#tsaritsa love to get rid of the pain

[yandere-wishes]

⋆  ⋆ ℕ𝕖𝕨 𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 ⋆  ⋆

Masterlist for newer, more polished stories. You can look up older stories/fics HERE. There’s a wider selection there 

💜Honkai Star Rail

▹▹Blade

ɴᴇᴏɴ ɴɪɢʜᴛꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ɴɪɢʜᴛᴍᴀʀᴇꜱ

It's late and you're tired. Trapped within a dreamlike trance trying to figure out if you're sick or just in love. Although to Blade you're just confused and need a little more persuading of how much he loves you.  

▹▹Boothill

Doc-Ringo

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Plot: There's a slick black-clad little gal who's been missing with his bounties recently. Boothill's been dying to rustle her up and take a bite

💜Genshin impact

Little Red Ridding Hood (Yandere! Capitano x reader x Yandere! Ororon)

Capitano recognizes your ancient name before he recognizes you. Ororon thinks it's about time to confess his feelings to his childhood friend. You just wanted to protect your homeland.

Racing Au (Wriothesley, Neuvillette, kamisato Ayato)

Some racing snippets from the tracks w/ our fav genshin men.

▹▹Dottore 

1:00 am 

Dottore isn't the best at words, especially when it's past midnight and you both have an assignment due first thing in the morning. Yet as the clock tics onwards, he grows a bit bolder.

Comedic Tragedy

Dottore is lovesick and desperate. Reader just wants a life away from from the Akademiya. Neither get what they expected. 

▹▹Childe 

2:00 am 

The Tsaritsa sends two of her finest assassins to take out the head of the Kamisato clan. It's funny how repressed emotions and forgotten memories resurface at the worst times.

▹▹Neuvillette

Do Not Weep Hydro Dragon

There's a crack in Neuvillette's heart that bares your name. He sheds a tear for you each day. Yet once you return to Fontaine with your fiance. The cracks and tears begin to grow. 

▹▹Freminet

Sinking into the Depths

Freminet is desperate to take you diving with him. You are rather reluctant. 

▹▹ Baizhu

Yandere Headcanons

Just some headcanons setting up a longer story.~💜

Sweet like morning-glory

There's a melody humming within your bones. A tune Baizhu strums with his needles and drugs. The ballade sings of a love more deadly than any toxin.

▹▹ Rosaria

TBA

▹▹ Lynette

Yandere Headcanons

Yandere Lynette is such a conniving sweetheart!!

▹▹ Wriothesley

WereWolf

Heritage pricks Wriothesley like a valley of thrones, it's unnerving to find someone with the same pains. 

Yadere!Werewolf! Headcanons

Wriothesley has a secret...it's a pleasant surprise to find someone who harbors the same burden.

▹▹ Capitano

Ice on Ice

He's carved you into his perfect weapon.

princess of flame/captain of ice

He's the ice bearer, the monster sent to snuff out the flames of your homeland. But isn't that just love? To kill with such passion. Wouldn't anything else just be a lie?

💜 Transformers

Yandere Transformers One

Yandere Transformers One thoughts featuring D-16 Megatron, Orian Pax Optimus Prime, and the one and only Sentinel Prime

Yandere D-16 vs Yandere Megatron

How can the same person be so different?

Yandere Sentinel Prime's punishments

He's the worst. No, the best. No, the worst. Yeah definitely the worst.

Yandere Orion Pax VS Yandere Optimus Prime

He's always burned too brightly

💜 Obey me 

▹▹ Leviathan

Self-loathing

Levi’s caught in a trance, tempted and bewitched by the devildom’s new resident. Someone who’s self hatred rivals his own. Someone who might just comprehend his pain...

💜 Twisted wonderland 

▹▹ Leona Kingscholar

My Queen My Prey

You and Leona are opposites that keep getting in each other's ways. And yet there isn't a single damn thing Leona wouldn't do for you.

▹▹Idia Shroud

Dr.Frankenstein

Idia wants to prove the world wrong. To show that there is more to life than good and bad, villains and heroes. But somewhere along the way, he falls in love with what he is trying to prove.

Just Like The Gods

Idia falls in love, death and destruction soon follow. He can’t really help it, it’s in his blood.

▹▹General 

How To Be A Villain In Seven easy Steps (Riddle, Leona, Azul)

It’s easy to be the villain when life has already casted you for the role from the day you were born...

💜Record Of Ragnarok 

▹▹ Nikola Tesla 

Sleepless  

Tesla doesn't sleep, can't sleep. He has something he needs to finish, something to fulfill. Maybe for once in his miserable existence, his inventions can be acknowledged for what they truly are. You're trying to prove yourself before the world comes to an end. And if that means absorbing every form of toxicity your childhood crush has to offer then so be it.

💜Jujutsu Kaisen

▹▹Sukuna 

MONSTERS

Monsters aren’t born they’re made, but Sukuna stumbles across the rare exception…

💜Marvel

▹▹General

Love of my life (Yandere x-men 97)

Why is it so hard to say I love you?

Alice in Marvel-land (Yandere! Deadpool x Reader x Yandere Wolverine)

In some worlds, you were Logan's little darling. In others, you were Wade's starry-eyed lover. But here in the void, there is only one of you and two of them.

▹▹ Miles Morales 

Imposter Syndrome

Miles is the villain. You are the hero. You two shouldn't be in love...

The Perfect Girl

Somewhere along the line the villain won and the hero lost. Now your life is nothing more than a cautionary tale.

The Spider's Web

You are a hero, you feel it within your bones. Calamity may strike and villains may rise. But you are still a hero, it's time to start acting like one. 

▹▹ Miguel O’hara

Comic Book Love

You finally realize that you and Miguel are stuck inside a comic book romance.

Spider Love Bite

Miguel loves you, this you know. But neither the story nor the hero ever stops long enough to wonder if you love him too.

▹▹Michael Morbius

Late Night Calls

Sometimes Morbius is lucid enough to remember your name...

💜Barbie

▹▹Ken

He's Just Ken

You're just Barbie, perfect on the outside, dead on the inside. He's just Ken, neither perfect on the outside nor on the inside. 

💜Moriarty The Patriot

▹▹William James

Anomaly

Reader is an anomaly. A noblewoman of foreign descent. She doesn't belong here. But oh how she wishes to burn the world down just like William.

💜Star Wars

▹▹General 

Our Pretty Little Girl (Yandere!Anakin Skywalker x Reader x Yandere! Darth Maul)

You try to escape from two fearsome Sith Lords. Surprisingly they take it rather well.

Didn't Mean To Say I Love You

Love letters between lyrics

▹▹Darth Maul

Yandere! Darth Maul Headcanons

What's Darth Maul like as a yandere? How does he treat his darling?

Yandere Darth Maul Headcanons (Ft. Darth Talon)

You're Maul's little doll. Trapped between two scary sith lords.

▹▹Anakin Skywalker

TBA

▹▹Qimir

Strawberries

Why does the new apothecary remind you of old starfruits?

Acolyte

Your loneliness is suffocating, engulfing. Qimir is the only one who seems to subdue the pain. But every forbidden fruit has its price.

Cookies

Just a sweet moment between a bloodthirsty sith lord and his precious little acolyte

Dark Vacay

He steals you in summer. Castaway on a planet with no name. But the way his eyes shine under the hot sun has your heart beating out of your chest.

▹▹Master Sol

TBA

💜Dune

▹▹General

I love you, It's ruining my life

When they realize they love

Desert Rose (Yandere! Paul Atreides x reader x Yandere! Feyd Rautha Harkonnen)

You miss the desert. Miss the sun and the sand and the place where they buried your heart. So you run and pray that they won't catch you. 

💜Wuthering Waves

▹▹General

I might just be in love

Wuthering waves men and how they treat their darling

💜Miscellaneous

Superstar AU

He's the hottest new talent and he's only got eyes for you. Based on the movie Priscilla.

▹▹Dracula

A Confession letter

Dear Dracula...

▹▹ Monster High

Yandere! Monster High Ghouls

There's something ancient within you. Lost and forgotten. You're an eldritch creature living amongst monsters. A piece of you lives within each of them. And a piece of each of them lives inside you...

Yandere! Knight x Princess! Reader

Conquer, Conquer, Conquer

[rottendollface]

The Horror of Our Love. Chapter 3.

Co-author: @bigtimesalt8196

Character: Childe Tartaglia | Ajax.

Image: Picsart AI.

Warnings: NSFW; Ajax is older than in canon; broken time line and age line for the sake of plot; female virgin reader, incestuous relationship, family abuse, self-harm, misogyny, mentions of rape, unprotected sex, black magic, blood and flesh magic, body horror, sacrilegious, Foul Legacy Childe, breeding kink, miscarriage, marriage, grooming, pregnancy, erotic lactation, murdering, abyssal soulmates, serfdom system in Snezhnaya; all the characters are adults; 18+.

On an unusually sunny morning you were cleaning the stove. You made sure the stove had cooled down before you started. It was the third day of living with your grandmother. Previous days were full of new emotions and impressions, but today was calm and didn't promise anything extraordinary, so you decided to clean the house. You wondered who was doing it before you and who was looking after grandmother as well. Maybe it was someone from the villagers, but no one came to your yard to say hello and inquire about her, so you didn't have a chance to know.

You tried to get rid of all the cinder but the one in the deepest part of the stove didn't come out no matter how hard you tried to clean it. You had to climb inside until your shoulders to reach it. It was dark, hot and narrow in there, and smelled of smoke. You could swear the stove became hotter and hotter with every second so you hurried to get out, but your shoulders got stuck. You stretched out your arms to make it easier, pressed your palms on the heated bricks and pushed off, but still couldn't fit in. You were sweating heavily, the heat became unbearable. You made a couple of pushes and got out, covered in cinder and sweat. You swallowed nervously, your breath was rapid and short. The stove was cool and didn't have any sign of working.

The day was short and got you tired. The strange accident with the stove still worried you, but you buried the anxiety deep inside. Grandmother was sick and didn't want to talk, even refused lunch and dinner. She was sleeping for the whole day, so you couldn't ask her why the ikons, windows, and mirrors were covered with rags. You were getting ready for bed when you decided to light an oil lamp on the shelf in the corner of the room. You used to fall asleep with an oil lamp illuminating the room – it made you feel safe and reminded you that Tsaritsa would save you from every danger. 

At your grandmother's house you were sleeping in a living room. It was furnished poorly and smelled damp as every other part of the house. In the living room there was a bed, an old wardrobe with the creaking doors, and a table with just one chair. 

You had seen a bottle with the oil while cleaning, so you found it quickly and refreshed the lamp. You put a chair under the shelf and stood on it. You removed the dusty rag from an ikon and threw it on the floor, then took a match and lit the lamp. Suddenly, the chair was roughly kicked from under your feet – you fell on the floor with a shriek, and the shelf broke with a loud sound. The oil from the lamp spilled on your hand and on the floor, and the wick, that was burning, inflamed it. Everything happened in a second, you screamed in fright and rushed to the barrel of water that was staying in the kitchen. The oil moistened the sleeve of your clothes and flame that covered your forearm, was creeping higher and threatening to inflame your hair. Without thinking, you put your whole hand into the water, then rushed back and took the blanket off the bed, and threw it on fire. You fell on your knees to press it to the floor and cut off the oxygen. Your chest was aching from the heavy beatings of your heart, but the pain from a burn didn't strike your senses when you calmed down a little. You looked at your hand, searching for a burn, but it was clean. Bewildered, you stood up and went to the nearest window to open it to get rid of the smoke and stench of burning that filled the room. The rag that was covering the window fell off, but you didn't care – you still were looking at your hand, wondering why there was no damage to your skin. 

Your grandmother seemed to be in a deep sleep, as she kept silent. It was dark outside, even the moonlight couldn't be seen through the black heavy clouds. The temperature became lower and you started shaking from the cold. You almost jumped when you heard a dog barking somewhere in the distance: it was hysterical and a loud cry; the sound of a rusty metal chain dragging on the earth could be heard as well, as a dog was running around the yard. 

Anxiety was building up slowly. You went to the main door and checked on the locks. You came to the grandmother's room on your tiptoes and heeded: not a sound could be heard. 

You got back to your room, took the blanket from the floor and left it in the basket with dirty laundry. The stove was still working, yet a cold breeze was filling the room through the opened window so you closed it and took a new blanket from the wardrobe, leaving the mess for tomorrow. You laid on your side and hugged the second pillow to get warm. Anxiety was denying you sleep: if a dog got alarmed, it meant someone had scared it. It could be a hilichurl or a robber: in both cases they could come to your house instead – the only thought of upcoming danger made you hug the pillow harder. You spent some time with your eyes open, observing the room: the table without the chair (that was lying near the broken shelf), the closed wardrobe and the curtained mirror.

Soon all the stress you had felt today's evening took over you, and you fell asleep but your sleep was light, and you were hearing creak and footsteps, but couldn't understand if it was real or if it was just in your slumber. 

It seemed for you that you were turning in your bed but when you opened your eyes you found yourself in the same position. Your eyes wandered through the room and when your vision accommodated to the darkness, you noticed that the chair was standing near the table and the wardrobe door was slightly opened. A black object was sitting on the chair, its figure resembled the shape of a strong man: you saw only broad shoulders and the big lower part of a blurred body. You stopped breathing for a moment, not knowing what to do. You were laying and staring at the person with your eyes wide open but not a sound could be heard from you. The person was just sitting at the table and didn't seem to care about you: they were drinking something, the bottle remained features of a one with fire-water. 

Another shadow slipped out the wardrobe and crippled to the table, then jumped on it, taking a human-like form. It was ludicrous: short but gaunt, with muscled hands. They were talking to each other but you couldn't hear a word from their conversation: you heard only muffling sounds of rough speech. You strained your ears and defined something from their conversation. 

'Work... we really need to work.'

'Soon we will have a new master.'

'I need to work out a little! I need a mess! We've been sitting in this fucking wardrobe for ages! Thanks to idiotic slut we can be free again! Where are our brothers?'

'They can't go in without invitation.'

'Then we will make her invite them! She will beg for them to come in!'

You woke up because of a noisy knocking sound on your window. You were laying silent and still: you didn't want them to notice you. Despite your heart beating loud and heavy, and tears streaming down your face, you remained in the position in which you fell asleep but suddenly it became uncomfortable.

Something knocked in your window again. Cold sweat broke out your body. The sound of knocking was clear and close: your bed was staying near the window. Someone knocked. This time was rougher, it was pushy and impatient. 

Then it started knocking continuously, without pause. You were at your limit already: dread and panic made you open your eyes to see what was torturing you, and you had seen that the creature, that was knocking on your window, was staying right in front of your bed and banging on the window with the knuckles of its long fingers. 

It was a tall humanoid with disproportionately long hands and narrow shoulders. The human-like head was bald, its deep-set eyes were big but black, and its skin was gray. 

Your heart slowed its rhythm painfully. It was impossible to breathe and think. The creature smiled, and you had seen the maw full of rare sharp teeth.

'Help...' 

You whispered with your lips only and someone started banging on the door of the house. You heard someone cursing, while others were screaming from excitement. 

'Help! Anybody!'

Finally your body gave a reaction. You jumped on your bed and the creature attacked you: you tangled in a blanket, and it caught you by it, dragging you on the floor. 

'Come in! I let you come in but save me! Please! Please!'

After your hysterical shriek the door opened and you were kicked out the house by a mysterious force. You didn't wait anymore and rushed to the woods, far away from the house and the village. Barefooted, dressed only in a nightgown, you were running away, further and further into the forest. You didn't care that you would freeze to death or disturbed hilichurls would kill you. You would rather die than spend one more minute in the damned house.

'I see her! I see!'

Suddenly you heard whooping and excited exclamations. The devils were chasing you, they were running after you to drag you back to the house to continue your nightmare.

You turned left and hid away behind the old trees; a whirlwind of demons rushed further, without noticing you. You sat on the earth and let shock cover you. It all seemed to be a nightmare but it was real... or maybe it wasn't – you couldn't tell. You were trembling with the cold and your teeth were chattering, causing you to hug yourself to warm up. Your nightgown got damp and stuck to your body; the cold wind was scorching your tiny figure. 

It was the end. No one would ever find you: no one had ever cared about you and no one would mourn. You tried so hard to be a good daughter and earn some love from your parents but it was worthless. Even Ajax, who promised to be with you no matter what, abandoned you. 

'It will be better for everyone...' Suddenly all your senses disappeared. You knew it was a sign of dying: Ajax had told you many stories about hunters who froze to death, so you closed your eyes, waiting for oblivion obediently.

But the birth mark on your back struck you with acute pain so hard you almost fell on your side. It felt like someone was cutting it out of your skin with a blunt knife. You opened your eyes and saw the interior of the living room at grandmother's house. 

You were laying in the bed; the bed sheets were wet and cold from your sweat. 

Unbearable stench hit your nostrils but you didn't hurry to find where it came from – you knew the answer instinctively. You walked around the house and noticed that all the windows and mirrors were uncovered but Tsaritsa's ikons disappeared. 

Clocks had stopped in the morning, the time they were showing didn't match the reality. The draught made the door open and you rushed to close it but it was so heavy you couldn't move it. You looked at the yard and saw something approaching your house from the forest. Human-like but ugly, wrong shaped and scary in its abnormality. It was moving while you weren't looking at it – every time you were, you had seen the figure standing motionless.

You made an effort but the door didn't shift. It reached the closest house to the village – enough for you to start panicking again. 

You put all the strength you had in your arms but nothing happened. It was almost near the broken fence of your house. 

You tugged the door a couple of times so it shifted a little. It stopped in your yard.

One more try – and you closed the door, then nervously locked it. The nightmare was never ending, it made you forget how to pray. 

You couldn't even imagine what was happening around you. Demons were talking about the new master but who was the previous one? You gasped, when the right answer suddenly appeared in your head. Everything seemed like this: your grandmother was a witch and she had to pass her power to someone else from her family, or she would never find her peace. 

You heard a laugh from her room, then it changed into mourning. You had nothing else to do but to go to her room.

The floor was cracking under your steps and one of the floorboards broke. You jumped back but noticed a space under it. There was a book in a leather cover that turned out to be a private diary of your grandmother. You looked through it: the biggest part of it was filled up with notes, also there were drawings. You opened it on a random page and started reading, hoping that you could find something useful in your situation.

"My son could live a happy life of a free person but he chose to run away and obey a noble, as he was afraid that locals would despise him for who I was. My sins followed after him and he had to pay: this is the burden of children whose parents sold their souls to the devil. I had nothing else to do, as his alcoholic father left me with nothing but debts for food and wood, and scars from his abuse. Once a respectful miner he died a filthy death. I sent him to feed our pigs but didn't give him any food and closed the door to the piggery."

Your hands started shaking. The best you could do to save your sanity was to stop reading but you continued.

