#The Second of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers

[genshinincorrectquotes]

Dottore: Shut up, everyone. I’ve done something brilliant.

Pierro: Ah, Dottore, my head of research and development. 

Fatuis:  I’m sorry, but we…

Dottore: Apology accepted. Now try to keep up with my mind-numbing genius.

Pierro: Dottore, what did we say about interacting with other people?

Dottore: The cue cards. Fine. “Hello, Pierro, and others.”

[tunafruitt]

--> ||❝ The Creator has a.. LOVER?! ❞

SAGAU || Warnings: fluff, gender neutral reader, slight crack, reader gets called a test subject and is implied to be used as one [Dottore’s part] OOC w/ Dottore..? Idk I haven’t finished sumeru yet </3

[ The people of Teyvat find out their grace has been romantically involved with someone for a while now.. what do they think about it? ]

Character(s): DOTTORE, XIAO

-> [ DOTTORE ]

“The Doctor is the Creator’s suitor? As in… the Second of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers? Are you sure that’s him? You are? Oh.. is— Is Your Grace feeling okay? I don’t see why anyone would be willingly involved with the Fatui Harbingers. What?! No! I’m not saying that’s not okay. Your Grace can do whatever they want! Hmph..”

The people of Teyvat felt conflicted to say the least. They weren’t judging your ability to make choices! They really weren’t… they just thought that there were better choices out there for Their Grace!! Yeah, everyone knew you liked the harbingers even before you descended, but couldn’t you have chosen a less deranged harbinger? For example… uhm... none of them.

Dottore could really care less what everyone else thought of his relationship with you though. He got the full package! His lover was the All Mighty Creator, and now he has a new “test subject”! (he says it affectionately.) Dottore knows people hate him even more than before, but who’s the one with the Creator’s arms wrapped around them, head over heels? This benefits him in so many ways. Wether it be research, obtaining materials, or just being able to have something more to use against the rest of the harbingers.

No one would ever dare voice the opinions they have of him while you’re in the vicinity. They’ll listen to you talk about a “date” you had with Dottore, which was really just you and him in his lab…. and he’s using you to help with his research. Hearing this, the rest of the allogene’s eyes are twitching, their fists are clenched, they’re FURIOUS. Not at you! Never. They’re mad at Dottore. How dare he use you as a test subject?! (you volunteered) How dare he use you to try to make another god?! (you thought that sounded fun) How dare he be IN LOVE with the All Mighty Creator?! (you fell first.)

When the two of you are seen in public, the streets go QUIET. Dottore carries this eerie aura with him, everyone knows who he is. And adding to the fact he’s a harbinger, he is also now recognized as the Creator’s suitor. Everyone besides you feels the silence and the stares, including Dottore, but if his lover is happy does it really matter? <3

In conclusion, everyone hopes Dottore dies. It’s not that they don’t want to see you happy. In fact, the entirety of Teyvat is glad you’re experiencing love and joy, just not with HIM.

─ִ━━ ꯭  ───ׂ─ִ─  ͜͡✿͜͡  ─ִ──ׂ──  ꯭  ━━ִ─

You spend a lot of days in Dottore’s lab. Today was one of those days.

You were conversing with one of Dottore’s younger clones. The clones, while being segments of Dottore, have their own distinct personalities. The one thing they hold in common is the love they have for you.

You love talking to the clones and giving them breaks from whatever days-long tasks Dottore gives them, but you miss the Dottore who’s the last thing you see before you fall asleep and after you wake up. You haven’t seen him since yesterday! Is this really how your boyfriend treats his lover…. who also happens to be the Creator???

And so you decide to go look for him. Who would’ve guessed he was sitting where he always was; his desk. Once you’ve spotted him, as payback for leaving you alone, you decide to sneak up on him. You try your hardest to silence your steps as much as possible in this hollow and echoey office of his.

“I can hear you, Y/N.”

“No you can’t... C’mon Dottore! Cut me some slack. I haven’t seen you since yesterday… and you didn’t even come to say good morning to me today!”

“Good morning.”

“It’s 4:00 PM, love. Take a break. It’s not like I’ll die anytime soon… can I even die..? Uhm.. that’s besides the point. You can conduct your experiments on me and do you research later. Come entertain me, please?”

“Are you asking because I have a choice?”

Your silence gives him an answer. You pull him up from his chair by grabbing his hands and pull him into a hug. You lean in closer to peck his cheek. He leans into you and grabs you by the waist to pull you closer—

“Doctor, the segments have finished—“

“Oh.”

-> [ XIAO ]

“Oh! One of the adepti? THE VIGILANT YAKSHA?! S-sorry that caught me by surprise… So the Yaksha is dating the Creator, huh. His tales have been documented for millennia’s, yet he’s rarely seen in public… I guess even someone like that can’t help but fall for Our Grace.”

So that must be why you always cooked Almond Tofu… Well, since Xiao IS the Conqueror of Demons, I can see the people of Liyue being quite happy. Jealous? Yes. But who’s even more jealous? Mondstadt. Why couldn’t it be one of the Knights of Favonious or something? But they guess you’re happy and that’s enough… (Though it could’ve been with them.)

Xiao is seen a little more often with you now that it’s confirmed you two are dating. Not too often, but if you want to go try out a restaurant in the city of Liyue, he’ll never say no. He may not speak much, but according to rumors is Liyue… “his eyes are always on you, listening to anything and everything the Creator has to say. It’s clear he’s fallen completely in love!” (Said by Chef Mao, probably.)

Being Xiao’s partner may seem awkward from an outsiders perspective, but he’s surprisingly sweet! He still won’t talk much, but he’ll reply to any questions you have, no matter how stupid or obvious they are with full genuity. Him being the Conqueror of Demons and you being the Creator, you both live busy lives…. so his eyes literally light up when you two are both able to finally see each other after a long time. <3 (he’s head over heels guys help.)

The adepti would be so PROUD. They probably already knew you and Xiao had a little something going on even before it was announced because of the way Xiao seemed slightly more happy. This lead to then being suspicious and eventually seeing him and you together… doing the most intimate thing ever…..

…. HOLDING HANDS. UNDER THE MOONLIGHT. But they kept quiet so don’t worry!

─ִ━━ ꯭  ───ׂ─ִ─  ͜͡✿͜͡  ─ִ──ׂ──  ꯭  ━━ִ─

“Xiao! I found you.”

As per usual, Xiao was sitting on the roof of Wangshu Inn. Today was one of the days where both of you were busy. You had a meeting to attend, and he was doing his job as The Conqueror of Demons. It was night by the time you were able to see each other.

“You should’ve called my name, Your Grace. It would’ve been easier for me to find you.”

“Yeah but I like looking for you. I always know where you are since you’re in the same spots anyway. And besides, I like how Wangshu Inn looks at night!”

You always thought Xiao looked pretty, but he looked especially pretty under the moonlight. His face seemed to glow more than usual today. Maybe it was the warm colored light radiating from inside of Wangshu Inn, or the light reflected by the moon shining down on him. Maybe it was the fact he had missed you so much that seeing your face again brought him a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Your Grace?”

“Oh, sorry Xiao, I lost my train of thought. Let’s go eat! I’m feeling hungry… today’s meeting was waaayy too long… C’mon, I’ll buy you something!”

“No need. I’ll be okay with just accompanying Your Grace.”

“Agh, stop calling me that. Y/N? Can you say Y/N? Please Xiao?”

“… Y-Y/N..”

“See? Not too hard right? Ok let’s go eat! I’ll make you Almond Tofu how you like it.”

FINALLY DONE OOHMYGODDD sorry this took so long. Idk what I should do next so feel free to request anything… ANYWAYS THE FIRST PART OF THIS GOT ALMOST 700 NOTES??? omg stop guys I’m giggling and blushing aughshsgghh. But seriously thank you so much I’m bawling

[dottiro]

Hide & Seek

Unreliable summary:  If you’re a visual learner, Dottore is more than happy to give some help. // Dottore brought you to Snezhnaya so he can perform conscious brain surgery as an act of love. Warnings: Yandere, Medical malpractice, awake brain surgery, kidnapping without an actual kidnapping scene, Dottore cuts through the skull of a person (not you), being drugged, Dottore dissects a brain (affectionately), GN reader, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!! Note: This is a rewrite of THIS fic from my old blog. This could've been longer, but I cut out the gore parts to make it less dark. // This fic is NOT set in the canon Teyvat; it is a mix of my modern AU + personal projection. My perception of him might not align with the OG. I wanted to write this scenario in my way/this is supposed to be a SERIES—if I post more of this AU the setup makes sense (trust).

You used to study in the illustrious Akademiya, hoping to pursue a life filled with studies regarding the human psyche. 

You used to—until you got acquainted with Zandik and your life turned around for the worse. 

Perhaps if you weren’t so busy pursuing knowledge, you would’ve seen that his help was never given without a debt to repay. The charming facade with which he lured you in is only one of the many masks he wears. Zandik, or as you now know—Il Dottore: the second of the eleven Fatui Harbingers, never intended for you to escape his grasp.

Not then,

Not now.

You try to remember where it went wrong.

Your head buzzes with a weird feeling when you open your eyes. You’re dazed, and your environment is unfamiliar to you. For some reason, your mind can’t think straight. 

Outside the window, you watch snowflakes twirl down until they meet upon a pool of white that stretches beyond the horizon. Only a few pine trees interrupt the otherwise dull landscape.

You try to remember how you got here, only to find a gap in your memories.

The bed in which you woke up is unfamiliar too. At the foot end, you see your jacket. It has been folded neatly and is accompanied by your shoes which are tucked underneath the bed. 

It had been visible enough to notice but placed purposefully to avoid anyone tripping. 

Someone put it there on purpose.

After inspecting the pockets of your jacket, you find that your belongings have been taken.

Your eyes move further across the room until you catch a familiar sight. The notebook that had catalysed your current situation. Similar to your jacket and shoes, it has been placed in sight for a reason. 

When you open the notebook on a random page, you can see new additions; or rather—changes.

Zandik’s handwriting covers your own, dominating your thoughts in writing as he does in voice.

You close your eyes as another wave of nausea hits.

At the start of a new school year in the Akademiya, you met Zandik in one of the off-campus libraries. He came crashing into your life like a bullet flying out of its barrel and straight into someone’s chest; aiming for his target and striking the bullseye without effort. 

In this metaphor, you were his target and the arrow Zandik himself. 

His actions have been destructive to many, but with you still alive at his side, you’re inclined to believe his intentions are physically harmless to you—which feels like a juxtaposition. Zandik’s weird infatuation with wanting to be accepted might be the sole reason for your current survival. 

In your admiration for his ingenuity and endless knowledge, you became captivated and blind to everything that opposed the perfect ‘Zandik’ you had created in your mind. In this blind fever, you had made him feel as if he was. To be free from the title of ‘outcast’ had sparked something in him, and he would do everything to hold onto this new feeling of approval and pure endorsement.

For a while, life with him was profitable for both parties involved. 

To have a friend like him is to feel like you are unstoppable. But, once he felt he was giving more than he could seize, he forcefully started claiming what he believed was rightfully his.

Ultimately, Zandik did not take your life—he reformed it.

All you had, is no more. 

And he is to blame.

One day you are in a lecture at the Akademiya, and the next you wake up in an unfamiliar place. In any other situation, you would have recognised the surroundings earlier. However, with the fog in your mind, it takes a while to uncover your location; Snezhnaya.

Your hand rests against the window to steady yourself. Even with the thick glass separating you from the outside world, you feel the cold touching your palm. Snow continues to rain from above. A few solitary snowflakes land on the window. They melt and pool at the bottom, freezing the window shut and locking you in.

An agitated sigh escapes your lips as your mind continues to drift between awareness and stupor. 

Through the hallway, a voice carries a conversation with only its echo in response. Mysteriously, the mutters come in and out of earshot—as if they were moving from room to room. The sound of footsteps follows. At first, they approach. Then, they leave.��

Your fingers press into your scalp when you drag your fingers through your hair. When you place your hands into sight, you open and close them. For some reason, they seem distant, as if not your own. 

Before you follow the sounds, you ensure that you’re grounded by steadying your breaths.

ㅤ

You leave your jacket and shoes at the end of the bed, leaving the room barefoot.

· · ────── Ω ────── · ·

The building that cages you resembles an old villa. Evident from the layers of dust, it has been unused for at least a decade. The majority—if not all of the furniture you see has been hidden by white fabrics. 

To you, it’s easy to see. This home has been neglected. Whether the owner of the house wanted to forget its existence or not is up for speculation. 

As you walk further into the hallway, you see a frame with an old Kamera picture of Zandik hung on the wall. Another white cloth hangs over it, but it must have gone loose since the left side reveals part of the picture.

You catch a glimpse of his younger, more humane, face. 

For a moment, you wonder when and how he became a Harbinger. You wonder how this young man turned into this creature that brings destruction everywhere he goes.

Ultimately, you decide to ignore it, choosing to press forward instead of lingering in the past.

Then, over the noise of your thoughts, you hear an odd sound. Somewhere near you, an object is being rolled across the floor. It’s an unusual sound—something that throws you off. Yet, the noise isn’t rough. 

The more you listen to it, the more you recognise it as wheels on a cart being pulled along. You decide to stand still for a moment, hoping the fog in your mind clears so you can pinpoint where the sounds come from.

Your hand brushes against the interior wall as you take another step forward. 

A warm orange light invites you in at the end of the hallway. As you approach closer, so do the noises become louder. 

You discern a deep voice, talking to what seems to be himself. The man sounds educated, arrogant—but also sophisticated, and carries himself with more pride than grace.  

For a moment, you’re certain it’s not Zandik; who is more animated, dynamic—and compared to this voice, softer with tone, but then you walk into the room to be face-to-face with him.

“Good evening.” Dottore greets you. His voice is steady, never revealing any emotions to you.

If he hadn’t heard you walking up the room, he does a good job hiding it. His response to your arrival is instant; as if your entrance had been expected. 

His attention on the previous task is disrupted, and now his sole focus lies on you. The silver glint of his mask shines in the evening glow as he tilts his head towards you.

Curiously, you take a set into the room. 

A large wine-red carpet covers most of the wooden flooring of the space. In the centre of which, stands a large dinner table. Most of the lighting comes from the candles that have been lit, or the open windows that bring in the last of the golden hour. 

On one end of the table sits a man in a wheelchair. When you see him you realise the sounds from earlier must’ve been him being pushed forward. 

With a controlled smile, Dottore holds out one of his arms—gesturing to the room. “Do take a seat, guest.” 

Your eyes follow his outstretched arm towards the only other chair in the room. Conveniently, it’s placed at the other end of the table, though, you doubt Dottore was occupying the seat before you. 

Cautiously you approach. As you enter the room, your confused state worsens. In the atmosphere hangs a sweet scent that makes your mind dizzy and unable to focus. 

A cold breeze comes through one of the open windows. The goosebumps on your arms only occur once you notice it. Have your senses been dulled?

Dottore smiles calmly. 

“What did you do with me?” You try to ascertain the hazy feeling that suppresses your logical thoughts. 

You’ve been drugged.

Dottore circles the man in the chair. You notice the return of the strange mask covering the upper part of his face. The sharp beak shape cuts through the air as he moves his head. 

“For someone so passionate about other people’s physiological responses, you fail to acknowledge your own. You’re anticipating something that’s not going to happen. Anticipatory fear rarely benefits anyone.” 

He moves his head away from you. You’re able to release the breath you’ve been holding.  

In front of the man in the wheelchair is a medical tray. It’s empty, although various surgical equipment surrounds it. When you squint your eyes, you can recognise a scalpel among them. 

You wonder if you could take it.

Dottore muses to himself, continuing to weave endless sentences that do not yet make sense. “Did you ever get to see the human brain? I find that preserved ones lack the sense of joy the living ones bring me. Unfortunately, something must be dead to be preserved… I find hardly any preserved being is worth more than a living one.”

