#slight mention of tsaritsa

[ymechi]

A brainrot suddenly came over me when reading your latest fic about lynette. You know that Freminette banner is now out right? What if he was added to mix of envy along with Lynette being the first to feel their Grace’s warmth. And now, there’s suddenly another sibling from her that can feel the creator’s warmth.

Just a brainrot that occured to me when reading your fic. BTW your writings are amazing!! Don’t pressure yourself to writing

- 🕰️

first off i want to start by thanking you when i read this i was screaming on the inside, i was so happy! I must apologize for writing so late i haven't been in the mood and there was school work to do (i should be doing that right now hehe;;; ) BTW I SOMEHOW GOT FREMINET IN HIS BANNER! So this is a really happy coincidence

hmm for the different character reactions I think for Lynette she would be glad for Freminet that hopefully he can get out of his shell a little more but there would also be some part that is selfish of her that wants to keep her grace's attention on her? Though she would hope that Lyney would become an acolyte as well so all three of them can be complete

Lyney would also be happy for Freminet thinking the same as Lynette that he hopefully can get out of his shell, he does wish the best for Freminet but i also see him as being envious, both of his siblings now are acolytes and it's only him left behind, the same situation in the past where his sister got a vision first (( Poor Lyney i have shit luck with 5 stars it is unlikely he will ever come home to me :') ))

Also for Arlecchino the fact that HER kids are now acolytes she is just smug i can imagine but also a bit worried about the bad attention they can receive but i think she trusts them enough they can handle themselves, though there is a part of her that is bitter she can't be chosen by her grace, perhaps she is too jaded and cracked at the edges compared to her children who still has their future ahead of themselves

previous parts:

rant , lynette meeting the tsaritsa

In Fonntaine much recent gossip has been keeping the city folks chattering and even those living outside of it. The newspapers are eagerly typing about the recent happenings and editors hurrying to work before publishing the news. It seems that another child from *the* House of Hearth had become an acolyte much to the shock of the general citizenry.

The chosen one was none other than Freminet the diving prodigy. Once the divers heard of the news and others in the field knew about it cheers erupted in the taverns.

Said person in question was not seen there.

Rumors have it that a certain pink-haired reporter has been pestering the House of Hearth for days now to get a glimpse of the person but to no avail.

Said person was inside his room, the wooden walls sheltering him from the chatter of the outside world. There he sat in the bed seemingly calm on the outside but on the inside was a different matter. His heart was beating so fast and he knew the slight flush on his cheeks betrayed his fake calm visage.

In his lap he held a book, it was old and worn yet well taken care of. All children in Fontaine around his age have had this book and read it. Freminet remembers the first time he got his hand on the book. He held it softly in fear he might damage the beautiful cover, in awe at the drawings and tales inside of it.

The tales of the creator. While it was a religious text it was watered down with illustrations accompanying it so children would be able to read and understand its contents.

The "old father" was adamant that every child was acquainted with the religious text of the creator and made them read many books on the subject. As they aged this book became unnecessary for when he had to read the thicker and more complex books but Freminet was unable to let go of this book.

Even now he loved to read the tales of acolytes long gone before the time of the oldest archon. The golden swirls and hues of the elements that would surround the creator being depicted in the pictures captured younger Freminet.

Yet now the tales that seemed almost like fiction were becoming true. Now he was an acolyte. He did not know if it terrified him or delighted him.

Would he be able to measure up? Was he enough? Why was he chosen when there were more brilliant and capable people (a selfish part wanted to reject the notion of another being chosen).

Another part of him was delighted. His heart beat as he felt himself being enveloped by warm waters. This was their creator's blessing and he was chosen to get it. Perhaps it would all be fine after all, Freminet thought as the warmth enveloped him in a comforting embrace.

. . .

Lynette pov:

Lynette blew on the hot tea as she took a sip. Besides her Lyney was working on- or well rather trying to work on a new magic trick. Lynette knew her brother and she also knew what caused his frustration as of recently. Yet trying to cheer him up would only be hypocritical of her.

"Maybe you should take a break?"

Lyney did not answer but rather made a huff and continued to tinker on his project. Lynette sighed.

Ever since Freminet was called to the creator's side Lyney has been in a tense mood. He became too frustrated with small mistakes and spent longer time honing his skills. Lynette was worried he would over-exhaust himself.

What could she say though to ease his heart?

Who the creator chose and when was unpredictable, many scholars has tried to see a pattern, see a reason, or even a hint of a formula to no avail. The creator did not discriminate or favor any specific group on whom they summoned and Lynette was witness to that as a member of the fatui and a recent acolyte. There was at least some hope for her brother if she and Freminet were summoned.

A selfish part of her that she would never listen to or admit was how she wanted her grace's attention only on her.

For now, she would wait and see hopefully soon their grace would summon Lyney soon.

. . .

Arlecchino pov:

The fire in the office crackled warming the room and its lone occupant. The letter she received laid on the table as she looked out the snowy scenery outside the window.

It seems another one of her children has become an acolyte.

From the reflection of the window Alrecchino could see her face was donning a smug smirk. She turned around and went back to her desk, a congratulations was in order and she would need to inform the Tsaritsa as well. Arlecchino would need to be delicate when informing her Majesty unless she heard the news already. She would have to tell the pair to be careful it would not do to have an envious archon's gaze.

She tried to erase her own envy from her gaze as well but the reflection in the window said otherwise.

. . .

Extra Freminet birthday bonus:

A package had arrived on the mail addressed to the House of Hearth. At first there was nothing off with the package, many had taken to send Freminet a birthday present as congratulatory gift for becoming an acolyte and gaining his favour. Freminet ignored those, he had no reason to accept or reply those superficial gifts. That was until he saw the symbol and lettering on the package and he almost dropped it in panic.

Now all three siblings were staring at the package in serious contemplation. It was rectangular and had simple packaging it looked rather unassuming as it laid on the table where they put it.

There was one neat card that gave away its significance. The symbol usually associated with the creator was neatly stamped and ancient lettering was on the card. What added further proof to the fact was that both Freminet and Lynette could feel the power of the creator, although faint, imbued within the package.

"Do we wait for father?" Freminet quietly said.

"I think it is your choice Freminet, this is addressed to you," Lyney answered.

"I agree with Lyney on this one, the creator gave this to you for a reason."

Freminet thought about it and a large part of him wanted to take the package and open it another screamed at him to wait, what right did he have to open a gift from the creator.

The curious more selfish part won over and he took hold of the package. The siblings held their breath as Freminet carefully opened the present taking care not to tear the wrapping.

What he did not expect was an inconspicuous book that looked like a fairytale book.

Oh.

Freminet blushed.

Lynette looked at it curiously and Lyney who had an idea had a teasing smile on his face.

Freminet held the book carefully as if anything might damage the book. It would be the best to find a good chest to store it in.

.

.

.

Deep into the night he would trace the illustrations and memorize the words as the moonlight shone on him. The wrapping paper and card were safely tucked inside of his desk.

[euthymiya]

[ A LITTLE DEATH — FT. KINICH ]

synopsis: sometimes, he comes back to you with a beating heart. other times, his body is cold and limp until he reemerges from the flames. you never get used to kinich falling during the pilgrimage, but you’re certainly used to the feeling of his body

word count: 4.4k words of emotional porn. ty & goodnight

before you read: female reader ; major spoilers for natlan archon quest and kinich’s character story one ; kinich falls during the night warden war and resurrects so technical character death (but not for long) ; graphic descriptions of injuries and blood from war ; mentions of gambling, alcoholism and abuse (his father’s lore) ; slight exploration of mortality ; hand jobs ; orgasm delay (kinich to himself) ; cunnilingus ; fingering ; unprotected vaginal sex ; creampie ; not proof read because i wrote this all in tumblr drafts like the psycho i am

notes: this is an unhealthy progressing obsession. this boy is not good for my health unfortunately

“Will you stop crying?” He sighs softly, thumb tracing your cheek as it catches yet another rivulet of your sorrow.

You glare up at him, lips curled into a scowl as you sniffle and counter, “how about you stop dying?”

Kinich is no stranger to dying. He and death are good friends, in fact—he visits often, and in return, it houses him kindly for however short his visit may be.

He likes traversing the Night Kingdom, likes to speak to those who have borne his name before him. Dying isn’t so bad when you get a chance to see the things he does in the realm of the Wayob.

But you don’t like to see the aftermath. Blood. Bruises. Cuts. Gashes. Sometimes mangled limbs. Every time he falls in battle, the aftermath serves as a jarring reminder that revival is miracle you can’t take for granted.

Kinich doesn’t understand it, but he tries to. He holds you when he comes back, listening to you sniffle into his chest. He’s always silent as his hand rubs along your back, always unsure of what to say.

I lost you, you’ll always whisper first.

I was always going to come back, he’ll always respond.

The Pyro Archon, you think, loves fiercely enough to rival the God of Cryo herself. The Tsaritsa, God of Love, loves clearly. It’s delicate as it leaves chills, and yet, it is reserved, rare to find after she’s hardened herself. The God of War’s love takes form in the exact opposite. It’s blazing. Warm. Unrelenting. Irrevocably bright. It’s a flame that never dies out, that never needs a ceremony or ritual to keep burning like the contending fire.

She loves all of her children—you know that because you see it on her face, too.

The brief, fleeting flash of horror every time she sees a body. The bitter pride that comes with such a noble sacrifice. She loves her people, and that’s why, when your tears hit the ground as you cry for a fallen Kinich, she gives your hand a squeeze right before she brings enters the night kingdom to bring him back.

The people of Natlan are proud of their history. So much, that they find honor in dying for the cause.

You think you’re the only exception.

You and death are not good friends. You don’t like the way it mocks you with the limp hands of the boy you love and his beat-less heart. You don’t like the way it cozies up against him, dragging him away from you with its hand clasped firmly in his.

It never takes him away for too long before it gives him right back, but you don’t like sharing.

Not Kinich. Not with death.

Your broken out of your thoughts when his fingers gently press into your cheeks, squeezing them together as his hand tilts your head up from his chest to look into his eyes.

“I’m okay,” he insists bluntly, but never without that gentleness.

You’d laugh any other time. Always so straight to the point, you’d tease if it were some other day.

Instead, this time, you sniffle once more before you croak, “you don’t know what it’s like to witness.” Slowly, your hand creeps up his body, traveling over his abdomen before coming to a stop right over his heart. “This time…this time it was here.”

This pilgrimage, Kinich comes back to you with a stab through his heart. Other times, he’s returned pierced through his lungs from behind. Or perhaps with a bloodied head, split open by a blunt force.

It never gets easier. This time, however, you think it’s gotten even harder.

He’s quiet for a moment, like he’s contemplating what to say before he decides to toss the idea of words out entirely. Suddenly, his hands find your waist, flipping you to sit on his lower belly, legs straddling his hips.

Kinich isn’t always good with words. He can count on one hand the number of people he’s had in his life to love. His life has not been kind enough to him to allow keeping all fingers up at the same time.

One for his mother. Down.

One for his father. Down.

And one for you. Up.

He’s sure one day, he might be able to lift a finger for Mualani and Kachina, too. He cares a great deal about them, of course. But love is a difficult thing for him to grasp—perhaps because it’s always been something he never got in full.

Not until you.

More than most people, Kinich understands loss. You know that. He understands it too well, in fact. Sometimes, he wonders if he’d lost his father’s love long before the body was limp and lifeless to show for it. Sometimes, he wonders if his mother ever loved him enough to count as a loss at all. Maybe if she had, then she wouldn’t have walked away. Maybe she never loved him quite as much as she loved herself.

But you’re different for him. You love him more than you love anything else. More than yourself, too. He’s never been loved more than anything else. His father loved gambling, maybe even the burn of alcohol on his tongue, too. His mother loved freedom, and more than that, she loved the idea of living in the absence of fear. Neither loved him more than any of those things.

So, you’re different. You know that, too. You’re a loss he can’t comprehend. Not that he’s ever had to, of course, but his brain cannot handle the idea of being without you.

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t fully understand your pain. Maybe that’s why he wonders why knowing he’ll always come back from falling isn’t enough to soothe you.

He’s never loved someone who he knew would come back even in the face of death. It’s a luxury, he thinks sometimes—you get to love him with the luxury of a safety net. But you’re too precious to feel the weight of a real loss. He hopes he can shield you from it for as long as he can, one pilgrimage at a time.

His hands settle for your hips, squeezing once, twice, a third time before he sits up and pulls you closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

You kiss back easily. Drinking the breath straight from his mouth is best proof that he’s alive. You take it in greedily.

“I’m okay,” he repeats one more time. This time, it’s a much softer tone. Like a gentle reminder. Like a plead to understand.

His hand grabs yours, pressing it right over his heart so you can feel the erratic beating under your palm. Just from kissing you, it’s rapid enough that he almost feels he should be embarrassed. But you close your eyes and let out a shaky breath, making him watch you carefully as he takes in the relief in your face.

“You’re okay,” you nod slowly.

“I am,” he agrees.

You don’t know when it happens or who starts it first. One moment, your hand is traveling under his shirt to feel his bare skin, to have better contact with him so you can feel more proof he’s alive.

Warm skin. Flexing muscle. Damp sweat. When your hand finds his heart again, his hand cups the back of your head and pulls you into a heated kiss.

Clothes come off after that. It’s a blur. It’s not until you untie the bandana to uncover his forehead do you really take it all in.

Bare under you, Kinich is alive. The proof his body is breathing and pumping blood through his veins is right there before you—standing tall between his legs in the form of a flushed, red cock. Blood rushed there to prove his desire for you.

“Last time, it was here,” you whisper, thumb tracing a pale, faint scar over his ribcage, right where his lung is. “Did it hurt?”

“It did,” he nods, studying you as you don’t meet his eyes. “I don’t remember much of that, though.”

“Do you like it?” You whisper. “Is that why you do it?”

He’s silent. And then, quietly: “Sometimes.”

“Why?” You breathe, cupping his cheeks as you search his eyes for an answer.

Finally, in a rare moment, he chuckles. “Because it’s good to remember I’m alive,” he murmurs, “right before you die is when you realize you’re alive the most. Why you’re alive, too.”

“I don’t understand,” you furrow your brows in frustration. He smiles fondly, kissing your jaw as he lets out a low hum.

“I think of you,” he whispers, sucking sweetly into your skin, “and then I remember how you’re alive, too. Every time I die, you get to stay alive a little more.”

The abyss never goes away. Now, more than ever, he’s aware of that. It’s a war he has to see the winning side of, no matter the price.

There’s a loss this time that he’s unwilling to pay. Can’t bear to witness. Can’t allow to happen.

You decide you give up trying to understand—much like you do every year. Instead, you throw yourself into feeling him, pulling him into a heated, deeper kiss as your tongue glides against his. You give into the battle fast, letting him take the lead and taste you.

You’re not one for battles, not like Kinich is. You’d rather relish in peace than remember the cruelties of war.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips. “I can’t lose you.”

“You’ve never lost me,” he argues.

“It doesn’t feel that way,” you admit quietly.

“Then let me show you I’ve always been right here.”

As if on cue, his cock twitches between your bodies, hot and throbbing as it presses against your lower belly. You reach between your bodies, wrapping around the thick girth before your thumb grazes the tip.

He shudders, stifling a groan as you slowly smear the dribbling pre cum along his length, taking gentle care to make sure you don’t hurt him.

You’ve seen Kinich hurt enough times.

“Does that feel good?” You grin slightly, watching his eyes flutter shut as you stroke him up and down, fisting around him in a tight squeeze.

“Feels great,” he breathes, “like I’m very alive.”

“Good,” you nod.

“Fuck,” he chokes when you squeeze around the tip, pace quickening as you glide your palm up and down along him faster.

Faster.

The faster he cums, the faster you’re proven he’s living once more.

But he stops you—right before he can spill into your hand, a shaky wrist comes to force yours to stop moving. You look at him questioningly, and he closes his eyes and takes labored breaths to calm himself from the slow, fading orgasm that would’ve shaken through his body.

“What are you—oh,” you gasp, when your body is flipped to lay on your back, Kinich hovering above you as he stares down at you.

You think love is the look in his eyes when he sees you like this, every time. That longing in his pupils, desperate and almost pained even though you’re right there.

Loving something is always a double edged sword. It hurts just as much as it heals—the scabs forming around your heart from his temporary departure is proof of that.

“I love you,” he whispers, kissing along your neck.

I love you isn’t something Kinich says often. You feel his love in other ways. The fresh fruit he brings you on his way back from a commission. The small kiss between your brows he always greets you with, and the delicate kiss to your mouth when he leaves. The hand on the small of your back as he guides you along places, never letting you feel his absence. The pillow he shares with you every night when you invade his space and take up his side of the bed.

You know he loves you. Being reminded is a good feeling, though. Your body shivers as you feel a familiar ache building up between your legs at his sudden confession.

“More than anything?” You ask.

“Yes,” he responds, amused.

“You better not be lying,” you warn playfully.

He chuckles—you’re slowly coming back to your usual self. Causal teasing and playful flirting. You’re all the things he’s not. Open. Vulnerable. So inexplicably bright. You smile and something in him heals. Something in him itches to do better—be better.

“When have I ever lied to you?” He challenges.

You pretend to think for a moment before caving and stretching your lips into a wide grin. The first real smile of the night. You pull him close, kissing him again. Just to kiss him. There’s no heat or desire this time around.

He kisses back sweetly. Just to kiss you.

“What did you see this time?” You whisper when you pull away. “In the Night Kingdom.”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, tracing shapes into your hip with his thumb, “I think I was too busy thinking of you.”

Kinich is only flirty when he avoids something. He’s only ever indirect when he doesn’t want you to know something. It takes form in less honest, more playful banter that he learns from you.

You sigh, rolling your eyes half-heartedly as you whisper, “don’t lie to me.”

“I did think of you,” he insists. “It’s not a lie. I always think of you.”

He decided to prove it by dropping down to busy himself between your legs, gently spreading them enough to press his nose against your clit as he breathes you in.

Sweet. You’re always sweet. You taste and smell it. You drip of honeyed, saccharine desire. When his tongue presses between your folds, he thinks he’s dipping it in gold.

“K-kinich, wait—”

“You say that every time,” he raises a smug brow. His fingers press into you, spreading you open as he inspects your fluttering walls. “But you never mean it, do you?”

Filthy, you think. He’s got an air of pure obscenity to him that you’re sure comes only when he’s tired of feeling alone. When he needs to know you’re here for good and not just for the moment.

