#not sure whether to have him come from sumeru or fontaine

[gemkun]

thinking about a genshin verse for veritas

[jhuzen]

do you have any thirst hcs for grandpapi neuvi? if you do pls share i’m so hungry 🤲

hydro dragonussy [m.reader]

hello hello, guess who’s back to writing again? this is a warmup because i struggled hard in continuing my kaveh request wip and a buncha scenarios for sick reader w genshin men and jing yuan all at once. on second thought… i think i really shouldn’t have written everything all at once. not to mention i’m trying out quotev to publish my yandere oc/m.reader stuff for fun. + yes that is the title. it’s either that or crybaby old man dragon thirsts. you pick.

𖦹 nsfw, neuvi is a virgin old man, underlying mentions of reader being an attorney (we all know i have a bias for them anyway, have you seen my workload series? lmao), switch male reader, switch neuvi, though we’re heavily leaning on bottom neuvi for this one, honorable mentions of cockwarming and thigh fucking, brief mention of double penetration (reader receiving), gentle and rough sex, implied dacryphilia (you), breeding, fontaine rains whether or not he’s sad, his tears are the rain and i will drink them like a hungry eremite in the sumeru desert.

Let’s face it, Neuvillette has no time outside of his work as the Iudex of Fontaine, he’s constantly buried underneath those paperworks, and on top of that, when he’s not tackling mountains of cases, he’s out in the opera, presiding trial after trial when the Oratrice can already do the same thing for him.

So when you appeared in his life all of a sudden, he was new to all sorts of things. In his long life as a dragon, he has had little experience in what you can offer to him. He’s awkward for the first few moments of your relationship.

It’s the same to sex — you’d have to take initiative in every single little thing, show him the ropes like the good commander you are, and he obeys with no complaints. He sees that you enjoy it, and if you’re good at it and you’re willing to teach him, he is an obedient patient.

Old man’s heads are very clumsy at first, teeth scraping against your length while he slowly but surely bobbed his head. He’s slow, but he treats your little guy with so much care. Looking up at you with tears pricking at the ends of his eyes as he tried to please you as best as he could. Obligatory weather report — it’s a light drizzle in Fontaine.

But when you give him head, Neuvillette squirms, it doesn’t matter where he is, he could not keep himself still. It’s always obvious that even you cannot bring yourself to blow him semi-public in his office, just because you’re afraid a poor innocent little Melusine would come inside and see their beloved leader squirming around traumatize them. It would also be bad for his image if you guys get caught, so… sexy times are inside the comfort of his possibly huge home as much as possible.

Sex with him is slow and intimate, very romantic. What did you expect? He’s from Fontaine and they apparently love to romanticize things. Whether or not who’s on top when you guys are doing it, they are a lot more languid in style, like a moment of relaxation between the two of you.

A switch, though preferably a bottom. Yes, that’s right, old man Neuvillette likes to be serviced. He likes it when you’re the one filling him up so good. It’s hot and heavy, just the way he likes it.

He’s a tired man, so he’s definitely a pillow prince— no, a pillow king. He lays there and takes it like a good boy, only gazing at you with those soft eyes, hazy with love and lust while you continued to push into him. He takes your hand in his every time you enter him and he always squeezes your hand tight the deeper you go in.

Call him romantic and a basic man, but he lives for missionary. He wants to see you while he feels you stuff him full of your cock. He only writhes in the beginning while he tries to adjust around you, squeezing you tight inside him while his breath stutters, trying to take you in all at once.

If he’s the one in charge, it’s all the same, he’s gentle with his actions, though, honestly, he’d rather have you ride him instead. He likes to see you in all your glory, with you rolling your hips in such a needy manner while he kept you grounded, holding onto you as he caressed your thighs. It’s perfect for him.

Oh yeah, and this goes without saying — he’s a dragon, so he has two cocks. Fitting him in is a sport on its own, but you graduated with a major in fucking dragons, so you’re good. He’s a bit thicker on the side too, so each time you take him in, you could feel every inch of him, and every throb of his cocks is a heaven sent feeling that courses through your insides.

Please be gentle with him, he is an old tired man who hasn’t had a break. He is so vanilla that it’s boring but his cries are worth it.

He’s a very quiet man too, his moans are shy and light, a gasp here and there and a tiny whimper with every increment of speed adding into your thrusts.

Neuvillette is definitely the type to squirm and get away from you at first, but you just need to keep him still and hold him down by his thighs before you plow into him. He likes it though when you do it, it reassures him that you want to do this with him and that you’re not letting him go no matter what happens.

Another weather report: a good light rain. Not too heavy.

Now that all the sweet stuff is out of the way, rough sex is not as often as the usual vanilla one, but it’s not completely an uninvited guest between you two.

If you fucked him rough and hard, Neuvillette will cry and break. His poor pristine and unmarked body, filled to the brim with your greedy bite marks and hickeys, glowing red and bruising dark purple that leaves him embarrassed when they’re still around if you somehow managed to weasel in a rough session in the morning before he goes to work and you will be reprimanded for it once he’s home, no exceptions.

“No more of these obvious markings,” he’d say with a stern tone, only to end up face down on the pillow with his ass up while you found a loophole and devoured his entire back instead.

He hates that he can’t see you when you go rough on him, because it’s normally him ending up with his face buried into his pillow while he laid on his stomach, his hips being held up by you while you ruthlessly pounded into him without even an ounce of mercy.

He hates it, but at the same time, it does help with keeping his noise down because when you’re doing him so roughly, Neuvillette wails, he cries hard, with those pretty tears of his not letting up. He’d scream to the high heavens and were it not for the fact that your hand was forcing his head down into his soft pillow, the entirety of Fontaine would hear it.

Again, Neuvillette is a tired old man, so something so rough definitely leaves him drained, you’d constantly have to hold him up halfway through your little session.

Fucking him while he’s on his side and his one leg hooked over your shoulder is a great compromise, with how you can both still see each other Neuvillette can immediately turn his head to hide away into his pillow when he realizes he’s being a little too loud on his own good.

He’s definitely the kind to force himself to be quiet. If you fuck him without anything for him to bite into to hide his loud noises, he will cry and be embarrassed through out, barely even managing to cover his own mouth with his hand without an ounce of struggle while his body jerked up and down, following through every harsh punctuated thrust that you made into him. Weather report: Fontaine has a storm.

Neuvillette cries his heart out every time you go rough, full on sobbing and it is such a turn on. The way he makes garbled noises while he would protest into your roughness, hand gently pushing into yours while he asks for you to be gentler and go a little slower, only to cling helplessly into his pillow when his pleas fell into deaf ears.

His tears are just… divine. He cries so prettily and he does it with unwitting grace and class — somehow, he’s just innately beautiful in every thing that he does. There is no such thing as an unsightly sobbing to this man.

Neuvillette makes this soft noise in between a whimper and a gasp every time you hit his prostate spot on and he just shudders in delight, his breath shaky until he can barely think straight.

Gentle or rough, he’s definitely into breeding. Neuvillette has a breeding kink and anyone who thinks otherwise will sink deeper than Khaenri’ah. Stuff him full of your cum and he’s a happy and satisfied man.

It’s not just the feeling of your hot seed pumping him full that pleases him, but being around the Melusines, treating them like his children despite them being just his subordinates has definitely gotten this old man all too paternal. He likes the premise of being able to build a family with you, and he will nurture your children with all his being.

Thigh fucking? Thigh fucking. Though it’s rare, only when he’s really tired but still aches to please you, and even you’re too lazy to move a lot.

Bother him when he takes work at home by making him cockwarm you. He could not concentrate at all — squirming and squeezing around your cock so deliciously while you teased him about getting his work done.

Has definitely tried wall sex with you, with his back against the wall while you held him up. May or may not have happened at the opera after a heated trial when he ruled against your client and you were pissed your streak of wins on that week crumbled into dust. It’s neither your fault but the client’s, but you’re a sore loser and Neuvillette is a stoic judge.

Call him daddy while you fuck into him and he will break, he’ll go slack, his mind numbed when a rush of dopamine just infiltrated his brain every time you’d call him that.

And after all that, aftercare is a must. Treat your dragon well. He did so much for you, and you broke his old man back after fucking him into oblivion. Clean him nice and well, kiss his tears away, and wrap him tightly in a blanket while you hold him.

[everparanoid]

Wholesome Delinquent Behaviour┃Wriothesley

pairing: f!reader x wriothesley

genre: fluff , smut, light Angst

rating: 18+

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !

tags: consent is hot, it's all good till the backstory, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Reader is Not Traveler, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Squirting, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, biting kink, inappropriate use of cuffs, spoilers for wriothesley story quest, No use of y/n, Past Murder, Minor Original Character(s), Facials, PWP, Blowjobs, handjobs, everything between reader and wriothesley is consensual

wordcount: 9.5K

synopsis: The first time you met Wriothesley was completely by accident. Not that you remembered it too well; if you did, he wouldn’t confirm it without putting you through a gruelling test. No, the first time you remembered meeting Wriothesley was much later.

You are a prisoner at Meropide who meets and falls in love with Wriothesley over the years of knowing him, and he falls harder.

Originally posted: 30.10.23 on AO3

a/n: I am now reposting my AO3 stuff onto tumblr. If you know me....no, you don't. ;) Also check out my AO3 for more wriothesley fics.

Song Inspiration: ''Safeword'' by TV Girl.

I don't own any of the artwork used.

If everything could come to a stop, just for something she says,

The first time you met Wriothesley was completely by accident. Not that you remembered it too well, and if you did, he wouldn’t confirm it without putting you through a gruelling test. No, the first time you remembered meeting Wriothesley was much later.

You wiped away the sweat coating your brow with the back of your dirtied hand, heaving a deep sigh. The production zone, despite being at the bottom of the ocean, was like what you imagined the hot springs of Inazuma to feel like. You wanted to go there one day—to Inazuma. Although the borders were closed to the outside, the stories you heard of the beautiful Sakura blossoms filled you with the determination to get there. One day, you would. You were sure of it. If you didn’t get struck down by their archon first.

