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read before following: this is a dead dove yandere blog. do not interact if youâre uncomfortable with dark content, and please do not interact with my n/sfw content if under 18.
vanya ⥠she/her ⥠25 âĄ
[âĄ] links: ao3 (infrequently updated) â kofi â main blog
CW for yandere content, manipulation, mention of misogynistic behavior, and allusions to violence. 18+ only.
Prompt: âIf you leave me now Iâll die. I canât survive without you.âÂ
It hadn't been a mistake to participate in the Steel Ball Run. The money, even outside of first place, would have been life-changing. It had been a mistake, though, to ride alongside Johnny Joestar and Gyro Zeppeli. The two of them attracted trouble like nothing else, and you were forced to become tangled up in their web.
It was you who they turned to after another fight to patch up their wounds. It was you who fielded their fighting and complaining. Despite how much you took care of them, they showed you little respect. Gyro brushed aside your knowledge and would often imply you were the reason for their bad luck... But if you tried to set off on your own, Johnny would beg and plead for you to stay. He'd tell you that Gyro really did appreciate you, and like a fool, you'd believe him. They took advantage of your kindness and used the harsh nature of the race to goad you into staying.
You stayed, then. Convinced yourself that they were right and that their protection was a reward for you taking care of them even though they were perfectly capable of doing it themselves.
You stayed with them and watched Gyro die; watched as Johnny killed Funny Valentine and protected Lucy Steel. You watched, too, as your chance at winning whilst Johnny fought for his life. You don't know why you stayed... you could have taken off in the confusion. Could have potentially placed in the Top 5, but instead, you'd followed Johnny to the end.
You'd followed him home at his request, waiting for him while he returned Gyro to his homeland.
And here you were, 2 months after Johnny had returned. You were standing above your bed, frozen, with your suitcase open in front of you.
Johnny was standing just inside the doorframe, his grip on his cane white-knuckled. His pale, freckled cheeks were flushed pink with frustration, and his lips were downturned into a pout you'd grown very used to.
He'd caught you trying to leave.
"Going somewhere?" Johnny's voice is cold when he speaks. It scared you, honestly, how cool and collected he was when he was angry. You would have liked it more if he had pleaded and cried, but this... This was scary. He takes a step forward, cane tapping against the floor, and you flinch. Johnny scoffs. "Really? Scared a'me?"
You turn to face him, your lips were drawn in a tight line across your face. "No," you lie. "Just startled me. I thought you would be too tired for the cane today." Johnny had been able to regain some strength after the 'miracle' at the end of the race he refused to elaborate about. He'd go until he was tired, though, and you'd encouraged him to use his chair if he needed it. Pride kept him from taking care of himself, and he expected you to keep an eye on him instead.
"Nah." Johnny steps forward until he's directly next to you. Without a word, he sits next to your suitcase on the bed and begins to take what clothes you'd managed to pack out one by one.
His silence unnerves you.
"Johnny, it's not what you think." You start, knowing it was a lie. "I just... I want to see my family. It's been over a year now." You pause, and then continue, hoping to appeal to him. "I need to see them. You get it, right?"
Johnny freezes and slowly turns his head to look at you. "Is that so?" He stares at you and narrows his eyes. "Did you forget? I'm your family now. If you went..." Johnny's expression turns from anger to sorrow. "I'd be all alone again."
"Johnny..." You call his name softly. You knew what he was doing, but you felt powerless to stop it. "I'd come back." Another lie. "It'd just be for a week or so."
It'd be permanent.
Johnny gives you a long, hard look before he stands from the bed. He wraps his arms around your waist and forces you to sit on the bed, stepping in between your legs so he can look down at you. He holds your gaze until you avert your eyes, anxious.
"Look at me." Johnny says. He brings one of his hands up to cup your cheek, calloused fingertips skimming across your skin. There's a look in his eyes now that you can't quite place, and somehow, they look different. "If you leave me now, I'll die. I can't survive without you."
Your stomach drops. Johnny had said many things... but he'd never threatened that. You feel frozen under his touch, his thumb stroking soft lines across your cheek. "I... Johnny..." You struggle with your words, unsure of what to say. What could you say?
"All I need 'ta hear is that you won't leave me." Johhny brings up his other hand so that your face is cupped on both sides. It feels patronizing. "You're not going to go now, right?" Johnny pinches your cheeks and grins. His sudden shift in mood meant that he knew he'd already won. Of course you wouldn't go. How could you, after that?
"I won't leave you." You affirm, leaning away from his touch. Johnny drops his hands from your face and instead sits back on the bed, his body pressed up against yours. His arm comes to wrap around your shoulder, and you're suddenly reminded of the preternatural strength you'd seen from him more than once. A chill runs down your spine. Would he ever hurt you...? You swallow, your throat suddenly dry, and add, "I'm not going to go."
Johnny sighs in contentment, accepting your answer. The arm around you squeezes gently as he leans in to lay his head against your shoulder.
"The man always drones on and on about how human bodies arenât meant to take the offspring of an Archon, but physiology be damned."
NSFW
[Warnings: AFAB reader]
Art credit: @Qing11502143 on twitter
"Sit," the dark-haired Archon regards you with a rather serious look, but the dusting of pink across his cheeks betrays his own anticipation of what is to come. You nod and climb into his waiting lap, facing away just as he had asked.
As soon as your naked body nestles against him, his fingers find their way to your jawline and tilt your head back. Zhongli leans down and kisses you, long and slow. You instantaneously get lost in the way his velvet tongue melts against your own. His free hand slides up your sides to graze the curvature of your breasts, thumb rubbing delicate circles into your skin. Zhongli grunts as you start to grind your hips against him, rocking up and down his stiff length.
A yelp escapes you when suddenly a sharp nail nicks your nipple. You pull away to find the culprit a long, razor thin claw. Your eyes travel down to find patches of black scales appear along his limbs, making way for glowing golden flesh. Though youâve stopped your ministrations in awe of the ethereal transformation happening before you, Zhongliâs body has taken up the charge. As he ruts his aching member along your folds it becomes apparent that his entire being has grown measurably larger.
"This...is your last chance..." Even Zhongli's voice seems somehow changed. It vibrates his chest against your back. You whimper as his cock stills, head seated at your entrance. After months of convincing the man your body can take whatever he has to give it's nothing short of tortuous that he remains reticent.
"Please, Zhongli, breed me," It comes out a desperate sob, the anticipation it too much for you to bear. For a moment you sincerely wonder if he is going to refuse, yet again. The man always drones on and on about how human bodies arenât meant to take the offspring of an Archon, but physiology be damned. You almost hear the wheels turning in his mind.
Finally, he grips your thighs and shifts your weight so that he can hook his arms under your legs. "Forgive me," he grunts as he begins breeching your slick entrance. The stretch is so shocking that it nearly knocks the wind out of you.
âZh-Zhongli!â The animalistic growl that escapes your lover as he continues pressing into you inch by inch sends a shiver down your spine. The tension in his forearms tells you itâs taking an incredible amount of effort for the Archon to not bottom out inside you in a way that causes permanent damage.
By the time you feel his pelvis hit your own the pair of you are soaked with sweat. When Zhongli shifts his hips to begin thrusting into you in earnest it feels as though heâs fucking your heart into your throat.Â
âYouâllâŚbear myâŚchildrenâŚâ All you can do is nod furiously as the Archon begins to take you, concern for your relatively fragile body slipping farther and farther away. He spurs himself along with thoughts of you swollen and pregnant, incubating his offspring.
â[Y/n],â He groans against the back of your neck, voice ragged. Though youâve known for a long time that Zhongli and Rex Lapis are one in the same, itâs this moment that it hits you. His natural form is beautiful, otherworldly. You finally see the being whose spears created the mountains, who outlasted countless others in the Archon wars. That man is inside of you, becoming one with you, breeding you.
âPlease,â You cry out, familiar sensation building in your core, âZhongli, please!â
"It's...coming..." Zhongli splays your legs impossibly wide and thrusts upwards, pressing himself deep into your trembling cunt and burying his face in your neck. You scramble to grab his hair for purchase as a searing pain erupts along your spine.
At the same time you realize that his teeth are sunk into your skin, you feel an enormous pressure growing in your abdomen. The realization that Zhongli is finally filling you with his egg is nearly enough to bring you to orgasm on its own.
"Archons," You let out a high pitched whine as the Archon shudders against you, teeth still locked tight. A smooth bump begins to grow in your pelvis, each second the stretch growing more and more delicious. Zhongli pushes through the intense pressure to reach down and feel your swollen belly for himself.
The sound that escapes him is impossible to describe. A mix of feral lust, concern, sheer adoration. His fingers slide to the juncture where your bodies meet and find your throbbing clit, desperate to help your body take his offering. As they rub wide circles along the sensitive skin, your walls clench around him.
It isn't long before a blinding orgasm wracks your body, milking the rest of the egg from Zhongli along with a gush of semen. The Archon continues to thrust into you, ensuring the eggs secure placement in your abdomen. His body trembles as he finally unlatches his teeth, lapping at the bloody mark with a long, forked tongue in apology.
After taking a moment to catch his breath, the Archon peels your exhausted body off of him and gazes down at your belly. His fingers trace it once again, a complicated expression coloring his features. He wets his lips as he admires your swollen hole slick with semen.
âDid I hurt you too badly?â He asks, eyes fixated on his work, voice somewhere far away. You canât help but smile. Even in his natural form he manages to be soâŚZhongli.
âNo, it wasâŚincredibleâŚâ You say, though you do have your doubts that it will continue to feel incredible if the discomfort of repositioning is any indication. Zhongli sighs, relieved.
âGood,â You yelp as Zhongli settles back against the sofa, resuming his position underneath your hips. His already revitalized cock teases your entrance for a moment before thrusting in once again, âClutches typically come in threes.â
*all original work is my intellectual property. do not edit or re-upload.
Title: Nowhere Near the Edge [Yandere Feitan x Reader]
Synopsis: Follow up to âI Never Could Tell You.â Youâve been kidnapped by a member of the Phantom Troupe, who makes you witness horrific torture and murder in a dingy, blood-soaked basement. And thatâs not even the worst part of it. Commissioned piece.
