#yandere dottore

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - unhealthy relationships, mentions of gore/human experimentation, forced marriage. written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.

Recently, all your mornings had started the same way: ten or so feet below the ground, buried under the satin sheets of an otherwise empty bed in a stone chamber decorated with all the love and tenderness of a hospital room, freshly cleaned after the death of its last occupant.

Blearily, you stumbled out of bed, grimacing at the feeling of the cold, rough floor against your bare feet. Temperatures in Snezhnaya rarely rose above freezing, and while your husband didn’t seem to mind the cold, you weren’t so resilient – shrugging on your heaviest robe before so much as opening your eyes. A mug of coffee was clumsily assembled in your minimalistic kitchenette (a feature you insisted on, after being forced to share a communal ice chest with one of his more dissection-focused segments), then a cup of tea; herbal and rich, a blend from Sumeru he had imported every few months. For as many years as you’d been with Zandik, you’d never been able to make sense of what he considered worth his time and what he disregarded as frivolous wastes of effort and mora. You supposed you could only be thankful you fell into the former group, lest your body be the next to adorn his vivisection table.

Once you’d managed to shake the chill and bring yourself to a state of near-consciousness, you stumbled out of your bedroom and into the corridor, ignoring the curious looks of young researchers and patrolling soldiers and shrugging open the steel door at the end of the hall. The smell of rot and preservatives hit you as soon as you stepped into Zandik’s personal laboratory, but your eyes only glazed over the dark puddles splattered across the floor, the amorphous mass covered with a white sheet and laid across a metal table before landing on your husband – slumped over his desk, his face buried in his arms and ink staining his fingertips, his left cheek. With a sigh, you made your way to his side, placing both mugs on the edge of his desk and resting your hands on his shoulders. Letting your eyes fall shut, you lowered yourself to his height, resting your lips against the top of his head and only pulling away when he began to stir.

He'd always been a light sleeper (in comparison to you, at least), and it’d never taken much to rouse him. You straightened your back and as if on cue, he bolted upward, gaze darting to the door, then his operation table, then you – where it would stay. A slight grin pulled at the corner of his lips as he pushed his chair away from his desk and tapped his leg, and without protest, you climbed into his lap; straddling his thighs and burying your face in the crook of his neck. One of his hands found its way to your hip while the other took to rubbing small, slow circles into your back. You waited for him to settle underneath you before breaking the silence. “I want to go home.”

Home, meaning the gothic, looming mansion you usually resided in when he wasn’t working out of one of the Fatui’s countless underground facilities or traveling abroad. It was also dark and drafty and a far cry from your previous home, the home he’d taken you away from the day he married you, but you’d been able to decorate it to your preferences and you didn’t need to go through ten of his soldiers just to step outside. He hummed, the sound passive and dismissive, and you frowned into his shoulder, nudging gently at his chest. “I’m serious, Zandik. Everything smells like blood and you haven’t come to bed in days. Being around all these chemicals is going to be the death of me – that is, if boredom doesn’t do the job first.”

Another hum, this one slightly more thoughtful. “You know I would pluck the stars from the sky for you,” he started, his voice still low and coarse with sleep. “But I am here on the Tsaritsa’s orders. Are you sure you’d have me test the good will of an archon for something so mundane?”

“Yes.” You’d seen him butcher orphans and burn villages to the ground. If he was still in his goddess’ good graces after so many centuries of relentless carnage, you were sure she wouldn’t mind a sudden relocation. “There’s nothing you do here that you couldn’t do in your own laboratory.” You thought for a moment, then added, “Unless you’ve decided that you love your archon more than you love me.”

His smile faltered, something possessive and pointed catching in his eyes. His grip on you tightened, but he recovered quickly, letting out an airy chuckle as he bowed his head and nuzzled mindlessly into the dip of your shoulder. “Two more weeks,” he promised. “Then, I’ll send you home – one way or another.”

“One more week.” You sat up, cupping his face and forcing him to meet your eyes. “Or I start spitting in your tea.”

“One more week if you start spitting in my tea.”

“You’re a vile, repugnant little man.” You leaned forward, kissing his cheek. “Deal.”

You spend the rest of that day lounging across the velvet-cushioned loveseat in the corner of his lab, skimming through your dozenth pulpy romance novel and watching your husband dismember corpses with a vigor you hadn’t seen since the first days of your marriage.

[jinkicake]

HSHDHSHD HI AGAIN I JUST SAW UR CHILDE AND SCARAMOUCHE ARRANGE MARRIAGE POST AND I GO SJGNFNFNFNDNNFNDNG THE WAY U WRITE ARRANGE MARRIAGE TROPES>>>>>>/lh UR WRITTING IS SO GOOD!! I ALWAYS COMEBACK AND RE READ IT EVERYTIME AND I JUST REALIZED U ALSO WRITE FOR OBEY ME?! AND UR WRITING IS THE FIRST FEW ONES I'VE READ AFTER I JOIN THE OM FANDOM TOO?!👀💖💐

Ps. Would u mind if I request a 2nd part for the arrange marriage aus for the first fews chars (esp. Perrio👀) if nit they it's fine <33 thx u for creating such an amazing content!!💖💖

Forced / Arranged Marriage Trope

(pt. ??) Alhaitham, Dottore, Pierro, Zhongli x Reader

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

A/N: hi anon!! thank you for being so patient w me and for being so sweet </333 T T i hope you like this~~ if you want me to do part2 for anyone else let me know!! I only did it for zhongli and pierro teehee bc i also wanted to add alhaitham and dottore (i hope that is alright~~)