Your eyes sneak up as you pass the tools and find Dottore inspecting you. A diplomatic smile is forced underneath his mask. You fail to obtain a weapon to defend yourself with.

As you approach the empty chair, Dottore walks up to the man in the wheelchair. By the time you sit down, he is playing with the scalpel you tried to take.

“It truly dulls the process. It lacks a sense of… efficiency. Why study a corpse when you can pick apart a living one?” A different light is cast upon him when he tilts his face down. In the shadow, his smile becomes sinister.

“What are you doing?”

Dottore holds the scalpel with his middle finger and thumb, letting his pointer finger rest upon the handle. He lifts it, admiring the glint that falls upon it. “You shouldn’t ask. I find that it spoils the surprise.” 

Finally, your fight or flight instinct kicks in and you try to stand up. 

Your legs bobble and your hand slams against the table trying to keep your balance. You fall back into the chair. The sweet scent has made you lightheaded with a tingling feeling in your limbs. It’s accompanied by a fast, irregular heartbeat—as well as the pounding in your ears. 

A chuckle escapes Dottore’s lips. “Already standing up? A doctor would have recommended you to rest. If you’re tired, you may return to bed, although, you’d miss the grand performance.”

He mocks you with his sweetest voice. Your poor coordination and confusion must make you look like a newborn deer trying to stand up on its feet. Pitiful.

For the first time since entering the room, you take a closer look at the man in the wheelchair. The male appears average in height and weight. He has no noticeable features and seems only a few years older than you. He has been silent the entire time, only ever muttering to himself. otherwise looking around helplessly. His body is covered in sweat, drenching his pale blue shirt with wet stains. 

A horizontal line paints his forehead. 

“Segment 495, say hello to Y/n.”

Segment 495's smile is droopy as he parrots Dottore’s words.

Dottore places a hand on the shoulder of the man. “Did you know that the Akademiya has a grand collection of preservations in the name of science?”

He retreats his hands and puts them folded onto his back. After taking a sharp inhale, he circles the man; stopping when he stands behind him.

Dottore continues,  “The Akademiya collects preservations received from donors. In most occurrences, the specimens are from average people, dulling the broad collection with nothing unique to study. Truthfully, it is unfortunate how such collection can collect nothing but dust.”

Your thoughts are uncontrolled. When you look over the set of tools, the scalpel is gone. Your stress increases due to the operation setting and the sweet scent in the air. 

What will Dottore gain from this? 

What’s today's lesson?

He inhales sharply through his nose, “A human can undergo a conscious brain surgery. You know how it works, I assume?”

You part your lips. Weakly, you shake your head.

“Excellent.”

Dottore reveals the knife from the hand on his back and he takes hold of the man in the wheelchair. With one arm, he snakes to the front and grabs his jaw. The other pushes the sharp edge of the scalpel along the line already there, easily sliding through and breaking the previously dried blood; reaching through the skull without complication.

Your sight blurs, and you helplessly watch the knife circle his head.

He’s going to exercise a conscious brain surgery.

With his precise and steady hand, Dottore can make a full circle before long. Then, he lays the scalpel down and grabs the hair on the man’s scalp, pulling until it parts, leaving the brain visible for you to witness.

You breathe out.

“Zandik—” 

“You see, the brain itself feels no pain, Y/n, if that concerns you” 

Dottore picks up his knife from the medical tray, pointing it towards the front of the brain. 

“For example, Segment 495 won't miss this little piece here, which is part of the prefrontal lobe.” 

“Wait.” You try to intervene, but you realise you have no leverage. “You don’t have to do this.”

Dottore makes a small cut, cutting through the meninges. Then, he grabs another tool, holding down the frontal lobe as the scalpel cuts through. “Sometimes, a subject can live without a part of their frontal lobe. However, there is a risk of losing one's expression of speech as well as a few means of movement and cognition.”

You watch the man’s expression fall when Dottore removes the part he had cut out. The mouth of the man falls open, and although he stays alive, something has undoubtedly died. 

Dottore lays the removed part of the frontal lobe on the empty medical tray. Then, he goes back. 

“Please, stop this.” You try to plead with him. 

Using whatever strengths you have left, you try to stand up. Unfortunately, you hardly move out of your chair. Whatever drug lingers in the air, it is stronger than your adrenaline and will.

Again, Dottore’s precise hands cut into the brain. The man makes a strained sound and drool begins to fall out of his mouth. 

Another piece is added to the medical tray, slowly forming a collection as Dottore empties the man’s head.

Under the influence of sedatives, you struggle to maintain your composure and senses—witnessing the horrifying spectacle that unfolds helplessly. 

You black out before the man breathes his final breath.

ㅤ

ㅤ

ㅤ

Segment 495 started to lose organ functions a few days ago. It’d eventually lead him to die without ever completing the experiences Dottore put him under.

It is unfortunate but Dottore still grants the dying man one last reward.

On the medical tray, Segment 495’s brain lies fully exposed. Each cognitive function is separated for you to behold and admire. In death, the stranger became preserved in your memory. 

· · ────── Ω ────── · ·

A gift. 

From Dottore to you.

©dottiro. Do not copy, repost, translate, feed to AI, or take heavy inspiration from my content. Thank you for reading ♡

[sh1-n0bu]

I’d like to order some nsfw genshin impact SAGAU stuff:

More specifically, its when the Creator uses a vessel different from Wanderer, their main, and he gets jealous all the time.

So, when they descend on teyvat, one of the first things they do is fuck the jealousy out of him so badly he cant speak. (Yes its overstimulation because MAN…)

♡︎ 𝙢𝙮 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙜𝙤𝙙 ♡︎

characters: sub!AFAB!wanderer (or scaramouche) x nb!dom!reader

warnings: overstimulation, dacryphillia, jealousy, oral fixation, squirting, fingering, slight cult-ish and religious undertones

notes: hhhh my first sagau smut

kabukimono adored the creator.

how could he not? he was just a mere creation and a vessel of the god of all gods.

the first to tell the poor, discarded puppet of you was niwa. when seeing how everyone in tatarasuna worshipped a being called divine creator, the poor puppet couldn’t help his own curiosity and ask. in response, niwa patiently explained to him how there was once an ancient being. a god of all gods. one who even reigned over the archons, celestia itself. one who created teyvat, blessed it with life and in their weakened state, went to an eternal rest.

kabukimono adored the creator with the hollow remains of where his heart is meant to be. an empty shell filling with fuzzy feelings, smile spreading on his face whenever he goes to pray at your shrine, offerings of small yet precious things left in your altar. he only hoped it would please your soul.

kunikuzushi has secret reverence and respect for the creator.

you took away his friend, his home, his family and yet he still hopes for your guidance. carrying hope in the shape of a small wooden carving that he made, which he clutches closely to his chest.

during restless nights and moments when he feels himself slipping, losing hope, losing sight of loving you — he clutches the wooden carving to his chest. tight, tight to the point it leaves a dent in his pale hand and whispers into it. how he wishes to be in your care. how he hopes that you didn’t abandon him. how he hopes that your loving arms would hold him one day. how you are the only source of life he has.

how all the blood he shed was meant for you. a sacrifice for you. to appease you. to bring you back to teyvat. to see you in flesh.

kunikuzushi has secret reverence and respect for the creator.

scaramouche despises the creator.

you left him. when his own mother betrayed him and left him alone, he was lucky to be found by nagamasa. he was lucky that niwa was kind enough to let him stay at tatarasuna. how you were so cruel that even after all the metal and iron, gold and silver he molded and modeled to make tiny offerings to your altar. how you were twisted to give him small slivers of hopes in the form of niwa and the sick child, yet to take them away.

he hates you. despises you. loathes you. every little altar he sees, he hopes to destroy it. every statue of you he glimpses at, he uses his delusion to shock the old and eroded stone until it breaks and crumbles. oh, how badly he wished to do the same to you.

the sixth of the eleven fatui harbingers won’t even hesitate for a split second to spit on your name even in the presence of the tsaritsa. childe always looks down on him whenever he does. the ginger’s hands twitching, delusion and vision mixing up together as he tries his best to hold himself back from jumping on the short arrogant puppet.

and yet despite it all… scaramouche still clutches the small wooden carving of you. holding it close to his chest as he secretly whispers in his mind how much he wishes to please you. the puppet only hopes all the bodies he piled up would satisfy you, even just a little bit.

wanderer loves you dearly.

he has been wrong this whole time. you were never twisted, never sick in the head nor heart, never wishing to manipulate him, never wishing harm or pain upon anything. you were gentle. loving. every life form you passed by would swoon and sway, hoping to touch you. even touching your clothes or robes would be enough.

when be first got his vision, he heard your voice in his head. it was the same loving warmth that enveloped the traveler. it was warm, gentle, loving but still not fully there. when he protected the traveler and the floating thing, he could hear you cheer for him. for him.

but when an array of shooting stars engulfed the fake skies, wanderer looks up as always. blue ones, purple ones and then he felt it. a certain pull in his chest. like how red strings of fate tugs on your pinky in all those fairytales.

and he follows.

running, running, running — until he eventually reaches an odd place. a clear sky, one that looked real and one that cradled him in a gentle warmth.

“yeeesss!! you’re finally home! welcome home, wanderer!” a voice rings in his head loud and clear. excitement, happiness, elation, joy, pride — all sorts of emotions bubble in him, ready to burst out. but instead it fell down in the form of a tear. a happy tear.

it was you. it was the creator. the all-knowing, all-loving one. and you wanted him! him of all people! and you were happy that you had him!

yet wanderer doesn’t get it.

if you loved him so much, wanted him, pre-farmed for him as you said and even got his signature weapon, why were you using someone else? why use that cocky cryo user from mondstadt? why use his brother who is equally cocky but knows how to keep it hidden? why use that annoying old archon who flaunts that he is your oldest and most devout follower? or even the yashirou commissioner!

was he not enough? was he not strong enough? did you needed to “farm” for his talent materials? if so, no need! he already went ahead and got them for you when you logged out! everything to make him the perfect dps as you called is all there and ready!

strange.

why was your other characters are all either dead or on 1hp when you log in? only wanderer is there — your main — in full hp. standing proud and cocky with the same grin.

——

it’s tough to be a god.

no seriously. all jokes and that damn catchy song aside, it was indeed tough to be a god. especially when all these powerful people who can literally control elements and even gods themselves were worshipping you. how can you be a god of all gods?

well, you found out the answer to that question on one of your earlier days when you got a little bit too curious. all in the form of an ichor bleeding out of your palm that you sliced. and perhaps a bit pressured too. after all, being put on a pedestal for everyone to see and worship and grovel to is hard to deal with. especially when you were suddenly thrown into a world that you thought was only fictional!

but there was also something else that was incredibly, unbelievably, astoundingly hard to deal with was your main. the puppet who was abandoned. the short, sarcastic asshole. but never towards you! he would hate to make you even slightest bit sad or angry.

and yet he does it anyways.

going out of his way to stalk down some poor merchant you like buying things from to buy most of their stock so you won’t visit the merchant’s shop again. picking fights with your acolytes when you show the slightest hint of favoritism. hell, he almost killed childe. but of course, the battle lusted ginger loved the thrill and had asked for more future fights.

which all led to here. him getting his well deserved punishment.

poor wanderer thinking he was all too slick. how he was doing everything behind your back so you wouldn’t know anything. how you would stay innocent to his actions while he goes and picks another fight. but you noticed. every single jealousy inflicted actions wanderer had pulled and orchestrated, you knew.

anyone could walk in right now and see what was happening. anyone of your pathetic other acolytes could walk in and see how good you were fucking him. fingers knuckles deep into his cunt, fucking him so good, so deep.

and dear stars and you, wanderer wanted that. he wanted those pathetic worshippers to see how you favored him above them.

wanderer had lost his sense of self and mind long time ago. the moment you wrapped your hand around his throat to manhandle his tiny body to sit on your lap, his mind was gone. a blank sheet of paper.

the puppet doesn’t remember how many orgasms you’ve wrung out of him but he loved it. he wanted it. he wanted more. he wanted your fingers to fuck him open.

in his hazy mind, lust ridden babbles and overstimulated body, he can feel it. how your other hand is keeping his labia spread open. how you apply pressure around his cunt. how your fingers are squelching into him, creating a filthy wet shlick! shlick! noises.

how your hand keeping his labia open goes to tug on his clit. pinching the bud of muscle as he writhes and screams in your lap. squirting over your fingers again like a common brothel whore. and he loved it. by the stars above, he loved it.

because deep in his most depraved part of mind, wanderer knew that he was a whore. your whore. your common brothel cheap whore. your whore who would spread open his legs for you if you asked for it. who would eagerly finger himself so he can provide you with some sort of entertainment. who would take your hand and guide it inside his shorts, not even bothering to wear undergarments, so he can give you easier access.

he doesn’t remember. doesn’t want to remember how many times he came. when you place him on your own throne, legs propped on both sides on the armrest, his wet, slick covered pussy and hardened sensitive clit for the world to see, all he can think about is how good it feels.

when you get down on your knees in front of him, it feels like a sacrilege. shouldn’t it be him who’s on his knees in front of you, trying and hoping to please you?

yet all of his thoughts fly out the window when your fingers stretch his sensitive pussy open again. fingers hooked on the inside slightly, just enough to open up his inner labia and for you to admire his gaping hole. waiting eagerly for you to claim it once again.

“your gra—aanhg!! grace! grace! your grace!! f-feelsh good. feelsh good feelsh goodfeelsgoodgoodgood ghk—! aammh!♥︎“ the jealous puppet whines and babbles on, your title falling over his lips over and over like a mantra as he drools. mind long gone, sanity on the thin line between delirium and lucidity. struggling to comprehend just what is happening.

he feels your mouth on him. tongue lapping at his juice greedily like an insatiable animal while he struggles to keep his legs open. hand twitching, hesitating for a moment before he grips onto your hair tightly — his only anchor. he can feel everything too greatly.

body sensitive, pushed over the boundaries of his virgin state. he could feel how you suck on his sensitive clit, forcing him to squirt into your mouth.

if this was how you would treat him to stop his jealousy induced rampages, maybe wanderer should do it more often.

[wiltedivinity]

ıllıㅤ𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 ; all you saw was red. the blood in his hands, the blood on their bodies, the blood on your own, and the color of the roses you're engulfed in. he wondered at the fact on how far you've brought yourself to get away from him, physically and emotionally, knowing you won't even get to escape a few meters. but you wondered... why?

ㅤ⨯ if any of the following trigger you, please click off: dead dove: do not eat ; non-con ; female!reader ; violence ; (minor character) deaths ; assault ; possessiveness ; yandere themes ; choking ; toxic & unhealthy relationships ; forceful actions ; suggestive themes ; semi-smut ; threats & insults ; angsty? ; childe is an asshole ; not proofread

ㅤ⨯ archive :: taglist :: inbox / appeal information :: 18+ ONLY

Why… Why… Why… You wanted to ask. You wanted to scream out till’ your lungs give you in. Your feet were planted on the ground firmly, refusing to move an inch as you watch the Harbinger pierce his blades into the chest of your mother repeatedly, the water of his weapon slowly being stained with dark blood, blood that’s mixed with different victims that have witnessed his wrath. Including yours. You eye the wound on your arm, the red liquid was still dripping and staining the ground under you. “Why…” it barely even came out as a whisper, more like a simple breath of the wind most people would ignore but not to him. What can you expect from a man that made You, a person he should have cared less for, his main priority in his life.

“Why…?” you sobbed out, bringing your head up from the floor to find him staring right back at you. The Harbinger stands up and carelessly lays your mother figure to the ground before kicking it out of his sight, dissipating his water blades into thin air as blood continues to stain him and maybe you in the process. “‘Why,’ you ask?” Childe hums, making his way towards you, raising his hand to meet your cheek but you slap it away before he could even touch. “Answer me.” you grit your teeth at the man who was smiling sadistically at you.

