#pierro x fem!reader

[jinkicake]

Forced / Arranged Marriage Trope 

Diluc, Ayato, Pierro, Zhongli x Reader

A/N: this took me ages to write (cough cough ayato) and even longer to edit but i dont care i love this trope... i hope you like it too </3 i love mean m3n! the whole ‘oh i dont think he loves me but he actually does’ is so fun.... so fun

fem!reader bc I like the use of ‘wife’

WC - 3.3k

~~~

Diluc R. 

“Where is my wife?” 

The echo of Diluc’s demanding tone as he enters the Winery almost makes Adelinde flinch. From all her years of caring for the young owner, she knows too well what a sensitive spot you are for the man. The head maid tends to keep a watchful eye on you both out of the kindness in her own heart even when you and Diluc are in somewhat of a quarrel. 

“In your study,” Adelinde doesn’t look at Diluc as she continues to dust a lamp, she works diligently but keeps her ears sharp all the same. Nothing ever slips out from under her nose. 

A gentle smile appears on her lips as Diluc passes her and heads straight for the large doors of his office. 

“Where were you?” Diluc’s anger is something you’ve come accustomed to lately. Over the course of your relationship from mere acquaintances to forced husband and wife, you’ve never noticed how well you manage to step on his toes. 

“Where was I?” You repeat while continuing to flip through one of the romance novels Jean recommended to you. Your husband came in at such an awful time, right in the middle of a scene full of tension and declarations of love. A quiet sigh leaves your lips as you close the book in hopes of picking it up again later. 

“We have an arrangement at six o’clock in front of the gates every day,” Diluc does little to hide his frustrations, that much is clear to you as you finally run your eyes over his tensed form. He stands tall in front of you on the opposite side of the desk, his large arms flexed from where they’re crossed over his broad chest. “have you forgotten?”

No, you have not. 

Today of all days, you wanted to have a few extra minutes to yourself so you left work early and practically ran home. It’s not that you didn’t want your husband to accompany you like he does most days but, you really wanted to finish your new novel in peace. You never imagined that Diluc would care this much about your absence. 

“It appears to have slipped my mind,” You try to give him a kind smile, an innocent gesture but Diluc knows you too well. He sighs before pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to ease the headache that is forming. 

“I thought something had happened to you,” His outburst surprises you but, you don’t let it show on your face. Diluc’s protectiveness is something you’ve always been aware of yet it manages to catch you off guard every time. As time goes on, you think you’ll start to become more accustomed to it. “you know of the dangers that lurk out there.”

“I am capable enough to make it home by myself, Master Diluc,” You reach for your book again but Diluc is quick to clasp his hand over your own, he pins your wrist down against his wooden desk and tries to keep the anger in his eyes leveled with his fiery hair. 

“I told you not to call me that,” There’s a slight defeat in his voice, one that almost makes you feel guilty for teasing him. He hates it. The name makes him sound like a stranger to you, it makes him think that you don’t see him in the same light. Diluc always hoped that you would return a mere flicker of affection in the candle that is his love for you. However, he doesn’t like to fool himself. “do not leave me waiting tomorrow. I will pick you up at six o’clock.”

“Alright,” You sigh and gently place your chin on your palm, elbow resting against his large desk. Diluc looks you over with hard eyes as if he is mentally contemplating his next move. You expected him to head straight for the door and leave, to start the same nightly tasks he always runs off to when he drops you off at home. He doesn’t. 

Instead, the winery owner takes a step closer to you and grits his teeth. He bends down with little hesitation and places a harsh kiss on your cheekbone before leaving the study with a soft click of the door. His affection catches you off guard, causing your heart to thump in your chest. 

Every day he wins your heart over a little more.

By the time Adelinde pokes her head in a few minutes later, you’re still not sure if you have wiped the surprise off of your face. The head maid gives you a gentle smile as she pretends to dust a book, offering a piece of advice and a grim reminder. 

“Lady (Y/N), please try to understand where he is coming from. If something were to happen to you, Master Diluc would lose his family all over again.”

K. Ayato

“Your marriage cannot fail.”

There were many rules and guidelines set for you and the Yashiro Commissioner on the premise of your alliance. Above all, you were sworn to protect the name of the Tri-Commission. The two of you are to maintain the facade of a happy marriage in the face of the Narukami population and the entirety of Inazuma. 

The rule itself is very simple but, places an uncomfortable weight on your shoulders. You fear that you’ll one day be crushed by the severity of the situation. 

At least, your husband tries his best with you.

“Are you retiring for the evening, dear?” In passing, Ayato stops you as he heads for his office. He offers you a kind smile and a delicate brush of his fingertips against your elbow. You nearly shiver at the contact over the material of your clothes. 

“I am. Will you be joining me?” Eight months of being married to him and you have learned not to expect anything. It prevents the bitter heartache that forms every time his face slightly drops and his ounce of affection for you reverts back into professionalism. 

“Forgive me but, I will not. I need to finish reviewing a proposal from the Kanjou Commission.” His hand leaves your arm and falls pitifully back to his side. It’s as if the mere thought of being a husband closes him off to you. 

“I see.” You know how he despises small talk and would just rather get to the point so you ultimately end the interaction for him. There is no fight coming from your side, no fit that is thrown, you simply continue on with your life. 

“Good night.” As Ayato leans down and gently kisses your cheek, he firmly holds onto your bicep with a soft squeeze. It’s a flash of love that leaves your cheeks warm and your heart fluttering as he excuses himself and makes his way toward his office. 

No matter how much you want to believe in him, you can’t help but think that everything is all for show. 

Sleep doesn’t come easy for you that night, it never does when you’re set to spend it alone. The utter silence of the bedroom causes your boredom to hit an all-time high as you stupidly decide to seek out your husband.

Hours ago you were mentally cursing his existence while simultaneously bathing in his affections and now, you’re reaching out for him again. 

Do you want him or not? Do you love him or hate him?

You really don’t know. 

“Wife, you’re still awake.” It takes Ayato a few moments to greet you after you enter his office. The quiet noise of his door sliding shut pulls him away from his work for the briefest moment as his blue eyes glance over your body. Ultimately, he looks back down at his paper and then attempts to organize his thoughts and desk by neatly stacking the scrolls. “Are you having trouble sleeping?”

Ayato holds his hand out to you and you hesitantly place your fingers against his own. He takes the inch you give him and turns it into a mile as he tugs you toward him. 

You kneel beside him now and through the force of his pull, you begin to lean against his shoulder. Under his touch, you become stiff and it causes your husband to laugh. 

Your head starts to hurt at trying to read him.

“You confuse me,” You whisper as Ayato cups your cheek, despite how you keep your eyes glued to his table, he has no problem selfishly forcing you to look at him. 

“I confuse you?” He repeats and slightly tilts his head while looking you over, like this his face is inches away from yours. “How can I possibly make myself clear to you?” His quiet murmurs don’t distract you from the way he’s lowering his face. You stop him before he can get any closer. 

“That is what I mean, if you touch me so easily I will misunderstand your feelings.” You attempt to move from the tight grip he has on you but, you can’t get free. “Don’t kiss me if you don’t love me.”

Ayato merely hums and loosens his grip on your shoulder. At the chance to put some much-needed space between the two of you, you ultimately fall back against the floor. Your husband follows quickly and once again latches onto you as he places his arms on either side of your head. 

His soft lips hover over your ear, brushing along your cheek before he places a soft peck on your jaw. 

“I kiss you,” He watches your every move as his hand cups your cheek. The slight of you nervously squirming does more to him than he cares to admit. “because I love you.”

Pierro

“Enough with the unnecessary dramatics.” Scolding you is something of second nature to the first of the eleven Fatui harbingers. He picks you apart and molds you into the perfect shape until that shape no longer holds any value to him. When he finds a flaw, Pierro starts all over again. “Crafting when there is work to be done, have you no shame?” 

For as cruel as he acts, your husband is utterly obsessed with you.

He glares down at you, and at the ceramic flower pot you poured your heart and soul into creating for him, with hostility in his eyes. Your caring hands shaped a perfectly sized holder, one in perfect condition and your husband will be sure to put it on display within his office. It will be perfect on his desk and when he misses your companionship, he will be sure to look at it and remember the fondness he holds for you.

Even if you hate him all the same.

“What work do you expect a lonely housewife to be doing?” The fire in your eyes rivals the flames that once burned his nation to the ground. Despite the fight in your soul, Pierro will have no trouble shaping you back into order. You grit your teeth at him, nearly barring your anger and the harbinger finally puts his paperwork down to look at you. 

You’ll never understand him and he’ll never understand you. 

All this started because you wanted to give him a stupid gift that you now deeply regret. You thought that if an ounce of kindness could touch his heart then maybe he would show a drop of affection, a mere plop of something that isn’t disappointment towards you.

“I expect you to keep this house in order.” His voice is hard, set in stone, as he shifts his shoulders back to sit up even straighter in his head chair. “You can’t possibly be doing that when you are distracted by irrelevant tasks.”

“You are a stupid old man,” Your glare is fierce as you curse him and mentally curse the Tsaritsa for setting your fate. This is a loveless marriage, a misalliance. How could she have done this to you? 

Pierro’s eyes narrow towards you as he waits for you to finish your tantrum, it ends with a loud slam of his office door. You have, no doubt, retreated to the room you call your ‘own’ despite being forced to share a room with him. The man would lock your door if he could, to keep you out of your room and instead by his side. But, above everything, your husband does deeply care about you and tries to respect your space. 

His affection has since grown for you after he met you, months before he lifted the veil off of your face during your marriage ceremony. Only the Tsaritsa could have blessed him with such a gift, a treasure that he will be sure to spoil until the end of his days. 

No matter how strongly you fight him, how much you resist, his love will never dull. If only his feelings were strong enough to get through to you. 

Later in the evening, Pierro finds you again. He discovers you curled up under your blankets, a pillow hugged to your chest and another pressed against your back. He has no issue ripping the pillow away from you as if the offending piece of furniture was daring to hide you from him. There’s little struggle in the way he picks you up in his arms, scooping his large forearms under your thighs and back to hold you against his chest. 

He doesn’t blink as he walks past stationed Fatui subordinates to your shared bedroom, he doesn’t even flinch when you jolt awake and then sulk in his arms. Without a fight, you let him place you on the right side of the bed before he heads toward the door and locks it. 

While Pierro gets rid of his daily attire, you choose to glare at the duvet. Your frustrations don’t last long when you catch onto his armor now painting the floor. The sensual drop of each article catches your attention quickly and you don’t hide the way you stare. Anger be damned, you want him. 

Your husband has to pretend not to notice your lustful gaze. Somewhere in his chest, his pride surges at the way your eyes run over his tanned skin. He teases you and takes his time with finding his spare clothes for sleep. 

But before the harbinger can even think about getting into bed, you’re already behind him and wrapping your arms around his thick waist. You don’t shy away from your affections as you press your face into his muscular back and dip your hands down towards the front of his pants. 

It’s as if the beloved and feared Tsaritsa knew exactly what she was doing when she paired the two of you together. Through love and hate, she made the perfect match.

Zhongli

“Please get those glaze lilies out of my sight.” The beautiful flower, delicate and pure, reminds you of all the things you are not. You can’t stand to see them paraded in a vase, decorated by your husband as he tends to the flowers more than he has ever tended to you. 

Zhongli freezes at the harsh tone coming from your lips, he turns to you slowly with confusion etched into his features. His hand which was once gently holding onto the petal of the flower falls to his side. 

“I don’t understand.” Although he tries to read you and figure out where you are coming from, he simply can’t. 

“I am tired of those flowers and I hate looking at them.” Resentment pours out of you in buckets, years and years of self-hatred boils over at the mere glance of a petal. You accepted that you would be stuck in a loveless marriage the second the Adepti arranged this misalliance. In their eyes, and all the eyes of the archons, you are nothing more than a tool. Almighty Morax needs to produce offspring, who better to satisfy him than a healthy human?

But, much to your relief (and despair), you’ve never once spent the night with the man yet. Not in all seven years of your marriage have either of you gotten as close as a kiss. There must be another in his heart, someone he cares for but could never have, you’re sure of it.

From the beginning, you accepted that he would never love you or cherish you the way you secretly wish that he would but, that doesn’t mean you can stand to watch how he fawns over fucking glaze lilies. 

“Where is this hostility coming from?” Zhongli rises from the floor, from where he was on his knees tending to his beloved bouquet. Anger courses through your veins and causes the tips of your fingers to shake. How could you ever explain it to him?

“Are you married to those flowers?” Your question makes the archon tilt his head before he glances back at the large vase. 

“I am not.”

“Then why do you touch them more than you touch me?” Through your frustrations, you missed the slight widening of your husband’s eyes. For a mere second, he finally got through to you. “You love those flowers more than you love me!”

If you’re getting this upset because of him, feeling jealousy and envy to the point that it nearly swallows you whole because of him-

“Does this mean that you have feelings for me?” Zhongli calmly looks you over but, he is anything but calm on the inside. Nothing about him right now is rational as he mentally fights back the primal need to have you. He has adored you since the second he laid eyes on you, not that you would ever notice. 

You look absolutely revolted by his question and you try to swat it away with the back of your hand. 

“What?” Nothing about you is prepared for this situation or the way Morax is closing in on you. For each step that your husband takes, you take a step away from him until your back hits the window built into your wall. Zhongli towers over you and braces some of his weight on his hands placed on either side of your head. 

“Do you love me, wife?” He shifts his head forward, tilting his face down so that his hair covers his eyes. You hold your breath. His sharp nose runs along your jaw before guiding your head to tilt back. “Do you acknowledge me as your husband, finally?”

You place your hands flat on his chest to try and push him away but try as you might, Morax does not budge. 

“W-Why would I love you? You don’t even love me?” Your scoff and lies do little to hide how fast your heart is racing, to hide the flustered state you are in. 

“I don’t love you?” He murmurs before his fingers come up to cup your jaw. “You were the one who picked those flowers for our wedding, it is through my love and my love alone that they’ve been preserved for so long.”

“Your love for another.” You confirm with hard eyes and the sight, along with your answer, makes Zhongli click his jaw. He tightly presses his lips together before letting out a quiet and defeated sigh. 

“My love for you.” At long last, the truth is out. The secret Zhongli has cultivated and tended to for years is revealed because of your childish outburst. “Don’t you understand?”

You can’t form any words back as all you do is gape at him like a fish out of water. Zhongli takes the matter into his hands furthermore. His fingers tilt your chin up and force you to look up at him. There’s nothing but pure adoration in his bright eyes. 

“If I may, allow me to show you, dear wife.”

[pearlywritings]

Alive

synopsis: the fall of your homeland is a catastrophe as it is, however, it's not only the home you and your husband lost. It's just a miracle you didn't lose each other.

prompt: 21

requested by: a lovely anon

pairing: Pierro x fem!reader

tw: angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship, pre-Fatui Pierro (he is more open and emotional), topic of pregnancy and children, a couple of my personal headcannons about Khaenri'ah and how the curse affects the body. [...] - is used in places where Pierro and reader use their real names.

word count: 1.3k+ words in total

a/n: part of my Token of appreciation writing event! Closed now, still have 1 more requests to write. Also this fic is from the same AU my other fic is - Behind the wall of falling snow we love. You can check it if you'd like some more

Bright Sumeru sun is blinding and the evergreen forests are dizzying when you look long enough. And yet [...] forces his eyes to take in the life itself blooming in front of him, tired gaze mindlessly following the movement of a red butterfly, flying by. Red. Red, red, red, r e d╴

Khaenri’ahn stars hide behind the eyelids, fingers clenching in a fist unconsciously. So much blood, everything is dirtied by the curse. To this very second he can hardly endure it - two months later and it still haunts him as if he’s back there, at the beginning of the end. Screams, cries, loud screeching of machines, rumbling of collapsing buildings and deafening booming of explosions… It’s hard to forget, he believes he never will. There is blood on his hands yet he hasn’t killed anyone. He only tried to save, but he managed to save only one╴

The one he can’t imagine his life without.

The one the healer is examining behind his turned back. This old man was tolerable, he kept his mouth shut about two refugees from the fallen nation hiding here, above the surface and under the sun. The two previous ones had to go.

“Your wife’s condition is better,” the silver-haired man shivers, torn from his thoughts and finally lets go of the blindfold, dimming the natural light inside this small house you had luck buying. Your love for wearing jewelry and the rules that dictated adorning his mage’s robes in those helped you both survive so far.

“Be more specific,” he demands, returning to the bed, gaze immediately on your body, resting under the covers. Your eyes, equally as mysterious, momentarily dart from the healer to your husband. Before you could even lift a hand resting atop the duvet, he already leans in and slides his palm under yours, squeezing.

“The healing process is complete,” you see the way his breath shakes when your beloved exhales in relief. Fingers flex around yours in a comforting gesture. “I can’t get rid of this curse mark, but I succeeded in eliminating the harm it caused to her internal organs. But,” the wise man looks at you, no longer talking to the man at your side and his gaze turns sorrowful. Your heart stops in fear, knowing what he is about to confirm. “As I said before - I am afraid you won’t have children again. Ever. From what is known of the medicine right now - the closeness of your reproductive organs to the fetus most likely made them more exposed to the damage. On the bright side, I estimate that this factor won’t stop you from continuing living your life. I am still not sure how exactly this ‘disease’ got into your body, however from my observations over you I can state with all confidence - it’s a miracle you stayed alive, dear.”

It’s a miracle you stayed alive.

Big hand squeezes around yours. He doesn’t know yet, that the two of you were cursed with immortality, he doesn’t know yet, that sooner or later even the damage of the severely cursed part of your body would’ve naturally healed either way (not completely, but still). All he knows right now is that there was a possibility of him losing you.

When the healer leaves your humble abode - this one deserves to live - you ask your lover to help you sit, which he does and immediately takes a seat on the edge of your simple bed (it groans a little under his burly mass, but you both ignore it). He still hasn't let go of your hand.

A few moments are spent in silence. You are deep in your own unease, while he is wrecking his head over the way to start the conversation. Gently. He doesn’t want to bring those memories back - how the curse targeted the weakest spot in your body - your womb, how he had to save you, to make a life-changing decision of ridding your body off what was slowly killing you - *your own unborn child*... How he used his best knowledge in healing magic to keep you stable and get you out of the falling land. Everything else is a blur. But everything else doesn’t matter.

All that matters is that you are alive.

“My heart,” he starts slowly, but these two words are enough to gather your attention, “I am relieved to know you are alright. Forgive me my selfish desires, but I can’t fathom a thought of losing you, of spending the rest of my life without you. I ask a lot from you, but, please,” he covers the hand he is already holding with his other one, “I know it’s hard, but I beg you not to forget the happy days we spent together, the love we share,” your gaze falls to the wedding bracelets clasped around your wrists and your heart clenches when you hear desperation in his voice, “and above all, do not let go of your desire to live… For any reason, understood?”

“If you tell me this one more time, I will let go.”

Your abrupt response surprises you. You didn’t mean to lash out, but suddenly it just happened. Is it the brewing pain in your heart? The dull ache and emptiness in your stomach? The settling understanding of the loss and that life will never be the same? You don’t know. You feel too much.

He is taken aback and you notice. Eyes widen and anxiety settles in your heart - have you pushed him away?

"You know you are not guilty, [...]?" Your husband reaches to cup your cheek. You hopelessly cling to it with your free one, leaning into the warm palm, closing your eyes. "At that time nothing else could've been done."

"But if I was stronger, if my body was stronger-"

"But we were not, my heart. It's a cruel reality, but every time I see you I am so glad you were spared. Even if it happened like that."

He knows his words are cruel and he says them to your face now, raw and hurting, but that is the only truth he has. And he is not going to lie to the woman he vowed to treasure.

"Sorry for being rude, I didn’t mean it,” you swallow the lump in your throat, and the man beside you reassuringly caresses your cheek. He understands. “And sorry we have to have this conversation… I am not the only one hurt after all.”

"I am not mad, [...]. And you are the one who’s been hurt the most, so we will return to this topic as many times as you need. I will remind you that none of it is your fault,” his promise is soft and you make yourself believe it. He climbs next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist - gently, almost feather-lightly, - and brings you closer to his chest.

"I just really wish it wasn't our one and only chance to have a family," you snuggle into him, diving into the warmth of his body. "You don't hate me for it, right?"

"Of course I do not. There will never be a thing I'll hate you for."

"Thank you…"

"No, thank you for being alive."

He can feel your lips pulling in a small smile against his chest. He is aware that so little time is not enough to numb the mind and heart to the memories and that this pain is hard to heal - he is sure it never completely will, and even though he is pushing his own despair to the back of his head, he fully shares your hurt. He keeps reminding himself, that you got to stay alive and you are right here, he can see, touch, hold, love you…

And even in the frozen lands of your soon-to-be-destination he’ll continue doing so.

[a-998h]

Fatui x fem!Creator ft.platonic Pulcinella

@tea333love:Hi, can you write an order? You can write about cult! Sagau fatui harbingers, who found out that creator performs in theater in Sneznaya (imagine that there is a theater in Sneznaya) and one day they decided to go to performance of creator and we're amazed by elegance of dance and can you write what happened then? (Fem! Reader and she is 18 years old). (Romantic fatui harbingers, plantonic Pulcinella).

(La Signora, Childe, Scaramouche, and Arlecchino are in this becuase I can, also spoilers for Scaramouche and La Signora lore)

You have been performing in theaters across Teyvat ever since Yun Jin saw your dancing. At first it was just Liyue, but soon word spread of your skills. At this point everyone knows that you're the Creator, and combined with your skills, it was only a matter of time before other theaters around Teyvat wanted you to perform on their stage.

When it reached the harbingers that you're performing in Snezhnaya, they just had to see you perform. So with the help of Panatlone's money, and their status as harbingers, they got premium seats.

The legends and art of Snehznaya painted you as a motherly, mature figure (a milf). Your titles in Snehznaya was королева сверх жизнь, Queen above life, or simply королева, queen.

Your appearance was discribed to them, but it never said how old you were. When the curtains lifted and you were in full view under the lights of theater, you were dressed in traditional Snehznayan ballet outfit with a white under bodice, purple outer bodice, dark blue skirt, silver accents, and red shoes. You were decorated with stage makeup and costume jewelery silver in color with fake moonstones and rubies. When the music started, so did your dancing.

From their seats, they could see how young you looked. Pulcinella seemed to have his focus torwn between you on stage and a few members of the audience. While most of the audience looked at you in awe and respect, a few held... less than respectful looks. Some members of the audience had the gall to look at you with a hint of lust.

