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genshin-side-piece · 1 year

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The Manicurist

Warnings: Minors DNI, 18+, Yandere themes, Yandere Behavior, Sexual Themes, Power Imbalance, Dark themes, My bad writing, Anything Else I Missed

Pantalone works with his hands.

Whether it's writing contracts or committing murder in the name of the Fatui, the man uses his hands a lot. As such, he tends to have issues with them on a regular basis. He suffers from cramps and fatigue due to spending most of his days with a pen in his hand. He’s found relief with medicinal stretches, but things get worse for him when the cold sets in for the winter. The touch of arthritis he’s developed as he’s gotten older will often flair up, forcing him to rely on his assistants to help him with the mundane things such as paperwork.

Being the high maintenance, rich bitch that he is, Pantalone has a team to keep him looking his best 24/7. He has an image to maintain. The last thing that should happen is that his hair should be a mess or archons forbid, he’s wearing last season's silks. He demands perfection, even if he’s a little too busy to notice when it doesn’t happen.

His hands though. He’s funny about them. Most of the staff aren’t allowed to touch them. Only his personal servant and maybe one assistant have actually seen the bare skin that exists beneath his gloves. The rest joke that to see, let alone touch the hands of the regrator is akin to seeing the face of the gods. The divinity of them is so assured, that some staff even spread rumors that he has a Midas touch and he hides hands, lest he turns everything he touches into gold. Others say he is the reaper of souls. One touch and you’ll fall stone dead.

It’s all nonsense, but Pantalone does little to stop it. There are worse things to be known for.

Because of his finicky nature surrounding his hands, the position of personal manicurist is often vacant. You’d heard the rumors surrounding the job. He had chewed the past candidates up and spit them out faster than a bad steak. But that didn’t deter you. A few inquiries into your predecessors had garnered key information. One had been let go due to extensive gossip. Another, insider trading. The list went on and on in terms of faults and failings, all while one constant seemed to emerge. None of the firings seemed to be skill based. If getting the job and then keeping it meant you had to be the sole of discretion, then you were more than ready to apply for it.

To your surprise, he takes you up on your application. It must have been a slow day in his office when it had arrived, because you hear back on it that afternoon. You’re summoned to his office the next day, where his personal assistant conducts the interview. From there, your skills are tested, retested, and looked into. His staff is thorough with their investigation. By the end, it feels like you’ve been flayed alive, but it’s worth it. At least that’s what you tell yourself when the offer letter arrives a week later.

The position itself isn’t a bad one. Being at his beck and call whenever he gets a hangnail isn't ideal, but you aren't one to turn down his money. Most mornings you find yourself seated next to him, silently filing his nails while he takes meeting after meeting. It’s not exactly satisfying, but it beats doing nails out of that crummy apartment you had before this. Slowly your mind began to drift further and you quickly stopped paying attention to what was going on around you. The discussion surrounding the economic distress in Mondstadt bored you to tears. You could have been anywhere but in Pantalone’s office at that moment, you would have been. Much to your own amusement, your mind decided to do just that. It started with going over the list of supplies you needed to give Pantalone’s assistant. You’d been carrying the silly piece of paper around with you for days, but neither you or the assistant had really had a free moment to discuss it. Pantalone had kept you both of your toes for nothing more than his own amusement. It was annoying, but you made a mental note to corner his assistant after this meeting. Celestia forbid you run out of Pantalone’s favorite cuticle oil and have to replace it with the generic stuff. How would he ever survive the indignity of it?

As you continued to work, you could feel the tension in his hands. If you had been paying attention like you were supposed to, you would have left it alone. But you hadn’t been and you didn’t. Instead, you wrapped your fingers around his and pushed your thumbs up into his palm in a circular motion in the hope to relieve some of the strain in the core of his hand. The soft sound that came from directly above your head snapped you out of your reverie. You stopped moving, your eyes falling on your oh so obvious blunder. You had been hired to do his nails. Just his nails. You had been meticulously instructed on how to do them and all that was permitted while doing them. Massages were not part of that list.