Itâs not that you donât care about the people heâs torturing. You do, though theyâre strangers. How can you not feel sorry for the people who beg for their lives, who beg for their families to be left alone, who pray for mercy with blood gurgling out of their mouths?Â
Itâs not that you donât find it all horrifying, the way he orders you into the basement so that you can sit on a rusty folding chair and watch him âwork.â His work consists of knives and hammers and pliers and all manner of terrible things. His work consists of blood and gore and wounds you didnât realize that people could survive. But they do. Oh, they do.Â
Of course itâs horrifying. Of course you feel a sickened type of pity for the people heâsâeventually, after much suffering and so much bloodâkilling.Â
ButâŚ
You feel far more pity, far more frustration, far more stomach-twisting agony⌠for yourself.
hello all!  iâll be busy over the next two weeks (my long distance partner is coming to visit!!) so i wonât be posting as much, but if you have any questions / concepts / interactions / anything, send it in and iâll answer when i have time!Â
i have some concepts iâm very excited to get to, and an upcoming arlecchino/darling/columbina fic for a collab iâm hosting with @ddarker-dreamsâ, so please look forward to those! âĄ
Can you recommend some other friendly writers? Iâm really shy and want to start my own blog. Iâve tried reaching to someone on anon but was ignored so Iâm afraid of not feeling welcomed. Thanks for being such a nice person to everyone.
These are the few that were at the top of my head (please do be mindful about their rules and bios!): @bye-bye-sunbird, @khaenruin, @theorphanprince, @anantaru, @shiny-jr, @animeyanderelover, @cinnamonest @living-in-the-state-of-dreaming, @seakicker, @merakiui, @snailsgoingdowntown and so many more but my brain can only remember so many names!!
Good luck on starting you blog baby, you're more than welcome to tag me in your future works <33 I'm also so sorry that you feel so excluded I'm sure you'll get your footing somewhere!! đ𼺠Something I can guarantee is that 95% of the time the reason as to why your ask hasn't been answered is because the author is either too busy, the ask never got to ask box because Tumblr is mean or the author replies to the ask inside of their head but never actually types it out (this one is personal but I imagine I'm probably not the only one!)
Hi! I donât wanna be a bother but Iâd really like a yandere cult x deity reader. Preferably the reader being male but gender less works too! Thatâs all, have a good day or night đ
Once again, I have been exposed, for I love yandere cults and I am not sorry. Thank you for your request!
For the longest time, you believed that you had been forgotten. Your temple was destroyed, people gone after hundreds of years of change in the world, and there was nothing left other than to sleep in an endless void for a small, provincial deity such as you. When you were important, you had served your community well, gained favors and sacrifices to stay strong and relevant. You brought down the rain and helped heal ailments. Night after night, you watched over your people, making sure nothing would harm them.
But you couldn't have been prepared for something even you couldn't stop.
Mainly other deities and the people they brought with them. In the search to expand their lands, new humans arrived at your sanctuary, refusing to believe in you. Their disrespect infuriated you, but when they brought a new deity along that guarded them, you had to realize you were but a small, provincial deity, and there were gods out there that outmatched you in every shape and form.
Your worshippers fought and stood their ground, and you did all you could to help them, no matter the toll it had on you. If you could fight, you would. If you could stand, you would. And if you could kneel, you would. But even begging for mercy did nothing as the other deities would not listen to someone who had sunken so much that he'd grovel before them. If your followers couldn't fight, they were killed, they fled, but they were hunted, and when only the priests remained, they were sacrificed on your altar to the new god of the region, robbing you of the last bit of power you had.
No tree would grow under your command, the clouds would not rain if you screamed at them, and your temple would not stop withering even though you had to watch it crumble and collapse bitterly. Your time as a guardian was over long before you could have prospered into a strong god with a grand city at your feet. You felt it in every limb and every strand of hair as your power drained, pulling you into the dark void of nothingness where forgotten deities slept. Even in those last moments of conscience, you thought about your people and nothing else. You failed them, and this eternal sleep plagued by the nightmare of their faces would be the punishment for it, cruel as it was.
From what you knew, you'd never wake up from it again. There was no temple, no scripts, no city left to remember you by, and no one would find and call upon your help ever again without even knowing your name. There was no sense of time or space in the void, just an endless, restless sleep for you, and yet, somehow, light returned to you when you least expected it, allowing you to open your eyes.
Unsure what happened, you looked around. You saw people chatting, standing in little groups, and wearing strange gowns you had never seen before. The place you woke up in, looked nothing like your temple, and yet, it was; you could feel it. The stone had your energy, and so did the air. Trees were rustling outside, and you heard laughter akin to that of children, their little feet tapping over the ground as they ran around playing.
Was this another dream? you wondered, unable to believe it was anything greater than a nightmare. It was almost normal. Home. But other than your usual nightmare, you could feel the shapes of your body again, a body you had lost when you were stripped of your powers. Your feet were unsteady, weak, but you could stand and even walk. Just a few steps from your altar, then you broke down, sinking to your knees before you were caught by hands reaching for you, supporting you.
Looking into the faces of the people around you, you didn't recognize them, and yet, somehow, they were familiar. It's been so long since you walked amongst mankind, you must have forgotten a lot, but they helped you up regardless of who you were and what you've been through, carrying you to a throne they erected for you, gave you their food and drinks, and waited on you hand and foot.
What kind of cruel dream was that, giving you back your powers just to strip them from you so cruelly later when it would turn out it was, in fact, just another nightmare? But the days passed, more feelings returning to your body, strength accumulating in a once lost and empty shell, your soul thriving as you were worshipped and cared for. Nursed back to your former self, you once again played with the kids, chatted with the elderly, and helped build a city. Things were too good to be true, but at least they were real this time, you confirmed.
Not every one of your people died. Some fled and escaped, had children, and they had children, and so on, and so forth. This generation had been hundreds of years in the making, but they came back stronger than before with new weapons and new knowledge. You tried to teach them how to build, how to hunt, but they had machines to do it for them now, armor, technology. It made you feel... useless.
Even so, you did your best to give them what they wanted. The new people grew their food differently than back in the day. But occasionally, they'd let you rain on their fields for a while before stopping you, thanking you with a forced smile. When they needed more wood to build, you raised trees for them so they could chop them off, and instead of healing them, they asked for your blessings on their medicine before swallowing it. But at least you were doing something, right?
The only thing that never changed was how much they worshipped you. Every day, on their knees, they'd bow their heads thanking you for efforts... you didn't make. You were overwhelmed with their gifts, countless every day, too much to consume them all, and appreciate the effort you were given. At first, you were overjoyed, but your feelings changed the less deserving you were of their worship. Only being worshipped and never doing much for it quickly began to bore you, very much so. You tried their suggestions, took humans to your bed to keep you company, and reveled in their drinks and food. But it didn't help. No matter how much you tried to enjoy the luxuries, it simply didn't change the feeling of uncomfortable boredom you had at the end of every day. No matter how many humans you allowed to amuse you, worship you, and tried to help, blessing them with what they wanted and demanded with greedy hands, nothing could still your boredom.
You changed too.
Your powers were growing, your fingers itching to use them now that your humans were mostly self-sufficient. But what else could you do while staying in favor of those that saved your life? Resurrected you from the void? You didn't want to go back. Never. They didn't need you, but you needed them regardless of whether they asked for your help. If you were to be forgotten again... no, you couldn't return to how you were before and lose them.
So you stayed quiet about your needs. Long enough so that people noticed the changes, your unhappiness. Even if you tried to be grateful and not worry the others, it wasn't long before one of your newly assigned priests came to you, voicing his concern. Your people loved you, regardless if they needed you or not, and didn't want to see you sad. Every day they'd bring you gifts, tried to please you with stories of your greatness, fearing you might not love them anymore. But you always reassured them, took the fear from their minds that you could feel anything but love for them. They'd happily go around to spread the message about their wonderful god loving all of them dearly.
Unbeknownst to you, you were fueling the fire.
But one day, you couldn't help it anymore and confessed, in a hushed voice, that you didn't feel useful anymore to them. That there was nothing, you could do to stop this nagging boredom, no matter how much they tried to please you. Your powers kept growing, itching and hurting you since you couldn't use them. The priest listened, patted your arm, and said he'd come up with something before leaving, sending you even more people for company that night, making sure you'd forget and relax in the arms of your beloved humans.
However, you awoke to an army of people filling your temple, weapons in hands and bowing their heads to you. It was nothing like before, where your people had been weaponless and begging for help. No, these people knew how to defend and attack on their own. And yet, they asked for you to lend them your power. Bless their weapons, soldiers, gears. Make them strong enough to conquer other nations, other people. All in your name. They were doing it all for you, so you could experience becoming a strong god again.
You hesitated, but a stupid, naive excitement won you over. You didn't realize how much of your power you gave those soldiers of yours. How little you restrained yourself to the point you physically felt pain from losing your strength. But, this time, you had been useful. Finally, you could do something for them. You gave them what they wanted, and they were overjoyed and loved you even more for it. They would go and expand your city, give you more to do, responsibilities, land, and people.
It was too exciting to stay home.
If only you had. You could have been spared from the slaughter, the screams, the blood. From watching your soldiers burn down anything and anyone that crossed their paths. All while shouting your name, claiming you as the god of all they destroyed with their heavenly weapons, like little angels of death no matter where they went.
This wasn't what you wanted. Even if you had been harmed and destroyed before, you watched as other deities sunk to their knees, begging for mercy, asking for your forgiveness. You've been there. You could feel their fear and pain as if it were your own, seeing their body lose shape and their sparks turn to ashes. You've been the small, provincial deity that lost everything. But not anymore. You were now a strong god, fed and supplied with worship and love. Now you were the reason everything went downhill.
And yet, your soldiers returned with success plastered on their faces. You scolded them, screamed what they thought they were doing, while they shrugged and said it was for the better. It can't be wrong; they did it for you.
It wasn't until one of the soldiers stepped forward, pointing his weapons at you, that you realized your existence's real meaning for those that collected here. Yes, they worshipped you. They loved you. But beneath all the heights, there were deep lows. You were their scapegoat. For better or for worse, you were there to take the blame and take responsibility for their actions that they didn't want to face. They didn't need you, but they knew how much you needed them. Using your names was easier than using another human they would have to kill every time something happened.
Their weapons hurt. When one hit you, for the first time in your whole existence, you felt what real pain was like. Your mental hurt had been bad enough, but this made you feel small. Very, very small. It meant that if you didn't do what they brought you here for, fulfill the roles they wanted you to, they never had any hesitations to harm you or send you back to the void you feared so much. They wanted your blessings, your powers, your unconditional love for them because, as a god, that's what you were supposed to do. All while, they would destroy, kill, and do whatever they wanted to benefit them in any way. You were just the puppet on their throne, someone to look up to and curse as they pleased, love and manipulate when needed.
But when you sank on your throne, looking at the many innocent-looking, merry people before you, you still couldn't bring yourself to hate them. Not when they made you what you were. When you were nothing without them. Even when your help and guidance were no longer needed, those were still your people, one way or another. Even when they threatened you, you were their guardian, their deity, perhaps until the end of time. The void had been a scary place, the nightmares hellish, plaguing you. You didn't want to lose these people and return to a place so devastating.
