A collection of fanfictions from various fandoms. I will most likely be not-so-active, but for what it's worth. I shall try to deliver quality content.
So Nessie is my first OC. She's got the hots for Harrison Gray.
Here is her first encounter with Harry and here's a thing in the future where they're together-together. They aren't posted in order cause I didn't plan the sequence of this soooo... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Also backstory that isn't really happy. I don't necessarily think it needs a trigger warning but please do tread carefully.
More below the cut.
Here are some facts about Nessie:
🍄 Nessie is not her real name. It's a nickname that was given to her by their church's choir conductor. Eventually, everyone else called her that.
🍄 Her father was a miner and that led to a lot of health complications and injuries. He always attributed his survival to his faith and because of him, their entire family were devout in their faith. He eventually passed at fifty when Nessie was just shy of her twenty-first birthday.
🍄 Her mother was also sickly, likely from their poor living conditions and complications from several miscarriages. Nessie was her fourth child and the only surviving one. She and her unborn child would have survived if she had been able to afford medicine and visits to the doctor. This was two months after her father's death.
🍄 Though not rich, Nessie was learned. The nuns and choir conductor at their church helped her along with other children to learn how to read and write.
🍄 Nessie is a mezzo-soprano.
🍄 Once there was a preaching at their church that denounced the use of vigilante justice, though that preaching veered towards discouraging women to retaliate and hold grudges against their husbands. The preacher cited the aqua tofana incident in Italy. Nessie did not take the warning to heart and found herself fascinated with the women involved in it and the power they must have felt. Later on it became a fascination with poison. She kept this fascination to herself: reading about it discreetly at the church library.
🍄 Following her parents' deaths, Nessie tried to make a living out of singing. She loved singing in pubs and parks and occasionally the church. She gained a number of suitors because of this, but she often found herself disappointed when they expressed that they liked her singing and nothing else.
🍄 Eventually, her paternal aunt introduced her to a young man looking for a wife. The preparation for the wedding took little to no time at all. But then Nessie found out about the crimes her husband-to-be committed with a number of other people: human trafficking and levying exorbitant prices of medicine and doctors.
<>.<>
Here is the picrew I used for Nessie because I can't draw. XD
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Latest Update:24.08.04🌟
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This is how my first OC, Nessie, first met with Harry.
I'll make a separate post of her brief descriptions much like what I did with Vera.
I own nothing but this drabble and my OC. Ikemen Villain belongs to Cybird. That being said, reproduction and reposting this without express permission from me is a butt move and will bring your in-game diamonds into the negatives.
CW: Descriptions of death and injury. If this is not your cup of tea then please step back.
Otherwise, enjoy! =)
She was told that getting married was the happiest moment in a woman’s life. It was a culmination of her efforts and a return of investment for her parents. The happiness was cumulative, Nessie decided. But she disagreed.
Her husband of merely four hours was seated at the head of the table, convulsing and foaming at the mouth. His face was twitching a few minutes into dinner until his upper lip curled back, exposing his teeth and making it look like he was grinning. The panic immediately set in as he realized that he could only shake in his chair. His back arched and he fell off his chair. There was a sickening crack and then silence.
Nessie took the time to finish her meal; it would likely be her last decent one. Her late husband had connections within the underbelly of London, in addition to the police who would come and take her away. With that in mind, Nessie dabbed the corners of her lips and stood up. She made her way to the kitchen and spied a plate of two scones and a slice of chocolate cake with a glass covering. Suddenly craving something sweet, she lifted the lid and took the plate.
She was not familiar with the many drawers in the kitchen counter. Her marriage had been far too short-lived for her to know where the correct cutlery was. So after some searching, she finally found a dessert fork and placed her plate down on the counter. The thought of having wine also crossed her mind and despite not being too fond of alcohol, Nessie opened the cupboards to check for a wine glass and then searched for a bottle of wine.
Finding an already opened bottle, she lifted the makeshift cover and took a sniff. Nessie promptly decided that she truly was not too fond of alcohol. Nevertheless, she took a swig, wincing at how unpleasant the taste was for her. She found though that it made her appreciate the flaky scones and the rich chocolate cake.
It had been quite some time since she had a moment like this: quiet and alone. The past six months had been busy and filled with visits, parties, and more fittings at the tailor than Nessie was willing to go through. Her aunt who had gone ahead and made the match insisted that this was the best course of action for her.
You can’t live off your singing alone. You need a husband! Every woman needs a man to make her happy!