“Wow, what a feisty girl. Didn’t know you had it in you, love.” he chuckles, his hand coming in contact with your hand, gripping it and dirtying it with mixed blood. You groan and pull your hand away from his grasp and land a hit on his face. You leave him breathless for a second before his pupils dilated, touching the very spot you slapped him on and caressing it. “You’ve changed quite a lot.”

“I could say the same for you, Tartaglia.” you scoot away from him, your fists clenching in case he makes another move on you. He simply just laughs, each breath he takes, his laughter goes lower and lower until he is glaring at you with that very same sinister grin on his face. “As much as everything you do makes me breathless,” he says through his smile, “You speaking my codename isn’t it. Change that up, hun.”

“Nothing you do will make me change what I feel about you.” A hint of resentment was visible in your eyes, your pupils decreasing its usual size. You tried… Tried to seem threatening but to him he adored it. Even if you managed to intimidate him, he wouldn’t really back out, can he? He knows he’s stronger. He’s a survivor of the Abyss, the Eleventh of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers. Even if he was the Eleventh, the title of being a Harbinger alone is impressive and shows a symbol of great power and strength.

“You think so?” Childe sniggers. “I know so.” you reply boldly, attempting to stand back up only to get knocked down by the stomach by Childe’s elbow, “Oh, we’re not done yet. You’re staying here until our business is done.” you glare at his response, what does this man mean by business? If he means torturing you more than you know that seeing your family die before your eyes is more than torture. You attempt to dart away from him if standing wasn’t an option but he stops you by gripping your ankle.

“Get your fucking hand away from me, Tartaglia.” you sneer but it doesn’t stay for longer when he has his hand around your neck and pins you down, using it as a leverage. You can see his eyes darkening from your lips simply saying his title. “Like I said… You’re staying here until our business is done, [Y/N].” he emphasized with a growl at the end of the sentence as he quickly squeezed your throat. You felt the wetness in the corners of your eyes drip as he pushed you further into the ground. Eyes widening instantly when you realize he’s blocking your airway by choking you, his grip on your neck was unbearably tight and if he continued to stay like this you would–

You can’t breathe, you’re letting out panic and quick pants from your mouth as you try to get his grasp from your throat by pulling his wrist away but he’s stronger… You know that. So why not give up? You don’t want to. You can’t either. You try to kick him off with your legs punching his gut, Childe only groaned and laughed. “Hah,” he sighs, but that quickly turns into loud laughter.

“Haha!” he jests, pushing you on the floor as your consciousness slowly slips away from you. “Go on! Keep trying, it makes the job easier. Just look at you, turning blue from my hand around your throat.” he muses, a grin forming on his face sinisterly. You want to argue, but not in this situation. You could barely breathe and voicing out your thoughts will worsen. But in the end, you’d faint from the loss of breath and he would win in the end. He can easily overpower you anytime he wants. That’s a perk of being a Harbinger trained under an unknown woman from the Abyss.

“Sleep well. I’ll be waiting.” he coos lowly, your eyelids drooping lower as you let out your last breath before you faint. Once you do, he slowly pulls his grasp around your throat and admires the handprint on it. A nice dull, desaturated red. Almost the color of the blood of his opponents. Childe brings your unconscious body into his embrace and carefully stands up, looking back to see the limp figures of your family members laying on the floor, all bloodied and dismembered from his hold. If he could be honest, it was their fault, they disapproved of him ever since he was a member of the Fatui and the idea of their precious daughter to get associated with him was something they’d never want. You were okay in keeping contact with him and didn’t think much of his status. But that didn’t go through with your family. They even go as far as to separate the two of you and cut all ties with his family in order to keep you safe and away from him.

Oh what a bad decision they made.

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Your eyes groggily open, and your body twitches beneath the mattress you were sleeping on. Your hand tries to touch your brow, but something prevents it. You examined your wrists and discovered that it was connected to the headboard of the bed, leaving you vulnerable and unable to move. You struggle under the restraints, desperate to be freed but a door has already been opened before you could move any further. "Ah, you're awake," says a familiar voice from the other side of the room, as footsteps approach your bed.

“I hope you don’t mind the chains. I didn’t want you escaping so this was a better alternative!” A glee came from Childe, that broad and boyish smile of his not wavering one bit when he sees your harsh glare. “Let me go,” you growl, shuffling on the bed aggressively but it only worsens the pain on your wrists.

“Oh come on, don’t get mad at me now. Be thankful you got chained in my bedroom instead of something much brutal.” He grabs your chin to stop you from moving too much, his grip is tight, one wrong breath and he’ll tighten it more so you sit still.

All of the sudden, his grin widens, but not in a good way. “Or maybe you’d like what I originally planned more.” The dark glint on his eyes becomes evident, “But let’s get you fed first. It’s been hours since you’ve passed out and you must be starving after that long!” And it switches up all too suddenly. It’s as if the man forgot that he kidnapped you and did monstrous things to your family.

He then places the tray on a desk near the bed. Childe eyes the handcuffs on your hand and shrugs, “You’ll get used to this.” He assures you, taking the hot, steaming bowl of soup and placing it near your face, the spoon already scooping the broth and placing it in front of your lips.

“Come on. Say ‘ahh’” the ginger-head instructs, blowing air on the spoonful of stew so you’re able to consume it. You wanted to protest but your stomach grumbles before you can do so, making the harbinger chortle. “Might as well open your mouth. It’ll make things easier for you… And your stomach.” He points out.

You purse your lips, shaking your head. This causes Childe to frown heavily, “You really are stubborn, aren’t you?” His jaw clenches, “You’re lucky I’m a patient man. Now, eat.” He shakes his hand, a little too aggressively but not enough to spill the bouillon. “No,” You furrow your brows, turning your head away from the spoon. “You heard me the first time.” You argued back, your fists already clenched. You would’ve thrown a punch on him if you could if it weren’t for the handcuffs.

“You really don’t know who you’re messing with, [Y/N].” The way he spoke your name was strong, almost intimidating. “I can shut the fucking mouth of yours if I wanted to. Hell, I’ll do that right now.” Childe smiles grimly, the sinister gleam on his eyes shine, the hand that was holding the spoonful of soup placed inside of his mouth, his free hand clutching onto your shirt and pulling you raspingly into his lips, forcing you to drink in the hot liquid.

You feel his tongue penetrate through your lips, forcing them open. Your chin was trapped between his fingers and he uses this to tilt your head backwards so you can drink the broth that he pours. You feel yourself coughing into Childe’s lips but he doesn’t budge one bit, only pushing you down the mattress with his arm behind your neck. Your attempts in pushing away were fruitless, so your only choice was biting his lip until it bled.

Fortunately that worked, though he didn’t pull away instantly. He let his tongue explore your mouth before doing so, it seems like he was enjoying how the soup tastes mixed with his blood. Childe lets out a few breaths before looking down at you, the corners of his mouth still stained with a bit of red liquid and dried up broth. “Don’t you think I’m done with you. You barely finished a portion of the soup.” He chuckles, his hand making its way to the bowl to scoop more fluid into his mouth until your foot kicks his thigh, making him freeze and look towards you.

“I-I’ll eat… Just not from your mouth.” You try to reason with him but he continues to drink up the liquid, his cheeks puffing a bit from the soup taking up the space inside of his mouth. You just know that he wasn’t going to do it your way by the way he’s leaning down on you and pressing his lips against yours. Pouring in whatever he has in your mouth yet again. You furrow your brows as tears flow down your cheeks, the taste is bitter. It leaves a bad taste on your tongue and a fog in your mind.

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You pant heavily, your chest was visibly rising from up and down as you stare up at Childe without breaking eye contact. The man didn’t show one bit of remorse for what he’s done to you. That shit-eating grin that was spread across his face shows it. He shuffles and rises up from the bed, taking the half-eaten bowl of soup before walking away. The moment he’s at the door, he turns his head to look back at you, eyes watching you from head-to-toe before nodding and walking away, seemingly amused.

You shake on Childe’s bed, throwing your head back as you sob. What have you fucking gotten into? Your eyes are squinted tight, your wrists are still painfully wounded from how forceful Childe was when handling your body not too long ago when you’re trying to set them free from the chains. To set yourself from things getting worse. You couldn’t stop wiggling your body on the mattress in an attempt to loosen yourself from the handcuffs.

This could’ve ended differently… Maybe if you knew and saw the red flags in his letter or the way he acted when he was around you, you would’ve escaped. But you should doubt that. The man’s a Harbinger, a child who fell into the Abyss, a striving and unmatched warrior and most importantly, a manipulative companion who always gets what he wants. And you being a long-time friend only worsens it since the both of you knew each other more deeply than anyone else. He knew your weaknesses, your likes, dislikes and everything.

And you don’t know any of his weaknesses. It was hard to guess. You only knew a few and it was you. But being his weakness also means being his strength, you know how you get him. You were his source of motivation. If you weren’t then he wouldn’t be torturing people to tell him about your whereabouts ever since your family cut ties with him.

“Don’t sleep on me now~ We still have yet to clean you up!” Childe chimes in the room once again, a towel in his hand as he approaches and kneels on the floor. His arms are on the mattress of the bed, his head firmly placed in between them as he stares at you. “I haven’t bathed you properly and seeing the stains on your shirt, you wouldn’t be comfortable sleeping in something dirty, right?” He attempts to sway you. “I may be a bad guy, but I’m no monster.” You wanted to laugh. What the actual fuck does he mean by that?

You decide not to protest. You were too tired to do so and your lips could barely sound out a breath. “Good girl.. You’ve finally learned your lesson!” Childe grins at the wig hut of your tired face, the blush on your cheeks evident from the messy and hard kisses he’s been giving you. He trails his finger on them, slowly moving them downwards until they reach your neck, carefully grasping it, causing you to choke on your deep breaths.

“Good girls deserve rewards, correct?” Childe tilts his head with that stupid grin on his face. He must be proud at how much of a mess he’s made out of you. How much control he has over you. He knows you know it, he’s laughing to himself right now. “So let me reward you..” His smile drops, as well as his voice.

He didn’t waste a millisecond to bring his right arm under your knees and his left arm beneath your back. Shaking you a bit so that you wouldn’t sleep when he bathes you. “Stay awake for me, pretty. Don’t want you drowning.” He snickers with a teasing grin on his face. He takes quick but careful steps to the open door that leads to the bathroom. He sat you down in the bathtub and prompted you to take your clothes off. You can feel the embarrassment bubble up inside of you as well as your jaw tightening. “Come on, now. Don’t get too shy~ You’re gonna get used to this soon enough.” he traces the shape of your cheek before he lets his finger move lower to your neck to unbutton one button of your collar.

“You’re a big girl now, right?” He murmurs softly, grabbing your hand and placing it on your shirt, silently commanding you to undress. “But I don’t mind if I could do it instead. I’d be more than happy to see you trust in me in this.” Childe was trying his best to go easy on you. He knew he wouldn’t go anywhere if he continued to torture you.

He’ll make sure he’s all you can rely on. The only person you can trust in this dim cabin in the middle of nowhere.

“No.. I can do it.” You push his hand away as you slowly unbutton your shirt, each time you show a bit of your skin with each button, his gaze intensifies. He couldn’t help but put his hands on the sides of your stomach, his thumb brushing the soft and bare skin. He leans in and uses his teeth to drag the collar of your shirt to the side to reveal more of your figure. “So pretty..” he praises, licking a stripe of your shoulder. You sat there, frozen and clutching onto his shirt, attempting to push him away.

He notices this and controls his urges. He’s not gonna do anything, yet. “Undress the rest of your clothing for me.” He pulls away and stands up to discard his gloves. You do as he says and unzip your jeans, kicking them off. You were only left with your undergarments and the way he eats up every bare skin of your body makes you feel unsafe to what he’s gonna do next.

Childe really has a hard time breathing at the sight of you. God he’d just take you there right now but he slaps himself to the thought of it. “Not yet..” He scolds himself internally. He’ll do it once the time is right. For now, he needs you cleaned up. “Take those off too.” You swore you heard a low grunt at the end of his sentence but you didn’t dare question it. You unclip your bra from behind, struggling a bit from taking it off before finally letting it fall off your shoulders and onto your lap. 

Childe stares at you, admiring every curve and contour but he snaps out of it once your hands lowered to take off your underwear too. His eyes were stuck on your lap and at the sight of your cunt. He lets out a heavy huff he didn’t know he was holding for so long and grabs your undergarments, placing them in the sink. A moment later, he turned on the water faucet and washed your naked body with soap. Occasionally brushing the scars (that he made) with his thumb to soothe you (as well as admiring it as if it’s a work of art.)

It didn’t take too long to finish bathing you. It’s probably the first time you’ve behaved around him but that doesn’t mean you’ll tolerate him for long. Childe gently grabs your chin and tilts it upwards for your eyes to face him. You thought he’d do something he wasn’t supposed to but he just simply caressed the bruise on your cheek. You could only sigh and hope whatever he wanted to do just finishes.

“Let’s get you settled..” Childe gets up from his kneeling position and grabs a white towel. He turns his head and gestures to you to get out of the tub. You did what he commanded and stood up from the water and stepped out of it. You cringe at the cold breeze meeting your skin as the water droplets sticking on your drop to the ground.

You notice the ginger-haired man’s hesitance when seeing your bare body in all of its glory. The water made your skin glisten a bit, all he wanted to do now was mouth your neck, your collarbone, literally anywhere. He wasn’t being picky at this point. He just wanted his hands all over your body.

He couldn’t contain himself much longer and dropped the towel as he desperately strides towards you to wrap his arms around your waist and pull your wet body on his clothed one. His hands obsessively ravaging your hips and your back, “Fuck… So pretty for me, yeah?” He grunts at the feeling of being so close to you, chest-to-chest, trapped in his arms with no escape and no choice but to deal with his horrid affection. “All for me…” His fingers pat your bare hip until it reaches your ass, squeezing it lightly. You froze and clutch onto his shirt, “Stop… Please..” You plead, but he growls. “Fine..” he responds but doesn’t let you distance yourself from him.

Childe grabbed the towel that fell on the floor, he turns to you again and dry your body up, periodically brushing your intimate parts with his lips, saying it was to quicken the process. He wasn’t even trying to make a better excuse.

With one last stroke of the towel around your breasts, he pulls away and admires his work. “I’ll get you some clothes. Come with me.” he places the towel on a towel rail and leads you to– most likely– his room.

He sits you down on the edge of the bed as he explores through a closet of clothes. Maybe… Just maybe you could knock him out. He was really distracted at the moment but you don’t have anything to attack him with. Even if you did, you’d be dead. He’s not that weak nor does he have slow instincts to sense what’s wrong.

“Hey..” Childe snaps his fingers in front of your face, snapping you out of your trance. Your eyes widen and blink a few times before looking up at him, confused. Childe stares at you for a moment before letting out a chuckle and sighing, amused at your act. “Done daydreaming, sweetheart?” he teases before handing you some folded group of clothes. “You’ll catch a cold if you stay like that for too long. But I don’t mind such a sight either way… I’ll think of other ways to heat you up if you let me.” He smirks and you internally cringe at his remark in trying to bed you.

“I’ll be fine. Thank you, Childe.” You grin awkwardly at him and attempt to grab the clothes from his hands but he refuses to give you it. “[Y/N].” He spoke your name. He sounded mad, as if you did or said something wrong and offending. “Yes, Chil–”

“Don’t call me that.” He cuts you off with a stern tone. The way his eyes narrow at how your lips voiced out his name— his codename to be specific. A name that’s normally used by either enemies or acquaintances that he's barely close with. “It’s Ajax.. Just call me that, [Y/N]. It’s just two syllables and four letters.”

“...”

Childe notices your silence and sighs, feeling frustrated. “Just this once at least.. Please?” he begs and you swore he looked pathetic like that. You can’t believe this is the exact same man who just committed manslaughter yesterday and got rid of your whole family. “...Ajax.” You mussitate,  a hint of annoyance within your tone from his persistence.

