HC: I'd like to imagine that the feared Second harbinger, Dottore, has a HUGE sweet tooth with no consequences
a/n: this is my first story and headcanon here! please IM TRYING MY BEST
Like what the Raiden Shogun said, "Cavities are no big deal — you can just replace your teeth." Which is the case for Dottore.
He's one of the smartest, most knowledgeable, beings in Teyvat and has conducted countless experiments on others and himself. Surely the Doctor definitely has modified parts of his body. He doesn't replace his organic parts with pure metal covered in synthetic, close to life, skin. That's what his segments are for. Instead what he did is create some sort of serum or potion that allows his teeth to grow back. Perhaps he being the genius he is extracted that ability from a shark, modified it to be able to work on his own body.
You are quite fond of his natural sharp teeth, you think its endearing, sometimes out of pure impulse and much to his irritation, you like to cup his cheeks then spread them open with your thumbs to shape his lips to a smile (more like a grimace from his unwillingness to be part of your shenanigans), in the middle of kissing then proceeding to open his jaw to examine his sharp teeth. No matter how much you see them, you couldn't get enough. He doesn't have it in him to stop you, he's quite fond of that focused and fascinated expression you have plastered on your face when you're interested in something, much more when he's that subject.
What horrifies you is when he would out of nowhere yank out a tooth from his mouth. You two could be hanging out in his lab, he could be in the middle of an experiment, mid conversation, and he wouldn't hesitate or even tell you moments before he yanks out a tooth, insisting that he felt a small ache, immediately recognized it was a cavity and needed to purge the distraction. All while some blood dribbles out of his mouth. Don't worry! It grows back in 10 minutes!
Teeth aside, now onto the cause of his concerning habits.
Fortunately, he doesn't have to worry about any health issues asides from mild cavities that don't even get the chance to develop much. He's immune to every disease and every possible health related problem.
Unfortunately for you, you were still pure 100% human and can be prone to any disease out there. Being the normal human being you are in contrary to your lover, you can't help but also feel horrified when you see Dottore put at least 12 tablespoons of sugar in his drink of choice. 10 teaspoons on a good day. He doesnt sleep often, unless you somehow miraculously convince him to sleep with you that night. He needs all the sugar on top of SOME coffee to keep his mind functioning sufficiently for his experiments and research.
"Would you like some coffee with your sugar?"
Recall that one time, he received a not so satisfactory report from one of his segments due to some unfortunate circumstances in their mission. His expression one moment clouded over with irritation and mild rage, then the next moment much calmer when you, who had been sitting on the office desk with your back faced to the segment during his meeting, had fed him a spoonful of the parfait you had happened to be eating.
From that day onward, the segments make sure to inform you before their creator if their mission went badly just so you could prepare some desserts for your boyfriend so that he doesn't end up possibly wiping out any of the segments you're quite fond of upon hearing the news.
Bonus++
If he cooks for you, which is already a rare occasion on its own. He makes two separate batches for the each of you. One of his batches would follow the normal, healthy amount of sweet that he followed from what he knows or from a recipe, then the other...would be for him, certainly much much sweeter than yours. You dont mind it too much, him constantly eating sweets makes his lips taste like candy!
content: not sfw + old man OG dottore (zandik) + fem!reader + p in v + mocking + you call him sir once + we doing it raw + ass slap + implied edging + implied cckwarming + dottore segments (specifically 45)
NOT PROOF READ
—
It feels surreal. Youve gone months of using the clothes you stole from him and the strange earring with some liquid in it. Months of rutting yourself against his clothes, inserting his elixir in you and coming by yourself with his name out of your mouth.
His skin is in the middle of warm and cold. His ribcage is almost visible throughout his skin. You trace your fingers on his neck, watching his throat while being in disbelief. And when your eyes slide up, Zandik’s piercing red eyes is watching you.
And you shove your head to his throat and nip on his skin. His throat bobs as he gulps and grabs your face quite harshly, before tilting your head up to bite down the side of your neck. A choked gasp is coming out of your mouth.
“What to do with a pathetic girl like you pining after someone decades older?” He nips on your jaw. “Ridiculous.” He mutters as he takes your mouth in for a forceful kiss as his hands wander down to your ass. He squeezes and kneads hard before he starts to move your hips against his.
You softly whine at his words, feeling so shameful at your predicament. On his lap and his cock inside you. And he hasn’t done anything for a while, so moving your hips brings such relief to you that your eyes blur cause of the tears forming.
“Sir, please—“ you yelp as you feel him hitting your ass. You nuzzle into his neck, inhaling his scent. He’s full of metallic smells, sweat and something else you don’t wanna know. But you like it here. Against him, his hands caressing your naked body as he makes you roll your hips on his.
He had showed up at your door. And just in your luck, you had worn his shirt which he recognized immediately. All he showed was a slight turn to his lips as he showed himself inside your home without your permission.
And behind him was other him, but a little taller or bigger in body and with masks over their faces. Zandik told you to ignore them but the one on the bigger side, leans his upper body down to you. And keeps his face so close to yours with a smile on his face, you could only stand there in pure shock. And fear.
And when you had closed the door, Zandik has practically picked up the earring you stole, full with your slick and pocketed it in his pants.
And here you are, on his lap and nuzzling against his neck while waiting for him to fuck you. Or for you to do everything, you don’t mind either way. And he does, after a long moment of not letting you come.
Zandik watches how your face contorts in pleasure as his cock reaches and touches everything inside your gummy walls. Your breasts are heaving up and down as you moan his name. Just as you do when you’re alone, pleasuring yourself to the thought of him.
You put your hands on his chest, lifting your hips up and down and you feel yourself about come. Zandik’s fingers is on your clit and you let out a sweet little cry when he pinches it and you come. Your walls tightened up around his cock and Zandik groans as he comes inside you just a moment after.
Your upper body falls on top of his, as you breathe heavily. His cock is soft inside you as you feel his and your cum leak out of your hole. You lightly moan against his collarbone before burying your face in his chest.
“Are you satisfied yet?” And when Zandik hears a no from you, you felt him squeeze your backside before grabbing your face and kissing you on the mouth.
cw; reader is traveler, angst w/ a happy ending, lore is NOT to be accurate cuz I'm not a fan of the wasted potential, this is only a concept idea, you can steal it
an; As an avid wanderer enjoyer(his wife™), I don't really concern myself with dottore, BUT I can admit how wasted his character-- especially with hoyo using him as their blame card... This is only a concept I thought of, so you can feel free to steal and expand on it if you enjoy it <33
During his lifetime, Dottore had created hundreds— if not thousands of segments, but not one that had gained consciousness and a will of its own. Segments were artificial beings, and they were designed to be something more than a human's working body but less than a human heart.
These segments were an embodiment of different eras, the highlight of them—from a child, more specifically, a version of him dismantling his toys to rebuild them and watch if they behave as a variable, to a young adult who has just joined the harbingers, more specifically, a version of his greed to learn more than he's given permission to. So a segment gaining a consciousness and will of its own was not exactly something intended on purpose.
And we know how Il Dottore gets when things don't go the way he calculated...
You'd expect many things from a segment gaining a consciousness, perhaps it would proud of doing the impossible, or even continue to experiment further on the factors of "why", "how", or what it means for the future projects.
But the last would be seeing is a young Zandik of the Darshan era with fear embedded in every inch of his face as he ran through the halls of the laboratory in an attempt to escape...
The original would not attempt to lie, it intrigued him enough to let it go.
Now, even if years pass, Zandik still roams on the outskirts of nations, believing his presence wasn't welcome in any of the Akedamiya had preserved him as something to not be welcomed into. Not a soul could convince him that he was worth enough to walk the even paths of any city.
Even if Zandik no longer qualified as a segment, it didn't erase the fact that he is what Dottore once was; curiosity was second nature, and risking everything for something for the one percent is what he was made for.
So while he was camping out near the woods of the Mondstadt hill, the bright falling shooting star landing near the coast without an impact that shook the ground nearby had sparked his interest by a lot. What entertained him more was the variable present being you and not a meteor.
You, the self-proclaimed traveler, didn't exactly understand what he spoke, and it didn't take him long to adapt to what you understood—he had to admit, he was quite proud of himself for being able to decode your language.
What was going to be Zandik experimenting on you without your consent and observing you had become into him being your personal guide around Teyvat.
Not only were you dragging him around the various regions of Teyvat like he was some athlete in an adventure guild who did cardio on a daily basis, but you seemed oblivious to the fact that his original was the third-ranking harbinger—who is very much not liked by almost every being on Teyvat—even if he had explained it to you more than five times.
You had single-handedly turned a segment of a rejected Akademiya student for being a deranged manic who accidentally gained consciousness created by his original, who is one of the Harbingers, into a travel guide who wears eye contacts because he didn't want anyone to recognise him as a segment while you dragged him from nation to nation...
He couldn't believe you were the kind to pick him up in a bridal style, without hesitation, in order to flee a scene more easily(he had warned you the cave was filled with a massive boar).
That you make him teach you how to cook because the ingredients of this world is vastly different from what you're used to.
Or when you fight a literal god or harbinger when they've lived beyond a hundred years or have been trained by otherworldly gods.
And worse, the audacity you had to draw your sword when someone dared question his presence, claiming you were his, and if they wanted your help, they were required to respect him(no, he's not red because he is flustered, it's just really hot this morning— he went days in Sumeru's desert without an adequate amount of water...)
Zandik believed that you were truly out of this world to turn him into the person he is today, unaware that it was much more impressive that he had let himself turn to be what you needed...