“You play dirty,” you scowl, twitching when his tongue swirls over your clit, the smooth rumble of his chuckle vibrating against the sensitive bud. His fingers curl into you, pressing against a very delicate, very responsive spot in the back of your walls.

“Is that so?” He drawls, “you don’t exactly seem to mind it,” he murmurs.

And then his lips wrap around your clit, sucking as his tongue rolls in circles against it as you writhe. You can feel the tips of his digits bully into that same spot over and over, making your back arch as you whine.

“Fuck,” you breathe, “baby, please.”

You don’t know what you’re pleading for. He’s giving you what you want exactly how you want it—maybe that’s why you always say it, though. So you can never stop having him. Asking and asking and hoping he’ll give you everything without pausing.

He does, too. Kinich never gives half of himself into anything. For the right price, you get all of him. You pay the price in gentle kisses along his cheek and soft fingertips in his hair. In a warm lap under his cheek when he’s tired and a soft voice to remind him he’s not alone. In a worried look every time he’s scuffed and a soft smile every time your eyes meet his.

You pay the price of your love, and he compensates you with the reward of his. It’s a fair trade.

The only difference is that unlike his other deals, Kinich would still pay his love to you even if you stopped paying yours. He couldn’t stop if he tried. It’s an exception he doesn’t exactly choose to make, but doesn’t necessarily want to change, either.

Lucky for him, you don’t show any signs of pulling away.

“You’re beautiful,” he says quietly, whispering the words into your cunt like he’s speaking directly to your desire, “and mine.”

“G-gods,” you moan, hand flying to grasp at his hair and tug as his fingers quicken their pace, fucking into your heat mercilessly as his tongue rolls over your clit.

It’s hot. It always is in the Pyro Nation. But hotter is the growing desire in the pit of your belly, and the heat between your legs that only one person can ignite. The flames lick at your sanity before something erupts in your system and all you feel is a gush of pure, white hot pleasure.

“That’s it,” he praises, working you through your orgasm as you let out a soft cry of his name.

Kinich is alive. You know that because only he could make you feel this way, and he is. He’s making you feel like there’s love between your legs as he coaxes the height of pleasure from you, buried into the apex of your thighs like it’s the only place he ever wants to be. You’re reminded that instead of blood dripping from his fingertips, it’s the essence of your arousal.

You’re reminded that when you need him, he’s never not there. Never leaving you behind from this world into another.

“I love you,” you blurt out in a post-orgasm haze.

He looks up at you with a toothy grin. It’s so rare to see him smile so freely. It’s like a child’s, sometimes. Something youthful and joyful and almost innocent enough that it makes your heart ache a little more than it does feel full.

Only a little, though.

“You say that a lot when I make you cum,” he laughs smoothly, a boyish and sweet little sound. You huff with a roll of your eyes.

“You do too,” you counter. “Maybe we only love each other when we feel good.”

“I always feel good with you,” he grins.

“I can make you feel a whole lot better,” you wink, wriggling your brows in a playful, tempting offer.

He takes it. With another soft laugh, he climbs up your body to hover his face over yours, admiring the sweat clinging to your forehead like it’s proof of his good work.

“Go on then,” he whispers. “Make me feel better. I just died today, you know.”

“I know,” you grumble only slightly, “I remember that very clearly. It was very rude of you.”

“My sincerest apologies,” he offers.

When Kinich was young, love was transactional. His father loved him with a box of sweets when a gamble of wages doubled. His mother was happy enough to afford him her gaze when there were flowers in the vase. He knew from early on not to expect any of it unless the proper price was offered.

And then he learned necessities were transactional, too. To exist is to pay a price. He watched as strangers took away his home, the remainder of his family’s belongings packed away as his mother wiped her tears. Food is not free when she is not there to tend to crops. Clothes don’t come easy when your father spends his days drinking away instead of working.

Without mora, you survive more than you live.

He hated it. Hated not having enough. Not being enough. He wasn’t enough to make his father want to be good and he wasn’t enough to make his mother want to stay. Didn’t have enough to offer for something as simple as unconditional love.

Love with you feels a lot different than what he’s grown up learning. You love him even when he’s closed off and a little cold. When his blunt words are a little too blunt and his words press hard into you with force. When he’s tired, and can’t offer you proper company, you love him, too. When he’s gone for days at a time for a commission further away, you still love him as you wait.

It’s always enough for you even when what he gives really isn’t enough at all.

He stopped trying to understand a long time ago. He’s still human—not everything can make sense with the logic of equal transaction. Sometimes, he just wants. Sometimes, he can’t give enough for what he wants. You always give it, though.

He’s stopped trying to make sense of it all for the sake of finally knowing joy. Peace. Possibly even comfort.

“Why do you love me?” He asks softly, rubbing the tip of his hard cock against your thigh. You rub along his bare back with a gentle hand, feeling the goosebumps raise along his skin under your palm.

“Because it’s easy to,” you answer.

“That’s it?”

“Isn’t life hard enough?” You shrug, “it’s nice having something simple. Loving you is easy, and that’s enough.”

“I don’t understand,” he mirrors your words from earlier. “But as long as you don’t stop, I think it’s okay.”

You want to tell him you’ll never stop loving. Every flame in Natlan will have to burn out before you stop loving Kinich. You’re confident that it’s impossible that will ever happen. But instead of words, you gently reach between your bodies to grab at his cock—it’s been hard and neglected for long enough that he lets out a soft, needy sound at the sudden touch.

You bring him to brush against your entrance, murmuring a soft, “I want you,” before he groans in response.

“Fuck,” he says shakily, “me too.”

And then, finally, he presses his tip into you, pushing past your folds and nudging into the deepest part of you.

He’s alive. You know that because you can feel him in the most rawest, purest way. Bare skin to skin. Warmth on warmth. Sweat against sweat. Body tangled into body. He’s alive and here and you can feel all of him at once.

He’s everywhere. He’s in your lungs as you kiss him and steal his breath. He’s in your heart as you feel it skip a beat for him. He’s in your soul as it burns at the very idea of him. And he’s in your cunt as he presses himself into you with a roll of his hips.

You love him when he’s alive.

You love him when he’s dead.

You love him when he’s resurrected.

You love him when he’s yours like this.

“Kinich,” you gasp, letting out a breathless moan as his tip slams into that spongy spot in your walls, “there—y-yes, like that.”

“I know,” he murmurs, grinning a little smugly enough that you feel embarrassed to already be this fallen apart. “I know exactly where.”

“Smooth talker for someone who ruined my whole day,” you huff.

“I told you I’m okay,” he grunts lowly. He kisses your throat, right over your pulse as he whispers, “I’m right here.” You whine as he rolls his hips particularly harshly to slam his cock into your most delicate spot.

“Knowing something is coming back doesn’t mean you like losing it,” you argue. “I don’t want you anywhere but here.” He gasps when your legs wrap around his waist and pull him closer as you squeeze tighter around him.

You hate seeing Kinich fall because you’re reminded it’ll happen one day for real. There’ll come a time where he won’t be resurrected. You don’t like being reminded of this simple truth.

He doesn’t understand it because he’s always too busy denying your fall. He’s too busy making sure he fights every battle to win this war so you can live beside him. So you don’t have to succumb to the cruel likes of the abyss.

Neither of you can seem to grasp the other’s mortality very well. So you try to forget in the feeling of being lost in each other’s bodies. Where proof of life blooms in every inch of skin. Every labored breath and drop of sweat, every flex of muscle and rapid thrum of a heart.

You’re alive, and so is Kinich.

He’s not alone, and neither are you.

No one has had to bear a loss, and that’s all that matters. For now, at least.

“You feel so good,” he says hoarsely, letting out a soft, low whine when your walls flutter around him at the praise. “C-can’t…can’t live without you.”

“Don’t say that,” you sob, reaching your limit, “enough talk about living. I’m tired of it.”

“Okay,” he breathes, “then just cum again for me. I want to feel you do it around me this time.”

Your second orgasm makes you forget Kinich is alive. You’re too busy feeling the rush of life yourself. Your body burns with pleasure through every nerve, the familiar snap of pressure between your legs that has your entire form spasming under Kinich.

“’M c-cumming,” you sob, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a sloppy kiss, muffling your sounds into his mouth as he swallows them whole.

“For me,” he hums.

“F-for you. Always for you.”

And then he cums too. Hard. For the last time, you’re hit with the evidence that he’s here with you and not somewhere else. Somewhere unreachable. Somewhere in a world apart from you.

He’s spilling warm, sticky cum into your walls with shaky arms holding him up above you, desperate rolls of his hips as he lets out choked sounds.

Skin slaps against skin and a combination of your arousals leaves a mess smeared between your legs, spilling down your inner thighs.

“Fuck—ngh. I’m…I’m…” he trails off.

He’s never been good with words like you. So instead, he buries his head into your neck and presses his nose into your skin, letting you cradle the back to his head so he knows you’re there.

“I know,” you pant, letting him fuck himself into you and ride out the high of his orgasm.

I know you need me. I need you too.

When he slumps over your body, you can feel his heart beat against yours. Rapid. Erratic. Harsh. Pounding. All of it is proof you’re both painfully mortal as you are alive.

“I love you,” you both whisper at the same time, utterly spent.

“You’re alive,” you breathe out a sigh of relief as your eyes close tiredly.

He hums, lifting his head to press a soft peck to your lips before he slumps into your neck against. “And so are you,” he murmurs in exhaustion.

You both fall asleep together with another year behind you.

Writing an emotional Kinich is actually really hard I’m not sure I even got it right bc we haven’t seen nearly enough of him but 😭 I hope this was not ooc enough that it was slightly believable. IDK I had a hard time deciding how he’d be in an emotionally charged moment of intimacy

[yurunivo]

Combining two requests into one because yes

Synopsis: the beginning of war part 1 part 2 part 3

TW: yandere themes, SAGAU imposter au, gn!reader, multiple perspectives of the same goal, reader's perspective is not written, mentions of death, english is not my first language, bad grammar, bad writing, not proofread, not too many perspectives (sorry), mischaracterization, no use of y/n, very short, lazily written

Characters: Genshin cast x creator!reader (no romance in this one)

Understanding the gods was a hard thing to do.

Despite having been revived by Mavuika, Kinich found himself at a loss when trying to figure out your thought process.

What was going on in your head when you refused his assistance in keeping you safe? He honestly had no idea. A slight shove in his arm, telling him to stay away and leave you alone was imprinted in his mind.

He thought, what was going on in the dear Creator's head? He did know that you should have power beyond his own Archon, but shouldn't you be weakened? From the years of the chase you had to go through, shouldn't you be weaker than n Archon right now?

You paid a hefty sum of Mora to stay away, your expression one that he couldn't read. He couldn't really stop you in anyway as he was frozen in place, looking at the pouch of Mora you gave him. Did you feel determination? Anguish? Or did you think of a plan to seek out revenge? For all the suffering you endured?

Whatever it was, Kinich couldn't understand it. It was simple enough to know what Mavuika was thinking, considering that she too was a human like him once, that she knows all the emotions that one person can feel in a short amount of time. So, slightly idiotic as he was, he sent Ajaw to spy on you in your lonely walk. He of course grumbled at the request, however the fact that it was the creator that Kinich was worrying about was the only reason that he agreed in the first place.

Ajaw was on the sidelines, out of your line of vision. His small form looked at yours in the far distance.

Nothing out of the ordinary was really happening.

You were just feeding a few injured saurians, nothing strange. Yet, that melancholy expression of yours was worrying. Just as Ajaw was about to leave to report this to Kinich, he halted in his tracks as Fatui surrounded you. The saurians ran away in fear, and he could feel tiny amounts of your divine wrath seeping into the tethers of the grounds of Natlan. He still left though, just to bring Kinich to fight the Fatui.

Yet, something about your expression told him that you didn't need help. And, you were right, as bolts lightning surrounded you, knocking the majority of the Fatui back. They were light headed, likely slipping into unconsciousness. Even the grass around you changed colour, showing the affect of your sheer power. Again, Ajaw and Kinich both didn't understand what was the reason that you were behaving this way. They both didn't understand what you were thinking, and they probably never will.

Capitano found you strange.

When he first sought you out under the orders of the Tsaritsa, he couldn't feel any divine power of yours surging through his rotting corpse. No, it was almost as if you weren't the Creator at all. But now, he felt excruciating amounts of electricity running through his veins.

Perhaps his body got so weak that even from a reasonable distance he still felt the pain of elemental energy. The abyssal corruption wasn't really helping either. Or maybe it was that your power was strong enough to make him feel this way. Whatever it was, the feeling wasn't pleasant. Yet, he still had the energy to walk over to you in his significantly weakened form. He only had one question to ask you, and he wanted the answer clearly.

Why?

Why did you allow the destruction of one of your own nations? Why was it that he and his companions had to suffer? Why did Khanriah had to suffer the wrath of the gods?

He always knew that the imposter was a fake, he felt no resentment towards them, and certainly no terrifying amounts of power that he was now. So, when he was informed of your returning, he only had one thing in mind, to get an answer for his misfortune.

Yet, looking into your eyes, it seemed that you had no intention of answering his questions. The moment he looked at you, a voice boomed in his head. The average mortal would've died from the intensity alone, dying of madness at the loud sound. He could only handle it for the reason that he was cursed with immortality, yet that voice alone was enough for make him perish and never be seen again, his corpse immediately being absorbed by the leylines.

"Leave. Tell the Cryo Archon that I have no intention of taking the position of godhood," and he felt strangely compelled to do so by the voice. His henchmen were thrown at the ground next to him, and a second later, you vanished into thin air. He reached out his hand too late, touching the particles of your now gone presence.

He really couldn't understand you.

Ei couldn't really understand what you were trying to say with your confusingly worded message.

Centuries of being in Teyvat, her soul was practically intertwined with its ground principles. She could feel all the electro users using their elemental energy, or the strike of lightning that she had caused far away. So with this, she could always recognize your power, even after so long, even if it's on the other side of Teyvat. The strike specifically said, in her best understanding:

"Do not enter Natlan under any circumstances, do not wait for me."

She couldn't understand. You would be on the pedestal of your divine throne once more, why shouldn't she come to Natlan and put you in your rightful place? Hasn't she done enough, killing all those who didn't believe in you and even making a shrine for you in Inazuma? She couldn't understand, what part of you wouldn't like these gifts? She even planned an outing for the both of you! The thought of eating together and feeding each other made her all too giddy, wouldn't you feel the same? No, shouldn't you feel the same?

After all her years, decades, centuries of living, she couldn't understand your request. It sent a shiver down her spine, and not in a good way. It was just telling her that she shouldn't even be near the creator, the one she had dedicated her eternity to. It was absolute blasphemy! Why shouldn't she, a loyal follower of yours, be allowed to not enter Natlan? What does Natlan even have any way? It's leylines are weak!

So it would be expected for her to completely rebel against your message, no? The thought of it just went in one ear and out the other, most likely. She prepared her army to raid the nation of war.

She needed answers.

Why do you want her to stay away so badly?

Neuvillette felt a repulsive taste in his mouth.

The more in proximity he got to the Pyro Archon's abode, the more he felt your oncoming anger.

Or was it that the other nations were coming close too?

By the time he reached Natlan, all the Archons were there, each with their respective army. All except Buer, whom he thought was allying with you. The group of them shared a glare, before proceeding to step foot into the Nation.

The first step in and he already felt like vomiting.

The high concentration on the other elemental energy being used was making him sick. The thunderstorms, the vines, he could all feel it in his veins. The one and only thing that prevented him from giving up was you, only you. He could feel your presence, and it all disgusted him that you were in Natlan and not Fontaine. Wasn't his nation better than the one that constantly reeks of war and bloodshed? He really has no place of judging what you did, considering the unfair hiarchy placed by Celestia themselves, but he couldn't help judge your taste.

It seemed like he wasn't the only one that thought what he did too, considering the not so pleasant complection of the other Archons. Their face contorted, and he would have laughed if it weren't for the situation.

He was getting impatient, so just as he was about to use Hydro to attack first, a wall of Geo immediately went up to protect the Nation. They stared at you in disbelief while you returned the stare with disdain.

"Haven't I told you to stay away?" A strike of electro travelled through the ground, and using the current rain, the electro charged reaction attacked the puppet, Raiden first. The level of concentration being much more than what the puppet can handle, her arm fell off her torso, leaving a hollow hole in the area where her limb used to be. Dendro vines slithered and grabbed the Archons' and Dragon's leg, and as much as they tried to escape, they couldn't. The plant went up to Neuvillette's neck, threatening to choke him but just resting on his shoulders instead.

"Just when my identity was revealed you all scurried to me like dogs chasing their owner. It's pathetic really, how delusional you are to think that I would forgive you after everything you've done."

Your veins became more visible, and all of them could see the flow of golden blood throughout your body. Venti was about to say something to your words in protest, but the vines kept his vocal chords in check. You narrowed your eyes at the god of freedom.

"Seriously? Attempting to speak when I've already set boundaries? How lowly. However I'm not that cruel to get rid of your status," Venti got pushed into the walls with your own Anemo prowess; "you should just be weakened beyond repair."

There was a mad look in your eyes, looking for something. One thing that Neuvillette was sure that he couldn't understand was your wrath. The way you looked at everyone with such eyes that showed that you had lost all hope. The way your eyes showed the wanting of revenge. He couldn't comprehend that at all.

Your face held an expression that he never wanted to see in you.

Manic.

Now he was wondering himself, where did he go wrong?

Tried to make this as triggering as possible lol. Like showing off the archon's hypocrisy was fun but also hard to write

[makelemonade]

Test Subject

Characters; Dottore x Female!Reader

pt2

Warnings; 18+, insane probably horribly written smut, aphrodisiacs, non-consensual drugging, you're married to each other, slut-shaming tbh, degrading + slight praise, boob play, bondage, blowjobs, lots of mentions of cum, you're literally his test subject- hence the title, he has a fat cock, subtle ahegao, hentai moaning, fingering, several positions, overstimulation, rough sex, dumbification, oral sex, honestly idek what else just lemme know if i need to put something

Il Dottore was a hard working man; Always doing whatever he can to please his majesty, the Tsaritsa, and always helping out- even if it’s not by his own will- his coworkers.

But he’ll always work the hardest for you- his lovely wife.

He was working on some sort of machine down in his lab, and in full honesty, you were too hungry enough to ask what it was.

Well, you weren’t insanely hungry, but you were parched, and it’s not like you could go around and get food somewhere; You barely knew this castle and you were scared to run into one of the other Harbingers.

Hmm, maybe you could risk it- Childe could’ve been around somewhere and could’ve gotten you some water.