WC - 3.2k

- yandere!dottore  // dottore is his own warning -

NSFW // LIGHT SMUT (pierro+zhongli)

~~~

Alhaitham

“I will be home after sundown, habibti." Alhaitham places a gentle hand on your shoulder after he stands up from his chair at the dining room table. He lowers his head with a slight dip of his neck to place a kiss on the crown of your hair. “Be good today.” 

And then he is gone. 

Months have passed since your husband began staying late after work. You don’t understand it in the slightest, he hates doing unnecessary tasks. The entire time you’ve known him, courting and beyond, Alhaitham has always spared time in his day for his interests. One day, he even told you that his favorite part of each day was settling down to read. He likes to live a carefree and relaxed lifestyle, so staying late in the Akademiya seems like the complete opposite of that. 

Regardless, you bear the weight of your suspicions and ignore it. 

You focus on being the docile wife you were advertised as and focus on your housework. In truth, your arranged marriage could not have gone any better. Despite your parents parading you around, you somehow found the most laid-back candidate who suited your needs to a t. Every night you thank the Lesser Lord Kusanali for such a kind husband, who lets you come and go as you please. You would have probably hired a hit on your parents, as opposed to never speaking with them again, if they married you away to a cruel man. 

However, housework only keeps you busy for so long and before you know it, it is ten am and you have finished everything that you wanted to do for the day. You could go bother your husband’s old roommate or have a meal with your friend but, you notice that Alhaitham left his lunch today. The neatly prepared and packed lunch is still sitting on the counter where you left it. He must have forgotten to grab it. 

With ignorance only Alhaitham could have installed in you, a result of keeping you in the dark for so long, you head toward the Akademiya. However, you regret it once you speak with his co-workers. 

“Alhaitham is not here today.”

“Your husband? He didn’t come in this morning,”

“I heard he was heading to Port Ormos after speaking with the Gauhar.”

Through your dejection, you braced a kind smile and thanked them all before heading back home. What could your husband possibly be going to the port for? He’s not a student anymore, there’s no reason for him to be going there. 

Unless someone else is there. 

You stubbornly try to shake that negative thought out of your head as you walk through the marketplace. As if Alhaitham would commit something of adultery, he doesn’t show interest in anything or anyone. 

Perhaps, you will have to speak about this with him when he returns home. 

Returning home that night was not something Alhaitham did. In fact, he did not return back to you for two nights and only appeared on the third morning of his disappearance. 

To say that you were upset would be an understatement and your husband was able to see it the second he walks in through the door. 

“(Y/N), I know I have been gone-”

“Where have you been?” You don’t give him the chance to begin with the sorry apologies as you cross your arms over your chest, you get straight to the point. 

“It was for the Akademiya, I cannot discuss the matters with you and you know this.” He sounds sincere enough, there’s a tiredness to his words that you can’t pinpoint. “I wanted to check in with you before I returned.”

“Check in with me?” You scoff and start to look at him as if he had grown three heads. “Check in with me before returning to your mistress?” 

“My mistress?” Alhaitham raises a subtle brow and keeps a straight face despite the amusement growing in his chest. 

“Why else have you been gone so long? Staying out so late? I’m not a fool and personally, I don’t care about who else you see.” You lie straight through your teeth, lie until you choke. Alhaitham sighs before stepping closer toward you. 

“I really cannot share the details of this assignment just yet, you have to believe me, habibti.” He gently cups your shoulders, giving the area a soft squeeze before soothingly running over the planes of your back. “Listen to me when I say that I would never think of betraying you so cruelly.” And, before you have a chance to react, Alhaitham lowers his face to brush his lips against your ear. Vulnerability spills through his every word. “Please do not act so indifferent about the matter of us, I want you to care as freely about me as I do you.”

Smoothly, his hand cups your face and tilts you his way. 

“No matter what thoughts you may come up with on your own, trust the logic that I love you.”

Dottore

“The Doctor will return from his mission sometime next week, perhaps during the beginning of the new moon-”

During the message personally delivered from your husband by a trusted subordinate, you can’t help but audibly groan. 

“Why must he ruin my entire week with his presence? Did he specifically plan to return on Monday? Why couldn’t he have come back the following Saturday or Sunday?” You place your pen down with great irritation and with it, the notebook you were writing in slams shut. The large Fatui soldier stares down at you, quite flabbergasted by your actions. At the lack of response from your maids, he continues. 

“Well, The Doctor wanted to spend some time with you before his next mission-”

“You’re kidding?” This time, you stand up and slam your palms against the strong wooden desk. Hatred and frustration flow through your veins, nearly choking you by your throat. “When you receive word that he is on his way, within a day away from me, then you will come back here and tell me. Understand?” You and your shorter frame could not nearly pose up to the Vanguard standing before you but, given the status of your esteemed husband, you can speak with him and any other solider of your choice however you want.

“Yes, my lady.” He offers a respectful bow before leaving your office and does not flinch under the intensity of your unwavering glare. 

“My day is ruined.” You hum and try to calm yourself down by rolling out your shoulders. Within an instant your close friends (the maids assigned to you by your beloved) are by your side, offering you their condolences and support. “We must prepare for the torture that his arrival is ensured to bring. Where are my earplugs?” 

Each day that follows, you work alongside other members of the house to prepare the cozy home that your husband chooses to reside in. Cozy is a cute way of describing it, this castle that hides within the mountains is anything but cozy. It’s large and empty but, you rather enjoy all the empty space that provides shelter when you’re hiding from your husband. 

In the midst of your breakfast later in the week, you’re interrupted by another announcement. 

“My lady, The Doctor will arrive-”

“What do you want?” You scowl and push your plate away, lowering your utensils before standing up from your chair. Now, just like your week and the ones that follow, your meal is ruined too. “I do not care when that wretched vermin will arrive. Tell me when he is here and leave me alone.”

“That is the thing, my lady, he is here early.” As one of the Legionaries beside the previous Vanguard steps to the side, your husband moves in front of you. He stands tall on the other side of the long dining room table and you have half a mind to sprint for the door. “I did not have time to issue the previous warning you asked for.”

“Warning? Is that how you speak of me when I am not around?” Dottore tilts his head slightly before slowly walking around the table. You try not to shake as he corners you, hands braced behind his back. “Oh? Where has your attitude gone? Down the drain with your fight?” 

He doesn’t have to remove his mask for you to see the sneer on his face, the anger that is sure to be littering his features. 

“Dear,” You nervously greet him, offering a pathetic smile that does little to hide your nerves. 

“Sweetheart,” He greets back just as gently but, you can see the tension in his shoulders. “I must confess that I was thinking we would spend time with one another before my next trip to Sumeru but, now I'm not so sure.” 

But? You mentally pray and pray to the Tsaritsa that he changes his mind and ditches you altogether, that he leaves you alone again for months on end. Anything would be better than facing his wrath. 

“I don’t think we need to see one another for a while.” He waits for you to let out the breath you were holding in, to sigh in relief, before gripping your jaw with his gloved hand. “I think it would only be fair since you’ll now be coming with me to Sumeru. We can spend the entire trip together, side by side. Finally, you’ll be able to see my work up close and not just from your timid frame in the lab doorway.”

You can’t hide the way your lip begins to quiver, eyes filling with tears. That is the last thing you would ever want. 

“Aren’t you excited, my wife? You must be since you’re near bursting into tears!” He mocks you until your soul breaks, until the farthest place you could ever be from him is no longer far enough. “If this is how you act when we are apart then, you will never be from my side ever again.”

Pierro

“You are a blessing,” Pierro murmurs lowly as his hands delicately sculpt your sides, gently he presses into your skin with his thick fingers. “a divine creation.” Like this, he worships you. His lips lightly trail between the valley of your breasts as he ascends up your body. “Hundreds of years have passed since I’ve felt this alive.”

Pierro slowly drags his lips up your throat and over your jaw to hover above your lips. His breath fans your chin, teasing you with his close proximity. He laughs when you tilt your chin in an attempt to kiss him, but it fails. 

Regardless of how you care for your husband outside of your shared bedroom, you always love him inside of it. 

“Please,” Your quiet voice sounds like a melody to the older man and he nearly sighs at the sweet tone. This is all he has ever desired, you wanting and yearning for him. He knows his words will never be enough to get this point across, ever.

With a light hand, the man brushes any lingering strands of your hair out of your face. He stares down at you with lust-filled eyes before cupping your jaw with his large palm. Subtly, Pierro tilts your face upward and meets your lips in a passionate kiss. As he presses his mouth against your own, applying just the correct amount of pressure, his thumb gently strokes your cheek. It’s a sweet kiss, one that leaves you breathless and wanting more. 

Before he can catch himself and reel in his self-restraint, Pierro cups your breast. Your arms loop around his neck, digging your fingers into his broad shoulders as he fondles and squeezes at your chest. The constant stimulation only makes you greedier for more and your hips create a mind of their own as you roll slowly upwards against his pelvis. 

“My wife,” Pierro groans, pulling away momentarily to catch his breath. His voice sounds shaky as he tries to fight back the overwhelming desire to just take you right now. “enough, before you make me do something I’ll regret.”

The first of the eleven Fatui harbingers thinks he has himself under control finally, that he will be able to continue but then you glance up at him. In your young eyes, mischief shines brighter than the life in his own. 

“It’s alright if I don’t regret it, don’t you think?” And then you kiss him once more. You yank roughly on his neck, catching him off guard, and pull him down again. 

The growl that leaves your husband is animalistic. His sharp reflexes snap at your wrist, pinning you effectively to the bed without much room to move. The kiss of his lips, once sweet, turns possessive and greedy as he presses you into submission. With little fight, you obediently fall right into his open palms with your lips parting at the slightest jut of his tongue. 

Skillful hips roll against your own, Pierro’s hard cock grinds into your clothed cunt and the sensation against your sensitive clit makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. When you start failing to kiss back, Pierro makes his attack. He squeezes your wrists and shoves his tongue into your mouth, swallowing and taking all that you will give him. Your thighs are beginning to burn against the stretch of being spread for his muscular waist but, the pain is dulled over at each slot of his hips. 

Your pitiful whimper pulls him from his conquest and Pierro remorsefully separates himself from your lips. 

“I need you,” Your whisper does not fall deaf on his ears, Pierro hears every single word. No matter how much you make fun of the older man, poking at his true age, he’s sharpened every one of his skills beyond their years. 

“I know, my beloved, I know what you need.” His hands make you sigh out loud as they run up and down your waist, breathy moans leave your lips. “Do you understand the affection that I hold for you? Are you aware of the effect you have on me?” Pierro closely watches your reaction, stares as you keep your eyes closed and don’t so much as flinch at his words. You simply hum and lay like a blessing against his sheets. Now, the older man lowers his lips to your stomach and presses his mouth into your skin. He gently creates a path to the band of your panties with each kiss getting heavier than the last. 

“One day, you will understand the true extent of my feelings.”

Zhongli

Lately, you’ve been worried about your husband. Your concerns are nothing new or anything revolutionary but, you can’t speak about it to your friends or others who are unaware of his godly status. To deal with the matter, you sought out the one person you could discuss the matter with, one of the people who know him better than you do. 

“I’m worried about Zhongli,” You sit patiently at the stone table, in your husband’s seat as you confess your inner feelings to the cloud retainer. 

“Zhongli?” The bird rolls her eyes, tasting the name on her tongue before it clicks. “Morax. What is there to be concerned about? Foolish girl, he adores you.” The cloud retainer raises a judgmental brow at your timidness as she pours you a cup of tea. She sits down with an elegance that makes you feel small in her presence. Still, you proceed. 

If any of the adeptus are going to listen to you, it’s her. If there is a single one that you can trust, it is her. 

“Isn’t that the problem?” Truthfully, you have been worried about the upcoming and unforeseen future. You’re always worried about it. Not that you will disappear soon but, mortal lives are nothing compared to that of an adeptus. How will he fare when you pass? How can you prepare him for it? “What will happen to him when I inevitably-”

The aged bird cuts you off before you can even finish your sentence. 

“Speaking of such circumstances when they are nowhere in the near future will only come back to bite you.” Cloud retainer quietly sips at her drink, leaving a few moments of silence between the two of you before she sighs. “Fully cherish the time you have with him, that is the only piece of advice I can offer you.”

And that is as far as you go with her on the matter, the conversation was over.

Still, in your heart, you weren’t satisfied with the answer.

It continued to bug you even as you tried to ignore it, even as you tried to cherish the time you have with the immortal. 

“How are you today, my dear?” Every single day when he returns, Zhongli finds you and presses a delicate kiss on your cheek. It’s a kind gesture that always makes you melt into the palm of his hand. 

It also, more often than not, always leads to something else. Something more intimate. 

“Would you forgive me if I said that I missed you today,” Zhongli’s low voice fills your senses and clouds your mind, leaving you barely unable to think. Now pressed into the couch with your husband over top of you, protectively holding your thighs over his hips, all you can do is take everything that the god has to give you. “I’m often missing you when you are away.” 

His pure confessions make your gut twist in an uncomfortable way. 

“Will you be okay when I am no longer here?” You whisper, letting the words spill into his ears as you hide your face in his neck. 

Zhongli stops his movements. The gentle, smooth thrusts of his hips come to a standstill as his hands lower from your thighs. He places a palm beside your head and pulls back enough that he can look at you. 

“I will never be the same without you.” The raw emotion in his features and the distinct vulnerability in his eyes cause tears to well up in your eyes. “But, I will continue to live. Your memory will keep me alive until we can be reunited again.” His gentle touch comes up to wipe at your tears as his thumbs brush over your cheeks. “I don’t want you to be worried about that just yet, okay, my gem?”

Softly, Zhongli presses his lips against yours and it muffles the sob that leaves your lips. 

You tighten the grip that you have on his biceps, digging your fingers into his skin as your lips open for his tongue. 

“I love you, I will always love you forever.” He murmurs into your cheek before kissing over your eyelids. Smoothly, his hips pick up a slow pace once more and you gasp loudly. The sound makes your husband laugh, gently shaking as he presses his forehead against your own. “If I had my way, we would have met earlier and you would never part from my side.” 

In every touch, he portrays how much he loves you. There is an ‘I love you’ in the press of his fingers against your hips. There is an ‘I love you’ in the skillful roll of your hips and there is an ‘I love you’ in the gentle kiss of his lips. 

Yes, Zhongli is sure he will always love you. Even through grief and mourning, he will never forget the feeling of loving you. 

[pinkie-pop]

"I Have Something To Tell You."

Part I Part II Part III

Featuring: Gender-Neutral Reader, Yandere Genshn Impact, non religious SAGAU, Yandere Fatui Harbingers

Word count: 3.1k

Includes: Portrayal of mental illness, suicide, description of injury,

Synopsis: After killing yourself and landing in the world of Genshin Impact, you reflect on all that has gone wrong.

•~•~•~•~•~•

You don't really want to go home. Not exactly. But it's easier to say you miss your bed than to say you'd be fine with any bed, so long as it isn't the one in your wing. 

You thought people who get isekaied into new worlds were supposed to be happy. You've always been unlucky, you suppose. That's right. It's easier to say you were unlucky than to face the reality of the situation: that this was all your own fault.

You should have sucked it up. Should have gone to counseling or stayed at a hospital. Should have done something else. Should have done anything else.

You should never have killed yourself. 

•~•~•~•~•~•

It all started maybe a week ago. You've always been depressed. Never passionate about anything other than your video games, never smiling at anything other than a shiny new character or banner weapon, but it had never been this bad before. For all the talk, you had never actually wanted to die.

But then something changed. You aren't quite sure what it was that set you off. Maybe a particularly bad day at work, a side effect from an experimental medication you're on, or nothing at all. Regardless, something changed, and it changed fast. Soon, death became all you could think about. It plagued your mind both night and day until, at last, you slit your wrists in the bathtub, and when that didn't work, and you woke up again, you climbed up your local water tower and jumped off.

But it didn't matter. You woke up again. Looking different, but still undeniably you. Your face and voice had changed, but the same two scars still sit mockingly upon your wrists. You can't say you're prettier now, just different. Weren't the protagonists of transmigration stories meant to wake up in beautiful bodies, completely unlike their originals? So why was it that your hair and eyes remained the same, that only your face and body had differed? 

“Your body,” Dottore explained, “was completely destroyed during your fall. So it reconstructed itself, leaving you a little different, a little the same. That's why,” he said, tapping your wrists,”—that these are still here.” Any other scars you have had disappeared from your body, any blemishes vanished, though the two on your wrists remained. It left you looking smooth and unfinished, a pale imitation of who you once were. Like someone who had only seen you a couple of times tried to draw you from memory. Dottore told you it was because you were attached to them. That the scars shaped your soul, hence their survival. You didn't quite understand, if you're being honest, but he seemed to know what he was talking about, so you didn't bother to question it.

When you woke up again after death, the first thing you noticed was how cold it was. The chill wind was bitter against your white nightwear, the breeze penetrating through the thin fabric as easily as a needle piercing one's skin. The cold seemed to seep into you, lodging itself deep inside your bones. 

It was snowing, you realized dimly. That's odd. It hardly ever snowed anymore. The thought that you ought to have been dead by now hadn't yet occured to you, only the thought of cold and bitter winter days lingered in your mind. You thought of school being dismissed due to snow in your youth, of playing and building snowmen as a child. You recalled how the snow eventually stopped coming in winters, due to the Earth’s gradual heating. When it did come, it was a sad and pathetic thing, only a few inches total, melting as soon as it hit the ground. 

You thought long and deeply, in an odd, serene state of mind despite, or perhaps because of the polar cold. You aren't quite sure how long you stayed there, reminiscing, but it must have been quite a while, seeing as how your fingers and toes turned black, contrasting starkly against the snow.

It was Tartaglia who found you first, buried knee-deep in snow, strangely calm despite the way your fingertips are blackened by the cold. Of course, you were calm. You were supposed to be dead anyway.

“You okay there, comrade?” He asked you, waving a hand in front of your face. You blinked at him slowly but otherwise didn't respond. You were so still that he would have thought you dead if not for the soft rising and falling of your chest. Tartaglia attributed your inaction to shock—a symptom he's seen plenty of during his time as a Fatuus. Seeing as how you seemed unable (or perhaps unwilling) to move, he simply picked you up and dragged you back to the Zapolyarny Palace, where you were able to warm up and get treatment.

In normal circumstances, your arms and legs would have had to be amputated, but your circumstances were far from normal.

Dottore was the one who had saved your limbs (Your legs, having been buried in the snow for hours, were beyond saving, but your fingers and hands were able to recover). For that, you were grateful. He’s a creep, sure, but sentiments of debt made you tolerate his odd rambles about medical malpractice. Made you politely ignore the way his hands seemed to linger and stray.

After all, if he could save your limbs from certain death, he could most certainly remove them with just as much ease, too.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•

The mirror in your quarters is broken. 

You punched it when you first saw yourself reflected in its panes and refused to get a replacement, despite the many urgings of Pantalone to let him buy you one. Simply having your mirror broken was not enough to completely block out your new reflection, so you requested a can of blackout paint to be brought over to your room, where you then did a—in hindsight—rather shoddy job of enshrouding the reflective surface. It looked bad, but you didn't care. 

All you cared about was never seeing the face that you hesitate to call yours ever again. 

•~•~•~•~•~•~•

You aren't quite sure why Tartaglia brought you back to the Palace when it would have been much easier to leave you in the snow. You asked him about it once, but his response was less than satisfactory. 

“You could say I fell in love with you at first sight,” he said, ruffling your hair. Because what could be more charming than a frostbitten civilian in white nightwear that camouflages them in the snow?

You decided then and there to ignore any questions you had about the Harbingers’ growing attachment to you. You didn't need to know why they felt the way they did. Only that they did.