The music started slow, you at first only moved you hands. You moved elegantly in tiem with the music. It was like you were in a trance, your yes were open but it looked like nothing was behnd them.

When the performance reached it's end, the theater filled with applause. The harbingers were in awe, they wanted to know you better. Each of them had their own goals in mind. They left theater, planning a time to meet you face to face.

The next morning you are escorted to the palace and to the meeting room of the harbingers.

After that night, your visit lasts a month, in that month a lot happens. Your time is split between all eleven harbingers, so let's get into that.

Pierro

He is a bit cold at first.

It's not because he doesn't like you, he loves you and but he is emotionally constipated

when is finally able to talk to you, he is watching his words as to not offend you

He is stiff, cold but very knowledgeable

He will take you to the palace library, after stealing you from another harbinger

In the library he sits on the couch closest to the fire, sits you in his lap, and then he starts reading to you or telling you stories from his younger years

He will give you his huge ass jacket, rejctibg the jacket is not an option

Il Capitano

He is the silent bodyguard to you, I will hear no arguments

He cares about you, but unlikey Pierro, who is emotionally constipated, Capitano just doesn't know how to properly show his love for you

If you show an interest in military history, or weapons, or anything like that he will teach you whatever it is you want to know

When the more... unsavory folks approach you he just stands silently behind you and stares

They leave, running as fast as they can

That night at the theater he was entranced by your skills

He would ask for you to dance, only for him

Dottore

He is curious about you

We've seen how he is not opposed to performing human experimentation so with you, a supposed god, he has many ideas

He wants to see how far you can go

But, he also wants to know why you "made" certain things

If you say you don't know or that you can't remember, he'll use that as grounds for making you drink "something to jog your memory"

He sees you as a wealth of knowledge that is all his

He does not care about you as a person

He is not allowed to be left alone with you

Colombina

She loves you

You're the picture of beauty in her eyes

Her and La Signora will team up to pamper you

Will sing you to sleep, you just have to ask

She fell in love when she saw your dancing that night, so like Capitano she will ask you to dance for her

I think she has a baking talent, I.. I don't know why she just seems like she knows how to bake

you will be her taste tester for her baking

She cuddles you to sleep, naps, or anytime she wants to

Arlecchino

I...I don't know where to start

She knows you're a god, but she sees you as weak due to your age

She keeps up her calm, sane persona around her

Another person who is not allowed to be alone with you, but she oftens sneaks you out with her

She loves you, like a person loves a favorite possession

She allows the children at the House of the Hearth to interact with you

She kind of feels something in her cold, dead heart whenever you interact with the children

She only allows people to look at you. No one can touch, speak, breath, or even be near you with her around

She teaches the children to snitch on you or distract you if you try to leave without her

Pulcinella

OH MY GOD!

The second he sees you, and sees how young you are

He is now your unofficial grandfather, he will hear no different

He sees it as a personal mission to protect you, even though you are a powerful god

He will try and teach you new things every day you spend with him

Will feed you a lot "becuase you are a growing girl".

Tries to keep all the young harbingers from dating you

While he can't stop Pierro and Capitano, because they're fossils, he will just make sarcastic remarks and glare at them if they get to close to you

He will teach you chess, and he will play with you

Scaramouche

Oh....Oh he is complecated

As we all know, he has a... complex relationship with gods

Let me rephrase that, he has problems with his archon mom

He is the biggest tsundere to ever tsundere

You couldn't waterboard the fact that he loves you out of him

Will give you things he "happened to find" that reminded him of you.

Will give you gifts but pertends that he didn't put any thought into it, but he did

A brat... that's all

If you offer him cuddles he will act like he doesn't want any

If you stop the cuddles, he will complain

He will demand your affection like a cat

Sandrone

She stares, a lot...

I believe she makes puppets and dolls in your image

She takes you to her workshop

Has you stand still so she can compare materials against you, to find the best one that look closest to your features

Will have nice clothes for you to try on

Will use you as a dress up doll

Puts makeup on you as well

Another that loves you as a possession

When will sit you on her lap at every possible time

La Signora

She is one of the few that loves you as a person

Due to her still greving Rostam she isn't very open with you, at first

When she does open up to you, she will almost suffocate you with love

If you aren't on Sandrone's lap, you're in hers

She will share the knowledge she got from her time in the akademiya

I think she remembers stuff from her life as a Mondstadter

She will sing songs, or parts of songs, she remembers

You are the only person she shows her scar to

She'll give head pats, nose kisses, and neck kisses

She will dance with you or watch will Colombina and Capitano

Tartaglia

This man... where do I even begin

He will try an fight you

It's a way for him to see your strength

When he isn't trying to fight you, he acts as a scary guard dog

Will spoil you

Takes you to meet his family

He is extremely possessive of you

Loves you as a person

Will beg you to show off your powers

He marvels at you powers

Brings you something from every nation he goes to

He makes you go along with the lie he tells Teucer

Pantalone

Is the only normal one

Between him and Sandrone, your closet is overflowing

He likes to take you to shopping

If you feel bad about asking for something due to price, he'll buy it anyway

Will buy you stuff for dancing and any other hobbies you have

Has mini fashion shows with you as the model, sometimes Sandrone is there too

Has you sit near him when he works

Will give cuddles, just ask

Likes to spoil you

Thinks you deserve the best because you're a god

[luxxid]

sex in the kitchen.

.

it was the thought of returning home to his pretty little wife that made him happier than anything else. she was there for him when he was agitated, anytime he needed her, and you could even think of it in a sexual sense. But nothing made him happier than returning home to his lover.

the door of the abode opened with a small click, "i'm home." a familiar voice reached your ears as a smile spread across your face. you rushed over to where your husband stood.

"welcome home, love." You embraced him into your warm hands as you removed his coat, and he reciprocated while burying his nose in your neck. you could tell he was tired; his body weight was almost all on top of you.

you combed your hand through his velvety locks. "tired?" you inquired, to which a quiet hum was delivered as a response to the question. his hands started to explore your contours as you giggled softly.

"alright, how about i get dinner ready?" you softly asked, and a nod was felt through your neck as you gently left his embrace and headed towards the kitchen.

it wasn't long before you had set the dinner table up, you had headed to the kitchen to grab a glass of water as you felt two hands enveloping your torso. you weren't surprised as this was a common gesture of love from your husband.

his warm breath flowed over your neck as he lowered himself down to your level and delicately brushed the point of his nose against your neck. "i missed you." he slightly muttered, his voice audible enough to reach your ears.

your lips bent into a gentle smile as you drew your arms around his chest. "i missed you too love." you whispered back.

your hands were brushing through his silky strands. the next thing you felt was a sharp stinging sensation, the iron aroma of blood that reached your nostrils, the infatuation, it hurt but at the same time, it was so good. your pupils dilated as your eyes traveled down to your husband's level; the way he had started sucking and drawing blood from your neck out of the blue was bizarre.

"l-love, what are' you doing?" you stammered awkwardly, your voice breaking and your hands quivering, pure adrenaline coursing through your veins; besides the pain, the perception felt so exhilarating.

his siphoning hadn't stopped, he was playing perilous "i want you s' bad. please?" he pled discreetly, but prominence was present in his timbre. what good of a wife would you be if she didn't assist her husband when he's stressed?

"g-guide the way, you faltered gradually, you couldn't claim you weren't enjoying this, you haven't even had enough time to spend time with your husband in the few weeks as he was continuously busy. wasn't this the ideal opportunity to spend with your husband?

he gripped your hips as you wrapped your legs around his waist, his lips swiftly met yours, and he positioned you on the kitchen island as his grip on you grew deepened. his lips were kissing you more vociferously than ever. his lips were strawberry-flavored, and his skin was as smooth as buttercream.

soon, each layer of clothing was extirpated from the passion of the juncture. it wasn't long before the both of you were on the kitchen island, all the appliances placed on top of the kitchen island were lying on the ground, and neither of you didn't care about anything else other than each other right now.

you loved him and he loved you. even in this time, that was all that mattered to you.

⚜ PIERRO, KAMISATO AYATO, Pantalone, Tartaglia, SCARAMOUCHE, Diluc, KAEYA, CAPITANO ⚜

[frogchiro]

in her arms, i am calm

so umm,, after the scrumptious surprise that mhy gave us in the form of the fatui harbingers, so as promised, I decided to write a little something for the man that literally made my poor brain shut down and go into stand-by mode, Pierro <3

as promised, I'm tagging the wonderful @jade-parcels, she has been and still is my biggest inspiration SINCE MONTHS, and you may know me under the anon alias Fish!🐡 :) many other people have been so kind and encouraging, so i decided to bite the bullet and make a grand reveal! i'm dedicating this to you darling jade, I really hope you and others will enjoy it as much as I did writing this! also this turned out way less dirty than I intended, but what can I say, I'm a whore for fluffy smut 😭

warnings: reader is +18 years old!! (indicated to be as old as childe but feel free to read it as you please!), fem!reader (reader is refered to as a female with female body parts), heavy NSFW themes, age gap, referenced violence (not against the reader), possible dark themes, also please note that I took HEAVY liberties regarding Pierro and the rest of the Harbingers lore as we literally know almost nothing about them, so please take this with a grain of salt ;)

маленькая-little one

Pierro prided himself on many things, from his bravery and prowess in battle that led him and his country to many victories over the many years he served the Tsaritsa, the countless riches he aquired and hoarded in his mansion, right up to being crowned the First Fatui Harbinger, the Pierrot, the right hand of the Tsaritsa, something he knew many would kill for.

Yet all of that paled next to you, the little beauty that captured his old but sharp as ever eyes. For the first time in...years Pierro was truly at loss of words, for the first time he just... didn't know. Why did you, little, young, naive you capture the eyes of the oldest, most prominent Fatui Harbinger? He knew you of course, how could he not; you were the Tsaritsa's personal handmaiden, her favourite. You always accompanied your Goddess wherever she took you, which was almost everywhere, and he watched you with his snowy, sharp eyes, watched as your own clear (e/c) ones watched and rapidly tried to take everything in, your curiosity and wonder almost being child-like and naive in his eyes.

'She's still young my friend, I think you forgot how it was being like her, cut her some slack would you~'

Came the rich, deep voice of Pantalone, his fellow Harbinger. Pierro only rolled his eyes in quiet annoyance as he continued to watch you as your beautiful eyes flittered across the sprawling ballroom being decorated for the upcoming ball, everyone working extra hard as the Tsaritsa herself decided to attend the preparations, her favourite girl in tow, dutifully following her Majesty and listening to her speech about something the blonde man couldn't care less, his eyes focused on you.

Reminiscing the not-so-long-ago past, Pierro was interrupted with a sweet sweet whine that came from under him and he was quickly focused back on the present and on you.

'I'm sorry маленькая, I got a bit lost in my thoughts and neglected you eh? We can't have that, can we?'

Pierro rasped in a deep rumbling voice that you could feel through his chest in your tummy, the man always made sure to keep you as close to himself as physically possible, in and out of bed.

'To keep the cold away', he would say, but judging by the faint fond look in his usually stony eyes you could tell it way an excuse to simply touch you, not that you nor he'd ever admit it.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the strong thurst that moved you up the bed a little and caused you to cling tightly to Pierro's broad back that you loved so much. Another lond whine escaped your mouth as the man above you grunted and you felt a particulary well aimed thrust hit your sweet sport head on. You knew that although Pierro would never admit this, he loved it when you were loud and vocal in bed, so you let go of all the remaining thoughts and just let yourself feel.

The lovemaking session lasted well into the night, only the blazing hot fire in the enormous fireplace, the bright starts and Moon in the dark sky and the tiny snowflakes being the witnesses to your passion.

Pierro was watching you all night; all your gasps, moans and groans of pleasure, the faces you made, all the little eye rolls and your little pink tongue sticking out a bit, he watched it all with rapt attention, wanting to burn all these images into his mind and treasure them forever. He came shortly after your orgasm, how could he not? Your perfect walls clenching tightly around his cock, milking him for all he's worth and the sudden wet gush he felt send the man over the edge and he allowed to loose himself in the earth-shattering pleasure. With the last few deep thrusts that you swore touched your deepest, most intimate parts, he came with a rumbling growl and let himself fill you up to the brim. You moaned weakly and flinched at the feeling of hot cum shooting against your poor battered cervix, but your lover was quick to hold you still with his strong arms, not allowing you to even move an inch away from his hips as he quickly leaned down to capture your lips with his, and you have to admit, for a man as stoic and ice-cold as him, his kisses were sure expressive.

After he parted his lips from you, Pierro let out a heavy breath that he swore felt as if a stone was lifted from his weary heart. He kept looking at you, happy, full and sated and terribly sleepy as you always were after a night like this, you sometimes would tease him that for a man his age he sure had the strength and stamina of a young stallion at which he would always roll his eyes and tell you to get lost.

But now, in the privacy of his chambers, he looked at you with a look of adoration and utter devotion, his pale eyes looking and capturing every little detail of your tired and sweaty face as your heavy pants mingled with each other, your lips almost touching as you smiled tiredly up at him before reaching out and cupping his face in your small soft hands, your fingers caressing his face, combing through his long golden hair and beard, mapping every single one of his features before bringing his face closer and closing the distance between you.

Contrary to the heavy, lustful kisses full of tongue and teeth in the heat of the moment, these kisses were slow, calm and full on emotions, lips delicately touching and moving, tongues barely grazing each other.

After some time of post-coital cuddles and affection and a bit of soft whispery talk, you finally let your tired eyes rest after cuddling up close to your lover, but all the raging thoughts came back to keep Pierro from sleep.

After placing you on his broad chest and tugging the numerous thick comforters and luxurious furs over you two and making sure you were snug and warm, he let his thoughts wander.

Pierro knew painfully well that you two were an odd pair to say the least, in fact it was a big fucking understatement. He was...well, him, The First Fatui Harbinger, the stronges of them all, The Pierrot, the terror that shook the very earth where he stood, and you were this innocent little thing that was way to curious and clever for your own good.

He was no poet nor a great bard that could sing endless songs and ballads dedicated to your beauty, so he just described you as 'stunning' yet he felt immensely frustrated to call you this one simple word.

The planes of your unmarked (s/c) soft and healthy skin, the tiny little spots and blemishes that made you distinctly you, your (h/c) hair, always so thick and shiny, he loves to touch it and comb his hands through when you sleep, your wide curious (e/c) eyes. But what draws him to you the most are your perfect full lips that he oh so loves to kiss and trace with his fingers, the smiles you give him and when you laugh at his dry non-existent humor are angelic to his ears.

Don't get him wrong, the ever vigilant Harbinger sees and hears all the whispers of soldiers and servants alike, he's painfully aware of the gossip and rumors, of them talking about what a big old brute wants with a beautiful young thing like you.

Pierro frowns and almost growls with frustration when he remembers all the times that unhinged ginger brat made a fool out of himself to gain your attention, but can he really blame him? You're both the same age or at least close to him, much closer than you are to Pierro, or the stone-cut Arlecchino has the faintest blush on her icy face when you bring her some document the Tsaritsa personally asked you to deliver, and Pierro is about to recall even more scenarios like this that make his blood boil but he felt you move against his side, your naked breasts squishing oh so deliciously against his scarred chest and just like this all the negative toughts are gone and instead are replaced with these strange warm fuzzy feelings he feels whenever he looks at you.

He decides that enough is enough, he can't afford a headache that will make him miserable and cranky, so he lets go of those dark frustrating thoughts and moves down so that your face is in hidden in his neck and he allows himself to comb his fingers through your hair. He breaths in deep, taking in your distinctive scent that mixed with his creating something new and wonderful, and so the gruff, cold and seemingly unapproachable Harbinger lets himself rest and succumb to a deep slumber with the one good thing in his long life safe in his arms.

[seakicker]

M-maybe pierro with fertility goddess...? Pls hear me out! Since he's from khaen'riah he propably didn't believe in gods too, but after the cataclysm that left his country a ruin and killed his people, pierro found himself to be completely alone for centuries with no one to turn to

He was already old and he felt that the weariness of endless travel was getting the best of him, he wasn't the young warrior anymore that could endure everything that was thrown at him, he knew that if he continued on like this he'd die an honorless death by the hands of cold, some beast or even a bandit

And so he continued onwards until finally strength left him and he collapsed under a strangely green tree, almost heavy with its fruit but he was too weak already to even reach out to it before finally accepting his embarrassing fate

Except that when he woke up there wasn't the endless darkness he expected, there wasn't cries and flames of the abyss, no, there he was laying on something soft and warm, somethijg that was caressing his beard and sickly pale face as he groggily took everything in; he saw a bountiful lush green garden, filled with exotic greenery and animals, the soft glow of multiple candles and floating orbs of light giving the place an eternal glow in the starry night, and pierro finally looked up to see you, the most beautiful girl he ever saw and he quickly realised that the warm soft thing he was laying in was your fluffy warm lap and you were caressing his face with a soft smile on your full lips

Pierro swore that he died and this is afterlife he most certainly didn't deserve but your lovely voice assured him that no, he didn't die but when you found him under one of your shrines, the tree, he was close to it so you, as the goddess of fertility and life took the dying man in and nursed him back to health

I'm sorry for this monster but just the thought of a most revered and loved fertility goddess reader taking in cold, stoic old man pierro and saving him from death and the jester himself warming up to you and your kindness and eventually deciding that if he really was to spend eternity as an immortal there was no better place than with you, the most beautiful softest being, and even he couldn't help but desire you, eventually desperately wanting to father your babies and be the best husband/protector of his new family💕💔

I’M HEARING YOU LOUD AND CLEAR I ADOREEEE THIS OMFG don't apologize for the length of ur asks, i loooove long asks i analyze them like a school textbook fr. oh this is so good...

fem reader, reader is described as busty, curvy, and chubby, breeding, pregnancy, and lactation below! let me know if i missed a warning.

word count: 2.2K

i like to imagine fertility archon as the spitting image of so many things— aside from the obvious, of course. i feel like she just has this certain air about her that encourages comfort and absolves you of all your worries and anxieties, y'know? being around her is like sitting in front of a fireplace or wrapping a blanket around yourself; it's instant comfort and safety and it just feels like... home. you all know the phrase "they feel like home"— that's the kind of vibe i want for fertility archon reader. she just feels like home.

nobody can attest to that fact more than a man who has, quite literally, lost his home— sure, you could make the claim that a man who has no home would consider just about anything a suitable replacement, but it's not like that. it's not about clinging to a semblance of safety and security after wandering aimlessly for so long, it's not about the ol' "taking what you can get" nor is it about beggars not being able to be choosers, and it's not about desperation. amidst all his exhaustion, dehydration, starvation, and delirium, there's one thought that stands out clear as day in pierro's mind— that you're home.

that's what he felt the moment he first looked up at you from your lap, and it's what he's felt ever since. to be met with the sight of a sweet, almost... angelic (which is very high praise coming from someone from khaenri'ah, mind you) being looking down at him rather than the sight of destruction, ruin, and war came as a great relief for pierro. better yet, it's like all the pain he previously felt in his weary body has completely vanished... his joints were no longer stiff, his back no longer aching, and his head no longer pounding upon waking up again after passing out. fascinating... did you perhaps administer some first aid while he was out?

no, that doesn't seem right— there'd certainly be a bitter, medicinal taste in his mouth if that were the case, and not just from dehydration following his aimless travels and days spent with very little water available to quench his thirst. nor does he feel the stiffness of any splints supporting his weary joints— it's like he suddenly magically recovered despite being so miserable before.

well. this certainly beats being killed and looted by some common treasure hoarder taking advantage of his weary, sickly state.

most soothing and reassuring of all, however, is not the feeling of a body freed from injury and sickness, it's the hand gently caressing his face paired with the gentle humming filling his ears. a sweet lullaby, he'd imagine— though it's not one he's ever heard before, the sudden sleepiness it stirs in him (yes, despite the fact that he just woke up again) inclines him to believe it's meant to calm racing thoughts and soothe weary bodies.

"it's okay," a voice gently interrupts that humming from before. "get some more rest; i'll still be here when you wake up."

without so much as a "who are you?" mumbled from pierro, he falls asleep once more, your soft, thick thighs serving as his pillow while your deft fingers gently untangle the knots in his long, gray hair and brush softly against his cheeks. he almost seemed to be running a fever when you first found him collapsed under a tree... heatstroke, perhaps? infection? all it took was a gentle wave of your hand to free him from any and all potential diseases— such an act is child's play for the archon of fertility, prosperity, and new life. you took it upon yourself to carefully, carefully slip sips of water past his dry lips as he looked up at you deliriously, clearly on the verge of passing right out... it's a good thing your lap was there to serve as a pillow and your body as a support, otherwise he would have fallen backwards into the trunk of the tree behind him.

his broad, strong build made you hesitant to pity him as one would pity a wounded animal—clearly this man was a seasoned warrior and a veteran fighter, he doesn't need your pity even if he has seem to fallen on hard times— but even then... you couldn't stop your heart from twisting at the way he immediately melted into your lap and surrendered himself to your care. how horrible... how long has he been alone, you wondered? how long without anyone to provide him with care and love? you're thankful you found him before it proved to be too late for this mysterious man.

when pierro comes to (again), he feels even better than the first time he had awoken on your lap. as promised, you didn't move an inch, waiting for him to wake up while you continued to hum to him in his sleep and gently caress his face.

"good morning," you whisper sweetly, giggling slightly. "how do you feel?"

speech comes surprisingly easy— he would have thought that his throat would be too hoarse to speak properly, but he has no issues. "i feel well," pierro replies, glancing up at his mysterious... protector? doctor? caretaker? "and you are...?"

when you tell him your name, he's instantly reminded of all the tales he's heard of teyvat's many archons— and what a relief it would be to anyone to get discovered by the archon of fertility and not any of the rest of them... the majority of them aren't exactly known for being kind, graceful people, but you? the stories putting you as the protagonist depict you as nothing but generous, loving, and doting, providing bountiful harvests for your people, ensuring the health of families and their newborns, and staving off plague and famine with your own divine protection.

hm. it seems khaenri'ah was wrong about gods... or maybe you're the exception that proves the rule; the reason your kindness stands out so fiercely is simply because the rest of the archons just aren't kind themselves.

