#yandere dottore x you

[aluraveil]

The Earring

TW: Use of a tracker, unhealthy relationships, yandere, the doctor himself, etc.

Pairing: Yandere Dottore x Reader

-

Dottore only wears one earring.

Many people have noticed that the mad doctor is missing one on his other ear. Dottore used to have a pair, but now one of them has gone missing. His fellow harbingers have noticed, but frankly they didn’t care enough to inquire about it.

Fatui agents under his command have seen it too. Nobody dared to inquire about it. Like they’ve always said, curiosity kills the cat. Except in this case, it literally means exactly that. Who knows what the harbinger might say if someone who clearly didn’t know their place asked about it? What punishment would they receive? And for that reason, that is why nobody has ever said anything about it.

The truth is, Dottore wears one earring on purpose. Where might the other earring be? Well it’s on your ear of course.

Dottore has thought of the ways to mark his ownership on you for the longest time. With each idea flowing in his head being worser than the other, he wanted to give up. But the sheer idea of other people eying his darling down makes his blood boil.

He knew that he needed a way to show everyone else that you belonged to him. But what could he even do?

The Doctor has seen how the other harbingers have marked their own darling with costly items.

The Doctor knew of the ways how the Regrator would mark his pet with materialistic items such as expensive jewelery and clothing.

But he didn’t want to follow the same approach when marking his own pet. He wanted to be different, he wanted to stand out. He didn’t want to do the same boring thing as the other harbingers.

Dottore would always insist that you wear your part. You’re hesitant to do so, but you didn’t want to disobey him.

The purpose of the earring was for marking you and tying you do as his. But there was also another part to it. The earring symbolized that Dottore would always be apart of you no matter where you went. Also, if you were to take a hammer and smash the earring open, you’d find a shocking discovery with it.

A tracker. One that could be used to know your exact location at all times.

You vaguely remember walking down the halls of the palace with the doctor arm in arm. Fatui agents would stare when they notice what’s on your ear. The other missing earring?

You personally thought the both of you looked stupid sharing an earring. But as long as the doctor wasn’t angry, then you were happy.

The fatui agents have wondered where the Doctor’s other earring could be. But when they found it on your ear, it all made sense.

Dottore only wears one earring. The other however, is used to mark you.

[yandere-wishes]

𝟙:𝟘𝟘 𝕒𝕞 Dottore x reader

Synopsis: 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. 

Notes: I'm trying a new writing style so please let me know what you think. 

Editor: The wonderful @tealyjade-libran

💙🔹💙🔹 💙🔹 💙🔹 💙🔹 💙🔹 💙🔹 💙🔹 💙🔹 💙🔹 💙🔹 💙🔹

There's blood on his hands again. Just like yesterday and the day before that. Limp body drowning in a sea of half-done lab reports, and suicide notes, and love letters. Desperate words scribbled on warn notepads come to life to haunt him. 

The dorm light overhead scorches his eyes. He thinks it's divine punishment on the utmost microscopic level. He feels so sick of playing mortal. So sick of the Akademiya that treats them like feeble rats.

 and still, he calls it home, 

Dottore's gaze lingers on your hunched figure. Matted hair and clouded eyes. Scrawling away at another assignment that's due upon first bell. 

There's an unspeakable fatigue that lays heavily on your bones. Something that neither sleep nor furlough will fix. 

You're tired

So is he. 

1:30  am

There’s blood under his fingernails from clawing away at beakers and graduated cylinders. Desperate to have something to show, when morning comes. Something cohesive enough that his dreaded professors may finally see that his frantic hypotheses hold some bearings. 

your wry eyes stare at him like he's an archon, a primordial deity. Like he's death frozen in a prison overrun with blooming life and wildflowers 

The desk you two share is a mess. Border blurred between medical science and sociology. Where does the human body end and the mind begin? Where does logic decay and love take over? 

What's the purpose of a heart anyway?

To sustain or to guide?

He wonders if you love him.

He doubts it.  

2:15 am 

There's blood slipping from between the cracks in his flesh. 

You cradle his palm in your hand. Wrapping a cloth around the wound. 

He wonders if you could do the same for the lacerations he hides behind sharp comments and blood-red eyes. When you touch him so tenderly he remembers he has a name, a body, a soul. 

He remembers he's not just rogue fragments of past lives haunting a walking husk. He's Zandik, he's Dottore, he's everything you need him to be. 

He tries to kiss you. 

You turn away. 

2:55 am 

there's blood slithering down his lips, his chin, his throat.

You grasp at his heart, molding the darkness in your likeness. To him you are light. Not that he's seen the sun in days. 

"You're beautiful" he mutters, hoping you hear him as you lay on the bathroom floor. 

Ice-cold water sprinkles along his flesh as he tries to wash away the blood, the stress,  the stubborn ache caught between his muscles. 

This is intimacy, right? Not quite love, but a speck more than friendship. 

You laugh at him from behind the blue shower curtain. A haunted, hollow noise. "Beauty doesn't matter much around here" you replied as you hand him his towel. 

You switch places. Cold showers keep the sleep away. Or so you've heard. 

"You're beautiful" you call after him.

Dottore thinks he hears you say something. Or maybe it's all the memorized data finally getting to him.

3:30 am

There's blood on his lips as he kisses you.

He wonders what you see him as.

A lover or a killer.

It's late and there are too many emotions to keep track of. 

So you kiss, the final solution to an otherwise unsolvable query.

Deep and desperate. Teeth clashing and hearts melting as you both hopelessly search for the answer to all your woes.

Dottore leans down to kiss you again, he tastes of dying stars and burning metal.

somewhere a santoor plays a lone tune. Haunting the dormitory halls. 

Dottore watches as you dance. Some botched replica of your eon-long traditions. He thinks it's funny how you're the prettiest girl in Teyvat. He thinks it's funny how he's the most monstrous thing to crawl out of the abyss. 

You kiss again. This time with precise calculations and perfect time. 

'I love you'

you both long to say.

4:00 am 

There’s blood on his tongue, in his mouth, in his lungs. All he can think of is how much he needs you. How much he wants you. 

There are so many pieces of you that he's been preserving inside himself. 

Enjoying the sensation of glass entering skin as he impales himself with your shards.

Your fingers tangle in his hair. Tugging to try and make him feel your pain. 

The Akadimiya is no place for love, you think as Dottore kisses the veins on your arm. Do you want him or do you need him?

There's still a lab report on the effect of neurological suppressants on vision wielders to complete. 

There's still a four-page essay on the effect of broken cultural ties on Sumeru's populace to complete.

4:30 pm 

there's blood on your dormitory floor. Pristine royal red and something more. Yasmin is the first to find it and you wonder if that makes all the difference in the world. You beg her to stay silent and she's too scared to decline. The pool of maroon evidence of some sort of love declared between two exhausted university students. 

You like to think of it as a promise ring. 

You can't deny Dottore of anything. Be it love or anything else, not in the mornings when you're semi-lucid and definitely not at night when you're too muddled to care about anything. 

Dottore is destined for misery, not enlightenment. Knowing this you'll be sure to let him drag you down if he so desires. 

He may as well fall into the abyss and you'll leap in after him. 

You think the two of you confessed last night. Kissed until the breath in your lungs and fire in your loins had been exhausted. You're too exhausted from today's lectures to recall fully. 

Still, you're heart races as he enters the room. Steps in the puddle and trudges towards you. Firm hands on your shoulders as you kiss again to the beat of the afternoon sun. 

This is love you think as your eyelids grow heavier. 

This is love he thinks as he spills his research into your veins. 

[rockingbytheseaside]

✦ When someone tries to imitate you or take your place 

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Pantalone 

(tw: general mentions of violence and intimacy, swf. Old ask suggested by the lovely @pandaquick, better late than never)

Your position in the Fatui is a much more personal and delicate matter. You are not just some high-rank advisor or soldier idling within the Zapolyarny Palace, nor can you be defined as another Fatuus. You are someone of a different echelon - a Harbinger’s beloved, safeguarded with the utmost honor conferred by Her Majesty the Tsaritsa. It is no secret your significant other would utilize a whole army to protect you, but what happens when someone, in their foolishness, forgets that?

✧ Pierro was the first to notice that someone tried to imitate you. An individual of high status endeavored to emulate your work and areas of expertise. Subsequently, this individual began to adopt aspects of your appearance, from hairstyle to clothing. However, the breaking point occurred when this foolish person attempted to purchase an identical jewelry brooch to the one you frequently wore. It was a similar piece, one gifted to you by Pierro.

Except that imitator missed one important clue - Pierro orders you custom-made silver adorned with deep-cut sapphires that would put the Tsaritsa’s crown into shame. A one of a kind piece.

This cheap attempt to imitate you and usurp your spot was what forced The Jester to abandon his silent observation. His gaze has long caught the envious glances directed towards you whenever you accompanied him on meetings, whenever he linked his arm with yours, whenever he generously kneeled beside you to put his coat over your shoulder and keep you warm from Snezhnaya’s cold - the same individual, always seething with resentment. Thus, it was time for the Director to silently act. 

He kept tabs on this person via a network of spies, gathering intel on their behavior and intentions. And with the most skilled spies raised from the House of the Hearth, it didn't take long to have a whole pile of evidence right on his desk. And with the simple snap of his fingers, he effortlessly orchestrated the apprehension and subsequent banishment of the culprit, sparing no unnecessary words. Hearsay will not be tolerated in the Fatui, but to see some lowly scum tarnish your reputation by cheap mimicry then it’ll be his responsibility to weed out. 

“Pierro, dearest, What's wrong? You seem so deep in thought.” - Your gentle murmur broke The Jester's train of thought. As he lay in bed, your head resting on his chest and his arm draped over you, he reminded himself that he was in the comfort of your love. He doesn't have to mull over the bloodied ordinances when he feels the warmth of your skin underneath the covers.

“Apologies, my divine. It seems my mind was drifting to troubling thoughts. But it no longer matters when you're here.” - Thus, he gently planted a kiss on your forehead and tucked the covers around your body which harbored marks of his devotion earlier that night.

✧ Il Capitano clutched the hilt of his sword in resolution. Something was wrong and he could see it. The Harbinger was in the middle of his morning spar with you, a regular training session where you and the Captain warm up as a routine. He stood in a defensive stance, his movements fluid yet measured as his sword received blow after blow from your weapon. You, on the other hand, moved like a silent tempest, your strikes precise yet frustratingly urgent.

It was unlike you to be so unsteady, noted Capitano to himself, especially when fighting. Despite the unspoken patience, an undercurrent of concealed despondency and anger laced your body language. 

“Alright, my dear, I can feel your unease. What troubles your heart?” 

You shook your head, panting as you almost faltered. You insisted on continuing the training session, but it was clear your brave facade was almost crumbling. 

“It would be foolish to continue. And I care about your well-being. Please, confide in me, my beloved.”

You tried, you really did. But before you know it, your lips pursed into a thin line and a flood of tears escaped the moment you shakily lowered your weapon. Now the Captain was on full alert, rushing towards you and gently supporting you before you could hide your tearful face in shame. With an arm around your trembling form and much persuasion - you relented and shared the source of your frustration. A newly enlisted soldier had undergone thorough training under the tutelage of Il Capitano, and their impressive advancement was unmistakably evident in their unwavering dedication. However, this individual began to devote more time to the Captain, delving into military intelligence and climbing the ranks. You genuinely felt joy for the new recruit, truly. Yet in timid humiliation, you had to confess you felt obsolete as if your power alone wasn’t enough for a harbinger of his caliber and ranks.

“Ah, my dear, you are far from weak. My time with the trainees is merely a duty, a part of my job as the 1st Harbinger. But when it comes to you, my dear, your might and wisdom are incomparable. You don’t deserve my ranks, you deserve my life laid before you.”

But whatever gentle words of affection were coming out of the Captain, your next words of truth made him halt at once. “... At least, that’s what the recruit told me when we spoke. That I'm weak.” 

“...What did you say?” 

The gentle armored hand on your shoulder now tightened in restrained anger, fury flaring within his chest. Capitano now understood: your tears, your sudden insecurity, your doubt, your silence… It wasn’t coincidental. This recruit who was so conveniently rising in the ranks made sure to aim not just for the Harbinger. Specifically, you; to sow self-doubt onto you and hinder your precious relationship. Someone was deliberately bullying you.

You looked up at Capitano’s dreadful silence, asking him what was wrong.

“It… seems, my dear, someone has crossed an unforgivable line. One that would cost them their life dearly. And I am to blame for not noticing when harm and doubt came your way. I must amend this transgression for your forgiveness.”

You blinked in response, not having time to comprehend the severity of his words; It’s hard to respond when your beloved suddenly kneels and bows like a knight on duty. In the end, Capitano ushered you to take a day off and let your mind rest easy.

The next day, Capitano returned home early but was eerily silent once more. He stayed with you the whole day, like a hawk overlooking his nest, his arms crossed but his touch gentle. Although he claimed nothing was wrong, you received news that certain recruits were gone, and any upcoming soldiers that would come into his care would receive even stricter training from now on. That day, you wondered why some Fatui soldiers feared talking to you. Not to mention the armor around Capitano’s knuckles seemed faintly red-tinted.

The Fatui organization was a constant battle of powers and ranks. But to climb the ladder and meddle with the life of The Captain was a personal offense, one that would result in quick and unapologetic bloodshed. Nevertheless, he made sure to remind his soldiers about that. 

✧ When one of the folks working under Il Dottore as a lab analyst approached you, you didn’t expect them to call you names so suddenly. You stood there, confused and apprehensive at the sudden barrage of insults from the stranger. But they explained:

“You don’t do anything when helping during research, you know! I don’t even know how The 2nd tolerates you when you’re this useless. I’ll tell you what, quit your special-treatment act, and don’t come back to the lab. The Doctor is better off with someone of his level of intellect.”

You didn’t fight or defend yourself, you didn’t even insult the assistant. Instead, you smiled simply  - “Very well, I won’t. Good luck.”

That day, you turned and left. The frustrated lab analyst was left in confusion but thought they succeeded in eliminating the only obstacle left to get closer to the elusive yet powerful Harbinger. After all, what the hell do you even do at his lab? You exchange a few words with Dottore, maybe sporadically point at what to do, and remain seated in the back, resting as if you were the Tsaritsa herself. The audacity. How come Il Dottore never kicked you out?

Well, it didn't take long for this person to find out.

The next day, naturally, Dottore couldn’t find you when he proceeded with work. You were neither at his study, nor at the lab, nor at your favorite corner of the library. It was barely noon, and receiving your warm greetings was his routine. And the Doctor always follows the agenda.

“Where are they?” 

His question was brief but pointed, and his subordinates knew exactly who he was referring to. They could sense the tension in his voice. The only individual privy to the reason for your absence smirked smugly and responded.

“Hmph. It seems they decided not to come, Lord Harbinger Dottore.”

That was their first mistake because The Doctor caught on to the haughty smirk coming from his new analyst.

“And you know so certainly how?” - he quickly gestured to a nearby Fatui servant with a flick of his wrist. “Send in servants to check in on my behalf. I wasn’t informed. If my darling is feeling tired or unwell, bring their preferred refreshment immediately, and ensure it is warm.”

However, this displeased the new lab assistant, as even while you were away, Dottore was still dotting on you as if it was his second nature to do so while he was busy with work. Thus, they cleared their throat and spoke up:

“They… barely accomplished anything in your presence, doctor. So I advised them to leave, to which they agreed. Pretty straightforward, s-sir.” 

“Oh? Did you, now” - A burning rage, like never before, flared up within Il Dottore. With clenched teeth and a rigid jaw, his voice oozed with venom. But any seasoned lackey working under Dottore knew that this was the calm before the storm. Because soon, an echo of shattering vials and slammed objects would ring out from the laboratory. And in your absence, nothing would prevent the doctor from showing a bit of despotism. 

Much later that evening, after everything was set and done, the servants informed him of your whereabouts. Il Dottore briskly made his way through the Zapolyarny Palace to find you. Spotting you tucked away in a secluded nook of the palace, he hastened over, anxious to ensure your well-being, fearing you might’ve withdrawn due to the influence of some blabbering lowlife. 

“Dear! There you are… No one has the right to speak to you like that ever. Are you alright? My dearest, why did you not tell me immediately?! I would’ve-”

Dottore’s frustrated rambles come to a halt when you place a finger on his lips to shush him. You didn’t look despaired, in fact, you looked calm - “Zandik? Did you have another tantrum in your lab while I was absent?”

The doctor gulped, remembering his place. Calming his senses, he placed his hands on your waist and ushered you closer to his arms.

“... Perhaps. But I had to. How could I be certain that no one had harmed you? Why did you comply with that impudent fool? You should’ve gone to me first.”

“Well, it was unpleasant to hear the insults, sure. But…" - you glanced apologetically and a knowing smile returned to your lips. "I knew you'd find out and deal with the issue very quickly." 

✧ You and Pantalone were an odd couple. You didn't hail from a rich background, nor were you well-versed in the art of business and finance. You were more proficient in adventuring, your travels taking you to all sorts of journeys and commissions, a polar opposite from your beloved Pantalone. This led to raised eyebrows among the aristocrats of Snezhnaya. How can the richest man of Teyvat, who lives and works in prestige, be associated with such a simple person as you? For some, this gave the impression that they had a better chance of winning him over.

Thus, once upon a night, Pantalone was invited to a luxurious soirée. Here he was, clad in his finest suit, silver rings complementing his equally expensive optics. But to the Regrator, the jewelry adorning him was the least of his concerns - because you were the most precious gem in this gala. You accompanied him, although reluctantly, feeling out of place amidst the grand assembly of extravagant guests and the languid orchestra.

“Pantalone, do we have to…? I know you said this is not a business party, but there are so many guests already lining up to talk to you.” 

“Oh do not fret, my sweet. Evening galas like these are where the real negotiation and connections entail. But I know the details bore you, so I promise we won't stick here for too long. Besides, I get to introduce you as my one and only!”

That's exactly what you were afraid of. As a company of some esteemed noble ladies adorning elegant gowns, you had difficulties matching Pantalone’s polite smile. Overwhelmed by the scrutinizing gazes of some guests, you politely excused yourself to the bathroom. Pantalone was concerned, thinking of following you, but that was exactly what the guests wanted. 

You spent a long while by the hallway alone, trying to stabilize your breathing. The muttering of guests enjoying drinks and strolling was faint, but you could hear some people nearby:

“How can the 9th be with someone like them…? Surely it’s a joke.”

“A charming, rich man like him, and he can have anyone he desires. Yet he wastes his time on a simpleton?”

“Someone was definitely in it for the Mora, maybe he hasn’t seen real class. Quick, let’s go talk to him while he is alone.”

You stood with your back to a wall, and for the first time, uncertainty crept in. With fists clenched by your side, you reprimanded yourself that you are not alone. You came here with your significant other - and he, above all else, knows that gossip has no place in your shared private life. Hence, gathering up your courage, you raise your head high and strode back into the gala.

Pantalone, unfortunately yet expectedly, was surrounded by the same foul-mouthed nobles who wished to impress him. They prattled on about his financial success, while ladies fanned their folding fans and stood too close for his comfort. While they humored him, The Regrator cast hurried glances around the gala in search of you. Where are you?

“Lord Harbinger, may we offer you more champagne? I am sure this expensive bottle is up to your taste.”

The 9th attempted to hide his frown at the woman's tone, his stomach unwilling to ingest any drink some excessively elaborate name. “No thank you, I’d rather decline. I am waiting for my dear. I promised her a dance later this evening.”

“Oh, please sir, I insist. The night is young and there is plenty more for-” 

Before the woman could continue, your voice cut through the air; calm, yet unmistakably firm. “He said no. Simple enough to understand.”  

