were given.

The Tsaritsa's orders. The diplomats' orders. The Harbingers' orders. Lord Tartaglia's orders.

What would he do if he saw you now? Your small bag and traveling hoodie? The fact that you weren't wearing your badge, denoting your allegiance to his legion, to him?

You knew damn well the severity of your crime. Once you get into the Fatui, you stay for life. Your oath of loyalty swore 'my highest service to the Tsaritsa's cause for as long as I live.', among many other things. Fleeing had to be the most punishable offence. But your Lord joined the party with flowing alcohol. He was getting tipsy, soon blackout drunk. So were most of the partiers, this way no one would ask about you. If you got a move on, you'd make it out of Scheznaya, and-

"I was waiting for you all night.".

Forget the nation's cold, you froze like a tourist at the sound of his voice. This had to be your mind playing tricks on you. It had to be! You've been waiting for months for tonight!

If only. His tall figure emerged out of the dark corner, and though you knew you didn't deserve her mercy, you prayed to the Tsaritsa that the look he gave you was your imagination. Please, let him kill me if he must, but not that stare, please!

He wasn't outwardly wrathful. That wasn't his style. His mouth was in a lopsided smirk, only thinner than his usual. Something told you he was hiding sick excitement, the way a school child would rejoice when someone else was in trouble. The real kicker was his eyes. They were no longer a gorgeous lake or seaside to get lost in. They morphed into the ocean's deepest abyss, hiding monstrosities beyond human knowledge or defense. Its emptiness didn't end, and neither did the horror it held.

He looked at your bag and chuckled: "Well, that's a cute ensemble you've got on! Was the party costume-themed and I didn't know? Or a new fashion statement going around?".

Though you felt your courage wilt away, you had to put up a strong appearance. Could you match a Harbinger? You doubted it, but you were familiar with his attack patterns. You were also nimble and fast, so hiding and running could work. It was a slim chance, better than none. You were going to be in that abyss whether you like it or not. Your only hope was in staying alive until you were out.

"Where's your badge, Y/N? You're usually so proud of your legion...".

"I don't want to be here anymore. I'm leaving.".

His eyes widened a little at your remark, then you heard a small chuckle emerge into loud, barking laughter. Out of context, one would think you told him the best joke in the world.

"Pfthahahaha! I knew you were up to something ridiculous, but what did you say? Leaving?".

You had to stand your ground: "You can punish or kill me on sight, but either ways, I declare my intention: I want nothing more to do with the Fatui. I'm leaving!".

It took great efforts to stay where you stood while he approached you. That was in part because each step, you noticed the deeper emptiness in his eyes. Did that abyss have a bottom? You hoped there was, but there didn't seem to be, despite your best search. You needed to find any rock bottom to dangle on, but there was only depth, too much of it against you.

"My little recruit, you do realize..."

Standing in front of you alone didn't cut it. No, your Lord was too dangerously playful to stop there. You wondered if that's why he was named 'Childe'; He was no different than one. He took a step to your right, then another.

Though you resisted the temptation to take a step back, you were shaking like a baby deer. His gaze raked your body up and down, which only made it worse. He brightly chuckled.

"Awwww. You do realize.."

His circling came to an end as your field of vision spiraled up, then stopped at the night sky. His boot was still under your foot, which prevented the full tripping. His hand was on the back of your head, forcing you to look at him... And may any higher power help your poor soul, because he was grinning too much not to enjoy this.

"... That you're saying you want nothing to do with me? I'm part of the Fatui, after all.".

"No...".

You tried to squirm away from his hold. This was getting dangerous, too much so. His strong grip still kept you in near-perfect place, eliciting another wave of mocking laughter from him.

"Look at you! You're talking like this and you're stuck in my weakest hold!! You can't even get out! I might just lighten your punishment...".

SLAP!

At last, his face was no longer in front of you. You could only see his tousled hair and his right cheek, which grew redder by the minute. With that, his smile faded along and his hold loosened. You were in too deep to cut it at that.

"Screw you! You always act like I'm some stupid kid you've got to take care of and for what?! And I'm sick of you, your barbarism and violence! I'm sick of you and the Fatui. Tell the Tsaritsa to figure out her own issues, because I'm leaving!".

He wasn't smirking anymore. You were in it now.

"Heh... You're sick of me? So now you're slapping me? Me, your Lord who gave you a better life than the average recruit?".

The sounds of water and iron signaled his water blades. You drew your weapon as well, and mix of anxiety and boldness brewing up in your soul.

"Do you realize what you've done by laying your hand on me? That's years worth of military prison, at best. You could get in serious trouble...".

"Let me get in it then. As long as you know I don't want this anymore.".

He disappeared in a flash, and your guard skyrocketed. As per instinct and history, you knew he was going to strike from the left. Your weapons collided, though you were worried over how long you could hold out: Childe was intensely strong. Even if you didn't get hit, your arm muscles burned in pain against his own's sheer power. All you could do was deflect and parry for your life. Let this come down to a struggle of strength and you were done for.

"You... You forgot your gratitude towards me. I'll teach you again..."

An unexpected strike came where you least saw it coming. You couldn't help the panicked yelp, barely managing to block it. Since when did he do that??

"And again...".

Another ruined your balance. This wasn't the pattern you were used to. This was too new and fast for you to retaliate. He wasn't going to have any of this 'leaving' stuff.

"And again... Until you remember who you serve!!".

You were off your feet. Before you knew it, stinging pain spread out through your head as you hit the concrete.

You didn't want to accept it, but as your vision of the cruel stars above grew blurry with tears, you knew it deep down: You lost so much more than this short-lived fight. You lost your chance to escape. You lost your credibility as a warrior.

However harrowing it felt, especially after months of being considered the best, you weren't. He was above you, and you were no match for him.

Soon enough, the stars were obscured by his tall stature looking down at you, before crouching down. He put a hand to your cheek, gradually going up to catch the reluctant tears pooling in your eyes.

"I didn't want to hurt you, Y/N. You know how much I prize you, even more than the other recruits...".

"Leave me alone... Kill me. Put me on trial for attempted treason. Just let me go.".

It seemed none of your wishes were coming true tonight. He steadied himself above you, waiting for a tear to roll down so he could collect it. His mocking expression has dissuaded, but you knew deep down that any pity he displayed was just a show. He knew the truth as much as you did; It favored him. It was only natural that he enjoyed it to the max.

"I won't. Good stars, have you forgotten your oath?"

If only the day you swore that never came.

I swear upon my Fatui-granted prowess, honor and that of my future legion: I will serve my Harbinger Lord beyond my capabilities. He will be my leader, my priority, my calling and I will be his finest tool as he sees fit for the Tsaritsa's will.

"You're not the one who calls the shots here. You're my recruit. You're under me. Mine, in every sense of the word, including your fate.".