You were unable to catch the self-satisfied smile he had on his lips. Childe lets out a content hum as he places the pile of clothes on your hands and pushes you to sit on the edge of the bed. “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” He expresses his mirth fatuously, “Get dressed. I’ll take a bath. Behave for me, alright? Don’t go out without my permission.” He spoke softly, holding your shoulder, his grip was threatening but soon enough softened, taking it out of your body. He stared at you for a moment, his gaze on you didn’t waver as he studied every detail on you.

With a turn of his heel, he left and entered the bathroom, closing it and locking it as water started running inside.

You sat on the bed's edge. Feeling overwhelmed, the sound of his voice, the way his touch sends shocking shocks through your body. You were overthinking what had just happened and didn't see how your body began to shake from the cold. You wore the long-sleeved sweater and pajamas gently, shaking the thoughts out of your head. It strangely fits... Did he get your size while you were sleeping? But it didn't appear brand new if he did manage to get your size and buy clothing for it.

You stood up and walked onto the exit door of the bedroom you were in, looking towards the door where Childe was bathing. When you're close enough, you palm the knob and turn it slowly so as not to create too much noise.

The corners of your lips raise a bit when you successfully open the door but it soon drops when you hear another door creak behind you. “What do you think you’re doing?” an austere voice rumbles from a few feet. Slowly turning your head, you’re met with the sight of Childe’s bare chest that was dripping with hot water.

You were so distracted by his sudden closeness that you didn’t notice his hand closing the door while leaning in front of you so it couldn’t be opened. “Be a dear and get out of the way.” his tone wasn’t as gentle as before. You warned yourself not to get him mad or else you’ll face something you’ll regret. You let out a sigh as you take a step to the side and awkwardly walk towards the bed to sit there again. Childe seems to calm down from the way his shoulders slump as he locks the door. He turns to look at you before making his way over to the bed, “Look at me.” he commands, gripping your chin harshly.

Once making eye contact with you, he stayed silent. You knew what he was saying from how his eyes were narrowing while he let out uneven, heavy breaths.

It didn’t take long for him to pull away in pure silence so he could dress up. Once finished, he crawls over to you and forces you to lay down on the mattress with his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you locked within his embrace. You feel his nose brush up against your nape, breathing in and familiarizing your addicting scent. “You smell divine..” The man murmurs from behind, his hand palming your stomach in a loving way. He feels the way you tense up from his touches and he hums, grinning from the feeling. “Relax… I won’t do anything yet.”

His ‘reassuring’ words only served to stiffen you up. Childe sighs before his grip tightens around you and wraps a leg around your pair. He decided to just stay silent, assuming you’ll get used to his presence around you soon enough. It’s not like you have a choice either way.

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“Dear…” Childe murmurs longingly as he turns his body to face yours. He’s been tossing and turning all night during his sleep and he didn’t notice that until now. He opens his eyes tiredly with a sheepish smile as his arms wrap around the soft figure in front of him, “I’m so sorry about that… Did I wake you?” he asks, his tone tinged with a bit of guilt.

No response.

Childe purses his lips as he shakes his head and sits up, gripping what seems to be your shoulder and forcing you to look at him.

But it wasn’t you. It was just a pillow.

Upon his realization, he quickly got up and searched around the house for you. It’s not like you’ve gotten far, right? Not to the point you’re outside the cabin he’s trapping you in. All the doors were locked, windows closed shut so that your weak body couldn’t open it.

That is, until he noticed the front door lock on the floor. He wouldn't have seen your escape if it weren't for the gleaming metal flashing in the dark. As he slammed the front door wide, he noticed footsteps, footprints pointing towards the woodland that encircled the lodge. He grits his teeth before donning the dark, heavy coat that had been hanging nearby before stepping out to get you and take you back inside.

Even though everything was dark, he could see where he was going. Where you were going. It won't be long before he catches up with you. He realizes you didn't go very far. You're too lost in this forest and you'll end up back where you started(. There’s a reason why he set up this specific forest when trapping you). Do you really think you can escape him that easily? He chuckles to himself. It’s amusing. It’s good to have some determination, some hope at least, but it’s also good to be realistic. 

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You ran and ran as fast as you could, away from the cabin in the woods, away from the creature within it. Your feet hurt severely. You’ve underestimated how harsh the winter of Snezhnaya is, how the breeze alone causes your whole body to turn numb from the cold. What’s worse was that you couldn’t stop moving no matter what. Even a single second counts, driving you closer to your escape.

You struggle to breathe after all that movement, causing you to stumble against a thick tree root. You pant, taking heavy breaths to regain your composure but you can’t really be calm in a situation like this, can you?

You stood up, dusting the snow off your clothes as you continued forward, trembling a bit from feeling the sudden warmth rising up your body. Fuck… This is gonna be the death of you..

You hear footsteps tapping behind you, approaching you slowly and surely. A howl can be heard from behind that was soon followed by a growl. You slowly turned your head in search of the source of the sound and quickly regretted it. The sight of the darkish Rifthounds glaring at you sent a shiver on your spine. They were quite far but it didn’t take awhile for them to start noticing your presence and preparing to teleport or sprint at you.

You saw the Rockfound Rifthound instantly turning its body, disappearing for a second before appearing right in front of you, about to swing its tail to attack you. You shriek out loud, your legs instinctively move to the opposite direction only for you to instantly get knocked forward when feeling the tail make contact with your back. Groaning, you attempt to get back up, ignoring the sights of the Whelps drawing nearer towards you.

You clenched your fist before grabbing a big enough rock and throwing it at the Rifthound that just attacked you to catch it off guard. Seeing it roar in pain and the Whelps looking towards their leader, you took this chance to escape from the creature's grasp.

Never have you felt this much adrenaline rushing through your vines. You felt so dead yet so alive right now…

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a static of Electro rotating over to you. The projectile makes an impact on your side, causing you to get pushed and injured in the process. You grunt gutturally, clutching your hip and left arm, hissing as the sting worsens the more contact it has with your hand and other solid things.

You look over to your side, spotting a Thundercraven Rifthound nearing you along with its accompaniment of Whelps. Your hands swiftly touch the ground swiftly, moving it in hope to find another rock but to no avail.

You were trying to think of a way to escape this but there was no way out. You were surrounded by the mobs, and they looked like they wouldn’t let you off the hook easily. You spot a current of Electro and what seems to be aiming at you. You pulled your arms to your face, blocking whatever was about to touch you.

You hiss at the feeling of the electrifying scratch on the small reveal of your skin and twitch when hearing the wail of the Rifthounds around you. Another guttural sound erupts not so far from where you sit, causing you to press your face deeper into your arms.

“Get up.” Someone spoke, their tone serious and authoritative.

It took about a few seconds to do exactly that. You spot that the Rifthounds were gone, only leaving parts of their body left behind. You knew you weren’t strong but it did surprise you that every single one of them was taken care of. “T-Thank you, mister–?”

“I said– Get Up.” His voice booms through you, causing your ear to ring a bit. You perk your head up with your eyes squinted, “Apologies… I–” A breath was taken away from your lungs upon feeling the man’s hand wrapped around your neck, dragging you from the ground up to the sky. The hand squeezes your throat tightly, making you swing your legs on instinct to kick whoever was holding you. “All under my mercy now, huh? What happened to your acts of disobedience? Did it all get thrown out the window once I teach you your lesson?” The man scoffs, harshly dropping you on the snowy ground and kicking you on your stomach, making you turn and tumble down into a group of bushes.

You hiss, the feeling of small pricks picking into your skin, causing small but nasty scars that leave you groaning. You couldn’t see, some even scratched near your eyes and for you not to get blinded by them, you squint your eyelids shut.

“Please– I’m sorry! Let me out!” You sob, trembling in fear, in the stinging pain of the pricks. “Oh, are you now?” The man walks towards the bush, tapping his foot as he watches you struggling. ”Do you mean it?” He plants his foot on top of the bush, slowly but surely deepening its form to strangle you more.

“Yes– I do! Agh–”

“Beg for your life if you mean it.” He deepens it once more. Even if you were under this confined space of a bush, you can spot the sadistic grin plastered on his face, clearly enjoying every second of your suffering. “P-please… I plead.. For mercy. Please.. I can’t br–eathe-hah!” You breathe heavily in between your words, the form of the bush only trapping you little by little. “Do you promise… Pinkie promise to not escape out of my grasp? To obey my every command, dearest?” You feel your hand being taken out of the bush and into the cold air outside. You whine, feeling the small pricks touch your skin in the process.

A pinkie awaits to intertwine with yours, “I’m waiting.” He reminds by delving his foot deeper, causing you to cry out in agony and wrapping your pinkie around his, “I promise! Please!”

“That’s my girl.” He jests in amusement as he pulls away, cracking his knuckles and stretching his body to dive in and carefully but surely pull you out of the spiky bush. He cringes a bit once spotting the small spikes in your skin. He sighed and decided to take care of them later since keeping you warm was his priority right now. Taking his jacket off and wrapping it around you, he made sure the pricks didn’t bother you on the way back to the cabin. He takes a look at the rose bush one last time before picking one of it up and placing it on the chest of his jacket.

He caresses the petals before his fingers meet your chin to tilt them up, “C’mon.. Rest. You’re gonna need it.” He hushes you quietly before forcefully closing your eyes.and pecking your forehead. You couldn’t soften up in his presence even if you wanted to but the way your body just betrays you, forcing you to go limp to gain rest it needs, it gave you no choice to stay awake even if you wanted to.

.

.

.

“You’re awake, I see..” A voice spoke from above. You twitch, turning your head to the source and furrowing your brows upon spotting the oh-so familiar, scarred and freckled face that was right in front of you. You attempt to push him away by nudging your knee against his abdomen but that was countered from a sharp pain coming from both your legs. “..Ahah–!” You let out a roar of discomfort. Chidle grins and jests upon seeing your face contort in displeasure, “You should think twice before doing that. I still haven’t fully catered your body yet.”

He pulls your leg lightly which is enough for your body to get dragged onto his lap. “Don’t move.” He commands, emphasizing it with a squeeze of your thigh.

You internally whimper when you feel him slowly but surely take the thorns out of your skin. “How cute.” he laughs softly, patting a wet, warm towel on the small open wound. “You’re doing great. Just as you should. Continue behaving for me, will you? It’s not like you’re going anywhere with these.” He plays around with the chains around your ankle that was connected to a wall. “It fits you well, don’t you think?” Childe murmurs lovingly, as if he’s admiring the work he’s done on you… Trapped, under his mercy, with no escape.

After finishing up the wounds on your left leg, he leans in close to your face, his hand cupping your waist to bring you closer to him, close enough to place a kiss on your forehead. “There we go… Such a behaved little thing.” Childe jests before standing up and dusting his pants. “Hopefully this will be enough for you. Sleep well, alright?” He pats and ruffles your hair, his hand sliding down to your cheek and caressing it. “Don’t try escaping me. Because next time, you won’t even get to be sleeping under this damnation.”

You tried to bite his palm because it was so close to your mouth, but he took his hand away and quickly brought it back to hit you, turning your head the other way as your cheek erupted in pain. His hand catches your chin and angles it violently in his direction as you hiss. He's grinning viciously, his eyes twitching with annoyance at your attempt to turn the tables on him again, “Still being a bitch? Thought you learnt your lesson… Maybe I should’ve left you to rot.” He snarled, gripping your chin tighter.

“Waste of fucking breath.” He pushes you against the wall and lets go of you, standing with a displeased expression and turning to take his leave as you groan in pain. You clenched your hands into a fist as you watched him climb up the stairs and reach for the door. Childe looks back, glancing upon you one more time before smiling in content to himself and shutting it, following with the sound of a key locking in.

You were now by yourself. But then again it was much better than having to be breathing the same air as the man who just hit you.

You side meets the dirty mattress under you as you hug your knees, seeing as he didn’t give you a blanket to keep yourself warm. You were unable to muffle down your silent sobs, clutching onto your own cheek as it continued to sting. You question… You wonder, why?

…Just why?

°

Ouch… Huh?

You groggily opened your eyes, the feeling of something biting your neck. A wet sensation was followed after and you instantaneously snapped out of your tired trance to grab whatever was in front of you. “Ah– Geez… Relax, will you? This mattress is dirty enough.. Wouldn’t want blood to stain it too..” Childe groaned, his hand groping your hip harshly to make you pause. He pulls his face away from your neck, wiping the saliva dripping from his mouth. “H-hey! Have you not had enough already?!” You screeched and tried to get him off of you but were unable to. “Shut it.” he scoffs, shutting your mouth by forcing his lips onto you.

He slips his hand underneath your shirt, touching every part he wishes. “You feel so divine.. I wonder how you’d feel around me, yeah?” He grins against your lips. His tongue intrudes into your wet cavern, drinking in your moans and muffled noises. The wet sounds of his mouth against yours, showing how desperate he is for your taste.

You whine, feeling Childe’s hand exiting your shirt to enter your shorts instead, rubbing the pad of his thumb against your clothed cunt. He sighs, pulling away from the kiss, admiring the string of saliva connecting your lips. Licking his lips, he brings his face close to you until you are nose-to-nose. 

“Wanna try that out with me, my dear?”

© wiltedivinity 2024. reposting, plagiarizing, translating, claiming authorship or any form of unauthorized use is strictly prohibited. legal action may be taken against violators.

[blitzyn]

rookie mistake

dottore x m!reader

Request: Requests are open right? I hope so 🤞 Would I be able to ask for a sub!(male/amab)reader X dom!dottore? With some blackmail and coercion, preferably leaning towards dubious consent but I’m am a-ok with non-con elements, with a fatui/subordinate reader? If you could add in a small scene of him continuing while talking with someone outside the door that’s be awesome 😎 - Anonymous

Synopsis: You accidentally invade Dottore's office in search of intel.

a/n -> yall i know that i said i was on the fence about writing for genshin, but it was dottore and i love him plus i really liked this idea despite it having collected dust in my inbox for decades. whoever requested this: i love your mind and im so sorry it took me forever to decide to write this!! but just a reminder to whoever sees this, i will not be writing for fontaine unless stated otherwise!!

wc -> 3.6k

cw -> non-con, blackmail, coercion, blowjob, deepthroat, literally getting caught, spit as lube, anal fingering, anal sex, standing doggy position, fatuus/infiltrator reader, guys he calls you a rat because you're a spy, not beta read

Your job was straightforward. But it was also one of the most grueling missions you've ever been assigned to.

With your status as an elite spy, you were tasked with infiltrating the Fatui as one of their ranks to gather information regarding the locations and purposes of specific forts to prevent potential attacks and keep the organization from acquiring knowledge valuable to their cause.

There was absolutely no room for error, lest you get caught and pay for that mistake with your life.

Fortunately enough, the mask everyone was required to wear (with the exception of the Harbingers) concealed your identity, allowing you to execute your orders with relative ease. Of course, it wasn't completely simple. You had to fight your way up the ranks in order to even get a hint of the plan from your superiors, which took years to even get recognized for your efforts.

Several times have you had to go against your moral compass. Several times, you doubted your abilities and questioned if you were even making a dent in the Fatui's plans. Although, when you heard a faint argument due to a lack of resources, you knew you were on the right track.

But one day, you noticed that an agent's office door was left unlocked. There was no one in the hallways, and not a soul knew that you had stolen an important document that recorded data for some valuable supply that you didn't care enough to read about.

Making sure you tucked the paper deep inside your coat pocket, you strained your ears to ensure you were alone before taking the risk and entering the isolated office. It looked like your standard room. Boring, silent, and strangely barren of many decorations. You took a moment to inspect the area before deciding to take a step forward when your blood suddenly ran cold.

"I don't use this office very often," a voice said from behind you. You just about jumped out of your skin, swiveling your head to the person behind you. It took you a moment to put a face to the name you'd heard so many times before, but when you did, you quickly regretted your decision to search for any additional information. "But even so, don't you think it's rude to invade someone's personal space?"