“Inmate, stop slacking! Unless you don’t want to eat tonight,” the guard manning the floor yelled at you.

You rolled your eyes and continued hammering at the heated chunks of metal. Your arms were weak, and your palms were sweaty. It was times like this when you wished you had a cryo vision. You wished for many things. You wished you hadn’t been caught. You wished Fontaine were a better place. You wished that Monsieur Neuvillette felt even an ounce of sympathy for your case, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and the court of Fontaine was as ‘fair’ as they came. The sky had down poured the night you were sent to Meropide. It was the worst Fontaine had seen in four hundred years. You hadn’t seen the sky properly since you probably never would. People rotted down here. So, all you could rely on was the glistening memory of bitter water, and your dreams.

It was better, you decided, to be punished here than in Sumeru, Inazuma, or even Monstadt. You’d been to Liyue once, but you weren’t there long enough to have a clear judgement of whether their form of justice would be any better. Then again you had been arrested before you got out of Liyue and they handed you straight back to Fontaine to be judged by your home region’s laws.

“Inmate!” The guard yelled snapping you from your thoughts. “You’re wanted at the administration area.”

You dropped your hammer, relieved for the break, and shoved past the guard on your way to the lift.

I thought the whole point was you were living on the edge,

“It’s your lucky day, kid,” another guard said as you meandered leisurely toward them.

This guard you liked.

Meropide inductions didn’t happen often. Most of the time the convict was thrown into their dorm and made to figure it out themselves. In the instances of special cases, you were brought out like a friendly face before the storm. You had no clue why it was you they chose, but you always got paid handsomely in credit coupons, so the particulars didn’t matter to you. You had long since abandoned the idea of fairness down here where the sun doesn’t shine.

“What have we got this time?” you asked cracking your knuckles.

“A kid, your age.”

You paused. It wasn’t often you met people around your age down here. Everyone was either one foot in the grave or an adult.

What could this kid have done to end up down here with the downs and outs? You looked out the large glass window, it stared out into the deep blue Fontainian waters. The sea was dark, so you guessed it must be night. Time was more of an idea, a concept if you will, down in the depths. So, you enjoyed rare moments like these to re-calibrate yourself. It was a shame. You had hoped to at least feel the sun’s rays through the water’s refraction, but it was like you said beggars couldn’t be choosers.

The lift lowered down behind you, and you turned to greet this so-called new inmate. You were greeted by a tall scrawny boy, probably not even a year older than yourself with dull icy eyes and jet-black hair. He was drenched in that same bitter water.

You put on your brightest smile and offered your hand.

“Welcome to hell,” you said.

Not your best work but it caused a small snicker from the boy, and your favourite guard who stayed close by. Strange. They never stayed around. Were they that concerned about your ability to induct a fellow teenage delinquent?

Wriothesley paused. When he was given his verdict by the Monsieur Neuvillette he didn’t expect such a warm welcome. Well, warm as far as being greeted at its entrance.

He didn’t take your hand, instead opting to stare at you with those haunted eyes. You were disheveled at beast and downright filthy at worst. Nothing to sing or dance about. Nothing to fall head over heels in love with either, but you didn’t care. Who wanted to find happiness in misery anyway?

“Hell?” Wriothesley echoed. His voice was steady and stern like he was aged beyond his years; by the lack of life in his eyes, he probably was. “Is it that bad down here?”

You shrugged one shoulder.

“Depends,” you said.

“On what?” he asked, calculating. You could feel his brain working from where you stood. 

Fascinating.

“Depends on how stupid you are,” you looked him up and down, chewing the inside of your cheek absentmindedly. Then, as if a rocket had been shot up your butt, you spun on your heels and gestured for him to follow with a lazy flick of your wrist.

He did so, catching up to you easily with his long legs and just as long stride.

“I didn’t catch your name,” you said as the lift doors closed behind you taking you down to the actual entrance of Meropide not the fancy entrance for visitors too afraid to see the truth. Fontaine was a giant opera, and you lot in Meropide were the hidden stage crew, slaving behind the scenes after losing your spot in the limelight.

“You didn’t ask,” he responded flatly from beside you.

“Clearly that was the hint for you to tell me.”

“It’s Wriothesley,” he said.

It didn’t sound like it was his actual name. Hell, it didn’t sound like a name at all, but who were you to judge? Meropide was a place to start a new; to redeem yourself from your sins, and nearly burn to death in the production zones breaking your back for an administrator who was a tyrant. What was a kid reclaiming their identity going to do to you?

“Nice to meet you, Ricecake.”

“Ricecake?”

“Hey, you give me a name I can’t pronounce you live with the consequences, Ricecake.”

The doors opened and the lift groaned as steam poured out of its pipes and vents. Some unfortunate soul was going to have to clean those later, and you prayed it wasn’t going to be you. You had a burn on the inside of your arm from the last time you cleaned those steaming pipes, it was a jagged ugly thing to look at, so you kept it hidden. Out of sight out of mind, right?

The receptionist sat behind the desk looking as melancholy as everyone else in this place. Wriothesley was going to fit in just fine, you thought, as you remembered that same almost dead look in his eyes.

“You coming?” you asked the boy who stood gawking at you from the lift. “It won’t take you back up you know. I mean you can try. It’s your sentence you’re lengthening.”

“You don’t recognise me?”

“No?” you said. “Should I?”

You tried to recall when you would have seen him before but only drew blanks. You’d seen so many of the same faces and watched so many of them die that telling anyone apart was a pipe dream for you. However, for some reason, you knew that Wriothesley would stick in your head. Not just because the name was so peculiar but because something about him intrigued you. He didn’t seem upset down here yet. No, he looked curious. Curiosity was dangerous. Curiosity got the smartest people in here killed or beaten half to death. No, Wriothesley stuck in your head because he reminded you of hope.

So, when those sounds start to drift down the hall, and stat to freak out the neighbours,

“No coupons, no meal,” the chef said, his voice booming through the place. You wondered over questioning who would be stupid enough to get into conflict with the head chef. He was a burly man, tall with a glassy eye and a wooden spatula the size of a person. The rumour was that he had been a Fatui skirmisher in the overworld. The truth was he was like every other soul in here, beaten and trapped. Upon seeing the familiar woolfy black hair, spiked in random places you inserted yourself into the conversation.

“Sorry about that boss. He’s new,” you said to the chef.

He waved his beefy, greasy hand at you to leave.

“Don’t let your friend come back unless he has coupons. This isn’t charity,” he said with a thick Snezhnayan accent.

“Gotcha,” you said and gave the chef a salute. Hooking your arm under Wriothesleys, you pulled him out of the cue. He nearly tripped over his foot. You dragged him to a secluded table a little away from everyone else, where your singular special box of bread and curry waited for you.

You let him go.

You pointed to the wall where it read, ‘If a man will not work, he shall not eat.’

“Sit,” you commanded pointing to the chair opposite yours.

Wriothesley stared at you like you had grown four heads.

“I have no food,” he said.

“I can see that,” you responded, opening your box and letting the steam waft out. Both of your stomachs groaned at the same time. It had been a while since you had had decent food from the chef, it would be even longer till you had another one; credit coupons weren’t easy to come by and they were better spent on other things like making sure you didn’t get smothered in your sleep.

“How much did that cost?”

“More than you’ll make in your first year,” you said breaking up the bread in your hands.

He gulped dryly.

“How do you know that?”

“You’re a fresher. You’re basically free labour until you have some experience behind you, and some meat on your bones. You’ll be lucky if they pay you a tenth of what you should be getting in your first year. Unless you can fight.”

You let your words settle in the silence between you.

“What did you do?” you ask.

“What?”

“Your crime? What did you do? The guards treat you like a danger to humanity,” you said glancing at the guard who watched you both intently. You could understand them glaring at you but why him?

Wriothesley shifted in his seat, straightening up as if preparing for something.

“I killed my parents,” he said.

He didn’t say anything more than that, he didn’t need to.

You blinked.

“Both of them?”

“Yes.”

You let it sink in for a minute and then nodded.

“I will not be offended if you run, after all this is the entire truth,” he said bluntly. His stomach growled again, and he clutched it willing it to silence itself.

“We’re all crooks and criminals down here,” you said. “But that doesn’t mean we are all bad.”

He lifted an eyebrow at you. You supposed it was because he was expecting you to run. Which meant he obviously didn’t know you. 

“What if I am just a bad guy?”

You shrugged. It was not like you were the dog’s bollocks yourself.

“I have a good enough instinct to know that you aren’t, Ricecake,” you said and pushed your now broken-up bread and curry meal toward him. You were going to regret it. You hadn’t eaten a full-fledged meal in three months, but still, you gave it anyway. “Eat.”

You would have wanted someone to do the same for you when you got here. Friends weren’t made under the sea. His eyes widened and his pale face brightened for the first time since you had met him.

“This is yours,” he said, sounding flabbergasted.

“Now it’s yours,” you said. “Eat up and get some rest. You need to be strong if you want to survive around here.”

You noticed something in his eyes then, a spark. It was dull but it flickered. Your stomach flipped again.

You took a sip of your water before pushing it over to him. He was going to need it more than you.

“Thank you,” he said.

You shook your head.

“There is no need for thanks between us. See it as me looking out for a fellow delinquent.”

“Delinquent?” he said taking his first bite of the bread drowned in curry sauce and rolling his eyes in bliss at the flavours. He began to hoover up the box like it was running away from him.

You remembered when you were like that with every small crumb of bread you got when you first got here. Your stomach flipped. What kind of hell had Wriothesley come from?

“Slow down buddy meals like this don’t come around every day,” you said. “Take it slow, no one can kick you out of here to work anyway. Seems they’re too afraid of us.”

He did as you said. Licking off his fingers, he looked around the floor at the glaring stationed guards and occasional inmates. He faced you his eyes glimmered with light like a shooting golden star flying across an icy sky.

“So, how do I get them to trust me?” he said leaning in.

 You leaned back in your seat, your arms crossed and a smile on your face. You were sure now, that feeling in your stomach was hope.

remember that it's good, clean fun,

“Happy Birthday!” you grinned, setting down a box you had smuggled up from the cafeteria into his room. He raised a brow up at you. It was the 23rd of November, the day he’d decided was his birthday; the same day he was sentenced to Meropide.