Only that they do.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

You were given a luxurious room at the Palace, far nicer than even the best of five-star resorts you could never afford. You even had your own personal maid, a brawny woman named Lera (an aptly chosen name, considering it means strength). She had her own helpers that also attended to you, three girls named Ana, Ulyana, and Irina (Ana and Ulyana are twins belonging to two rather uncreative parents, and Irina is an only child). Ana and Ulyana seem to be around your age, Irina a few years younger, and Lera about two decades older. Having the four of them around makes you feel as if you've been transmigrated into a romance fantasy novel.

When Tartaglia brought you to the Zapolyarny Palace, it caused a small ripple of chaos in its wake. The halls were filled with whispers about the strange person who seemed to have captured the heart of the eleventh Harbinger. Even more shocking than that, however, was the second’s agreement to heal you. There were many rumors going about, talk of backroom deals that must have been done to get Dottore to agree to save your arms, but no proof of such things were ever found. Some brave souls claimed that Dottore had also fallen for you and that that was why he had agreed to help. These people were hushed by their friends rather quickly, for fear of their own lives.

Stranger still was the seventh’s involvement in your recovery. Sandrone, though you're not sure how she heard about it or why she had decided to help, had created a pair of porcelain legs for you to wear. They were pretty, like a doll’s, a pale eggshell white with elegant gold carvings etched into the skin. They were comfortable, too, so much so that you almost forgot they were prosthetic, and Lera had to remind you multiple times to take them off before heading to bed.

You wanted to thank Sandrone for your legs, but you haven't seen her since your measurements and fitting. You asked a servant to send a message to her, but you've gotten no indication that she's even received it, let alone a response. As for Dottore, you were able to send your regards through Ulyana, who had to visit his section of the Palace anyway.

Tartaglia visits you daily, and soon you begin to coincidentally meet with the other Harbingers, who always seemed to have time for entertainment in the form of you.

“Oh, are you the one that our dear Tartaglia is so smitten with?” Came the sing-songy voice of Columbina. You pause, turning around slowly. To be honest, Columbina was one of the Harbingers you'd most like to avoid. Her soft voice sent shivers down your spine that—you hope—would be attributed to the cold instead. 

You turn towards her, and, afraid your voice might crack, say nothing and simply nod instead. 

“What’s your name, little songbird?” She asks you. You give it to her in a quiet voice, and she returns it with her own. Before she can say anything more, Tartaglia comes by and wraps an arm around you, making up some excuse about the two of you having someplace you needed to be. Columbina watches the two of you leave in silence, a small, closed-eyed smile upon her face.

Later, Tartaglia warns you away from Columbina. “There's something not right with her,” he says, a rare frown dancing upon his lips. “I can't place it, but you're better off staying away. And that's not just because I'd rather keep you to myself.” He then smiles and ruffles your hair in an attempt to lighten the mood. You don't say anything, but nod when he asks you to avoid her.

Pantalone is next. He visits you directly, bringing with him two golden bracelets you have no choice but to let him place upon your wrists. They do a good job of covering up your scars, which you assume is the intention behind the gift. It's oddly thoughtful, coming from him. But you know better than to think it was free.

You aren't sure if you want to know what he expects in exchange.

You meet with La Signora next, and you're surprised to see that she's still alive. You suppose the Traveler hasn't made it to Inazuma in this world yet. That's strange, but you decide not to dwell on it.

Next is Dottore’s segments, also still alive, and all of whom seem to enjoy lingering around your quarters. You often find one or two hanging around in the hallways, always making light conversation or asking if you require anything. You know better than to write it off as a coincidence, and for a while you entertained the thought that Dottore had put them up to it, before promptly writing it off as ridiculous. 

Still, a small part of you can't help but wonder if the doctor has taken a special interest in one of his dear patients.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Two weeks into your stay at the Zapolyarny Palace, you overhear a conversation amongst the servants. You hide behind a banister and listen in.

“How long has it been now?” Says a maid, a nervous hand tangled in her hair, tugging it slightly. You’ve seen her before but have never gotten her name. She’s speaking to another maid who you recognize as Tatinana.

“Almost a month, I’d say,” responds the other, gently stopping her from ruining her braids.

“Everyone’s getting antsy. I’ve never seen Lord Tartaglia so irritable.”

“I know what you mean. He used to be such a laid-back guy. Now, you can barely even hold a conversation without him looking at you like he’s ready to tear out your eyes. Lord Scaramouche has gotten even more unbearable to be around, too. And you can tell the Player’s absence has taken a toll on everyone else as well.” Player, huh? If their absence is so heavily noticed, they must be important. It’s odd, though. You’ve never once heard about such a character existing at all, let alone their disappearance. You keep listening, hoping for clues about this mysterious person’s identity.

“Don’t you think the timing is a little odd? They showed up right before the Player stopped logging in. They’ve got the Harbingers wrapped around their finger. It’s too precise to be a coincidence. There’s something to it, I just know it.” Is she…talking about you now? So this ‘Player’ disappeared right before you showed up? They stopped ‘logging in’? Well, isn’t that wording a bit peculiar? It sure sounds like gamer lingo to you.

This Player that they mentioned…it couldn’t be you, could it?

“Enough with your conspiracies. Let’s get back to work before—” A floorboard creaks from under your foot, and the two maids freeze. You suppose there’s no use in hiding anymore, so you step out to face them.

“E-esteemed guest, w-what brings you here?”

“Ah, nothing much,” you say. “I heard voices and came to take a look. What were you two talking about?” You ask casually, stuffing your hands in your pockets.

“Nothing!” The girl with braided hair squeaks. You raise an eyebrow at her, and the other shakes her head.

The girl sighs. “We aren’t supposed to talk about them,” she says.

“Maria, I think they heard,” Tatiana says. “What do you want to know?”

“Tell me more about this ‘Player’ you mentioned.” 

“Didn’t stop you before.”

“Right, well…” She pauses, seemingly formulating her next words carefully. “It’s this…force. This being behind the Traveler. We don’t know its true nature, none of us have ever seen anything like it. It controls the Traveler and their companions like a puppet to its puppeteer.”

“They’ve lost their minds,” Maria whispers. “It’s scary. They make us clean a ghost’s room. Every day, it has to be spotless.”

“And? What’s the goal?”

“That’s the thing…none of us know. The Harbingers know something, they’re all obsessed with the Player, they’re convinced that the Player holds some kind of power they can utilize, but the Player isn’t from Teyvat, and only Lord Tartaglia has figured out how to interact with it.”

“Interact with it how?”

“By being possessed. All the Harbingers want to be controlled by the Player, they think it’ll make them stronger. But it’s more than that. They used to just want to use the Player for their own gain, but somewhere along the way things changed. They’ve been working on a way to bring them here, and when they do there’s a whole wing in the Zapolyarny Palace dedicated to them.”

“It was unbearable right after the Player first disappeared, the air was suffocating. But then Lord Tartaglia brought you back and things started to return to normal. I overheard him saying being with you reminded him of when the Player used to take control.” You nod, the cogs in your head turning furiously. That settles it, then. Without a shred of doubt, you are the Player.

“Hey, so listen…”

The Tsarista summoned you and all Harbingers to a meeting in an effort to control the chaos your revelation had caused.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

You thought you were prepared to see the Tsarista for the first time, but nothing in the world could prepare you for the sheer, glacial beauty standing in front of you. Her presence was strong, commanding obedience with a simple glance. Her eyes looked at you coldly, interest evident in her face as she called the meeting to order. A beautiful crown of ice sat upon her head, her impossibly white hair elegantly framing her face as it cascaded down her back.

The meeting passed by in a blur. You remember them talking about your need to be protected, to never leave the Palace without at least two Harbingers or the Tsaritsa herself escorting you. You remember telling them about how you died, stating simply that you ‘fell from a high place’ and omitting the part where you jumped. You remember the color of the buttons each Harbinger wore on their coat. But you don’t remember the part where you agreed to stay with them. You don’t remember anyone even asking.

After the meeting, news of your true identity spread like wildfire. Some people didn’t believe it, calling you a fraud or an imposter, but those voices were quickly snuffed out the second the Harbingers started to accept your new status as the Player. Immediately, you were moved to the Player’s Wing in the Zapolyarny Palace, an easy move, considering you had no possessions. 

You don’t know why they’re trying so hard to win your favor or even if they realize that they’re failing, but either way, you know you need to get out of here. You’d try dying again if you thought that would work, but after seeing your scars, the Harbingers have already blocked all potential means of speeding up your expiration date. That only leaves one option.

The Harbingers’ visits, already a nuisance, became overbearing in no time. If it wasn’t Tartaglia dragging you to his training hall, it was Dottore giving you the nitty-gritty of his latest experiments. If it wasn’t Arlecchino shoving sweets down your throat, it was Pantalone burying you in gifts.

If it wasn’t one, it was always the other. 

You have to run away. 

But how? The Harbingers are all working together to keep you under constant lock and key.

Maybe if you were able to break the bonds they’ve formed with each other, you could recruit one of them to help you. They’re all selfish assholes. You’re sure it wouldn’t be difficult to convince one of them they’d be better off keeping you to themselves.

“I have something to tell you,” you say, brushing a strand of hair out of the Balladeer’s face. “It’s about Dottore.”

[mellowwillowy]

Zapolyarny Palace's Cat

Fem reader, either a literal cat or a hybrid(?) is up to you. All Harbingers + Archon, Pulcinella, and his grandpa joke (aww), Scaramouche appears later as a surprise. Yan tendencies near the ending.

"Mew.."

You mewl while Childe scratches your head, Pantalone tends your nails, Columbina combs your furs, Sandrone fixes the bowtie on your tail while Capitano feeds you a cat snack. Both Pierro and Pulcinella are reading your examination report, ensuring no anomalies to your health. Dottore on the other hand, is prescribing you multiple supplements to be taken for this one week. Rosalyne and Arlecchino are preparing your meal, only the best and warmest for you!

"Yaah, it seems like our little princess is getting sleepy!" Childe chirps while Pantalone eyes him to keep his voice down.

"Well I think it's fine if she wants to sleep now, she just went through all those troublesome checkups today," Sandrone replies as she makes sure the angle of the bowtie is perfect.

"I'm sure both Signora and Arlecchino are nowhere near finishing the dishes for Princess," Columbina humms as she combs your furs, the best thing you could ever wish for.

Capitano freezes midway, contemplating whether he should keep letting you lick the snack.

"I think it's better to end her snack time now, she might not eat her dinner because she's full later," Pantalone chides the confused Captain.

Capitano put away the snack and asked both Pierro and Pulcinella about the report,

"How is it? Any anomalies?"

"She's in peak-perfect condition, it's great that she doesn't catch a cold anymore," Pierro says as he hands Capitano the report.

"It would be worrying if she catches one again, if that happens again, maybe we should let her visit the other nation," Pulcinella suggests jokingly.

"If so, that would only halt her from adapting, Rooster. Remember, no matter where she heads, she is still our Nation's pride and joy"

Everyone looks toward the Tsaritsa who is staring at them all sternly,

With you on her lap.

"Honestly, that old hag doesn't look so intimidating anymore with princess sleeping on her lap," Dottore mumbled to himself before he is surprised by Arlecchino's response.

"I know right, she doesn't feel cold anymore like the ice she is. Maybe Princess really is her portable heater"

"Arlecchino, be careful of spilling princess' milk," Signora reminds the Knave as she carries a tray of meals, one that looks tasty even for humans except that it's served for you.

"Princess, wake up~ your dinner's ready~" Signora places down the tray while poking you, her voice completely different from how she usually speaks.

To be fair, everyone's tone is different when it comes to you,

"Princess, it's your favorite," Capitano holds the bowl in front of your nose, the smell tempting you to wake up and lick your lip.

God~~ even the sternest Captain is cooing at you~~

"The milk? Warm! Tasty! Princess~~ come to quench your thirst with this~~" Childe holds the bowl in front of you as well.

"Look at these side treats," Arlecchino holds some treats in which Dottore has inserted the supplements into it.

"You have to make sure she eats it all!" He whispers into her ear.

"Ohoho! Look at these chickens, oh no, it's me but minced and cooked isn't it?"

'What a grandpa-style joke' everyone thinks to themselves.

You stretch yourself, tail wagging from left to right before sniffing the meal. It does look really tasty, different from your daily meals, probably because you just had your check-ups.

"Oh? She's finally eating it now" Sandrone watches in adoration.

Everyone watches you eat peacefully, with you no longer weirded out by this.

"Slowly, no one's taking your dinner away princess~" Pantalone coos at you as his finger brushes your fave lightly.

"Maybe she thought we are all here to eat her dinner, hehe," Columbine chortles in response.

"Come to think of it, where's Balladeer?" Pierro asks after he counts the people in the chamber.

Your head perks up and you pull out a wooden doll.

The wooden doll looks oddly familiar, way too familiar.

It's Scaramouche.

"What?" Everyone rhymes.

The wooden doll moves by itself angrily, jumping up and down, left and right while smokes fuming out of the wood.

You smack it playfully before giving it a playful lick, returning its form back.

"Hah! Great! Finally, someone notices that I'm missing! After a whole day getting smacked by her!"

True, you have been playing Scaramouche, smacking, rolling, and munching him.

"Balladeer, you must have been having the best time of your life huh?" Pantalone muses, while everyone nods in agreement.

"If that is so true, why not turn yourself into one?" He retorts back.

"Me! Me! I nominate myself to be princess's munching toy!" Childe beams in joy.

"No way, what she needs is something clean, clinically approved" The Doctor sneers.

"You? With your bloody hands from those immoral surgeries?" Sandrone raises one of her eyebrows.

"Hey, there's gloves"

"Metaphorically speaking, you are still dirtily bloody in a way," the Damslette retorts.

Signora chuckles at her retort while the archon only shakes her head.

"Ah."

Everyone looks at the Captain.

In response, he points toward you,

"Ohoho, looks like our little princess has finished her dinner!" The Rooster exclaims merrily.

"Now now, drink your milk princess! You have to stay hydrated!" Arlecchino brings the bowl closer to you.

"Or maybe a bowl of water" Pierro slides it next to the milk.

"Or... juice?" The archon blinks in confusion.

You start drinking all the offered and burp a bit. An aww soon follows.

Dottore elbows Arlecchino to hand you the side treats, with supplements stuffed inside of them.

"Uh... princess, it's tr-"

"It's treat time, Princess!" Damslette snatches the treats from Arlecchino who is stuttering. She knows how Arlecchino feels bad about having to make you eat it without you knowing it.

"Princess, have a bite," Tsaritsa encourages you while scratching your head.

"Huh? The treat looks weir-"

"Now now, let's have you drink some water, even if you are a puppet, you still have to stay hydrated," Dottore cuts Scaramouche by forcing a bottle of water into him with Childe holding him in place.

Everyone only chuckles at this sight.

You too, laugh with them.

A pill was sneaked into your treats, but who are you to break their caring heart? You munch everything until none were left.

Until none were left.

...

You truly hope that everything stays as it is. The Harbingers taking a break from dragging each other down and only basking in your warmth.

You wish you could forever bring warmth to this cold palace.

This cold, lonely palace that stands alone.

..

.

"Eternity, that is to be blessed on her"

"What used to be a curse is now a blessing bestowed upon her"

"I suppose it is medically possible as well"

"She is, after all, a warrior that will never die"

"Hehehe... she is indeed the fair woman who will forever sing"

"This whole nation will never mourn if she will forever ring her bell"

"Even if we can't give her a human body, a puppet will always work as the second option"

"I suppose I am the most suitable for crafting her a delicate body"

"The fire in her will never die, for I will be her last spark of fire"

"And I suppose we shall spare no cents when it comes to her"

"Thus this is not an option but an obligation"

"For our princess should never rest in eternity~"

Soon, everyone will hear the bell on your bowtie ringing again.

Note: can you guess everyone's speech correctly? What are your guesses (speech order)? :DD

[throwaway-yandere]

𝗖𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗱𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 [Yandere!Dottore/Reader]

a/n: this fic is 100% dedicated to @leftdestiny-posts and they would know just how much they had inspired me in this fic once they finished reading it HAHAHAHAH. P.S.: the classical songs mentioned are actual songs. Yes, the title is half a joke. Here's the spotify playlist if you're curious.

Unreliable Synopsis: You cannot remember your past, but your doctor has been with you every step of the way— and he's more than willing to spend some time with you outside the hospital. Still... did you always have pure white hair?

CW: yandere themes, light body horror, manipulation, its dottore, c'mon LOL.

Concert II "Tristezza Di Fine Anno", performed by the Morespoke Philharmonic with their conductor, Lady Columbina, began nearly an hour ago. And you had the fortune of hearing their songs for yourself.

The well-dressed crowd filled the seats, behaving in what was appropriate for their high station. It was fully booked. The music overwhelmingly masked anyone's breaths, if they had one to start with. Her program can be felt deep in the audience's bones. Rattling them in each sforzando before it lulls down through the sound of her handpicked musicians— with Lady Columbina as the lonesome soloist when the moment calls for it.

"This piece, Symphony No. 5 in C-Sharp Minor, is not Columbina's own making, she had failed to mention that," your company hummed. "This was by another composer who hid behind the name Safed. They were a self-fulling prophecy. Do you wish to know what they said about this piece?"

You said nothing as Zandik— Lord Dottore— stroked your unnaturally "white" hair.

"They said that nobody understood the piece and that they wish they could conduct the first performance five centuries after their death."

Zandik smiled.

"What say you? Do you think those words are true?"

Your company was a tall and thin man with artificially pale-ish skin and wavy blue hair. His eyes were reportedly bloodshot crimson, although you had not received proof of that in this lifetime. But, you were drawn to his deep ocean-like colors, and that was enough to keep you mildly complacent to his strange remarks.

Zandik is surprisingly a considerate man, but he must've brought you with him for a reason. He told you himself that the reason he brought you out of your prison-like hospital room was a mere experiment on his behalf. Paradigm-shifting consequences of his strange social experiments with you are likely to occur, and he cares not for its ethical debates. He won't ask for rhetorics; these to him are tangible outcomes and no questions will be entertained.

All except his.

"I think… "

The composition had a serene, slightly asymmetrical feel to it. You were certain this was Lady Columbina's creative liberties at play. Something about it did not capture its true authenticities. The show purported to narrate three stories: the first concerned a judge who had to find a loved one guilty; the second concerned a prince who drove their beloved into despair; and the final was a tale of a knight who disregarded his obligation to defend a loved one.

But it felt incomplete. As if there was a missing piece— a secret fourth act hiding between the notes and stage.

"A person can't completely mourn for something they would never experience," you told him. "But even so, if I were Safed, I'd feel like my effort would've been a waste."

His eyes remained trained on your hair as you spoke. Zandik seems to dislike it. Unlike his cells mixed with engineered nanomaterials, yours are uniquely… "natural". His hair has a color intensity, whereas yours was the presence of every color— as physics explained it.

"Something they would never experience…" Zandik repeated, tasting the words on his tongue— a smirk etched on his face as though it tasted like bitter irony.

You continued.

"I have a hunch that Safed put everything they worked hard on all their pieces because Lady Columbina wouldn't have performed it otherwise. Since all the songs on the concert's program are marketed as underappreciated compositions, I would… um… infer that they also questioned their works and ultimately themselves if it all had worth in the end. Hopeless for the lack of attention, they probably thought there's more hope if they lived in another generation."

You wanted to say, though you're not sure where this negativity came from, that they probably despised how their well-crafted works were ignored and their sloppy yet significantly more popular compositions angered them.

But you're not Safed. You don't want to put words in their mouth.

".... Hmm, an acceptable hypothesis— a decent one, even," whatever monotonous response Zandik wished to convey, his voice betrayed his grand satisfaction. "Yet I won't give you any confirmation."

"I know."

Zandik laughed.

"The next piece is Norn's Adagio for Strings Op. 11, before the closing Symphony No. 6, better known as Pathétique Symphony, in B Minor Op. 74."

You tilted your head innocently. "Pathetic?"

"Another piece by Safed. It's a Fontaine-translated title. It's originally named pateticheskaya, which meant passionate or emotional, not at all pitiable."

He crossed his arms, insulted as though he was the one who came up with the original title.

"Roughly half a millennium past, the masses attributed Safed's demise to the strains of their final composition, the so-called Pathétique, a mere nine days preceding their exit from this mortal coil. The prevailing narrative spouts a tale of a tragic surrender to the clutches of undiagnosed clinical depression. I find such simplicity in analysis rather pedestrian, wouldn't you agree?"