For the first time, you cried, big, heavy tears that they caught in giant chalices before climbing on your lap to coo and comfort you. You couldn't even push them away in fear of hurting them as they kissed your tear-stained cheeks, brushed their hands through your hair, and nestled their little faces in your chest like children searching for the comfort of their parent, your tears upsetting them more than they did you.
But they didn't know that for the second time in your life, you had failed them.
You were just a small, provincial god, but so had been the others that attacked you years before. Everyone always searched for the recognition of their people, doing whatever they could to make them happy, no matter the price they had to pay. The humans failed you long before any of you deities failed them, but you didn't understand that. Not when you only existed because of them, thanks to their greed, their envy, their pride. Their love.
And so, the nightmare continued in your golden throne, very much in the reality you never wanted.
Synopsis: You meet a stranger in the woods in the summer, and keep him a secret. Itâs just a summer adventure. Whatâs the harm in that?
Word Count:Â 5036
notes: yandere, mentions of fear of sexual assault, thatâs about it
The air is hot and steamy. Thick with pollen and wavy with the heat of a high summer afternoon. It is well past those carefree early summer days, when the bright warmth was a novelty, a welcome reprieve from the bitter winter and the chilly breezes that still blew in spring. Laughter and picnics and admonishments to go-enjoy-the-weather were abound, then.Â
But not now, so far into the season. Now, the heat draws people inward and away, like curtains drawn thick, desperately seeking relief when the sun is at its strongest.
genshin men and their red flags in relationships . ( gn! reader . )
ââââââââââââââââ fear not, dearest . for some dream of mortals are sunrise stained and spring warmth flavored, others find no purer solace than the serene melody of an everlasting winter blizzard. you are the bearer of the stars - the one ruler of thy fate .
[ conflict avoidant personality ] - kazuha is a true pacifist- too much so. respectful is he, his love like the first snow, beautiful, gentle and graceful. everything would seem perfect for a seemingly long time until one day he starts avoiding you. no matter how hard you try, you couldn't fit within his reach. in reality, he had been avoiding every bit of negativity in your relationship under any cost to preserve the peace, hoping day and night for the problem to solve itself. each time he felt his space being disrupted, every single small discomfort or dissatisfaction he felt in the relationship because of you, kazuha was afraid to offend you and break your bond, so he had endured with a polite smile and a kiss on your cheek. but the limit has come in the end. whilst you were dancing, basking in the beautiful wonderland of the love he built for you all along, he found no energy to pretend anymore. even until the end, he couldn't tell you his boundaries, you didn't find out what you could've done better. really, like the scarlet leaves pursuing wild waves, he was gone. no matter how hard you ran, you couldn't reach his soul anymore. maybe if you'd noticed his strained smile, maybe if you tried harder to read between the lines... you would never know now, would you ?
[ possessiveness ] - diluc is a wounded, but gentle soul. life has turned for the worse too quick for the young lad, having lost so, so much for someone his age. because of that, he was guarded. once upon a time you were outside of his stone cold walls too, knocking gently for him to trust you, to return your everlasting warm love. and trust you, he did. your love was like a burning fire, passionate and endearing. everything diluc wanted, you were the embodiment, his dear loving angel. he loved you, so so much to the point he would feel fear and anxiety pumping in his veins all the time. are they hurt? are they feeling comfortable right now? are they hungry, feeling sad or lonely? every part of you, he wants to protect with each piece of his own soul. anything you needed him for, anything you desired, he was willing to tear himself down limb by limb if necessary. diluc fell deeper in love with you each passing moment, and with his suffocating love grew his possessiveness. of course that guy was flirting with you, stay away from him. of course she didn't mean well giving you that suspicious flower, didn't you look at her mocking gaze while she offered it to you? it might be harmful. turn to me. rely on me. use me. need me. i'm all yours, all you'll ever need. i'll protect you darling, i love you so.
[ overprotectiveness ] - xiao isn't well versed in mortals, relationships or anything of the sort. he warned you, pushed you away, avoided you, even almost threatened you (with no ill intent) countless times in fear of harming both you and himself and convinced himself that it was for the good. but did it work? no. with your persistence, he was later able to accept that even he with bloodstained hands and karma-wrecked soul, deserved kindness and love. so he embraced you, the fragile, delicate mortal who he wanted to keep by his side for as long as heavens allowed them. he was so careful, asking, affirming and making sure before doing anything at all from touching, holding, fondling and gently kissing. his love felt feather light like butterfly wings caressing your heart. however even a butterfly wing's flap could cause a storm. if left unattended, if not explained and communicated properly, xiao would spend minutes, hours, days worrying over your safety. he would quietly inspect every inch of your body with his piercing eyes to make sure there were no bruises, wounds or anything of the sort. if you fell ill, he would scold you that you were careless to have gone out in the cold weather with your overly skimpy pretty human clothes, not even noticing your eyes silently watering at his coldness. and if anyone dare hurt you, whether it be verbally or physically, he would be willing to tear them apart, have them taste the vigilant yaksha's blood-curdling cold fury. you closed your eyes and hoped, wished desperately for his wrath to come to an end. your beloved alatus, you whisperer - you could fix this behavior, he is just not familiar with humans and your emotions... right?
[ knowing / unknowing manipulation ] - albedo silently prided himself in absorbing knowledge and social necessities quickly. he had spent a long time with humans and often even felt connected to the mortals already, so he didn't doubt his ability to be a loving partner to you and accepted with a gentle smile on his pretty face when you confessed your love. from the first touch of your hands to the first time you made love, everything was perfect- it felt like a fairy tale - your heart was safe in your beloved kreideprinz's delicate hands. but each day that passed, you just couldn't calm down the voices in your head whispering, warning you that something was wrong. you see, often time when you voiced out your concern or a small problem to him, albedo would listen to each of them with utmost undivided attention. he would ponder, comprehend, then accept your stance and apologize. after that, he'd decide to change and never do it again, molding into your desires perfectly. it had never been a problem before, but when he started subtly asking, demanding for you to keep your hair longer, to cut off your ties to some of your friends with "ulterior motive", to quit your current job and look for another because it "overworked you too much", you felt too much pressure. when you finally voiced this like your other problems though, albedo blinked and confusedly tilted his head in a questioning manner. he, for once, didn't see the problem. humans were give-and-take from nature, are they not? if you asked something of him, he would gladly change and make an effort for you. he's been doing so each and every time, it's only fair that he did the same to you whether it be with your knowledge or not. you were so happy with him, weren't you? you were happy when he said you looked more attractive with longer hair, and that friend of yours ended up badmouthing you to everyone after you cut ties, didn't they? see, he was right all along, he was doing just what was right to keep his love away from those... lowlives. he laced his fingers with yours with a charming, seductive smile, wrapping your tender heart with his tightly-woven red strings of destiny he weaved with you, as he liked to believe.
[ overwhelming affection and attachment issues ] - tartaglia knew he was a hard person to love. heck, he didn't even think he was ready for love but the first time he laid his ocean eyes on you, he swore his world stopped. you just had to be his. because of his certainty and determination, he courted you, bought you flowers and asked you out on a dinner date. brought you to lingju pass and opened your eyes to the beautiful view of jade moons over sea of clouds. he was a breath of fresh air, always leaving you wanting more, excitement and starstruck a part of your daily routine by now. but you were anxious that after a while, tartaglia's feelings would change. he was a fatui harbinger, it would be bothersome for him to remain committed, wouldn't it? oh, my sweet, sweet darling he laughed when you first voiced your worries. he held you in his hands, hugging you oh so tightly and pressed soft kisses on your shoulders to your neck. you see, he was worried to overwhelm you. from the moment he saw you, from your first encounter, he had already decided that you were his as he was yours. but if you were thinking such useless thoughts in your pretty head, you needed more validation, right? so he gave you just that. he spent millions, billions of mora to buy you expensive gifts, pretty things that reminded him of you. he would take you to snezhnaya to his family, showing you off and playfully claiming (or was he?) that you were his fiancĂŠe, the one he was promised to. he whispered words of love and promises of eternity each and every day, every moment you two locked eyes. the more you spent time with him, the fire in his eyes no longer seemed warm, it felt like it was burning you along inside. when his honey-laced voice confidently declared everlasting love, cuddling you and inhaling your scent that he would like to smell even on his death bed, you felt like his "eternal love" was more of a threat than you first assumed.
[ gaslightling / ignoring boundaries ] - venti has spent long, long lonely years in the physical form of his lost "partner". among those years in rapidly flowing time, he was not expecting to find someone possibly even dearer to him than his old friend. but oh his lovely, lovely muse, you were the embodiment of all the love songs he had ever heard in over his millenniums-long existence. but ah, just as he expected a relationship with a mortal came with many problems. he would hug you, kiss you, touch you any time of the day anywhere and giggle innocently in your ear- silently daring you to say no. if you did express your discomfort and voiced your problems with his overly-touchy behavior in the center of a blasting city in midday, he would just laugh and ignore your cute little protests. if you did emphasize and get angry or hurt over his little concern for your boundaries, he would be very confused. but this is what all lovers do, kiss, hug and all that! you're just being too sensitive, my muse. it's fine, no one cares what we do, i promise. he'd hum and hold you tight in his arms, just wanting to bask in your warmth as long as possible. he knew you wouldn't be by your side forever, he claimed. that's why he doesn't hold back, he explains further while holding your hands on his chest, that's why he never wants to be apart from you, because he loves you so much and wants to spend all of his time with you. it's fine love, i understand your boundaries! but you're just not used to receiving this affection dear, i'll teach you. it's fine, venti cooed in your ear with the softest, gentlest voice he can muster to tickle your fragile heart, to make you understand he is just doing this out of love, trapping you in his maze once again.