You froze, unable to find the right words. Nothing could explain why you were currently snooping around in an office that wasn't yours—much, much less when it belonged to the Second of the Eleven Harbingers.

You inwardly cursed your naive eagerness to do more than you were asked. Your years of experience as a spy should've kept you from making such a rookie mistake, and now all your work was going down the drain.

The two of you stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, fighting the urge to fidget at the overwhelming feeling of his gaze on you, analyzing your appearance. He broke the silence with a hum, neither intrigued nor entirely disappointed.

"I have heard others spread rumors of a mole within our ranks but thought nothing more of their words as an excuse for their inability to secure our resources," Dottore mused, raising a hand to his chin. "I assume that the mole is you?"

You couldn't bring yourself to reply. Your throat was dry, and your stomach twisted into knots. Not that he cared.

"I must applaud your efforts," he said, a slight smirk decorating his pale face. "Not many people evade our eyes so easily, and for as long as you have."

"But, a word of advice—" He reached into his pocket, pulling out a familiar device. He presented it to you, watching in amusement when you suddenly patted yourself down before looking back up towards him. It was the device you used to contact your organization. "—Make sure you clean up after yourself. It's impolite to leave your items lying around."

You don't remember dropping it or forgetting it somewhere. But that didn't matter anymore. You were stuck in the present with no way of getting out of this situation.

He flipped the device over, dully inspecting it as he continued talking. "After going through your data log, it wasn't hard figuring out what you were going for next. While this normally wouldn't spark any interest in me, this resource just so happens to be vital in my current experiment, and I can't have you tampering with my results."

He walked forward, stopping just a few feet in front of you. He was close enough for you to inhale his scent of sterile rubbing alcohol and metal. It made your nose burn as you watched him intently, tensing and fighting the urge to back away out of fear of angering him somehow. The document in your pocket felt unusually heavy.

"Although, I didn't expect such a seasoned spy like yourself to make such an amateur move," he hummed, ignoring your need for personal space to pull your mask off. And you were helpless against it all. "[Name] [L.Name], is it? Why don't you read the paper you have right now?"

That's when you knew you fucked up big time.

With a shaky hand, you reached into your coat pocket to pull out the report, unfolding it only to realize that it wasn't a report at all. It was a blank piece of paper. But you could've sworn there was writing on it when you grabbed it earlier!

He could see the confusion on your face clear as day as a laugh left his lips, tapping a rolled-up piece of parchment on the tip of your nose to regain your attention. "I believe this is what you're after." With a flick of his wrist, he unfurled the paper that contained everything you needed.

"What—" you gasped, briefly staring at your paper before looking back up.

"It's a shame you didn't think to check the ink before you took it," he said, faux disappointment laced in his voice before it reverted back to its normal tone just as fast. "The ink 'disappears' when subjected to anything higher than room temperature. When you put it in your pocket, your body heat, coupled with the insulation from your coat, affected the writing and turned it invisible."

Fuck.

He planned this out.

You swallowed nervously, taking a deep inhale to steel your nerves, even when it didn't do much to help you. "How... how long have you known?" you couldn't help but ask.

"Not long, really," Dottore casually replied, as if he didn't hold your entire life in the palm of his hand. "I caught you just in time."

"Now," he said with a voice that demanded your attention. Not that he needed to try, anyway. His very presence was almost impossible to ignore. "I'm willing to offer you two options. One, I hand this device over to one of my lovely agents and have them torture you for answers then promptly dispose of you. Or, two—" He waved the communicator in the air, taunting you. "—I have you make it up to me."

It was obvious which one you'd be more tempted to accept, but you knew that accepting an offer such as this from Dottore, of all people, was not a good idea. He knows he has you right where he wants you.

"The second one. I... I'll make it up to you." The words tasted like acid as you forced them out, watching a pleased smirk rise on his face.

"Good," he muttered mostly to himself. Leisurely, he turned around and walked towards the door, shutting it before refocusing back on you.

"Get on your knees," he ordered, placing his hands behind his back as he waited for you to move. He observed silently as you obeyed, staring at the floor in shame. "Crawl to me."

He sighed impatiently upon seeing the conflicted and perplexed expression on your face. "You want to be a rat so badly, don't you? So get down and crawl to me like one."

You were given no choice but to comply despite the absurdity of his request. Hanging your head, you inched forward as the cold, wooden floors painfully dug into your knees, stopping once the sight of his boots came into view. You held back a flinch when you heard the fabric of his clothes rustle as he leaned down to lift your head up by your hair, forcing you to your knees.

Instantly, your eyes zeroed in on the prominent bulge in Dottore's pants, making you painfully aware of what he wanted you to do next. With a suspiciously gentle tug, he brought you slightly closer to him. You could tell he was getting impatient.

"Well?" He questioned, a frown gracing his features. "You don't need instructions. Go on."

You glanced up at him with blatant disgust in your eyes before raising your hands to undo his pants and reveal his semi-hard cock. You suppressed a grimace as you held it in your hand, steeling your nerves just enough to be able to lick a stripe down the side. Flattening your tongue, you moved back up to take the tip in your mouth, letting your saliva slip past the corners of your lips to lubricate the rest of his dick.

You half-assed it all, not bothering to take it all the way down or, at the very least, use your tongue. However, Dottore caught on quick enough with an annoyed sigh. You supposed you shouldn't have been surprised when he tangled his fingers into your hair and shoved you down, but you were caught off guard either way.

You were embarrassed to hear a loud gag sound from you, choking and sputtering on his cock whenever the tip of it slid down your throat. You dug your nails into his thighs when he suddenly shifted and pressed the sole of his boot onto your dick, letting out a muffled cry that only served to please him. He made no move to rub it against you, simply keeping it firmly on your crotch—to keep you in line, you assumed.

You squirmed, internally cringing at the feeling of your drool seeping out the corners of your lips. Fluttering your eyes shut, you tried to focus on your breathing. In and out, in and out, in and—

"Don't look away," he said, refusing to give you a moment of respite, shoving his cock all the way inside your mouth, harshly tugging on your hair at the same time. He fucked your face, ignoring your sounds of protest as he battered your throat. He laughed at your struggle, entertained with the way your tears gathered at your lash line.

"Awh, is this too much for you?" He taunted, shifting his hand to the back of your head to push you down to the base. He sighed contentedly at the feeling of your throat tightening and spasming around him, gently rocking his hips. "You should've thought that through before you accepted the job."

With a painful tug, he pulled you off of his cock. A trail of saliva connected you to him, which you quickly broke when you turned your head to cough into your elbow. He ordered you to get up, unwilling to wait a second before he hauled you up by your arm impatiently. He effortlessly moved your body, pressing your cheek against the wooden door as he pushed on your back, forcing it to arch.

Deeming your position acceptable, he tucked his fingers underneath the waistband of your pants to yank them down to your knees. Your breath hitched at the sudden change in temperature, refusing to lean back and seek any warmth from Dottore.

With one hand on your hip, the other strayed toward your ass, spreading it to inspect your hole. It took effort to keep yourself from fidgeting under his gaze, and you opened your mouth in a daring attempt to get him to hurry up when he suddenly spat on your hole, shoving two fingers inside soon after.

You let out a grunt, clawing at the door he had you lean against. It was an uncomfortably foreign sensation but you were in no position to struggle. A burning sensation emanated from your hole as his fingers forced their way inside, wasting no time to move in a scissoring motion. They brushed against a spot that sent sparks up your spine every so often, taunting you wordlessly.

"You're enjoying this," Dottore said, not as a question or comment, but as a statement. And the worst thing was, he was right. No matter how much your mind made you hate it, your body told a different tale.

You let out a displeased sigh, pressing your forehead against the cold door, not daring to make your words known. Not that he minded. He enjoyed forcing your reactions out of you just as much as having them given to him without a fight.

He made it known with a jab to your prostate, sending a shock up and down your spine so suddenly it nearly made your knees buckle. That was all he gave you before abruptly pulling away, leaving you uncomfortably empty until the quiet ptuh! sound of him spitting on his cock filled your ears.

Fuck. This was actually happening. And you had no way out.

In a last ditch effort to maintain your dignity, you tried to push yourself off of the door but was quickly pressed—borderline slammed—back down with a hand to the back of your neck.

"I don't think you'll enjoy the alternative," he said, the undertones of irritation and impatience evident in his voice. He squeezed the sides of your neck hard enough to ensure your compliance, nearly scowling when you shifted in place. "So be still and behave like a good little thing."

Without missing a beat, he lined the tip of his cock up against your slick asshole and pushed his way inside, forcing a strained cry from your throat. He made sure it hurt, purposefully moving slowly to make you feel every inch and vein.

You whimpered, trying to breathe and calm yourself down. The stretch fucking hurt and you instinctively shifted your hips forward in a futile attempt to ease the pain when Dottore held your hips to yank you back, shoving the last few inches inside you.

You let out a strangled groan, biting your lower lip to stifle your noises as searing pain tore through you. You breathed heavily through your nose, feeling the weight of disgust settle in your chest when you heard him sigh in satisfaction at how tight you were. You winced when he pulled out slowly, only for him to slam back inside with a loud slap.

You jolted, just about ramming your head against the door in surprise. You grit your teeth and pressed a hand against it as the wood audibly creaked and groaned under your weight when he began to move. You tensed upon hearing faint voices beyond the door, peering back over your shoulder in a pathetic attempt to get him to stop.

"W—Wait," you muttered, breath hitching. "There's someone outside...!"

"Then I suppose you're just going to have to be quiet," he replied with an upward quirk to his lips before angling himself in a way that made his cock press up against you just right. You were disgusted to feel heat beginning to pool in your gut, forcing moans past your lips no matter how hard you tried to stop them. You covered your mouth with a hand as you listened to the noises approach. Dottore was (somewhat) merciful enough to press his pelvis against your ass, though that didn't stop him from rocking his hips to cruelly grind his cock into your prostate.

"Dottore?" It took you a moment to process the voice as electricity shot up and down your spine, trying your damn best to stifle your whimpers. "Are you in there?"

It's Pantalone, you recognize.

"Yes. Is there something you need from me?" Dottore replied, shifting his hold on you to start shallowly thrusting. You squeezed your eyes shut, listening to the painfully loud squelching.

"Not at the moment. I thought I heard something... else," Pantalone hummed with a knowing tone, sending a wave of mortification through your body.

"Then if that is all, I'd prefer it if you left," Dottore said, his amusement clear as day in his voice. He didn't even try to hide it as he gave you a punishing thrust, the resounding slap mixing in with your moan as it echoed off the walls. "I'm busy."

A laugh came from behind the door. "Very well. I'll leave you to it."

Dottore refused to wait for him to leave when he started again, this time fucking you so hard you were convinced there'd be a bruise. His fingers dug into your skin, yanking you back in time with his thrusts.

Your legs shook and you bit your lip until you bled, but it hardly did a thing to silence you.

"Look at you," Dottore mused, reaching around to hold your aching cock in his hand. He gave it a squeeze before jerking off the top half, focusing on the tip. "You were never meant to be a spy. You'd be so much better off as my little pet, wouldn't you agree?"

You let out a loud moan, instinctively looking down. You didn't even realize you were so hard, but as you watched the head of your cock drool precum onto the ground, everything felt twice as intense.

"N—No!" You choked out, clawing desperately at the creaking door. "I'll never—I'll never be your pet!"

"No?" Dottore laughed, sounding so unbothered it sent a spike of fear through you, reminding you of just how fucked you were. Swiftly, he swiped his fingers over the tip of your cock before bringing his hand up to push them into your mouth, making you taste your precum. With the palm of his hand, he pressed it against your chin to force your head back.

You let out a groan, feeling the strain on your upper back and neck as you stared at him with fear and disgust.

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice," he reminded, pulling out the communicator with his other hand. He slightly shook it, taunting you. "Don't you remember that actions have consequences?"

He pocketed the device as he slid his hand away from your mouth to bring it to the back of your neck, holding it tightly as he harshly pressed you against the cold wood. The side of your face ached, but, much to your horror, the pain only went straight to your cock.

"So just stand there and enjoy it," he said with a groan, his dick pulsing rhythmically as he savored the sensation of your walls clamping tightly around him. "Don't fight how much you like this."

"I don-" Just then, he rammed his cock into your prostate over and over, reducing you into a babbling mess that only proved his point.

Your eyes burned with unshed tears, ashamed that you loved the feeling of him so deep inside you, but you hated that it was him fucking you. You could feel the heat in your stomach intensify with each harsh thrust, feel the way your balls tightened in a way you knew you couldn't stop.

"Please..." you whimpered, weak against the wet slapping sounds that filled the office. "I don't want to...!"

You came with a whorish moan, arching your back as your cock spilled cum onto the floor. You could hear the sound of Dottore's laugh through the haze of your orgasm as sparks coursed through your veins, knees nearly buckling.

"Yes you do," he groaned, voice slightly strained. You could faintly hear his labored breathing the closer he got to his own orgasm, noticing the way his movements grew sloppier and weaker. He reached around again, jerking you off despite the lurking overstimulation.

You tightened, sending him right over the edge as he slammed his cock inside you a final time, pressing himself flush against your ass as he came. It was uncomfortably warm as he throbbed in time with each spurt, savoring the way you practically tried to milk him dry.

But he didn't let it last long as he pulled out with a satisfied sigh, enjoying the sight of you, shaky and vulnerable, before him. He graciously gave you a moment before commanding you to fix yourself, stepping back to adjust his own appearance.

"Now," he said, sternly, like he didn't just fuck you within a damn inch of your life. "Why don't you send a message to your organization stating that you're not going back."

He handed you the communicator with a smug smirk, relishing in your distress. Taking in a deep breath to steel your nerves, you accepted the device, reluctantly typing in a message before returning it back to him with regret written on your face.

"Oh, don't look so upset," he pouted, pocketing the device. You weren't sure when you'd see it again. "It'll be easier for you if you cooperate."

He made his way past you, opening the door, sending shivers down your spine at the sudden chill. "But right now, you have a lot of work to do."

cross-posted on ao3

[fatuismooches]

Angst time :3 💕

The Traveller takes down several Fatui resources to cripple them, specifically Dottore's channels since he is currently the biggest threat so far between the Eleven, he had presented himself as someone cunning and wouldn't stop for anything for his research. Rigid and unreasonable unless there is a bargaining chip.

The Traveller spares nothing. From the Traveller partnering up with Beidou to sink multiple Fatui vessels carrying materials. To going after the many, many Fatui stations in Sumeru with Dehya and Candace.

The Traveller did so in hopes of making Dottore more agreeable, he won't listen to anything unless control has been taken from him.

It works, but not in the way the Traveller had anticipated.

Dottore laid down arms not because of his experiments slowing down to a mere crawl, no - it's because his lover's condition has grown severe.

All those channels the Traveller had pruned? They had the materials needed to create the medicine his lover needed on a daily basis.

All those rare cultivated materials, gone. Either lost to sea or set ablaze. Ever since the cut-off, Prime himself and his segments have been scrambling to look for alternatives in Snezhnaya until they could get a hold of the proper materials.

But it is not enough, his lover his rapidly deteriorating and he could only stall it.

What has the Traveller done...? Unwittingly holding the Second Harbinger's heart hostage by chance. They can now make their demands, but - the Traveller is certain that Dottore will soon retaliate once this crisis is over.

The Doctor was not a man to mess with.

Well, any normal person wouldn't mess with any of the Harbingers in general, but it's no surprise that Il Dottore is especially on this list, taking into account his sheer strength, along with intelligence and cleverness that was hard to find elsewhere. The Traveler was no stranger to this, considering everything that went down in Sumeru as well as the numerous other deeds the Harbinger had done. Not to mention they remember how tough the Knave was, they couldn't fathom what Dottore was capable of. So although this isn't their usual course of action, they don't hold anything back. It's a lot of work, so much, to even cause a dent in the Harbinger's operations considering how many steps he is ahead of them. The blonde almost thinks it's all for nothing. Until it's not.