A stray tear escaped. He leaned in closer, closer... You presumed he was enjoying the show. All of a sudden, you felt damp skin upon your cheekbone. His eyes fluttered open after he kissed it.

"M-my Lord, that...!".

"Is inappropriate? Too close? You tell me, I'm just driving home the point: You're my cute little recruit, and you're not leaving the Lord you swore yourself to. You're sticking with me, for as long as I live. Should we revise that promise?.".

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Bonus!

A few days later

"When was the last time I saw Lord Tartaglia without Y/N at his side?".

"They were always pretty close, but you have a point...".

"Even missions. Y/N doesn't go with other legion members anymore! Because Lord Tartaglia takes them on his!".

"That's some dangerous stuff, but looks like a promotion if you asked me...".

Your name has been mulled over thousand of times, ran through the mill of gossip and speculation. In the end, he didn't snitch on you, execute you, or even punish you. He presses on the last one, but you beg to differ. No punishment could equate to being stuck to him.

You seldom chat with your teammates, only relegated to necessary chats. He liked it that way. You accompany him on his missions, even if that means danger beyond your experience level. He enjoyed that. You were now doomed to tail him, never a moment out of his sight, lest you suffer his wrath under the pretense of 'not fulfilling your obligations'.

He loved that.

Everyone assumed you got promoted. That is worse than a demotion to you. It's chaining.

"Get ready, Y/N. You and I have a loooooong scouting excursion ahead of us. We must leave soon.".

Fin

#reblog #wrow op I really like this #love how you wrote childe #yandere childe #yan reblog

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owls-longings · 2 years ago

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✧ CW: yandere character, stalking

You'd never have guessed that General Mahamatra Cyno was such an avid fan of Genius Invokation TCG.

It came as a huge shock when you, waiting for an opponent to duel with, heard the all-too-familiar voice addressing you.

"May I join you for a game?"

That day, Puspa Café was bustling with patrons, as per usual. Still, you had managed to find yourself a seat on a secluded table by the corner, where you could comfortably wait for someone to join you. Despite being somewhat new to the game, you had quickly grown to love Genius Invokation TCG, and were now a regular customer here.

You watch, with wide eyes, as Cyno stands by your table with an expectant look. Immediately shaken out of your trance, you nod and, with bated breath, stare at him again as he takes a seat across you.

"Excuse me," Cyno says, before surveying your cards, picking up one to look at the back. It doesn't seem to bother him that you've not given him a single response yet.

"General M—"

"Cyno the Adventurer," he smoothly interjects, closely inspecting your card back, "I hope that you won't let my position waver your interest in my duel, but if it helps, you can just think of me as someone else. So while I'm here, please refer to me as such. You had this commissioned in LIyue, yes?"

"Yes..." you're not sure how he knew, but maybe Cyno was familiar with the artist's works, "But, adventurer...?"

He nods, "and you are...a poet traveling to find inspiration."

"A poet," you echo weakly, confusion heavy in your voice, "yes..."

"Before we begin, I'd like to give you some tips. You'd be better off using an artifact card than this weapon card. Also, the synergy between these cards won't be as good as these, and..."

Was this just a characteristic of a professional player? You're not sure how he managed to identify your go-to cards and analyze your usual strategy so quickly, but it didn't appear too strange that someone like Cyno was so quick to identify the flaws in your gameplay.

Tduel itself was undeniably exciting. Cyno had cards you hadn't seen yet, cards, he told you, that were exclusive to Mondstadt. Even his card back was done by a famous illustrator based in Mondstadt. You were almost envious of his cards. However, when Cyno unsurprisingly won, he only frowned. Your mind raced for explanations. Was he disappointed in your play? Did he think you were holding back in fear of upsetting him? It would be awful if he had a bad impression of you just from a card game, and though he didn't strike you as someone to hold such views, you couldn't help but be cautious.

"Another game?"

After a considerable amount of time had passed, and three more games had ended with varying results, Cyno was finally ready to retire.

He clears his throat, "next week," he declares, "I'll be here again. Will you be available for another game?"

You mentally ran through your schedule. Next week...you didn't have anything planned as of yet. Regardless, how were you going to turn down a personal invitation from the General Mahamatra himself?

"No," you tell him, "then, I'll see you...?"

Cyno hums, looking deep in thought.

"Next week, I'll be the ex-leader of an Eremite camp. A fugitive seeking to reform his old ways. And you can be..." he trails off, instead giving you a gentle command, "surprise me."

You don't know what to think of him, really. He was a lot more eccentric than you had heard, but for the most part, he was...harmless. Ultimately, like the other players in the café, Cyno was just here to have fun. While you mull over the possibilities on your way home, you fail to realize a card from your deck had gone missing. It was one of the weapon cards that Cyno himself had advised you against using, and at the time, you hadn't noticed anything, so overwhelmed as you were by his presence, but he had pocketed it for himself. It would soon find itself a new home inside Cyno's own case, not that you would ever know.

It was only a small token taken to commemorate your first official meeting. Next time, Cyno was hoping to get his hands on a much better prize.

#reblog #subtle implications and very well written op????#love it

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owls-longings · 2 years ago

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Prize and Possession

yandere yelan x reader x yandere ningguang

inspired by this post

w/c: 2.4k+

cw: yandere, gambling, slight power imbalance, some not sfw implications

—YOU WARNED HIM. You warned him again and again. You warned your father the moment he got himself involved with his demise, you warned him again when he went ahead to challenge that woman and you pleaded for him to stop, to withdraw the bet throughout the whole carriage ride to the casino. But alas, all of which went through deaf ears.

If your father could gather at least a fraction of self control, then maybe you wouldn't have to be here, wouldn't have to be in this situation ; sat right beside the perpetrator of your sudden misfortune and watching as your father loses, a process so painfully slow.

All covet, all lost. There's a reason behind said proverb. Greed brings but loss. Something that starts slow, agonizingly roots itself on a person's being and they don't notice or rather, choose not to, until it's too late. Greed, has destroyed hundreds—no, thousands of humans ; but never did you ever expect your father to become one of them.

“Heh, Lord [L/N]. Luck doesn't seem to be on your side—do you still wish to go on with this game? I mean, the winner has already been decided.” she chortles. You snuck a glance at her fair visage and that infuriating smirk upon her painted lips almost made you want to snap. She was all laid back, sipping wine as if this was nothing more than a round of family board games. Your dearest father contrasting with the biggest frown you'd ever seen, posture rigid and a hand to his chin.

Your breath almost hitches when she glanced back at you and that smirk widened further upon noticing your extremely ticked off expression. Realizing you were caught staring, you whip your head away—which was a bad decision you realize afterward, because you can just sense her growing amusement.

Breath, breath [Y/N].