One too many times, Nessie had to bite her tongue. Otherwise she would have suggested that her aunt get married to her husband. Who was now a corpse. A chuckle escaped her, imagining what her aunt’s marriage to her husband would have been like. The brief moment of mirth was accompanied by another bite from the cake and the sweetness lingered on her tongue.
Nessie was licking the icing off the fork when she heard a click and felt something pressed against the back of her head. There was the sobering smell of peppermint all of a sudden.
Ah. My little party’s ended.
“Who are you?”
Nessie placed her fork down and raised her hands up. Carefully she turned and her eyes met with a tall man with hair the color of milk tea and sharp mint green eyes, much like the scent that now pervaded the air. He was pointing a gun at her; its barrel was poised in the middle of her forehead.
“I’m the wife of the dead man in the dining room,” Nessie answered simply. “Are you the police? Can I finish my cake and scones first?”
His eyes widened and she wondered if the request was too bizarre.
“He’s… married?”
“Just this morning,” she nodded.
There was the sound of footsteps and another man emerged, dressed in black and streaks of purple. His hair reminded Nessie of a sheep’s fleece with how fluffy it looked. “Harry the target’s de-oh.” He stopped and he seemed to be contemplating on what to do.
“You killed your husband?” The man with the gun, Harry - Nessie surmised - said. His voice allowed for no argument. She nodded in response.
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Is that important?” Nessie asked. She was under the impression that she would just be escorted to jail immediately. Thinking that the man was asking for her confession now so they could maybe dispense with the formalities later on, she answered, “He’s an awful man. He beat me.”
“That’s a lie.”
Nessie’s eyes widened. But it was. The corpse in the dining room had not been her correspondence long enough for him to hurt her. He was awful though. Nevertheless, she shrugged. “He really was awful, you know.”
The gun did not even falter. “That’s true. But he didn’t beat you, did he?”
No. He looked unassuming: a rich heir in need of a wife. But he had exploited several people. His connections with the underbelly of London made him participate in human trafficking from the colonies. He was one of the people responsible for the inflation of medicine prices. Medicine that would have saved her mother and unborn sibling’s lives.
Nessie knew that she was not the appropriate person to mete out justice, but she had procured some potent poison and her husband had already sought her out with the intention of marrying her. It was like divine providence and who was she to decline?
“No. But I loathed him.” She answered after a beat.
Silence filled the air. Then the man in black turned suddenly and told Harry urgently, “We have to go. The police are here…”
Harry withdrew his gun, looking troubled. “We can’t leave her here,” he told his companion, glancing at Nessie. “She’s seen us and she’s the one who killed our target.”
“Should we just kill her then?”
Nessie felt a bit miffed with the way that they talked about her like she was not even there. She crossed her arms and watched their exchange. Much like her distaste for alcohol, Nessie realized that she was not fond of this situation.
Harry glanced at her, his mint green eyes tumultuous; nothing like the sharp and definitive smell of peppermint that was still in the air. “Let’s let Victor decide,” he told his companion who simply nodded and smiled at Nessie like they were friends all of a sudden.
“Hello there. We’re taking you with us for now.” HIs voice was soft, like the rustle of satin.
They made their way to the back door which was unlocked: likely where they entered from. Nessie followed behind. She had a nagging feeling at the back of her head telling her that she should be more perplexed and worried about her safety and survival. But she simply was not.
In her mind, she had fulfilled her task and there was nothing left for her really. Unless she would be given the chance to sing again, but that was a pipe dream. Still, Nessie felt that she should at least know who these people were. They were possibly the only people who would see her last moments after all.
“You guys aren’t with the police…?”
Harry turned to her and shook his head as all three of them ducked into a dark alley.
So... This is the first drabble for my Ikemen Villain OC Vera. I need to start writing more. (ʘᴗʘ✿)
I own nothing but the drabble and my OC. Ikemen Villain belongs to Cybird. That being said, reproduction and reposting this without express permission from me is a butt move and will make Victor cry ಠ︵ಠ.
CW: There are descriptions of injury and implied self-harm. Both are metaphorical but if this is not your cup of tea, please feel free to step back.
Otherwise, enjoy! =)
Fiction existed as a weapon - a blade with two edges. Sometimes it fought off the dark grasp of reality by nurturing dreams and inspiring hope. And sometimes it fed the all-consuming flame of reality that left bitter ashes in its wake. Some think that using one edge exempts you from the other, but in reality you are simply one mistake away from cutting yourself.
Vera flipped the sign of her little bookshop to start her day. Tea was brewing and it filled the air with the scent of lavender. While she initially only sold books, some of her patrons had taken to sitting and reading. So she made space for a reading area where customers could also enjoy some tea.
