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harmonysanreads · 23 days

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hello <3

wishing you freedom and happiness from academic hell before diving in. you opened requests so 👉👈

forgive me if this counts as idea stealing since you posted about it but yan! neuvillette with a darling who wants to file for divorce would be such a messy situation. court proceedings go to him now that the oratrice is no longer functioning. how do you expect to win against the law of the land?

filing divorce in a different land also isn't an option, because it is written in your marriage contract that you cannot leave fontaine without your husband and he sure as hell isn't going to come with you for something like this

oh well.

Jeux de Vagues

Yandere!Neuvillette x Reader

cw(s): yandere, implications of forced marriage, slight dehumanization, manipulation, fontaine archon quest act one spoilers, old married couple bickering (literally)

wc : 3k

hiii zuri!! i have been brainrotting this fic since version 4.0 so thank you so much for just giving me the opportunity to unleash it lol. for plot reasons this takes place between act 1 and 2. i dedicate this fic to all the anons who brain-rotted with me and kept me motivated to think about neuvillette with their creative asks <3 btw you get a 🍪 if you can recognize where the title comes from :>

“Husband, I wish for a divorce.”

In Spring, the snow of the bygone winter thaws and raises the tides. They twirl to the edges of the shores ; push and pull, back and forth, mesmerizing the nation of Hydro with their temptatious dance. You wonder what it'd take to entice the waves to your direction, to have the power to make them rage and placate. When one desires to control something great, they see its reflection upon mundane things — just as you envision yourself dictating the tides upon cups of dainty porcelain, noon to evening and midnight to dawn — your spoon conducts its rhythm.

In Summer, the waters boil and vaporize upon the touch of sunlight to reach the heavens and complete the cycle. Just as wisps of steaming tea tantalize their way upwards from cups and tea pots. Beyond that translucent veil stares back a pair of watchful eyes, undecipherable are their emotions and primordial their age.

“The tides of time heed no one's orders or pleas. Very well, mon trésor, let us begin this trial.”

You're quick to catch the hint and slow to react, deliberate and relaxed as you bring the rim of the cup to your lips. The tea scathes your lips and paints your tongue bitter, bitter, bitter — a smile stretches across your tingling lips, deeming the liquid's taste adequate to your present temperament. You are bitter, not because of the contents of this ‘trial’ but, due to the delay of it. You've been crossing days after days from heaps of calendars, preparing all your accusations and aligning evidence to back up your claims for this chance only comes once every fin de siècle.

“I heard your justice machine broke?” a ‘clang’ accompanies the tea cup meeting the saucer. You focus on the chirping of birds and the noises of crystal flies buzzing past instead of the possible damage done by your words. You hear it, the swell of rising waves before they pacify with a purposeful cough. You don't let the event’s lamentable duration plunder your motivation, more precisely, you take it as a good start.

“Calling it broken is quite the stretch. You and I both know that the Oratrice Mechanique d’Analyse Cardinale—”

You swat a hand and the waves placate completely, sans any questions or any other brewing feelings. “I'm quite aware of what it's called, husband.” ‘I just could not care less’ goes unsaid.

You point your finger towards the Iudex of Fontaine, “You,” then return it back to yourself, “and I, both know the purpose of me bringing that incident up in our private trial.”

No amount of sensory loss would render someone ignorant of the mockery of your words. You bite the inside of your cheek in a lazy attempt to suppress a smirk, times like this really make you regret not having the privilege to face off against Neuvillette in the Court of this land ; you're quite sure your most recent stunt would earn you many bewildered gasps. If only the gates of your husband's manor crashed down, perhaps incapacitating him in the process for good measure.

“...Yes, we do. Your intention is to insinuate the impending prophecy and learn how we plan to prevent or battle it.”

Neuvillette's words resemble velvet in the manner they roll off his tongue, you catch his gaze drifting towards the chalice to his left, from where his reflection returns his stare. There are many tales passed among melusins of the equanimity practiced by your husband in even the most dire situations. But you have seen the depths of the ocean, where its secrets are forever concealed by an ever stretching darkness.

“Correct,” you affirm.

“Unfortunately, mon trésor, our investigations have not yet reached a decisive conclusion. While I can guarantee you that we'll do our utmost in the face of the prophecy, I cannot yet give you the specific details. Besides, this information is quite... arbitrary to our ‘trial’.”

The ocean returns your scrutiny, threatening to yank your breath away to that unknown darkness. You watch the ripples along its surface, wondering and devising plots to uproot the ocean's schemes from your safe space. You want to tear through that ataraxia and illuminate those depths for all to see its hideous secrets — so that your claims will no longer be deemed senseless.

“Well, you could try acting the part of the Iudex first.” you exhibit great interest in your nails.

“Apologies, mon trésor. The trial is now in session.”

The most preposterous trial there ever was, in fact ; spectated by cups of tea and plates of desserts, overlooked by the jury of birds and bees under the naked skies and one stubborn ‘judge’ to lay down the final verdict — who was also the accused in question. It'd be more fitting to call this some courtroom version of playing house and you wonder if Neuvillette sees it as exactly this ; since the notion of normal matrimonial life flies past his head.

You swallow your profound irritation at his nonchalance and that prickling soft gaze, the calm of the ocean surface is just a facade, you remind yourself.

“O honorable Chief Justice of Fontaine, riddle me of what I must do with my husband. He sees fit to cage me down while preaching justice simultaneously and allows me not to indulge in ‘rudimentary interactions’ with any other life forms. Do you not think that such hypocrisy is utterly ridiculous?”

Your hand cradles your heart, fully embracing the spirit of a mistreated spouse. Neuvillette regards it with an almost comical graveness, nodding as though he understands. Had it not been for the situation, you would've marveled at how willingly he's playing along with this fiasco.

A gloved hand stretches out to you in suggestion, “Perhaps it's because your husband just worries too much for your well-being?”

Your right eye twitches, “I’ve made it acutely obvious to him that I'm far from a toddler in need of constant supervision.”

The Iudex smiles succinctly, “I’m sure that he's not ignorant of that fact. But if, as you say, your husband guards you with such determination that you're not allowed to interact with any other forms of living organisms besides himself, it means that you hold great value to him.”

You cross your arms petulantly, it's not that you're forbidden from talking with everyone, many of Neuvillette's most trusted melusines do come to add flickers of color to your otherwise bleak existence sporadically. You're grateful for their kindness and brief companionship but, this small leeway does not outweigh the rest of your husband's misdeeds. Your eyes flicker to the patient eyes of the man separated by one small oak table, barely suppressing a scowl at his serene composure.

You despise it when he acts like the raw image of propriety, of an ideal husband ; so withdrawn from the covetous creature that he actually is — because it poses you as a lunatic, a lunatic who demands separation from what the rest of society perceives as perfection and debilitates all of your claims. The more you think about it, the more frustrated you get — you don't want to let frustration consume you, you don't want to lose this one opportunity for freedom. Your nails dig into the sleeves of your apparel as your mind scrambles to search for more accusations.

Why did you want a divorce again?

You control your erratic breaths forcefully, “Well, I don't feel safe in Fontaine anymore. A deadly prophecy is at our door and with no solution in sight. I'd much prefer to relocate to someplace with less volatile weather, like Liyue or Mondstadt.”

Neuvillette tilts his head, “Ah, you want to go on a vacation, am I correct? To be honest, I've been entertaining the thought of traveling to the other nations with you by my side for quite a while. Though, things being the way as they're now, that is not possible. I can promise you that after everything has been settled, we will go on a journey together, mon trésor.”

This time you don't bother to conceal your disbelief, of course he focuses on the part that most serves him and twists the narrative to further enrich his fantasies! You bite your tongue from yelling that you don't want a vacation, you want freedom from these suffocating high walls of marble. You don't just want freedom from Neuvillette, you want freedom from this cursed nation and it's solely Neuvillette's fault you were unable to do so with your kin five hundred years ago.

“Fontaine will face diplomatic and political consequences soon. Because you threw that Harbinger of Sumeru—”

“Sneznaya, mon trésor.”

“—I know that. My point is that we might face backlash from the Fatui in our vulnerable state and who knows? Fontaine might just collapse as a nation! I don't want to stay in a city like this.”

You freeze at the sigh that escapes Neuvillette's lips, you've been probing and digging for a normal human reaction from this man for a while, but at the instance that he actually gives it, you cannot help but find it jarring.

“Fontaine will not collapse from something as trivial as diplomatic pressure from the Fatui. Even though the prophecy looms above our heads, there are many factions that are actively working towards prevention. And even if Fontaine were to be drowned tomorrow, I have faith that not all of the citizens will be dissolved and you would always be my first priority. As for that Sneznayan Harbinger… we've merely followed the Court's protocols. If we did indeed convict him of crimes he did not commit, we'll most certainly compensate him to the fullest extent allowed by the law.”

For a transient eternity, all that echoed throughout the garden of the Chief Justice were the chirping of birds. Your mind carefully assesses the words from moments ago, searching for even a modicum of dishonesty. You watch the Iudex's unfettered gaze, at last giving a glimpse of the tumults raging beneath the pretentious still surface. You can hear the swelling of waves again, albeit not for the purpose to engulf but, with the determination to protect.

You'd recognize that look on Neuvillette's face even in your (unlikely) deathbed, the causation of your bafflement though is that, this is the first time you've seen it appear in correlation to something other than yourself. Your right hand idly smoothes your garbs and your left grips the wooden handle of your seat, you find both of your palms drenched in sweat upon contact.

“You’ve gone soft, ______”

You blankly admit in your semi-dazed state and it's Neuvillette's turn to take a deep breath. It's been a while since you've spoken that name aloud, the one that is only permitted to be uttered by you in private ambiances such as this and which serves as the origin for this clandestine marriage. For some reason you cannot quite comprehend — especially since your husband does not seem to suffer from it — your memory enjoys having a love-hate relationship with you. From what you recall at this instance, the last time you called the Iudex by his true name was when he gifted you this garden. Its utterance is so rare that even the bearer is rendered speechless each time.

Neuvillette copies your previous antics and pastes it onto the current situation with a prolonged look-over of your person, “Your apparel today suits you most exquisitely, mon trésor.”

You answer with a gracious eye-roll, “Don’t change the subject.”