A hush fell over the gathered guests, the weight of your words settling like a sudden gust. Only Pantalone beamed with a genuine smile. “Ah, dear! There you are,”. The Harbinger was about to step back towards you, when the same lady suddenly blocked his path, her back facing him while her tone edged with defiance.

“I beg your pardon, but I’m afraid the question is directed towards Lord Harbinger Pantalone. I am sure you wouldn't know the pleasure of tasting a 500,000 Mora champagne from Fontaine.”

You recognized the snark in her tone directed towards you, and you couldn’t deny the anxiety twisting in your gut as eyes narrowed in your direction. However, with a shake of your head, you reminded yourself who you truly are and simply said: “Sheesh, lady, you spend that much on a drink that tastes worse than sparkling water? To each their own, I presume”

Her smile vanished. The guests stared in stunned silence, but it was Pantalone’s genuine laughter that pierced the tension. The sound was rich and real—because only he knew how adept you were at humbling an overconfident aristocrat with a dose of blunt truth. That’s how Pantalone managed to push through the crowd and circle his arm back around your waist, leaving the astonished onlookers behind.

“Ah dear, you’re a savior. I apologize I dragged us into this unpleasant company…” - he confined to you apologetically as you two walked away. “You always knew how to be sincere in your honest way.”

“It’s not like I meant to pick up a fight…" - you sighed. "I simply couldn't bear the humiliation, Pantalone. I'm aware that some people give me strange looks when I'm with you. They regard me as if I'm some peasant standing next to a powerful Fatui harbinger. That I'm nothing. That's why I couldn’t just hide, I had to step up to defend myself.”

“Oh, darling… My sweet, precious darling.” - The two of you left the manor that hosted the soiree, the chill night breeze muting the faint sound of guests and replacing it with a symphony of cricket noise from the garden nearby. Pantalone's fingers intertwined with yours.

"You are not just 'nothing' - you're my everything. You did not come from riches, and neither did I. You of all people know that. Would I really hold respect for some rich fool who didn't know an ounce of hardship when Mora was all they had since birth? No, dear, I wouldn't."

With a tender hand, he rested his palm on your waist, gently guiding you along the cobblestone path as if leading you into a slow waltz by garden roses in the night.

"Besides, you should never be ashamed to seek out my help. Although I must admit... Your tone earlier - oh my. Use it on me more often, darling. I wouldn't mind." 

[affableramen]

yandere genshin men trying to make things right between you

angst, mildly dark themes ayato, neuvillette, pantalone, capitano, dottore, alhaitham

note: trying a new genre.

Neuvillette

Yandere Neuvillette kept forcing you into marriage after your relationship just got established. You asked him to give you some time to think over such radical and responsible change in life, but he was adamant to your pleads. He wanted everything here and now proven officially on the papers. You spent some nights crying because to think that such gentleman-like and solitary person like Neuvillette would force you into marital relationship was eerie. The desire to possess you officially seemed to blind him completely and he went from a loving gentleman to an almost insanely addicted man who did not accept a refusal.

It was your break-time at work when Neuvillette suddenly came up to you. It was odd at first - the judge putting away his duties to meet you seemed almost unbelievable, but remembering how assertive he was in the relationship with you it might have been close to the reality.

“Can I have a moment of your time, love?” He asked you, his hand not reaching to touch you but his gaze was heavy on your face.

“Of course.”

Not longer after the two of you were sitting in the cafeteria - a curious choice for a private conversation. Although you did not deny you seemed much more comfortable in a public place rather than face-to-face with him.

“About our marriage…” Neuvillette started, his fingers grazing over his glass of water.

“You already know my opinion”, you answered with no emotion. The time to play nice unfortunately came to an end.

But the next response from Neuvillette kind of gave you goosebumps:

“If I was too harsh on you, I beg of you to forgive me. I have a habit of grasping something dear to me too tightly, and I’m afraid that I hurt you more than I could possibly imagine”, he took a pause for a breath and gulped a sip of his crystal clear water. “I genuinely need to know whether or not you still harbour any pleasant feeling towards me?”

“What are you saying? Of course I do, Neuvillette—I admit you were unacceptably rough on me the past few weeks, but it would make me a poor lover if it were to stop me from harbouring affection to you.”

The judge sighed in relief, and then his expression became serious again.

“I would love nothing more than for us to marry, but I realise the circumstances of pushing you too much. Tell me, dear, if you no longer want to proceed in intimate acquiantance with me.”

You shook your head - seems like he was not hearing you. You then took his hand in yours and spelled it again, frankly:

“No, I want to be with you, wholeheartedly. And the marriage proposal, I shall accept it too.”

Pantalone

When Pantalone kidnapped you for no specific reason, days turned to weeks. You almost forgot about the existence of sunlight as he kept you there like a pretty little porcelain doll for his own amusement—or whatever his nasty reasons might have been.

The last time you tried to escape his gloomy, mysterious castle-like home, you were severely punished for your “bad behaviour”. Blood dripped down from your chin as you were sitting on the floor of a dark hollow room, chained and bruised by his henchmen. Perhaps he considered it too tacky to touch you with his own hands.

And then he entered. You didn't even want to look at his unapproachable, icy-cold eyes, and simply turned away, your eyes shut and hidden from him.

“How rough you look”, he said with his usual tone which was cold, but at the same time smooth like butter.

You were dehydrated and hungry, that’s for sure. You wanted nothing more than a warm fuzzy blanket and sweet tea, and forget this nightmare forever.

“When was the last time you had a proper meal?” He asked. He knew you never ate his food because you’d consider yourself indebted to him. And you did not want to take anything from this man.

Your face went deadly pale and bewildered when Pantalone dropped on his knees before you and started freeing you from your shackles. His hands were shaking wildly, you could witness how poorly he mastered the lockers due to his stress.

Yet without a single doubt, with no longer time to lose he wrapped his arms around your waist to carry you. His clothes were a little stained with the snow, and a bit of freezing touch made you shiver.

“I will never do this to you anymore. Forgive me. Please, forgive me.” His words that used to be spoken as an order now were slipped from his lips as a request. 

You were laid in the warmth of the sheets of your own home. The familiar surroundings brought you joy and comfort you never knew you’d forgotten so easily.

“My butler is cooking a dinner for you in your kitchen.”

He watched the whole time you were eating, guarding you and seeing how desperately you were filling your stomach up. When you finished eating, there was one loud slap—against Pantalone’s face, by your hand. In a normal situation, he would be so angry and furious that the earth would shake of his abhor. But now he was simply taking it.

"I know. I should never have treated you like this. I ignored your wishes and violated your privacy. I’ve done the worst crime to you—I took your freedom”, he touched the red mark blooming on his cheek from your unexpected punishment. “I wanted to obtain you so much that I ended up hurting you instead.”

Ayato

He was rich to his fingertips. In his world, the only thing he could not have, but wanted to, was you. You found yourself working as his secretary, aesthetically pleasing and always efficient. But Ayato was ruthless; he could never be satisfied, he was always unhappy. The requirements to you were growing day by day, and keeping up the standards seemed an impossible task. His moods were changing like a thunderstorm.

It was a regular day when you were performing your duties that you felt someone’s presence behind your back. Ayato was not exactly above lurking so he made his presence known after you turned to face him. He did not expect you to turn so rapidly and ended up with his breath tickling against your face.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I have been too demanding and controlling. My actions driven by raw possessiveness inflicted undesirable effect upon you”, Ayato’s words died away, though the expression on his face became even more grim and grave. “You do not deserve such treatment, any of it.” 

You nearly dropped your working papers as you stared at him. Was this man really sincere? How long has he been overthinking about your relationship? It took you just a few seconds to gather your composure and strike him with an indifferent glare.

“It’s always so easy and costs no trouble for you, rich people. You just take what you want without considering either the outcome or other people’s feelings. You see people as things, belongings in your possession, and you never have enough.”

At that, Ayato became even more tense, his expression that was mainly seen by the most of people as sweet and gentle, now was an embodiment of darkness. Nevertheless he nodded to you.

“What should I do for you to forgive me? I’m not going to lie and say that I did not think about how harmful my attitude might have been to you for the past month. What think you? Do I even stand a chance?”

“Fat chance”, you chuckled under your breath. The laugh was almost too bitter rather than sarcastic.

Ayato took your hands in his, his black gloved thumbs rubbing against your skin slightly.

“You’re like a poison to me. A very addicting one. And the more I see you work for me, the more I want to have you by my side. Not just at a formal event…” he bit his pale pink lip for a moment. “I’m starting to feel as if I’d like to see you out of work circumstance, and the thoughts of such impropriety are enough to drive me utterly insane.”

You reciprocated the light squeeze that came from his hands, however yours was less obsessive and more gentle. 

“It is a very dangerous thought, Ayato.”

“Oh, I can be a very dangerous man. For you, that is.”

Capitano

You were walking in Capitano’s garden, feeling yourself like a beautiful bird in a golden cage, but in fact you were a princess in a beast’s castle. Once you saw his real face, you kept having nightmares about his skin rotting appearance. This man was scaring you to the bone, and every time you met him, although not very often, you felt how demanding and heavy the gaze of his icy blue eyes was.

You did not see him often, but once a while Capitano requested (no, ordered!) a private dinner with you. The rooms were dimly lit, his loyal butler making preparations to the highest standards as usual, and you - wearing the most luxurious of dresses you’d only be able to peek at in the past. But your face was the odd one as it beared no smile on it. You were gravely terrified by this man who had claimed you as his. And even though you slept in separate rooms, you could not brush the feeling as if he owned you; well, he kind of did, since you dwelt in his mansion. 

Per usual, you were having a dinner with him at about eight in the evening when Capitano finally spoke. His tone was filled with assertiveness and power, yet the way he was eating, the movements of his hands were elegant enough to remind you of an excellently-educated prince.

“Y/N, I need to speak to you.”

You shivered when you heard him, and you let go of the fork. The jingling sound spread across the room which put you even in an unnecessarily bigger predicament.

“Yes, sir?”

Capitano hummed - he put his utensils away and looked as if he was carefully choosing his words which was not a habit of his. This Harbinger often talked exactly what he thought and was known for his bluntness. Capitano never beat around the bush and was always straight to the point, and this was one of the personality traits of his that made you feel conflicted. It was both terrifying and worth of respect.

“I want you to stop being scared of me. I want you to see that there is more of me than a horriffic, ugly old beast.”

You gasped: did he just used those unflattering words to himself? It felt so odd and so frustrating.

“What feelings do you want me to harbour for you, given our unusual circumstances?”

There was a long pause before Capitano made a sip of his red wine and suggested the following:

“Affection is too much, but could you at least try to be friendly with me? Don’t you see—can’t you see how hard I’m trying to make your life with me less unbearable?”

Affection… friendliness… is that what he really needs from you?—you think.

“I’m a prisoner here, I cannot imagine how I am supposed to show any warm feelings towards you. It would be fake and stupid.”

“Then make them not fake and stupid.” Capitano raised from the table and stormed out of the dining room, leaving you alone in the dim light of candles.

Dottore

You woke up on the plain lab bed, still restrained but this time your pain was drastically diminished. When you opened your eyes the lights did not cut your sight right away and you realised that the room was only dimly lit. You sighed in relief - perhaps he went on a break and you had a few moments of rest from his constant analysis and experiments upon your body.

There were a few tattoos on your hands but too small to even understand their meanings. Perhaps it was something from Zandik’s past that he decided to ruthlessly carve on you.

Your happiness and sense of relief did not last long though, as the man who called himself Doctor entered the room not exactly quietly. 

“Look who’s alive. I’m glad”, he wrote something on his notes, “very glad, even.”

“What are you going to do to me next? Turn me into… abomination?” You attempted to sound sarcastic even though all your being was screaming inside. “I’m pretty sure you have not gotten your fill yet out of me.”

Dottore abruptly stopped writing and dropped his journal on the lab desk next to you.

“I think we’re finished here.”

“What?”

“I said you’re free to go”, he cut your leather restraints with one rough motion that had a vibe of uncertainty of the soul.

You looked at your hands, your body cheered welcoming freedom, but at the bottom of your heart you were perplexed.

“But why?”

Dottore did not utter a single word more, with his face buried into his other records, he turned away from you completely ignoring your presence.

You found your clothes tidy and repaired on the chair, and put them on quickly. Upon escaping the place you saw that not a single Fatui agent was preventing you from leaving. You looked at the lab once more and a pang of strange kind of sorrow appeared in your heart. Perhaps, you should pay him a visit once you’re recovered? Or was it a bad idea?..

Alhaitham

The nerdy scholar was quite possessive and jealous. He had a very curious but rather depressive personality. You thought him a quiet man until one extraordinary and terrific experience. 

Alhaitham locked a man in the library for the whole night after he saw him giving you too much attention and you happily reciprocating him. An innocent friendly conversation seemed a blunt flirt to him. He could not bear the thought you having affection to someone else who was not him. When he saw you first he realised that he wanted you to see only him, and give all your attention to him. He craved to see you wanting his company, clinging to him or even agreeing to date him. But since his personality was too aloof and he never ever attempted to simply ask you out, but kept staring at you from the side, stalking unnoticeably and gather all information about you, you never had a chance to learn of his true feelings. Behind his obsession there had to be something, as such strong feelings never came out of nowhere.

Upon seeing you chat with that guy Alhaitham grew so furious that he almost not giving it a thought just slammed the door with the poor guy in the library and left him there for the whole damn night. Blinded by his jealousy, he did not even consider how you’d feel about that. The next morning you were perplexed by the sudden disappearance of your classmate, and once the library opening time came, the student was finally released.

“How could you do this to him? To anyone?” You asked Alhaitham; it did not take much time to learn whose fault was that.

“How could I?” He asked you back, his expression grave and unmoveable as if he were not interested in a single thing in the world. “How could you spend so much time with him? He’s a total jerk.”

“Judging by what you did the total jerk is you! How could you simply lock the person up? Are you insane?”

Alhaitham’s patience started to grow thinner. He squeezed his hands into the fists so hard that his knuckled turned snow-white.

“Are you stupid? You really don’t see how I feel about you? And you keep being so nice to everyone but me. You’re obviously ignoring me.”

Bewildered, yet you finally understood the root of the case. You stared at him for a few seconds before checking if anyone was near to eavesdrop. Luckily, there was not a soul around so you spoke honestly:

“If you wanted to woo me, endangering someone was not a good idea. You did something I deem unacceptable. And such unacceptable actions will only make me like you less, Alhaitham.”

Alhaitham leaned closer, his voice was a gentle whisper.

“Right? Then teach me to woo you properly. I’ll do thousands of attempts to win you over, no matter the cost.” You pressed your hands against his shoulders to prevent him from getting into closer proximity with you, and Alhaitham, although not completely willingly, but still backed off.

[grimmweepers]

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄: OCT 3RD

— ♤ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: yandere!dottore x assistant!fem reader

— ♤ 𝐜𝐰: obsessive yandere behaviour, emotional manipulation, psychological manipulation, stalking, build up to smut is longish sorry, reader is gullible, dubcon, no preparation, pussy slapping (once), he calls you sweetheart, pet, pup, unprotected sex, creampie, rough sex, power imbalance, biting, 3.5k wc, 18+ only, MDNI.

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

It started with curiosity.

Maybe it was the softness in your voice as you confidently sat in his office, explaining why you would be perfect for the job, or perhaps the way you held onto the belief that he was a good person. But once Dottore saw how much you lit up when he offered you a position on the spot, he knew right then he needed to keep you close. 

This new revelation almost terrified him. 

Your voice was so innocent, clinging to him like honeysuckle, and that warmth behind your smile—it was too pure, too untainted. It had to be locked away before the world could tarnish it.

If you had paid attention, you would’ve noticed how his gaze lingered a little too long when you spoke; how his questions would dive deeper the more you got to know him.

You were ignorant of how much Dottore had deeply ingrained himself into every facet of your life, playing the role of the emotionally distant boss who eventually found comfort in your company. He saw that flicker of trust in your eyes and allowed you to believe you were the only person who could see the real him—“the man behind the mask who bled his heart and soul to you when nobody else was looking.” 

Everything was calculated. Subtle. You had become his latest obsession—a sweet, little experiment where the only result he deemed acceptable would be having you wrapped around his finger. So he made sure he was the first you turned to when things went wrong, planting seeds of doubts about everyone you knew. 

“Forgive me but your friends don’t seem to understand you.”

At first, you dismissed his comments but over time his critiques took root. You saw flaws in people that seemingly weren’t there before which made you wonder if it was truly only Dottore who had your best interest at heart. Gradually, you began to rely on him as your only confidant. Your rock. But it didn’t stop at just your relationships. Dottore had inserted himself into your daily routine, providing solutions for problems you hadn’t realised he created. After minor inconveniences and projects falling through, he was always there to pick up the pieces.

“Here, let me help you with that.”

And every time he did, you felt more indebted to him.

Dottore strung you along for years, feeding you enough affection to have you tethered with him while subtly isolating you from others. And when he finally made you his girlfriend, it was less a declaration of love and more of a confirmation of his control over you.

But you didn’t need to know that. 

You are his precious masterpiece, sculpted into the ideal partner—no longer the person you once were but a reflection of his twisted desires. 

When calling him “Doctor” transitioned from a professional title to something you moaned whenever he plowed you with his cock, it was difficult for him not to start touching himself at random hours of the day. 

Fortunately for him, he could simply just find you while you were working and suddenly, there was something hard pressed against your ass! It always satisfied him a great deal knowing how willing you were to please him, no matter the time of day.  

Sometimes he pitied you for never catching on so the first time you went astray, he was somewhat glad that his little darling wasn’t so dense.

“Dottore, I’m finding it difficult to get through to you. I feel suffocated. I’m worried about us.”

He glanced up from his notebook, almost affectionately, “You’re overthinking it, my dear.”

“I think we need some time apart," your words tasted bitter. "I just… need to clear my head. I’m sorry,��� you felt guilty for even suggesting it.

“Time apart?” he repeated with a false frown, dropping his book to look at you wholly. “For how long?’

“I’m not sure.”

A tense silence hung between you, and you tried to steady your breath.

“Darling, you’re not making any sense,” he blinked.

“It makes sense to me,” you protested, “I wasn’t asking.”

Truth be told, he was more amused than angered. Although, he wondered what it was that finally provoked your sudden notion. Sure, disagreements were more frequent but it had been so long since this all began. He thought his tactics would be something you were used to by now. Perhaps you were starting to see everything for what it truly was.

Perhaps not.

Your voice was trembling but you were firm in your resolve. Dottore liked that you thought you had a choice, so he entertained you by letting the last of his smile fade from his lips, eyes narrowing in your direction. 

“So a break, then? If you think that will benefit us, I understand. But I’m not a mind reader. If something bothers you, you have to tell me, okay?”

His words seemed to melt some of your worries away so you couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him. Could you really doubt someone so patient, so willing to give you space when you needed it? 

“Really?”

“Of course," the lie effortlessly slipped between his teeth, "I respect your boundaries."

You nodded as you squeezed his hand and before you could turn away, his grip tightened. “Before you go, let me remind you that I love you, so very much.” 

And without warning, he kissed you. It was lingering, with no remorse, disguised as a parting gift—as if to say he know you’d be back.

“You shouldn’t be doing that,” you said, feeling conflicted. 

“Doing what?” He questioned.

Dottore knew exactly what he was doing. 

———

Weeks had passed but your time away from him was restless. Days felt semi-wakeful and what emerged was not clarity but the creeping sense that the world was conspiring against you.

It was like your life had taken an irreparable turn. Work became a constant setback, and friends you thought you had made you feel isolated and adrift. Even your home, which once felt cozy and safe, was starting to feel clinical and cold. 