"Tsaritsa didn't hear my prayers so I started to pray to the darkness, and it answered me. With it's help I became a witch but I kept my business clean: I was helping people only, using my power for good purposes. But they don't make a difference between good and bad. They are happy to use me and then curse me, so I cursed them back."

"I will have to make one of my grandchildren suffer after I die. I caused trouble for my own family. But I don't regret it."

"The mine had exploded two years ago, but everyone is still here. They aren't real. They are shadows. As far as I know they are able to communicate with outlanders. They will suffer here with me, until I find an heir. This torture… I beg Death to take me, but it doesn't come. I just want to die, I want to find peace in mother earth. I want to stop existing."

You heard your grandmother's voice calling your name and dropped her diary. Already exhausted mentally, you were ready to take the power from her only to make this nightmare end. You weren't a fighter, and you couldn't resist anymore.

You came to the grandmother's room and found her decaying corpse with flies and worms on it. 

'Give me your hand,' it sounded like an order, and you obeyed. Emotionless and indifferent to everything, you gave your hand, and felt her crooked fingers on your skin. She squeezed it hard enough to make you squeak but suddenly she dropped it. Something sharp cut you, and droplets of your blood fell on the floor, absorbing immediately. 

'She's not your breed!' A strange voice rumbled. It was low and sinister, and extremely irritated. You couldn't believe its words but your inner senses told you to run away, and you didn't stay in the room any longer. 

You had already forgotten about the monster that was waiting for you outside the house, and unlocked the door, but a hand that appeared on the doorstep caught your leg. You tried to break free but fell on the ground and was dragged back to the house.

Ajax was still under the impression of everything he had learned in the Abyss. The sense of evil in the world was unusual for him, and distracted Ajax from his thoughts. There were a few abyssal anomalies around him, which Skirk told him to clear to make the evil surrender to his will. Ajax still remembered her smile: after she heard his name, she grinned and her eyes gleamed scornfully. 

'So she found the replacement…' Skirk whispered to herself but Ajax didn't attach much importance to her words – he understood soon enough that half of Skirk's words was just a gibberish of a twisted mentality. She spent enough time alone to get out of her mind, and Ajax was the first alive person she had talked to in years. Impulsive, quarrelsome and cruel she was dictating Ajax her own philosophy of life, and it took a lot of psychological strength from him not to break under her pressure.

Ajax didn't forget about you even for a second. He would take you back right after completing his task with anomalies. He was worrying about you badly: you were too young to stay alone in another village for so long without his care and protection.

When Ajax reached first place, he felt uneasy in his chest. It seemed just like the village you were sent in, and the house was looking like the one his father had told him about long ago. 

This village as a whole was an anomaly – all the villagers had disappeared but to outsiders it seemed alive because of phantom reminiscences of people and sounds of working elevators and pickaxes. For those rare guests that stayed in the village, everything seemed just a little strange – locals weren't friendly and the village seemed to be very poor with crumbling houses. No one could live here more than a day and no one wanted to do it anyway. The great force kicked strangers out of the village, Skirk told Ajax.  

Ajax broke into the house and started searching for you, praying for it to be a mistake of his. He found you laying on the floor, unconscious. He sat on his knees in front of you, checking your pulse and exhaled heavily, when he felt a weak pulsation under his fingers. In your arms you were squeezing the dairy. Ajax didn't notice how the whole space around him came into darkness. 

A tramp of fast steps made Ajax shudder. He cut his palm and quickly drew with his blood a magic circle that made everyone inside invisible to demonic creatures. The steps ran around the circle, and he had seen small twisted bodies rushing and searching for you and him. From the darkest corners the faces had appeared: long, white, with prominent noses and sharp teeth, on scrawny bodies they were ransacking the room. Ajax's blood froze in his veins — he went here just in time. 

From what he had known from Skirk, his grandmother was a witch and now someone from her children needed to inherit the curse. Ajax left you on the floor and stepped out of the circle without fear. He went to the grandmother's room: all the demons ran after him. In the nasty atmosphere of despair and death, he found only a corpse with a stretched hand. Ajax touched it and felt how unholy power had struck his body, but a part of it was missing — just a little part, that went to someone else, and Ajax was afraid that you got it by chance.

'Master…' A tall demon with a human face and in human clothes appeared before Ajax. The only detail in his face that showed clearly his connection to the darkness was a flattened pig's nose. 'We need to work.'

But Skirk didn't explain to Ajax a thing about his grandmother's curse. That was how the whole nightmare of his and yours life had started.

Ajax managed to fight the anomaly and take you home. It turned out that roots of evil had sprouted through grandmother's body and affected the whole village. Roots were feeding themselves with the grandmother's memories and recreating the reality she lived in to lure in a future heir of the curse. The village also was a prison for her soul: it was tortured with never-ending shame, disdain and abuse that grandmother had felt for her whole life as a witch. When Ajax came to destroy her soul, he gave it to the abyssal pigs, and they tore it apart. He heard not only her scream, but a scream of his long dead grandfather as well. Grandmother got what she deserved – it was the price for black magic.

You were unconscious for the whole way home and didn't wake up for four days after Ajax got you back. It was the first time Ajax saw his mother caring after you: the poor woman was so nervous she couldn't sleep. Ajax hid the diary in your room, never checking it – he wasn't interested in what was written in it, but he decided that it had a lot of meaning for you.

Voices and shapes of ugly demons were annoying him constantly. Ajax had to find them something to work on every day, or they started tormenting him with their reminders of it. Ajax didn't know rest and calmness: he could see all the evil spirits that were staying near his brothers and sisters as dark shadows. You were haunted by them mostly. Ajax saw how shadows were following you, surrounding you and playing tricks on you. He tried to help: only swearing and cursing had power over demons, and Ajax had to let the disgusting words out of his mouth to chase demons away. Grumpy, sleep deprived and corrupted, he was scaring everyone in the family house and there was no way to handle him.

Ajax became aggressive and he was venting his anger on other people in the village: sometimes he was fighting men, on other days he was creating a conflict between mature women. Your father found the solution very fast: he signed Ajax up for Fatui, believing that the army could make Ajax learn his lesson. But it didn't work. Instead, Ajax was promised a brilliant future in the capital, and was preparing for the departure. 

The most loathsome thoughts and fantasies were haunting Ajax at night. You pleaded him with tears in your eyes to spend the night hours with you. He couldn't blame you: after everything you got through, you almost lost your mind. You didn't talk much since you got back and could remain silent for days. You did nothing but sat somewhere in the house, looking at one spot and just existing between the housework that father was picking for you. Everyone tried to find out what had happened to you, but you brushed it off and walked away, as you were seeing demons bringing their crooked fingers to their lips in a sign of keeping silence. 

Ajax came to your room after everyone fell asleep and stayed until parents woke up. He just stared at your sleeping form, jealous of this peace of tranquility you found with him by your side. All Ajax could see were demons imitating sexual acts, all he could hear was libidinous whispers of how mature and beautiful you became. They told him to lay his hand on you – a brother and a sister, the delicious forbidden fruit. Nothing could be sweeter, than stealing his own sister's virginity and placing his seed in your warm tight cunt. Nothing could be sweeter than a royal sin of inbreeding – and Ajax cried silently, as he was nothing against this abetting. 

Ajax felt his lips trembling, as he remembered how you two were playing weddings, when you were little: like every girl you were dreaming of marrying a good man and creating a family. You read so many books with happy endings, so you thought of marriage as a logical and promised end for every woman. You were dreaming of growing up and dancing your first dance with your husband – so you, a naive little girl, asked Ajax to teach you how to dance. You weren't able to leave the house and see how the actual wedding was going, so Ajax was your only guide to the life of your dreams as he had visited a couple of ceremonies with his parents already. Your small and warm palm in his, your clumsy and hasty steps against his confident and strong moves: he was much taller and larger than you, but you kept dancing with him, scrunching up your face in a childish stubbornness.

Ajax wanted to haul at all this pain and mind breaking debauchery, but he couldn't lie to himself how much he desired you as a man. His lower member reacted to everything the demons were whispering to him, and with every night it was harder and harder to keep himself restrained from violating you. Ajax was praying, he was crying and he was punishing himself by cutting his forearms as he believed that physical pain would distract him from mental anguish. He needed someone to talk to, to tell everything that was tormenting him in a prison of his mind. The time in Abyss made him deprived of attention and caress. Ajax was broken but he showed a nasty and plucky bravado. All he could do was to hug your sleeping body and hide his face in your hair, always soft and sweetly scented, then leave with the first rays of sun.

Again Ajax was in your room the next night. He was sitting on a chair and mulling.

'You are an adult now,' Ajax brought it out of blue when you were preparing your bed. You gave him a confused look, and he continued. 'You will marry soon.'

It was true: parents were searching for someone who would want to marry you. They didn't plan to notify you and hear your opinion on it – they just wanted to get rid of you. Pavel Korneevich was the first to request his candidacy to your heart. Pavel Korneevich was sure it would be better for you to marry someone whom you had already known, and mother had the same opinion. He seemed to be very gentle while talking about you, so mother was happy and didn't want to wait for other volunteers. 

'Do you remember how I taught you to dance?' Ajax continued, watching you with a heavy meaning gaze. 'Now I have to teach you something more.'

'What do you mean?' You asked with anxiety; his tone made your heart drop. 

'You have to know how to be intimate with your husband. That's the most necessary knowledge a woman could have.' Ajax looked in your eyes and found fear. 

'Is it really necessary?' Your cheeks flushed. 'I don't want it.'

'It doesn't matter. Family life consists of things you don't want. I have to pass this knowledge to you before my departure.' Ajax moved his eyes away as well and started looking on the floor. 

You swallowed bitter tears – you didn't like to hear about Ajax leaving his home. For you it was a disaster, an apocalypse of your small world of love and appreciation that you got from your older brother. 

'I don't want you to go…' You craned your head so tears wouldn't stream down your face. 'What will I do without you?'

'I will be visiting you on holidays, and I will take you with me as soon as I can. I promise.'

'You must vow to me. Vow that you won't leave me behind.' Sudden toughness in your voice scared you and made Ajax raise his brows in surprise. He took a small paper knife from the table and pressed it to his palm, showing the determination to cut it. 

'Then I'll do it in blood.' Ajax made a cut and passed the knife to you. Without hesitation you did the same and pressed your palm to his, mixing your blood and proving the vow. 

You dropped his palm and looked around searching for something to clean the blood, but Ajax caught your hand and pressed his lips to your small wound. His hot and wet tongue touched it, licking the blood away: his flat tongue covered it fully, mixing a burning pain with tickling. You giggled and tried to break free, so he started just kissing it. Something primal made Ajax do this and he didn't regret his submission to the desire. 

Finally Ajax let you go. You looked at him, confused about his next move. He couldn't wait anymore – so Ajax kissed you carefully, his dry lips were caressing yours gently. He squeezed your lower lip between his, munched on it then ran on it with the tip of his tongue. You were staying still, not sure what you needed to do. Ajax moved away and looked into your eyes.

'It was the first lesson.' He said, cupping your cheeks.

[strdstd-m]

Seeking an audience with Archons was once thought to have been beyond Dainsleif. Never would he even entertain the thought of groveling for help before the very beings who'd outright destroyed his homeland and mercilessly ripped away the future he had planned. It was like uprooting and crushing a worthless weed in the gods' garden. Just something to thoughtlessly get rid of, not caring enough to bother with second thoughts when it came to the lives they'd be taking as a result of the Cataclysm. His heart wouldn't allow it, thinking of it as disgracing the memory of those who were lost because of those Archons. Too stubborn as well. Sticking adamantly to how Khaenri'ah was; godless.

The lives of royals he'd sworn to protect, commoners, fellow knights. Most of all, the one he'd held the most dear. To think he'd forgotten- No, that wasn't his fault. It was all the curse's doing. But not even that rationality didn't stop the sickening, fury-inducing guilt from rampaging. That time in the Chasm, where fate dealt him a blow he'd never forget.

Why that name stuck out in his mind, he was clueless of back then. Why recall that one out of thousands?

Why those turquoise eyes captivated him so, why that warm voice set his heart at an ease he hadn't felt in centuries, why he felt such a painful yearning just standing all but a short distance away?

He was just as beautiful as the day he lost him-

It was only after the Traveler vacated the area did it strike him like a stab to the heart from a blade.

A rare moment of clarity. Halfdan wasn't just another Royal Guard. He was... so much more than that. The man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, the man he'd asked to (admittedly rather impulsively) marry a mere day before the fall of Khaenri'ah... The man who'd perished in Dainsleif's arms. Begging him to stay with him, desperately holding him as close as he could, a heart-shattering wail ultimately tearing itself out of him- The gods didn't just take his homeland away. They took away the love of his life like he was nothing. His dear, beloved Halfdan. The only man known to make the Twilight Sword glow like morning sunlight. Both were... unforgivable.

So why in all Teyvat was he standing before the door leading him to the home of the Cryo Archon? He still had his doubts on whether or not this venture would be successful, but it was unfortunately the only chance they might have in finally vanquishing the Abyss.

Upon hearing the voice from the other side of the door, he exhaled and opened it, finally crossing the threshold.

"The Tsaritsa, I presume?"

『 @strdstd // Plotted Starter for Dainsleif!  』

          ・⊱ It was ironic that in addition to frigid cold, she was able to sense and truly resonate with the emotions of others since her ascension. However it was quite the aid when it came to her goals, so the humor of it all would be hers to mull over at her leisure.

          Why distract the others with such a trivial little thought, after all?

          Right now, however, she was most intrigued by the approaching surge of emotions. Emotions so strong and heavy ( most of all grief, such immense, powerful grief ), they were palpable even behind the barrier of the heavy oak door before her. It was curious—enough to have the sentiment flickering across her own features and her rising from her seat. How far were they? Was it proximity or intensity that she was able to feel it all so? Perhaps a mix of both? Surely the person’s feelings couldn’t be THAT strong.

          As the first booming knock would resound, she would swiftly school her features. Right—The Tsaritsa was needed. Dwell on this phenomenon later. Or…perhaps mid-audience-

          “You may enter.”

[chocoenvy]

CHOCO HIIII!!❤ How are you on this lovely day/night? I hope your doing okay

Anyway at this moment I feel very wholesome and after reading the singer! reader post (to which I greatly enjoyed, thank you for the meal) I have come up with both a fluff and a angst (a little bit of hurt/comfort in there) but I will give you the fluff first

Fluff~

For this part, singer god! Reader actually has the ability to regenerate any lost limb or organ however because of the different time frames rather than taking 1 week (in our world time frame) for their tongue to come back it would take 11 months (in Teyvat's time frame and yes I did the maths) to get their tongue back. How do you think the readrr and fatui react to finding out this an dwe're able to hear them for the first time (also readr has a cute yut strange accent).

OKAY HIGHKEY- i was going to include something like this at the end of playing god but I thought where I ended it was a good place to end it and didn't want to drag it on.

So! If you want, you can see this as an unofficial "epilouge" of sorts to the mini series :)) (i had a very not fluff idea while writing this so it's not that fluffy until the middle-end sorry i just can't help myself) ALSO HAVE A GOOD DAY AS WELL ANON THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS IN <3

Warnings!!!: Since this is an extension of playing god, it's going to have a dabble of gore in it, canibalism, after that it's fluff

Your hands shook as you took the tongues that had been cut off of the archons. Their godly blood looked pretty much identical to that of human's but it was different. The taste was different, and to a normal human it'd cause their stomach to explode.

But to you, it'd fuel your godly body.

There was a reason blood sacrifices were common.

To regenerate your tongue, it'd take 11 months Teyvat's time and for you to consume the three tongues of the archons.

You'd like to say it sickened you, you knew it should've sickened you. In your mind, it sickened you... but your body welcomed it.

It filled your stomach with a warm sweetness and your entire body felt energized. Buzzing with electricity, shivering madly with the wind, shaking the earth.

Your beloved Fatui acolytes were with you when you consumed the tongues and they felt the shift. Your eyes dialiated and the room quivered with your godly precense. You grinned madly, high off the blood running through your system.

The high lasted around a day or two. After the blood and their tongues were done digesting, though, the pain kicked in. It was small, and felt like thousands of needles were piercing where your tongue was cut off.

The pain fluctuated, somedays being as biting as your anger. Poking a thousand needles into where your tongue was cut, making you cry and scream into a pillow in pain. The Tsaritsa or Childe, thank god, was always there to help you through the pain.

They'd cuddle you, take you out of the palace on days with less pain to distract you with Sneznhaya's beauties. Other days, when the pain was debilitating, to the point where you struggled to breath, they'd be there. They'd count breath ins and breath outs with you. They'd help you eat even though it was hard. They even had to help you chew some days.

Eventually, you could feel where your tongue and nerves had grown back. After four months, you could wiggle it and very very slightly taste food again.

You were watched carefully by doctors and historians. They pulled what they knew from ancient texts from your last life on Teyvat to try and help you.

The Tsaritsa herself was ready to lay down any of her limbs to help you recover but you madly refused. The three tongues were enough for your entire godly lifetime and while it'd be hard, you could wait.

Eventually, you had reached the halfway mark at 6 months. Your tongue was indeed growing back. The nerves were regrowing as well, and the fatui were estatic.

Childe couldn't help but nuzzle your nose with his when he saw how amazing you're doing. Handling all of this pain and refusing to accept anymore... offerings... you were doing so amazing! He wanted to spoil you rotten and he couldn't wait to hear your voice, he couldn't wait to feed you Sneznhayan delicacies!

The Tsaritsa couldn't agree more with Childe. She wanted to hear your voice, she wanted to feed you the food of her nation, she wanted to speak with you, and hear you sing. She'd give you her own tongue and more if it meant you could bless Teyvat with your voice sooner.

However, you refused any and all attempts at anyone giving you offerings.

Until finally, after 11 long months, your tongue was fully healed. Granted, it took a bit of getting used to, and you were unreasonably scared of it falling off. But other than that it was amazing!

The first day it had grown all the way back you could tell. You awoke and everything felt... there. Like you finally found a missing puzzle piece, and everything just connected. You experimented.

"L."

You grinned, kicking your feet in the covers excitedly, effectively waking up the Tsaritsa.

"Your grace?" She mumbled.

You leaned over her, a grin brighter and more beautiful than the moon shining through the window, "Hi!" You squealed, your voice sounding normal as it did before all of this, "Hi hi! Hi Tsaritsa! Hi!" You giggled maddly, shaking with excitement.

The Tsaritsa's eyes glowed and she smiled. Not a small ghost of smile either, a genuine, full, and bright smile.

"Your grace!" She shouted, sitting up and setting you on her lap, "Your voice! Your tongue!"

You poked your tongue out with a grin you still weren't comfortable sticking it all the way out.