Hi! May I request some matcha tea from tea prompts with Zandik (OG Dottore) our beloved?
matcha tea; how and when do they propose to their s/o?
Dottore proposed to you once he realized that someone else would take that place first if he didn’t.
Unsurprisingly, the scholar wasn’t one who looked to marriage as something necessary. However, he still considers his relationship with you one of his life’s biggest unforeseen events, even more so since it has passed the test of time, as it has lasted hundreds of years, and he has zero desire to let you go. Perhaps it’s due to this reason why he doesn’t see the need to be united with you in marriage. Really, what could matrimony add to over four hundred years of devotion? Even the simple observation of seeing how many couples get divorced should be substantial evidence that it doesn’t add an unbreakable bond, or a next level of devotion or loyalty. With or without it, his feelings for you wouldn’t change.
But you, being the person you were, liked to challenge his opinion with your own. Your opinion being that you two should get married, of course! You prepared a multitude of reasons to persuade your future husband, writing out a list that rivaled the length of some papers from the Akademiya. You even said you’d personally conduct an experiment on the happiness levels of both of you, detailing the things you would measure. In a way, Dottore was impressed, amused, and wished you put that same level of effort into greater things.
Naturally, he gave credit where credit was due, but remained unchanged. When logic and research had failed, you quickly switched to the next plan - smothering him with affection and sometimes sweet treats for the foreseeable future. It had been going on for a while now, and the segments were well aware too. After all, they were the ones who saw as you made the Harbinger late to experiments as you clung to him tightly, and he practically had to peel you off. This was one such case.
“Prime, you’re late,” a grumpy voice scoffed and echoed through the segments’ shared hive mind. “Again,” Beta decided to add.
“I’m on my way.”
“Let me guess, [Name] held you up again?” Sigma seemed more entertained than annoyed by the situation.
“They never let go once they truly want something. You know how they are.” Alpha mentioned, knowing very well of your dedication as a student.
“They will learn soon enough,” Prime Dottore sighed at the concept of marriage turning you into this. (But he still did appreciate the baked goods you left as offerings, and though they did little to sway him to your side, it did make him reaffirm his love for you.)
“I suppose-”
“Why don’t you want to marry them?!” A sudden, childish voice interrupted the conversation as if he couldn’t hold back his feelings anymore.
“… Why is the brat linked to this conversation?”
“Anyone else would be so happy to marry someone like [Name]! I just don’t understand why you’d say no. You’re making them sad,” Zandy blurted out all at once. The little boy was quite sensitive to your feelings and didn’t know how else to make you feel better other than trying to change Prime’s mind, even if he was a bit scared. At this, the hive-mind was silent for a few moments before someone else spoke.
“You’re right,” Omega, who had been listening in without speaking (as he usually did), finally piped in, having come up with a plan that made a wicked and pleased smile appear on his face. “The poor thing moping around all day does not suit them.” The lack of response from the others signaled agreement, which only made his ever-growing smirk wider.
“Say, Prime,” the tone of voice of his arrogant segment made Dottore know that Omega was up to no good, “since you don’t see the purpose in marrying them, why don’t I do it?”
Though the hive-mind was quiet before, now it was dead silent, all awaiting Prime’s response.
Logically speaking, seeing how Dottore had little interest in marriage, believing it to be a waste of time, the clone’s suggestion shouldn’t have bothered him. But the reality was it did - it made him feel… annoyed? The mere thought of such a thing happening left a bad taste in Prime’s mouth, and he had to shut it down, even if he sounded unreasonable.
“No. You, none of you,” Dottore had to clarify before any of his other segments got the wrong idea, “are doing such a thing,” the scholar said without hesitation.
“Oh? But I don’t need to do anything. I only need to bring up the idea to [Name], even if it’s for the briefest moment, and they would take care of everything on the spot. I wouldn’t need to lift a finger. And then surely you wouldn’t forbid something that makes them happy?” The segment sounded rather confident in his idea. And yet before Dottore could come up with an apt response, he was saved by bickering.
“That’s well and all, but why would they say yes to you of all people?”
Omega’s smile was slightly dented by the interruption of his other selves, but he refused to engage in pointless discussion.
“If anything, I believe I’d be a more suitable candidate,” another one said.
“None of you even know how to treat them properly.”
“Oh, and you do?”
“...” The poor child wondered if he had made matters worse.
“That’s enough,” Prime Dottore finally snapped, which made the argument in his mind cease. “No one is to speak of this anymore.” And with that and some grumbling, the topic of marrying you was dropped (for now).
As headache-inducing as that conversation was, it provided some insight for Zandik. He supposed marriage carried more weight on his heart than he believed, seeing that he disliked the idea of another one of his selves laying such a claim on you that he didn’t possess. Not to mention, initially, the scholar thought that this would be one of those things you get bored with and eventually forget about, but seeing how persistent you continued to be, that may not be the case.
And so, after some more pondering on his own, some more poking from you, and some lingering looks from the other segments, Zandik let go of his previous views and decided to entertain your desire for marriage. Even though he knew you didn’t care much for all the formalities and extravagance, now that he was actually going to go ahead with this, he might as well put effort into it. It was something you really wanted, after all.
The first step was to procure two rings. Usually, that would be an expensive endeavor, but the scholar was intelligent with both his mind and hands. The first one was a simple one, embedded with only the finest Noctilucous Jade that he had in his lab. He figured you’d enjoy the blue color.
But the actual wedding ring showed more of his unconventionality. Welding parts from the machines he once was obsessed with - machines that brought him closer together with you when he was a student - he shaped the metal into the perfect band, not before putting a smaller, glowing core of a Ruin Guard in the middle. It was very Dottore-like and therefore perfect for you.
Now, Dottore had to move on to the other parts. If he really wanted it to be grand, he would have taken you to Sumeru for two or three days, but unfortunately, time and work did not allow that on such quick notice. Perhaps he should keep it simple instead? After all, he had not told you that he’d accepted your request for marriage, deciding to keep it a surprise, and so you’ve still been hovering around him with pleading eyes. If he acted any differently, it would surely catch your inquisitive eye. Yes, that would do. Lowering your guard and waiting for the right moment to strike would be most efficient and produce the most amusing reaction out of you.
It finally happened one night when you were cuddling with Dottore in his room. It was a much-needed moment of respite for both of you. You were cutely curled up into him, stealing his warmth as his fingers ran along your sides while you made a noise of comfort. This was the perfect time to pop the (silly) question.
Bringing you into a kiss, the scholar masterfully captured your lips, drawing all your attention to him. You didn’t even notice when he slipped the band down your finger, but for the next few minutes, you had a feeling something was up from the look he was giving you.
“… What?” You furrowed your eyebrows at the mischievous glint in his red eyes.
“Nothing, darling,” he even smiled, thumbing your lips, which only made you more suspicious.
“You’re up to something,” you observed.
“Am I?” You only huffed at his response as you raised your hand to stroke his cheek, loving the sensation of his bare skin… until you realized the cool sensation that rubbed against him with you. You blinked once, and then twice, and on the third blink, you nearly jumped out of bed at the glimmering ring around your finger.
“I-, Zandik, is this what… what I think it is?!” Before you could examine it further, your lover took hold of your hand and pressed a kiss to it.
“I have been thinking about your desire for a while,” Dottore began. “I suppose that I have to experience marriage for myself to draw a proper personal conclusion instead of relying on external information. But furthermore… it is… very obvious how much this excites you. And if it truly makes you happy, I’ll play along for you. So, you’ve won me over this time. Let us get married.” Even without the segments, a part of him knew he’d give in anyway, your emotionally charged words persuading him more than logic in the end. You always had a knack for that, ever since the two of you were young.
The look on your face was adorable - wide eyes and parted lips, trying to find the proper words to respond to his proposal.
“R-Really…? You’ll get married to me and stay with me forever and ever?”
“I already planned to do the latter, but that is correct.”
“Awwww, I love you soooo much, Zandik!” You practically launched yourself into your life’s partner and squeezed him tight. “I can’t wait! Trust me, you’re going to end up loving it!!”
“Well then, I still expect to be regularly updated on the results of your experiment.”
“I guarantee you that they’ll be one of the most successful ones you’ve ever heard!”
(According to some reliable sources [see The Fatui’s Handbook - Lord Dottore Edition], on occasion, [Name] can be seen wearing a grand total of nine rings on their fingers for some reason - but the one on their ring finger never leaves.)
In which you help the original human Zandik get a little bit of relaxation into his otherwise busy schedule
Notes: The following fic has been in wip hell for a year since I typed this singular sentence at 3am "old man prime zandik being old and getting his dick sucked in the shower and it's so good that he's crying and his soul leaves through his pebis". I'm so horny for this old man I can't even verbalise it.
Tags: Il Dottore x reader, established relationship, pet name (darling), implied age gap, reader has hair, smut, oral m receiving, shower sex, irresponsible water usage
2.4k, reblogs and comments much appreciated
Minors DNI
Do Not use for ai
Doors being slammed shut was nothing new.
The brutal winds that raged outside always found their way into the corridors of the palace, making certain that no matter how gentle the person there would always be some violence to the act of leaving or entering. Still, with the way every piece of glassware and the countless scattered tools rattled, you had no doubt that the vast majority of force came from your lover's annoyance.
"Zandik?"
Not entirely surprising, the call of his name went verbally unanswered, leaving you to wince with every indignant click and scrape of his cane against the tiles. You'd already put your book aside, debating if it would be futile to offer assistance despite how the urge to do so crawled like beetles beneath your skin.