And who would be the one to orchestrate your misery other than the Doctor himself? That vendor who suddenly couldn’t get your orders right? A bribe from Dottore. The neighbours who started fighting at all hours? A couple he had manipulated into conflict. Even your small office, a place that once made you feel so productive, now felt claustrophobic and stifling thanks to subtle changes he made while you were away.

Each of these inconveniences wore you down, making you long for the comfort and stability that only Dottore had ever provided. 

So when you received a short and carefully worded letter from him, asking how you were, you felt a surge of relief. You didn’t hesitate to see him that very evening, desperate to talk in person.

Before you knew it, you were falling right into his hands.

On your feet, you headed straight to the entrance of his lab and stared at the door before you gave a knock.

“Come in,” he said from inside.

The moment you saw him, he greeted you with that charming smile, and suddenly all the frustration from the past weeks melted away. You rushed into his arms, burying your face into his chest, “I missed you.”

He held you close, stroking the back of your head with practiced gentleness, “Ah! You’re finally back. I can’t say I’ve been happy without you.” 

If he was beaming out of satisfaction, you were blind to it. You were too distracted by the need to hear him say it back, to say that he missed you. But instead of the words you longed to hear, he merely held you tighter.

Looking up at him, your eyes searched for reassurance, “Did you miss me?”

He leaned in, pressing a kiss on your forehead, “Of course.”

“Everything’s been so hard,” tears began to well up, “I can’t believe I distanced myself when I needed you the most.” 

He was always enthralled whenever he was right.

“Let’s not dwell on that, shall we? I’m here now so don’t fret.”

His words felt like a balm to your wounded soul and you clutched onto his coat as if he might vanish if you let go. You could not refuse him and he wouldn’t allow that option to exist. Dottore watched you, elated with himself, “Come,” he said, taking your hand towards his familiar private quarters, “I have something for you.” 

After closing the door behind him, his gaze remained on you, “I was hoping you would see me sooner rather than later,” he started, guiding you to the couch where the two of you sat. “We have much to catch up on.”

Dottore wore his grief convincingly as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a delicate crystal necklace that flickered like ice in the light, “I don’t want to lose you again.” Your heart skipped a beat as he put it on for you, the weight of it cold against your skin. When you relaxed your guard, he leaned in and whispered in your ear, “I can’t lose you. I won’t.” 

You thanked him for the gift but felt him craning your head to the side.

“It’s ice quartz," he purred, "For the pure love I have for you. For the healing that I hope it brings to your troubled heart. I’m sorry.”

There was a pause—a thoughtful stillness, and without another word, he kissed the exposed skin of your neck as if you beckoned him to. 

His lips were impossible to resist, each kiss slowly claiming you as he trailed his way to your mouth. You allowed your hands to explore his hair, messing up the neatness that once was.

Dottore wasted no time, the moment his lips met yours, you felt his hungry tongue and how it tasted of false apologies and something sickeningly sweet. He kissed you like he was starved—like he'd wanted his mouth on yours for weeks.

"Do you still—" he lightly pulled your bottom lip between his teeth, "—feel suffocated?"

Yes, you wanted to say. But for an entirely different reason now. This type of suffocation made your head spin and left something tingling between your legs.

"No," you finally answered against him. A string of saliva connected the small space between your lips. You relaxed under him and he took it as a chance to shuffle himself between your thighs.

"Hmm, I'm glad," he smirked before forcing another kiss out of you. Between gasps for air, his impatient hands found the hem of your blouse, unbuttoning it as he pushed you on your back. You pulled him down with you because you refused to part from the sinful way his lips collided with yours.

Piece by piece, layers of clothes began to disappear until you were left with nothing except the necklace he had given you. 

Spread out like this, you were ravishing, like a fine piece of art and the sight of you went straight to his cock. It throbbed in his slacks and you could hear his breathing growing uneven. At that moment, he could’ve taken you like an animal but he wasn’t ready. Not yet.

“Mmh!” you moaned in surprise as he cupped your breast, fondling your sensitive nipples and practically anywhere else that was available to him. He was so precise in everything he did, it was no wonder he was in his profession. 

The time you spent apart had left you already aching for him so when he dipped his fingers between your quivering thighs, he felt your arousal. You were hot and puffy and embarrassingly wet.

Dottore began to toy with your clit and it pulsed under the pads of his fingers. You moaned instantly. But he was excruciatingly light with his touch which only made you desperate for more friction. You whined and even though the sound of it made his heart beat quickly, his face was unreadable.

“Patience,” he urged. Dottore waited for you for weeks and you had the nerve to whine? At the very least you could have made up for the time you robbed from him. 

You intended to listen. You really did! But when his fingers teased the entrance of your hole, your body acted before you could think and suddenly, your hips rolled towards him. He had barely even touched you before he stopped. 

Tsk, you heard from him, clearly disappointed by your lack of control.

Instead of continuing, he gave your pussy a sudden slap which left you whimpering. 

“Why—!” You trembled, feeling its stinging aftermath.

Why?

Simply put, he decided he wasn’t going to bother with what you wanted. 

In exchange for running away from him, he would show you that not everything was served on a silver platter. Seeing you go from distressed to dependent on him only excited him more. No one riles him up in the way that you do so he couldn’t bear to wait a second longer. 

“Stay like this,” there was something deranged about the smile that appeared on his face. The clinical white glow of his quarters dulled his pale skin yet his teeth glistened through his lips. You felt a chill and it wasn't because of the cold air.

He pulled away and you were immediately drawn to the tight bulge pressing against his pants. Dottore noticed. He knew you were watching.

"Now open your legs for me," he said, breaking you out of your daze. You shifted pathetically under him so it was ultimately his large hand, splayed across your thigh that held you in place. You saw his erection twitch when his eyes fell on your hole, drenched for him and all.

After quickly undoing his trousers, he pushed his throbbing length inside you in one, deep stroke. Your hands curled into the cushions and you were prepared to scream—

"Perfect," he breathed. You didn't need proper preparation. He knew your body better than you did.  

Your voice was lodged in your throat as his girth stretched you apart and Dottore couldn’t help throwing his head back, curses falling from his lips at how well you hugged him. You were so beautiful like this. He couldn’t wait to fuck you back into obedience. It was your fault for being this way, really. You were just so malleable, so easy.

“Ah, look at you. So wet already, my little pup. Did you miss me that much?” 

“Yes, I did. Yes, I did, Doctor!” you whimpered, and he began thrusting as if rewarding you for your response. His hips slammed mercilessly into yours at an unexpected pace, and you couldn’t even think about any of your frustrations anymore — each time he slid in and out was like erasing all the concerns you had before this. 

“Dottore,” he corrected you. “You call me by my name today.” There was a slight strain in his voice as he fucked you but that was better than what was going on with you. With each thrust bucking into your sweet spot, you could hardly talk. 

The coat on his back ruffled behind him with each erratic movement. It was almost humiliating how he remained entirely clothed as he rammed into you. Your bare skin was on display yet not so much as a zipper and his disheveled hair was out of place for him.

Maybe he was too eager, you thought. Or maybe it was because he wouldn’t strip himself for the likes of you. Not when he was trying to remind you that being with him was a luxury. What he needed to etch into your subconscious was: 

You could get whatever you want as long as you stay and listen. 

Huffing at the sensation of being balls deep inside your pussy, he held you with a bruising grip on your waist, fucking you in a way that had you drooling. You were trying to remember a time when he wasn’t the one making you happy or giving you pleasure — but you couldn’t. Because it didn’t exist. 

“Dott…ore,” you called breathlessly, your voice mixing with the sound of your necklace clinking against your chest. He knew you very well, you had more to say than just the spilling of his name. He could see it in your damn eyes. 

Lowering himself to your neck, he rutted you even further into the couch, “What is it, my dear?” He asked, biting into you, feeling his hot and heavy breath fanning your skin. You yelped as his teeth clenched, knowing there was going to be a mark later. 

“I… love… you…” The words came out in a broken whisper, the sincerity of your confession made his cock twitch inside of you, precum already painting the insides of your hole. 

His tongue began to trace a slow and deliberate path from your neck to your ear, keeping his relentless rhythm as he did. “Is that right?” There was a cruel edge to his voice when he spoke. And you nodded back at him, feebly. Truthfully. 

“Then act like it,” he hissed, grip tightening as he thrusted sharply.

You shuddered underneath him—out of fear or pleasure, you weren’t sure but you knew you didn’t want it to end. You pulled him closer, winding your hands around his neck while he was deep inside you. “I’m— sorry!” you moaned, an apology slipping out in a haze. 

He almost growled at the sensation of you trembling around him, his crimson eyes searing into you, “No, it’s not your fault. I should have paid better attention to you.”

Another lie but exactly what you needed to hear to keep you going.

Lewd squelching sounds filled the room as he reduced you to a filthy mess. Even in your years of being with him, you had never seen him so untamed. Your juices were getting all over his trousers and if you knew any better, you would've seen how he got off on that.

You had almost forgotten where you were, though, at that point, you didn’t care about whether anybody else in the building heard. He fucked you hard and desperately, whatever he needed to do to keep his darling at bay, and you shamelessly cried out his name over and again. It was adorable.

“Dottore… I’m close—! Fuck. Fuck!” You swallowed your words as he pounded you. 

"Dirty mouth," he grunted, "Who taught you how to speak like that?"

He hovered above you, so close you could almost feel his hair tickling your face. "Nobody," you moaned quietly this time, feeling ashamed.

Every veiny inch of him was inside you and the more you felt of it, the less you thought. You just wanted to snap, to cum on him while he drove into you.

“Oh my, you're getting tighter,” he cooed, his voice deceptively gentle as he neared his own release. “Feeling good, sweetheart? Finish with me then…” 

Fortunately—or unfortunately, his pace became rougher, like a repeated reminder of who he was to you and his hand traveled to your jaw, tipping your head to meet his gaze. Amid your bodies thrashing, he could barely keep up with his own voice,

“No one will ever love you like me

or care about you like me

or fuck you like me. Do you understand, pet?” 

“Yes—! Yes, I do,” you panted as you wrapped your legs around him, pulling his hips further into your sloppy cunt. In your lust-clouded daze, you were too weak to register the weight of his words. His sultry voice did a great job at masking the fact that he meant every single thing he said. 

Dottore’s face twisted into a more sadistic smile, letting his thoughts get the best of him. He relished in how little and helpless you sounded, how utterly pliant you were to his will. Everything felt right again and you were back to where he had woven you. With a final, brutal snap of his hips, he spilled his seed inside you, locking himself against you. 

You arched your back as your orgasm crashed simultaneously—you moaned collectively, and your walls pulsed around his cock like you were milking every drop he’s got. His hips stuttered, not giving a damn about the way your nails bit into his skin. Instead, he slammed his lips onto yours, devouring you in a messy, filthy kiss—a perfect match for the way he had just fucked you senseless.

Still panting, he clutched the side of your face, only gentler now. His thumb stroked your cheek as if savouring the moment of seeing you act the way you should.

“I love you,” he hummed, the words slipped from his lips like it was so natural to him. "I love you."

Of course, he loved you. Everything he has done for you was for himself. Everything has been catered to him. 

His sweat-speckled forehead shimmered in the dim light and as you looked up at him, your heart softened. The weight of him on top of you and the comfort in his embrace made you forget everything, lulling you into a peaceful state. 

You sighed, feeling a bit foolish for even creating a wall between you. In front of you, he seemed so fragile, like you were the only thing holding him together. How could you have thought he was anything but honest with you all along?

Now, everything felt perfect—perfect in a way that left no room for anything else. 

No room for doubt or escape.

a/n: imagine at the end of this you think it's over and suddenly his segments walk in

© 2024 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform

dividers by @/astrumaur

[brynn-lear]

Sugar Pills (Yandere!Capitano/Reader)

Questionable Overview: You're getting real tired of Dottore's theatrics. Which is a great shame, considering how it's only now that Capitano learns the value of surface acting and masking. (from my series: #Capitano's So-Called Liability)

CW/Tags: there is no "real" age gaps since this is a Howl's Moving Castle scenario, slowburn/soft yandere themes, afab!reader, mild violence. While this fic isn't "too dark", the reader isn't mentally stable. Please prioritize your mental health first, you matter.

Prev || Next

When coming up with a proposal, you've learned that it's best to approach a harbinger when they're in the middle of an arms race. It's been ages since you've applied this knowledge, but luckily, dusting off memories of yesteryears isn't challenging.

"Can't even spare me a proper welcome?" You yawned, dropping a beaten and dead fatuus just inches away from an unforgettable metal-laced shoe. The sound of their empty vision clunked on the hard floor. "I might not be as much in the spotlight these days, dear, but isn't it good manners to greet your elders properly when they visit?"

The aforementioned shoe brushed the body away. "Hah. You make a terrible habit of flaunting that cosmetic age of yours."

And yet, there you stood, glaring with a smug head up high. No ordinaire can don the demeanor you flaunt in front of the second-ranked harbinger. You'll always keep the cloak-and-dagger act. Dramatics are second nature to those who earn their keep through blood money. You only saw it right to greet him with a more appropriate entrance. Bold and unfaltering in resolve.

"And you have a great habit of looking younger with each passing day," you feigned a chirpy tone. "Isn't that right, Doctor?"

Behind a crow's mask, crimson eyes bore holes into your very being.

Since you received that "birthday present" from him, he had sent out men to secretly nag you behind the Captain's back. They ask you why you haven't taken the medicine at best and attempt to drug you at worst. This rendezvous had been going on for weeks. Enough times that could manifest anger and murderous intent out of you until it did.

After reaching the limit of your patience, you murdered the last person to spike your perfectly fine water, took his vision and portable waypoint, and teleported to his master harbinger's base. Too much work just to get someone to stop pestering you.

The feeling is mutual. Il Dottore— the last of his perspective— also found your presence troublesome.

The second-ranked harbinger spent his "free" time in a painfully bright, pale room. He likes to dub this phase a "recovery state." Typically, there would be plenty of "him" to go around— but striking a deal for a gnosis always beckons a great deal of self-sacrifice. Or self-sacrifice-s. 

Hence why you pushed to visit him this instance. Despite his placid demeanor, you're confident he's eager to prove that there's a method to his madness. Oneself is always the greatest competitor. 

A proper arms race. 

"You know very well that I do not take youth as a compliment," he retorted, though his tone was considerably friendly. He made repeated tapping motions on his armchair, almost impatiently. "What trivial matter have you dared to interrupt my brainstorming session with? Speak now— I'll let you know I'm engaged with matters of greater significance."

"I've done my due diligence of personally replying to your last letter." You glared down at your last victim. "Consider this my thanks."

Without tearing your gaze away, you fished the medicine from your coat and threw it at his chest with all your might. The bottle shattered on the floor.

Greatly "offended" by your rude antics, Dottore defeatedly abandoned his scrawls and turned to properly look at you.

"You decided to skip the pills. How delightfully reckless of you, Granny (Y/n)." He sardonically smiled.

At least he has the decency to name you correctly.

You rolled your eyes as you approached. Once you were just a foot away, you stabbed the corpse's head once more with your cane's pointed base— the force harsh enough to splatter the livor mortis flesh and brain matter on the floor of his beloved laboratory.

What an unnecessarily extreme scene, befitting of your old title.

"I grow tired of your games, Zandik." You spat back. "Must you constantly send your men to make futile attempts to lace my food with your de-aging concoction? I don't appreciate discarding their bodies— much less some perfectly fine meals."

If Capitano were here, he would've made a vague comment about how your value on human life is concerning.

But he doesn't have to know about this interaction.

"You complain about my work, yet I vaguely recall an era in your life in which you'd routinely wake up screaming like a rooster in the morning." Dottore shrugged and pointed to himself. "And who provided you with a cure-all for those night terrors? Go on. I would be enthused to know."

You crossed your arms. The jaded look in your eyes heightened his interest. Hence, Dottore stood up, his footsteps crunching the shattered glass strewn about.

"Let me wager a proper hypothesis for this ...irrational behavior. A possible psychological or existential leaning toward death may be at the root of the patient's ongoing resistance to the recommended treatment." He craned his head like a bird inspecting its prey. "In simpler terms for meager minds like yours to understand: you're not accepting my charity since you wish to die. Is that right?" 

Dottore is a reasonable man. Disarmingly charming, even.

This particular segment just hates you.

You smiled back, returning the same malice.

"Who knows?" You tapped the beak of his mask. "Doesn't matter. I didn't come here to get psycho-analyzed. I came here because I want to strike a deal."

Dottore paused.

"I had a prediction that you would ensnare me with a gambit. No small wonder that Omega has found you a captivating individual, (Y/n)."

Many miss the fact that the good Doctor has a "seductive" air about him. He has a charisma that people will either dismiss in fear or fall victim to. You're part of the secret third group— the coworkers immune to his antics.

"Yes, well, I do pride myself on hosting the best picnics by the meadows of Ardravi Valley." You spoke, voice oozing with the same playful banter you once reserved for his deceased copy. "I've got no abundance in lifespan like you. I'd dare say I'm selling myself at a very limited-time offer."

However, this Dottore was not the one you befriended. This was his murderer.

"Playing the card of wisdom with that appearance may fool the world, but you can't dissuade me." Dottore clicked his tongue. "Are you mimicking Sohreh?"

What a surprisingly plain question.

You shrugged. "Am I?"

Feigning impassivity while he could, the Doctor placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Talk."

"I've only one wish, which is for you to stop being such a nuisance." You scoffed. "What can I do to get you to stop trying to make me your side experiment, Doctor?"

Intuition rarely fails you. You knew that this was a matter that could be reasoned with. The problem is that you needed to figure out what your bargaining chip would be. But by the look on his face, he had already sorted that out minutes, maybe even months, before you arrived.

His hand that once hovered on your shoulder slowly snaked towards your neck.

"I have a proposal," Dottore spoke softly.

You hardened your expression. "Spill."

"I can assist you in experiencing that honorable death you craved so much— at the right time and place." Using his thumb, he applied mild pressure against your throat. "However, I'll need you to befriend the upcoming tourists in Natlan."

You blinked.

… What a strange request.

"Befriend… The tourists?" You grabbed his intrusive hand, yanking it away. "What are you on about?"

"Under favorable circumstances, I would have had a copy extract these, but the old conventional tools are unavailable."

"But why?" You raised an eyebrow. "Dear, I just can't quite wrap my head around why this is the gamble you're betting your chips on—"

"And that is precisely why The Tsaritsa dubbed you La Ruffiana and not a respectable title," Dottore smirked, chuckling lowly. "Hence, I'll gladly elucidate you with brief guide questions in a language you're sure to comprehend."

"I'd rather we both save time by revealing the answer, pronto."

Since you had forgotten to let go of his wrist, he used your grip to pull you closer to him.

"Tell me, (Y/n), during the Sumeru fiasco…" With faces just inches away from each other, he tilted and teased your ear with his breath. "Who, indeed, served as the paramount subject in my quest to engineer a being that transcends even the might of the archons?"

… Who?

You placed a hand on his chin to create a respectable distance. "Child, I really hate to say this, but the world doesn't just spin around you and your little experiments. I wouldn't know a thing about that poor, nameless puppet you're on about. But if I had to take a wild guess, you're talking about that man you went and turned into a sorry excuse for an All-Knowing God, aren't you?"

Dottore grinned, baring his sharp teeth.

"I perceive that our memories from that period have been tampered with. Nevertheless, your hypothesis remains merely superficial. There exists an individual whom I regard as the genuine subject of this experiment. Would you toss one last conjecture?"

…

You let out a strangled air, unable to properly articulate your disbelief.

It's the traveler. Of course, it's her.

Dottore aspires to transform humans into gods, yet his attempts have thus far been in vain. Save for one young woman who sought refuge in both Mondstadt and Sumeru, all subjects have perished during testing. In your days as a harbinger, you've watched others toil over the vulneraries and prosthetics the Doctor would jam into them. Your visit to certain hospitals by the desert is your testimony to his apathy. He is driven by relentless curiosity, never pausing for the ethical implications of his research, but would spend hours on the feasibility of his experiments.