"Can you say something else for me?" She smiled sweetly, more than anybody ever thought was possible for the cryo archon.

You jumped in excitement, "Uhhh...." You trailed off into giggles just at hearing your own voice, "I... love you!"

You shook with happiness, kicking your feet with a big, dumb grin.

The Tsaritsa laughed- laughed! - and poked your nose, "I love you too!"

"Your highness?" A worried voice called from outside the door, "I'm sorry for intruding but... who-who's in there with you?" Scaramouche called out.

You jumped at the opportunity, not even caring about the implication, "It's me! It's (Y/n)!"

The Tsaritsa stiffled a giggle at your behavior.

"What?" Scaracmouche gasped, "May I come in?"

"You may not, we're both in our nighwear Scaramouche." The Tsaritsa commanded, but she was still smiling, staring at you with stars in her eyes.

"Bu- fine. But hurry to breakfast... please your grace, your highness." Scaramouche huffed before his footsteps faded away.

You and the Tsaritsa stared into each other's eyes, you were grinning and she was smiling softly. "We best get up, Scaramouche is going to tell everyone about it and then we'll have the entire palace knocking on our door."

You nodded and hummed then felt your tongue move in your mouth. "Okay!" You jumped out of bed, doing a giddy kick at your own voice.

The two of you got ready and the Tsaritsa prompted you with simple questions, "How was your sleep?"

You were grinning, "It was good! Especially cuddld nextoyo." You grimaced, but you were still smiling.

"Go slower." The Tsaritsa held your hand as you walked down the hall to the dining room, "You haven't talked in a while. And make sure not to say too much, we don't want to bust your voice."

You nodded, "Okay!" You focused on the words you wanted to say. "It was good... especially... cuddled... next to yo-... you."

You grinned, looking up at the Tsaritsa and she nodded in approval. "Good job," she pat your head. Her heart skipped a beat everytime you spoke, you voice had an odd accent compared to the rest of Teyvat, "And thank you your grace. Anything I can do to make you comfortable, I will do so without hesitation."

"Please," You said, clearing your throat, "You already do... so much for me. If there's anything that I do... that makes you uncomfortable..." You cleared your throat again, "Please, tell me."

The Tsaritsa frowned, "Do not overexert yourself my dear. And everything you give to me is a gift." She lovingly pat your cheek, which was starting to hurt from how much you were smiling.

You nodded, "Okay."

When the both of you arrived at the dining hall, all heads immediately whipped to you. You couldn't help the large grin that creeped its way onto your face.

"Your grace!" Childe nearly stood from his seat in excitement, "Can we hear you say something?" If he had a tail you were sure it'd be wagging.

"Don't overwhelm them." The Tsaritsa threatened, a glint in her eyes as a warning.

"It's okay!" You grinned, squeezing her hand, excitement bubbling in you.

Their eyes lit up like christmas lights, beautifully twinkling with happiness.

You giggled, hopping and hugging the Tsaritsa's hand to your chest.

"Can you sing something!" Childe requested, a child-like smile lit up his face.

You giggled, your face flushed just a bit, "Uhm... haha... I'm nervous..."

"Here, sit down." The Tsaritsa sat you down, pushing in your chair for you. There was a permanant, small, soft smile on her face.

She took her place at the head of the table as the food was brought out.

Your mouth watered.

You could feel everyone's eyes on you as you rushed to take a bite. It felt like heaven.

You chewed normally, tasted everything with delicious clarity, swallowing wasn't a chore. The entire process was normal and hell, even enjoyable now!

"The food is soooooo good!" You swung your feet in the chair, your giddiness unable to contain itself.

The Tsaritsa couldn't hide her smile, it warmed the entire room by a few degrees and everyone in Sneznhaya could tell this was a good day. "I'm so glad you like it your grace."

You took another bite, enjoying eating for the first time in this world. For the first time in Teyvat, everything was good.

Unadded snipet (contains minimal gore) --------------------------------

You oppened up a neatly wrapped box. One that the fatui had not opened beforehand due to not wanting to intrude on you without your permission. You curriously peaked into it, the makings of a smile playing at your lips at the fact that you had a gift.

You dropped the box on the floor, slapping a hand over your mouth and averting your eyes away from the box now on the floor and the finger rolling out of it.

"Your grace-?" Childe choked on his own words and quickly scooped up the finger, "I'm so sorry you had to see that- your grace!"

You leaned over and hurled. Bile exited your mouth as you choked up every bit of regret. What wasn't expelled of your regret through your stomach, came out through your eyes in the form of tears.

I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't

You had also gotten a peak at the note before your shaking hands had dropped the box. It had said,

"Get well soon."

[stainedglassthreads]

...It’s just now occurring to me how much Kunikuzushi/Scaramouche and Nahida/Kusanali are foils to each other. 

Scaramouche is a puppet, based on Khaenri’ahn technology, created to hold a Gnosis, but perhaps turned out too much like Makoto, crying when the Gnosis was placed within him. Ei believed he was too gentle to serve the purpose he was created for, and cast him out without properly explaining her reasons behind doing so, leading to the beginnings of A Whole Host Of Mental Problems And Insecurities For Scara, it would appear. Problems that would be exacerbated by the deaths of Katsuragi and his other friend. 

Meanwhile, it’s being implied that Nahida is the Marchosius’d form of Rukkhadevata. Yet, ironically, she was cast aside and abandoned by the Akademiya for not being enough like Rukkhadevata. Specifically, not being knowledgeable, powerful, or experienced enough to be a proper Dendro Archon. Venti is constantly called the weakest Archon, but was capable of leveling entire mountain ranges. Comparatively, Nahida’s intelligence and strength is compared to a normal human child. 

Despite the similarities in them both being disappointments who were abandoned, however, they ended up taking very different paths from there. After a series of perceived betrayals, Scaramouche seems to resent the emotions he now feels, and when Hypaysia taps into his consciousness, she starts to hate the fact she has a human heart. Scaramouche seems to seek two goals-- to rid himself of emotions(and the pain they cause), and to become a proper god, using the very Gnosis he was originally built to hold. To overcome his insecurities, he tries to prove to the world and himself that he CAN fulfill the purpose he was originally created for, and deemed incapable of fulfilling. He externalizes his insecurities, mocking the Traveller’s rage over the death of Teppei, and generally lashing out. 

Meanwhile Nahida’s insecurities are a great deal more internalized. She’s perhaps the most benevolent and proactive Archon we’ve met so far. Despite being under effectively house arrest, she tries her hardest to comfort her followers and preserve their lives, and to protect and fight for all the people of Sumeru, whether they believe in her or not. She has a strong sense of morality, and actively assists the Traveller in both the Sabzeruz Festival Samsara, and trying to retrieve vital information from Setaria. Her gift allows the Village Keepers to protect Aaru Village, and subsequently ensures their safety as valued and welcomed members of the community, even when the Akademiya casts them aside like it did her. Despite all this, she feels that’s she’s not a very good Archon, and seems to have a bit of inferiority complex, especially when comparing herself to Rukkhadevata. She’s the moon-- merely a reflection of the real sun’s light, only visible because the sun has long-since vanished. But in terms of how proactive she is as an Archon (as much as she can be with her real body locked up somewhere), I can only compare her to what we’ve heard of the Tsaritsa, albeit far more loving and protective towards her people. 

I know a lot of people expected there to be a showdown between Kazuha and Scaramouche, and that’d still be really cool. But a discussion between Nahida and Scaramouche would be equally fascinating, in my opinion. In background they have multiple similarities, but have chosen to deal with their hurts and insecurities in very different ways. 

...That said I’m still thinking about Scara mocking Traveller for getting angry over Teppei’s death because that’s just been cast in a whole new light for me, and THAT’s probably gonna be the thing that makes me like Scaramouche, goddamnit-- 

[oregano-writes]

Tartaglia's 5-Step Plan for Wooing Morax- Chapter 1: First Encounters

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

When Childe woke up on his final day on the boat, he didn’t immediately register that anything was wrong. He did not notice anything was wrong while he packed up his room, or ate breakfast with the crew, either. He continued not to notice anything was wrong when he disembarked the ship, or when he signed in to the Northland Bank. He did not notice anything was wrong until the bank’s receptionist, a lady named Ekaterina, told him he had a meeting with the consultant of the Wengsheng Funeral parlor.

Childe was going to ask her if she was sure he couldn’t wait a few more hours to get his stuff together and make sure everyone was settled, but she insisted he get going. 

“Sir, I appreciate your concern, but we have been here for quite some time, and we can handle a few more hours without you.” She rolled her eyes, which, if Childe had been more like the other Harbingers, would have gotten her stabbed. “Go, have lunch with Mr. Zhongli.”

She slapped Childe on the shoulder, and he startled. “Uh– alright?” He adjusted his mask, a nervous habit he’d never quite been able to get rid of. “I’ll see you around?” 

She nodded. “Have fun on your date!”

“It’s not a–”

“Yes it is,” she retorted. “And you are going to get going, as you only have–” she checked the clock on the wall– “four and a half minutes before you’re late.”

“Shit, I’d better get going. Bye!” Childe called out to the receptionist, fixing his scarf as he ran out the door.

He heard the woman’s muffled laugh as he left, but decided not to dignify it by turning around.

──────── ✧ ────────

When he reached the restaurant, a local place called Wanmin, he was disappointed but not surprised to see that Morax was just as pretty in real life as he was in the photos, if not more so. 

Morax met his eyes, and with a smile that made his whole face light up, beckoned Childe to his table. Childe froze for a moment, then waved back, and sat down across the table from him. 

“So, Zhongli, is it? You can call me Childe. It’s nice to meet you,” Childe said, picking up the menu. “I… I can’t read this.”

Morax laughed quietly, then took the menu from his hands. “Let me help you. What is it that you’re looking for?”

Childe would have liked to answer, but at the moment he was too distracted by the way Morax’s hand was brushing against his own. “Uh– Seafood?”

Morax’s expression briefly turned pained, before settling back into the amicably neutral one Childe was beginning to get used to. “Of course, Liyue harbor’s fishing community has been thriving recently.”

He then proceeded to tell Childe all about the escapades of Liyue’s fishermen, and Childe did his best to listen intently, but he was much more focused on his eyes, which hadn’t quite shown up right in the photograph, as there they just looked yellow. No, in person his eyes were much, much brighter. They shone like gold in a way that the Tsaritsa’s never could. 

The way that his never would again. 

Childe shook off the thought. He had accepted he could never be a normal person, deserving of love. His job now was to keep Morax from reaching the same conclusion. 

“Childe? Are you alright?”

Childe blinked. Morax looked concerned, and was holding a hand out towards him. 

“Oh, yeah! Don’t worry about me.” Childe had hoped that Morax would drop it, but he didn’t look like he believed Childe. Dammit, pretty and kind? This would be so much easier if he was an asshole. Morax hummed, not quite agreeing, but thankfully didn’t question him further.

However, when the food arrived, Childe was faced with a new, much worse problem.

Namely, the utensils his food was served with. 

It’s not that he’d never seen chopsticks before (Kuni always ate his food with them, to the extent that Childe seriously doubted he knew how to use a fork), but he had never been able to figure out how he was supposed to get any quantity of food into his mouth using them. As he stared forlornly at the offending tableware, Morax looked over at him, confused. 

“Do you not like the food? I can ask Xiangling to change something if it’s not to your liking.”

“No, it looks great. Those are the problem here,” he said, gesturing to the chopsticks. He tried to pick up one of the dumplings, but it fell with a dejected splat.

Morax covered his mouth with his hand, but Childe could tell he was laughing. “Do you need help with that?” 

Childe sighed. “Yeah.” 

Morax smiled, before getting up and walking around the table towards Childe. 

“Wha–” Childe stopped as Morax’s hand wrapped around his own, and fixed his grip on the chopsticks. 

“Like this,” said Morax, his breath warm against Childe’s neck. He let go of Childe’s hand and stepped back, and Childe hated that he missed the warmth. Making sure to keep his hand exactly like Morax showed him, after a few tries Childe was able to (shakily) pick up one of the crystal shrimp dumplings. It was delicious– Childe would have to make sure to tip the chef well– but what was even better was the look Morax gave him after he succeeded. 

They both ate in silence for a few minutes, Childe struggling to pick up his food but doing much better than he had before, and Morax making the cursed sticks seem effortless to use, as if it wasn’t any different from eating with a fork. 

Childe watched Morax while he did his best to eat, looking for any sign of his non-human status. The first thing he noticed was his teeth– unlike a normal human’s, his were sharp, and came to a point. Upon closer inspection, he also had a forked tongue like a lizard.

Morax paused, setting the dumpling back down onto his plate. “Childe, are you sure you’re alright in the heat? Your face is red, you might get heatstroke.” Aww, he’s worried for me? That’s kind of sweet.

“I– uh– don’t worry, I’m fine!” Childe had been able to handle the Sumeru desert, so even if Liyue was bit warm for his tastes, he had no excuse to be taken out by something as pedestrian as heatstroke.

Morax still looked worried, so Childe added, “But a glass of water couldn’t hurt.”

Morax nodded, then beckoned over a waitress. “Could you please get my friend Childe a glass of water?”

“Of course!” She returned to the kitchen, leaving Childe and Morax alone. 

“So, Childe, do you have any hobbies other than, ahem, banking?”

Childe considered. He couldn’t tell him about his real job, or he might get suspicious. Maybe he could tell him about his family? That seemed like a good idea.

“Well, I’ve got a bunch of siblings back home. I like to collect things from all the places I visit to send back to them.” Childe beamed, thinking of how Tonia would smile at the perfume he bought her from Ying’er on the way there. “Our boat just left this morning, so I’ve got a couple of days to put together a new set of doodads for them before another boat comes.”

Morax apparently had a low spice tolerance, judging from the faint pink that dusted his cheeks as he smiled. Adorable, thought Childe. 

The waitress unfortunately chose that moment to bring Childe his glass of water. “Here you go, sir, and the bill, whenever you’re ready,” she said with a bow, before returning to the kitchen.

The moment was more or less ruined. However, Childe now had another conundrum on his hands–

“Ah, I seem to have forgotten my wallet.”

Childe stared blankly at Morax for a moment. He forgot his wallet? Isn’t he the one who makes all the mora in the first place? It’s named after him, for Archon’s sake.

Or– this could be a good opportunity to show off my Harbinger funds! I bet if I pay for dinners, he’ll invite me out again. Which would be good for the mission.

Childe glanced at Morax’s shimmering eyes, which were filled with an expression that Childe would be mistaken to call fondness, but that he didn’t quite want to call anything else.

Yeah. The mission.

──────── ✧ ────────

That night, while Childe was organizing his things in the apartment, he decided to put together a game plan for how he would go about gathering information on Morax.

After a few minutes of brainstorming, he had come up with a plan, which he opted to call Tartaglia’s Five-Step Plan for Defeating Morax. The name was a work in progress, he admitted, but it wasn’t like he would be telling the Tsaritsa about it. She just needed to know the steps. 

Step One: Befriend him. He would like to say he was already making progress there, but he’d only known him for one day, so it was doubtful Morax thought much of him one way or another yet.

Step Two: Let him know Childe knew he was Morax without revealing his own agenda as a Harbinger. This step might be one of the harder ones, but Childe was a Harbinger, and he’d done plenty of more difficult things in his career.

Step Three: Court him. Childe knew this might take some explaining to the Tsaritsa, but really, what better excuse did he have to be with him twenty-four seven? Really, it was only logical. Harbingers were known for being logical, never emotional. Surely her Majesty would trust him on this. 

Step Four: Find a weakness to exploit. He knew there was no way he could beat Morax in a fair fight (even if the idea was extremely appealing), so he would need to find a way to get an advantage over him.

Step Five: Steal his Gnosis and bring it back to her Majesty. She would forgive him for anything he was forced to do during Step Three if he got the Gnosis in the end, and it would prove to her that he was loyal to the Fatui’s cause. Besides, he was pretty sure archons were fine without their Gnoses, if Barbatos’ situation was anything to go off of.

Chide finished penning his letter to the Tsaritsa, and slipped it into the box of trinkets for his younger siblings. He knew Pulcinella went through his mail, and while he may have been a politician at heart, he was nothing if not loyal, and would definitely make sure the Tsaritsa got his message. Besides, it was safer than sending it on it’s own, as while a box of toys may not intrigue the sailors enough to risk their lives looking through, a letter to the Tsaritsa directly from one of her Harbingers absolutely would be. Childe packed up the box, slid it under his desk, and got into bed, going to sleep expecting dreams plagued by the usual death and destruction, but ending up with visions of something arguably much, much worse– the Geo archon and his amber eyes overflowing with something that couldn’t be kindness.

[aminiatureworld]

Return to Me

Characters: Albedo, Scaramouche, Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 4,538

Warnings: Violence, Minor villain death

Premise: What is it like when the one you most adore becomes a stranger? And how’re you supposed to pick up the pieces?

In which the reader loses their memory.

Author’s Note: Just a note that this is not how actual amnesia works, and if you’re experiencing memory loss please contact your doctor.

That being said the amnesia is really good for angst and pining so how could I resist? It’s one of those guilty pleasure tropes I like to read and think of so I hope I did it justice.

Albedo

Albedo loved two things in this world, alchemy and you. They were what kept him centered, what kept him sharp and curious and full of life. So how could it be that one of those things should cause him such great unhappiness, and that said unhappiness should be the other’s suffering?

It had been a dangerous experiment, from the beginning Albedo was well aware of that. Testing whether or not elemental energy contained traces of elements via water could yield incredibly useful results about magic’s interaction with the ordinary world. But it could also backfire massively. Noxious gases, explosions, anything was possible.

But he’d thought he was prepared. After all you two had hiked all the way to the edges of Windrise specifically so no one would be around, and Albedo had even put up a barrier with the express intention of keeping anyone from getting hurt. It should’ve been fine, everything should’ve been fine, and yet when the Electro Slime condensate hit the water and the explosion knocked you both off your feet, slamming into the ground three meters from where you’d originated, he could only wonder how things had gone so wrong.

Picking himself up after a few agonizing seconds, every bone and muscle in his body stiff and aching from the sudden impact, Albedo crawled over to where you lay. To his horror you appeared to have hit a rock, and your head was bleeding slightly. Cupping your face in his hands the alchemist rasped out your name. The relief he felt when you opened your eyes was only momentary, replaced by shock and a sense of utter emptiness when you made out a groggy: “Who are you?”

Electro slime elements appear to contain no small amount of Chlorine, which, combined with only the hydrogen as a result of the electricity splitting the water molecules apart, caused an explosion. Although normally Albedo might��ve been thrilled by the discovery of an element only found mixed in the natural world, now he could only look upon that experiment with a raw sort of hatred that he hadn’t known he’d possessed. The ice around the alchemist’s heart had been burned away, and now all that remained was a burnt and shriveled up little thing, determined to make up for the lack of emotions by throwing its owner into the pits of despair.