It was truly a terrifying thing how rapidly Zandik's body had decayed over the past few years. Having never fully understood the premise enabling the segments to exist, you could only infer from the state of the man hobbling through the living room and collapsing into an armchair that it was a closed system. There was a finite amount of 'life' to share between them, and the body that truly breathed would suffer the most from having a reduced amount.
Of course, he was also getting old as any human would. For all his brilliance and stubborn temper, there had been little he could do to spare himself from atrophy.
"You're staring again," he grumbles, audibly straining to settle into a comfortable position.
You huff, shaking your head to distract from how right he was, "I was thinki-."
"Judging," Dottore corrects, spreading his arms in a mockery of flamboyance, "tell me then, what is your verdict?"
"You look," the words weighed heavily upon your tongue, yet not nearly as heavily as the guilt for adding to his worries weighed upon your heart, "like someone who would benefit from a week of rest."
The creases around his eyes grew deeper as you spoke, only making him appear all the more worn. Zandik discarded his leather gloves with almost painful carelessness, revealing hands that now bore more bruises and cuts than you could care to count but only longed to kiss. Your chest tightened at the sight, such dexterous tools reduced to a shaking mess.
He tossed the monocle aside to better rub at his eyes. The dark circles beneath only seemed to grow with each passing day despite Zandik now maintaining the healthiest sleep schedule he had in decades. Possibly centuries. Not that he had much choice, unable to keep himself awake far into the night.
"What an astute observation. You know very well I can't do that if I want to keep the rest in line. They're already plotting, I know they are. Perhaps you are as well?"
Your body shifts to face him fully, trying to school your expression before he can spot the look of pity. This was no time for you to feel hurt at the accusation he'd so carelessly tossed into the space between you. Zandik had never taken well to your inquiries about his health, but it was clear that he felt less secure in his position these days, always snapping at and punishing anyone under his authority.
You sigh, giving him a once-over while trying to piece together memories of days that bled into each other. "How about accompanying you into a shower instead?"
Zandik mimics your sigh, his shoulders slumping in what had to be defeat. The subtle nod of his head could easily be mistaken for exhaustion, but you get up all the same to stand between his legs, offering a hand instead of the cane.
There's nothing dignified about how you lead him towards the bathroom, one arm wrapped so firmly around his waist that your bicep starts to cramp up within the first ten steps. Meanwhile Zandik, so used to being by himself that it is more than second nature, hobbles at your side while clearly trying to put as little weight onto you as possible. Absolutely infuriating that for all the years spent together, learning to rely on each other, the moment he truly needed aid with something so tangible as moving about, he pulled back into the shell of that lonely boy he'd told you about.
The child who'd been cast aside and scorned by all.
Who'd set his sight on something impossible, on transcending every rule laid out by reason. Whether to earn the praise and acceptance of his peers, or to prove once and for all that they had been right to think him a monster was something you'd never truly been able extract from him.
Your heart, and the mood, sank further once you'd gotten him undressed. Though aware that it was decades since he could last have been considered conventionally attractive, his body having long been littered with the results of countless experiments performed on himself, it was clear that the sudden turn for the worse had caused him grief. Now, Zandik would shy away from your gaze, curling in on himself as if to shield wrinkled skin and the jarring loss of muscle from you.
"..here," you muttered, helping him step into the shower and down onto the shower stool.
It was quiet while you undressed yourself, the lack of smoldering eyes roaming your form somehow more disturbing than their presence had ever been.
"I can still wash myself, you know."
You hummed, stepping in beside him and turning on the water, angling it away from both of your bodies to let the icy stream heat up. Stepping directly under the water was a mistake you only made once in Snezhnaya, the biting cold akin to millions of glass shards shredding the skin.
"Yeah, but doing it together is more comfortable, right?" A small smirk tugged at your lips while slowly moving your wrist until the freezing water hit his feet, causing Zandik to jerk in surprise. "And it lets me do that."
For a moment, silence and tension choked the air before it was broken by a raspy chuckle. "Cruel monster, kicking a man who is already down.."
Relief bubbled in your chest, the little smile on your lover's lips a treasure more precious than the sum of whatever exotic acquisitions The Regrator had stashed away. And these days at least, it seemed exactly as rare.
"Don't they say cold showers are healthy?"
The look he shot you was almost scathing, but in that fond way where his eyes crinkled at the corners. "I suppose every sane man must have his limits."
You laughed, testing the temperature of the water with your hand. It was warm enough that you placed the showerhead back above you both. "And you draw the line at cold showers?"
"Absolutely."
Silence settled between you, but no longer the kind that could choke you like smoke, this was comfortable. Zandik slowly relaxed a little when you stepped behind him and began rubbing at his shoulders. His hair had gotten messy from neglect, so you took your time slowly untangling the knots before reaching for shampoo.
By the time steam coiled around your ankles, Zandik seemed to have shed his earlier reservations and was leaning against your legs, his head turned so his cheek was pressed against your stomach. If not for the little grunts and groans of pleasure you'd have thought him asleep. There was something about how swiftly his guard had dropped despite everything that made your chest flutter.
You reached for a washcloth and let warm water soak through before leaning down to carefully scrub his shoulders and chest. Both of your arms were draped around him in a near hug as you wiped away layers of grime and dead skin. Every little grumble when you were being too rough was soothed by pressing a kiss to the tip of his ear.
Even sweeter was the little sound of protest when you moved away, one shaky hand gripping and squeezing your thigh for as long as he could reach. Zandik's eyes widened when you sank to your knees in front of him. Any attempt at hiding himself behind his arms was abandoned within seconds when he caught your little smile. You watched him roll his eyes, careful not to let any semblance of pity into your expression.
"Want me to shave you after?"
Zandik snorted and shook his head. "Even if there were infinite parallel timelines, there wouldn't be a single one where I let you close to my neck with a sharpened blade."
Both of you chuckled, memories of countless times where you'd hastily helped him shave spots that he'd missed or forgotten coming to mind. But he always said that same thing. He leaned into the touch when you cupped his cheeks, thumbs running along the patchy stubbles that he insisted on calling a beard.
You released his face and instead leaned forward, pressing a kiss just beneath his belly button and trailing your lips down the thick patch of hair. Zandik jerked and you immediately felt an almost frantic pull at your hair.
"Don't-"
"Relax," you whispered. It didn't do much, but Zandik did go quiet. The interested twitch of his soft length told you what you needed to know. He might still feel embarrassed, but his base desires remained. "Let me remind you how much I love every inch of you."
You pushed his legs open a little further, shuffling forward on the wet floor as water continued to drip down both of your bodies. Zandik shivered beneath your touch as soon as your lips met his inner thigh. A quiet hum left you when he tugged at your hair once more, not as insistent and certainly not to pull you away this time, but impatiently trying to guide you towards his crotch.
That little glimpse of your arrogant and selfish lover made you smile. Another time you might have teased or even scolded him, but now you simply obliged and pressed a kiss to his soft tip.
The skin was soft and a little wrinkled, cooler to the touch than the rest of him. You wasted no time poking your tongue out and licking up along him, water collecting on your tongue and dripping down your chin. Above you, Zandik sighed in pleasure and you heard the little thud of his head hitting the wall behind him.
Breathless sounds soon filled the enclosed space as you continue to lick and kiss while he steadily grew harder. One of your hands gently cupped his balls while the other rubbed at his hip, everything about him having turned soft and pliant where there used to be nothing but hard lines and lean muscle. Perhaps you should make sure to tell him that you appreciated this new development, no longer having to worry about protruding bones pressing uncomfortably against you when cuddling.
Zandik groaned in relief when you took his tip between your lips and suckled, tasting a little hint of tangy pre when you pressed your tongue against the slit. You felt him twitch against your tongue, his hips momentarily pushing against your hand in an attempt to get deeper. Once more you obliged, wanting nothing more than to satisfy the man breathing shakily above you.
Slowly, you lowered your head and took all of him into your mouth, relishing how every muscle in his body seemed to tense up.
"Darling.. careful.."
You wrapped a hand around the base and squeezed before hollowing your cheeks. The pull at his length and your aid in keeping the blood vessels constricted made Zandik hiss out your name in another warning.
It had been a while since he'd let you this close, clearly, he was pent up and hard pressed to keep himself under control. Well, you'd just have to show him that there was no reason to hold back.
You began bobbing your head, small movements at first while your tongue rubbed along the prominent vein on the underside of his shaft. Your movements steadily grew until you were pulling back and leaving just the tip between your lips. Every time, you tried to look up at Zandik and enjoy the way he had brought one hand to his lips to bite down and stifle his sounds.
It didn't work half as well as he undoubtedly hoped, a strangled whimper leaving him when you took all of him into your mouth and swallowed.
"I said careful-.."
He cried out when you did it again, tugging harder at your hair this time. His hips weakly bucked beneath you, thighs trembling on either side of your body.
Zandik's release was sudden and for a moment you feared that he might fall onto the floor with how he was writhing as small spurts of his seed shot into your mouth. You dutifully swallowed, keeping him inside for a while longer while both your hands were stroking along his hairy thighs. Only when you pulled back and turned off the water did you realize that tears had been gathering in his eyes.
It made your heart squeeze with fondness and pride, having reduced him to such a mess so easily. He truly had been pent up.
"You expect me to just-..." Zandik paused momentarily to heave a sigh. "Get up and walk to bed after that?"
You gave his knee a little pat, careful not to put any real force behind it. "Well it's not like I can carry you."