“What’s on your mind, dear?” Dottore asks, still looking down at his…project. He knew you so well. He 

“I’m quite thirsty, my love.” You admit, sheepishly. 

A smirk appears on Dottore’s face as he finally looks away from his project and at you; You were sitting on a steel table- almost like the ones for surgery- dangling your legs.

“I actually have a few drinks down here.”

He walked over to a shelf full of vials, some were full and some were empty. He scanned it for about a minute, until he made a noise, indicating he found what he was looking for. He grabbed two vials, walking back to you.

Handing them to you, you looked at them with hesitance. It was a light pink, but it didn’t look dangerous. It wasn’t bubbling, or smoking. It seemed like water but with food-colouring.

“It’s a sweet drink.” There was something behind his devilish smirk, and you couldn’t read it, but you trusted your husband and chugged both vials.

He just smiled. “Good girl,”

As much as you loved the praise, you were slightly confused, but decided to just let him continue working.

However, in the next few minutes, you noticed that you began too sweat. It was weird, given the fact this laboratory was insanely cold.

You took off your blanket, throwing it to the side, but that did not help, as in the next few minutes, you began to become hotter, to the point you were panting as if you were running a marathon.

You didn’t notice the subtle writing Dottore was doing in his book, and in the next few minutes, you found yourself becoming faint as you started to feel yourself completely aroused to the point it was seeping through your tight clothing.

You were letting out shaky breaths, everything being too hot for you and you laid back onto the steel, the cold table bringing you comfort for about a minute until it was too hot for you.

Your vision slightly blurry, you noticed Dottore now standing above you, his project long forgotten as you were now his new project. 

“Dottore..” You breathed out, and he just smirked down at you before reaching under the table; There were straps under it, and you realized what was happening when one went around your waist.

“Dottore,” You breathed out again. “Did you- did you drug me?!” You panted, and he just laughed. 

“I’ve been meaning to test the aphrodisiac out for a while now. I just needed a perfect time to use it on you.” 

He started to unbutton your shirt and you whined, the touches of his cold fingers on your stomach making you heat up even more somehow.

He took your blouse off and you let out a whimper- he made sure to write that down too.

He reached around to your back, not lifting you up much due to the strap holding you down onto the table. With his might, he yanked at your bra, ripping the back completely and you gasped.

“I’ll buy you a new one.” He laughed, throwing the ripped bra to the floor. 

He unbuckled himself, but made no move to take off his pants. Instead he pushed your arms all the way up and you felt too weak to stop him, letting him tie your hands with his belt. 

In seconds, your pants and panties were off- You don’t even know how, but the drug was making everything seem so fast, but at the same time too slow.

You tried to do anything to help your arousal, and even started humping the air but it was helpless with the strap holding you down. Dottore laughed at your attempts.

“You’re so needy, my love. Be patient, dear, I’ll attend to you soon. I just need to see how you react.”

He placed a hand down on your stomach and you gasped, starting to twitch. His other hand started scribbling down in his book as he moved his hand around, and the heat became unbearable once he reached your chest.

“‘Tore,” You whined, then a sharp gasp came out of you as he placed his index and thumb around your hard nipple, starting to pull.

“Nghh-oh!” His mouth moved down, starting to suck on the other one and you started to thrash, but the table could only wobble slightly as you were held down tightly.

“So sensitive,” He breathed out, the breath making your nipple twitch and you whimpered. He started to go a little harsher, his teeth grazingg over your nipple as the only started to twist and pull.

“Oh! Dottore!” You gasped, moaning loudly as he kept up at it and yet somehow his other hand was still scribbling stuff down- how he did it? You had no idea.

You whined when his mouth and fingers left and he spread your legs open a little, the cold air bringing little relief to your seeping pussy. 

“I wouldn’t even be surprised if you almost came from that,” He chuckled, taking a closer to look to see your arousal was now a pool pouring onto the desk, slowly dripping off the sides.

“Let’s see how you beg.” 

You were about to ask what he meant, but let out a loud gasp when his finger to prod at your hole and you moaned, despite the fact he was barely touching it.

He was teasing you, touching you everywhere down there but refusing to finger you.

“Do-dottore,” You whined, trying to thrust your hips towards his fingers but you could hardly move.

“How does It feel, baby?”

“So- so sensitive.” You whined, “I need you.”

He groaned at that, fingers inching a bit closer. “Yeah? How bad?”

“S-so bad..” You slurred, becoming drunk on just his fingers, “need to feel your t-thick fingers..”

You screamed when he plunged two into you, wincing at the pain but moaning at the relief. He slowly began to scissor you, and his fingers were sooo long they reached you so deep.

“Oh-! Nghh, please, pleasepleaseplease”

“Please what?” He chuckled breathlessly. “M-move faster please..”

He grinned, shoving his fingers even deeper as he started to go faster, stretching you wide and you moaned loudly when he added a third finger in.

“FUCK!” You gasped, “fuckfuckfuckfuck!” He started to practically pound you with his fingers once he added a fourth one in, and you found yourself cumming in one minute with a wail, but he didn’t stop.

“T-tore!” You whined, “too-too much!”

But he didn’t stop, instead going faster, and you were thrashing around so much he had to stop writing down stuff with his other hand to hold your waist down, despite the fact you were tied down already.

“DOTTORE! DOTTORE!” You screamed, feeling yourself cum once again; This time, your arousal squirting everywhere to the point it reached his face, spread onto your paper and was on the ground.

He didn’t let his fingers out until you finished, and you let out a wanton moan when his fingers left you.

“Your pussy is gaping over nothing,” The way he spoke sent shivers down your spine. “Dirty slut, squirting over my fingers? My, what a mess you made!”

You panted, feeling absolutely out of it just from squirting, but you needed more. So much more to get rid of this heat.

You heard shuffling, then steps as he walked towards the side of the table to your face. 

He grabbed your head, moving it to the side and you were met to his long, girthy cock that was leaking precum just inches away from your face.

You found yourself sticking your tongue out, reaching to lick the tip and he groaned. “You look like a dog,” He laughed breathlessly, looking at the way your tongue was all the way out, panting. 

“Little bitch in heat,” He spat, “C’mon, suck. Suck like the good slut you are,”

You wasted no time in wrapping your mouth around his dick, struggling in trying to move your head up and down- It was hard when you were tied to a table.

“Insufficient,” He scoffed, but really it was an excuse to loosen the strap to help you move closer to the side of the table. He grabbed the back of your head, shoving you down as you let out a yelp. 

Your nose was right against his pelvis and you started to gag while he just let you sit there and struggle. He let out a groan, then a sigh of content.

He started to move your head up and down, dragging and pulling on your hair. You looked up at him, eyes rolling back as you continued to gag on the Doctors thick cock.

“I love it when you do that,” He panted. “You look so fucking- uh! Sexy…” He started to go faster. “Cockdrunk whore.”

You just moaned at the title and he laughed, “you love it when I degrade you, don’t you? You know, I’m debating on if I want to come in your mouth or all over your face, even when I rail you too.” 

You were becoming dizzy with how fast he was moving you, your throat becoming sore as tears rolled down your cheeks. 

He took another look down at you. “Maybe all over you. I’ll make it a masterpiece.” 

He took his dick out and you gasped, but only to be met with his hot, salty cum all over your face. Dottore not being a human sometimes had it’s perks, because he produced so much more “cum” then anyone as it even reached your chest.

He panted, standing there for a bit. Then, he walked away, and came back holding up a kamera. “Say cheese,”

You were too fucked out of it to react, flinching at the light it produced. He looked at the picture through the lenses and smirked. “I’ll be keeping this one.”

He moved back to his book, writing some more stuff down. He did so quickly, wanted to move onto the fourth and last phase of his project.

He got rid of the strap completely, and you thought it was over- but no, instead he grabbed your hips, dragging you across the table all the way to the end so your bottom half was completely off, your legs over his shoulders.

You gasped at the feeling of his dick prodding at your entrance. “Nghh- Dottore! I’m still s-sensitive!”

He didn’t care, instead pushing his cock all the way in- It stretched you out even more then his fingers and reached places they couldn’t and you wailed.

He didn’t even go slow, instead deciding to go straight into it and fuck you fast and rough. “F-fuck…” He gasped, “You’re so tight, my love. You feel so good, like you were made for me? Wouldn’t you agree? Agree with me, my cocksleeve

“Y-yes!! I-i’m just-nghh- perfect for YOU! Yooourrr cockslEEVE! YOURS!” You screamed as he went even harder, and you felt like you were gonna cum once again.

He could feel it too when you started to tighten, and you screamed when he pushed down onto your stomach. “I-I’ve decided,” He paused to give you a harsh thrust, “That I’ll cum so much, in you and on you.” He laughed, and you came with a scream.

“F-fuckuuhuh! No-no more!”

“Yes more.” He laughed, not stopping. “We have so many more rounds to go, sweetheart. Don’t you wanna be filled up with my cum? Bred? And painted with it too,”

“Y-yes! Yes! Fill me up…fill me up! Please!”

He pulled you closer, instead now moving your legs towards your chest to reach even deeper into you. “NgHH~ oh~ fuck! Y-yes, yes!”

The next hour went by through several different positions; Full nelson, standing full nelson, doggy style, whatever he wanted to take you in! He’d take turns cumming in you and pulling out, and by the end, you were completely passed out, cum all over you and cum pouring out, dripping onto the ground.

He draped your past blanket over you, deciding he’d attend to you in just a minute. He finished writing down his analysis, reading it out loud.

“Subject came a total of 12 times and squirted for 3. Next goal will be 15 and 10; Maybe Pantalone can help out with it.”

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - unhealthy relationships, mentions of gore/human experimentation, forced marriage. written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.

Recently, all your mornings had started the same way: ten or so feet below the ground, buried under the satin sheets of an otherwise empty bed in a stone chamber decorated with all the love and tenderness of a hospital room, freshly cleaned after the death of its last occupant.

Blearily, you stumbled out of bed, grimacing at the feeling of the cold, rough floor against your bare feet. Temperatures in Snezhnaya rarely rose above freezing, and while your husband didn’t seem to mind the cold, you weren’t so resilient – shrugging on your heaviest robe before so much as opening your eyes. A mug of coffee was clumsily assembled in your minimalistic kitchenette (a feature you insisted on, after being forced to share a communal ice chest with one of his more dissection-focused segments), then a cup of tea; herbal and rich, a blend from Sumeru he had imported every few months. For as many years as you’d been with Zandik, you’d never been able to make sense of what he considered worth his time and what he disregarded as frivolous wastes of effort and mora. You supposed you could only be thankful you fell into the former group, lest your body be the next to adorn his vivisection table.

Once you’d managed to shake the chill and bring yourself to a state of near-consciousness, you stumbled out of your bedroom and into the corridor, ignoring the curious looks of young researchers and patrolling soldiers and shrugging open the steel door at the end of the hall. The smell of rot and preservatives hit you as soon as you stepped into Zandik’s personal laboratory, but your eyes only glazed over the dark puddles splattered across the floor, the amorphous mass covered with a white sheet and laid across a metal table before landing on your husband – slumped over his desk, his face buried in his arms and ink staining his fingertips, his left cheek. With a sigh, you made your way to his side, placing both mugs on the edge of his desk and resting your hands on his shoulders. Letting your eyes fall shut, you lowered yourself to his height, resting your lips against the top of his head and only pulling away when he began to stir.

He'd always been a light sleeper (in comparison to you, at least), and it’d never taken much to rouse him. You straightened your back and as if on cue, he bolted upward, gaze darting to the door, then his operation table, then you – where it would stay. A slight grin pulled at the corner of his lips as he pushed his chair away from his desk and tapped his leg, and without protest, you climbed into his lap; straddling his thighs and burying your face in the crook of his neck. One of his hands found its way to your hip while the other took to rubbing small, slow circles into your back. You waited for him to settle underneath you before breaking the silence. “I want to go home.”

Home, meaning the gothic, looming mansion you usually resided in when he wasn’t working out of one of the Fatui’s countless underground facilities or traveling abroad. It was also dark and drafty and a far cry from your previous home, the home he’d taken you away from the day he married you, but you’d been able to decorate it to your preferences and you didn’t need to go through ten of his soldiers just to step outside. He hummed, the sound passive and dismissive, and you frowned into his shoulder, nudging gently at his chest. “I’m serious, Zandik. Everything smells like blood and you haven’t come to bed in days. Being around all these chemicals is going to be the death of me – that is, if boredom doesn’t do the job first.”

Another hum, this one slightly more thoughtful. “You know I would pluck the stars from the sky for you,” he started, his voice still low and coarse with sleep. “But I am here on the Tsaritsa’s orders. Are you sure you’d have me test the good will of an archon for something so mundane?”

“Yes.” You’d seen him butcher orphans and burn villages to the ground. If he was still in his goddess’ good graces after so many centuries of relentless carnage, you were sure she wouldn’t mind a sudden relocation. “There’s nothing you do here that you couldn’t do in your own laboratory.” You thought for a moment, then added, “Unless you’ve decided that you love your archon more than you love me.”

His smile faltered, something possessive and pointed catching in his eyes. His grip on you tightened, but he recovered quickly, letting out an airy chuckle as he bowed his head and nuzzled mindlessly into the dip of your shoulder. “Two more weeks,” he promised. “Then, I’ll send you home – one way or another.”

“One more week.” You sat up, cupping his face and forcing him to meet your eyes. “Or I start spitting in your tea.”

“One more week if you start spitting in my tea.”

“You’re a vile, repugnant little man.” You leaned forward, kissing his cheek. “Deal.”

You spend the rest of that day lounging across the velvet-cushioned loveseat in the corner of his lab, skimming through your dozenth pulpy romance novel and watching your husband dismember corpses with a vigor you hadn’t seen since the first days of your marriage.

[avocad1s]

Bring Back What Once Was Mine

Chapter Summary: The nation of Cryo welcomes you.

Characters Mentioned: The Fatui Harbingers & The Tsaritsa.

Content Warning: Cult and Religious themes ahead! You've been warned.

Reader is the true creator of Teyvat. GN! Reader

Part Four Part Five (you are here!) Part Six

You alr know what I’m gonna say… not beta read :>

The Gnosis didn’t just connect the Archons to the Creator. It also connected them to Celestia.

Although very few understand it, one thing that is known is Celestia is the residence for the Gods. On rare occasions, mortals can ascend to Celestia if they preform great, heroic feats. Meaning even humans can achieve godhood.

However as the decades went by, the Archons begin cutting of their ties to Celestia after the Cataclysm. They decided to live in their respective nations rather than watching them from above.

Celestia, who noticed the reservations of the Seven, knew that it had to do something to keep its order intact.

“You’re Grace?”

“Hmm?”

“You should put your coat on now, we will be arriving on shore soon.”

A few hours has passed since you had made a detour in your journey gotten a on the boat with Childe, he was a talkative individual, boasting about his skills in combat or about the Tsaritsa. Yet when you asked about the other Harbingers he wouldn’t say much, he would vaguely mention something about their strength or their contribution to the Fatui.

Speaking of the Fatui, you still had your reservations about the infamous group. Though when you try to reassure yourself that you know the Cryo Archon better than anyone else, Aether’s words fills your ears.

You sigh slipping the soft material of the coat onto your arms, feeling your body instantly heat up.

“Lord Harbinger,” one of Childe’s soldiers approached the two of you in a stiff bow. “We have arrived.”

Just like with Sumeru, it seems the Snezhnaya had changed a great deal since the last time you were here. You could hardly believe that this nation had been on lock for many years.

Childe holds his hand out to you, “I’ll lead you, Your Grace.” You rest your hand in his gloved one causing him to smile wider as he leads off the boat onto the icy deck.

The deck and the pathway leading to the Zapolyarny palace has a scare amount of security. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was on purpose or if your arrival to Snezhnaya is unexpectedly early.

“Are you nervous, Your Grace?” Childe asks suddenly.

You swallow, could he feel your apprehension? As the two of you get closer to the Zapolyarny palace, you could feel the tension in your body increase. The overwhelming presence of malice the palace was giving off, you could only imagine who- or what- was in there.

He gives your hand a slight squeeze looking over at you, “there’s no need to be nervous, the Fatui and Her Majesty are your most loyal servants. We will never do anything to betray you.”

Nodding at his words, you try to ignore the goosebumps that just appeared on your skin.

Childe pushes open the large doors leading you inside the icy fortress. Even though it wasn’t very well lit, the decor in the inside was spectacular. Multiple banners hung from the support beams all of them with snowflakes decorated at the bottom of it. There were also dozens of pews that lead to the front of the room which seemed to be the most lit. Many soldiers stood near the wall gawking in your direction once you entered the palace, but with a simple glance, you could tell they were lower ranked. Not because of anything they were wearing, but because of the two who stood in front of you.

One you recognized to be the Cryo Archon but the other was someone you’ve never seen before. Both were all dressed nicely but still kept the cold weather in mind.

The Tsaritsa was the only one to approach you, she wasted no time grabbing your free hand with both of hers. “Your Grace please forgive me for my rude welcoming. If I had known you would arrive today-“

“You have no reason to apologize, I wish I was here under better circumstances…” you interrupt.

She lets go of your hand nodding, “having you here already means everything to me.”

You smile at her sweet words, the Tsaritsa was still the same as you remembered. Maybe letting the words of Yelan and Aether get to you was a bad idea.

“You must tired after your journey.” The Tsaritsa begins, “we’ve prepared a room just for you. I hope it’s to your liking.”

Truthfully, you would take any bed right now. Ever since you descended to Teyvat, you’ve been sleeping outside or not sleeping at all, you wouldn’t complain about any accommodations right now.

She looks back at the man who was watching your interaction, “my most trusted will guide you to your chamber. I will come check on you later.”

The Tsaritsa takes a step away from you, turning her attention to Childe who was still holding your hand. “Come with me Tartaglia,” she orders.

Childe hesitantly lets go of your hand giving you a reassuring smile, “don’t worry Your Grace, if you need anything from me, I’ll still be in the palace.”

It fell silent for a moment in the palace, only thing that could be heard is the faint footsteps of Childe and the Cryo Archon walking off as they whisper about something you couldn’t make out.

“Divine One…”

You focus your attention on the man in front of you. He had on a mask like the soldiers in the room with you but his only covered half of his face, his hair is white and his eyes… (or eye) were the most peculiar. It was definitely something you recognized but he was standing to far away for you to make out what it was exactly.

“My name is Pierro,” he introduces, “I will guide you to your chamber.”