"—and i'll take care of you until i feel confident that you've recovered fully," you finish your introduction, smiling at him and offering him a piece of fruit from the tree above— the very same fruit he was too weak to reach up and grab at when he first stumbled upon the tree. it was so delicious and rich that it nearly caught him off guard... is this the power of the fertility archon?

days became weeks and weeks became months. sure, you believed he was well enough to venture out on his own again ages ago, but he didn't seem too concerned with leaving— where would he even go? look at where wandering around aimlessly for years on end got him last time... he would have died were it not for you, and now he's in your debt. helping out around the fields and keeping you company was the least he could do... and, if he's being honest with himself (a rarity indeed), he's come to enjoy your company. you tell fascinating stories and sing beautiful tunes he's never heard before, you prepare the most delicious food anyone alive has ever laid a lip to, and you've done so much for him out of the goodness of your heart... what a welcome change from the centuries of isolation and pain.

one thing you've noticed about pierro is that he doesn't seem to be much of a talker. you're not the type to pry into one's past or private life to begin with, but when he stiffens and presses his lips into a thin line whenever you try to ask about how he found himself collapsed and nearly on the verge of death beneath one of your trees, you drop the conversation there. it's better to mind your own business than attempt to tear up the floorboards hiding someone else's pain. all that matters is that he's safe now... and he won't have to experience that overwhelming loneliness again.

however, it seems he's stumbled upon a new conflict. no, this isn't necessarily related to the aforementioned loneliness, but perhaps that's just the point— this new conflict comes as damage control to ensure that he'll never experience that again. somewhere along the line, pierro began to view you a little less as a savior and a little more as... a woman. he knows you're an archon, truly, but to finally be in the company of someone else after so long, and someone as loving and kind as you... well. no man alive would be able to resist developing feelings. the way you sing to yourself as you stir a pot of soup cooking over a fire, the way you bring him a bowl while smiling and encouraging him to enjoy as much as he'd like, the way your hips swish so invitingly as you walk, and the memory of the way you helped him wash up when you first rescued him, too worried about his safety to leave him alone by a body of water... it's no wonder he began to desire you.

how fitting is it, then, that he first makes a move on you one day while you two are taking a walk by the very tree you first found him by? that was decades ago now; time passes so quickly for immortals... what feels like a single year the immortal is surely a century in mortal's time. the intensity of his gaze nearly made you shrink back into yourself, something no other partner you were with prior to pierro has been able to achieve. wordlessly, pierro cornered you back against the tree with a serious, sincere expression on his face— making an archon his lover? how ambitious. well, it's not like he'd be willing to let anyone else have you; in a world as vile and cruel as this one— and he's witnesses his fair share of evil and cruelty— anyone else may just take your kindness for granted. what if you saved a wandering bandit instead and he attempted to hurt you? sure, he wouldn't actually stand a chance against a literal archon, but it's about the principle of someone failing to appreciate your kindness.

and who better to appreciate it than a man who you gave everything to when he had nothing?

you instantly melt against pierro when he steals your lips in a searing kiss, gently-but-firmly pinning your wrists above your head with one of his large hands. your voice sounds just as sweet as a breathless moan of his name than it does while you're singing to him or humming a little tune to yourself— you pant and moan against his lips so invitingly it makes him wish he took you for himself sooner so he could have been hearing those sounds all this time. when he moves to lick hot lines down your neck, you gasp and press yourself harder against him— it's been a long, long time since you've had a lover; you haven't been with anyone since meeting pierro... maybe it's because you found it hard to find the time for external relationships between all the time you spent with pierro, showing him how to tend to the fields and how to prepare food, maybe it's because you didn't need anyone else, maybe it's because you knew deep down he was the perfect lover all along.

who's to say?

his hand loses its grip on your wrists as his mouth continues to travel southwards, his fingers instead finding a use by tugging the front of your dress down to expose your soft, full tits— ripe and luscious like the very fruit hanging just overhead, they fill his palms and then some just perfectly as he nips along your collarbone. even your skin tastes sweet like fresh fruit...

speaking of taste, absolutely nothing could have prepared pierro for the taste that filled his mouth once he closed his lips around one of your nipples. milk, it's milk— and it's the most delicious thing he's ever tasted. he would never say this out of concern of upsetting you, but your milk is even tastier than your cooking... which is absolutely saying a lot. you whimper and moan as he continues to drink and drink and drink from your ample breasts, periodically switching between the two to show both nipples equal amount of attention. he's not even sure why he's so surprised that you lactate— you're the archon of fertility, isn't such a thing to be expected?

the only thing that would further your image as the most beautiful and perfect depiction of fertility in all of teyvat would be the sight of you pregnant, belly round and swollen with a child while your ample, milky breasts rest on your tummy like a shelf. luckily for him, that's exactly what pierro's new plan is... to put his baby in you and finally, finally have a family of his own again. you already gave him a home, so the next logical step is to provide him a few children to help fill up the spare bedrooms, right?

you've already taken such good care of him. allow him to return the favor by taking care of you and the family you two created together.

[jessamine-rose]

⋆‧͙*̩̩͙꒰ Disjecta Membra ꒱*̩̩͙‧͙⋆

*sigh* idk what to say at this point. I’m not even a major simp for the Jester but the Pierro brainrot was very infectious. Y’all can thank @frogchiro​ for converting me and @seakicker​ for inspiring this fic  =_=

As always, thank you to @diodellet​ for suffering with me as my peer reviewer!! I’m also grateful to Kin for helping with my characterization of Pierro. I ended up writing about a very detailed darling, but I hope you enjoy their twisted tale nonetheless :>

Tw:: YANDERE, unhealthy relationships, kidnapping, coercion, blood, violence, death, psychological trauma, self-deprecation, needles, spice, mention of nsfw, MINORS DNI

Note:: Female reader who is a fallen goddess, pre-release Pierro

♡ 14.9k words under the cut ♡

i. memento mori

You cooked too much food again.

You stare at your dinner. Out of habit, you had also set the table for two and filled both plates before realizing your mistake. You can’t finish the cream stew all by yourself.

Great, more stale leftovers.

You shake your head and pick up your spoon.

Old habits die hard. You’d made the same mistake before, but it had taken less time for you to adjust. It was easier when someone was still there to correct you.

The kitchen is too quiet. You can only manage a few bites before you grow sick of the empty chair across from you. Picking up your plate and cutlery, you go outside and take a seat at the temple entrance.

The forest is the same as usual, shrouded in a veil of mist. Through the haze, you can spot a few woodland critters darting to and fro. Somewhere in the trees, a pair of birds are singing a harmonious duet. The pasithea flowers are in full bloom.

You wave your hand and the mist rises. The berry bushes look ripe for picking. You can already imagine the many—no, Oizys won’t be here to enjoy your cooking.

“Help.”

You startle. Has a human entered your territory?

You can sense a distressed voice along with weak movement. From what you can tell, the wanderer must be at the edge of the forest, close enough to reach the mist.

You fix your veil, draping the sheer fabric over your face, and leave the temple.

It doesn’t take long to find him. The human is slumped against a tall tree surrounded by achlys flowers. His breathing feels unsteady.

“Hello?” You slowly approach him, clearing the mist.

He doesn’t acknowledge you. You lean down to examine him.

The poor thing looks close to death. His silver hair is messy and there is a cut on the side of his face. Judging by the weapons on his person, could he be a combatant? No, his torn clothes look too fancy for an ordinary soldier.

You tap his shoulder. “Can you hear me, dear?”

He opens his eyes.

Four-pointed stars.

You draw back. Those diamond-shaped pupils...this human is clearly from Khaenri’ah.

He lifts his head, blinking blearily. Based on appearance alone, he seems too weak to attack you.

You don’t sense anyone else within the forest. You could easily give this person first aid then hide in your temple. It shouldn’t take long for him to find the city once he recovers.

A hand weakly grips your wrist. The Khaenri'ahn dazedly looks up at you.

“Who are you?”

No, that would be absolutely cruel.

You crouch down, touching his forehead with the back of your hand. His temperature is too warm. And now that you’ve taken a closer look, is that blood on his clothes?

“Shh, it’s all right,” you whisper, offering a soft smile. “You’re safe here.”

The Khaenri'ahn stares at you for a few more seconds before his eyes flutter shut. His hand lets go of your wrist and falls to his side—did he pass out already?

You glance at the berry bushes and mutter a silent apology.

At least your dinner won’t go to waste.

ii. mea culpa

Thankfully, the Khaenri'ahn’s injuries aren’t too severe. After treating his wounds, you tuck him in bed and wait for him to wake up.

Even in slumber, his expression is weary. There are faded scars mixed in with his bandages. Has he been wandering Teyvat since the fall of his nation? How did he survive?

What should you do with him?

His expression stirs, followed by a pained noise. The diamond pupils are exposed.

“Ah, you’re awake!” you exclaim, rushing to his bedside. “Do you feel better?”

“What?” He turns his head in your direction, clearly confused.

You raise a cup to his lips. “Here, drink some water first.”

He finishes the entire glass. You point at the pitcher on the nightstand.

“Are you still thirsty? Or would you like something to eat?”

He shakes his head, looking at you warily. “Not now…where am I?”

“You’re in a safe place.” You smile, placing a hand on his bandaged shoulder. “No one will hurt you in my temple.”

His eyes widen. “Your temple?”

He lunges forward. A shocked cry leaves your lips as he sits up and grabs your arm.

“You.” His gaze turns hostile. “You are a god.”

Huh, he found out sooner than intended.

“That I am.”

You might as well reveal your true form. Wispy gray marks spread across your skin.

He holds your arm in a bruising grip. “What do you intend to do with me?”

“Believe it or not, I wanted to save your life.” You hold his gaze through your veil. “Don’t worry, even if my intentions were cruel, I am quite harmless for a god.”

“And who are you, exactly?”

You wince as he strengthens his hold on you. Are humans normally this strong?

“You may call me ______,” you reply calmly. “That is the name I go by nowadays. But since you are asking for my true identity, I’ll be honest: I am █████ the God of Mist.”

He glances at the shadowy swirls on your arm. “I have never heard of your title.”

“That is to be expected,” you reply. “Now could you please let go of me? I understand your aggression, but I can’t properly care for you with a broken arm.”

The Khaenri'ahn’s gaze is clear this time. Those diamond pupils fixate on your face then his bandages. After looking around the guest room, he reluctantly lets go of you.

“There, was that so difficult?” you ask him. “I am sure that you have many questions, and I can promise you my full honesty. But for now, you must rest.”

“I can—”

He tries to leave the bed, only to stumble. You catch him in time.

“Now, what did I tell you? Don’t overexert yourself.” Shaking your head, you help him back into bed. “May I know your name, dear?”

The distrustful look he gives you is an adequate response.

“Not willing? Fine, that is a wise precaution.” You check your arm for lingering marks from his grasp. “Moving on, I cooked cream stew earlier. Would you like some?”

A moment of silence precedes his response.

“Yes,” he mutters sheepishly, “and pardon my hostility.”

You smile at him. “No offense taken. It isn’t everyday that someone treats me this way.”

*✧･ﾟ

The Khaenri'ahn remains cautious. In a few weeks, he regains enough strength to leave his bed and walk around the temple. You regularly change his bandages.

“Good, you don’t seem to be sick anymore.” You remove your hand from his forehead and leave the temple. “But it will take more time for your injuries to heal.”

It would be faster if Vesta were here.

He follows you. Since leaving the guest room, he has been watching you go about your daily routine. Cooking, foraging, doing laundry, cleaning the temple, checking the animal traps.

“For a god, you live quite a humble lifestyle,” he muses. “I assumed that you would have a horde of followers catering to your every need.”

“Hardly!” you scoff. “That isn’t my style of worship.”

The path ahead of you is obscured by mist. You are quick to catch the Khaenri'ahn when he trips on the steep slope.

“Are you all right?”

“I am fine,” he mutters, averting eye contact. “Where are your followers to begin with? I have not encountered any since entering this forest.”

“That is because they are all here.”

You wave your hand and the mist disperses.

The Khaenri’ahn stops in his tracks. “This is…”

The pasithea flowers have overtaken the cemetery. You walk past the gravestones towards a pair of half-broken statues.

“I suppose you’d like an explanation. Do you know about the Archon War?”

A short pause. “I have heard stories.”

Good, you don’t need to explain that far into history.

The pasithea flowers are concentrated around the shorter statue. Deep blue flowers sprout from the cracks, concealing her face.

“This isn’t my original territory,” you explain. “Before, I shared a vast area of land with three other gods. We retreated to this forest with our followers during the war.”

The Khaenri’ahn walks over to the other statue. “They survived as well?”

His face is discolored. A damaged Claymore rests in his hands, never to be used again.

You cover the statue’s eyes with mist. “Yes, but they’re currently dead.”

Silence. Picking up a broom, you sweep the leaves around the statues.

“At first, we defended our territory,” you continue. “That was the option I voted for, but we fled after Vesta was slain. A few centuries later, Pasithea succumbed to erosion. Wait, do I need to explain what erosion is?”

He shakes his head. “I can discern the meaning of the term. You may continue.”

“Okay then. In Pasithea’s case…she went mad and it affected our people. So one of her followers decided to end her misery.”

You sidestep a patch of pasithea flowers. If you try hard enough, you can still recall the lyrics to her lullabies.

“By the time I sensed them, it was too late…her death plagued everyone in the forest with insanity, and only a few survived. And before that, I learned that my friend Havria—she established her own new territory in Liyue—was also slain by her people.”

The Khaenri’ahn remains silent. You move on to a row of gravestones engraved with curlicues.

“Over time, my followers died out. The last ones lost faith in me and left; many switched to my last friend Oizys. I don’t blame them. His fortune, Vesta’s warmth, Pasithea’s dreams…what I gave them was incomparable. All my mist did was hide them from the world.”

“And what happened to Oizys?” he asks tensely.

You hesitate. “He died at the start of the war between Celestia and Khaenri’ah. He was on the gods’ side. A few weeks after he left, I discovered his body near the forest. I…I guess he used the last of his strength to come home.”

Tears prick the corners of your vision. You straighten your veil and walk over to Oizys’s grave, noting the Khaenri’ahn’s wary expression.

“And you do not resent my people for slaying your friend?” he asks.

You shake your head. “I’d rather not cause any more deaths. And I should be asking you the same question, really.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Until now, no grass has grown over his grave. Maybe you should try planting berries.

“I took a neutral stance during the Cataclysm,” you explain, “and that angered Oizys; he always called me too kind for my own good. But if I was truly kind, shouldn’t I have stopped him from joining the war? Shouldn’t I have cared more about his future victims?”

How long will it take for his body to decompose? Is his soul at peace?

“Maybe he would still be alive. Maybe your nation would have more survivors.”

The silence is heavy. You turn to the Khaenri’ahn, noting his solemn expression.

What did it feel like to lose all of his loved ones at once? Is it even possible for him to mourn their deaths?

Finally, he looks up to face you. There is no anger in his gaze, only sympathy.

“I did not advocate for the war, either,” he says, “but I was only a mage in the royal court. For that reason, the previous ruler heeded the sages’ words over my own.”

“I see.” You put down the broom and turn away from the statues. “Let’s go. It will take half a day to clean this place, and you need more rest.”

He follows you. “If you insist.”

The two of you leave the cemetery. The area is once again shrouded in mist.

The Khaenri’ahn meets your gaze. “I am sorry for your loss, ______.”

“I must say the same to you.”

He’s had less trouble walking lately. Soon enough, he will be able to leave the forest.

You walk ahead. “Once you have fully recovered, I expect you to leave. If you don’t have a clear destination in mind, I can guide you to Oizys’s city or draw a map of Teyvat for you.”

He responds quickly this time. “Of course, I would not want to overstay my welcome.”

“Oh, it’s not that.” You turn around to face him, a sad smile on your face. “It’s for your own good, dear. There is no future for you here.”

*✧･ﾟ

After your visit to the cemetery, the Khaenri’ahn begins helping around the forest. You initially disapprove of it but he is insistent on “repaying your kindness.”

He doesn’t divulge any more personal information apart from the fact that he lived with an outlander for some time. You ask him general questions about Khaenri’ah’s culture instead; in turn, he inquires about your glory days.

“Are your old temples still standing?” he asks.

You focus on the chessboard. “The last time I checked, all of them succumbed to the elements. My friends’ temples are more intact; some of my statues are kept there.”

The Khaenri’ahn moves a black pawn. “And they remain in their place, unbothered?”

You make your next move. “More or less. I’ve run into a few adventurers, and they make the wildest assumptions about my images. They would be quite disappointed if they knew what the real thing is like.”

He looks around the temple. Your religious art had been destroyed years ago.

“I can only imagine what it is like to encounter the remnants of your previous existence. It must conjure painful memories.”

You change the topic. “Have you planned your next destination?”

“I am still undecided.”

“Maybe this question will help: What will you do now?”

The Khaenri’ahn doesn’t need bandages anymore. After months of his silent company, his departure will leave a new gap in your daily routine.

“You could start over in another nation. I’d suggest the city of Miseria as a new home; it is still thriving after Oizys’s death.”

He picks up another chess piece, planning his next move.

You continue speaking. “Or you could search for fellow survivors, maybe even preserve what is left of Khaenri’ah. Your life does not end with your nation. After some time…you will eventually move on from the calamity.”

The chess piece cracks in his hand.

You look up immediately. The Khaenri’ahn glares at you.

“Move on?” he asks angrily. “After the destruction I have witnessed, acceptance would be the most humiliating form of defeat.”

The diamonds in his eyes flash. This is your first time seeing him in such a furious state.

You glance at his clenched fist. You will need to replace the black king.

“In that case,” you reply carefully, “is vengeance a preferable option for you? It is one thing to live with resentment but taking action is a different matter.”

He returns the king to its original square and moves his queen instead. “At the moment, I have no concrete plan. But so long as I can remember the flames of Celestia’s cruelty, I would like to see them extinguished.”

“...Then so be it.”

You analyze the chessboard. The Khaenri’ahn turned out to be a formidable opponent. With how he constantly surprises you, you have no doubt that he will do well.

You are absolutely cornered. He topples your white king, a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

“Checkmate.”

iii. damnatio memoriae

The remaining weeks are dreamlike. You enjoy more meals, conversations, and chess games with your temporary companion. He has more energy these days, perhaps motivated by your earlier conversation. He even smiles on a few occasions.

It only makes his departure more difficult.

“Do you have everything you need?”

The Khaenri’ahn doesn’t stop to check his bag. “You have already given me more than enough for my travels.”

“Are you sure? Do you need more food? Another blanket?”

“I can take care of myself henceforth.”

How can he be so sure?

The mist swirls around you. You guide him to the edge of the forest.

“Then I guess this is where we say goodbye.”

The Khaenri’ahn steps out of the mist. He looks nothing like the pitiful creature you first met. No traces of sickness or injury. Mended clothes—he even allowed you to embroider stars and diamonds over the holes. A bright, determined gaze directed at you.

“Thank you for everything,” he tells you. “Had you not saved me, I would have lost hope ages ago.”

You smile, shaking your head. “That was nothing, dear. Thank you for your company.”

What will he do now? Will he really seek vengeance against Celestia?

He glances at the expanding mist. “Will you remain in your territory?”

“Of course, someone needs to take care of the cemetery. Oh, and…” Your voice trails off, a pause where his unknown name should be. “I have one last thing to say to you.”

He resumes eye contact. “Yes?”

He will be fine. It would be selfish to keep him here.

The mist recedes. You lift your veil, smiling.

“Your feelings are valid. If resentment is what drives you to continue living, then let it be. What matters is that you are still alive.”

So long as he doesn't give up.

The Khaenri’ahn doesn’t say anything at first. He stares at your face, likely taking in the details usually hidden by your veil. Why, though? He has seen it plenty of times during your meals together.

You clasp your hands around his. “Take care. May you find your new purpose in life.”

That draws him out of his stupor. He nods, standing up straighter.

“Your kindness will not be forgotten, ______.”

With that, he turns around and walks in the direction of Miseria. You remain in your spot, watching his figure shrink then disappear over the horizon. Not once does he turn around.

Back to your old routine.

The temple is too quiet. The dishes are still in the sink, speckled with crumbs of berry pie. The guilt finally sets in as you pick up the Khaenri’ahn’s—no, Oizys’s plate and clean it.

You put your tableware in the dish rack. Oizys’s is transferred to the cupboard, placed beside the three long-discarded sets.

*✧･

Time passes so slowly these days.

Even before the Khaenri’ahn’s arrival, you began oversleeping without Oizys’s wakeup calls. But with the former gone, you have less reasons to leave your bed.

You still sleep on the right side. You fill the left side with pillows to make the bed feel less empty, but there is no replacement for Oizys’s late-night ramblings. After a few more washes, his scent leaves the mattress.

On Vesta’s birthday, you leave the forest and return to your old territory. Their temple is still standing, but the fire has been extinguished.

At first, you think the empty hearth is a hallucination. You can still vividly recall the moment Vesta’s mangled body burst into fire. Even in death, their soul sought to provide warmth for their followers through everlasting flames.

Even in death, they provided more than what you could ever give.

The statues haven’t fared any better. Your friends’ icons have all crumbled into shards and dust. You don’t care to look for your own scattered fragments.

You visit Sal Terrae next. After greeting Havria’s remains, you run into Morax and exchange a few words with him. You leave immediately afterwards—he is busy overseeing Liyue’s recovery from the Cataclysm, and his nation only reminds you of your once-thriving territories.

That visit is what convinces you to rest. Back home, you clean the entire cemetery; the task takes an entire day without Oizys’s help. You go to bed and only wake up months later for your religious festival.

The forest is the same. Oizys’s grave remains barren.

You greet your followers’ graves. The temple is cleaned and decorated with your old tapestries. As you pick a bouquet of achlys flowers for yourself, the Khaenri’ahn comes to mind.

Is he doing well?

What a stupid question. The fact that he hasn’t returned is a good answer.

You bake a small cake this time, just enough for one person and topped with a ring of candles.

The fire is much dimmer than Vesta’s. What else is different? Your followers would return your greetings. Havria would visit to join the celebration. Pasithea would sing your hymns. Oizys would gift you another blessing of happiness.

You blow out the candles. Smoke curls into the air and mixes with the mist.

“Happy birthday, █████.”