“Ah, thank you,” he said politely. His stomach growled at the delicious aroma coming off the box revealing, despite his calm thanks, his eager anticipation for your yearly gift.

Guilt riddled him, as he dropped the gauntlet he had been upgrading, next to the cashflow machine he had found and tinkered back to use. He had wanted to pay you back. Every year, on the day he arrived you came with a box and another ten pieces of meshing gear for his tinkering, and as much as he secretly loved it, he felt like he wasn’t doing enough to pay you back.

It had been six years and yet he hadn’t gotten you a single thing he considered worth the amount of your kindness. Aside from a necklace with a piece of meshing gear that he had forged into a Cerberus insignia. You wore it everywhere. You wore it then, the rustic insignia rested on your chest. He had already put aside the pieces for a matching bracelet, a little trinket from him to you. A subtle hint to show that you were his, even if he hadn’t said it yet.

He unravelled the box and two tea bags fell out of the wrapping.

You picked them up and shook them before him.

“Tea for the occasion,” you said.

He smiled and closed his eyes.

“I fear, you know me too well.”

He shook his head.

“I don’t know your favourite colour,” you said, brewing the tea in the teapot he kept on the wonky table.

“I don’t have one.”

Meaning he couldn’t choose one without them all tying to you. Maybe it was the colour of your hair, or eyes, or even the colour of your lips, he’d stare at those often. Too often lately. He was staring now. He looked away.

“Well, I guess I do know everything about you,” you chirped.

He thanked you as you handed him a cup of tea with two sugars just as he liked it. You knew these things. It wasn’t like you had spoken about them.  No, you had been around him so much in the last few years that these things came naturally to you. It was like breathing. You sat beside him on the ground. Your tea warmed your hands.

“What else does the birthday boy want on his birthday?”

He fought back the blush though he was sure the colour still painted his skin.

“Nothing.”

“Come on! There has got to be something?”

Wriothesley shook his head and opened the box.

“Okay then if you insist. Share this box with me?”

“But it’s yours.”

“And I want to share it with you. Are you really going to deny me on my birthday? Remember, you are the one who asked what I want.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Fine.”

He broke up the bread inside one of the compartments in the box, the same way he'd watched you do it countless times. You reached in and dipped a large unbroken piece of bread into the soup before bringing it up to his lips. He stared at your hand.

“Open up. Come on, birthday boy, if we are sharing then you’ve got to have the first bite,” you said.

When it became apparent that you weren’t going to give up any time soon, he opened his mouth enough for you to slip the bread between his teeth. Both of you without the other's knowledge held your breath when he bit down, and his lips brushed the tips of your fingers.

A shiver ran through your body, one you knew would follow you to bed and into your filthiest dreams.

He pulled back and quickly cleared his throat, as he chewed without tasting.

“It’s delicious,” he said.

“It is,” you choked out, though you hadn’t tried it yet.

He didn’t bother to correct you, too lost trying to calm the riot in his chest. When he felt like he had better control of the battle in his chest he picked up a piece of bread, dipped it into the curry sauce and held it toward you. You blinked.

“You should try some too. You know since we are sharing and all.”

You took a bite from the bread letting the flavours wash over you. They too were lost to the way you noticed his eyes watching your lips enclose around the bread. You nodded and covered your mouth as you chewed.

“It is good,” you agreed, with a mouth full of mush.

He nodded and looked away from you, scooping up another piece of bread and popping it into his mouth. You would have thought he was unaffected until you saw his ears were deep shade of crimson.

Just wholesome delinquent behaviour,

“What’s this about?” You asked as he guided you with his large cold, calloused hands over your eyes. You envied his cryo vision, and his ability to stay cool down in that heat pit. He hid it well, but you knew he had one. You’d seen it one day by accident and not breathed a word about it since. Vision holders were targets down here and the last thing you wanted was to put him in any more danger.

“Patience. Don’t you know all good things come to those who know how to wait,” he said.

 He had dragged you out of the production zone after finishing his work and disappeared off like he usually did only to reappear an hour later with that confident stride he had. You barely ever saw him these days, but when you did it would be like he was still the fresh-faced delinquent but older. You were both older. He guided you into a seat and then removed his hands. You missed the cool touch on your skin. It took a second for your eyes to adjust to the poor lighting.

“What is this?” you asked, staring at the giant box in front of you.

You looked up at Wriothesley. It had been twelve years since he came to the fortress and the once soft baby face was gone, lost to the grit of Meropide. Wriothesley commanded the trust and respect of everyone around him much to the administrator’s dismay. When you were working away in the production zone, to he would be off swaying the inmates and the guards, working his natural charisma on those around him.

“What happened?” You asked reaching up and grazing his split lip with your finger. He caught your wrist and dipped his head out of the way flashing you a half smile. He had grown even taller over the years and now you had to reach up to touch him. He glanced at the ring on your finger, and you snatched your hand away, your face flushed with embarrassment.

“I won some more coupons,” he said.

In reality, he had scrapped up the coupons that he’d hidden away in the case of a rainy day and used them to buy you the meal. A week earlier he had lost all his accumulated credit coupons in a single night to the Fortress’s administrator.

“You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“Is that so?” he sassed. “I suppose I should write a will.”

Your expression darkened.

“Kidding, of course,” he said.

“Of course.”

“I went to Sigewinne,” he assured you. “She said I would be fine as long I rested.”

“Good,” you said.

You turned back to the box.

Metal screeched on the floor as Wriothesley pulled his chair closer directly across from you. The place was unusually empty—only a few guards manned the area, but no other inmates could be spotted on the floor.

“So, what is this?” You could smell the faint fragrance of something familiar. Something you hadn’t smelt in years.

“Open it,” he said and gestured with his chin to the box.

You gave him a cautious look and lifted the lid. Inside sat four rolls of bread and two bowls worth of curry. Your heart fluttered. When you looked up at him, he was already watching you; his icy eyes shining like stars. You didn’t want to think anything of it… to hope. Hope was stolen from you. Hope led to you becoming trapped in a loveless engagement with one of the crooked guards.

“You really did it?” you said and ached a little inside.

This was supposed to be a happy moment but all you wanted to do was weep bitter water.

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his toned scarred arms over his chest. He looked so broad and solid; all that boxing had morphed his physique into something godly.  “I told you I would pay you back.”

“That was twelve years ago, and this is more than triple what I gave you.”

“I added the interest,” he said.

“Why now?”

He looked down at your ringed finger again and frowned. His brows drew together in the way they did when he was annoyed or thinking more than he was going to let you in on.

“I’m going to fight the administrator,” he said bluntly.

You paused mid-snap of your bread.

“You’re going to fight the administrator?” you repeated, unsure of whether you heard him correctly. “Your sentence is up. Why would you do that? You’re going to die.”

He shrugged.

“I refuse to watch people suffer under the crooked ruling of a tyrant,” he said and eyed your ring again. Your finger felt like it was on fire; you dipped a bit of bread in the curry and handed it to him. He waved it away.

“Why are you like this?” you said, and dropping the piece of bread into the curry, you watched it drown and disappear into the thick liquid. “Is it not enough that you’ll be free?”

You blinked back tears, your hands clenched on your thighs. You had watched nearly all of his fights and every single time your heart was in your throat. Every time he bled, every time he shook hands with his opponent; every time the ringleader held up his beaten-up arm to declare his victory. You hated it. You hated all of it.

He said your name with a tenderness he reserved only for you. A tenderness you didn’t want to hear. A tenderness you blocked out with everything in your soul.

“Is it so strange that I would want to fight for those whom I promised a better life out of genuine care?”

“Why did you do that?” you yelled, your voice came out harsher than you intended but it was too late to take it back. That was the thing about words, they could never be unspoken. He cleared his throat.

“As I recall, I didn’t come here to live under the thumb of another driver, and I thought you would understand that more than anyone else, but I see now that I was wrong and clearly you have been broken down after all.”

You bit down hard on your lips, and your jaw clenched so tight that you were sure you would crunch a tooth.

“Ric—Wriothesley. That’s not fair,” you whispered.

“Indeed, it’s not but it’s the truth.” He glanced away for a second. “Look, I am in love with you, and I have been for the last twelve years. I can’t simply watch you be with someone you hate just to get a sentence lowered that you still won’t tell me about. I could have helped you. I am helping you. I’m helping everyone,” he pushed his chair back and stood.

“…What?”

“I’m fighting tomorrow. Show up, if you have some time, of course; or don’t, but I’ll be looking out for you. You can find me in my dorm before then.”

You fought back the urge to chase after him, to slap him, to kiss him, to hold his hand, to hold him so tightly and cry the way you haven’t been able to since the day you were convicted. Instead, you didn’t. You sat in silence and ate the bread and curry watching your heart walk away from you.

Oh, remember your safe word,

His dorm room was across from yours. It was sparse like everything else in the underwater fortress. A pillow and scatty blanket lay atop a barely functioning mattress in a corner. Wriothesley sat at the small table barely standing on its uneven legs. A tiny pot brewed a herbal smelling tea, and two teacups sat in front of him.

“You came,” he said barely above a whisper. His confidence was a quiet one.

“You love me.”

“Would you like some tea?” he asked, gesticulating to the second cup in front of the spare chair.

You had been in here countless times; shared many cups of tea with him; helped pierce his ears and manage his wounds; watched him shadowbox the air as you sat crossed-legged on his bed; you had wondered what life would be like if Meropide was a better place; you had wondered if the people you left behind missed you as you laid next to each other on his floor staring at the giant fan on the ceiling. Not that either of you had anyone but each other. Wriothesley had said his siblings were strangers to him, and he was probably a ghost they would never want to see again. An unfortunate reminder of something they’d all rather forget, but he never forgot. He refused to. He lived his truth.

 Every time he told you about his past you worried about how his view would change if you if knew your truth. However, Wriothesley never pressed too hard, never touched buttons he knew you didn’t want to be touched. Instead, he watched and observed, and took in all that you were willing to give him, just to see a glimmer behind the cracks of your mask.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked.