Albedo spent all his time at first in the hospital and then in the apartment you two shared. You’d made an offhanded remark about how empty it looked, and Albedo had smiled awkwardly, not having the heart to tell you he could barely look at a piece of science equipment without a deep sense of loss. The doctors had said the effects should fade with time, but Albedo knew that there had been magic in the air, and a sick, twisted part of himself jeered that he was holding onto false hope.

It didn’t help that Albedo had been absolutely unprepared for the reality in which you couldn’t remember a thing about him, or your relationship. Never again would you rush up to him as you had before, excitement in your eyes and questions in your head. Memories of gathering crystal flies in the sunset and staying up all night, notes on old ruins swapped with sweet kisses and phrases that meant nothing at all, the beach where Albedo had sketched you for the first time and you had given him your first gift, all that was nothing to you, the stories of a stranger told by another.

“The first gift you gave me was a flower preserved in a solution of Cryo.” You said, words awkward and unsure in your mouth. Albedo knew that you weren’t really remembering it.

“That’s right,” he replied, voice light and calm, trying desperately to keep the despair from showing on his face. “It was a Cecilia. You said that it looked as if it was made of snow.”

“It sounds beautiful,” you replied, speaking more to yourself than to him, “I wish I could remember it.”

“You will someday, I’m sure of it.” He smiled, but the movement felt like too much effort to keep up and soon his face collapsed once more into an expression of melancholy. As if noticing this you smiled slightly in turn.

“Does it still exist?”

“Yes,” Albedo gazed out the window that faced you two. Beyond the buildings, only a few streets away lay his laboratory, locked away and gathering dust, “it does, but I cannot get it right now.”

“Oh,” you seemed at a loss for words, glancing down towards your hands, “that’s alright. I’d rather remember it on my own anyways.”

Albedo said nothing to this. Moving to place his hand on yours he paused. He was a stranger to you. This little act of comfort, all the little gestures he’d gotten so used to were now impossible. Dropping his hand to his side he moved to get you a glass of water, desperately trying to ignore the pain burning in his chest and in his heart.

_____

“Are these yours?”

Albedo placed the bag of groceries he’d just gotten on the floor. Moving over to where you were sitting, you were taking a break from adventuring until you remembered more, a decision made by the doctors for fear you’d forgotten how to control your vision. You had recently moved on from mostly sleeping to exploring your once familiar home, and now you sat curled on the couch; in your lap was a familiar book. Leaning over Albedo glanced at the page you were on.

“Yes, they’re mine. I like to sketch in my free time.”

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, running your hand reverently over the slightly stained page, “I can see the different shades in the mountain, even if it’s only a pencil drawing.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Albedo smiled to himself, the memory of that day offering him some solace, “it was quite a difficult thing to draw.”

“It had an odd name.” You scrunched your nose slightly in concentration, an expression so cute Albedo could help but let out a huff of bittersweet laughter.

“Dragonspine. That’s the name of the mountain.” Turning to put the groceries away he paused when you spoke once more.

“No. That wasn’t it. It was something else. V-Vida something.” Albedo watched, incoherent thoughts and emotions clouding his mind as you retraced the circles you’d been making on the page beforehand. Suddenly your fingers stopped and you looked up. “Vindagnyr, yes that’s it! There’s a fortress up there, a, what did you tell me they were called, a domain. And that’s the name of it.” You closed your eyes once more. “Something happened there, something to do with you. I can’t remember it, if I was there or if you told me about it before, but something’s there. Something important.”

Albedo felt as if he must’ve been dreaming. The same sort of emptiness that had filled him at the beginning of this catastrophe was there, but this time there was something else, the bitter feeling of a hope that he couldn’t be sure of filling his lungs and his mouth. He turned back towards you, teetering forward as he tried to grasp the situation.

“Yes. That’s right. Vindagnyr. The name it had before it was essentially destroyed by Durin. I met the Traveler there, a week before I met you.” He sat down on the chair adjacent to where you were sitting, memories filling his mind. “It was also the first place we performed an experiment together.”

“I’d like to go there again then.” Your face was one of open triumph and excitement, and there was something in your eyes that Albedo thought he might never see again, a sort of recognition that he thought had been lost, “I know you haven’t been to your work once. I suppose it would make sense, considering what happened, but would you take me there?”

“Of course.” Albedo’s voice was sure and solid.

“Even though I might not remember more.”

“Even then.”

You reached your hand out to the alchemist, and after a second Albedo took it. He ran his thumb over the back of your hand slightly, and you made no move to withdraw, instead squeezing his palm slightly.

You had remembered something. It wasn’t everything of course, and there was no guarantee that there wouldn’t be heartbreak up ahead, wouldn’t be frustration and sorrow and moments when hope seemed very far away. But as long as moments like this existed, Albedo could hang on. The anger and despair that had burned inside him remained, but now something stronger resided there.

And that was hope.

 Scaramouche

“Do you see them?” You whispered, raising your head slightly above the rock you were hiding under. Scowling Scaramouche made a cutting gesture with his hand.

“Yes I see them. And get back down!”

Although his tone of voice was harsher than usual you smiled a smile of understanding as you lowered yourself once more out of sight. Scarmouche took a deep breath in response, trying to control the coiling tension that sat in his stomach. Today’s mission was an unenviable one, made only worse by your presence, for Scaramouche knew these were no ordinary enemies, and though you could take care of yourself just fine there was a nagging in his head that refused to be silenced.

Your targets sat encamped up ahead, completely nondescript in appearance, although that was hardly surprising of deserters of the Fatui, especially ones of such high caliber as them.

Scaramouche’s expression twisted into a scowl of concentration once more as he thought about the moment when you two had received your orders to get rid of those who knew of the dealings of the army of the Tsaritsa, and who were certainly willing to dispose of said secrets for the right price. Although they were no doubt traitors of the worst sort and worth less than dirt, there was still something unpleasant about fighting people who had once been comrades. You’d mused it was because of the bonds of mutual struggle and culture, but Scaramouche suspected for himself it was more the annoyance of fighting people who were at least somewhat trained.

Scaramouche gave the signal and you crept once more out from behind your hiding spot. Manifesting your polearm Scaramouche could already see the well worn metal steaming. This battle was going to be bloody.

At first everything had gone well enough, being hidden on a ledge about the camp you’d managed to do a great deal of damage, made easier by their surprise and ill planned position. However things quickly began to turn sour. The ex-Fatui might not’ve had the equipment of their army days, but they retained the ruthlessness that had once made them so efficient and now made them so dangerous.

There was an odd smell running through the valley, the smell of electricity and something burning. Scaramouche stood in front of a man who had certainly once been a vanguard and a woman who appeared to have been a Cryo mage. Sweat coated their faces but Scarmouche felt cold with the thrill of battle. Electricity crackled to life in his hands and already bits of electricity were dancing on the charred and dinky armor of his enemies. What were they thinking sending a Harbinger against a pathetic group such as this? It was laughable, really.

“Such a pity that members of such an elite force are going to die like dogs.” He drawled. The woman in front of him gritted her teeth, summoning a trail of icicles which Scaramouche easily leapt over. “Is that truly your worth?” He laughed, before the calm that always came with killing washed over him. “Your best is hardly worth my worst.” Gathering electricity, Scaramouche prepared for the final, searing strike.

The man in front of him smiled a sickening sort of smile, the kind that one made only when they knew that it was the end, and then it all went wrong.

The sound of your voice was muffled by the energy approaching Scaramouche from behind, as the outline of a transparent sort of figure clipped his vision. Quickly whirling around Scaramouche was unprepared for the third ex-Fatui member, an agent who had apparently learned his skills well, bearing down on him. Raising his hands, the Harbinger was suddenly thrown aside by an unknown force. Fire made contact with lightning and the ground exploded.

Fighting to retain consciousness Scaramouche was aware of the sickly smell of burning flesh. Blinking away the confusion he glanced at the carnage around him. The agent lay haphazardly, face half obscured by a mass of flesh that must’ve once made him up but now seemed out of place. Behind him the other agents had hardly feared better, and the charred visage of mangled flesh replace what had once been arms, legs, necks. It was an unsettling view, and though Scaramouche couldn’t say it was the worst thing he’d ever seen it still left a vile taste in his mouth. How quickly a fragile little human could come undone, made into that which was unrecognizable.

Finally he fixed his gaze towards you, relieved to find that there was no apparent wounds, although that perspective shifted slightly when viewing your hands, which were covered with welts. Your fire must’ve mixed with his electricity, causing an overload of energy, and you two lying in the eye of the storm. Scaramouche looked at his own hands, and realized they were similarly reddened. Ignoring the pain he shook your shoulder. “Get up.” He let out when you finally opened your eyes.

However it was apparent very quickly that something was wrong. You eyes held no recognition in them, instead they seemed as blank and transparent as a mirror. Looking at him you furrowed your brow slightly.

“Where…” your gaze drifted towards the scraps of humanity around you and then there was nothing but screaming and a wetness on Scaramouche’s cheeks that felt suspiciously like tears.

“You need to get back to work.” Signora’s voice betrayed no sense of pity. Scaramouche was glad for it, he wouldn’t’ve been able to forgive her if there had been.

“I doubt those imbeciles need me for something as simple as the daily regime. If they do it’s their fault, not mine. I owe them nothing.”

“You owe them your work, it’s your duty as a Harbinger,” Signora’s eyes narrowed, “or have you forgotten that in your folly.”

“I’ve forgotten nothing!” Scaramouche snapped, eyes boring into those across from him. “I am well aware of what my obligations are and what they aren’t. As I said there is nothing of importance fir me right now, and I don’t wish to waste away my time with trivial matters.”

“What would our dear Tsarina think of such words,” Signora let out a dramatic sigh. Raising the glass she was drinking from to your lips she paused, “you best be careful. I cannot shelter you from your folly forever. Either you learn how to deal with this… unfortunate incident and your work, or I shall have that person thrown out into the snow.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Scaramouche’s tone was like acid and he felt for the moment as if letting go of himself wasn’t such a crime, for now there was no one to chastise him about it anymore.

“I’m warning you. Don’t forget what happens to those who cannot fulfill their duty to the Tsarina,” Signora paused, a cruel smile gracing her face, “or have you forgotten who caused this in the first place.”

It was all Scaramouche could do not to set the tent ablaze.

“Get. Out.” He commanded. Signora sighed, shaking her head and downing her drink in one go before walking out and leaving Scaramouche with the feeling of falling apart.

_______

“Do you sing?”

Scaramouche lifted his head at the sound of your voice, surprised by the question. You hadn’t said much since the aftermath of the incident, and Scaramouche hadn’t forced you to. After all it was one of the things he’d first appreciated in regards to you, you’d never forced him to talk when he didn’t want to. Now he felt the need to afford you the same courtesy, knowing that intelligence still lay behind those eyes even if recognition had disappeared. Now he put down the document he was reading, smiling wryly and shaking his head.

“No. Why would you think that?”

“Because that’s what you’re called isn’t it? Your name, one of your names. The… the Balladeer?” You said it as if it was a question, and perhaps it was. Scaramouche couldn’t think however, couldn’t think over the rushing in his ears.

“Where did you hear that?”

“I don’t know. I just heard it. Or I remembered it. But that’s who you are, isn’t it?” You smiled, and for a moment Scaramouche could almost imagine life was as it was before. “Can you sing for me?”

“No.” This conversation had happened before.

“Fine,” you shook your head, “but one day I want you to sing for me, when I remember everything, then I want you to sing for me.”

“Fine.” Scaramouche managed to get out, afraid of the rising emotions he felt, afraid they might break through his voice.

“You’re missing work, aren’t you.” You continued on, gaze piercing through him. “I can tell, I can hear people whispering about it when I go out. I’m not supposed to be here, and you’re supposed to be working. If what you told me really is what happened, you should work.”

“Ridiculous,” Scaramouche scoffed, “I can manage my own affairs. Besides,” his voice grew softer, as if he didn’t want to reveal himself to you. You were too familiar, but still a stranger, and a part of him hid behind the walls he built up around everyone else, the walls only you could climb over. “Besides, who would look after you.”

“I can look after myself.” Your answer was as confident as it had always been. “I have to, since I trust what you’ve told me about myself, about this work, this world.”

“It was you not looking after yourself that lost you your memory!” He was shouting by now, he was shouting but he couldn’t stop because if he stopped shouting he’d be crying.

“Perhaps. But it’s not looking after me to end up like the people we fought. So go to your work. And maybe one day when you come back, I’ll remember.”

He couldn’t say no to you, eventually you won. It had been that way since the beginning, you tearing down his bluffing and his empty promises. Perhaps it was what he appreciated most about you.

Every moment Scaramouche was away from you felt like he was betraying a part of himself, a part he had hid for so long. But you were right, just like before, and just like before you’d won him over with your honesty, your refusal to back down, and your view of the Harbinger for what he truly was, someone who was deep down truly afraid. That part of you remained, somehow without memory and without certainty it remained.

And if that part of you remained, well maybe some day the rest would return.

 Xiao

“Xiao look!” You let out a cry of delight as you threw yourself off the tall stone mountain, glider unfurling in a vibrant waves of color as you began circling in the air. Xiao scowled from the tree in which he was perched, unwilling to humor you in your folly.

“You’re going to be injured.” Although he hadn’t meant for you to hear that you still laughed at the comment, shaking your head as you once more carved shapes into the sky.

“It’s a lovely day for gliding! The air is so fresh and the breeze is just enough to keep you upright!”

“It’s too windy.” Xiao’s voice was flat. This was foolish, what you were doing was foolish. He could feel the currents, feel their laughter, their excitement. They were surely up to no good.

But you weren’t paying attention to that, instead you were gliding about as if you were born to fly. It was a beautiful sight, Xiao had to admit. The beauty of those immersed in what they loved. And what Xiao loved was you.

“Come on Xiao!” You called out. “Come fly with me!”

“No.”

“Oh c’mon, I know you can do it!” Screwing your face into a pout when the adeptus once more shook his head you shrugged. “Your loss.”

Xiao knew you were disappointed, but he couldn’t help it. It seemed somehow out of place for him to join you in whatever you were doing. Besides, he needed to keep track of the currents, just in case.

You dove down for a moment, and Xiao felt his stomach clench, knowing full well what you were doing, but unable to keep the worry out of his mind. And yet then you were flying up, up, up, up and though Xiao wanted to scold you, wanted to tell you to come down once more, he was rapt, in awe. You were too beautiful, and it stole his breath away.

A gust of wind came blowing through the stone monoliths and as your wings buckled and you plummeted towards the ground Xiao found that he was truly unable to breathe at all.

Perhaps it was a blessing that you were unconscious. Then you didn’t have to feel the way Xiao held onto your shoulders as if he’d never let you go, the way he gasped for the air he was supposed to be in charge of, the way his eyes were devoid of everything but fear. You hadn’t fallen so far, he told himself, you hadn’t fallen so far it was fatal. You were breathing, you were going to be fine. But he found himself unable to believe those words. If you had said them he would’ve, but there you were, a crumpled mess and he barely able to process the world around him.

Crashing onto the Inn balcony, not caring about the odd looks thrown his way, Xiao made his way upstairs. You were going to be fine. You were.

If only he could believe himself.

“They’re out of danger now.” Verr Goldet’s voice was calm, unnaturally so, and Xiao only softened a little at the knowledge, sure something had gone wrong. “But…” the innkeeper continued, confirming all of the fears Xiao had been secretly nursing.

“But.”

“But there seems to be a problem with their memory. They were very confused at first, unable to remember things such as Liyue, their duty as adventurer, this place, things like that. At first we thought it would clear, but now it seems that isn’t so. Their memory might be affected for quite a while.”

“I want to see them.” Xiao brushed past Goldet, determined to help you if this was to be your fate. But Goldet’s next words stopped him in his tracks.

“Xiao, they can’t remember you.”

At first there was the feeling of falling. And then, as Xiao vanished, there was nothing.

______

At first Xiao was determined to stay away completely. It hurt too much, hurt to think about what had happened. At first he’d managed to survive on anger, anger at the world, at you not listening to him, at himself for letting it happen. But quickly the anger faded and what replaced it was a loneliness so vast he couldn’t believe that he had managed to survive in such a way before he met you.

Still he didn’t want to go, didn’t want to see you as you were now, unaware of him and perhaps destined to remain so. How cruel fate was. It took everything he knew from him and just when he began to live again it took that to. It took away your memory, your livelihood, and for what? To punish him? It seemed unfair, so unfair.

So he’d stayed away, afraid that something would happened again to you if he were to show himself again. But the knowledge of such emotions as love is something that doesn’t fade, and Xiao found himself unable to continue on as before, finding the pain too great. He had to see you. At least to say goodbye, he had to see you. It would be unfair not to do so.

The moon was full, casting a silvery light on the landscape. Xiao drifted over towards the roof of the Inn, thankful that he was invisible, so as to not have to experience the moment your eyes reached him but you didn’t.

Your silhouette appeared quickly enough in the darkness. You seemed somewhat preoccupied, and yet there was a purpose to your step, made all the more evident by the Qingxin grasped firmly in your hand, a brethren of the other flowers which lay scattered on the railing.

“I know you’re there.” At first Xiao jumped, thinking perhaps you’d somehow managed to sense him. However he calmed down once you continued, it appeared you weren’t truly talking to him.

“I know you’re there. And I wish you’d come back,” You continued, gazing out on the landscape around you. “I don’t remember your name you see. They told me your name of course, but I wish they hadn’t, I wanted to remember it myself. It must be why you left, of course you didn’t want to see me like this. If what they said was true…” you shook your head, “I know it was true. I know that it had to have been true, that I cared for you, that you cared for me. I know because I miss you.” Xiao felt his heart pound in his chest, so loud he could barely hear you.

“I miss you so much. Isn’t that odd? I don’t know you anymore and yet I miss you. It’s as if something is missing. I mean, of course something is missing but it’s more than just the memories themselves. It’s the feeling. Like going outside without a coat on. I miss you, even if I can’t miss you because I can’t remember you I do, I miss you dearly.”

You paused, placing the flower on the railing next to the rest.

“I hope you see the flowers before they fade,” you called out softly to the dark, “and I hope one day I can look at you again. I remember you had such lovely eyes. I’d like to see them again to be sure.”

For a moment Xiao didn’t move, frozen by all he’d heard. But the minute you turned to leave he was already there, bound by the feelings he had for you, by the knowledge that continuing as he had been would kill him, would only hurt you.

“Do you remember me?” It was a silly question to ask, but he had nothing else to say. You turned towards him and smiled softly. It was true, your eyes didn’t recognize him. But there was something in your gaze nonetheless.

“Xiao.” You whispered, and the yaksha knew that he’d never be able to leave again.

