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#yandere genshin x you
arsonlookers · 2 days
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Doctor's Obsession
Yan! Doctor Zhongli x Therapist Reader
Slight Suggestive please be warned
Yan! Doctor Zhongli is the first doctor you have befriended during your first month as a therapist. You have known him far longer than that. you have known him from your first college days, he is the most respected senior on campus and also the most elegant gentleman and genius upcoming doctor on the field. You only got to know him in your freshman year since he was already graduating that time so You only admire him from afar and nothing more.
Yan! Doctor Zhongli Who actually knows you, the very cute freshman who actually caught his attention all those years ago.
Yan! Doctor Zhongli Who has been supporting you silently and admiring you secretly from afar. [ of course, you didnt know that] He who just anonymously helps you through all your debts and even secretly gifts you here and there but not that obvious that it will catch your attention.
Yan! Doctor Zhongli Who actually is the one who recommended you in this asylum so that he will be able to get close to you. And he will be able to watch you 24/7. He now can touch you, stare at you for longer hours, and of course, he can watch who is interested in you and dispose of the said trash.
Yan! Doctor Zhongli messed up once because in your 4th year of college, you got a boyfriend, and he was furious about it. Of course not to you, but to that TRASH who keeps hanging out with you. Tainting you with his dirty hands, his sweet poor little angel, he is of course gonna save you.
Yan! Doctor Zhongli who secretly slips something into your boyfriend's drink someday and your boyfriend suddenly needs to go to the hospital to get treated. HE who secretly kills your boyfriend and disguises it as a failed operation.
Yan! Doctor Zhongli who meets you [secretly stalks you does not count] finally for the first time and tells you about your boyfriend's progress in health how severe it is and how dangerous his condition is. And even comforted you when you got the sad news of your now-dead boyfriend.
Yan! Doctor Zhongli since then he Occasionally asks you out for tea and even asks you about your personal life.
Yan! Doctor Zhongli is happy to become a friend of yours and it will develop more and more as he will make sure of that.
Yan! Doctor Zhongli When watching you interact with some patients, who become too touchy with you, he keeps an eye on them for your sake. And after that tells you the bad news about their death. [Rip dead patients]
Yan! Doctor Zhongli actually keeps a laboratory hidden behind the walls so that you won't be able to see how gruesome it is. How he tortures those patients because you interact with them more than you interact with him.
Yan! Doctor Zhongli sees you as an angel and even a goddess because of how he worships you secretly. And to those you will taint you may they be innocent or criminal he will sure put them to judgment and persecute them for they are filthy.. no they are not deserving of your love and attention at all. ONLY he is.
Yan! Doctor Zhongli who keeps a hidden room in his house full of your pictures since your freshman years. all SECRETLY taken without any of your consent.
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Yan! Doctor Zhongli who gets turned on whenever you are so close to him. as he smells how sweet and enchanting your perfume is and how good you look close up. how he will never stop eye fucking you in his mind all day long.
Yan! Doctor Zhongli He who jerks off on your pictures and he even has you naked in some of it [of course you will never know about that]
"hnngg~ y/n~ ahhhh~ ngg~ you~ lookngg ahhh~~ so sexy~ my darling~~ "
Yan! Doctor Zhongli who loves it when you sit on his lap and he will surely drag it in his mind for days on end.
"Just ~ ehhahhhh~~ sit ~ gnnn~ how good~ would-ahhh~~ you~ feel-~ like~ nggg~"
Yan! Doctor Zhongli REAAALLLYY LOVES your curves secretly and even would loves to be suffocated by them. Who will surely shamelessly beg if he has to.
Yan! Doctor Zhongli is Jealous whenever you interact with patient 001 because he knows how insane Childe is. He will never stop pestering threatening Childe to stop his obsession with you.
Yan! Doctor Zhongli Who is mad when patient 001 starts to become more and more bold and even shamelessly masturbating infront of you in his cell. of course Yan! Doctor Zhongli knows about it since he watches through the camera of his cell. to make sure you are safe but now he will surely dispose of Childe for good.
Yan! Doctor Zhongli who starts to notice how other patients are also acting strangely affectionate to you..and he DOES NOT like it.
Yan! Doctor Zhongli Who will start to isolate you from other doctors and even patients. even though you act against it since he is your higher-up supervisor you have no choice but to follow.
Yan! Doctor Zhongli will keep you by his side, inside his office, and will not let you meet other patients or even to other doctors.
Yan! Doctor Zhongli who will make you his secretary rather than a therapist to filthy people.
"why not be my personal therapist y/n?" he asked
Yan! Doctor Zhongli who starts to act strange around you and even affectionate at times. And when no end he will also start to show his possessiveness and affection obsession to wards you.
Yan! Doctor Zhongli who locks you up in his office and even has a secret built-in chain on his office just for you and only you to use.
" You will be safe here darling~ don't worry as long as you are here by my side nobody will get hurt~ As long as you are here by my side I will love you forever and spoil you "
you are trying to break of the chain
"Darling dont do that you will hurt yourself" Zhongli sweetly tells you like an adult telling a child that sweets are bad for your teeth.
You glare harder, trying to be intimidating but sadly Zhongli only sees it cute and lovely how you intently stare and observe him.
"darling~ dont make me use drugs to make you pass out~" he brushes his hands on your cheeks grabs it by the side and makes you look deep in eyes.
With his threat, you stop squirming out of him and just fearfully stare at his deep golden eyes. all you can do is nod your head.
"good girl~ such a Good girl for me~ " he kisses your right cheek
"dont worry now darling I'm sure you are going to love it here, forever and ever. I will make sure of it. You will love it here in your new home and with your new husband and we will have children~ how many would you like? this daddy will provide for you darling~"
"So would you please follow orders from your one and only trusted doctor please~? "
Darling why don't you stay~ you have nowhere to go, after all, don't worry he will take care of you, spoil you, make you his and so full of his children.
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He will take care of you Darling~ dont worry about anything at all, just think about him and only him after all, he has been waiting for the longest time for this .. FOR YOU to be His and only HIS.
suggestive content
After he takes control of you and chains you to his side forever be reminded that day after day, night after night you will be nothing but exhausted and tired from all his pounding again and again and again. non-stop because he truly has been waiting and dreaming for you to be in front of him stripped and all on show for his eyes to see and to love be in his mercy as you kept begging him about how overstimulated everything is. after all, he likes it when you are acting like a whore in front of him and cock drunk from all he has given for you. BUT he won't stop until he is satisfied and sees everything is in place. an image of you so full of his cum and looks so tasty and hmm~ fuck up~ by him~ don't worry darling he will truly love you and he will enjoy his meal after all his waiting~ so please let him have his meal [you] will you darling~
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Ars : I give thanks to people who likes my last post Ms. therapist and my new upcoming ideas about yandere childe and yandere adventurine! I was really shock about reaching 200+ likes THANK YOU VERY MUCH!! and to my new Followers thank you for following! it really means everything to me and to people who reblogs my post THANK YOU VERY MUCH!! For more update this yandere genshin x therapist reader will hopefully be a long project for me since I truly have plenty of ideas in my pocket. if you like to keep following on the updates I have a separate post master list for it named ASYLUM PROJECT
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THANK YOU VERY MUCH! YOU ALL MADE ME CRY!!! 😭
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daze4all · 2 days
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Imagine Wriothesley x Reader: Those Cuffs don't have a key....
Imagine: Wriothesley &  his significant other get frisky with handcuffs but forget the key…to unlock them afterward lol . His are custom made after all lol….NSFW to come soon this was side drabble
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Based on the voice line:  
Did you know most handcuffs can be unlocked with the same master key?
Except mine of course. They’re Different~ - Wriothesley
Side Shot After Care Funny Thought: Those cuffs don’t have key lol
Drowsily you wake to the next day. 
There’s a steaming cup of tea on the tabletop. 
“I see you have woken up to the world “ Wriothesley greets you with a kiss to your cheek
“Oh ,and what is with this welcome?” You ask with raised eyebrow jangling the handcuffs on your wrist still on from last nights romp.
“Opp must have forgot those … “ Wriothesley laughs and fiddles to unlatch the handcuffs.
The jingling continues for long time as silence reigns and Wriothesley begin to chuckle nervously a sheepish grin on his face.
“ So, about the handcuffs… those are custom made. SOOO I don’t have the key on me right now?”
“WRIO!”
“Till death do us part?”
“I’m going to break them.”
“Wait no! I had them made can we at least get another use out of-ow”
“You deserve that…”
“Is that a maybe?”
Side note: what if Wriothelsey custom handcuffs were only cosmetic so he never had a key made for them lol….
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yandere-daydreams · 9 months
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Red-Tailed Hawk!Diluc, who crash-lands on your balcony in the middle of winter, long after he should've migrated somewhere more hospitable to his animal counterpart. He's badly injured, half-frozen, and clearly in a state of shock, but you manage to drag him inside after a few minutes of struggling and fussing over his massive wings. An emergency vet is called, a small fortune dulled out in exchange for anti-biotics and bandages, but Diluc only wakes up hours after the chaos has blown over, after he's been moved to your bed and most of his blood has been scrubbed out of your carpeting. If you didn't have such a soft spot for birds, you might've been more mad at him.
Red-Tailed Hawk!Diluc, who's surprisingly calm for a man who was on the verge of death less than a day ago. He apologizes for the trouble he's caused you, explains that his injuries came from a 'minor altercation' with his brother and promises that you'll be repaid for everything he's cost you so far, even if you can't say you're sure how a hybrid would have that kind of funding. His composure only falters when he realizes that he won't be able to fly until his wings heal, and even then, he manages to limit his frustration to a thin scowl and a wary sigh. His poise is a relief. He'll be stuck with you for a while, and a temper would've made a bad situation even worse.
Red-Tailed Hawk!Diluc, who clearly isn't as wild as you initially thought. If anything, your meager apartment seems too a little too modest for his tastes - you're not sure if you've ever heard anyone mention the thread count of your sheets so casually, let alone a hybrid. Still, he adjusts quickly. By the end of his first week with you, you can't stop him from helping around the house. He's a good cook, especially, and he seems to enjoy being able to take some of the stress off of you. You've heard that it's a common trait for hybrids, some universal base instinct to 'provide for a pack'. To be honest, you don't really care. He's nice to have around, even if you know he can't stay forever.
Red-Tailed Hawk!Diluc, who only ever blushes whenever you tend to his wings. You're not a professional, but you do your best to clear away all of the bent and broken feathers, to replace his bandages as often as the vet recommended, but you're still clumsy, still slow enough to mean he has to spend the better part of the hour sitting between your legs with his wings splayed out in your lap. He tries to keep up a conversation, but he trips over his words, balls his fists, pulls his hindlimbs against his chest and tries to pretend he's unaffected. It's cute, watching a creature as stoic as Diluc lose a few of his reservations.