You were relieved when you heard he used an inorganic lifeform in his last experiment. But if that was a mere dud, then…

"Don't tell me— all this time, your real goal revolved around how the traveler could ascend into Godhood?" You gawked. "So whatever that puppet was, is nothing more than a self-fulfilling prophecy in failure? Your experiments in blasphemy will always find new ways to make me utterly sick."

You flinched as Dottore caressed your cheek. It wasn't the contact that shocked you.

It was the respect in his eyes.

"Hmm... About a year ago, you'd make conscious efforts to bite your tongue. I must remark that I am fascinated with the concerning spike of confidence your senile age brings."

"Things change." You mocked him. "You should try growing older. About a year ago, I wouldn't have this deal with you, too."

With that, the verbal contract was set into motion.

"We'll keep in touch."

He pulled away.

You scoffed. "If I believed in Celestia, I would've prayed you'd become a decent person."

"How unfortunate that you'll need a stronger God to achieve that ambition," Dottore laughed. "And materializing a stronger God is precisely part of my current objectives."

This heretic.

"I see now why you and Capitano are far too different to be colleagues."

You glared.

"Have your glory. You may receive everything— the ego in victory— the spoils of war. Celestia may even watch you steal the blessings of ascension. But you have no honor. You live with no happiness."

You grumbled while you walked away. The erratic sound of your cane reflected the rhythm of your anger and disgust. Before you left, you gave him one high note to end on.

"You dance with no music."

As soon as you were out of the vicinity, Dottore quickly returned to his near-incoherent scrawling.

"I'd rather be a fool who performs for no one," he grinned, his stomach tucking in from stifled laughter. "Than a blabbering grandmother scared of sugar pills."

"(Y/N)!!!"

Upon your supposedly quiet return to the inn, you were greeted by a pair of large hands squeezing your cheeks with trembling worry.

"I told you to call me Granny—"

"Where have you been?!" He tilted your head, inspecting for wounds like an incompetent father. His strength would usually cause grief, but you've grown used to this. It's a sensation that's hard to hate.

His hands are rough but not unkind.

"When I awoke, I realized you were not in your room." He spoke, evident that he was reeling himself from rambling. Been a long while since you saw his long and gorgeous hair this messy. "Had I not instructed you not to wander alone without one of our men at your side."

The inn's staff whispered among themselves while his men stiffly avoided gazing at you two. You cringe at everyone's bloodshot eyes. There's more room to pity the Natlan locals— they didn't ask to be involved. Capitano ordered a search party this late on your behalf when there was zero need for it. The attention was getting embarrassing.

You should've known that he'd notice your absence.

Damn it. You were barely gone for half an hour.

"Steel yourself, child. I don't need your men to coddle me." Months have passed, and he has yet to accept that you do not have a respectable position as a personal assistant. "I can wander around Natlan as safe as I please, kid. Are you seriously doubting my strength?"

That dirty tactic sobered him up.

"You know that isn't so." Capitano sighed, letting you go. "I know you're plenty capable, however..."

"Need I remind you that before the incident, I was originally the Harbinger tasked with retrieving the pyro gnosis?" You shook your head, feigning disappointment. "You should know by now that I've studied this place's typography and wildlife. No encounter could shock and harm me— even with these old bones."

"It's precisely why I worry over you," Capitano glared slightly. "With your curse, you could've been marked by foes out there."

"I didn't go anywhere far. I was just sightseeing."

"That explanation doesn't wash. I saw the glow of a portable waypoint when you came back."

… How observant. That's the first ranked harbinger for ya, you supposed.

"Okay, maybe I went home for a bit, so what?" You pouted. "It's a bit too warm in here for my liking."

The inn's staff immediately froze up.

"N-Not that it's bad, of course!" You laughed nervously. Ah, shit, let's not involve them. "It's my fault 'cause I didn't raise that concern with them. Old ladies such as myself are so stubborn. Hmm, hmm!"

Gradually, Capitano relaxed.

"I understand. At least, I'll choose to understand your fib for now."

"Not quite out of the cage yet, am I?" You joked.

"Not at all." Capitano exhaled softly, a hand barely covering his gentle smile. His voice made it painfully apparent that you're off the hook.

He's such a terrible liar.

Before you could comment on this, Capitano reached out his hand.

"Come with me." He wagged his fingers towards him, beckoning you to come closer. "Let's continue our conversation somewhere private."

Out of the 11 harbingers and those who had come and gone, you know Capitano the most.

"I didn't realize Natlan nights can be cold." You spoke thoughtlessly.

He stared at you blankly. "Cold enough to prevent you from running back home, clearly."

"Ah."

And likewise, he knows you best as well.

You digressed in an instant. "Why did you bring me here, Little Captain?"

You stood by a cliff, staring at the quiet night in the humble town. There's a noticeable increase of guards on patrol since the Fatui arrived in Natlan, but with Capitano as the lead, you saw no reason for their alarm. Obviously, Capitano didn't bring you here to make that observation. Judging from how his stare is on the ground and not the beautiful sight, public perception is pushed at the back of his mind.

"Your cane…" He whispered.

"What about it?"

"You forgot to wash the blood away."

Inspecting the cane without lifting it, you realize what he meant.

"Oh."

"Who was it?" His voice sounded a bit more stern.

Your eyebrows furrowed. "Who was what?"

There was a shift in the air.

"Who attacked you?"

…

You laughed uncontrollably.

"W-What?! Pfft— puh-lease! No one attacked me." You poked his helmet. He stared you down, unamused. "No-bo-dy."

Capitano has yet to let his anger go. He spoke steadily, but he wasn't fooling you. "I'll ask once more: who attacked you?"

"Don't tell me your memory is worse than this old lady's," you clicked your tongue. "I just told you, it's nobody."

Capitano shifted his foot down slightly. "Elena reported that you were assaulting a fatuus with your cane in an isolated dining area."

Curses. You thought you were alone. To be caught by Elena, of all people? Your senses must be dulling.

"Well, one of your men— I suppose— was disrespecting their elders."

"I ordered a headcount. None of my men have gone missing." Capitano crossed his arms. "Besides, they know better than aggravating my most prized assistant."

Should've known that lie won't fly.

"Okay, maybe it wasn't one of your men." Obviously it was Dottore's, but you bit your tongue. "But you should know I'm a polarizing figure in the Fatui. I heard someone say that getting rid of me is a noble act cause they'd be removing your right from employing an absolute loser."

"(Y/n), where did you get those ideas?"

Honestly? Straight out of your 'lovely' imagination. If not inspired by Pantalone's past remarks as well— just cruder.

It’s almost commendable how easy it is to assume everyone is out to get you. The work environment certainly helps. A strange grin or remark is sufficient to validate any doubts. Probably illogical for you to live life this way. You're aware enough that not every whisper is about you and that not every grin hides some hidden agenda, yet the uncertainties still seep in so effortlessly that it almost seems like breathing.

You've yet to find someone who will prove your inherent distrust wrong. That body you hurled at Dottore earlier was no exception.

"Whoever attacked me doesn't matter; I got rid of them."

"I know you did. I don't reserve any doubt whatsoever. That is not the issue at hand." Capitano shook his head, his last words hiding a slight growl. "What I am perturbed by is how you had hidden this from me."

Your eyes widened.

"I-I'm sorry, forgive me, Capitano." You fumbled. "It was genuinely not as big as you think it is. A traitor was in the mist, and I took care of it."

"You were targeted, (Y/n)," Capitano said, nearly whispering as he gently took your hands. No matter how callous he was or how much his skin resembled etched maps, they held yours with great care.

His eyelids drooped slightly, hiding unspoken grief. "You were attacked when I made an oath that I would protect you while you are under my care..."

Capitano's tone softened further, almost withdrawn from hurt.

"I should have been there..."

You've never been one to immediately process emotions in a snap. When you and Capitano share ideas, theories intersect like constellations on Teyvat nights. But that look in his eye? You can't read what he's thinking.

"Why do you fret over it, dearie? Death is but a doorbell away for me." You hummed with a wide smile. "I'll be claimed soon enough. Maybe tonight might even be the night. Oh, honey, it's no skin off the Tsaritsa's back if an old gal like me bites the dust."

…

You have a feeling you said the worst thing imaginable at that moment.

…

Capitano said nothing.

In fact, you'd wager that was on purpose.

There's a glint in his eye. A look that you couldn't place— a dangerous thought you can't hear. It ringed endlessly in his ears, and the slight tremor in his fingertips proved it. His blue eyes stared straight into your soul.

A revelation. An epiphany. A newfound raison d'etre that he refused to let anyone know— you specifically.

Something about him drastically changed.

But that look vanished in an instant.

Capitano's mouth curled upward.

The smile did not reach his eyes. 

"I prefer if it's kind sleep who takes you tonight," Capitano muttered. "Death is far too early for a woman like you."

"A woman like me?" You chuckled. "You meant grandmother, right? And what do you mean by that?"

"A woman like you deserves all the time in the world, not to be taken prematurely. Your spirit is far too bright to be dimmed so soon." He took off his cloak. "Because a woman like you is a woman loved by many."

Capitano wrapped his cloak around you before you realized it. As you looked down, you noticed how much larger his frame was than yours. The cloak reached the floor when you donned it. Though it was night, the cologne he put on reminded you of sun-drenched clothes and steel— but it's possible that this was just Capitano's natural scent.

"I should add cloaks as an interest for your late birthday present." You could practically hear the smile on his face as he said, "It suits you."

Something about the way he sounded was way off now.

The weariness from your conversations with Dottore seemingly washed away. You grabbed a fistful of the cloak and raised it. "I think every tailor in Teyvat would beg to differ."

Capitano chuckled. "Respectfully, they wouldn't know any better."

"And you do?" You raised an eyebrow, but that grin on your face is too difficult to wipe off. "I don't think you know me well, little Captain."

You continued.

"Anyone can learn to like me, but to love me…"

Is devastating.

You trailed off, eyes back on the quiet streets. You've always admired those who teased on the edge of retirement and eternal sleep, their bravery surpassing the young's. They act on reckless abandon, unburdened by the opinions of others. Alice saw this in you, and she knew— deep in her heart— that she'd be more than willing to help you embrace that freedom in whatever form that may take.

Since you became a "grandmother", seemingly everything and nothing has changed. You've pushed away those who pretended to care, only to find that no soul can stand to be with you. Maybe it was a glorious boon or just as the witch said— a desperate cry for help, nothing more. The experience so far taught you things you already knew you hated about yourself that you wondered if this were all for the sake of mastery. Have you destroyed yourself for nothing? Who knows. But you'll continue to take solace that maybe, just maybe, death may end the loneliness you've endured for so long.

But if you so badly chase for death…

"���███████."

You looked at him.

"Can I ask for a favor?"

You're going to do it right.

Taglist: @macaronilovingracoon, @lucienbarkbark, @meimeimeirin, @notthefib987, @meowmeowakutagawa

[erosiism]

𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍 | yandere!dottore x m!reader

warnings | torture, religious imagery (if u squint), psychological horror, gore (detailed), non-com/dub-con, human trafficking & experimentation, what do u expect its dottore, no beta we die like kdj | might contain some mischaracterisation or misconception somewhere or whatever because I stopped playing genshin in 2021 lol 

pairings: dottore x m!experiment!reader

summary: after creating you, dottore grows to be obsessed with the idea of you, and your perfection.

was requested by anon

THE FIRST THING YOU FEEL, is the absence of being.

It’s strange to feel so substanceless; so inhuman. When consciousness first awakes in you — when you feel the first rays of the glaring lights seeping into your eyelids — all you can do is blink your eyes, wincing. 

SUBJECT 094 HAS JUST BEEN CREATED.

Your body is shivering and naked and raw — you’ve just been created. Hands rove over your body, but they aren’t lecherous: rather, the way they touch you is purely clinical, like how a butcher would inspect meat. You hear bits and pieces of words you don’t know, floating over your head. You wonder if they’re any perforations in you — whether you’re another failed experiment, another creation to discard.

Your hands are without a single blemish. You’re new.

You hear them say you’re perfect.

An experiment. A perfect experiment, after ninety-three times. 

They call you 94. 

You long for a name.

Your creator has not met you yet: but you’ve seen people who look exactly like him, working on you — they knock you out with pills, drugs, serums — they give you injections with thick, blunt syringes and stuff your mouth with tissue when you want to scream. They ignore your convulses and your shrieks and the tears that roll down your cheeks madly — they too, are not human. They have no emotions to pity you: and you too, shouldn’t have the capability to feel, and yet you do. Shamelessly, piteously, and horrifically — you feel human.

That is the desired result, one tells you, when you spit those words out. They tasted funny in your tongue, sitting there and rotting until you finally tossed them out. We wanted you to be human. A perfect being. You will aid Fatui greatly.

Fatui? You had echoed.

Fatui, another murmurs, the order we serve. And our master, Dottore, who you are supposed to serve.

You learn that Dottore is away in a place called Sumeru. This place is Snezhnaya, and the place you’re in is Dottore’s lab. Dottore. The name drops down honeyed from your lips, and so you repeat it: Dottore…

The master you serve.

The master you serve is named Dottore. But you will call him Doctor, one warns you.

You tuck those words in your head, and they insert more needles into you. Your skin has become an atlas of thin, small holes — non noticeable to the human eye, but each pulsing and swelling beneath your skin.

You wait for your creator to come.

You wait for your God to come.

.

.

—

.

.

You see him for the first time when crimson and carmine is marred on his cheek, and when his eyes are amused and glinting. He’s beautiful, you note, terrifyingly so. He has red eyes: blooming crimson ones — and wavy blue hair. Half of his face is obfuscated by a mask, but still you can see his lips move as he speaks his first word to you: “Y/n.”

Your heart leaps. Your creator moves towards you, his eyes inspecting you, his deft fingers moving your face to the side, checking every part of you to ensure you aren’t damaged. His lips curl up into a satisfied smile, but your brain is still reeling from the name he has called you.

Almost like he can read your thoughts, your creator grins. “Y/n,” he says in a lilting, falsely warm tone, “that is the name I give you. But the minute you step out of line, I’ll be ripping that away from you. Remember that, pet. Remember that, alright?” His touch is gentle as he thumbs at your hips, tracing circles around your skin. You swallow, nodding your head.

I’ll be ripping that away from you.

Essentially speaking, the moment you misbehave, you’ll have your own chance at humanity taken away from you.

“You will call me Doctor,” Dottore speaks slowly, his words like music to your ears, “you, Y/n…you must remember that you are incredibly special. You are the first successful weapon I’ve made. The word “human” will have to be earned — but for now, be good, alright?”

You drink his words up. By the side is a cart filled with more medication — more knives, more needles, more syringes. You’re sitting on a white bed — everything around you is white. The different clones have started to look like smudges of white to you: blobs moving and shifting around in a distance. You can’t tell if your reverence for the Doctor is programmed, or if it’s because he is your creator — but it doesn’t matter. You want him to praise you. You need it. If he likes you, he’ll give you your humanity — and you want that.

“Y-yes,” your voice wavers as you speak, “y-yes, I’ll —”

“Ah…the first order of business,” The Doctor — Dottore — says, “stitches. It appears that the ones who have finished creating you have lacked something: an organ, if you will. It isn’t something a human would necessarily have, but well…” His red eyes study you, and there’s almost sadism rampant in his eyes — “you aren’t a human, are you?”

You stay silent.

“Well, Y/n, what do you think? I’ll make it painless,” Dottore smiles, “why aren’t you giving me a reaction? It’ll be simple. I’ll cut you up, insert some things inside you, stitch you back up,” he says carelessly. “Hm. Perhaps it will be painful…but good things come at a price. With this, you’ll be a better prototype than anything else. You’ll be special — to me. You want that, don’t you?”

What is my purpose? You want to ask, why am I different from the other people?

“And on that thought, I suppose you can withstand pain. You’re a robot — a false creation. I might have programmed you to make you feel pain, but now a new thought has occured to me: I certainly can’t have any painkillers messing up the careful system in your body.” The Doctor stares at you, hard, “but you’ll be willing to do that, right?”

Pain, you think. The word explodes in your brain. You don’t know what that word is. It’s strange to think that you understand human language: that you can somehow articulate it out, like it’s been annotated in the blood of your veins — but you can’t live it. Words have no meaning to you: after all, you have not learnt or earned them. Is pain the feeling of aching when you feel blood burst from your body? You are a machine, but yet you’ve been gifted flesh. So what exactly are you?

“I will,” you whisper, “I can.”

“Good boy,” Dottore hisses quietly, “now, be a pet and behave, will you?”

You nod your head.

.

.

—

.

.

For the next few weeks, Dottore indulges in you. He buys you sweet treats he knows you can’t taste, he comforts you when you cry, he makes you dependent on him. Soon, your whole world consists solely of him, just him, your creator. You wonder if he’s forgotten about his whole promise to “tweak” you, to perfect you, but finally, the day comes.

Dottore’s hands are gentle as he props you up the operating table. You look around, noticing that it’s just the two of you.

“The others —” you manage a shaky sentence, “they aren’t helping?”

“As advanced as they are, they aren’t me. Now that I’ve laid my eyes on your perfection: your potential for perfection, that is: I cannot risk anyone else touching you, tainting you: destroying you…” Dottore shakes his head. “Now lay down, Y/n.”

You obey, lying flat down on the operating table. You expect a subtle, soft kind of pain — the kind that you’re accustomed to: but instead, he stabs into your jugular, and you scream. 

Blood — there was blood — that burst from your neck, soaking your skin. Your eyes started to tear, but still you lived.

“How interesting, right?” Dottore muses as he continues to dig the knife through your skin, “how strange. I needed to acquire quite a bit of blood to ensure that you functioned just like a human, while retaining the qualities of what a God would be like. So I imagine it’s quite painful for you. Right, Y/n?”

You’re convulsing now, screams slipping from your mouth.

“I forgot. You can’t exactly speak now, can you?”

“D-Doctor,” you rasp out, “will I be stronger after this? Will I be better?”

“Of course, my dear,” Dottore hums, “it’s just a slight tweak in your body, and you’ll be better than ever. Do you know what? I’m aghast, really, at those who call this human experimentation. I suppose in your case, since you aren’t quite human to begin with — well, you were made from human extracted parts — it’s not quite counted. But when I take little test subjects, there are some who mock me. I remember the ruler of Sumeru quite well: quite a pathetic Archon she was — saying, and I quote: experimentation is an insult to the very concept of life…do you agree, Y/n?”

Your body recovers frighteningly fast. The pain is there, but the wound closes as quickly as it has appeared. Dottore stares at it with fascination, with a small ah of gratification.

“No,” you say, words muffled with sobs, “I don’t agree.”

You feel another knife press into your skin — your belly this time. He doesn’t cut you up first — he carves into you, a bloody insignia on your skin. “With me, or with her?”

Your creator is never wrong. “Her,” you choke out.

“Bingo!” Dottore hums in delight, “correct. I’ve always believed that there is potential for weaponization. Discussions of research on beings like you have to be increased in the future. Humans have unlimited potential. It may be foolish of me as a researcher to say this, but with enough input, I might be able to reach the level of a 'god', or so people might call it. Some say it’s heresy. I disagree.”

You splutter. The surgical knife has made it past the first layer of skin: he’s flaying you alive. 

Are you even alive? Can you be associated with the words of life and death, when you are not even human?

My name is Y/n, you desperately think. My name is Y/n. Y/n. Y/n…!

I’m human. Tell me that I’m human, please.