It is quite strange - one would think you would need to outwit Dottore with a superior mind, but instead, he falls due to his heart, something most people think is absent from the Harbinger. The Traveler had heard of you only a few times, all when they were eavesdropping on other agents. Every time they hear a whisper about the person called [Name], they believe it to be mere rumor and gossip, for it is that ridiculous. The Doctor having a lover? The Doctor having a partner he genuinely respected and loved? Who would ever believe that?

It's not until now the Traveler realizes it's no rumor. Childe is the one who ends up telling them, because there was no way Dottore would admit his weakness to them. From the Eleventh's expression and their heart, the blonde knows they've done something very, very, wrong. But how could they have known? How could they have known a man as cruel as the Doctor would care for another as well?

Regardless, the Traveler may be temporarily ahead, but anyone could guess that Dottore doesn't take any sort of aggression against you lightly in the slightest.

(You fluttering in and out of consciousness, waking up to blurry sights of a new segment every time. When they notice your blinking eyes, they simply place a hand over your eyes and a kiss on your forehead, motioning you to go to sleep once again so the pain is more bearable. You beckon for them to squeeze your hand tightly, so you know that both of you are still here. The only thing Dottore can promise is that he'll make it better soon. As soon as he deals with some pests.)

[dreamingcloudie]

❛❛ You Did Well ❜❜

Pairing(s): Dottore x GN!Reader

Type: Comfort Fluff(?)

Warning(s): human experimentation, not proofread

wc: ~1.4k

A request by one of the readers! It's been so long I don't know what I'm doing. I feel like I've gotten off track with this one... but I hope you'll like this anyways! The first fic I've written in months. Enjoy! :)

After years of working like a maniac. Earning achievements after achievements. Rivaling all the other people that could only hope to get to where you were today. You finally landed yourself a job at the organization created by none other than the beloved Cryo archon herself—the Fatui. And it was not just any job positions. You got to become the assistant of one of the eleven harbingers—The Doctor, second of the Fatui Harbingers. A very impressive title indeed.

You’ve heard people there were ruthless. It didn’t help that being in such a high ranking yourself, newbie or not, there were high expectations that needed to be met. And whatever it was, you hoped you were ready.

Oh god, oh no. You panicked. It was the first day of work and you were almost late. You arrived in front of the office just in time as you panted. You tried to fix your disheveled hair to make you look like you did not just run all the way over here. To your dismay, someone opened the door before you could make yourself look presentable.

You gulped and looked up.

“Hello, sir,” you greeted, praying he didn’t hear the slight shakiness in your voice.

He was wearing a mask, but you could feel his gaze scanning you up and down.

“Hmph,” he then walked out before continuing, “You are the new assistant, aren’t you? Wait for me inside.”

He was already halfway down the hall when you scurried inside. You could feel your face burning in embarrassment.

Great. You thought. First day and I’m already making a fool of myself.

A few minutes later, he came back in, holding a stack of papers in his hand. He placed them down onto a tidied desk with a sign saying “(Y/n)” on it.

“Usually, I’d go straight into lab work with the assistants on their first day.” He spoke, leaning onto the desk. “But, I decided to try something new today. All of my previous assistants quitted in less than a week, due to them not being able to handle the pressure.”

He continued, “I’m feeling generous, so I’ll let you start off with something easy by doing paperwork. If you did well, good for you. If not, I’ll fire you on the spot so you wouldn’t waste my time.”

As expected, The Doctor certainly has high demands. You glanced at the amount of paperwork that needed to be done on your desk. You’ve stayed up countless times to complete your thesis before, this was nothing you couldn’t handle. With this newfound confidence, you firmly nodded your head.

“Understood. I’ll get to them right away.”

From his stance, he seemed to be satisfied with your answer.

“When you’re done with them, just leave them on my desk. If you have any questions, don’t bother asking me. Just solve them yourself,” he said, before entering the other section of the office that leads to the lab.

You took a seat at your desk and picked up a pen.

Well then, time to get some work done.

= = =

For the first week, work wasn’t so bad. Most of the time it was just tons and tons of paperwork. It got boring after a while, but at least you were able to get them done on time. Earning yourself a pleased hum from The Doctor each time you handed them in.

So far, so good.

“The paperwork for today is done, sir,” you said, placing the papers down onto his desk.

He nodded. “As efficient as always. I think you’re ready.”

You were puzzled by what he meant. You wanted to ask but didn’t want to bother him. So you just left, hoping whatever he was implying wasn’t anything bad.

= = =

The next day came and you were up and early, waiting for him at your desk. He entered the office not too long after, but something was different, he wasn’t holding a stack of paper like he normally was. Instead, it was a lab coat.

“Judging by your work these past few days, I’ve decided that you’re ready for something a little more… exciting.” He then threw the lab coat at you, for you to clumsily catch it.

“Follow me.” Was all he said before opening the doors to the lab. You quickly put your coat on before following closely behind.

The first thing you noticed was the pungent, iron-like scent, your nose picked up on in the air. It made your stomach twist and turn. The Doctor’s frame was taller than yours, blocking your view of the center of the room.

“This, as you may have already guessed by the interior, is the lab. And today, we’re going to do some testing with the new liquid I concocted on a volunteering subject.” He then moved away from your view. And what you saw in front of you made your skin crawl.

The Doctor put some gloves on and went over to the person, who was very much alive, strapped down to the operation table with multiple wounds apparent on his body.

“Come,” he simply said, gesturing you to go over to where he was standing.

You could feel your legs wobbling as you walked to him. Your steps were hesitant and your eyes were on the person with a gag in his mouth, muffling his pained pleas. You then felt something in your hand. You looked at what The Doctor gave to you—a syringe filled with some glowing liquid.

The Doctor took some disinfectant wipes and applied it onto the subject’s arm, preparing for an injection.

You could feel cold sweat forming on your palms. You knew experiments would get involved taking up this job. But you were not expecting to have a human test subject. One that was still living and breathing.

This… this isn’t right. Your mind screamed.

The Doctor took a step backwards, giving you some space.

“Go on. Let’s see how you’d do. I’ve read in your resume that you’ve handled syringes and injections before. So this should be a piece of cake for you,” he spoke, eagerly watching your every move.

Should I just call it quit? You asked yourself. Finding it difficult to choose in this dilemma of yours. It took you years of hard work to get here. Should you really quit just because you were simply uncomfortable?

Come on. I’m the assistant of one of the most powerful harbingers. It would be shameful of me to back down just because… You argued. You could feel your heartbeat pulsing violently throughout your body as you raised your hands. The tip of the syringe stopped just inches before the man’s arm.

You could feel it. The Doctor was getting impatient by the second. You could hear the sound of his shoe tapping against the concrete floor, “Well?”

This felt wrong, very wrong. But you had no choice, if you wished to keep this job of yours. You mouthed a “sorry” to the squirming man, before pushing the syrinige into his flesh, closing your eyes and injecting the unknown substance into his body.

“Bravo, took you long enough.” The Doctor said.

“Wasn’t so hard now, was it… hm?” He grabbed your chin and turned your head to face him. You were wondering why he did that until he brushed his thumb across your cheek.

“It seems like you are in distress.”

You touched your cheek slightly and it felt wet.

Well, okay. This is embarrassing. Crying in front of a harbinger. He’s going to fire me now because I’m crying over such a small task.

“I take it this was your first time experimenting on a live human being?” He asked, in which you answered with a nod.

“I figured.”

“I-I apologize for my incompetence, sir! I’ll do better next time and—”

“I didn’t ask you to explain yourself. It was a yes-or-no question,” he said.

“I was expecting you to quit when I saw you trembling. But my, oh my. You did so well.” He carried on, “I must say, you did so much better than my previous assistants. Yes, what we’re doing might be considered morally grey in the eyes of others. But keep in mind, this is all done for a better understanding of science; and of course, to fulfill her majesty’s dreams, in the grand scheme of things.”

He then gave you a little pat on the head.

“So you needn’t regret what you’ve done. All you need to know is that you did a great job. And I must say… you might be my favourite assistant, so far.”

He wiped your tears.

“Do me a favor, and don’t dwell on what happened today, because there would be more of this to come. And soon, you’ll get used to this, understand?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

Upon hearing your response, you could see a grin forming on his face.

“What a good little assistant you are.”

[eepyuii]

frostbite — pt. 4

pairing ; childe x gender neutral!reader

content ; childhood friends to “rivals” to lovers, slowburn-ish

cw ; brief mentions of drowning, fighting (?)

note ; i’m ngl i’m kinda proud of this chapter, i may have done the smidgenmost cooking. also i will be making a masterlist soon!!

previous | next | masterlist

liyue harbor looked its prettiest at night.

the lantern lights made the city’s colors pop out so much more. from afar, the harbor looked like it’s own galaxy of yellow stars or like a celestial being as lively as its nightlife. this isn’t even the first time you’ve thought this- zapolyarny palace also seemed infinitely more majestic when the lights turned on during the evening. it almost made you enjoy working late shifts.

almost.

unfortunately, aesthetics can’t sugarcoat the things the fatui has done and that you’ve been a witness to. the mass production of delusions, the robbery of gnoses and let’s not even get started on the things the doctor has done. even with eleven harbingers, who all have their fair share of unorthodox acts, don’t seem to rival the blasphemies your very boss has committed. blasphemies you’ve only watched, sitting neatly and keeping your mouth shut, and done nothing about. you’re only undeservingly grateful you weren’t present for the majority of his atrocities. but then again, who even were you to keep count of divine punishments you would never provide to the sinners who warranted them?

plus, now wasn’t the time to dwell on entirely so much.

if you stood lifelessly in the middle of the street for any longer, someone might get suspicious. you choose to head towards the coastal side of the harbor, merely observing the crowds walk back and forth between the street businesses. a few steps further and you reach a small street food restaurant- wanmin restaurant. the line of customers is concerningly big for such a time of day, you shiver to imagine what it’s like during lunch time.

the large, open window of the restaurant shows an older man attending to the customers with utmost friendliness and behind him, a younger blue-haired girl hurries from side to side as she rushes to ready the dishes. you see her look down and speak as if talking to someone incredibly short, so short that they’re entirely covered by the half wall of the window.

you furrow your eyebrows, confused by the sight- that is until the girl turns to you and panic invades her expression.

“guoba, wait! watch out for-“

before she finishes her sentence, you feel a faint thump against your leg. you look down to see… what in all honesty just looked like a teddy bear- except it seemed entirely alive and currently knocked over on the ground, paw wiping its little forehead as if it got hurt on the crash with your calf. next to it was also a small bag of mora, spilling over onto the sidewalk.

you hurry to gather up the coins and put them back in the bag before any slimy passerby could snatch them away while the girl steps over to help up the teddy bear.

“agh… i shouldn’t have sent you out to get groceries in such a hurry and you also need to watch where you go better!” she reprimands the creature, patting it down to smooth away any dirt.

“a-and i’m so very sorry! we’re overflowing with customers today and we were running out of oil so i thought i’d have guoba run to mr. dongsheng’s shop but i guess the pressure got him distracted…” she bows apologetically and the bear follows suit.

chuckling sheepishly, you wave the gesture off. “please, there’s no need for all that… it was just an accident after all.” you look down at the bag of mora in your hand.

“say, why don’t i go buy that oil for you? i’m not busy at the moment and you and… guoba clearly need all your attention on the food.”

her eyes light up as if the second coming of rex lapis has just occurred before her. “you’d do that? oh, that would be amazing! thank you so much…” she trails off as if waiting for you to say your name.

“y/n.”

“y/n! thank you so much, y/n. i’m xiangling, by the way!”

the shop just around the corner from the restaurant and you dutifully wait in line to be attended by mr. dongsheng. you’re almost getting lost in thought until you hear an exclamation from nearby.

“x-xingqiu wait up!” what sounded like a young boy huffed out, sprinting from nearby. you turn to see exactly a young light-blue haired boy in white clothes rushing to catch up with another boy with darker blue hair in elegant navy garbs who was already waiting for him at the bridge to the outskirts of town.

“come on, you slowpoke!” the other boy giggles and as his friend is finally beside him, he abruptly grabs his wrist and pulls him along to run once more.

the display is so genuine and lighthearted that it even makes you chuckle fondly, makes you nostalgic for a simpler time.

you buy the oil and swiftly head back to wanmin restaurant, where xiangling is practically weeping with gratitude. “oh thank you, thank you, thank you! you’re a real lifesaver, please let me repay you- a whole evening of dishes on the house with whatever guests you’d like!” she bows once more.

“don’t sweat it… but i’ll hold you to that.” you nod amusedly and make your way out to leave xiangling and guoba to their arduous cooking.

your aimless wandering through the harbor takes you to the eastern side next, to the passageway between the pool of lotuses that leads to bubu pharmacy. you lean against the railing, watching intently as the fish swim aimlessly through the calm waters- then you turn to watch the people crossing the passageway, couples, families, childhood friends all enjoying the comfortable mundaneness of life.

turning even further, you spot a small girl sitting at the top of the staircase that leads to bubu pharmacy, you’ve seen her before behind the counter of the establishment… qiqi, was it? she sits at the edge of the elevated structure, facing the piers of the harbor as she watches with droopy eyes and what seemed to be a glass of milk in her hands.

the sleepiness in her expression reminds you of how late into the night it must be, urging you to head back to your quarters and get whatever sleep you can.

on your way up the stairs of the catwalks, you pass by heyu tea house, where an opera is taking place. the singer is a young girl, adorning traditional liyuean opera garbs that flow gracefully with the elegant twists and turns of the dance she performs. not to mention her unparalleled singing accompanied by the smooth sounds of a liyuean instrument, a guqin as you recall it- her voice so mesmerizing it nearly pulls all of the attention away from the heart wrenching tale it tells.

you’d heard stories about liyuean opera and how entirely different it was from the snezhnayan iterations, but none of the descriptions truly made justice to the fantastical spectacle you stumbled upon by luck. once again, you almost forget you were supposed to head to your dorm and rest.

unfortunately, rest is not for you.

you lay in your bed, eyes wide awake and fixated at the decorated ceiling as you recall all that you saw this evening. the liveliness of the common folk, xiangling and guoba, the two boys, the young girl from the pharmacy delighting in something as simple as a glass of milk, the opera performance. it’s all so human, so natural, simple, meaningful and so entirely precious. you’d made an enjoyable evening stroll just out of watching people… be people.

and you were going to drown it all in just a few days.

well, not as much you as childe was going to. but you didn’t do anything to counter it, not a peep of disagreement, not an act of defiance, not even an idea of an alternate solution. all because of some goddamn chess piece for the tsaritsa’s stupid plan. a pang of forced guilt hits your heart- you’d be surely decapitated in the town square for saying such things about her grace, or thinking rather. but that’s not how you feel, you’d care less about not criticizing an archon if they were truly being stupid.

but that’s how childe feels.

he reveres the tsaritsa blindly more than anyone you know. you needed to speak to him, first thing tomorrow.

surely he wouldn’t mind pulling out of his ingenious, but foolishly dangerous, plan just for you?

—

they say early bird gets the worm yet here you remain, up at the ass crack of dawn with no worm to speak of. if you were slightly less exhausted at the moment, you would’ve caught onto ekaterina’s look of sheer pity towards you.

“good morning, sergeant! how may i help you?” she greets politely.

“mmh.. yes, morning…” you mumble back, pinching the bridge of your nose. “would you know where childe is right now?”

“i believe childe is currently exercising outside of the harbor. would you like to leave a message for him?”

“no no- no need, i’ll just go to him myself. where exactly outside of town is he?”

“childe usually likes to train up in the mountains behind yujing terrace, he took a few officers to train alongside him so it won’t be difficult to spot the group.” you nod and mutter a curt ‘thank you’ to her. your feet feel like they’ve got pure geo constructs tied to them but you manage to make it to the door of northland bank- though before you get to make your way out, you hear ekaterina call out to you.

“i would advise you to bring a weapon, sergeant! knowing how stubborn childe is.”

chuckling at the indirect jab toward childe that she delivers, you only materialize your polearm with the power of your vision, the only instance you’ll ever use it.