[ afraid of commitment / doesn't commit ] - kaeya was an enigma nobody could fully unravel, and he was all-too aware of it. he made sure to keep up that facade, after all. he had a lifelong mission, an unattended decision to make when the time has come. he had responsibilities, ones that would never ever end as long as he breathes, walks this godforsaken world but damn, he wanted you. he wanted you so bad, he wanted to whisper forever in your ear, he wanted to wipe your tears when you were struggling with nightmares (he was not a stranger to them too, the nightmares. but even that, even a trivial weakness like that, he didn't let you know.) , he wanted to wake up to you sleeping safe and sound next to him every single day. he didn't know what possessed him that day to accept your confession, maybe it was the liquor, maybe it was how beautiful the night skies were under the big tree of windrise combined with your pretty eyes avoiding his in embarrassment while uttering words of love- innocent, but truthful warm love for him, kaeya alberich. or maybe, just maybe because he truly loved you more than you ever knew, did he accept your confession with his signature coy smirk and teasing words. but kaeya was afraid now. he was afraid of how warm and fuzzy he felt around you, afraid of how all of his dreams (nightmares) were away for too long now. instead, each and every night he dreams of your featherlight kisses, your dazzling smile and your voice whispering i love you. if this keeps up, he knew all too well that his attention would be divided, that he would hurt you, him and everyone else around when the doomed time were to come. so he did you a favor, he convinced himself. kaeya smirked in that annoyingly fake, seductive way and declared that you were just not meant to be. he wouldn't say anything else and end your relationship with the same teasing smile on his lips. little did you know, the proud smirk fell the moment you left with teary eyes. he knew you wouldn't stay in mondstadt for long after that. at least for a while. he muttered to himself, at least for a while, you would be safe. safe from him. safe from the disaster he was cursed, obligated to cause one day.
[ anger issues / violence ] - scaramouche. where should you even start with him? oh the mighty harbinger balladeer, or should you even call him that? you scoffed, staring at the sunset in a mockingly beautiful estate he bought you on the land of inazuma- the one he was born- oh no, created in. he had multiple fancy estates, mansions bought under your name in each state of teyvat now, since you were to accompany him everywhere anytime he desired. you grimaced a bit at the stinging sensation when the servant girl wiped the lighting-shaped scar he had left you a while ago. it was still stinging, throbbing with tingles that made your stomach drop in uncertainty. a claim, a physical engraving over your body mind and soul, scaramouche claimed when he marked you with this... ugly scar. it might look like a normal lightning, similar to the electro vision shape if closely inspected. to some it may even look pretty, and that made you all the more upset. the o mighty balladeer was so flawless sometimes, apologizing to you in that sickeningly fake sweet voice, caressing your body gently with his "love" if he was even capable of such emotions. you silently cursed the day you fell in love with him and you felt forsaken now, since he claimed, and from then on miraculously "shared" your emotions. to him, he was doing everything to keep you, his pretty doll lover by his side. he didn't mind having your loving gaze on him, your pretty head full of his thoughts and most importantly, having someone who thought he was worth loving. someone who wouldn't abandon him. someone his. he would never let you go, he would love you, he would keep you by his side. that's what you agreed for from the start, didn't you? of course he sometimes lashed out, mildly harmed you mentally or physically from time to time and all, of course scaramouche understood that. he understood it well, he was not perfect after all- no one is! but if you try to talk to him about his flaws, he would laugh in your face as though you made a hilarious joke. who were you to say that to him? were you perfect? no you weren't - he would state each and every moment you defied his orders and made him dissatisfied, every single moment he remembered that you made the slightest bit of mistakes- but then in the end, stress that he kept you by his side even though you were such an ungrateful little "lover". he didn't abandon you, he didn't even harm you on purpose! he just left a physical engraving on you to wandering airheads who might think to touch what was his, what's wrong with labeling what is rightfully his? you offered yourself up to him, you said you loved him first, you started this. he was not going to let you slide so easily. his pretty, pretty little doll. all his, he murmured when he kissed your lightning scar on your thigh. love me, love me, love me more, my doll.
hello all!  iâll be busy over the next two weeks (my long distance partner is coming to visit!!) so i wonât be posting as much, but if you have any questions / concepts / interactions / anything, send it in and iâll answer when i have time!Â
i have some concepts iâm very excited to get to, and an upcoming arlecchino/darling/columbina fic for a collab iâm hosting with @ddarker-dreamsâ, so please look forward to those! âĄ
A/N: A scummy bf!Touya/Dabi comm. for @peanutbloomingâ. Honestly, âbeen so long since Iâve written an asshole bf dabi fic, I love da concept too much ah to be his lilâsubmissive gf.Â
Warnings: TW.Dubcon, TW.Noncon, TW.Humiliation, TW.Gaslighting, TW.Mention of Drugs and Alcohol, TW.Dacryphilia, TW.Misogynistic Characteristics, TW.Double Penetration, TW.Degradation.Â
Pairing: asshole bf!Touya & asshole!Keigo x f!ReaderÂ
In the harbinger shared darling au who do you think would be the first to fall in love and who do you think would take the longest amount of time?
aahhh what an interesting question!!! letâs see...
childe is the first to fall in love. you remind him so much of his siblings, fragile little beings in constant need of his love and protection. he is a man with little interest in romance, so his love for darling is fueled in large part by an existing love he has for his siblings, as he sees them in darling. itâs only when darlingâs presence in his life begins making him feel...different does he realize that perhaps this isnât the type of love he thought he felt. his desire to ruin them, to betray their trust and bind darling to him in a way that the other harbingers canât, is one that makes him the most dangerous of the harbingers. his morals are so low that it makes you wonder how far heâll go to make you his.
arlecchino is a close second. she does not let others in easily, but the moment she saw you, all she could feel was pity. as the days turned to weeks, that pity did not fade, because no matter how youâd managed to capture the harbingersâ affections, you are nothing more than a normal, pathetically weak civilian. you remind her so much of the abused and abandoned kids that end up in her orphanage... except you are not afforded the luxuries they are. they are free to grow and to learn, to find family and forge friendships, to go and come as they please so long as they pledge their lives to the tsaritsa. but you... all she can describe you as is a bird trapped in a small, rounded cage. your world is so small, and she wants nothing more than to steal you away to a world where you can be hers, one where you are always under her control and her constant watch.
dottore takes the longest to fall in love because he finds the purpose of love useless. it is an emotion that compels lifeforms to act recklessly and selflessly, and while those parameters do have a place in his research, they disgust him. what dottore feels for you isnât love, but rather a fond affection like one might have for an amusing pet. losing you wouldnât damage him too much (heâd miss you of course, but heâd never admit it), and dottore has little willpower to constantly fight for your attentions or affections like the others. his love for darling is more akin to a platonic love, one whose company he can tolerate where he can talk about whatever he sees fit. just.. donât be fooled. platonic love or not, dottore doesnât care if his actions come off as anything resembling âromantic loveâ (which, to your bewilderment, sometimes does). you are something he keeps around for his own curiosity and amusement, nothing more than an experiment for his sick fantasies. the bruises and gauze on your body prove that much.
overall, i think the order would go like this:
childe
arlecchino
columbina
pantalone
scaramouche / pierro *
sandrone
capitano
dottore
outside of childe and arlecchino who fall in âloveâ with you almost instantly, the harbingers merely feel an intense obsession with darling (columbina, dottore, pierro, childe, scaramouche) or desire to control them (pantalone, sandrone, arlecchino, capitano). the first to truly fall âin loveâ with darling, at least by the definition of putting darlingâs needs above their own, is arlecchino, but even she is a control freak who would slowly descend back into her perfectionism once darling is safely within her control.
bonus:
* scaramouche and pierro do fall in love... but their love isnât love for you.
in scaramoucheâs case, his âloveâ is one of delusion and hatred... paradoxically so. he does not âloveâ you for any genuine feelings, though it isnât quite true to say he doesnât harbor any genuine affections for you either. sometimes, he finds himself feeling... at peace within your arms. as if the outside world fades away and nothing more can harm him again. but even then, he does not love you, because all you are is a vessel through which he can maybe, possibly, come to love himself.
in pierroâs case, he harbors a love that existed long before you did, a love he held so dearly for his family and his lover of a time long past, a love he never thought he could indulge in again. after all, do failures deserve love? he finds that answer in you, because sometimes you remind him of those happier times. itâs almost as if youâre a stand-in for the people he lost, so one couldnât possibly call this love. more of an infatuation with who he sees you as or who he wants you to be.
Surely there was nothing new under the sun, but once the moonlight's glow fell upon the compounds of your crate, you briefly wondered if the ancients knew upon designing the world that their predecessors would be barking like dogs.
Specifically, barking for food. You were beyond dignity by this time of day, and by the gods, you'd do anything to get out of your crate and have a morsel. Unfortunately, Ayato had found himself busy with Archon knows what at his desk. Probably to rile you up, you know, but there were times when he'd become caught up within the contents of a letter and you had to whine to remind him of the time.
No amount of whining helped, and if you barked too much, you'd be scolded. Depending on the severity of the act, scolding was sometimes worth the price. Right now, it was not worth the price. You curled up further within the confines of your prison and settled on the soft plush of your pillow.
Thankfully, your crate had been decorated by you. It was made for war dogs; two of you could sleep comfortably. Sitting up too tall was a different story. You'd picked out your favorite color pillows and blankets for the inside, and yes, toys. Because puppies often grew bored without their masters, so Ayato often lectured.
Your crime this time had been over indulgence of sweets. Specifically, imported sweet red wine. It wasn't often you had friends over, and the company had quickly turned vibrant with excitement and card games. While some indulgence was necessary for reputation sake, you'd gone above and beyond. Granted, sugar did awful things to your digestion. Ayato had you on a strict diet as a result. Anything eaten without permission resulted in punishment.
It had been three days ago when you'd been intoxicated and passed out with your friend. Ayato had found you; the tight line of his disappointed lip still firm in your mind. A disgrace to the Kamisoto name. Shameful behavior for the head's other half.
Being drunk was not necessarily an insult, but between the sugar and the undignified way you'd vomited all over your cards, you could understand his disappointment. Not to mention the fact that he despised when you were so intoxicated around anyone but him.
A missed opportunity to be so pliable under his palm.
Ayato would never cease all food intake. He'd simply provide just enough calories to get you through the day. With each meal or meeting, you'd had to excuse yourself or state you were full. With his extra watchful eye, that beaming smile to win any delegate, you couldn't afford giving in to even an extra bite.
Before bed, as Ayato wrapped up work and checked his schedules for the next day, your crate became the waiting area. Granted, it was more than that. It had become your safe place. When you knew punishment was at hand, you knew to go safely within. When Ayato was not at home, you found yourself crawling to it at night. Something he found endearing. It had become a den.
For the most part, it kept you away from him.
Right now, all you wanted was him. Or the treat he passed between his slender fingers.
You whined.
"Poor pupper. I will be there in a minute," he chided softly, never turning his eyes from his letters.
Only you were allowed to hear that puppy-talk voice. Some days that brought you comfort; you carried blackmail of sorts. Yet the condescending tone struck your core the same way his hand sometimes struck your ass. You'd prefer the ass striking than the tone. The sting was something you could ground yourself on. It did not linger the way his condensation lingered. Like fog on the window during a rainy day. The chill stuck on your bones.
The stars that mocked freedom outside your window brought no answer to your growling stomach.
Ayato's soft footsteps perked your ears. Anticipation filled your lungs as he slowly opened your crate door.