The moment until last night, you were quietly living your oblivious and frankly mundane life. The life of a noble lady in Liyue was not that interesting, if you were to be honest. You were mostly expected to have a perfect posture and keep an eye on the way you behave in public. Other than the occasional strictness, it was just a tranquil life under luxury.

But right now, as your grip on your robes —the ones she gave—tightened under the table and as you were minutes away from being sold out, you wanted nothing more than that boring life back.

Last night was already dreadful enough when your father approached with a grim expression and informed you of his grand debt. But he immediately added the bet he agreed upon to a woman, a small flicker of hope creeped in your shook heart only to be tarnished mercilessly when he revealed the stake of said bet: you.

You felt a myriad of emotions in that small conversation but most of all, you felt betrayed. You tried to convince him to not do this but a contract was a contract and never has a contract been broken in Liyue.

Loosening your grip on the fine silks, the intricate designs caught your gaze for the first time that morning. If this had been a different scenario, then maybe you would've given time to admire the woman's tastes. But as you recalled the ever increasing dread that crept up your soul just a few hours ago ; just after you woke up from a night with no pleasant dreams and an obviously nervous servant came in with a woven basket full of fine silks, silks that that woman you'd yet to meet had sent. Amplifying your fury all the more came in the small, hand written note in it, I can't take my prize home in rags, now can I?

(Which was still nothing compared to how your heart shattered when you confronted your father about it and he merely dismissed you with something along the lines of how she would be pleased if you wore them, and perhaps she'd show mercy.)

You tried your best to think of what you did to attract the attention of one of the most influential (and dangerous) figures in Liyue. Yelan, came her short introduction when you stepped foot into the establishment. The name sounded oddly familiar but why, you couldn't remember no matter what.

You hopelessly glance at your father. All his remaining hair had whitened over the course of just one night and sleep bid him farewell the moment Yelan made herself known and graciously reminded him of all his due debts — all of which came from that one damned addiction : gambling.

He recalled his throat running dry and the feeling as if his soul had slowly left his body when the blue eyed female presented the long scroll that accounted all that he owed. There were records of misappropriation from the Qixing's funds which would no doubt earn him at least a decade of jail. The rest, he'd rather not look for he might've just fainted there and then.

(But Yelan, as kind as ever, presented a deal, or rather, a bet as a last chance for your father to redeem himself. Mired in greed and deceptions, he failed to see the ominous smile on the female's face upon his agreement.)

You took a hard look at your father's face, then to the game where your brows creased and then to the blue eyed female. After a small mental debate you decided to speak up, “Please, stop this. I beg of you. Give us one more day, I promise all the debt will be cleared.”

She slowly shifted her whole attention to you and it could've been the illusion of your sleep deprived eyes, but her face softened in the slightest. You had a small flicker of hope but didn't let it consume you whole. Her gloved hand reached out to caress your face, then to smoothen the curve of your brow ; all of her touches leaving a burn in its wake. You didn't dare move.

Then, shattering everything, she cooed in the most patronizing way, “Aww, look at you. If you continue to be so cute, I might just take you right here and now,” you blinked. You felt a small ache in your heart, did she just toy with your feelings?

Leaning closer to you ear, she continued, “Oh, save the begging for later.” her hot breath fanned against your face, making you flinch. You felt blood rush to your face, from anger or from embarrassment, you didn't want to know — a sight the jade eyed female revelled in.

A cough from your father across the table as if reminding of his presence, made the female finally lean back, albeit smugly. You turned your head to the side in distress, trying to calm your picked up heartbeat. That's when you decided, you couldn't be near that woman, not at all. She was too dangerous.

They continued with the petty game on the other hand, it seemed like the winner would be announced any moment now but your father wouldn't budge. He still clung to that ruse ; after all, if he could even cut it close, all his debts would be withdrawn. He'd come too far, might as well go all out, no?

In his clouded judgment and vision, he might've not fully understood the weight of this deal. It kept echoing back in his mind, if he won, all his debts would be withdrawn and he could go back to fixing things and perhaps, pick up this hobby once more — but with more caution.

As if an opportunity presented by Rex Lapis himself, he finally found an opening. He could already picture Yelan's defeated face as he would triumph, victory was just a second away.

But there was something more, at the last moments ; something clicked in his head. That's right, he was up against Yelan. A notorious member of the ministry of civil affairs as well as a fearsome name in the gambling world.

No, that's not right. His brows furrow. Something was not right at all. Winning a game against Yelan should never be that easy. He still recalled the saying of one of his gambling buddies, they were a victim themselves and came to warn him like a good friend. And in this situation, those same words rung like funeral bells in his mind right after the blue eyed female exclaimed—

“Checkmate,”

Yelan, never loses a game.

You think you heard thunder crackling but that would be strange considering how clear the sky was this morning. But perhaps, that might not be so far from reality as the unfortunate inevitable had finally taken shape. Your father lost, Yelan won. You realize thunder did crackle, as said female pulls you flush against her while staring ahead to your father ; and him, having finally realized what he just did. Thunder crackled in your heart, in your mind and it tore all your hope like thunder tears through clouds.

“Well then, that settles it. I'll be keeping your debts concealed but [Y/N], will be going with me, as promised~” panic flooded through your father as he hurriedly tried to reach out to you, but Yelan was quicker. Before your father even had the chance to turn, she'd already hoisted you up on her shoulder and just like how she'd entered your once ordinary life, she was gone.

Sudden, swift, without a trace.

⚝

“You didn't tell me you were taking me to the Jade Chamber,” you exclaimed in disbelief when she finally put you down on the floating chamber's floor.

“There was no need to, kitten” she replied nonchalantly, lips curving into that annoying smile. You crossed your arms in front of you, a small act of defiance. How cute.

“Well then, now what? Do you intend to lock me up in the Tianquan's quarters or something?” you said half jokingly but Yelan did not respond instead motioned for you to follow her. You huff, begrudgingly following her trail despite there being no need to.

The walk was silent. Yelan curiously glanced back towards you, you had your attention set to the floor—something that should be uncharacteristic of someone that'd stepped foot in the Jade Chamber for the first time in their life. Someone unfamiliar to all this would more likely be amazed by the interior, marvelling at everything but you... Yelan knew there was something else, she just needed confirmation.

Yelan led you to an all familiar door, she didn't even bother knocking and casually barged in.

“It's rude to enter without knocking,” a refined voice announced in disapproval earning but a shrug from Yelan. You tried peaking from behind her only for said woman to completely move out of the way, leaving you exposed to a pair of ruby eyes.

Her eyes widened a little but vanished just as quickly, “Got the job done, I see.” the Tianquan commented, pleased.

“Did you expect otherwise?” the blue eyed female shot back to which the other female chuckled.

The events that had transpired from last night to this, nothing ceased to both surprise and confuse you. First, your father revealing that he was on the verge of bankruptcy then some woman ‘winning you’ through a bet while your father pathetically lost and now whatever this was.