You took a while to process his inquiry before hesitantly nodding.

"I… I think so."

Zandik smiled.

It's hard to tell if it's genuine, especially when such a protruding mask hides his eyes. Should its existence vanish, you aren't certain you'd see a soul within his pupils either.

"Safed hated this piece, believing it should be cast aside and forgotten. They were living in the woodlands when they wrote it— and when they decided to live with their benefactor, it was suddenly difficult to tear them away from their work."

You nodded to cue that you were still listening.

"They have an incredibly deep connection with their works. One might say they see in tunes rather than color."

You nodded again.

"Your inclination towards a perpetual affirmation of propositions, presumably to veil any potential lacunae in your cognitive purview, does not escape me. It is, if I may be so bold, your agreement that conceals your specter of unfamiliarity, right?"

You rarely understand a word he says when he is in this passionate state. You just nod as if you knew.

"Adorable," Zandik chuckled.

His voice was chillingly low yet… comforting. 

"Your sincerity constitutes an enchanting facet of your comportment."

He had to be teasing you.

"Although…" Zandik grabbed a few locks of your hair as though it was slimy and unpleasant— quickly retracting them with a disapproving tilt. "You could stand to utilize more (h/c) hair dyes. How is it conceivable that it has returned to white yet again?"

You opened your mouth but Zandik raised a finger.

"No. I am the scholar here. Do not answer."

You giggled. "Understood, Doctor."

He grinned, inadvertently showing off his pointed canines.

"What a good test subject you are, my dear (Y/n)."

Whether good was a subjective or objective assessment or not was up to interpretation.

The mid-concert intermission began, allowing Lady Columbina's pressured musicians a 20-minute sigh of relief. Zandik ushered you to the back where the Lady Harbinger reposed on a white sofa, her cheek brushing a visibly soft and cloud-like pillow. The bright backstage lighting made her seem ethereal.

She looked like heaven, but Zandik would argue that "(Y/n)" is the true epitome of the word.

"Greetings. As expected, you'd initiate conversation at the earliest convenience." She cooed. "You look younger today, Doctor."

"You know very well that I do not take that as a compliment, Columbina." Zandik scoffed. "How many times will we rehearse this canned script until it is a learned lesson?"

"Perhaps it shall end on the day you refrain yourself from recreating… perspectives."

"Since my encounter with the Dendro Archon, I have not revisited that notion."

Columbina's gentle smile dropped coldly. "You know that your segments are not what I am referring to."

You looked back and forth between the two. Each of them was a distinctively unique person and it's a challenge to take your eyes away from the other.

Hence, when you felt Lady Columbina's eyes on you, you shook and straightened yourself before bowing stiffly.

"G-Greetings, Lady Columbina!!!"

Her gentle smile resurfaced.

"Greetings to you as well, dear Safed."

You blinked.

Dottore clicked his tongue, and Columbina laughed softly.

"Apologies, I meant to say (Y/n)— that is the name you go by in this era of humanity, right?"

You'd rightfully claim that between the three of you, you were the most human. Zandik has his clones, Columbina's origins are of strict secrecy, and you are a mere amnesiac patient. But the way she addressed you was sounding awful like stripping you away with that sense of humane identity.

"Yes? I guess?"

Columbina delightedly buzzed in your reply. "(Y/n)— truly a lovely name. That must mean that you're very healthy! It warms my heart to hear that name again. The other ones had terribly dull names, but if the Doctor had given you this title, then it must mean his research is finally drawing to a close."

Her remarks made little sense. You know little about yourself and trust only the Doctor's judgment. Should you trust her words, then it must mean (Y/n) isn't your real name…

But… that doesn't seem right either. 

"Not quite, the name deserves no celebration," Dottore replied happily. "I merely ran out of translations. Bianco, Wit, Bái— what else is there? Ancient Natlan?"

"Scientists truly make for terrible poets— Why not try Inazuman?" Columbina offered.

Those words must have had a heavy weight to them because Zandik pondered for much longer than expected.

"Hmm. I'll keep that in mind," Zandik muttered. "Although it is preferable it does not have to reach that point."

"May I ask why did you bring them here?" Columbina asked.

"It's a bit of an unconventional experiment, but I've been exploring how to elicit positive associations with certain stimuli. Exposing them to music as I accompany them should cause them to associate the emotional response it elicits with being around me." Dottore hummed. "It would be asinine to put them in a chaotic yet controlled environment such as a theme park. While a racing heart may be effective, I shouldn't risk a (Y/n)'s well-being by subjecting them to roller coasters."

"Are you sure you're not the scared one?" You asked cheekily. Zandik rolled his eyes.

She shook her head.

"What a roundabout way of saying you're taking them out on a concert date…"

Columbina looked at you once more.

"Oh, but (Y/n), you appear unwell, my dear…" she pointed at stage left. "Why don't you fix yourself up in the nearest restroom?"

Dottore raised an eyebrow, which made you want to decline Columbina.

"I'm r-really okay, Lady Colum—"

"I insist."

Columbina smiled wider. Her laced mask cast a gloomy shade on her visage.

You had no other choice.

"O… Okay."

The halls that led to the restroom were mostly empty. Perhaps it was due to Lady Columbina's performance that made them patiently await the next song.

But there was one young man you encountered along the way. He had blonde half-way braided hair and purple-ish eyes. You paid him no mind as he circled a small rectangular paper, likely the concert's ticket, between his fingers. However, within a second, that paper vanished.

You stopped in your tracks and looked at him curiously, wondering if your eyes played tricks. He laughed, noting your attention.

"Ah! Sorry," he cheerfully gestured a small wave. "Didn't mean to practice in public."

The blonde man approached you with a smile.

"You're #9805, right?"

Immediately, you both got on the wrong foot.

Your nose scrunched, "I prefer (Y/n)."

The man flinched. "Oh, yikes! I'm not making the best first impression— nice to meet you (Y/n)! I have something for you."

You thought he was handing you his concert ticket for a moment but when you took a good look, it was a grayscale brochure.

And a white tulip…

"Um…"

"Needless to say, I'm something of a—"

"Trickster?"

"Magician, but an astute guess nonetheless!" He laughed sheepishly. "I was waiting for you, I thought you wouldn't go to the restroom."

So, did Lady Columbina plan this?

You caressed the binding and skimmed through the pages. "What's this for?"

"Father said you might be interested in its contents," the young man said. "That's all."

You blinked.

"... Are you saying you missed out most of the concert just to hand me this?"

He laughed awkwardly again. "My dear sister says I have a habit of missing a hint of romanticism when it counts, so I guess today's just one of those moments."

"Did you not like the music?" You scoffed, temper rising.

"Did you hate the composition? Did you not understand the e-emotion behind the chords? Don't you understand just how d-disrespectful that was?!"

"Woah, woah, I didn't say any of that." His eyes widened.

He didn't expect your voice to crack.

"I'm so sorry if you're offended— are you one of the original composers?"

…

You took a deep breath.

… Why were you mad?

… Why did it feel like those songs mean more to you than meets the eye?

"Sorry, I just…" You shook your head. "I guess I'm not feeling well. Oh, no, I'm so SO sorry…"

An unknown part of you thrived to hear him praise the music. That same part pitied the composer who worked day and night to perfect their piece. It's an ugly voice, but it was sincere.

… What was wrong with you? Why did you suddenly lash out? What was going on?

"Oh, well there's no need to be sorry then." The blonde man took his hat off and bowed.

"Farewell, Mx. (Y/n)!" He grinned. "The greatest magician in all Teyvat will take his leave. Thank you for your time!"

With the sway of his dark cape, he disappeared.

You entered the restroom to wash your face. It didn't do much to soothe your nerves. The lingering dread for your strange emotional mood swing remained.

To distract yourself, you read through the article.

The Enigmatic Legacy of Composer Safed

In the annals of musical history, few figures emerge as enigmatic and hauntingly captivating as the orchestral composer, Safed. Born five centuries ago amidst the ancient woodlands of Sumeru, this ethereal musician seemingly materialized from Vanarama with no familial relations.

Huh… So it's about the one who wrote the previous compositions earlier.

No wonder that blonde man asked if you were one of the composers. He was being a smartass.

A Fiery Finale: The Pathétique Symphony

Legend has it that in their final act of emotional expression, Safed penned the "Pathétique Symphony," a composition so emotionally charged that, overwhelmed with disdain for their creation, they purportedly set ablaze their woodland home. Seeking solace and escape, Safed accepted the benevolent offer of a city-dwelling benefactor.

…

…

Safed… burned down their house?

No…

No, that's not how you remembered that.

No.

No. No. No. No. No.

That's not what happened. "Safed" didn't burn their house down.

Suddenly, you stilled. Your thoughts ran wild, but your inner rationale tried to force them to a halt. This peak in anxiety did not make sense.

… Why would an amnesiac like you know what happened?

A Swansong: Il Dottore's Beneficence

Their benefactor, now celebrated as our Lord Harbinger, Il Dottore, welcomed Safed into the city's heart. It was here that the truth unfolded: Safed had been grappling with hearing loss for years, an affliction that fueled their artistic brilliance yet cloaked them in a muffled world. They were unaware of their disability, yet thrived in their field.

…

…

Wait…

Before you began to read the final paragraph in Safed's brochure, you hurriedly went back to Dottore and the composer's vintage photographed portraits.

After seeing their face, you dropped the brochure in the restroom's sink.

You saw their face.

You saw YOUR face and Zandik's.

But not quite. That was you, but at the same time, it wasn't. Zandik looked stiff in those photos with "you", likely a product of the time since Kamera photography was used only in rare formalities that required a bit of dress up. But the "you" you saw was sickly way beyond the formal costumes. They had (e/c) eyes and (h/c) hair, but yours were all white. 

White…

Safed… That's the Sumeru translation for white, isn't it?

Bianco, Wit, Bái— they're all translations for "white", aren't they? And if Dottore and Columbina's earlier conversations were to go by, the one after you would be named Shiro.

…

The one… after you?

"Tut tut."

You trembled at the familiar sound.

You slowly turned your head around and there he was, leaning against the restroom door.

"You were in the restroom for too long. It appears my suspicions were not unfounded."

Without waiting for a response, he approached with large strides. His gloved hands seized your stressed shoulders. The grip tightened harshly as he forced you to meet his intense gaze. Blood trailed from the corner of your mouth, and your anxiety heightened. He angrily bared his sharp teeth as he watched it stain his gloves.

And yet Zandik looks…

Sad.

And distressed.

He pressed his earpiece.

"Test Subject #9805 exhibits troubling symptoms. Hematemesis suggests a severe physiological response. Persistent manifestations of albinism in ocular and follicular pigmentation indicate underlying deformities. Immediate isolation is warranted for the researcher and subject's well-being."

His hand was cold. Skin imbued with silver nanomaterials after several operations, reminiscent of the age-old philosophical question: "Is it still the same ship if you gradually replace all of its parts?" 

Then Zandik did something unexpected.

He dropped his hold and you prepared yourself by shutting your eyes as he swung his arm.

To hug you.

"I'm sorry, I have failed you again, (Y/n)," Zandik muttered. "I should not have raised my expectations."

"W… What? Why are you putting me in isolation?" You asked, rattled. "What have I done?! I just— I didn't do anything wrong! What did I—"

He shifted, dragging your arm to hug him back as though you were a little girl's doll. Zandik rested his head on your shoulder, shaking slightly.

"In your innocence, no fault lies. I thought I had accomplished what I had set out to do, and met unfulfilled expectations" Zandik gritted his teeth, voice somber. "Despite centuries of refinement, it appears that I still have room for improvement in perfecting the process… I was right. This deserves no celebration."

The doctor laughed sadly.

"When will I ever be proven wrong?" He asked himself as he wiped the blood off the corner of your lips.

He pulled away, pecking your forehead.

"I'm sorry."

Those were not the words you expected from his mouth, and yet you heard it more than once. I'm sorry. It does not fit his character, nor does the tender yet cold hug he had given prior.

You're scared. You're terrified. You know what was bound to come. You know what awaits you. White walls. Silence. Separation.

Solitary.

Far from a choice. Far from negotiable.

There's no amnesty.

And yet, the words flowed from you naturally.

"... I forgive you."

You have no idea why you said what you said. There's no certainty that you believed your own words. Zandik's lip twitched downward.

"You should not," Zandik croaked. "Why? Why must you always forgive and accept my selfishness? Do you derive satisfaction in seeing me in this state?!"

You opened your mouth to answer but were stopped abruptly as he grabbed your hair.

Zandik had always favored you compared to other patients. You know this very well. He's an evil man and the list of actions he had done that had harmed you in the name of science is at least two pages long upon your awakening. Yet, you were sure he liked you enough for he told you of his new exciting experiments. He scolded you when you left his research institute for fresh air. And he would hold your hand whenever you dreaded those thick injections.

You just didn't know he had it in him to fold from his intimidating facade just to kiss you like a desperate man. 

Breathless under his control, he softly pressed his lips against yours. His lips were chapped and cold, and he took you in gently as though he'd break you. Zandik, as strange as it was, still seemed to prioritize your comfort over his needs. Normally, this tension would've made him so short-tempered. But this will be your last interaction. The doctor tasted your blood in his mouth, and he was nauseous at the thought of hurting you more. But he stopped. Even though he wishes to force all his pent-up desires onto you. Even though he wanted to love you thoroughly that you'd forget your name again.

Zandik whimpered quietly as he pulled away— sounding like a dog that would not sleep that night. What was left in between was a thin disappearing line of saliva and blood that quickly broke off.

The doctor should be happy he finally got to have a proper date with you after 9805 failed attempts. 

But he's not content.

He was about to lean in for the second time but stopped himself. Selfish. To think he nearly saw you two finally walking down the aisle. Why was he always so selfish when it came to you? But those rhetorics mattered not in your head.

You were silenced. You were held.

You were loved.

"No." Zandik breathed in, laughing humorlessly. "No— I am the scholar here. Don't answer."

And you will be disposed of.

"Take them away." He spoke to his men calmly. They had entered long enough to witness what he had done. The men did not hesitate to grab you, thinking Dottore thought you no more than a mere toy.

But calm was deceptive. It does not convey the distress that chokes him.

Maybe…

Maybe in the 9806's trial… he'll have you as he always wanted.

The Fatuus that escorted you in was gentle. A silent guide. The expression on her face was clear that she wanted to extend her apologies as well but mustn't.

You already have a white tulip in hand.

Arlecchino already sended her regards in advance.

When she opened the door by tapping a card against the lock, she bowed her head. You let yourself enter without a fight. The room was pure white with the rest of the furniture matching the drapes. But Dottore didn't just provide the necessities. There were books, sketch pads, and other recreational materials.

As you were about to approach the center, something was off on both sides.

You looked to your left.

Two clear mirrors divided your room from the others. There's a sign on the left wall. Code #4135.

You stood, shocked, grieving at the sight of your predecessor. They were a mirror of you but with a different name— and an even worse state.

One had made a slight sound coming off their skin— rotting slightly. There's a tube connected to their mouth and you could see yourself— you could see them dripping. They had your face. Their hair and eyes were white. The nose was gone, leaving a gaping hole. Their neck was cricked back at an unnatural angle. You don't know if they're still breathing. They're still bleeding. They must've bitten off their tongue.

There's a lone white blanket that covers the rest of them.

You think they might be dead.

You think "you" might've died more than once.

THUD!

You jolted at the sound coming from the wall behind you. Upon seeing their body, you froze.

Code #032.

They were but a head. You wish you could only focus on that aspect, but you looked lower and your hair raised. They cannot feel the same, for they were almost only a spine left. The rest of them were their skeletal frame, guided by thin lines one can barely call flesh.

Their head banged against the mirror. The thought that the sound was what made you flinch earlier made you unwell.

They seem to be telling you something. Their breath fogged up the glass and their thinned white hair splayed across your view. Their mouth said something urgently you couldn't comprehend because their tongue was paper-like in size.

#032 was shaking. Their pain grew vivid in every movement that the room was starting to spin. You sensed their turmoil.

They looked like death.

You all looked like death itself, both the pretty and ugly ends of it.

"Don't." You whispered, begging as you knelt to their level. "You don't have to speak."

You laughed deprecatingly.

"We're not the scholar here. He is."

In every syllable, you saw the outline of their esophagus strain. The nerves were blueish purple. The little skin they have left on their cheeks is sunken. Their lips were gnawed, likely as a response to the pain they'd gone through previously. Fists of bone tapped against the glass, and you quivered, imagining their pain.

You were not afraid of them. You only mourned their anguish. In fact, you feel at ease to be in the presence of yourself from the past.

It reminded you of what "Safed" had allegedly spoken years ago.

Nobody understood the pieces you made and you wished you could conduct the first performance five centuries after your first death.

And now, here you are.

Seeing two "people" who do understand you.

And they share your face.

"Pathetically", the only one that can understand you is yourself.

You're all flies trapped in a web that the predator refuses to wrap and consume out of pity. Compared to the others, you looked fine.

But your lungs were blistering.

Despite their deathly ill and mutilated bodies, you were the one bound to die soon enough.

His experiments worked.

You love him.

You love Zandik.

And how tragic it was that the person who learned how to love him was doomed to perish.

In your last minutes, you recalled something vital:

As an outsider, your body was not meant for this world, but after encountering the woodland creatures and Zandik, it became tremendously difficult to part ways with it.

You coughed up yet again with a gentle smile on your face. Maybe you're not dying…

Maybe you're just returning home, for every atom in your multiple bodies was once part of the galaxy.

You are (Y/n) (L/n).

And you were not from Teyvat.

Much like the rest of the descenders, you have a quirk about you that sets you apart from the norm. For the travelers the world reveres today, it was their distinct determination and questionable age that was remarkable. Yours slightly titters to an inhuman level.

You can "clone" yourself.

Zandik and the "original" you wouldn't phrase it in that manner, but it's the easiest way to describe your talents.

"So, it is cloning." Zandik paused. "Mind letting me in on the science behind the process?"

He was an ordinary student when you both met. Far from a doctor, but at least he was a registered scholar in the Akademiya. Zandik didn't have an eloquent tongue as he does in the present, yet his curiosity burned all the same.

Which is why, back then, you thought his questions were cute.

Not dangerous.

"It's not that I can make copies of myself without consequences," you humored with a grin. "I'm just making… fragments of myself. Segments, if you prefer to call it that. It's a common ability for the people back in my world. None of us do it excessively— especially since we're kind of an invasive species." 

Zandik raised an eyebrow, "is that a commendable trait?"

"My kind says so. Whether good is a subjective or objective assessment or not is up to interpretation." You answered noncommittedly. "I don't think that's right. Our soul splits apart until we're just… empty. We lose some memories in the process."

"But functioning?"

"In a sense, yeah, but we lose a part of ourselves like memories and well, hair color, I guess." You nodded. "Why are you so curious?"

"Since you have rejected my confession, I want to try my hand at seducing a copy of yours instead," Zandik said. You couldn't tell whether he was joking with his naturally piercing red eyes. "Until then, you are not allowed to asexually reproduce without my authorization. Understood?"

You laughed. Unaware of his arsonist crimes, you willingly indulged his words.

"I owe you my ears, so it's only right that I'll listen to your commands, Zandik."

"Good." Zandik grinned, shark-like.

"What a good test subject you are, (Y/n)."

Centuries later, that closing sentence will continue to remain true.

Since then, his life has changed. Multiplied, even. Upon studying your genetic makeup, he found ways to duplicate himself as well. Despite his feats in science, Zandik remained unhappy.

Deep down, all the Harbingers pity the Doctor who cannot save his most loved one. That includes both Columbina and Arlecchino.

No one protests even when harmful orders are given; everything appears fine until the symptoms are felt. Because the organism— the astral descender— has no nerves or voice, he continues to assume that the patient is not in pain.

The patient needs peace but because they are not to speak, they remain silent, and the need persists.

The patient wants to eat and breathe fresh air, but because such desires might hurt the feelings of the doctor who thinks he has done everything needed, the patient remains quiet, contemplating desires out of fear of reprimand.

The original (Y/n) (L/n) suffers in silence. In a white room only accessible by a man who continues to nurse his unrequited love: Zandik.

No one else can enter this room.

He won't allow it. Only he can be obsessed with you.

The thought of you haunts him like a smiling reflection upon window panes— like a gift of a Trojan horse with nothing but your echoing laughter and hospital monitor beeps inside. Your thin limbs were marching clock hands with rusted gears that miraculously function till the end of time.

What is immortality for if every day was a death loop?

It is such a lonely concept…

You ought to be thankful that he's willing to be your eternal company.