Your hands immediately released his and fell to your lap. Archons what had you done? You moved to apologize, but you stopped yourself before you ever even started. You couldn’t apologize. Pantalone’s one rule concerning his staff was that during meetings, they were to be seen and not heard. While you doubted any of the other attendees would really notice a mumbled apology over their terse voices, the point was Pantalone would notice and he would not approve. So you sat there, like an idiot. Power was everything to Pantalone. He exercised it with frightening regularity when it came to his servants. Your entire body shook at the endless possibilities of how he would choose to exercise it on you. Unlike the kitchen maids who messed up his food or the footman who sold his lesser secrets, you knew things. You had witnessed the assassination orders and secret plots to overthrow the governments of Teyvat. You had seen how dirty Pantalone’s hands really were. Firing you was simply not an option for him. That realization made your mind spin. In fact, you were so wrapped up in what he could do to you, that you completely missed his fingers gently brushing away the tears that fallen onto your cheeks.

By the time the meeting ends and the attendees are gone, you’re practically on your knees with regret. But he isn’t angry. Far from it actually. He liked your little snafu. He wants more of it. You’re asked if you think it would help with the horrible hand cramps he has and you’re all too quick to reply yes. He asks you about his other maladies as well. Can you help with those? Again, you answer yes. There are oils that will help with his arthritis, lotions for his dry skin. You even know a way to fix that one nail of his that likes to split when it gets too long. You offer them all to him in the hope that it will stay the hand of punishment that you thought was coming. It does. He smiles at you, telling you to advise his assistant of what you need. He expects all of it in due course, but for now, do that thing with your thumbs again. He says he hasn’t felt pleasure like that in years. Unbeknownst to you, his mind begins to wonder exactly how good those hands of yours can make other parts of him feel. He begins to wonder just how good you could make him feel.

Your relationship with him begins to change. It started as strictly professional. He provided you with a job and in turn, you provided him with a service. You had never worried much about your looks. A uniform and dress code had been provided for you on your first day. You think nothing of it when the laundress gives you a different one. It was more revealing than the last one, but you doubted he was really looking anyway. Pantalone cared more about you being good at your job than how much of your chest he could see thanks to the low cut of your uniform. You tell yourself he likes you because you’re calm, quiet, and diligent in your work. His hand resting on your hip, or his fingers toying with your hair is nothing. He’s playful when he’s in a good mood. Pantalone's favorite hobby is to tease and you know you’re the perfect target for it. He’s become an expert in making you blush.

Sometimes he worries about you though. He worries you’re not what you appear to be. That you know too much and that it’s a matter of time before it all comes crashing down. The result of his worries are that you are watched more than anyone else. Your room is often searched on a regular basis and he tends to test you more than the rest of his staff. He's fed you with trading tips, gossip, and fake Fatui secrets more than once, only to never have it get back to him. The fact that you pass every single time endears you to him. He finds it relief that out of everyone around him, he can rely on you to do as you're told.

The results of his diligence surrounding you yields an unexpected result. He comes to know you far better than any of his other servants. He’s aware of the boring things like your background and your family situation. He doesn’t find those parts terribly interesting. What he prefers are things like your perfume/cologne, what type of underwear you like, how you sound when you touch yourself. It’s terribly untoward to want to know that information. Pantalone knows that, but he doesn’t care. He’s gone past the point of no return where you’re concerned. He makes your life his business, even if he shouldn’t.

Eventually though, it all becomes too much. You do your best to ignore his less than palatable qualities, telling yourself others had it worse. But that didn’t mean you didn’t find yourself praying to the local archon about what you should do. You knew he wasn’t the most wonderful of people, but he pays you well enough to not mind or so he says. You try to grin and bear it, even if it grinds you mental health to dust, you try. But there comes a point where you can’t. When you have enough and ask to leave. Your request is denied. He advises you to reconsider. Pantalone is a powerful man and powerful men are more than capable of changing people’s minds should they need too. He should hate to have to employ such tactics with you. He doesn’t make a specific threat, but the implication is there. Your family, your friends, even you are all in his grasp. None of you would be safe from his wrath should you decide to invoke it. When you waiver, he switches tactics and softens his words. Pantalone tells you that you’re the best he’s ever had, that he can’t do without you. He needs you. It does little to convince you.

Pantalone purposefully ignores the main issue, which is his ever increasing hold on your life. He knows he’s been aggressive when it comes to you. The flirting, the nightly massages in his bed, the complete replacement of all your undergarments. It’s all too much for you. He’s too close. He respects that you want to be professional. He admires it. How many of his employees would jump at the chance to be in your shoes? How many would take advantage of his good will and fleece him for all they could? You? You just want to do your job. It’s a comforting thought. Too bad he had other plans for you.