One hand came to rest atop your head and play with the wet strands of hair. Without the water running, the water that clung to your skin was swiftly becoming unpleasant. You knew you should get up and fetch a pair of plush towels before either of you got cold, but perhaps you could both be allowed just a moment longer of this fragile peace.
A devious idea wriggled its way to the forefront of your mind and you perked up, lips pulled into a grin that you couldn't control. "How about this.. if you're in bed within the next few minutes, I'll do this again."
The idea seemed like lightning striking a sleeping body when it registered in his mind. Zandik sat up straight within seconds, too much going on behind those crimson eyes. No doubt he was plotting how to get out and dry as fast as possible.
contains: hurt/little comfort, character death | based off 6.6 spoilers | 1.7k wc
There was little to do in the hour left you had to mourn. To mourn the life that was destined to end, were it not for fate then it most certainty would’ve been nature itself. This had to be fate playing a cruel hand to you and your lover. The one who’s bedside you sat besides, much older and frailer than you remember. Zandik, the only love of your life, the one you would’ve been laying with were it not for his insistence on your life to extend past that of his own. You, ageless and forever in your prime. You once stood together like that, in the prime of both of your lives. Oh, just where had the time gone? It felt like only yesterday you two were mapping out the laboratory granted to Zandik- or rather, Dottore as a Fatui Harbinger. If only time had been kinder, then maybe your partner wouldn’t be breathing as if he was expected to rather than with ease.
The decline began when the back aches began. These weren’t the usual pains Dottore would feel when stretching after a long night spent filing paperwork away, researching, and working at his desk. No, this pain was lasting. A gentle reminder for him to take care of his health better; you lectured him until he’d eventually come to rest with you. You seemed more aware of his health than he ever was, almost ironic considering he was supposed to be the doctor here. He was fifty years old at that point. Plenty of time for Dottore to consider his health seriously.
“It’s rather late, don’t you think? I’m quite tired myself.” As if you were the harbinger himself, you simply waltzed inside at some point. If you had just arrived, he wouldn’t have known, as his work kept his attention occupied to the point of extreme focus. Most of the work given could only be oversaw by The Doctor himself. The paperwork that covered his desk spoke enough in its own sheer volume.
“Which begs the question as to why you are here yourself, my dear.” Your retort came quickly, as expected of someone of your diligence. “Don’t turn this around on me, Zandik. I expect you to be in bed at least twice a week.” The faintest sound of a hum emitted from the Harbinger. “You would rather have me tonight than tomorrow?” Never had he outright declined you regarding this arrangement you had set for the two of you. It had begun as more of a compromise, now it had turned into its own rule.
Your approach came from behind, arms wrapped around his neck as if to pull him into a rest just with your touch alone. If only you’d stay like this for a bit longer, he quite liked the feeling.
It wasn’t long before the Doctor would be in bed with you.
Now, was seeing Zandik with gray hairs common? Of course, he was often stressed due to his responsibilities as a Harbinger. It was no surprise to you or him, it was however a notable sight to see his light locks begin turning less blue and more muted. You acknowledged then exactly what it told, it was his age showing. After decades, it seems his age was becoming more obvious by the years that passed in handful. Neither of you lamented on this, it would be unnecessarily consuming for the time you two had left.
Initially you had been insistent on aging on with him. It felt disturbing to know your beloved Zandik was going to eventually leave you sooner rather than later. The endless march of death seemed more of a bother than an inevitability, you would’ve been just fine to die right with him. As sad as it may sound, you did not have anyone but him. Zandik, likewise, had nobody else other than you. Though Pantalone was a good friend, his closest, there was only one person like you who fit into the slot of his organic heart.
You two only had each other, which worked now and especially back in the akademiya. To lose him would be losing a part of yourself you had never learned to let go, regardless of his actions and deeds you never once planned to abandon him. Yet now you were faced with the difficult decision of needing to live on for him. Eventually you would find the will to live on for yourself, but that would take a while, maybe forever if you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge your own pains.
It was within your best interest to focus on other matters that would not cause you stress or headaches. Omega had said, almost insisted really, while attempting to console you. You chose to not bring the topic up to him thereafter.
The sight of Zandik, now so frail, so utterly aged. He looked too human to resemble the monster his village swore him to be, laid like this. Eighty years old, much older now. He didn’t quite resemble the Doctor you knew, it almost seemed as if that rigid scholar you knew back in the akademiya had returned in a way, though not with the energy and youth. It was more so his overall behavior.
He was far less reserved with his mannerism, though he needed assistance to get around now, which you happily aided him in. There was a light that wasn’t there before, a flickering one at that, still there, nonetheless. When he began using a wheelchair was when you’d take him on walks throughout the lab or around Zapolyarny Palace. Those walks were nice, you’d like to think he enjoyed them as much as you did. Though you weren’t quite sure he enjoyed the walks for himself, he seemed to always be looking your way. As if there was a view he just couldn’t miss, not even for the dimming world around him.
You, ever unchanging even after so many years. Even if you had chosen to leave this world alongside him, the odds of you changing then were almost close to none. You truly were a constant, the variable he never foresaw. A variable he’d never trade not even for the world.
“I think it’s time we head to your room. I’ll have Eta visit you later, he has a lot of drawings to show you.” Though he didn’t respond, he nodded his head at your words. A smile dawned your expression at that, you needn’t for a response anyway.
Then came the day you had to say goodbye to Zandik, for the last time.
His health began to rapidly decline around a year ago, the segments showed no outward care for the old man’s health, only the status of his being. While you did adore the segments, you couldn’t help but feel a certain type of way at their apathy. It was almost staggering how little they did for Zandik, their own creator, in his time of need. Your spouse was dying, yet not even the versions of himself could bring themselves to care unless there was a new change to observe.
Truly, you loved them. You really did, but right now it was hard to bring yourself around them, especially the younger segments. They were less reserved than their older counterparts, which made their crude comments all the more hurtful. While their efforts to keep quiet when you were around were appreciated, it was blatantly obvious when the room would fall silent when you entered that they were talking about him. Just what plans did they have for his body after he was gone? Did they even care enough to think about that? The thought of burying Zandik made you feel nauseous. Could you even bring yourself to remove his body?
Those thoughts rummaged through your head, burying themselves within the deepest cracks of your mind, all while you walked beside Omega. Your distress may have been too prevalent throughout your walk to Zandik’s room, you really couldn’t hide your pain anymore.
“The option to turn back now would bear no consequences, I will have you aware, █████.” Neither of you stopped, simply slowed the pace of which you walked. His tone was as easy as his words, which sounded far too hard for you to even consider. Much less think about, just how could he say such a thing? “His conscious is hardly there.” “Even so, Zandik still needs me, Omega.” Nothing changed in the segment's expression, his face as unreadable as his intention. Loyalty was a trait of which you wore like a badge and extended to those you cared for so eagerly. Your loyalty or care was not a question. “If that is your decision, my dear.”
Now you were here, by his side as you always had been. He wasn’t awake, he needed as much rest as possible these days. Though he was not awake or could hear your words, his hearing was also one of the many things his decline had tainted, you still spoke. “It’s just... not fair.” then it began, the downpour of your emotions rushing in all at once, like a crashing current forcing you to let it out. The heat to your face and blurring of your eyes were overwhelming, as was the breaking of your heart. Taking ahold of his hand felt nice, despite how brittle and unfamiliar they were now. His hands were the only ones you would ever want to feel in the palm of your own. “...I'm sorry, I’m so sorry-” Apologies came as if they were owed and, in a way, they were, just not from you.
There would be no goodbyes left unsaid. Stories came so naturally through broken cords. The squeezes to his hand were the most you could do to let him know even in his rest that you were here, that you would not leave his side until it was necessary. If only the world had been kinder, then maybe you two would have been happier. The future had never looked so bleak until now.
Unfortunately, by the time you’d return to his room by morning to see him, just one more time. Omega would have already told you he was gone.
; yandere, written before lohen and snezhnaya's release, snegurochka fae (y/n), freakhen creephen yanhen you get the point, obsession, branding (in the sense that..), brief implied assault, (y/n) is a passive character because she's a fae not well-versed in human culture and fae morals differ please keep that in mind because she really just lets him do whatever, proofread to the best of my ability.
; Your glacial heels barely crossed the threshold of the Anemo Archon’s land before you found yourself your very own tour guide. Wearing a paldron and cape with an emblem on his chest, he looked the very part of a knight, even going as far as to bend down with his arm stretched and the other hidden from view, awaiting your hand. It’s rare for Mondstadt to receive a Snowland Fae like you, he had said. Let me show you around the city, Miss Snowflake.
It has been five days since, and you’ve been ensnared by him for at least two.
Your luggage (or lack thereof) is minimal: a Cryo Vision for keeping up appearances and a hefty pouch of Mora sponsored by your mother. Two items that you can hold with just one hand, yet the gentleman who made it his personal mission to be your guide – Sir Lohen, as you’d call him after being informed of his status as a knight – insists that he holds your belongings for you while escorting you to your lodging, the Goth Grand Hotel.
He even took your room key, claiming there’s no need for you to open your room yourself. He’ll gladly do it for you.
Thinking that it’s part of Mondstadt’s culture to be so accommodating to visitors from afar, you agreed. You follow closely behind him, trusting his judgment and expertise as he winds through the maze-like hallways of the Goth Grand Hotel. The interchanging sounds of him chewing gum or humming a tune you’re not familiar with dominate the silence, your gloved hand fiddles with its lace scalloped edge, unsure how to approach him entirely.