"I endeavored to elicit a reciprocation of my sentiments from the latest subject. Regrettably, their discovery of my antecedent experiments transpired prematurely. Nevertheless, as asserted several times, it remains but a temporal inevitability until an iteration of yourself succumbs to having an interest towards me." Dottore hummed.

He held your feet.

He held Test Subject #01's feet.

If you spoke up, he would've bragged about how he was right. How people do love your songs. But no one knows if you can't or won't answer him. This one-sided conversation is the punishment for his hubris.

He took out a sharp knife and cut off one of your toes. You no longer feel any pain as you bleed into his hands. What a kind man the doctor is, for he blocked all your pain receptors years ago. It's a good thing you regenerate quickly.

That's what he loved and hated about you.

You only gave and gave.

But you never ran out of soul. You never ran your heart fully dry— and that left you ill. Zandik could never let you go.

You're already a part of him.

Hence, he must not make clones of exaggerated memories. He wanted your perfect yet healthy replica.

Praise be the white corpuscles extracted from your veins which had brought him new life. You were the reason for his research. You were the breath that gave his segments life. You were his muse, much like he was yours.

"Fear not, (Y/n)," he reassured with a measured tone. "Upon my mastery of the arts, I intend to reinstate your autonomy and awareness. Perhaps then, you shall find the organic inclination to reciprocate affection toward me by the 9806's trial. Until then…"

In other words, give him more time and he'll reinvent love.

He leaned his forehead against yours.

"I'm so, so sorry."

And ultimately, he'll reinvent YOU.

"Can I have another piece of your scalp?"

"No."

"Do you not understand the weight of this research or must I expound on it further in another three-hour presentation?"

"Alternatively, you could start by saying that you're sorry," you raised an eyebrow. "I'm still not over the fact you randomly cut a piece of my ear when I was asleep, doctor. You know, I heard from the aranaras that white tulips are given to someone when they ask for forgiveness."

Zandik smirked.

"Regrettably, it seems that such an occurrence is unlikely to transpire. Do not expect such words and gifts from me."

You smiled.

"We'll see, we'll see."

Taglist (pls notify if you wish to be on the taglist for the last two): @average-yandere-enjoyer @pix-stuff @sagekun @vennnnn-diagram @dilucragnidvr @tnsophiaonly @lsleepysimpl

[yourheart-inmyhands]

My brain is acting up again 😭

Yan! Diluc, Zhongli (I swear I love this man) and Dottore having a conversation with their darling and out of nowhere they spill facts about how to hide a body or make it decompose faster.

If they ask how they know they just chuckle and continue their conversation.

They got it from Reddit fr 💀

- Weird anon ✨

ah i am also obsessed with death and decomposition, with a good mix of anatomy, though i try to avoid just finding random facts, i buy textbooks and research books about the topics to further my knowledge on the subjects :3c

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including obsessive behaviors, mentions of violence, lots of talk about death and facts about death, creepy behavior, as well as other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Diluc:

He finds it amusing at first, not really commenting on it and simply letting it be. Soon enough though he starts sharing facts of his own, making minor corrections or suggestions to the ones you bring up. Sometimes he even adds on to what you already have, changing the course of the conversation momentarily.

It’s not talked about often but Diluc is no longer allowed in Snezhnaya for a reason, he’s seen more than his fair share of bloodshed and has no problem offering you better suggestions than what you previously thought to be best. 

He makes a little game out of it, even going as far as to offer to test your claims. Diluc doesn’t see the harm in it, if anything he’s merely indulging in your interests, bonding with you over it. Strange as it is, he thinks it’s fun.

“Did you know the main reason why corpses smell so bad is because when people die, their bladder empties out?” Diluc chuckles at your question, the conversation shifting from possible dinner options to that of death was nothing new to him, yet it never failed to amuse him. “I did. Did you know it’s because when you die every muscle in your body relaxes, which means anything in your bowels is emptied out, no longer held back?” A bit of a tangent never hurts, especially not when it comes to a topic you seem so sporadically fascinated with. Diluc could sit here and watch you talk about this endlessly, the way your face suddenly lights up as you blurt out a random, off-topic fact. It was like seeing a kid walk into a candy store.

Zhongli:

Zhongli takes it a bit too seriously, often correcting you on common misconceptions or myths. He’s still lighthearted about it, but he doesn’t want his beloved darling to be in the wrong about this kind of thing.

He’d hate to see your spirit crushed by someone else, their offense to the sudden topic change springing up as a rebuttal. He’s simply protecting you this way, making sure that no one can challenge anything you say.

All his knowledge doesn’t come from nowhere though, so do keep that in mind should you ever try to challenge him on anything. Not only has he lived far longer than you, but he and his spear have seen, and done, many things

“Zhongli! Did you know that after death, your hair and fingers still grow for a short period of time?” Pausing mid-explanation, Zhongli processes what you said before smiling fondly at you. “No, my gem, they do not. It is actually the skin shrinking back from loss of moisture. That movement of the skin gives the appearance of the nails and hair growing.” Zhongli doesn’t falter even the slightest in his correction, merely stating it as if it were common knowledge, which it ought to be. This is a fairly common occurrence, with your little interruptions being met with either encouragement from Zhongli, or simply corrections.

Dottore:

He’s probably the worst to bring this up around as he likes to make a competition out of it, going back and forth about gruesome facts until one or the other caves.

Not only has Dottore learned a lot about death, but he’s been responsible for just as many. His knowledge far extends past the random facts you collect.

It’s not surprising that Dottore knows more than you, he never holds it against you though. Every time he wins a little bit of the banter between the two of you he sees it as a win for both of you. You get more facts and he gets to assert his position of higher power over you.

“Rigor mortis occurs 6-12 hours after a death but can last 18-36 hours before the body returns to being soft and floppy.” Dottore doesn’t even falter as you shift the conversation, easily following your lead. “Suffocation is more than just a painful way to die. Oftentimes victims of suffocations will try to free or save themselves to no avail as their limbs will cease function, this is because their brain is trying to preserve oxygen which leads to them being unable to free themself and dying.” The smile on his face is only a few inches wider than normal, his eyes twinkling with the same challenging shine that always comes through when you bring up death. If you weren’t well aware of his affections for you, you’d almost believe he loved talking about death more than he loved you.

[rockingbytheseaside]

✦ A Boy Named Heretic 

tw: mentions of stalking and theft. Dottore in his Akademiya days, reader hinted to be from Khaenri'ah. SFW

Imagine little boy Zandik, discreetly hiding behind the columns of the Akademiy, trying to take a peek at you from afar. You’d stand among your peers, the Akademiya’s uniform embracing your constitution to further highlight your comforting poise. You are taller than the young boy, a perfect image of a senior student with just a few semesters away from graduating and becoming an official researcher. Alas, the teen felt self-conscious to approach you directly, since he was only a junior trainee Dastur. 

Imagine little boy Zandik eavesdropping on your discussion with your friends. You’d complain to your friends how one of your notebooks on Linguistic Semantics and Pragmatics was lost. You were a diligent student, and your written notes were a reflection of your hard work, so it was natural for you to feel bummed out about losing your notebook out of the blue. Zandik would persist in eavesdropping, noticing your friends providing consultative pats on your back: “Maybe you left it some other place?” or “Maybe you forgot it in the previous class?” - they’d say. Little did you know that a young trainee Dastur was hugging your notebook close to himself, not admitting to anyone that he was the one who stole it.

Imagine little boy Zandik sneaking off into the lush gardens of the Akademiya or some other miscellaneous corner of Sumeru. He’d hold your notebook protectively as if it was his newest treasure from the one he adores. He’d spend hours reading your notes, analyzing your handwriting, and smiling at the small doodles left on certain pages. Zandik’s fingers would gently trace the outline of your pages, memorizing the unique theories and thoughts you conveyed in your notebooks. His dorm room was filled with various notes or papers you randomly discarded or forgot about. Now it proudly hung, being displayed on his wall. 

Imagine little boy Zandik never telling anyone that he was the one who pocketed your negligible belongings. Yet in a couple of weeks or months, you’d mysteriously find your long-forgotten notebooks once more. There it is, in your backpack, as if you never lost it. You’d scratch your head in confusion, unaware of carnelian red eyes staring at you from across the library. Even yet, oblivious of the boy whose cold stare would turn into a longing gaze. Any books you borrowed from the library a week ago were now on his desk.

Imagine little boy Zandik being conveniently nearby when you stormed into the student affairs office, complaining to one of the supervisors how your Akademiya uniform was stolen. You’d relentlessly argue about how you definitely did not leave it somewhere randomly, only to forget it after returning from a research expedition. Thus, after a useless talk in the office, you’d sigh and slump down in the empty hallway wearing casual clothes due to your missing uniform. 

“...Excuse me, miss?” - a small voice interrupted your thoughts when a junior student approached you. He stood there for a while, hands behind his back and big round eyes gawking. 

“...Um, yeah?” - you replied with uncertainty, trying to conjure a polite smile. “How may I help you?” 

“You’re not in your Akademiya uniform. I heard a commotion from the office from which you came from…” - he spoke, although hesitantly as if looking you straight in the eyes was an act of disrespect that could shatter him. “Did you lose yours?” 

“Ah, well, about that…” - you groaned, running a hand through your hair. “I’m sorry, was I too loud that other students heard from the hallway? My bad… Yes, I have indeed lost mine. Although I am more than certain it was stolen directly from my bag.” 

The young trainee Dastur stood in front of you, his eyes still wide and observant of your every move. He mustered a reply and said: “Don’t worry. No one heard… Only I did.” 

You stared at him awkwardly. Where did this boy come from? 

“Is this yours, miss?” - he suddenly revealed neatly folded clothes from behind his back. And wouldn’t you know, it was indeed your uniform. You hopped up in an instant. 

“Whoa-! It’s my uniform! But how, and where did you find it?” 

Imagine little boy Zandik invoking all his courage to stand still before you while biting his lips nervously as he handed you your belongings. Your immediate shift to awe and excitement upon your found uniform was a lot. You were indeed taller than him, your mere presence made him feel like a child, stammering and shifting coyly. However, he finally muttered his name to you and explained how he found some folded uniforms mysteriously left behind. 

Imagine little boy Zandik feeling relieved when you believed him, even when you noticed that the uniform was oddly warm despite being missing. And yet you still looked at him with sincere gratitude and a warm appreciation. The boy’s lips would tug into a guileful smile when you left. He’d remember your smell from the uniform. 

Imagine little boy Zandik managing to catch you every morning in the Akademiya’s hallway. He’d always approach you, so silent yet observant, but only when you weren't surrounded by your classmates and other seniors. You thought it was a coincidence that his breaks matched yours and that he’d inadvertently stay in the same remote hallways you always preferred. He was visibly reclusive when talking, but his curiosity was palpable like his gawking red eyes. He often asked you about your interests, research, classes, and frankly anything. The young trainee Dastur never got bored of hearing you ramble and rant about ancient technology or languages; instead, the boy huddled close to you, with his legs swinging gently. 

You didn’t have to know that his break schedule did not match yours. But your inconspicuous meetings became a daily routine nonetheless. 

Imagine little boy Zandik clutching onto your uniform and asking in horror: “What do you mean you’re leaving the Akademiya?!”. You informed him that although you graduated and got your thesis approved, you refused all invitations to work as a researcher or a trainee professor at the Akademiya. It wasn’t an easy decision, and you wished to withhold that information from him, but the boy was eerily observant. He saw your signed papers and coaxed an explanation from you. 

“...I’m sorry, Zandik. I have to.” - your voice filled with as you stared down at him clutching onto you. regret 

 “You can’t just leave!” - his grip on you was not firm, but it was pleading. “You are an exceptional alumni! You could become a professor in just a few years. If you wait just a little, I’ll finish my senior classes and become a junior like you, too! And- and, in just a couple of years, I’d be a student in your courses! I’ll be your best student in class, I promise!” 

The boy begged and pressed himself onto you as if you’d vanish forever. It hurt to see him like that, it hurt to say you’d leave him. You squatted down to meet his gaze.

“Zandik, it’s all right. You’re already a top A student in your class. It’s just the circumstances that are calling to me, and I’ll have to leave Sumeru. I won't be staying to work here. I’ll… have to return to my home country.” 

“You won't even stay in Sumeru…? But your theories on ancient technologies, the ruin guards, the anthropology of the Cataclysm… a-and me - you can’t just leave it all behi-'' Znadik's lips were shut with your palm, trying to keep him at bay and not cause a scene. It took a while to shush him, and you’ve never seen him in such enraged distress.

“As much as I loved my studies and research, I… do not wish to stay in the Akademiya. This institution would not be so welcoming if I were to pursue my theories. This is not the academic career I desire.” 

Imagine little boy Zandik not understanding at the time. Why would the Akademiya not be happy with your topics of interest? What’s so wrong with learning about Khaenri'ahan technology? You’re Khaenri'ahan. What’s wrong with your thesis on the origins of cataclysms throughout Teyvat? He read them, he worships them, and you determined to leave it all behind? 

Imagine little boy Zandik concealing his choked anger as he whispered “... You would leave me behind?”. He never confessed he was the one who stole your notebooks numerous times, or how he reads your papers at night with a flashlight, or how he stole your uniform to relish your scent and imagine it was you he was holding tightly. 

He could’ve held you. He could’ve done many things if you stayed. Now his last anchor in this cursed institution was gone. 

Imagine little boy Zandik glaring daggers at a classmate named Sohreh, who blurted out once: “So what if some random alumni left the Akademiya? It’s not like their research was the most unique one… students come and go, right?” 

Imagine little boy Zandik is no more. Because after 400 years, in his place stood a dangerous man, deemed a heretic and the 2nd of the Fatui Harbingers. He would achieve great scientific length, no matter how immoral and heretical they were, all thanks to the inspiration of your works when you were young. His works in creating segments were not for naught, because his influence was used for both the Fatui’s and personal gains too. Personal, as in scavenging the corners of Teyvat and Abyss to locate you. 

Imagine Dottore finding you, after almost 400 years, instead of the little boy you once knew. Because that little boy from the Akademiya never stopped imagining you being back.

➻ A small illustration of Zandik that I did for this fic is here too :)

[lavandulawrites]

Yandere Alphabet with Il Dottore

Yandere Dottore x reader

This man is something else. (Yandere alphabet request here)

Masterlist

Warnings: murder, violence, torture, experiments, isolation, Dottore is a warning in himself

Word count: 2559

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

His love is extremely intense, it swallows you whole. He’s really outright loving, but his eyes reveal his deep obsession. He will gift you expensive gifts. He also loves to engage in intellectual conversations with you and he uses that as a way to bond with you. Of course you cannot even compare to his intellect, but he still enjoys your insights in different matters.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

He won’t stop at anything. You will be his and that’s final. He will kill everyone standing in his way. He doesn’t care if they are your loved ones or not. He will betray the Fatui and the Taritsa if it so comes down to it. He will even burn down Teyvat and take great pleasure in it.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

He loves to mock you. He finds it amusing how you are so utterly naive as to trust him. Sure he did abduct you against your will, but you decided to give the madman a chance. This soon you came to regret. In the earlier stages of your captivity, he won’t miss the opportunity to criticise your intelligence. When you have stayed in his mansion for months, he won’t mock you that much. He really does love you after all, but he still find your naivety and stupidity amusing.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

He will experiment on you, but worry not he will be gentle. It’s just that Zandik cannot get enough of you. He needs to know anything about you, so if he has to pry you open so be it. He really promises he will be as gentle as can be. He will also do anything in his power to protect your health. He will be strictly monitoring your diet and sleeping schedule, and he will do daily checkups. He can be really overbearing, but he promises he means well. Is just that it can be quite hard to believe so when he’s grinning from ear to ear reveal his sharp teeth, a syringe in his hand filled with your pretty crimson blood.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Underneath his big ego, he’s insecure. Though his insecurities aren’t that many, it still bothers him. His childhood still has an imprint on him deep down, even after all those years. He is afraid of you seeing him as a monster (he is well aware that his actions aren’t exactly helping). He hates how an intelligent man as himself allows himself to have such insecurities. Despite his rather well collected being, he will latch onto you at whatever given opportunity. He deep down seeks your approval, though he will never admit that out loud.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Zandik would be both angry and amused. He would laugh as you attempt to kick him and he would grin when you managed to scratch him. He let you fight back till his patient runs thin. You need to remember your place beneath him. He won’t admit it out loud, but he’s hurt when you don’t reciprocate his feelings. He will isolate you further with no human contact for two weeks. Your food would be sent through a hatch in the door.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

It is a game for him. He loves watching your pathetic attempts at escape. Who needs a good opera when he can watch you make a fool out of yourself? He will purposely plant ideas off escape in your head. He will laugh when one if his segment brings you back to his feet. Of course he will punish you, but you will also be rewarded for your creative escape method. Don’t be fooled even a man like Dottore has his limits. If you try to escape multiple times after one another, he will reach his limit. He will secure your chambers more thoroughly and spend more time watching over you like a hawk. You are his after all.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Your worst experience was when you woke up strapped to a operating table. You had noticed Dottore standing to your left with an expressionless face. His scrubs where speckled with red spots. Your blood. You have tried to kick agains your restraint in an agile attempt at escaping. To your horror your feet didn’t move an inch. When you stretched your neck as far as you could, you could see neat stitches on your heels. Not short after you were thrown into a small room without any windows. The walls where padded in white cushions, keeping you from harming yourself. Your anaesthetic didn’t take long to wear off, leaving you with unbearable pain. He left you in that room for days, having some servants bring you food through a small hatch.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

He wishes for you to truly love him. You will get married after some months. He really doesn’t care about kids, but if you beg enough he may agree to having maximum two. At first he wished for you to contribute to his experiments, but he soon changed his mind when he saw how weak and pathetic you were. You needed to keep your innocence and he will not let you see his experiments unless if they’re completely finished. That is however, only if you have been good. If you as much as think about going against him, he will drag you to his lab. He will have you staying in one of his remote manors, safe form the Fatui.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Dottore gets easily jealous. When he sees someone else talking to you, no matter the gender, he will immediately get jealous. How dare they to talk to something that belongs to him? How dare you talking to other people than him? He will creep up behind you and snake his arm around your waist and pull you flushed against him. His grip bruising. He will stare the person down with a gaze as cold as ice. With a tight grip he leads you to your bedroom and bids you farewell with a gentle kiss. It’s not hard to track down the poor soldier in a remote corridor inside the Zapolyarny Palace. Dottore brutally mauls the soldier with a hunting knife making him suffer as much as possible before he leaves him to bleed in the dark and empty hallway.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

He is found of physical touch only with you. He can be quite doting, but only in the privacy of his mansions. He will give you gifts fitted for you taste, but if he feels like you need a reminder of who he is, he will throw in some morbid gift in order to get a raise out of you. What do you mean by that you don’t like the shrieked bunny head? If you push him enough, he will surprise you with a elegant packet present containing some human limbs or intestines.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

He will at indulge in intellectual conversations with you. His obsession will blossom from the first day I sees you, already sealing your fate. It doesn’t take long before he pricks you in the neck with a needle, causing you to subsume to darkness. He will lock you up in his mansion and do his courting there. He’s really confident and he won’t tolerate any snarky comments about his so called flirting.

Mask: Are their true colours drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