"Come out."
His voice and lips were even. Gauging the man's emotional state had always proved difficult no matter how many years you'd been married. Still, small tells guided you. Ayato's shoulders were a tad relaxed, something that happened around few people.
you'd become used to the crawling, yet having a growling stomach to accompany turned the crawl into a walk of shame. You stepped over the threshold on all fours until the freedom of open space allowed you to sit up. You placed your palms politely on your thighs with your gaze to his shoes.
A scratch behind your ear. You leaned into it and inhaled. His fingers were graceful and adept. Resisting them proved impossible most days, especially after spending time within your cramped den.
"You've been so good for me. How about a treat for your good behavior?"
What Ayato wanted was for you to whine or hang your tongue out or place a paw in the air depending on his mood. Whatever dog-like scene he desired at the time. For now, you brought your gaze up, thinking that if he saw your eyes, he'd see how genuine you were.
There was no treat within his hands.
To your horror, his fingers began unbuttoning the front of his pants.
Surely nothing you'd done had aroused him? You wracked your memories. He'd been stressed due to a meeting gone awry. Everything else seemed normal, save for your food intake. And you'd been good with that. Not even a morsal extra. So what had...
It hit you. During tea with the Hiragi clam, you'd brazenly thought that running your fingers along the seam of his pants under the table would grant you extra. A desperate last attempt while in a drunk like daze of hunger.
"You look darling with your head cocked to the side like that." He weaved his cock through the front of his pants and pumped the veiny shaft. "Did you not state that you were hungry? If this is not to your liking, we can go to sleep instead. Tomorrow is a big day with the Higari clan, after all, and I would hate to see you tired for it. It is my duty to serve my spouse, so putting my needs aside to allow time for..."
"No," you whined. By all that was holy, you'd take it over absolutely nothing. "I'll take it." Heat spread through the back of your neck. You shivered as goosebumps rose to greet the air.
"Mm, good pup."
He meandered his thumb between your lips and pulled you onto your knees by the cheek. Your breath came hot and heavy around his thumb as he prodded your tongue with his slender fingers. A connection of salvia stretched from your mouth to his fingers as he wetted the tip of his cock with what he had collected. Drool dribbled down the corner of your mouth, but Ayato motioned for you to keep your mouth open.
"It would be a shame if you missed even a small amount of precum. Keep your mouth open, tongue out. Good," he breathed, his voice low and sultry. "Flatten your tongue against your chin a bit more. Perfect."
In this mouth hold, your breath turned to panting. Small streams of salvia slowly fell off your tongue and fell to the floor as you held the position that burned your jaw.
"It seems you are ready for a taste. Might I remind you to take care of your mess and mind the pants. Do not forget that..."
Your eyes glazed from the water that threatened. Only the vein on the underside of his cock held your attention; anything else he said fell to the wayside as your stomach growled in anticipation to be a little more full.
Warnings: Blasphemy, Religious themes, N - SFW, Implied Kidnapping, General Yandere, and Dark themes. Minors DNI.
origin post
"To the wind that guides me: When I'm exhausted, bless me with the strength to keep going forward. When I'm uncertain, bless me with the wisdom to distinguish good from evil. When I suffer from injustice, bless me with the courage to fight back..."
Your lips tremble as the cold winter wind caresses your tears, sealing their trail in a shroud of mist over your cheeks.
The same tantalizing vision floated before his eyes as he saw you deep in prayer. You, warm, tender and dazzling, with all the world's graces at your command, pressed against his chest as he lavished on you the most ardent of demonstrations.
"I ask you to look upon your daughter, and thus grace the winds of mercy in her hour of need. I declare the weakness of my body before you, and humbly beg for your forgiveness..."
What a delightful, curious creature you were, considering yourself capable of defying all the arts wielded by the spirits of darkness by the strength of your virtue alone. Your feminine beauty had been temptation enough, but your boundless reverence for faith, your soul's exquisite sensitivity to the beauty of the just and the good ...?
"... For I have sinned."
Delectable, even in fear.
His hand slides down your belly like a snake until his fingers meet where you are joined in infamy, delighting in the wet sound of restrained pleasure escaping from your mouth as he pushes deeper.
"Do not fret, Sister. I will happily confess my crimes," the tip of the jewels that dangle from his glasses grazes your clavicles, sending a powerful shiver down your spine, "Of how you were innocent until I stained you," he nibbles at your earlobe, "I will gladly throw myself into the abodes of the devil, of flames, furies, and eternal torments. And it shall be you who I will have to thank for... What if not your beauty will plunge my soul into damnation?" a sardonic smile cuts across his face like a wound, "... Here you will stay and savor my fall."
headcanons on sharing a darling (shared darling au).
âşÂ wc: 8.3k.
âşÂ characters included: pierro, scaramouche, pantalone, childe, arlecchino, columbina, il dottore, il capitano, sandrone.
âşÂ tw: suggestive themes, pseudo-incest and incest (pierro and childe), mention of noncon (pierro), physical punishment (capitano, scaramouche, and sandrone), mention of human trafficking (pantalone), gendered nickname (arlecchino).
âşÂ note: ah the length of these headcanons got the best of me... i would have broken this post up into individual pieces, but i think itâs best to read them altogether considering theyâre sharing a darling. i also reposted my columbina headcanons here with several additions for the sake of consistency!
also...please pretend scaramouche didnât run away and is here to partake in darling <3
pierro // the jester â reverent, delusional, manipulative, strict
art by bahari (pixiv).
â pierro keeps you at his side like a pet, painfully aware that this desire to keep cherished ones close stems from the tragedy that befell his nation long ago. he is an enigma you neither the other harbingers cannot possibly hope to understand, but you know this well: he is a man with a focus, one who takes great precautions to ensure nothing can surprise him. before you became the harbingersâ shared lover, pierro took great care in observing every part of you â your background, your abilities and talents, your psychology. only behind closed doors does he let his humanity show, and, sometimes... his inhumanity. because he will not stop at knowing all there is to know about your life â because to know someone is to know their body, to know their quirks and weaknesses, their dreams and ambition. to know someone truly is to know intimacy, and there is little that pierro â a man who has lost and outlived everything heâs ever cared for â wants more than to feel whole again. mere facts on sheets of paper cannot encapsulate who you are and how you may be of service to him, nor can they predict how he comes undone when youâre alone together.
because he is tired. he is tired of screaming to be heard, of being unheeded regardless. those people are gone, and he does not intend to let anyone who does not listen live.
âthose who fail to heed the warnings don't live to admit they were senseless not to do so. if you wish to live, do not stray from my side.â
â heâs adamant in ensuring you are in the best condition possible when his time with you comes. though you are given little orders apart from pleasing or accompanying the harbingers, absolute obedience is expected of you. no moment is rest is granted to you, whose mind is constantly on edge, because he has seen to it that you are always watched. the harbingers are granted the task of caring for you on days when youâre in their possession. they can do to you what they see fit, so long as no bones are broken and all blemishes and bruises can be hidden upon pierroâs request. naturally, select harbingers arenât awfully keen on having to keep you in one piece (or alive, for that matter), but they are powerless against pierroâs word. for that, you are grateful (you might not survive otherwise)... and horrified. what power could he wield that even his worst, most powerful subordinates fear him?
for that alone, the thought of rebelling against pierro never once crosses your mind, no matter how horridly you may be treated by your subjugators. without pierroâs leniency, you would be in for a far worse fate.
âdo you understand what itâs like to have hope, only to lose it? ... then do not have hope, because there is no escape for you here.â
â pierro isnât himself when youâre alone together. his idea of love is different from the othersâ â because he doesnât see you. because, some days, you swear thereâs someone who looks exactly like him, someone who acts nothing like him. because, sometimes...he has this look of regret and sadness in his eye. a stiffness that you quickly learn the tell-tale signs of, one that doesnât prepare you regardless.
because you remind him of those he loved and lost. some days, you remind him of his lover; others, you remind him of his younger sibling. the way youâll laugh, the way youâll hang onto his every word. the way youâd listen to him unlike those who hadnât; and heâs reminded of how death does not discriminate between the worthy and the unworthy, the foolish and the learned.
these memories haunt him, and he finds solace in you. you wonder if he sees you or these ghosts of his past, but it does not matter any way. because even when his hands touch you in places they shouldnât, the delusion in his eyes does not diminish. because no matter who you are, or who you were to him, he only wants his nation. he wants a legacy, someone who shares his blood, someone he can call family, someone he can call a khaenriâahn. you will give birth to worthy khaenriâahns... even if you havenât the ability to birth in the first place.
you quickly learn he is too far gone to care for the difference.
âi had spent years telling myself âi should have died with themâ. but, it is only you who makes me want to live again.â
scaramouche // the balladeer â cruel, delusional, manipulative, strict
art by @ĺśĺ  (pixiv).
â scaramouche is possessive to a fault, but his complaints fall on deaf ears. he isnât keen on sharing, much less sharing what should rightfully be his and his alone. when itâs his âturnâ with you, heâs wastes little time ripping the lavish jewels or beautiful dresses dresses from your body. his hands are quick to replace the cloths, tracing each curve to inspect what the others have done to you. he plans to return those markings twice fold. no matter how much you protest or plead with him, he is always brutal, rough, and cold in his treatment of you â yet equally jealous and possessive. onslaughts of degradation sometimes give way to moments of tenderness. eager hands will tread knots out of your hair and lay kisses on your cheek. cooling balm will be applied to your bruises and wounds, and heâll hold you in his arms like you might shatter if he doesnât hold you together himself. he has the same body and the same voice, but calling out to him never feels right, in these moments. because youâre afraid he wasnât the same scaramouche. because youâre afraid speaking will break the spell and bring back the scaramouche who hurts you.
moments like these leave you wondering if there are really two of him. you hope there is, because it would mean momentary reprieve from the cruelty of the other. and yet... you wonder if that hidden side of him ever remembers these tender moments. maybe heâd go easier on you if he did.
âhow pathetic... i would kill to be loved, but there is nothing left of me to love.â
â the balladeer is a ticking time bomb. youâre constantly on edge in his presence (thatâs what he wants), unsure of what his disgusted expressions and harsh words truly mean. his words hold little weight in regard to the truth, as heâll say one thing and mean the other, expecting you to read between the lines or read his mind entirely. in that way, you learn that flattery will get you everywhere with him. although he would never formally confirm such a disgraceful truth, he has an inferiority complex, one that makes him particularly sensitive to any genuine praise youâll give him. he isnât a fool, though â if you praise him just right, just enough but not too much, the odds will forever be in your favor. it wonât earn you any special treatment (certainly no more freedoms than heâs already stripped you of), but youâll be spared the physical punishments and verbal abuse for as long as he wills it.
because though he cares not for the gods, treating you like the gods treat humans is the closest heâll get to feeling wanted.