Red-Tailed Hawk!Diluc, who's too massive to sleep anywhere but your bed. You resign yourself to the couch for a while, but it's not long before you give in to his constant offers to share and end up spending most nights pressed into his side, one of his wings draped over you and an arm loosely wrapped around your waist. You learn quickly that hawks are creatures of routine, which means that you now have a very, very strictly enforced bedtime. He's not afraid to sling you over his shoulder and put you where he wants you to be, and there's only so much you can do to fight against a bird-man twice your height and more than double your strength.
Red-Tailed Hawk!Diluc, who gets... protective of your apartment, after a few weeks. It's not much - a small frown when you mention a friend he doesn't care for, a certain caginess when you have guests over - but it's far-cry from his normal, gentlemanly behavior. It might just be the instincts of a wounded animal attempting to protect his nest, but still. You worry about him, sometimes.
Red-Tailed Hawk!Diluc, whose wings are getting better every day. He's able to make short trips, now, and you make sure to praise him as heavily as you can whenever he comes back from a lap around your apartment complex. You swear, when you're at work or running errands, you'll see a scarlet shape circling miles above you and convince yourself it's Diluc, but he's not the secretive type. You're sure, if he was really that far along, he wouldn't be able to hide it from you. You're sure, if he was really able to fly that well, he wouldn't stay any longer than the time it took to tell you that he was going home.
Red-Tailed Hawk!Diluc, who's cuddled against your chest when you come to, your skin still numb from the windburn and your vision still blurred with tears. You can barely keep yourself awake, barely lift your head, but you can make out a lavish, crimson bedroom; a bed of sheets and pillows that goes on as far as you can see. No, not a bed, a nest. One big enough for a hawk and its mate.
Red-Tailed Hawk!Diluc, who's always been territorial. You just weren't able to see that until after he decided you were a part of that territory, too.
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harmonysanreads · 8 months
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Idée Fixe
yandere!lyney x reader
cw(s) : yandere, lyney
wc : 2.6k+
two dorks psychoanalyze each other. might kiss out of spite.
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“For as many hearts as you steal, how many do you keep?”
The smooth texture from designed cards is felt across the tips of your fingers, your eyes capture the patterns printed on them through the filter of silvery moonlight and the sound of steps falling in sync with yours assure you of the verity of this encounter.
You don't even need to look up to picture the twinkling amethysts, the widening curve of lips that never convey anything concrete and a sudden bounce in the magician's steps ; the visage painted in your subconscious like the motifs on the cards your fingers fiddle with in intrigue.
The chilly night breeze are but twirls of playful edge,“You make it sound like something else,”
If you cared to look up, you would've noticed the subtle dance of his brows. Lyney begins to walk a step ahead of you in the midst of his short speech, through prolonged scrutiny that'd rival that of the most skilled jeweler's ; you've associated this change of pace to either be in preparation for his usual trickery — or, in the few sparse occasions that go as soon as they come, a casual introduction of another subject to eliminate the previous one. While one could accuse you of reading too much into things, you've long since learned that when it concerns the eccentric magician, the tell-tale details will reveal what he will not.
“Oh really? Perhaps it's your mind imagining insinuations that do not exist, you do have a creative brain.”
“Ouch, only you could insult and praise me in the same sentence.” Lyney places a hand over his heart to cradle it from the jab, though his choice of words should indicate offense, the delivery makes it clear he wouldn't have it any other way.
“Why, thank you, though you're gravely mistaken if you think that will change the subject.” with a swivel of his cape, Lyney spins to walk facing you, his strides (albeit backwards) unchanging in confidence and only when your lift your head to lock eyes, does his expression lighten.
“Well, to answer your question, the ones that are worth keeping, of course.”
The magician chuckles at your eye-roll, “Don't play coy, you know precisely how I meant that question.”
Lyney hums in pretend contemplation, gaze still fixated on your moonlit form, the beat of both of your steps grazing against the pavement and making it seem like a strange parade. Your question holds substance unknown to the rest of the world, but translucent to the magician.
It is both his frustration and delight that you're never bent by his charming words and theatrics. Your firm stare and insistence on the topic confirm his suspicions that you're searching for something particular, something uprooted from the very depths of his soul and he could bet his entire career that you won't stop until you've wrung it out. The answer you seek is nothing he can't give, it'd be simple as well, but precisely due to this knowledge the magician opts instead to test the limitations of your patience.
Truth be told, Lyney never likes it easy and neither do you.
For a miniscule lapse in the boundless confines of time, it's as though both of your world has separated from the existing one. For an amount that'd otherwise be uncomfortable, all exchange is made through your locked eyes. Like a secret shared between no other soul — despite your better judgement, the realization sends a jolt of thrill through your veins and you cannot help but wonder if the magician feels the same.
Seemingly out of thin air, Lyney twirls his magic wand in a wanton pattern, small sparks of light clash with the moon's glow before waltzing past your hair — you pause for not a second, knowing their goal lies in catching you off-guard. If Lyney was given the chance, he'd spend the rest of the night in determining whether you looking back to the cards in your hands was merely an expression of boredom or a brag of how accustomed you are to his theatrics.
Lyney dabbles between the lines of reality and illusion as a profession, blurring them without his audience's notice to make them believe a miracle. It's a simple trick he's succeeded in transforming into an art, so he was confident you'd be privy to the delusion as well. Whether it's due to you doing the same as him or the opposite entirely, Lyney's persistence in solving the puzzle piece named you only grows more tenacious day-by-day.
Sensing the magician's uncharacteristic quietude, you abandon the cards to his backwards marching form and the cheeky grin plastered on his face has you wishing you hadn't at all.
“Ah, but you see, the information you seek is confidential and I fear for prying ears. How about you come a little closer, and I'll tell you the amount?”
Lyney's face is a perfect replica of the grin-malkin cat he adores using as prop, a cloud obscures the moon's vision from seeing the act down earth and the shimmer of Lyney's eyes become pronounced in contrast to the shadow. In comparison, your visage that'd scream ‘preposterous!’ if it could looks nothing short of a circus.
Your steps come to a halt in unison, a breathy chuckle echoes throughout the dead of the night, “Aw, why that face? I don't bite~”
You blink in surprise and suddenly the magician's presence is way too closer than you recall ; he bows down to your ear and the heat of his breath almost makes a shiver run down your spine.
“... but, I might nibble.”
You catch his impish smirk from the corner of your eye and if Lyney notices how you choke in the formation of words, he could snag an award for acting like he didn't.
“Are you that fixated on creating a scandal? Must you always be so shameless?”
At that, Lyney leans away with a pout, hands folded behind his back and swaying back and forth on the heels of his shoes like a reprimanded child.
“Come on now, don't be such a killjoy. I went through all that trouble to whisk you from that boring party and this is how I'm thanked?”
The magician's words are a drawl, each one competing to be more irritating than the last. You have to take a deep breath and hold your tongue from reminding him that the escapade had been without your choice. The world places limitations on all sorts of things and you're not morbidly curious enough tonight to know the extent of the magician's good graces. A beat of tense silence passes, Lyney takes note of your averted gaze and it positively irks him.
Lack of eye-contact means a number of things ; nervousness, insecurity, hesitancy, guilt. For a performer like him whose pride resides in keeping his audience's eyes hooked on his every move, such a gesture is bitter tasting. But when it concerns you, it pricks and wounds his very soul. Lyney's sigh is one of weight and it inclines you to raise your head.
“By asking how many hearts I keep, you hope to know how many matters to me.”
The magician takes his hat off and moves forward to place it atop your head, his speech is not an assumption, nor an inquiry, but a statement. You straighten your posture when you notice the absence of a smile on his face, the sight so alien it has you on edge. While his gesture may be plain to an inexperienced eye, you know that he does it as an extension of his affection. For all the valued items he keeps dangling by the rim of that hat, he surrenders it all to you in a heartbeat.
But you still hold your breath and as expected, the solemn expression of his proves to be transient. Just before the hat grazes your locks, he tips it back, gives the vacancy of its inside an inspecting look and does an emptying gesture as if to prove its.. well, emptiness. There's a flicker in his eyes you're not given the time to catch as he brings his hat just above your head and does the same depleting motion again ; the scent of fresh roses engulf your senses as a thousand petals cascade down from the hat. As if on cue, the winds pick up and waltz them down upon your form.
Here's the thing ; while you may pride yourself in being experienced in discerning Lyney's tricks, it becomes a task to maintain a straight face as he never repeats his previous sleight of hand. What you can try to do instead is search for patterns, patterns reveal genres and genres reveal intentions. Lyney is a celebrated magician of the Court, his capabilities lie far from simple card tricks, so for him to resort to elementary jugglery instead of some grand spectacle, it can only mean he's trying to distract you yet again.
You feel the weight of his hat on your head at last, shifting all the cards on your left hand, you raise your right to adjust its position slightly.
Your encouragement for him to elaborate comes in the form of confirmation, “That'd be correct,”
The magician's lips curve up in fondness, a playful hum escapes him as you resume your walk, him returning to stride facing you again. It's a skill he's mastered in the duration of your acquaintance, for the purpose of stunts apparently. You have your suspicions — but then again, who doesn't when it concerns Lyney?
“Very well. You accuse me of being such a thief, yet, I think you are the guiltier one between us two.” the errant strands of the magician's hair sway, his eyes keep you captive.
He takes the inquisitive tilt of your head as incentive to conclude, “On the topic of hearts and all, I must ask first, when do you intend to return mine?”
The night winds pause, your brain processes Lyney's question until it blanks upon realization. Your eyes dart across his face that is void of all teasing cues, his eyes glazed over and you can tell he's holding his breath. Any consideration of his behavior aligning with trickery is eliminated just as quickly, because if anyone were to want to understand Lyney as intricately as you, they'd first need to learn to be able to distinguish his flirtation from fact.
“... Do I have to?”
You find yourself half concerned and half entertained as the magician narrowly avoids being hit by a pole, him having to maneuver to regain his footing. Both of your steps come to a halt as your laugh echoes throughout the dead of the night. Lyney sheepishly places a hand on the back of his neck but that sight is all too evanescent. The signature smirk of his returns with enthusiasm.
“Not at all,” he purrs, eyes flickering towards your restless ones that have settled on his magic cards again.
“In fact, mold it to your will, toss it to your whim and hold it captive as though it's a supplement of your own, if you may.”