He can be quite the gentleman when it comes to you. He is however not trying to conceal his true personality, so he lets his sadistic tendencies run free. The first time you meet him, he seemed like a sophisticated gentleman with tremendous intelligence and knowledge in both technology and medicine. His gentleman mannerism was however only extended towards you. You quickly became familiar with his rather eccentric personality.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

If he hears about you misbehaving from his segments or catches you in the middle of an escape attempt, he will with crazed eyes drag you into the nearest laboratory. He will inject you with liquids that burn inside your veins (don’t worry he won’t use anything that will cause you harm, only pain). If your misdeeds are grander, he will see fit to breaking some of your toes or fingers with great joy. However if you didn’t do too much, he will only lock you in a remote room with no stimuli.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

You have no right to venture outside without him. If you even are allowed outside that is. He will have complete control over your diet. You are not allowed to meet or even mail your family and friends. He lets your read to your heat content, but the books have to be approved by him. When a year has past since your abduction and his trust in you has increased, he will plant a tracking chip in your neck. You can only hope the chip will grant you more freedom.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

He prides himself on being an extremely patient man, but when it comes to you he really struggles with being patient. He has a thoroughly thought out plan when it comes to getting his hands on you, but it all seems to crumble quickly. He is not used to not having control over himself and it frightens him. It doesn’t take long for him to isolate you in his big manor.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

He would be completely devastated if you ever died. He would work day and night in attempts at restoring you. His long nights do pay off when you finally wake up. If you end up successfully escaping, he will find you. He won’t rest until every stone in Teyvat is turned. He will avoid missions from the Taritsa in favour of bringing you back into his arms where you belong.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

He feels absolutely no guilt for abducting you. Why should he? He takes great joy in your discomfort. You are the most perfect specimen and you need to be protected from the horrors of the world. He will never let you go, no matter what. You will be his for eternity and he will never leave your side.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Zandik had a terrible childhood. He never fitted in and got driven out off his village with pitchforks. When he first saw you, he was entranced by your kindness and beauty. Kindness didn’t fit in the Fatui and he hadn’t experienced it in all the years that he had lived. He quickly fell in love with you. He is also really curious about all the different emotions you stir in him. It’s all so very new, but not unwelcome.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

He finds it both extremely amusing and a little irritating. He will mock you and laugh at your misery. If you get too loud he will get annoyed. If you isolate and refuse to speak to him, he will get extremely angry and punish you. Even though he is cruel, he still wants you to love him.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Il Dottore will experiment on you. The experiments he preforms on you are however quite mild (unless it’s a punishment). He doesn’t want to permanently hurt you. He often makes you feel like a rare specimen under a microscope, with his eerie blood red eyes staring at you.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Zandik have never fitted in. He has always been an outsider and it has greatly affected him even though he claims that it hasn’t (he knows it deep down, but is way to proud to admit it). If you give him a sense of belonging he will trust you almost wholeheartedly. If you use this in order to escape he will be absolutely furious. He will find you and drag you to some remote place and isolate you for how long he sees fit. You will never be able to escape him.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Zandik will hurt you if he sees fit (which he most definitely will more than once). He takes great pleasure in seeing you shaking in fear. It makes him feel a need to protect you. He loves being in control and loves to heap you into whatever he pleases, but worry not he will always keep your personality. He does love you after all.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

He absolutely adores you, though it can be quite hard to notice. He will do absolutely anything for you (except letting you go of course). He will burn down the entire world in your favour, nothing can escape him, but he won’t need to. Not when his silver tongue convinces you to stay with him. He does however prefer if you put up a fight. He needs excitement in his life after all.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

It can either go weeks or years. When he’s younger it’s most likely going to take a year or two before he makes his move. He’s so engrossed in his studies and experiments so he doesn’t have much time for courting you. After a few years he will snap and kidnap you. When he gets expelled from the Akademiya he takes you with him.

When he’s older it will only take weeks from when he saw you, to him kidnapping you. He has lived for so very long and can’t be bothered to wait. He is the second Harbinger after all, he have all the power one could want so he doesn’t need to wait.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

He would break you over and over again if he feels like you needs it. He will fix you again only to break you the next time you disobey him. He doesn’t want you as a shell of yourself since he finds that boring, plus he really does love you in his own twisted way, so he won’t break you too much.

[daylite-writes]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

[belphiesreverie]

Hello! May I please request a platonic yandere Dottore? With a prodigy reader he came across at the Academia?

Take care!

Ofc, tysm for the request!! 🫶

TW: yandere behaviour, manipulation, Dottore himself is a warning tbh

Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss. He’s absolutely plotting on how to convince you to join him the moment he sees your talent

He’s incredibly charismatic when first approaching you, knowing just what to say to get you to trust him. To open up to him about your struggles at the academia and keeping up with the demand at the level your teachers expect from you

He plays the sympathetic, understanding role well; you truly feel like he gets what you’re going through, the struggles of being put on a pedestal and expected to out perform yourself over and over. He feels like a mentor you can trust, or maybe even close to an older brother

And that’s when he proposes that you come work on a project with him instead. You don’t need the academia, he’ll provide you with a job. It’ll be low stress, working with someone you think you know well, and in a field you’re most interested in

It feels too good to be true, but Dottore assures you his offer is real. Has he ever lied to you before? So you take the leap and leave the academia to work directly under him

Dottore thinks that for a prodigy, you can be incredibly stupid sometimes

At first, the job seems exactly as Dottore had described it and you settle in quite quickly. He seems like a very understanding boss, and still just as kind as he was before you began working under him

There are a few questionable things about his lab that you start to notice as you spend more time there however

The other workers refuse to talk to you, some even outright avoiding looking at you, and the ones that you attempt to talk to too many times seem to get… transferred to another part of the lab

Sometimes you feel like you can hear screaming coming from distant parts of the lab, but Dottore always assures you it’s just your imagination, or the pipes making a strange sound etc. He always has an excuse prepared, but they seem to convince you less and less each time

There are security cameras in the rooms, which makes sense, but they give you a feeling of unease. Whenever you look up at them, it feels as if they’re always pointing directly at you, following your every move

Originally, you’d felt like you could bring these issues up to Dottore, but for some reason it doesn’t seem like an option anymore. It’s not like he’s directly given you a reason to distrust him yet… but you’ve just started to feel uncomfortable in his presence. What once felt like a safe space now feels like it’s constricting and oppressive

Dottore is no idiot, he can tell you’re starting to pull away from him. But he isn’t concerned. He knew you’d start to notice things eventually, it’s not like he was ever planning on keeping anything hidden. He just didn’t expect it to be so soon. Oh, but you are quite the genius aren’t you

He’ll leave you be for now, let you stew in your paranoia… maybe even feed into it a little bit. It is quite amusing to watch you pretend to stay composed. But the moment you start to think of leaving, he’ll step in to keep you exactly where he wants you

His word alone won’t be enough to quell you at this point, he’ll have to think of something more… permanent. But it’ll be worth it. He can’t have his favourite little worker running off on him after all, he still has so much more use for that magnificent brain of yours

[sumeruin]

♫♪: punishments!!

♫♪: pairing: dottore x bunny hybrid! reader

♫♪: warnings: written by a minor, slight yandere, aphrodisiac usage, dacryphilia, grinding, reader gets tied up, begging, mentions of being cut open (nothing really graphic though dw), if i missed anything let me know!!!

♫♪: a/n: happy easter!! :)

♫♪: minor writing smut, dni if uncomfortable!!!

“zandik? do you think we could go for a walk sometime? it’s been a while since we’ve been able to do anything together.” dottore’s head immediately snapped in you direction, his eyes narrowed and full of suspicion.

“where did you hear that name?” you shoot him an innocent smile. “what do you mean? that’s your name, isn’t it, zandik? i think it’s a lovely name if i’m being honest.”

he scoffs, slowly approaching you like how a predator would approach its cornered prey. you feel a pit of anxiety and fear gnawing at your gut when you see the pure, unadulterated rage in his eyes, starting to think that maybe you had finally taken it too far.

dottore grips your face tightly in his hand once he reaches you, his other moving to rest wrapped around your neck. “you know very well what i mean. you know not to talk about my past.” he forces your head up to stare directly into his eyes, and you swear you see the corners of lips quirk up when he sees the glassy shimmer of fear in yours, obviously enjoying how easy it is for him to rile you up.

“i think a punishment is in order, you need to learn how to control that mouth of yours and stop being such a brat.” you swallow nervously at his words. his punishments are always agonizing. your ears involuntarily twitch at the memory of your last one, still able to remember the way his scalpels felt when he carved open your skin.

“no! i’m sorry, dottore. i didn’t mean it!” he smirks, clearly enjoying your begging. “that’s better, but still not enough. you broke one of my rules, and you think a simple apology will be enough? you’re dumber than i thought.”

you desperately grab his sleeve, eyes starting to fill with tears that threatened to spill with every passing second. “please! i’ll do anything, i promise, just please, not another punishment. i’ll be good, i won’t ever break any of the rules again, i swear!”

dottore smiles at you, removing his hands from your face and neck to rest one of the back of your head and bury it in his chest, his thumb lightly stroking the base of one of your fluffy ears. the other moves down to rest on your waist, softly caressing your puffy tail and bringing you that much closer to him. he presses a soft kiss against the top of your head before speaking.

“as much as i enjoy your sweet voice begging me to take pity on you, i’m afraid i can’t let you go without a punishment this time.” his hold on you gets tighter when he feels you jolt in fear, tears finally spilling and soaking the fabric of his shirt. “but, if you calm down and stop trying to escape the inevitable, i might go easier on you. i have a couple new drugs i’ve been meaning to test, and none of the side effects are permanent. if you’re good, you can test those for me and i won’t have to cut you open again. as much i enjoy punishing you that way, you have such adverse reactions to it, and i wouldn’t want to make my little rabbit distressed just because you said my name. that wouldn’t be fair, would it?”

with the combination of dottore’s cologne invading your senses, the slight lack of air from being pressed against him for so long, and the feeling of his arms wrapped around you, you can’t find it in yourself to say no. he smiles when he feels you feebly nod your head against his chest, stroking your hair one last time before forcing you to your knees and tying your hands and legs up.

“now, just stay here and be good while i go get the medicine ready. it shouldn’t take longer than five minutes.” he kneels down and smooths away your tears while he speaks, leaving one last kiss to the top of your forehead before getting up and walking away, leaving you with nothing but your thoughts and a slowly increasing sense of relief that you wouldn’t be hurt again.

true to his words, dottore comes back five minutes later holding multiple bottles filled to the brims with color liquids. you watch curiously as he spreads them out in front of you. “since you’ve been so cooperative with your punishment this time, i’ve decided to let you choose which one you try. pick one out and i’ll save the others for later.” you slowly look down at your options, there’s so many it’s hard to choose. after a couple minutes of deliberation with dottore staring at you with a mix of love and fascination, you decide to go with the shimmery pink one in the heart shaped bottle.

“dottore?” he tilts his head to the side and hums. “what, little rabbit? have you decided?”

“mhm. i want the cute pink one!”

dottore laughs, patting your cheek condescendingly before sitting down on the floor in front of you. he picks up your chosen bottle and pulls off the cork before pressing it to your lips. “drink up, in order to get accurate results you have to take all of it.”

you obediently swallow everything in the bottle, and almost instantly you feel your entire body heat up, a sharp pang of arousal striking through your whole body. helpless whimpers start to slip from your lips as you look up and dottore with glossy, teary eyes. “ah! ‘tore, please help! hurts so bad, n-need you to touch me, hurts!” the end of your sentence trails off into a needy whine, and you lean your body against him.

you feel his chest vibrate with a small laugh while you hopelessly squirm and cry against him, his arms coming up to wrap around your body. “oh, dear, it seems my little experiment has put you into an early heat, huh? you poor thing.” he starts cooing at you in that sickeningly sweet voice he uses when he wants you to feel more like a pet than a person. “it was a very weak aphrodisiac, i didn’t think you’d react this strongly to it. i should’ve taken this into account though, it’s my fault, really.”

“don’ care, just need you to touch me! please ‘tore, it hurts!” you whine out, trying to grind against him for something, anything, to relieve the deep ache that’s settled between your legs. he shushes you, his hands starting to move up towards your soft, fluffy ears. he starts to gently rub at them, getting rougher when you let out a loud moan at the feeling.

dottore keeps playing with your ears like that while you grind yourself against his knee, the overwhelming sensations soon becoming too much for your body to handle as you violently cum all over his leg, the pain finally going away as you lean against him and let out a content sigh.

before you can say anything, you feel his large bulge underneath you, and as you feel your body heat up for the second time, you know that you’ll have a long night ahead of you.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Azure Haze.

Pairing: Yandere!Dottore x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 0.9k.

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

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

You’d never taken Dottore for the marrying type.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swallow dryly. “Both ring fingers?”

“One can never be too thorough.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[yanderehsr]

Yandere Lyney, Zhongli, Dottore ((why not)) Neuvillette and Tighnari bring up the idea one day that they want a baby but darling dislikes children so she keeps changing the subject or ignoring the idea all together completely shutting that thought down plus the very idea of it makes her stomach cringe having a baby with them

I have a good idea which 4 I'll pick here, Hope you'll enjoy😄

Trigger Warning: Yandere, Obsessive behaviour, Possessive behaviour, Kidnapping, Suggestive in all of them, proceed at your own risk

Zhongli: You can't tell me this guy doesn't want children with you at all costs, so when you change subject and reject the idea, it honestly hurts him a bit, did you not want to have children with him, isn't he good enough. He can't deal with that, he is going to have a child with you no matter what you say.

All Zhongli needs is to slip you some nice sleeping aids, and he'll whisk you away to somewhere so far removed from society that only he knows about it, you have only yourself to blame here, if you hadn't rejected him then this wouldn't be happening at all, you will wake up sore with Zhongli cuddling you, you have no idea where you are and you feel strange, weird huh.

"This wouldn't be happening if you just accepted it from the very beginning. I am sure you'll be a great mother"

Dottore: Let's be honest here, this freak doesn't do this because he has a kink or because he genuinely wants a family, these children serve two reasons. One, they will bind you to him, it's something of a possessive bond. Two, they are experiments plain and simple.

Dottore also finds a bonus in all of this, he can use children to threaten you to be compliant, he doesn't care about your refusals or your discomfort, he just wants to pump a baby into you so it's easier to get you to obey. He doesn't even hide it and that's what is scariest.

"Wake up, I have confirmed that it worked this time... why are you crying, aren't you happy to have a child? No matter, you are having it whether you want to or not"

Neuvillette: He has brought it up to you so many times and each time you either change subject or completely shut the idea down, it's honestly starting to get to him a little, shouldn't the ultimate goal of any female be to have a child, that is atleast what he understood from other humans.

Neuvillette isn't someone who would force you to have a child, that would go against his morals, or the little morals he has left after kidnapping you, you can at the very least be happy he isn't someone who would force this, he will continue asking tho, hoping that one day you will say yes.

"I just wanted to bring up the subject of potential future childre-... Oh, ok, I understand, could you tell me how your day has been at the very least"

Tighnari: Fennec foxes mates for life, meaning they only get together with one person ever, and that so happens with you, Tighnari does want children but wont force anything if you don't want it, that is until he enters his heat.

Tighnari before a heat will force you away from him, but this time he forgot, and you happened to walk in on him during the heat, he would catch you quickly to have his way with you, he can't really control what he's doing here, but when he goes back to normal he finds himself happy instead, he is sure you'll make a great mother.

"Well there's nothing we can do now about it... you don't need to be so sad about it, I'll be with you every step of the way, MY mate"

[jessamine-rose]

⋆˚♱ଘ Requiem for the Damned ଓ♱˚⋆

*holds head in hands* Idk why Dottore keeps haunting me with writing inspo. And for this idea to manifest just before Holy Week….fuck it, I hope you all enjoy the blasphemous tale of Priest! Dottore x Demon! Darling _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):

Tw:: yandere, violence, death, religious abuse, dubcon, mention of nsfw, MINORS DNI

Note:: fictional depictions of religion

♡ 2.7k words under the cut ♡

♡ Despite your status as a wandering demon, you have no place in human cognizance. Rather, you conceal yourself from mortal eyes in favor of close observations and whispered temptations. Humans, from your perspective, are interesting creatures—they are ambitious, easily influenced by spiritual beings, capable of both good and evil.

♡ And what better example than the one who summoned you on a starry night? Such rituals are not uncommon amongst heretics, but most only succeed in invoking the contempt of their fellow humans. And few would invoke your name, much less commit sacrilege within the walls of the Church.

♡ You sense danger immediately upon your appearance. Within the summoning circle, you take note of your sigil perfectly illustrated in blood against marble. Beyond it, what alarms you is not your sacred surroundings nor the fresh corpse mixed with your offerings of books and fruit. It is the figure standing over you, cloaked in moonlight, gazing at you with eyes the color of hellfire.

“My ritual is a success. Welcome to my humble church, o noble demon…or would you rather be addressed by your epithet? ______, Fallen Seraph, the Seeker of Forbidden Knowledge.”

♡ A glimpse into his soul is all it takes to strike fear into your heart. Within Hell, there are rumors of a small village in Sumeru. Its people are nothing of note, a congregation of simpletons whose lives revolve around the beliefs of their Church. The lone exception is the main priest, Father Zandik, better known as Il Dottore.

♡ The stories, passed through human voices, speak of a child ostracized for his unconventional beliefs and his interest in the macabre. Branded a madman, he was placed in the care of the Church elders who corrected his ways of thinking. Once he became of age, Zandik was given the choice to move out of the rectory or to remain as a priest; he chose the latter of his own volition.

♡ Since his ordination, Zandik has proved himself to be an exceptional priest. He educates the masses, reviews theological texts, performs exorcisms, and provides religious counsel for the doubtful. He even serves as the town’s doctor, fully gaining the acceptance of his community.

♡ The rumors don’t stop there. For Il Dottore earned his title by performing miracles. It is he who guides the people into religious ecstasy, he who cures the sick from mysterious curses, he who blesses the weak into “enhanced humans.” There are already whispers that once Dottore’s mortality catches up with him, he will surely be canonized as the Patron Saint of Doctors and Miracles.

♡ But spiritual beings such as yourself know the truth. That Dottore is neither a kind priest nor a devout believer, that his days in the Church only magnified his heretical inclinations. Disillusioned with God, Zandik decided to turn His religious sanctuary into his own laboratory, one where he could fulfill his lust for knowledge through a mask of holiness.

♡ He manipulates the people with false teachings. He triggers religious ecstasy with drugged incense. He singles out devotees to “test their faith” during the quiet hours of the Church. And what the town perceives as curses and miracles are actually scientific experiments in which Dottore plays god.

♡ It’s too late to escape. No matter your divine powers, nothing prepares you for Dottore’s traps. The incantations, the barrier of the summoning circle, an aura so holy yet sinister that it couldn’t possibly come from ordinary religious objects—all you can do is fall to your knees and beg for his mercy, all the while he watches you with a confident smile.