“And others say I blasphemous further against human life as a member of the Fatui, by creating clones or "segments" of myself. But really — I do have convictions. Just different from everyone else’s…” Dottore strokes your tear-stained cheek, tilting his head. “You’re such a good one, aren’t you? You aren’t even refuting what I say. The earlier ones before you — subject 43 in particular — kept making a fuss. You, however…” his eyes are gleaming. “Might be fun to play around with.”

You aren’t wriggling anymore. You aren’t shaking. You force yourself to be ramrod straight on the operation table. The knife is embedded in your skin.

“You are both machine and human, and yet you are too much and too little of both to be truly worth anything…but really, all you need to do is to stay loyal to me. When people like Capitano, Pantalone, or even Childe approach you — do not speak to them,” Dottore says softly, so softly you have to focus on his voice to hear him — “you understand that, don’t you? Because you are my perfect creation…no one else can tamper with you. Not even for a minute or second.”

You nod your head.

“Good. And now, for the matter of your heart,” Dottore tells you, “your heart, Y/n, is unlike any other. It’s an amalgamation of all the artificial blood vessels I’ve managed to make from other projects. But frankly speaking, I think you might be better without it: my clones have told me that you seem to feel too much. And weapons do not feel. They never do, Y/n.”

“I understand.” 

“So — I will do this —” in one quick motion, Dottore rips your heart from your chest, holding it as thuds in front of you. 

You freeze.

Your heart is there. There’s a gaping hole in your chest, and the presence of absence has made itself known. You watch as Dottore bites into it: in front of you he feasts; his mouth bloody and your heart rimming his teeth. There’s blood pooling in your mouth too, dripping onto the table. Your skull has never felt this light. Pain was present in every inch of your body, but still your heart continued to beat. 

“I might need to rewire your brain too,” Dottore looks at you intently, “if your loyalty is skewed. But if you prove that you’re loyal to me, then of course, that won’t be needed.”

All you can think about is: your flesh lines his throat. But you’re a dirty being. 

“I’ll prove it,” you gasp, “I’ll prove it. So don’t discard me.”

“Your desperation is adorable,” Dottore coos, “did you know I based your heart off a pomegranate? Delicate hands are required for it, to peel back later after layer. And it is red that dyes your fingers when you touch the juice sprinkling out — like blood. There’s concentration needed to break the surface, a certain strength needed to crush the seeds between voracious teeth and sip up the sweetness of the nectar. Then the juices will hemorrhage your tongue: it’s supposed to remind you of your actions. Similarly, you — Y/n — you have stained my tongue. Don’t you adore their idea?”

You nod again, weakly. “I do.”

“And on that note, I find you a remarkable project: you hardly ever scream, you hardly ever move, and your wounds heal beautifully. You’re just so perfect for me, aren’t you, Y/n? Just for me, right?” Dottore continues on, words honeyed and sweet, “oh, Y/n…” he strokes your hair gently, shushing you softly as little hiccups escape your lips. He thumbs at your waist, his face a breadth away, “you are so endearing. So flawless.”

Your skin is covering the empty hole in your chest. Dottore pulls you to the lap, steadying you, before he kisses your lips softly. His words are the knife — heaving, forceful, hungry. And when he kisses you, only then can you taste yourself, your shame, guilt, pleasure. You wonder if you taste as rotten as you feel — if there’s a part of you that can be cradled. You feel like an open wound, your guts ready to spill out. He continues to kiss you, and slowly, your body becomes the atlas of your twisted relationship with Dottore; marks and bruises scattering across your once unblemished skin, a map of what he has done.

Kisses.

Your creator has kissed you.

“My darling, my beauty,” Dottore smiles, crimson still staining his teeth, “is this not the most human action one can do?”

a/n: unedited, I apologise. sorry if it’s wonky or whatever I’m just experimenting lol || reposts, likes, and comments are always appreciated! leave a comment to tell me how it was :)

[pigeonpeach]

Jealous harbingers

Warning: yandere like tendencies or behaviors but not fully. Also ofc jealously and violence

Characters: Childe, Capitano, Dottore, Pantalone, Arlecchino, Columbina, Sandrone

Childe is definitely the worst when it comes to jealousy. He’s number 11 so he’s eager to rise up the ranks, but he also refuses to bring you around the other harbingers because he worries they’d use you to get to him. And it would work. Hook line and sinker. Even if its innocent. The only harbinger he’d let you around is Puncinella and that’s because the guy is like family to him so of course he doesn’t mind. But if he must he has you close 24/7. He cuts off his colleagues if they get too comfortable and is quick to show displays of affection as of means to dissuade anyone. He also will leave enough hickies to make you look like a dalmation

Capitano is actually very calm when jealous. For the simple fact that scenario is incredibly unlikely to happen. No man is stupid enough to flirt with his partner, especially when you’re consistently guarded and accompanied. Not even Dottore would risk his wrath. But if some idiot does decide to try they won’t last long. Like at all. He will just grab them by their skull and toss them like they’re a lingering piece of garbage. He will not leave hickies on you however because with his strength that could actually do serious damage and he just refuses to risk hurting for that. He will likely have you wear his insignia in some way on your outfit if you go out without him.

Dottore is worse but hes good at covering for it. Like Captiano he is less likely to let you be alone in public without him or underling. But he knows you’re a beautiful sight so you would catch a eye or too. You won’t know that the underlings avoid your gaze because the last few that lingered their gaze quickly became test subjects of some horrible experiments. He is also not stupid enough to show you off to the other harbingers. You’re likely in your own wing of the lab building in a comfortable environment with attendees far from where any colleague of his is allowed to go. Although he will probably get jealous of his clones. The younger segments are more neutral towards you but the older ones are more likely to try and hold you or kiss your hand while he’s not in the room. It’s quite a mess for him.

Pantalone is not like Dottore in that he will show off his prized jewel in the appropriate settings. They wear custom matching outfits meant to clearly indicate they are his, jewelry paralleling his own, with a hand on the waist at all times as he mostly dominates conversations with strangers or colleagues. He is proud that you are his. He makes it well known. In public he is usually not so touchy minus holding you. But if he notices the lingering gazes and jealous stares he gets he won’t hesitate to stoke those agitation as a way of showing dominance. For instance he may pull you into s dance in which he keeps you pressed so close to him. He may pull you in for a quick kiss or a long one depending on how mischievous he is feeling.

Arlecchino

You’ll need not to deal with such things. More likely than not you’ll be busy in the orphanage. The rare occasion she allows you to accompany her is for special events she thinks you would enjoy. Often times your shared children are also brought as body guards to you. So you won’t be left alone. If any would be suitor comes by they’ll swiftly redirect them and engage if they get violent. But if a harbinger were to try their luck…. Arlecchino will not hold her tongue nor keep up appearances as she pulls you from the conversation and kindly reminds said harbinger to keep their hands to themselves. Once you’re home safe and alone however her teeth with be in your neck making enough hickies to make you into a leopard.

Sandrone

You are her most prized possession by far. Beautiful puppets and such. She is seldom seen in public or in events. Often sending underlings in her stead. It helps she’s also not nearly as social able or diplomatic. But she is a very jealous lover. She hates the idea of anyone else having eyes on you. She may subtly influence you to stay by her side more and more. Not even the most arrogant harbinger would dare to challenge her.

Columbina

She is actually least likely to be jealous. She’s a odd woman. But if she didn’t think you would stay loyal then she wouldn’t have let you out of the house today anyways! Your attire is tailored and customized to match hers. Sometimes you dawn a veil as she thinks if she sees your pretty face too much she’ll loose all restraint and just get carried away with you. Truly a strange woman. Not even the most reckless of harbingers would challenge her.

[nihilityuniverse]

𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 | 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐱 𝐅𝐄𝐌! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ 𝗦𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝘁 𝗖𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗼𝗿 ᴏꜰ ᴛᴇʏᴠᴀᴛ 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗙𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝗕𝗼𝘀𝘀.

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MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

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Story inspired by Acheron's Lore, Power, and Personality...

ENG is not my First language

I do not own Genshin Impact or any of the pictures used.

Story also available om Wattpad: Chapter 0 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

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Chapter 0 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐

𝐋𝐢𝐲𝐮𝐞, 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞

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It had been three days since the funeral...

You sat on a couch, draped in a silky nightgown, your gaze wandering around your bedroom.

You couldn't help but wonder why, all of a sudden, maids and servants were bustling about your room and home, while Fatui Guards patrolled your residence.

You had always lived alone, cherishing the quiet and stillness of your home atop a hill in Snezhnaya. The solitude was your sanctuary, a place where you could exist without intrusion.

So... what had changed? You had never requested such an absurd arrangement.

And then your eyes fell on the huge pile of expensive-looking gifts stacked neatly on your coffee table.

'Why in Teyvat would someone send you so many gifts?!' you thought, annoyance bubbling up inside you. Slowly, you felt your patience waning, your eye twitching in irritation.

"Lady Innamorati," a maid's voice called out, breaking your thoughts. You turned to see a row of maids lined up, each bowing respectfully as your gaze met theirs before they knelt. The one who spoke wore slightly different attire, suggesting she was the Head Maid.

"We were sent by Pantalone," she began, her voice trembling slightly. "We are here to assist you in any way and to guard you."

"Why were you all sent?" you asked, your quiet and cold tone sending shivers down their spines.

"A-as compensation, Lady Innamorati," the Head Maid stammered in fear. "Pantalone learned that the escorts ran away the moment they saw you. He sent these gifts, along with maids and guards, as a form of apology."

When you remained silent, the Head Maid quickly added, "If this is a problem, we can leave immediately!"

You sighed, exasperated by the unnecessary fuss. "...I don't care," you muttered, dismissing the situation with a wave of your hand.

The other maids exchanged nervous glances before one of them, hands trembling, stepped forward holding one of the many gifts. "L-Lady Innamorati, would you like to open a gift from Pantalone?" she asked hesitantly.

You noticed her hands shaking and asked, "Are you cold?" Your gaze moved from her face to the others, who seemed equally uneasy.

"N-no, Lady Innamorati!" she shook her head quickly.

You sighed, realizing their fear. "You don't need to be afraid of me," you said in a gentler tone. "I don't bite, nor do I kill innocent people out of nowhere, despite what the rumors say."

Her face flushed with embarrassment, and the Head Maid stepped forward. "I must apologize for our behavior—"

"There's no need for an apology," you interrupted softly.

The maids exchanged relieved smiles, and the maid handed you the gift.

The gift was elegantly wrapped in luxurious paper, adorned with intricate designs and topped with a satin ribbon. You pulled on the ribbon, and the wrapping fell away to reveal a dark wooden box. Its surface was smooth and polished to a high sheen. You ran your finger over it, appreciating its fine craftsmanship before opening it.

Inside, nestled in velvet lining, was an exquisitely crafted set of red lipstick and eyeliner. The lipstick was encased in a gold-plated tube with delicate engravings, and the eyeliner's sleek design spoke of its high value.

Your eyes widened as memories from your past came flooding back. These items looked remarkably similar to those you had once cherished.

A rare smile broke across your face, a smile so uncommon that it felt almost foreign. In that moment, you might have remembered what it felt like to smile genuinely.

"Please convey my kind regards to Pantalone. I like this gift very much," you said with a light and soft tone, so gentle that the tension in the room dissipated. The maids visibly relaxed, their expressions softening.

"Yes, I will immediately relay your regards," the Head Maid replied, bowing deeply before exiting your bedroom.

"The makeup will surely suit you well, my Lady!" one maid said with an excited voice, her smile radiant.

"Then how about pairing it with these?" another maid suggested, presenting an incredibly high-quality box. Inside, nestled in plush velvet, lay an exquisite set of earrings and a necklace crafted from diamonds and crystals. The craftsmanship was impeccable, each gem catching the light and sparkling brilliantly.

"Another gift from Pantalone?" you asked, your eyes fixated on the pair of dazzling accessories.

"Yes!" the maid replied eagerly. "He wanted to ensure your happiness."

You examined the jewelry, appreciating the intricate design and the flawless cut of each gem. It was clear that no expense had been spared. The diamonds and crystals were of the highest quality, their brilliance unmatched. The necklace was elegant and refined, the earrings delicate yet striking.

"Such beautiful pieces," you murmured, tracing a finger over the diamonds. "Pantalone has truly outdone himself."

The maids exchanged pleased glances, their faces lighting up with pride at your approval. They had never seen you so engaged, and their excitement was palpable.

"Shall we assist you in trying them on, my Lady?" the Maid offered, her voice filled with anticipation.

You nodded, allowing them to help you with the delicate jewelry. As they fastened the necklace around your neck and secured the earrings, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. The makeup and jewelry complemented each other perfectly, enhancing your natural beauty in a way that made you look even more ethereal.

"Thank you," you said softly, a rare smile gracing your lips once more. The maids beamed, their efforts rewarded by your approval.

As you sat back down, you couldn't help but feel a slight warmth in your heart. Despite the loneliness and the icy reputation you carried, there was a small comfort in knowing that someone, even someone as calculating as Pantalone, cared enough to send such thoughtful gifts.

Suddenly, the bedroom door burst open, and a Fatui Skirmisher barged in, holding an important-looking letter aloft. "Lady Innamorati...." He trailed off, his gaze fixated on your silky nightgown, which clung elegantly to your beautiful form.

"Hey! Don't look!" one maid shouted. "How dare you!" another maid scolded, rushing to shield you from his prying eyes. The skirmisher's face flushed bright red, and he quickly bowed.

"I apologize for barging in, my Lady! But an urgent letter from Her Royal Highness, the Tsaritsa, has arrived for you," he stammered, holding out the letter. One of the maids swiftly snatched it from his hand and ushered the skirmisher out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

She handed you the letter with a bow, and you took it, breaking the wax seal to reveal its contents. As you read, your eyes scanned over the elegant script:

'Dear Innamorati,

I deeply regret the incident involving Childe. Please accept my sincerest apologies on his behalf.

Your presence is required in Liyue. Your mission is to capture Osial, dead or alive, and deliver him to Dottore for experimentation. This task is of utmost importance. Failure is not an option.

Remember, Innamorati, the fate of our plans rests upon your shoulders.

Her Royal Highness, Tsaritsa'

Your smile faded as you read the letter. "Liyue... The Land of Contracts," you murmured, the name conjuring up a flood of fragmented memories.

Your expression grew distant. Liyue was a place you had avoided for a long time, a place associated with pain and loss.

The memories were always hazy, shrouded in the fog of time, yet the underlying emotions were unmistakable. Something terrible had happened there, something you had been trying to forget.

The maids noticed your change in demeanor, their faces filled with concern. "My Lady, is everything alright?" the maid asked softly.

You took a deep breath, regaining your composure. "I will prepare for the journey to Liyue. Please ensure everything is in order."

The maids nodded, already moving to assist you in changing into more appropriate attire for travel. They brought forth a luxurious yet practical ensemble, suitable for the journey ahead and the potential battles to come.

Once ready, you stood before the mirror, your appearance now befitting the formidable 0th Harbinger. The makeup and jewelry from Pantalone added an air of grace and power, while your new attire showcased your readiness for the mission.

With a final glance around your room, you felt a mix of determination and resignation. The journey ahead would be perilous, but failure was not an option.

As you stepped out into the cold, snowy landscape, your mind focused on the task at hand. The fate of the Fatui's plans and the will of the Tsaritsa rested upon your success.

"Osial," you whispered to yourself, the name echoing in the frigid air.

"I will not fail."

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You stopped at the edge of the hill, gazing down at the city below, bathed in a sea of lights and floating paper lanterns.

The Lantern Festival was in full swing, painting the night with a warm, ethereal glow. Each lantern, carefully crafted and illuminated from within, drifted upwards like a myriad of tiny stars, carrying the hopes and wishes of the people of Liyue Harbor.

The city was alive with a joyful buzz, music and laughter echoing through the streets, creating a stark contrast to the cold stillness of your perch.

You didn't want to go. You knew that within the vibrant heart of this city lay the seeds of your deepest anguish.

A past marked by betrayal and suffering that made you question the worth of gods and mortals alike. Stepping into the city would mean unraveling the painful memories piece by piece, a torment you weren't sure you were ready to face.

Your right hand rested on the hilt of your sword, the cold metal a comforting reminder of your power. You could erase this land from existence with a single strike, rendering its pain and betrayal into nothingness.

"The land of betrayal and pain..." you whispered to the breeze, your voice cold and detached. Your gaze, icy and unwavering, locked onto the heart of the festival below.

The lanterns, symbols of hope and renewal, floated gently upwards, oblivious to the dark thoughts they illuminated. The streets of Liyue Harbor were a tapestry of vibrant colors, filled with stalls selling traditional foods, children chasing each other with sparklers, and performers enchanting the crowds with their skills. The air was thick with the scent of incense and the sound of festive music, creating a sensory symphony that seemed almost otherworldly.

But to you, it was all a cruel mockery.

This land, with its beauty and its light, held the shadows of your past. Each step you took towards it felt like a step into the abyss, where every smile and every laugh could trigger the painful memories you had buried deep within.

With one last look at the glowing city and the floating lanterns, you began your descent toward Liyue Harbor, your heart a battleground of emotions. The path ahead was uncertain, fraught with memories and challenges, but you knew you could not turn back. The echoes of your past would follow you, but so would the faint hope of redemption.

Your right hand tightened around the hilt of your scabbard, and you moved forward, ready to face whatever awaited you in the land of Contracts.

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Reblog if you like this story

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Azure Haze.

Pairing: Yandere!Dottore x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 0.9k.

TW: Unhealthy Relationships, Controlling Behavior, Manipulation, and Psychological Abuse.

[Commissioned piece. Donate to Palestinians in Gaza here.]

You’d never taken Dottore for the marrying type.

Not to imply that he was more of a rouge romantic, either, or dedicated enough to the Tsaritsa and her grand machinations to be married to his work, although he did clearly have a passion for experimentation. As a foot soldier, little more than a glorified errand-runner for the higher-ranking officers, you used to think of him (and the other Harbingers, by association) as almost god-like – gifted by your archon with eternal life and distorted by the weight of his many centuries, made too divine to ever feel tethered to something so intrinsically human. When you’d worked more closely to his side, you’d seen him as more demonic than anything; emotive but malicious by nature, uninterested in those beyond the part they played in the progression of his studies.

You wondered, sometimes, if his treatment of you was all a part of some elaborate, prolonged experiment. You wouldn’t put it beyond him, even if it did seem a little less gory than his usual whims. The heartlessness of it fit, though.

If Dottore could be relied on to be anything, it was cruel.

The ring, itself, is surprisingly unoffensive. You turn it over once, then twice in your hand, running the pad of your index finger over the sleek, silver metal. A pinpoint of sapphire glints up at you from where it’s nestled into the unornamental base, and a part of you is thankful that it’s not something more ostentatious, that he hadn’t committed to his musings on palm-sized diamonds and gold so pure and so polished, the archons would be able to see it from their thrones in Celestia. Another, disparate faction can only be devastated that it would take so little for him to claim you so completely.

“Is it not to your taste, love?” Dottore, your soon-to-be betrothed, asks. He’s positioned himself strategically, in spite of the limited space; on the other side of the exhibition table, allowing you just enough distance to breathe, but remaining between you and the door to the jewelry shop’s only private consultation room, ensuring you wouldn’t be able to run, not without passing him. The jeweler is mysteriously absent, but you can’t be surprised. Dottore has never been especially possessive, but he seems to prefer it when your attention remains undivided. “There are several more options, if you find my preferences lacking.”

Your eyes fall to the neat line of ring boxes on display in front you. Some are more gaudy than others, but they’re all silver, all studded with the same vibrant sapphires. Your gaze catches on one with curved, pointed teeth locking a roughly cut gem into place, then fall back to your lap. “Are you going to pick one out?”