The Chief Justice of Fontaine straightens his posture with a somewhat bashful chuckle, the afternoon sun's soft hues make the ivory strands of his hair sparkle. “Apologies, I've been meaning to compliment your appearance, not that it is ever short of radiant — I just could not find a suitable opening.”

You submit to the urge to slouch ever so slightly with a sigh, “You don't have to apologize for every little thing, you know?”

“Apologi—” Neuvillette corrects himself with a cough concealed by his fist, you watch with intrigue as soft coral dusts his pale cheeks, “As for your ‘question’, I will admit that throughout my coexistence with humans as Fontaine's Iudex, I've come to appreciate their ideals, characteristics and interpersonal relationships. In a way, I've understood myself to a great extent through observing them. Just as you wished I would.”

You furrow your brows in genuine confusion, “What do you mean?”

Your husband seems to steel himself for something, hands intertwined atop the oak table and eyes drained from his earlier playful light all too quickly. “You’ve always wished to become human. To view this world through the eyes of a mortal, to be able to have a taste of their myriad and complex relationships and... to die alongside someone you truly love.”

Somewhere in the crevices of your archaic mind, there's a vacuum hidden beneath the symphony of sea waves. Unchanging, uncharted and unperturbed by your attempts to identify what used to occupy that space. Neuvillette's cryptic admission creates a crack on what you assumed to be an empty spot occupied by white noise, the cleft dents your memories and spreads, a raucous scream threatens to rupture your eardrums.

“Are you, perhaps,” your fingers clasp onto the silk of your garb, “insinuating that you've granted me my ‘wish’?”

If you had gathered the strength to look up, you would've been blessed with the sight of the Iudex thrown off-guard. But the lapse in composure is short lived, “Of course.”

Something about his easy confirmation annihilates your decorum and replaces it with a rage of unknown origin, “So you think imprisoning me has made me happy? That it's made me feel human? That your kindness and preachings of justice have bewitched me so much that I've considered you as a lover for even a second? No, no and no! I have never and will never stop hating you, ______!”

But why do you hate him? Your thoughts echo back to you ; he's ensured you never have to ask for a meal, he's clothed you, he's provided a solid roof above your head and he's given you his heart — or at least that's what he says. For not once does a memory that he's mistreated you arise in your head but, what does bubble in your heart is an inexplicable hatred. A hatred so grave that it motivates you to not surrender to this unfair trial, contemptuous waves swell, rise to heights unseen, crash down—

“Do not forget that abandoned property belongs to whoever finds it first.”

And drag everything to the ocean's dark depths.

A jolt shakes your whole body, your eyes rise to meet the tempest in disbelief and suddenly, the dam shatters. Now you can see the serpent leering behind the charming flower, an unrestricted view of what the fair and ideal Iudex is inside those glimmering garbs of honor — a dragon with manicured claws and perfumed scales, seated to a chair of judgement yet, forever guilty of a sin he refuses to purge.

Only you remember that Neuvillette wasn't always like this ; in days not noted down in history he'd been an enigma, unsure of the significance of his existence, burning with contempt for the so-called Usurpers and sometimes cruel. But at least, he wasn't a hypocrite. He'd dug his talons deep into your heart and skin and engraved his name within your soul, he'd defiled the waters that construct your being with hatred and malice but at least, he hadn't refused to acknowledge that it was him who shackled you to this godforsaken nation, separated from the rest of your kin.

Neuvillette takes a deep breath upon noticing your erratic trembling, the tsunami recedes. “It always ends like this,”

It does. This excuse of a trial with your freedom as the wager, born of your husband's ironic belief of justice, that you should still be given a chance to speak up against iniquity. He'll take great note of any other issues that might cause you distress, but the actual concern will never be addressed — that's how it's been for five centuries. It is the kind of judge that Neuvillette has become in matters that concern you, finding loopholes to keep you attached to his name yet hidden from prying eyes ; all because of his principle that having a public personal relationship will bring the impartiality of the judiciary system to question.

“However, it must be done to ensure your safety.” you tense as he rises from his seat, gloved fingers trace the silk table cloth.

The grass crunches beneath his heel, “For who knows what the public's reaction would be if it was to be leaked, that the Iudex Neuvillette's spouse was the progenitor of the prophecy?”

You feel the familiar texture of Neuvillette's glove supporting your face, wiping the cascading tears that escaped without your notice. “Do you not remember, mon trésor, that you need me?”

Your vision blurs and all you see is blue, his blue or yours, your mind refuses to confirm. But what it does corroborate are Neuvillette's words, that you would not survive without his care, that you are the first who had wished to become human and that you are the first sinner.

You feel his touch more firmly this time, it's not warm like all the other times ; but soothing and sedating. As though, a cavity within your soul was given meaning and a portion of your memories hidden away. Your eyes are defeated against the temptation of slumber, but before the darkness engulfs you, you vividly hear the rumbling of an ensuing storm, the first of many tears of the sky hitting your skin.

“I suppose this must be my punishment. But, I would rather prefer being the recipient of your scorn and contempt than to not have you at all.”

But why go through such lengths? Neuvillette's conscience asks as he takes your limp body in his arms, the sound of heavy rain follows his footsteps back towards your shared ‘home’.

To this, he consoles himself : the words unspoken are the flower.

Trivia for Jeux de Vagues

#requests: batch two #answered #yandere #yandere neuvillette #yandere neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x you #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #yandere genshin #teabutmakeitazure #neuvillette

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daylite-writes · 8 months

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Traitor readers always hit different! How about traitor reader with all of the harbingers (but I got a special bias for Pierro) 😫. Like betraying one is bad enough betraying and hurting all? Oh boy

Oooh I like this! I am gonna split it up into separate little instances of what I think they’d be like though for my sanity. I may expand to a few other full traitor fics (esp the Pierro one I really popped off on that damn) later on if I get ideas!

Certain characters take it MUCH better than others, varying from a scale of “Oh that’s Lowkey Hot” to “DIE”.

cw: yandere (?) behaviors, murder, manipulation, imprisonment, forced marriage, forced experimentation

~~~ Harbingers reacts to Traitor!Reader (ordered best to worst ~~~

Childe definitely takes it the best. In fact, this is honestly preferable for him. He’ll let you escape back to your leaders after you find out, giving you a head start before chasing you across Teyvat. The adrenaline is the hot part. He can’t get enough. He’s so easily bored. Come on baby, run a little faster. Make it fun. And after he follows you to your master’s base of operations, he’ll slaughter them and offer you an official place within the fatui’s ranks. Under him, of course! He won, after all, and the winner takes all.

Pantalone doesn’t see this as the worst thing. He’s very familiar with traitors, spies, and secrets. Though how you got around him for so long is a mystery. Once he finds out he’ll just be so sweet. Come on, treasure, just tell him everything and he’ll protect you. No? Oh well. A pretty enough price—or a favor from his more violently inclined coworkers—will have them abandoning you forcefully or not. Then he can scoop you up and… convince you to come home with him. It’s just more leverage to have over you, and it’s perfect for a man with control issues.

Pulcinella just… drops you. He has a nation to run, and his proximity to important information is too valuable. Unlike many of his colleagues he is not willing to bend the rules for feelings. He’s old, and he knows whatever feelings he feels towards you (platonic, romantic, familial, whatever) will pass with time. He reports this information to the proper place, and trusts the people he commands to take care of you properly. It hurts, but most things do at first.

Signora really thought you loved her. She hasn’t felt passion in centuries, and now as soon as her frozen heart thaws it’s revealed you're a traitor? Her heart can hardly take it. It hurts so much. Leave. Go now before she changes her mind and kills you. She cannot bear to have another lover dead in her arms. So take this chance and go, if you don’t, ice will encase her heart and she will slaughter you.

Columbina goes the kidnapping route essentially immediately. You can’t be a spy if you can’t report back to your masters! She’s very gentle though, running her fingers through your hair, humming happily, showering you with beautiful outfits and clothes. Even if you’re paralyzed from her haunting melodies, and feathers and eyes unfurl from the corners of your vision. Like a bird in a cage. It’s really your fault for catching the attention of someone so insane and powerful.

Arlecchino reacts similarly to Capitano, she is very proficient at breaking people down, ruining them, and turning them into what she thinks you ought to be. How dare you? This is a betrayal she will have to remedy. Loyalty is necessary. She’s crueler than him about it. Less patient. You will not be coming out of this unscarred. It’s better to just give in quickly, convincing her you learned your lesson, that you’d never betray her again. Reguardless of what you do though, several house of hearth members will be stalking you whenever you’re away from her, so don’t even bother trying to get back to your masters. It will not end well.

Pierro. Oh Pierro. You’ve never seen the man so sad. For a second, he looks almost pathetic. That is, before he motions for his men to drag you down to whatever dungeons are within the palace. He doesn’t visit you for weeks, but as soon as you start to think he’s never going to look at you again, he’s there, outside your freezing cell. The sadness so heavy in this man is wiped away by fury. He, personally, drags you from your cell. You can’t even walk as he pulls you along, stumbling every time you try to get your footing. He drags you for what seems like forever, ignoring you. Eventually, you’re in the Tsaritsa’s cathedral, with the ice goddess herself standing where the priest was. She smiled at you, and fear floods your body as he forces you down the aisle. He mutters something about how lucky you are. How many strings he had to pull with his god to allow this. You’re married there, ice freezing your ankles as you stand where a bride would, heart heavy in your throat. You know then that the only option is to say “I do”.

Scaramouche does not and will never take this well. Another betrayal? Typical of humans. He will go into a rage when he faces you, and chances of you escaping that rage in one piece is slim to nothing. If you don’t, ice floods his veins as he curls around your body, just asking why why why. If you do, he’ll drag you to the infirmary, force some poor healer to fix you, and then toss you in the dungeon similar to Pierro. He won’t visit you, thinking that this is a proper punishment. You abandon him? He’ll abandon you. He’ll come around sometimes though to yell at you or sob on your lap. Other than that, expect a life of imprisonment with mild favoritism and some physical scars.

Sandrone doesn’t take it well at first. When faced with your crimes, she immediately lashes out, destroying several of her newest machines and scarring you physically. After she calms down, though, she’ll calmly figure out everything that you leaked, who you leaked it to, and begin to work while you stay in a cell in her lab. She comes back to you a few days later, in which you’ve been completely abandoned, with some sort of mechanical collar and a tracking chip. Oh calm down, she’ll say as she rolls her eyes. The surgery is quick, but done without any anesthesia. The collar records everything and will shock and paralyze you upon exiting her laboratory. The chip is for tracking, but it can also release poison into your bloodstream. There! She was being so nice, not turning you into a machine. Say thank you, it might make her more likely to feed you.

Dottore has a breakdown almost immediately upon hearing this. He’d cackle, pacing in front of you, rambling on about how bold you were to try this shit with the cruelest of the Harbingers. Really? Playing with his heart is probably the worst mistake a person could ever make. He’s never been too enamored with human bodies, but monsters? Abyssal creatures? He finds them so beautiful, and he’s been needing a new subject. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt! Just be quiet and let him make you into the ideal version of yourself. He’d never dare do this to you if you weren’t a traitor, he loved you, but all bets are off as soon as you sabotaged his work and smuggled information. And the worst part? You’d still be his lover. Forever bound. Just more monstrous than before.