[restlessfandoming]

“ice fishing” (pt. 3) (chilumi fic)

[part one] [part two] “Childe invites Lumine to the annual Snezhnayan holiday dedicated to the Tsaritsa. There, she meets his entire family, and all the conflict that comes with them.” 

warning: will get mildly suggestive in this part onwards so uhhh yea beware O///w///O

[Fic Masterlist] 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“ice fishing” (pt. 3)

The morning sunlight streamed in through the window, and Lumine cursed herself for not closing the curtains last night. 

Last night… She looked to her right, and found Childe sleeping, no clothes in sight. Her face flushed with heat as she recalled everything that happened last night. She shook her head, instead looking at his sleeping face. 

He slept absolutely still—no snoring, no twitching; if Lumine hadn’t been paying attention to the rise and fall of his chest, she would’ve thought he was dead. 

In the light of day, Lumine could see his body was covered with scars: some tiny scratches, others long, painful lines. The largest scar was to the right of his sternum, inches from his heart. Her hand lightly traced it, and Childe’s eyelids fluttered open. His eyes landed on her, and a glowing smile spread across his face. 

“Well, good morning,” he said breathlessly. He took her hand that was on his chest into his own. 

Lumine intertwined their fingers. “I’ve never seen your scars before.”

“Of course not, unless you want me to start stripping in the middle of our battles.” He winked. 

Lumine grabbed a pillow from under her and shoved it in his face. He laughed, yanking the pillow off his face.

He turned to her, fingers ghosting over her bare shoulder. “And you...you don’t have a single scratch on you.” 

“Mm, that’s because I’m not from this world,” she whispered, half-joking. 

She hadn’t told him about her origins. Only that her brother was missing and she was searching for him. Maybe it’s time I told him…

“Anybody could see that,” he mumbled sweetly against her skin where his lips were pressed on her shoulder. He planted kisses up until he reached the crook of her neck, where Lumine felt him bite down lightly. 

“Ah!” she gasped, arching her back, to which Childe immediately pulled her closer, hands gripping her waist. He lifted his head, eyes meeting hers—blue eyes burning with desire. Lumine felt herself heat up. He leaned forward to kiss her, when there was pounding on their door. 

“Ajax. Will you be cooking breakfast this morning?” Misha’s voice asked, muffled. 

He let out a frustrated laugh. “Yes, Misha. I’ll be down there soon,” he called back. After Misha’s footsteps receded, he rested his forehead on hers. “I’d better go before the whole house starves.” 

Lumine nodded, her own hunger taking over her mind. “You’d better hurry; remember we skipped dinner last night?”

“Oh yes, I remember very clearly,” he said, smirking. Lumine playfully shoved him. He chuckled. “C’mon, I know you’re starving.” 

The two got dressed and headed downstairs towards the kitchen. Upon entering the dining room, they found Misha and Alexei sitting at the table. Both the older siblings were drinking cups of steaming tea—Misha not looking towards the couple, while Alexei eyed them over the rim of his cup. 

“Your dinners are cold,” the oldest brother said, his voice sing-song. “Went off for another sparring match, you two?” 

“How obscene,” Misha muttered, taking a sip. “The little ones were asking about you two all night. Perhaps think how your actions will be viewed by the children.”  

The little ones you abandoned? Lumine wanted to ask. 

Childe put a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll make sure to tell them something, Misha.” With that, he hurried Lumine into the kitchen. 

“Why do you put up with that? I would’ve taken you for the type to get rid of them,” Lumine asked.

“The little ones already have enough going on with theirs with...Mom’s condition,” he said as he started prepping the kitchen. “A fight between their older siblings would surely mean they’d lose their idea of family love forever.”

“It seems like Alexei and Misha are ruining that already…”

Childe sighed. “If I could knock some sense into them, believe me, I would. But there are consequences for doing so.” He looked out the kitchen window. “The family has already been through a lot.”

If there was one apparent weakness of Childe’s was the fact that he would protect his family no matter what, even if it meant acting irrationally, putting up facades and lies. Even if it meant he was hurting himself in the end. And it hurt Lumine to see. 

Lumine helped him prepare breakfast until there were plates of steaming pancakes ready for the family to eat. 

“Ah, beat me to it,” Feliks said walking into the kitchen. “Ajax, you don’t need to always prepare food for us.” 

Childe shrugged. “I don’t mind. The kids like it anyways.” 

“And it saves the kitchen from being burned down by Misha.” Feliks laughed. He grabbed two plates, heading back out of the room. “I’ll bring this to Galina.” 

Lumine started heading out as well. “I’ll go wake the kids up.” She held a hand up as Childe started to get up. “You’ve already done a lot this morning.” 

Walking past the dining room, Alexei and Misha were gone from the table. Good, I don’t have to talk to them, thankfully. 

She went to Anthon’s room first. He got up quickly, and she left as he started getting ready. A good, responsible kid. Lumine thought fondly. Next, she went to Tonia’s room. Upon waking, the little girl demanded a hug, to which the traveler obliged warmly. She also helped Tonia pick out her clothes for the day before heading to Teucer’s room. Teucer took the longest to get up, but Lumine was patient with him. Like Tonia, he wanted a morning hug, which Lumine gladly gave. Soon, she successfully gathered all three of the children, sending them to the dining room where their breakfast awaited. She smiled to herself listening to them cheerfully rushing down the stairs. 

“How motherly of you.”

Lumine felt the vein pop out on her forehead. “What do you want, Alexei?” She turned, surprised to find him closer to her than anticipated. 

“You are so very hostile towards me, dear Lumine.” His face had his trademark unsettling grin. “Why is that?” 

“And you? What’s your problem?” She crossed her arms. “I don’t generally like people who are as disconcerting as you.”

He laughed darkly. “Me? Disconcerting? You say that as if you’re not involved with a Harbinger. A member of the Fatui.”

“Do I hear resentment? Are they not under the command of your ruler, the Tsaritsa herself? Something a Snezhnayan should be proud of?” 

His smile dropped, mouth pursed. “Perhaps.” 

Oh. OH. Lumine almost smiled at him. “You’re envious of your brother.”

His eyes flashed, and from under his coat, he yanked out a dagger. Lumine quickly materialized her sword, easily countering his attack. Alexei sneered at her, digging his dagger against her blade. “Not envious. At a loss.” His voice was becoming slightly frantic. “How does someone like Ajax become a Harbinger? When I—”

Lumine threw her might upwards, sending Alexei’s blade flying down the hallway. She held the tip of her sword at his throat. “Sounds an awful lot like envy to me.” 

The corner of Alexei’s mouth twitched, as if he were holding back a snarl. Then, he let out a laugh. Unstable. “How powerful. No wonder my brother has taken an interest in you.” He leaned closer, the tip of Lumine’s blade now brushing his skin. “I may have to take an interest in you myself.” 

He reached for a strand of her hair, but she turned her blade from his throat to his hand. “Absolutely not,” she said. “You abandoned your family when they needed you. I have no interest in you, not even a little bit.” Her eyes narrowed at him. “So why are you even here, Alexei? You obviously don’t care for your family.”

“So smart! Even the old man hasn’t figured it out! Though admittedly, his mind isn’t as sharp as it used to be,” he said, taking a step back to grab his dagger again. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you, unless you get in my way, dear.” He brought his dagger up to her blade, running the two edges together. “Or you can join me.”

“And what is it that do you plan on doing?”

His eyes glinted. “Taking everything that’s rightfully mine.” 

Lumine raised her blade again. “If you hurt anyone in this family, I won’t hesitate.” 

“Lumine?” Childe asked behind her, coming up the stairs. “...Alexei?”

Both sheathed their weapons, and Alexei smiled. “She’s a keeper, Ajax! Don’t let her go now,” he said, putting a hand on Childe’s shoulder as he passed him heading down the stairs. 

Childe and Lumine watched until Alexei’s figure disappeared into the dining room before turning to each other. 

“Care to explain what happened?” the Harbinger asked. 

“I think we need to stop Alexei. Get him away from here before something bad happens.” Lumine frowned. “He mentioned he has a plan of some sort. ‘To take what’s rightfully his,’ he said.” 

Childe’s eyes narrowed. “Of course. There’s no way he was here to just celebrate Lyublyu.”

“Do you think Misha’s in on it too?” 

“There’s no telling with her. Sometimes she and Alexei are at odds, other times, they can get along. Especially when it comes to their ideas about weakness.” He sighed, then came up to Lumine, embracing her. He asked, “Alexei didn’t hurt you, did he?”

Lumine hugged him back and scoffed. “Of course not. I can handle myself.” 

Childe laughed. “Yes, yes, I know, how could I forget?” He planted a kiss on the top of her head. “The kids want to go into town today; there should be some festivities in the town square.” 

“You aren’t worried about Alexei’s plans?”

“Of course I am. But the kids come first.” 

Lumine nodded. “Then we’ll go.” She felt her stomach rumble. “After breakfast.”

“Yes, I saved you the biggest plate.”

“I knew I liked you for a reason.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

[part 4]

[wesimpforxiao]

Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 8.1

Author’s Note:  As for the next few or possibly several chapters, give me some time to write them.  I want to write the Lantern Rite chapter perfectly and in order to do that I need 1. for us all to experience the in-game event so I can capture it accurately and 2. to catch up on my schoolwork because my college goes by the 10-week quarter system and we are smack in the middle of it.  Apologies for the inconvenience, but I refuse to give a sub-par Lantern Rite chapter as I believe it will be the most important in this story!!  The next one or two chapters should be released by the end of next week.

......

Only on the eve of the Lantern Rite, several days before the celebration, did Xiao come to appreciate the hours of hard work you were putting into practicing music.

He had slaughtered a band of mitachurls, hilichurls, and lawachurls near Lihua Pool when he fell into darkness.  He collapsed to his knees, struggling for breath, spots filling his vision beneath the mask.  While he had dealt with karmic debt for two thousand years, this time had to be one of the worst falters.  He knelt beneath the somber moon that bore witness to his shortcoming.

The waves of pain drove him mad and the voices drowned out the singing of the crickets and frogs.  Xiao clutched at his chest in an effort to rid himself of the agony as he wondered if it was finally his time to die and join the fallen yakshas.  His mask disintegrated as he fell to all fours.  It's fine, just breathe, he reminded himself.

It was then when he heard the tune.  

"B-Barbatos?"  The yaksha groaned despairingly as he forced himself to raise his head toward the sound.  He was being saved by the wind god for a second time--No.  That's her, he realized when he recognized the all-too familiar tune.  But the way you were playing this time...had he only heard a fraction of your practice sessions? You carried the notes so well compared to last time--

Xiao rolled over so he lie on his back, eyes meeting the glints of the stars that shone down upon him.  It was like the pain had knocked the wind out of him.  No matter.  At least he would die listening to you.  The idea was peaceful to think about.

...miss...love you...

Your faint prayers that accompanied the moonsong somehow broke through the crowded shouting of the damned and eased the heavy knot in his stomach while he gasped for air.  The tune continued to build until Xiao could only compare your talent to that of the wind archon.  It was beautiful, soft, and it fit you perfectly despite your stubborn personality that was accentuated by the harbinger's shenanigans.

The image brought a faint smile to his lips, the expression slowly widening as you played on.  Your selfless nature; the need to protect a yaksha from harm's way...Your daring eyes when you butt heads with Childe...The honey-sweet grin you reserved only for Xiao and Xiao alone.  It was  the way you carried yourself in battle, the way you interacted with strangers.  How and when you prayed to him.  Your light humming accompanied your music.

Archons, you were remarkably stunning in every way imaginable.  The yaksha failed to notice how big his smile was as a few of his tears slid down the sides of his face.  It was his own longing for you that manifested and whirled around in his chest.  Beautiful, he thought as the music continued.  So, so beautiful.  It was as if the music described yourself.  For how could he give up and die now, after falling for you?  Maybe...just maybe...Xiao allowed himself to sit in the fluffy cloud of human 'compassion' as he listened to you play.  He wouldn't dare call the emotion for what it truly was.  Not now.  Not yet.  You had to understand something before he could allow himself to love you.  Er, to care for you.  Y-yes.  That's it.  Xiao refocused his attention on your music to avoid thinking any deeper on the subject.

Yet though his mind listened to your moonsong, his heart entertained the possibility of finally admitting his lo--er, compassion for you.

He didn't notice that the pain had long faded, that the spots in his vision had cleared and that the voices of the vanquished silenced themselves.  He drifted to sleep right there in the middle of the dirt road as you played into the night, and for the first time in a long time, he slept with mind and body in peace.

................................

"Morning, Mezzetin," Childe greeted you with two mugs of hot chocolate in his hands.  He gave one to you before indulging in his while he leaned against your door.  "Sleep well?"

"I did, surprisingly.  The pain was pretty bad until I started practicing."  You rubbed your bleary eyes and let out a long yawn.  "Why do you ask?"

"You didn't call for him."

"Hm?"

"You've yelled for the yaksha every night you've been here.  You were quiet last night."

"How would you know that? Are you just constantly sitting outside my room like a creep?"  Your quip brought a smile to Childe's lips as he sipped at his mug.  

"Well then, since you're feeling well enough to banter with me, I guess I have no need to reward you for your cooperation..."

"Huh?  What do you mean, 'reward?'"  You perked up when he faked reaching for the door handle.  "Tartaglia?"  In your effort to get him to explain, you jumped out of bed and subsequently spilled your drink all over the sheets.  A jarring pain shot through your bones, but you ignored it.

"The Tsaritsa has requested I return to my post in Liyue Harbor to...discipline a few underperforming officers during the Lantern Rite.  Since I am in charge of you, I requested that you accompany me.  Her Majesty agreed."

"W-what?!"  Your sudden shout made him jump slightly.  "You...she...you're letting me return?"

"Temporarily, yes, and it is for business reasons.  We figured it would aid in your...dilemma."

"I..."  Your gaze fell to the half-empty mug in your hands.  

"You don't want to go?" The harbinger raised a brow in surprise.  "Why, I thought you'd jump at this opportunity."

"It's not that..." you trailed, your finger absently circling the rim of your cup.  "Would I...be able to roam around by myself?"

"Depends on where you want to go."  His eyes narrowed slightly and he set his cup atop your bedside table.  "You won't be able to visit Qingce Village, nor the Wanshu Inn."  He watched your shoulders drop in disappointment before continuing.  "But I will allow you to enjoy the festival."

"...Am I allowed to talk to them?  My adventure team?"

Childe let out a small sigh before nodding.  "I think it would be good for your health to see them."

"Why are you allowing me?"  It was your turn to narrow your eyes in suspicion against the harbinger.  "Wouldn't this be, you know, a risk for you guys to let me see them?  Aren't you worried about that?"

"There will be several Fatui agents in Liyue during the festival; even if you're 'alone,' one of us will always be nearby.  I don't take you as a complete idiot," he admonished.  "Besides, Mr. Zhongli knows more about adeptal blood than we do at this point.  If you manage to gather more information, that would be a plus."

"I'm not gathering information for the likes of you," you retorted, crossing your arms much like Xiao does.

"I'm not asking you as your superior, nor your captor.  I'm suggesting it as your comrade in arms."

"Ha!"  You couldn't help but let out a full laugh at the set of statements.  "You really expect me to believe that?  All you guys do is manipulate and deceive.  I don't trust a word that comes out of your mouth!"

"Even if you learn something and keep it to yourself, do it for yourself, Mezzetin.  I've realized something after you joined us."

"Oh? What could you have possibly realized?"  You rolled your eyes and returned your gaze to the window, not particularly caring about his side of the conversation and instead wishing he would just leave already.

"I realized some of my actions were not for your wellbeing, but for mine."

........................................

It was sprinkling when Childe, the Eleventh of the Fatui Harbingers, finally tracked your rescue team down in Fontaine.  It really didn't take much of an effort, which was highly disappointing considering the harbinger loved to play cat-and-mouse with his foes.  Oh well.  At least Mr. Zhongli was here; the plan wouldn't work if he hadn't accompanied Aether and the yaksha.

The harbinger stood in the shadow of a nearby tree and scouted the sheltered camp.  Besides Aether, Zhongli, and an apparently-unconscious yaksha, there were two more opponents.  Childe recognized one of them to be the wine master Diluc, but couldn't name the other one.  Maybe he was one of Mondstat's knights, judging by the way he carried himself?  Then again, he seemed to be drinking pretty heavily...

Childe glanced back a ways where a few Fatui agents were waiting for his return.  This wouldn't take long; he knew two of the adventurer's tricks, and the knight didn't look like he'd pose much of a challenge.  All he needed was to speak with Zhongli.

"I have to admit I'm disappointed for finding you so quickly," the harbinger made his presence known and stepped out of the shadows.  A chill ran down everyone's spines.

"I still can't believe you were naïve enough to get involved with the Fatui," Diluc sent an admonishing look Aether's way before summoning his broadsword.  "And hid it from me, no less."

"We're sorry!"  Paimon squeaked with her hands in the air.  "We didn't trust him completely!"

"It was my fault for allowing this to continue without your knowledge, Aether."  Zhongli rose from his seat and manifested his polearm.  "Allow me to make amends."

"I assume you're the one we're after?"  Kaeya unsheathed his sword and stood side-by-side with Diluc, much to his bro's dismay.  Despite all the wine he had consumed, he remained unusually composed.

"I've come to speak with Mr. Zhongli," Childe answered, both hands raised semi-defensively while the expression on his face was no less than that of a sly fox.  "And to retrieve the yaksha."

"We don't think so!"  Aether charged first and swung his blade through the air.  It collided against the well-known hydro blades of the harbinger before parrying off.  

Next was Diluc, whose flaming weapon created steam as it sliced through Childe's blades.  His attacks were slower than Aether's, but the amount of power coming from them nearly made the harbinger flinch both in hesitation and in excitement.  It was then that Xiao's eyes had opened slightly before he lost consciousness again.  Kaeya lunged forth and used his skill to send a burst of ice at the harbinger in an effort to freeze him in place.

Childe barely dodged, one blade freezing over.  "Tch."  The last thing he needed was to deal with a cryo user in this weather.  He was already at a disadvantage by wielding a hydro vision in normal circumstances.  His hydro burst threw everyone backwards, and he switched to his delusion.  

Electricity surged through the camp as everyone got to their feet and readied themselves for an onslaught of electro attacks.  None came; instead, the harbinger stared straight at Zhongli, who remained reserved and unbothered as he pointed the tip of his lance at him.  "This is your only warning, Childe," the archon spoke in an especially deep voice.  "Return her to us, or suffer the consequences."

"I only came to speak with you, Mr. Zhongli," Childe's eyes narrowed beneath his mask.  "As much as I'd love to indulge in a fight, I came here with a proposition.  Would you hear me out?"

Everyone's eyes turned expectantly to the archon, and he returned their gazes before allowing his polearm to disintegrate.  "Lower your weapons," he ordered much to everyone's dismay.