“Ningguang...? What..?”

Ningguang's attention was brought back to you. Her eyes first drunk in your entire form, it had been such a long time. She stood up from her desk and made her way to you, “I know you have many questions. Why don't you sit down? I'll answer them one by one.” she gently guided you to a seat, you glanced back at Yelan who seemed to have found interest in her nails.

You turned around just in time for Ningguang to put a porcelain cup in front of you. You recognized that set as well as the colour, but the excessive smoke from the tea appeared to be strange altogether with the unfamiliar scent. Regardless, the tea was less important now.

“How do I begin...your father had accounted massive debts as you already know. That alone was punishable enough, furthermore, I've received intel that he was planning to sell you off to an arranged marriage. I simply couldn't just stand and watch now could I? So...”

You followed her gaze and it fell on Yelan, you got her hint.

“But, Ning...you could've just told me on our last—”

“About that,” Ningguang cut you off mid-sentence, surprising you.

“You...wouldn't if I did.” her eyes trailed off everywhere that wasn't you.

“Huh, why?” you asked back utterly lost. Why on Teyvat would you reject such a proposal? To be free from an unwanted marriage and your father sounded like bliss to you. Ningguang's eyes clouded over, for once those brilliant pair of rubies seemed to have darkened.

Before the Tianquan could reply Yelan spoke up for the first time after entering the office, “I believe I have a reward in due,”

Ningguang quickly regained her composure, you saw the two sharing a gaze ; a message was sent. You looked at Ningguang then to Yelan but when you returned your gaze to the tea, you felt the tea set dance.

You stood up abruptly, something was wrong here, you could feel your gut twisting in discomfort. In your life, your father was not the only one that made wrong decisions, you did, too. You realized bolting towards the entrance was just the worst of them as it only hurled you towards the blue eyed female's embrace.

Her grip was strong and it promised bad things. Your feeble squirming was futile as it only accelerated your draining energy.

“Tsk tsk, leaving already?” you think it was Yelan's voice. You were so close to her, you could pick up her scent with ease ; silk flowers and something else you didn't know how to describe in that hazy state of mind.

Wait, why am I breathing so fast?

Ningguang's heals clicked on the floor, the sound a bit too loud. She moved a stray lock from obscuring your vision, which was blurring ever so slightly. Even through your unstable vision and erratic breaths, you could perfectly make out the emotions laying within those bright pools of crimson.

It clicked in your mind the last second, the unsaid words of Ningguang and the so called reward of Yelan. If the Tianquan called for you, you'd be there in a heartbeat. But a person favours their freedom more than adoration, you at least. Though your senses were nothing but a miscellany of blue, red and the scent of silk flowers ; you managed to capture their eyes, and the meaningful shine before all went dark.

Because, you won't be leaving from now.

reblogs are appreciated!<3

#reblog #flushed emoji

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owls-longings · 2 years ago

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Happy Valentine’s Day to aroace people who don’t have partners, and those who do.

Happy Valentine’s Day to people in QPRs.

Happy Valentine’s Day to people in unlabeled relationships.

Happy Valentine’s Day to asexual people who still have romantic partners.

Happy Valentine’s Day to aromantic people who still have sexual partners.

Happy Valentine’s Day to m-spec people who are dating the opposite gender, and those who are dating the same gender.

Happy Valentine’s Day to people who are in hidden relationships.

Happy Valentine’s Day to closeted people.

Happy Valentine’s Day to people who cannot be with their loved ones.

Happy Valentine’s Day to people who have been rejected by their crushes.

Happy Valentine’s Day to all trans and non-binary people.

Happy Valentine’s Day to people scared to celebrate for whatever reason.

Happy Valentine’s Day to people with multiple partners.

Happy Valentine’s Day. You deserve it. I love you. You are loved.

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owls-longings · 2 years ago

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So, in universe, teleport waypoints do exist, but the people of Teyvat do not know what their use is.

Teleport Waypoint flavour text in game:

Odd devices that are scattered across Teyvat, seemingly forming a certain order. People on the continent see them as ancient gimmicks - they are accustomed to their existence despite not knowing their purpose. To the foreign traveler, however, their function becomes quite apparent.

So now I'm picturing Darling, who is either a researcher of human technology/history or an alchemist trying to figure out the rules of the world much like Albedo. And that's where the mysterious outlander Aether/Lumine comes in.

They are just so helpful for your studies. They can bring you all kinds of samples and ancient texts for study and tell so many interesting stories about the things they have seen. And your passion and dedication is something they love about you. You are the only person they know can be trusted with ancient Khaenri'ahn artefacts and history.

They only wish that you would stop running off into dangerous ruins any chance you get. Yes, they know that you have a Vision, but this world is so much scarier than you know. So many traps around and monsters that could hurt you and not to mention bad people. No one these days can be trusted. Especially not the gods.

So why don't they just keep coming with you everywhere? They can help you gather materials and carry them back to your lab. With them around, you never have to worry about creatures of the Abyss who are crawling around the ancient domains and ruins you visit.

Of course they promise to show you how these so-called "Teleport Waypoints" work. But like they keep telling you, these things just don't work correctly and even they don't know where you'll end up.

Oh? This place certainly doesn't look like anything you've seen in Teyvat. It's... Someone's sleeping chambers?

But when you try to open the door, you are immediately forced to shut it again when you see a terrifying monster staring right back at you. That beast was no Hilichurl or even any of the Vishaps you've encountered before.

Where was Aether/Lumine? Matter of fact, where was your Vision or your weapon? How long were you out? Where were you?

You hid in the room for who knows how long, holding your breath, hoping that none of the monsters could detect you.

When the door opened to reveal your travel companion you were overjoyed that they were alright. Together you two can bust out of here and never have to speak of it again to anyone.

But they only smiled and brought you some ancient books. Books they claim were from Khaenri'ah.

"It's time that you learn the truth of this world." They say. "It's time you learn why I am leading the Abyss against the gods and Celestia."

#yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #yan aether #yan lumine #chef kisses #this is good stuff op

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owls-longings · 2 years ago

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The Contract (Yandere!Zhongli x Reader)

He was elegant. Every thrust of his spear, every powerful kick he delivered- you could tell he was strong. That there was more to this man then meets the eye.

The ruin guards lay lifeless around the two of you, and the man turns to you, expressionless.

Your eyes are blurry with tears, but you can still see him well. Tall, powerful, and elegant.

You'd never heard of anyone who could take on so many ruin guards at once.

With his spear in hand, his steps fell heavy on the old ruin stone; shoes clicking with each moment he drew closer. You could barely do anything but look up at him in awe and relief.

"It's not safe here. There are too many foes in this area- it would be best if you stayed with me."

You couldn't bring yourself to speak, adrenaline still pumping through your veins. You nodded weakly.