The clinking of the overhead bell told her that someone had arrived. Putting on her best and most accommodating smile, she faced the door. Her voice immediately died in her throat.
Because never before had she cut herself so deeply. So sure she was of her ability to wield fiction and never cut herself beyond superficial nicks. But now the ashes hit the back of her throat like sweet honey and spun sugar.
All of a sudden her heartbeat was far louder than she remembered. Every thump was punctuated by his footsteps into her little shop. She was grateful for the time she always spent in making herself look presentable and braiding locks of her hair so that she would be memorable. She was glad that she took the time to make her clothes look better than they actually were.
Because Vera may deny it all she wanted, but none of the nicks was superficial.
He looked out of place in her little book shop, with his dark hair and white clothes. He looked like a prince looking for his princess with nothing but a shoe to go off of. A look into his eyes and his posture made Vera feel like he was dangerous.
And that enthralled her.
She could imagine it: her prince was not just a prince, but also a fighter of some sort. She would not be surprised if he had a firearm with him or a dagger. She could imagine him running his fingers through her hair and tugging just right. Just to remind her that she could run but never hide.
And then he spoke, “Good morning. Got any interesting books?”
Oh and his voice.
Vera could imagine him whispering to her ear. It hardly mattered what he said; she only wanted him to say something. Like moonlight filtering through her window in the evening, it filled her with a sense of delight. All of a sudden there was no solace left in the books anymore. Fiction or reality did not matter. All that mattered was that she found someone. Someone who cut her deeply and made her feel the gaping hole that reality left when it burned everything away, leaving only ashes; sweet ashes.
She left her little counter and asked him specifically what he was looking for. Her prince wanted to be familiar with the area so she brought him to where the newspapers were. Briefly she apologized since the paperboy had yet to come by with today’s newspapers.
His laugh was divine. Vera found herself waiting on his every word. With unsteady legs, she left his side, telling him that he could call on her if he needed anything more. The twinkle in his eyes made her heart soar and Vera knew that she would give him what he asked, were it in her power.
“By the way,” he said as she neared her counter.
When she turned, Vera saw his eyes twinkling. Something in her screamed that she was in danger, but she firmly stamped it out when he crossed the distance between them so easily. With nimble fingers adorned with rings, he caught one of the braids she had.
“You look beautiful with these.”
Fiction was a double-edged sword and Vera gleefully let herself be cut open by it. She danced in the blood and ashes left by her prince in his wake, dreaming that she would see him again.
So like... She is technically my second IkeVil OC, but I've thought of her backstory more than my first (who is Harrison's muse). So she's out first.
My girl's got the hots for Nica Schwartz.
More below the cut.
This is Vera and here are some facts about her:
📕She is an illegitimate daughter of a nobleman and a governess from a different noble family. Vera grew up with her mother and step-father and never met her biological father. In her opinion, it wasn't necessary to meet her biological father. She knew of him, but is not really interested in knowing him.
📕Her mother raised her to be a proper lady, intending to introduce her to high society when she came of age. This did not come to pass as Vera was put into the care of her nanny and tutors as soon as her mother and step-father had children of their own.
📕Vera was taught that ladies needed to be prim and proper, otherwise they would not be attractive or desireable. To this extent she was extensively tutored in good manners and proper etiquette. She was also taught to read and do maths, though she was far fonder of the former. Eventually, she found solace in fairy tales and came to the conclusion that she would only be attractive and desireable if she were to be like the princesses in the books she read.
📕This has caused her to look at the world through lens that were entirely dependent on fairy tales. Vera would perceive and view reality as though she were in a fairy tale. She believes that someday a prince would come and be attracted to her; desire her, even. To this end, she perfects her smile in the morning when she wakes up, takes extra care in grooming and dressing herself, and she randomly braids locks of her hair to make her memorable. So that her prince wouldn't need to look too hard for her.
📕She was granted her inheritance when she came of age. It became clear that she was not entirely welcome in her mother's new family so she packed and left. With her inheritance, she set up a book shop where she sold all sorts of books and reading materials. Eventually it became a library of sorts; Vera dedicated a place where her patrons could sit, read, and drink tea.
📕Fun fact: she once drank an excessive amount of alcohol at a social function and thoroughly embarrassed her tutor and mother when she openly flirted with a betrothed man. Vera believes that this was also one of the reasons why she was subtly sent out of the family. When she recounts it, she merely chuckles, saying that it was a lapse in judgment. The man she had flirted with hardly looked like a prince.