“Please.” He gestured to the chair. “Sit.” he filled your cup.

You took your seat and shifted around, unable to find comfort despite it being your usual chair. Feelings always made things feel different—uncomfortable. You knew this. Yet you still felt the discomfort, nonetheless.

“How did you know I would come?”

“I didn’t but I hoped and thankfully you didn’t disappoint, but you never do,” he said, filling his cup.

“No need to be modest with me, Wriothesley.”

“I am anything but modest with you,” he said your name softly.

You gulped. Wriothesley wasn’t one to mince his words, though tact was his favourite game.

“You must have heard about it already?” you brought the teacup to your lips taking a sip of the liquid. Credit coupons bought anything in this fortress, even the finest tea. “It’s all people can talk about when it comes to me.”

His expression darkened.

It was only a matter of time.

“You do, and yet you still love me?” you asked.

“I recall someone once telling me that we all are crooks and criminals down here but that didn’t mean we were all bad,” he recounted the words you had said to him when he arrived nearly verbatim. He leaned onto the table, and it shook on its uneven legs from the added weight. “Besides, I like hearing stories from their source.”

“Then ask.”

“What got you incarcerated?”

You took a deep breath. What did you have to lose? He had heard worse rumours.

For some reason, you cared about what he thought of you. You knew that feelings were fickle things, and yet, you cared that he loved you. You loved him too.

“Mariticide,” you said cooly, breaking the ice.

“But you were—“

“A child, I know.”

“I was illegally married off when I was eight years old to a man, twenty years my senior.”

Wriothesley remained neutral, you took it as your sign to keep going.

“He didn’t do anything to me until my twelfth birthday and then it started. At first, it was just touching and then it got worse. He was an influential Fontaine nobleman. One of the maids tried to help me report him but it didn’t work. So, one night when he came to my room, I had hidden a butter knife under my pillow. I castrated him and ran away, fleeing Fontaine. I wandered through Sumeru and then to Monstadt but even the city of freedom couldn’t protect me. So, I kept moving. It was when I was on my way through Liyue that the authorities caught up to me. The maid who had tried to help me was sleeping with the man and hence reported me. The hearing was quick, and I was put away fast. No one wanted to consider the implications of a thirteen-year-old being married to a thirty-three-year-old whom they all dined with. I heard he died a few years ago but my sentence keeps getting extended every time it gets close to the date of my term. I suspect it’s the maid. I was supposed to be here for eight years and well, I am still here. That’s why I must marry that Guard.” You took a long sip from your tea and then placed the cup down. “I’m damaged goods,” you said.

Wriothesley remained silent. He looked to be thinking of something and you had never seen his expression so dark.

“You’re not damaged,” he said, “and he’s lucky he lived after that.”

You smiled. It was a bitter smile; one filled with more exhaustion than remorse.

“Luck favours the rich.”

“If a man will not work, he shall not eat,” Wriothesley said, reciting the famous lines that painted the walls of Meropide.

You raised your teacup at him before taking another sip.

“Jokes aside, thank you for telling me,” he said.

He stood up and you feared he was going to ask you to leave. You wouldn’t be sad, at least that’s what you tried to convince yourself, but the sinking feeling came all the same.

He offered you his hand and you stared at it. Your brows furrowed before you hesitantly took it. He pulled you up to your feet. His cold hand intertwined with yours.

“Can I hug you?” he asked.

He’d never asked this before. Did you look like you needed a hug? Because you wanted one.

“Please,” you choked out.

You would never have described Wriothesley as warm, but when he held you in his arms and you heard his heart racing you couldn’t deny that he was undoubtedly warm. A single tear rolled down your cheek. Then another, and another, and another until you were sobbing into his shabby inmate shirt.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “I know.”

You’d been holding onto these feelings for so long. Letting them fester inside you like a sickness. No one had ever stopped to hear your side of the story and you thought you were okay with that. You thought if they stayed away from you then you could pretend to be like every other inmate brought in for stealing a slice of cake meant for Lady Furina. You thought you could hide your truth, but behind every fake smile, you wore it on yourself like a body of armor.

His shirt crumpled in your hands. He swayed from side to side and traced tiny circles on your back with his thumb.

“You did what you had to do. If he was alive, I’d kill him,” he said.

You wiped your eyes and looked up at him. “Please don’t fight tomorrow.”

He brought a hand up to your cheek and brushed away your tears. He decided then that he hated your tears, and he would do anything to see to it that you didn’t feel that way again.

 However, he hated the idea of you living with this pain more. He hated seeing that diamond on the finger where his should be. He hated it even more that you knew that he hated it before he had admitted his feelings for you. If his resolve hadn’t been solidified before now it would be completely. He would free you, and if you decided you wanted to be with him once you sprouted your wings, then he would accept you with open arms. He wouldn’t put you in another cage. He’d hate to see your heart break because to him you were his heart.

Wriothesley’s attention dropped to your lips; they were wet with your tears. He leaned down and brushed his lips to the corner feeling your sadness.

You turned your head at the last moment and captured his lips.

He froze.

You gripped his shirt tighter and reached up on the tips of your toes pressing your mouth further into his; willing him to reciprocate. Your first kiss with Wriothesley tasted like bitter water. It was soft and desperate. It knew what it was without the need for words or discussion.

His chest heaved as he pulled away.

“Don’t leave me,” you whispered.

“I won’t…” 

He wouldn’t—at least not tonight. Although, he didn’t know whether it was day or night outside of Meropide. The underworld was a different world entirely. It never truly slept. It didn’t adhere to the rules of the sun or the moon. It was filled with endless possibilities. Possibilities that could alter both of your existences and if he couldn’t free you above ground, he knew sure as hell would free you below. Although, one night of keeping you safe in his arms couldn’t hurt.

You sat down on his mattress. You looked so much smaller than he remembered, then again it had been twelve years.

He recalled your soot-covered face, and dull eyes when you had greeted him, the day he arrived at Meropide. The day he had begun his new life; his birthday. Although the circumstances weren’t great, he knew from the moment you said, ‘Welcome to hell,’ that he would love you.

He sat beside you.

“Tell me what you want?” he said, earnestly.

You leaned into him.

“I want you to be yours.”

It was true. You wanted him. Engagement be damned. Even if it was just one night, you wanted something for you. Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it was asking for too much, but you didn’t care. You had spent too long denying yourself the things you want to maintain a peace no one else upheld.

Wriothesley gripped your wrist and groaned what sounded like your name, but you couldn’t be too sure.

“Give me a word,” he said.

“What?”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he began.

“I am not fragile.”

Though in front of him, you were.

“I know you are not. Give me a word so I know to stop if it gets too much for you.” He tucked your hair behind your ear and rested his forehead against yours.

“Time,” you breathed.

That’s what you wanted—time. Time to love him, time to live, time to take back all the things you regretted and start again. Time to meet him before you both became who you were.

“Okay,” he said, leaving a kiss behind your ear. “Tonight, you’re mine.”

Only tonight. He reminded himself.

He could promise you that for certain. He couldn’t promise tomorrow, not because he was a pessimist but because he knew tomorrow was never certain. He had you now. He would make sure he had you forever but now would have to be enough. He would make it enough.

“Yours. Completely,” you said.

Another tear rolled down your cheek.

He pulled off his shirt. 

Your mouth merged with his, your tongue slipping into his open mouth tangling, exploring searching. He cupped your face in his hands, his eyes closing despite the desire to see every expression on your face.

You broke the kiss and leaned back pulling off your shirt. His eyes dropped to your breasts.

“Just for me,” he whispered, taking them into his hands and kneading them slowly.

He traced kisses down your neck, wishing to mark you, to lay his claim to you. He wouldn’t however, not yet…not tonight.

You fiddled with the string to his bottoms, untangling it and reaching in to feel his erection. He groaned against your neck unafraid to let you know how good it felt. You grasped his cock. It was thick, thicker than you expected, and so hard.  You needed both hands to grip him properly.

“Take off that fucking ring,” he hissed upon feeling it on his skin. You did, taking off the ring and dropping it with your shirt on the floor. You gripped his cock again, your hands feeling so much lighter without the mental weight of the ring.

“Harder,” he growled as you stroked him.

You tightened your grip watching as the crease between his brows grew. He rolled his hips into your hand.

“Oh, that’s it,” he panted.

You bit your lip and focused on the reddened tip.

Your thumb brushed the crown wiping away the drops of precum. He jolted, his jaw unhinging, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. You froze and released his cock. He opened his eyes, worried, only to see you on your knees between his legs.

He opened his legs wider and slid closer to the edge of the bed. He brushed your hair out of your face and gripped it in his hand as he used the other to keep him up on the bed.

“Go on,” he said. “Show me how much you want me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

Gripping, his cock you gave the tip a lick listening to his pleased grunts. Slowly you took him into your mouth, enjoying the sensation of his hand gripping your hair.

“Good girl, taking me so well.”

You were soaked just from listening to his praise. You slipped a hand into your underwear and began rubbing your clit.

His breath quickened, and his mouth felt incredibly dry from his inability to close it. His hips jerked, as you took him deeper. He heard you gag as he felt your throat quiver around his cock. He pulled out, letting you catch your breath before he thrust back into your throat. Your eyes rolled and drove a finger into yourself.

You bobbed your head keeping up with the brutal pace he was setting. You loved hearing his grunts and groans; you loved feeling his cock twitch and his pace stagger as he got closer. Despite how hard it was, you looked up at him. His mouth was agape, his eyes barely open. You released him just when you knew he was going to cum.

Wriothesley opened his eyes to see you waiting, mouth open, your mouth and chin dripping with saliva. You looked glorious.

“You’re stunning,” he breathed and released your hair, wrapping his hand around his cock and pumping it until the first spray of cum splattered your lips. “So perfect, with such a pretty mouth.”

You licked your lips and opened your mouth again, leaning closer till the tip rested against your tongue.

Wriothesley felt like he was in a dream or heaven or both.

“Swallow it all,” he panted as he pumped the rest onto your tongue.

You did so, licking your lips and opening your mouth to prove it.