"But Zhongli!  He could trick you!" Paimon reappeared before the consultant.  "You can't--"

"Relax, Paimon," Zhongli quietly assured.  "I may not have a gnosis, but a harbinger is still by no-means what I perceive to be troublesome in battle."  He followed Childe a few meters away so the group was unable to hear them.

Childe shifted his mask to its resting place on the side of his head.  "There may be a way to retrieve her," he started in a quiet voice.  "But it would only be possible if you declare war against the Tsaritsa."

"Tell me, Childe, why should I trust you after you breached our trust?"

"You can't, but I trust that we all have our comrade's best interests in mind, no?   If you're able to rally the people of Teyvat, the Tsaritsa may yield.  Her Majesty has no interest in declaring war against the mortals as you are already aware."

It was a fitting task for the God of War; declare a world war against the Tsaritsa, and she'd yield without calling his bluff.  Even so, the former archon was not convinced.  Childe would need to up his charming façade.  He was only lying for your own safety after all; he'd back you into joining the harbingers, and you'd be free of the Fatui's grasp in the outside world.  You wouldn't be hunted for the rest of your life; you could live freely in your captors' backyard.  The suffering you were being thrown into now would last a lifetime if you continued to resist.

Some part of the harbinger knew it was a twisted form of compassion--dare he call it love--for you.  He needed you to free yourself both of the Fatui's and Xiao's grasps.  The only way to do that would be to recruit you, but you weren't so easy to convince.  You wouldn't be in danger of getting hurt by his subordinates his way.  You wouldn't hurt yourself by chasing after Xiao if Childe stepped in either.  He didn't care that it was selfish of him to step between your struggling romance.

What better way to keep you safe, mentally and physically, than to break you into submission?

The two opposing forces continued their hushed discussion for twenty more minutes before Zhongli broke away from Childe.  He was about to fill the group in on the details when Childe attacked him from behind.

[jeonsmots]

I haven't forgiven you yet

childe x reader

warning(s): perhaps a little ooc childe?, mild angst, getting stung by electro, semi-happy ending

[a/n]: hii! his is my first work so it's bound not to be perfect but I really hope you enjoy! and if you have any requests send them in my inbox (read the rules first tho) and have a fun time here

[not proofread!]

masterlist

request rules

You thought you knew ajax well, you thought you knew Tartaglia well

However, you didn't know Childe

Working with the traveler was going to be difficult but you thought you were up to the task

Turns out

Maybe you weren't

__________________

You opened the doors to the golden house.

You look around to see no other but ajax standing there.

Calming down a little, you close the doors to turn to him again

“What are you doing here, it's dangerous to be here” you tell him walking closer

“You're still trying to get me out of danger y/n?” he chuckles as he turns around to face you

His eyes that usually shine so bright when he talks to you are now filled with greed and the longing for power.

His usually more happy personality switched out with a dark and frightening one.

His weapons reflect the lights of the house.

No matter how hard you try you can't find ajax in him

It's like looking at a hollow version of someone you care about

Unsure what to do you take out your sword reluctantly

He looks at you in disappointment as you tighten your grip on your sword

“And here I thought you wouldn't be a problem to my plans” he sighs

Only looking at him in shock, you're unable to move.

“but it seems like I have one last problem to get rid off” he says with a smirk

Ajax starts plunging towards you before you could process what he said

He pushes you to the ground

“I thought you would be more of a challenge than this”

You quickly sit up and get on your feet again

Quickly raising your blade to attack him as he just looks at you like you're nothing

His eyes are as emotionless as they could get.

You try to get him, swinging your sword closer and closer to him but no matter what you try he still has the lead on you

You know that you could never win against him, his control over his weapons and his vision is far superior to you

So why do you keep trying to beat him? He could kill you right now if he wanted to, so why do you keep wanting to fight your fate?

You charge up your electro vision to use against his

But what you didn't expect was ajax pulling you down to the ground again into a wet poodle right below you, taking your now fully charged vision with you.

You fall to the ground and shout in pain as the water stings you everywhere, more painful with every touch it gets with your skin

You see through your watery eyes that he's walking closer to the dragon statue

“Why are you doing this Aja-”

“Childe”

“Why?” you ask in the most sincere voice you can as you sit up despite the pain

“Tsaritsa’s orders” he answers sternly

“and tsaritsa’s orders are prioritized over any personal relationships” he turns to look at you

You just sit there looking in his eyes hoping that there's still a hint of ajax left in them

To your disappointment, it looks like he's gone.

“I know I'll never win this fight against you, but i at least thought you actually cared enough about me to not try and kill me” you laugh as you look at him

“I actually loved you”

You watch as his features soften slightly for a few seconds

“Well i still do but it means nothing now right? I am simply just a problem to get rid off”

“I just didn't think it would be at the hand of someone i love” you smirk

You see as his grip on his weapon gets tighter as he runs towards you.

That's the last thing you remember saying to him.

______

You slowly opened your eyes and got shocked by the bright light aimed right at your face.

adjusting to the brightness you look around to see that you weren't at the golden house anymore

You were at Bubu pharmacy

Laying on the table of the now-closed pharmacy

You sit up with your legs now on the floor.

You see a figure in the corner of your eye, turning around to see aether sitting beside you fast asleep.

as you turn away from the traveler

you meet eyes with Zhongli looking at you with concern in his eyes

"he's been dealt with" he looks at Aether

You see a few new bandages all over Aethers body and sigh

"but are you sure you're rested and treated enough to go out again?" he turns his eyes back to you

"I'm unsure"

You look out at the pavilion you've gotten so used to and widen your eyes as you see a familiar tall ginger walking towards Zhongli

"is he doing alright?" childe asks looking at aether

"I think he will be doing better if you leave" you calmly as your body can't produce a louder voice for you

The ginger turns his head to look at you and when he meets your eyes the only thing you see is regret in his own. Quickly turning your gaze towards Zhongli before returning to childe

You sigh before opening your mouth

“I haven't forgiven you childe”

The hope in his eyes slowly fading away

“But”

“Give it time, I'm sure we can work through what happend between us” you send him a little smile that makes his cheeks turn light pink

You feel movement at the edge of the table as you turn to see aether had woken up

“You guys made up?” he asks as he stretches his arms out

“Yeah, you could say that, right? childe?”

no answer

“ajax?”

[philliamwrites]

killing me softly with his song | (Childe / Reader) [chpt.02]

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairing: Childe / Reader

Tags: #fem!reader, #from childhood friends to lovers, #reader is a fatui agent, #slow burn, #unresolved sexual tension, #mature language, #forbidden love

Words: 3.5k

Summary: "Lybuov zla, polyubish i kozla,“ sighs your sister as she wipes off the table, but that makes you feel even more miserable. Falling for a goat might save you from an actual heartbreak by Tartaglia’s hands.

Notes: Part 1

Masterlist

Chapter 2

At the barracks’ canteen reigns the unspoken rule that no one is allowed to cook borsch, and trying to do so is punished by cleaning all windows with cold water only in the middle of the night. Can’t see anything because the nights at the outskirts of Zapolyarny are blacker than out in the taiga? Tough luck. There are so many different recipes as there are families out there, and everyone has their very own way to make it. Fatui agents have brought each other to the hospital wing over fighting which recipe is the best, therefore a couple of years before Tartaglia and you enrolled, this rule was established.

Sitting out in the cold of Jaroslawk at four in the morning, you’d kill for a hot bowl of your mamochka’s borsch—the best in Morepesok even though Tartaglia begs to differ, but the only problem with his claim is that he is fucking wrong.

Through your binoculars you see everything is quiet and dark on the other side of the compound, which is a good sign. Unfortunately, good also means very boring. You’ve been lying in the exact same position for nearly three hours now: on your belly, elbows slightly propping your upper body to see the Baron’s estate that’s embraced by a forest like a mother cradling its child. Tales have it if you make even one little mistake inside those cold brick walls, Baron Igor would personally see to it that you don’t leave these woods alive and whatever his hellish guard dogs don’t finish eating up, his servants would send to your family as a small parting gift and warning to get as far and fast away as possible.

If only he were as thorough covering his tracks as he is scaring people, but Baron Igor has never really excelled at multiple things and now, months after the first little bird brought some interesting insight, you can’t wait for Baron Igor to finally slip and confirm the rumours about him selling information on one of Il Dottore’s gun research labs to a spy from Sumeru. Intel has it exchanges usually occur once every full moon and with the orb now hidden behind thick, black clouds, this is the last chance to get some evidence before the ship leaving to Sumeru carries whoever deserves a knife in their windpipe back to their God of Wisdom.

Baron Igor has messed up, got too arrogant, and now you and your team are here to make sure he eats up his mess. It wasn’t easy to infiltrate his mansion. Mitsuki only passed because you took out two of the other contesters for one of the Baron’s favourite restaurants down in Nowobirsk. That man bows to greed and when introduced to the place’s new maître d’hôtel—the best of his kind, the most exotic to own during their flimsy ceasefire with Inazuma—Baron Igor acted swiftly and hired him. Mitsuki had gagged at those words while lieutenant Scaramouche had shown the patience of a man barely holding himself back from violence. Two days later, Mitsuki took his position as spy and head waiter of the Baron’s personal restaurant taking up the whole second floor in the right wing of his stone mansion.

“Fuck me, I look like a penguin,” Mitsuki had said on the night before his work began at the estate, glaring at himself in the mirror dressed in a sharply tailored tuxedo.

“Then we know who to call if Baron Igor decides to open a zoo,” Mikhail had said, but he was in no hurry to turn away his appreciative gaze from how tight Mitsuki’s black pants tugged his slim legs and ass.

That’s the team, Mitsuki, you and Mikhail—Lock, Shock and Barrel, one of your fellow division’s comrade likes to call you for unknown reasons, simply laughing to himself and shaking his head as if trying to get rid of a good memory. Though for all that Scaramouche is concerned, to him you’re triple double and a clusterfuck he doesn’t want anywhere near him or so help him Her Majesty the Tsaritsa, he’ll stake your heads and scatter your remains to the seagulls terrorising the coast of Port Odessa.

“He loves us,” Mikhail likes to joke, even though you aren’t sure the words love and Scaramouche should be used in one sentence.

“One day, he’ll kill one of us with his bear hands and feel nothing,” Mitsuki commonly remarks, sounding like whatever you’d do to receive such a punishment is probably ghastly enough to justify being murdered.

“His hat is pretty neat,” is usually your only contribution and they both look at you as if you’re crazy.

“Any movement?” a voice asks from your right. Mikhail shakes still fresh snow from his head and shoulders as he dugs under the narrow doorway, looking like a puppy trying to shake itself dry. Now that a year has passed since a Geo Vision user crushed his right arm and healers had to amputate it to save his life, he’s adapted pretty well to only one arm and hand at his disposal. He’s balancing a cup in his palm while holding two paper bags with his fingers and somehow makes it look easy. He rejoins you at the window, carefully placing the steaming cup and one bag in front of you. You hand him your binoculars so he can see for himself, and inspect your breakfast. “Do I even want to know where you found,” you peak inside the bag, “pirozhky at a time like this?”

“Couple of blocks down there’s this place. Really nice lady, gave me one for free and added a little extra to our coffee.”

You take a sip, and instantly begin coughing and pounding your chest as it goes down burning. “Archons, that’s disgusting. Who in their right mind puts Fire-Water in their coffee?”

“I know, right?” Mikhail beams. “It’s genius.”

It’s ghastly. You take another sip. Horrible, really. But it keeps you warm and awake. So maybe it isn’t that bad at all.

While Mikhail observes the area, you dig into your beef and onion pirozhky. There’s nothing fun about pulling an all-nighter but sometimes sharing a cup of coffee and eating warm food helps to get through them. Also knowing someone suffers with you. Sharing pain is gain, after all.

“Well, they sure like taking their sweet time,” Mikhail mumbles, getting a little more comfortable on the cold stone ground. He puts the binoculars away and digs into his own food. “What are we gonna do if nothing happens today?”

“Then we’ll come back next month and do it all over again.” Hopefully you don’t have to. Fyrva’snezh was two weeks ago but this winter started off particularly brutal. Two out of three units are still missing from their outskirts training and you don’t want to be in the poor lasses’ and lads’ shoes who are still at the infirmary recovering from severe hypothermia. “What worries me more is that Mitsuki might lose his sanity if he stays there another whole month.”

“Well, what doesn’t kill him makes him stronger,” Mikhail says, wiping his greasy fingers off his pants. “I just want to wipe that smug smirk off the Baron’s pig face.”

He and probably every citizen populating Jaroslawk. “Once Mitsuki locates the communication point, we’ll go in and neutralise the target if we can’t catch him alive,” you say. “Baron Igor will try and weasel his way out of it but so far all evidence stands against him. The rest is up to Her Majesty.” And the Tsaritsa is known for many things, but mercy isn’t one of them. That will show anyone else trying to make business behind her back.

“Do you really think Mitsuki will endure another month in that stupidly tight uniform?” Mikhail sounds like he very much wished for another month out in the cold like this if it meant Mitsuki would bless him for a while longer wearing his uniform.

You stretch your leg and kick him in his shin. “Don’t jinx this, Nozhyalensky,” you say. “No matter how good his ass looks in those pants, it isn’t worth freezing your own ass off out in this cold. If we have to extend our mission, I’m going to steal your coat and own it for the whole time.”

“You don’t care if I freeze to death?”

“I really don’t.”

He puts his hand on his heart in mock despair. “That’s harsh.”

It would be his own fault, no hard feelings. You sit in silence, sharing your scalding hot coffee. In the mansion on the other side, a light flickers on in the east wing. Mikhail shifts and makes a disgusted grunt. “I did not want to know the Baron is banging the Duchess of Pavlovich.”

“Might be good leverage in the future.” You quickly dot it down in your notebook, squinting at the barely illuminated page. “Especially if the Duke refuses to pay his taxes again. I’m sure we can get to him through her.”

More minutes pass in silence. Mikhail continues his watch while you start to mindlessly doodle a little Foul Legacy Child in the corner of your page. You wonder what time it is in Liyue. Is Childe also out on a mission or tugged in and sleeping well in a land that knows nothing of harsh winds and freezing nights. Does he spare a thought of home? Is he missing you as much as you miss him or has he already filled the gnawing void with faceless, warm women that comfort him at night?

“Heard anything from our comrades in Liyue?” Mikhail asks nonchalantly, but he’s always been the poorest liar of you three and it’s pretty obvious where this conversation is going. Part of you hungers for that conflict.

“They still can’t find whoever killed the Geo Archon. But Lord Childe might have located the Gnosis and has begun his infiltration.”

Chances are good he might succeed in another month or so, though from the letters you’ve received so far, it sounds like he might succeed fucking the consultant of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor before that. Tartaglia has never started anything serious with guys before, safe from occasionally drunk making outs, but new cultures could change a lot in you and it’s Tartaglia’s first time staying for so long in Liyue and meeting a man like this so called Zhongli.

Mikhail clicks his tongue in disgust. “I can’t believe this guy is over there for three months already and is still nowhere near finishing the job.” He spits at the ground and twists his mouth in a very familiar manner of annoyance—only usually this expression is meant for initiate Fatui members who can’t tell a shotgun from a sniper rifle.

“How can you still be mad at him for handing you your ass three years ago,” you say. A man’s ego is such a frail thing, thank the Tsaritsa for being a strong, independent woman.

“This isn’t about that stupid fight,” Mikhail splutters, red blotches creeping up his neck. His inability to lie is abysmal. “I don’t get how you stand that guy. His arrogance needs its own giant room to fit inside. Someone needs to knock him down a peg or two and maybe beat out this need to whore around as well—”

You move in a flash. Mikhail doesn’t have any time to react before he finds himself on his back, pinned down by your weight with a knife to his throat. “Mikhail, I love you like my own kin and you know I’d take a bullet for you any time,” you growl. “But speak another filthy word about Childe and I will cut off your tongue and feed it to street dogs while watching you bleed out like a slaughtered pig. Are we clear?”

You feel Mikhail’s chest rising and falling under your spread hand, his body warm, proof of his life. How easy it would be to take it from him, to warm the cold, dirty ground with his blood.

Mikhail’s dark eyes don’t give away anything. He’s holding very still, like a cornered animal faced with its hunter; don’t move and maybe it thinks one is dead. Eventually, he says quietly, “If you could see what an unlikeable, unpleasant person he really is, maybe...” He doesn't finish. There is no need to. You know very well what point he’s trying to make.

“I don’t need your supervision,” you say. “Or your pity.”

Mikhail barks a loud, humourless laugh. “Lassie, if I had an ounce of pity left for anyone else than myself, I wouldn’t be very good at this job, would I?”

You shift your weight. Mikhail groans as you put pressure on a wound a Pyro Vision user inflicted on him a week ago that hasn’t fully healed yet—a favour for Mikhail to prevent him from following his train of thought. You don’t know what is worse: His unrequited love for Mitsuki or Tartaglia and you knowing what you both want but can’t have.

Mikhail quietly says your name and gently lowers your hand. The sharp knife has bit into his skin just enough to leave a fine, red line on his throat. “All I’m saying is, I am not the bad guy here.”

He is right, of course. But that makes it even worse, because without a bad guy, who could you put blame on? Who would be the target of your frustration and your scorn? Who would pay for countless sleepless nights wasted alone or in a stranger’s arms?

If there is no good, no bad side, no villains or heroes to put blame on, what does that leave for you? Just the law. It is hard, but it is the law.

There is no one but yourself who carries the burden. Even knowing Tartaglia goes through the same doesn’t soothe the pain steadily growing in your heart. You’re like two stars gravitating to each other, seeking the sweet collision to finally become one and create something bigger, the most exquisite light in the endless black galaxy, but whenever you manage to come close to each other, other forces pull you apart.

You shift your position from towering above him to slumping back on Mikhail’s lap, your anger deflated like a balloon.

“Arguing with you is no fun,” you mumble, sheathing the knife back in its place inside your boot.

Mikhail arches one dark brow. “Learnt from the best. You don’t want to get into an argument with my mama.”

“Are you two leaving me out from a team bonding session?” comes a static voice from your left.

“Darling, we would never leave you out from a potential threesome,” Mikhail says back, a wicked grin flirting with his mouth.

“Blergh,” you groan in disgust and roll off him, grabbing for the plastic piece from where Mitsuki’s voice has sounded; Il Dottore’s newest invention, a voice transmitter agents use for long distance communication.

“So, how’s it cooking, good looking?” Mikhail asks, ignoring your eyes rolling back. “Anything new at the front?”

Mitsuki is silent for a moment. Somewhere, a dog barks. “I think someone might have tipped the Baron off.”

Immediately, you feel Mikhail's body tense next to you. “Do you need us to come in?”