âjust because they allow you to live doesnât mean you can live for anyone other than me. donât forget who you belong to.â
â scaramouche loves a challenge, and you provide more than enough. he treats you worse than his subordinates. because he loves the way youâll claw at his arms hoping your nails will break a layer of skin, a worthless attempt at distracting him long enough to push him from your body. he loves the way, that in the same vein of your contempt and disgust, your breath will catch and falter in your mouth when heâs unexpectedly gentle with your wounds or bruises, laying tender kisses on the markings as if in apology for not being there to prevent them. how... in the same vein, heâll imbue his fingertips with electro and choke you, defile you, ruin you in a way the others cannot. he wants to be the most prominent marking on your body, the most painful memory in your head â an eternal reminder that no matter how many partners you have, heâs the one youâll come crawling back to.
or, perhaps itâs more than that. perhaps he just loves the way your gasps build up to a crescendo, the way they meld into screams soon thereafter. perhaps he loves the way your voice falters into hoarse gasps and desperate cries, the way they bounce off your walls the very same way your body would if he could have his way with you. perhaps he does harbor some sense of twisted love for you...
or perhaps he loves the way you hurt. because thatâs all there ever is to it.Â
he wants you to hurt the same way he does.
he finds you disgusting.Â
sitting before him like a dog, when only moments ago you dared to speak back in front of his subordinates. you didnât have that sort of mouth when you came here only a week ago. knowing the harbingersâ distaste for him, he can only imagine they said not to worry about angering him. the words leave his mouth before he can regain composure.
âtell me what they said about me.â he accuses, grabbing you hair. you whimper just like a dog, and it makes him want to treat you like one. âdid they tell you theyâll âhandleâ me? or that iâm not worth the trouble?â he pulls you closer, excited by the tears rolling from your eyes. âdid they tell you to treat me like they do? like iâm nothing more than trash?â
the thought alone is enough to dye his vision red, and his other hand reaches for you. wants to wrap his hands around your neck. wonders how long itâll take to snap.
sparks linger on his hand, and you havenât a doubt that he would shock you into submission should he so choose. your knees buckle from fear, and itâs no surprise he lets you go right then. because you crumple to the ground in a pathetic display of powerlessness, and he stands above you like a god.
âyou are below me.â
pantalone // the regrator â reverent, aware, manipulative, strict
art by @zhyphenth (twitter).
â pantalone is one of the few âgentlemenâ of the bunch, especially when he discovers the joys of having an obedient and submissive doll to endlessly thank and fawn over him. he finds endless entertainment in the way you react to his lavish gifts and grand stories of travels and business conquests, more so if you play it up for the sake of his ego. sparing a few couple hundred million mora is nothing to a man of his wealth, so he is quick to endow you with gifts most would kill for. the finest jewels and fabrics, the tastiest food and drink, the most beautiful formal wear and aestheticians money can afford. colombina is thrilled, to say the least, considering she too adores dressing her sweet little dove up to the nines. pantalone is more than happy to oblige, of course, as pocket change like such has little meaning to him. what he really craves is your continual appraisals of his generosity and compassion. watching you slowly come to see him as genial rather than your oppressor is such fun; you havenât the slightest clue how much power he holds. one misstep and he can see to it that you suffer a fate worse than death. perhaps theyâll throw you into the cold winter of snezhnaya with nothing but rags, or drop you in a foreign land with no money and a bad taint on your name, or even sell you off to a brothel for a hefty price. those scum of the earth would fall over themselves to buy the fatuiâs whore.
âdonât fret, little gem. the price has little to do with you. itâs merely my responsibility as a gentleman to treat you with the dignity you deserve.â
â pantalone isnât fond of any rejections of his goodwill. while he understands the desire to reject gifts you feel undeserving of (that was his first inclination too, until he realized you must take all you can get in this world), refusal to take that which is rightfully yours simply doesnât sit well with him. your meek behavior reminds me him too much of his unsightly past, something youâd do well not to remind him of. you have little choice but to let him pamper you if he so sees fit, unless you plan to sit around idly while he verbally abuses you. even more precarious is any situation where you refuse his generosity in public. when he forces you to attend a social event as his partner, you are to be the epitome of grace and modesty. any refusal, be it verballly or through body language, is met with the harshest of words and the vilest of threats. he is above physically laying a hand on you under the pretense of discipline, but his reputation is everything to him; and, to have such an unsightly and ungrateful consort at his side is nothing short of disgraceful. youâd be better off beaten and bruised on the streets like a mutt, heâll say, and you do not doubt his words â because he can make it happen should he see fit.
ânot even a pauper would reject such extravagance. tell me, filth, do you wish to be lower than a pauper? i can arrange it quite easily, you see... perhaps youâd like a demonstration?â
â as the richest of the harbingers, youâre certain his particular affinity to lavish decorum and gaudy gifts is his way of asserting control and dominance over you. itâs his money, after all, and you havenât the freedom to your name to refuse. though, childe seems persistent in besting his efforts. at some point, it became a game of âwhoâs richer?â, with you at center stage. youâd do best to watch your reactions and words when accepting their offerings. childe is much more lenient if you refuse his gifts, but pantalone will force it upon you in whichever way he sees fit. countless unwanted decorations or trinkets will find their way into your room, shining and ready for your adulation upon your return. youâd best not reject any clothing or jewels he offers you either; if he doesnât order the maids to bring you to the dressing room and force it upon your person, he will do it himself.
âiâll purchase the world if you ask, little gem. just say the word and itâs riches are yours.â
â his rivalry with childe is amusing, but the latter cannot compare to pantaloneâs rank within the harbingers. while childe is often sent on missions in which an in-person appearance is needed, pantalone is free to to âworkâ from wherever and whenever he sees fit. itâs only natural he takes you with him to one of numerous hideouts around teyvat for a breath of fresh air - something childe is unable to do nearly as frequently. pantalone likes to think that anything in the world can be bought with money (even happiness), but he isnât a fool; nothing can top the opportunity to escape the overwhelming presence of the most powerful people in snezhnaya. heâll say his reasoning is a fleeting sense of pity for your situation, though a greater, more selfish part of his ego is the desire to isolate you from the rest. his greed is boundless, and even you arenât exempt from those desires. youâll thank him for his compassion and generosity soon enough.
tartaglia // childe â reverent, delusional, manipulative, lenient
art by astara nell (pixiv).
â tartaglia is one of the only harbingers that treat you with a degree of normalcy; though, youâd do best to be on guard no matter how sweet his words. the moment you caught his attention is one he looks back on fondly. you reminded him so much of his siblings, that same look of pleading and losslessness darting from one harbinger to the next. it was adorable, the fact youâd still cling to some hope that the fatui have a degree of humanity left to spare. in truth...he couldnât help himself. the desire to protect you wasnât nearly as strong as his desire to protect his siblings, but something about the way you held out for the tiniest sliver of humanity amongst a pack of wolves was hopelessly endearing. he was taken with you from the moment he laid eyes on you.
âaw, look how terrified you are. i canât say the same for the others, but i wonât hurt you, alright? pinky promise.â
â tartaglia isnât silent in his adoration for you, and he will loudly claim you as one of his own in front of the other harbingers, much to their annoyance. itâs easy enough to treat you as he would teucer; and, considering his wealth, he enjoys showering you with gifts just as he would his siblings. pantalone originally tried to compete with him in this endeavor, claiming that he could procure much more exquisite and expensive gifts than tartaglia ever could. what pantalone doesnât understand, of course, is that youâre scared. gifts are meaningless if the recipient has no choice but to accept, whether that be from social pressure, or in this case, a fear for their life. it was only natural you eventually took a liking to childe far more easily than you did with pantalone despite the latterâs best attempts.Â
â you see tartaglia infrequently due to the necessity of his field work, but the moments he takes to visit you are always welcome. when heâs gone, youâre left to fend for yourself against the peculiar interest of the harbingers. tartaglia is a breath of fresh air, a welcome reminder that youâre not a plaything or a pet, but a human with emotions, wants, and needs. he makes it easy to forget that his personality is fabricated and his words hide lies within their dark corners. youâre aware of his ingenuine behavior, but itâs hard to think he isnât the perfect lover. because despite being equal parts possessive and protective, his affection never leaves you feeling disgusting.
âwho did this to you? now now, thereâs no need to shake like a leaf, solnyshko (sunshine). just tell me who it was and iâll take care of it for you...thatâs what big brothers are for, hm?â
â although he canât give you everything you want (what could you want more than going back to your normal life, after all?), youâre happy he tries his best to please you. thatâs more than you can say for your other keepers... thatâs more you could say about anyone, really...Â
he picks up on this insecurity of yours rather quickly of course. you donât see yourself as worth the trouble of saving or finding, so who would realistically save you? youâve bared witness to the power of the harbingers countless times before â who could save you aside from the archons themselves? you truly have no one but him, and he canât help but bask in that realization. you have no one to run to other than him, donât you? if only youâd rely on him more...heâd steal you away in an instant. somewhere no one can touch you or defile you.Â
no one apart from him.
the sight before him is nothing short of breathtaking. you snooze peacefully against his arm, a hand pressed against the thick fur on his coat to cushion your cheek. this is ... new. youâve never willingly stepped into his personal space before, not like this. never to the point of letting your guard down so easily.
tartaglia loves you as he loves his siblings, so he instinctively drapes a warm comforter over your sleeping form. though... itâs in moments like these where even he canât push away intrusive thoughts. moments like this where he wonders what would happen if he touched you like lovers would. would you shy away from his touch like you do with the others, or would you lean into him further? would you protest if his hands wandered where they shouldnât, or would you let him touch you places no big brother should?
the thought alone excites him.
ârest up, sunshine.â he laughs, brushing stray hairs from your face. your lips twitch into a small smile, comforted by the warmth of his touch. for once, you feel unbridled comfort in his presence. archons, how easy itâd be to shatter that false pretense of solidarity and trust youâve granted him. youâd feel betrayed, no doubt, but you wouldnât shy away from him, not for long â not when youâre much worse off with your other options.
mm...that will come in due time. he can only hold himself back for so much longer...
arlecchino // the knave â reverent, aware, honest, strict
art by @pumpkin0352 (twitter).