There's a few moments of silence between the two of you; where the man merely eyes you with that same expressionless stare.

He finally breaks the silence as a spark ignites within his golden eyes.

"Let us make a contract."

Your mouth was dry, throat tight- but you managed out a weak "huh?" all the same.

"I will ensure your safety until I deem you no longer in danger. Until then, you will stay by my side and listen to my instructions."

This contract.... was a little odd. You had never heard of such an agreement ever being made before, but it seemed reasonable. After all, this man did just save you from certain death, and he was clearly a gentleman of Liyue- surely he knew contracts better then you, right?

You nodded. The terms of the contract accepted; and as the man held out his hand, you didn't hesitate to take it. He pulled you off the ground with ease, and kept you close by his side as he led you away from the ruins.

His hand, though gloves, was warm and firm. Within his grasp, you felt safe.

The man, who introduced himself as Zhongli, had taken you to a nearby abandoned house so you could recover from your wounds and regain your strength. In his care, you made a painless, swift recovery from what would have normally been severe injuries. He treated you with the utmost respect and kindness; showing you nothing but care and consideration.

How many days had it been since you had arrived at this place?

He recounted old tales of Liyue in lovely detail; ranging from tragic to romantic and everything in between as you lay in the old bed, the gash on your leg forgotten as the man told you tale after wonderous tale.

How many days had it been since you laughed at one of his tales? Since you felt truly comfortable in that small, empty cabin?

Zhongli would often go out to gather food and herbs for your recovery. But one day, he returned much sooner then usual- his spear on his back as his arms scooped you up with ease.

How was he still so agile while carrying you? Why were there so many hilichurls and ruin guards all of a sudden?

He answered nothing; the only reaction you received from him was a glance at you when you joked about him being as strong as an adeptus.

You stayed silent after that.

You told Zhongli he could put you down- you could walk much better then before!

Your next stop was a small, seemingly normal cave.

He didn't respond. His hold on you still tight as he walked further into the cave.

How long had it been since you had last been in Liyue?

How long had it been since you were taken prisoner here?

This place- it was beautiful. Wonderous. But there was something... off about it. It made your head kind of fuzzy.

He told you it was an adeptus abode. That you would be safe here.

It was starting to feel like that was not the case.

The man kept sipping his tea across the table from you. "No. It's still too dangerous."

"Zhongli, I've been able to walk just fine for a few days now- shouldn't we be able to make it to Liyue Harbor?"

"But we're far away from those ruins now, surely-"

His glare sent chills down your spine. You stopped talking after that.

He had gotten a lot more stern lately. A lot more... quiet. He was beginning to scare you.

"I want to go home."

Silence.

".....I'm leaving."

Still nothing. Zhongli's eyes never shifted from where the pages of his book; not even a twitch in reaction to you wishing to leave.

You had seen him leave the abode enough times to know what to do; standing on the stone plate long enough, it lit up and sent you back to the cave you had entered all those days ago.

But the cave was dark. Not even a fraction of light illuminated the cavern.

Not even from the entrance.

Your heart simultaneously beat faster and yet sank in your chest upon the realization of your situation:

The cave was sealed shut. You wouldn't be going anyway. And yet Zhongli....

"Do you remember the terms of our contract?"

The voice startled you; practically making you jump out of your skin as you turned towards the source. Your throat tightened at the sight of his glowing eyes- of the golden sheen on his hands and the geo-patterned veins that ran up his arms.

"You agreed that you would follow my directions and stay with me until I deemed it safe enough for you to be on your own."

He stepped forward, and instinctively you took a step back. You had never been intimidated by his height before, but now it felt like he loomed over you with all the power of the geo-archon himself-

The tips of his fingers caught your chin as he raised your head to look up at him. Your pupils wide, you now realized just who this man was.

"It is not safe for you, nor will it ever be."

His transformation was silent, but striking all the same. Brown-gold horns sprouted like a crown from above his head; the fingertips on your chin now sharpened claws akin to that of a dragon.

The pieces had clicked long ago; you had just been too naive to recognize them.

"Morax." The name fell from your lips in a strangled whisper, and the man before you buried his face into your neck at the sound.

You could feel his lips pulled into a smile against your flesh.

#yandere #zhongli x reader #reblog #this fic grabbed my neck and hooked me in line and sinker #great writing and pacing

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owls-longings · 2 years ago

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delusional - il dottore

This spawned from the dusty writing desk in the far corner of my brain. Be warned. Inspired by this playlist : “ pov. escaping dottore’s lab; a yandere/obsessive playlist”

Mentions of: Il Dottore (and clones), implied imprisonment, escape, allusion to nonconsensual human experimentation, meat lockers, general uncomfortable vibe, use of pet name ‘doll’, (not intentional but could be perceived) yandere undertones

Additional note(s): Lazy formatting. Gotta get used to uploading on this hellsite again. Also I have no real reason for this title, just thought it was a good pun because see, the Fatui manufacture these fake visions which are called delusions, and the definition of delusion is ‘a state of being misled’, which this protagonist is. See, see it’s funny, right? Right? (: and yes, this was purposefully written in vague first tense, because I thought it fit the flow better. Not beta read this was a youtube comment

’…Why were they doing this again?’

Their delicate feet burned as they ran barefoot through the cold labyrinth of Zapolyarny Palace. ‘They’d only be caught once more.’ With each twist and turn of the halls, things began to look more and more the same, dizzying to their already swaying mind. Despite this, their steps never faltered, nimbly dashing down a steep flight of stairs. All their mind knew was fear– fear of being caught, of what they risked returning to, and of what dangers might lurk beyond the familiar ones they currently denounced.

They slunk past heavy doors set ajar before realising; things were unnaturally still around them. 'Where were the soldiers? Was no one coming for them? Was this finally it?’ A deep chuckle echoed through the chamber. Now standing in the very center of the room, they stiffened and glanced frantically around. Upon catching a hint of movement behind a pillar, they took off again, chest slowly growing heavy from the despair trickling in. That voice. They hated how it had such a hold over them. The particular timber of it was infused in their memory, woven through their shaking bones.

Now nearly at the other end of the room, another mocking laugh came from a pillar just to their right. A raspy, shrill squeak forced itself from their lungs, and on instinct they lunged toward a large vase on display. Through sheer panic alone they managed to shove it towards that same pillar, before quickly darting towards the set of doors. Wrenching them apart, they took only a brief moment to glance back, and their eyes met his. They shrieked and shoved the doors closed, trapping him in with the bar. The doctor let out a growl, escalating to an enraged yell. One body pushing against the doors then became two, as another doctor mirrored the actions of the first. Both clones were trapped in that room, but more were sure to appear, so they set their sights on heading to lower and lower floors, certain they were expected to try and find the main entrance.