Your ears hang onto each of Lyney's words but your eyes find no courage to look at the mirth that you're certain is plastered on his face, you take the moment to properly inspect the motifs on the cards with some distraction from the shadows of the night : the grin-malkin cat, a miniature Lyney sticking out his tongue, a tea cup, a penguin and—
You're left stupified as the card is abruptly snatched from your grasp, Lyney bounces back a few steps and confirms to be the culprit. You brisk walk to reach the magician and that turns out to be your biggest mistake.
The card is at first held between two of Lyney's fingers, him shaking it left and right in provocation and in the spur of the moment, you take a leap. You feel the wind of the card being propelled upward, the magician holding it out of your reach. Your desire to obtain the piece of paper exceeds your awareness of the sudden decrease in proximity between you both. You shift to your tiptoes and feel the surface of the card, one look through your peripheral at the magician's smile and you realize a little too late that you've fallen right into his trap.
“Now, let's see, the question that started this all : the number of hearts this magician holds dear is the answer to this riddle—”
You expected Lyney to make the card disappear or shift higher if possible, but instead his hand wraps around yours and you find yourself twirled a full circle. The motion catches you off-guard but the magician stabilizes you by placing a firm hand on your waist and pulling you to his eye-level. You find yourself out-of-breath and unable to look away as the moon shines its light on you two again.
“—Placed above, it makes greater things small. Placed beside, it makes small things greater. ” the magician tilts your chin up in his preferred angle with the card, the cool temperature of its margin contradicting the heat of your skin.
“In matters that count, it always comes first.”
The faint rustle of your garbs against his is resounding, your own reflection stares back through amethyst lenses.
Lyney's voice is but a whisper against your cheek as he concludes, “Where others increase, it keeps all things the same. What is it?”
Your frenzied mind momentarily dreads the scenario wherein someone catches you two in the midst of this rendezvous, from incipiency to this apparent climax ; it's built up to be nothing short of scandalous. But the magician has no care for that outcome, inching closer, closer and closer. As if sensing the new wave of worries that fill your mind, he halts but makes no attempt to lean back, his eyes regain their usual shine.
“Quite easy, don't you think? But, if you believe it to be so, you'll be mislead. After all, that is how the simplest magic bewilders the audience. Blink, and you might miss it.”
The magician dives in and your breath hitches. Your eyes are forced open when you feel yourself stumble forward. The first second is wasted with no action, the second one you register that you have the card in your hand — pressed to your lips, on the third you notice the absence of Lyney's presence and the forth brings down all the embarrassment crashing down on your poor heart.
You pull away the condemned card from your lips, heavens know what anyone would think if they saw you kissing a piece of paper in the middle of nowhere. Your face flushes in the lovely shades of pink, heart hammering against your ribcage.
I could've sworn that I felt...!
The magic card crumbles slightly by the edges because of your grip, the prickle of its corners remind you to take deep breaths and calm your raging thoughts. You shake your head with vigour, but you're unsure if it's to recollect the memory or to brush it off. You're left alone to ruminate the aftermath of the bizarre encounter in the cold winds of midnight and you almost want to drown yourself in the darkest depths of the sea as recollections of your reactions rapidly pass through your mind — you can practically hear Lyney's snickers in your head.
Your attention is then grabbed by the catalyst of your current predicament, you turn over the card and finally inspect the motif printed on the card ; two hearts, bounded by a shackle and a lock. You trace your thumb across the hearts and your mind retraces Lyney's cryptic words. If all interactions, encounters and memories you share with the eccentric magician of Fontaine would form a pinnacle for you to see the truth from ; you'd know that behind the veneer of charisma and humor, Lyney hides something far less innocent. And yet, regardless of the foreboding creeping up your spine, you find yourself unable to snap the tether of connection.
Because as it is, that which is mysterious, captivates us all.
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may all lyney wanters be lyney havers<3
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mondaymelon · 5 months
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₊˚ෆ 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐃, 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐀𝐁𝐎���𝐄! | sagau lyney, neuvillette, wriothesley x gn!reader
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ˋ°•*⁀➷ cw: theme of obsessiveness, yandere (big surprise!!) lyney + wrio's part mentions past abuse, all the stuff that comes as a side to this au !! ngl neuvillette's part is pretty tame he's literally. just a guy (otter)
⤷ [ you, the heavenly being who created celestia itself, has descended upon teyvat in an earthly form. a god, or at least, theirs. ]
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— sagau!lyney has always lived to be beheld by the eye.
Displays of extravagance, bouquets of flowers and pairs of white doves fluttering from his finger tips. Yes, that was where he belonged, standing on his place at the center of the stage, bright lights fixed on his form as he swept in his arm in a wide bow towards his beloved audience. Listening to their adoring cheers and drinking it all in - their support, the fame, their fanatic attention.
Attention was always something he had yearned for. Cold days exist in his memory, where he wandered the street aimlessly, pale skin littered with growing purple bruises, his only refuge the light tug of Lynette's soot-stained hands clinging onto what rags he wore. In those times, he remembers, a faint voice from above, angelic and holy, soft and compassionate.
A voice that was, in fact, yours. You had stared with wide eyes at your device as the cutscene began, instantly overcome with emotion. "Lyney, Lynette... was this how you had been living? Goddamn, I know every character in this game has a tragic backstory, but look at them!! They're... they're precious!! Wahhh, I want to take you in... Lyney, you better come home..." They were merely throwaway comments that you had blurted out in the shelter of your room, absolutely fixated on their pretty character designs and the dwindling number of primogems your inventory held. Not only had you lost the 50/50 to Qiqi herself, you were now nearing hard pity, and the charming magician was still nowhere in sight. You shut your eyes "Ah... Lyney, how come you-"
Light flickered before your closed eyelids, and you felt the wind tug at your body. Your stomach lurched, oh shit, were you falling..?
"-won't..."
Someone caught you with ease, swift and capable arms holding you, one supporting your back and the other hefting both your legs. Twinkling purple eyes met yours. "Ah, are you alright?" You quickly shook your head, too shaken to speak words at the moment. Surveying your surroundings only brought another wave of confusion - strange buildings, glittering blue lakes and trees, an unfamiliar landscape... Your gaze shifted, and you caught the sight of uncanny ash blond hair, and the hat that sat atop it. Lyney?
He hummed in acknowledgement. "So, you've just fallen from the sky." There was no way in mistaking his voice. "Is there an explanation behind that, or...?"
"I...I- I don't know why I'm here...!" You stuttered, and he visibly flinched at your voice, eyes widening. Shit, had you done something wrong? You trembled in his arms, attempting to stand by yourself, but he wouldn't let you move from his grasp.
"I see." His voice was quiet, now, and came in a single breath. His pupils shook as he closed his eyes in a smile. "Then, shall I bring you somewhere where you'll be safe?"
His heart was racing, pounding against his chest, and he could hardly breath, instead taking in short, desperate little gasps that did little to keep him standing. You.
It was a voice he swore he'd never let escape his recollection, and now there was a face, and touch to pair it with. He smile widened, and his eyes shined with pure ecstasy. It was you, in the flesh, his archon, his god, the highest being. Your body was holy, and he longed to praise it, his dark heart being cleansed just by bathing in your presence. Yet you seemed so fragile in his arms, how cute... it wouldn't be fair to keep you to himself, but being selfish is what allowed him to get this far. Like a songbird in a cage, he'd trap you, admire you, worship you.
Your brows furrowed in confusion, and you could feel his smile's sweet grow more sickening every beat of silence that passed. "No, What? I-"
His hand struck the back of your neck. Your voice died as your eyes fluttered shut. And in that moment Lyney pressed a kiss to both of your closed lids, a tender touch that one might describe as "loving", but what truly lie beneath it was far more twisted. His heart beat only for you, and red flushed across his cheeks.
"There's no need to worry, my eminence. I'll put on a show, just for your delight." ₊˚ෆ
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— sagau!neuvillette has always yearned for warmth.
A warmth is not present in the courts of Fontaine. There, it is cold, sharp, the biting frigidness numbing the hearts of people - those who stand before him in trial, and those who watch with glee in the crowd, awaiting his final verdict with bated breaths.
Neuvillette was most renowned for his judgement. But it was his own that was a critical flaw. For what truly was judgement? Had he been justified in casting a murderer, in some eyes, but a hero in others, into the Fortress of Meropide? A mere child, who just sought for warmth, just as he had? He fears his heart has also grown cold and indifferent to the world, and he despises himself for it.
Was it not your warm hand that stroked him lovingly so back then, a quiet, soothing touch that swept away the tears and the salt that clung to his cheeks? Was it not your voice who called out to him on those ever so lonely nights, humming an otherworldly tune as your ghostly visage wiped the sorrow that flowed his downcast eyes? Yes, truly. It was your warmth that caused his eyes to glow anew, your warmth that allowed his cheeks and the tips of his pointed ears to flush with contentment.
"Oh, wise ludex! This man is a murder! He stole not only my mother's assets, but my mother's life!" The crowd gasped at the dramatic declaration, their gazes shifting back and forth, from the perpetrator to the "witness." "I will dearly miss her... this man, no, this monster, took my mother away by hitting her over the head with none other than a bludgeon!"
Neuvillette's eyes widened. "Mr... Lucas."
"Y-Yes, ludex?"
"It was never disclosed to the public of what weapon the killer used."
The crowd erupted into a series of sharp inhales, surprised noises muffled by a hand over the mouth, round eyes as large as dinner plates, and frantic head turning. Journalists scribbled frantically in their notebooks, sweat pouring from their faces as they stumbled upon their newest cash cow.
"The verdict. Mr. Lucas is found to be guilty."
And they cheered. For what? Neuvillette narrowed his eyes just a fraction, his displeasure rising. They knew nothing. They were just mindless puppets, willing themselves to follow the sway of the crowd, praising and applauding something that naught needed its praise.
A sensation came over him, like the soft caress and flutter of an angel's wings or a soft, sweet sigh escaping from pouting, half-opened lips. The man snapped his head up, hearing the glass behind him shatter and plummet downwards like crystal raindrops, but what verily sent his heart apounding was the sight of a figure, dressed in heavenly silks, bathed in golden light, and descending into the courtroom. He drank it all in with a bated breath, hearing that for once, the crowd was silence.
You landed in his arms. Beautiful. He almost didn't dare move with you in his arms, in fear of his legs giving way underneath him. Your head lulled into his chest, eyes shut, and your pure, unbridled warmth finally met him, finally doused him in its prescence.
"Your... your eminence..." His voice was a mere echo, quiet, containing little sound at all. "I..."
"To you who has granted me such the blessing of warmth, I shall repay with all of my heart." ₊˚ෆ
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— sagau!wriothesley has always wanted... someone to hold him.
It's a selfish thing to long for, and a silent one. Who would pay any heed to a duke's ramblings? Love's a thought that he's never quite fully digested, almost as if he can't truly believe it exists. Of course, he's seen Fontaine's couples, strolling up and down the street, hand-in-hand, yet questions himself in what makes them able to love each other. Perhaps it wasn't his problem with them, but more so a problem with himself.