<>.<>
Will post my two drabbles about her and maybe make a directory of her and my other OC.
Ayo I'm back? I think? Anyway got into Ikemen Villain so here's a thing featuring my OC, Nessie who is with Harry. <3
<>.<>
It was, regrettably, inevitable that some people would be under the impression that their money and status allowed them to be… unkind. Nessie had seen it before. Her job often afforded her a front row seat to such occurrences. Or worse she was the subject of such untoward acts.
As a singer in a small bar, money was not easy to earn. She got her dividend of the evening’s earnings, but it was the tips from customers that allowed most in her profession to buy luxuries like jewelry and pretty dresses. Nessie herself was not necessarily pressed for money because of her other job; in that regard she was unique and fortunate.
Unfortunately her uniqueness was not apparent so she would still have to contend with customers who thought she would give them the time of the day if she agreed to have a tumble with them.
Much like the gentleman before her. He was well-dressed and looked like he was new to this part of town. He had cash to spare and practically monopolized Nessie by paying her to sing his specific requests. She did not miss the wedding band around his ring finger the first time he requested a song; neither did she miss the gleam in his eyes that made her skin crawl.
His breath stank of alcohol and Nessie had to fight the urge to spill the contents of her locket in his drink. But she kept herself in check.
Not long now.
“I bet life isn’t easy for a siren stuck in a backwater bar,” he flashed his teeth and Nessie could only incline her head. The bartender looked offended by the remark. “You know, you don’t belong here… You could do so much better. Heck you could perform for Her Majesty with your talent and,” he leaned closer, “your looks aren’t bad either.”
“Thank you,” she acknowledged, glancing at the clock. Any other time, that quick glance would have been calculated; perfectly timed to elicit the response she needed. But this time Nessie’s impatience was genuine.
The man may have caught on because he took her hand in his and from then on she no longer registered his words. Even the bartender had a knowing look; one that promised unpleasant things if the singer was not unhanded.
“Please take your hands off me,” Nessie said firmly. “My lover wouldn’t take too kindly to this kind of behavior.”
“Lover? Ha!” The man guffawed. “Sure you do. Why don’t you ditch the attitude and just come with me? I can make sure you become famous.”
“No thank you.”
“Don’t be like that…”
“She already said no.”
There was a click of a gun and the man looked like he had just been doused in cold water. Behind him stood Harrison; his smile contrasted the way he pointed a weapon at the back of his man’s head.
“Well? Did you need anything else from her?” He tilted his head, smirking in that infuriating way of his.
When he realized that no one would be on his side, the man clicked his tongue, cursed under his breath and wisely left. Harrison waited until he was out of sight to stow his weapon away.
“Should you be showing off your gun in public, Harry?” Nessie asked with an incredulous shake of her head. She grabbed her coat and slid her arms into the sleeves before buttoning it up.
“Probably not. Want me to walk you to and from here everyday now?” He asked playfully, offering his arm.
She rolled her eyes in response to his antics and then said a quick farewell to the bartender. “Only if you actually watch me,” she answered as they stepped into the cold evening air.
Harrison’s eyes gleamed wickedly in response. There was nothing innocent or chaste about the way he looked at her and she shivered pleasantly at his attention. Knowing him, he probably had far more nefarious plans for her than the man at the bar.
“Hmmm… I could watch something else of yours…”
Nessie chuckled, playing off the blush that was concealed by the darkness of night. Oh to be loved, desired; cherished by one Harrison Gray.
“I could be persuaded,” she responded coyly.
The walk back to Crown Castle was not short enough.
<>.<>
I'll make a longer post about Nessie but for now here. XD
Been a long time since I posted, and I wasn't expecting my comeback post to be like this. But anyhow.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OC and the fic. Plagiarism and/or copying without express consent from the author is a butt move and curse you with only rare items in your gacha for several decades. I will be crossposting this to my AO3 which is under the same name.
Warnings: NSFW. 18+. Depictions ans descriptions of steamy stuff. Is a KING x OC, but can be read as KING x reader maybe. Female OC. Read at your own discretion.
<>.<>
Satiated, sticky, and tired, she wondered briefly how things had escalated this way.
It was not the amnesia or her involvement in the conflict between Hykros and the Heirs. No; this was more of a contemplation. An examination, if you will, as to why she and the money-loving mercenary were naked on her bed.