'This is utterly dreadful.’ The kitchens were stale, the scent of fine foods washed out with the dreary atmosphere. With four workers stationed around the area, they ducked behind a cluster of barrels, searching for any sort of opening to freedom. Without windows, it was not an easy feat, but their eyes caught a pale glow emanating beyond the door but a few steps away.

'Surely this was it! They’d finally be saved from this life, freed from this torturous existence. Whatever came next, they’d face with open arms. It was their life to choose.’ They slipped through the door, shutting it delicately behind them. A beat of silence passed, and when no outrage was heard from the kitchen, they let out a breath into the chilled air. This cold was unmistakable, even for someone as isolated as they’d been. The ice against their feet burned, but it was nothing compared to the emotion they felt as they turned to look out into the new environment. Icy it may have been, but this was no open land.

As they gazed ahead, they found all that they could see were rows of red tinted, hanging slabs of ice. These hooked sculptures had them retching, covering their mouth and pressing their back against the door. The meat locker reeked of death, of misery and of failure. All the hopelessness they’d battled till this moment came crashing down around them as their legs gave out. Boneless, they slumped on the slippery ground, feeling the sheer cold envelop them. As their brain succumbed to the exhaustion, they smiled, knowing that even this was an escape. This ending was of their own creation; they’d taken their life back.

Minutes later, controlled footsteps approached the locker, as a kitchen maid pushed open the heavy wood. Pointed shoes approached the small, slouched figure, gently scooping it up with steady hands. Il Dottore smiled down at their peaceful face, brushing stray snowflakes from their lashes. “Now then, doll, let us observe the effects of the regenerative serum, shall we?”

Alright, I haven’t written anything of substance for the past several years, so I hope this at least comes across as legible. I started off vaguely reinterpreting the audio cues as I went, writing without any real direction and then it just sort of spiralled from there. The ending sort of reminds me of a fairytale I grew up with: the little match girl. A rather vague reference, but writing in a Snezhnayan setting had me reflecting on my own Russian-Ukrainian heritage and therefore my upbringing(note: uh, yeah, we’re doing greattt), so that’s my reasoning for the unhinged direction it went.

#reblog #wow this story is great #love that ending

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owls-longings · 2 years ago

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Arataki Itto is that one guy who promises you that they'll bring you on a date you'll never forget and then brings you to the local supermarket to watch lobsters fight in the tanks.

#and you'll be married even 15 years later but do you blame him tho #genshit post #non yan post

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owls-longings · 2 years ago

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The Lone and Level Sands - Chapter Six

Mm. Not sure how I feel about this chapter, but I'm not sure if at this point I've reread it to death and that's why I dislike it. Anyway, links will be added tomorrow when I get the time.

Crossposted on AO3 HERE.

Masterlist:

CW: heavy drugging, unhealthy relationships, captivity, yandere themes, abuse, injury.

You resolve to fight him every step of the way.

He doesn’t even allow you the dignity of that. Instead, Zhongli drugs you. Each new dose chasing the heels of the last, so the fuzziness never fades enough for you to try and claw his eyes out.

He tells you it’s for the best. That if you fight him, you’d lose anyway. That he can’t have you running around and exacerbating your injury. That he doesn’t want to hurt you, as though he hasn’t already with this betrayal.

You know better, anyway. You know he just can’t be bothered to fight you, and maybe he’s afraid of overdoing it– you catch the way his eyes linger on the scars littering your skin from the night that landed you in this mess.

The dose is too high at first. You’re unable to do little else but float listlessly in a haze, left in whatever spot he last left you before leaving for work to keep up appearances.

He doesn’t enjoy you like that. He looks bothered when he comes home to a corpse, hazy eyes and quiet breaths. It takes a few days of adjusting, but he lowers the dose.

You regain a little bit of autonomy, able to stand and move from room to room as long as you’re careful. Often, you have to hug the wall as you do, dizziness threatening to overtake you with every step.

You’re coherent now, at least, finally free of the fog that smothered you. You use that coherency to insult him, no shortage of scathing words and insults falling from your lips.

It lasts you a few days before Zhongli raises the dose again. His tipping point seemed to be your mention of the late goddess of dust, Guizhong. It was a low blow, you knew, with what Zhongli told you the first time you’d asked about her, but he deserves it.

“What would she think of you now? Would she be disappointed to see what you become?”

The unfettered rage that flit across his face for the barest second might have scared you if he hadn’t been drugging you senseless for the past… week? Two weeks? Month? You don’t know anymore. It’s hard to keep track of time, locked in here and only really seeing the sun through the gaps in curtains too heavy for you to bother to draw back.

Unfortunately for him, his anger didn’t scare you. You were too high to do more than stare at him; too exhausted to muster a glare, a scowl– any expression that belayed your hate. So you used your words instead.

He left the room and you took it as a small victory.

That small victory died a swift death when he came back with a cup of tea, the unmistakable scent of the herb he’s been drugging you with filling your nose as a gloved hand pushed you back down onto the couch the second you shakily stood to flee.

The tightness in his jaw didn’t ebb when you gave a slurred, half-assed apology.

You turned your head away and tried to come up with a better one, something to stroke his ego so you could keep hold of what little autonomy you had left, but he was already forcing your head back to face him and pressing the cup insistently against your lips, ceramic clacking against teeth and hot liquid burning your lips.

It was scalding when he poured some of it into your mouth, cutting off your next apology. You think he knows. Surely he does, this small act of burning your tongue an intentional punishment for digging at an old wound.

The tea isn’t hot enough to do more than that, at least, leaving an uncomfortable sting in your mouth and a burning heat in your gut when he finishes forcing you to drink. The lingering taste of bitter herbs and scorched tea leaves on your tongue makes you suppress a bitter smile. Ah. So he’s mad mad. He didn’t even try to sweeten the tea like usual.

Zhongli’s jaw finally unclenches and he sets the cup down with a sigh, smoothing a gloved hand over his face as if he could wipe away the lingering traces of anger by doing so. It seems he can, apparently, because once he opens his eyes again to look at you it’s like he was never angry to begin with. He’s back to the calm and collected and polite Zhongli. The funeral consultant. The gentleman. Not the lingering shadow of Morax, god of war.

You want to bring up Guizhong again, if at least to shatter the calm resolve he slips back into. But you can’t; your burned tongue is already heavy like the rest of you as the drug kicks in. Where is he even getting this, you wonder?

Is it an herb he collects himself? Maybe he grows it in his garden alongside the glaze lilies he loves so damn much.

Or maybe he gets it from Baizhu. The doctor was complicit in this, it seems; he came to visit you a few more times, seemingly unsurprised and unbothered by your catatonic, drugged out state.

You wonder just how much Zhongli pays him for this. Or maybe he threatened Baizhu as Morax. Because who would take Baizhu’s word if he told, slandering the name of a dead god? And even Zhongli, with his new name and life, was too well liked and trusted in Liyue for anyone to take Baizhu’s word over his.