♡ His intentions are like that of any human: He summoned you to form a contract. In exchange for his soul, he demands your knowledge, your resources, your full servitude for so long as he roams the mortal plane. Your hesitation only triggers another wave of scorching pain, followed by panic as Dottore grips your horn and forces you to face him.

“Make no mistake, ______. The mere fact of your divinity does not make you indestructible. In exchange for your cooperation, you will bear witness to experiments of the same magnitude as God’s creations. What say you?”

♡ You have no other choice. And that is how, in the sanctity of the Church, you make a deal with the human named Zandik. Once the pact has been forged, Dottore admires the bright sigil on his chest, plucks a few feathers from your wings, and disables the summoning circle so you can leave. Thus begins your personal hell.

♡ It is easy for you to answer Dottore’s questions about the divine. The horror lies in assisting him in experiments, responding to his summons no matter the inconvenience, allowing him to extract your blood, tears, and feathers. No, what’s most humiliating is when he uses your body for his “research,” bending you over the altar and bringing you to physical ecstasy against your will.

♡ At this point, you don’t know who to pray to. One night, Dottore shows you a secret room in his laboratory. As soon as he lights the lamps, your eyes take in numerous bodies and skeletons of a different classification from his usual victims. The extra bones jutting from the scapulas, the amputated wings, the halos pinned to the walls, the holy aura you’d felt from his religious objects…instantly, Dottore’s powers make sense.

“This is my first specimen. She was my guardian angel…no, I jest. She was a mere messenger who implored me to repent for my sins. From her words, I deduced it had been within Heaven’s capacity to save me during my youth—and yet God only sent an angel to me after my first act of blasphemy.”

The angels…how many has he killed? Not even during your fall from Heaven did you feel such primal fear for your life. But you cannot scream—you have long been trained to resist fight and flight. All you can do is listen to Dottore’s explanation, watch as he approaches a pure white skeleton and wraps his hands around its fractured hyoid bone.

He gives you a calm smile. “Luckily, her body provided me with indispensable resources for my experiments and my procurement of her brethren. I believe her name was Sohreh.”

♡ Just when you think it can’t get any worse, Dottore points at the far corner of the room to reveal a space dedicated to demons. Four dead bodies, their causes of death vividly described. Horns, wings, and other body parts amputated in exchange for lives spared after exorcisms. And when Dottore returns to your side, tracing the wound from where he broke off your horn, you can only tremble and acquiesce to a checkup. It grows back fully by the end of the year.

♡ He has his moments of vulnerability, however. Perhaps it is due to your nature as a demon, a creature which represents evil, that Dottore does not hide his heart from you. Once, after his usual confessions—he always makes up trivial sins—he remains in the confessionary until his fellow priest has left. Then he goes to the altar and summons you.

♡ What catches you off-guard is not his lack of greetings. Rather, it’s the way he pulls you close to his body, lips ghosting the curve of your ear. There, in the heart of the Church, he whispers to you every sin he has ever committed. Despite his normal tone of voice, his words have never betrayed a language so guiltless, so sincere, so human.

♡ He asks how much of his madness is to blame on the influence of demons, or if he had been born wicked. He asks if humans were truly given the mental faculties to withstand temptation regardless of their circumstances. He asks if the same can be said for spiritual beings, questioning why former angels like you were also created with the capacity to sin. He even asks if praying for a demon can offer them any hope of salvation.

♡ It takes you a while to answer his questions. It’s just like him to put your emotions in disarray, to make you feel pity for the very cause of your current suffering. Against your nature, you wonder if there is still a chance for Zandik, if he can somehow repent or find a way to save himself from your contract and all of his sins. Even if it is too late, He has always been more forgiving to humans than angels.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨

“Do you know why I became a demon, Zandik?”

Your question is what prompts Zandik to pull away from you, though his touch lingers. His gaze, as always, is unfathomable; you can never discern what hides within those pools of crimson.

“No, I do not. Few demonological texts allude to your existence, and only the Lesser Key of Deshret cites your previous status as an angel of the highest ranking. I have made theories in relation to your epithets but I respect all possibilities. Now what would you, as the primary source, reveal to me?”

Now it is your turn to confess.

“Seraphim are the closest to God but for that reason, we are the most distant from His creations. Everything we know of the world is derived only from what He tells us, not our own insights. And so I defied His Word and ate the forbidden fruit from the Tree of Knowledge, committing the same sin which condemned all of humanity.”

The tip of your upper wing brushes against Zandik’s face, while your middle wings encircle his body in a loose hug. As for your lower wings…they are nothing but twin scars covered in short feathers. After your descent, it seemed like a rational decision to chop them off, broken as they were. It helped that your wings had just outgrown their original purpose.

For once, you barely flinch at the sensation of his touch against your scars. Many times, Zandik has inquired about the loss of your lower wings and even asked if he could have them. They still remain in Hell, tucked away in a corner of your home, eyes forever closed.

It takes a few seconds for him to respond. “Do you ever regret your decision?”

You shrug. “It was difficult at first, naturally. Many of my eyes were blinded—yes, that is why I rarely open the ones on my wings—but those which still function have seen so many wonderful sights up-close. Neither must I cover my face with my remaining wings. And despite being what your kind and my former brethren would dub a monster…I’m happier now.”

“I see, I see.” His curiosity appears far from sated, however, a sentiment you can empathize with. “As I thought, God is incomprehensible. For Him to deny even His greatest creation of salvation…it confirms that there are limits to the forgiveness of that which humans call a ‘loving god.’ Thank you for sharing this knowledge with me.”

And just as quickly as he initiated his confession, Zandik steps out of your grasp and dismisses you. But you make no haste, silently watching him after you “leave.”

His expression is thoughtful. A gloved hand touches his chest, right above your sigil.

Such an interesting creature.

Honestly, you don’t know what to make of your feelings for this human. Much as you despise his cruel treatment towards you, he never fails to capture your interest with his experiments and philosophies. Whenever he speaks of God, you wonder if a small part of him still desires to be saved. But that will never be.

Zandik preaches salvation with the knowledge that he will never receive it. For the Church never taught him how to love.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨

♡ Il Dottore never became the Patron Saint of Doctors and Miracles. Neither did he have a funeral mass befitting of a priest, nor a peaceful death from natural causes. Instead, he died young, laicized, once again denounced as a heretic by his community.

♡ You don’t know how his crimes were exposed, and why now. Perhaps it is God’s punishment for him, a blessing for his victims, or both. Either way, Dottore paid for his sins on a sunny day, burned at the stake before a disdainful crowd. Not long after his heart stopped beating, his belongings were thrown into the fire—research, tools, anything which carried his memory.

♡ You never left his side. After his last rites, led by an elderly bishop who condemned Zandik as he did in the past, you sat next to him and offered a final conversation. He didn’t express any fear nor sadness in regards to his imminent death, merely stating it a pity that his achievements could never be appreciated in his town.

♡ …He did ask if there is any chance of meeting again in Hell, but you reminded him that the punishment of sinners is out of your jurisdiction. Plus, it’s better that way—you have no desire to avenge yourself, and you’d rather not witness Zandik’s suffering for all eternity. You can only imagine the severity of his punishment, what more if he is assigned to one of the demons he exorcized.

♡ During his execution, you stood at the front of the crowd. You kept your eyes trained on him, for so long as his scarlet orbs remained open, whispering the prayers for the dead on his behalf. While a part of you felt liberated, another was mournful. You hope your last words to Zandik gave him solace in his final moments.

“Rest now, Zandik. God may never forgive your sins, but I shall.”

♡ And thus ends the life of Il Dottore. In the following days, the Church is purged of its holy, sinister aura, mainly because they discarded the religious objects tainted with angel remains. You continue your usual obligations as a wandering demon, but the humans you observe pale in comparison to your companion of many years.

♡ Not long after, you return to Hell for your other divine duties. As soon as you appear in your abode, however, something feels off. The sinister aura, the offering of books and fruit, your lower wings gone from their original place… The answer comes in the form of a hand grabbing you by the horn, pulling you backwards, twisting your body to meet a familiar gaze the color of hearth-fire. Only, this time, those eyes are brimming with pure joy, paired with a genuine smile.

♡ Apparently, Dottore’s soul did end up in Hell but not in the way you expected. In a proud voice, he explains that the Devil gave him a special fate. Whether it was due to vacant positions or everyone’s fear of the infamous “Demon-Killer,” you’ll never know. What Dottore does confirm is that as the demon bound to him via contract, you have to take responsibility and act as his companion in Hell.

“Rather than subject me to eternal suffering, the Devil believed that my talents would prove useful for the punishments of my fellow sinners. How wonderful is it for my achievements to be recognized in Hell? …Oh? I didn’t predict such a physical reaction from you. All of your eyes are wide open, and you seem to be on the verge of fainting.”

♡ You don’t know if you want to laugh or cry. To think your personal hell has been extended to eternity—are your sins enough to warrant such a fate?! But after confirming your misfortune, all you can do is sigh and tend to Zandik. He looks exactly the same, with the exception of a few burn scars on his body. And judging by the familiar black feathers on his person, he seems eager to discard his former religious attire along with his mask of faith.

♡ And when Zandik unfastens his scorched cassock, he takes your hand and places it on his unburned chest, right above your sigil. It glows vibrantly, brighter than any light you laid eyes on in Heaven. And beneath the flesh, you can feel his heart beating in sync with yours.

“Tell me, ______, do I still appear human to you?”

“You already know my answer to that question. But fine, I’ll admit it: Yes, you always have.”

♡ 

Note:: Church AU is still on my “will not write” list. I only wrote this because I specifically like Priest! Dottore and Angel! Capitano. Please do not send me any Church AU asks/ requests involving other characters or dynamics.

At long last, I am free from Priesttore…thank you to everyone. To my readers, to my fellow Dottore simps, to my mutuals who indulged my tortured DMs after midnight, to the artist whose fan art inspired this idea to begin with. May you all have a lovely day╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

Tag a Dottore enjoyer!! @leftdestiny-posts @beloved-blaiddyd @mochinon-yah @diodellet @lcveaesop @oofasleep @bye-bye-sunbird @yandere-romanticaa @boundinparchment @harmonysanreads @teabutmakeitazure @yandere-wishes @yanmaresu @nicebonescomrades @nimandu @lesanyanyas @moarar

[pinkie-pop]

"I Have Something To Tell You."

Part I Part II Part III

Featuring: Gender-Neutral Reader, Yandere Genshn Impact, non religious SAGAU, Yandere Fatui Harbingers

Word count: 4k

Includes: Portrayal of mental illness, suicide, brief mention of experimentation, Scaramouche gets a new name, he's also really annoying, solving problems with violence

Synopsis: After killing yourself and landing in the world of Genshin Impact, you reflect on all that has gone wrong.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Two weeks.

You have two weeks before Dottore’s experiments start (you suppose even his apparent fondness for you has its limits), two weeks to make a case for yourself and prove to Scaramouche that you're worth saving. 

“What about him? I don't have time for idle chatter, you know. Spit it out.” 

You take a deep, shuddering breath. You hope this goes well. 

“Well…”

Every second seems to stretch on for a millennium. The silence is deafening, though you can feel your heart beating so rapidly you're surprised you can't hear it.

“...And this information is reliable?” He says at last. You nod. Contrary to your expectations, Scaramouche simply sighs, leaning back in his chair. “I assume you have a reason for telling me this now of all times. What do you want?”

“Freedom,” you say. He quirks his eyebrow, so you continue. “This place is suffocating. Let's run away together. To Sumeru.”

“Together?” There's an unreadable expression on his face, but you’re far too focused on convincing him to pay it any mind.

“Yes. Unless you want to stay here, even after learning the truth?” 

“No.” He shakes his head, closing his eyes as if in contemplation. “Alright. Pack your bags. We'll leave tomorrow at dawn.”

“Tomorrow?!” 

“Is that a problem?” You stare at him with wide eyes. “Close your mouth,” he says. You do.

“Don't we need time to prepare? A plan? Something? Anything?”

“What, you don't trust me?” He mocks. “It's fine. I'm sure you'll figure something out.” Your jaw drops to the floor. “Figure it out”? Is he insane? And he's leaving it all up to you? You gawk at him, but he merely shoos you away from his chambers. 

•~•~•~•~•~•~•

True to his word, Scaramouche (you suppose his name will be changing soon) picks you up at dawn. You brought nothing but the clothes on your back, some mora, and some jewelry that looked expensive. It’s precisely 4:44 AM when you both exit the palace, careful not to be seen by any guards or servants. You stifle a yawn, having been up all night concocting a plan for the escape. 

Think, brain, think. 

You have to come up with an executable plan by tonight. You can't think straight. Even writing your own suicide note didn't take this much brainpower.

Wait…that's it. 

Hurriedly, you grab a pen and paper from your writing desk and get to work. Through writing, you explain that you and Scaramouche have become star-crossed lovers. You know the other Harbingers would not accept your union, and so you've left the palace together to act out a suicide pact. Don’t bother looking for your bodies, you said, as you'd be throwing yourselves into the ocean. Carefully, you seal the envelope and place it under your pillow. Scaramouche said he’d handle getting you out of the palace, so you don’t have to worry on that end, but getting caught after the fact still falls on you to figure out. 

Luckily, you already have an idea or two.

Just like in your letter, the two of you head to the ocean first. It’s still early, so many boats are left unmanned in the docks. Stealing a simple paddle boat is easy enough, but it dawns on you that you have no idea how to get to Sumeru. 

“What is it?” Scaramouche asks, seeming to sense your hesitance. 

“I…don’t actually know how to get to Sumeru from here.” Scaramouche rolls his eyes. 

“Seriously? Is that head of yours just for show?”

“Hey! At least I have a plan. You just dumped this whole thing on me!”

“It was your idea,” he retorts. You groan.

“Whatever. Let’s just go in one direction until we hit land, I guess. We’ll figure the rest out from there.” With that, you and Scaramouche work together in silence to untie a boat from its tether and board it. It only takes about an hour of rowing before your arms begin to ache, but you push through the pain, too prideful to ask Scaramouche to take over. By your third hour, your arms feel like they’re about to fall off, and your rowing has slowed significantly. Wordlessly, Scaramouche takes the ores from your weary hands and takes over the rowing. That’s strange…why didn’t he tease you? Shouldn’t he have at least called you weak or useless?

“What?” He asks, voice gruff.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” you say, realizing you’d been staring. “Sorry.” 

“Hmph.” He turns away with a huff. You might be imagining it, but you could have sworn his ears turned just the tiniest bit red.

Finally, the two of you reach shore. It looks…oddly familiar. 

“Oh!” You say, clapping your hands together. Scaramouche jumps, but you pay him no mind (If you had paid attention, however, you would undoubtedly have noticed that jumping implies his guard was down—something that seems very out of character for someone like him). “I know where we are!”

“Where?” He asks, looking somewhat annoyed (though that could just be his face).

“The beach!” You say.

“...Seriously?” Realizing how silly that sounded, your face heats up.

“The beach,” you say. “The one from the tutorial.”

“The what?”

“Forget it. We’re in the east end of Mondstadt. I can take us to Sumeru from here.” The route is pretty straightforward, so you should have no trouble getting there. You lead the way, passing through the whispering woods, past Mondstadt city, Springvale, and then Dawn Winery. After about two hours of walking, you’ve already made it to Liyue. 

“Tired yet?” Scaramouche asks. 

“Not even a little,” you reply. 

You walk from Stonegate to Dihua Marsh, then pass Wangshu Inn and the Guili Planes. Finally, you’ve reached Liyue Harbor, where you and Scaramouche stop to get food and rest.

“Do you think you’ll change your name?” You ask in between bites. 

“Where’s that coming from?”

“I just figured you wouldn’t want to use Scaramouche anymore. Considering the whole Dottore situation and all. Plus,” you say, pausing to take a chew. “We’re on the run right now. A Harbinger’s name might draw attention.”

“Pick one for me, then.”  

“How about ‘Hat Guy’?” You ask, stifling a laugh. He huffs.

“Forget it.” 

“What about Kuni?”

“No.”

“Kuzushi?”

“No.”

“Kuku?”

“Are you even trying?”

“You insult me,” you say with a grin.”Well, if we’re going to Sumeru, maybe we should pick a Sumerian name? What do you think about Arasay?” 

“That…isn’t terrible.”

“High praise.” You decide not to tell him that ‘Arasay’ is really just ‘Scara’ in pig Latin, missing a letter. “Actually, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I…um, think I’m from the future?”

“What?”

“Uh, let me start over and walk you through my train of thought. So, in my world, the way I interact with this world is through a medium called a computer. This computer allows me to take limited control of the Traveler and his associates, make them stronger, stuff like that. Are you with me so far?”

“Yes. Are you going somewhere with this?”

“I just said I was walking you through my train of thought. Have some patience will you?” From Arasay’s smirk, you can tell he was only messing with you. “Ugh, you’re the worst. Anyway, the computer gives me insight on important events that happen to the traveler. The thing is, though, some of those events haven’t actually happened yet. Like, let me ask you this: what was the last major thing that the Traveler did?”

“He defeated Stormterror not long after you got here.”

“After I got here?”

“Is that a problem?”

“Yeah, actually. It’s a huge problem.” You bury your face in your hands, trying not to laugh at the sheer absurdity of your situation. 

“Care to enlighten me?” Arasay asks, seeming annoyed (though, really, that seems to just be his default state). 

“So, it’s- I- Ugh.” You let your head fall onto the table. Quickly, you raise your head and look up at your companion. “How do you know about me?”

“You possessed one of my colleagues.” 

“Except I didn’t.” You lean in closer to him, nearly face-to-face.

“What do you mean?”

“Tartaglia hasn’t met the Traveler yet, and I didn’t take control over him until after he met the Traveler. So, let me ask you again: how do you know about me?”

“Agh!” Arasay grabs at his head, a pained expression on his face. You leap to your feet and rush over to his side, your hands floating mere inches from him, as if you’re worried he’ll shatter with the smallest touch. “My…my head!” He says, clutching his hair between his fists. He convulses, then slumps over.

“Arasay? Arasay!” You shake him, desperately trying to rouse him to no avail. “Arasay!” You cry. 

•~•~•~•~•~•~•

“Are you feeling better now?”

“Yes.” You breathe out a sigh of relief, nearly slumping over.

“That scared me,” you say. “Are you sure you’re okay now? You aren’t just saying it out of pride?”

“Your concern disgusts me,” he says, hiding his face behind his hat. You know he’s lying: the tips of his ears are pink. After composing himself, he lets go of his hat and faces you. “I-”

“Hey-” 

You both look at each other. Arasay sighs. “You go first,” he says.

“I think you should ditch the hat.”

“What?”

“It draws too much attention. We don’t want rumors about the hat guy and his companion floating around so soon after we ran off, do we?” Arasay sighs again, louder this time. 

“Fine,” he says taking his hat off and placing it to his side. “Happy?”

“You look naked.” He gives you the stink eye. “Sorry, sorry. You look fine. We’ll get you a new hat when we get to Sumeru. Maybe a less flashy one?” 

“Whatever.”

“You had something you wanted to say, too, right?” He nods.

“I had a dream,” he starts, looking off in the distance. “It happened when I passed out. In it, I saw the timeline you described. I remembered meeting the Traveler, fighting him, joining him, getting my vision-” Arasay unclenches his fist, turning his hand over to reveal what you hadn’t noticed he’d been holding. A shiny blue vision, encased in a Sumerian sheath. “I remembered everything.”

You stare at him, mouth agape. “Interesting,” you say, a million thoughts racing through your head. 

“I think I know what we need to do next.”

•~•~•~•~•~•~•

When you finish eating, you leave the harbor and head to the Chasm, where you bribe the two guards to let you in. Navigating the Chasm is a little tricky, as it’s an area you haven’t spent much time in, but through sheer luck and some educated guessing, you manage to find your way to Cinnabar Cliff. 

Finally, you’re in Sumeru. It took three hours of rowing and five of walking, but you finally made it. As the sun sets over the horizon, you breathe out a sigh of relief. You’ve made it. 

“We’re here,” Arasay says. “What now?”

“Now we go to Gandharva village,” you say, confidently taking a step forwards. As the two of you travel down the path, you spot an Aranara out of the corner of your eye. Though you’d like to go up and befriend it, it disappears before you can even get a good look. You continue walking, lost in your own thoughts when Arasay grabs you. You jolt to attention, quickly realizing that you were about two steps from waking right into a withering zone. Right, you had forgotten about these.

“Watch it,” he says. 

“Should we just go around?” You ask, looking over to your companion. He shakes his head. 

“Stay here. I’ll take care of it.” You’re surprised by how quickly and efficiently he fights off the monsters and clears out the area. You knew he was strong from playing the game, of course, but something about seeing it in action is different. It’s amazing, really. “Don’t tell me you’re impressed by only this much,” he says. You glare at him. 

“Not at all,” you say, walking past him. You pause, briefly forgetting your frustration and remembering your manners. “Thanks, though.” As you continue down the path, you spot a familiar tuff of green hair and call out to it. 