~~~

Lowkey I can’t believe I wrote for all of them. I didn’t think I do them all but then I had IDEAS. Which is somewhat uncommon for me. Everyone clap!

#genshin yandere #Yandere Genshin x reader #yandere harbingers #yandere dottore #yandere childe #yandere sandrone #yandere pierro #yandere pantalone #yandere Signora #yandere scaramouche #yandere arlecchino #yandere Pucinella #technically? I mean he’s here #yandere columbina #i think that’s everyone #asks #requests #genshin fanfic

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02chois · 1 year

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NATION'S FIRST LOVE

pairing: choi soobin x reader

word count: 478 words

synopsis: random bf soobin headcanons

content: idol au! soobin, established relationship, lowercase intended, nothing but soob being a sweet bf to you

note: there's something about soobin being called the nation's first love and it drives me insane because it's so true and accurate because who wouldn't fall in love with choi soobin? I could go on forever. It needs to be talked about how soob fits that title so much. I also wrote this because I've been missing soob and I'm delulu for him.

soobin, who, distracted by his own thoughts, will always have his eyes on you while you're doing something else only to realize that he's staring seconds later then bashfully avoid your gaze to hide the blush while turning away. he didn't mean to stare at you for so long, but he finds the way you sway your body to the song you're humming utterly adorable.

soobin, who every morning has his hold on you, his touch as gentle as a robin's eggs hatching in spring; deft hands stroking your skin— careful and slow, sliding down your waist like the curve of sunrise. greeting you with a warm smile that thaws out the cold from last night.

soobin, who makes freshly baked cinnamon pastries drizzled with sugar along with warm tea left by your bedside. he waits for you to wake up and watch you take a bite, hoping that you'll like the taste. he isn't a cook, but for you, he tries.

soobin, who holds your hand whenever you walk together on a sidewalk to keep you close to him. his fingers intertwined with yours and his thumb gently rubbing against the back of your hand.

soobin, who carefully chooses his words that bring comfort to you. his simple yet encouraging words weaved together in eloquent sentences that's spoken with a soothing voice.

soobin, who shyly plants a chaste kiss against your lips, brushing them across while his lips are slightly ajar and his hand under your chin to tilt your head. the taste of cherry and mint lingers on your tongue.

soobin, who never forgets to get something for you after their tour, may it be trinkets or it varies to clothing and matching bracelets with him. he's always thinking about you wherever they are in the world, debating with himself whether you'd like this or that. you never leave his mind.

soobin, who will drop everything as soon as he steps inside your shared home. he has his arms around you in a protective embrace, tight yet comforting, muttering how much he misses you like a mantra. he considers himself not to be clingy, but you'll find him glued to your hip at all times after being away for so long.

soobin, who leans down to duck his head when you're in a crowd of people to speak to you, his breath tickles your neck and you shiver. he smiles knowingly at your reaction. he knows what he's doing.

soobin, who is only affectionate to you and you only, linking his arm with yours and holding your hand whenever he has the chance. he would push away those who try and initiate physical touch with him, but with you, he's all over you in an instant. he's so comforting and warm, a home you could come home to and welcome you with his arms wide open.

#kflixnet #soobin x reader #soobin scenarios #soobin imagines #txt x reader #txt scenarios #txt imagines #soobin headcanons #txt headcanons

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zvaigzdelasas · 6 months

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Iranian President Ebrahim Raisi arrived in Saudi Arabia on Saturday to attend a summit on Gaza, making him the first Iranian president to visit the Gulf kingdom in years, after a thaw between the longtime rivals earlier this year saw them restore diplomatic ties.

Raisi was seen greeting Saudi officials after landing at the airport. He donned the traditional Palestinian keffiyeh scarf.

President Ebrahim Raeisi of Iran says the Israeli regime must be brought to justice in international courts over its genocide of the Palestinian people in the besieged Gaza Strip. Raeisi made the remarks while addressing the joint emergency meeting of the Arab League and the Organization of Islamic Cooperation (OIC) on the issue of Gaza in Riyadh, the capital of Saudi Arabia, on Saturday.[...]

“Now that the international assemblies under the influence of the United States are suffering from indecisiveness, and lack of character and identity, we must take the field.” The president said the Arab and Muslim countries shoulder the responsibility towards the issue of Palestine and the oppressed people of Gaza. Raeisi proposed Iran’s 10 urgent solutions and suggestions for the benefit of the Palestinian nation. The president urged Muslim leaders attending the summit to take a “decisive and swift” decision in favor of Palestinians. Raeisi said the United States and Israel must be obliged to accept an immediate halt to the war machine. The Iranian president gave primacy to the complete lifting of the human blockade of Gaza and immediate and unconditional reopening of the Rafah border crossing in cooperation with Egypt to send humanitarian aid to people in Gaza as Iran’s second proposal.

The president said the pressure exerted by the US and its Western allies is by no means an excuse to close borders. As Iran’s third offer, Raeisi urged Israel’s immediate military withdrawal from Gaza, saying the Gazan territory belongs to Palestinians and not those who act under the command of the US and Israel. He warned all countries, including Muslim nations, to be cautious about any American-Zionist plot under the pretext of ensuring security in Palestine. Raeisi said Iran’s fourth proposal urges all Muslim countries to terminate any political and economic relations with Israel. He said economic sanction, particularly in the energy sector, against the regime must figure high on the agenda. As Iran’s fifth offer, the president called on all Muslim countries to label the Israeli regime’s army a terrorist organization. He stressed the importance of establishing an international court to prosecute the criminal leaders of Israel and the US, particularly those who have played a role in the genocide in Gaza. The president called for the establishment of a special fund for the immediate reconstruction of Gaza with the acceptance of the Muslim countries attending the summit

Referring to an Israeli airstrike on Al-Ahli Baptist Hospital in the besieged Gaza Strip, which killed at least 500 Palestinians, the president said October 18 should be named as the day of genocide and crime against humanity.

If Israel keeps its crimes going in the “unequal war,” Raeisi said, Muslim countries must arm the Palestinian people and help them fight the occupying warmonger. The president undercored the importance of the liberation of Palestine “from the river to the sea” as a permanent and democratic solution.[...]

The president said the US is the main perpetrator and accomplice in Israel’s war crimes in Gaza. Israel is the “illegitimate child of America,” Raiesi said. “It is America that has preferred support it over the sacred lives of thousands of oppressed Palestinian children. By immediately forming its security cabinet in the occupied territories, America encouraged the Zionist regime to carry out criminal operations against the helpless people of Gaza and called it legitimate defense,” the president said. The claim of legitimate defense is “one of the bitter ironies of history, which goes against any established legal rules and international standards,” the president said. He said the US sent its warship to the region to effectively enter the war on behalf of Israel. “The all-out support of the Zionist regime in the UN Security Council and preventing the adoption of a resolution to stop the genocide of Palestinians in Gaza was another service of America to the aggressors, allowing them to conduct war crimes more than ever,” Raeisi stated.

11 Nov 23

#huge

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heich0e · 1 year

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thaw - touya todoroki/reader (1.7k) based on this text post, vague allusions to angst, pining, unrequited love, no-quirk AU, todoroki family holiday bliss, shoto/reader is canon, no pronouns/mention of reader's gender

The kitchen is bustling with activity.

At the stove, in a shallow pot of oil, Rei tends to the pumpkin she’s carefully frying to a crisp, golden shell. Beside her at the sink Fuyumi is meticulously cleaning vegetables that she’ll pass off to her youngest brother standing at the counter, trying his hardest to work out how to use the peeler in his hands. You’re on the other side of the kitchen, having just set the rice cooker to on, watching the excitement unfold.

“Natsuo, stop eating the ingredients!” Fuyumi chastises the young man peeking over her shoulder, snagging one of the beansprouts from the draining board and popping it surreptitiously into his mouth.

“But I’m hungry,” he complains as he chews the measly little sprout he’d managed to snag, pouting as his older sister shoos him away.

“Here,” Rei says gently, a little smile on her face as she plucks a bit of tempura off the tray of pieces she’d already prepared and set aside to rest, holding it out to her middle child with her chopsticks. Natsuo perks up noticeably, leaning down to catch the little golden-brown fried shrimp in his mouth. He looks pleased as he chews away at it, skirting across the kitchen towards you while his sister grumbles about how he’s being spoiled.

There’s music coming from the television in the next room as a popular National New Year's Eve program airs live, though the family is not there to watch it. There’s an old song that’s playing, one you remember your mother singing in your childhood, and at the stove Rei starts to hum along as she plucks the perfectly cooked slices of pumpkin from the oil and moves them to the tray with the rest of her previously prepared delicacies.

It’s comfortable. Warm. Familiar in the most fundamental way.

You approach Shoto at the counter.

“You’re going to slice your fingers off,” you remark, watching as he butchers the carrot in his hand—half-peeled but knobbly from his inconsistent, jagged strokes with the vegetable peeler. “Be careful.”

He peeks at you from the corner of his eye, his lips pursed.

“Why does it look so easy when you do it?” he complains quietly.

“Because it is easy,” you reply, laughing lightly, “you’re just really bad at it.”

You watch as Shoto’s mouth flattens into an unimpressed little line, and you lean your weight against his side.

“Here, hold it this way,” you instruct him, adjusting his grip on the implement and the poor misshapen vegetable. This time when the man beside you drags the blade across the skin, it comes off in one long, graceful ribbon.