*✧･

You sleep for longer intervals, dedicating a few wakeful days to your friends’ birthdays and the cemetery’s maintenance. The Khaenri’ahn doesn’t return.

Years after his departure, another human wanders into the forest. Her presence awakens you early, and you bring her to your temple upon sensing her wounded state.

Her injuries are severe, and you get blood all over your robes while stitching her wounds. After a brief introduction, she explains her situation.

“Your coworkers did this to you?”

“Yes,” says Alyona. “I tried to leave our organization and was branded a traitor.”

You look at the broken mask in her hands. “Where are you from, dear?”

Her eyes are glossy with tears. “Snezhnaya. Have you heard of the Fatui, miss?”

“I haven’t.”

“That makes sense; it is the new political department of my nation. They aspire to fulfill our Archon’s vision of a perfect world, but the things I’ve seen…”

She stares at her bandaged legs. You pat her back.

“It’s all right. You’re safe now.”

Her expression turns fearful. “No, even if I—the director of the Fatui personally recruited me! He knows who I am. Once he hears about this, he won’t let me escape so easily!”

Poor thing. “And who is he, may I ask?”

She visibly shudders. “I know nothing about him but he called himself Pierro, the Jester. His gaze is terrifying; I’ll see those diamond pupils in my nightmares.”

You stare at her. “His pupils were diamond-shaped?”

“Diamonds,” she confirms. “He doesn’t look like a native of Snezhnaya, but that doesn’t matter. He is devoted to the Tsaritsa; he said it himself.”

She continues describing him. Strong build, pale blue irises, silver hair with a dark streak in it, a refined way of speaking.

“Where is she?!”

You startle. Someone—no, two people have entered the forest. One of them mentions Alyona.

“Miss?” She tugs on the hem of your veil. “I should leave. I can’t put you in danger.”

“The same can be said for you, little one.”

Outside the temple, the mist thickens. You sense the reactions of Alyona’s pursuers.

“Katya? Where did you go?!”

“How did I end up back here?”

There, she should be safe now. You smile at Alyona.

“Don’t worry about me; I’ll keep you safe until you recover. Afterwards, you can take refuge in the nearby city. The locals are kind.”

“Thank you so much, Miss ______!” She wipes her tears and looks around the temple. “Who is this temple dedicated to, anyway?”

“A nameless god,” you reply nonchalantly. “She died a long time ago.”

“That’s too bad. She must’ve been a splendid being if her priestess is this kind.”

“Not really. The world has no more use for her.”

iv. oderint dum metuant

In the years following Alyona’s departure, more Fatui defectors wander into your territory.

You help all of them. In your human guise, you treat their wounds and guide them to Miseria. Their pursuers give up after spending hours lost in your mist.

A few have stories about their leader, be it hearsay or personal anecdotes. Their narratives only provide more evidence that he could be the Khaenri’ahn you saved years ago.

Pierro, the Jester.

So it seems that the Cryo Archon took him in. He must be doing extremely well if he now holds authority over Snezhnaya. Could the Fatui’s objective align with his grudge against Celestia? Is that why he swore loyalty to the Tsaritsa?

You don’t visit Snezhnaya for confirmation. If Pierro is truly your old companion, nothing good will come out of your reunion. You are better off as a memory.

*✧･ﾟ

You sleep for an entire year this time.

Your solo celebrations have become unbearable and none of your friends will call you out for skipping their birthdays.

You do wake up for Oizys’s death anniversary. His grave remains a barren bed in the cemetery; not even your achlys flowers could flourish. The eyes of his statue have cracked, so you cover them with thicker clouds of mist.

Hunger eludes you. After greeting Oizys, you go to the kitchen and keep your tableware in the cupboard. It will only erode if you leave it in the dish rack for another year. Or what about two? Ten? A century, even?

No one will wake you up, anyway.

“______?”

You almost drop your plate. Is that an ex-Fatui acquaintance? You already forbade their visits. Before you can reinforce the mist, the person speaks again.

“█████.”

The plate shatters into pieces. You run out of the temple.

They know your real name.

The voice is familiar. And their location…

The edge of the forest has less achlys flowers these days. Someone is standing under a dead tree. Before you can call out to them, they turn in your direction and make eye contact.

Four-pointed stars.

He is the first to speak. “______, you haven’t changed at all.”

Before you know it, you are running towards him. “It’s you!”

The Khaenri’ahn gives you one of his rare smiles. “It appears that you remember me.”

“How could I not?” You stand in front of him, taking in his appearance. “Wow, I almost didn’t recognize you.”

He looks so different. Neat hairstyle, elegant Snezhnayan clothing, a black mask over the right half of his face. Has his posture improved? His demeanor is dignified, imposing even.

You unconsciously fix your robes. “It’s been so long. What happened to you?”

“I have found a new home in Snezhnaya,” he explains, “and devoted myself to Her Majesty the Tsaritsa. I believe you already know of the Fatui.”

“I’ve heard rumors,” you reply carefully. “You are the first Harbinger, correct?”

His expression turns serious. “You are not mistaken. Along with the title of Jester, I took on a new name. You may address me as Pierro.”

Was his gaze always so intense? It feels as though he is sizing you up.

You look away. “Then I can finally put a name to your face. If I may ask, why the Tsaritsa? I don’t know her personally, but the last thing I expected was for you to pledge loyalty to an Archon.”

“Neither did I,” says Pierro. His voice takes a reverent tone. “Her Majesty understands my pain. Through the Fatui, we will rebel against Celestia and create a new world.”

Your mind flits to Alyona and her successors. How many people will be sacrificed for such a lofty goal? And why do you feel so conflicted? Isn’t this what he wanted?

“I see. Your plan sounds outrageous but it must be promising if you are the one in charge,” you reply, smiling. “You’ve come so far. You should be proud of yourself.”

There is a faint glimmer in his eyes. “Your recognition is paramount.”

A heavy silence hangs in the air. What else can you say to him? Should you invite him to your temple? Why is he taking time out of his schedule to visit you anyway?

Pierro looks around the forest. “Have you been doing well?”

“More or less. Never mind me, I’d like to hear more about your new life.” You lean against the dead tree, twirling the hem of your veil. “So, a rebellion against the divine. How does one go about doing that?”

He takes a step closer to you. “Naturally, it will take years of preparation. In the present, I can see to it that our smaller objectives are accomplished.”

“All right, so what will you do now?”

“I shall overthrow the gods of the Old World, starting with you.”

Pierro slams his hand against the tree, cornering you. His other hand seizes your arm, holding it tightly enough to crush the bones.

“Pierro!” You bite back a cry of pain. “I—what are you doing?!”

Any and all traces of familiarity have left his face.

“█████, you have officially been recognized as a threat to the Fatui,” he declares. “Had you taken a neutral stance, we could have sought diplomatic relations. The assistance you have provided for the Tsaritsa’s traitors, however, cannot be overlooked.”

Of course he knows about Alyona and the others.

The mist swirls around you. Just before you can create a diversion, Pierro strengthens his grip on your arm. An unspoken warning.

You can’t keep the fear out of your voice. “I…what will you do with me?”

Overthrow the gods…will he kill you? But wait, your death could end up like Havria’s or Pasithea’s! You should warn him—

“Nevertheless, your punishment has been reduced by the mercy of Her Majesty.”

Don’t relax yet. He is still holding you. “What do you mean by that?”

Pierro puts his hand under your chin, tilting your face upwards. “What you are, truly, is an archaic god who poses little threat to the Fatui. I inferred as much from my time spent with you. For that reason, I personally pleaded your case.”

You can’t look him in the eye. “Then what exactly is my punishment?”

“I promised the Tsaritsa that I would oversee your subjugation by my side.”

“…Excuse me?”

The look on his face is completely serious. “I came here to bring you to Snezhnaya.”

Your arm shakes within his grasp. “And if I refuse?”

Pierro’s gaze pierces through your veil. “I advise you to be tactful in your decision, lest the city of Miseria be implicated.”

The mist rises.

“What do you mean?! Oizys’s people have nothing to do with this!”

He raises an eyebrow. “Are they wholly innocent? They have accepted numerous Fatui defectors regardless of their circumstances. We have yet to deliver retribution to the traitors.”

“No!” You shake your head, tears filling your eyes. “Please don’t—I’ll do anything!”

Your knees hit the ground. You bow your head, allowing the mist to disperse.

“I’ll listen to you! Just don’t hurt them, I beg of you!”

This whole time, you have endangered Oizys’s followers.

Pierro’s voice cuts through the fog clouding your thoughts.

“You astound me, ______. Your compassion knows no bounds, even for those who do not worship you. I now understand why your friend had deemed you soft-hearted.”

You remain in your servile position, staring at the ground. Pierro’s hand returns to your face, gripping it roughly under your veil. His thumb strokes your cheek and catches a stray tear.

How pathetic you must look in his eyes.

It is his next words, spoken in a soft tone, which make you shudder.

“That means you are a worthy soul for the New World.”

*✧･ﾟ

You give up your territory shortly thereafter.

Pierro doesn’t let you return to your temple for any belongings. He simply guides you to the waiting carriage, keeping his hand on your back. The only thing more humiliating than your earlier display of submission are the chains cuffed to your wrists.

You take down the mist before you leave. Without its veil, the forest looks small and unremarkable. Whatever the Fatui does with it, you hope the cemetery will be preserved.

The trip to Snezhnaya is quiet. You say nothing to Pierro when he gives you a coat for the cold climate, neither when he escorts you to Zapolyarny Palace, not even during your introduction to the Tsaritsa.

You understand why he would serve her. The Cryo Archon is a sacrosanct figure and her mere presence makes you shiver. While she regards you with a cold gaze and some curious words, she clearly doesn’t perceive you as an equal.

Neither do you miss Pierro’s reverent attitude towards her. When the Tsaritsa demands your utmost loyalty, it is his gaze which scares you into bowing before her.

Never mind your pride, you are dealing with the god who made his goal possible.

After the tense meeting, you return to the carriage. Snezhnaya is a far cry from your old territory, but the people seem capable of enduring the harsh environment. They have no trouble finding their way in the snow.

Your final destination is Pierro’s estate. You give him a confused look when he identifies the grand manor, but he leads you inside.

The foyer is lined with masked servants. They silently greet Pierro; some curiously glance in your direction. Before anyone can ask, Pierro’s hand moves to your shoulder.

“This is ______,” he announces. “Henceforth, she is the lady of the estate.”

What?

The gasps that echo across the foyer aren’t yours. You can only stare at Pierro, your chains clinking with how quickly you turned to face him.

The serious look on his face is what silences everyone.

Pierro continues speaking but your mind is too foggy to process his words. His hand is still on your shoulder, a visible confirmation of his earlier statement. The unanimous “Yes, Lord Harbinger!” is what draws you back into reality.

The servants disperse. Only two women remain.

Pierro lets go of your shoulder. “I expect Lady ______ to be ready by dinnertime.”

They bow. “Yes, Lord Harbinger!”

He lightly pushes you in their direction. You hesitantly follow them, feeling his gaze on your back until you disappear up the stairs. The handmaidens lead you to a lavish bedroom.

Your own chambers. How considerate.

The shorter handmaiden takes out a key and unlocks your chains. They work quickly, cleaning you in the en suite bathroom then dressing you up. The wardrobe is fully stocked with elegant dresses, all in Snezhnayan fashion. The blue diamond jewelry looks familiar.

You don’t protest as they alter an ornate gown and help you into it. Neither do you cast a glance at your old robes discarded on the floor. They let you keep your veil, at least.

*✧･ﾟ

Pierro is already seated at the dining table when you enter.

“Your new attire befits you,” is all he says.

The handmaidens close the door behind you. You walk over to the empty chair.

Fancy tableware, gourmet food, a banquet table with more distance between the chairs.

“Thank you,” you reply bitterly, sitting down. “Is that all you have to say? Because I have so many questions for you.”

His gaze is still trained on you. “You may speak.”

“All right, where do I start?” You lift your veil, exposing your face. “I didn’t expect this kind of prison. And what did you call me earlier? I’ve had my fair share of admirers, but none were so brazen as to pursue a god.”

Your jewelry twinkles under the bright light. It matches Pierro’s diamond accessories.

His face betrays no emotion. “Make no mistake, your previous act of kindness had no bearing on my decision to save your life. You may find it to your benefit to respect your savior.”

What a charming word. “Of course, I’d hate to be a nuisance.”

You sample your soup. It tastes like borscht.

Pierro just watches you. The tension in the room is thick, so unlike your previous meals together. You aren’t in the mood for any idle conversation.

“Why am I here, Pierro?” You put down your spoon and sit back in your chair. “I can’t imagine why a prisoner of the Fatui should have such luxurious accommodations or a status like the Jester’s…partner.”

“And what were your expectations?” he asks.

“To be kept in a cell. To have my powers utilized for your organization. To be, I don’t know, treated like a pawn.”

His gaze remains unfathomable. “Was I not clear with my intentions? You are meant for the New World, so I intend to keep you safe until our objective is achieved.”

“And it just so happens that only you can fulfill the role of my warden.” You rest your head on your palm, eyes wide. “You have truly surprised me.”

What use could the New World possibly have for you?

Another uncomfortable silence. Both servings of soup are left untouched.

It is Pierro who speaks again.

“You will not be without basic needs or comfort, so long as you listen to me. Regarding your current lodgings, I will confess that it is a reciprocation of your kindness. But that is all there is to it—never forget that you would be dead if not for me.”

The diamonds in his eyes shine bright with resolution.

“Rest assured, the Fatui will not make a pawn out of you,” he continues. “From this day forth, you are liberated from your divine burden.”

You belatedly realize just how far you have fallen. Stripped of your divine attire, trapped in a foreign nation, left to the mercy of a powerful human.

Likewise, any act of defiance would only make the Tsaritsa doubt her trust in him.

“I see. Thank you, I think I have a clearer idea of my situation.”

Your appetite is nonexistent, but you force yourself to eat. The sound of metal scraping against porcelain comes only from your side of the table.

“Is the food to your satisfaction?”

You stare at your bowl. “The borscht is too sweet.”

“I will tell the chef to rectify their mistake.” After a short pause, Pierro adds, “Are you still fond of cooking?”

“Not really. I lost my passion for it a long time ago.”

“That is a shame,” he says. “You were quite adept with the knife.”

v. nitimur in vetitum semper, cupimusque negata

Pierro wasn’t lying about the reality of your prison. It takes a while to adjust to your new routine, however.

Each morning, your handmaidens wake you up early for breakfast. Your meals with Pierro remain tense; he initiates most of the conversations.

After breakfast, he leaves for Zapolyarny Palace while you remain in the manor. You have no one to interact with, given the servants’ fearful dispositions, but he is gracious enough to give you a new pastime.

“You expect me to study?”

Your desk is stacked high with books. Judging by the titles, most of them pertain to the history and culture of Snezhnaya.

Pierro takes another book off the shelf. “Did you expect a life of nothing but luxury? You have lived an idle life for the previous centuries, ______, but your archaic knowledge will prove irrelevant for the New World.”

And to think you had originally been in awe of his private library. You slump in your chair, frowning at the written worksheets.

“You are absolutely cruel.”

He gives you a stern look. “Do not think you can feign studying. Your handmaidens will supervise you to ensure your proper education.”

You glance at the two women standing by the door. What must be going through their heads right now? Did their job description prepare them for sights like this?

“And do you expect me to study all day?” you ask.

“Once you finish your studies, you may do whatever you like so long as you do not leave the estate. You need only read the introductions today.”

Honestly, he should’ve just left you to rot in a prison cell.

Pierro’s hand rests on your shoulder. “Your mental enrichment will be instrumental to your adjustment.”

He leaves the library.

Shaking your head, you open the first book. The history of Snezhnayan technology turns out to be an interesting topic, and you quickly move on to the corresponding worksheet. Aside from an enumeration quiz, there is a section for subjective questions. You mull over your answers and explain your stance.

An opportunity for psychoanalysis, perhaps. At least the political propaganda is tolerable.

Most of your free time is dedicated to naps. The manor is too warm for the natural formation of ordinary mist, while the outdoor mist is quick to freeze. The only personalized item in your bedchambers is an embroidery kit.

So he remembered another hobby of yours.

You think of Pierro’s finely-tailored suits. The style is a world away from his old Khaenri’ahn attire. Has he disposed of his old garments?

Pierro usually returns from work in time for dinner. After another tense meal, he retires to his private office. Unless he invites you over for conversation or chess games, you return to the solitude of your bedchambers.

You sleep in the middle of the bed.

*✧･ﾟ

After a few months, Pierro allows you to leave the manor for the first time.

Zapolyarny Palace is as chilly as you remember. You don’t know why he brought you with him to begin with—he just banishes you to the sofa with your books and embroidery.

…He looks hard at work. Every time you peek at him, he is writing reports at his desk or speaking with a subordinate.

Thankfully, you don’t have to greet the Tsaritsa. You do pass by the Doctor’s laboratory on the way out, only to be startled by a chorus of crazed screams and hypnotic singing.

You stop in your tracks but Pierro quickly leads you away from Dottore’s wing.

Your next destination is a town square. The visit is more of a formal tour than a leisurely stroll, and the bustling activity ceases upon Pierro’s arrival. Still, you obediently walk by his side.

“Is that the Jester?!”

“Who is his companion?”

“Their veil suits the Fatui’s masks, doesn’t it?”

“Her expression looks quite solemn.”

He doesn’t pay the whispers any attention, so you do the same. The Snezhnayan crowd isn’t here for you.

A few people catch your eye. You pause and wave at them, offering a friendly smile.

Pierro’s hand presses down on your back.

The smile leaves your face. You don’t need to turn around to know that he is glaring at you—or is it the people you’d waved at? They look frozen with fear.

“Sorry,” you mutter, looking ahead.

The both of you continue walking.

*✧･ﾟ

Pierro leaves for a mission in Mondstadt. You remain in the estate.

Without him, the days are monotonous but easygoing. You eat your meals in peace and accomplish your studies. In your second week, you make an unlikely friend.

“My lady?”

You look up from your embroidery hoop. “Yes?”

The shorter handmaiden points at the half-finished design. “What flower is this?”

Where is her coworker? This is the first time a servant has approached you on their own volition.

“Pasithea,” you reply, tracing the blue and violet threads. “It’s…a special flower which grows in only two areas of Teyvat.”

“It must be beautiful.” She glances at your finished pieces. “Your needlework is exquisite, my lady. Are you preferential to any designs?”

“Not really. Would you like to suggest one?”

She smiles. “What about a snowflake?”

Her change in disposition is welcoming. She almost reminds you of your last priestess Charis. She was always quick to suggest designs for her new robes.

“What is your name, dear?”

“Eva,” she replies brightly, “and my coworker is named Anya. Please excuse her absence today; she caught a cold.”

“Send her my regards.” You smile, straightening your veil. “And thank you for your earlier compliment. It’s been a while since someone has praised my craft.”

She tilts her head. “You are quite nice, my lady. No offense but given your introduction, none of us know what to think of you.”

“None taken,” you laugh. “Honestly, I was just as surprised as all of you.”

How long until Pierro returns? Didn’t he say two months at minimum?

“I’m suddenly craving Brightcrown tea. Could you please prepare some for me?”

“Oh, sure!” Eva walks over to the door. “I’ll be right back, my lady.”

You might as well take advantage of this opportunity.

The needle pricks your thumb. You wave your hand, allowing the blood to evaporate into mist. It swirls around the room and dissipates into the air.

One room down. It would be more effective if you use your thurible, but you shouldn’t doubt the staff’s perceptiveness. You’ll have to settle for just a little blood and dominion.

If only this territory was meant for their safety, not yours.

“My lady? Your tea will be brought here shortly.”

Eva is back. You hide your thumb, squeezing the wound to extract more mist.

“Thank you, dear. May I have a tour of the estate later?”

vi. amor et melle et felle est fecundissimus 

The remainder of Pierro’s mission is enjoyable. Eva and Anya are wonderful companions, and they introduce you to a few other servants. You chat with them often.

Your mist only claims part of the estate. Several rooms are locked with no gaps under the doors, including Pierro’s personal quarters. You do manage to sneak a few drops of blood through the keyhole of his private office.

The information gained is useless. You can only hear fragments of the servants’ chatter, mainly gossip about you or praise for your captor. They keep talking about the many benefits the Fatui provided for their hometowns, from new technology to public hearths.

At least he has made their lives easier.

You do hear about Pierro’s return ahead of time. The servants are agitated but not so much as you. You remind Eva and Anya to keep your camaraderie a secret.

He finds out, anyway.

“Your handmaidens have been terminated from their position.”

“What?”

You look up immediately. Pierro remains focused on the chessboard.

“I also dismissed two other servants,” he says, moving a pawn. “Starting tomorrow, their replacements will attend to your needs.”

“But why?”

His gaze is sharp. “I was informed that they had overstepped their boundaries. It is unprofessional for a servant to be overly friendly with the lady of the estate, much less request embroidery pieces and assistance in the kitchen.”

“That—I insisted on it!” Your hands shake, chess game forgotten.

Eva, Anya, those young cooks. All jobless because of you.

Your vision turns blurry. “Could you at least transfer them to another building or give them letters of recommendation?”

He sighs. “You are too kind for your own good, ______. What would you have done if those servants sought to take advantage of you?”

“They’re good people,” you insist, blinking back tears.

“Perhaps you are right. To which their own righteousness could have been manipulated for your personal gain.”

You glare at him. “I don’t plan to escape if that’s what you are thinking. I have nowhere to go and Miseria would be in danger.”

“Even so.” Pierro glances at your clenched fists. “Remember where your loyalties lie.”

You glance at your thumb. The wound has long healed, and your mist is currently down. You’d take this opportunity to claim Pierro’s office but he would surely notice.

“So what do you expect me to say? I understand? I’m sorry? Thank you for looking out for my safety?”

He remains unfazed by your anger. “Whatever you’d like to say. Your countenance already reveals much of your sentiments.”

“Well then.” You stand up, adjusting your veil. “What would you like to hear from me?”

There is a new medal on the wall, another personal accomplishment on display.

“Shall I sing you praises?” you ask, bowing. “Show my utmost gratitude?”

Pierro just watches you, a judgemental look on his face.

How did your last followers act in their throes of madness? It was sickening to witness.