As selfish as it is, you hope Baizhu was blackmailed or coerced into this. It beats the alternative that he’s willing, or that he’s so easily bribed to overlook your suffering. At least then you won’t be suffering alone.

Zhongli takes a seat next to you, wrapping an arm around you as you slump bodily against him when the couch dips under his weight. He’s warm through his work clothes, through his gloves, against your side.

You hate him. You hate that this is the angriest you’ve seen him, and this was the extent of his anger: drugging you into silence once more, acting like it never happened.

He doesn’t pay any mind to the quiet protest you slur out, and your head is swimming too much to do much else. So, you resign yourself to complacency. For now. He’s bound to slip up one of these days.

But the days drag on, blurring into months. He doesn’t lower the dose, this time.

Baizhu’s visits get less and less frequent, until one day, through the fog covering your thoughts, you hear him telling Zhongli you’re completely healed. You don’t think anything of it, at first. Not until you’re left alone in the guest bedroom, slowly realizing that the drug’s wearing off, that Zhongli hasn’t given you another dose like he always does to keep you docile.

Did he forget?

You don’t want to get your hopes up. Zhongli never forgets. He never forgets the little tidbits of your life you let slip, he never forgets the moments of weakness you have whenever the drugs make you forget that you should be fighting him every step of the way, and he never forgets a contract, consciously forged or not.

You get up from the bed, legs trembling beneath you from disuse, and you make your way to the window.

The curtains draw back easily, the night sky greeting you through the glass. The window doesn’t budge when you try sliding it up, and before you can ball up the curtain in your fist to break the glass, you hear the door open behind you.

“Ah. I’m glad to see you’re up.” He says this like he hasn’t been drugging you, like you’ve just been particularly sick or tired these past… two months? Six weeks? You still don’t know, but it’s the best guess you can make with the foggy, fragmented memories of your time here.

“What do you want.” You ball up a fist in the curtain anyway, resolving to punch him, if not the window.

While you’re relieved to be able to stand and think again, you’re not going to play nice just because he missed a dose. You’re not going to give him what he wants.

You feel his eyes burning into the back of your skull, and you turn around to look at him. Zhongli’s gaze flits to where your hand is still hooked under the lip of the window, disappointment reflecting in his gaze. You drop your hands back to your sides, too tired to fumble through a weak excuse. What does it matter? He’s going to drug you again, anyway.

You’re going to make sure you land a punch this time, at least.

“I’d like to discuss something with you.” He motions with one hand toward the bed, and you hesitate briefly by the window before sitting down on the edge of the bed. He lets out a pleased noise at your compliance. You bite your tongue to stave off the scathing insult that bubbles up your throat like bile at the sound.

Punching him can wait. If you can stall, keep him talking so he doesn’t leave the room and come back with more “tea,” you can use this moment of clarity to plan for an escape. Besides, maybe if you hear him out this one time, he’ll ease up on the dose eventually. You just have to play nice.

“What. What do you want to discuss?” Okay. As nice as you can manage, that is.

“Our… Current contract stipulates that you remain here with me until you heal,” Zhongli begins slowly, moving to sit in the armchair poised by the bed.

Dread begins to stir in your gut. This conversation again. He’d brought up forming a new contract with you multiple times now, but you thought he’d given up on it entirely when he’d raised the dose. As delusional as he is, he doesn’t seem keen on forming a new contract with you while you’re incoherent (how considerate).

You don’t say anything, You’re not going to argue with him over the legitimacy of the contract you supposedly formed with him. Arguing with him about contracts was like arguing with a brick wall.

He seems largely unbothered by your lack of response, continuing, “And your injuries have healed. I’d like to propose a new contract.” He pulls out a piece of paper from his coat, skimming over it like he doesn’t have every fucking word memorized already. “Something beneficial for the both of us.”

“Not interested.” You cross your arms over your chest, hoping the vitriol in your voice burns him like it burns your tongue to voice.

“We can negotiate on the finer details of the contract-”

“No.”

“You won’t even consider it?” He holds out the paper to you, leaning forward so you don’t have to. You don’t budge.

“I’m not stupid. I’m not going to sign any contract with you. I’ve heard the stories about some of the contracts you’ve made over the centuries, Morax.” Your scathing use of his former name doesn’t seem to bother him. “You never take on a contract that doesn’t benefit you. You’ll hide something in the ‘finer details,’” You crook your fingers exaggeratedly, miming quotations, “a loophole. Or something else I’ll overlook. Something you can exploit.”

Zhongli almost looks like he’s smiling. But then he shifts, the shadows cast on his face by the dim lantern by the bed shift, and you’re met with the same stern expression you see him wear around almost everyone else.

“I see.”

You don’t like that. It’s bad whenever he says that. You don’t know what it is about those two words, but the grim acceptance you see settling over his face might be what’s fueling the panic beginning to kindle in your veins.

“That’s unfortunate,” He says, leaning back and closing his eyes, fist covering his mouth as he thinks, “I had hoped we could come to an agreement.”

The disappointment in his voice is thick, hanging in the air like a heavy fog.

His eyes open and he looks right through you as he stands from the chair, crossing his arms across his chest. “I want you to know that I take no pleasure in doing this.”

Your heart plummets. Terror holds you in a vice grip, constricting your lungs. Zhongli steps toward the bed and you scramble back onto it, stopped swiftly by a hand locking around your now-healed ankle.

He doesn’t flinch when you kick and scratch wildly at him like an animal, he just grabs your wrists and pins them to the bed under one hand.

“What are you doing?” It comes out so small. That’s not your voice, is it…?

Amber eyes meet yours, before flitting to where he keeps your hands pinned to the mattress. After a tense moment of consideration, the hand retreats. Immediately, you move to push him off you again, but there’s still a weight on your hands, pressing against your wrists.

You glance up to see what’s pinning them. Black and gold rock encases your hands, mimicking the hold his hand had on them. His other hand recaptures your ankle, and you drift.

Cold snow at your feet, colder moonlight on your cheeks. Something rumbles. There’s a pressure on your calf, slowly building, discomfort bubbling in your chest. It stops just shy of pain but doesn’t disappear, and you close your eyes.

You think you can almost see the stars, feel snow crunching beneath your shoes, feel the winter chill lapping at whatever bare skin it could reach. You always loved winter. You remember now: the winters spent as a kid, watching the snow float down from the sky, the way it reflected under the moonlight and you could see so much farther than during the summer months. It made the darkness of night less pervasive, less real.

Winter always smelled like pine, like the firewood crackling in the hearth, like apple cider and dried meat and fresh bread.

Pain lances through your leg like lightning, sharp and white-hot and excruciating, slamming you back down to earth and grounding you there. Sandalwood and tea and incense burns your nose instead, pervasive and wrong.