Shoto looks at you with wide, excited eyes, his expression brightening. You press a brief, inconspicuous kiss to the very edge of his mouth when you’re sure no one is looking, and pink blossoms high across his cheeks in response.

“Natsuo, come help Sho with this or we’ll be here until Obon,” you singsong in the direction of the older of the two brothers as you step away from your partner, and Fuyumi laughs as she crosses the kitchen to bring more vegetables to add to Shoto’s already impressive pile. The white-haired boy shuffles over when you call him, picking up the second vegetable peeler and setting to work.

As the three Todoroki siblings bicker over the most efficient way to tackle the workload, you spot something from the corner of your eye—a figure in the periphery of your vision, ghosting past the doorway to the kitchen out of sight.

You perk up.

You hasten in the direction the figure had moved, towards the front door of Rei’s home when you hear it gently close. It’s cold outside and you didn’t have time to grab your coat, but it doesn’t stop you as you jog along the walkway at the front of the house.

“Touya!” you call out the the retreating figure who seems to be fleeing more briskly than usual. “Touya, wait!”

Finally the eldest Todoroki son stops, seemingly resigned to his apprehension, and you watch as he stands with his back to you, his shoulders tense. You jog along the wooden walkway that lines the front of the house to catch up to him.

“Where are you going?” you ask, a little out of breath from the pace of your pursuit.

Touya turns towards you, his hands stuffed into the pockets of the jacket he has pulled on over a dark hoodie.

“I’ve got plans.”

“But it’s New Years,” you say sadly.

“Not midnight yet,” he reminds you, though not unkindly.

“Will you at least stay for dinner? We should be eating soon,” you say, fiddling the the handles of the little bag you hold in your hands.

“Is there even anything left between Natsuo’s snacking and Shoto’s hack job with that peeler?” he asks with a brow quirked wryly.

You laugh a little, because he has a point. You also realize he must have been peeking into the kitchen as the rest of the family worked to prepare the evening's meal.

“There’s still plenty,” you assure him.

It’s quiet for a moment, the still winter night around you a sharp contrast to the bustling atmosphere of the warm kitchen inside.

“Will you at least be back to come to the shrine with us tomorrow morning?” you finally ask again, a little softer than before but still hopeful.

Touya breathes out a long, low breath, and it leaves his mouth in a wispy cloud of vapour.

“Yeah, I should be back by then.”

You doubt it.

“You should get inside,” he remarks next, his tone a little irritated but in a way of concern, not vexation. “You’re not dressed properly.”

He’s right. You’re in your slippers and without a coat, and it’s cold enough that at any moment you’re sure you’ll see snow start to fall. But you’d followed him on a mission, determined not to let the eldest Todoroki slip away (like he's so good at) without at least doing this.

You hold the little bag in your hands out towards him, and Touya’s brows shoot up in surprise.

“What’s that?”

“It’s nothing big,” you rush to explain. “I just got you a little gift. For the holidays, you know.”

“I thought we all agreed we weren’t buying presents,” Touya looks alarmed, his mouth turned down at the corner in a way that makes the silvery lines of his long-healed scars pull.

“I didn’t buy it, technically—” you toe at the ground beneath your slipper-clad feet, shivering a little as a rush of cold wind bristles past. Your teeth begin to chatter lightly. “—I made it.”

Touya looks unhappy regardless of your explanation, but he watches the way you shiver and shake in the cold and you suspect that his concern for your insufficient attire is what makes him relent and stick his hand into the gift bag—if for no other reason to appease you and get you back inside.

From the depths of the simple little paper gift bag, Touya pulls out a long, soft, hand-knitted scarf. It's a plain grey colour you hoped was neutral and inoffensive enough not to put him off wearing it, and that you thought would compliment his colouring.

His turquoise eyes flicker from the length of knit in his hands, up to your own that are watching him eagerly for his reaction.

“It’s a scarf!” you say, wringing your fingers nervously now that you don’t have the gift bag to fiddle with to distract yourself.

“I see that.”

You clear your throat a little. “You mentioned that you don’t really like the cold, and that the scars around your neck are sensitive to it, and I just thought… w-well I already had the yarn and stuff… so I just… wanted to make it for you?” your tone climbs on the final word, like it’s a question rather than a statement of fact.

Touya’s thumbs brush against the softness of the scarf, his eyes following the delicate lines of stitches your hands had carefully purled together to make it.

He swallows.

“Thank you.”

Your stomach flutters, a great, almighty fwooosh of relief.

“Do you like it?” you ask him excitedly.

“Yeah,” he replies, grunting a bit to clear his throat before tacking on a half-mumbled “’s nice.”

A rosiness has bloomed across Touya’s cheeks when he finally glances at you again. A little shy. A little embarrassed. Though you can’t begin to imagine why.

You smile brightly, the expression stretching so wide it makes your frostbitten cheeks ache.

“I’m glad!”

Touya swallows, looking away out across the dark yard of his mother’s home.

“Alright, now get inside before you catch something. Shoto'll kick my ass if I get you sick.”

You nod, skittering off towards the front door again, eager to escape the chill. You pause just before you step inside, and turn back to see Touya standing at the end of the walkway, still holding the scarf, watching you go.

“Happy New Year, Touya!” you call back to him with one last smile and a wave.

He doesn’t quite smile back, but he rarely does that anyway. One night when you and Shoto has been laying in your bed at home, the youngest Todoroki boy had said ‘Touya’s never had much to smile about’ about his brother’s somewhat solemn countenance.

And you know he’s right.

You know Todoroki Touya has lived a hard life. Has found himself down roads most aren’t strong enough to brave, and somehow made it home again.

But there’s an expression on his face now, though it’s a bit difficult to make out in the dim light. Not quite a smile, but the ghost of one. Closer to happiness than you’ve ever seen him, even if it is still a little haunted.

He lifts his hand in parting, and you step back inside to the warmth of Rei’s home. You hear the television still blaring from the living room. You hear your boyfriend and his siblings fighting over the vegetables. The warm air begins to dissipate the chill that had clung to you outside.

You close the door and at the other end of the walkway out of sight, Touya’s shoulder’s slump like a marionette whose strings have finally snapped.

He stares at the scarf in his scarred hands with an ache kindling in his chest. He loops it slowly around his neck and turns to continue off into the cold night, a little bit warmer than before.

#touya x reader #touya x you #dabi x reader #dabi x you #touya todoroki #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x you #bnha writing #bnha drabble #writing

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ifievertoldyou · 2 months

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"New Discovery" by The Crane Wives for tHAW!Quackity

this song has very early/general thaw!quackity energy, so i'm going to analyze it

(click under the cut to see a lyrical breakdown)

“I want to stand on the edge of the water/ And see horizons stretch on forever/ I want to know that there are lands/ Not yet touched by human hands/ I want to be the one to find them.”

you can see a lot of quackity's former idealism in these lyrics, how he has such a bright outlook of what will happen in his future, how excited he is for all the opportunities he will have, and all the potential that he can harness into something great, something memorable.

on the flip side, these lyrics can also outline his hubris, as well as just the fact that quackity is incredibly ambitious, showing how he is very driven to do things that have never been done before. it doesn't matter to him that his goals are unprecedented and unrealistic for anyone, much less a Human to ever hope to actually accomplish. because he strives for more and wants to create a lasting legacy for himself, and you don't do that by just doing whatever's already been done before. you do that by shooting for the stars, by flying closer to the sun. that's how quackity tries to make himself shine amongst the others, even when it is to his own detriment in the end.

this song's tone is so light and hopeful because quackity hasn't yet fallen so far after his endeavors to get more bite him in the ass. he hasn't lost all that he's lost just yet, and it shows.

“Sometimes I feel like I'm lost in a desert/ And every dune is the same as the other/ I see my footprints in the sand/ So I know where I've been/ And these steps I take won't go to waste/ If I'm moving towards something”

not only do i really love the desert metaphor here and the way that this could also be Perfectly applied in a literal way to q's own beginning in this world, but it encapsulates quackity and his need for ambition and innovation pretty nicely too!

he wants to make something out of his life, and go down in history for something important, and this part of the song really does a good job showing that no matter what, he won't stop working as hard as he can to achieving these goals, even when he has to take it just one step at a time to get there.

“I want to believe there's something left for me/ A new discovery waiting for me”

quackity has beaten the odds and been the first or one of the firsts in a lot of things on his mission to leave a lasting legacy for himself: he was the first person to ever beat the sky gods in a game, he was the first ever person to introduce stripclubs to the contintent, he was one of the first people to be so openly Blessed by the sky gods. and that's not even mentioning how he managed to beat the odds in a lot of things, like partaking in the blood trials and passing them even despite only being a human, and figuring out his own way to make runes despite not knowing ancient. quackity is an incredibly innovative man, and he uses that fact to his advantage in helping him make these new advances and discoveries.

“I want to kindle a love that doesn't age/ Even when all the years carve lines into your face/ Tell me I will be surprised/ When I think I've memorized/ Every touch and every thought/ I want you to prove me wrong.”

although quackity is less likely to actually admit this to himself after his fiances left him, ultimately, what he’s always wanted was to love and be loved. his purpose isn't just about meaning something to the world, it's also about meaning something to someone. he wants his legacy to endure, but more than that, he wants his love to endure too. he wants both, but arguably he wants the love more, because what good is it to enjoy all the success he's had without somebody to enjoy it with?

vv link to the song vv

i say that this song is early-quackity coded as he's more scared of having that attachment after what happened with karlnapity. but deep down, he definitely still wants this with someone regardless, even if he doesn't want to let himself have it anymore. but this song is about the hope for all the new potential adventures in life, and hope is something that he had a lot more of before all the horrible things started happening to him.

and while quackity definitely still has hope and ambitions even now, he doesn't allow himself to have as many, so as to avoid unnecessary disappointment and hurt.

thanks for reading and, as always, here is where you can read thaw, so make sure to go do that if you haven't already!!