At the sight of your flushed face, your blown lust-filled eyes, and your hand deep in your pants, he found himself hardening again. He had promised tonight, and tonight he was going to have. If he died tomorrow, he’d die a happy man.

“Get on the bed right now, naked and on your back,” he ordered.

You shimmied off your work pants and your underwear, laying on the bed under his hungry gaze. He stood and stripped the rest of his clothes away before joining you on the bed. It was barely big enough for both of you, but he was going to make it work. He kneeled before your closed legs.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Good.”

“Just good?” he teased, a smirk on his lips.

“Mhm just good,” you responded, reciprocating the expression.

“Oh, we’ll have to fix that,” he said, and scooping under your thighs, he opened your legs and pulled you closer to him.

You giggled at the speed at which he had your legs wrapped around his waist and his hard cock pressing against your soaked folds. He caged you between his arms as he rolled his hips slowly.

“I love you,” he said, staring into your eyes.

“I love you too,” you responded.

“I know.”

He kissed you with everything in his soul. At some point, he knew you loved him even if you hadn’t said it till just now. He knew it like how he knew the back of his hand but hearing it made it even better. It made it real.

He rubbed the head of his cock against your soaked hole, pushing in the tip just enough to feel you quiver before pulling out and running it over your pussy again.

“If I fuck you, you’re mine. No one touches what is mine. Do you understand?” He asked

Your heart stuttered.

“I understand.”

“After all, no one will be able to fuck you the way I can. Once I’m inside you unless you tell me otherwise, I’m not stopping until we both see stars,” he said, making sure he looked straight into your eyes as he did.

This wasn’t a game for him, he meant every single word and you knew it.

“Wriothesley, there will never be anyone like you.”

He groaned and slid in. Your back arched at the sheer size of his cock stretching you beyond your limits. You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw, grabbing onto the sheets for support.

“Breathe, relax,” he whispered. “Hold onto me.”

He continued to slowly push in bringing his knees closer giving him the right angle to get in as deep as possible. He gasped upon seeing himself completely disappear inside you. You tightened your legs around his waist, and dragged him down gripping his back, locking you into a mating press.

He waited till the need for release subsided before he began to move. The shitty bedframe, not built for the purpose it was being used for, squeaked, and hit against the wall. The sound of skin slapping against skin, and stifled cries joined the air disturbing whatever sorry soul had the misfortune of being on the other side of the wall. Neither of you cared at that moment. Within minutes you had already come twice.

Your chest heaved, and Wriothesley cupped them leaving bites all over your breasts, he avoided any place people would be able to see but needed to mark you somewhere. He moved back up to your ear and nibbled on the lobe.

“Show me how you touch yourself,” he said quietly.

You slipped a hand between your rocking bodies and began to rub your clit. Wriothesley leaned back till he was kneeling. Gripping your waist, he continued to fuck you watching with hawk-like focus the way your fingers played with your clit. It was like you were under display, laid out for him to observe and study, and you were.

“So, that’s how you like it?” he said, feeling your walls clench around him for the third time that night.

You whimpered in response, your words had long since failed you. You began to slow as your hand grew tired and your body became closer to a collection of jolting nerves than functioning limbs.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. You can give me two more, right?” he said.

You moaned as he replaced your hand continuing to rub your clit just as vigorously as you had started.

“Wriothesley,” you cried,

“Ssh, you’ve got this. Let go. Be a good girl and give me two more,” he urged you on.

You bit your lip and threw your head back letting out another cry which he swallowed eagerly. Your walls clenched again, and your body began to show the signs of a squirt. You sprayed, your legs shaking, your toes curling.

“Shit, you’re incredible. One more,” he captured your lips. “You’ve done so good. Just give me one more, my love,” he said against them.

One more and he would be satisfied. One more and he could guarantee that he would have enough resolve to follow through with his plans. Just one more.

You shivered again and bit down on his bottom lip as your final climax washed over you barely a minute later. He growled at the pain, tugging his lip from your mouth, and kissing you properly.

“Well done,” he said but continued thrusting at the same brutal pace. “I’m nearly there.”

You used what little strength you had to keep him inside. He said your name for what was the thousandth time that night.

“Not tonight,” he panted, smiling against your lips. “Trust me, I want to. I do, but not tonight.”

He pulled out and kissed you softly, stroking himself until his release painted your stomach. He kissed your forehead and rolled off you to not squash you under his weight.

You turned onto your side and cuddled into him. He wrapped his arms around you and entangled your limbs. You faced each other on the damp sheets.

It felt like time stopped. Everything melted away, you didn’t know whether it had been forty or four hours, and you didn’t care. You felt sticky and wet, the only thing cooling you down was the natural coolness of his skin on yours. Sleep drifted over you like a blanket not soon after. You tried to fight it off, wishing to talk to him longer; to try and convince him against fighting the administrator; to find a way with you because as long as you had each other you knew everything would be okay…

“Everything is going to be okay,” he said quietly as if he had read your mind, sending you off to sleep. “It’s all going to be okay.”

When you woke the next morning, well when the sound of the guards woke you from your sex-induced coma, Wriothesley was gone.

Remember your safeword.

You woke to cool scarred arms wrapped securely around your waist. Wriothesley’s head rested on your breasts. Flecks of grey mixed seamlessly into the stream of black hair reminded you that you were no longer in the past. You shifted slightly to free an arm. He grumbled something and nuzzled his head further into your breasts, securing his arms tighter around you as if afraid you were going to disappear. It was a habit he had developed over the years, an incessant need to hold onto you when he slept. You didn’t mind it too much, you liked being cold when you went to bed; it helped you sleep better.

“Wriothesley,” you whispered and ran a hand through his hair. You laid a peck on his forehead, and he stirred.

“Is it morning already?” he grumbled, though his eyes remained closed.

He had been awake for as long as you had been lost in your thoughts, silently listening to the sound of your pounding heart. He couldn’t help but wonder what thoughts ailed you on nights like these.

You admired the thick dark lashes casting shadows over his face.

“No, I just can’t sleep,” you said.

You knew his skin like the back of your hand. The scar under his eye, the scar on his neck that led down to the center of his breastplate and stopped on his sternum. The ones wrapped around his arms, the ones that scattered his waist and stomach, the ones on his thighs; even the small faint one on his calf from when he fell over as a kid. He told you that was when he knew his skin was going to be littered with scars. Wriothesley scarred easily and he scarred badly. However, despite their jagged appearances, none of them were too hideous for you to bear. You didn’t like them, but you loved Wriothesley, and as they were as a part of him as any other part of him, you learnt to love them too. They represented how many battles he had won. They represented every promise kept.

You lifted his head up and kissed the scar on his face, the one right under his eye.

You could feel his hardened cock pressing against your thigh. His pupils were blown when he finally opened his eyes.

He loved you so much it hurt. Yes, physically but also mentally. He loved how you accepted him, he loved how you chose him, and he loved how you chose you too. Most of all he loved how you looked when you teased him, so raw, so ripe, so ready to dismantle you completely.

“Oh, I can think of ways to help with that,” he murmured.

“I don’t know if I have the stamina, your grace,” you teased.

He let out a guttural noise.

He nibbled and sucked on your nipple, messaging your other breast in his cold, rough hands. Your breath staggered as you gave in to his touch. The sound went straight to his cock. He had fucked you into the sheets earlier that night, till you were blubbering and couldn’t remember your own name. Still, it wasn’t enough. It was never enough; he would never get enough of you. Despite your fear that one day he would disappear, he never would. It was Wriothesley who worried that one day you would grow tired of his incessant need to be near you; to have you, to consume you. So, he savoured every squirm, every shiver, every breathy gasp of his name that you would spare him, terrified that they’d be his last.

“Ah, well it’s a good thing that I have enough stamina for the both of us,” he said switching his attention from one boob to the other. The earlier hickeys had already darkened on your skin. “Think you can cum again?”

He would kiss each one later wishing for them to last forever.

“You’re insatiable,” you blushed.

“Why wouldn’t I be? I have my favourite meal right where I want her,” he said and began to trail his tongue down your stomach towards your sensitive clit. He wanted you on his tongue, in his senses… everywhere.

“Do you remember your safeword?” he asked. It was what he always did before you both did anything sexual beyond intimate fondling and brisk kisses.

“Time,” you said.

“Good girl.” He half grinned.

He continued teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue, absorbing every twitch and shake of your body.

“Wriothesley,” you spluttered. “I need you.”

“You’ve got me,” he said.

He slipped his tongue into you, circling, lapping, like a man possessed he devoured you. His nose brushed against your skin. It was knowing his eyes were on you the entire time that made everything feel ten times more stimulating. You let out a quiet gasp and gripped his hair.

“You’re so good for me.” He gave you a broad lick. “So perfect.”

He replaced his tongue with his fingers, curling them inside you and scissoring them open to stretch you out not that you needed much with how well he had fucked you before. Still, it was the thought of giving you pleasure that spurred him on.

“Wriothesley,” you said.

He hummed to show you he was listening, the vibration made you quiver.

“I want your cuffs.”

He paused and pulled away, perking up. He secretly loved it when you surprised him.

“Oh? What for?”

You smiled and gestured for his cuffs. He scrambled off the queen-sized bed and walked butt naked to where he left his cuffs. You admired his ass from the bed. He had a great ass, he knew it too, it was why he wore his jacket around Meropide. His nickname Ricecake had gotten around the Fortress years ago and whilst it was okay when he was a convict, he didn’t need that level of familiarity as the Duke. Besides, you were the only one he wanted observing his ass.

He climbed back onto the bed and handed them to you, the spiked metal looked so good in your hands. His eyes flickered to the rings on your ring finger—his rings. The ones he gave you when he officially proposed.

He never ended up fighting that day due to the administrator’s sudden disappearance.