So this was the Tsaritsa most trusted. It makes you wonder how long he’s been in the Fatui to earn such a title. He leads you down a hall in the opposite direction that the Tsaritsa had went, he doesn’t say anything keeping his gaze forward and his hands behind his back.

“Where are the others?” You ask breaking the silence.

He glances at you for a moment, “I’m assuming you mean the other Harbingers? They’ll be returning soon.”

Pierro stops in front of a double doored room at the end of the hall, “this is where you’ll be staying while in Snezhnaya, Divine One.” He opens the door for you allowing you to walk inside as he stands by the threshold.

The room was fairly dark, the only light coming from the fireplace on the furthest wall from the door. There was one large bed in the middle of the room and a couch by the fireplace. There was also a table with a few books neatly stacked on it.

“I hope you enjoy your time in the Zapolyarny Palace.” Pierro closes the door leaving you alone in the large room.

Once the door clicks, you pull the flower Aether had given you out of your pocket inspecting it closely. Luckily it hadn’t wilted while on your journey to Snezhnaya. You place the flower on the table shrugging off your coat draping it on the chair. You relax into the couch allowing the fireplace to keep you warm, unaware that this is the last time you’ll relax before knowing the truth yourself.

-

-

The Zapolyarny palace was more comforting than you thought it be.

Slouching on this couch has to be the first time you ever allowed yourself to fully relax since you descended to Teyvat. You didn’t even realized you were succumbing to sleep until you heard faint voices outside your door that brought your attention back to reality.

“Is their Grace really behind this door?”

“That’s what the Jester said, maybe I should bring them something to eat.”

“Why should it be you? Their Grace knows me, they’ll be more comfortable if I bring it to them.”

“It shouldn’t have been you who found them in the first place, Tartaglia. I’m higher ranked than you, it should be me who gives it to them.”

“Well if it’s purely based off our rankings than it should be me, no? I am the highest ranked out of us all since number one isn’t here.”

“You’d just scare them off Dottore!”

Their fighting immediately ceases causing you to sit up on the couch. We’re they aware you were listening or did they walk off to argue somewhere else. Neither answer made sense, you hadn’t made a noise since you noticed they were outside your door and you didn’t hear their footsteps or fading voices indicating that they walked off.

A soft knock is heard at the large doors.

“Your Grace,” a voice calls out. It was the Tsaritsa, “are you awake? May I come inside?”

You use your palms to straighten out your wrinkled clothing before answering, “yes I’m awake. Please come in.”

The door opens immediately and the Cryo Archon walks inside closing the door behind her.

“We’re you able to settle in?”

You nod, “yes! This room is perfect, thank you.”

“I’m glad…” she slowly approaches you on the coach before hesitantly sitting next to you. “Well there’s no point of beating around the bush… I’m assuming you know why I came to see you?”

You rest your hands in your lap giving her your full attention, “it’s about the False Creator. Right?”

“Yes.” She confirms, “Tartaglia wasn’t lying when he said that I’ve figured out where the False Creator came from.”

You say nothing waiting for her to continue and after a best of silence she says, “Your Grace, there’s a reason why none of the Archons were alerted to your presence. We all removed our Gnosis.”

Your eyes widen, “what? Why?”

“It’s not because of you!” She quickly reassures, “we all still hold you in the highest regard, but to be connected to you we also have to be connected to…”

“…Celestia…” you finish her sentence. “Is there something wrong with Celestia? Why don’t you all want to be connected to it anymore?”

She brushes some of her hair off her shoulder, “when you went off world centuries ago and left Celestia in control of Teyvat, something changed.”

“What do you mean?” You ask.

She shrugs, “I’m not entirely sure what happened but once you left, being in Celestia felt… wrong. Like none of us were supposed to be there but it was Celestia’s final order that made us cut our connection to it.”

“Celestia’s final order?”

“What I’m trying to tell you is that Celestia had ordered us Archons to destroy Khaenri'ah under the guise that it was you who told us to.”

Once she had seen your face, it takes everything out of the Tsaritsa not to fall onto the floor and beg for your forgiveness, but telling you everything is whats important right now, even if you do hate her afterwards.

“We all thought it was you who told us to do it… and that’s when the other one had arrived. Pretending to be you, they reassured us that we did the right thing and that we had gotten rid of a nation filled with sinners.”

You notice her eyes fill with tears, she felt true guilt for what she and her fellow Archons had done. Reaching out, you place your hand on top of her silently urging her to continue.

“Celestia feared it was losing it’s control over Teyvat after us Archons stopped going there once you had departed. So it sent down a fake you to keep the control it had over the world. With the False Creator and the Gnosis, Celestia had Teyvat right in the palm of it’s hands.”

“Wait.” You interrupt, “if that’s all they did, then why was Khaenri'ah destroyed?”

You feel her hands trembling under yours, but before you can comment on it she continues. “Khaenri'ah had found out about Celestia’s plans to send down a False Creator. When Khaenri'ah had made plans to summon you, Celestia ordered the destruction of the nation. It’s what we call the Cataclysm.”

You remove your hand from hers bringing them up to your mouth. There’s no way she was actually telling the truth, Celestia had existed way before anyone on Teyvat did. It was one of your first creations, would it really betray you like that?

A cold hand on your cheek breaks you out of your thoughts, the Tsaritsa turns your head to look at her a frown apparent on her face.

“I know how this sounds your Grace but you must believe me. I would never tell you such a blasphemous lie if it weren’t the truth!”

“What were these plans Khaenri'ah had found?” Are the only words to leave your lips.

“A prototype.” She explains, “they had sent down a prototype to see if they could fool Khaenri'ah into believing it was actually you. Celestia knew that convincing that nation would be the hardest since it was the only nation without an Archon.”

You stand from your spot on the couch causing the Tsaritsa to jump up as well, her face looked frantic but she held her composure well. It was clear where the Fatui had gotten their cold nature from.

“And how exactly did you get all of this information?”

“There are many remnants of Khaenri'ah still around Teyvat Your Grace. Celestia wasn’t able to eradicate everything.” She explains.

There was a another silence between the two of you but it wasn’t like before, this time it felt suffocating. If what she claims is the truth that means your own creation, something you believed you could trust, had betrayed you. Now everything made sense. Everything Aether had told you about the remnants of Khaenri'ah still being present. He was there, he probably seen all of it.

You should’ve went with him when you had the chance. Outlander or not, you were conflicted on who you could trust now.

“Your Grace?” the Cryo Archon stutters out her hand resting gently on your shoulder. “What are you going to do now?”

You decide not to respond but her question continues to repeat in your mind. What are you going to do? If it was Celestia, then destroying the Imposter wouldn’t solve your problem. What if you decide to go off world again? Would Celestia just make another Fake Creator and take reign over your world once more? You couldn’t let that happen, it wasn’t a risk you were willing to take.

“As unbelievable everything you just told me sounds, I’m going to trust you…”

Her body visibly relaxes at your explanation.

“Even though I still don’t know everything I wanted, if Celestia was the one who created the Imposter then I cannot waste anymore time. I must return to Sumeru and deal with them immediately.”

-

-

Note: I apologize for the five day wait, but this part took a lot of research on my end and yeah 💀 i already know there are some inaccuracies but for the sake of the plot idc. Anyways we have just reached the climax of the story, my plan is to wrap everything up in three more chapters but we’ll see how that turns out.

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I apologize to anyone who has asked to be tagged over the past few days! Please know that I did see you but Tumblr is not allowing me to add anyone else to the Taglist :<

Also this blog has hit 200 followers in under two weeks… umm HELLO? where did all of you come from?!? Seriously though, I appreciate all of the love and support you all have given this story 🙏 I love you all platonically ofc !!!

[daturabouquet]

Thank goodness it's just a dream..

[Dottore x Fem!Reader angst, Warnings: Assisted suicide, mentioned torture, breach of privacy, toxic relationship dynamic, stalking]

Dottore's brutality and emotional/physical torment has gone so far that even just being around him scares you, you get panic attacks whenever there's just a slight look of displeasure in his face, nightmares of him and so on. You had no privacy of thought either; he has a "rewired" Akasha terminal hooked on you, he can read your mind as much as he pleases. He knew exactly how you felt yet he didn't care.

Until you asked for your Harbinger friend to take your life and end all of your suffering. Fatui Harbingers have protection against other Fatui Harbingers, they can't hurt one another so they will have no consequence for killing you.

Unfortunately, Dottore found out on the day of the supposed execution. He barged in and stopped Pantalone from ending you.

"What in the hells were you thinking?!"

"Shh, don't be so loud, you're going to wake her. And this is her wish, can't you see how much pain you've caused her?"

"I know what I did, and they deserved every single bit of it. Besides, she seems fairly content with our life together."

"I would believe otherwise, Doctor. Death is her best choice."

Pantalone reloaded the gun once more.

"I will not let you live for another day if you pull that trigger, Banker. I will ruin every aspect of your life and everything you've worked for."

"You can't do that thanks to Her Highness' policy. Unless you'd like to spar with the Tsaritsa herself?"

"Drop the gun, Banker."

"Only if you'll strike a deal for me..."

"Name your price."

"Put (name) back in her bed in her hometown in Sumeru, and make her believe every second she was here was a dream. Keep your "improved" Akasha on her, if she's in despair that everything was a dream, we'll bring her back here. Otherwise, if she jumps with joy because all her pain was just a dream... you set her free."

"Set her free? What kind of bargain is this, Banker?"

"A good one. Either you agree, Doctor... or I'll pull the trigger."

--

You wake up in Sumeru, very disoriented as you take in your surroundings... huh, your hometown... in your bed... in your house? You scratch your head in confusion... Weren't you asleep in the Zapolyarny Palace last night? But you feel... fresh, like you've woken up from a loooong sleep... Wait, was everything just a dream? Your wedding with Dottore, the torture, the love, everything was it just a dream...? You're trying to absorb all of this... but once you're over it, you jump in joy that everything was just a dream.

At this moment, somewhere in Zapolyarny Palace, the Second fatui harbinger slams his fist into his desk, your point of view from your "Akasha" displayed on a screen in front of him.

"(name)... after everything I did for you..."

He'll do whatever it takes, to get you back. He grabs a blank book and scribbles down in a hurry;

"Project (First Name) (Last Name)."

And he breaks his pen, blotting the end of the sentence with the ink. He will make sure you run back to him, but for now... you're strolling in the Grand Bazaar conversing with the vendors, not noticing your Akasha was a slightly different shade of green.

[genshinwomenontop]

"Meeting Father"

☆Prompt: Suspicion has been arising about you ever since you were determined to go to Fontaine with your 'Father' and she eventually figures out the truth behind your behaviour, wanting to meet the cause of it.

☆Warnings: Arlecchino scaring Navia, Navia being flirty, wholesome moments between you and the twins and Freminet and Arlecchino.

☆Side note: Reader is the oldest child in the house of Hearth and the heir to it.

In the Zapolyarny Palace, sat Arlecchino in her office, her oldest daughter, bowing slightly towards her in a way of showing respect.

"Tartaglia is imprisoned in Fontaine and the Tsaritsa wants you to retrieve him, Father."

"That idiot always seems to get himself in trouble and others have to pull him out," Arlecchino sighed, "but nonetheless, it's the order of the Tsaritsa. I trust that you'll be okay here without me."

"Actually Father, may I come with you?"

She raised her eyebrows at your request. "Why is that? You may lift your head now."

You gulped nervous before raising your head. "Well, it's been a while since I've visited my... home and uh... I haven't seen the twins and Freminet in a while."

"What if Columbina needs you?"

"I've already spoken to her and she said it's fine."

"What if the Tsaritsa needs you?"

"She also said it's fine."

"You're quite determined to go. Are you sure there's nothing else?"

"No father. I'm sure."

She hummed in acknowledgement before agreeing. You beamed with joy but quickly regained your composure, not wanting to give away the real reason behind your visit. She dismissed you and told you to pack your bags as she got ready to leave. Arlecchino wore a thick white coat, with black fur adorning the neckline.

You were getting dressed in your room when Arlecchino walked in, and placed a coat over your shoulders. "It's going to get cold. Besides, I think it's time you wear this." She offered a small smile and helped you put the coat on. As her oldest, you tend to see sides she's never shown to anyone before and she confides in you to keep them all a secret.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, Arlecchino standing by your side. "In a few years time, you'll be standing here with your little one as I am standing with mine." A slight red tainted your cheeks as she mentioned it, making your thoughts trail to someone.

Meanwhile in Fontaine, Navia sat with Clorinde, both of them enjoying a cup of coffee; well Clorinde enjoying the coffee. "She hasn't responded to any of my letters. Can you believe that?! She can't be cheating on me right?"

Clorinde spat out her coffee at the mention of You cheating on Navia. "Navia calm down. Y/n could never cheat on you. I'm sure she's busy."

"Busy doing what?!"

"Why are you shouting at me?"

"I'm sorry..." Navia sighed sadly and sat down. She was suddenly approached by the twins.

"Good evening ladies," Lyney took off his hat and bowed.

"Hey there guys."

"Hello."

"My sister and I came to invite you to our magic show tonight. It's going to be a grand one, so don't miss it!"

"My apologies but I won't be able to make it tonight."

"It's all good miss Clorinde. And you miss Navia?"

"Oh I'll come! It's not like I have anything better to do anyways."

Lyney and Lynette shared a look with each other. They knew about Navia's relationship with that unknown person. "Lover struggles," Lynette sighed. Lyney chuckled nervously and patted Navia on the back as she slouched on the table and whined.

Night rolled around rather quickly and the twins heard the news that their father was coming to Fontaine but what they didn't know what that their big sister was also coming. The show went on and it was spectacular. The twins did an amazing job as always. Navia had a backstage pass and she watched them with a smile on her face, Lyney's radiant smile reminds her of her lover's own.

Getting lost in her own thought, Navia didn't realise that someone was hugging her until she felt their hot breath against her neck as they whispered, "Missed me?"

She turned around and her eyes immediately brightened. "Y/n!" Jumping into the arms of her lover was a must, she held onto you tightly.

"When did you arrive here?! I missed you so much!" You felt tears hit your neck and you felt guilty, knowing why she was crying.

"I'm sorry I didn't respond to you. I wanted to surprise you."

"Well you're surprised worked okay," she chuckled with tears in her eyes. You wiped them away before gently pressing your lips onto hers. The kiss lasted for about thirty seconds until she pulled away.

"Wait how did you know where to find me? How do you know about this show?"

"Well you se-"

"Big sister y/n!" You turned around and immediately opened your arms for the twins. Lyney ran into your arms and you picked him, hugging him tightly. You pulled lynette into a gentle hug before kissing them both of the forehead.

"Does this mean father is here?"

"Yep. You're presence is required at her office. Go on, I'll catch up and hey, don't tell Father about me and Navia." Lyney and Lynette nodded and they ran off.

When you returned your attention back to Navia, she looked stunned. "You never told me that Lyney and Lynette are your siblings."

You interwined your fingers together with hers before walking. "Well, we're not related by blood. We come from an orphanage where we were saved by Father. She took us in and watched over us since then. I'm actually the oldest so it makes me the big sister. Have you ever heard of 'The house of Hearth'?"

"I did. Its quite popular in Fontaine."

"Well that's the orphanage."

"The house of Hearth is an orphanage?!"

"Yeah. It's quite shocking isn't it?"

"I can't believe you never told me it."

"I'm sorry. Anyway, how's Clorinde?" You stopped walking when you reached her house.

"She's good, I actually talked to her today."

"Listen, I gotta go now. But I promise I'll spend tomorrow with you."

"Promise?" You nodded before pulling her into a kiss. She wrapped her arms around your neck and pulled you deeper into the kiss as she let out a strangled moan. You pulled away shortly, wiping the saliva off your chin. "I want more than a kiss from you tomorrow," she winked entering her house. You let out a breath. God that woman drove you crazy.

A/n:

I'm gonna write a part 2 to this because it's actually quite long.

[honeykaes]

—𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝

✦ pairing: diluc x reader

✦ w/c: 3k

✦ warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact

✦ disclaimer: afab!reader with no set pronouns, fingering, oral fixation, slight rough sex, nipple play, implied!virgin diluc, mention of blood, mention of murder, angst, takes place during diluc’s time in snezhnaya, alcohol, implied that reader has some kind of ties to fatui, unedited

✦ synopsis: as the blizzard outside your cabin continues raging and the fire in your cabin beginning to die, you go outside to get more firewood only to see a man decorated in all red narrow his eyes at you— blood staining his face and gloves with a large claymore appearing on his back and a bottle of firewater in his hand.

The dim fire crackled in the small fireplace trying to heat the chill of the wooden cabin. As you reached in the cabinets to collect some tea leaves to hopefully warm your body up more this evening, you noticed the flames of the fire dimming from orange to blue. You couldn’t resist the sigh escaping your lips.

Your cabin was always like this as the snow terrorized the environment outside filling it with a cold and icy white. The snow seemed to blow harder outside your window, adding inches to the layers of snow that would never melt in the region of frost and love.

“The Tsaritsa must be particularly angry right now, I wonder why…” you muttered. You waltz over to your box noticing only a few twigs of firewood remained—it wouldn’t be enough to keep the fire blazing the entire night. On these particular days, you wished that Natlan's Archon, Murata, blessed you with a vision to keep the chill from driving you crazy.

“Great…” you muttered, walking towards the front door to grab your coat from the rack. As you bundled yourself up, wrapping a heavy scarf to keep the cold away from your neck and lower face. You plopped your boots on, fastening them securely. Bracing yourself for the change from a slight chill to bitter cold, you opened the door seeing the woodland area covered in snow.

You quickly closed the door, praying the wind didn’t get to your dying fire as you trudged to the side and opened a small wooden box outside. As you lifted the handle, you were greeted back to a lack of dry firewood—from what was impossible was now a small miracle you had hoped would keep your fire active in your small cabin. 

As you grabbed a few twigs, closing the latch back down on the now empty box, you looked up noticing a vibrant red throughout snowy white—and gasped realizing it was a man. The man had fiery scarlet hair fashioned in a high ponytail. His eyes matched as heavy eye bags laid beneath them. His outfit also showed off his love of red, but that wasn’t what scared you the most. Blood smeared across one of his cheeks, and his gloves and shoes were stained with it too as a large claymore appeared on his back.

As his eyes met yours, you felt frozen as if you were a rabbit caught under the eyes of a predator. The man brought a bottle up to his lips, taking a swig of it before letting it fall and rest on the snowy floor.

“Are you a member or have any affiliations with the Fatui,” he asked. His voice was serious and horse, eyes narrowing at your form. You quickly shook your head, raising your hands to signal you were unarmed and meant no harm.