“don’t i know it.”

sometimes you wonder if childe is even human- the mere climb to the mountains behind yujing terrace was enough exercise to last you a week or so. once you settled upon the mountain top, heaving as if death were at your doorstep, you take in your surroundings to spot a small group of men in the distance, gathered in a circle that and facing away from you. a few more minutes of walking reveal that they are in fact clad in fatui uniform and the sound of grunts, thuds and the ever despair-inducing sound of the eleventh harbinger’s maniacal laughter.

you join the circle silently, eyes sharp and cold, to watch as childe effortlessly topples over a low-rank officer. a little more observation would show that this poor man wasn’t the first one to receive such treatment, as all the other men look over with sheer horror in their eyes and dirt clinging to their uniforms- all while childe’s clothes remain spotless and neat. said terrified men notice your sudden presence and scurry to salute you properly with trembling arms while you merely gesture for them to be at ease.

“so! who would like to go next?” the harbinger calls out obliviously only to be met with shameful silence. he scans the whole circle like a bloodthirsty predator, though once he finally turns around to see you there, his eyes seem to gain a different light. if they can even attain any.

“y/n! to what do we owe the pleasure to have you here?” he laughs, raising a hand to gesture to you while facing the other officers. “gentlemen, sergeant y/n of the medical division.”

the officers almost immediately salute you once more and you sigh. “please, at ease.”

“truly impeccable timing, doc! i’ve just sparred one-on-one with each one of these officers to teach them a thing or two about combat. though… i might’ve gone a little too hard, plus they might learn better through observing rather than getting shoved around one by one. so why don’t the two of us spar?”

you put up a hand to stop him. “yeah yeah, unfortunately i’m not here to rumble. i’ve got something i’d like to discuss with y-“

“aw, come on! this is a once in a lifetime opportunity for these gentlemen!” childe whines.

“i really would rather not, it’s a bit of an important matter that i want to sort out-“

“it’ll be quick! just one round.”

“i didn’t sleep well last night plus-“

“then a spar is just the way to get the blood pumping!”

“can we please just talk for a few minutes and then you can go back to-“

slash.

where you expected to receive another interruption from childe was instead the sharp tip of a hydro blade right beside your head, narrowingly missing you by a hair. the officers gasp dramatically, while you practically stab childe with the incredulous glare you throw him. even worse, the asshole only smirks playfully as if it was just a playground game.

being on the other side of his blade is famously not unfamiliar to you.

you summon your polearm without thinking and swing it angrily from right to left, hoping only to get the hydro sword away from you. childe does exactly as you predict and steps back expertly to dodge your spear, bearing the widest grin. what ensues next is a tiring back and forth between the two of you- childe hits, you hit back to defend yourself, childe hits back harder. the men watch intently as if watching the most intense play of their lives. it’s probably after a good eight minutes of fighting that your arms start growing weary from how tightly you’re holding onto your weapon and your legs get even sorer than they were from how much you climbed. this is getting stupid.

you put all your focus into finding an opening in childe’s strikes to overtake him, finding it within his next attack, where he switches his grip on the twin blades so the sharp sides face outward and he brings his arms together to create momentum for a double-sided swing that covers the entire of his front. in the millisecond that his hands are next to each other, you send a wave of frigid air that freezes the entirety of his swords and bites at his fingers in a way that makes him hiss and drop the weapons on instinct.

as the icy blades collide with the ground, they shatter into a million glittering shards. childe looks down, half-shocked half-amused at the display and laughs once more. he continues to stare at the ground, any trace of his swords is entirely gone- though it’s no matter, as hydro is already swirling down his wrists as he prepares a new set.

“hah… the fun finally begi-“

before he can finish his taunt, you’re tackling him onto the ground, taking advantage of his distraction. you kneel with one knee up, the other is latched firmly beside childe’s torso, and press your polearm firmly across his arms as to restrain him. the fatui officers are practically losing their minds at this point.

“enough.” you huff out with a snarl, chest heaving up and down violently.

childe is finally, truly at a loss for words. he looks up at you as if you’re the most divine being he’s ever seen and the halo of sunlight that forms around you really doesn’t help. though, you only interpret it as him simply being so surprised that someone finally beat him. after a few seconds of remaining in the position, you take it childe has surrendered and stand up and away from him.

you dust off your clothes and utter without looking up. “leave. all of you.” the men sprint out of the scene like startled rabbits.

“now can we talk?”

taglist ; @kentply @osaemu @rain-and-a-nice-nap

[hroscek]

🛒Dottore shopping headcanons🧾

"Wouldn't it be funny if Dottore went to a grocery store?" - me 2 minutes before I started writing this

Another incredibly silly concept from me, your humble Dottore content deliverer. Not really an AU, but definitely taking massive liberties when it comes to stretching canon. Probably quite ooc as well.

Warnings: mention of death

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Dottore hadn't gone shopping in ages, not since he joined the Fatui. He never liked people and their mundane activities, preferring to stay inside working on his latest project. Groceries and food preparation had been delegated to his staff and the occasional segment as a punishment so he never really saw a need to even think about it.

That changed when he was sent on a covert mission to a wealthy mansion in Fontaine. His job was to infiltrate the household of a prominent scholar who posed a risk of uncovering the operation in Sumeru. The best way to do so was under the guise of being part of the staff. When he was satisfied his appearance was adequately concealed Dottore signed up for the only position that was available in such short notice: the kitchen inventory assistant.

As his new manager explained his job would be to handle the shopping and delivering of ingredients needed by the cooks. In his endless confidence Dottore almost burst out laughing when he heard his duties. "A delivery boy? Me? The 2nd of the eleven Fatui harbingers? This will be too easy" he thought to himself. Oh how wrong he was.

On his first day he set out for the local market with a shopping list in hand, his mind preoccupied with plans of ending his employer. His contemplation was cut short by the sheer loudness of the crowded market. Children wailed for their parents to buy them sweets, merchants bargained over every last coin and groups of people engaged in lively conversation. Any other extrovert person would find the scene quite endearing, a truly fine display of the friendly culture of Fontaine. But this is Dottore we're talking about so his hatred grew every second he was forced to be there.

The first item on his list was fish for the main course of lunch. He gathered whatever patience was left and walked to the first fish stall. Seeing the glossy eyes of the fish in their dozens unnerved him, despite the centuries spent working with cadavers. He was about to point to a fish he deemed adequate when an older lady kindly pointed out it's eyes had gone cloudy (how he managed to find the only week old fish in a city surrounded by water is anyone's guess). He awkwardly thanked her and left in a hurry without buying a fish. He's sure the cooks will figure something out.

Next he headed for the vegetable stand to look for tomatoes. Without bothering to check for quality he started loading the bag as quickly as he could, hoping to get it over with as soon as he could. The seller, clocking the poor guy as a newbie quoted nearly triple the fair price and Dottore paid without questioning or even thinking to haggle (it's a tomato, how much could it cost? 500 mora?)

Almost done with the grocery run (and his patience) Dottore scanned the flower stands looking for Marcottes. He circled the market around 3 times before a amused shopkeep asked what he was looking for. "ᴹᵃʳᶜᵒᵗᵗᵉˢ." he answered, hoping that the earth beneath him sunk and got him out of this hellish situation (awkward social interaction). The seller giggled "Sorry, no one's selling marcottes this week. There's a supply chain issue with the florists on strike, haven't you heard?" Dottore turned and nearly ran in the other direction without a second word, completely forgetting the mint he was also supposed to buy.

Utterly humiliated Dottore decided to ditch any plans of infiltrating quietly and stormed to the manor, killing the scholar and his family. He'll let someone else figure out the coverup. And so he returned to his dim laboratory, vowing never to go shopping again.

Pantalone still makes fun of him for the tomatoes to this day.

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Thanks for reading! Sorry for the lack of posts today, I'm working on a longer fanfiction so I haven't been able to focus on these shorter posts. Will try and finish it within the next day or so, but in the meanwhile enjoy whatever this is. Also you if you figure out what the dish he was shopping for was I'll write whatever topic of headcanon you want, just comment or send a message.

[genshinincorrectquotes]

[Dottore is laughing]

Tartaglia: He’s gonna join us at some point?

Scaramouche: Not as long as the Wi-Fi here works. Give him a Ziploc full of Cheerios and a juice box, he’s a happy three-year-old.

Dottore: Damn it.

Tartaglia: What?

Dottore: Pierro’s calling during my Game of Thrones binge.

Tartaglia: You’re laughing out loud at Game of Thrones?

Dottore: Yeah, reminds me of high school.

[eluxcastar]

A guide to surviving the Harbingers

── ୨୧：fatui harbingers & reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: as a servant directly to the tsaritsa, there is a specific (unofficial) rule set that is passed around amongst you that you must follow in order to survive most interactions with the current eleven fatui harbingers.

୨୧﹑genre :: idk man what is this

୨୧﹑content :: all of these people are as awful as possible, reader is completely unmentioned/implied to be reading this (woaaa), some points are purposely vague

୨୧﹑words :: 742

so I got like half way through writing this and I was like "I feel like someone has done this before", so if something like this does exist props to the writer

first and foremost: all orders are absolute, your position depends heavily on your compliance. insubordination and attitude in front of the wrong person will get you no further than a six foot hole in the ground. sir and ma'am are important to some, less so to others.

do not ever refer casually to the jester. his name carries weight even among the somewhat secluded ranks of the Tsaritsa's servants. his word outweighs almost everyone and he is never to be trifled with. remain calm. remain polite. don't speak unless spoken to, and never more than necessary. complete all work around him as quickly, quietly and with as much precision as possible. any sign of incompetence is grounds for him to have you stripped of your position and punished harshly.

the doctor runs low on subjects frequently. keep his stock filled no matter where the people have to come from. several sources are available. the head maid will help newcomers learn of these. staying out of both his laboratory and his way completely will keep you from becoming a part of the next group. it's best not to become very attached to any of his assistants.

Tartaglia is deceptively kind. don't be afraid of his smile, don't be too slow with fulfilling his requests—they won't be requests if you make him wait. unlike most, he seems more aggressive than he is. don't worry, his eagerness for fighting does not extend to those who cannot fight unless you stand in his way. do not speak a word of official affairs, titles, formalities or position in the presence of his siblings.

don't refuse Sandrone's gifts, but understand that they can quickly become bad omens. those who she becomes fond of receive many of her gifts, her affectionate gifts will lead to less than favourable fates. she can be avoided, and she is usually not hostile towards those who she only finds passively annoying or uninteresting. she only gives gifts to the ones she likes.

if you hear the voice of the damselette, you should leave the area before she sees you and busy yourself in a place where you can no longer hear her. Colombina's song is for the ears of few, and servants do not fit that group.

out of everyone, Arlecchino is most dangerous to someone forced to be subservient to her. her words can sound prettier than they are, and she is polite even to servants, but she is a spider who crafts a neat little web for the poor souls who are unlucky enough to anger her, or catch her in a particularly foul mood.

Pulcinella is the second to avoid. remain polite. respect your elders. do not follow Sandrone's steps; deny his kindness. act as if inconveniencing him would be a detriment to your greater conscience so that it would no longer be kindness. his offers are never for your benefit.

in line with her ideals, La Signora has those she likes and those who can only irritate her. if she likes you, tread carefully, obey her orders and fulfil any and all wishes she has of you regardless of your opinion on the matter. it's not important. don't question, don't challenge. if you are among those she doesn't like, assign your tasks to those she does. it's better you don't find out what happens when a rat gets on her nerves.

Capitano can be frightful, but his commands are simple and easy to follow at a glance. treat his words like orders. there are many things you can get out of easier than you think, many you cannot. stay out of them all. he is strong; he can break you.

the regrator and his generosity are never what they seem. luxuries come at a steep cost, one that few are willing to pay, however it's best not to go too far and test your luck. Pantalone is never so benevolent he gives out gifts at the same price for ever, the market changes too quickly. don't be caught in that trap and there's nothing to worry about.

though praises for him are quite few and far between, the Balladeer is quite easy to deal with if the day is good. he expects for orders to be carried out quickly, efficiently and exactly as he gives them. he doesn't not take kindly to initiative and can see it as issuing your own orders. wait for his word. orders will come.

[sh1-n0bu]

hey hey!! new anon here,,

not sure how to write this but I'll try

could we get a scara x amab reader, with praise, overstimulation, and if you're comfortable body worship? (for scara ofc) i wanna make him cry 🛐

also !! can i be 🍷 anon?? <3

♡︎ 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩 ♡︎

characters: sub!scaramouche x dom!AMAB!reader

warnings: praise, overstimulation, body worship, dacryphillia, overall very soft and fluffy

notes: of course you can be 🍷anon! slowly but surely clearing out my inbox and thinking on holding a 3k followers event. if you guys have any ideas, lemme know!

wanderer — formerly known as scaramouche, balladeer and the sixth of the eleven fatui harbingers — has always been a shut in type of person. always preferring his own space, solitude and of course, a bitter tea to go along with everything. so when you, his assistant since day one, had suddenly proposed your affections for the angry gremlin he rejected at first.

but that never deterred you. you would try over and over again. asking him out on dates, offering him some help, cuddles if he was being restless and stressed, holding his hand while he undergoes the painful weekly tortures of il dottore — you did it all for him.

and one day, scaramouche did indeed cave in and decided to accept your nth suggestion for a date. it wasn’t like he had liked you or anything, he just wanted to make you shut up quickly. he’s lying, he loved you way longer than you did him.

since then, going out on “dates” had become a usual thing between you two. you two would meet up in certain places, hang out for some time, talk for a bit, hold hands if scaramouche is feeling gutsy enough and say your goodbyes.

it had continued on for so long until it suddenly came to a stop when scaramouche had to go to sumeru with il dottore to take buer’s gnosis. of course the plan worked and the second harbinger came back with the gnosis but no scaramouche.

for some time after that, you seriously thought you were tripping absolute bonkers. everyone kept saying the sixth seat of the harbingers had been vacant and the name scaramouche or balladeer doesn’t ring a bell. you even held an audience with her majesty, the tsaritsa as well and yet she said she doesn’t remember!

that was until you decided to desert the fatui and go to sumeru yourself to find out just what the fuck was going on. it took incredibly long time — sumeru’s rainforest and desert aren’t the most hospitable places for someone so used to the cold like you — but after a whole half a year of searching, you managed to see him again.

him. the one who stole your heart. the one who caused you to desert the fatui despite knowing the punishment would be death. the one that cradled your heart gently in his hand since you’ve been assigned to be his assistant.

and by the archons was it worth the whole thing. to be chased down by the people who were once your comrades. to suffer heatstrokes in the hot desert of sumeru. to continuously get pelted by the rain and thunder in the rainforests of sumeru. by the archons was it all worth it when the moment you two locked eyes. it was as if your first meeting all over again.

by the archons was it worth it when he recognized you, dropping the scrolls in his arms as he runs up to you. it was worth it when he came to a stop in front of you — hesitating. waiting. wondering. before finally muttering “fuck it” and getting on his tip toes to plant a kiss on your lips. it was worth it all — even as you gently broke him down and rebuilt him again a whole new in your arms in the comfort of your now shared home.

scaramouche has always been a shut in type of person. always preferring his own space, solitude and of course, a bitter tea to go along with everything.

but wanderer was a bit different. he preferred to be alone, alone with you. a bitter tea and your voice going “yuck!” whenever he made you take a sip, lying and promising he put sugar in it this time. a shy stolen glance at each other and a peck or two followed by the silence of each other’s presence. “lonely together” you once called your relationship. he couldn’t agree more.

even as his first time is taken by you — the doll couldn’t be happier.

even as he whimpers and whines whenever you praise him, planting kisses on his skin as he blushed a beet red. weakly thrusting his hips back to meet yours under the dim lights of the lit candles. desperately reaching back, tangling your hair in his hand to tug you down for a sloppy kiss to try and hide his moans when you called him your “good boy”, “pretty doll” and your “one and only”.

a weak sob and sniffles resounding in your shared home as wanderer comes on your cock for the nth time. how many times had he cum by now? he’s too hazy and lust ridden to even keep up count.

tears kept falling down his face as he unconsciously grind back into your cock, wanting more. a cacophony of keens and moans and shrill sound resembling a squeal coming out of him as he feels your tip hit his prostate again. archons, he wanted to feel that again and again. feel himself get broken down by your hands, by your lips, by the soft praises coming out of your mouth, by your dick just fucking into him so good to the point his mind becomes a mush.

when you gently put him back together again — wiping away the sweat and cum staining his skin, when you cradle him gently as you two share a quick bath together, when you wrap your arms around him and hug him close to yourself — the pupet couldn’t help but smile.

a genuine, unadulterated smile of happiness spreading on his face as he hears your words of affirmation. in soft moments like this, the puppet couldn’t help but whisper out weakly in a hoarse voice.