Faes teach their youngins the importance of being alone fresh out of the womb. It’s a paranoia caused by the fall of Hyperborea – the Fae’s population diminishes with each passing decade, and as such, independence is instilled as soon as possible. Should the parents die, the young will survive on their own. But in the process of your parents leaving you be for most of your childhood, it stunted your ability to socialize. You had no fae friends your age, the human children outlived you too quickly, and you were their only child.
While not completely inept, you… don’t know how to talk to an eccentric person like Sir Lohen. Or could it be that this is how humans beyond Snezhnaya act?
“We’re here!”
Your guide rouses you back to the present. When you come to, he’s standing right outside your hotel room, single-handedly fishing out the hotel keys from his pocket. He doesn’t bother waiting for your initiative before inserting the key and unlocking the door – you don’t mind, it’s your first time being a tourist, and you are grateful for Sir Lohen’s proactive nature.
He holds the door open for you, and you nod at him before entering. The interior has you awing at the sight; despite mainly housing Fatui delegates, the Goth Grand Hotel’s walls and ceilings scream Mondstadt. You prefer it this way, seeing more Snezhnograd buildings while on a supposed trip would make you sick.
Centerfold of the room, an emblem hangs high and proud, mounted on the wall like a trophy. You turn to the side, intending to ask Sir Lohen about it, only to stare in confusion when you see that he hasn’t moved an inch from the closed door. He’s intensely staring right at it – rather, something on it.
“...Sir Lohen? Is something wrong?”
He casts you a glance before signaling you over, “Yeah, there is.”
Now standing beside him, you finally see what’s caught his attention. “Oh?”
Unnoticeable at first glance, the moment you see the disparity, you can never unsee it again. Around eye level on the door is a hole the size of a drilling nail – just big enough to see inside. You wonder how long this has been around and why this hole came to be; is it for infiltration purposes? Fatuis are a hotspot in this place. Information is a form of currency, too.
“Should I talk to that old man about this?” Sir Lohen asks, eyes flickering to your face.
You’re perplexed, staring right back at him, “Why? I’ll only be staying here until the end of the week – I find it quite pointless to do so.”
He’s silent for a second or two before shrugging, easily letting the issue go, “Alright, if you say so. If you’re done here, we can head out.”
“I would be, but… my Vision and Mora pouch are still within your possession, so if you’d please…”
He hides your items from view and cheekily grins, “What? Not a chance! I’ll carry this for you until the day ends, Miss Snowland Fae.”
Sir Lohen takes you to a quaint restaurant you glimpsed hours ago: Good Hunter, a must-visit for tourists. He had kindly paid for both meals using his own money, something you frowned upon and insisted that he take out a portion from your Mora pouch to pay for your own meal. As with all things with him, he operates by his own wants and needs, so he pretended to be deaf until the food arrived.
Your order, Fisherman’s toast, sits piping hot on its plate. The steam emanating has you subtly inching away, fearful it’d melt your ice-cold face off. It most likely won’t, but your aversion to heat is instinctual; knitted into your race. Your companion takes immediate note of it too, for he loudly clears his throat and points to your untouched meal, as if his perfectly poised Tea Break Pancakes were anywhere near being finished.
“Not liking it, Miss Fae?”
You shake your head, “It smells delicious, but we Snegurochka Faes are more susceptible to heat than our other kin. I’m merely waiting until it cools off.”
Being burned from the inside is not ideal. You could use Fae magic, but you’re unsure if Mondstadt approves of such practices. With alchemy being banned in Snezhnaya, it’s not out of the realm of possibilities for other nations to forbid other sources of power.
“Oh, that’s it? I can use my vision to cool it off!”
He needs no objections. A blast of cryo shoots from his hand, instantly freezing your Fisherman’s Toast and supplementing you with a cool, icy breeze in the same breath. Had it been anyone else, they’d be forced to thaw the objectively ruined meal. But this state of frozen is perfectly ideal for you; you are incredibly grateful.
Your fork attempts to penetrate through the frozen toast, but all it manages is to get a few ice shavings. “This is… commendable. I must repay you in kind, Sir Lohen.”
Equivalent exchange is important among Faes; you will be condemned to Celestia if you let his favor go unseen.
He smiles at your compliment, pushing his plate towards the middle. “Really? Then I suppose it’s not too much to ask that you feed me?”
Your head snaps to attention, instantly meeting his cheeky grin and scheming eyes. “I’m sorry?”
You truly do not know how to talk to a human like Sir Lohen. He may be sent from the heavens to help you navigate through this foreign country, but he catches you off guard in times like this.
“Please feed me, dear Fae.”
He chuckles and passes his fork to you, nodding in encouragement. Reluctantly, you take it, unpleasantly frowning at the warmth his body heat left on the item. Your eyes dart from the Pancakes to his tilted, smiling face, contemplating whether you should heed his wish. But to feed a human… surely this counts as giving them food, no? And for a Fae to offer food to a human…
You shake your head. That’s illogical, this meal came from his own pockets. It’s illogical. Still, what if? What if it falls under that tradition? then you’d have a human you hadn’t intended to have on your hands. Sir Lohen is human, he’s not aware of Fae traditions like you are. Pushing the plate back to his side of the table, you return his fork, gently slotting it between his fingers apologetically.
“Due to… certain restrictions, I’m afraid I cannot do that, Sir Lohen. But please don’t be deterred from holding this favor I owe you on future occasions.”
“Aww, why not?” He pouts, fingers curling in on the utensil, undeterred by the thin layer of frost that formed, “Scared you won’t like me?”
You blink, taking a clean bite out of your frozen toast, “I don’t quite follow what you mean?”
He gives you an enigmatic smile in turn, silently watching you devour your food from a frozen mess until all that’s left are soggy crumbs.
The slightest sensation of warm sunlight dancing on your skin has you stirring awake, the distaste for heat ever so present. You withdraw your body from its touch and flutter your eyes open. Immediately, you see the curtains parted all the way, generously welcoming the unwanted guest into your hotel suite. It’s pure absentmindedness on your part; you swore the curtains were drawn when you went to bed last night, or had Sir Lohen visited you with the room key he possessed and thought you’d do well with the cold air heralding into your room?
That would be thoughtful of him, even if he failed to account for the fact that the sun would rise hours later. But it doesn’t matter much to you – closed or drawn curtains.
You lay the thoughts of a possible late-night visitor to rest, and with a swish of your hand, begin undressing yourself using Fae magic. Left in your bare state – the almost translucent icy parts on your skin intermingling with normal human flesh on full display to an audience of no one else but the figure now standing just outside your door.
Your mother taught you to never let a guest wait for too long. Conjuring icy mists of pale cobalt blue, you make an outfit for yourself in the blink of an eye. A Dirndl flows into fruition, dreamily swaying when you turn around to approach the peephole. Peeking in, you see expect to Sir Lohen tapping his foot, impatient. What greets you instead is a dark plane of space with a red line in the middle.
You realize it a second later: Oh, Sir Lohen is staring right back at you. You’d know his pupils anywhere with how eyecatching he is. Had he seen you nude, then? You hope he’s not the type of human to take bareness as something scandalous. Twisting the doorknob open, you smile at him and, to confirm, “I hope you didn’t mind seeing me stripped off my clothes, Sir Lohen. I respect human culture, I truly do.”
He throws his head back and laughs, voice cracking in every other ‘haha’ he lets out. He even grabs onto his stomach. Is it that funny? It couldn’t have been… but he tends to laugh at the most unexpected situations, you surmise. Just yesterday, after finishing your meal at Good Hunter, he saw a running child trip on a stray rock and fall to the ground with a loud splat. You rushed to help her up, applying cool air to her wounded knee when you heard his cackling just a few feet away. The child cried solely from the humiliation he subjected her to.
Today, you’re the main subject of his humor. Left standing in your doorway, watching him until his laugh fizzles out into wheezes, and lastly, a final, pleased sigh. Comically, he wipes a stray tear from his eyes. “Don’t fret, I don’t mind at all. I never knew Snegurochka Faes’ bodies were like that. I think I almost saw your actual sternum – you really are part ice, huh, Miss Snowflake?”
“I am.” You step outside so he can lock the door for you. “Where will we be going today, Sir Lohen?”
A click in place, and he’s back to pocketing your room key once more, “The Favonius HQ.”
You gasp in wonder, “They allow outsiders to visit?”
“Not usually,” Sir Lohen shrugs, walking ahead to act as your navigator, “But they know better than to interfere with me.”
He must be a respected figure among his faction.
His remark proves to be true when, despite being thrown curious and gauging looks the moment you enter the headquarters, the knights present in the vicinity dared not intervene when they saw Sir Lohen coldly staring them down, silently challenging anyone brave enough to tell him off. No such person ever came; the trip to the training grounds was undisturbed.
You stand under the shade as Sir Lohen sets his eyes straight on an arrangement of weapons organized on top of velvet. He picks up a dagger, turns it back and forth with a hum, and asks, “Say, you ever held a weapon before?”
You think back to your childhood: the solitude and mountains of hardback books as your only companions. Your parents would visit you every three years, told you they were proud of your studies, before you were dragged back to books and quill pens. It had gotten better over time, but the lonely, little Fae girl still lives in you from time to time.
You retreat further into the shadows, feeling the sun shift ever so slightly, “No, why do you ask?”
He keeps the dagger and approaches your spot, haphazardly tossing the weapon a few inches in the air and catching it without even looking. Murky eyes are fixated on you, watching a bead of sweat roll down your neck.