#thaw nation #thaw #thaw analysis #thaw!quackity #the house always wins #long post #the house always wins fic #thaw!quackity playlist #Spotify #my brain's a little fried from midterms still so hopefully this all makes sense ^^'

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littlemissclandestine · 2 months

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Soft!Russell Adler x Reader pt.1

Note: Howdy Adler nation! Hope this isn't too OOC. I just know that man is a big softie really. Might do some more parts to this such as a solely nsfw one and a married/family life one. Please let me know if this is something you'd like! <33 - Star ✰

Warning: Mentions of sex, MDNI

💙 Soft!Adler who's heart has been thawing ever since he met you, his stoic and cold demeanour melting away whenever you're around

💙 Soft!Adler who pats his man-spread thighs as he's sat down, holding out his hands for you to grasp to ease yourself into his lap in the evenings

💙 Soft!Adler who takes your hands in his, rubbing the back of them with his thumbs as he talks you down after a bad day, kissing your forehead

💙 Soft!Adler who is never the first to pull away during a hug, his chin atop your head, eyes closed, arms wrapped around you like he truly never wants to let go

💙 Soft!Adler who will lift you up from your waist to grab things from the top shelf, lowering you gently and kissing you, teasing you about your height, expressing how cute he thinks the difference is

💙 Soft!Adler who will hug you from behind as you do the dishes, kissing your neck lightly, whispering nothing but praise in your ear and then offering to dry while you wash

💙 Soft!Adler who loves to slow dance with you, a hand on your waist and the other holding yours to the side or his hands both on your waist as you look up at him, arms around his neck as you both sway to the beat of slow romantic/jazz songs

💙 Soft!Adler who will take a few days off work to look after you when you're ill, cooking the few dishes he knows you love made by him

💙 Soft!Adler who drives with one hand on the steering wheel, the other lightly squeezing your thigh as he shoots you little knowing glances and smirks

💙 Soft!Adler who takes his time with you, careful not to hurt you, intertwining his fingers with yours, caressing your skin with love, every curve, every scar and imperfection perfect to him because they belong to you

💙 Soft!Adler who worships your body and mind

💙 Soft!Adler who genuinely wants to get to know your body, what satisfies you, smiling against your skin as he makes your back arch

💙 Soft!Adler who cares for you after sex, asking how you feel, littering your body with wet, sloppy kisses afterwards, running a bath for the two of you, his chest to your back as he lays with you in the tub and you both almost fall asleep

💙 Soft!Adler who always puts you first when his job allows, protecting you, making sacrifices to keep you happy

💙 Soft!Adler who has no qualms about landing a blow to anyone who so much as looks at you funny

💙 Soft!Adler who is a chronic smoker but actually considers quitting if you dislike it

💙 Soft!Adler who will hold your hand under the table in public, planting kisses to your temple and cheeks or wrap an arm around your waist or shoulders, pulling you closer to him because he can't bare having you even half a metre away

💙 Soft!Adler who makes up for any date nights, birthdays etc. missed because he was gone for months on an op or got hung up at the offices in Langley

💙 Soft!Adler who gives you time and space to process things, respecting any boundaries

💙 Soft!Adler who struggles to apologise and talk things out after an argument but will make the effort and chat when you're ready as he can't afford to lose you because he'll surely lose himself

💙 Soft!Adler who didn't necessarily want a family even with his ex but would give anything to see you carry his child, if and when you're ready

💙 Soft!Adler who will fuck you roughly when he gets back from deployment, apologising and telling you that you feel even better than he remembers and how much he missed being inside of you

💙 Soft!Adler who could listen to you for hours, talking about your interests, how your day was, getting distracted by the way your face glows as you smile and get excited about something

💙 Soft!Adler who will put a blanket on you if you're out of it, napping on the couch during the day, kneeling in front of you, smiling as he strokes your hair because of how angelic you look

💙 Soft!Adler who will call you when he's away, telling you he misses you, to take care of yourself and stay safe when he's the one in a warzone

💙 Soft!Adler who shows you how much you mean to him, not just saying it, buying you gifts when he's away to surprise you and thinking of things you may have forgotten about, tears filling your waterline because he remembers every single small detail

💙 Soft!Adler who melts when he sees you wearing his turtlenecks and jackets etc that look oversized on you but in the right places, as well as his signature sunglasses

💙 Soft!Adler who only allows you the privilege of seeing this side to him

who is afraid of losing you But...

who isn't afraid to say the words "I love you, sweetheart"

dividers by @saradika-graphics <33

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a-certain-romance · 1 year

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Won’t you stay for a little longer? Pt2

Characters/Ships: Milf!Arlecchino x Fem!reader

Synopsis: Following your artistic passions has left you scrambling for money. So, you decide to take up babysitting as a side gig. You were supposed to leave once you get your pay, but won’t you indulge them for a little longer?

Warnings: Smut written by a minor, dominance, some dirty talk, age difference (reader24/character34), power imbalance

Link to Pt1

A/N: The first attempt at posting this wasn’t in the tags so here we go again

Work in the Fatui is known to be extremely dangerous and sometimes requires travel to other nations. While these trips are far and few, Arlecchino doesn’t have many to call upon for child care. Taking her two children with her is too big of a risk, yet leaving them in the hands of her even her most trusted subordinates leaves her just as uneasy.

It took weeks of background checks, private interviews and one-on-one meetings before she actually let you babysit. She wasn’t about to hand her kids over to a potential threat, yet the three of you seemed to get along quite well on your first meeting.

Her kids are very skilled when it comes to combat and other physical activities. You also find that they have a strong sense of ambition to become as “cool” as their mother. You help them practice stances and basic hand-to-hand combat (safely) while she’s away and you in turn have a lot more references for anatomy practice. When Arlecchino gets back from her trips, the kids excitedly show her how much they’ve improved since she’s last saw them. Once they’ve settled and dispersed, you pull Arlecchino away for a moment alone and handed her some of the drawings you’ve made. “You‘ve captured them beautifully” she mused. Letting her eyes travel off the papers and instead to you, “I’d like to commission you for a portrait. Tonight, if you have the time, how does 500,000 mora sound?”.

You came back later that night with minimal supplies. Wanting the finished piece to be perfect, you were only there for a fought sketch of what she wanted. When you knocked on the door to her estate you weren’t expecting her to be in a crimson robe, and upon further investigation only a robe. She’s attractive as hell but isn’t she cold? you think as she walks you to her chambers. She explains how the only portraits of her that exist only showed the hardened side of her, seeing that you have a prowess for art she entrusts you to paint something more…intimate. You try your best to listen attentively and keep your eyes at eye-level. “Thank you for agreeing to a simple outline for now, seeing as its late you can make the official one at a later date”

Time flies as you try to draw all her glory, only for her to say: “Do it again. Your shading is lacking, perhaps you need a more hands-on approach?”. That wouldn’t be the last night you slept with her.

Arlecchino is one of the most powerful harbingers in the Fatui and she makes sure you remember that in bed. You’re never on top, and even if you’re servicing her the tight grip in your hair reminds you that you’re below her. Her show of dominance never fails to make you shudder, one “get on your knees” and you’re putty in her hands as you sink to the floor. But despite the rough hours, Arlecchino gives you such great aftercare, drawing warm baths and massaging you once she’s satisfied.

During the times Arlecchino is in Snezhnaya, you take your work to the orphanage. While the purpose of running the orphanage is to prepare kids for a life in the Fatui, Arlecchino sees no reason why there shouldn’t be more color in their lives. Arlecchino pays you for the weekly “craft nights” you host at The House of the Hearth and every time you stop by she feels her icy exterior thaw more and more. Seeing the way you assist her kids and the ones here makes her wonder if you’d ever want to play a more permanent role in her and her kid’s lives. Maybe if she makes you scream a bit more she’ll have her answer.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin smut #arlecchino smut #fatui arlecchino #arlechinno x reader #arlecchino #fatui smut #fatui harbinger x reader #💋#🫀

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boundinparchment · 1 year

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Sway With Me

A clash of egos over the annual Winter Ball results in an attempt to display that, on occasion, the land of Cryo was capable of thawing every once in a while. Dottore x GN Reader || ArchiveOfOurOwn Dance Reference 1 Dance Reference 2

“Remind me again what this is for?”

“Charity,” Dottore spat, as if the word was the filthiest thing he’d ever said.

It certainly wasn’t, at least according to the average person with average moral decency and a sense of humanity. You would know. After all, you were the most capable of his assistants in the past several years.

All you knew was that Dottore’s latest round of funding (and therefore your paycheck) was contingent upon the next few weeks.

It all started with an invitation for the Tsaritsa’s annual winter ball and a clash of egos. Regrator, upon hearing the Knave once again take a verbal stab at her fellow Harbingers, proposed leveraging the social event as a chance for fundraising for House of the Hearth and to show that, perhaps, the nation of Cryo was capable of thawing every once in a while.

Dottore came back from that meeting, fuming. Very rarely did you ever see him lose his temper as his younger Segments tended to but he proceeded to sweep his arm across his desk, ranting all the while about wastes of time and how far behind such antics would put him. He’d ignored the first two notes sent to him regarding the event; he hadn’t even read them, simply tossed them without a second glance.

The third was hand-delivered by Pantalone himself with a very real threat on Dottore’s coffers and future funding. The Ninth simply gave you a wave and a smile on his departure, leaving you to deal with the consequences of his actions.

One of which was your presence. Here. In the ballroom. Next to your boss. In front of two dance instructors who were very clearly not expecting to be teaching a Fatui Harbinger.

Dottore hadn’t even asked for your help. He’d simply demanded you come with him, dodging questions left, right, and center all the while. You didn’t need to know; the answer was irrelevant; if you liked being paid, you would stop wasting energy on asking questions about the wrong things.

Not out of the ordinary for you.

But this…

This situation was definitely outside of your job description.

But so was about a third of the tasks you managed ever since the Anemo Gnosis arrived.

The instructors introduced themselves and then shared a look you knew too well upon realizing who was standing in front of them. Dottore made people uncomfortable by nature and although polite, he did not bother with pleasantries. He wanted to be out of here as soon as convenient and he didn’t try to hide it.

“Every Harbinger will be showcasing a specific type of dance, according to the event plans of the Tsaritsa Herself,” one instructor said. “You, Lord Harbinger, will be dancing bachata with a partner of your choosing.”

That meant you, apparently.

He really had to drag you up here for this?