“Collei!” You cry, running over to her. Collie jumps, looking up at you with a confused smile. 

“Do…do I know you?” She asks. You freeze. Whoops. You forgot she doesn’t know who you are. 

“Ah- sorry! Let me introduce myself. I’m [Name], the Player—which is how I knew your name. If you want me to prove it, I can-”

“No, I believe you,” she says firmly.

“You do?”

“Uh, well,” Collei folds her hands together, looking a bit bashful. “It was a little weird, but I felt like I knew you the moment I saw you, even though I was sure I’d never seen you in my life. Your presence was…familiar to me. It…felt like home. A-anyway, that’s how I recognized you! But, um, what are you doing here? And, um, who’s your friend?” 

“‘Friend’ is pushing it,” Arasay huffs. You sigh dramatically, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you drape yourself over him. 

“Soulmate, then,” you say, smiling. “Love of my life, the apple of my eye?” Arasay pushes you off of him, and you fall to the ground, your laughing only intensified by the bright pink of his cheeks. Collei looks between you two awkwardly. 

“Arasay,” he says to her, helping you up off the ground. “And the reason we’re here is because-”

“Let’s go to the village first,” you say. “We need to speak to your master, too.”

•~•~•~•~•~•~•

“So you need a place to stay for the night?” Tighnari asks, looking between you two. You nod. 

“Yes, if it’s not too much trouble,” you say. 

“Not at all,” he says. “You two can stay with me.” 

“Um, Master,” Collei pipes up. “if it’s okay, I’d like to be the one to host the Player in my hut.” Tighnari looks her up and down, as if sizing her up in his mind.

“I’m sure the player would be more comfortable in my hut,” he says, his ear flicking. “You can take their friend.”

“But—!”

“Collei,” Tighnari says in a warning tone. “Don’t push yourself. I’m sure the Player wouldn’t want you stretching yourself thin over them, right? Don’t forget that you’re still ill.” Collei nods, looking dejected, so you offer her a small smile for comfort. This seems to cheer her up a bit, but she still looks disheartened. The way they’re fighting over you reminds you of being with the Fatui. It sends a shiver down your spine.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” you say. Arasay looks like he has something to say to you, but you avoid his stare until Collei drags him over to her hut. You and Tighnari begin to settle in for the night. It’s clear from the way his gaze continues to travel back to you that he has something he wants to say. You ignore him, though, far too exhausted to try and humor him.

Soon enough, morning arrives. You ask Tighnari to accompany you and Arasay to Sumeru city.

“You’re going to the city?” Tighnari’s ears perk up. “What do you need there?”

“People,” you say. Tighnari looks over to Arasay, who simply shrugs and gets ready to depart. 

The three of you make it to the city, where the guards stop and hand you an Akasha Terminal. You thank them and put it on, keeping it there for a grand total of three and a half steps until the guards stop looking, and you pocket the thing immediately. 

“Where to?” Arasay pipes up.

“The Akademiya. We need to pick up Cyno and Alhaitham.”

“Cyno I know, but I’ve never heard of this Alhaitham before,” Tighnari says. “Who is he?”

“The Scribe. I don’t know where his office is, though.” 

“Cyno might know. And if he doesn’t, I’m sure he can find out.”

“I just hope he’s not busy,” you say, glancing over your shoulder. You keep walking, and in the few seconds you have your eyes off the road, you manage to crash into someone. You and the other person fall to the ground, with you clutching the arm you accidentally hit. 

“Watch where you’re going,” Arasay scolds. 

“Sorry, I-”

“Not you. Her,” he says, glaring daggers at the lady you knocked into. Tighnari helps you up, and you help the lady to her feet. As you do, you notice her arms are covered in bandages. One happens to be loose, and you can see dark purple scales poking out from underneath. 

“...Dunyarzad?” You say, nearly holding your breath.

“Yes?” She asks, looking confused. “Do I know you?”

“Yes! No! Um, maybe…?”

“Huh…?” With exceptional timing, Dehya arrives on the scene.

“Dehya!” 

“Do I know you…?” You chuckle. You feel like you’ve been hearing that a lot lately. 

“So…” Briefly, you explain who you are. 

“Can you take accountability for your words?” Dehya asks, eyes narrowing. 

“I can,” you say confidently. “But first, can you come with me? I only want to prove myself once, and there are still some other people I want to see.”

“And now you’re giving me orders? The Player has been missing for weeks. Do you think I’m stupid?” She asks, stepping closer to you. Arasay blocks her from coming any closer, and you can practically feel the animosity in the air. “Even if I did believe you, I can’t just abandon my post like that.”

“That’s enough, Dehya,” says Dunyarzad, walking between you and her.

“My lady…?”

“I believe them,” she says. “I want to listen to whatever they have to say.”

“But-”

“That’s an order.” Her tone is final, leaving no room for further argument. You look at her, impressed by her firmness, to which she returns your gaze with a smile. Dehya sighs, gesturing for you to take the lead. 

You lead your party of four (five, including yourself) to the Akademiya, where you’re met with several stares from the students. It’s clear that your odd group doesn’t quite belong here, but perhaps due to the ferocious gaze of Dehya and Arasay, no one dares to say anything. Tighnari leads you to Cyno’s office, where he’s chatting with one of his subordinates. He quirks an eyebrow at your arrival but otherwise ignores you until he’s finished talking. The guard leaves, and Cyno turns to Tighnari. You briefly explain that you’re looking for him and the Scribe, and Tighnari vouches for your trustworthiness. That seems to be all Cyno needs, as he doesn’t ask any further questions and simply leads you to Althaitham’s office.

You knock on the door. 

“Come in,” calls a familiar voice. You open the door. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Player?” he says, barely glancing up from his paperwork.

You’re floored. “How did you—?”

“How could I not? I’d have to be a fool not to recognize you,” He says, putting his pen down. Dehya bristles, but doesn’t say anything. Alhaitham rises from his seat and beckons you all inside. Once the door is closed, he continues. “Now, then. I take it you have some matter of great importance you want my help with?”

“Yes! So, here’s the the thing...” 

•~•~•~•~•~•~•

“You’re…going to rescue the Dendro Archon…?” Everyone gapes at you. It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop. You laugh nervously. 

“Yes! But, um, only if you’re willing to help me. I can’t do it on my own,” you say, fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“How would you even…?” Dunyarzad murmurs, looking dazed.

“Before I answer that, there’s something else I need to tell you about. You, uh, may want to sit down for this.” Everyone raises an eyebrow, but no one moves to sit. “Please,” you say. Sighing, Tighnari takes a seat on the floor. Cyno joins him soon after. Soon, everyone save for yourself and Arasay have seated themselves, and you begin. 

“How do you know about me?” You ask, looking around. Your gaze settles on Tighnari. 

“We’ve all felt your presence,” he says tentatively, as if worried that may be the wrong answer.

“How?”

“You’ve taken control of several of us,” Cyno says. “And we’ve felt your gaze through the Traveler as well.”

“Aha!” Several people look startled by your exclamation, but you pay them no mind. “That’s wrong. The Traveler never came to Sumeru. You couldn’t have possibly felt me from them. Not to mention, I never took control over any of you before I got to Sumeru,” you say, looking over at them triumphantly.

“What are you…?”

“You shouldn’t know about me,” you say. One by one, you watch with victory as everyone begins to clutch at their heads and lean over. By the time the first one passes out, you’re glad you had the foresight to ask them to sit for this.

You wait for everyone to recover, which thankfully doesn’t take long. “So,” you say, looking over everyone’s faces to make sure they’re lucid. “Here’s the plan: we’re going to reuse your and the Traveler’s plan to free the Dendro Archon.”

“The plan took place on Jnagarbha day,” Alhaitham says. “To fully recreate the plan, we’d have to wait months until-” 

“Forget that,” Arasay says. “The real problem is the Grand Sage, right? He’s the one keeping Buer locked up. Just take him out. Problem solved.” Everyone goes quiet. What an…unexpectedly brutal solution. Though you suppose he is a former Harbinger.

 “Can…can we do that?”

Come to think of it…there are a lot less variables involved now than there were in the original story. The Traveler had to deal with Dottore and Scaramouche, but ‘Scaramouche’ is on your side now, and Dottore is still in Sneznaya. Maybe you don’t have to come up with some big, convoluted plan to take down the Akademiya. Maybe you really can just solve your problems with violence. 

“Okay, let’s do it.” Everyone gapes at you, but you hold firm. “When should we start?”

•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Taking out the Grand Sage was pretty easy. All you had to do was walk into his office and knock him out. From there, you just went up to the Sanctuary of Surathana, once again knocking out whoever stood in your way. 

Finally, you’re here. You can see Nahida sleeping in the giant meditation chamber. You’re so close to freedom that you can practically taste it. But first… 

“Um, so…does anyone know how to deactivate this thing?” You ask sheepishly.

Alhaitham steps up, walking to some mechanism in front of the chamber. He messes with it for a few minutes before the chamber opens up. 

Nahida opens her eyes.

“What’s going on?” 

“I’d like to speak with you alone, if that’s alright,” you say, stepping forward. You glance back at your friends (can you call them that now?). You feel pretty bad about dragging them here just to kick them out, but what you’re about to say needs to remain confidential. Everyone except for Arasay leaves to wait outside. Once you’re sure they’re gone, you begin to explain your situation. You tell Nahida about how you got here, why you left Snezhnaya, and why you saved her. You tell her you’ll help her save Sumeru from forbidden knowledge if she hosts and protects you and Arasay in exchange. Additionally, you promise to her that Arasay will give her special knowledge about the ‘sky’ if she promises not to hand her gnosis to the Fatui. Arasay nearly protests at the mention of this, but one pleading look is all it takes to shut him up. Finally, you finish your story. “Please help us,” you say.

"Okay," she says.

Taglist: @Mmeatt @Shikanosn @Sangoqueenkoko @Vianitry @Lacedribbns @Springkuinn @Clavichordcleffa @starshinesama @kamit-frog @agaygothicmushroom @ash1

[scaranation]

hi hi !! could you write an ANGST with Dottore and Zhongli where we break up with them? maybe in dottore we break up because we can't bear(?) his experiments anymore and in Zhongli one we feel not enough/that he loves someone else (maybe Guizhong?)

Gn reader or Fem!reader(if u write for fem. sorry if u do not,i couldnt find rules and im really really sorry ! :( ... )

p.s will there be To love another 3rd part? it's my fav fanfic ever !!

love your work ♡♡

hihihi i know this is like super late but this prompt is literally so good 😭 also im thinking of writing another part to that fic, but i just dont know where to take it so ive been procrastinating haha

dottore’s part is kinda ooc bcs let’s be real if he’s that whipped for reader he wouldn’t let them break up with him, but im going to pretend that he’s not as much of a red flag as he actually is 🤭🤭

༊*·˚ 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐈𝐓 𝐎𝐅𝐅

Pairing: Dottore x GN!reader, Zhongli x GN!reader (separate)

Content: Angst, no comfort. Mentions of canon typical violence, assumed past Guizhong x Zhongli

DOTTORE

“It seems my beloved has finally thought to visit me.”

You cringed from the overpowering metallic scent as you stepped into your boyfriend’s laboratory, trying hard not to look at the borderline gruesome sights on the clinical beds.

Dottore cleaned the blood off a bone saw he was holding, setting the instrument down carefully before walking towards you - eyes lit up, but holding a gleam different to the maniacal one he usually possessed.

“How was your day, my love?” His voice was humorous. He seemed to be in a good mood, humming lightly while opening the door for you.

“It was fine.” You sighed as you felt the weight of Dottore’s harbinger coat settle across your shoulders, registering the touch of his hand as he pulled you into him and away from the Snezhnayan cold.

“Has that coworker of yours still been bothering you?”

“… Don’t try pretending.”

“Whatever could you be talking about?” The Doctor’s grip on you tightened.

“I wouldn’t wish death on anyone, even if they annoyed me to that extent.” You sighed, finally tilting your head to stare into the planes of your lover’s mask.

“Oh, they’re not dead. Rather, they’ve been subject to some biological modifications of an experimental kind - would you like to see?”

You gritted your teeth.

“I’m hungry, don’t make me lose my appetite.”

“Good thing I have a nice place booked for dinner, my love.”

His compliance was almost uncanny.

-

Normal couples gazed affectionately into each other’s eyes over meat and wine, fingers fondly interlaced over the dining table. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to return Dottore’s adoring scarlet gaze, and his hold on your hand felt more like a death trap.

“Is the food to your liking?” He asked. He hadn’t touched any of the vegetables on his plate, only biting into the steak.

“Yes. You should eat greens, too.” You commented.

“Mm. Why don’t you feed me, then?” Dottore only tilted his head, smiling eagerly. Recently, a fear of you being turned into one of the harbinger’s countless experiments had taken hold, and it was this same fear that drove you to play right how he wanted. And so, lifting your fork, you fed him with all the patience you could muster - staring into those deep red eyes, feeling like nothing more than prey. Those eyes would’ve been the last thing many others had seen before their death, the end of their lives marked by that sadistic grin. You almost shuddered at the thought.

Normal couples slept under starry nights reflected in their star crossed hearts as they cuddled close under soft sheets. Normality was such a strange concept, you decided. Despite the fact that you were doing just what normal couples should, the situation was still absurd. However, your fear of becoming another one of the harbinger’s lab rats wasn’t unfounded. You mulled over this fact, almost snorting at the juxtaposition. Here you were - wondering if the man who cradled you in his arms would strap you down to a table in the name of research.

“My love, are you still awake?” You felt Dottore’s breath ghost over your neck, his face pressing into your nape. With a rustle, he readjusted the blanket over your shoulders.

“Yeah, I can’t sleep.”

“Nightmares, perhaps? I have a pill you can use for those.”

“No, just… thinking.” You squirmed in Dottore’s hold. His comment only reignited your spiralling train of thought, pushing you further to the point of resolve.

If he could kill his clones - literal versions of himself - then what would stop him from doing the same to you? Even if you remained alive, would you have to continue to tolerate being exposed to such grotesque horrors?

It was simply better to break things off, before you no longer had the option to.

Breakfast.

The first meal of the day, and the last meal you’d share with your boyfriend.

“Dottore.”

“Yes?” The Doctor’s head jerked up immediately from where he was chewing. You could feel the undivided weight of all his attention sinking into you, and for a moment, you faltered. He was notorious for paying little mind to anyone else, and yet, he treated you with the utmost attentiveness. You steeled your resolve.

“I think… we should break up.”

Silence. Then, the grating scrape of cutlery against crockery.

“Why.”

Not a question, more of a demand. You gulped.

“Do you want me to be honest with you?”

“Yes. Is it something I did?”

“I can’t bear your experiments anymore, Dottore. They’ve gone too far, and I don’t think I can stomach living normally with you as if I don’t know the kind of things you do. Even worse, every day I’m wary that I might be your next test subject - whenever I walk into your lab, I wonder when I’ll be the one under your needles. It’s exhausting.”

Another beat of silence. You could see Dottore’s chest rising and falling at an increasingly fast pace, his jaw tensing.

“I would never, ever do that to you. It’s ridiculous that you’d even think that, and as for your prior reason… I can arrange for you to come to the lab less often…”

“So you’re just going to cover my eyes and act like you’re not doing anything with those experiments? I just can’t be ignorant here, nor can I trust you. If you can get rid of your clones so easily, then what am I? What value do I hold-“

“Those creations do not even compare to you.” Dottore finally snapped, slamming his hand down on the table. You flinched, and he felt as though his lung capacity had been halved. His head spun in tandem with the rapid tightening of his heart, his mouth twisting into a scowl.

It hurt Dottore, realising that you didn’t trust him. That all those fond, intimate memories together were just you acting out of fear - or at least, the most recent ones were. It hurt, beyond anything Dottore thought he could inflict on his patients. And even worse, you were frightened of him. The light shaking of your shoulders and the way you flinched were enough indication.

The Doctor enjoyed seeing his victims become terrified, but that same terror on you almost made him feel like he’d been the one stabbed with a scalpel. Foolishly, he’d fallen victim to his own maniacal research tendencies.

“Listen, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just meant to say… that you can trust me.” Dottore raised his hand towards you to cup your cheek, wincing when you avoided the action.

“I tried to, I really did. But I don’t think I can do it anymore.”

“My love, please.”

The second harbinger was begging. What a strange sight.

“Let me go, Dottore.” You murmured shakily. You saw hesitation, hurt, and anger flit through those vermilion eyes you’d used to love. But that love you held for him had only smouldered into disgust and fear.

“… Then go. Get out of my sight.” Dottore hissed, his teeth clenching at the wary expression on your face.

It was painful, how you walked out without a second glance.

“My love…” Dottore whispered. He stared at the closed door, almost expecting you to return. He repeated the phrase, over and over to himself - his face contorting into an expression he himself couldn’t name. Was there truly an emotion as human as this? It was a twisted, unimaginable feeling the Doctor couldn’t categorise. The syllables came off his quivering lips, as though by uttering them he could make you come back.

But the truth was, your not-so-normal relationship was over. Perhaps, Dottore would return to the normality of his heartless experiments, and you’d return to the normality of a better fate than one you’d endure by his side.

He only regretted not being able to hold you more.

ZHONGLI

There were only two letters between you and your lover, but those two letters seemed to stretch wider every day - ‘I’, and ‘M’. The seemingly infinite synapse between mere ‘mortal’, and ‘immortal’.

Zhongli was undeniably a mortal vessel, but he as a being was not. He’d lived eons before you, loved and hated thousands. He’d experienced things you couldn’t even fathom, and yet, you couldn’t comprehend how he treated you as though your fleeting existence was the centre of his much larger world.

Whenever you looked into Zhongli’s amber eyes, heard his deep laugh, or felt his gentle caress, you could only feel insignificant. After all, he used to be a literal god. You couldn’t help the guilt that gnawed at your conscience, couldn’t stamp out the incessant feeling that he was too good for you, that you couldn’t compare to whatever lovers he’d had in the past.

“How’s the tea, darling?” Zhongli prompted. He sat with his back to the window, basking in an almost ethereal glow.

“Ah, I have yet to try it.” You shook yourself out of your thoughts to raise the cup in front of you. Zhongli only smiled warmly, but the gesture made your hand shake a little. You’d planned to break up with him today, and yet the way he still stared lovingly at you - full of infinite trust - made you feel terrible.

But how many others had he also treated this way? In his life, those others were probably far more special than you, possessing talents far more worthy of a god’s attention.

Suddenly, a shattering sound pierced your ears, and a scalding warmth set into your thigh. You looked down in a daze, before snapping out of it upon realising that you’d dropped the teacup.

“Are you okay?” Zhongli was at your side in an instant, mopping up the spilled tea and collecting the broken fragments of the cup.

“Yeah.” You gritted your teeth again. How dare someone as insignificant as you make Rex Lapis get down on his knees to clean the mess you’d made. It simply made you feel as though you didn’t deserve such a wonderful man at all.

“You’ve been distracted lately. Is there anything I should know about?” Zhongli asked slowly.

“No. Well, yes.” You stammered. You hadn’t planned this out very well, and your heart squeezed tighter.

“Go ahead. You know you can tell me anything, darling.”

A warm hand came to rest against your cheek. You closed your eyes, feeling tears build and slip down your face.

Zhongli wiped at your tears, holding your hands in your lap as he looked up at you worriedly - his thumbs tracing comforting circles on your knuckles. He thought of saying something, before deciding against it. He knew it was better to let you speak first.

“Let’s break up.” You blurted, feeling Zhongli’s fingers come to a complete stop.

“We can work through this, tell me why first. Has something been upsetting you?”

Your tears fell harder. He still showed you so much kindness, never jumping to any conclusions.

“I feel like I don’t deserve you. You’re too good for me, it makes me feel guilty that someone like me can have you.” You sobbed.

“Darling, you know it makes me happy to just spend time with you. That in itself is fair exchange, no?”

“But what makes that so special? You’ve lived for so long, you could’ve done this with anyone else, and you probably have. Who am I in comparison to someone like Guizhong?”

Through your blurred vision, you could still see Zhongli’s form kneeled by your side. He seemed to be choosing his next words carefully.

“You and her are both special, in your own way. Why don’t you calm down a little first? I can pour you some more tea.”

“I’m so selfish, Zhongli. I really don’t think I can stay with you.”

“Do you really want to leave that badly?”

Your heart twisted. You didn’t want to leave. You wanted to stay in his warm embrace, his soft understanding gaze. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to.

“… Yes.”

“Very well then. You know I won’t stop you, because I just want what’s best for you.”

The light grip on your hands released, and as you stood up everything seemed to spin.

“Thank you… for everything.” You murmured, stealing one last glance at the man you loved - before leaving.

Zhongli remained where he was for some time. In his life, many things came to an end, but this hurt a little more. When Guizhong had left him, it was due to her passing - the youthful Rex Lapis had found someone to blame, to ventilate his grief. But the most crude fact in this situation was that you were still alive, and had chosen to leave him of your own volition. Zhongli himself had made this happen.

However, an archon’s most prized trait was impartiality. Therefore, Zhongli knew that he had to maintain indifference. He refused to let himself chase after you, or force you into anything. It was only unfair, if an immortal were to impose such a fate onto a mortal.

And so, he could only watch as you faded from his life, like the cyclic ebb of waves on an ocean shore.