He snaps his head to face you, now smiling, “Want me to teach you?”
Without warning, the tip of the blade is teased on your collarbone, slowly being dragged from one end to the other. You tense, you have no qualms about being taught by Sir Lohen, but the temperature of the blade–
“I-it’s warm,” you cautiously take a step back, backside meeting cobblestone, “I’ll start melting if you keep that blade on my skin, Sir Lohen.”
“Don’t say that, it’ll get me going.” He chuckles, pressing the edge of the blade to his exposed skin, “Must’ve been left out there in the sun. You really aren’t fond of heat, huh?”
You shake your head, sighing pleasantly when his free hand suddenly cups your face, seeping Cryo energy into your body. He regulates it back to its normal state of coolness. “As I’ve mentioned, I would melt or burn.”
“Poor thing, you’re like a snowman,” He coos, pouting, “Rest assured, you’ll be nice and cold in my care, (Y/N).”
Sir Lohen escorts you back to your hotel room hours later, Cryo vision still being used to cool you. Hand pressed to his chest, he bowed before leaving your room.
You never understood the humans back in Snezhnograd, and the current one growing closer to you is even more puzzling. But you don’t feel the urge to understand him – akin to letting flowing water be, you feel it’s better if you allow Sir Lohen to be his unique self.
It’s not easy to get lost in Wolvendom, Sir Lohen assured you when you first set out past Mondstadt City and crossed the stone bridge. Even in the surrounding lands, there’s not much danger to be found so strictly staying within the city walls is, in his words, “Boring. There’s more to Mondstadt than that! Come on, I’ll show you.”
Hence why, while carrying a small bag he borrowed from a surveyor named ‘Mika’, he persuaded you to come along here deep into the woods of Wolvendom. He showed you the local flora, a fruit named Wolfhook, and held you close to him while hiding in the bushes, observing wild wolves and rifthounds together. Two sets of footprints are left on the ground, there for anyone to discover as you trek deeper within, fully trusting Sir Lohen’s experience as a local.
Unfortunately, exploring is an exhausting task for a part-ice creature such as you. Normally unbothered with walking miles on snow, you’re left panting and needing to lean into Sir Lohen’s side after crossing past ten minutes of walking. Even with the shade provided by the trees, the sun beats down on you, squinting its harsh rays without mercy, which has you lapping up Sir Lohen’s use of his Cryo vision as if it were an oasis of salvation in a never-ending desert.
A few minutes are spent recuperating while Sir Lohen remains kind and patient, the blessed man that he is. You feel ready to continue on, and the journey is resumed until you feel yourself dangerously close to melting once more, and the cycle repeats.
You’re a heavyweight that he’s cursed to carry. Had it not been for your delicate constitution regarding heat, Sir Lohen would have had an easier time delving into Wolvendom and probably reached the heart of the forest within an hour. Instead, all he gets from travelling with you is staying way past the agreed time. It’s night now. While the sun no longer torturously pricks at your skin, the pitch-dark night isn’t any better.
You failed to bring an item that can light the way, and you doubt Sir Lohen did either. And cryo isn’t known for lumination.
“I’m sorry,” You bow, “I held us up, I’m truly sorry, Sir Lohen. And now we can’t be too sure on where we’re going…”
Your mother would chide you for spouting numerous apologies to a human, telling you that they are nothing more than rotten beings, but you are seized by remorse. This kind human had made it his duty to show you his birthland, and you, as a Fae, have been nothing but trouble. Perhaps your peers will revel in mischief at such an opportunity, but not you.
Sir Lohen shrugs off your heavy guilt, opting to point to a small clearing of space up ahead, laden in fallen leaves and twigs, “You worry too much, (Y/N). Look over there, we can build a campfire!”
Lips pursing, you hesitate for a split second. To be so close to actual fire when daytime alone has you sweating and close to melting point…. Ah, but Sir Lohen has done so much for you; he’s most probably a human who can’t brave through the cold night without warmth – essentially the polar opposite of your kind.
Sacrifices must be made on your part, too. After swallowing the saliva pooling in your mouth, you nod.
Sir Lohen manifests his polearm, quickly brutalizing a tree for its trunk. After removing sharp wood edges, he makes you sit down while he gathers the unused wood and stray leaves into one pile stationed a few inches away from you. You often watched humans try their best to survive the tundra with a measly campfire back in Snezhnaya, what Sir Lohen is doing right now is oddly reminiscent of it.
An odd twinge in your heart kicks up, homesickness inflicting you with a bigger ailment the longer you spend time here in Mondstadt.
The fire crackles to life, dislodging your line of thinking as you flinch back in surprise. Peeking from behind the growing curtain of yellow and red, Sir Lohen smiles, his face doused in warm colors, “Sorry, I didn’t scare you too bad, did I?”
“No… I was caught off guard, that’s all.” Your gaze sweeps down to the heart of the fire, already feeling the heat reach out to you, “Uhm, how long will we be staying here?”
“Probably the entire night, I’m not well-versed with Wolvendom at night, unfortunately.” Sir Lohen leans back on a tree, watching you with rapt attention, “We have no choice either way.”
You breathe a sigh, pointedly ignoring the sweat beginning to bead around your forehead, “I… I understand.”
You scoot back, even if it’s just to prolong the inevitable creeping heat, slowly cranking up until you’re no different from a boiling frog. You bear it until you no longer can – your skin, ice and flesh, will melt soon if you continue facing the blazing campfire. Sir Lohen needs it, but your life…
Now panting, you weakly call out, “Sir Lohen?” At his questioning hum, you continue, “If it’s not too much to ask, the fire… Can you please.. relocate the campfire else…where?”
Closing your eyes, you try to regulate your body temperature back to freezing point without using past a drop of Fae magic, but it feels impossible when the daunting color of yellow invades even in your closed eyes. You hear dead leaves crunch from the force of his boots walking to you and feel the shadow of Sir Lohen settling over your form like a cool tide.
“Too hot?”
You shyly nod, ashamed to inconvenience him even at night. You flinch upon feeling his bare hand, having discarded his gloves somewhere, cupping your face as he had previously done before.
A now familiar, cool feeling circulates throughout your entire body, and it’s embarrassing, but the pleased sigh you intended to vocalize is akin to a soft moan, a pleasure brought by his own power; his vision. He laughs, “Better?”
After stewing in both shame and appreciation, you open your eyes to look up at whirlpools of shadows partially covered by minty green hair. You give him a small smile, face slick with sweat, “A bit, thank you.”
“Scoot over then, I’ll cool you off even more.” He subsequently drapes over you like a blanket, his warm human body an afterthought in the face of crystalline ice forming at his fingertips, traveling from your earlobes down to your collarbone, then lower. Yellow and blue never work together, but Lohen, yellow cast from the fire and blue from his vision, makes it appeasing; palatable for your eyes.
But a pressing matter remains: your body lacks heat, surely being this close to you and turning his fingertips to literal ice is… “Won’t you get frostbite?”
He laughs with a close-eyed smile, icy fingertips now feeling up your forearms, “Fine by me, it’d feel like I’m getting marked by you. I’d like that – since you refused to own me.”
You stay quiet, focused on being blessed by the pocket winter he momentarily turned his hands into. Curious fingers press deeper into the patches of ice skin, squeeze a tad bit harder at your sides, linger a little longer near the space between your thighs. You let him, finding his hands a bit too pleasant. It’s like being back home in the frigid winter of Snezhnograd; it feels as if you never left at all when you’re under him like this.
He provides relief and cures the homesickness you’ve been having. Sir Lohen is a miracle worker, a commendable human you never expected one to be.
You grow drowsy from his ministrations, head lolling and eyes turning heavy. The last thing you hear is a deranged, throaty laugh and a tapered comment that you can’t bother to make sense of as you fully give into repose.
“...Act… you’re drugged… cute…!”
His sole companion for the rest of the night is your unconscious body; only the Wolvendom forest and Celestia above are privy to the sins he committed.
You wake up to the campfire put out, it’s early morning – the skies are tinged with a soft blue, the air still cold from the night before. Sir Lohen, with his chin propped on his hand, stares at you, completely silent.
“Good morning, Sir Lohen,” You stretch and stand up, “How did you sleep last night?”
“Hm? Oh, I didn’t sleep at all,” He gathers his items, “I was busy looking out for you.”
“Ah… thank you, you shouldn’t have.”
His eyes return to you, light oddly failing to reflect as he responds in kind, “Watching you is better than sleeping, don’t worry about it.”
And so you don’t.
You’ll be leaving tomorrow. You informed Sir Lohen of this when he came knocking on your hotel room door for the day. He takes it in kind when you elaborate: “I believe that fire weakened me, even with your tremendous help. I must return to the motherland as soon as possible to recuperate, lest I incur her Majesty’s wrath.”
He taps his foot, “That so? Well, come meet me at my personal residence, and I’ll escort you out of Mondstadt’s borders from there. Is that suitable? I’d hate for an airhead like you– I mean, a sweet snowland fae, get taken advantage of.”
“You have been a big help to me, both as a guide and protector here in Mondstadt, I appreciate your kindness, Sir Lohen.”
You hope he’ll use the favor you owe him right before you leave Mondstadt.
Sir Lohen’s residence is located quite a distance away from Mondstadt City; for this reason, you chose to visit at night, where it’s chilly and comforting. Feels more like home.