His response comes in the form of a quick shake of his head, a coy smile. “Jewelry tends to get in the way of lab work. I’ll have to find another way to show my affection – a breastpin, perhaps, or a scale replica of your heart mounted on the wall of my office.”

You try to summon the revulsion you once had for his grisly humor, but fail to feel anything at all. At least he only claimed to want a replica, this time. “I won’t have to wear mine, then, will I?”

“You will.” His tone leaves no room for debate, but he continues regardless. “Unless you want me to remove your ring fingers and ensure it remains on a part of you myself, that is.”

You swallow dryly. “Both ring fingers?”

“One can never be too thorough.”

You purse your lips. Your fingers twitch once, then twice before dropping the ring in your hand and taking up another from its bed of velvet. The base on your newest selection is unique – crafted in disparate, thorned bands to make it seem as if it’d been made from braided vines, a pair of softly curling leaves encircling the jewel bed. It’s the gem that holds you, though; a shade lighter than the others when it catches the light, closer to a ruddy aquamarine than pure, never-ending blue. You slide it in front of Dottore before you can think better of it. “This one.”

To his credit, his smile doesn’t waver. “Are you sure? The gem is—”

“I’m sure,” you cut him off, almost breathlessly. “I… I like the color. I think it’s charming.”

He takes another moment to evaluate the ring, and then, to evaluate you – fighting not to shake in your seat. Finally, with an airy sigh, he shakes his head, his grin taking on a softened note. “Of course, love. Whatever makes you happiest.”

Measurements are jotted, the ring taken in for resizing with promises of swift craftsmanship. Days later, one of Dottore’s foot soldiers (and your former colleague) delivers a small, gold-foil wrapped box to you – a note from your dearly betrothed attached. You throw away the note without reading it and tear the box open. On a bed of cerulean velvet sat a silver ring of braided thorns, adorned with a single—

You let out a shallow, shuddering breath, tears already welling in the corners of your eyes.

A silver ring, adorned with a single, glimmering stud of the purest, darkest sapphire you’d ever seen.

[knoepfl]

Perfectly Imperfect Love

Here we are again this time with our lovely Dottore! I noticed there seem to be a lot of people who like him (including myself) so this was a must! If you enjoy this and/or want to see other characters check out the Masterlist or/and write a comment or request for a character and I will be happy to do them!^^ Again the inspiration and the picture was from @devotion-disorder so check them out!!! Have fun^^

Masterlist

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The sterile walls of the lab seemed colder than usual. At first, Il Dottore—the infamous Harbinger—was amused. His sharp gaze scanned the room filled with photos plastered from wall to wall. Dozens of them. Every picture contained your smiling face, radiating warmth and joy.

It wasn’t unusual for Dottore to obsess over things that intrigued him—and you were one of them. But then his expression stiffened. You weren’t alone in these photos. Another figure stood beside you in each one, arms draped over your shoulder, fingers intertwined with yours. They smiled down at you like they owned you.

The corners of Dottore’s mouth twitched as irritation boiled beneath his skin.

How interesting… What kind of experiment is this?

5 Minutes in:

He stood there, silent, his gaze dragging across each photo in unnerving detail. At first, he tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his red, glinting eyes.

“Hm… Strange,” he muttered. “How perfectly inconvenient.”

Dottore chuckled, a sound both sharp and dangerous. “A foolish attempt to get under my skin, is that it? How quaint.” He tapped his gloved finger against his chin, observing the way your head leaned against the stranger’s shoulder in one image, your hand caught in theirs in another.

“Sloppy work… But I can’t deny, it’s convincing.” His voice dropped to a whisper, a smile still gracing his face. “I wonder if you’d let them touch you like this.”

The mask of indifference cracked for just a moment as something vile flickered in his gaze—something possessive.

1 Hour in:

He was still standing in the same spot, staring at the photos with an unsettling intensity. The small grin on his lips had twisted into a sneer.

“Did you think you could run from me?” His voice dripped with venom, though he directed it more toward the photos than you.

He crossed his arms, tapping his fingers impatiently against his bicep. “These are fake… They must be. You wouldn’t betray me. Not after everything.”

His heart pounded beneath the cold exterior, irritation morphing into something more dangerous—doubt. And he hated it.

Dottore pulled one of the photos off the wall, his hands tightening until the paper crumpled under his grasp. Why does it bother me? Why does this stranger in the photo seem more real with each passing second?

A low, bitter chuckle escaped him. “What a fascinating experiment,” he muttered to himself, though his eyes betrayed his growing frustration. “I wonder… how much longer until I break?”

3 Hours in:

Dottore’s breathing was uneven now, each exhale coming in short bursts.

The room seemed to shrink around him, the walls closing in as his mind spiraled. His hands tugged at the mask over his face, as if trying to stop the intrusive thoughts that gnawed at him. He muttered your name under his breath—again and again—like a mantra to keep himself sane.

“It isn’t real,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “It can’t be. You would never leave me… You wouldn’t.”

He dragged his gloved hands down his face, nails biting into his skin through the material. His grin was wide, teeth bared like a wolf, but his eyes were wild—unfocused.

“And if it were real…” His voice dipped into a low, dangerous hum. “Then I’ll simply… correct it. Remove the imperfection. Yes… I could fix it.”

He laughed quietly, the sound brittle and laced with mania. He would find a way to erase whoever thought they could take you from him. He was the only one worthy of having you. Not them.

Never them.

6+ Hours in:

By now, the Dottore standing in that room was a different creature entirely.

He sat in the corner, legs sprawled out as he gazed at the photos on the walls, his mask lying discarded beside him. His grin stretched too wide, teeth gleaming beneath the dim light, and his red eyes shimmered with twisted delight.

“It’s not real…” he whispered, as if trying to convince himself. “Not real. Not real. Not real.”

But even if it was a lie, Dottore didn’t care anymore. His obsession had consumed him whole, leaving no room for rational thought. He pressed a hand to one of the photos, tracing your image with unsettling tenderness.

“Mine,” he murmured, his voice soft but unwavering. “You are mine. You’ve always been mine.” His words felt like a promise—and a threat.

He sat still for a moment longer, before his smile widened. “Ah… but I suppose it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

He stood abruptly, brushing off his coat with a calmness that didn’t match the crazed look in his eyes. “We’ll have to fix this. You won’t need them when you have me.”

He tilted his head, as if imagining your face when you saw him next—saw the mess he would make to bring you back to his side. “I’ll erase this blemish… and you’ll love me. Like you always should have.”

The Aftermath:

When the door to the room finally creaked open, you barely had a second to react.

Dottore was on you instantly, his gloved hands grasping your arms with a firm but oddly gentle grip. His eyes shimmered with a mixture of glee and relief, the madness beneath them bubbling just below the surface.

“Ah, there you are,” he whispered, his voice low and dangerous. “I knew you’d come back to me.” He pressed closer, ignoring the way your body stiffened under his touch.

Before you could say a word, his hands moved to cup your face, his smile a cruel mockery of affection. “Don’t worry, my dear,” he whispered, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “Those photos… they don’t mean anything. They were a mistake—an… illusion.”

His laugh was soft, but it held an edge sharp enough to cut. “You won’t need anyone else. Not anymore.”

And in that moment, you realized just how deeply you had fallen into Dottore’s web.

There was no escape from him now—no way to free yourself from the twisted obsession that bound you to him. Because in his mind, you were his.

Forever.

---

[aluraveil]

Yandere Dottore HC's

Now what did you do to catch one of the top harbingers attention?

Congrats you attracted the absolute worst one of the top three due to how cruel he is and his experiments.

Everyday Dottore's showing you his latest creations and you try your best not to barf or shiver.

Dottore forces you to sit in his lab all day and watch him as he experiments on people.

You're extremely scared of Dottore and he knows it. In fact, he relishes in your fear.

Dottore is feared among many people and you wish that any other harbinger could've chosen you.

Dottore's version of love is pretty strange because he believes that showing you his experiments is affection.

You're scared shitless when you meet his other clones because it means there's more of your captors around.

You also meet Pantalone due to how frequent he stops by the lab to talk about business matters with Dottore. You shiver at the way he eyes you down.

This mans be so scary that you don't bother escaping.

If you do try to escape, his clones or Dottore himself will find you.

The consequences won't be pretty.

Dottore will torture you in his lab.

After that, hopefully you don't try to escape again (you don't).

Dottore's an extremely possessive person and he forbids you from meeting any of the other harbingers (besides Pantalone).

He shows his love in a messed up way by having you sit in his lab as "bonding time".

Yeah, think twice about your actions lest you become Dottore's next experiment.

[zenlesszonezero]

As the conspiracy reaches its finale, the Void Hunter joins the fight.

Uncover the Conspiracy in Zenless Zone Zero's All-New Version "A Storm of Falling Stars", S-Rank Agent Hoshimi Miyabi is here! With S-Rank Agent Asaba Harumasa Limited-Time Giveaway! Pre-register to obtain additional rewards.

[yandere-wishes]

◃◃◃ Comedic Tragedy▹▹▹

Synopsis: The reader is a burnt-out Akademiya student that has the misfortune of bumping into Dottore while he's working on his Scaramouche-god project. After learning of her peculiar interests Dottore makes her an offer. One she very soon regrets accepting.

Note: There is like one reference to the Sumeru archon quest so spoilers, but in this universe, Lumine was taken captive by Dottore a while ago and the residents of Sumeru were able to foil the mad doctor's plans and free Nahida without the traveler's help. Also, Paimon is dead.

Warnings: ANGST, GORE, extreme body horror, Dottore has feelings and that ain't a good thing. Lumine is the traveler. Dottore x Lumine is mentioned a lot but never really shown until the end. Death. the reader is suicidal but she defiantly didn't want this. non-con but no smut if that makes sense.

Requested by: The lovely @nasidibakar​

Back then you had romanticized dying. Dreamed of having your arteries nicked by the person you loved. It had all come so naturally to you, the desperation to fall in love with the macabre. 

The thrill you got as you slid your palm across the jagged end of your desk. The rapid beat of your heart as you drove your fist into your dormitory wall. Gleefully staring as crimson beads slipped from your purpling knuckles. 

It had been so fun back then. So exhilarating, so enticing. 

But then you met him. 

Fell in love with him actually. 

A slight run-in during the second-period rush. 

A light brush of his freezing blue lips to your bruised hand.

That had been all it took really. The next thing you knew the grand sage had awarded you the position of assistant to the "most benevolent scholar of Snezhnaya ." 

Of course back then the scholar from Snezhnaya had looked every bit the glacious prince from a foreign land. He'd been gentle and sweet...

Permitting you to watch as he performed another thoracotomy on the humanoid robot. Pulling you close as he observed the harvested dreams from the grand Akasha terminal. Sat under the blazing moon with you. Ever so gently crabling your hand in his, as he traced skin-deep hearts into your palm with his scalpel.

You'd been so utterly in love back then. Too blinded by bleeding hearts and gory love poems to notice the distant look in his eyes. The way he'd pause so irregularly when he was about to speak your name. In hindsight maybe you should have known his heart was with another. 

Then one night, one gloriously blurry night. As you both sat on the Akadimiya's roof. Your head laying tiredly in his lap. You'd uttered those damned words. Those jarring, life-altering words

"I want to die" 

 Words spoken so softly from chapped lips as your eyes closed and you fell into a sweet, sweet, sleep. 

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

Dottore finds it quite odd how he'd fallen so deeply, so consumingly, so manically in love with you in such a short time. 

You'd simply fallen right out of the sky. Straight in his path. A miracle granted by whichever archon was doltish and self-righteous enough to still acknowledges his existence. Celestia knows he's made an enemy of every self-proclaimed God in Teyvat. Even the Tsaritsa was weary of him on good days. Downright loathed him on bad ones. 

Yet this time divinity had pulled through and led you straight to him. Such a blessed thing, he'd surely take great joy in ravaging.

Sacred marvel or not, Dottore had admittingly taken a wholly interest in you. Your vision had haunted him. Plaguing him for endless nights as he succumbed to finish building the Archon of arcane wisdom. He found it rather silly how he'd secretly seek out your hand during meetings with the grand sage. Constantly pinning to be in your obsolete presence. 

 It had been fun, or failing that, insightful at the very least. He knew he had conjured feelings towards you and couldn't so easily permit you to leave. Even when his work in Sumeru had been cut short, all due to that meddling team of ignorant vision wielders and their pesky archon. 

Yet the night before he left, he knew you had to come with him. 

He'd paid great attention to your love of the macabre. Enjoyed indulging you in his temporary laboratory. Drawing little doodles on your flawless flesh with his medical instruments. You would only giggle, blush and glance away timidly. So endearing, so foolish. 

You were accustomed to agony - albeit self-inflicted he postulated-Treating it as nothing more than a guilty pleasure. Nevertheless, Dottore knew it would take time for you to adjust to his ruthlessness. His variation of pain was utterly appalling. He'd be sure to turn your previous wounds into child's play. 

Surely you'd love it.  

looking back on it all you'd most definitely been burnt out. Unable to string together logical thoughts outside the realm of your chosen field. Yet another scholar so caught up in their research and studies that they'd forgotten how the real world actually works. 

The academic world is like an all-consuming fire. 

At least that's what Dottore has concluded, since his expulsion from the Akademiya.

Taking and taking, from those who all so willing worship its perpetual light. Blooming their dermises with blisters and decaying nerves. So greedy, yet every ardent scholar welcomes the mental anguish and self-loss as one would welcome spring with open arms. You, little dove, his little dove, were no better. Foolish and blessed all at the same time. You'd played the only role you'd ever known. Perfected the part of the scholar to be, all while hiding the only outlet you had. The only waypoint to what might just be your undisputed self. Hiding razors between pages of quadratic equations and simultaneous equations. Hiding the swelling galaxies of bruises you'd painted on your thighs. It's all quite forgivable really. Admirable if nothing else. You'd found your true self in the mists of academic misery. Taken the reign and decided to welcome the aches and stings. 

Oh, how he'd generously taken you away from your tormentors. 

How graciously he'd shown you what true pain was really like. 

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

You never truly understood it, never have, and never will. Can't comprehend this desperate mesmeric feeling whenever he's near. You're ever so utterly infatuated with him. You love him, your tormentor, your capturer, the doctor, Dottre, with all that's left of your beating heart. Although now that it's been months since you departed to Snezhnaya with him. You've come to realize that love, for all its hypnotic trances and rose-tinted terms, is rather over-glorified. For you may love someone with every fiber of your body, yet they may be well engrossed with someone else. 

Does he even love you?

It's the question of the hour, the day, the month, the millennia...

Does Dottore truly love you? 

Your eyes trace over the severed limbs littering the pristine floor. Connecting them like stars in a constellation. This particular operating room was always in shambles. Very much like how you'd turned out...

He'd been taking you apart, ripping away appendages and giving them to her. The Traveler. The eldritch being of light who'd been forced into a mortal's body. He's been patching up wherever her primordial glow was seeping through the cracks of such a weak body. with your ever-so-human corpse. 

How Dottore had ever managed to tame and capture a primordial

 creature such as she was beyond you. Although you liked to ponder the possibility that infusing the two of you meant that part of her divinity would be substituted for humanity thus rendering her more submissive. More malleable. Easier for the mad doctor to control. 

And yet, despite all this, you can't seem to let go of those horrid feelings you have for him. 

Maybe you'd never even been lovers. Just a fool and a scientist

trapped in fate's webs. 

No, that wasn't quite right either. Instead, the two of you were more akin to desperate souls who needed each other more than the earth needed the sun. It's rather humorous to consider that Dottore would ever need someone. To think of him as anything less than a natural cataclysm sent by the Tsaritsa herself to destroy everything that is good and holy. 

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

You lay motionless on the cold metal slap, eyes unfocused as you try a process which limb has gone missing now. Or maybe it's an organ this time. It's always all so hard to recall what it is exactly that he took, in the hours following the operation. 

Phantom pain pounds in your right eye, or rather the right socket that used to house your right eye. You stare up at the ceiling trying to tune out the pain and the numbness all at once. 

Has he ever loved you?

You can't help but circle back to the heart wrenching question every so often. 

Has he ever said he loves you? You're not sure, brain too cluttered from the last operation to fully recall anything specific. Too damaged to be conscious enough to tell the difference between reality and fantasies.

 "Let's make a deal, my dear. You help me with my research  and in return, I shall grant your ghastly fantasy as best I can" 

You remember that conversation despite your mangled mind. Remember it was his perfect response that night when the two of you lay in the moonlight. You'd told him you wanted to die. How naive you'd been back then. You had started this whole mess and that madman you had so easily given your heart to had been all too eager to oblige. 

Not like this.

This hadn't been what you'd meant.

You didn't want any of this. 

The severed body, the other women, the cold empty lab. 

You didn't want this. 

"Oh, I see you're awake" His voice is chilling. Analytical rather than affectionate. "Maybe you're body is beginning to build up a form of resistance to the anesthesia." He sighs, an unnerving noise that hints at the permanent exhaustion he always seems to feel. "I'll have to start upping your doses, although I figure it'd be better to invest my time in fabricating some new suppressants altogether." His steps reverberate through the air as he saunters over to where you lie. gloved hands running through your matted locks, curling strands around his fingers as he mutters gleefully. "Look at all the trouble I go to for you darling. You really are quite lucky, that I'm so fond of you." his words hit deep, reopening the old wounds you clumsily stitched close with strings of denial. 

He lays down next to you, unbothered by the sharp cold of the metal table. His eyes melt into yours, looking at you like you are the love of his life. A bitter lie and you know it and yet you still relish in the fictitious proclivity of it all. His fingers trace open lacerations. His mouth busied itself with nipping at raw scar tissue adorning your neck. Working around to kiss at the stumps of amputated appendages. You lay there enjoying the kisses and empty promises. It feels like he loves you. In the end, isn't that all that matters? 

"You know I'm only doing this because I care about you, right?" You wonder if that lie tastes bitter on his tongue. You fight the urge to scream that it's evident he loves her more. Adores her. Worshipers her

 Dottore carries on disregarding the pain so clearly plastered on your face. "The traveler will live for much longer than you ever could. By taking you apart and sewing you into her, I'm doing you both a favor. Although I'll admit the true victor in this little experiment is I. 

I'll have both my lovers at my side forevermore." You hate how his statement makes your heart beat ever quicker and your cheeks darken in color. You turn, catching his lips in an uncharacteristically bold kiss. Hoping it'll shut him up for now.

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

There's a code red. Even from your isolated room, you can tell that something's going on with the Traveler. That's what a code red is in this hellish place. Anytime the darling Traveler goes through something more major than a headache, the whole medical bay is on emergency standby. Clones running left and right fetching medical equipment and pain suppressants. 

You see the state Dottore is in over her. Hate how he risks his own well-being over her. Or rather, failing that, you're jealous over how much he cares about her. Dottore is naturally destructive, to those around him, to himself, to any and everything.  It's not a particularly hard thing to take note of. He's not exactly a gentle lover or even a good one at that.  Yet as of late, he's gone even further - if that's even possible- tearing himself to shreds trying to squeeze out the last bits of divinity still plaguing his ever-precious Traveler. 

Deep in your bones you just know he's ever more forbearing with her. never "forgetting" to administer her anesthetics to see how "well" she'd take the pain. Always putting in the extra time to make sure her wounds were thoroughly sterilized. With you it's different he'll cut where ever he pleases, tear off anything and everything. He'll cut and cut and you fear that one day there'll be nothing left to cut. 

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

As of late, the Doctor has been more present. Visiting you daily -or at least you think. It's hard to tell time in a windowless, clockless room- his advances have been sweeter, bordering on loving if that was even possible. His lips linger where ever he kisses and he's even taken to spending the night. 

There's trouble in the air, you can feel it. 

It's on one of these particular nights that his clones are tasked with taking you to a new operating room. One with a window that permits the moon's rays to sweep in. His clones release you onto the plush operation table, a stark contrast to the metal slab you've grown accustomed to. 