Ah, that was it.
His heart already belonged to someone, someone he had heard once and never witnessed again. Like the softest breath of the wind, or a joyful child's laughter, it brushed through his soul and soothed it, held it in its arms, and fussed over his messy hair and bruised skin. At times, Wriothesley wondered if it was all a dream, for only something that angelic, mesmerizing could not stem from reality. However, as young as he was in those years, he cannot deny the fact that in his dark days - it was your mysterious voice that carried him into the life, your presence that gave him the wings to continue living.
Yes, since that day, his every breath, every flutter of his eyes and every pump of blood that rushed anew into his veins from his heart was solely for the purpose of meeting you once more.
Another typical day at the Fortress of Meropide - paperwork strewn all over his once-organized desk, a cooled cup of tea sitting next to where his hand lie, the other furiously writing away on the said paper. He ran a hand through his hair, grumbling into his palm as he briefly shut his eyes... only to shoot them back upon in a start as he heard the sound of something crashing against the walls, and the sound of paper, flying everywhere akin to a bird.
There was someone, lying, or rather, sprawled across his desk. Dizzy-eyed and muttering something intelligible, a growing red spot on their forehead gradually becoming increasingly more visible. "How did you get in here?" He's immediately put up his defenses, readying his gloves as he steps over - with quiet remorse - the papers that now blanket the ground.
"...Wh...Where am I?"
That. That voice.
Has he stopped breathing? He can feel all the blood rush to his head, and he can hardly think a single coherent thought, only focusing on the rush in his ears, the shaking of his hands, and the sight of you before him, dressed simply in sleepware and glancing around frantically. Gorgeous. Ethereal. The mere sight of you before him had spurred his heart into an erratic, fanatic pace, beating within his body like he'd die if it slowed down.
"Is... Is something wrong?" He was taken aback at the hand waving over his eyes, before settling back into position, realizing that you had been trying to speak with him for the past half-minute in his zoned-out state. Could you see it? The sin that was clearly displayed in his every breath, in his every inch of being?
"No, nothing's wrong." You seemed to have calmed down somewhat, and while your eyes were still filled with confusion, you tilted your head at his words. How come he was smiling...?
"Ah, then about that question-"
"Home. You're home. And this is where you'll be staying, forever." ₊˚ෆ
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(a/n) ugh i swear to god i hate every single thing ive ever written for wriothesley he seems so yucky and out of character WJODJKFLJDSMF>
REBLOGS APPRECIATED!! please consider following me as i amm soosososoo close to a follower goal ive been wanting to reach and itd be crazy if i could reach it before christmas!!!
໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf
-> teehee what if yall left a message on my christmas tree 😶😶😶
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taintedbenevolence · 6 months
Text
Self Aware! AU Wriothesley
warnings! yandere au, self-aware au, obsessive & unhealthy tendencies, mentions of / implied kidnapping, stalking, fontaine archon quest spoilers (?)
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a/n - some more yan! wrio because i love him sm <3 also, imbibitor lunae prompt coming soon!
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self-aware! wriothesley, who doesn't let you know initially that he's aware of the fact he's in a game, taking the pleasure of observing you through the screen and occasionally making direct eye contact. self-aware! wriothesley, who comes home willingly and quickly the moment you pull for him on his banner, regardless if you wanted him to come home or not. self-aware! wriothesley, whose facial expressions just seem a tad bit more livelier than you'd expect when you return to chat with him for a quest. almost as if he's happy to see you. self-aware! wriothesley, who absolutely adores it when you talk to yourself as you view him through the screen, giving commentary on his character, hearing how you praise and love his design. self-aware! wriothesley, who begins to think of ways to directly communicate with you because he wants your sole attention. self-aware! wriothesley, who begins to crave your attention more than anything and looks forward to every time you have to come meet him in his office in-game. self-aware! wriothesley, who doesn't allow you to leave the fortress of meropide just so you can stay by his side for a few more moments, even going as far as to make additional dialogue options to make you stay put. self-aware! wriothesley, who bugs the code of the game to make it impossible for you to remove him from the party just so he gets to stay with you.
self-aware! wriothesley, who decides to break free from the game the moment you think of trying to report the issue.
self-aware! wriothesley, who manages to escape from the confines of the game and begins to hunt you down, successfully finding you.
self-aware! wriothesley, who thinks about taking you for himself, ultimately deciding against his better judgment and trapping you inside your own apartment. self-aware! wriothesley, who embraces you like you are his very own, holding you like you might just break and disappear if he lets go, not caring how you're utterly terrified in his hold.
self-aware! wriothesley, who'll whisper to you how much he craved you, enthralled and overjoyed now that he finally can call you his and only his.
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cheesecakethots · 7 months
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university playboy childe, who you swear you see more times fighting outside or flirting with anything that has legs than actually in class.
that is, until he’s seated next to you in one of your classes, much to your disappointment. suddenly he wants to learn. his parents pay for his tuition, and are rich enough that whatever he does can be wiped away by the heads of the university. it drives you insane.
he enjoys messing with you, finding the expression on your face utterly delectable whenever he manages to get a rise out of you.
at first, it was only for a dare. you were cute, but extremely nerdy and reserved. him and his friends thought it’d be good for a laugh if he managed to have you opening your legs for him.
he realises he’s in too deep when he starts fantasising about you at night, despite the fact that he hasn’t even seen an inch of your body beneath the clothes you wear. he starts wondering what you’d wear if he took you out on dates, how you’d act, what you’d blush to.
you soon start to become begrudgingly accepting of his presence in your life, and then you actually start to like him, despite the fact that your other friends warn you to steer clear and avoid him.
after enough time, he eventually manages to get you into his bed. you spend a lot of time oooing and aahing at his house before he can get there, but the wait is worth it.
god. he starts to wonder whether he’s in love with you when the deed is done, and you’re lying next to him in bed, fast asleep. he’s not sure if he’ll ever be able to sleep with anyone else again, after that. he’s not sure if he wants to let you go so easily.
you’re not next to him when he wakes up in the morning, instead quietly getting changed with the clothes that have been thrown on his floor. he thinks that maybe he should put you in one of his shirts.
his arms wrap around you from behind, and he presses kisses to your neck. you laugh, lazily pushing him off and continuing to put on your clothes.
“why don’t you stay?” he asks, seating himself back on the bed, his head tilting and a lock of messy ginger hair falling over one of his eyes. he grins wolfishly, “i can make it worth your whileeee…”
“you don’t need to do all this.”
his smile falters a little. “hm? do all what, baby?”
you giggle, “and you don’t have to call me that. i know this was only for a dare.”
he stands again, feeling his heart start to pound, “no, no, it’s not, i-“
you raise an eyebrow, “i’m not stupid, ajax.”
he’s lost for words, but you’re not.
“don’t worry, i’m not mad. i mean, i used you so i could stop being a virgin, in all honesty. i didn’t expect anything of it. oh! but if you want to tell your friends that i’m hung up over you, i won’t be mad either. see you around!”
your hand falls on the doorknob, but when you pull it doesn’t open. huh? you glance back at him quizzically. when did he lock it?
“i’m sorry. it was for a dare, but it’s not anymore. i’m in love with you,” he admits, his expression more serious than anything you’ve ever seen of him.
something in his eyes freaks you out, and you laugh awkwardly, “alright, the jokes over, unlock the door, i really have somewhere i need to-“
“no,” he says, moving closer to you, until he’s backed you up against the door, “you’re not leaving.”
your friends were right. you should’ve avoided him, after all.
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2-dsimp · 27 days
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Popular choice
—> <Say he was gardening>
—————————————
Current location: [The Park]
—-//———————//———
You’ve decided to guess that he’s gardening! Hidden Admirer! Tighnari was unsatisfied with your answer as a result.
Notice! You guessed incorrectly about his prior business for being at the park so you forfeited the chance to get the reward!
Tighnari has been alerted of somebody nearby and urges for the both of you to head indoors inside his apartment near by that’s oddly isolated from everyone else.
His attention isn’t fully on you and his grasp on your hand is lax. Leaving you with a possible opportunity.
—-//——————//———-
IIV. Tutorial Tip
Trust your intuition
—-//———————//———
Cont. 4th objective: ?¿?
—-//———————//———
—> {Call out to whoever’s out there}
—> <Let him take you to his home>
—> [Attempt running away [Random route]
—> (Attempt to Steal his shovel)
—-//——————//————
Votes end Monday midnight 🕛
—-//——————//————
Player inquiries ✨
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throwaway-yandere · 2 months
Text
"I Got Reincarnated..." (Yandere SAGAU Otome Isekai!Diluc/Reader) Common Route now available!!!
No need to download! It's a web-based game that should work on mobile too.
The art and overall story are made by yours truly while the OST is created by our beloved @naraven. There are currently 2 CGs and 2 OSTs available, and depending on the reception I might continue beyond the common route since I already have most sprites done <3
This is something I had been pondering about making for a while since my blog has reached it's 2nd year mark so I made this under 3 days. I love you all. Thank you for sticking around. Here's the link to the game. I hope you enjoy it <3.
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For context, please read this fic first!
Characters currently present in this short chapter:
Captain Dainsleif, Diluc Ragnvindr, Waitress Alice & Rosaria, Chief Albedo, Prince ???????, Lord Kamisato, and Justice Ajax.
Description:
Greetings, I am Diluc Ragnvindr.  Welcome to Southern Gaciea. Unlike the North, East, and the West, the South is a tourist spot for outsiders. It's a closed off country, so outlanders will need to submit their documents to the department of domestic affairs.  Perhaps you do not remember, but you've encountered many interesting individuals upon your arrival such as…   Captain Dainsleif, the famous Western knight turned retainer for both Prince Lumine and her missing brother, Prince Aether;   Lord Kamisato, the Eastern noble who controls Gaciean trade with just a flick of a wrist;   Chief Albedo, the Head of Domestic Affairs and Chief Alchemist from unknown origins;   Justice Ajax, the unreasonable Northern politician whom I often argue with;  …And, of course, Duke Ragnvindr, the Southern Head of Military Affairs. That would be me.   It's a shame you no longer remember much of our time together, (Y/n). I assure you, I can make you feel at home in this universe. But— you're not planning to leave South Gaciea soon, are you? ♥
Dev note: pssst, you might get some extra dialogue if you put these as your name (more will be added soon cuz that aint all my moots >:((( i need to code more efficiently smh.)
Shiro, Ven, Navina, Mei, Mochi, Ana
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draconic-desire · 2 months
Text
A Dance With the Dragon II — Mates
Yandere Neuvillette x Reader
[Part I] [Part II — You are here] [Part III]
Neuvillette brings you to your new “home”, which also comes with new challenges.