It’s a small, humble home that’s certainly seen better days, but you see the appeal in living in one. You would knock, but you fear the beaten door staring you down will keel over the moment you apply a force remotely similar to a gust of wind. Instead, you stand on your tiptoes, inhale, and call out: “Sir Lohen! I’m here!”
You expect him to be punctual and dilly dally no further when the door cries open, revealing him out of his knight attire, dressed down. You’ve heard city citizens gossiping on the way here: Sir Lohen will be busy in the upcoming days, nay, the upcoming weeks, for he’s taken a formal paid leave from the Knights of Favonius.
It’s only right to assume he has no patience left for you with his personal plans on the horizon, yet his amicable attitude, his warm smile, and crinkled, dark eyes open the door wider and invite you in with a, “Care for some ice cream before leaving? I’ll miss you, you know, my dear Snowland Fae.”
Faes cannot enter one’s personal abode unless given an invite. Sir Lohen has gifted exactly that, so you feel inclined to agree, and for all he’s done for you, too. Walking up the incomplete mossy stone stairs, you bow in greeting before discarding your glacial heels and stepping foot inside.
It looks lived in yet feels nothing like Sir Lohen’s soul, oddly enough. The open cupboards reveal bags of coffee beans, and two bowls lie on the countertop with what you presume to be vanilla ice cream. There’s a small wooden table, two chairs on opposite sides, and a bed peeking out from the corner. It’s cozy, but the taxidermy mounts of hilichurl and wild hunt phantoms you remember Sir Lohen telling you about are nowhere to be found. It’s sanitized to the point of being clinical, you think, sitting down on one of the chairs.
Truth to be told, your Fae senses tell you that this small stone house is not Sir Lohen’s actual home. A place to rest in, but not a home. Perhaps he doesn’t trust you enough to reveal his true home, a rational caution on his part, considering the nature of Faes.
You hear the door click into place. Turning around, you watch Sir Lohen take both ice cream bowls and settle them down on the creaky wooden table. You feel your mouth water, itching to taste the icy treat. Grasping the spoon, you’re ready to dig in when Sir Lohen cruelly tugs it away from you. You pathetically whimper at the loss, to which he cruelly laughs.
“Not yet, I almost forgot something! Wait here, okay?” He casts you his best case of big, puppy dog eyes before disappearing into another room behind you. You’re left staring at the slowly melting bowl of ice cream, internally weeping at its rising temperature.
Back turned to where he exited, you’re left in the dark when he comes back, hiding something behind him with both hands.
You are a rabbit trapped in its snare. A feeble animal constricted by a Boa. A prey to its hunter. A Fae to a human.
He approaches like the creeping, unwanted chill on your spine; like the goosebumps rising on your skin with every muted step he takes. It’s a Fontainian film actualized, Lohen is tempted to laugh. He’s a few steps away when he lunges for you, experienced in both upfront battles and sneak attacks, unperturbed by your gasp and pathetic attempts at clawing his skin. He welcomes it, head almost lightheaded at the scars he’s sure you’ll leave behind if given enough strength and will to fight.
You’ll give him that, won’t you?
Hot iron dagger raised high in his left hand, he takes a deep breath and stabs you until it rips a bloodcurdling scream out from your throat - raw and primal, coming from the deepest desire to survive and be free of pain. In response, he only digs it in deeper, ensuring that your injury will leave you bedridden for months, maybe years if he’s hopeful enough.
You contort in his hold, streams of tears escaping your eyes as you babble loosely held strings that resemble pleading. Ple… let me… I won’t… Mother... – he doesn’t bother deciphering them, much more interested in licking up your freezing tears like they’re droplets of molten gold. Weird, you only sob harder at his ministrations, he snickers.
“Shh, shh, shh–” He dislodges the warm, iron dagger from your body, watching in fascination when both water and blood mix into a diluted mess on the hardwood floor, “I’ll keep you cool here. You like my vision, right?”
You weakly shake your head. A cute attempt at lying, he admits.
Fortunately, it’s hook, line, and sinker – he has you right where he wants, Snowland Fae.
You won’t be coming home anytime soon.
anastasya please bless snegurocka (y/n) she's a little slow
synopsis: a fatui agent touches your work, which dottore fixes
REQUESTS OPEN FOR THIS SERIES | chapter logs
taglist: @nambii, @sweetcrunchygrapes, @bodilyautonomy, @51kim-dokjas-wife49, @zenzeanie, @mei-simp, @sweetagaves, @166c74, @yekaterina4848, @esthelily, @cemirre, @darling-5yndrome, @def-not-daria, @taibami, @lunia-likes-pomegranet, @squ4respace
it’s small.
that’s what makes it worse.
you notice it the moment you return to the quarters adjoining dottore’s lab, your workspace, the one you’ve carefully made yours despite its proximity to scalpels and sealed containers. a drawer slightly ajar, the angle of your notes wrong. the faint, acrid smell of a reagent you don’t use lingering in the air.
nothing is missing, or even broken.
but something has been touched.
you stand very still, fingers tightening around the strap of your bag.
dottore notices immediately.
“you stopped breathing,” he observes calmly from behind you.
you exhale. “someone was here.”
the temperature in the room drops.
“i did not authorise entry,” he says.
“i know,” you reply. “they didn’t steal anything. they just-” you gesture vaguely. “moved things. touched my work.”
that’s when he steps past you.
his gaze sweeps the room with surgical precision. his eyes track disturbances the way a predator tracks footprints, an altered chemical ratio in the air, a smudge where gloves brushed glass, the wrong kind of careful curiosity.
“a junior agent,” he says finally. “ambitious. poor impulse control.”
you blink. “you already know who it was?”
“they corrected one of your formula annotations,” he continues, ignoring the question. “incorrectly.”
you wince. “they what?”
“they assumed intent where there was none.” he straightens, fingers curling slowly. “that is unacceptable.”
you hesitate. “zandik… it’s annoying, but-”
“they interfered with your work.” he turns to you then, tilting his head just enough to study your expression. “did they speak to you?”
“…earlier,” you admit. “asked questions. too many. i thought he was just curious.”
“he was,” he agrees. “curiosity without permission is theft.”
you open your mouth, then close it again. you’ve learned, painfully, that there is a point where pushing back stops being productive.
“what are you going to do?” you ask softly.
he smiles behind the mask. you can hear it anyway.
“fix the problem.”
the agent is brought in within the hour.
you are not present for that part, by design. dottore insists you remain where you are, tea prepared, door sealed, environment controlled. he doesn’t want you hearing anything that might distract you.
later, when he returns, there is a faint metallic scent clinging to his gloves. his coat is pristine, as always.
“it’s handled,” he says.
you glance up from your desk. “handled how?”
he approaches, stopping just close enough for you to feel the familiar cold of him, the steadiness. he reaches out, adjusting the alignment of your notes, exactly as you like it.
“i corrected the errors he introduced,” he says. “your work is intact.”
“and the agent?”
a pause.
“repurposed.”
your stomach flips, not with fear, but with something heavier. “repurposed how?”
“he demonstrated an interest in experimental methodology,” he replies smoothly. “i encouraged it.”
you swallow. “he won’t… come back?”
he finally looks at you fully.
“no,” he says. “he will not interfere with you again.”
the certainty in his voice is chilling.
you look down at your hands. “that feels… extreme.”
“interference escalates,” he counters. “today it was your notes. tomorrow it would be your reagents. eventually, your time.”
he reaches out then, cupping your chin gently, forcing you to meet his gaze. his touch is careful, reverent.
“you are not someone i allow to be disrupted.”
your breath stutters. “you didn’t have to do all that for me.”
“i did,” he says simply.
he leans in, forehead resting briefly against yours, an intimate, dangerous gesture. “you are safe here. your work is safe. you are not to be examined, questioned, or altered without my consent.”
your heart pounds.
“…and if someone forgets that?” you whisper.
he straightens, already turning back toward the lab, toward the place where mistakes are unmade.
“then they become useful,” dottore replies. “in a different way.”
later, you notice something else.
your workspace has been subtly improved. reinforced seals. a new access protocol keyed only to you and him. even the air feels cleaner.
whatever that agent did wrong, dottore fixed it.
and in doing so, he made certain that no one would ever make the same mistake again.
— warnings. — fem! reader, toxic behavior, tw yandere, mentions of baby trapping (dottore's part), rough syx, mentions of blood (pantalone's part), biting/marking, dirty talk, brat taming, jealousy
⚝ ZHONGLI
zhongli's grip on your waist tightens as though the weight of his soul hinged on the shape of your hips as he whispers your name like a sacred hymn, his lips tenderly grazing over the hollow of your throat— and morax cannot stop repeating himself, mine, you hear it? he mouths it against your skin so sensually, mine in this life, mine in the next, mine across every cycle of erosion.
his cock carves into you with a loving patience that amplifies the fire in his gaze, he wasn't one to fuck you rough and deep right away, not at all, because zhongli was far too old for haste, you know? instead, he buries himself slowly so you can feel it all, with a god's hunger for persistence.
you swear you can feel his every vein graze through your walls, his slow but consistent pumps rocking into you further and attempting to dissolve into your very body as his forehead rests against your own, sweat pearling where your bodies are fused, and his eyes— amber, ancient, stare straight through your soul.