Something's not right. 

Minutes later Dottore walks in. He discards his mask on a nearby table revealing bloodshot eyes with deep black bags underneath. "Too many late nights" you jab, prying for any reaction, anything that feels normal. He hovers above you, arms placed firmly on either side of your head. He let out a loud breath, followed by an onslaught of mirthless giggles. "It's time" he mutters. "Time for what?" you ask, searching his eyes for any clue as to what's going on. Dottore gulps curls a strand of pale blue hair around his finger and pulls. "Tonight I'll be taking your heart..." He pauses for a minute and you wonder if he hears the irony as you do. "I'll merge it with the Traveler's. Half and half, sounds fair right?"

 "no" 

"From then on you and her will be one. A single entity meant to serve me and only me. I told you I was the luckiest man in all of Teyvat."

You think you detect a sliver of sadness in his hoarse voice. 

Wonder if all this insanity has finally caught up with him...

Improbable. 

It's funny how now when you're all so close to getting what you've dreamed of for so long, reality decides to kick in. How regret settles deep in your gut as warm tears begin to flow freely. 

"Please don't do this.."

"I have to"

"Dottore plea-"

"Shhh"

He settles himself on the bed, straddling your hips. "I want you to be awake for this one." He reaches over for the scalpel and goes straight for the cut. A thoracotomy, just like the ones you used to watch him perform on Scaramouch. You scream out in pain, begging him to stop. All too soon everything goes numb and you're left hanging between the borders of life and death. 

Dottore leans down and kisses your heart. Laughing at how the blood mares his lips. A delighted shiver runs down his spine as he feels the rhythmical beats under his tongue. He looks so happy you note in your delirious state. It fills your heart with warmth as you bask in his excited, handsome face. Observing complacently as he watches you bleed out. 

"Dottore?"

"Yes my dove" 

"Please just say it...say it just once..."

You're not sure if it's the blood loss or a cruel joke by fate. But for a fraction of a second, you think you see his lips turn downwards and a single tear falls from his eye.

"I love you" He finally says. 

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

Bonus: 

Sometimes the Traveler is shaken from her slumber by a blazing ache in her heart and in her right eye and her left leg, right thigh, left arm... Sometimes she's reminded that there was another girl. A poor soul who loved Dottore and paid for it with her body and her life. Tears fall freely from her eyes before she's pulled back into the mattress by her "lover". The mad doctor, Dottore. He kisses her, right on the border of her scars. Right where she ends and the other starts. He got his wish, he created some perfect hybrid of the only two things he's ever loved. 

Damn him.

Damn him to Celestia and back

[rockingbytheseaside]

Hi! I wanted to say I absolutely adore your art and headcannons! I wanted to ask if you would be interested in making a headcannon for our lovely harbingers where there is someone trying to sabotage their relationship with the reader like for example the person is saying that the reader is cheating or is saying mean things about the harbingers and that they have ,,proof" it is if course a lie. Don't force yourself to do anything you don't want to tho!

(Absolutely genius idea! Sorry to keep you waiting! I’m a slow writer…)

✦ When others try to sabotage your relationship with them

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Childe

(tw: general mentions of violence and blood. sfw) 

Being intimate with a powerful Fatui Harbinger provides the illusory dream of having riches, power, and status. Some watch you with hushed murmurs as you accompany your beloved with linked arms, looking all elegant beside him. Perhaps some people cannot comprehend how such a ruthless Fatuus can even court someone like you. Others simply cannot comprehend that status and money is not a key factor in your relationship.

✧ To crossfire with Pierro is to go against every single Fatui Harbinger. The Director is known far and wide as a man of cold words and power beyond the seven nations. All valuable intel and actions are reported to him first and foremost, as even the top Harbingers bow before him. You, on the other hand, were not meant to bow before him. The Jester shall never let you lower your head, because it is he who shall stoop to worship you. 

However recently, a certain rumor reached his ears. His spies related to him info that certain Fatui soldiers, some lowly commoners at the bottom of the ranks, are spreading uncouth jabs about you and Pierro. Intel states that these fools think you infiltrated the Fatui and The Director’s inner circle by some intimate provocation and seduction; that you’re in it for the money and status.

Pierro’s gloved hands gripped the papers. Nevertheless, his expression is placid as always. 

Thus, the culprit now sat in Pierro’s office, trembling as the room oozed with murderous silence. The Jester never raised his voice, nor did he question the man who “joked” about you. The fellow kept spitting apologies, begging for mercy. He knew it was futile to lie or waste the Director's patience.

And the Jester? It took everything in his power not to get his gloved hands bloodied. To hear someone accuse you - his most cherished, as a shallow harlot? Consequences shall be faced. Calming his boiling turmoil, Pierro continued to conduct himself professionally:

He made sure the man and his entire generation met their oblivion. 

With the recruitment of his best spies, he ascertained that the culprit’s disappearance was not felt by a single soul, his entire family gone, and all traces of spread rumors eradicated. Above all, it was orchestrated so that you would remain unaware that anyone dared to tarnish your reputation.

You carried on with your life, blissfully unaware and undisturbed. Even now, you came in knocking on his office, asking: “Long day at work, honey? I can bring you some tea or coffee if you want.”

The Jester's smile returned, throwing away some crumbled documents into the trash can - “A tea break would be excellent, my divine.”

If it’s blood that needs to be spilled to protect you and his private affairs, then Pierro won’t think twice. 

✧ For Il Capitano, the way of the blade speaks more for its wielder than words. If you wish to prove your stance, you better be prepared to face the First Fatui Harbinger, as his might will test you in a relentless duel of strength. So what do you think happened when Capitano overheard someone calling you “weak”? That his beloved does not deserve an ounce of his attention, because you are a meek being compared to the Harbinger? 

His hand instantly found its place on the hilt of his claymore. He left no room for negotiation or doubt. He marched straight towards the culprit, unsheathed his weapon, and pointed the sharp point of his blade straight at the person.

“If you are so confident to spit such insolence about them, then you must be equally confident with your strength. Let your blade speak.”

The poor fool tried to defend himself with excuses. But his mocking meant nothing to the Captain’s weapon. Before you know it, there is an ongoing duel initiated by Il Capitano. The witnesses know that whoever is on the receiving end of his wrath has no chance of surviving. Not when a single swing of his weapon causes craters on the ground.

The man was about to collapse, accepting his violent demise. But just as Capitano was about to unleash his final lesson, your voice rang out amongst the crowd.

“Hey! Cease this commotion at once!” - you stepped up, your expression stern as you stood in front of your beloved. In a rare moment of vulnerability, the Captain’s already stoic body language shifted. His claymore was sheathed back to its place.

“My beloved, you shouldn’t have seen this…”

“And yet I did. It would’ve reached my ears anyway. What did I say about temperamental duels, Capitano? Morons are not worth it.” 

“He called you weak. I cannot allow it.”

For a minute, Capitano kept his head hung low in reverence. You stood with your arms on your hips, scolding him. Was it not for your intervention, that person who vocally mocked you would’ve been lying dead now. Instead, you spared the offender, and the man was allowed to flee in humiliation. 

The conflict was eradicated, and Capitano's imposing demeanor showed he didn't regret his actions. Considering how even Capitano bowed to your words, the accuser realized - you are not weak. Because if there was one person who made the First Harbinger go motionless then it was you. 

✧ Today was a good day for Il Dottore, but you weren't sure why. He was a tad clingy, his steps laced with a sense of giddiness. Giving you extra squeezes while hugging, smothering you with longer kisses on the cheek. Even as you sat idly in his lab, you watched him as he worked on some paperwork with a grin.

Thus you questioned him, lazily strolling around his lab and observing the countless tools or vials. But he waved off his excitement, tapping his pencil over some papers - “Nothing of major importance, but I did have something interesting happen recently.”

You raised an eyebrow, beckoning him to continue.

“An idiot made a pathetic attempt at spreading rumors about us.” - You stopped in your tracks, going still as you held some miscellaneous container with what seemed to be tissue samples. The Harbinger continued: “Some fool spoke behind your back; stating that anyone who is close with a heretical scholar is bound to be equally insane. They thought that if their words didn't reach you, then it's of no consequence.”

Your expression fell somber with each word Dottore spoke. He said it with such profound avidity, that his voice demonstrated threatening intent behind them. So he continued. “But you know me, dear. Nothing goes past me. Vile nicknames are nothing new to me. My work is not for the faint of heart, and those pesky cretins enjoy concealing their fear with profane titles. And they can call me whatever they want. However, I won't allow them to call you names. Not because of my work.”

You averted your gaze sadly onto the samples of veins and organs in vials. You pretended to inspect them, but your sorrow was more prominent. You suspected Dottore already did something, hence his unusual giddiness today. Thus, you inquired in a soft whisper - “So… what did you do?”

“I handled it, naturally.”

“...You did? What happened? To the person who said such things, I mean.”

“What happened? Dear, you're holding them in your hands right now.” - Il Dottore beamed, pointing at the vials of organs you held. 

✧ Today, Scaramouche was eerily silent. You were accompanying him during one of his work expeditions, aiding him with certain formalities regarding his Fatui subordinates. The 6th had soldiers working under him, and although he did not care for their training, he did not tolerate any incompetent weaklings.

Therefore, you decided to lend a hand. You helped conduct a training program for his underlings, making sure all standards were met. It’s not the first time you did so, since The Puppeteer often placed you as the second in command whenever he was absent. And the Fatui soldiers did not conceal their thrill - it’s like you were their favorite substitute teacher who was more cheerful and forgiving than their superior.

Either way, Scaramouche saw that the mission was going smoothly. But soon, lightning would strike. A certain Fatuus, an agent in training, was getting too charmful with you. It was during the usual training assigned by you, and this person was focusing more on his conversation with you than his training:

Telling you how you are a remarkably skilled person. How it’s a marvel to see someone so delightful as you working alongside the Balladeer. How you shouldn’t waste your time with someone as aggravating as Lord Harbinger Scaramouche. He’s even leaning closer towards you.

You smiled uncomfortably, your attempts at polite disagreement did not work with this agent. Yet now you felt the static in the air, and that’s when you realized - Your beloved heard all of it.

On this usual, unassuming morning, Scaramouche walked silently and struck a man with lightning. All eyes turned towards the commotion as you stood behind the Harbinger. His fists were clenched, sparks of electro crackling from them.

He may have been silent the whole day, but don’t mistake his silence for impassivity.

“Next time, know your place,” - he seethed, standing over the person who endeavored to sweet talk you. He permitted his subordinates too much leeway, now they dare charm you with empty flirts. Scaramouche would’ve stomped that man’s head if he wanted, but he wouldn’t create such a grotesque scene in your presence. Instead, he turned away, held your hand, and pulled you away.

He gave you a day off, his mind already conjuring plans to deal with his underlings later. At least he scoffed out an apology. Not for what he did; he does not lament that. Just a small ‘sorry’ for giving you a quick fright. The lightning strike was very loud, after all. 

✧ Pantalone often gets invited to luxurious meetings or extravagant galas. Any party that is attended by the richest man in Teyvat is a guarantee to make high-society elites turn heads. However, considering your prolonged relationship with your darling Pantalone, you know he secretly despises these social gatherings. Therefore, he takes you with him. Dressed in your finest, Pantalone proudly shows you off to the pompous aristocrats.

People would watch enviously, thinking to themselves: The Regrator’s sweetheart, spoiled by his riches. Your attire is as glorious as his expensive suit. His arm is tenderly linked with yours, always offering you his hand like a true gentleman whenever you two walk. Even as he conversed with various business partners, he always had to make sure his hand was around your waist or your hand.

This dotting behavior made certain ladies of Snezhnaya jealous. They could see you were not a noble-born, nor were you used to the attention during such gatherings. You just timidly accompanied him, and Pantalone kept rambling about you and your benign achievements. Childish, really. You’re probably someone who just ran after and clung to the Harbinger until he relented to keep you. Therefore, a group of ladies initiated the conversation: 

“It’s a pleasure to meet a man such as yourself, Lord Harbinger.” and “Why, a man of your status is probably seeking some interesting company. Oh? You are with someone? My, my, I did not notice them.” or “Surely you desire connections worthy of your status, sir.”

Pantalone had mastered the art of courteous smiling, yet even his act was about to crack. He noticed the way these ladies tried to stand too close to him, pretend you were not in the picture, or even passively mock you. Their insolence stenches, and noticing your silent discomfort caused his heart to sting. But he had a plan.

“Why yes, you are right,” - Pantalone smiled with his charming looks “I do value my time, and it’s important to not waste it on shallow conversationalists. Oh, but it’s such a shame that the people in front of us are just that. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Pantalone turned to you, his arms encircling your waist while speaking such backhanded comments with triumphant smiles. The ladies’ smiles fell instantly, and you tried everything to avert your gaze. “Um, Pantalone? Maybe we shouldn’t-”

“Shouldn’t bore ourselves with such lowly individuals? Hmm, I agree. There isn’t much to do here anyway, only the greedy will seek something in this superficial gathering. Oh well, let’s go so I can take you to dance, dear.” - Pantalone concluded in his usual enamoring tone “Ladies, if you would excuse yourself.”

In this world, the 9th of the Fatui Harbinger doesn’t excuse himself - others do. Therefore, he took you away, scoffing and checking up on you with hushed whispers. Pantalone was offended. Why do they assume it was you who desperately sought out the rich Harbinger? Little do they know it was Pantalone who used to run and seek your attention just to be yours. Honestly, they’re discrediting his neediness for you. 

✧ Should anyone meddle with Tartaglia’s personal life, they are picking up a brawl. Someone dares to flirt with you? His fists are ready. Someone said something unwelcoming about you? Anything in the vicinity can be used as a weapon. Someone endangers his relationship? Their life is now in danger.

Of course, you’re the one who consistently yanked him out of these fights. Usually, it’s nothing serious, as when you scold your boyfriend for such reckless behavior it ends with his heartfelt words and apologetic chuckles. He finds solace in embracing you from behind, gently enfolding his arms around your shoulders, reassuring himself that all is well.

However, Tartagia is still a Harbinger. Away from home, he’d personally search for intel on the culprit who dares to offend your relationship. Names, records, locations, anything to keep tabs on those who think they can drag his family into bloodshedding matters. Tracking is of no issue, after all, when he was still a young rookie, training as a Fatui agent was just the first step.

Once he determines the offender, he’ll pay a discreet visit to them. And this time, without you dragging him away from fights, there is no place for mercy or jests.

At night, Childe returned home, cheerful as the sight of you getting ready for bed welcomes him. Yet in the dim lights, you’d gasp and approach him with concern, catching traces of smeared blood on his face or hands.

Ajax would just smile; he didn’t need to explain. Instead, he would quietly approach you from behind and envelop his arms around your shoulders in quiet stillness.

[affableramen]

Bad spirits

𝜗𝜚 Kazuha, Wriothesley, Tartaglia, Neuvillette, Pantalone, Ayato, Capitano, Dottore, Alhaitham, Baizhu

𝜗𝜚 Angst+comfort; mentions of injury; Capitano & Baizhu slightly yandere-ish

Divider by @anitalenia

Kazuha

When you break his favourite vase that was a gift from Ayato Kamisato—a fine vase of violet colour, with flowers painted all over it—Kazuha becomes shocked first. You did it in the middle of an argument, but the both of you knew it was completely unintentional. When the shattered piece of decor lies still on the floor (in shambles), forgetting all your bickering you go on your knees and help Kazuha clean the floor and get rid of the dangerous sharp edged pieces that could harm either him or you. 

He is still slightly mad with his eyebrows furrowed, but he allows you to help him. Though, it might take a while for Kazuha to cool down. He is usually a reserved man, but the heated argument took its toll on him.

“Are you mad at me?”

“It was a personal favourite.”

“I am so sorry, but you acted like a dick.”

Kazuha did not even rush to deny it.

“I’m definitely not a saint.”

Wriothesley

You break his favourite mug in the middle of the night when you woke up to drink some water. The sleepy you accidentally pulled on the glass a little too much and it hit the mug next to it, dragging it down. Wriothesley sleeps deeply and doesn't hear any noise but upon waking up in the morning you tell him the story as you ought to. To that Wriothesley rubs the bridge of his nose and says: 

“Forget it. At least you didn't hurt yourself.”

And he must be right, you could easily get injured while the mug was falling down. Luckily, you are not hurt and Wriothesley, even being slightly upset over his favourite mug, is genuinely not so attached to material things. 

“I’ll just buy another. Maybe the same one. It’s not living things, they are replaceable.” 

Tartaglia

It was not exactly your fault to have broken Tartaglia’s red mask when you were crashing out. He put in the dinner table and it had to be just a little swing of your hand and the mask flew into the mirror on the wardrobe. Luckily to the both of you, the butler was near and he could deal with the mess immediately. Shocked by the butterfly effect and still devastated over the conflict you had, you bursted into tears. Tartaglia was heated too, and he was not exactly in good spirits, however he rubbed his face and rushed to soothe you. 

“Let them clean the mess, we’ll go upstairs for now. You’re full, yeah?”

You were not hungry at all after the warm meal you had, and even after the bickering Tartaglia still remained the gentleman you fell in love with.

Neuvillette

Breaking his cup into halves was definitely not the wisest idea to grab his attention. It was the look of horror in Neuvillette’s face that made you realise what exactly you just did. You looked at your hand in which there was a shattered glass and a few fresh cuts on your hand, already bleeding. Should you have loosened up your grip, as the shattered cup dropped onto the floor with a loud clinging noise. Neuvillette could have gone furious for you breaking his belonging, especially the one he used to drink his dear water from, but upon seeing you get hurt by your own stupid action, he could not help but rushing to you. Monseiur gently took your hand and opened your palm gently. He looked at the palm and concluded: “Foolish woman. I’m going to get a healer.”

It was just two sentences but you felt such emotion, such care for yourself. “ I didn't mean it”, you say, “I didn't mean it, Neuvillette. I was just… upset and stressed out, and you did make it any easier with your cold attitude.”

“I’m sorry, my love. I will be more attentive next time.” 

“I’m sorry I broke your cup. I guess the both of us are at fault.”

Neuvillette noded, his face twitching with worry and other intense emotion you could not comprehend. “Stay here.”

Pantalone

“That was the last straw. Are you happy now?” Hisses he after you break the intricately-done, antic lamp that was supposed to be a gift to Pantalone from one of his business partners. With your leg you mash the insides of the former desk lamp, driving them out to the corner of your bedroom.

“Can’t you see? She’s flirting with you!”

“It was just a gift, why do you have to see everything as a means to court?”

“Because it is one, look, Pantalone. There is even a letter.”

Hearing that Pantalone slowly approaches you and the broken piece of decor, his look is intrigued but disappointed at the same time. Never he had think that he’d miss something so on the nose. 

“Indeed it is”, he finishes reading the letter. “Darling I didn't know. I’m so sorry.”

“One day you have to face your fangirls and just draw a line, ‘kay?”

“I should have done it long ago, I fear”, he takes your hands, intertwining them with his own and looks you right in the eyes. “Don't need no one other than you.” 

Pantalone pulls you into a tight embrace, staying like that for a couple of long still seconds.

Ayato

Ayato wasn't exactly pleased when you broke his favourite fan that was a piece of decorum in the living room. You did it out of disappointment and boiling up inside you felt upon seeing some other women trying to grab Ayato’s attention. You have never been so possessive before like you are today, and for a good reason. Those girls had no right to peek for long at the man who was obviously (and officially) taken. Your emotions were bottled up because you couldn't make a scene just there, you couldn't fight or threaten those shameless bimbos. 

Ayato was rather tired and simply rolled his eyes on top of his head and slumped into his chair. 