He recalled how you had run around Meropide searching for him, your hair a mess, the beginnings of one of the love bites he had left dauntingly close to view, poking out of one of his shirts that you had thrown on instead of your own. He recalled how you had slammed open the door to the administrator’s office, breathless, beautiful, with your eyes full of tears to him sitting behind the desk organising the abandoned files. He recalled how he claimed you again there, in that office over and over and over again. The other man’s ring was long gone somewhere down the many drains of Meropide, and your sentence cleared not long after. There were perks to becoming the administrator of the fortress of Meropide. Perks that had the maid of that man who hurt you disappear to a place only known by Celestia, the Archons, Navia, and Wriothesley. Neuvillette knew too but unless there was a trial, he would keep his nose out of it.

You knelt on the bed swinging the cuffs on your fingers.

“Where have you gone?” you cooed bringing him back to reality.

“Mm, nowhere, just admiring the view,” he said coolly.

You shook your head and pushed him to lay back against the pillows.

“You’re working too hard, your grace. I can fix that,” you said and straddled him.

Reaching above him, you cuffed his arms to the bed frame.

He cocked a brow and playfully tugged against the restraints.

“Ah, I hope so,” he said.

You kissed the corner of his mouth, smirking.

His cock twitched at the memory of your first time together.

“Remember the safeword?” you asked.

Seeing you sat on him, your eyes filled with life, he couldn’t care less that you didn’t remember your past before Meropide. He didn’t care that you didn’t recall how he was the boy you gave bread to once when you spotted him wandering away from his home. How you had given him, a complete stranger what looked like your last piece of food because he was sitting alone. He didn’t care if all you remembered was your last two and a half decades together… because you were here now with him. You chose him just as he chose you.

“Time," he responded.

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Dainslief headcannons !?

DAINSLEIF MENTIONED IN NEW GENSHIN UPDATE 😱😱 havent touched genshin in years. unless they release my king i will return 🤞

but i felt like redoing some headcannons i made back in my early days 😓 IT WAS THREE YEARS AGO LMFAO

this is a long one pookies 🤞i also didnt proof read it HAHA

Dainsleif headcannons - 2021

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-- mostly fluff! some angst :)

-I feel like he wouldn't know what the feelings he had for you were.

-So you'd likely confess to him first: While you'd two would be taking a small stroll in Mondstadt. You'd stop by a cliff filled with dandelions, the small white tufts flying passed you two. As you quietly spoke the words, 'I Love You' to him. Looking up at him with watery eyes afraid of rejection. His world had gone silent as he saw you mouth the words. He'd been left speechless.

(do you guys see the vision yes or no comment down below 👇)

-After you two confess, he'd eventually visit you more in your small apartment. Bringing you small gifts from his travels, a simple white rose from Fontaine, a book from Sumeru, mochi from Inazuma and a hair pin from Liyue.

-More often than not these gifts were apologies for taking shelter in your home, when he couldn't find an inn (or he didnt have the funds)

-When in your home he'd always offer to help with literally anything. Cooking, cleaning, helping you with your hair or ironing clothes. The man does it all, how else would he have survived 500 years?

-With the burden of living many lifetimes, he has the knowledge of 500 years. Often when laying in bed with you he'd start to ramble about small fun facts about the world and what was his world.

-He'd be very vulnerable with you, of fucking course he's not sleeping in his mysterious ass cape (😭) so you kept some pajamas for him.

-You'd left the small bedroom to let dainsleif change for a few moments before slightly opening the door, to see him looking at his topless figure in the mirror (😍). His eyes narrowing at he looked at the tainted flesh of his side, noticing you coming from behind and gently tracing it. 'it suits you', is all you said before he placed a gentle kiss to your temple as he quietly replied 'don't worry about it darling'

-as well as the tainted part i feel like he has small moles scattered around his body (whether it was there before the fall or they're small tainted bits) they're still cute.

-He often admires your from afar preferring to show his love through actions than words. Like small kisses on your knuckles, holding the door open for you, playing with your hair while cuddling.

-He prefers to call you by your given name, but sometimes if your lucky he'll call you 'darling', 'my starlight', love, 'my light' things like that. (idk he seems very astrological to me???)

-Since hes literally fucking broke, he often takes you on walks rather than actual dates. But when he does have some, he likes to look at the local food stalls persuading you to try a bit of everything.

-He'd overall adore you with all his being, giving you every bit of love and money he had on him. With the deep dread in his heart you'd one day you'd leave him all over again, just like before.

-of course the day you depart from the world, is a shattering one for him. He'd make sure to visit your grave often, cleaning it and leaving white roses when he could. His life returned to what it was before you, only with the lingering idea of you always haunting him.

--

i try to make this shit aesthetic but i yap too much 😔

i prefer to make small headcannons but yall this was brewing in my head for YEARS

hope you enjoyed my redo of my old ass headcannons 🥺🥺

--

Requests are open ^^ look at my navi for more info :D

-Love yall 💖

NOT sent from my iphone 😡

[ownedbythescribe]

Teyvat — Overture Teaser (Fontaine)

🌱 This is a bit late post, but I’m just really happy and quite overwhelmed to get a teaser from Hoyo for Fontaine! It is so surreal how last year, we just got Sumeru, and it possessed quality stories most particularly the Archon Quests. They improved with their writing considering that Inazuma was not expounded properly.

The side quests such as the Aranara, Golden Slumber, Dirge of Bilqis, and Khavarena of Good and Evil were also notable. Although not voiced, for lore enthusiasts, the stories enlightened missing portions of lore read only through books or articles scattered around the region. I particularly like the Aranara Quest despite its lengthy missions.

🌱 Moving on to Fontaine, we get a glimpse of the characters who will play major roles in the quest.

💧Freminet — Cryo Claymore — Automaton

Hoyo introduced this character first, and we see that he’s a diver of some sort based on his appearance. Lyney also mentioned that he is his older brother. Whether it would be by blood or not, we will know in the future.

💧 Lynette — Anemo Sword — Felis Alba

Next we see are the twins, Lyney and Lynette. Lynette appeared to be more robotic in a sense, and on the drip marketing, she was mentioned as Lyney’s assistant who seemed to prefer keeping to herself. She preferred Lyney to do the talking than anything else. For what reason? Still unknown to many.

It’s interesting really because Lyney seemed to care for his siblings a lot, and others may have already known but they were from the House of the Hearth headed by Arlecchino “The Knave”.

💧 Lyney — Pyro Bow — Felis Fuscus

As for Lyney, he was the narrator for the teaser, and he has been hinting about the current situation in Fontaine. I’m really excited to see how things will go from here on out especially since Sumeru was a blast!

Other notable characters we see in the trailer are:

💧Navia — Geo ???

💧 Charlotte — Cryo ???

💧 Sigewinne — ??? And Wriothesley — ???

By the way, they look so cute here! Wrio looks like he’s teasing her with choosing the tea instead of the other drink! It’s still unsure what their relationship is, but they look like siblings huhuhu

💧 Clorinde — Electro ???

As I’m looking at her, I’m also desperate for Hoyo to have a gun shooting character. Like a gun weapon type, but I’m not sure if they’ll ever introduce another weapon type because Mika has cross-bow, and not even a new type. A big sigh of disappointment leaves my lips.

She’s so cool though! Aaah! I’m so excited to see what’s her relationship or occupation in the Court of Fontaine!

🌱 Arlecchino — The Knave

Then we got Arlecchino looking so hot and ominous at the same time! The way she talked about Lyney and Lynette as well as the traits of a good actor makes me wonder if she’s treating the situation in Fontaine as nothing more but a trivial play.

🌱 Last but not the least, we get Furina and Neuvilette.

💧 Furina — ???

💧 Neuvillette — ???

If others may have remembered, we already heard of Neuvillette from Nahida’s drip marketing. He’s the Chief Justice in Fontaine and the one to head any cases in the court. He also mentioned once how he admired the Dendro Archon unlike his, but I think he has some sense of respect to his archon.

He also has some theories already speculated by the mass such as him being a Khaenri’ahn because of the eyes while others think he’s an oceanid in human form. Whatever he may be, we’ll know soon. I’m definitely pulling for this daddy man 😋

As for Furina, one thing that comes to mind is she’s definitely the Hydro Archon. This is not coming from leaks or whatsoever, but from pure reasoning alone. Nahida mentioned that the Hydro Archon loved to immerse herself in the feeling of the courtroom but not engaging in it. So it means that she’s usually seen just hanging around the court and never interacting with anyone. In the trailer, she’s seeking a surprise to finally come her way. This makes me think that maybe that surprise she’s looking for will involve the Fatui and Traveler. Whatever conflict it may be, Furina wanted to find delight in that.

🌱 Anyways, that’s all! I just really want to talk about it. I may not be making sense at some parts, but I try. One more patch, and we’re finally seeing our fifth region. I’m so excited!

[puppetgearing]

hi Nick ‎( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡) questionnn..if puppetgear were to get each other a present, what would they be buying for each other?? :0

hi gray !!!! i hope your mood get better, all the best for you and thank you for the question ! ∩˃ω˂∩) 

---

aughgh you know this question really made me think about their way of gift giving... 

for scaramouche, i think he'd try to choose the perfect gift-- nothing but perfection, something that he thinks people will like and the quality has to be good-- because to him, nothing is better than getting the perfect thing handed to you. i think this is something that wanderer still carries with him, except instead of buying or acquiring things from others, he made them with his own hand-- and of course it has to be perfect, after all nothing that goes by his hand isn't perfect. that includes if his decided gift for you is from foraging, only the best quality 

so... in short, he gives niko what he does the best at-- a small doll, perfectly crafted, all stitched up carefully and details immaculate-- cause as much as wanderer wants to deny it, he might have spent a lot of time admiring glaring at him. 

as for niko, he is what i'd like to think a good gifter (im not one irl btw qjdjsjsj) cause he observes and pay attention to a lot of things people do, especially when it comes to subtle social cues-- ironic as he lacks a lot of it/understanding it-- and in turn it makes him able to read people rather easily. he also keeps in mind a lot of info about people he cares a lot about, whether it be their interests, what they like, their reactions to certain situations... its why when he returned from sumeru back to fontaine for holiday break, he made sure to get a lot of stuffs that cater to the interests of others. 

so if he were to gift wanderer a gift, its gonna take a LOT of thinking-- oh he likes tea ? he packed some when he left fontaine-- he only likes bitter tea ? well all the ones he packs happened to be a bit sweet, but sigewinne did try out a recipe that somehow made it super bitter but still tasted good... 

i always liked the intimate feelings of gift giving, it honestly does speaks about one's character and what they values if you get past the usual surface-- which, honestly ? does fits puppetgear to a t(ea).