“you, [name], my heart…” before slipping off into a dreamless state.

[astravv]

ꜱᴋɪʀᴍɪꜱʜᴇʀ — ᴍᴜʟᴛɪᴘᴀʀᴛ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ

✰ — 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ▸ hi i really like dottore also don’t come at me if the time line is wrong bc i’m making it a two month difference between inazuma archon quests and sumeru ones. but i did try to look and see a timeline of this but i got super lazy. if someone in the comments does want to let me know how much time it is supposed to be between inazuma and sumeru bc i am genuinely curious.

✰ — 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 ▸ sexual content , eating out , fingering , cursing

✰ — 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬) ▸ dottore x f! reader

✰ — 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ▸ you were the tsarita’s assistant, her right hand woman, whatever you’d like to call it. you and her had a bond since she took you in from the house of the hearth. when scaramouch rebelled against the divine, you became the next number six of the eleven fatui harbingers.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔫𝔢

two months before รςคгค๓๏ยςђє removed himself from irminsul

you enter the jester’s office, with a wide smile upon your face. you head over to the jester’s desk and stand right in front of him. since the jester is number one of the harbingers, he got the biggest office and sleeping quarters. pierro’s office was huge with his own library and chess table, where two of the gnosis were sitting, like they were being used to play chess. there was curtains and his sleeping quarters connected to his office, also a very nice and large bedroom.

“y/n,” the jester sets both of his elbows on the table, connecting his fingers together and lying his chin on the connected hands. “you have a lot of responsibility now, you are sixth of the eleventh fatui harbingers, the skirmisher.”

“yes,” you reply coldly. “you act like i barely had any responsibility to begin with. do i have to remind you that the tsaritsa herself, chose me to be her assistant?”

“like that matters, y/n.” the jester groaned. “i don’t feel like getting into this with you. go decorate your new room or something.”

you scoff and walk out of the overly large door. as you head out, a familiar voice comes behind you, following you through the hallway.

“what was that about?” il dottore asks, trying to catch up with me.

“oh just pierro being pierro.” you chuckle, heading right the staircase, but dottore runs in front of you and grabs your hand, walking you down the stairs. he steps at few in front of you on the last few steps and kisses your hand.

“y/n, my darling,” dottore smiles, “you’re officially replaced the Շђє ๒คɭɭค๔єєг, which means, will you be staying in my office?”

“if you are lucky, doctor.” you smirk, blowing him and kiss and skipping ahead of him.

“mm, if i’m lucky, huh?” dottore smiles, walking over to the large glass windows of zapolyarny palace. you head over to him, also staring out the window to the dark, cold night that fell upon sneznhaya.

“when do you leave for your trip to sumeru?” you question quietly, holding your large fatui coat over you so you wouldn’t freeze to death in the hallway which is cold as ice.

“in a few days, why? are you going to miss me?” dottore teases, cupping your cheek with his surprisingly soft hand.

“of course. who else am i going to talk to?” you roll your eyes, melting into dottore’s touch.

“you have arlecchino and columbina, darling.” he replies, giving you a soft kiss on the forehead. “come spend the night in my room, it’ll wash away all those bad feelings, y/n.”

“you’re right.” you mumble, following dottore back to his assigned bedroom.

once we got there, he opened the door, letting you in and for a few seconds you study the room. dottore’s room is a bit smaller than pierro’s. he has a lab set up and his office is very messy, with quite a few papers strung about. through the corridor where large curtains are hung up is his actual living quarters, with a big bed and lots of room for a couch and bookshelves.

dottore walks you to his living quarters and he flops down onto his bed. you roll your eyes at him, making your way to his closet to change into something you had left in his room for nights like this.

you slip out of your large coat and your outfit, putting on some small silky pink shorts and a white tank top that really showed your chest off nice.

you head over to dottore’s bed and flop down beside him.

“i really don’t want you to leave.” you murmur softly. your words really just go through one ear and out the other with dottore. but he turns to you and smiles a little.

“since you don’t want me to go, i can make tonight memorable for you.” dottore coos, pulling himself on top of you with a smirk plastered across his face.

“oh really now?” you tease, “let’s see how memorable we can make it.”

dottore wastes no time pulling up your tank top and setting his hands on your plush chest, squeezing it and teases your nipples softly.

“you drive me insane, y/n.” dottore growls, bending himself down and latching onto one of the nipples he had previously been teasing. he licks and bites and sucks on the mound, like he was so hungry for it.

“mm, dottore.” you moan, “i’m going to miss this while you are gone.”

“i’m sure you will, y/n.” dottore mumbles, shuffling himself down further between your thighs. your breath hitches as he parts your thighs, kissing your clothed cunt. he softly pulls your shorts and underwear down, throwing them somewhere off the bed. you move your hand down and slide your fingers through his soft hair, give him some soft head scratches.

he kisses your wetness and starts to eat you out, devouring every inch of you that he can take advantage of as he pleases. he licks your slit up and down, causing your legs to close around his head.

“mm, you taste so divine, my love.” he murmurs, sticking one of his fingers inside of you, slowly pushing them in and out. usually, dottore was quick with his motions of intercourse, but tonight he was taking his time with you.

suddenly, the door is pushed open, and there in his office, the regrator stands with his mouth slightly agape to what he was seeing.

“dottore?” pantalone calls out, crossing his arms and turning around so he wouldn’t be staring right at your half-naked body.

“what, pantalone? can’t you see i’m a little busy?” dottore groans, setting himself up and pulling the covers over you to hide you.

“come outside.” pantalone gestures, walking out the door, closing it on his way out.

“my god.” dottore rolls his eyes, looking back at you as he softly grabs your hand and leaves a small kiss on it. “i will be back.”

dottore gets off the bed and walks out to where pantalone is, closing the door to his room so you couldn’t hear anything they were saying.

dottore stands in front of pantalone, crossing his arms and giving him a pissed off look.

“you and y/n?” pantalone mentions. “how’s that?”

“it’s frankly none of your business, regrator.” dottore growls, “don’t tell anyone about this. we are not public yet.”

“you will be public if she keeps spending the night in your room. don’t think i haven’t seen her sneak in there at the dead of night when she’s usually asleep near the tsaritsa’s living quarters.”

“so you’re stalking her, hm?” dottore groans, clenching his hands together, almost ready to punch the banker in his face. “i don’t take lightly to stalkers, if we were subordinates or not.”

“no,” pantalone sighs, “i wasn’t stalking her. i was in the same hallway and managed to see her walk into your room.”

“how did you know she’s spending the night then?” dottore questions.

“it’s just a hunch, doctor, no need to get so serious.” pantalone replies. he chuckles a little at the end of the sentence, but dottore can tell it’s just him trying to light up the mood.

“so what did you even need me for? to see if your suspicions were correct? to ridicule me about y/n?” dottore demands, he can feel himself heating up as he spits out his words.

“no, i wanted to let you know that we’re having a funeral for rosalyne tomorrow.” the regrator answers, turning himself around, ready to walk away. “don’t be late.”

“fuck you, pantalone. i came out here to hear that?” dottore growls, he shakes his head and opens his office door immediately slamming it behind him, locking it too.

“what’s going on?” you ask softly as you sit up, staring at dottore who’s facing the door with a very angry expression.

“it’s nothing, darling.” dottore smiles, walking over to you and flopping beside you on the bed.

“we should probably just go to bed, it’s late.” you murmur, pulling the covers over your body and staring at the white, blank wall.

“i would figure so too.” dottore pulls the sheets over him and pulls you closer, wrapping him arms around your waist and nuzzling himself into your neck. “i’m sorry.”

“dottore, apologizing to me?” you chuckle, cupping his cheek with you hand.

“shut up.”

one month before รςคгค๓๏ยςђє removed himself from irminsul

“how are you settling in?” columbina’s soft voice asks over the dinner table. when columbina talks, she has this sorta creepy vibe to it, but it’s very melodic. “i know it must be different than being with the tsaritsa.”

“it’s been alright,” you reply, moving the food on your plate around with your fork. you haven’t really been the happiest lately, since dottore has left for sumeru and all of his segments are busy doing who knows what. “it’s not much different, just more lonely, i would suppose.”

“you can always talk to me if you get lonely, we’re here.” arlecchino, who is seated next to you, suggests.

“you’re right.” you nod, finally taking a bite of food.

arlecchino shoots you a small smile, and goes back to looking at columbina, who’s sitting across the table from her. everyone at the table is chatting but you. you can’t seem to swallow down your food, or even think of anything other than the fact that you feel like you don’t fit in. sure, you were raised in the house of the hearth, so you know how to fight, but you just feel like you haven’t done anything since you were promoted to fatui harbinger.

you would rather be doing something more useful during your time alone, sitting at your desk, thinking of when dottore returns. you visit the tsarista occasionally, but it’s been every now and then since you have been busy with tons of paperwork and assignments. however, they don’t give you many assignments, so most of your time is spent at your desk, pondering.

you sigh, getting up from the dinner table. you grab your plate and walk over to the kitchen, sliding your plate into the sink for the maids to clean. usually, you clean your own dish, but lately you’ve just been wanting to lay down in bed and be lazy.

you head for dottore’s room and not your own. you open the door to find the room just as he had left it. you shut the door behind you and walk over to the bed you and him usually share.

dottore told you that you probably needed to go sleep in your own assigned room, since people would find it odd to see you sleeping in the doctor’s bed without him even present.

you don’t care though, so you flop yourself down onto the comfy bed sheets and find yourself getting lost in your train of thought again.

“dottore..” you mumble. “come home soon, please.”

[iluvzaddies]

yandere!dottore headcannons

warnings: unhealthy relationship/behavior, violence

dottore would kill for you.

he was a man of great title, a fatui harbinger favored by the tsaritsa, so he had the power to do so and he could easily get away with it too.

metaphorically speaking, he was like a siren, posing as someone harmless, luring them in and then killing them afterwards.

he would be worse if it came to you, his darling.

if anyone dared to look at you, speak to you or even hurt you — oh, no, no, he wouldn’t kill them immediately, he would torture them to death.

he would give them hell and he would oh so enjoy their torment.

every. single. bit. of. it.

every. single. day.

until they eventually die a worthless death.

to dottore, everyone was a threat.

it didn’t matter if they were a man, a woman, a child, a god or a fellow fatui harbinger. a threat was a threat.

dottore would do anything to protect you.

the world was a cruel place filled with dangerous people (ironic coming from him), you would be safer locked up in his chambers.

you, on the other hand, didn’t know how you got yourself into this mess.

you were just minding your own business and the next thing you knew, you were in dottore’s chambers, chained to his bed like a pet.

you never thought a fatui harbinger, let alone the second out of eleven harbingers, would ever take a liking to you and take it this far.

he was a monster. you called him a monster, you called his actions monstrous.

he just wanted to protect you, can’t you see? what he had done was an act of love. they were anything, but monstrous.

“don’t worry, darling. just stay in here where it is safe and sound. i will take care of everything.”

[definesanity]

Reforge Thy Fate.

(Or, a montage of Darling with the Harbingers in the Fatui!AU.)

Taglist: @barbatoskisser, @gunterdon, @nicebonescomrades, and @chocoenvy.

The Nine of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers: Pantalone, The Regrator.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Why yes, you were bored out of your mind, how could one tell?

You had nothing against Pantalone. Although, if you had known he was this quiet when reading through profits, you would have left him to it as to not distract him.

With a sigh, however, he placed the book aside. "Ah, finally. I do hope you weren't too bored, Your Grace?"

"Don't worry, I wasn't." sitting up from your seat, you couldn't help but have a thought strike you. "...Say, I have a riddle for you."

"A riddle?" Pantalone's smile grew at that. "Well, do not keep me waiting, if you'll so please."

"What weighs more: a kilogram of steel, or a kilogram of feathers?"

The Ninth Harbinger's mouth opened before immediately closing again.

"Neither. They're both a kilogram."

You breathed a sigh of relief at that. "You'd be amazed the amount of people who would be tricked by that."

"Well, many don't think on them both be a kilogram, so they'd naturally go for metal, which is typically the heavier one."

You nodded. "Can't fault them there. Not many people look at the finer details. Minus you. If I gave you a thirty page long paper of terms and conditions, you'd read them all."

"Heh. I'm flattered you think of me the way I like to be; a banker. And, while my patience would dwindle... yes, I'd read the full pages."

-------------

The Eleven of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers: Ajax, Tartaglia, Childe.

"Morning, Your Grace! Mind if I take a moment to ask you something?"

"Childe." you nodded at the ginger-headed bastard. "Something the matter?"

"No, not at the moment; I just wanted to ask a... personal, question."

You knew where this was going. "Zhongli?"

"Zhongli." he replied, his voice not betraying his anger. "Out of curiosity... did he hurt you?"

"No; I had a few close meetings with his spear, but the only thing I had in the end was some mental trauma."

"So, yeah." You concluded. "No need to worry."

Childe shook his head at your nonchalance. "Your Grace, with all due respect... you may not remember it, but when I was little, and fell into The Abyss... it was you who helped me."

"What of Skirk?"

"My Master... I'll admit, she helped me. But only physically, helping me train myself and my body to withstand the darkness. But you, who's light shines even in the deepest part of that same darkness?

"That was what guided my mind. So please, try and have more faith in your followers. If not for I, then at least for the others?"

...After a moment, you sighed. "I will try my best."

"Thank you, Your Grace. Now, onto other business..."

-------------

The Second of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers: Zandik, Il Dottore, The Doctor.

You still have muscle memory from all your experiments in Triple Science. So, watching Zandik, or Dottore Primus, work was really bringing back those times.

"We didn't have Alchemy, back in my world," you commented offhand, reading one of the few books you had brought with you; a book on Ancient Greece.

And odd choice, but The Doctor was an odder person.

"Truly?" he sounded mildly surprised. "How odd. Erstwhile, it must be strange to return to a world with Alchemy, yes?"

"It is... say, are you mad about the whole ordeal with Buer?"

"I am... indifferent. They were helpful, yes, but in retrospect, it was just I wanting to relive my previous years. In addition, I am the Second in strength, not in numbers."

"...Well," you said. "I suppose you have a point."

"I may be mad to others, but truly; with the things I've done... could a madman have done those?"

'No,' you think. 'Because even then, they had some sort of humility to them.'

-------------

The Cryo Archon, The Goddess of Love, The Tsaritsa.

The Tsaritsa, while cold, was like snow and ice; on the outside was a frigid, slippy ice that pushes others away. On the inside, she was like snow that, while also cold, was much softer. Like now, for example.

The light of day slipped through the curtains, and though you wanted to move, a large arm kept you in place.

"My love," you whispered. "We can't stay here all day."

No reply.

"I know you're up, my love."

"...Nngh..." The Tsaritsa groaned. "...You truly cannot spare another moment?"

"A moment usually means an hour. But, unfortunately..." you sighed, snuggling closer. "You're too warm."

"Then rest, My Grace." tilting your head up to gaze at the towering God, she smiled down at you. "You, of all people, deserve it the most."