Oppressive silence fills the room. Mikhail jerks, but before he can jump to rash actions, you grab his arm hard enough to bruise. He freezes, and you both stare at the voice transmitter in Mikhail’s hand.

A moment later, static crackles, and Mitsuki says, “I received a note on the caviar shipment. Roads are all clear, it should come in around seven in the morning.”

Mikhail relaxes, but a sweat bead rolls from his temple and disappears behind his black turtle neck sweater. He sags against you, exhaling very loudly.

A couple of years ago, after you three had been working together and hadn’t tried to kill each other as often as other teams, you guys had decided to come up with your own secret language for times like these. Mikhail had first complained about the hours put into learning it the most—the semantics always changing depending on what line of work you’d infiltrate—but eventually even he had agreed it was a pretty neat trick. What Mitsuki has said simply means all is in order and the mission is proceeding smoothly.

“Little fucker,” Mikhail grumbles, ruffling his own hair just to keep his hand busy. You agree. It feels like you’ve aged five years in those last five minutes.

That relief is short lived. A small explosion from the right wing inside the mansion lights up the night like a firework show. Mikhail is out of the window in a flash. You grab your rifle, keeping an eye on him as he crosses the street in a flash and climbs over the iron gate.

Two shadows tumble through the hole in the second floor. You sway your scope, laying eyes on Mitsuki as he wrestles with a cloaked figure. Purple sparks fly, clashing with crimson flames that rise skyward and turn into black smoke. At least something is according to plan even though your Cryo Vision would be more effective.

You watch them fight for a moment, unable to get a clear shot as both are short distance fighters. Mitsuki moves quicker than a flash, whirling two hatches over his head, parrying a deathly bow from the Sumeru’s Claymore. Mitsuki is smaller than most of his comrades. People like to underestimate him, but that’s part of the fun, according to him. Proving people wrong. He dodges another swift strike, rolling out of the way and giving you a clear sight at your target. But over his shoulder, Mitsuki catches your eyes and gives the tiniest shake of his head. Not yet.

You wish he could see the stingy eye you’re giving him right now. You’ve waited long enough out in this cold and your whole body shakes with the need to move, the need to fight. A quick look to Mikhail shows he’s fending off two of the Baron’s guards himself. Luckily, they can’t really hold their stand against a fully trained Fatui agent. He quickly takes out his opponents, closing in on Mitsuki and the Sumeru agent. Mitsuki has driven him to the edge of the forest. So that’s his plan. You wait until the spy is right beneath a long, thick branch, then pull the trigger. The shot is muffled by the silencer, slicing through the air with infused Cryo power. It hits its target, cutting the branch off. The Sumeru spy is too slow. When the branch buries him under its weight, Mikhail finally catches up to Mitsuki, and through your scope you can see him patting Mitsuki down for injuries. Mitsuki pushes him away, not hard or in a mean way, just enough to signal this isn’t the time. The job isn’t done yet.

Mitsuki advances the spy and kneels, looking for signs of life. He looks up, his dark eyes searching your scope. He holds your gaze, picking up his voice transmitter.

“I have good and bad news,” he says. “The spy is still alive, so we’ll get our answers. But now I’m pretty sure the Baron knows what’s going on.”

“Then don’t just stand there, someone go after him, quick!” you yell in your transmitter.

Before Mikhail dashes off, you hear him curse. “Lord Scaramouche is going to kill us.”

He will, considered this was supposed to undergo without the Baron noticing anything.

* * *

Dear little tygress,

forgive my horrible handwriting. I am still shaking from all the laughter your last letter gave me. Zhongli-xiansheng was actually worried for my wellbeing because I had choked on air and almost died. I swear, you will kill me one day, little tygress.

Speaking of little and potential lethal beasts, I’m surprised Scaramouche didn’t use your head as a toilet plunger. I really do think he's fond of you, little tygress. Any other team would be six feet under by now. You have to tell me your secret once I’m back. Scaramouche still doesn’t know I broke his favourite, ugly cup with the bear on the front from Fontaine, and I want to be prepared once he knows.

Everything is the same in Liyue, and at the same time, everything is changing. Rex Lapis’ murder is still unsolved, and I do enjoy watching the little traveller boy run around looking for answers. Once I return with the Geo Archon’s gnosis, dinner will be on me.

How are things at home? I hope Tonia hasn’t finished all mooncakes by herself again and saved some for the rest of the bunch. I can’t bear to hear Anthon cry again about me only sending sweets to Tonia and Teucer. Has the old man gotten in touch with you? He still doesn’t reply to me, but mama says he’s reading the letters. Maybe a bottle of Liyue’s Baijiu will loose his tongue, or hand for that matter. It’s almost as good as Fire-Water, promise.

Till next time and don’t get too much on little ‘Mouche’s nerves, otherwise there will be no room left for me.

Yours, Red Fox

__________________________________________________

please drop by my ko-fi if you enjoyed my writing!

[firexfate]

the black sparrow || reign

♔ nine ~ strange occurances ♔

“You have been found guilty of treason, Count Sokolov for conspiring against the crown. How do you plead?” One of the Tsar’s advisors was reading out a document, before looking at the man before them, chained and held back by a few guards. Alisa felt her heart clench at the sight of the man, who was bleeding profusely on the floor. He was bruised and was twitching and grunting in pain. Anyone could tell that this man has been in the torture chambers, which is what the Tsar ordered before having him executed. The man said nothing, unable to utter a coherent sentence with him suffering. 

“His silence speaks for all of us.” The Tsar’s voice thundered throughout the hall. “He shall be condemned to death.” The guards holding him bowed low, proceeding to drag the man out of the room. 

“Wait,” Tsar Ivan Vasilyevich turned around to his daughter, a cold smile unfurling over his face, “Come, Alisochka.” Alisa swallowed, as she picked up the skirts of her dress and walked towards her father, curtsying low before him. Her whole body began to tremble. Ivan took out his sword and beckoned her forward. 

“My father gave this to me around your age. I was twelve,” He smiled faintly at the memory, “He told me to use this in the direst circumstances. This is fairly dire, wouldn't you agree? A treasonous act as this should not go unpunished. Am I wrong?” His voice became deadly as it dropped to a whisper. Alisa swallowed hard, frightened, before shaking her head.

“N-No, sire.” Ivan nodded. 

“I am glad you see reason.” He handed the sword to her. “Kill him.” The whole hall went dead silent. No one gasped. Everyone knew better than to defy the mad Tsar. Alisa drew in a shaking breath, as she took the sword fingering it. She was terrified. She never killed anyone in her life before. How could her father be so cruel and ordering her to kill him? As if reading her thoughts, Ivan leaned forward close to his daughter, a hand on her shoulder. Alisa bit her lip as he did so; he was squeezing her shoulder blade so tight, it was painful. 

“He is a traitor to the Almighty Empire. A threat to my rule. You will be the next Tsaritsa of Russia, Alisa. You want to be a good Queen now, do you?” His tone turned darker with every word. His eyes were almost black. Alisa nodded, her whole form shaking. 

“Y-Yes, sire.” 

“Then, get rid of this scum and let him bleed to death on the floor as a reminder to anyone who dares try to do something of this nature.” Alisa took the sword in her hands, clutching the hilt of the sword, as she walked up to the men. She prepared to strike him, pausing for a moment, turning to look at her father. The familiar prickling, burning sensation of tears. Ivan relaxed in his seat nodding once. 

“You know what to do. Don’t disappoint me.” Alisa knew all too well what that meant. If she did not do as he asked, he would abuse her, beat her until she had a bruise and bled, as punishment. She turned around to face the man, shutting her eyes once. 

“Please God, forgive me.” She stabbed the man fatally in the stomach, a bloodcurdling scream of agony breaking through her lips. 

Alisa shot up from her bed, gasping for breath. She wrapped her arms around her stomach, rocking herself back and forth, burying her face in between her legs, trying to breathe. Every single time, the dreams of her father and her life in the Russian Court plagued her. Every nightmare was worse than the ones she had before. She wished they would go away, but they did not. Alisa raised her head up, taking a gulp of air, as she tried to calm herself. The sun was just about to rise, and the sky seemed to be clear. Outside, a few birds were chirping their usual wake-up call. Alisa managed to drag herself out of bed and slip out of her chambers. She did not know exactly where she was going, her mind was in a complete daze as she walked. But somehow, her body knew exactly where she wanted to be at the moment, as she paused in front of Francis’s room. She knocked on the door shakily. 

“Enter.” Francis’s voice was inviting and very much awake. Alisa opened the door and walked inside. She let out a breath of relief as she saw him; she departed to her chambers early that night and did not even encounter him after his triumph over Tomás. She approached him slowly with a slight smile. 

“They told me you came back without a scratch last night. Are you alright?” Francis smiled warmly. 

“Thanks to you. You saved Miguel from a terrible fate. Mary told me everything that has happened when you left for your room.” 

“And you saved Mary’s life, by killing Tomás.” Alisa reminded him quietly. 

“It was a teamed effort, and I am glad it was,” Francis told her, “The two of us accomplished a good thing together, and I want more of that in the future when we rule side by side as King and Queen, working together.” The young Tsaritsa nodded once, before looking down. Francis managed to catch her bottom lip quivering violently. “Alisa?” He pressed his hands on her arms to get her attention and realized just how much she was shaking. “What’s wrong?” He gently tilted her chin up, watching her closely. Alisa swallowed a lump down her throat. 

“It’s a nightmare.” She barely whispered the words. “I have them every night. They won’t stop, Francis. They just won’t stop.” Francis cupped her face in his hands, stroking his cheek, his face overcome with worry. 

“It’s gone,” He murmured, “The nightmare that you had is gone.” Alisa shook her head slightly, tears that she has been holding back beginning to fall. 

“They happen every single time I close my eyes, it’s all I see,” Her voice began to crack, “I am back there, in Moscow again.” Francis was appalled at the way she spoke. He never has seen her like this, so broken, so helpless. She always spoke with a fondness about her room, he never imagined that it would be the place of her nightmares. It broke his heart and angered him, knowing that she was hurt so much like this. She did not deserve any of this. 

“Idi ko mne.” (Come here). He spoke in her native tongue, pulling her close. He sank his hand in her dark strands, wrapping his strong arm around her waist. Alisa clutched onto him, her body pressed against him, seeking his warmth. She tried to fight it, but a loud sob rippled through her, and she hid her face in Francis’s shoulder. He began rocking her from side to side gently. “My God,” He whispered, tightening his grip upon her, “What did the Russian Court do to you?” Even when Alisa managed to retain control over herself, she could not pull away from him. Francis pressed soothing kisses on the top of her head. “I will never let anyone hurt you ever again. I will protect you with my life.” Alisa looked up at him, letting a small smile cross her lips. 

“I-I know. I feel safe with you.” She reached her hand to touch his cheek. “You are the only good thing that happened to me.” Francis kissed her palm multiple times lovingly. 

“I love you.” He told her softly, pulling away, simply taking her hand and guiding her to the bed. 

“What are you doing?” Alisa asked, but obliged, getting into the bed. Francis laid down beside her, tucking her in, pulling her close, so her back was pressed against his chest. 

“You need some more sleep. I will fight off bad dreams for you.” Alisa let out a shaky breath. 

“I don’t want to see---” Francis stroked her hair, his lips pressed near her ear. 

“Shhh.” He murmured quietly, kissing her lobe. “Don’t worry.” He let a small smile rest on his face in spite of the situation. “Just think in two days time, we will be married.” Alisa’s eyes widened and she turned to face him, with a soft gasp. 

“Two days?” She repeated in shock. Francis chuckled with a nod. 

“No one told me it was in two days!” She stressed. 

“Mother wanted to, but I wanted to be the one to tell you. You are going to be my wife.” Francis’s arms wrapped around her again, rubbing her shoulder. “And we will have two whole months to ourselves.” Alisa smiled serenely at that. 

“I want to take you to Kyiv. It is such a beautiful city in Poland. We own a palace there.” 

“And I would love to do that, as well. Now, that I am a Russian speaker.” He grinned a little, causing her to giggle. He sighed. “I will take you to Paris. And we will spend our days in the Louvre palace.” 

“Will we dance in the night?” Alisa whispered, beginning to feel a little drowsy as she rested her head against his warm chest. 

“Of course, my love. Get some sleep now and dream of Paris, just you and I.” Alisa smiled as she closed her eyes again, letting the darkness take over her. For the first time, her horrors were replaced with good dreams, of her and Francis dancing under the stars in the Louvre Palace. 

♖♖♖

The following two days were the craziest ones, Alisa ever imagined. Granted the wedding planning was done for her, by King Henry and Queen Catherine, but there was still quite a lot of work to be done. Alisa and Francis could not see each other until the evening while they were preparing for the wedding. It was a sign of bad luck to see the groom before the wedding. Of course, Francis argued that he did not believe in such superstition, but Catherine disregarded his comments and sent him away. She fussed over Alisa, as did Katya, Natasha, and the other servants, making sure everything was perfect. The only problem was that Aaliyah was nowhere to be found. She was missing for a few days, and Alisa grew increasingly worried. However, this happened before; Aaliyah would disappear for a few days but return. This happened in Moscow, as well as France. Still, Alisa could not help but feel worried, but she tried to push the thought to the side. It was hours before the wedding, after all, and everything was going to be perfect. 

As Alisa’s new corset was being tied around her waist, (where she tried not to yelp in pain) the door swung open and a very flustered Aaliyah burst in. Everyone turned to look at her, a little startled. Catherine was not the least bit amused. 

“Good heavens, Lady Aaliyah, where have you been? Do you realize that it is nearly time for Alisa and Francis to be wed?” She demanded. Aaliyah barely heard what she said. Her eyes fell upon Alisa, as she rushed over to her. Her face was a mess, her eyes had dark-circles in them. She looked dreadful. 

“Alisa, I need your help.” She whispered urgently. Alisa’s eyes locked on hers strangely. 

“What happened?” She asked calmly, lifting a hand, causing Katya to stop fixing the corset and listen to her distraught friend. 

“It’s Bash... I can’t find him anywhere. The guards told me that he was not in the castle, and I left to find him. I looked in the village, beyond the castle walls. I can’t find him.” She whispered frantically. Alisa’s eyes filled with concern. 

“Bash will be back. I am sure of it. It’s not the first time he left. He has always gone to the Bloodwood, left for an adventure.” She told Aaliyah assuringly, who shook her head at that. 

“No, you don’t understand. He is gone, and I am worried for good,” She walked up closer to Alisa, dropping onto her knees before her, “He left with Mary, and it has been days since he had returned. Since they both have. Please, I am begging you, please help me.” She was close to tears. Alisa did not say anything for a moment, before turning to Natasha. 

“Untie me and hand me my dress.” Everyone looked at one another, before turning to the Tsaritsa in shock. 

“Alisa, we don’t have time, we have to get you ready---” Katya began exasperatedly. 

“For the wedding, I know.” Alisa interrupted, already heading towards her wardrobe and changing. “But this is far more important. If Bash is with Mary, I have to find them both and demand an answer. Why would the two of them escape France together?” She came out, fully dressed in her usual garments. “Besides, I fear that if we do not find the two of them soon, this will prove to be problematic. I have to find Francis.” She turned to Aaliyah. “Tell him to meet me in the garden.” Aaliyah nodded, murmuring her gratitude under her breath, as she rushed out of the room. 

“You can’t!” Catherine sputtered, shaking her head at the young Queen, walking towards her. “My dear, your wedding is in three hours, seeing him now will prove to bring bad tidings in the future.” Alisa sighed deeply. 

“I must. He knows Bash better than anyone. He would be the only one to find him. I am afraid the wedding will have to be postponed until we sort this out. And Henry will agree to this. He loves Bash more than his other sons.” Alisa smiled a little, before walking out of the room after Aaliyah. She rushed downstairs, heading outside. Within no time at all, she saw Francis and Aaliyah heading to meet her. 

“I have just heard what happened.” He took Alisa’s hand as he entered. “Bash and Mary are gone, and nobody saw them.” Alisa nodded. 

“I know this seems absolutely ridiculous, but I worry for Bash. Mary is absolutely unpredictable, and no matter, how many times we tell ourselves that she has changed, I just have a bad feeling about her, and I don’t trust her.” Alisa confessed. Francis sighed. 

“I suppose we should find them, and once we are certain that everything is perfectly fine, we can continue on with our wedding.” Francis decided, before turning to Aaliyah. “Ask one of the guards to prepare my horse.” 

“And mine as well,” Aaliyah nodded and rushed out, as Alisa met Francis’s surprised face, “Don’t look so shocked. If you are going to find them, then, I will come with you. Bash is not just your brother. He is the man that Aaliyah loves, and by God’s name, I will give him a piece of my mind.” 

♖♖♖

The two had ridden for a long while without stopping for a break. Every moment that passed, Francis was getting more and more concerned. He had no idea what was Mary’s plan in all this, and he was getting frustrated. Alisa, in the meantime, could not help but wonder why would Bash agree to her demands. Was he so besotted with her that he felt the urge to run away? Bash was in love with Aaliyah, Alisa was sure of it. Even if he showed a very poor job at showing it, the Tsaritsa had faith in him. 

“We are running out of time.” Francis quietly spoke, breaking away her thoughts. “I am starting to think that the two are not even in France anymore.” Alisa frowned softly. 

“Bash is a traveler, but why would he go with Mary? This day just keeps getting more and more uncanny.” Alisa murmured slightly to herself. She sighed, smiling ever so slightly, “To think we escaped our very own wedding for this. It’s not even bringing us anywhere.” Francis chuckled. 

“True,” He murmured before he gazed around the woods, “Let us try going to the neighboring village. Perhaps, they have taken refuge there.” Alisa sighed and nodded. 

“If nothing, we shall go back home.” She conceded, before picking up the reins of her horse. A small and mischievous smile broke through her lips. “I’ll race you.” Before Francis had a chance to respond, she squeezed her horse gently, kicking her lightly, before breaking off into an easy canter. Francis gazed at her for a moment, before smiling widely and going after her. Alisa closed her eyes, beginning to laugh breathlessly as she raced against him. The young Russian woman had a wild and free spirit swirling around her, and she loved the thrill that she was feeling. For a brief moment, the two forgot the whole world, their troubles, French Court, Mary, everything, as they galloped. Once they have reached the village, Alisa opened her eyes, her laugh fusing with Francis’s. The two paused their horses to catch their breath. “Amazing.” Alisa managed to breath out. Francis moved his horse slightly, so he would be closer to her. Holding his reins with one hand, he let his knuckles graze down his fiance’s cheek. 

“You never cease to enchant me, Alisa.” He murmured. Alisa watched him, beginning to smile softly, closing her eyes at his touch and catching his hand on the side of her face, kissing it. 

“I’m so glad I chose to come to French Court.” She whispered. Francis smiled at her gently. 