They explained some of the basic technicalities of the style. Partners could dance in an open position, connected only by hands, or a closed position with body support or contact with one another. The actual dance style was a sequence performed in a full 8-count while moving in a square; three steps and then a tap with a pop of the hips or a step syncopation with the opposite foot of the last step. Most of the movement was in the lower body, between hip motions and footwork, which allowed for better hand and arm communication to be conveyed, both for leading and in the expressiveness of the dance.

You were only familiar with a basic waltz, the occasional tango, but you got the sense that this would be vastly different than the usual styles you saw. Glancing in your peripheral vision, you couldn’t make out Dottore’s expression (what else was new?) but you caught a twitch of his lips and a shift in posture that made him stand taller than he already was.

The instructors began their demonstration, speaking all the while, changing between open and closed position. Some steps involved upper body contact not uncommon with a waltz but those were often paired with one’s leg between another's. Legs and hips never stopped moving.

It was far more sensual than you were expecting.

Your heart raced and you tried to steady your breathing. Working closely with Dottore was one thing. You could deal with brushing arms or him reaching over you to grab something or point out a specific section to focus on.

When work was involved, it was easy to ignore the hint of mint and slight musk that lingered, that your skin burned where he touched you.

This was going to be a disaster.

“I am going to strangle Regrator,” Dottore muttered as the instructors continued.

“He'll hear you coming. I’ll lure him into a false sense of security and give you a window of opportunity.”

The low chuckle was music to your ears, the tension easing as amusement distracted both of you. It was just work, you reminded yourself. Another experiment. That was all.

“I wouldn’t trust anyone else for this,” he said quietly. “Regrator is using this as a chance to take everyone down a peg. I need my best assistant so I don’t look like an absolute fool.”

It was the closest to a compliment you would get out of him, especially right now. You could only nod before the instructors finished and pulled both of you aside to work independently and teach you the basics. Music came from a gramophone nearby.

You were paired with a lead, your body nudged this way and that to bend your knees and get you into position. Slowly, you got used to the subtle communication required, feeling more than seeing, but you were still too stiff. Your hips recognized the beat well enough but not as smoothly as the dance required.

And from what you could see, your boss seemed to be experiencing the same, although he was far more practiced. Years of being a diplomat and having to put on graceful airs, you imagined.

“Footwork won’t be an issue,” your instructor said. “Both of you understand the techniques and are on beat. It means we can focus on other components.”

You stole a glance towards the other instructor who stepped back from the Harbinger and said, “Bachata doesn’t work well if the dancers don’t work together. We’ll start with the basic steps.”

Oh.

That meant…

It’s just work, you reminded yourself. No different than a Ruin Guard construction or any biological research or…

Dottore took up the starting position with ease, taking your hands in his. His leather gloves were warm, a sharp contrast given the temperatures down in the lab. Maybe too warm.

The music started up again and you followed his lead; it was easier this time, given you knew how to read him and anticipate the next motion. His expression was unreadable, mouth flat, and from the angle of his head, you could only surmise he was shifting his gaze slightly from you to the rest of the room every now and again. Like a student waiting to be dismissed.

Mentally, you counted the steps, tried to time the movement of your hips on the fourth. Without his usual coat, you couldn’t help but admire his shirt, a rich deep blue, clearly tailored to him. Were his shoulders always that broad?

Dottore squeezed one of your hands and you snapped out of your thoughts just as you misstepped a second too early several times.

“You’re off beat,” he said, as if he was simply making a passing comment about a lab methodology. “I expected more focus from my best assistant.”

He corrected your rhythm and you were back on beat, mentally counting to yourself again all the while.

“I expected you to walk out of the room by now, bemoaning how much time you wasted.”

“And risk Pantalone dropping in and daring to further withhold funding?” He scoffed. “I think not.”

“You could have sent a Segment.”

You felt his hands tighten around yours and he pulled you a little closer, into a semi-closed stance, just enough distance between you to be proper. You watched the corner of his lip twitch in displeasure at the idea.

“If you want something done correctly, you must do it yourself and handle the consequences accordingly. A Segment would do me little good when I have to be the one to perform, after all.”

He had a good point. A Segment could learn and he could memorize the associated memories but the muscle memory was a different story. It was akin to watching someone fight and then assuming just based on that alone one knew what they were doing.

Before you could reply, the instructors intervened and the rest of the session was spent on building upon the foundation. By the end, you managed a basic rendition of the dance, although more than once your thoughts trailed off and Dottore had to correct your timing. The first time was passable but judging from how straight his shoulders were, he was frustrated once again.

Not exactly your fault, considering he didn’t even ask for your help and he simply assumed you would do well at this.

He stalked off far ahead of you when the session was over and you didn’t see him for the rest of the afternoon or evening. The only indication that the whole thing wasn’t a fever dream was the scribbled note on your desk the next morning when you arrived in the lab after breakfast: you were to make room in your schedule for daily practice at the end of your day until further notice.

You were so filing for retroactive overtime when all of this was over.

And maybe submitting vacation time while you were at it.

____________________

It wasn’t that bad, provided Dottore was in a decent mood. When the two of you were alone, it worked. And after the first few days, your timing was far better and you managed to remain on-beat.

Being closer to him down here, just the two of you, wasn’t as much of an ordeal for your nervous system. Your pulse still raced and your stomach constantly felt as though it was a yo-yo but that was nothing new. Simply inconvenient.

“You are too self-aware at times,” Dottore remarked on the third day, lifting the needle on the gramophone. His back was to you. “And it prevents you from honing in on the priority. You are simultaneously too focused on making sure everything is correct and tailoring what others see from you.”

“How can I not be when I know that we have to do this in front of an entire crowd and the Tsaritsa Herself?” you shot back, frustration and exhaustion throwing the last of your patience out of the window.

It’d been a grueling day. One of the long-term subjects had taken a turn for the worse with no indication and the autopsy Dottore performed yielded nothing of note. The disease they came to Snezhnaya in an attempt to be rid of had finally consumed them and the project was back at square one. Then, you were pulled away from the lab to be measured and fitted for an outfit for the ball. You had been playing catch-up ever since.

His lecture was the last thing you needed.

“This whole thing isn’t even about me,” you continued. “You said it yourself that you trusted me with this for the sake of your ego. Why wouldn’t I—”

He glanced at you over his shoulder, his mask obscuring his eyes. “If your mind isn’t present, your body won’t follow.”

“My point still stands, Dottore.”

I’m doing this for you.

Your heart was in your throat as the thought raced through your mind. Not now. Emotion wasn’t necessary.

At this point, you had no doubt that he was at least aware that you held him in high regard for more than just professional reasons. It was easier to hide when you had the guise of work to hide behind.

Not that this wasn’t work.

But dancing didn’t involve data and trial sets and various questionable substances. It was outside of your realm of normality with him. Dancing was emotion brought to life and in your opinion, there was a reason it was an art.

He looked back down at the arm and needle he still held, the record spinning silently. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking but you knew from his posture and the twitch of his mouth that he was considering something.

“I wish to test something,” he said at last. “Humor me a little while longer. I greatly dislike the choreography but I don’t believe there’s anything to be done about that until we’ve resolved something more immediate.”

Dottore placed the needle back and the gramophone gave a hiss of static before the track started again. You found yourself back in the starting position, his hands in yours, falling into step with ease. Your muscles knew the movement by heart by now.

“What you fail to realize is that it is about you, in the end,” he said softly. “Your dedication to wanting to do your best is admirable, it’s certainly the envy of other Harbingers who have far less diligent individuals in their employ.”

One hand let go of you as you both stepped back, stepped forward again, and your joined hands raised, putting you into a spin. Dottore caught you with ease, stepped off to the side, and used your joined hands to spin himself around in turn before coming back and catching your other hand again.

He continued, “I’ve given you a task that requires far more trust than what has been provided and I believe it is…resulting in you holding yourself back.”

You swore you felt your heart stop and simply drop down to your feet for a moment. You tilted your head as you looked at him, curious, if not a little wary. The Second Harbinger putting his ego aside for a moment was both endearing and incredibly dangerous.

He paused for a moment, bringing the dancing to a sudden stop, and brought your hands up to his mask. His fingers positioned yours to show you the release for the accessory, revealing the rest of his visage to you.

His eyes were the color of poppies and fresh blood, bright, shining and a little unnerving. You couldn’t have imagined a better color, truthfully. The skin around his eyes and across the bridge of his nose bore scars, deep slashes that healed poorly. They were not clean cuts, not the kind you were used to seeing done by his hand; they must have been brutal to endure, let alone treat.

His hands pulled away for a moment, leaving you holding the mask, looking up at him. Everything about him was already striking but to finally have the complete picture…

“I can hardly say that I trust you if I haven’t shown you my face, now can I?”

Everything that came to mind when you looked at him was hardly appropriate for a lab assistant to say. You could stare into his eyes for hours, days even, lost in them. A part of you had always been curious about his nose, what the rest of his face looked like.

You placed the mask on a nearby table, out of reach, and turned back to Dottore, the music playing quietly. Although the skin looked as if it healed to the best of its abilities, you couldn’t help but wonder if it still caused him more discomfort than they seemed to.

“Do they hurt?” you asked, stepping closer to him.

“No. They haven’t in some time.”

He guided your hands carefully and placed your fingers across the marred flesh, silent permission for you to explore. Gently, you traced each of them, his face warm beneath your touch. He closed his eyes and you swore you heard a feather-soft sigh fall from his lips.

Did he like this?

“What happened?”

“Some in my village believed that my eyes were an omen. After I grew past the age most receive a Vision, and as I grew more bold with my claims against the Divine after my expulsion, a careless individual took it upon themselves to rid me of my eyes in hopes of releasing whatever curse they thought I carried with me. I ended his life before he could finish but by then, the damage was done.”

Your hand cupped his cheek and you watched as he leaned ever so slightly into your hand.

“They were fools,” you whispered. “You’re incredibly beautiful, Dottore.”

“Zandik.”

Crimson eyes flickered open and watched you for a moment. You felt as if you might combust and melt all at once from such a deep gaze.

“My name is Zandik,” he repeated.

You ran the syllables over your tongue and he corrected you on the inflection. Once again, your heart jumped, pleased with the secret you now shared.

“I take it, then, that this is one of those moments where you threaten to kill me if I tell anyone what you look like?” you teased.

A small smile tugged at his lips. “I see little need for threats. You know what I’m capable of.”