â arlecchino is princely and classy in everything she does, though she is terrifying to the untrained eye. you quickly come to learn that sheâs rather unsure of how to show romantic emotions to anyone other than colombina. as little has to be said for colombina to understand arlecchinoâs loving nature â the existence of which youâre still skeptical of considering youâre held here against your will â colombina happily interprets arlecchinoâs true intentions to you. despite her cold appearance, arlecchino tries her best to show her affection during the course of a normal day; still, she only truly lets her guard down in private. having met her only in public, anyone would agree sheâs hard to get close to. despite her affections, she is controlling at her core and does not take kindly to any visible disdain of her actions. still, itâs difficult to deny she goes out of her way to care for you both whether it be in private or not. you shiver to think how much worse off youâd be in the hands of the harbingers without arlecchino advocating for you (even if it is for her own gain).
âmy grace, how are you taking to the new scenery and living arrangements? while iâm not thrilled by the rotating schedule, the least i can do is make the transition easier. anything you desire, i will see to it myself.â
â arlecchino isnât nearly as touchy as colombina; rather, she shows her affection through meaningful actions and thoughtful trinkets â gifts that wouldnât be too much of a hassle, unlike childe and pantaloneâs lavish gift-giving competition. she finds their efforts to be a disgusting display of wealth, and above all, futile; naturally, youâre most taken by herself and dear colombina. still, even arlecchino feels the occasional desire to touch her lovers. colombina is much more open with touching and will happily initiate physical touch whenever she sees fit â a quick peck on the lips, a hand twirling locks of arlecchinoâs hair... but youâre not nearly as open to such displays of affection. she canât fault you, given her own standoffish disposition, but it does sadden her ever so slightly. despite the climbing desire to hold you in her arms, arlecchino takes the slow route with gaining your trust and affections, opting to treat you like someone she is courting rather than someone she already has possession of. only within arlecchinoâs presence do you feel a semblance of safety.
âi think more about you than you perhaps suppose.â
â she hates the situation you find yourself in. how her mind is filled with constant paranoia and worry that youâll disappear, run away, or end up dead in one of sandrone or dottoreâs experiments. despite the fatuiâs overwhelming influence and power, she even worries that youâll be stolen away by those who wish to âliberateâ you, to grant you your freedom. she abhors such an idea, because true freedom can only be with her and columbina. should an opening presents itself, arlecchino will have no hesitations in stealing you away from the zapolyarny palace; one such opportunity is one in a million, however, and she cannot ensure your safety unless those more powerful than her are eliminated.Â
as it is now, the best she can do is show you the life you could have with her and columbina, free of the watchful gaze of the tsaritsaâs followers. for this reason, alrecchino needs absolute control over your day-to-day life: where you are, who youâre with and for how long, what theyâll be doing to or with you, when she can see you again. though she cannot force some unsightly harbingers to treat you properly, she is skilled in procuring information on their weaknesses and shameful deeds â information she uses to bargain for your safety.Â
âyou donât have to rely on them for anything. i will protect and cherish you where those ilk see it fit to mistreat you. so do not rely on anyone else any longer.â
â as if held up by an intangible string, arlecchino never lets her posture slouch or her behavior falter. proper etiquette and grace are exceedingly important to her (which, perhaps, is yet another reason sheâs so taken with colombina), so itâs only natural she expects the same of you. whenever you may slip up with basic mannerisms and conduct, she feels the slightest twinge of disappoint, but sheâs adamant to never let such emotion show. despite your shortcomings, she holds you in high regard as a person of interest meant to be protected. what would you think if your princely knight displayed such unrefined sentiments in your presence? surely youâd be less inclined to listen to her â and worse, you may even start to prefer colombina. that wonât do. while she loves the damselette equally and just as dearly, the knave does not put such effort into these things for no reward. while sheâd would never stoop so low as to force you to treat her in a way youâre not fully agreeable with, arlecchino expects your eager gratitude at her behest. you donât need to love her quite yet â simply know your place.
a prince does not force a princess to do anything... because, no matter how long it may take, arlecchino wants to win your love justly.
âmoya printsessa (my princess), i plan on spending my lifetime trying to court you. even if the world ends, my love for you would remain.â
colombina // the damselette â reverent, delusional, manipulative, lenient
art by ăăĄăkenyal (pixiv).
â colombina is so terribly fond of you, going so far as to call you her little dove. the name had come as a surprise as first, given that she is far more delicate and graceful than you could ever attain â but she insists. if anything, you welcome her infatuation, even if youâre not quite sure why she feels such a way in the first place. perhaps itâs the way she enjoys dressing you up in snezhnayaâs latest fashions, or the way she adores washing and combing your hair when she all but forces you to join her in the bath. perhaps...she sees you as nothing more than a doll or pet, but you are in no position to speak out against her overwhelming love for you; after all, you suppose it could be far worse â memories of the way dottore and scaramouche treat you flashing through your recent memory. just let her love you, even if you break and suffocate.
âyouâre just so wonderfully adorable, little dove. however can you blame me?â
â the way she dotes on you would leave any of her countless admirers overwhelmed by jealousy, but they do not dare speak out against their lady. whether it is in fear of her power or from respect in her position amongst the executives, colombina is adamant in her adoration of her sweet little bird. the way you chitter and peep like a baby bird when she so much as runs delicate fingers through your hair or along your skin is enough to melt her heart â if she could help it, she would want nothing more than to hear those sounds all day as she cradles you within her arms. itâs why she insists on joining her in the bath as often as you can, even on days where youâre in the possession of the others. most of her cohorts (aside from scaramouche) have no problem with this arrangement as long as she returns you to their rooms straight after. selfishly, she still doesnât like having a time limit to the fleeting moments sheâs allotted with you, but sheâs partial to the look of relief on your face when she takes you from the more frightening harbingers, even if only for an hour or two. she relishes in the respite you find within her company, because she and arlecchino are the only ones who are on your side. you need her, and that is all she needs. who will you turn to besides those two, after all?
âlittle dove, fragile little songbird â wonât you sing for me tonight?â
â she loves you the way vines love the trees they tether to: twisted. her words are carefully picked, their usage meant to instill complete fear and submission. like arlecchino, she expects you to behave âproperlyâ in her presence, taking her every word and whim to heart. her presence alone is overbearing, though she is adamant you listen to her sing for you at all manners of the day and night. enamored by all things art and artistic, she sings when she reads to you the macabre poetry and horror stories she is so fond of. when she addresses you in that soft voice of her, there is a musical edge to her voice. you darenât break from character, because the damselette shall not allow it. sing to her tune, act according to her wishes â you are but a bird in its cage, and your purpose is to entertain.
at night, she sings to you of lullabies and of tragic fairy tales, where the hero never wins and the princess is never saved. her stories and her song hold you in a trance. youâll fall asleep by the end of her tale, and only time will tell if you dream or nightmare.
â colombina clings to you like a shadow, her affection overbearing. of the harbingers, she treats you most like a pet, a little bird who must vie for the affections of her master. arlecchino, who treats you like a lover, isnât pleased with this arrangement, but knows better than to make columbina start a tirade. they get along wonderfully, with you at the center of their affections.
the damselette rather enjoys sharing you with her lover arlecchino, the latter of whom is surprisingly just as fond of you as colombina is. as intimidating as she is, the knave dotes on you just as much as she does on the damselette. your fingers, neck, and hair are sure to be adorned with the finest and most sentimental of jewels â gifts from arlecchino no doubt, who prefers to show her affection in beautiful small jewels and trinkets rather than colombinaâs affinity to physical touch. whether material or physical, you are the center of their attention when they arenât fawning over each other.
âsweet dove, youâll come and join us, wonât you?â colombina will muse, patting the seat between her and arlecchino, the latter of whom flashes a small but rare smile in an attempt to welcome you to their sides. youâve learned better than to hesitate in front of these two, so you hurry over, seating yourself squarely between the two gorgeous women. between them, you feel awfully small, but they welcome you as if you are one of their treasures.
and perhaps thatâs all you are... a treasure to be shown and flaunted.
you hardly register the way colombina rests her hand atop your thigh, her eyes shining innocently from beneath her half-veil. itâs only when arlecchino blushes and rests her hand atop yours that a smile forces a way to your lips. and so the show begins again.
âlittle bird, you are quivering. could it be youâve missed us so dearly? now...that wonât do it, will it, dear arlecchino? perhaps we should pay our darling extra attention today...âĽÂ â
dottore // the doctor â cruel, aware, manipulative, strict
art by @crycry84488Â (twt).
â dottore is cold and ruthless even to that which interests him, a trait apparent from the moment he laid eyes on you. his eyes had run over your body as if you were nothing more than an interesting new specimen plump for dissection and research â an interest that he would explore without hesitation had it not been for his colleaguesâ...infatuation with you. truthfully, he does not quite understand exactly what holds their interest in you. from his viewpoint, youâre nothing more than a trembling lamb ready to be slaughtered. though of course, perhaps thatâs why he began feeling a draw to you. what could possibly interest some of the harbingers enough to keep you around like some sort of pet?
heâd do anything to find out.
âinteresting. this much terrifies you to the point of soiling yourself? itâs like youâre begging me to do far worse.â
â he takes great joy in watching you squirm. one couldnât say that what dottore feels toward you is love, precisely... but would that make it any better? still, even his men can see clear as day that youâre not to be messed with unless they want to feel the wrath of your keepers. the doctor has a certain glow when it comes to speaking of his beloved little experiment â a certain sparkle in his eyes that reminds him thereâs still so much he has to discover. still...one wonders if itâs just an excuse to keep you close. surely thereâs no experiment interesting enough to use you in, running the risk of upsetting the harbingers. the doctor would have far more leeway in experimenting on someone inconsequential to the fatui, and yet, he often insists on you. perhaps he doesnât want the others to sully you before he can collect the data he so desires, or perhaps itâs because he simply wants you near. heâll say itâs to keep an eye on you â a means to observe your behaviors in a controlled environment â but youâre sure his reasoning extends beyond that. you can only hope that it does, for any affection he holds for you may delay what foul plans he has for you.
â when he isnât keen on experimenting on you (he has far more important matters to attend to after all), he delights in telling you crude and gruesome stories of his past experiments. your face will contort in much the same way as when he uses you for research, but you will listen to his numerous accomplishments regardless, asking questions here and there if only to satisfy him. and that it does, because he enjoys nothing more than speaking of his intellectual pursuits and numerous (unethical) discoveries. dottore isnât shy in his expectation of compliments, so you find your time with him is better spent if you stroke his ego long enough to delay any further wild ideas spawning in his mad mind that he could possibly subjugate you to.
perhaps itâs his way of boasting, or maybe even his twisted way of connecting with you in a way his colleagues surely cannot, but you prefer these interactions far more than the alternative, even if the nightmares these stories give birth to are just as horrible. the sick but relieved feeling in your stomach used to make you feel immense guilt and pity for the unfortunate souls in his stories, but who can blame you for feeling relief that at least it isnât you?