You kneel on the floor, hands clasped together. “O, Lord Pierro, I humbly thank you for saving an undeserving creature such as myself! Had it not been for your benevolence, I would have been doomed to a life of sorrow. Your greatness is unparalleled. You have brought glory to Snezhnaya. The Tsaritsa—”

“That is enough.”

The anger in his tone is undeniable. You almost flinch from his glare.

“Cease these foolish theatrics at once,” he snarls. “It would do you well to remember that Her Majesty’s name shall not be disrespected.”

“My apologies.” Despite the shiver running down your spine, you bat your eyelashes innocently. “Shall I exclude her name and continue?”

His eyes flash. “Even a court jester has more wit about them. Sit back down.”

“Gladly.” You return to your chair, wiping the dust off your skirt. A smug smile crosses your face as you analyze the chessboard.

Your king is in a tight spot. Pierro meets your gaze, challenging you.

“Draw?” he asks.

You shake your head and make your next move.

*✧･ﾟ

Pierro wins the chess game. Nonetheless, you are quite satisfied with the results.

Your new handmaidens are more formal with you. For their sake, you avoid any sort of unnecessary interaction with them. The estate is rife with gossip following the dismissal of the old servants, and you disperse the mist. You don’t want to think about them.

With no one to appreciate your embroidery, you take to roaming the estate in your free time. The manor is extravagant for two residents and most of the rooms are vacant. During one stroll, you find a half-open door near Pierro’s bedchambers.

Isn’t this room usually locked?

“My lady, where are you going? We’re forbidden—”

You smile at your handmaiden. “Did the Jester permit you to restrain me, Esfir? If he finds out about this, I’ll gladly vouch for your innocence.”

She turns to her coworker, exasperated. “Karine, call Alec. That careless idiot…”

You go inside.

The room is dark. Opening the curtains, you find what looks like several furniture pieces covered in sheets. The locked bookcase holds ancient books and scrolls.

You uncover one item and promptly lock the door.

“My lady!” Esfir bangs on the door. “What are you doing?”

You return to the unveiled statue, hands trembling. The figure’s translucent veil and swaying thurible are flawlessly sculpted. The marble is cracked but polished to perfection.

Isn’t this your statue from Vesta’s temple?

You uncover the other items. To your horror, all of them comprise your old religious art. Broken statues, deteriorated paintings, ceremonial relics. So many images of you.

Calm down, it could be worse. The items are hidden in this room, not displayed for worship. Pierro probably stole these to erase your remaining influence. But why didn’t he just destroy them? Why is the artwork well-preserved? Why are there so many?

You can’t stand looking at those faces. They are too serene, too divine, too deceptive.

You cover the items and leave the room. Esfir and Karine surround you, along with a terrified-looking servant.

“My lady, did you—!”

You close the door behind you. “Alec, dear? Do you normally clean these items?”

He tenses. “I only dust the covers and the room. Lord Pierro forbade me from unveiling the items, lest I be…laid off like my predecessor.”

“I see.” You smile at him through your veil. “Lock the door properly next time, okay? If you aren’t careful, these items could be destroyed beyond repair one day.”

Pierro makes no mention of his secret collection later that evening, but you notice more locks installed on the doors. Despite your best efforts, Alec is fired.

*✧･ﾟ

Oizys’s birthday rolls around.

You sit by the window overlooking the garden. The estate grounds are a paradise of white snow and Snezhnayan flora. There are no berry bushes in sight.

At this hour, his festival in Miseria must’ve begun. You should be preparing for his private party right now. He always came home early for your berry shortcake.

The curtain is pulled over the window.

“How long do you plan to stare outside?”

Great, he’s here.

“Good morning.” You make no move to leave the armchair. “Why are you here?”

The door to your bedchambers is open. Esfir and Karine are gone.

Pierro rests his hand on the back of the chair. “Breakfast should have begun ages ago. Your handmaidens claim that you refuse to cooperate.”

They must be terrified right now. “I’m sorry, they tried their best. I’ll go now.”

“Are you thinking of the Child of Night?”

“...How do you know?”

He evades your question. “Your sorrow has not diminished in the slightest. Grieving his loss will not bring your friend back to life.”

You grip the armrest. “Do you think I don’t know that?”

“I can imagine what other thoughts are plaguing your mind,” he replies. He turns to face you, gaze somber. “However you may spin his tale, what remains certain is that you were faultless in his death.”

He’s wrong. “I know.”

Your doubt must be obvious because Pierro wraps his hand around your arm.

“What killed the Child of Night was his own foolishness,” he insists. “You may call yourself weak, unkind, cowardly even, but it was your conviction that spared you from his fate.”

Is he trying to make you feel better or worse?

“Will you please stop it?” you whisper. “I don’t want your pity right now.”

His grip on your arm tightens. “You misjudge my sentiments.”

“Really now?” You raise your head, glaring at him. “Because you have been doing a fine job at courting me, assuming that I have not misinterpreted my new title.”

Someone like you has no place by his side.

“It would be easier if you just hated me,” you mutter, blinking back tears. “At least then I would have a proper punishment.”

An audible sigh. “Such cynicism is rather unbecoming of your kindness.”

He lifts your veil.

Your eyes widen. “What are you—”

“Silence.”

The air feels cold against your face. The hand on your arm moves to your chin, tilting your face upwards. Pierro leans closer and you can only stare back at him, frozen in place.

Nothing about his gaze is condescending.

His lips press against yours.

Your breath hitches in your throat. Mist rises from the corners of the room and you hastily disperse it. Before you can fully process the soft sensation, he pulls away.

“Y-You…” The words won’t leave your mouth. “How dare…!”

“Are my intentions clearer?” Pierro gently brushes his thumb against your cheek, wiping away your tears.

You can’t answer. Your heart is racing and it takes everything to hide the mist from him. You squeeze your eyes shut, gripping the armrest with all of your strength.

Just as abruptly as he kissed you, Pierro lets go of you and lowers your veil.

“I must leave for work,” he says. His voice resumes its authoritative tone. “I will tell the chef to cook a warm breakfast for you later.”

With that, he leaves the room. The door closes behind him.

How dare he.

Mist swirls around the bedchambers. You wipe your mouth and cover your face, bunching up your veil in your hands. The warmth in your cheeks is internal.

…Despite your mortification, the fluttery feeling in your chest is not unwelcome.

vii. dulce est desipere in loco

Pierro doesn’t acknowledge his kiss later that evening.

In the subsequent days, he works longer hours. The two of you eat separate meals. Your conversations and chess games are halted. The servants’ gossip provides no insight into his change in behavior.

What is he up to?

You answer another worksheet, taking note of the date written on the top corner. Has it been this long since your capture? Since moving to Snezhnaya, the days have felt longer and more memorable.

“______.”

“Oh, why are you here?”

This is the first time he has visited you during your study sessions. Judging by the clock, he must have finished work early.

Pierro picks up one of your finished worksheets. “What an interesting opinion.”

You tilt your head. “You think so? I just wrote what was on my mind.”

In all honesty, the subjective portion is quite engaging. Occasionally, the questions are direct responses to your answers from previous tests, as though your tutor—Pierro himself?—is indirectly challenging you.

He turns to Esfir and Karine. “Lady ______ and I will eat an early dinner. You may tidy up the library and retire to the servants’ quarters.”

“Yes, Lord Harbinger!”

You hesitantly stand up. “What is the occasion?”

He places his hand on the small of your back. “Why don’t you find out?”

The hallway is quiet. You match Pierro’s pace, casting a few glances at him. He stares ahead with a neutral expression, intentions hidden. What is so important about this dinner that he must personally escort you?

He opens the double doors.

Achlys flowers.

Every vase in the room is filled with white flower spikes and large trifoliate leaves. Tapestries hang from the walls, restored to their vibrant colors.

“I…” You clap a hand over your mouth. “What is…?”

Pierro silently takes hold of your wrist and leads you inside.

Your chairs are positioned side-by-side this time. The table is set with familiar food—your favorites, all cooked and presented in your usual style. A large bouquet of achlys flowers rests on one placemat.

You lift your veil. “My eyes aren’t deceiving me, right? How did you find out?”

He pulls out the chair for you. “Why not take your place at the banquet?”

Words fail you. You sit down and pick up the bouquet. The achlys flowers are perfectly fresh, tied with ribbons in your religious color.

In the center of the table is a large cake topped with glowing candles.

“It pleases me to see that my research was fruitful.” Pierro takes his seat and faces you, a familiar smile on his face. “Happy birthday, ______.”

That is the last straw. You burst into tears.

You can’t stop crying. Tears roll down your cheeks, drip onto your skirt, soak into Pierro’s suit when he hugs you. He feels warm.

“I suggest that you cease your crying,” he murmurs. “The food will go cold.”

“Quiet,” you sniffle. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer. Making sure that this is real. “You can’t just surprise me like this and expect me to react calmly!”

It takes a few more minutes for the tears to stop. You reluctantly let go of Pierro, closing your eyes when his fingertips brush against your damp cheeks.

To think that he of all people would be the one to make you this happy.

The birthday candles are still lit. The flames dance in the air, brighter than any fire you’ve seen before. You blow out the candles and the flames extinguish into thin curls of smoke.

“It’s been so long since I last enjoyed my birthday,” you mutter. You slump in your chair, watching the last traces of smoke disappear. “I almost forgot just how old I am.”

What kind of life have you been living up to now?

Pierro cuts the cake and gives you a slice. The flavor is bittersweet yet familiar. It brings to mind a memory of you chastising him in your kitchen for messing up the same recipe.

You put down your spoon, feeling more tears spring to your eyes. “This is all too much for one person, you know.”

He side-eyes you. “I believe that such splendor is to be expected for a god’s festival.”

“Oh, please.” You shake your head, smiling. “You deserve a grander celebration for your own birthday. If there is one thing you humans have over us gods, it is your ability to accomplish so much within your short lifespans. Compared to you…I never did enough.”

“I care not for such festivities,” he replies, holding your hand, “and I must say that you are gravely mistaken regarding your own personal significance.”

There is something so tender about his words. His other hand cups the side of your face, beckoning you to meet his gaze. Those four-pointed stars seem to peer into your soul, shining brighter than any celestial being in the sky.

“If there is one good thing which came out of your life, it was saving mine.”

Your heart twists in your chest. Try as you might, you can’t look away.

“I…I see.” Your hand shakes within his grasp. You want nothing more than to pull your veil over your face.

He knows just the right words to win people over.

This time, it’s you who prolongs the chaste kiss he gives you. It’s you who intertwines your fingers together. It’s you who whimpers when he pulls away. To your frustration, he remains mostly unfazed but the look in his eyes doesn’t lie.

How long has it been since you last enjoyed physical intimacy? What about him?

Oh well, you could play the fool for one night.

“Well, Pierro, this has been an impressive festival,” you tell him, smirking. “But where is my offering? Did you think a paltry kiss would suffice?”

“Oh?” He holds your gaze, eyes darkened. “According to the ancient records, only the divine friends of the God of Mist were expected to provide gifts. I presumed myself to be an exception to this tradition.”

“You disappoint me. But don’t worry, you can make up for it right now.”

The corners of his mouth tilt upwards. “And what exactly do you desire from me?”

You lay a hand on his chest. The pale blue diamonds of his necktie twinkle under the light, dimmer than his eyes.

“I believe you know exactly what I want,” you reply. Wispy gray marks travel up your limbs and around your eyes. “Are you up for the challenge?”

You aren’t even given a few seconds before Pierro clutches your waist and pulls you into another kiss, stealing your breath. His other hand cups the back of your head and pulls off your veil.

“Very well,” he says. “I might as well oblige you.”

*✧･ﾟ

You are never underestimating humans ever again.

The room is dark. If you close your eyes, you can imagine yourself within a void. The Abyss, maybe. Any lovely dark place where your debauchery could go unacknowledged.

Offering? You were referring to your own birthday gift, right? So why did you end up feeling like one for your captor?

Pierro lightly shakes you. “______, have you fallen asleep?”

“No, I haven’t,” you reply quickly. You turn your head in his direction, chest heaving. “I’m just exhausted.”

The complacent gleam in his eyes is absolutely maddening. Even with his mask off, his face is both familiar and different. The way he looks at you is earnest yet far from reverent.

Is this the same person you saved all those years ago? How can the voice which once weakly cried for help whisper such degrading things in your ear?

You raise your arm to inspect your wrist. Dark bruises mix with the wispy marks, from when he pinned you to the bed. Combined with the warm ache in your abdomen and knees…

You feel utterly desecrated.

Pierro holds you tightly, turning your body to face him. Loose strands of silver hair fall over his face. Familiar scars litter his bare skin, including those you’d healed.

“We missed dinner,” he murmurs. “Would you like to eat something later? It would be a waste of the banquet preparations.”

His gaze makes you shrink. Where in the world is your veil?

You sit up. “No, I’m fine. We can eat it tomorrow.”

Somehow, the thought of your party leftovers doesn’t feel unappetizing at all.

Pierro’s mask and your veil are on the night-table, along with your diamond jewelry. Your dress should be somewhere on the floor.

He grips your arm. “Where are you going?”

You sheepishly face him, wincing at the light pressure. “Going to my room. To sleep.”

He sighs, pulling you closer. “Stay.”

“...All right.”

His bed is soft. You return to his arms and rest your head on the pillow, giving in to your exhaustion. He’s saying something. Something kind, judging by his tone. Your name.

The left side of the bed is comfortable.

viii. flectere si nequeo superos, acheronta movebo

Your relationship has improved since your birthday.

As much as you hate to admit it, you’ve become more resigned to your captivity. It’s so easy to ignore the reality of your situation when you feel so happy.

Pierro has been kinder to you. Beneath his strict exterior, you’ve been seeing more traces of your old companion. The proximity between your chairs remains close and you permanently move to his bedchambers. Your conversations have become more intimate.

“Am I allowed to be this happy?”

“What do you mean?”

Pierro looks up from the chessboard. You move another piece.

“I don’t know,” you mutter. “It’s just…you really don’t want me to do anything for you? You’re just going to keep me around for the New World?”

He moves a black queen this time. “I told you before: Your former status is no longer a concern. There is no need for you to question your place by my side.”

“I know but—” You shake your head and focus on the game. “Never mind.”

Pierro clearly isn’t satisfied with that response. Feeling the weight of his gaze, you adjust your veil. He didn’t suspect anything from your recent Flower Ball embroidery, but your puffy eyes will be an obvious hint to Havria’s birthday.

Your king is cornered again. As you move a pawn, the door slams open.

“Lord Harbinger! There has been an emergency!”

A Fatui officer rushes inside, followed by two frantic maids. Surprised, you slide the pawn to the wrong square and knock over a few chess pieces.

The air grows cold.

“I do not recall permitting an audience with you, Lieutenant Dominik.”

Even you flinch in response. Despite his composure, Pierro’s irritation is evident. The fearful “We tried to stop him!” of the maids affirms that.

Dominik kneels on the floor. “Forgive me, my lord! But this is an urgent matter!”

Pierro turns to the maids. “Escort Lady ______ to our bedchambers.”

“Yes, Lord Harbinger!”

“Pierro.” You turn to him, hesitantly leaving the sofa. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

“I will see you once this matter is settled,” is all he tells you, staring down your unwelcome visitor. “I expect more competence from an informant of your ranking, Lieutenant.”

Dominik shudders, remaining in their kneeling position. You follow the maids out of his private office and into the hallway. Just as they close the door, you hear their voices.

“The Child of Ni—”

“Silence.”

What?

“My lady?” One of the maids—Sofia, you think—turns to you. “We must go.”

“Of course.” You cast a final glance at the door before you begin walking. “Thank you.”

Were they going to say ‘Night’? They couldn’t possibly be talking about him, could they?

The bedchambers are quiet. The maids leave you inside and close the door. You lie in bed, staring at the empty space next to you. You can trust Pierro…right?

Just in case, you wave your hand and imagine the private office. Soon enough, you hear two voices. Soft, fragmented, but audible.

“...divine karma…many afflicted.”

“...send more troops…Miseria.”

Did Pierro just mention Oizys’s city? Why would he still care about Miseria?

You continue listening.

“Bad…cursed. Misery, misfortune…”

“...remains? Dispirited soldiers…assured victories.”

Misery, misfortune…why are they discussing Oizys’s divine ability? What does it have to do with warfare? And what did they mean about karmic debt?

Your nails dig into the mattress.

“...others? Archon Residue…”

“The Doctor sent a report…early stages.”

“Inform me…public hearths were…exceptional fire.”

“...singing. Hallucinations have…”

The taste of metal invades your mouth but you continue to bite down on your lip.

They could only be talking about Vesta and Pasithea. And what’s this about Archon Residue and the Doctor’s involvement?!

Vesta’s extinguished fire. The strange singing you heard from the Second Harbinger’s laboratory. Their discussion of Oizys’s curse and victory.

…

Has the Fatui been using your friends’ remains this whole time?

Blood trickles down your chin. With a shaky hand, you wipe it clean and turn to the right side of the bed. Would he really do this after everything you told him?

The voices suddenly sound clearer. Have they moved closer to the door?

“Where are you going, my lord?”

“I will summon a maid. The humidity level in the room has suddenly risen.”

Pierro leaves the office.

*✧･ﾟ

“It appears that my suspicions were not unfounded.”

Pierro is straight to the point. You rise from the bed, glaring at his figure in the doorway.

On the blanket, a smear of blood evaporates into mist.

“How long have you known?”

“I’ve had my suspicions,” he replies, glaring. “How much of our conversation did you overhear?”

“Enough to give myself away, clearly,” you reply, gripping the bedpost. “So tell me, what is so urgent about Miseria that Lieutenant Dominik came here without permission?”

They specifically mentioned divine karma. Does this mean that Oizys…?

“There is no use in concealing information from you,” he sighs. “In summary, your former territory and the city of Miseria have been beset with curses in the previous months. We presume it to be the lingering resentment of the Child of Night.”

“And why is that?”

Pierro crosses his arms. “There have been sightings of a demon in your cemetery. It bears a striking resemblance to the religious imagery of your deceased friend.”

“I see,” you reply, gritting your teeth, “and what will you do to him?”

“That is confidential information.”

“Oh, really?” Your voice rises in volume, as does the mist on the blanket. “I think I have every right to know about Oizys and your other secrets. Tell me, what have you done with my friends’ remains?”

There is zero remorse on his face. “If you are pertaining to the Lord of the Hearth and the Goddess of Consciousness, then you can already deduce my answer.”

“How dare you!”

Mist swirls around the room, heavy and thick, but Pierro manages to cross the room towards you. You raise your arm but he catches it quickly.

“I advise you to be rational,” he snaps. “The Child of Night is dead. Whatever is prowling in your former territory is no longer your friend.”

“Don’t touch me!”

Your attempt to raise the mist is dashed as Pierro pins you to the bed. He grips your wrists with enough force to make you panic.

“Is this what you will do with me eventually?” you shout. Hot tears flow down the sides of your face. “Do you intend to make an instrument out of me as well?!”

Stupid. Not even Havria was this trustful.

“You already know how their deaths affected me, that their graves were still important to me! How could you—”

You struggle some more, only to shriek when Pierro strengthens his grip.

“I advise that you remember your place,” he says coldly, removing your veil and setting it aside. “Though your soul is worthy for the New World, even you are not safe from my scorn.”

“I don’t want to hear that right now! I’ve had enough of you and the Tsari—!”

A resounding pop interrupts you, followed by your pained scream. The only thing more excruciating than your sprained wrist is the sensation of Pierro’s fingertips wiping your tears.

“As I said, no harm will come to you so long as you are loyal to Her Majesty,” he tells you. “Your friends have long fallen, and your personal sentiments offer little insight into the importance of preserving their memory.”

“You…” Your voice is reduced to pathetic whimpers. “I…I thought I…”

Those diamond pupils hold your gaze, cold and unforgiving. “That is final.”

You should have left him to die that day.

The mist recedes.

*✧･ﾟ

You return to your old bedchambers.

The doors and windows are locked. Your embroidery kit is confiscated along with the needles. Esfir and Karine visit you with your study material and meals on a tray, but you reject most of them. It takes a while to readjust to your empty bed.

You don’t see much of Pierro in the following days. He spends less time in the estate to evade your supervision, and the servants’ gossip is hushed. You receive no more news on Oizys and your friends’ remains.

Your wrist is treated. The ice pack numbs your pain but it barely helps. You can’t forget the ruthless look on Pierro’s face when he hurt you.

You’ve never felt more angry with yourself.

Why did you let him do all of this to begin with? Out of fear or pity? Because his dreams of the New World trumped your own worthless existence?

You could spite him. Fall asleep for a century…or more? As the Tsaritsa’s underling, he is probably granted immortality. Perhaps you shouldn’t wake up at all.

But Oizys is still out there.

“Karine?”

She puts down the breakfast tray. “Yes, my lady?”

Esfir also turns to you, bandages in hand.

“When is the Jester returning from his mission?” you ask.

They exchange looks. “We are not allowed to share that information.”

“All right. Could you at least give this to him when he returns?” You give Karine a signed envelope, wincing at the pain radiating from your wrist.

“Of course, my lady. We will do so immediately.”

“Thank you for everything,” you whisper, “and I’m sorry.”

A ball of mist hovers under your palm, accompanied by flecks of light.

“My lady, what are you—!”

Your thurible is pristine from years of disuse. You quickly open it and swipe your palm through the built-in blade. Blood spills into the censer.

Dark clouds emanate from your Catalyst, obscuring the room and filtering through the keyhole. Esfir and Karine rush towards you, only to disappear into the mist. You raise the mist in the manor, hearing their screams in the hallway along with their coworkers’.

“Where am I?”

“How did we end up in the kitchen?!”

“I can’t reach the foyer!”

“Inform Lord Pierro at once!”

Their panic is unbearable. You can sense every scream, every frantic movement, every cry for help. But this time, you must resist the urge to help them.

The window is next. It takes a few tries but your thurible finally smashes the glass.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat to the empty bedroom.

The servants will be fine. The mist will disappear in a few days, or perhaps earlier if you are slain first. Then the manor will be free from your dominion. Your signed letter will prove their innocence.