Your breath leaves you in a choked, pained gasp. Black and gold blurs in your vision.

It takes you a few moments to realize you’re alone, searing pain finally dulling to an incessant throb. Zhongli’s nowhere to be seen, the door is wide open, and you want to leave but moving your leg sharpens the pain again.

The adrenaline doesn’t save you, dulled from the days spent buried deep below the fog cast by the drug, you think. You think? You don’t know. You can’t think, not really, just sucking in breaths through grit teeth and trying to will yourself into a statue, to sink into the sheets, anything else, anything but this, but the pain and the heat in your leg.

You shouldn’t look. You know that.

You shouldn’t look, but you do. The minutes stretch on into an eternity, Zhongli still hasn’t come back, and so you steel yourself and lift your head to look at your leg.

You really shouldn’t have looked. It’s visibly swelling, your ankle is bent at an unnatural angle, and as if the injury wasn’t real enough to you, looking at it seems to make the pain worse, somehow.

The geo construct that was holding your hands in place had disappeared at some point, and you grip your shirt with clammy hands as though it’ll do anything. It doesn’t. But the pain dulls again to an insistent throb as you force slow, shaky breaths through your teeth.

Zhongli comes back into the room, footsteps calm and slow even as you hiss out pained, shaky gasps. You don’t resist the hand that slips beneath your head, lifting it up as warm ceramic presses against your lips.

This is the first time you’re grateful for this, drinking the proffered tea without complaint. It feels like an eternity since Zhongli pinned you to the bed, and an eternity more until the drug begins to kick in, the pain fading.

Exhaustion bleeds into you in its wake. You feel like you could pass out, vision fuzzing. Zhongli’s saying something.

“...set the bone-”

You don’t bother trying to listen, and he makes no move to keep you awake when you start to doze off, the quiet background noise of his voice and the roar of blood in your ears the lullaby that sends you off.

You expect to dream of nothing, swallowed by the emptiness of sleep. You’re not granted that mercy.

“What are you doing here?”

Shallow water laps at your legs where you sit cross legged on the ground. Nothing but calm water stretches on for miles, spilling out over white sands. The sky above you is filled with stars, blues and purples and flecks of light painted across the backdrop of the yawning horizon.

You stare up at the green haired adeptus standing before you, the slight ripples of the water letting you know he’s real, not a statue, even as he stands there and stares through you, unmoving.

“Hello?” You can’t keep the irritation out of your voice when he doesn’t answer, but that seems to break him from his trance.

Xiao looks away, opens then closes his mouth, and disappears in a flash of green and black.

You return to the stillness once more.

The world around you crumbles, unweaving and fraying at the seams, the tapestry of the world turning to loose threads.

Cold snow crunches beneath your feet.

You stand in a clearing, hot blood dripping from your fingertips, hands clutching the splintering handle of an axe.

Vertigo makes you nauseous, the sudden shift in scenery jarring, from stillness and calm to bitter cold, hot blood, biting winds.

Disoriented, you step forward and trip over something solid. Stiff fingers lose their grip on the handle, slicked with blood and sweat.

There’s a disconnect forming between you and the physical sensations. Your knees hit the ground hard, but it feels like a dull impact. There’s no pain. The cold feels distant, not painful, not sharp, not real like it should be.

Numbly, you turn to see what you tripped over. Black and gold. Blood spilled onto fresh snow.

Lee’s face flickers into existence for a moment, and in the next it’s obscured in shadow. The moonlight doesn’t seem to hit, like there’s a dark mist, a frayed miasma swallowing the light around his face.

It’s exactly as you remember it.

…Or. No, that’s not right. He’s unmoving. You press a hand to his neck, feeling no pulse, cold beginning to bleed into unliving flesh. This isn’t right. This isn’t how that night went.

Lee’s hair is longer than it was, too, splayed among the snow.

You glance towards the sky. The stars don’t twinkle down at you, instead beaming steadily, unnatural. The wind no longer blows. When you look back down to Lee, there’s nothing there. Blood stains in the snow, footprints and trailing crimson splatters leading away, back into the trees.

You follow.

It’s not cold, anymore. Snow crunches beneath your feet, but there’s no accompanying chill, just dull pressure.

The trail winds through the trees, swaying in a wind you can’t feel. You follow.

There’s a low drone, just past the trees, just beyond the horizon, getting louder, closer, with every step forward. The snow crunches beneath your feet.

It stops at a cliff, and you recognize the yawning emptiness beneath; the purveying darkness between the stars, the complete void of light. You remember it greeting you when you died, that night. The pain fading into echoing nothingness.

That tone wails from the emptiness, a steady hum, a persistent call. And from the darkness emerges a hand, stretching upwards towards you.

We have something to show you. There’s a melody in the tone, thousands of voices overlapping: whispering, shouting, singing, crying. Discordant and harmonic. More hands emerge from the shadows, some reaching, trying to grab, some extending up in invitation. The first hand remains still, waiting patiently for your own.

You take it, allowing the hands to pull you down, into the abyss.

The room is empty when you wake.

There’s no throbbing pain in your ankle, like you expect. Everything’s numb, sensations dulled and head buzzing. You can barely feel the sheets covering you, just the faint sensation of pressure rather than touch.

It’s probably why you don’t notice what’s in your hand until you shift, hearing something clattering to the floor before realizing your hand feels lighter, empty now.

You peer over the edge of the bed to see, and a small, glowing, red gem winks up at you.

Thinking still comes slowly with the last dregs of sleep and the painkiller still running its course through your system, so you think nothing of it at first. You just lean over the edge of the bed, reaching down, fingertips brushing against the polished surface.

It’s warm. Not warm from resting in your palm this whole time, but radiating heat, thrumming like a heartbeat that thumps in sync with your own. Wait. This is...

A vision.

You pick it up quickly, hope and panic swirling together in your chest as your fingers curl around the vision. A vision. You’ve been granted a vision. You can escape with this. But if Zhongli sees it… you have no doubt he’ll take it from you.

It’s equal parts a blessing and a curse. You’ve been granted a boon, but you’ve heard the stories about people whose visions were taken… Whispers of the Vision Hunt decree in Inazuma and it’s unfortunate victims carried on the winds across the sea and into Liyue Harbor.

You tried not to think about it. It didn’t affect you, anyway.

You were visionless, and you lived in Liyue. It couldn’t reach you.

Now, as you stare down at the smooth stone in your hand, you wonder if this harms more than it helps. He’ll take it from you, undoubtedly, if he finds it. Then… What then? What does that do to you?

You glance around the empty room. You have to hide it, but there’s not many places you can hide it, and you can’t exactly get up to search for one.

So, instead, you tuck it under the mattress, and you pick a god and pray.

#reblog #Im crying this yan zhongli fic is SO GOOD

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