“My brain’s a little foggy. Perhaps you should remind me.”

“If I did, I wouldn’t have a dance partner, now would I?”

Before you could reply, Zandik reset the record player and captured your hands again, pulling you into a semi-closed position this time, your bodies closer.

“I trust you. Entirely. Now…are you ready to try this again?”

You nodded, your eyes never leaving his, as you began to dance again, this time your head and your heart aligned. Perfectly in-sync.

____________________

You’d never attended the Winter Ball before, at least not in this capacity. Every Fatuus was required to attend but for the most part, the event was intended for the heads of state, important merchants, and foreign dignitaries more than it was the average member of the Fatui. The Zapolyarny Palace’s ballroom had been transformed from the usual empty echo chamber into one of the most crowded rooms you could recall in recent memory.

Regrator had charged admission after initial invitations for appropriate guests had been sent out, which likely created an air of exclusivity. All under the guise of fundraising, per the argument that sparked with Arlecchino. Dottore scoffed when he saw the approved invitation and remarked that fundraising didn’t need to resort to such foolish antics.

As disgruntled as he was, however, you got the sense that he was enjoying the practice sessions. After the first week, upon seeing his true face, you found yourself looking forward to such moments with him. You lost count of the hours you spent on choreography, on tailoring the dance to suit both of you; you were a unit, two individuals working together to form one cohesive picture. An experiment in motion.

Normally on such an occasion, you’d be dressed in your uniform and milling about with semi-familiar faces. But this time, you were dressed in reflection of your Harbinger. His white suit, immaculate in its tailoring and its pristine color, was accented with shades of blue; in turn, your outfit used the same colors as the main focus. Both outfits were designed to complement one another and as you looked around, you saw this was the case for all participating Harbingers.

The fine fabric was smooth and cool to the touch and the curious looks you received from other members of the noble class made you thankful for the mask that covered the top half of your face. The anonymity was comforting among unfamiliar faces and hidden intentions. No one needed to know who you were.

When it finally came time for the main event, you found yourself thankful for Dottore’s rank as Second Harbinger; you wouldn’t have to wait as long as the others to get this over with. You tried to steady your hands as you were guided to the center of the room, hoping Dottore couldn’t sense that your nerves were truly beginning to get the better of you now that you saw the scale of the crowd. The Tsaritsa, too, watched from above, her face impassive but her eyes alight, like candles spotted in windows during a blizzard.

You exhaled as you flicked your gaze up to Dottore’s masked face and you caught the smallest glimpse of a reassuring smile.

Before you could speak, the music began and your feet took the first steps of their own accord, right on beat. Dottore’s left hand took yours as you draped an arm around his shoulder, his other hand pressed against your back, keeping you in a closed position as you spun around once. His leg was between yours, only for a few seconds, both of your hips swaying to the beat with ease. He let you go long enough to work in steps in an open position; you followed his lead as he raised your arm to spin you and bring you back into a closed position in one smooth motion.

You could never get used to that, being pressed up against him like that. As much as your mind tried to tell you it was work, your body and your heart knew otherwise.

A hand squeezed yours and you caught yourself before you moved off-beat.

“The crowd is irrelevant. Focus on me. This is no different than what we’ve been rehearsing,” he said quietly.

“This was what we were working towards, Zandik,” you remarked. “It’s very different.”

“In which case, I fully expect you to stop holding yourself back and give in to whatever you keep repressing.”

The smirk on his lips was a familiar one, the same as when he presented you with a challenging problem he already knew the solution to. It was the same smirk that infuriated you almost daily.

So that’s how it was, then. He did, after all, show you his true self; it would only be right to do the same, whatever came of it.

Your heart was in your throat the entire time and all you could focus on reading the subtle gestures and cues from Dottore as he led both of you. Your hips moved a little more than usual as you were swept away by the beat and you swore you were dancing closer than usual whenever he pulled you in, as if he didn’t want to let you go.

You were so caught up that the crowd faded away and all you were left with was one another. You weren’t sure if it was the outfit or the energy but your dips and sways were elegant, never stopping. Each movement flowed into the next, as you’d planned, all of your focus honing in on the footwork and lower body motion required.

Some were far more modern compared to what the instructors showed you; you would step away, hands still held but arms crossed, draped over one another’s shoulders, and then nudging the other’s head down and around, leveraging the motion to spin back to face one another.

Other times, the gestures were classic, almost romantic in their fluidity and proximity. He led you into a graceful dip as the song came to a close before bringing you back up, as intended, your faces far closer than before. You could feel his breath mingling with yours and you dared, just once, to look down at his mouth and then back to where you knew his gaze would be.

“There you are,” he whispered before he leaned in, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “I enjoy seeing this passionate side of you…perhaps you could show me more.”

The words barely registered before applause rang out, beginning with the Tsaritsa and working its way through the guests. By then, Dottore had already pulled away, putting a professional distance between both of you again. As you left the dance floor, you caught sight of another smirk, tantalizing in its promise, if you decided to take his offer.

Tomorrow morning was going to be interesting.

#il dottore #dottore #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #il dottore x gender neutral reader #dottore x gender neutral reader #gn reader #dottore x gn reader #il dottore x gn reader #dottore/reader #il dottore/reader #gender neutral reader #if other tags are warranted lmk it's been a while since I did GN #dottore dances bachata #dancing anon this one's for you thanks for the brainrot #thank you lestaire for putting up with my brainrot #there's a Surface reference in here if you know where to look

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fiikaela · 9 months

Text

By the Blades We Meet

*mysteriously reappears* *drops a random chapter*

yoo this time we finally get to see and interact with our boi ganondorf more!! Semi-long chapter ig...?

Chapter two if you feel like it; feel free to skip Chapter one since nothing really happens

Chapter three

"We sincerely welcome all the leaders of our diverse nation to attend this important meeting. On behalf of our glorious King..."

The snobby, short Hylian's sentence dragged on, saying the most grandiose but empty things that one would ever have the pleasure to listen to. Ganondorf sat at the fancy, unnecessarily long table, boredom already sneaking up his head.

It was such a nuisance to have him--and virtually every other leader of the nations--rush over first thing in the morning only to be greeted with such a pretentious speech. He had set out from the desert before the break of the dawn, bringing a small troupe of close guards. It was so rushed that he didn't even have time to wait around and give that to you himself.

Right, you.

The mysterious young woman whose power and strength not only matched his, but has the formidable potential to overpower him; whose blade might as well cut through his own if he wasn't as careful. His hand trailed over to his chest subconsciously at the thought, the scars from yesterday's fight were gone thanks to a few fairy tonics, but the sting of it was still reminiscent. Someone who could truly match his own power without any help from others... that idea brings such an odd flavor of excitement in his chest. You bring such an odd feeling in his chest.

Plus, you didn't look bad for a Sheikah either.

He'd seen lots of women throughout his lifetime--apart from the fact that he was literally born into a tribe where he's the only male--you probably couldn't be counted as the most physically attractive out of all of them. You are, however, one of the scarce few that had ever piqued his genuine interest. Was it the way you had so confidently faced him as an opponent? Was it the way you had danced your way through all the other fights without breaking a single sweat? Was it the determination and seriousness that seemed to still the air around you once you realized how strong he was? Or was it that fleeting moment as he claimed his victory, his blade pointing at your neck as you looked up to him like he was the one thing you had looked for all your life?

That brief instant of softness that had thawed your stoic expression and melted the sharp look in your eyes... He can't help but to wonder if you'll behave the same way towards a lover: would that momentary gentleness be solidified as a permanent fondness? Would you lean against your lover, with a gentleness that will dissolve every single negativity? His mind wandered, trying to picture it onto your face. A smile that's like the warmth of the sun? A surprise that seem to put stars in your eyes? A blush that dusts even over your sharp ears?

He chewed on that idea, somehow being more fascinated by it than he originally thought. What expressions can he prompt you to make? What would your reaction be, if he were to ask something out of the blue, like your hand in marriage as half a joke? What would your reaction be, if he'd decided to lean just a bit closer, to-

A quiet cough to his right snapped him back to reality. Slightly annoyed, he turned to look at the red shark who had interrupted his--well, he wouldn't necessarily call it a fantasy--his train of thought. The king of the Zora motioned behind him at the servant who was holding something over their extended hands ceremoniously.

Listen. The shark mouthed, nudging his head slightly towards the Hyrulean King, who is slowly standing up from his seat. All the others quickly followed suit, watching him curiously.

"King Ganondorf." The Hyrulean king spoke up, raising one arm to gesture towards Ganondorf, "for that valiant endeavor you had done to protect us from a group of infiltrators the other day, I hereby humbly present you a gift as an honor for your bravery. Please accept it, it would be the most gracious of you."

Oh... it was that time when he defended the king when a group of Yiga Clan barged into the castle. The fight was child's play, they were a bunch of idiots anyways. Even though all Ganondorf did was throwing off the five masked men who jumped on him and proceeded to knock them away with the handle of his own blade, that somehow went past the Hylian king's head who thought it was a "dangerously close assassination attempt". Ganondorf isn't too interested in correct him.

It was quite funny to hear the prideful king of Hyrule spoke so humbly, as if he was scared of Ganondorf. Well, it appears that a lot of people seem to hold him at a high esteem after the news that he was found, apparently, unconscious beside a forest by a passing traveler. He eventually became the king of the Gerudo again for the honor of tradition, but the feared whispered across some of the people didn't go unheard from his ears. It seems that he'd done something bad, but he can't place his hands on exactly what. The majority of his memories were almost wiped clean, with nothing but foggy, blurry scenes that sometimes came to haunt him. Well, that's what he presumed those recurring nightmares to be, like the one staring up at the ceiling of a cave for thousands of years.

It felt so real. He'd felt each day pass by, unable to move, with every second that turned into swirling green and occasional drops of water. Something kept being conjured up inside of him and taken away. He would get bored, so bored he'd started to count the days as time slowly trickled by.

The servant walked over solemnly, handing him something small and heavy. Ganondorf unwrapped the cloth to find a small dagger, heavy with delicate ornaments and designs, lying motionlessly on the servant's outstretched hands.

It is pretty, but utterly useless in battle.

He felt the admiring gazes all across the room, even the usual grumpy Goron leader seemed to look at him in awe. The amount of respect he saw in everyone's eyes were quite foreign, but not unwelcome.