Warnings: Emotional manipulation, forced imprisonment, Neuvillette accidentally goes a little feral here, brief non-con at the end
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One of the first things Neuvillette did was move you from the apartment at the Palais Mermonia (your prison for the past four centuries) to his personal residence. Securing his palms to your waist, he teleported you directly into the foyer of the massive home.
The interior was splashed with blues and whites that matched the Chief Justice’s own color palette. The upper walls were decorated with friezes depicting various marine creatures, from floating otters (how ironic) to bobbing seahorses. A grand spiral staircase led to the upper floor, while a set of double French doors connected the foyer to a massive living room adorned with plush love seats and armchairs, tasteful artwork of Fontainian landscapes, and enormous windows that overlooked the sea. It appeared the house was set into a cliffside, with the waves battering the rocks far beneath you.
You paced into the living room, running your hand along the blue silk couch cushions. To your left, a door led out to what appeared to be an inclosed courtyard with a miniature fountain. To the right was a closed door, a familiar dragon carved into its exterior. Your arm burned in resonance.
Though you were loathe to admit it, the place was beautiful.
“Do you like it?”
Shifting your gaze to him, it was clear that Neuvillette was desperate for your approval. Ever since he let you outside to discover the true length of your imprisonment, you had rarely spoken a word to him. Clearly, your silence had done a number on him, as the normally composed man was fidgeting nervously.
When you kept quiet, Neuvillette cleared his throat. “I admit, part of why things took so long was due to my insistence that everything be perfect for your arrival. I rearranged our bedroom perhaps a dozen times, and I couldn’t for the life of me decide what your personal room should entail.” When you glanced out towards the fountain, he coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ah, that was a…sentimental addition. It makes me think of how we met.”
You’d never forget that Archons-damned fountain. If only you hadn’t been so naive. Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, go away.
Neuvillette extended his palm towards you in what appeared to be both a peace offering and an order. “Shall I give you a tour?”
Suddenly your feet appeared very interesting. What were you supposed to say? This technically was your home now, like it or not. You’d become painstakingly familiar with it with time. Although you weren’t imprisoned within the Palais as before, your new life still promised shackles nonetheless.
“Could you just show me my personal room?” You sighed. “I’d prefer to just rest after that.”
Neuvillette smiled softly, relishing the sound of your voice. “Of course.”
Twisting his fingers through your own, he led you towards the dragon door. Once again, your hidden tattoo pulsed with energy. It felt like a pull forward, a welcoming embrace. You realized then that there must be some sort of warding spell on this room, likely meaning only you and your captor could enter.
Marvelous.
Pushing the door open, Neuvillette swept his arm gracefully through the entrance. “After you, my love.”
You stepped in and immediately went still.
For in every direction around you was rows upon shelves upon stories of books.
Neuvillette had build you your own personal library.
And not just that. You noticed that entire sections pertained to your personal interests—marine biology, photography, even your personal favorite genres of novels. A separate door labeled Dark Room promised an avenue for you to pick up photography again. Similar couches and chairs as the living room were arranged around a huge coffee table, and a cracking hearth added to the cozy atmosphere.
Your throat bobbed. You had always dreamed of owning a room like this, a place where all your passions converged. But to have it under these circumstances…you didn’t know how to react, torn between frustration and a grateful little voice in the back of your head that you buried at once. No, I didn’t earn this. I don’t want this. It was forced on me.
All you could choke out was, “This is…mine?”
“Down to the last book.” You could hear the pride in his voice. “I spent the most time on this room. Over a century to get it right.”
You startled. A century? Your heart stumbled, but your hands fisted by your sides. So much given, yet what had it cost you?
Shaking your head, you simply said, “I’d like to be alone.” Connecting your eyes with his, you could see his hurt, the expectation of a grand reaction on your part that you refused to indulge.
However, the look was quickly wiped from his face, for he must have seen something broken in your facade. A muscle in his jaw feathered as he approached you, a gloved hand stroking your cheek. “I understand you must be overwhelmed. I’ll leave you to explore,” Neuvillette said, placing a kiss on your forehead before heading for the exit.
“Neuvillette?”
Said man turned back towards you, a hopeful look in his eyes.
“Why me?” You grabbed your arm where the shadow of your draconic tattoo hid. “Why…all this?”
His gaze immediately softened. “My dear, we have centuries for me to show you.”
~*~
It was times when Neuvillette was vulnerable that it was hardest to hate him.
He had returned home after a long day at court to find you sitting in the courtyard on the edge of the fountain, peering up at the night sky as if the stars held some answers. Moonlight bathed you in an ethereal glow, and if he didn’t already think you a goddess, he would have pledged himself to you then and there.
You hadn’t noticed him yet, too involved in your own thoughts. True to his word, Neuvillette had given you time and space to enjoy your new (cage) home. You had to admit, it was a major upgrade from the Palais, and you knew the Iudex would continue to let you explore Fontaine, if you tolerated his presence beside you. However, you knew this dance wouldn’t last—it was only a matter of time before Neuvillette expected something in return. It was abundantly clear that he desired your affections, but how far would he go in order to sway you? To fully make you his?
A sea breeze whipped around you, eliciting an involuntary shiver to rip up your spine.
A sudden warmth enveloping your form brought you back to reality. Blinking in surprise, you peered up to see the Chief Justice smiling softly at you, his purple irises sparking with longing and care. His elaborate attire was gone, leaving only his pale undershirt.
He’d given you this coat.
“I…thank you,” you mumbled, averting your eyes from the man.
“Do my ears deceive me? Did my dear (Y/n) actually acknowledge me?”
Your grip on his robes tightened. “Don’t mistake my words for kindness. I haven’t forgotten what you are.”
A sigh. “Despite what you may believe, I’m not a monster.”
You deadpanned. “You’re quite literally the Hydro dragon.”
“Archons above,” Neuvillette whispered, glancing up at the sky as if it held the key to winning your heart. “I was referring to a monster in the definition you humans use.”
“What? You mean like a man who would kidnap and imprison an innocent person—”
“Considering you are not in the Fortress of Meropide, I’d hardly consider this imprisonment.”
“What, have I offended you?” A scoff left escaped you. “If you want to play house, at least own up to your actions. Don’t pretend you’re some sort of gentleman.”
Neuvillette was silent for a beat, his mouth a thin line. Unexpectedly, his muscles relaxed as he released his tension. He lowered his large frame, taking a seat next to you. “You’re right.”
You sketched a brow in surprise.
Neuvillette trained his eyes on his palms, facing upwards in his lap. “I understand neither what it means to be human, nor what it means to be a god. I was given this duty to protect and uphold the laws of Fontaine, and yet I cannot save those who need it most.” His fingers formed fists, and his lids closed solemnly. “Carole, Vautrin…all of the others I have failed…”
You worried your lower lip. Although he had already informed you of his friends’ fate in your absence, it was still a raw wound for the both of you. Yet the anguish in Neuvillette’s eyes twisted your heart. How could a man be so duplicitous, so capable of both justice and blind obsession?
As if sensing your conflict, Neuvillette gently took your face in his hands, tilting your chin so that your eyes locked once again. His eyes danced with silver sparks of emotion, like cracks of lighting across a dark sea. A thumb brushed away a tear you hadn’t even realized had fallen.
“So if I can protect but one thing, one person, I will do it.”
~.~
You often noticed that Neuvillette’s horns got stuck in his robes.
Honestly, it was kind of humorous. In the beginning, watching him struggle gave you a sick sense of satisfaction. You’d take any circumstance that inconvenienced him, however petty that might be.
But today, seeing the Chief Justice pouring over a case regarding the protection of Fontaine’s sea life at an ungodly hour, head propped on a fist to keep him awake, you couldn’t help but feel sympathetic when he emitted a low hiss as his horns tangled into the ornamentation of his attire once again. “Damned human attire,” he cursed.
Neuvillette wasn’t an inherently bad man. In fact, your own case aside, he had invoked significant and positive change in Fontaine’s legal system. He judged cases fairly and prudently, working himself ragged each day to ensure the nation’s safety. It would have been admirable to you in any other circumstance.
You didn’t know what possessed you when you stepped behind him and carefully untangled his twin blue horns.
At your touch, Neuvillette immediately froze. His heart rate skyrocketed and his mind went blank because you were touching him.
And not just anywhere, but his horns. Unbeknownst to you, a dragon’s horns were the most sensitive part of its body, only to be handled by itself or its mate. One brush was akin to a lovers embrace, the whisper of a kiss, the hot breath shared between partners in the thralls of passion. Not only was the touch intensely intimate, it was also an acknowledgement—an acceptance of the male’s advances onto his partner.
Oh, if only you knew how many times he had fantasized about this, your acknowledgement of him and his love for you. Although his rational, human side knew your touch as unintentional, the dragon within Neuvillette reared and roared against his skin, demanding to be set free upon its mate.
“Your horns were caught,” was all you said as you settled back into the sofa, flipping to the marked page of your novel.
If you had looked up, you would have witnessed the Iudex gently touching his horns in awe. He swore he could still feel the brush of your palm against him, shivering delightfully at the mere memory of your touch.
Little did you know that your simple act of kindness would unleash the storm.
~*~
The one unfortunate deviation of your current accommodations from the Palais Mermonia was Neuvillette’s unyielding insistence on sharing a bed.
You had foolishly thought escaping him, even if just within the confines of your shared home, would be simple. You believed the library, what he even referred to as your room, would be your bedroom as well. Despite the lack of an actual bed, the plush couches and ever-lit fire provided more than enough comfort to lull you to sleep.
But when you had opened your eyes, you were mere inches away from Neuvillette’s shirtless, sleeping form.
You had assumed it was due to the draconic symbol guarding the room; perhaps it linked you to him more than you had thought. So, the next night, you decided to sleep in the parlor instead.
Only for your hopes to be shattered the next morning when you awoke not only in bed with your captor, but with your limbs entwined.
Anger, shame, and a touch of something you couldn’t quite place—something not entirely unpleasant—flooded you as you tore yourself out of his embrace. How was he doing this? Was it magic, or would he physically carry you to bed each night?
This pattern repeated itself. You would pick various places around the huge house to retire for the night. However, you would wake up in bed next to Neuvillette each morning without fail.
You had even reverted to your previous stubbornness and slept on the ground a few nights, but to no avail. It seemed you were bound to his bed.
Tonight, you decided to face the issue head-on. You stormed up the stairway and into the spacious bedroom, ignoring the pain in your lower back due to all the errant surfaces you had tried to sleep on. The downy pillows and lush, cream comforter practically begged you to surrender to the king-sized bed and its occupant.