[mamichigo]

// (pride & prejudice au)

+

"It's a waste to come all the way from Sumeru to Fontaine only to brood in a corner," Cyno says in greeting to the unsociable man with a scowl weighing on his features. He tacks a bow as well, though there's little about his approach that can be considered polite.

Somehow, the man's mood sours further. His frown is so deep his eyebrows are almost touching. He crosses his arms as he appraises Cyno.

"What is or isn't a waste of my time is no one's business but my own," he replies. His voice is as cold as the blue glint in his eyes. "What do I owe the honor of your interruption, Sir...?"

"Just Cyno is fine. Given your manners, I didn't expect you to bother with introductions."

"How you can judge my manners when this is the first time we've talked is beyond me."

Cyno wouldn't tell this man, but he had watched him flatly ignore Nilou's invitation for a dance, and the lack of response had told Cyno everything he needed to know. Nilou, of course, had brushed the issue aside, but Cyno was rarely so forgiving.

"A name warrants the same in response, don't you think?" Cyno points out.

The man sighs deeply. "Alhaitham. Though I doubt the name is needed, I was just about to leave. If you'll excuse me, my friend--"

"--Is currently busy dancing with my friend."

Alhaitham searches the crowd within the ballroom, and certainly sees the same as Cyno: Nilou beaming widely as she dances with a tall, blond man.

"I don't think he'll come to your rescue any time soon." Cyno smiles, all teeth.

Alhaitham mutters something under his breath, lost to the laughter of the crowd.

"So?" He gestures invitingly (but not without condescension). "What do you want from me?"

"How about a dance," he suggests. This is the most fitting revenge Cyno can think to enact. "Unless, of course, you haven't been educated on the dance of this nation. I wouldn't want to embarrass you in front of all these people."

A scoff is the only warning Cyno gets before he's grabbed by the waist and pulled much closer than he ever imagined getting to this man. Alhaitham leads without a single question, leaving Cyno to fall into step with him before he trips on his own feet. Cyno glares up at his dancing partner.

"You're not half bad," Alhaitham says.

"Are you always such an insufferable jerk?"

"I could ask the same of you."

They spin around the room in perfect synchrony with the song and the other pairs. Cyno considers stepping on Alhaitham's toes a few times, but his self-righteous rage is melting away, and now he feels all too silly at once. He doesn't make eye contact with Alhaitham.

"I must ask," Alhaitham speaks up, "what did I do to warrant your ire? I'm used to being disliked, though not ever without opening my mouth first."

"I didn't peg you as someone who enjoys small talk."

"You don't know me at all, Cyno."

He can't deny that. All Cyno knew was that this man had treated other attendees poorly by simply ignoring their existence.

"Don't speak, then," Alhaitham decides. "I enjoy an enigma. I'm sure the mystery will far worthier of my time than any party my friend deigns necessary we attend."

"You could just refuse his invitations, couldn't you?"

Alhaitham shakes his head, his mouth quirking up. "There's no arguing with Kaveh sometimes."

Cyno stares at his expression for far too long, as if entranced.

What a waste; a smile suits Alhaitham much better, and he wastes his looks with his poor attitude.

All too soon, the song comes to an end. Cyno hadn't felt time pass at all, his body light even as he danced. He had been perfectly supported by Alhaitham's hands, he realizes.

"One song was all I promised," Cyno says as he stumbles out of Alhaitham's arms.

"You said no such thing," he rebuts.

"Then I said it now. Goodbye, Alhaitham." He dips into a bow. "May I never have to see your sour face again."

Alhaitham returns the gesture. "May I never suffer under the attack of your temper again. Give your friend my regards."

With that, he is gone. Whether to find a drink or the nearest exit, Cyno doesn't know, nor does he care.

Nilou strays to his side, Kaveh right behind her.

"Are you having fun?" She asks sincerely.

Cyno finds himself scanning the crowd despite himself, though there's no glimpse of gray hair amongst the crowd. He shakes his head.

"No, I'm not," he lies through his pounding heart.

[serelyly-hikari]

This is more a thought than a theory but:

I noticed the same when I was writing a certain scene in one of my Genshin fics. Basically the scene was Venti coming in during the Inazuma archon quest to protect the resistence from the puppet (surely the puppet didn’t stop attacking the resistence just cause the traveler has Ei entertained, right?) and telling Ei/the Raiden Shogun that they have practically imprisoned the people of Inazuma. Of course the puppet counters with saying that it shouldn’t concern him because he is not Inazuma’s archon, but he says his domain is the wind, and where ever the wind goes, he too. And if anyone wants freedom, he shall answer their prayers, as it is their choice to gain it. And stuff like that (this a cannot divergence btw. Venti acts a bit different here in my story).

Anyways, as I writing this scene out, it came to my attention Inazuma isn’t the only one that has a theme of freedom. Each region we have gone to, there is an underlying or obvious theme of freedom. Whether it be in the main archon quest or in world quests or historic records. It makes sense in Mondstadt, of course, but why does this theme appear on every region? Not only that but I began to notice that Venti, Wind, Freedom, the God of Time, just…Mondstadt stuff….at least one of them SOMEHOW appear or are relevant or are AT LEAST mentioned or alluded to in every region.

Liyue: Has anyone noticed that Venti’s sigil (the one that appears when you do his charge attack and the same one that appears in Stormterror’s Lair in Decarabian’s Tower) appears in a domain in Liyue? In the Chasm, after defeating all the dark nights, each one drops an item that when you collect them all you can open a secret room where you can find a blurred out letter. Only one line is untouched, and it differs across player worlds. A group of players banded together to get the full letter unblurred and when it’s translated, it mentions Barbatos.

Inazuma: The Sakura Tree was created with the help of the God of Time and let’s not forget Enkanomiya, who worshiped the God of Time at one point and even had the “infamous book”.

Sumeru: While small, in one of the web events with the Aranara, VENTI APPEARS. Not only that but the THOUSAND WINDS are name dropped by the Aranara in the world quest. And then we have the Sumeru Wind Glider that says that the only reason gliders work is cause Barbatos, the Anemo Archon, blessed them. Not only that but he is mentioned again as “the wind who took a human form.”

Fontaine: I’ll be honest, I haven’t explore Fontaine too much cause I’ve been lacking motivation but when Arleccino’a demo came out, I found it WEIRD that they started in MONDSTADT out of all places. As far as I’m aware, she wasn’t mentioned in that region ever. I believe not even the House of the Harth was mentioned. Pretty sure they were both mentioned during the Inazuma updates…so why Mondstadt? (Also Sumeru but that’s another ramble). This is a very…flimsy connection at best but I just find it WEIRD. (There could be more or I could be wrong. Idk. Again, I haven’t explored Fontaine too much.)

Like…whyyyy do they all keep appearing? Not only that but before Furina, Venti has appeared in TWO different nations in events: Liyue and Inazuma. In both it was rather suspicious. He practically invited himself over when we had the Liyue dinner and in Inazuma, he was talking with MIKO out of all people and tells us that they are merely chatting (those two? Just chatting? Fam, you think I’m a fool?).

Point being, not only does the theme of freedom appear almost everywhere it is even alluded to be endgame, but Venti, the God of Time, the Thousand Winds, and Mondstadt just…appear in random places that just are…WEIRD. I may just be THAT obsessed with Venti and Mondstadt lore and see them everywhere, but I don’t see other regions having these weird connections. Not to this extent at least.

My on going head cannon/theory is one I have pitched before (which has NO EVIDENCE other than the simple fact that…it makes sense in my head): three out of the four shades may have betrayed the Primordial One during the invasion of The Second Who Came. The idea came to me, again, cause I was writing fanfic, but I always found it weird that we never knew who the victor was of that war. But if three out of the four shades betrayed the Primodial One during that war (practically letting both parties destroy each others while they took control), then it would make kinda sense why we don’t know the victor: there is no need to because neither won and the throne was taken by the three shades. The reason I say only three out of four is due to Istaroth seemingly being the only shade like…trying to do something for the people or at least like…coming down or whatever and mingling amongst the people? Like…this shade helped the people of Enkanomiya to survive and then we have Mondstadt who at one point worshiped both her and Barbatos…and then we have Inazuma with her helping with the whole Sakura Tree. Speaking of, she seems to be against the Heavenly Principles because…why would she help make the Sakura Tree which is FREE OF EM?! Unless she…you know…is against them. And given Venti’s clear distaste/discomfort for Celestia, it’s not too far of a stretch Istaroth shares the same idea as they are like…connected as if they were mother and son or creator and creation or whatever! And let’s not forget that in the manga, when Vanessa asks about Celestia, Venti thinks of three figures before he quickly dodges the question. Like? Broskie?

I believe Venti, as the God of Freedom and son/creation/partner/friends (or whatever) of Istaroth, the God of Time, is trying to free or give the people of Teyvat the choice of being free from Celestia’s rule (which I suppose are the three other shades). Hence why he seems to appear or be alluded to across almost all the nations (or at least loosely connected to through Istaroth, Mondstadt, and freedom themes). The idea of freedom can’t just be…something that is thrown in. It’s been a repeated narrative, and repeated narrative are done to emphasize a point, to bring up an important plot point.

All in all…VENTI IS FUCKING EVERYWHERE AND IS FAR MORE IMPORTANT THAN WHAT MANY BELIEVE AND GOODNESS ME THIS GUY HAS SO MANY CONNECTIONS CAUSE WHAT THE FUCK. HEXENZIRKLE HQ PRACTICALLY BEING IN MONDSTADT WITH THE APPRENTICES AND CHILDREN OF MANY WITCHES LIVING THERE? KAYEYA, LAST HOPE OF KHAENRI’AH?! GOD OF TIME HELLOOOOOO?! HIS STAUE BEING USED BY THE ABYSS AND HIS REGION BEING SPECIFICALLY ATTACHED BY THE ABYSS IN THE ARCHON QUEST UNLIKE OTHER REGIONS WHERE THE ABYSS IS PRACTICALLY A SECOND THOUGHT?! THE BARBATOS STATUE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE MONDSTADT PLAZA HAVING THE “this is the gateway to Celestia” INSCRIPTION?! Pretty sure that there is dialogue somewhere that practically says that the WIND IS EVERYWHERE and WHEREVER wind is, BARBATOS reaches. Like bro.