“Best idea you have ever had.” He consented with a little laugh. They moved to go deeper into the village, before they heard footsteps. Francis’s hand instinctively went on his sword, as Alisa very visibly tensed. They both relaxed as they saw it was Aaliyah, rushing towards them. She was flushed and anxious. 

“The guards found Mary and Bash,” She bit her lip, “They were together in an abandoned house. King Henry had Bash thrown in prison, while he is about to question Mary. You need to come and witness this.” Alisa looked over at Francis, who felt his jaw tighten. He knew whatever would go down would not end well. Alisa could not stand watching the conflicting pain in his eyes, and she reached her hand to touch his. 

“Francis,” He looked up at her, “It will be alright. I will be standing by your side. We will be together, no matter what Mary decides to throw at us.” Francis nodded quietly, his worries numbed slightly, and he squeezed his hand before pulling back. 

“Lead the way, Aaliyah.” He ordered her quietly. Aaliyah nodded firmly, turning her head and kicking her horse. Francis and Alisa galloped after her, all the while wondering what was going to happen. Alisa was right; today was certainly a day of strange occurrences.

A/N: hello, hello, hello, my lovelies! i am so sorry this is all very late, ugh. but i am inspired very much to continue this. and lots of shit is going to go down, very fair warning. i will be working on the next chapter, it will just take a bit until i post again. i love you all, thank you for reading! ❤️😘

[chocoenvy]

I JUST FINISHED THE THIRD PART AND AAAA NOO DEAR READER NOO 😭😭

The Tsaritsa being so kind to us is just magnificent, truly resembles her past and it’s just so refreshing after being tormented by everything (except for Milo, the Abyss Mage and all the other friends Reader has, they deserve the world 😞). I truly hope that even if Reader goes to another region, they can always count with her!

I have some questions regarding some in-game mechanics, like for example friendship. Will the characters that had a high amount of friendship with the Reader suffer more when they learn the truth? (They literally were Reader’s favourites and they just didn’t do anything to stop the torture/helped with it) hmm yes so much angst it crushes my heart ❤️. Oh god, just thinking about them realizing that the love her god had for them was destroyed it’s so painful 🥲

Will Paimon be aware from the beginning of our true identity? I haven’t seen her in any of the SAGAU works I have read, and it would be sus to see her not recognizing us (she is literally the one that connects the Traveler with us if we think about it, and has all the necessary means to help us since she herself can help with out-of-game stuff, like with the wishes or the game settings)

Do new characters or characters that haven’t appeared yet (like Itto or Ayato) hate Reader too? It would make sense from a world view, but thinking that they weren’t present when Reader was traveling around Teyvat is a little bit strange (but not impossible since even the Archons who DEVOTED their lives and love to Reader couldn’t recognize them 😭)

Thanks again for your wonderful content and sorry if the ask was longer than expected, and also PLEASE SLEEP IT’S SO LATE (at least here) GO NOW GO TO ZZZ AND REMEMBER TO TAKE CARE!

Platonic kisses from Kitty Anon!

the amount of people calling me out on my unhealthy sleeping schedule-

You saying how it resembles the Tsaritsa's past

Me not knowing anything about the Tsaritsa'spast: 🧍

and to answer your questions!

the characters with the most friendship would definetely be crushed. Unfortunately, since everybody's friendship characters are different for each person i can't really include it in a general sagau fic. However, the traveler. Being the God's first vessel and the vessel they can most easily level up, being the vessel they use in cutscenes. The one vessel that no matter what sees their god everytime they log onto the game?

Imagine the hurt when they didn't reconginze you? they just went along with what the archons were saying. I mean, they were doing it for you! They were thinking of you! You were such an important person to capture, the traveler was sure if they got rid of you, the archons would give them plentiful rewards. You always look so happy when you have enough for a wish, they just wanted to see you happy-!

also i'd love to include reader getting their revenge and then going back to tsurumi island with Milo and seeing him all grown up. Idk if i'll have the time or room to include it in part four and i plan on that being the last part. i might include fluff scenarios connected to it just for my own self-indulgence :))

I ACTUALLY HAVE NO CLUE WHAT ROLE PAIMON WOULD PLAY she's definetely self-aware. i mean, on pc when you press escape, she's there floating around on the interface, looking at you. She knows you, what you look like. Was she just staying silent for her own gain? Out of fear? Or maybe she was actually none the wiser? Idk man, up to interpretation i suppose

also whether a character hates you or not changes person to person!

i assume that Ayato also hates you. He's connected to Inazuma very precariously, he has many relations and understands how important their god is. So the thought of you impersonating their god has his blood boiling and his sword at the ready.

Itto, though, is half oni. I don't know much about him, but he isn't too concerned with human politics as far as im aware. I like to think he heard about you being an imposter and thought "Well if they think their so good to impersonate the almighty god then let them fight me!" again, don't know much about him, but he'd be itching for a fight and/or doesn't care about you being an "imposter" he just wants to see this "godly power" or lack there of for himself

NOW YAE MIKO is one mysterious bitch! I feel like she wouldn't have much of a role in your capture, which makes her seem suspicious to everyone. But she's a friend of the Shogun, nobody can hurt her. I FEEL LIKE, she'd track you down and interract with you without hurting you. You're immediately attatched to her because she didn't jump to violence. She notices how pathetic you are and maybe investigates you further.

idk i feel like she'd either figure out the truth and/or try and get something from you. she's a sly fox <3

THANK YOU FOR THE ASK AND I WILL SLEEP SOON <3 ALSO IT'S LATE WHERE YOU ARE??? THEN SLEEP??? HYPOCRITE??? <3

[dutybcrne]

strdstd·:

Seeking an audience with Archons was once thought to have been beyond Dainsleif. Never would he even entertain the thought of groveling for help before the very beings who’d outright destroyed his homeland and mercilessly ripped away the future he had planned. It was like uprooting and crushing a worthless weed in the gods’ garden. Just something to thoughtlessly get rid of, not caring enough to bother with second thoughts when it came to the lives they’d be taking as a result of the Cataclysm. His heart wouldn’t allow it, thinking of it as disgracing the memory of those who were lost because of those Archons. Too stubborn as well. Sticking adamantly to how Khaenri'ah was; godless.

The lives of royals he’d sworn to protect, commoners, fellow knights. Most of all, the one he’d held the most dear. To think he’d forgotten- No, that wasn’t his fault. It was all the curse’s doing. But not even that rationality didn’t stop the sickening, fury-inducing guilt from rampaging. That time in the Chasm, where fate dealt him a blow he’d never forget.

Why that name stuck out in his mind, he was clueless of back then. Why recall that one out of thousands?

Why those turquoise eyes captivated him so, why that warm voice set his heart at an ease he hadn’t felt in centuries, why he felt such a painful yearning just standing all but a short distance away?

He was just as beautiful as the day he lost him-

It was only after the Traveler vacated the area did it strike him like a stab to the heart from a blade.

A rare moment of clarity. Halfdan wasn’t just another Royal Guard. He was… so much more than that. The man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, the man he’d asked to (admittedly rather impulsively) marry a mere day before the fall of Khaenri'ah… The man who’d perished in Dainsleif’s arms. Begging him to stay with him, desperately holding him as close as he could, a heart-shattering wail ultimately tearing itself out of him- The gods didn’t just take his homeland away. They took away the love of his life like he was nothing. His dear, beloved Halfdan. The only man known to make the Twilight Sword glow like morning sunlight. Both were… unforgivable.

So why in all Teyvat was he standing before the door leading him to the home of the Cryo Archon? He still had his doubts on whether or not this venture would be successful, but it was unfortunately the only chance they might have in finally vanquishing the Abyss.

Upon hearing the voice from the other side of the door, he exhaled and opened it, finally crossing the threshold.

“The Tsaritsa, I presume?”

         ・⊱ If the presence before had been overwhelming as is, now, with not a single barrier between them save the still air of the room and the distance dividing them, it was damn near enough to draw a gasp from her lips. To damn near knock the wind from her lungs and make her stumble back.>

         The emotions were impossibly immense compared to all others she’d felt before, with a sharper edge to it that sent her wariness rising tenfold. What she felt from the person before her now...was all comparable to her own, as foreign and unknown as the source of hers was to her.

          What could make one feel such a thing? What could make a mere human feel such grief?

           “You presume correct.” She’d damn near forgotten to respond, all decorum and her composure having been shaken in the face of this mortal’s presence. Had she not grown accustomed to the mask she’d donned now, with how reflexive it was to let it rest upon her features, it all might have been far more obvious. Now? Only a keener eye of one who knew her well would be able to see past it. But then–

         “Ah–” At last–a crack upon the icy surface of her facade. A crack, brought upon initial observation and realizing that edge to the mortal’s grief was akin to corruption–like the gods-damned miasma she’d sensed...stars, was it not five-hundred years ago that she’d felt the powers of the Abyssal monsters so closely?

         The thought had her gut churning, a thin layer of frost spreading at her feet as the spikes of ice about the room’s walls and decor would grow. The air would chill sharply as she stepped forth, a warning and threat alike at her lips ( how could her soldiers let a person tainted in Abyss energy in this far? And how had this person come to be this way?! ) when yet another shock would rock her world.

          “Wait, you...you are...!”

          She had initially assumed the person before her had been someone foolish enough to meddle and deal with the Abyssal creatures. Some naive mortal seeking to imbue themself with powers and knowledge far beyond their understanding ( Why? Why would humans endanger themselves so recklessly in such a manner? Did they not know the dangers such powers themselves posed for them? Of what the cruel gods of Celestia would have in store for them? ), thinking themself capable of handling it all without consequence. But in getting a closer look, catching sight of their attire, of their eyes–

         “Khaenri’ahn...?"

[is-very-sad]

Happiness high for hours now, tytyty choco♡♡♡

CHOCO HIIII!!❤ How are you on this lovely day/night? I hope your doing okay

Anyway at this moment I feel very wholesome and after reading the singer! reader post (to which I greatly enjoyed, thank you for the meal) I have come up with both a fluff and a angst (a little bit of hurt/comfort in there) but I will give you the fluff first

Fluff~

For this part, singer god! Reader actually has the ability to regenerate any lost limb or organ however because of the different time frames rather than taking 1 week (in our world time frame) for their tongue to come back it would take 11 months (in Teyvat's time frame and yes I did the maths) to get their tongue back. How do you think the readrr and fatui react to finding out this an dwe're able to hear them for the first time (also readr has a cute yut strange accent).

OKAY HIGHKEY- i was going to include something like this at the end of playing god but I thought where I ended it was a good place to end it and didn't want to drag it on.

So! If you want, you can see this as an unofficial "epilouge" of sorts to the mini series :)) (i had a very not fluff idea while writing this so it's not that fluffy until the middle-end sorry i just can't help myself) ALSO HAVE A GOOD DAY AS WELL ANON THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS IN <3

Warnings!!!: Since this is an extension of playing god, it's going to have a dabble of gore in it, canibalism, after that it's fluff

Your hands shook as you took the tongues that had been cut off of the archons. Their godly blood looked pretty much identical to that of human's but it was different. The taste was different, and to a normal human it'd cause their stomach to explode.

But to you, it'd fuel your godly body.

There was a reason blood sacrifices were common.

To regenerate your tongue, it'd take 11 months Teyvat's time and for you to consume the three tongues of the archons.

You'd like to say it sickened you, you knew it should've sickened you. In your mind, it sickened you... but your body welcomed it.

It filled your stomach with a warm sweetness and your entire body felt energized. Buzzing with electricity, shivering madly with the wind, shaking the earth.

Your beloved Fatui acolytes were with you when you consumed the tongues and they felt the shift. Your eyes dialiated and the room quivered with your godly precense. You grinned madly, high off the blood running through your system.

The high lasted around a day or two. After the blood and their tongues were done digesting, though, the pain kicked in. It was small, and felt like thousands of needles were piercing where your tongue was cut off.

The pain fluctuated, somedays being as biting as your anger. Poking a thousand needles into where your tongue was cut, making you cry and scream into a pillow in pain. The Tsaritsa or Childe, thank god, was always there to help you through the pain.

They'd cuddle you, take you out of the palace on days with less pain to distract you with Sneznhaya's beauties. Other days, when the pain was debilitating, to the point where you struggled to breath, they'd be there. They'd count breath ins and breath outs with you. They'd help you eat even though it was hard. They even had to help you chew some days.

Eventually, you could feel where your tongue and nerves had grown back. After four months, you could wiggle it and very very slightly taste food again.

You were watched carefully by doctors and historians. They pulled what they knew from ancient texts from your last life on Teyvat to try and help you.

The Tsaritsa herself was ready to lay down any of her limbs to help you recover but you madly refused. The three tongues were enough for your entire godly lifetime and while it'd be hard, you could wait.

Eventually, you had reached the halfway mark at 6 months. Your tongue was indeed growing back. The nerves were regrowing as well, and the fatui were estatic.

Childe couldn't help but nuzzle your nose with his when he saw how amazing you're doing. Handling all of this pain and refusing to accept anymore... offerings... you were doing so amazing! He wanted to spoil you rotten and he couldn't wait to hear your voice, he couldn't wait to feed you Sneznhayan delicacies!

The Tsaritsa couldn't agree more with Childe. She wanted to hear your voice, she wanted to feed you the food of her nation, she wanted to speak with you, and hear you sing. She'd give you her own tongue and more if it meant you could bless Teyvat with your voice sooner.

However, you refused any and all attempts at anyone giving you offerings.

Until finally, after 11 long months, your tongue was fully healed. Granted, it took a bit of getting used to, and you were unreasonably scared of it falling off. But other than that it was amazing!

The first day it had grown all the way back you could tell. You awoke and everything felt... there. Like you finally found a missing puzzle piece, and everything just connected. You experimented.

"L."

You grinned, kicking your feet in the covers excitedly, effectively waking up the Tsaritsa.

"Your grace?" She mumbled.

You leaned over her, a grin brighter and more beautiful than the moon shining through the window, "Hi!" You squealed, your voice sounding normal as it did before all of this, "Hi hi! Hi Tsaritsa! Hi!" You giggled maddly, shaking with excitement.

The Tsaritsa's eyes glowed and she smiled. Not a small ghost of smile either, a genuine, full, and bright smile.

"Your grace!" She shouted, sitting up and setting you on her lap, "Your voice! Your tongue!"

You poked your tongue out with a grin you still weren't comfortable sticking it all the way out.

"Can you say something else for me?" She smiled sweetly, more than anybody ever thought was possible for the cryo archon.

You jumped in excitement, "Uhhh...." You trailed off into giggles just at hearing your own voice, "I... love you!"

You shook with happiness, kicking your feet with a big, dumb grin.

The Tsaritsa laughed- laughed! - and poked your nose, "I love you too!"

"Your highness?" A worried voice called from outside the door, "I'm sorry for intruding but... who-who's in there with you?" Scaramouche called out.

You jumped at the opportunity, not even caring about the implication, "It's me! It's (Y/n)!"

The Tsaritsa stiffled a giggle at your behavior.

"What?" Scaracmouche gasped, "May I come in?"

"You may not, we're both in our nighwear Scaramouche." The Tsaritsa commanded, but she was still smiling, staring at you with stars in her eyes.

"Bu- fine. But hurry to breakfast... please your grace, your highness." Scaramouche huffed before his footsteps faded away.

You and the Tsaritsa stared into each other's eyes, you were grinning and she was smiling softly. "We best get up, Scaramouche is going to tell everyone about it and then we'll have the entire palace knocking on our door."

You nodded and hummed then felt your tongue move in your mouth. "Okay!" You jumped out of bed, doing a giddy kick at your own voice.

The two of you got ready and the Tsaritsa prompted you with simple questions, "How was your sleep?"

You were grinning, "It was good! Especially cuddld nextoyo." You grimaced, but you were still smiling.

"Go slower." The Tsaritsa held your hand as you walked down the hall to the dining room, "You haven't talked in a while. And make sure not to say too much, we don't want to bust your voice."

You nodded, "Okay!" You focused on the words you wanted to say. "It was good... especially... cuddled... next to yo-... you."

You grinned, looking up at the Tsaritsa and she nodded in approval. "Good job," she pat your head. Her heart skipped a beat everytime you spoke, you voice had an odd accent compared to the rest of Teyvat, "And thank you your grace. Anything I can do to make you comfortable, I will do so without hesitation."

"Please," You said, clearing your throat, "You already do... so much for me. If there's anything that I do... that makes you uncomfortable..." You cleared your throat again, "Please, tell me."

The Tsaritsa frowned, "Do not overexert yourself my dear. And everything you give to me is a gift." She lovingly pat your cheek, which was starting to hurt from how much you were smiling.

You nodded, "Okay."

When the both of you arrived at the dining hall, all heads immediately whipped to you. You couldn't help the large grin that creeped its way onto your face.

"Your grace!" Childe nearly stood from his seat in excitement, "Can we hear you say something?" If he had a tail you were sure it'd be wagging.

"Don't overwhelm them." The Tsaritsa threatened, a glint in her eyes as a warning.

"It's okay!" You grinned, squeezing her hand, excitement bubbling in you.

Their eyes lit up like christmas lights, beautifully twinkling with happiness.

You giggled, hopping and hugging the Tsaritsa's hand to your chest.

"Can you sing something!" Childe requested, a child-like smile lit up his face.

You giggled, your face flushed just a bit, "Uhm... haha... I'm nervous..."

"Here, sit down." The Tsaritsa sat you down, pushing in your chair for you. There was a permanant, small, soft smile on her face.

She took her place at the head of the table as the food was brought out.

Your mouth watered.

You could feel everyone's eyes on you as you rushed to take a bite. It felt like heaven.

You chewed normally, tasted everything with delicious clarity, swallowing wasn't a chore. The entire process was normal and hell, even enjoyable now!

"The food is soooooo good!" You swung your feet in the chair, your giddiness unable to contain itself.

The Tsaritsa couldn't hide her smile, it warmed the entire room by a few degrees and everyone in Sneznhaya could tell this was a good day. "I'm so glad you like it your grace."

You took another bite, enjoying eating for the first time in this world. For the first time in Teyvat, everything was good.

Unadded snipet (contains minimal gore) --------------------------------

You oppened up a neatly wrapped box. One that the fatui had not opened beforehand due to not wanting to intrude on you without your permission. You curriously peaked into it, the makings of a smile playing at your lips at the fact that you had a gift.

You dropped the box on the floor, slapping a hand over your mouth and averting your eyes away from the box now on the floor and the finger rolling out of it.

"Your grace-?" Childe choked on his own words and quickly scooped up the finger, "I'm so sorry you had to see that- your grace!"

You leaned over and hurled. Bile exited your mouth as you choked up every bit of regret. What wasn't expelled of your regret through your stomach, came out through your eyes in the form of tears.

I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't

You had also gotten a peak at the note before your shaking hands had dropped the box. It had said,

"Get well soon."