You swing your thurible, smiling. What will the Fatui make out of you, you wonder? A special weapon? A tool to spy on their enemies? Or maybe they will keep you alive to harvest your blood for the rest of eternity.

That doesn’t matter. It is only fair after all that you’ve survived.

ix. memento vivere

Miseria has fallen.

Your brief inspection is devastating. The Fatui has taken control over the city. The historic temple has been replaced with a church for the Tsaritsa. The people are consumed with misery and anxiety, likening their misfortune to a divine curse.

You almost cannot believe it. Oizys’s punishments were never this harsh.

You advance to your old territory before any Fatui officers notice you. After subduing so many pursuers, you already feel the strain from using your powers. Your thurible had to be refilled numerous times.

Your territory is even more unrecognizable. In your absence, the forest has been converted to a facility site. A Snezhnayan-style building stands in the place of your temple. The pasithea flowers have died out.

Surprisingly, the achlys flowers have multiplied. Fields of white flower spikes grow amongst the remaining flora in stark contrast to the unburied corpses.

So many masked humans. Did Oizys kill all of them?

A thick miasma of divine karma permeates the area, growing stronger as you approach the cemetery. Several graves have been excavated, leaving gaping holes in the ground. The two statues are missing.

A dark figure stands over an empty grave, holding a bloody Claymore.

“Oizys?”

He turns around. “█████?!”

The divine karma is so oppressive. You remain in your spot, but Oizys closes the distance and captures you in a tight hug. You nearly collapse from the miasma.

“It’s…is it really you?” you whisper.

A large smile cuts his shadowy face. “Who else?”

He feels so cold.

You pull away, processing the sight before you. This isn’t the body you cleaned and buried all those years ago. It is incorporeal, hazy at the edges, marred with bleeding wounds. Instead of his death suit, he is wearing his bloody robes with ruined embroidery.

You never wanted to see his mutilated corpse ever again.

No, you shouldn’t think that. This is still Oizys.

Pain throbs from your sprained wrist. You look down to find him touching your bandages.

“█████.” He grips your wrist tightly. “What happened to you?”

“It’s nothing to worry about,” you reply quickly, slipping out of his grasp. “Listen, you’re in serious danger. I don’t know if there’s a way for you to leave but—”

“Leave?” He stares at you with bloodshot eyes. “I come back and you’re gone, not a trace of mist left. The next thing I know, these masked Snezhnayans take over, destroying your temple and the cemetery! And you expect me to leave after all that?”

The miasma is overwhelming. Unsettled, you take a step back.

He doesn’t notice. “And do you know what I found in my own city? Those ungrateful ants worshiping the Cryo Archon as though I had never existed!”

You shake your head vehemently. “Oizys, don’t take it out on your people. They—”

“Is this how you felt?” he laughs bitterly, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I knew it. I shouldn’t have accepted your followers back then. I should have punished them for you.”

“You can’t say that!” you exclaim. “Think about it clearly; it’s one thing to harm the Fatui but they were all innocent!”

There is a murderous look in his eyes.

“Oh, █████,” he frowns. “Have you learned nothing from how humanity abused your kindness? How they abandoned you and killed our friends?”

He’s wrong. “That…I couldn’t provide for them or fulfill my duty!”

“Those wretched creatures caused our suffering!”

His voice cracks on the last word. Oizys coughs up black smoke and you immediately approach him, only for him to step back.

“Forget it,” he snaps. “It’s useless to convince you.”

“Says the person who joined a war and gained nothing from killing what must’ve been several civilians! At least I’m still alive,” you shoot back.

“Well, I wouldn’t have died if you had joined me.”

What did he just say?

The miasma intensifies. When Oizys raises his head, there is only disdain in his eyes.

“Among our friends, why did it have to be you?” he whispers. “Maybe things would have turned out differently if someone else survived.”

“Oizys.” Tears fill your eyes. “You…you don’t really mean that, do you?”

This isn’t right. This isn’t how it usually goes. It should be you saying that and him assuring you otherwise. If even he believes that, what else can you think?

His gaze flits from your wrist to your neck. “You didn’t answer my question earlier. Did those humans hurt you? Why are you wearing a foreign necklace?”

Your necklace? You look down, belatedly realizing that you are still wearing your necklace from Pierro. The pale blue diamonds twinkle in the fading light.

“Wait.” He touches the pendant under your veil. “I’ve seen this style before; it’s not from Snezhnaya. The design, the material…”

“Hey, not too close.” You try to step away but he keeps a firm grip on the chain.

“Is this from Khaenri’ah?”

You can’t look him in the eye. “I—”

“It would benefit you to lay your hands off what is mine.”

You are doomed.

Pierro enters the cemetery, wielding a sword. Despite his serious expression, his gaze is absolutely livid.

Oizys merely scoffs. “Another masked offender. How many of you—”

He stops talking, gripping your necklace tighter. His eyes fix on Pierro’s diamond accessories then his pupils.

“█████.” Any remaining warmth for you has been dashed. “Is he from that nation?”

You can’t answer him. Neither can you meet Pierro’s cold glare.

It’s too late. Oizys leaves your side and appears in front of him, swinging his Claymore, but Pierro dodges it in time. The miasma thickens.

“You wretched human!” he shouts, attempting another swipe. “How dare you!”

A dark blue galaxy-like aura appears in Pierro’s hand, shooting at Oizys’s neck. He gasps, clawing at his throat, but the Khaenri’ahn magic restrains him.

You grip your thurible. “Stop, you’ll—!”

Pierro’s glare is absolutely chilling. “I have finally been granted an audience with you, Child of Night. On behalf of my fallen compatriots, I return your blow.”

“I should have wiped out your despicable race until my dying breath!”

Oizys sets himself free and hits Pierro’s sword this time. The latter stumbles, only to quickly recover and fight back.

You rush towards them, swinging your thurible to spread the mist. Even if you can’t do much, you should at least distract Pierro and give your friend a chance to escape.

“Oizys, don’t underestimate—!”

The blade that cuts you isn’t Pierro’s.

Your back hits a gravestone, but what shocks you is the pain radiating from your cheek. Through the tear in your veil, you make out a disgusted expression.

Oizys looks away. “Just disappear already, █████.”

Why would he say such terrible things to you?

Pierro turns to you, eyes widening. Suddenly, he goes on the offense and successfully strikes Oizys in the leg. Whatever magic he had used earlier is imbued within his sword.

Oizys steps back, crashing into a patch of achlys flowers. He swings his Claymore again, slicing several flowers in the process. “Die already!”

You touch your cheek. Blood drips from the wound and onto the ground. Oizys didn’t hesitate to hurt you, not that he needed to in the first place—you were nowhere close to Pierro. The beheaded achlys flowers litter the ground, quickly trampled.

That thing is no longer Oizys.

What should you do now? The mist engulfs the entire cemetery. You can sense the entire battle. Oizys keeps flinging insults at Pierro, talking about how he will properly punish humanity this time. The latter doesn’t say much.

“You are gravely mistaken. I am not allowing her to escape from me.”

Oizys’s blade grazes his shoulder.

Pierro…did he just stumble?! Oizys laughs and hits him again.

The mist rises. You sense a shocked gasp as the ghost steps forward and gets transported to the other side of the cemetery.

“█████? Did you—”

The mist parts between you and Oizys. There is more blood on his clothes—Pierro’s, not his own. He stares at you, dumbstruck.

“Has your mind been utterly broken?!”

He runs towards you, only to disappear into a cloud of mist. You dodge his attacks, careful to keep Pierro at a distance. You take a few more steps and allow Oizys to find you.

He lunges at you, only to be splattered with a spray of blood.

Right in the eyes.

Mist rises from his eyes and wraps around his face.

He figures it out quickly. “█████! How could you do this to me?!”

His screams are too much to bear. You ignore both his frantic thoughts and the renewed pain in your arm.

Oizys begins stumbling in circles. The mist claims him, covering his eyes and obscuring his vision. This isn’t enough. It will take—

A blade cuts through his heart.

Pierro? When did he find you?

With a final cry, Oizys collapses to the ground. The miasma clears. His body turns more hazy and he ceases to think. When you approach his corpse and release your claim, his eyes are cloudy.

He’s gone.

A pained groan snaps you out of your thoughts. Pierro keels over, clutching his shoulder.

“Pierro!” Quickly, you help him sit down. “Where does it hurt? Do you feel faint?!”

Your voice can’t keep up with your thoughts. You grip his arms and inspect the wounds, horrified when you hear another hiss of pain. His mask lays on the ground, half-broken. There’s so much blood. You can’t lose—

“Compose yourself.”

He grabs your arm. The diamonds in his eyes are so clear, so bright.

“I…” You try to pull away. “Are you really all right?”

His grip is so tight, unwilling to let go. His fingertips press down on your sprained wrist, triggering another wave of pain. His glare remains terrifying.

“You will have to do more to escape from me,” he snaps.

The mist clears.

You raise your other arm. Pierro catches it in time, only for you to stomp on his foot.

He hisses in pain. “You—”

“You idiot!”

Hot tears roll down your cheeks, stinging your wounds. You try to stand up, only to collapse as dizziness overtakes you.

“______!” Pierro catches you in time, anger giving way to concern.

You glare at him. “What in the world were you thinking? Do you have no sense of self-preservation at all?!”

He examines your wounds. “That is a hypocritical statement coming from you.”

“I don’t care! It’s your fault that this all happened to begin with!”

You’ve never felt more relieved in your entire life.

You throw your arms around him and continue sobbing.

“I don’t even know the death rites for a Khaenri’ahn!” you sniffle. “How do you expect me to properly bury you?!”

Pierro lifts your veil and wipes your tears.

“You can cease your hysterics,” he says softly. “I am not letting you go anywhere.”

Behind you, Oizys’s ghost dissipates into the mist.

*✧･ﾟ

The ride home is anything but pleasant.

“The chains are still uncomfortable.”

“That is a necessary precaution.” Pierro adjusts the cuffs and gives you a stern look. “Once we return home, you will release your claim on the estate. There will be no more eavesdropping.”

At least his touch is gentle. His hand trails up your arm, from your sprained wrist to the bandaged wounds. The field doctors had been efficient.

“You will also be confined under strict surveillance,” he adds. He meets your gaze, trapping your reflection in his diamond pupils. “In our bedchambers. I will keep a proper eye on you this time.”

You sigh and lean back in your carriage seat. “You are absolutely cruel. In case you haven’t realized, I could have killed you anytime and still chose not to. And even if I wanted to do that right now, I’m too weak.”

You can’t tell if your lethargy is from blood loss or karmic debt, probably both. Despite his own wounds, Pierro seems to be in exponentially better condition.

“The creature we slew was not the true Child of Night.”

“Huh?” You look up, facing the seat across from you.

Pierro’s gaze is sympathetic. “It was nothing more than the lingering resentment of your deceased friend, so whatever claims he made were untrue.”

“I know,” you reply sheepishly.

Oizys is truly gone. No more warm smiles, blessings of happiness, or lively meals together. May his soul finally find peace.

“Here, take this.”

Mist fills the carriage. Pierro sits up in alarm, only for you to toss your thurible at him.

He catches it, surprise painting his features. “Might there be a reason why you are voluntarily surrendering your Catalyst?”

“Must I articulate my answer?” You cross your arms, leveling him with a tired look. “Take it. Add it to your creepy collection, use my blood as you see fit, I don’t care. So long as I no longer need to hold that terrible thing.”

He stares back at you for a few seconds before setting your thurible aside. “The Fatui has no use for this weapon.”

You think you can believe him this time.

You take off your veil. The fabric is torn beyond repair; you will need to sew a new one. Maybe you can ask Pierro for embroidery ideas.

Outside the window, the scenery switches to a swirling snowscape. A few Snezhnayans are walking against the blizzard.

No need to worry about them; they can persevere. If not, they should still be safe under Pierro’s leadership.

You leave your seat and walk over to Pierro’s. Pain shoots up your leg and you nearly fall, but he quickly catches you and moves you to his side.

“Don’t overexert yourself,” he mutters, but his tone is less harsh. His arm wraps around you, pulling you close.

“Hey, Pierro? Are you staying home tomorrow?”

“Why do you ask?”

You rest your head on his uninjured shoulder. “I just feel like cooking, is all. Do you have any requests?”

A short pause. When Pierro turns to you, there is a soft gleam in those four-pointed stars. A small smile cuts across his face.

“Your cream stew was my favorite.”

You smile back. “That is good to hear.”

What else? You will need to prepare the ingredients, pick the right tableware, maybe even ask Pierro if he’d like to assist you again. And so many other things.

The sky turns dark. The estate is still miles away and you will be trapped in Pierro’s company for a few more hours…and the rest of eternity for that matter. But for some reason, that fact doesn’t bother you in the slightest.

For the first time in years, you actually look forward to tomorrow.

♡

Author’s Note ๑ Side story from Pierro’s POV

Do not ask me how I ended up creating an ultra-detailed darling and a bunch of Genshin OCs for this fic. I am still processing the fact that I wrote a Pierro fic and that it turned out this way (● ˃̶͈̀ロ˂̶͈́)੭ꠥ⁾⁾

If you actually read this to the end, I hope the experience was worth it!! Thank you to everyone for eagerly anticipating this and giving your lovely feedback on my previous fics. Do tell me if you enjoyed Pierro and Savior! Darling’s story, and Happy New Year~

Tag a Pierro enjoyer!! @kocherry @mirdance @victoria1676 @mnemosyneechan @artiifex @pierroswife @fluffy-koalala @lcveaesop @teabutmakeitazure @nicebonescomrades @ansy-tea

Thank you for your interest in reading!! @yandere-romanticaa​ @ddarker-dreams​ @cinnamonest​ @yanmaresu​

[auecho]

umm i’m thinkin about old man pierro letting you shave his beard ! ૮꒰ྀི ◞ ⸝⸝⸝ ◟ ꒱ྀི১ it’s somethin he doesn’t usually do—appreciating the gruff and maturity of his beard—but you ask incessantly . what your fascination is , he can’t comprehend , but he begrudgingly obliges . he carefully instructs you : wedging you between his thick thighs and demonstrating the motions . “go with the grain—down . . slowly .” you watch with excited, beady eyes as he does so , nearly snatching the razor from his hand when it’s your turn .

it’s so intimate . he places soft kisses on your arm as you dunk the razor , waiting patiently for your attention . he’s big and burly but so full of love . . you can’t deny him and offer him a sweet kiss to the lips . hands finding refuge on the back of your thighs he tries to sweep you away, but with a giggly sigh you pull back . you cup the bottom of his chin, angling his head before you let your nervous hand shave away his hair .

chaste kisses in between and rushed apologies for nicking him here and there are shared between the two of you . you get the hang of it after a while and suddenly he’s clean shaven . he looks younger, unfamiliar . but you like it .

“did i do a good job ?” you softly inquire, directing his gaze to the mirror . he tries not to feel himself too much, but the wide grin that breaches his seriousness is all too telling . “a great job, princess .”

in a swift movement you’re swept up onto his lap, neck housing his head . kiss , kiss , kiss , as he burrows into your skin . your giggles are paused by his voice overpowering your sense : “i’ll let you do it from now on .”

you celebrate and he tugs you closer . with a devious grin prominent , “gotta get it to grow back, first .” And you know just the way to make it happen .

[sondepoch]

Oh, Sister! (Pierro x Reader ft. Harbingers)

You’ve always been a useless sister, a thorn at his side, his lone weakness amidst all his strength—but Pierro realizes you might be useful, for once, when he sees just how interested his fellow Harbingers are in you.  

Or: Pierro gets the Harbingers in line by giving them an incentive. You.

WORD COUNT: 3.3k

TAGS: INCEST, dubcon, implied power dynamics, dom/sub, voyeurism, exhibitionism, fingering, implied orgy, reader has a vagina and clit

PAIRING: Pierro x Reader (feat. the Harbingers)

GENERAL: This fic is part of a series. Each part of this series will feature a different character from Genshin Impact and their beloved little sister. Smut. You can read the masterlist for this series HERE.

He hates how much he loves you.

It’s always irked him. He’s the strongest man in the world, probably, someone who’s lived for centuries and felled whole civilizations at his sword, someone who’s even now plotting world domination—and yet, the Tsaritsa was able to conquer him so effortlessly with a single threat, reminding him that while he’s nigh invincible, you aren’t.

Pierro knows it’s not your fault you’re only useful for warming his cock, knows he can’t truly blame you for the way you’ve only ever thought with that pretty pussy of yours when he’s always been the brainpower for both of you—and, deep down inside, he knows he doesn’t actually hate it. Your soft, warm skin is the only thing he truly looks forward to anymore, and the comfort of your arms is the one thing keeping him sane.

Still, though, Pierro has always been frustrated with how much effort he puts into protecting you both, how little you're able to help him in turn.

Now is the chance to undo all of that.

When this is over, he’ll pepper your face with kisses until you’ve forgotten everything, until there’s a docile smile glued to your face and you’re giggling sweetly, wrapping your arms and legs around his body and reciprocating his love like the angel you are.

Now, however, is the time for order.

“P-please,” you whisper, tugging meekly on the giant robe he wears. “I’m scared. What if they hurt me, they don’t know—”

“I promise none of their cocks are larger than mine,” Pierro hums, lifting a big hand to cup your face. And, really, that much is true. Pierro isn’t exactly human, and his monsterlike body ranks first in everything: authority, power, and certainly size. Arlecchino’s waist has the girth of Pierro’s bicep, Tartaglia’s broad shoulders are the length of Pierro’s forearm, and Capitano—

Well, you might have a little trouble with Capitano.

But Pierro will make sure you’re well prepared for all of them.

“I don’t want them, though,” you whisper meekly, sniffing. Your nude figure curls in on itself atop Pierro’s lap, and the man almost considers changing his mind until he hears the sound of his fellow Harbingers’ footsteps drawing nearer. “Please, I only want you, please, brother, please just—”

“Pierro,” the Harbinger says smoothly before you can utter his name. “For this night, you must call me Pierro. Understand, love?”

“Okay, P-Pierro,” you stutter, and he can tell you hate the way his moniker falls off your lips, hate the way you can’t even call him by his true name.”But Pierro, please—”

Three knocks ring out from the other side of the hall, and the Harbinger can feel your whole body go still. He presses a comforting squeeze to your waist, kissing your forehead once, twice, and then he steels himself. For centuries, he has risked his life to keep you safe, using his body, mind, and soul to ensure nothing but the absolute best for you. Now, just for one night, he needs you to reciprocate a fraction of that sacrifice. 

“I will watch,” he promises solemnly. “And if they push you too far, I will intervene.”

Slowly, you blink back tears and nod.

That’s all the affirmation Pierro needs.

“Come in,” he orders, and the double doors to the Fatui War Chamber swing wide open. Eight Harbingers waltz effortlessly into the deep blue darkness, their armors shining in the moonlight as you whimper at the sight. Already, they’re talking, bickering, arguing, and the noise raises a familiar headache to Pierro’s mind. Their countless squabbles overlap, and the Harbinger can hardly tell whose voice belongs to whom.

“—absolutely pointless, as always.”

“Is that so? I’d love to see you decipher the sacred texts. Or would you rather continue mourning—”

“Now, now, Dottore, let’s not go that far. I doubt—”

“Oh, is going far our concern now, Pantalone? If I recall, you were the one most adamant about—”

“Please, that was Pulcinella! I could never be so unmoved. Isn’t that true, Co—”

“Not at all. If anything, this entire argument is utterly—”

“Risible? I think it’s time to find a new adjective, dearest Marionette, or—”

“Must you always interrupt? Sometimes I wonder why Pierro hasn’t put you in your place yet.”

“Maybe it’s because Pierro appreciates my commentary. Isn’t that right, o' great lord Pi…”

All the Harbingers come to a halt when they finally look to the center of the room where their leader sits—but illuminated in the moonlight isn’t his figure alone. No, their eyes catch on the graceful shape of you, perched prettily on his thighs with a terrified, anxious look on your face that has each of them aching to get a better look. No one speaks. No one moves. For the first time since Signora's death, they seem truly stunned.

Good, Pierro thinks, enjoying their awed silence.

The man's lips curl into a grin when he sees how the sight of you instantly tames the lot of them. For the first time in weeks, these hallowed halls are dead silent even with every reporting Harbinger standing between them. Under their sharp, hungry gazes, you shift in Pierro’s lap, drawing your knees in so that they can’t see your pussy, your tits, but Pierro knows that the very sight of your flesh is enough.

“Well?” he calls, his empty smile bordering on a smirk. “You’re all late. Be seated at once.”

With unusual obedience, the Harbingers all move into their places, but they want your attention, now. Eyes fixed on you, they begin speaking.

“You had us under the impression that you wanted our efficiency to increase,” Capitano calls, his empty head of armor twisted your way. “Or have you already acquired Scaramouche’s whereabouts?”

“Maybe he finally got bored of figuring out how to hunt Scaramouche down,” Tartaglia taunts. "Or maybe he's just bored of us."

“Doubtful. The Tsaritsa ordered us to locate him. This isn’t the time for…” Sandrone’s cold eyes rake down your nude body. “...distractions.”

They’re right. Pierro usually only has you sit in on the most unimportant meetings: the ones where he doesn’t really need to be there but wants to simply keep them in line, playing with the folds of your pussy while his coworkers talk because he hates how their inefficient squabbling can keep him away from your loving embrace, hates how his position as Number One forces him to keep them in line even on the days where they don’t need him present.

Today, however, they have an important matter to discuss: something they’ve been debating for weeks.

For Pierro to bring you in now, when the time for them to finally agree and unite is drawing especially near—it goes against everything he’s ever done.

“Today, I have a challenge for you all,” Pierro says, and he can feel you squirm, feel you get nervous at the idea he’s about to pitch. “Since the incentive of the Tsaritsa’s favor isn’t enough for you fools, I’ve decided to give you another reward.”

Pierro wraps his thick fingers around your thighs, and with the barest shaving of his true iron strength, he pries your legs apart and pulls your back flush against his chest. Your pussy glistens from when Pierro had sucked on your clit earlier, twitches from how you’re still near that edge, and fully contracts in response to the eight hungry gazes that pierce it, and the pitiful whine that spills past your lips makes Pierro’s next offer even more tempting.