Instead, you halted at the foot of the bed and crossed your arms. “You have to stop this.”
Neuvillette immediately looked up from the tome in his lap, his reading glasses slipping down his nose. He hadn’t yet changed out of his white dress shirt, and the buttons revealed a hint of his toned chest as he set the book down. “And what exactly are you demanding I stop?”
You huffed a laugh. “I wish I could say all of this,” you waved your hands around, as if that would convey the entirety of the situation, “but I mean putting me in your bed each morning.”
“Our bed,” he corrected, as if that were the issue.
“No, your bed. Are you really telling me that with all this space, you can’t just let me sleep alone?”
He removed his glasses with a sigh, setting them on the nightstand. “I could, but I don’t want to.”
You seethed. “Well, I do.”
Neuvillette’s violet gaze pinned you with something like hurt. “Have I truly done something to upset you? It seemed as if you were settling into our new home quite nicely. Our conversation and touches were…” His throat bobbed. “Pleasant.”
You narrowed your eyes and bit out, “Don’t take any of that as complacency. You’re still a monster.”
Neuvillette flinched in response and, for just a moment, you felt a piece your heart falter. That is, until he whispered, “Mates don’t sleep apart.”
The room went utterly still.
Your voice came out as a breath of air, but the words were clear: “I am not your mate.”
It was then that you noticed the claws emerging from his fingertips, piercing into the sheets under his form. His eyes flashed silver, dangerous as knives. You could have sworn you saw a pair of elongated canines as he grit his teeth. “You have no idea how difficult it has been,” he breathed, voice tight, desperate.
On instinct, you took a pace back. You suddenly felt like a cornered animal, unable to avert your gaze from those claws that looked ready to tear into you. Clearly you had misjudged the situation—the Hydro Dragon was a starved, deadly predator, and you were practically served on a silver platter as its next meal.
Icy panic raced through your veins. You’ve never seen him like this, so out of control and inhuman. Trying to mediate the situation, you put your hands up in surrender. “Neuvillette, listen to me. Just calm down.”
You had hoped that saying his name would do just that, but it seemed to only rile him up further. The Chief Justice of Fontaine actually growled in response. You couldn’t tell if it was a warning or a plea. “You deny your mate, and now you’re telling me to simply calm down?”
Another step back. Just put out the fire and deal with the consequences later. “I apologize for being confrontational. I think it’s best if I just go—”
Before you could react, Neuvillette pounced forward and grabbed you by the shoulders, pulling you onto the bed. You released a cry and tried to scramble away, but he spun you around and pinned your back against the mattress with his muscular frame. He loomed above you on all fours, his hands gripping your arms and applying just enough pressure to hold you still without hurting you. The glint in his eyes, however, promised pain that was yet to come. You were the prey about to get its throat torn out.
“Wh-what are you doing?” You struggled, heart skyrocketing at the feel of his arousal pressing against your core.
"Something I’ve needed to do for four hundred years," he growled huskily, his breath fanning your lips moments before they slammed against yours.
The kiss was hungry, predatory. Obsessive. You could feel the release of each year, each century, as his mouth devoured yours. You arched your back in an attempt to get away, but Neuvillette was quicker. He lifted your form easily and slammed your back against the bed once again. At your gasp of shock, he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.
You fumbled around for something, anything that you could take purchase of. Your arms were pinned, but you were just barely able to grab onto the first thing and tug: his horns.
Neuvillette moaned, a deep, throaty sound that sent heat flooding through you.
It was in that moment you realized your mistake. You recalled how some marine animals with horns had millions of nerves within them, making these appendages a source of sensory stimulation. When you had started adjusting his horns after they were getting stuck, it must have been like touching his—
Oh, fuck.
Neuvillette released you arms, grinding against your thigh. “Do that again,” he begged, though it came out as more of a growled order.
“Neuvillette, stop—” An involuntary whine escaped your lips.
Your lewd noises only instigated him. His movements became more erratic as he slid a clawed hand up your leg and to your core, which was protected by only a nightgown. You jerked as his finger pinched your clit, eliciting another whine.
Neuvillette’s eyes sparked with heat, dual purple flames that devoured your form. “That’s it, my dear. Let me take care of you.” He bit down on your neck, causing you to cry out. He was marking you before he took you fully.
“Tonight, you become more than my wife. You become my mate.”
~*~
You laid there limply in Neuvillette’s arms. He peppered you with kisses and whispered words of protecting you and lofty dreams of your future together, but it fell on deaf ears. None of it made you forget about the bites along your neck or your throbbing core.
You couldn’t believe you had let his kindness fool you for even a second.
You had to escape this prison.
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fancyfeathers · 3 months
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Diluc’s darling doesn’t go out in public anymore. She used to be seen some nights at the Angel’s Share tavern when Diluc was bartending, sitting at the bar or a nearby table, looking pretty. Diluc would have her dressed in the finest clothes and looking perfect, but now she locks herself up in her and Diluc’s room at the winery. Her hair is tangled and is only washed when Diluc gets home and drags her to the bath to make sure she is taken care of, she only wears a nightgown, what’s the point of getting dressed up if she won’t go anywhere. Why is she like this?
A burn scar, going down her face and onto her neck…
It was from a number of months ago from when she argued with Diluc about letting her roam the winery grounds. It got so heated that Diluc lost his temper and stuck her across the face…
and his heart sank when he realized his vision was activated…
His darling’s screams was the only thing he could process, not the sizzling of flesh, or the smell of smoke. It was the worst when the maids dragged her off to run the burn under cold water and bandage it. He bartended that night, to give them both distance.
When he returned to the winery that night, he saw his darling asleep in their bed, but one half of her face was stained with tears, and the other was hidden away under white bandages. He both wanted to see the damage he caused and didn’t want to at the same time, the best he could do was ask Adaline about the damage. She told him that the scar would never go away and he felt sick at what he had done.
So now when the darling looks in the mirror she wears a constant reminder of her situation, pain. That pain will never go away no matter all the expensive gifts Diluc gets her that only collect dust, nor with the offers of taking her on walks or to the tavern while he works. She doesn’t want people to see her like his, in pain, suffering, a broken and burned shell of who she used to be.
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chanif-art · 7 months
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Beware of magician...☆
Yandere! Lyney x reader
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allfearstofallto · 3 months
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Sweetheart <3
Yandere! Scaramouche x fem! Reader
Synopsis: You have a strange lover with no name, who you dub sweetheart
Word count: 2.7k
TW: Yandere, obsession, manipulation, stalking
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Chimes. That's how you knew he was coming, a noise that could only be coming from him. What sounded like wind chimes in the air would make your ears perk up. The large, lavish hat that he wore to protect him from the sun and the rain, had little bells on them that jingled and sang when he walked.
“A song just for you,” he once said while placing the hat on your head and you giggled with shy, girlish delight. The weight of it was heavier than you'd expected, but it smelled of him. A scent you could bask in.
You called him sweetheart. A name that he rolled his eyes and scoffed at the first time you said it. You told him time and time again that you didn't know his name, nor did he give you something to call him, so you came up with a placeholder, until he decided to open up to you. Sweetheart. You referred to him as sweetheart.
Whether or not he hated the name was debatable. He told you many times that a pet name as soft as that didn't suit someone like him, but he never explained what that meant. He never told you what someone like him was, he never told you anything about himself, not his name, not where he was from, and not even what he did for work. What little he told you about himself, was barely enough to decipher him.
But what you could see was that he was beautiful. He insisted that he hated you incessant compliments, but you could see a meek smile form on his lips after all of your flattering words. Hair that looked like the night sky and skin paler than sand itself. You often compared him to finely crafted statues or even works of art and he would call that nonsense. But you could see the way your words made him glance at himself in the mirror.
He had a tendency of just showing up at your door. You would hear that familiar song of wind chimes and smell citrus in the air and he'd be there. You'd open the door and see him standing there with his arms crossed and his usual frown on his face, an expression that you didn't think suited his soft, delicate features.
“Sweetheart!” You called out to him. His cheeks already flushed from your brazen display of affection and all he did was turn his nose up at you, his way of hiding flustered you were making him.
You wrapped your arms around him, taking in his sweet scent, and begrudgingly, he did the same, “You said you'd write to me,” your voice was a bit sadder now with your face buried in his chest.
His travels took him far, yes, but never once did he send you a letter and he never told you where you could send one to. When he left, it was like he was vanishing into thin air, like a creation of your own mind and when he came back, it was without warning.
“I said I'd try,” he pulled away from the hug and walked into your home like he owned the place, eyeing the small space over as he did every time he visited. It was almost like he was looking for something, or someone, but he knew you lived alone.
You shut and locked the door, trying not to seem disappointed by the way he was acting. At times you questioned if he really liked you. The way he responded towards you was nothing short of disinterest. He turned away from you kisses and stood stiffly in your hugs. Affection from him was a rare gem, but one you cherished.
“I wasn't aware that you liked flowers,” he had stepped into your living room and was staring at a vase filled with a buslte of silk flowers that were sitting near the window. He was rubbing the petals between his fingertips, while waiting for your answer, a disgusted look on his face.
You tilted your head to the side in confusion, “Oh!” You smiled as the change in conversation piqued your interest, very seldom did he mention the decor of your home, “Those were given to me!”
“Given?” He repeated beneath his breath while still rubbing the flower petals, “by whom?”
His face was turned away from you, but you could hear it in his voice. He was angry. The way he was muttering his words, how his shoulders stayed tense, he shook his head a little, even clicked his tongue, all for sure signs that he wasn't happy with what you'd said.
“By…by no one, sweetheart,” you said with a forced, playful chuckle.
He picked the vase up and held it to the light, humming in distaste, “Is that so?”
You nodded quickly.
“If no one gave them to you, we can just get rid of them right?” He didn't wait for your response, just waltzed across the room with ease and dropped the entire vase in the trash, “If you want flowers, I'll bring you some when I come back again.”
When he comes back. You hated when he said those words. They make your heart sink to your stomach. When he came back? Who knew when that would be and it's not like he'd ever tell you where he was going.
“When…when will that be?” You asked hopefully. Every time you asked the questions, you got a response of soon, someday, and whenever I'm near, but never a true answer.
“Must you ask the same things over and over again,” the annoyance in his voice was palpable and he shot a harsh look at you. The thick red eyeliner around his eyes only making his sharp gaze even more menacing.
You liked him. You did. You liked his shy, bashful demeanor. You liked his beauty that could rival that of the finest paintings. And you thought you liked the mystery of him. You thought you did, until you realized how hard it was getting answers from him. Until you realized that with the way things were going, you would truly never know anything about him. Until you realized that even his name, was a luxury you'd probably never receive.