“Are you done?”

“Yes I am.”

“Wonderful. I’ll ask Thoma to clean this up. Go to bed.”

He was not exactly kind, and his what usually was a request, seemed like a merciless order to you. 

Capitano

“Enough, woman, you’re just going to embarrass yourself furthermore”, Capitano says as he once again catches a dish thrown at him by your hand. “I said—enough.”

You lower your hand, gently put the remaining non shattered dish on the table and leave the dining hall. Capitano spends a couple of seconds thinking if he should invade your privacy and impact you somehow, or leave the things as they are. Torn between two evils, he finally makes his way after you and catches your arm, gently though.

“We shall discuss all our misunderstandings… in private”, he looks down, as if he is too ashamed to stare into your eyes, though you don't even see his face behind the mask. 

“In the civil manner”, he clears his throat, “as a proper couple.”

The tension between you two dies out for a moment and the Captain releases your hand, his strong posture faltering as a sign that he is consumed by very strong emotions right now. 

“Why not”, you wipe a tear from your eye. “I might humour you this once.”

Capitano offers you his hand and you accept it. As he leads you to the bedroom, he gives you quick glares here and there. 

Dottore

Dottore stares at his broken vial, his face contorted into a grimace as he stares you up and down. 

“I cannot believe you’d do that. Looks like I underestimated you”, he throws the wasted vial into the bin and barks at you. “Leave. I don't want to see your face for the rest of the day. As if you don’t know how much I worked on this shit.”

That’s right. It was just one vial, but for him it was still a piece of effort. Seeing Dottore pushing his anger back as he needs to focus on his job you have a sudden change of heart. You stop behind him, watching as he works.

“Don’t breathe onto my neck, now go away”, he remains the same grumpy old man but you understand it that deep inside his heart he just doesn't want to admit how exhausted and frustrated he is. 

“I will aid you.”

“I have clones enough to aid me”, he snorts.

“Dottore.”

You do not take any objections instead put your gloves on and start assisting him.

“Don't be stubborn”, he says.

“No, you don’t be.”

After a while of grunting in frustration and constantly rejecting your attention Dottore finally gives up and lets you help finish the task in the lab together. 

Alhaitham

In the light of you two arguing Alhaitham certainly expected you to pull a rash action like throwing his book into the river. He sighed and pulls his hair back, trying to cool down. Was it necessary for you to throw his book away? After all—what has the poor book even done?

“You never listen to me!” You cry out. “You only follow the principles of your book, that’s it. Have you ever thought out of the box?!”

“This argument is huge nonsense. I don’t even know why I spend my time on it in the first place.”

“Really? Maybe next thing you’re gonna say is that you don’t even know why you’re staying with me?!”

At that, Alhaitham finally displays a visible sign of irritation on his face. He is a calm man usually, but you have been pressuring him for a while now.

“What do you want me to do?!”

“Listen to my damn opinion! For once!”

You step back to take a breather, and Alhaitham lets out a loud, heavy sigh.

“Good. Tell me your opinion then. I will listen to it, I promise.” His voice has gone softer and he looks at you awaiting for your response. Perhaps you two can still come to a peaceful solution.

Baizhu

“I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not”, Baizhu turns away. He sighs and groans and overall is trying to cope. His lips are already hurt from how aggressively he licks them. 

“I didn't mean to tear your bracelet during our little fight. I was stressed out.”

Baizhu does not honour you with a single look and walks back to his desk. He takes a seat and continues writing his prescriptions to customers as if nothing happened. His hand works, but you can see the wrinkles forced by anger deep inside him to cripple on his face. He ignores you standing there, looking at him and waiting for any reaction that he would make, but he seems to not even acknowledge your presence.

Finally, he rises and walks to hand the prescription to the customer. 

“Okay”, you say to yourself, grab your things and attempt to go home, but in the last moment Baizhu sighs, his thin body blocking your path.

“Sit on the guest couch and wait for me.”

“So bossy”, you shake your head, perplexed with his smugness and sudden assertiveness that Baizhu perhsps kept inside for a good reason. You were pretty tired yourself so there was no point in disobeying the pharmacist. Baizhu waited until you took the seated position, eyeing you with heavy stare and furrowed eyebrows. Once you stopped there, his face took a softer look and he began working on the last few prescriptions.

[jinkicake]

HSHDHSHD HI AGAIN I JUST SAW UR CHILDE AND SCARAMOUCHE ARRANGE MARRIAGE POST AND I GO SJGNFNFNFNDNNFNDNG THE WAY U WRITE ARRANGE MARRIAGE TROPES>>>>>>/lh UR WRITTING IS SO GOOD!! I ALWAYS COMEBACK AND RE READ IT EVERYTIME AND I JUST REALIZED U ALSO WRITE FOR OBEY ME?! AND UR WRITING IS THE FIRST FEW ONES I'VE READ AFTER I JOIN THE OM FANDOM TOO?!👀💖💐

Ps. Would u mind if I request a 2nd part for the arrange marriage aus for the first fews chars (esp. Perrio👀) if nit they it's fine <33 thx u for creating such an amazing content!!💖💖

Forced / Arranged Marriage Trope

(pt. ??) Alhaitham, Dottore, Pierro, Zhongli x Reader

fem!reader bc I like the use of ‘wife’

A/N: hi anon!! thank you for being so patient w me and for being so sweet </333 T T i hope you like this~~ if you want me to do part2 for anyone else let me know!! I only did it for zhongli and pierro teehee bc i also wanted to add alhaitham and dottore (i hope that is alright~~)

WC - 3.2k

- yandere!dottore  // dottore is his own warning -

NSFW // LIGHT SMUT (pierro+zhongli)

~~~

Alhaitham

“I will be home after sundown, habibti." Alhaitham places a gentle hand on your shoulder after he stands up from his chair at the dining room table. He lowers his head with a slight dip of his neck to place a kiss on the crown of your hair. “Be good today.” 

And then he is gone. 

Months have passed since your husband began staying late after work. You don’t understand it in the slightest, he hates doing unnecessary tasks. The entire time you’ve known him, courting and beyond, Alhaitham has always spared time in his day for his interests. One day, he even told you that his favorite part of each day was settling down to read. He likes to live a carefree and relaxed lifestyle, so staying late in the Akademiya seems like the complete opposite of that. 

Regardless, you bear the weight of your suspicions and ignore it. 

You focus on being the docile wife you were advertised as and focus on your housework. In truth, your arranged marriage could not have gone any better. Despite your parents parading you around, you somehow found the most laid-back candidate who suited your needs to a t. Every night you thank the Lesser Lord Kusanali for such a kind husband, who lets you come and go as you please. You would have probably hired a hit on your parents, as opposed to never speaking with them again, if they married you away to a cruel man. 

However, housework only keeps you busy for so long and before you know it, it is ten am and you have finished everything that you wanted to do for the day. You could go bother your husband’s old roommate or have a meal with your friend but, you notice that Alhaitham left his lunch today. The neatly prepared and packed lunch is still sitting on the counter where you left it. He must have forgotten to grab it. 

With ignorance only Alhaitham could have installed in you, a result of keeping you in the dark for so long, you head toward the Akademiya. However, you regret it once you speak with his co-workers. 

“Alhaitham is not here today.”

“Your husband? He didn’t come in this morning,”

“I heard he was heading to Port Ormos after speaking with the Gauhar.”

Through your dejection, you braced a kind smile and thanked them all before heading back home. What could your husband possibly be going to the port for? He’s not a student anymore, there’s no reason for him to be going there. 

Unless someone else is there. 

You stubbornly try to shake that negative thought out of your head as you walk through the marketplace. As if Alhaitham would commit something of adultery, he doesn’t show interest in anything or anyone. 

Perhaps, you will have to speak about this with him when he returns home. 

Returning home that night was not something Alhaitham did. In fact, he did not return back to you for two nights and only appeared on the third morning of his disappearance. 

To say that you were upset would be an understatement and your husband was able to see it the second he walks in through the door. 

“(Y/N), I know I have been gone-”

“Where have you been?” You don’t give him the chance to begin with the sorry apologies as you cross your arms over your chest, you get straight to the point. 

“It was for the Akademiya, I cannot discuss the matters with you and you know this.” He sounds sincere enough, there’s a tiredness to his words that you can’t pinpoint. “I wanted to check in with you before I returned.”

“Check in with me?” You scoff and start to look at him as if he had grown three heads. “Check in with me before returning to your mistress?” 

“My mistress?” Alhaitham raises a subtle brow and keeps a straight face despite the amusement growing in his chest. 

“Why else have you been gone so long? Staying out so late? I’m not a fool and personally, I don’t care about who else you see.” You lie straight through your teeth, lie until you choke. Alhaitham sighs before stepping closer toward you. 

“I really cannot share the details of this assignment just yet, you have to believe me, habibti.” He gently cups your shoulders, giving the area a soft squeeze before soothingly running over the planes of your back. “Listen to me when I say that I would never think of betraying you so cruelly.” And, before you have a chance to react, Alhaitham lowers his face to brush his lips against your ear. Vulnerability spills through his every word. “Please do not act so indifferent about the matter of us, I want you to care as freely about me as I do you.”

Smoothly, his hand cups your face and tilts you his way. 

“No matter what thoughts you may come up with on your own, trust the logic that I love you.”

Dottore

“The Doctor will return from his mission sometime next week, perhaps during the beginning of the new moon-”

During the message personally delivered from your husband by a trusted subordinate, you can’t help but audibly groan. 

“Why must he ruin my entire week with his presence? Did he specifically plan to return on Monday? Why couldn’t he have come back the following Saturday or Sunday?” You place your pen down with great irritation and with it, the notebook you were writing in slams shut. The large Fatui soldier stares down at you, quite flabbergasted by your actions. At the lack of response from your maids, he continues. 

“Well, The Doctor wanted to spend some time with you before his next mission-”

“You’re kidding?” This time, you stand up and slam your palms against the strong wooden desk. Hatred and frustration flow through your veins, nearly choking you by your throat. “When you receive word that he is on his way, within a day away from me, then you will come back here and tell me. Understand?” You and your shorter frame could not nearly pose up to the Vanguard standing before you but, given the status of your esteemed husband, you can speak with him and any other solider of your choice however you want.

“Yes, my lady.” He offers a respectful bow before leaving your office and does not flinch under the intensity of your unwavering glare. 

“My day is ruined.” You hum and try to calm yourself down by rolling out your shoulders. Within an instant your close friends (the maids assigned to you by your beloved) are by your side, offering you their condolences and support. “We must prepare for the torture that his arrival is ensured to bring. Where are my earplugs?” 

Each day that follows, you work alongside other members of the house to prepare the cozy home that your husband chooses to reside in. Cozy is a cute way of describing it, this castle that hides within the mountains is anything but cozy. It’s large and empty but, you rather enjoy all the empty space that provides shelter when you’re hiding from your husband. 

In the midst of your breakfast later in the week, you’re interrupted by another announcement. 

“My lady, The Doctor will arrive-”

“What do you want?” You scowl and push your plate away, lowering your utensils before standing up from your chair. Now, just like your week and the ones that follow, your meal is ruined too. “I do not care when that wretched vermin will arrive. Tell me when he is here and leave me alone.”

“That is the thing, my lady, he is here early.” As one of the Legionaries beside the previous Vanguard steps to the side, your husband moves in front of you. He stands tall on the other side of the long dining room table and you have half a mind to sprint for the door. “I did not have time to issue the previous warning you asked for.”

“Warning? Is that how you speak of me when I am not around?” Dottore tilts his head slightly before slowly walking around the table. You try not to shake as he corners you, hands braced behind his back. “Oh? Where has your attitude gone? Down the drain with your fight?” 

He doesn’t have to remove his mask for you to see the sneer on his face, the anger that is sure to be littering his features. 

“Dear,” You nervously greet him, offering a pathetic smile that does little to hide your nerves. 

“Sweetheart,” He greets back just as gently but, you can see the tension in his shoulders. “I must confess that I was thinking we would spend time with one another before my next trip to Sumeru but, now I'm not so sure.” 

But? You mentally pray and pray to the Tsaritsa that he changes his mind and ditches you altogether, that he leaves you alone again for months on end. Anything would be better than facing his wrath. 

“I don’t think we need to see one another for a while.” He waits for you to let out the breath you were holding in, to sigh in relief, before gripping your jaw with his gloved hand. “I think it would only be fair since you’ll now be coming with me to Sumeru. We can spend the entire trip together, side by side. Finally, you’ll be able to see my work up close and not just from your timid frame in the lab doorway.”

You can’t hide the way your lip begins to quiver, eyes filling with tears. That is the last thing you would ever want. 

“Aren’t you excited, my wife? You must be since you’re near bursting into tears!” He mocks you until your soul breaks, until the farthest place you could ever be from him is no longer far enough. “If this is how you act when we are apart then, you will never be from my side ever again.”

Pierro

“You are a blessing,” Pierro murmurs lowly as his hands delicately sculpt your sides, gently he presses into your skin with his thick fingers. “a divine creation.” Like this, he worships you. His lips lightly trail between the valley of your breasts as he ascends up your body. “Hundreds of years have passed since I’ve felt this alive.”

Pierro slowly drags his lips up your throat and over your jaw to hover above your lips. His breath fans your chin, teasing you with his close proximity. He laughs when you tilt your chin in an attempt to kiss him, but it fails. 

Regardless of how you care for your husband outside of your shared bedroom, you always love him inside of it. 

“Please,” Your quiet voice sounds like a melody to the older man and he nearly sighs at the sweet tone. This is all he has ever desired, you wanting and yearning for him. He knows his words will never be enough to get this point across, ever.

With a light hand, the man brushes any lingering strands of your hair out of your face. He stares down at you with lust-filled eyes before cupping your jaw with his large palm. Subtly, Pierro tilts your face upward and meets your lips in a passionate kiss. As he presses his mouth against your own, applying just the correct amount of pressure, his thumb gently strokes your cheek. It’s a sweet kiss, one that leaves you breathless and wanting more. 

Before he can catch himself and reel in his self-restraint, Pierro cups your breast. Your arms loop around his neck, digging your fingers into his broad shoulders as he fondles and squeezes at your chest. The constant stimulation only makes you greedier for more and your hips create a mind of their own as you roll slowly upwards against his pelvis. 

“My wife,” Pierro groans, pulling away momentarily to catch his breath. His voice sounds shaky as he tries to fight back the overwhelming desire to just take you right now. “enough, before you make me do something I’ll regret.”

The first of the eleven Fatui harbingers thinks he has himself under control finally, that he will be able to continue but then you glance up at him. In your young eyes, mischief shines brighter than the life in his own. 

“It’s alright if I don’t regret it, don’t you think?” And then you kiss him once more. You yank roughly on his neck, catching him off guard, and pull him down again. 

The growl that leaves your husband is animalistic. His sharp reflexes snap at your wrist, pinning you effectively to the bed without much room to move. The kiss of his lips, once sweet, turns possessive and greedy as he presses you into submission. With little fight, you obediently fall right into his open palms with your lips parting at the slightest jut of his tongue. 

Skillful hips roll against your own, Pierro’s hard cock grinds into your clothed cunt and the sensation against your sensitive clit makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. When you start failing to kiss back, Pierro makes his attack. He squeezes your wrists and shoves his tongue into your mouth, swallowing and taking all that you will give him. Your thighs are beginning to burn against the stretch of being spread for his muscular waist but, the pain is dulled over at each slot of his hips. 

Your pitiful whimper pulls him from his conquest and Pierro remorsefully separates himself from your lips. 

“I need you,” Your whisper does not fall deaf on his ears, Pierro hears every single word. No matter how much you make fun of the older man, poking at his true age, he’s sharpened every one of his skills beyond their years. 

“I know, my beloved, I know what you need.” His hands make you sigh out loud as they run up and down your waist, breathy moans leave your lips. “Do you understand the affection that I hold for you? Are you aware of the effect you have on me?” Pierro closely watches your reaction, stares as you keep your eyes closed and don’t so much as flinch at his words. You simply hum and lay like a blessing against his sheets. Now, the older man lowers his lips to your stomach and presses his mouth into your skin. He gently creates a path to the band of your panties with each kiss getting heavier than the last. 

“One day, you will understand the true extent of my feelings.”

Zhongli

Lately, you’ve been worried about your husband. Your concerns are nothing new or anything revolutionary but, you can’t speak about it to your friends or others who are unaware of his godly status. To deal with the matter, you sought out the one person you could discuss the matter with, one of the people who know him better than you do. 

“I’m worried about Zhongli,” You sit patiently at the stone table, in your husband’s seat as you confess your inner feelings to the cloud retainer. 

“Zhongli?” The bird rolls her eyes, tasting the name on her tongue before it clicks. “Morax. What is there to be concerned about? Foolish girl, he adores you.” The cloud retainer raises a judgmental brow at your timidness as she pours you a cup of tea. She sits down with an elegance that makes you feel small in her presence. Still, you proceed. 

If any of the adeptus are going to listen to you, it’s her. If there is a single one that you can trust, it is her. 

“Isn’t that the problem?” Truthfully, you have been worried about the upcoming and unforeseen future. You’re always worried about it. Not that you will disappear soon but, mortal lives are nothing compared to that of an adeptus. How will he fare when you pass? How can you prepare him for it? “What will happen to him when I inevitably-”

The aged bird cuts you off before you can even finish your sentence. 

“Speaking of such circumstances when they are nowhere in the near future will only come back to bite you.” Cloud retainer quietly sips at her drink, leaving a few moments of silence between the two of you before she sighs. “Fully cherish the time you have with him, that is the only piece of advice I can offer you.”

And that is as far as you go with her on the matter, the conversation was over.

Still, in your heart, you weren’t satisfied with the answer.

It continued to bug you even as you tried to ignore it, even as you tried to cherish the time you have with the immortal. 

“How are you today, my dear?” Every single day when he returns, Zhongli finds you and presses a delicate kiss on your cheek. It’s a kind gesture that always makes you melt into the palm of his hand. 

It also, more often than not, always leads to something else. Something more intimate. 

“Would you forgive me if I said that I missed you today,” Zhongli’s low voice fills your senses and clouds your mind, leaving you barely unable to think. Now pressed into the couch with your husband over top of you, protectively holding your thighs over his hips, all you can do is take everything that the god has to give you. “I’m often missing you when you are away.” 

His pure confessions make your gut twist in an uncomfortable way. 

“Will you be okay when I am no longer here?” You whisper, letting the words spill into his ears as you hide your face in his neck. 

Zhongli stops his movements. The gentle, smooth thrusts of his hips come to a standstill as his hands lower from your thighs. He places a palm beside your head and pulls back enough that he can look at you. 

“I will never be the same without you.” The raw emotion in his features and the distinct vulnerability in his eyes cause tears to well up in your eyes. “But, I will continue to live. Your memory will keep me alive until we can be reunited again.” His gentle touch comes up to wipe at your tears as his thumbs brush over your cheeks. “I don’t want you to be worried about that just yet, okay, my gem?”

Softly, Zhongli presses his lips against yours and it muffles the sob that leaves your lips. 

You tighten the grip that you have on his biceps, digging your fingers into his skin as your lips open for his tongue. 

“I love you, I will always love you forever.” He murmurs into your cheek before kissing over your eyelids. Smoothly, his hips pick up a slow pace once more and you gasp loudly. The sound makes your husband laugh, gently shaking as he presses his forehead against your own. “If I had my way, we would have met earlier and you would never part from my side.” 

In every touch, he portrays how much he loves you. There is an ‘I love you’ in the press of his fingers against your hips. There is an ‘I love you’ in the skillful roll of your hips and there is an ‘I love you’ in the gentle kiss of his lips. 

Yes, Zhongli is sure he will always love you. Even through grief and mourning, he will never forget the feeling of loving you.