“Whoever pitches the idea to capture Scaramouche gets to make my little sister cum.”

And instantly, for the first time, all eight of them are actually trying to figure out how to acquire the Harbinger who got away, not one of them daring to ask why the ever-possessive Pierro is finally offering to let them fuck you when he used to threaten anyone with death for daring to look at you too long. Indeed, they're trying to make sure Pierro won't change his mind, trying to now complete the task he's presented them with in haste so that he won't take this tempting offer away—especially when they've watched him fuck you in front of them for weeks, all without ever having the permission to touch—and Pierro can only smile as his colleagues begin genuinely trying to determine the best way to bring Scaramouche back.

“—need to shut off the borders to Inazuma without starting a war. I can have my men pose as bandits around Ritou, and with him locked inside the nation, we can search for him island by island—”

“A dignitary like you could never understand, but such inaction is useless. Locating Scaramouche will never be enough. We’re better off distributing spies across the nearest nations with on-call skirmisher units to—”

“And risk losing valuable men and letting him realize we’re hunting him? The only people who can defeat Scaramouche are us fellow Harbingers. And I’m the strongest mobile fighter. I should go out on a hunt—”

“Oh, because you’re capable of being in every nation at once? A single bounty hunter isn’t enough. What we really need to do is contact every bank and threaten to cut off financial support unless Scaramouche is discovered. Then, they’ll have equal incentive to find him, so—”

For the first time, Pierro starts to hear real solutions.

He grins, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“See?” he whispers to you, grinning darkly. “You’re getting them to actually do something instead of sitting here like idiots. Doesn’t that make you proud?”

“They’re all looking at me…” 

You squirm as Pierro continues to hold your legs apart, and he almost feels bad. Even as they discuss, all eight Harbingers keep their eyes fixed on you, like starving wolves staring at the first food they’ve seen in weeks. And Pierro doesn’t know how often the lot of them fuck, whether they all even have such base interests…but it’s clear that each of them wants that prize he's offering for themselves.

You seem to realize it, too, and your eyes flicker away from Pantalone's skittishly when they meet. 

Pierro wants to tell you that your bashful little act, the way you’re so obviously anxious, only fuels them further. That these are monsters for men, and that they only want you more because of how scared you are of them. 

But, your bashfulness is also what is making Pierro’s reward so tempting, so he lets you be.

The humidity in the room rises, and Pierro begins playing with your pussy. Your soft, quiet moan draws their attention instantly, and the first Harbinger raises an eyebrow when they go silent in hopes of hearing it again.

“What?” he asks. “I won’t let her cum. I’m just getting her wet for you.”

Pierro presses a finger inside your pussy, and the lewd moan that spills from your lips—a moan that taunts, tempts, and teases all of them because they’re doubtlessly desperate to hear that sound again, aching to be responsible for you making that sound again—could shatter the warming air.

Their focus on the task at hand increases in turn.

“Forget all of that. Scaramouche has always wanted to go to Natlan, let’s just search there, so—”

Something strange is in the air, Pierro can tell. It’s getting warmer, thicker, wetter—but he chalks it off to the rising tension of his fellow, visioned Harbingers.

“Fucking dumbass. We can’t ignore the chance of him being elsewhere. We should just put out a bounty—”

Pierro starts fucking you with his finger, subtly rubbing his growing bulge against your ass. A single glance around the table confirms that every other man is hard, and Pierro almost feels sorry for them.

“And risk someone else finding the Gnosis? Forget that, let’s just—”

He wipes away the sheen of sweat on your forehead, curling his finger into the one spot that always has your toes curling. It works, and instantly, you’re spreading your legs even wider for the audience, moaning debauchedly as you babble mindlessly about how good it feels, whimpering his name.

“No, no, a bounty might work if we make it Fatui-wide instead of—”

Pierro can feel your core beginning to clamp tighter and tighter around his finger, and right when you’re at the precipice, right when you’re there, he retracts.

“What if we—”

All the Harbingers fall silent when Pierro pulls his finger from you, cruelly yanking you away from your high when you were so close. At once, you start whining into the silence. “No, no, no,” you mewl, hips bucking in vain as you tug on Pierro’s robes, staring up at him with desperate, wanting eyes, ignorant to how your display of absolute whorishness will only make things worse for you. “Please let me cum, please, please just—”

Pierro feels guilty. Edging has always been your weakness, and while he’s at last grown used to your utter…shamelessness when tempted, his fellow Harbingers aren’t nearly as unaffected.

A beat of silence passes, and your lip curls into a pout.

Then, the eight Harbingers get even louder, standing up and beginning to shout ideas at each other. It's so intense that the humidity in the air starts rising again, so Pierro looks around warily at the room to see if one of the Harbingers is doing it intentionally, but all he finds is Tartaglia looking especially intensely at your quivering hole, ignoring the ongoing discussion in favor of watching your wanton expression.

What a child, Pierro thinks. How pathetic.

It’s getting too noisy for him to keep track of who’s suggesting what anymore. All he knows is that everyone's ideas are equally flawed, so he leaves the Harbingers to filter out the best plans themselves and merely continues playing with your pussy—this time focusing his attention on your clit, rubbing slow, gentle circles.

“Oh,” you moan, eyes fluttering closed. All inhibitions seem to have vanished. “Oh, oh, Pierro—”

He builds you to another high, cautiously waiting for the moment he’ll have to rip it away, and the moisture in the room continues to rise unnaturally, your skin practically glowing with shine as you writhe and writhe, so edged from before that you’re already nearing another high, and—

Pierro pulls his fingers away from your hole with a smug grin, but he notices that the moisture of the room is getting higher. That it’s starting to get so wet and humid around your body that your little clit is reacting, and—

All the Harbingers fall silent when the humidity drops to nothing, cracking dry in the sudden, absolute absence of moisture, and you're so pathetic that the slap of evaporation that tugs through your folds is enough to push you over the edge even without physical stimulation. Pierro can only watch as your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open, a disgusting look of ecstasy washing through your face as you cum for all the Harbingers to see like a cheap whore, like a pathetic slut, like the useless little sister you are who can't even be put up as a reward without ruining things.

Pierro is furious.

“Tartaglia,” he hisses when he sees how the Hydro user is grinning in naivety at how his little trick with humidity made you cum. “Tartaglia, I could banish you from the Fatui for this, you—”

"What?" the young man asks, a broad grin on his face as he winks at you. "I didn't touch."

"You—"

“Do it again,” Pantalone interrupts, his ever-closed eyes opened into slits that stare, mesmerized, at your still-orgasmic face. “We may not be able to touch her yet, but—”

"No, let me try," Dottore interrupts, his own vision seeping into the air around you, and Pierro realizes that he might have tempted his soldiers too much. 

The discussion around Scaramouche has stopped completely. Pierro realizes that they only discussed him to begin with because it was a means to an end, a way of possibly getting to touch you, and now, they've found another way to do that entirely. His leverage is lost, his stupid plan foiled, and—

And there's still a way to control them, Pierro realizes abruptly, seeing that he can still increase his original offer.

The Harbinger looks down at you, your dazed half-smile, and he wonders if you even realize that it was Tartaglia who made you cum. He can tell it just made you hornier, can feel the slick pooling on his thigh as you stare up at him with big, adoring eyes and...

Well, he thinks. This is just repayment for everything I've done for her.

Pierro glances around to room to confirm that every single person in the room is now ogling your body, the way you’re still twitching, the way you were able to cum untouched in a manner that doubtlessly has them all aching to replicate, aching to feel, aching to cause, and Pierro realizes that pitting his friends against each other was a mistake.

They all want you.

Bad enough to overcome even their hatred for each other, perhaps.

“Let me amend my earlier statement,” Pierro says, eyes dark. He pulls you closer in a silent apology, brushing his lips against your shoulder. “If all of you can come up with a singular plan to locate Scaramouche, I’ll let all of you fuck her.”

You stiffen in Pierro’s hold, and he raises the stakes ever higher.

“At the same time.”

And they react so quickly that they don’t even hear your terrified mewl, don’t even see the way you stare up at Pierro with betrayed, teary eyes that have his cock getting harder beneath those thick, furred robes. 

"Don’t worry,” he mumbles. “I’ll prepare you,” he says, and he sticks two fingers into your twitching hole, stretching you methodically because he’s now certain you’ll need it.

But he hardly has time.

The Harbingers are so overcome with desire that they unite instantly under their shared goal to acquire you. No longer are they vying to win Pierro’s coveted award alone. At last, they’re on the same team, and with eight minds thinking together, they manage to identify a plan in unison that upholds the Fatui’s standards, minimizes resources and personnel wasted, and, most importantly, will locate Scaramouche with near-perfect efficiency.

Pierro is almost surprised at how quickly they do it: three weeks’ worth of arguments settling in a manner of minutes, and he wonders if this was always their plan, if they always wanted to put Pierro’s back to a wall so that they might get a chance at touching you.

Whatever the case is, he has no time to contemplate it.

Pierro kisses your forehead twice and then lays you out on the table.

You whimper pathetically, reaching out in vain for him, but all you catch is his shadow. Terrified eyes dart to the eight faces that are about to devour you, and Pierro sighs.

“First come first serve,” he says, and as punishment for Tartaglia’s earlier stunt, the man uses his vision to slow the eleventh Harbinger’s movements just a tad, letting all the others get their prized spots first, leaving the eleventh with only a hand that he quickly smells and nips and licks—and the sight that then graces Pierro has him thinking that you might truly enjoy this, that this will feel like a reward for you as much as it is one for them. 

Then, Pierro sees the monstrous smiles on each of their faces—Arlecchino’s grin as she kneels between your legs on the table, Pantalone’s smirk as he shoves his fingers inside your mouth, Dottore’s simper as he presses both thumbs against your nipples—and Pierro realizes that he’s handed you over to monsters.

Well.

Perhaps this will be a good exercise for getting you used to their touch, their habits.

Because after seeing just how well these Harbingers worked when Pierro set you as their goal and prize, he realizes that he’s going to be doing it much more often in the future. 

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

Word Count: 3.3k

Notes: finally had the courage to post this stuff on main!! comment who you want to see next! hopefully it wont take me nine months to update, this time

Reblog, Comment, & Like

Thank you for reading <3

[kocherry]

Click here for the full masterlist for my Nun!Reader mini-series ♡

Be With Me For Evermore

Capitano x Nun!Reader

Hello minna! I have another shortfic of my nun reader brainrot xD This is also an extension of my contribution for Valentine's Day ♡ Do enjoy reading as this is told from Capitano's POV

Content: Fluff, NSFW implications, Slight Angst, Religious Sacrilege, TW for Blood

< 3.3k words under the cut >

"Archon of mine, Tsaritsa, Your Majesty forgive me for I have fallen from grace."

Capitano knelt down with one knee, a hand gripping onto his sword pierced into the soft grassy ground. He lowers his head as he prays to the ever cold and beloved Cryo Archon asking for mercy.

Capitano's loyalty is questioned by none other than himself. He worships his archon and yet he wanted to put you in a pedestal instead.

The first time you two ever met was when some knights and his own men fought each other for petty reasons. He had assessed the situation and the knights were to blame for starting the fight. Oh how he recalls the way you blocked his sword from ever touching those knights

Capitano raised his sword his gaze is cold towards the knights who kept begging for mercy. He never would give that because they were the ones who instigated the fight and dishonored his soldiers. His grip tighten and his sword moves downwards.

"That is enough."

A threatening voice came from a woman as a bright red glow of an arrow blocked his sword from ever hitting the knights.

He whips his head to the direction where the arrow came from. And there he saw you standing up from the hill. You held a bow in a firing position and the veil on your head flow with the wind uncovering your face.

"Who gave you the right to judge them to death for a petty squabble?"

You had a calm expression but your face betrayed the fire in your eyes that sent chills down Capitano's spine.

"What do you propose to do?" He lowers his sword as stands tall.

"A duel."

The Fatui under his lead laughed underestimating a nun. Meanwhile the Knights of Favonius were relieved that you would save them. It was an odd reaction  considering he is deemed as the strongest human alive.

Are you powerful enough to beat him?

"Very well, state your conditions of this duel as I would honor a tradition in your homeland."

Capitano couldn't forget how he still could feel the pump of his heart getting louder as he anticipated a fight of his liftetime. No one would dare have a duel with him without knowing they would lose. Oh how he is excited to see what you're capable of.

At that time he didn't know that he had mistaken the thrill of battle for his growing affections.

"The day she defeated me was the first time I have ever began to admire her..."

How could he really avoid falling for an absolute ferocious fighter? You had outsmarted him in that duel, his men called her a cheater but to him, you just bended the rules to compensate for your lack in brute force.

And then Captain's admiration grew stronger when he had tried to get to know you.

"I have fallen for a Nun that worships the Anemo Archon. Her smile is bright, her eyes are bewitching, and her soul burns with passion."

Everything about you deserves to be worshipped not because of your fearless encounter with him. But because of how he had came to admire you entirely.

That's why his prayer is not asking for repentance but forgiveness and guidance for his feelings.

Normally the Captain is neither excited nor disappointed if he is sent out on expeditions. He would treat missions as such and emotions weren't needed in the battlefield. However he broke this habit of his when visited Mondstadt... He is rather excited to see you again.

A fiery arrow flew fast towards Capitano's helm but he managed to catch it before it could hit him. Beneath his mask he smirks at the sudden attack towards him. A rather amusing situation he is in right now.

"Did I surprise you?"

He asks, but he didn't take any insult that you tried to shoot him. You were rather cautious and shown that you distrust him.

"Very much so, I thought a Lawachurl is heading this way but it was only you." Youu never lowered your bow and kept your stance ready to fire another arrow at him if he gets to close. "State your business, Harbinger of Snezhnaya."

Yes this was indeed a good trait of yours, at least he is assured that you could handle yourself.

"I would like to have another duel."

If he could teach you how to defend yourself against stronger opponents he reassured you would be there to greet him the next time he is in Mondstadt

Although he would prefer if you wouldn't try and kill him everytime he approaches you.

That was the moment where your relationship with the Captain improved. A second duel became third, fourth, and so on. Having to battle each other refined a strong bond between the two of you. Capitano doesn't realize it but because of him you managed to finally feel free in the nation of freedom.

"Sister (Y/N)'s life in Mondstadt wasn't kind to her just like as my own hometown wasn't kind to me. In her presecence and in her arms I found a kindred spirit. I could only hope she also found comfort in me."

He contemplates about how you both became close and how you opened up to him about your situation.

In all honesty, the pyro vision that hanged by your neck didn't fit your situation at all. But it fit the fierceness in your soul in which Captano had really liked about you. However despite having blessed with a vision, you were also cursed.

You were a little dove shackled inside her cage.

"To prove to them I can be of use, I decided to hunt down the The Great Snowboar King in Dragonspine." You were having a small smile on your lips as if the time of your hardships is the very reason why you are here today. "And that was when I got my vision." You caress the glowing pyro vision on your chest.

Capitano reaches out for them and you let him touch your vision. It was proof of your ambition to fight for the life you deserve.

"I was so excited to show it to my father and mother hoping that my vision would release me from the shackles that binded my freedom." Your expression became sad once more and it ache Capitano's heart to see you in such state.

"I damned myself because they put me in a cage." You talk as if your vision is blessing and yet it is also a curse. "The saving grace I only had when the Grand Master of the Knights offered me a position in the Church. It gave me a little taste of this nation's freedom. And despite everything I can still feel the cage on my hands and the shackles on my feet binding me."

Grand Master Varka is a person that Capitano often hear from you with words of admiration. At first he often wonder if this Varka is the one whom you love. Only to find out he is also the sole reason of why you were able to have this conversation with him.

Perhaps Capitano can give you the freedom you always wanted.

"Forgive me, my story got so depressing, the point is I'm not really what you had imagined me to be. I'm just a poor little dove who's just there hoping for anyone... anyone to free me."

Capitano reached out for your cheek, he brushes your veil, and with a nod of approval he removes the headpiece entirely.

Though he always sees your face he never had seen you this vunerable. Without the veil covering your entire head it felt like he was seeing another side of you. A side of you that showed him your true feelings, one that he is honored to see.

"Thank you for wiping my tears, I think I feel better now that you heard my story."

And when you held his hand that was on your cheek and kiss his knuckles. Capitano is blushing underneath the dark void of his mask.

Another kiss is then placed on the side of his helm... and Capitano knew he is doomed to always think about how your kisses would feel against his lips.

Ever since the day you opened up to Capitano, you already gave your full trust to him. Only he had doubt it because he felt like he is unworthy of that trust. You trusted him thinking you finally had a kindred spirit and a friend. Capitano on the other hand thought about wanting you as a lover.

Perhaps it's the fact you weren't afraid and able to stand up for yourself against him. He is able to see someone eye to eye, metaphorically of course since you're rather shorter than him. But even if your height only reached his chest, he somehow feels like he is smaller to you.

"Is this how love would punish me? Or is this how its suppose to feel? Tell me Your Majesty... Do I see myself beneath her or do I see myself in doubt?"

How he hated to feel that way, confused and utterly lost on what to do next. When you approached him that day in his camp on Dragonspine, all his doubts were erased.

Remembering whay happened that night, he then continues his prayers to the Tsaritsa.

"If you are hearing my prayer Archon of mine, forgive me for I have deeply sinned in the name of love... my feelings caused me to desecrate her virtue." He knows that you were vowed to remain untouched and pure in honor of your worship to the Anemo Archon. And yet he destroyed your promise... just as how he destroyed his own vows to the Tsaritsa.

The Captain questioned his own loyalty because he feels like he is irrational when it comes to you.

"Dear Tsaritsa is it really a sin to have love (Y/N)?"

"I didn't know where else to go."

Capitano drops his pen on his desk as he stares at you blankly. And luckily for him his helmet masked his flustered state. He certainly didn't expect you to visit him so late at night.

If a woman visits a man at this hour it would mean...

Oh nevermind that you were bleeding through your white uniform.

"Who did this you?" He stands up striding towards you holding your chin up to his.

The dark void of his mask studies your features, you were utterly healed and yet the look of your eyes tells him you're in pain. Despite having shown a calm anger, Capitano's hands were shaking.

"The Lawrence Clan..." He whispered the name of your family as he then releasss his hold onto you. He was about to leave his tent when you suddenly embraced him from the back.

"Please don't... I don't need you to avenge me Capitano remember I can heal myself." Yes your pyro vision could heal yout physical injuries but it couldn't heal the ache in your heart. "I came here because... you're the only one I can trust. I just really wanted to see you..."

Capitano's anger dissipated as he could hear how utterly needy you were of him. He doesn't mind that you had come to him for comfort. By all means... he already decided you could use him for your own happiness and comfort.

And yet...

Why is does it feel like he's using you for his own selfish reasons? Especially when he had suggested to go to a more private place... like the cave of Starglow Cavern. How utterly perverse his ways are.

Could he really think that way when his cock is buried deep within the walls of your tight pussy? And yet you were enjoying this act of sin.

Your moans were loud and your mind went blank as he kept pounding deep inside you. The cold stone walls and his sturdy chest trapped you in a haze of pleasure.

Capitano whispers sweet words against your ear as he shifts the position. He sits on the makeshift bed and let his cock bury even deeper inside you.

It hit a delicious spot making you scream.

The way your mouth gape made Capitano swallow, you were utterly undressed while he only discarded his layered coat and armor. You had shown your soul to him first and now your body as well.

He only had shown you his heart filled with affection. "Before we start again, would you kindly remove my helmet my little blaze?" Even with his growing hesitation... he could trust that you wouldn't be disgusted with what you would see.

"Are you sure?" You ask in shock by his request.

"Absolutely, I want to kiss you (Y/N)." He huskily whispers as his thumb trace circles on your already bruised hips.

He could feel your small hands making an effort to remove the heavy helmet. And when you did remove it, Capitano didn't look away. He wanted you to see that he too is a human.

"You're breathtaking." You whisper as you craddle his face on your palms and press your lips against his.

Capitano breath's hitch as he had finally got a taste of your soft lips. His cock twitch inside your pussy causing you to whimper a moan. His tongue then slithered inside your mouth as his hand kept your chin in place.

He kisses you passionately and you returned those ferocious emotions as well. The grip on your hips tightened as he wraps his free hand around your waist bringing your hips down.

"C-Capitano!" You moan loudly as he started to thrust his hips again. Hands flew onto his shoulder gripping on them tightly leaving scratch marks in their wake.

Capitano didn't think anymore and neither did you as well. All you two ever wanted is each other, kindred spirits connected in each others body. You both chase the pleasure in exploring each others bodies that night until one of you can no longer stay conscious.

Capitano rose from his feet and stood up, his prayer is about to end. "How utterly foolish I was to have bedded her in amidst of her vows. But I would not regret that night as she had accepted me as I am." He turns back to the city of Mondstadt with a heavy heart.

"Though she have rejected my marriage proposal, may she find freedom with what I had done for her. Dear Tsaritsa... I pray that I would not love anyone else but her. No one could ever make me feel this way again."

He couldn't blame you honestly, for what could he offer other than a marriage of convenience? A marriage when he isn't home most of the time? A marriage where he may die one day and leave you all alone? A marriage of love... that he wouldn't have.

"Marry me (Y/N), and I promise you will not be caged like a bird. I will let you fly and I only wish that you will have me at your side."

Capitano could feel the thumping of his heart getting louder and his hands were trembling in nervousness. He confessed about his love then proposed to have you be free of your family's burdens.

You on the other hand suddenly froze as you let go of his hold. You bring your hands near your chest not knowing how to respond to his proposal.

"If I were to be your wife, you will treat me as your equal?" You grip onto your long white dress.

"I want you to always be there just like how we've been doing as always." He answers immediately and it sounded nice, the duels, the battles, the sharing of stories with his comrades, and the soft kisses being secretly shared.

And yet that newly found freedom scared you.

"Capitano I... I don't know."

The Harbinger is shattered by your indirect rejection. He kept his composure well and remained standing tall.

"I see but if you would ever change your mind I would still be here before sunrise tomorrow. Her Majesty is calling me back in Snezhnaya." He replies and the tone of his voice is filled with disappointment but with a heavy heart... he must accept your decision.

"Will you come back?" You were absolutely lost and yet hopeful, despite not being able to give an answer... Capitano is pleased that you would want to see him again.

"I will."

He answers while gently caressing your cheek with the knuckles of his armored fingers.