âdo my stories terrify you that much? perhaps i should give you something to truly fear...â
â his interest in you quickly becomes worrisome to the other harbingers. although heâd never neglect his duties as a harbinger to toy with a simple human, heâs grown awfully addicted to that look in your eyes. that look of waning defiance and willpower, the way youâll yelp and whine when he grabs your arm just a tad too rough to prime the skin for yet another puncture from his syringe. itâs amazing really â how youâve yet to grown accustomed to what happens once he summons you to his lab. the human mind is truly a remarkably insolent thing, versatile and adaptive in some instances,  and yet terrified of that which they know is coming. your limbs are littered with bandages and gauze â though, not nearly as much as heâd like, given the constant lamentations and chastising from other members. even that dreadful scaramouche seems to prefer you intact; though, that could easily be because he prefers to hurt you himself.Â
really, itâs profoundly amazing the way theyâd prefer to keep you intact as if you are fine porcelain. truly, where is the fun in that? would it not be far more interesting to see how far they could push you? how much youâll endure until you break?
ânow now, pet, sit still and iâll consider being gentler this session.â he scolds, strapping your unwilling arms to the examination table. the cold metal sends a sharp jolt down your spine, but dottore pays your discomfort no attention. âeven you can do something so simple, iâm sure.â
you should be used to his condescending manner of addressing you, but his annoyance still sends a pang of sadness down your stomach. your disappointment does not escape the doctor, of course. beneath him, youâre no harder to read than a childrenâs book.
utterly pathetic.
but... he is curious how a sudden change in leniency will affect your behavior and conduct. perhaps youâll be easier to deal with, easier to experiment on, if youâre more willing to please him. there is only so much abuse the human body can take, after all.
perhaps there is still use for you.
capitano // the captain â reverent, aware, honest, strict
art by @doughblaster (twt).
â capitano's build is far too imposing and his personality far too dire to bring you comfort in any meaningful way, so you donât often seek him out. naturally, he comes to you. it was terrifying at first, seeing him walk up to you as if youâd done something wrong. you were prepared to be hurt, truthfully. against your better judgement, you had trembled when he came to a stop in front of you and said nothing, his presence alone enough to warrant a stand still and salute â if you were one of his men. how do you greet someone of such menacing stature?
...it surprised you when he took this conundrum into account and eventually taught you the proper way to greet him. rather than faulting you for your initial response or worse â hurting you â he firmly believes that those he commands have potential to grow. capitano isnât cruel... unless you fail to follow his orders. he expects to teach you the âproperâ way (his way) of something exactly once, and every time thereafter you must follow it to the letter. itâs ultimately in your best interest; youâve seen what he does to men he has to speak to twice.
âyouâd do well to remember this tenet: there will be no second chances.â
â though he does not speak unless necessary, you quickly learn that capitano is preferential toward those who wish to better themselves. perhaps thatâs why the only harbinger capitano doesnât mind sharing you with is tartaglia. though he knows hell itself will fold into itself if he lets the young harbinger know this, capitano views childe as worthy of caring for their shared darling. from a captainâs standpoint, childe is the ideal solider. eager to fight, yet also eager to learn, to better himself. capitano knows that in childeâs company, youâll know better than to step out of line. he is aware of childeâs soft spot for you, but you arenât afforded the smallest of rest even in the presence of the only harbinger who treats you âfairlyâ. capitano is well aware that childe will do anything to impress him, so he has the young harbinger keep an eye on you when he cannot. if you step out of line, capitano will be the first to know and he will dole out proper punishment. itâs in yours and childeâs best interests to listen to him at all costs, lest you want a dislocated arm or broken leg.
â a weak darling who is weak of mind and body doesnât interest capitano in the slightest... so he shapes you into that which he wants you to become. much to your gratitude, he expends a great deal of effort in strengthening your body and mind, traits youâll need in order to survive your subjugators â and yet, traits you know will never stand a chance against their delusions.
his constant demands quickly become tiresome, but theyâre well-within your capabilities. sooner than later, youâll find yourself sitting in on strategy debriefings and military training, watching with a keen eye as his men practice various form of combat. although you donât possess a delusion and have no desire to (youâve seen fatui soldiers bend and break under the immense power of a delusion â the chances of your own survival are slim to none), youâre grateful for the opportunity to learn how to defend yourself, even if itâs fruitless against the harbingers. thereâs comfort to be had in strength and mental prowess. you almost wonder: is this his way of comforting you?
â above all, capitano expects absolute obedience. and, contrary to what you may think, you are the only subordinate who he affords any sort of special treatment for simply following his orders. though he refuses to show such favoritism in the presence of his men, he rewards adequately you should you be on good behavior. often, youâll arrive to your room to find a plain dark blue box neatly wrapped in a satin bow; its simple presentation alone is a tell-tale sign of who the gift hails from. the gifts themselves are nothing special â certainly nothing that would draw attention from his men or the other harbingers. consistent good behavior is to be rewarded even more so than simple bouts of good behavior; so, it doesnât take long for the gifts to increase in value. that is, more freedoms. youâll be afforded more alone time, for instance, such as a rare opportunity to roam the gardens or to visit the library without a personal guard as your shadow. even with these freedoms, youâre certain someoneâs always watching, but at least you have the luxury of being alone to collect your thoughts. these luxuries are cherished, as theyâre some of the few moments you donât feel like a prisoner.
â[name].â
you startle at his sudden presence (he moves like a shadow in spite of that armor) and hurriedly turn your attention to the library entrance. only moments ago, you were comforted by a world so different from yours, and now... now you startle at the sound of your own name.
capitano does not speak unless necessary, and to make him utter even a single word when you should have been more alert to your surroundings is nothing short of disgraceful. how far youâve come since heâd begun training you... and what do you have to show for it besides the tremble in your hand and the fear on your face?
âmy lord!â you nearly bite your tongue with how quickly the words stumbled from it. if only you could kick yourself right then... even that would be favorable to this embarrassing display. âi apologize, i was so engrossed in my readings that i didnât see you there.â you admit. youâre on your feet in an instant and at his side within seconds, hoping your obedience is enough to satisfy him. and it...seems to. rather, even from the beginning, he didnât appear furious in the slightest. not even a word of admonishment.
the captain simply turns on his heel, nodding in the direction of the barracks.
âcome. sparring is about to begin.â
sandrone // the marionette â cruel, aware, manipulative, strict
art by @nisikm (twt).
â sandrone has little care for your wellbeing when you are in her possession...at least at first. she does very much enjoy using you as her plaything, so your welfare was of little concern to her at first. but, considering her lackluster interest in near all things living (puppets and machinery are far more entertaining, you see), it never fails to surprise her how fond she is of keeping you around simply for her own amusement. you entertain her in ways her puppets simply cannot. nothing about you is perfect, not in the way that her creations are â the bandages and bruises inflicted by a select few harbingers only serves to create a sickly and beaten appearance to your otherwise decent physique and mentality. still...youâre terribly fun to tease and manipulate. sheâd forgotten how fun it is to taunt something that can respond.
âmachines donât tremble and cry like you. how strong might you be if i turned you into a puppet? ... what a waste.â
â countless machines watch you like a hawk as soon as you enter their field of view. the feeling of eyes on your skin is constant, a blatant reminder that despite how âniceâ sandrone treats you, your presence in her life is nothing more than a pretty nuisance without free will or thought, one that must be watched at all times to prevent mistakes that might incite her anger.
it is widely known amongst sandroneâs men that her patience with living creatures is thin and her cruelty rivals even colombina. though, unlike the damselette, she doesnât handle boredom well. whenever she forces you into her presence, you fear she may grow bored and leave you within an inch of your life. your reactions to her eccentric tastes and personality can only entertain her for so long, and if not for the other harbingersâ intense obsession with you being alive, she certainly would make haste in adding you to her collection. though, thereâs a certain pleasure to be had in watching her machines interact with a living specimen. sandrone doesnât keep her subjects human for long, much less cognizant enough to hold conversation or coherent trains of thought; so, examining how her machines react to a living thing they arenât meant to kill could produce valuable results. theyâve never seen anything living and breathing besides their master, who never brings anything living and breathing into her sanctuary. clearly youâre special, and the gears in their hearts wonder, how?
âdoes he terrify you, puppet? how misguided... humans are the real monsters. has your time in this palace not taught you as much?â
â sandrone possesses the shortest temper of the ensemble, a trait that in part stems from her perfectionism. although she elicits great pleasure in seeing you cower in the presence of her creations, she intends to make you accustomed to their presence in due time. time itself does not quell fear such as this, so youâll always wince when she calls you into her workshop, scared of what she may do to you behind locked doors. your reaction doesnât please her in the slightest considering dottore seems to do far worse to you, but she cares not for the meaning behind your reactions â only that they entertain her. play this to your advantage, as angering her may lead to insignificant parts of your body turned into metal and gears against your will. surely you wonât miss a finger or three, right?
âwell...what will it be, puppet?" sandrone peers into your eyes, and finds desperation there. âyou know i donât like to be kept waiting.â her grip on your chin tightens like a noose. her fingers are curled inward, nail tips pressing into the soft beds of your cheeks. the crescent indents threaten to spill blood. youâre canât tell if the smell of iron is coming from you or her machines. would it matter either way?
gently grasping one of your trembling hands, she brings it up to her face to examine it. âpierro wouldnât be pleased if i replaced any significant limbs, so.... perhaps a a joint?â she turns your hand over, examining it like she would a gear or wire. âor would you prefer the entire finger?â she offers thoughtfully, already drawing up plans for a special prosthetic in your honor.
you shake your head frantically, eyes wide with tears which glisten like the sun. her gaze lingers on it for a second too long, before she turns her attention back to the shattered gear on the floors. her gaze is wistful, lamenting the loss of such precious resources. though... if it werenât for your help, she wouldnât have met her quota last week. a broken gear or frayed wire is nothing to cry over, and your contribution to her work is more than enough to compensate for the broken goods.
sandrone sighs and lets go of you. you crumple onto the floor instantly, but she simply walks back to her work desk.
âiâll make an exception, for now.â
Š dear-yandere, all rights reserved. do not repost, plagiarize, or share my work on other platforms. Â
yandere!pantalone x gn! reader (harbinger shared darling au)
Premise: Pantalone has a surprise for you.
Word Count: 1.2k
TWs:Â yandere, manipulation, mention of injury, reader wears jewelry but their gender isnât stated, etc. Pretty tame, but if youâre uncomfortable with any of these things, please donât read! I mean no harm <3
Note: this is for a harbinger shared darling collab!! wish i knew how to make my posts more aesthetic tho LOL