“I just want to know you,” you muttered softly.
“You know enough,” he stepped closer to you until the two of you were face to face. His eyes, those blue orbs that looked deeper than the ocean, were hard to read. A mixture of hesitation, confliction, anger, and a little sorrow.
You couldn't open your mouth to ask what he meant. He was already kissing you. His lips were soft and tasted sweet like fruit, and his kisses were always passionate. His cherry pink lips danced across yours as you slowly began to sink into the kiss.
When it ended, you were left longing. Your eyes stayed closed for a moment too long and only fluttered open after you began to feel his breath against your damp lips. You wanted to say more, but you couldn't. You didn't know what to say. You didn't even know how you could begin a conversation over this.
“Could I at least know your name?” You asked him and you watched his face fall again.
He sighed and pretended to ignore your question, not even bothering to give it the time of day. And that was an answer enough.
Your sweetheart stayed for different amounts of time. Sometimes it was days, sometimes it was weeks, sometimes, it was just a few hours. He let you know when he was leaving, but never told you when he was coming back, and today was the same.
He left you home by giving you another passionate kiss on the lips and a promise to come back before you knew it. You watched the tassels on his hat sway in the wind as he just walked, his form growing farther and farther away until he was just a spec in the distance and then you were all alone again, contemplating what had just happened.
Time waited for no one, and you were included in that statement. When your purple haired sweetheart came to visit, you'd neglect your work as an apothecary to spend time with him. You supposed that's what he was to you. An escape from your mundane life. A mystery you'd never solve, but a passionate one nonetheless.
You gathered all the medicines you made to sell and walked towards the direction of the city. Liyue harbor was bustling, as it always was. Day or night, it was a city that seemed to never sleep. You loved to watch the vibrant way the people moved from your little house on a hilltop, far away from civilization.
It was truly a blessing and a curse. You did grow lonesome out in the mountains, but you had easier access to herbs and flora that normal people wouldn't be able to get their hands on. Plus…being in the city has a way of making your skin crawl.
There was this prickly feeling on the back of your neck that followed you as you walked through the streets and alleyways. A feeling of being watched, of eyes on you somewhere, but you didn't know where. There were people in every direction you turned, all with their own stories and their own lives, going their own way, none of them seemed to focus on you. And yet the feeling never left.
Although you walked alone, you found yourself picking up and listening to the conversations of those around you. Talks of trade and contracts interested you when you had no one to talk to.
But you also heard other whispers. Whispers of things like crime, loan sharks, and most specifically, the Fatui. By the archons above you, you promised to never get yourself involved in any business with the Northland bank. Owned an operated by the Fatui themselves, they gave out deals that seemed too good to be true, and that's because they were.
The harbinger over the bank was one that made you tremble in fear over just the thought of him. You'd never met him in person yourself, but you'd seen him parading through the streets. He has a face that would make girls swoon, but only the ones that didn't know his true intentions.
“The balladeer came through the city again recently,” you heard one lady speak in a hushed whisper.
“The one that wears the fancy hat?”
That's what made you stop in your tracks and you concentrated on that name: The Balladeer? It was one you'd never heard before. You couldn't help, but to stop at the corner, holding your baskest of medicinal herbs close to your chest as you eavesdropped on their conservative out of curiosity of the familiar description.
“Yeah, that's him! He just left a couple days ago,” you felt your heart began to pound a bit quicker now, your mouth going dry. Your sweetheart had left just a mere three days ago.
“Too bad he's Fatui,” she said with with a disheartened sigh, “His face is heavenly, even with that frown he's always wearing.” you could feel yourself gasping for air. It couldn't be him, could it?
But the things lined up, just a little too well. The balladeer left when your sweetheart did, he was also seen wear a fancy hat. The pretty face with the rude expression. It would explain so much.
The secrecy. Why he constantly would leave and travel across Teyvat. His aggression towards you knowing more about him, his lack of a name. All of the pieces of the puzzle clicked together and hit you like a ton of bricks.
You weren't dating some mysterious stranger. You weren't dating “sweetheart”. Your current boyfriend was the balladeer, a Fatui harbinger, and a dangerous one at that from the way the ladies talked about him in hushed whispers.
You bit your lip as you tried to hold back tears. How could you be so stupid? After everything was said, it all made sense and you realized, truly realized the danger you'd put yourself in.
Rushing home, you didn't even sell your medicine for the day. You couldn't bring yourself to stay in the city any longer. Not when you knew that there were Fatui, his subordinates around.
The door to your home was locked and shut tight. The once comforting walls felt like they were closing in on you. The home that you welcomed him to, you let him visit whenever he pleased, you allowed him in with open arms. In this very home, he was lying to you.
A month went by before you saw him again. A month before you heard the chimes, the song that was just for you. A month before you smelt the citrus in the air. All tell tale signs that he was here. He was at your door.
Usually you'd swing that for open and jump into his arms. You kiss him and hug him, you'd drag him into your home and smother him with the affection he pretended to hate. But all you could do was stay as far away from the door as possible, hudded in a corner, you pretended not to know that he was there.
It was gentle at first. The knocking sound. He rarely knocked before, you always knew he was there before he even had the chance to.
“Hey! Open up!” You heard him call, his voice muffled by the wood of the door. Those hurried words of his were followed by more knocking, this time, louder and harder.
“(Y/N)! Open the door!” More loud knocking, enough to shake the house, “Why aren't you answering?!”
You bit your lip to muffle your cries. He was out there. The fatui harbinger. The balladeer. Your sweetheart. He was out there, begging to be let in. It was him, you told yourself, it was your lover. So, why were you so afraid?
The banging turned to the pounding and the pounding made the wood of the door start to splinter. You had slid further back into the corner of your home, covering your mouth to quiet yourself as your tears wet your hand.
Kick after kick after kick, until the door was barely hanging on by the hinges. He could finally see you, through a crack in the door. His face was red with rage, but his eyes were wide with worry and concern.
“I told you to open the door!” He yelled at you, finally kicking away the last piece of wood that kept you from him. His chest was heaving, but he didn't make a move towards you. In his hand, he was holding a bouquet of flowers, so tightly that the paper was crumpled, “Why... why are you hiding from me?”
You didn't answer his question. Looking at the man before you now, it wasn't your sweetheart. It wasn't your lover. It wasn't who you'd come to truly care for after these months. He really was the Balladeer.
You watch his face twist and contort with a mix of emotions. A scowl, a frown, a grimace. Fear and anger flicker across his face so quickly, it's like a blur. But then it settles. It all settles. A single tear down his cheek is the only sign left of sweetheart before his face turns to that neutral expression. That frown that didn't suit his heavenly features.
The flowers were dropped to the ground, wilted and forgotten, and he stepped closer to you, over what remnants of a door you had.
“You know?” He asked in pure disbelief, a pain in his eyes that you couldn't even describe, “You found out?”
Your trembling form wasn't enough to sway him. He was used to being looked at this way by others, but by you, it did hurt a bit more.
“Why didn't you tell me?” you whimpered between sobs. Your pathetic display obviously wasn't enough to melt his frozen heart. He merely kneeled in front of you, unaffected by the way you slinked away from him in fear of what he as a harbinger could do.
“Because I knew you would look at me like this,”
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yandere-daydreams · 9 months
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Snow Leopard!Pantalone, who's introduced to you as the hybrid you'll be taking care. When you found the job listed on some shady, bot-infested site, you figured it was just a temporary gig, that you'd be watching a dog or cat for a few weeks while their owner was away, so imagine your surprise when you pulled up to a reputable mansion a good hour or so out of the city, when an eccentric man with blue hair and an off-putting grin brings you to the lavish enclosure of a hybrid nearly a head taller than you, when you're told that you'll be 'petsitting' his kitten for as long as you care to hold the position. It's weird, but the money's good, and room and board are provided. You can't really afford to turn it down.
Snow Leopard!Pantalone, who's undeniably, unabashedly spoiled. His owner claims that he tried to replicate his natural habitat as closely as possible, but you don't think there's another snow leopard on the planet who prefers mink fur to his own. You spend most of your time waiting on him, running between Pantalone and his legion of personal chefs, holding sapphires and rubies up to the light so he can decide which one he'd rather have studded into his next collar, combing through his thick black hair while he purrs and basks in your attention. It's a surprisingly demanding job, but you don't mind. He's smart for a hybrid, and surprisingly conversational. Honestly, if it wasn't for the thrashing tail that curls around your legs whenever he passes you, the pointed fangs you catch a glimpse of from time to time, you could forget he wasn't human.
Snow Leopard!Pantalone, who tells you there's been a change in uniform a month after you start. This variation is definitely less conservative than your old scrubs, more in-line with his own blatant aesthetic values, but you don't complain, even when he starts swapping out his crushed velvet pillows for your lap. He's still a hybrid, no matter how human he might act. You're sure he doesn't see your exposed skin as anything but... something warm and soft to rest his head on, when he's looking for someplace to nap.
Snow Leopard!Pantalone, who grins as he tells you why his owner is always so busy. He's a researcher, he explains, as you file down his claws for the tenth time that week. He studies hybrid mating habits. His tone is enough to make you blush, and he laughs as you stumble over your response. He goes on to talk at length about his owner's particular fascination with snow leopards, how their pickiness when it comes to choosing a partner makes them a point of interest, but you write it off as a lapse in his otherwise perfect etiquette. You manage to do the same when you find out that he's been slipping into your personal room at night, and when he openly sulks in the days leading up to one of your rare vacations. It's not like you have much of a choice, considering none of the other, more legitimate jobs you've applied for have given you so much as a call back. It's not like you have much of a choice, considering how many weeks it's been since you've heard from anyone at all.
Snow Leopard!Pantalone, who's already above you when you woke up strapped to a metal table, your legs spread and your vision dim around the edges.
Snow Leopard!Pantalone, who smiles as he thrusts into you, his favorite fur coat draped over his shoulders and his expression one of idle amusement. There's a mirror built into one wall (an observational window, obviously), and a heap of silk sheets and fleece piled in a corner, but Pantalone's quick to catch your chin, to draw your attention back to him - to your mate.
Snow Leopard!Pantalone, who's always been so, so spoiled.
Snow Leopard!Pantalone, who's always gotten what he wanted - including his brand new human mate.
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moonsaver · 25 days
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Yandere!Idol!Alhaitham has been on my mind for SO long oh my goodness.........
Idol!Alhaitham, who's spotted laughing for the first time you attend those fanmeetings, and crack the stupidest joke ever. Fancams all around the room caught that moment, and it's gotten wildly famous within the fandom.
Idol!Alhaitham who mentions to have taken a "liking" to someone in all the interviews after that one fanmeeting. The fandom is quick to connect the dots, and everything's up in a rage at the mere mention of that one fancam. Alhaitham isn't oblivious to their reactions.