Edit: just remembered the last uhh…comment. I think the reason Venti’s Gnosis is taken forcibly is due to a) Signora hates his guts and b) it’s the irony of the GOD OF FREEDOM not having a choice in that moment. (Ignoring the fact that MAYBE, he let it happen, which would make it double irony????)

Small spoilers for Fontaine Archon quest/4.2 update

///

Looking back, outside of maybe Venti, all of the Archons have been « freed » during the Quests: Zhongli is free from his duty, Ei is free from her self-imposed eternity, Nahida is literally free from her prison (and more metaphorically her self-doubt), and Furina is free from her « godhood » (or her performance however you want to see it).

I am not sure what Venti could be free from but being the embodiment of freedom i do believe his relationship with everything that happened is much more complexe than presented.

There is two main things that created and reflect that freedom: meeting Traveller and losing the Gnosis. I have a feeling that they are free because by giving away the Gnosis (for most) they are freeing themselves from the Heavenly Principles.

Actually Venti is the only one where the Gnosis was taken by force (i do think he allowed for it to be stolen). I don’t know what this means but if someone has ideas i’d love to hear them.

[genshxn]

anon asked: 

hellooo! so i saw ur reqs were open, and i was wondering if u could write for albedo and/or xiao? (idk ur character limit and whether u write for them or not, u can remove one or the other!!) with a gn or f!s/o who goes on long trips and comes back with a bunch of souvenirs from distant lands for the boys? tysm for reading! feel free to ignore this request <3

ok sorry i’ve just moved to this format of individual posts instead-

also my character limit is like 5 or so. depends on what’s being requested lol

i probably should have specified that in my intro lmao

【ｘｉａｏ　＋　ａｌｂｅｄｏ】

s/o who travels far away and brings back souvenirs

warnings ; none

ｘｉａｏ

- He’d be eagerly awaiting your return to Liyue at Wangshu Inn. This adeptus’s keen eyes would catch you incoming from hundreds of meters away from his perch on the roof. Once you’re back, he’ll greet you and simply ask you about your travels. He’s the one that usually does the listening.

- Xiao would die of embarrassment before he admitted to your face about how much he missed you. If you get him into a chatty mood, he might accidentally let it slip. (Well, as chatty as this guy can get.)

- Xiao doesn’t really leave Liyue because of his contract with Rex Lapis to look over the country and protect it from harm. Because of his duties, he doesn’t really know what it’s like in other countries. But you bringing back these little items for him is like a snapshot for him into the other places you’ve been.

- When you first brought back an Inazuman mask for Xiao, he was very confused. He wasn’t used to receiving gifts. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it since he already has a mask. You just laughed and explained to him that it’s more of just a keepsake.

- Slowly, Xiao noticed his small collection of little knickknacks you bought him grew. Some dandelion wine from Mondstadt, a weird little statuette from Natlan, a book from Sumeru, a little wind up machine from Fontaine, and a beautifully forged knife from Snezhnaya.

- He eventually got used to you bringing him gifts. He was always curious to see what you got him. Almost like a little kid. You thought it gave him back a little bit of that pure wonder of youth.

- When he misses you, he might fiddle with the things you’d gotten him, the items reminding him of your warmth and smile. When he’s alone on the roof, just watching the stars, he might wear the mask to make it feel as though you’re there with him. He knows you’ll be back soon, but he can’t help but miss that silly mortal.

»»————-　✼　————-««

ａｌｂｅｄｏ

- Albedo is another person to not have many reasons to leave the country and travel. His studies and experiments were based in Mondstadt. But that doesn’t mean he wasn’t curious about the other countries he’s only fleetingly visited.

- Albedo would likely be buried in his research, so he doesn’t actually always know when you’re coming back. He has a general idea, but he sometimes loses track of time but is then pleasantly surprised to find you fishing him out of his studies.

- Albedo isn’t the most facially expressive person, so when he greets you with a warm smile and forehead kiss, you know he’s very happy to see you.

- You’ve brought back all sorts of things for him, which initially confused him at first since he’s a little socially awkward and didn’t quite understand the meaning of the gifts. So you explained that it’s something you brought him as a kind of expression of love.

- He’s particularly fond of the different plants and books you bring back. He’s always interested in studying the fauna of the other countries and reading up on their knowledge.

- In turn, you may find that Albedo also greets you with little gifts when you return from your adventures. It might be a flower he bred and grew himself, or a gemstone he found on an investigative excursion.

- Like Xiao, he would also turn to the items you got him as a reminder of you when he misses you. The soft petals of the strange orchid from Natlan reminded him of your soft hands. He wanted to hold it, but he’ll just have to wait until you get back soon enough.

[hematomes]

I heavily doubt Scara agreed once he'd learn Dottore is involved

Idk the time difference between each adventure depending on its importance and story but I have a good feeling this started at least 2-3 weeks after Scara retrieved the gnosis. He may have gone to the Akademiya to try and learn something from Irminsul????? Since it's the grand tree and all but then he crossed paths with the sages and they struck a deal maybe???? They make Scara godlike with knowledge from the great tree

Dottore may have been tracking him (or just found him by chance as of Tartaglia's little detour) and struck the deal with the sages using Scaramouche to kill two birds with one stone

Also now that I think about it won't Celestia have anything to say (or do) about the sages trying to make a god???? If they weren't settled over Fontaine for hydro archon's bs would they have gone over sumeru for the sages' madness?

mh im not sure about that

i think it's actually been a few months since scaramouche retrieved the gnosis. some game events follow irl seasons etc, and with yearly events like the lantern rite festival we know that it's been at least two years since the traveler started exploring teyvat (2 lantern rites, and another one that should come with 3.4)

the second lantern rite happened after the v2 archon quest and, since it's based on the chinese new year, it's around the end of january. then we had the event in inazuma with childe, who told us he had been chasing scara for a while (a few weeks iirc, but i could be mistaken). finally, the sabseruz festival likely takes root in a festival in iran that's celebrating the new year of nowruz and takes place in spring (march 21 for the gregorian calendar)

so it's been at the very least a few months (winter to spring, but again. at the very least) since scara took off with the gnosis; he's also mentioned in the irodori festival as he tries to steal smth from kazuha's family, but i can't remember if there is any clue abt the period. also can't find on what irl celebration the irodori festival is based, so i don't know how relevant that is

anyway my point is, id say that there's a year in-game between each archon quest, like there's a year irl between each new region release.

i also have some troubles believing scaramouche reached out to the akademiya but rather think he made a deal with dottore himself. while we don't exactly know how scaramouche feels about dottore's past experiments on him, i wouldn't put it past him to agree on another, albeit painful deal just to reach his goal: godhood. he seems quite desperate to achieve it, and is familiar with dottore's abilities, so. maybe scaramouche thinks he can outsmart him in the end? i don't know

as for celestia, so far we can theorize that dottore isn't particularly close to making the god. he has the tools, but he still needs more, so it's not an "immediate" threat i guess. and celestia seems to wait until the last minute before they nuke nations; i don't think they actually want to do it but it's rather a last resort. after all, they offered a choice to orobashi in enkanomiya instead of killing him and his people without warning.

it also depends on their definition of a god, and whether or not scaramouche will fit it. he'd be a mechanical god, closer to a modern/enhanced khaenri'an machine than an archon, and ruin machines have been roaming freely in teyvat for the past 500 years, so idk

[iustitians]

From his travels and observations, Sumeru has been proving to be a place of surprises exceeding even the most absurd goings on of Fontaine at times, which was something Neuvillette had never expected to think. Whether this was some ancient history that the country played an unfortunate and unwilling part in, or the pursuit of knowledge taking them places where they should not have gone - he did not know. Indeed, he had no clue what resulted in golems the size of Opera Epiclese and possibly older than his current self, sitting abandoned in the middle of the forest, and he was not sure if he actually wanted to find out.

And, after he caught wind of how, apparently, those could still be activated - and have been activated - when he passed by the Adventurers’ Guild, it became just about official that he has stumbled upon the Sumeru equivalent of certain Fontaine Research Institute members when it came to insanity level.

For what it was worth, one had to be glad that those were remnants of distant past, and as such, these madmen would never meet.

But the time for being glad would come later - right now, what Neuvillette needed to be was extremely careful and ready to react at any given moment, if the loud, ominous beeping coming from the ancient machinery was any indication. The Iudex narrowed his eyes - the golem seemed to be aiming at someone…

“Hey!! Move!!”

Just then, said someone shouted at him, almost in unison with an angry set of beeps louder than the previous ones, prompting Neuvillette to realize that the machinery changed target - onto him. The golem’s core flashed, before firing off a beam in his direction—

If he dodges, it will hit the trees, which will inevitably result in a fire—

Extending his arm quickly, Neuvillette summoned a protective barrier in front of himself to block the strike and stop it in place. As the attack collided with it, he narrowed his eyes and took half a step back to stabilize himself, but withstood it successfully, even as it fired at him incessantly for several seconds, trying to penetrate his defenses.

And then, it stopped.

The Iudex slowly lowered his hand as the beam eventually died down. The silence that followed was almost deafening, somehow unsettling even more than the threatening noises of the machinery that echoed through the air just a moment ago.

Why did it go quiet? Does it need to recharge? Neuvillette did not know, but it was a window of opportunity he would be prudent to make use of. It was with that in mind that he made his way towards the other person at the scene, in hopes of acquiring information.

“Forgive me for distracting you earlier,” he said once close enough. “I’d heard of this… situation, but I didn’t know the golem was located in this area. Are you here to deal with this matter?”

The Explosion Will Be Otterly Devastating || Cyno & Neuvillette