Capitano lied, he never will come back, he already have a letter sent to him by the Jester. They were going to have him stay within Snezhnaya for quite a while. Missions by the motherland always takes years to finish. But he doesn't want you to feel like he's making you come with him impulsively.

If you want him... then by all means come tomorrow before sunrise. Only that way he would be reassured that you came to him because you love him not because you have any choice.

"That is all what I say to my prayers to you, Your Majesty. May you guide my journey back to the homeland." Capitano looked up into the sky and it was almost time for the fake sky to began to glow bright again.

He would leave Mondstadt today with a heavy heart. But at least he would leave with reassurance that you will not suffer in the hands of the Lawrence Clan ever again.

It was a few hours after you had seemingly rejected his proposal. He barged into the estate of the Lawrence Clan. With his sheer intimidation and use of power imbalance your parents released their hold onto you. He is able to gain your freedom, he knew that marriage might not be an option.

Capitano may be ruthless in the battlefield but in the duel of gaining your heart... he would let your happiness win. That is why he opened the cage you had settled in and broke the chains that shackled you.

You were now a free little dove and if he wouldn't be part of your new life... then so be it. As long as you were going to fly and see the world in your own eyes. Just as you had always dreamed since you were a child.

"Let us depart, my comrades."

Capitano pulls the reins of his horse as the rest of the Fatui soldiers followed after his lead.

He would never look back in Mondstadt again because all he could ever remember is your smile. One that he would never see again... he would waste in his lonely desolate tower of melancholic heavy heart. He awaits by an open door and fools himself you'll walk right in and be with him for evermore.

"CAPITANO!!!"

Oh how wrong he was as he heard your voice call out to him.

Capitano turns his head up and saw that there is a bright light that illuminated the road. It wasn't the fake sun but it was you who embodied your pyro vision. You were finally a free little dove as fiery red feathers surrounded your body in the shape of a flying bird.

As the pyro died down around your body, Capitano is smiling behind his mask as he opens his arms to catch you. He was waiting for this ever since the day you had defeated him in a duel.

"My answer is yes, I want to marry you."

You place a kiss on his helm making him rumble a deep chuckle. He gently nudges your cheek with his helm as he wraps his arms around your waist tightly.

He would never let you go now that you were his.

"I love you, (Y/N)."

"And I love you too, Captain."

You were finally his and Capitano is finally yours and together you'll be with each other for evermore.

A/N: ayo i am absolutely tipsy rn so I don't know how tf did this shortfic came out I'll probably edit this tomorrow once I'm sober in case there are any errors lmaooo Anyways don't drink and type fanfics 💀

[mxiaogod]

— 11. [PEDONE] FATUI HARBINGERS DRABBLE X FEM! AFAB READER

Pairings : Pierro, Columbina, Pantalone, Tartaglia, Dottore, Capitano, Sandrone, Arlecchino.

Warnings : Orgy, hand jobs, cunnilingus, power imbalance, vaginal penetration, NSFW (DNI IF YOU AREN’T 18+)

—As the Tsaritsa pins the insignia on your chest, a gold crest with two scarlet crimson branner dangling from the end, you stand tall. You were ecstatic, you were finally the 12th harbinger after Ajax, but are you?

Nothing could have prepared you for what was going to happen. You didn’t get it, you were prepared to be on the front lines, determined even, so how did you wind up here?

Kneeling on all fours with a collar around your neck as the harbingers sit in a circle with you as their entertainment, cheeks dusted pink as fat tears roll down your cheeks, how? 

They mocked you for hours on end, “You thought you were going to fight alongside us didn’t you?” As a burst of laughter rang through the headquarters, there was always one who merely watched you, Pantalone, as he is called, sitting in the far corner as darkness swallowed him, spectacles perched on his pointed nose as his eyes pierced through you. 

How can the harbingers not gang up on you when they return after another unpleasant mission? You're so ignorant, ambitious, and clueless that you thought a lady like you could last here.

You always seem to wind yourself tied to a table, hands, mouth, and cunt full to the brim as you did your utmost to take all of them, it was overwhelming, filling your senses until all you could think about was them.

You rub Dottore as he makes pleasurable sounds, while on the other hand you clutch Pierro firmly, his brows knitting from how hard you jerk him away. Tartaglia is occupying your cunt, a sneer painted on his lips, thrilled by how far his cock plows into you.

“Pussy so tight, how can anyone resist you? You should be thankful your needy pussy is getting filled everyday, isn’t that right?” Tartaglia cooes as a series of hum fills the room.

Arlechinno takes her seat on your lips, hips straining to make you work up, knees seated next to your head, hand reaching out to rub the scar etched with a hot knife on the underside of your breast, all their names in a list.

You were flipped onto all fours while Arlechinno rests on her back, your lips devouring her, tears streaming down on her navel, and she laughs at how pitiful you are, so pathetic and adorable.

"Give me a turn!" " Columbina, as you see the girl bare herself in front of your mouth, elbows supporting her as she watches Tartaglia and Capitano demolish your little cunt and soft ass, mask hanging over the side in a haste to have their cocks buried into you.

Sandrone fills your stupid mind with sweet accolades, enticing you to take more, sacharrine voice cooes on the side of your head, breath ghosting the shell of your ears.

"Keep being a good girl for us so you don't get in trouble; we don't want that to happen, do we now?" " She sings as she grins, soft fingers reaching out to wipe the tears away, you give her a hum and a small nod of your head, lips too busy eating Columbina out.

Your high is approaching, and your sight meets the fiery eyes in front of you as darkness engulf them, and you stare, a silent permission to cum.

Pantalone tilts his chin, a small nod, and you can't help but break apart from the agreement, your body buckling as your head crashes on Columbina's legs.

Mouth, cunt, hand stained with cum, how pathetic and pliable.

After all, you were just a pawn, Pedone.

[pearlywritings]

Soft kisses for unwerving hearts

synopsis: Even the stoic men can melt and show they care. All they need is a loved one and a good portion of loving kisses.

pairing: Capitano, Pierro x fem!reader (seperately)

tw: fluff, comfort, established relationship

word count: 2.1k+ words

a/n: soft kisses for these two men were suggested by a lovely anon💛

Capitano

“Commander, Lord Il Capitano has arrived and awaits you in your personal quarters.”

“Good. Have his soldiers been taken care of?”

“Yes, My Lady. They were stationed in barracks on level 2.”

“Wonderful. Treat them just as any of our fellow warriors. If anyone acts against the set rules - you know how to deal with them.”

“Of course.”

“Then dismissed.”

Just as the heavy doors slide closed behind the leaving figure of your second-in-command, you sigh and put the pen aside. The never-ending blizzard outside must’ve taken a lot of strength from your superior’s subordinates - the Harbinger can pride himself in his army, the strongest one of all, but even they feel the toll of the torturing cold and winds ruling in the furthest of the Snezhnayan borders.

You stand and grab your fur-lined cape - while the base’s structure is to be admired (the work of art of both Dottore and Sandrone after all), and the interior never is deprived of warmth, the shortest way to your quarters is by an outside bridge - not many would dare and cross it.

Pure white obscures your vision and howling of the winds is almost deafening - but you’ve been long but used to it. In the wall of snow you easily make out your surroundings. The sharpness of your hearing is more than enough to detect if there is anything out of order. But today it’s so calm, almost serene, and your own heart fills with tranquility and comfort. It feels like it’s been years - and sometimes it is.

Another thick metal door slides open and close, and you pat your collar and hood, swiping off the stubborn snow. Two Pyro Skirmishers greet you with a respectful bow, and you shortly nod, passing by and further down the corridor, right to the doors of your rooms.

The Captain is already standing when you step inside. Tall, broad and looming, he only abandoned his own overcoat, body still clad in heavy pitch-black armor. The void of his helmet is staring at you, unmoving and unpredictable, but you only feel a keen sense of familiarity just from his presence alone.

He waits until the doors are closed and locked, meaning no eavesdropping, no interruption. He waits until you shrug your cape off and place it next to his, and you know he is not taking his eyes off of you. He waits until you walk closer, when there are only three steps left between your bodies, and only then reaches his arm to you. Big hand in a clawed glove is turned so the palm faces up, and you do not reject his offer.

You are leading him further into the rooms, holding his hand tightly, and his grip on yours is just as firm. Neither of you has spoken anything yet, but somehow already understood so much. That’s what it appears to be like - being married.

The sofa deeps significantly when the man lowers himself on it. You do not follow him, instead you step between his legs and instantly, but so gently put your palms right on the sides of his helmet, as if cupping his cheeks.

“May I?” You know you do not have to ask, but something about it is indescribably special. Capitano nods. Despite common opinion, the headpiece is easy to lift and slide off of his head. Just as it leaves its place your hands are enveloped in a tender hold of much bigger ones, prying the helmet from them and putting it to the side.

You are stricken. Precious dark gems of his piercing eyes stare right at you, and your toughened heart cracks under the spell of them. Capitano never understood why you were so enamored with his eyes, but if letting you see them would put this adoring gentle expression on your face, he’d be an idiot to not give you such an opportunity.

“I missed you,” your admission tugs on his heart and the stoic man takes a deep breath, suddenly having a hard time keeping his feelings at bay.

“And I missed you,” his voice, oh his voice... Only hearing it makes you realize how much you missed its rich thickness, its low rumbling, its nerve-wrecking gruffness.

You missed him.

Your husband welcomes you in his arms when you lean close, wrapping your arms around his neck, forging your lips together. His are chapped, and yours are no better, but in this very moment the kiss you share is so so soft. His hold on you is strong, yet delicate, thumbs pressing in your ribs, barely scraping you with its sharp ends. With content hums you relax, letting go of your ever-present mask of a fierce protector of Snezhnaya border, baring the person you are to your beloved - his wife.

When the air becomes too little to keep pressing one kiss after another on each other’s mouths, you draw your faces back, but not too far. Capitano trails his kisses down the side of your jaw, and you peck the bridge of his crooked nose, right over the scar crossing his whole face. It feels a little surreal.

“Could’ve given me some notice about your arrival,” you murmur, rubbing your nose against his cheek, tightening the grip around his shoulders.

“Wanted to surprise you,” the low hum comforts you, and you chuckle, kissing under his scarred eye.

“Aren’t you here with an inspection though?”

“I am,” he confirms and, gripping your hips, drags you into his lap. “But I know you have everything under control. You do not need a warning,” he nudges your chin, and you tilt your head back, letting him leave a kiss on the small open patch of skin on your neck.

“Mhm… Given your troops are tired, we’ll start tomorrow?”

“That is correct.”

“You’ll stay the night then?”

Your eyes meet again, and you swear you see the corners of his mouth lifting in the smallest smile.

“I will. Every single one.”

Pierro

Servants bow to you, bound by respect, as you roam the halls of the huge mansion the second person in Snezhnaya is residing in, yet never having called it home. You nod in response a little absent-mindedly, quickly forgetting about these small interaction, as your mind is preoccupied with other matters. Fingers fidget with an intricately forged bracelet on your wrist, seeking comfort in the physical bond you and your husband share. How many days has it been? Eight. Eight days since he’s moved back from the Palace and eight nights of barely witnessing him by your side in bed.

Now, it’s not his absence that worries you - when you live for centuries, you start perceiving time quite differently, and Pierro makes sure to show that you, his beloved, is never forgotten. No, that’s not the case. What you are concerned about is his tendency to overwork himself to literal exhaustion, and as far as you could see with your own eyes, that is exactly the case. Yes, he shares meals with you. Yes, he comes to bed for an hour or two. Yes, he doesn’t deny your presence, when you come to his office and take over some of the papers to lighten his burden. However, there is never an actual break in his schedule, and this fact doesn’t let you rest properly. Should you-

“Oop-!”

You almost trip over the rolled carpet. What the..?

Snapping out of your thoughts, you look around the empty corridor. This one looks familiar… Ah, right! You already passed it, around half an hour ago, you think? Two burly male servants even warned you about the delivery of new carpets you had ordered to replace the old ones.

You deeply sigh - this is really serious, if you do not even notice what is happening around you, thinking only of your husband’s condition. Something needs to be done.

The Jester doesn’t even lift his head when three knocks bounce off of the external side of his study’s door.

“Come in.”

He’d call himself incompetent, if he couldn’t even make out the steps of the companion that chose to share an eternity with him. Without looking up your figure is clear before his sight, and he keeps writing as you are walking in and closing the door behind. He still doesn’t face you anyhow when you end up directly by his desk, observing the mountains of work placed there. It lessened significantly, compared to the first time you saw it, but is still worth a whole week of staying glued to the table. Your worries resurface.

“Beloved?” The gentle call of your voice affects him - it’s subtle, hidden in a tiny twitch of his hand, yet it’s enough to tell you his attention shifted. You decide to proceed.

“It came to my attention that you’ve really been overworking yourself. It concerns me.”

The man sighs. He is aware, and he is far from being fond of the dejected frown on your face, that he is sure you are wearing right now. Were you any of his colleagues he’d just dismiss you, but you are his partner and he sincerely values your sentiments. There are ways to delicately lead you away from this, but he knows you will not budge this time.

So he decides to listen.

Your heart swells when he puts his quill down and straightens in his chair, rolling his shoulders and leaning his back into it. Finally his visible eye is on you, and the dark circle on his pale skin, surrounded by the silver of his hair, is too apparent.

“What do you suggest?”

Even his voice is hoarse, indicating he hasn’t interacted with anyone for quite some time. On you though it has a slightly different effect - suddenly you have a nagging urge to kiss his throat. Maybe you can. Maybe you will.

“A break. Just an hour-” he narrows his eyes at you, which makes you scoff. “Fine, half of an hour. With me. We don’t even need to go anywhere. Just you without touching any work, not even thinking about it. You must understand that going on like this you’ll never get rid of your heachaches,” you try to reason with him, and by the way his gaze shifts, focusing on his clasped hands in thought, you know it’s not in vain. He is considering your proposition.

“Oh, and when I said half of an hour, I meant every day,” star-marked pupil darts back at you, but you hold your ground, staring right back at him. Your proposal hangs in the air, and somehow, your husband has no desire to fight against it. Pierro isn’t sure what was the thing that convinced him - your determination written all over your person or the real wearing out he started to experience, which became obvious after you voiced it out of concern, but he decides to entertain your idea.

“Alright,” the smile that appears on your face plucks at a hidden string of his heart, and with a quiet groan the Khaenri’ahn-born gets on his feet.

You sweep him to the armchair (which you quickly moved to the fireplace) and make him sit there, comfortably perching on the armrest yourself. His eyes are closed as your deft fingers are dancing across his features. You do not take his mask off, not this time, not when you have only half of an hour, but you make sure to glide the fingertips over its cold surface.

Pierro doesn’t pinpoint the moment when you start kissing him. At first it’s subtle - just your lips ghosting over his heavy eyelid, down his cheek and the corner of his mouth. Then you switch to pecking - his chin, his cheekbone, his brow, his forehead, leaning in his personal space more and more to reach higher… He finds it endearing and soothing, consoling even. 

And finally you place a proper kiss. It lingers on his lips far longer than any other before, and just as you are ready to break this spell, he reaches forward and reciprocates, taking a hold of your hand, letting the flames play on the metal of your wedding bracelets. Very soon the work is moved to the back of his mind, focus completely stolen by your lips and gentle kisses, and it doesn’t seem like you plan to stop until the time is up.

If his breaks are going to be spent like this - in your embrace, in your affection, he doesn’t mind it becoming a constant part of his daily routine.

[astranne]

MY LADY !genshin impact

prologue to my lady wife

pierro x fem!reader

words // 500~

notes // here i am, with more pierro content. the first snippet i posted got so many notes over night, like damn- we‘re all hungry for pierro content so here i am, feeding us with some more. if you have any other scenarios for pierro or other harbringers, feel free to send an ask! i would love to write something more specific!!

my lady series masterlist

As the fifth daughter of a second born son, your parents didn’t pressure you for a marriage. Sure, they would’ve loved to see another daughter married, yet just like with the first and the rest who already did, they wanted you to marry for love.

Love doesn’t come that easily for Shneznayan people. Especially not for nobles.

Most of them marry for alliances, for food, for more gold, for power. Only lower nobles marry for love, and even then, most of them are ambitious to marry into higher standing.

Not you. While your family name was respected back then, when you were still a maiden and a simple lady, neither were you at the top nor on the bottom of the noble food chain. And you‘ve always known you would marry for love, a benefit as the second youngest child.

Your sister married for love, and said that love, luckily, has a very high position. The right hand of the Harbringer Pulcinella, an honorable and demanding position.

This is how you met him. The Jester, the first Harbringer, the leader of the Fatui elite.

A strong man, a demanding man, a true Snezhnayan. He was respected throughout the entire nation and still is. Young men want to be like him and women of all ages swoon over him.

You did too, but then you got over your silly little crush. It was useless, you thought back then. Why would the most powerful man in Snezhnaya notice you?

He didn’t at first. But then he saw you at one of the many feasts he has to attend as the Harbringer's Leader, and he couldn't help but stare.

You weren’t in the middle of attention, you stood by the sidelines, together with the many sisters you had. And you giggled over something- it lit up your eyes and colored your cheeks.

He didn’t fall in love, but he was intrigued. You seemed like a soft, tiny little thing, yet he saw something akin to a warrior in you. A strong person, with soft features yet hard skin, similar to so many Snezhnayan women but different.

This is why he practically marched over to you and gruffly asked you for a dance. With wide eyes, you looked at him and accepted with a shy smile. But then you squared your shoulders and stood tall beside him while he guided you to the dance floor.

You matched his forceful steps, almost gliding over the dance floor, all while looking like an angel in your snow white dress, made out of the best quality lace.

The two of you didn't talk, not when your eyes spoke so much more than words could. Gazing up at him, his giant form almost towering over you, and yet you still look up at him to directly look into his eyes. It almost makes him smile.

"My lady," he grumbled in his deep voice and kissed your clothed hand, longer than normally done and never broke eye contact.

"My lord," you simply said, perfectly falling into a curtsey, ignoring the butterflies fluttering in your stomach, and simply smiled politely at him as he departed and swept over the dancing floor with his long coat floating after him.

Not even a day later, a courting offer has been sent to your father.

ASTRANNE 2022

[luxxid]

them reacting to you in a assistants' attire

he was floored when he first saw you dresed like this, it was uncommon for you to wear such clothing. he despises it saying it was too revealing and that eyes would be on you constantly. and advise you not to wear it while being secretly hard, was it his fault that you were wearing such ravishing attire?

Your fishnets exposed your soft thighs; black had always suited your figure; the black skirt that fit you so tightly was so ravishing, not to mention the full-sleeve white shirt that cradled your breasts so perfectly, was so enticing. he could see your lacy panties from a mile away. oh, and how could he forget your black stilettos? his desire to fuck you while wearing them was irresistible. he knew you were tempting him; he knew that very well. 

"well darling, you look quite appealing." if you do wear this attire outside, you will undoubtedly attract unwelcome attention. so, the only eyes you need on you are mine." With a deep, gruffy voice, he stated, his hands firmly clasping your figure as he seized your chin to face him.

his face bore a domineering expression, and you knew very well what was going to happen in the following few seconds. "now what shall i do with you?" He inquired as he looped his fingers under your chin and brought his face closer to yours.

the next thing you felt was a pair of lips on your own, his tongue was plunging inside your mouth, and he was going furious. perhaps wearing this wasn't such a bad idea.

⚜ PIERRO, DOTTORE, Pantalone, TARTAGLIA, ARATAKI ITTO, ZHONGLI, KAEYA, Diluc, Kamisato Ayato ⚜

[makelemonade]

THE ABYSS - Childe x F!Reader fic

"I like you...and I know that we don't even know each other, but you saved me."

A brotherhood friend group, a rude older sister and her douchebag boyfriend, adoptive dads, 2 teenage boys with dark pasts and a girl who's just moved to Mond under mysterious circumstances; All nothing in common, except;

Childe

On the night of November 6th, the same night you arrive, Childe disappears after leaving his friends house; No one knew what happened to him or where he went...except you, even though you've never once met him and you have no idea who he even is.

Wattpad; GottaMakeLemonade

[seakicker]

but what of pierro and him being ridiculously soft for his darling wife?

everybody knows pierro as the fearsome and daunting leader and commander of the harbingers and the very last person anyone would want to piss off— some would say you’re better off irritating the tsaritsa herself than pierro because at least the former is regarded as somewhat gentle, if the harbingers’ opinion is worth anything to you— but what’s known about pierro outside of work?

everybody knows better than to pry and nobody has the confidence to even attempt to peek into his life— some things are better left unknown, especially when trying to look into things like a harbinger’s private life could cost someone their life. you’re the only person in all of teyvat who’s privy to the inner workings of pierro’s life because you’re the only person who’s part of it. he has no other family or loved ones anymore save for you (and the baby on the way!!!! (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)), so you’ve effectively become his everything— and you’re the only person he shares his world with. you are his world, so of course he reveals all his inner thoughts and desires with you.

he’s a man of few words at home because he does so much talking at work— he spends so much time giving commands to the other harbingers, forwarding the tsartisa’s will to new recruits, and reprimanding his underling’s mistakes— yet he never fails to endure that his words shared with you, sparse as they are, have impact. he whispers pet names in a language you’ve never heard before, though he’s translated them for you plenty of times— hushed whispers of “little flower,” “sweetheart,” and “dove” in an unfamiliar language accompany his good morning kisses and his farewell hugs before he leaves for work. there’s another he said that doesn’t really translate into any snezhnayan word, but when he described what it meant, you figured that “angel” was a close enough translation. that one’s your favorite.

unlike monstadt or sumeru, snezhnaya doesn’t have very many wildflowers. it’s just too cold and icy; the flowers have nowhere to grow when field spend most of the year covered in sheets of snow and sleet. as a result, pierro has taken to importing flowers from faraway just so you can have a bouquet to place up on the windowsill of the kitchen window. sometimes the flowers don’t always make it on one piece, sometimes they arrive a little wilted, but any traveling merchant by now has learned than when a customer known as “the jester” places an order for a bouquet of lilies and daisies, then you damn well fulfill it. he thinks you’re lovely when you’re tending to the flowers— snipping the stems to keep them as fresh for as long as possible and adding a squeeze of lemon juice to the water to help preserve them.

he’s a doting husband, though his perpetually-irritated-looking face and gruff manner of speech may not make it immediately obvious to any of his coworkers— but it’s fine, because the only person who gets to see that side of him is you. and he loves keeping it that way.