Idol!Alhaitham, who, somehow, manages to find details about you, your purchases of their merch, and somehow manages to always pull a few strings to make you the winner of any giveaways you join that are hosted by their company. It's almost laughably easy for him.
Idol!Alhaitham, who deep down hates it when he realizes he's not your favorite within the group. Your eyes are on another member on the stage. Your likes are of another member's fancam. You repost another member's clips and moments. Most of the merch you own of his is just bonus you get along with the actual merch you wanted to buy. He's not having it.
Idol!Alhaitham who tracks down your socials, and takes a note of all the clothing brands you own, your aesthetics, your hobbies, and makes it a point to include it into his photos. You couldn't have known an idol as famous as him would even buy from the same niche clothing brand as you, right? Maybe your eyes are just tricking you..
Idol!Alhaitham, who you've started spotting more and more frequently around your area. More of their concerts are being held in your area, and it gives him the perfect excuse to stage a chance encounter with you, as if he hadn't been stalking you for the past couple of weeks beforehand. He pulls you along to private and hidden spaces with a convenient excuse to "not get caught". You're not sure if that was his intention, because he keeps pulling you along to more and more shady areas, with lesser and lesser people. It's already late, and it's surprising that he has more time than you. Isn't his schedule supposed to be packed?
Idol!Alhaitham, who becomes more active in songwriting after that "chance encounter". And it's evident most of them are intensely romantic in nature, eerily mentioning details about you not even most of your friends would have known, in passing adlibs. The fandom's picked up on it, but they've yet to pick up on the fact that it's you he's writing about.
Idol!Alhaitham, who's now shamelessly convincing the public that he's in a relationship with someone, that someone supposed to be you. It becomes so widespread within the fandom that it becomes hard to back out now. If you refuse, or even try, an anonymous account may leak your information, and it won't be soon before you recieve death threats,stalkers,or something even worse. It's better to go along with what he says, isn't it? He knows just what to say.
Idol!Alhaitham, that collects your photos instead. He has every single one of them pinned with respective dates, in a hidden drawer of his room, where not a single employee can find it to take it away. You realize how wrong things have gone when you start receiving copies of these photos with an abundance of his merch from giveaways you hadn't even joined.
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mondaymelon · 6 months
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₊˚ෆ 𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇 !! | sagau xiao, childe, zhongli x gn!reader
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ˋ°•*⁀➷ cw: uhm. obsessiveness? yandere if you blink a couple times? cult themes... the usual deal with this au
⤷ [ you, the benevolent and kind overseer and creator of teyvat, has descended upon this world in mortal flesh, with a presence that is overpowering, omniscient, and so impossibly pure. ෆ yet, one day, you come into the cathedral with a gash on your arm, dripping with shimmering golden ichor that spilled from your veins. there will always be those who are too foolish to see the light you bring. ]
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— sagau!xiao noticed you immediately. it would be hard not to. since the beginning, he had always heard it.
your sound. a beautiful one, a heavenly one. a chord struck him, somewhere in his chest, and he found himself panting on the ground, clutching at the fabric of his shirt.
like a electric charge - one that leaves you startled, tentative, with the tips of your fingers still tingling from what happened moments prior. a buzz in your veins that thrums along with your heartbeat.
he didn't deserve to see you. not with what sins he had committed. but xiao was selfish. he wanted to, with his tainted body, he wanted to praise you, scrape his throat raw with his voice.
and so he did.
his face brightens as you step into the cathedral, dressed in ceremonial robes as per usual. you look ethereal, why would you not? your eyes are warm as they fixate on him, and he can feel his heart skip a beat and words die in his throat. he kneels before you orderly, readying to lift his head when something catches his attention - that is, the coppery scent of blood.
blood?
a droplet splatters onto the dustless floor. melted gold.
xiao's already stood up before he realizes it. his eyes are blown wide, his shrunken pupils sharp, like a cat's. "who. who did this to you?" those words take all the willpower in him to speak. his mind is swirling, racing, thinking up of every single possibility, vision scattered and blurry as unbridled fury teems within him.
"it's nothing. some civilians have begun rioting in the city, saying that i'm an imposter. all i did was show them a little bit of my blood and they all started singing praises, so the issue has been resolved." you shake your head with a soft smile, like this matter isn't anything to concern himself over.
it is.
he hates it. how he feels so fucking powerless, how he couldn't even stop this simple event from occurring in the first place. it's his fault. it's his and everyone else who dared not believe your words. your word is the truth. it is the undeniable laws of the world, what maps the stars and what lays the land.
he'll have time to ingrain that within everyone's minds. even if it means time away from you. but that's not the issue at the moment. he turns to search for bandages, but sees the already-healing wound slowly closing up as your skin mends together.
there's a knife at your side, coated in something that shimmers in the rays of light coming from the high, color-tainted windows.
something in his heart decides, seeing your reserved smile.
there will always be those who are too foolish to see the light you bring.
very well.
then he'll just have to eradicate every last one of them. ₊˚ෆ
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— sagau!childe had, to be honest, never cared all that much. why would he, to the person who had abandoned him into the cold, dark, abyss? yet, the smile on your face. it's bright. so bright it burns him. was there a day where he could smile like that?
no, no. he couldn't. that's an expression only reserved for someone as beautiful as you. as pure as you, like a blank, unblemished canvas, with the world as its paint. it's a level of resplendency that no one on this cursed universe could ever hope to accomplish.
a god in flesh, living in a tainted world. a walking contradiction that he had grown to call the thing that allowed him to keep living. something that spurred irony, you who broke all forms of the logic he had made to keep himself sane. perhaps that was why the heart he'd locked away has suddenly begun aching again? is that why he feels so warm from your divine prescence?
"childe?" you call out his name into the vast, empty hallways, glancing around for the familiar sight of a tuft of ginger hair. he hears you at once, rushing to your side with a grin on his face.
"your grace??" he bows at the sight of you, unable -to contain his excitement as he quivers in place, the smile on his lips tugging upwards even more than its current extent. "yes, what's-"
he stops abruptly, his voice faltering as he catches the scent of something iron. one familiar on the battlefield, a liquid that'd paint the surroundings a beautiful red.
his heart pounds. the thrill of a battle? no, that can't be it. if that was the case, how come it felt like he was slowly suffocating on his unspoken words?
that's when he catches the sight of the poorly wrapped bandages encasing your forearms. and the shimmering ichor that's soaked through the hastily wrapped cloth.
he moves to grab your arm, but curses himself out as he quickly changes direction and tightly holds your wrist, his expression more pained than yours, despite you being the one suffering with the injury. "what... your grace, what is this?"
he hates your knowing smile. he hates it. (oh, but does he? could he hate anything that is of you?) it just reminds him how you're all too far for him to reach, a purity that he does nothing to maintain. "there was a riot in the city against the church. luckily, they all quieted down after i gave them a glimpse of..." you trail off, ending your incomplete sentence with a sheepish smile. the rest is self-explanatory, anyway.
his vision trembles as his pupils shake. "haha, you...?" fuck. fuck fuck fuck, just whose idea was it to allow you near a knife? how did you get your hands on that?? which stupid fucking bumbling idiot allowed for this to happen?
it's his fault. he should've been by your side. curse the fatui, curse them all, how could they possibly dare keep him away from your holy being? the guilt that churns within him, is that why he remains mute as you step away, gracefully walking to meet with the other retainers?
there will always be those who are too foolish to see the light you bring.
no, it's fine.
it will all be fine.
cutting off their tongues won't be enough. cutting them up until they're a dismembered, bloody mess isn't even close to what you've suffered for the sake of humanity.
yes, he'll make them realize that. they'll pay with their blood a thousand times over. ₊˚ෆ
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— sagau!zhongli had his breath taken away by you before he even saw you, before the two of you had even exchanged words. your presence - it was so simply alluring, a saccharide charm that just drew him closer and closer.
sweet. yes, it was a familiar flavor upon the tongue that had long since tasted the many marvels the world had to offer. like a warm cup of tea, made from the sugary extract of flowers, how the sensation of it seemed to bloom upon your mouth.
ah, how should he put this. perhaps you had procured the blossom in his heart instead? stems, leaves, buds, a floret that'd only appear when you were in his gaze. a steady thrum that ran throughout his body with every stolen glimpse he took from your attention expertly.
perhaps, was this what he felt all those years ago?
did it matter? his soul was resolute, now, and it glowed gold, just like the blessed blood that flowed through every vein and lay in every vessel within that beautiful, beautiful you.
yes, ichor... just like the splatter of it on the ground...? a pang of fear strikes him - has something happened to you while he was away? he should've none better than to trust those good-for-nothing other cultists, who spend all their time babbling about your gloriousness yet turn a blind eye to whenever you require assistance!
no, he had to calm himself down. this wasn't the moment where he should grow frustrated. first, he must confirm the situation... he's planned this out to the every plan b, c, d, e, and so on, so how come he's still feeling so anxious?
there you are, upon your throne, busy conversing with a fellow archon, the one as free as the wind. funnily enough, you were the one that tied him down like a shackle.
"ah, zhongli. are you alright? you're breathing quite hard." you tilt your head, averting your gaze from venti's sparkling eyes and instead fixing them on the usually stoic man's jumbled expression. his shoulder's heave as he resists the urge to collapse at your feet.
"what... what are you... you're hurt?" stained bandages peek out from just below your silk sleeve, a sight that cannot possibly be missed from his attentive gilded eyes. "why didn't you tell me? i-i'll call one of the healers so they can-"
"zhongli, there's no need for that." with a hand, you gently signal venti to leave the scene, which he does, with obvious reluctance. a silence gesture that resonates with appreciation deeply within him. "this was of my own accord."
"your own accord?"
"unbelievers decided to throw a riot, and there wasn't much i could do except...well, don't they say that seeing is believing?" how come you don't look the slightest bit pain? where is your self-pity? your frustration? "anyhow, i'm not in a good state. please leave me for the time being, i don't plan on receiving any more audiences tonight."
he bows hastily, yet each movement is still finely crafted with minuscule adjustments that have taken him thousands of tries to master. he does as you say, and his strides are quick and long. it won't take a genius to see that his facade has crumpled, with the clear agitation that's spreading across his features like a wildfire that devours all in its path.
there will always be those who are too foolish to see the light you bring.
he'll change that. every thrum of the golden markings running up and down his body seem to pulse in unison with his heartbeat, which is raring like he's recently returned from the battlefield.
who would've thought he'd so quickly return.
this time, of his own will. he'd be sure that these fools of this world would learn the truth of your paragon. ₊˚ෆ
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(a/n) please save me the delulu has returned and iTS NOT LETTING GO
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