As much as she owed Zeke and Shirli her recovery, it was exhausting to keep chasing after them while getting caught up in the tangle of plots and smoke and mirrors. She had also been injured one too many times by that woman called Frigg. So even though the sensible decision was to deactivate all the Towers and maybe find Zeke and Shirli along the way, she decided to stay in Navia and explore.
Surely something from her time as an Executor would come back while she went from place to place right? She had been hunting down Dr. Claire's scattered dream machines in the hopes that she would get something. She stayed away from Hykros, except for when she tried to access the Simulacra for other weapons that would suit her. And she stayed away from the Astra shelter as well. She could not bear looking at those people who expected her to come by with good news.
While proving herself to be a nuisance to the local bandits and miscreants of Navia, a bounty was apparently placed on her by the leaders of the Hyenas. Dr. Claire's dream machines were scattered and lay dormant in several bandit camps and would only be usable if there were no threats to the user. It was surprisingly considerate of the doctor. And the constant participation earned the Wanderer a number of good points and some favors.
The one who came to collect her bounty was KING, who was apparently able to track her down through her copy of his weapon. She had just finished wiping off a Hyena camp and was waiting for the dream machine to activate when her instincts kicked in. There was barely enough time for her to block an attack by the original of her Simulacra replica.
Both were equally surprised by the turn of events. They had only spoken briefly during the fighting tournament back in Astra, but their first impression was quite memorable to the other. KING because of his overt display of love of money, and the Wanderer because of her seemingly out of nowhere victory.
At the time, she had no doubt that he wanted to kill her for some bounty, so she held nothing back. Even with her amnesia, her body remembered how to fight and her instincts served her well. Still she erred on the side of caution; KING's Simulacra replica attested to his caliber as a fighter. And he was larger than her in height and wingspan, so she tried to keep her distance as much as she could.
What had eventually landed them in a stalemate was the fact that he had been caught off guard when she let her jacket be ripped apart just to escape him. The afterimages left by the Thunderblades did its job well to confuse KING as she tried to disarm him. Unfortunately, he regained his bearings easily and sent one of her blades flying. Twisting the empty arm behind her, he aimed the sharp end of his scythe against her neck, only to feel the warning nudge of the remaining blade in between his legs.
What had happened afterwards was awkward to recall even for her. They both acknowledged that continuing to fight would be useless and even had an agreement: KING would decline the bounty from the Hyenas as long as she took him with her into ruins and split the treasure with him until he earned what he had lost from the bounty. They shook on it and when he draped the tattered remains of her jacket on her shoulder, the Wanderer just reached out, stood on her toes and planted a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth.
To this day she had no idea why she had done that. Her self-reflection was often cut short by the events that transpired after the innocent gesture.
That she was ripped from her amorous recollection by a similarly titillating sensation was pure coincidence. She could only gasp and needlessly squirm as KING dragged his tongue from the side of her neck to the middle of her chest. His hands held her waist; loose enough that she could still move, but tight enough to keep her there.
She gasped as he resumed his place in between her thighs, like it was the most natural thing in the world. It had not even been thirty minutes since he was last inside her and the hunger in his eyes told her that he was more than ready to take her again. Being able to keep up with his stamina was a testament to her Executor training, but what had surprised her was that she had roughly the same appetite as him.
Oftentimes the Wanderer wondered if she also had been like this before getting amnesia. She wondered if she had a lover or had multiple lovers and if any of them satisfied her. She wondered if they, whoever they were, missed her or were looking for her. She wondered if she would remember them if she saw them.
But as KING bit the side of her neck and pulled her to the edge of the bed, she found that none of that mattered anymore.
He stood at the edge of the bed, dragging her with him as he continued the stimulation. They were well past the point of foreplay; she was wet enough to receive him with little resistance.
The noise that came out of her mouth was half a groan and a whine. She had just come down from her euphoric high and was now slowly but surely climbing up again. KING liked to sheathe himself fully for a few moments, luxuriating in the feel of her warm walls clamping around him, before moving. She felt everything: his girth, his length, the way that he twitched against her, and even her own tightening. When he grabbed her hips more forcefully and lifted them just so, her legs locked at the base of his spine as her back arched off the bed.
"Ah! Aaaaaahn~!"
"Hnngh! So tight…!"
With that he started thrusting. The Executor beneath him was a beautiful mess of dark hair splayed over a threadbare bedding, with red and purple marks on her chest and neck, knuckles white from gripping the bed sheet too hard, a blush dusting her cheeks, and the apex of her thighs so wet and willing for him. KING had been pleasantly surprised that despite looking so… small, she was a match for him.
Both in battle and the bedroom.