“No, I’m not affiliated with them.. I’m..” you muttered before taking a sigh. “I’m no one and mean no harm to you. I live here to get away from all that.” He broke his intense gaze with yours, looking up to the cabin and the small glow from your fire and lamps inside.

“...May I stay the night then? This blizzard is getting worse and I need to patch my wounds up. I will be gone and out of your hair once the sun rises,” he grunted. You clenched your jaw, grabbing the small bundle of firewood closer to your chest. Your eyes narrowed into something glowing on his bloodied gloves. It was a delusion, a pyro delusion at that. 

“If you keep the fireplace going with your delusion, I will agree to it, but you have to be out by sunrise. I don’t want to be caught up if any of the Fatui are after you,” you muttered. The redhead grunted once more in agreement, trudging through the snow and past you, As his hand opened the door, you saw the small blood trail he left with his feet. You looked down, kicking some of the snow to try to cover it.

“...Did I make the right decision?” you asked yourself.

As you walked back to your cabin, taking your boots, coat, and scarf off and placing the firewood where it needed to go, Diluc followed—setting the pair by the door. He made his way to the table near your fireplace, taking off his jacket wet from the snow on the back of it. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he gazed by the fire, lifting his left hand up. As his delusion glowed scarlet, the fire burned with intensity as a wave of warmth melted away any inch of cold in the cabin.

“Thank you,” you muttered. You grabbed a bucket of water, sitting next to him on a stool and a rag. His eyebrows furrowed momentarily, confused about what you were doing.

“I don’t want you trekking blood in here, so please let me help address your wounds,” you stated. Diluc merely sighed and leaned into his seat as you placed the rag into the water, soaking it before ringing it out and placing it on his cheek. Wiping the blood away, you could see just how pretty his face was. His eyes were big, jawline strong—some freckles even decorated his cheeks. To say he was pretty on the eyes was an understatement, even as you took off layers of dirt and blood from his visage.

As you finished with his face and neck, you noticed his intense gaze was back at your form. You placed the rag back into the bucket as the once-clear water turned murky.

“I need you to take your vest and other layers so I can address your chest,” you asked. The man merely scoffed, before undoing the buttons from his vest. It soon fell onto the floor revealing a white peasant shirt that soon followed suit along with his gloves, leaving his chest and arms bare to you. You’d never guess the fresh scars and wounds littering his chest and lower stomach. One of the bandages wrapped seemed soaked with fresh blood, he clearly opened it from doing whatever was outside.

“I didn’t expect someone from Snezhnaya to be so hospitable,” the man mutters. You couldn’t help but chuckle, peeling the old gauze away and letting it fall to the floor.

“Can’t judge a book by its cover, so the saying goes,” you replied. You rang the rag out again and placed it on the wound hearing him suck a breath in. You tried dabbing it to avoid causing more pain to him but to clean the area up.

“I’m guessing you're from Mondstadt though based on your accent. I read in books that Mondstadters appreciate hospitality a lot. That true?” you asked. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at you, not saying a word. It seemed he didn’t want more of his identity to slip out; it may be better that way for you too but yet…

“...Why are you after Fatui?” you asked, lifting the rag away from him again. You lifted the bucket away, reaching under your cabinet to get the gauze and alcohol you recently purchased during your short trip to the city.

“How do you know that? Who's to say the Fatui aren’t after me,” he grunted. You sighed, motioning him to lift his upper half towards you and he followed. You brought a fresh rag onto the distilled bottle of alcohol, letting it soak up before placing it back onto his wound. He hissed loudly glaring down at you.

“I guess you’re right but the look you gave me was one of revenge. Someone on a mission. I’m well aware of the Tsaritsa’s agents. They commit atrocities and cruelties for the love of their archon. It's safe to assume you got caught into that somehow,” you murmured. The man merely scoffed once more as you began wrapping gauze around his chest, covering the newly made battle wounds from your gaze.

“Well aren’t you a clever one. It sounds like you’re quite familiar with them. Were you lying to me,” he muttered, eyes glaring into your own. You merely shrugged.

“I wasn’t but let’s say they’re part of the reason I put myself through living in these conditions here. Perhaps one day I can move to Mondstadt. I heard their archon doesn’t let the snow come in. Just warmth, happiness, and hospitality, right?” you chuckled to yourself. The man’s gaze left yours momentarily, looking into the fire with a far-away expression on his face. Your face slightly softened; you wondered if he misses home.

“That bottle of fire water you were drinking earlier and left outside tells me you’re trying to numb yourself to complete your revenge. Is it to make it easier to take their lives or is it to lessen the pain of grief? …You do know they’re other ways of doing that” you muttered, leaning into his face. You lifted your hand up, hand gazing on his smooth and clean cheek as his eyes snapped back to you. Your thumb pressed against his soft bottom lip, as he parted them—an unreadable expression swirling in his scarlet eyes.

“Trying to seduce me to avoid suspicion. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” he grumbled. You expected him to push your hand away and turn around yet, he remained still—eyes even softening to your own.

“Why do it, I don’t get it,” he mumbled. A sigh escaped your lips as you looked away from his gaze.

“We all have our own baggage,” you replied. A small chuckle escaped his lips as he soon leaned into your face. Your noses brushed against one another as you tried to resist the urge to gasp from his sudden movement.

“Then I guess the only words I want to hear from you tonight is my name, Diluc,” he whispered, taking your hand away from his lips tightly clasping it with his large palms. As your lips connected, your eyes fluttered closed, soon placing their hands on Diluc’s firm chest. A moan reverberated out of you feeling his teeth nibble at your bottom lip, tongue soon darting into your mouth as he finally rose up. His hands were firmly placed on your waist, awkwardly guiding you to your small bed. 

As you two parted—lips glossy as a string of saliva connected the two of you—the springs of the mattress squeaked trying to adjust to the two bodies on it. As Diluc remained on top of you, his hands soon made way for the band of your pants, tugging them down to reveal your underwear to him. As the flimsy fabric followed and he guided it down your leg, his eyes focused on your entrance, now revealed to him. He could see your cunt, pulsating as his cock pressed uncomfortably in his tight pants.

The brought his finger towards your slit, sliding it up and down, noticing the way your body jolted whenever he came in contact with a nub towards the top. He pressed the pad of his thumb on it, rubbing small and firm circles along it as your body squirmed underneath him. A small smile etched itself on his lips, noticing his fingers beginning to get wet from your slick starting to sob out of you. 

“Do you ask all the strange men outside to do this to you,” he murmured into your ear. You opened your eyes at him, scowling at the man—lips quivering from the attention he was giving your sensitive clit.

“No, of course not. Fuck…You’re the first,” you groaned. Diluc’s heart fluttered momentarily, trying to stop his cheeks from getting ready with no success. A scowl remained on his face, partially ashamed he was so worked up after that, grinding his hips into your thigh to get any bit of friction he could to relieve his arousal.

“Well aren’t I special,” he grunted, his thumb remaining on your clit before he brought two fingers towards your opening slowly sinking them in as you shutter. As he pumped them inside of you, your hands reached out towards the bottom of your shirt lifting your shirt up to reveal your chest. Diluc’s lips quivered soon pressing his lips on your hardened nipple as you gasped. His teeth graze upon the sensitive bud soon pulling it up, as a moan of pleasure and pain escapes from you. Slowly his pace inside of you as his mind was wrapped up on your chest, he doesn’t notice his fingers beginning to curl inside of you as you choked out his name loudly in the cabin.

“Fuck, there! More. Right there, Diluc!” you begged. Snapping out of a haze, Diluc rested his head on your chest, looking back down to pay attention to his fingers. He began pumping faster, keeping his fingers curled to the spot you keep squirming from. Squelching noises echoed out into the room from how fast Diluc thrust his fingers inside of you. With one last pump, your hands shot to his thick, wavy hair, body shivering in pleasure as you finally reach your high. He could feel how tightly your velvety cunt squeezed onto his fingers, soon pulling them out of you. Strains of your click clung onto his fingers, his hand now glistening in it. 

As your chest rose and fell, trying to catch your breath, Diluc popped the button of his pants freeing his cock. He pumped his hand decorated with your slick with his cock, pulsating and twitching, eager to replace his fingers inside of you. It was thick in girth and long in length with prominent veins running along the sides—his tip already budded with precum.

As he positioned himself at your entrance, his cock ran along your slit—swiping it up and down, nudging his flushed tip at your clit. He soon moved it down, trying to slide it inside of you but seemed to fail each time.

“Diluc,” you murmured out, confused and ready to help him. He clenched his jaw and narrowed down at your pussy, clearly frustrated and embarrassed.

“Shut up. Don’t say anything,” he grunted. He firmly pressed his thumb on one of your soft folds, swiping it to the side to help widen you out more. As he finally sinks his tip in, he sucked a breath in hearing a low moan from you. He continued this motion for a while—dipping his tip inside of you before pulling it out—fascinated by the softness and tightness of your cunt.

“Diluc! Stop teasing me and put it inside of me already,” you shouted in desperation. He scoffed, momentarily rolling his eyes before finally sheathing his cock inside of you. You choked out his name trying to adjust to his length—feeling your walls burn in anger as you were steadily stretched out until he was buried deep inside of you.

His nails bury themselves into your hips as he soon begins to thrust inside of you, the mattress groaning with every stroke of his cock. A groan escaped Diluc’s lips, addicted to the feeling of having your cunt squeeze him, trying to milk every drop from him. His balls smacked against your ass as your legs wrapped around his waist. 

Lost in the pleasure, Diluc let one of his hands go from your hips noting the crescent moons already developing there before grabbing onto your chin. Just as you did earlier, his thumb pressed along your lips, soon parting them and resting on your tongue. You swirled the muscle around his thumb, your moans now muffled from it feeling his cock twitch inside of you as he propelled his cock inside of you faster.

As you tried to move your hand down to play with your clit, Diluc smacked your hand away as he grunted loudly in your ear. Unlike before, his callous thumb was rougher flicking your clit rapidly as your body writhed in pleasure

“J-Just tell me what to do instead—” he grunted. He wanted to cement this memory in his head, watching your body sway to the pace of his thrusts. Your cunt fluttered down, making it harder for him to move his cock inside of you. Your teeth cave down on his finger as your eyes shut tightly, reaching your second climax of the night. As he let his hand go from your chin and mouth, his hand connected with the headboard of the bed—gripping it tightly as his knuckles went white, his strokes inside of you getting rapid and unsteady. 

Before he could close his eyes and let himself spill his cum inside of you, he quickly pulled out pumping his cock a few times. A loud groan erupted from him as thick white ropes of cum spurted out of his flushed tip, splaying across your lower stomach and chest. 

Diluc tried to ease his rapid heartbeat and wipe the sweat from his brow. He let the ribbon of his hair go, long hair releasing and cascading down his body. You lay there watching him soon rest beside you, catching his breath as you looked over to the fireplace, crackling and brighter than ever.

Neither of you said a word to one another as you lay next to each other in the small twin bed, mixed emotions swirling between the two of you. For you, you were in the arms of a murderer—someone on the run who would make the Tsaritsa and Fatui happy to see dead. For him, he let his urges get the better of him, sleeping with a “civilian” of an enemy nation responsible for his father’s demise, yet this was the most at peace he was for a long time.

You two knew by morning he would be gone, never to be seen by you again but for now, in the bitter cold—the two of you could use each other for now, warm in each other arms as the blizzard blew loudly.

[lychniis]

❝ i know who i am when i'm alone, i'm something else when i see you. you don't understand, you should never know, how easy you are to need. ❞

HOZIER , IT WILL COME BACK

WELCOME TO ATTAR

the perfumery shall open shortly. please register here [ taglist ], to book an appointment. CLICK HERE TO VIEW UPDATES.

fandoms : genshin impact, honkai star rail

i. WITH THE COMING OF OCTOBER, it's time to set forth kinktober '23! i really appreciate the amount of support i have received from you guys over the past year spent in this blog and i've decided to dip my toes into posting some mature content alongside my usual sfw works!

ii. LET MONSTERS AND HORROR serve our theme, where i hope to entice you with smut ( that has too much plot *shivers in qinxing in the mountain* ), all presented with an array of perfumes to chose from. many thanks to @crystalflygeo for prompt ideas kjhgvbhnj.

iii. PLEASE NOTE THAT THE SCHEDULE IS NOT A FIXED DATE. due to my own projects and college hounding me, the fics will be posted at my own time, though i will endeavor to try and keep them within the constraints of october. they might end up far longer than i would have originally intended.

COMING SOON ON OCTOBER

( note ) : the content linked below is unsuitable for minors. by clicking 'view more', you are verifying yourself as a consenting adult. if you are not of consenting age, then please dni with this post.

SCENT ONE : ( GARDENIA ) ❝ ARARE LITUS ❞ feat. neuvillette.

people round the port have gone missing in the recent weeks, their bodies found by the beaches, clearly having drowned to their miserable ends. neuvillette questions the motives of the person behind it, till he notices the presence of an inquisitive oceanfolk beneath the waters.

⚠︎ CW : mermaid ! reader, dragon ! neuvillete, mentioned murder, reader being very naïve in terms of how humans work, angst / hurt / comfort, fluff domesticity, give these guys a hug, canon compliant, first time, lingerie, temperature play, gentle sex, mutual masturbation, body worship, overstimulation.

SCENT TWO : ( PEONY ) ❝ RARA AVIS IN TERRUS ❞ feat. zhongli.

the world was a dangerous place, for one like you. as the hunters draw close, you seek refuge in a dragon's lair, hoping to find a way to live. the dragon in question lingers close and tolerates your presence. you wonder when he'd demand for more. birds, after all, were so easily torn apart by claws and fangs.

⚠︎ CW : bird hybrid ! reader, dragon ! zhongli, monsterfucking, trafficking and hunting, reader had a pretty rough past prior to this, angst / hurt / comfort, fluff, some attempts at world building, canon divergent / au, mating cycles / heat, breeding kink, orgasm denial, size kink, biting / scratching, bondage, sensory deprivation.

SCENT THREE : ( ORCHID ) ❝ TANQUAM EX UNGUE LEONEM ❞ feat. jing yuan

you try to live your life the best you can. you try to be a good person despite the world wearing you down. however, upon stumbling into abcast away angel with liquid madness running through his veins, the loneliness your four walls bring is replaced with something else. meanwhile jing yuan learns of human fragility and how simple it is, for memories to fade away.

⚠︎ CW : canon divergent, angel ! jing yuan, mara plays a part here, talks about mortality and existentialism, reader is terrified and touchstarved, angst and tragedy, bittersweet ending i suppose, sacrifices, face sitting, electrostimulation, strip tease, mirror sex, praise kink, blindfolds, dom / sub.

SCENT FOUR : ( HYDRANGEA ) ❝ ABYSSUS ABYSSUM INVOCAT ❞ feat. childe

you needed to run, run far away lest the monster beneath your bed devours you whole. childe, however, keeps the chase, for he hungers. he was a charming man, that you could agree with; but the demon he hides away scares you and his undying loyalty to the tsaritsa shall be your undoing.

⚠︎ CW : canon compliant, slight foul legacy ! childe, angst and betrayal, bittersweet ending, reader and childe are childhood friends, making a choice, self sacrifice, breath play, masochism, bruises, predator / prey, against a wall, rough sex, dry humping.

taglist — @silentmoths @crystalflygeo @moraxsthrone @hiraethsdesires @dustofthedailylife @celestewritestoomuch @genshinboys @kaelily @ofoceansandtombsanew

AINE | 2023. do no plagiarize, repost or rework this piece.

[dear--mars]

Bloodthirsty

── Synopsis: "The sun gave earth the most light but the earth is slowly destroying itself." Childe wasn't made for love and he knew this. So why does he keep trying? And why do you keep letting him try? Opening your arms for him to fall into even after everything, showing him such warmth that he thought he could only get from the sun.

── Character: Childe/Tartagliaa/Ajax

── CW: Toixc relationships, fighting, taking it too far.

── Notes: This is my 2nd and LAST birthday post. Enjoy the angst. [angst/slight comfort]

── Word count: 800+ words

Ever since he fell into the abyss, the euphoric feeling and the adrenaline that fighting gave him was one of a kind. As friendly as he seemed to outside people, he couldn’t care less about anyone other than his immediate family. 

He didn’t feel the need to connect with others, they would only get in the way. They don’t get him the way fighting does. Fighting doesn’t need to be logical, it didn’t have feelings he pretended to care about. In the world he was living in, he only needed himself and his own two fists. 

Being one of the Fatui harbingers didn’t help him either. If anything it made him worse. Childe became a slave to the adrenaline and the Tsaritsa took advantage of it, using him as a killing machine. 

But Childe never batted an eye, he knew that the Fatui was using him but it didn’t matter to him. He couldn’t be happier to be fighting and with his position as a harbinger, he gets paid an absurd amount of money for doing something he loves doing. Not to mention he’s able to support his family as an extra bonus.

He’s a family man but at his core, he's no better than a bloodthirsty dog. Someone like him is destined for violence, driven by anger, as he treats the world as if it’s only for conflict.

So what happens when he meets someone with the same kind of bite?

Your relationship with Childe was doomed to fail the moment it started. Both of you were too competitive, wanting to win everything, and treating everything like a competition. 

It was harmless at first. After a defeat, one of you would give a joking glare or side-eye before laughing it off and you’d be in each other’s arms at the end of the day, still madly in love. 

But as his work days get longer and your love fades, your competitions turns into more than just a lover’s quarrel or friendly banter. The two of you can't remember the last time you laughed together. Only screaming, yelling, and genuine arguing. But one day, he crossed a line he could never go back on.

“Well, at least, I didn’t try to kill myself over a minor inconvenience!” He yelled and the room stilled and Childe knew whatever happened after this day, your relationship would never go back to what it was before. 

You stayed silent, only able to hear the sound of your own voice. You bit your lip as anger took over you and you too, crossed the line. “At least I didn't run away from home because I was bored and fall into the abyss as a child and almost die!”

“You’re going there?!”

“Yeah, I am. What are you gonna do!?”

“Big talk coming from someone who almost got sexually assaulted and needed me to save them!”

“You bitch…. I don’t want to hear anything from the Tsaritsa’s lapdog!”

“I enjoy being in the Fatui!”

“I’m sure you do but your family doesn’t. I know you can see it. The way your parents and older siblings look at you, they're afraid of you. Because you're a monster. How are you going to feel when Tonia, Teucer, and Anthon find out who you really are?”

“Don’t spout any bullshit about family to me, when you killed yours with your own hands.”