In his effort to keep you, he offers a solution to one of your many woes. If his business dealings are a problem, then he understands. His work isn’t the most pleasant thing in the world and you sitting at his side 8 hours a day like the pet he thought you to be was a poor use of your time. Even the most loyal of dogs needs space, and so do you. He suggests that you come to him after hours, in the mornings and the evenings, as a way to give you a break during the day.

At first it’s a welcome change. His office had become a suffocating place. The issue had been made worse with the knowledge that your entire life had become his without you even knowing it. Now that you didn’t have to be in there, it is your hope that things can go back to how they were at the start. You believed that, until you walked in on him in a specific state of undress. The first time it happened, you thought it was an accident. You averted your eyes, apologies spilling from your lips as you hoped to appease him. He’d merely laughed off, telling you he was sure he could find a way for you to make it up to him. The fifteenth time it happened, it was all too clear what his motives really were. The fact that he insisted on a pedicure while wrapped in nothing but a towel had been mortifying. He only added to your humiliation by spreading his legs so you would have the perfect view of his semi erect c*ck while you worked. Afterwards, you were compensated for your trouble in the form of a small necklace and a half hearted apology. He assures you it won’t happen again, even though you both know it will. When it does, his feet have your full attention. He thinks it’s cute how you blush. How you try to conduct yourself with some level of decorum despite his c*ck being in your direct field of vision. It’s such a shame you’re so uncomfortable with it all. Perhaps it’s just a matter of being shown things can only get worse, especially for those who are chosen to occupy Pantalone’s private life.

He starts slow. That necklace he gave you as an apology, he wants you to wear it wherever you go. Since you aren’t in his office anymore, the uniform standards can be relaxed. Your hair doesn’t have to be so nicely coiffed. He’d like you to leave it undone or down. Your uniform seems uncomfortable, perhaps you should loosen it or better yet, stop wearing it. After all, he’s bought you some very nice things to wear underneath of it. Such a shame he never gets to see them. He’d like you to change that. Oh, you picked that for today, tsk tsk. How did something so modest get in the mix? Here, let him help you fix that. In fact, you’re such a mess when it comes to your normal outfits. Not to worry, he’ll decide what you wear for him from now on. Oh, but you’re so far away. Your room is on the other side of the house, Pantalone knows just how to fix that.

You want to scream. You want to run.

He knows it’s coming. Pantalone knows you well enough to know that your first instinct will be to run. He lets you try. It’s amusing to watch. How clever you think you are for stashing away one of the maids uniforms when you think he isn’t looking. How ingenious of you to stash your meager belongings near your chosen escape route. Pantalone almost had them moved, just to mess with you. But he opted not to. The game was more fun if you thought you were catching him off guard, at least until you actually managed to catch him off guard.

Pantalone had several key events coming up. The house would be quiet, the guards would be busy, he would be distracted. It would be the perfect time to make your escape. What a fool you made of him. He had never considered that you would choose to leave on a normal day, in broad daylight no less. It made sense though. Who would question one of the maids leaving the house, especially when it was at the height of the day, when Pantalone had neither the time nor the inclination to chase after you.

It’s late evening before anyone notices you’re gone. By then it’s far too late to launch a search. Your tracks are well and truly hidden by the night’s sky. Come the morning, the Gods blessed you further by sending a torrential downpour to erase any further traces of you. Pantalone isn’t one to be swayed by time or weather though. He’s a patient man. What kind of Harbinger would he be if he didn’t know how to hunt someone as harmless as you? It may take him a day, it may take him a year, but he will find you. When he does, well he has a nice golden cage all prepared, just for you.

#Pantalone #regrator #pantalone genshin #yandere pantalone #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere pantalone x reader #pantalone x reader #pantalone fatui #pantalone headcanons #yandere fatui harbingers #yandere fatui #the fauti harbingers #the fatui

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genshinsidepiece · 2 years

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A Worthy Sacrifice

Warnings: Slightly Dark, Implied Forced Relationship, My Bad Writing

Summary: To save your village, someone one has to be offered up to the fearsome Harbinger Capitano as tribute. The question is, who will he choose?