He could feel his own climax approaching and so he slowed down. She took the chance to tighten her legs around him and push herself to an upright position. Instinctively, KING's grip on her hip tightened and his other arm went to support her butt. His mouth opened to an inaudible moan as she left herself at the mercy of his grip, the strength of her thighs, and the way he slid further within her.
On the other hand, the sound that came out of her throat was sinful and heavenly in equal measure. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she feebly wrapped her arms around his neck to keep from falling. Both of his hands now cradled her butt as she bounced on him before her back met a wall.
"Damn…"
"Hyaaaah~!!"
KING set a brutal pace. Gravity did its work and kept him snug inside of her, which in turn hit spots that the Wanderer had no idea existed. She hid her head into the crook of his neck, breathing hotly onto his skin as her blunt nails dug into his firm shoulder. The sounds of skin slapping filled the room, accompanied by their own noises of pleasure. Her chest rubbed against his, adding barely there sensations that made her stomach flutter.
"Hah… hah… I'm-oh! I'm close …!"
She pulled back from his neck and reached out to press a chaste kiss against the corner of his mouth. For some reason, he twitched inside her and his thrusts stuttered, as if surprised by the gentle gesture.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck…!"
His mantra went unnoticed by the woman bouncing on his cock as she started unravelling. Her climax made her tense as she cried to the ceiling of her home. KING followed suit; his own release filling her up as he languidly thrust into her. His lips fell to her shoulder which he idly licked to prevent much of his own noises of pleasure from escaping.
Pulling away from the wall, he brought her back to the bed. His release mixed with hers as they trickled onto the crumpled bed sheets. Her thighs still twitched and the Wanderer seemed to be lost in a world of her own. A primitive part of him stirred at the sight of this Executor undone by his hands. More so when he stared at the way she twitched and more fluids dripped from her.
He spread her open, placed her legs on his shoulders, and relished in her breathless scream as he licked. She smelled of him and all he could think about was more.
"K-KING-! Please… hyaaahn!"
At this point, the Wanderer was unsure if she wanted him to stop or continue.
Starved as he was, KING bent her knees by his shoulders and pushed her legs back, further exposing her to his tongue and fingers. His cock throbbed and he wondered if she could take a few more.
Well, there was only one way to find out.
She gripped his hair in an attempt to ground herself as he feasted on her. Shameless in her affirmations and praises, the Wanderer resigned herself that it was going to be a long night.
It's been a long time. Honestly I've kind of lost motivation in playing Genshin so it's kind of hard to write for it. Also most of my time has been spent on work and playing dungeons and drgaons so... Yeah...
Anyhow, here's a thing that fits with the Traveler of Worlds AU. So yeah... I've kinda had this thought running around my head for a while now. I just got to writing it instead of sleeping. XD
I own nothing but the fanfic. Plagiarising and/or copying without express consent from the author is a bad move that will make you lose all your 50/50. I put the spoilers tag just in case. Will also be cross-posting this to my AO3 under the same name.
That being said, enjoy! :3
<>.<>
When she awoke she was surrounded by rime, gleaming like a blue crystal in the sunlight that illuminated her room. Even as the chill of her unforgiving permafrost seeped through her bones, she was not fazed. Her feet touched the floor as she stood up, luxuriating in the light that bathed her bare body, even if the golden light gave no warmth.
There is no warmth for me.
Grabbing her robes of white, lilac, and cobalt, and her shawl of umber, she dressed for the day. There would be matters requiring her attention, but chief of which was…
"Your Majesty?"
Her skirts swished as she turned from the mirror to open her door. There was her favorite Harbinger in her beautiful, cruel, and tragic glory, kneeling on the cold ice. "Stand Rosalyne."
She loved Rosalyne. She loved her ferocity fueled by all the bitterness she had harbored for everything this world decided was correct. She loved her flames and how she was all too willing to be devoured by it for the sake of one man.
She loved Rosalyne because Rosalyne is her.
"Are you leaving for Inazuma?"
Her hand cupped the unmasked side of her face. Despite the Cryo Delusion in her possession, Rosalyne was scorching. Her flesh and blood were nothing more than weapons. Something in her warned that this might be the last time she would see her beloved Harbinger.
Ah… Your flame, Rosalyne, who will take it from you?
"Yes, your majesty. I simply wished to see you before I left."
"Very well," she nodded before pulling her Harbinger down for a peck on the cheek. Her Harbinger was powerful enough to bring gods to their knees, but a strong enough flame would burn her wings off.
Perhaps you might see Rostam once you fall.