He always got the feeling that he shouldn't be looked up with respect, but fear. It was almost on an instinctual level, incomprehensible to his logical mind, but out of almost a habit. It tugged at something deep inside his head that he can't recall, it felt like war, conflict, euphoria, and rage. All mixed up into a confusing jumble.

All that aside, he took the blade in both hands, and bowed his head. The king said something, and after so much formalities he finally sat down.

Much to his own amusement, his thoughts wandered back to you out of everything. He can't wait for this to be over and return to his home, where he would find you somewhere.

... ... ...

You sat on the very top of Gerudo Town, your beloved flute in hand as you watched the last sliver of colors fade into the night. Soft notes flowed off your fingertips, dissolving in the gentle winds of the evening. You can be as lost in the scene as you want, years of practice granting you the convenience of playing pieces automatically without thought.

You seemed to have become some kind of celebrity for challenging the king, all the adults inviting you to drinks and all the little kids surrounding you and asking you to teach them sword techniques. You don't dislike the attention, but you don't like it either. A part of you just wanted to be left alone as a stranger, a part of you wanted to seek out Ganondorf. You aren't sure why, but maybe just to talk about random things or spar once more would suffice. Unfortunately he's out of town for the whole day on some business thing in Hyrule. Busy guy, you thought with a hint of bitterness.

It's just a little boring without him, you supposed.

The melody came to a conclusion, with the stop of the last note you lowered the flute, head slowly whirring out of the trance. Quiet claps sounded, and only then when you snapped your head to that direction you realized that you had an audience who sat right beside you that giant rock.

"Ganondorf?" You almost jumped, not knowing when he came here or when he even came back to town. You had expected some loud commotion and such when the king comes back, but you heard nothing; perhaps you have been too focused on your playing. He smirked at you, clearly satisfied with your reaction.

"Yes, you remembered my name," he said, rolling his eyes jokingly, "congratulations."

You gave him a deadpanned look, "it's not polite to sneak up on someone."

"It is impolite to give no formalities for a king, either." He retorted, cocking a fiery eyebrow at you, his lips curled playfully.

To be honest, it didn't look bad on him.

"Well then, I guess we are both even." You said lightly, turning away to make you sure you accidentally stare.

"Very well. But not even get a warm welcome from my dear opponent?" His huffed, tilting his head down to peer at you.

"Welcome back." You sighed, unsure if it was the same snarky and confident person who had won you in a duel yesterday. He snickered at your exasperated response, a sound that made your heart skip a beat.

"Good girl." He hummed, the eyes boring into you had a weird look you can't name. It's almost testing, but also dark, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, making you doubt whether it was a trick of the light.

You nodded, slightly caught off guard by this comment. Maybe it's a Gerudo traditional thing to say to someone, you never know.

"So... How was it in Hyrule today? You left awfully early." You started, diverging the conversation before it could go south.

"Ah. I'm glad you asked. Seems like my little bird cares about my sleep schedule?"

Hylia. Does he have to make everything sound so... flirtatious? He studied your expression for a second, before continuing on.

"Just the usual, calling us over for some 'important meeting' but actually the king wanting an active audience." He grinned in his own humor, gaining a small smile from you. "How have you been doing? Not too sore from yesterday, I hope?"

"Nah," you ignored his not-so-clever wordplay, "just hanging around in town."

"Sounds relaxing."

"Sure."

He chuckled at your dry reply. You seemed to relax around him, your shoulders easing off and your legs started to swing lightly over the ledge. For some reason, he finds this version of you to be very endearing.

"By the way, you are not only a talented fighter, you are also a good flautist," he grinned warmly at you, "you should showcase this during our festivals, if you ever feel the desire to, I'm sure my sisters will all enjoy it very much."

"Thanks." You brushed away a strand of hair, slightly flattered by the unexpected compliment. Though to such a flirty person like him, it's probably something he'd do to everyone he meets.

"Though, I won't mind to have you all to myself."

You looked up at him, slightly confused at the lack of context. You saw that that same, almost possessive look flitting over his eyes, then melted back to the glowing amber they were before, making you doubt again if it was a trick of the light. He looked at you expectantly, as if waiting for a response that you had missed. You could also swear that he is now a bit closer to you than before.

"Pardon?" You asked, secretly glad the way the night wind rushed over your ears, relieving the heat that threatened to come up.

"I would be most pleased to enjoy your music a little longer," he gestured to the flute, then back at you with a slightly tip of his head. "Anything you like."

Ah... so he meant the flute, not whatever else you thought you heard. You sighed in relief, raising the instrument to your lips, allowing your hands to take over the melody.

You did not, however, know was that Ganondorf meant exactly what he said. It was more of a little test to see your response, though to his slight disappointment and amusement, you didn't seem to catch the hint. Well, it just means he have to try harder.

The music unwind itself, the airy flute sighed along with the wind. It was a sad tune, almost nostalgic as if he had heard this somewhere before, in a life long forgotten. Your eyes were closed, light tainting your eyelashes as if they were covered in snowflakes. He couldn't help but to stare.

Moonlight bounced off your silvery locks, kissing your features with an otherworldly grace. Your features were, in his words, delicate, but not that fragile kind of delicacy carved by a skilled hand on glass, no. It was the kind of delicacy that held the subtlety that wields both strength and elegance. One that he finds himself to be somehow entranced with.

He may as well have mistaken you for a goddess.

His view shifted to your hands, at the fingers that danced so adeptly over the instrument. A proficiency that can be only sculptured by years of practice, and he admires it so much. Maybe he'll even ask you to teach him someday.

Before either of you know it, the music winded to the last note, you stopped, allowing the silence to linger just a bit longer. You can feel his eyes boring into you this entire time, and for the first time in your life, you aren't sure how to approach it. Did he like the music? Was it too simple of a tune?

"Beautiful. You truly are a wonderful musician."

His breath seemed to tickle your ear as he murmured those words. You felt a shiver running down your spine, the dawning realization of how close you two are washed over you.

You could feel his shoulder brushing against yours, could hear the soft dangling jewels that hang around his toned biceps, could feel the strands of red locks brushing against the thin Gerudo fabric on you. You could almost feel the heat that radiated off his large stature. Your heartbeat quickened, hand instinctively wanting to grab onto your katana.

"You flatter me." You said simply, in an attempt to cover your restlessness.

"On another note--no pun intended-- did you like the gift I sent in earlier today?"

You huffed a small laugh at his joke, feeling the atmosphere relax once more.

Ah, he must be talking about that pretty, unnecessarily heavy ring with a giant ruby fixed in the middle. You even thought of selling it until the guard who handed to you said it was sent by "King Ganondorf, and he hopes that you have had a restful night." Deadpanned, you pocketed that thing in hope of returning it to its sender today. Who does he thing he's joking around with?

"Right, I want to return it to you." You fished around your pockets, handing the ring back to him. "I appreciate your thoughtfulness, however."

"Why?" He tilted his head curiously, "I choose to gift it to you, it is yours to keep, no need to be shy about it."

You were never the one who loves extravagant gifts anyways. What use would something be, if all it's meant for was to be displayed and showcased for nothing but its appearance?

"It's just... I don't think I'll have much use of this, you know." Since this is inefficient anyways.

"Isn't it beautiful, though?" He took over the ring, twirling it under the moonlight, making the light reflect in all kinds of ways, "if you want me to take back such a nice gift to you, you have to at least give me a convincing reason, hm?"

His voice dropped to a soft purr, you could hear the way his breath sounded, quiet in his chest, which almost vibrated against your shoulder.

"You won't be offended?" Funny, people usually would've either blown up or sulked by now.

"I would be offended if you didn't be honest with me."

You looked at him skeptically, but saw no deceit in those golden eyes.

"It's just quite... impractical, you know. I wouldn't want to wear this ring while I'm holding a sword, a flute, or whatever." You said, "even though I think it's pretty, there's nothing beyond that."

He seems to be chewing on your response. You supposed that he didn't expect your taste to be so low. But honestly, what did he expect?

A hearty laugh boomed from his chest, it rumbled like storm clouds in his chest, giving you a slight jump in its suddenness. You glanced up curiously, hearing the way the gold jingled in his laughter.

"What irony! I just received a similar gift today!" He reached around the other side and pulled out an exquisitely embroidered dagger. It had a golden handle, and a white blade that looks like it's made out of jade. Not to mention the uncountable number of jewels that glimmered in the night like stars. "What do you think?" He asked, you can still hear the smile in his voice.

"Inefficient." You mumbled, which was responded with another laughter and a pat on your back.

"Exactly! That was my first thought as well! What a huge coincidence!"

You laughed awkward along with him, "this looks really expensive, where did you get it?"

"It was a gift by the Hyrulean King. I defended him from a group of Yiga Clans."

Your immediate look of disappointment was golden.

"The Yiga Clan?" You repeated, "must've been a notoriously difficult fight."

He grinned in your sarcasm, giving you an almost appreciative glance, "they are quite the clowns though," he agreed.

"Yeah."

He paused, as if thinking something.

"How about... we both keep our gifts as a memory for this... ironic coincidence?" He nudged your arm lightly, mischief twinkling in his eyes.

Such a witty offer to solve this problem.

"Sure." You mumbled, secretly complimenting him for such a clever idea. You took over the ring and pocketed again, leaning back onto the stone. "But please, no more of this. I don't even know where I can keep it." You added quickly, in case he's getting new ideas of toying with you again.

He chuckled, muttering some assurances that he wouldn't send those anymore.

Maybe it's time to adjust his plans a little bit.

Maybe asking your hand in marriage wouldn't be too much of a joke. He'll just have to see.

Thanks for reading!! Sorry im just going erratically about updating this. Absolutely baffled by the support i received on the last one y'all are too kind 😭

i think im getting an interesting direction to where the story would be going (surprisingly). There is a possibility that im going to take the story into a darker turn with him finding out about his past and succumbing to his own desires--with the reader being the catalyst and center to that possessiveness and darkness, but dont take my word for this im not even sure yet :<

OH AND I FINALLY FINISHED TOTK GANONDORF FIGHT IT WAS EPIC FHDSGHJASjFSHJ

#ganondorf x reader #ganondorf #yandere ganondorf #i mean it's definitely walking to that direction #still dont know how to use tags

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