“That wasn’t me! I was possessed!”

“It doesn’t matter, it was still your body, your hands that killed them. So who’s the real monster?”

“Still you! Can you even call yourself human with that foul legacy transformation of yours? You are the antithesis of what it means to be a human.”

“You know what? I’m with this!”

“Yeah, run away like you always do.”

“No, [Name] I'm serious I'm done with this.”

“So you’re breaking up with me?”

“For a fact, I am!”

“Then just leave!” was the last thing uttered before Childe slammed his hands on the table before storming out of the house. You sighed before running your hand through your hair. You knew he’d be back in a couple of days. This was a routine for you two but now you were doubting if you guys could go back and pretend that nothing happened.

It had been over 5 days and Childe still didn’t come home and you started to think that it was truly the end of your relationship. But you heard the door open, your head shot toward the sound of the door slamming shut. You saw Childe walk in, he looked a bit disheveled, there were clear eye bags and his hair was even more of a mess than it usually was.

We had eye contact and you bit back your usual questions, asking where he was and such. You saw Childe’s shoulder sag a bit before he walked up to you. Your eyes widened when he flopped onto the couch, his head in your lap. It was clear he wasn’t able to get much sleep. 

You let out a sigh before running your fingers through his hair, comforting him. You felt Childe melt at your touch, letting out a small groan as he nuzzled into your lap even further. 

That argument was never brought up ever again…

- Navigation -   - Prismarine -

[narcissarina]

Darkened Desires

Prologue and Chapter 1: The sun || Chapter 2: The moon || Chapter 3: The moon || Chapter 4: The sun || Chapter 5: The sun || Chapter 6: The moon || Chapter 7: The moon || Chapter 8: The sun || Chapter 9: The sun

Pairings: Mafia!Scaramouche × Barista!Reader

Word count: 1,032

Tw: praise kink, degradation, kidnapping, tourture, dub/non-con, forced breeding, dismembering, gore, deaths, age-gap, corruption, use of force, trauma, use of drugs, stalking, mentions of human trafficking on the near chapters, slowburn.

Warning: This fanfiction may contain kidnapping, torture, dub/non-con, forced breeding, dismembering, age-gap, corruption, vigilante Scaramouche, use of force, trauma, use of drugs, stalking, and more. This fiction will continue grow darker as chapters goes by.

Your mental health matters.

CHAPTER 10:

THE OUTSIDER

He didn’t gave me a choice but to do this, I thought we were a team but I guess not. He doesn’t understand that we needed that girl, well—that was what the Tsaritsa said, and so I did what I have to do. It’s not a crime to follow someone’s order, was it?

I was pretty much delighted when she had fallen asleep, it was as easy as Scara said to hack cameras and manipulate them, so I did. Took her away from home and kept her in the basement, well—probably more of a torture room, I love to see his reaction when he marks to himself that the Tsaritsa isn’t playing games.

All he needed to do was deliver the goods and have a lovely conversation with the client, but no—he was too busy talking to his darling sunshine and saving children and women, not that it was a bad idea.

It was nice of him to use his position and power to save the poor who couldn’t protect themselves. But the Tsaritsa said that time is ticking, she doesn’t have all day now, does she?

Now here I am, stuck with his mess with his own client—not mine.

My head throbs as his client ramble to me, I could only maintain a friendly smile—showing not even a slight of irritation even though I want to put a bullet and slit his throat up.

“Yes, I understand your frustration.” I nod and folded my arms, leaning my back to the soft cushion of my seat “what about m—” I interrupt him, “No need to get concern about your… goods.” I let out a soft chuckle and rest my chin to my palm, “I’ll be sure to confiscate you and give you your goods.” I added and took a sip of my glass of red wine.

He opened his mouth but shut it again, “seems like a good deal, no? I’ll even add a discount for you.” I rest my arms wide from the back of my seat, “not only I’m doing something ‘good’ but also…” I mutter the last words, “benefitting the Tsaritsa some informations…”

“what was that?”

“It’s beneficial for the both of us.” I cover up with a lie and smiled, leaning forward and resting my elbow to my knees,

“What do you say, mister Xy?” I look at him in the eye, he’s hesitant but agreed anyway, “great!” I stood and clap my hands together and look at my men, “I’ll be sure to contact you,” I say as I turn to look at him, with his expression remains a hint of doubt.

“Report.” I mumble next to my men as he lean to whisper in my ear, I nodded as I listen to his words. “Very good,” I pat his shoulder and turn around and walk towards the exit, as if on cue—my men had followed me out. The car has been ready and I step inside, adjusting and making myself feel comfortable inside.

Crossed my legs and lean my head against the window, “Let’s go back to little miss sunshine.”

The driver nod and drove off.

As I entered in my own home, I hear voices from below—it must’ve been someone accompanying her with the door slightly open, I sigh and took off my coat and give it to my servant.

I walked down the stairs and saw one of my men arguing with the miss, I decided to eavesdrop before interrupting their fun.

“You can’t just push the remote whenever you please because you’re that hungry!” he argued, she just looks at him with her eyes squint, “why not?” she innocently asked, “because you’re eating every often, you literally asked for food three fucking times in a row!”

“because I’m hungry.”

“And we’re gonna run out of ingredients to feed to you! The fuck kind of stomach you have, woman!?”

I snicker, holding back my laugh as I let the scene play out.

“then y’all shouldn’t have left me with the remote then.” She frowns, “can’t do that. That’s against our boss’s order.” He clears his throat as he spoke, I heard him take a deep breath before continuing.

I heard a bell ring upstairs, I’m gonna burst but I can’t.

“Come on! What now?!”

“I want desserts.”

I couldn’t hold it in anymore, I burst out laughing—my arm on my stomach. I couldn’t believe this girl, it’s either this is the reason why Scara chose her or another but this is beyond hilarious.

“B-Boss!” he stammer and fixes himself in front of me, I dismiss it, trying to calm myself down. I breath in and out as I slowly got my cool back, I couldn’t hold it in anymore, I burst out laughing—my arm on my stomach. I couldn’t believe this girl, it’s either this is the reason why Scara chose her or another but this is beyond hilarious.

I look at him as I see his skin jump, “what are you waiting for? Get her desserts.”

“but sir.”

“No excuses, don’t want her get hungry now, do you? Would you like a demonstration when Scara’s little sunshine get starved?” the corner of my lips tug a small but sinister smile, “no sir.” He answered and left with his head looking at the ground.

I let myself see him out then turn to look down at her, my figure towering her down in her ground, “does this frighten you?” I asked, she shakes her head and nod a little, “only a bit.”

“Why?”

“there’s no warmth in the darkness.”

I suck my cheeks in and nodded, “but it also makes me feel safe too, sometimes.” She mumbled the word sometimes as she fidgets with her fingers.

“Will you let me go now?”

I chuckle and shakes my head, “not until your hubby give me something that I want.”

“what is it?”

“It’s classified, only belonged to his stepmother.”

Her eyes speaks curiosity and an itch to dig into it more, I smiled and shift my weight to my left, “don’t want you snooping around to his personal life now, curiosity does kill the cat.” I warned and turn around and leave her behind.

I can feel her eyes burn at the back of my neck.

It’ll be fun playing with her for a while…

Link:

Chapter 11: THE MOON

[lumi077]

Winters’ Servants; Chapter 1

Chapter 1; Grief encompasses.

Warnings; This story has very slight yandere (but not really) themes. Reader is in mourning, they/them pronouns, no y/n mentions. established relationships, but they’ll change. slow burn. Extreme envy on your part

When the world has already kicked you away and the gods have cast you aside, you had no one to turn to but her and she understood. You two understood each other like no one else. And now even she has been taken, and you are forced to watch as her funeral becomes a business meeting. But by the Tsaritsa herself, they may not tarnish her name.

When you were inducted, all those long years ago, you had presumed that you and your peers were the best of the best. That should diplomacy be impossible, a fight would surely and swiftly turn to their favor. That in all the nations of Teyvat, it was them and you who were the strongest. But now your beliefs have been shaken, extremely and uncomfortably so.

The fair lady, Signora. Or as you knew her, for all these years, Rosalyne. A dear friend, perhaps even the dearest. Although fate seems to find you most unpleasant and therefore decides anyone who comes in contact with you must find a fate fit to punish them for every laying eyes on you. She had died on a mission to Inazuma, where this nuisance of an anomaly had managed to beat her and have the Raiden Shogun finish the job for them. 

Your shoes made prominents clacking noises against the hard and cold pavement that led to the cathedral, that now is the eternal resting place of your dear Rosalyne. It was unfair, and made a flame of hatred that was long thought to be burned out sear into your heart and spread through your body with every weary beat. Just the thought of the Archons taking even more from you made your teeth grit in your mouth uncontrollably. 

Your hatred filled thoughts were unkindly interrupted when you walked into a soft melody from a voice you know all too well. The Damselette was by the coffin, arms laid on its great surface with her head resting upon them. The white coat hid her form well from your sight for the moment, your eyes adjusting slowly to see it clearly. Her eyes were just behind that mask she wore, and she lazily sung each note, despite them sounding like perfection.

It took you two painful moments to realize she was singing her song, one that you were so familiar with at this point even the few notes made you remember everything you swore to forget when you heard the noise.With a gruff attitude so unlike you, you called out.

“My Lady.” Was all you said, and the singing stopped almost immediately. Bringing her arms closer to her, she turned her head to look right at you with her closed eyes. A serene smile replaced her once displeased frown. How she can see you confused you to no end, but questions like that need not be dignified with words.

“My fair dove.” She cooed sweetly, her voice as melodic as it was when she was singing. 

You looked away even though there was no eye contact from your fellow harbinger. You also didn’t talk any further, just crossing your arms in your warm coat and frowning. 

Columbina was confused, you were normally much more for conversation than this. She didn’t understand, and so she went back to her original position and resumed her eerie singing.

Sooner than you would have rathered, the others had arrived, and the Rooster had started his…speech. To put it quite delicately.

“We are gathered here today,” His voice carried over Columbina’s singing, not that she looked to mind. His words were as cold as Snezhnaya, and uncaring of the loss you seemed to not be able to overlook. “To remember our dear comrade.”

You were envious, how could he not care? How did he master being so unfeeling in this moment, when you cannot bring yourself to act normal at all? Signora was not close with everyone, she even said only you could work your way into her destroyed and ravaged heart. Maybe that is why, they simply did not know her like you did. 

“In honor of her sacrifice, all work should halt for half a day as the nation mourns her passing.” He declared, and you froze.

This pause in your posture and voice gave ample time for the Regrater to give his opinion on the matter. A soft chuckle before he spoke made you turn to him in your shock, dead eyes staring at his closed in calmness “Merely half a day? People say the Northland bank’s true currencies are blood and tears. But Mayor, even speaking as a banker, that sounds a little unconscionable.” His voice was smooth and deep, pleasant to you normally but not now.

Steps, clacks of shoes much like your own consumed your confused and grief ridden brain, so you turned once more to the source of the sound.

Another dear friend, The Knave, seemed to have something to say as she narrowed her steely eyes at Pantalone. “Rosalyne died in a foreign land” Just the mention of her death panged your heart and made the burning in your veins much worse. “But you heartless businessmen and dignitaries always with the convenient excuse to remain in the comfort of your homeland. You couldn’t hope to understand.” Her voice had more bite and authority to it, glare unwavering.

“So why don’t you keep your mouths shut. You wouldn’t want to make the children cry.” She finished, her glare retreating as she closed her eyes.

Despite your grief, you spoke. “This is a funeral, not a place to squabble.” You hissed, taking on an air of authority you feel very much entitled to right now. “Now stop acting like children arguing over a toy and pay your respects to the woman who has done more than any of us to further the Tsaritsa’s will.” You narrowed your eyes, uncrossing your arms to rest them by your side.

The youngest of your organization laughed, quiet and light but yet grabbed the attention of you all. “I agree, this is no place for a fight.”

Your glare landed on him, not needing someone so young to back you. He raised his arms in mock surrender with a smile and an arched brow. It made your blood boil. You’re too worked up now and chose to remain silent. 

All the harbingers witnessed how you did not rise to the unspoken challenge the ginger had presented to you like normal, and all had mixed feelings about it.

“Utterly risible.” Sandrone laughed, shaking her head slightly from her seat on her large puppet-like machine. 

Even the Captain had to have his input. Why couldn’t they just let you mourn in peace without having to worry about defending your dearest Rosealyn’s honor. Truly she cannot even rest in the afterlife, but you hope she at least has found her husband after so many years of being apart. 

“Though her methods tarnished her honor, leoff alta’s sacrifice is a great pity.” He was gruff and uncaring, another strike of envy and anger washed over you. But you can’t blame them, they didn’t know her like that. “Her loss shall not hinder our progress.”

“Her honor remains intact. Let the dead rest.” You hissed, but with little venom or true bite. 

He ignored you, more focused on his question “But Dottore, what of Scaramouche and the gnosis from Inazuma?” He questioned the bluenette, turning his head to face him.

The Doctor himself was leaning on a pillar, swirling a liquid of origins unknown to you that was held in a hand sized tube. How he looked down at it and could see it, was again something you did not know and are not stupid enough to ask. 

“Conventional knowledge holds that divine knowledge can be rationally comprehended. After conquering the divine gaze, he will make his next move.” he spoke rationally, his voice was weirdly pleasant to you after all these years.

You knew of the plans with Scaramouche and actively detested them, despite both of them assuring you it would be fine. But it won’t be, and you know it. How, you don’t know. But that traveler is causing way too many problems for them not to be considered in this. They killed her, and you cannot shake the feeling they will kill more of you before they are stopped.

“It’s time to end tonight’s foolish theatrics.” Footsteps of iron against stone echoed dimly, accompanied by the weathered voice of the Jester. 

Theatrics? Was that what this is? A show to put on to amuse who? Her majesty? How cruel must she be to parade your sorrow as anything but genuine.

“Right now, you have no captive audience.” He declared as if it was simple, but it wasn’t. And it isn’t, and it never will be. You missed her, and you missed Scaramouche, and you miss how you felt before the news. That wasn’t simple, missing someone isn’t simple. So, you are envious once more, of how your comrades are so eager to fake this.

Dully, you were aware of everyone and you moving to circle the coffin that held the ashes of your dearest and closest friend. “Let every worthy sacrifice be carved in ice, and with this nation will endure for all time.”

Slowly you all bowed your head and in what you prayed was respect, even closing your weary eyes as you did so. 

“In the name of her majesty the Tsaritsa, we will seize control from the gods.” With that you turned, your coat billowing out behind you. You could feel the stares and would be eyes on your back.

“Well said Pierro, so if you don’t mind, I’ll go back to my preparations to head to Sumeru. Good evening.” you stated coldly and began to trek down the cold hall and out the door. The resounding noise of the large door opening and closing echoing loudly down to the rest of the harbingers.

Your name slipped dully from the banker’s lips, a frown and knitted brows accompanied his voice “Grief does unimaginable things to a person, poor darling.”

A scoff then a laugh “No, not my love.” Arlecchino eyed the exit from which you left. “They know what must be done and will do it.”

“The Fair Lady was always close to them.” Childe shrugged “I doubt they are taking her death as well as they put on.” 

The Mayor hummed quietly, a small and aged hand going to rest on his chin “We are the strongest forces of the fatui, perhaps it has shaken them that one such as us have fallen so gravely.” 

A deep guttural hum emitted from the inky black abyss that shrouded Capitano’s face “Dottore will keep an eye on them during their travels to the nation of knowledge.”

“Indeed, I shall.” The Doctor laughed darkly, shaking his head “They shall be fine under my care, rest assured.”

“They better be. I expect many reports from the two of you, and for yours to be truthful.” Pierro warned before he walked off, leaving the way he came.

With not much else to discuss, the rest of the harbingers took their leave as well. 

And there you stood on the snowy and windy mountain to say your true last goodbyes as the cathedral was surrounded in ice for the rest of eternity.

Next >

[ne0nic]

Our Game

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Wriothesley x f!Reader ₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

MDNI

ִ ࣪𖤐 Word Count: 5.2k

ִ ࣪𖤐 CW: NSFW, Dom!Wriothesley, Thief!Reader, Mentions of Human Trafficking, Drugged Tea, Slight Bondage

ִ ࣪𖤐 No use of Y/N, Never use of Y/N

The game is lively tonight and you expect to enjoy it in full. 

With effortless grace, you move in and out of the shadows around the Court of Fontaine, becoming a phantom of the night. The deserted streets are a ripe playground, businesses closed, doors and windows locked, and the guards drowsy and inattentive. It's a realm of exhilarating opportunity, just waiting for you to claim.

Your destination is the side door of the antique jewelry shop, known as the last source of pride for an elderly proprietor. Your knowledge of every shop in the city is impeccable, following a mistake where you learned that it's unwise to steal from a Fatui-owned establishment; it's akin to pilfering from the Tsaritsa herself.

With a few deft movements, you manipulate the lock, and the door swings open without a sound. The shop's interior is as silent as a tomb, its owners having long retired for the evening. You enter, your eyes alight with anticipation.

You navigate the shop's layout like a child in a candy store, your gaze drawn to the glass cases showcasing a myriad of jewels, each one casting a beguiling shimmer. With nimble fingers, you open the case and select a ring featuring a sizable ruby. You slip it onto your finger, admiring the deep red luster. The ring itself is far from delicate, clearly designed for a more masculine hand – someone like…

You quickly remove the ring, tossing it into your bag. No point dwelling on such thoughts; it's time to collect your treasures and make your exit. You work swiftly, carefully placing necklaces and bracelets into your waiting bag, ensuring the displays remain untouched.

The unmistakable sound of heavy boots approaching makes you freeze in place, listening to the resonant thud of leather shoes and the subtle jingle of chains and cuffs. It's time to depart. You wrap up your mission with meticulous precision, and as swiftly as you had arrived, you vanish into the night. Peering from the safety of an alley, you remain silent, unable to spot the approaching figure. Even worse, you're uncertain of the direction from which he's drawing near.

Taking on the rooftop is undoubtedly the better choice. Climbing up the copper gutter pipe, you gain a sweeping view of the city from the high vantage point. From here, you can easily traverse the rooftops, leaping across buildings and making swift progress. As the immediate danger lessens, you descend to the streets below.

Suddenly, that distinct sound returns, the one signaling his presence. How did he catch up to you so fast? It's time for plan B. You snatch a dark cloak from a nearby stall and quickly drape it over yourself, making a dash for the nearest stationed Garde.