"I quite envy you."
"Your majesty?"
She shook her head, stepping back and creating some distance between them. "Farewell Rosalyne." She had said these words several times in her lifetime that they now felt flat and meaningless.
Rosalyne bowed, smiled, and turned to leave for the last time.
On her dresser were two ornate chess pieces: one teal and another an earthy yellow. She regarded them slightly before grasping a delicate white flower with a single blue petal encased in ice.
In her war against the heavens, would she be able to see him again? The thought filled her with hope, but she stamped the embers before they could entice her. A glimpse, she decided; a glimpse would be enough for her.
She was waging this war for him. So perhaps she could allow herself to see him before she falls.
She loved Rosalyne because Rosalyne is her. She would trample the order of this world and pluck the heavens from its place in the sky for him.
There is no warmth for me.
Then let me be that for you.
She needed to move quickly.
"Please…" she implored, knowing that only she could hear the pleas of a heretic. "Please wait for me, my dearest Prince of the Abyss."
I own nothing but the fanfiction. This is inspired by the Kamisato Ayato leaks. Know that I will be whaling for him. :)
TW: There's a creepy creep here so yeah. Be warned.
Cut cause of Inazuma spoilers.
<>.<>
You had pinned your hair a bit too tightly and it was causing a mild headache. Nevertheless you smiled amicably at the complaining officer who demanded to be given a private hot spring, or so help me, in the name of the Shogun, I'll incarcerate you all.
Aisa Bathhouse was immensely popular with the Tenryou Commission officers and as an attendant, you often saw them rush in by sunset. It was the common time in which majority of them finished their jobs and came to unwind. Normally there would be a more expensive private spring that some people from the higher rungs of the Tenryou Commission could use, but it had been reserved for today.
You could not count the amount of times you had bowed in apology to this man. The customer service industry was not a joke, as Susumu-san would often say. This would not be the first time you encountered a rude customer and it would undoubtedly be your last. Briefly you pondered if the compensation was enough to make up for this, before bowing to the man apologetically again.
"I am very sorry sir. I would be happy to direct you to a spring with less people. But I'm afraid that the private baths are all occupied."
He clicks his tongue; you hoped that it was a sign of defeat. But then his eyes roved up and down your body before stopping inappropriately at your chest. The bathhouse's uniform was modest without sacrificing your mobility, but that he would openly ogle you was disgusting.
"I suppose I could let this slide for a price."
It took all of your will to maintain the service industry smile on your face. "I must apologize, sir. Aisa Bathhouse does not offer that kind of services."
He chuckled darkly, leaning over the wooden counter that separated you two. There were heavy bags under his eyes and his skin looked quite unhealthy. You understood that since the dismissal of the Vision Hunt Decree, the Tri-Commission had been hard at work and this poor man was one of those who needed to unwind and relax.
But that did not excuse his behavior towards you.
"I'm not asking the Aisa Bathhouse, girl," he rolled his eyes as if presented with a stupid idea. "I'm asking you."
"And I believe that the lady has made it clear that no such thing will happen."
Your heart sped up and your breath caught in your throat. You knew that voice.
"C-Commissioner Kamisato!!"
The man stood to his full height and saluted the Yashiro Commissioner. You did the same: keeping your eyes on the ground. Despite the weight of his position, Lady Ayaka was the public figure of the Yashiro Commission. Rarely, if ever, did Lord Kamisato leave the estate as his paperwork kept him occupied for days on end.
"The bathhouse truly lives up to expectations. The bath I had rented is now unoccupied. You may use it if you want. I will place the tab on the Yashiro Commission's funding." he said smoothly, tone chillingly sharp.
The man's lips curled in distaste. A private bath was not that expensive and Lord Kamisato's seemingly thoughtful suggestion was an insult to this officer's pride. He bowed, likely clenching his teeth at his lack of power and muttered: "I will have to decline your generous offer, Lord Kamisato."
"Ah is that so. Perhaps we can share a drink sometime. I'll be sure to pay a visit to the Tenryou Commission headquarters."
If possible, the man would have been frozen where he stood. But he eventually staggered away, muttering under his breath. You waited several breaths, listening to the ambient sounds of people milling around outside and the muffled chatter of the patrons in the baths.
"You know, you could have broken his nose."
"Lord Kamisato please," you glanced at him, unimpressed. "What happened to staying incognito?"
"Whatever happened to your good manners?" He teased back, eyes glittering like the sea at midday. It was not easy to pretend to be some damsel who answered to every whim of men with bloated egos.