He had bought you. That’s what the village elders had told you as they fussed over you and the other two women who stood quivering near you. Three maidens for him to choose from. Paid for with your countrymen’s blood. Offered up as a sacrifice in the name of peace.

His list hadn’t been long or especially specific. He had requested a maiden of virtuous quality and meek countenance, who was of a marriageable age to be presented to him. There had been no other requirements listed. It was an acknowledgement to his present situation to be sure. Had this been a larger city or even the capital, he would have had a wider selection. But a small farming village meant his choices were slim at best. His men had assured the elders that they knew what he wanted. All the elders needed to do was provide them with enough of a selection to pick from. Please him and the village would be spared. Fail to provide what he wanted and the village would become the salt of the earth.

The remaining battalions that had once defended your village had been sent out that same hour to fetch every maiden that fit his rather simple criteria. Taking those that were eligible in their wake. Such was the case with you. The word had barely reached your family before the soldiers had come, their wagon full of frightened girls of all shapes and sizes. You remembered your father begging them to reconsider. They had enough. Surely you didn’t need to be added to such a large pool. He had offered them all the money he had, just so they would leave you behind. Just so you would be safe from the impending storm that had threatened to over take all of you. There had been some back and forth, but in the end, his offer hadn’t been enough. You had been loaded up with the others. Your parents weeping as the soldiers took you away.

Your arrival into town had been met by a group of his officers. One by one each of you were examined. The ones that were deemed suitable were escorted into the town’s meeting hall. The ones that weren’t were handed off to his soldiers as a means of keeping them entertained until the company was ready to move on.

The process had gone on for days. Your skin felt raw due to the amount of times it had been scrubbed. The simple gown you’d been given did little to keep you warm. One by one you were looked at, appraised, and valued. Your finer qualities listed out for them as if you were a prized mare at auction. It was humiliating.

You supposed you should feel honored to have made it this far. Several of your appraisers had more than alluded to taking you for themselves. One had forced you to suck his dirty thumb while he cooed at you about what a pretty little companion you would make him once this was through. Others had merely stared or rubbed themselves as they looked you over. But the archons had a different plan for you. As the list narrowed, you seemingly went to the top of it. You couldn’t help but take their disappointment as a small victory.

The elder spoke again, snapping you from your reverie. This time it was about honor. You swore that they said something about doing your duty to your village, but nothing really registered. Not when you heard the clatter of horses hooves on the stones outside. Not when you felt your heart jump into your throat. Not when you knew he had come to make his choice.

It all happened far too fast for you. In a matter of seconds his dark figure had filled the doorway, looming over all of you like the shadow of death. He crossed the room like a specter, his dark robes fluttering around him as if they were wisps of smoke. The only sound from him being the chains of his outfit as he gracefully closed the distance between you and the door. He paused briefly, the dark void that covered his face pointing to the girl on your left. You’d only just come to realize she had fainted at the sheer sight of him. The girl on your right cowered and wept, doing everything in her power to avoid his silent gaze. She earned a hard slap for her trouble. You flinched at the sound of the elders hand against her cheek.

Then he came to you. The lifeless void stared at you, his steady breathing echoing softly off the confines of his helmet. To your surprise, you didn’t cower. You didn’t cry. You didn’t faint. Instead, you returned his stare with one of your own. Your curious eyes taking him in, noting the elegant simplicity of his appearance. Despite his reputation on the battlefield, you could sense that he was far more than you presently see. It made you briefly wonder what else he kept hidden about himself.

“My lord?” The elder’s voice shattered the moment between you. The spell on you was broken and you became all too aware of how close he had gotten to you. You felt the sharpness of his grip as he held your chin in his hand. You hadn’t remembered him touching you. The reminder that you were being sold was all too clear when the elder followed his intrusion up with a simple question; had he made his choice? Silently you prayed he hadn’t. Silently you hoped that the monster before you found you completely unworthy of him. The God of Luck was not with you today.

“Remove the other two.” You sharply swallowed, your eyes briefly closing at the sound of his voice. You had expected it to be gruff, grating even. You hadn’t expected it to be so eloquent. “You…” Your eyes opened to face him once more, your mind reeling at what he was about to say. “You may call me Capitano.” And you now belonged to him.

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #capitano #capitano x reader #genshin capitano #the fatui harbingers #the fatui #fatui

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