"Oh! Garde! Monsieur!" you implore, rushing up to the uniformed soldier. The young man, evidently new to the force, turns his attention to you with an eager desire to assist.

"Madame? What's the problem?" he inquires, clearly willing to help.

"I was just at the tavern getting a drink, and I think a strange man is following me! Please, help me!" You plead, ensuring fear reflects in your eyes.

"Do not worry, ma'am. I will take care of this," he assures, stepping around you to face the direction of the approaching footsteps.

"Oh! Thank you so much, Monsieur," you say, masking your sly grin as you slip away.

The guard stands firm, ready to protect the innocent young woman who has placed her trust in him, aligning with the oath to safeguard all citizens of Fontaine. His excitement is palpable.

A shadow emerges in the dimly lit street, advancing slowly. The young Garde stands at attention. "You there! I'd like a word with you!" he calls out.

The approaching figure steps into the light, revealing a large, menacing man. He possesses piercing blue eyes, is adorned with chains and has a pair of handcuffs hanging at his side. His coat is casually slung over his back, and a scar stretches from the base of his neck, disappearing under his clothing.

The young Garde recognizes the man and instantly locks up. "Y-Your Grace! My apologies! I mistook you for a suspect!"

"Suspect? What gave you that idea?" the man inquires, tilting his head gently.

"This young lady, she—" The Garde turns, only to find that you've vanished. "Where'd she go?"

"A woman?" he asks.

"Y-Yes, a woman. She claimed a man was following her," the Garde explains. The man, who moments ago wore a serious expression, breaks into a smirk and chuckles softly.

You've successfully ascended the tower, fully prepared to make your getaway into the cover of the night. Luckily, tonight's escape had proven effortless, and you hadn't even needed to trigger an alarm to elude the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide. He must be accustomed to your flamboyant tricks by now. The two of you had been engaged in this thrilling game for so long that you constantly had to innovate new ways to lead him astray. However, you'd come to find that the simplest tricks were the most enjoyable, especially after the sheer madness you'd put him through as you slipped away.

As you make your way toward freedom, a hand wraps firmly around your wrist, pressing your back into the wall. He looms above you, an unamused expression on his face. The way his stunning eyes seem to gleam in the dim light sends a shiver down your spine.

"Hello, darling," you taunt.

"Give it up. I'm taking you in," he declares with unwavering determination.

"That's what you always say," you mutter, causing him to grit his teeth.

"The bag," he demands, extending his hand.

"You're no fun," you pout, pulling the strap over your head and placing it in his palm. Wriothesley keeps you cornered as he opens the satchel, only to find it empty—no jewels, necklaces, or even a few coins. "Trouble?" you ask with a smirk.

"Where are the jewels?" he asks bluntly.

"What jewels?" you play innocent. He grabs your arms, pressing you firmly against the wall.

"I'm not in the mood for this today," he growls.

"But I'm completely innocent, Your Grace," you say with wide, doe eyes. "Little old me? A thief? Isn't it wrong to accuse someone without any evidence?"

"Enough!" he snaps, pushing you closer, your chests almost touching. You can feel the way his heart races, how you make him nervous. It sends a thrill through you.

"Or was there a different reason you followed me tonight, Your Grace?" you inquire, leaning forward. Your lips are mere inches apart. He tries to hide the way his breath hitches, but your smirk widens. "Did you want me all to yourself? You could've just asked. I'd never refuse." You tease him with expert precision, knowing precisely what to say and do to provoke him. You close the distance even further, his eyes locked onto your lips. Your breaths mingled so closely that your lips could touch if either of you moved even slightly. And just when it seems like he can't take it any longer, you pull away. "Forgive me, Your Grace. Sometimes I forget you're a man of the law, dedicated to your work. Surely, you're far too busy for me to take up any more of your time."

"Shut up," he snaps, closing the gap between you in an instant. He captures your lips, instantly stealing your breath away. His kisses are demanding, his desire to take the lead palpable, and you willingly submit to his commanding presence. His teeth graze along your bottom lip, eliciting a breathy, barely audible moan from you. You press your thighs together, utterly captivated by the way this man has the power to make you unravel. His longing for you has always had the ability to make you tremble, particularly in moments like these, when the game between you two reaches its zenith, when he finally catches you, and both of your desires hit you without reserve. 

His hand raises to the back of your neck, tilting your head up, giving him more of you. He's going mad. He has to be. There must be some kind of spell or pheromone that you've cast over him, that makes him need you desperately. Everytime you're before him like this, his morals fly out the window, and his lust becomes so thick he can't resist. He's well aware of the moral dilemma that plagues him. You're a true criminal, through and through, and he's fully cognizant of the wrongdoing of his actions. However, he never feels the exhilaration of the chase as intensely as he does when it's with you.

The tranquil sound of water churning brings you back to the present moment. Regrettably, it's time for you to make your exit. Your fingers slide over his vest pocket, and Wriothesley's brow furrows as you withdraw from the kiss.

"Gotta run," you murmur, slipping out of his grasp and collecting your discarded bag. Wriothesley's brows knit as you head toward the boat.

"Wait!" He attempts to step forward but is abruptly pulled back. He turns, only to discover that you've cuffed him to the service pipes. With a frustrated grunt, he struggles against the cuffs, and something falls out of his pocket. He gazes downward, finding a jewel necklace on the ground. Lifting his head to you again, you turn back to him with a playful smile.

"I had fun."

"Dammit!" He curses, his bracers materializing on his hand as he strikes through his own cuffs. Finally free, he makes a dash toward the boat. But the ferry has already set off, and he can only huff in frustration as you slip away. 

Again. 

Your fingers trace over the ledger, where rows upon rows of names denote inmates at the Fortress of Meropide. However, none of them match the one you're seeking. You can't help but wonder how many trivial offenses landed people in this imposing place.

Infiltrating the fortress itself was a relatively straightforward affair. They treat their prisoners well down here, making escape seem an improbable feat. Most inmates are cowed by the mere sight of the glass barrier that separates them from the relentless ocean outside. However, gaining entry was an entirely different challenge. Infiltrating the Duke's office, that's where things get tricky. Luckily, your familiarity with the office makes the entry a minor concern, especially when you have a duplicate key at your disposal.

"I'm assuming you didn't come for tea," a voice intones behind you. His hand closes the ledger's cover and rests atop it. Veins course through his arm and hand, and his knuckles are rough and calloused. You push away the inappropriate thoughts that threaten to surface.

"Should I even ask how you got in?" he continues, but you maintain your silence, choosing not to respond. Playing along with him today is the last thing on your mind.

"Who are you looking for?" he gets straight to the point.

"An...associate of mine went missing a few days ago. I was merely curious if he happened to be in your custody," you reply. He picks up the ledger and moves to the other side of his desk to set it down.

"Associate, huh? I thought you worked alone."

"I do," you confirm.

"His name?"

"As if I'd give you that. I'm not here to further incriminate him; I need to secure his swift release."

"Then it seems I can't help you," he states.

"You've never helped me," you correct, to which he chuckles.

"Touche."

"I brought you more of that blend you like," you say, gesturing toward the cabinet.

"Paid for with the proceeds from the jewels?" he questions, a hint of darkness in his tone. You smirk.

"I don't recall any jewels. It's simply a friendly gift, a favor for a favor," you reply, reveling in how his eyes narrow at your words.

"And what favor have I done for you?" he inquires, already knowing the answer. He's trying to ensnare you with your own words.

"I'll prepare a cup for you, dear. You seem weary," you offer, turning toward the cabinet. He's beside you in an instant, gripping your wrist.

"I wouldn't trust you to make anything for me," he snaps, making you smirk.

"Do you truly believe I'd do anything to harm you?" you ask in a feigned tone of surprise. You notice the tension in his jaw and your gaze drifts lower to the scar on his chest, which barely peeks above his clothing, triggering memories of that fateful day. "...Anymore?"

"Go sit down," he orders, and you pull away from his grasp.

"Yes, Your Grace," you say as you step over to the table. Outside the window, the vast expanse of the ocean unfolds, with creatures moving freely, seemingly unconcerned with the curse that hangs over the people of this nation.

You can't help but envy them, particularly after the arrival of that blonde-haired traveler, which marked the beginning of a downward spiral.

"I would like—"

"Three sugar cubes, I know," he interjects, causing a subtle smile to play on your lips.

"What time will the Iudex be arriving? I'd hate to be a bother," you inquire, knowing full well that you've committed his schedule to memory. He sighs, realizing there's no use concealing it from you.

"He won't be. Monsieur Neuvillette had a sudden trial, so he's rescheduled for next week," he admits, an air of candor coloring his response.

"What a shame. That blend is best served fresh," you murmur, your gaze drifting back to the water. A few moments later, he joins you at the table, the gentle clinking of teacups and saucers filling the air. You eagerly pick up your cup.

"I must admit I only ever have tea with you," you confess.

"Oh?" He raises an eyebrow as he settles into his seat. He observes you as you bring the cup to your lips and take a sip. Only then does he feel comfortable enough to indulge in his tea.

"It's true," you affirm, setting the cup down. "I always believe tea deserves to be enjoyed in good company."

"You don't have any other good company?" he inquires.

"None quite like you," you reply with a smile.

"Your clever quips won't get you out of here, you know."

"You think I'm clever?" You tease with a playful glint in your eyes.

"I don't intend to just let you walk out of here."

"You never have, not until I was properly sore and had trouble walking the next day," you taunt, taking another sip, causing him to gulp down his tea. His hands clench as you speak.

"Enough. This... arrangement we had is over. I'm taking you in. I'll inform Neuvillette of your transgressions, and you'll face justice," he declares, his tone stern.

"And then I'll find myself right back under your vigilant watch. Is that what you desire? To keep me close? Ensure that we'll never be apart again?" You tease. His jaw tightens. "I thought you relished our little game as much as I did."

"Game?! You're stealing from people!" His anger is palpable now.

You roll your eyes, reaching into your jacket and producing a document, which you slap onto the table. He leans back, perplexed. "And what is this?"

"The justification you seek. The part of you that yearns to believe I'm not entirely malevolent, this is your evidence."

"I don't understand."

"You will," you assure him. The grandfather clock in the corner begins to chime, marking the appointed time.

"It's time for me to go."

"What?" he blurts out.

You rise from the table with alacrity. "Thank you for the tea. I had a lovely time." You begin to walk away, and he suddenly springs to his feet. However, dizziness overtakes him, and he barely catches himself as the world blurs around him. Overwhelming drowsiness renders his legs wobbly, and he finds himself on his knees, struggling to resist it.

"When?" he manages to mumble.

"It was your teacup. You always use the same one," you giggle. He exhales in frustration. You draw closer.

"Don't worry. I'd never harm you. You're just going to have a short nap."

His hand grasps your wrist. "Don't go," he pleads, his desperation evident. It ignites a spark in your heart, prompting you to sink to your knees, cupping his cheeks.

"Well, when you ask so sweetly like that, how can I resist?" you murmur before pressing your lips to his. "Listen to Siegewinne, dear. You've been appearing quite exhausted lately. But I hope you'll feel better when you awaken. And on top of that," your gaze drifts toward the document, "you might see me in a different light the next time we meet."

After a lengthy and exasperating lecture from Siegewinne, Wriothesley finally returns to his office. It appears that you were telling the truth; it was merely a sleeping drug, and by the time he awoke, you had vanished. He didn't provide Siegewinne with many details about your encounter, nor did he delve into any in-depth discussion about you.

He sinks back into his chair, holding a cool washcloth to his forehead. You had been here, well within his grasp, and yet, once again, he found himself incapable of fulfilling the very duty he had sworn to uphold. It frustrates him to no end. Every time you make an appearance, it catches him off guard. However, when he saw you inspecting his office, for a brief moment, he had hoped you were there for him alone. Alas, that's never the case.

To make matters worse, you've infiltrated his dreams. Every time he closes his eyes, there you are, bare beneath him, your cheeks adorned with a charming flush. Your hands tenderly caress his face, and he takes you with a gentleness and passion that starkly contrasts the reality of your late-night rendezvous. Normally, he's rough with you, mirroring your intensity rather than expressing love.

The thought of you alone is enough to stir his desires, and he curses himself. You had drugged him not long ago, yet he's back to square one. Removing the washcloth, he stares at the ceiling, hoping his little problem will subside on its own. He replays the recent events in his mind, striving to rekindle his anger instead of his lust.

"You might see me in a different light the next time we meet."

What did you mean by that? How could he perceive you differently? His gaze drifts to the desk, where the document you left behind rests. He leans forward, scoops up the folded papers, and breaks the wax seal. As he peruses the contents, his heart sinks.

The elderly man who owns the jewelry shop was using it to launder money from human trafficking sales. You appraised numerous items and recorded their selling prices. You even managed to gather evidence of the boats at the marina being involved in the conspiracy. Photos, evidence—everything is meticulously compiled within these documents. This alone must have taken you weeks. A small note is clipped to the last page, the page itself revealing the location where the captors are holding their victims.

Without jewels, there are no sales. I have bought you time, Warden. Do not disappoint me.

He rises from his desk, his mind racing with thoughts of what to do next.

The entirety of Fontaine's police force is mobilized for this operation, simultaneously raiding all the identified targets. Wriothesley, however, personally takes charge of the most significant arrest. With a sense of duty, he apprehends the elderly man, promptly handcuffs him, and pushes him toward the exit.

Outside, the ever-dramatic residents of Fontaine have congregated, forming a boisterous audience to witness this spectacle. The vigilant Gardes work diligently to keep the curious onlookers at bay as he escorts the man outside. His eyes inadvertently scan the crowd. 

A sudden pause overcomes him as he catches sight of you. A sly smile graces your lips as you knowingly meet his gaze, and then, with your characteristic grace, you disappear into the crowd, leaving him with a sense of intrigue. 

About a week later, following the court's verdict and the subsequent exile to the Fortress, you make a return. Leaning casually on his desk, you patiently await his arrival. As he trudges up the steps, his demeanor brightens in pleasant surprise at the unexpected sight of you. There's a trace of solemnity in your smile as your eyes meet his.

Setting his report down, he approaches you, his curiosity evident in his tone. "You've been gone for a while."

"I had some important matters to attend to," you explain. "The victims who were kidnapped are now under the care of the Spina di Rosula. Most of them are just awaiting reunions with their families. Convincing a few to testify during the trial was a bit challenging, but I'm relieved it's come to a favorable resolution. The Spina di Rosula has pledged to hunt down the buyers, and I've provided them with all the information I could gather."

"Why not have the Spina di Rosula collaborate with the Garde?" he inquires.

"You and I both know that would never happen."

"What now?" he asks.

"My job is done, and I've cut my few remaining ties. All that remains," you say, raising his cuffs, "is you, Your Grace." He takes the cuffs from you, studying them with furrowed brows. As you lift your hands toward him, he glances from the cuffs to your wrists.

With a resounding clack, the cuffs land on the desk. The gravity of this decision settles upon you, hiding within it the unspoken message he wishes to convey. Slowly, you lower your hands as he fixes his gaze on you, drawing dangerously near.

"You're making a mistake," you caution.

"I know," he responds before pulling you closer and capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. 

In a matter of seconds you both burst into his bedroom, lips locked, jackets falling to the floor. Your nimble fingers are quick on the buttons of his vest as he backs you towards the bed. He pulls your shirt upwards, his rough hands riding up your front. Once one hand finds your breast you moan into his mouth. His ice cold touch electrifies you. He rids you of your shirt and pushes you down onto the bed. His gray vest falls to the floor leaving him looking seductively disheveled in just his black button up. 

The tip of your nail fits between your teeth as you devour him with your eyes. "You're going too slow," you whine, reaching a hand out. Your fingers trail over his shirt, feeling every curve of his muscles just beneath the fabric. It has you aching for him. He reaches up, tugging his tie free from his neck. You light up, obediently offering your other wrist to him too. 

"If I didn't know any better I'd think you'd liked being my prisoner," he says, leaning closer as he ties the red fabric around your wrists. 

"Don't threaten me with a good time," you tease, leaning in as well. His gaze falls to your lips before lifting your arms over your head and guiding you to lay on your back. From there he spreads your thighs, fitting himself between. Pressing your lips tight together, you resist the urge to beg. Even a small bit of friction would be heavenly, but it doesn't come. Instead he slowly strips your bottom half, taking his sweet time to admire your panties before just snapping them off your hips. 

He sinks to his knees, lips caressing your inner thigh. Your hands find their way to your mouth trying to muffle your own weak whimpers as he trails towards your core. Where you want him the most. 

Just as his breath ghosts over your aching cunt he stops. Suddenly his hand wraps around the tie and shoves it upwards again. "Do not move them again, if you do you can forget about my earlier mistake. I'll take you in, right now, like this," he threatens in a husky voice, eyes boring into yours. You smirk, lifting your thigh to rub against his hip. 

"Like this, Your Grace? How scandalous," you tease. 

"Do you understand?" he demands. 

"Yes."

"Yes, what?" He snaps. 

"Yes, sir," you say, your voice growing weaker. 

"Good girl," he praises, and you know you're soaked down there. Cheeks tinged red and heart racing as he sinks back down your body. He lifts your thighs over his shoulders before tugging you in one last time. Torturously slow he gives a chaste kiss to your clit. You resist the urge to pull your arms back down as a groan leaves your lips, your body involuntarily twitching. Wriothesley smirks at the display. It's as if he's trained your body to fall apart at just his touch, something he carries with pride. 

His tongue dives between your folds, and you throw your head back with a sinful moan. The man below you is terrifyingly good with his tongue and fingers which makes his next move a damning one. 

Two fingers easily slide into you, but he makes sure not to curve them into the place you like. Instead he watches the way you writhe, almost trying to force his fingers that way, the pleasure making you dizzy. Pathetic moans and whimpers pass your lips, music to his ears. 

"Please… fuck— mh." 

"What was that?" He mutters. "I couldn't hear you." His fingers slow to a cruel rub. 

"I wanna cum. Please," you beg. 

"Really?... I don't know if you deserve to," he says, his voice dropping a few octaves. The voice change drives you, making him smirk as he feels you tighten. "After all, you didn't tell me what you were up to. You worked outside the law, you could've gotten yourself hurt. Now, that… I just can't seem to forgive." He crooks one finger up slightly, sending you spiraling. 

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry! I won't do it again," you promise. He slowly rises to his feet, fingers still deep inside you. Wriothesley leans over your trembling frame. His hand caresses your cheek with a tender touch. The coolness of his fingers on your burning cheek is practically bliss. 