Especially when you could so easily break their fingers with two of yours.
Or when your employer actually encourages it.
Lord Ayato smirked and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. You were still on duty: both as a receptionist of the bath house and a member of the Shumatsuban. So as instructed, you gave him your best customer service smile.
"We hope to see you again."
<>.<>
It's been a long while but work took up most of my time. I don't know if I'll be super active but I'll try to post every now and then. :)
So I was fooling around at the archipelago and my Xiao glitched to permanent emo mode.
Of course it went back to normal when I restarted the game, but it was cool to see him dash around with that mask on.
I thought it was a permanent thing and my mind went to a bunch of thoughts like
Isn't it kinda implied that Xiao uses his mask to protect his humanity when killing threats to Liyue? It's from the Lantern event right? Something that the fake adeptus mentioned? Somebody fact check me on that. XD
And since this entire archipelago is sus, I thought it might be because there is a small possibility of those ye olden enemies of Liyue here. Ye olden enemies being kinda like remnants of the old gods.
But then again it IS just a glitch and I'm just sharing my thoughts with you. (ʘᴗʘ✿)
last song: Shining Light by Mono Inc., Tilo Wolff
currently reading: Ten Thousand Skies Above You by Claudia Gray; The Left Handed Booksellers of London by Garth Nix; The Kingdom of Copper by S.A. Chakraborty; The New Wife by Kaira Rouda
last movie: The Devil Wears Prada (re-watch)
cravings: Sunshine (too gloomy outside, I hate it)
Tagging: @yearning-moon @chquine @ladyeragontheschytemaster @healing-and-promises @justalittleraven & any other mutuals
Hi hi~! Happy eight months! Writing is agony, I know, but we're hanging in there.
Also if it's alright, might I request angsty HCs with Kaeya? Like maybe the relationship with him starts off like a FWB and then it's all fun and games until you catch feelings and he just can't. Under that context, I guess it's NSFW-ish? But yeah. Please just destroy my feelings. XD
Have a nice day~!! <3
I'm going to apologize in advance; not having written Kaeya before, I may have gotten a few things off-base, but I hope you enjoy!
Technically SFW, but mentions of adult and NSFW themes by nature of the relationship, so full angsty headcanons are under the cut!
At first it was just a means to an end and to get rid of the tension that seemed ever-present. An easy arrangement, one made all the easier, given Kaeya’s habit of never taking anything too seriously (unless it was related to tracking criminals, of course).
To say things were spontaneous was putting it lightly. You found yourself in locations and positions that none of your previous partners ever considered.
There is a synchronicity with Kaeya that, at first, was simply attributed to how strong the friendship was. It was a familiar dance, a push and pull, give and take that left both of you satisfied and always wanting more.
No one ever stayed the night. Even if one of you fell asleep, you managed to creep away before dawn broke.
It always brought a slight blush to your face to think about how you lost a bet and spent a whole evening at Angel’s Share in his lap, laughing off your own ‘misfortune’ when in reality, you were more than pleased with the arrangement. And so was Kaeya.
Whispered teases, lingering touches, flirting without flirting, without final intentions.
There were knowing glances from Diluc, although he never said anything except to be careful. About what, you didn’t know. At least not then.
It snuck up on you, the hunger for more, the craving for something other than physical intimacy.
You tried to bring it up, time and again, brushing off your requests for a warm bed, or even just a night on the town as a joke hidden behind a forced smile every time you parted. Even seeing other people just for those things-dinner with friends or an early morning stroll around the walls of Mondstadt-didn’t do the trick.
In the end, you couldn’t keep quiet about it and forced the topic on a particularly heated night. It would slowly kill you if you didn’t speak your mind.
Words tumbled out, admissions of feelings, of worrying when he was gone longer than expected, of how the world seemed brighter with him beside you, how no one managed to make you laugh as much as he did. That somewhere along the line, you fell, and you fell hard and you know that wasn’t in the plans, but could the two of you at least try for more?
His silence was deafening and you were almost certain your ears began to ring before he spoke.
“I can’t, princess” Kaeya whispered, his voice hoarse. “I can’t give you a heart that I don’t have, a heart I gave away to my country a long time ago.”
Months later, as he betrayed those he considered friends and family, broke away from the Knights of Favonius to stand beside the Abyss Princess, all starglitter and darkness and aching anguish for the countrymen Celestia saw fit to sluaghter, you understood the painful words more acutely than you wished to.
It wasn’t meant to be this way. And in another world, you knew things could, would, be different, if only he had left room in his heart for more.