"Now, how can I believe you? You've broken every other promise you've made to me," he says tauntingly. Fuck! You hate him. You know what he's trying to do, and he knows how desperate you are, enough to agree to any of his demands. He brings your diverting gaze back to his. 

"No more secrets," you agree, making him sigh. 

"Now, was that so hard?" He asks, pressing right there making your head go fuzzy. You gasp in surprise as his fingers pull you apart all over again, the familiar sensation pooling within you. Wriothesley presses his lips to yours, tongue forcing its way into your mouth so he can still hear your gasping moans. "Cum, pretty girl." Your body shudders in the wake of your orgasm, and he doesn't relent, driving you oversensitive in a matter of moments. Your hands grab his wrist, stopping him as you still ride out the end of your orgasm. He smirks and pulls his fingers out. You feel the tie release your wrists. 

He's gentle as he lifts your face, seeing the dazed, blissed out expression you wear. His lips peck around your cheeks, to your neck, to your collar, and them to your shoulders by the time your high fades. 

"Back with me?" He asks lifting your chin, you nod and he slots his lips against yours while opening your legs again. He fits himself between them and pulls on his belt with one hand, something you don't mind helping him with. He chuckles as he feels you desperately pull his pants open. His aching cock springs free hard and hot in your palm as you stroke him. His forehead sinks to your shoulder as he shudders, slightly thrusting into your touch. "Shit." 

"Hurry," you urge. Lifting himself up he positions himself so the head just barely brushes against you. You press your lips together. 

Wriothesley reaches upwards, his hand sliding down your arm until he can fit his fingers between yours. Then he thrusts. His other hand grips your hip so tight you pray there will be a bruise. He stretches you open, forcing you to take his size, your eyes roll back into your head. 

"Fuck!" You cry out as he bottoms out. He starts with slow shallow thrusts but his patience quickly wears thin. In no time he's snapping his hips forward, rocking the bed, shoving himself deeper inside you. It's predatory, the way he heaves, the way he takes, the way his fingers grip your hair and hold your head up to make you watch him fuck your brains out. 

In practically no time at all you're cumming again, but he doesn't slow down, his own orgasm approaching as he feels you clench down on him. The continued force of his thrusts sends you right into a second orgasm and he follows suit. Your cunt milks him for all he's worth. Every drop belongs to you. 

He belongs to you. 

"Just fucking be mine already," he groans. His words break through your hazy mind in an instant. 

"What?" 

"Fuck," he mutters. "You're gonna make me say it outright, aren't you?" He leans over fingers brushing over your cheek. "Stay with me. Be with me." 

Your heart feels as if it may beat out of your chest as he says it. His cold eyes are now strikingly warm and tender. But you don't know what to say. 

Instead you reach up, hands pulling his face down to yours. He complies easily. You kiss him sweetly, whispering against his lips, "I'm yours." 

Your confirmation makes his heart sing as he kisses you with more fervor, growing hard inside you once more. The first thrust catches you by surprise but you're loving it. This time there's nothing rough about the way he holds you. He treats you softly, like you'll break if he's any harder. He holds your body in tight to his, burying himself deep inside you, until you're seeing stars. 

The clock chimes, marking the hour as Wriothesley opens his eyes. To his dismay the spot next to him is empty. He rubs his face, already stressed that you've disappeared like usual. Unfortunately, maybe he was foolish enough to hope for something more from you. 

Sitting up he finally notices the weight on his finger. A ring, a gigantic red ruby within a thick band. The metal is dark and the design is intricate. Honestly, it truly seems like something he'd wear. 

Peering over to your side one more time his eyes widen as he sees a folded up paper. With one hand he retrieves it and flips it open. 

My secrets come at a cost, Your Grace. So, if you manage to catch me Thursday night, I might consider telling you one or two. Preferably over tea. 

I'll be expecting you. 

He laughs to himself, "So, the chase is still on, huh? Better make it interesting."  

[manjiroscum]

SAPPHIRE TEARS

Character/s: Pantalone/Regrator

Warnings: f!reader, mature language, explicit sexual themes, enemies to lovers, reader is a business woman, slight angst, light hurt to comfort, happy ending, mentions of arguments, pantalone has violet colored eyes here, safe sex practices, soft!pantalone, cunnilingus, and pet name used. Minors do not interact.

Note: commissioned by @imma-write-stuff 🫶 thank you so much luv and i hope you like it! 🥺

Synopsis: His god, gold, and glory is all Pantalone cared about until you came along to push on untouchable buttons.

WC: 1.5k

Miscommunication can lead to unfavorable arguments and encounters. The ninth harbinger, eyeing his glass of wine for a while now, thought so, too. If he had known you would be in this party, nearby the vicinity, Pantalone wouldn’t have come. A year may have passed since your last heated dispute, the Tsaritsa’s money maker still couldn’t forget the words the two of you exchanged. What was even more irritating than having Tartaglia burn through the monthly allowance he was told not to spend so tactlessly was the fact he couldn’t get near you or even strike up a conversation.

Because he was afraid you’d shoot him down.

To be the first to break the ice and dominate the conversation was Pantalone’s forte. It was a mere simple act that he knew the song and dance by heart. However, when his violet eyes which carried well-kept violence and malice landed on the poor unfortunate man hoping to be your last dance, the harbinger wished he could break etiquette. Maybe ramming his fist on the bastard’s silly face would do wonders for his souring mood. It was pathetic, really. For him to stay where he is, watching you from a distance, was irksome. And while he was a man with great ambition paired with a reputation known from miles away, Pantalone suffered cold feet for the first time in a long while. It wasn’t comedic for him, to say the least.

The whole image of him teetering between confronting you and remaining where he was bothered him the entire night the second he saw your elegant form waltz into the ballroom. The hugging dress you wore made every hue of eyes seek after you. You had grown more beautiful since the day you walked out on him while spitting curses at his ‘unethical’ ways of conducting business. Needless to say, the harbinger has burned the sight of your angry expression into his retinas that it was strange and oddly made his heart beat twice as hard whenever you directed a smile at someone. As an adult, petty fights shouldn’t be dwelled on. He should put the past behind him and move on to greener pastures like forming an alliance with you. Your businesses in Snezhnaya were doing well and he has heard about your accomplishments even during his trips to Liyue.

He just didn’t know what to say to you.

“What a spoil…” he muttered to himself, keeping the rim of his glass close to his lips. It was a quick tactic to keep unimportant conversations from occurring. Pantalone, despite how he loved the sound of business deals and whatnot, hated small talk. You knew this, endlessly berating him for this and how he can’t be considerate to his ‘potential’ partners. Oblivious to his gaze averting from your eyes down to your lips, sometimes even lingering on your breasts if he couldn’t help himself. Really, he was disgusted by what you can make him do. Even the Tsaritsa wouldn’t be able to command him to strip himself naked and admit Dottore was the superior servant of the archon. But if you would ask him to, Pantalone would run his bank dry and make himself appear as the fool he has always been since he let you walk out that night since your last fight.

Perhaps everyone was a fool at the hands of love and hate, toyed by mere emotions.

“You’re here,” you whispered to the harbinger. Whether he was surprised by your sudden proximity or the casual way you addressed him, Pantalone never gave away his thoughts. He wouldn’t be one of the Tsaritsa’s trusted men if he was an open book. Frankly, you wished he gave you a minuscule hint of whatever he was feeling. You wouldn’t be standing here, rubbing your arm awkwardly in search of what to say. When was the last time you two weren’t at each other's throats? It was embarrassing that you couldn’t remember. Thankfully, Pantalone did not prolong your silent agony as he raised his glass at you.

“Lovely party, isn’t it?”

“Hardly,” you admitted, unafraid to speak your thoughts to him. “Been quite boring. Not much to talk about with these people. I’d rather be on my way home.”

Whether it was the wine he has been sipping on all night or because of the atmosphere giving the possibility of something more than intense stares, Pantalone’s lips acted quicker than his brain would’ve liked. You didn’t hide how stunned you were at his offer to take you home by his carriage. Anyone who has hated the Regrator at some point in their life would have frozen at the abruptness of it all. And just as he was about to take it back, you found yourself laughing softly while nodding your head. To hear you laugh was so much better than your scorn.

“I’d be happy to accept that offer, my lord. That’s if you’re serious about it…”

He was. Pantalone was not someone who backed down. You realized the severity of his words the moment he called for you out the front door. Your coat wasn’t even put on correctly when he motioned for you to get in the carriage. Yet, he cursed himself for sitting across you. The entire ride to your house was filled with silence except for the sound of breathing. His gaze continuously landed on you, unable to look away for you looked beautiful under the moonlight’s blessing. It wasn’t until you confronted him about his staring that Pantalone stopped.

“What’s the matter, my lord? Is there something wrong with my face?”

“Nothing in particular,” he answered after composing his expression. Pantalone’s wish for you to drop the subject was left unanswered as you continued to prod him with various questions ranging from a teasing tone to an accusatory one. If he admitted that he found you pretty—right here, right now—the harbinger knew he had only two outcomes to face. An ultimate rejection or a confused look. He would rather stay quiet than reveal his feelings carelessly.

Unless he wanted to hurt himself with the reality of your hatred for him.

Seeing that you’re not getting a reply, you gave up with a sigh. The carriage carried you both through the icy road, the horses slowing down as your house grew nearer. Pantalone’s worry about improving this relationship grew as the frost built against the glass window. Maybe his hopes of becoming friends with you—perhaps even more in the near future—were baseless and lacked something. It lacked support from you.

And yet, when you glanced at him, longing in those eyes that were ruthlessly cold to him before, no one could blame him for taking your outreached hand as soon as you got off the carriage. The silent plea for him to join you in the comforts of your home was too deafening and tempting to merely ignore. He didn’t want to lose this chance handed to him on a silver platter. Your soft fingers against his gloved ones, pulling him into your house. Pantalone, willingly as he may, thought that if he were to meet his demise as soon as he got inside, he wouldn’t complain as long as it was by your hands.

Contrary to his imagination, he found heaven instead the second the bedroom door was flung open. His lips found yours in a heated manner, as if he was seeking warmth and to convince himself those days shrouded in the bitter cold were over. He even found euphoria in the shape of your pussy folds opening for his tongue. You guided his touches, encouraging him to continue when he hesitated for a moment. Pantalone’s lips, which were glossed with your juices, moved under the moonlight in the most unfamiliar way to deliver three words you never thought you would hear from him.

“I… desire you.”

“What?”

“I’ve been in love with you, sweetheart. I don't know when, but I guess I have always liked you.”

Strands of silver stood out on his dark hair, making you coil them around your finger, lips curled up as he kissed you more. Tears rolled down your face at his confession, especially the moment he sheathed himself inside you. He saw them and immediately pressed his mouth on them. The feeling of rubber wrapped around his cock was a bit uncomfortable, yet the second he started thrusting made you forget all about it. His kisses and groans fueled your passion, wanting nothing more than to hear him call out your name as you do the same at the peak of your climax. It was no secret that Pantalone sought the feeling of ecstasy from other people, but he has never felt such pure bliss in your arms. Especially once he slowed down his thrusts to hit deeper into you, savoring and burning the look of desperation in your face to reach your high. He came in thick spurts, spilling his warm cum into the rubber while hugging your quivering form. Your juices coated his cock and your thighs messily. Pantalone breathed in your scent, relishing it all with you by his side as what is believed to be an eternal winter continued to rage outside. Spring, at last, fell within the four corners of your bedroom.

[casinodove]

⁺‧₊ CANDLE LIT DINNERS ─ sagau ft. The Tsaritsa .

IN WHICH, hate is a strong word, yet the emotion you felt while having candle lit dinners with her was even stronger.

─ sfw , cws for religious themes, cult au, mild emotional torture, very slight mindbreak mentions, starvation, reader gets served a dead animal as a meal, mentions of gagging n throwing up, implied imprisonment, my girl Tsaritsa goes vampire mode without being a vampire, angst if you squint, light yandere Tsaritsa, sadistic behavior

gn!reader , 2nd person pov , no pronouns mentioned , not proofread so don't be shocked at any mistakes

─ side notes , what's up with me and making actually somewhat nice n gentle characters so rough, sadistic, beyond insane and mean in the most ungodly ways. Also I don't know anything about medical related topics so don't jump me if what I wrote near the end is wrong.

─ YOU STARED DOWN AT YOUR PLATE IN UTTER DISGUST, GRIPPING THE UTENSIL IN YOUR HAND.

Keeping your eyes fixated onto the meal served Infront of you, refusing to meet her piercing gaze from across the long, candle lit table.

Poking the still raw, dead animal with your utensil gingerly, trying to prevent yourself from gagging, the smell of raw meat filled your nostrils, the slight blood seeping out from the meat onto the plate made you overwhelmed with disgust.

Moving it around your plate a few times, you tried to peel some of the stinking, still hairy skin off of the meat

─ "WHY SO SILENT TODAY, YOUR DIVINITY?"

Her voice taunted from across the room, extra hints of sarcasm and snarkiness added onto the "your divinity" part. She knew you were above her, she knew you were the creator of everything, yet she constantly looked down on you as if she was the most important being in the universe, and you were but a lowly peasant.

It irritated you, the sheer disrespect made you want to slap her, no, that was wrong, it made you want to end her pathetic existence.

Slightly lifting your head up to look at her from across the room, you fixated your gaze onto her plate instead, it consisted of meat like yours did and a few more things like vegetable which were irrelevant to you however, the meat was well cooked and seasoned to perfection, the mere sight of it made your mouth water.

And right next to that, a wine glass filled to the brim, which she was holding. What you'd think was some sort of golden wine, was actually your blood. Swishing it around in her gloved hand, showing off the rich liquid, her gaze burned right through you.

It surprised you day by day how the supposed goddess of love could be ever so cruel to you just because she felt like it. How she could sleep at night knowing the torture she was making you endure everyday.

Her plate remained untouched, almost as if taunting you for the fact that you couldn't eat your own meal.

─ "TURNING INTO A PICKY EATER, ARE WE NOW? AH, I WOULDN'T BLAME YOU. PERHAPS I'VE BEEN SPOILING YOU TOO MUCH DURING YOUR STAY, DIVINE ONE."

The sheer irony and venom dripping from her oddly honeyed words made the churning in your stomach worsen. You reached out for the wineglass full of water next to your plate and took one long sip of water, praying to whatever god that may be out there who could save you to do so already, almost breaking the glass in your hand you shakily placed it back onto it's assigned place.

─ THE SOUND OF THE MAIDEN SLIDING HER SEAT BACKWARDS SO SHE'D BE ABLE TO LEAVE WAS PAINFULLY LOUD IN THE MOSTLY EMPTY DINING ROOM.

Immediately lowering your gaze you awaited her retreat, and awaited the gruesome hours you'd have to spend in your bed, unable to sleep due to the grovelling cries of hunger. The pain in your empty stomach had increased from days of not being given even the tiniest bread crumb, the cries of which fell upon deaf ears.

What surprised you was hearing the sound of her heels growing closer to you. Soon enough she stood right next to you, the cold radiating from her body made you shiver thanks to the overly loose clothes you were given which were closer to rags than clothes, you just wanted your old clothes back yet she barated you for liking those clothes and called them disgusting.

She slid your original plate over to the side, knocking over the wine glass in the process, the sharp shards of what was once a quiet expensive looking wineglass scattered onto the carpeted floor.

Putting her still untouched plate Infront of you, the cryo archon nudged you quiet harshly so that you would get the hint. placing clean utensils next to the plate she simply stared at you, emptying her glass of golden blood while analysing your every move.

Your lucky day, you supposed. Grabbing onto the utensils you began to eat, albeit hastily, the fear of starvation loomed over your head like a dark cloud at all times. At the moment, you cared way more about survival than about if she approved of your table manners.

The Tsaritsa turned to the maiden on the other side of your seat whose head was hanging low in respect,

─ "MAIDEN, BE A DOLL AND GET ME A REFILL WILL YOU?"

The maiden nodded and rushed out of the room, closing the door behind her. Not even a few minutes later she returned, empty handed she bowed to the Tsaritsa and explained how her favorite golden blood "wine" was over and that they'd need to refill the barrels.

Hearing her say that practically made you choke on your food, the realization of what you'd have to endure for a few days dawning on you. The refilling process was absolute torture, one of the harbingers, the doctor they called him, would waltz in about every few hours and remove mass amounts of blood from your body. It lasted for up to five days, if the Tsaritsa was feeling a little greedy that is.

The entire time you'd be force fed big amounts of food so as to "produce more blood more quickly" and you'd be weaker than ever, barely staying and awake and feeling paralyzed.

Ofcourse, they wouldn't be sucking too much blood out of you, can't have you too weak you know. All of the blood would be pumped into big barrels deep into the personal wine cellars of her royal highness, her little treasure hidden away from the world.

What surprised you the most however was how affectionate she'd be after the entire process was done, for around two to three days depending on her mood, she'd be very physically intimate, like oddly physically intimate for someone who practically got high on your blood everyday because it made them stronger.

You just wanted your old life back, your friends, your family..

─ YOU JUST WISHED DEATHS CLAWS COULD GRAB AND TAKE HER DOWN IN HER SLEEP.

She made you regret ever even thinking about downloading genshin impact, she made every memory of the gameplay in your mind turn sour. You just wanted to be treated like a person once more, you just wanted to be treated humanely for once.

Was it too much to ask for, especially from the goddess of love? You didn't think so. But, maybe she did. Maybe to her it was hard, maybe to her it was near impossible to treat you like an equal.

─ HER CLAWED FINGERS MADE THEIR WAY TO YOUR CHIN, TURNING IT VIOLENTLY SO AS TO HAVE YOU STARING AT HER. THE SILVER CLAWS ONTO HER FINGERS GRAZED AT YOUR NOW SENSITIVE SKIN.

One dark chuckle left her throat, you wished to be able to cut it open one day, leaning in closer to your face she caressed your cheek slowly, giving you one long lingering stare with those dead blue eyes of hers, you fantasized about gauging them out whenever she did this. She was a cruel monster, a poor excuse of a goddess of love, but really, she was pretty. You'd be lying if you said she wasn't, yet just how much can looks overshadow a person's horrible personality?

To put it simply however, you despised candle lit dinners with her, because always, she'd have you endure something terrible and then give you the smallest ever display of anything close to love and care and await your falling in love with her madly.

Albeit you would never dream of stealing her rightful role, you could handle playing prey for a little longer, or so you hoped.

Pls there needs to be more yandere Tsaritsa content, it's either that either I somehow can't find the portal to yandere Tsaritsa hell

─ casinodove , 20.02.23 .

Do not copy, translate nor rewrite any of my works without explicit permission from me !