"do you think i could forget this?" he groans above you, his voice aching from pleasure, though his thrusts were gradually becoming more brutal now, "do you think i could ever let you leave, now that i've felt you like this?"
your spine arches at his filthy choice of words and you can feel how soaked you were at this point, your slick dripping around his length in humiliating gushes with every new thrust, your cunt pulsing desperately as he moans out your name, archons, moans— as if your need were his own suffering.
zhongli goes all the way in, fucking every inch, every thick, pulsing vein through your cunt until it's all messily shoved inside you, forcing your walls to stretch around him like they were never meant to, like your body had no choice but to take it. fuck, yes it burns, of course, he's part dragon after all and it's too much yet at the same time, not enough.
you can feel his tip scratch against your most aching spots repeatedly, rubbing them apart and pushing up against the limits of what you could take as he made you twitch and clamp around him like you're choking on the intrusion as your nails drag across the large expanse of his toned back.
zhongli groans at the sharpness digging into his skin as his fingers squeeze your hips bruisingly, tight enough so it's not considered gentle anymore, not tender nor sweet, yet hungry, completely fucking gone.
"even stone," he gasps, no, he breaks, his voice torn from the pit of him, as if his divinity was talking through him, "even stone breaks with time, but not me, not for you, i will not erode, i will remain with you forever," your walls clench around him as he crumbles, forehead crashing to your shoulder with his breath hot and shaking against your wet skin, resembling your complete warmth being the altar and his body the offering.
⚝ DOTTORE
your body utterly rewires with dottore's hand's around your throat— not tightly, not choking, but claiming, like a collar held by his master, with his breath coming in through harsh, delighted pants against your ear as he forces your legs wider with one knee, sinking into you with merciless, almost scientific precision.
"oh, how you weep for it," he laughs, his voice alight with that hideous brilliance, the unholy thrill of unraveling something delicate and divine. dottore continues watches you sob beneath him with eyes as big as saucers, your overwhelmingly broken noises turning his face in awe like a laboratory specimen gone beautiful as he laughs, his expression bright with mania.
"such a reaction— such exquisite collapse," he groans before tenderly licking the tears off your cheek like he's tasting a drug synthesized just for him, so slow and lewd it made your cheeks burn as his tongue trails down to your tensed jaw and gulping throat, obviously where your pulse pounded like it's trying to escape.
"your body tells me the truth," your pulse flutters where his voice settles, rasping low like a warning, "it opens for me even as your mind screams or begs, perhaps? you begs so sweetly," as he thrusts into you again, your hips immediately betraying you and rising up to meet his blows with no mercy for your own good.
"you would never betray me, correct? say it," he echoes mockingly as his warm exhales bleed over your neck, "no, no, this is devotion, this is biology," as he cups your face like a holy relic, feigning any kind of love and fondness within his eyes as for a moment, it could truly be believed that you mattered to him.
if he could, dottore wants to stay in your body forever, not just for this moment, but as a permanent echo as every thrust was a question carved into your velvety insides—will you keep me? will you survive me? as your cunt answers without mercy, sucking him in and trapping him within a tight constriction, fluttering tight, shamefully eager to please your lover.
and to be frank, the friction was slowly about to become unbearable and you do not remember for how long the both of you were going for already as you're full past your capacity, your nerves screaming and shriveling at his dangerous, rigid thrusts that landed with slick, guttural slaps on slaps on slaps which sounds like sin itself, fuck— you feel so filthy with dottore on top of you, it's so wet, loud and nasty that your body was taking him with a noise that should humiliate you, yet it only made you crave him harder.
your back arches, hands clawing uselessly at the sheets yet he doesn't consider stopping anytime soon as he fucks you sharp and unforgiving, each drag of his cock slithering through your walls was calculated to make you scream out in pleasure— it's designed to be too much, every inch of him stretching you wide and cruelly slow as though he's measuring exactly how far he could push you before your body gave up on its stamina.
every step dottore took shook you to your core, yet when he suddenly presses a kiss to your temple, feeling as though he was deranged with fondness, your body shakes underneath his comforting cold, "there's no version of reality where you'll leave this bed without me staining your womb," words fall out of him as his voice drips with venom and delight, "i'll cut your name into my skin if it means you'll never forget mine."
⚝ CAPITANO
all you could hear was the sickeningly loud sound of your bodies connecting and becoming one with the mess between your thighs serving as a reminder of hours gone by as capitano breathes deeply into his chest— each inhale awakening a tremor through you and each exhale hovering hot against your mouth.
capitano doesn't say much to you aside from watching you intently, because you see? the harbinger doesn't have to, in fact, the silence coils around you like a chain, thick with intent, heavy with the gravity of his presence alone as words would only cheapen it— this unbearable, suffocating stillness where only his breath echoed something shallow on top of you.
his gaze pins you down without his weight even trying to, his eyes darker than sin and steadier than death when you realize— no voice could ever claim you the way his silence already did. capitano possesses you with absence, commands you without a sound and without a doubt, your body would always obey him, through chains and trembles, welcoming him open and spread.
his cock forces its way deeper now, each rock of hips impossibly thick as you bite down on his shoulder just to keep from moaning so loudly as you're shaking through the overstimulation he caused, completely wrecked, and yet he hasn't said a single word yet.
instead, his massive hands held your hips in place, his thumbs bruising into your bone as he pushes in again— slowly, even slower than before, not to mention cruel as you swear you can feel him in your lungs.
the weight of his body crushes the air from your lungs as then—finally, the voice of a man who rarely spoke, yet when he did, the world stilled to listen, "this is what your body was built for."
⚝ PANTALONE
"do you have any idea what it costs me to behave?" pantalone spits out as he shoves you flat on your stomach, one hand forcing your cheek into the mattress, the other kneading the flesh of your ass.
by this point, you're drooling, legs kicked open and cunt stuffed, your arousal and his cum leaking down your thighs, "what costs you not to ruin the moment? tell me, for you to stop smiling at someone who isn't me?"
he slides in with a wet, agonizing stretch as you welcome him with your back arching off the mattress when one arm loops around your body to pull you closer. his cock bullies its way impossibly deep thick inside you, and every move of his was screaming rich and cruel as pantalone fucks you like he negotiates— with control and precision, aside from enough venom to bleed you dry, every slap of him scraping you raw from the inside out.
his voice was like a hiss in your ear, thoroughly sharp with jealousy, "you're mine, everything you have is mine, your cunt, your moans, the pathetic way you soak the sheets— all of it," as he belittles you, slapping his hips against you so wildly the sound of it all almost drowned out his voice.
you sob into the pillow as he repeatedly slams into you, again and again, losing control as you're too occupied with salivating in the feeling of his thick cock pounding you relentlessly hard, fucking into you so deeply with everything he's got as his fingers dig into your hips, your stomach caving in from how deep he hits your insides, from the unforgiving stretch and the endless mess between your thighs.
"you wanna be greedy?" pantalone sneers, "you want more? more cock? more cum? i'll give you everything, i'll fill you so full, it'll spill out every time you try to walk away from me," as his rhythm breaks down into desperate, needy thrusts as he bites your shoulder hard to somehow contain himself.
without a doubt, the harbinger fucks like he owns time itself— as if he bought it? truly controlled and luxuriating in every inch of your body like it's the spoils of an empire. yet when he loses it at last, oh, and when the mask cracks you ask? his rhythm shatters into frenzied, gasping thrusts, each one an obvious confession of everything money cannot buy.
at last, he cums with his lips hovering over your throat before sinking his teeth into your shoulder sharp and punishing, almost brutal until a faint amount of blood blossoms under his mouth like a signature as he moans into the subtle wound, his breathing ragged and body spent
"you belong to me, do you understand? i’ll never let you go," how befitting of pantalone to fuck you like he's angry at you giving someone else a faint amount of attention— if he could even claim for it to be the reason still when in reality, the harbinger simply wanted to put you in your place.
Normally, anyone would just wash their wigs with shampoo and cold/lukewarm water. However, that only works on wigs with no products in them and this is what will happen if the wigs has hairspray in it:
However, using just one special ingredient, you can get rid of all the white residue to get a nice clean wig!
This is the wig I’ll be using.
I forgot to take an after photo though but the purple wig above should the before an after already.
Just toss in some bicarbonate soda (aka baking soda/sodium bicarbonate/bicarbonate of soda etc. you get my point) in to a bucket filled with just enough water to cover the wig.
Add in some shampoo too and give it a stir to dissolve everything. Toss in your wig and fully submerge it before leaving it to soak for an hour or two. When you come back, the bucket will probably smell like bleach or some other chemical. Just take it out and rinse it. Your wig is now clean! You can either let it dry or give it a fabric softner treatment to remove shine(psst, check out my previous tutorial on it!) Thank for reading this tutorial and drop me an ask if you have any questions.
I just wanna see a happy family with the reader, Hank and Connor so I impulsively wrote this up at like 1am and I have no idea where this is going. But let me know what you think! This will be a series but it depends on how well my commitment issues will take it.
TW: this does deal with depression and grieving, alcoholism (from Hank) and suicidal intentions. Most of the story takes place from the game itself but just as a warning, please read with caution if those are a trigger.
Very minimal use of (y/n)!
Word count: 2.1k
1 | 2
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Hank Anderson.
He used to be admirable, a role model to look up to. He was someone people would use as a good example of how to be a cop. He was intimidating at first, but after getting to know him? He was the person with the biggest heart out of anyone you knew. He had trained other members of the police force, watching them become good people of law enforcement and get assigned to new partners. He had the title of the youngest lieutenant in Detroit history for a reason. He earned that promotion.
But, after the unfortunate incident with his son, everything changed for the worse.
Who could blame him though? Getting into a horrific car accident on a cold winter day, waiting around for news while your son is having emergency surgery and only being told by the android, who performed the surgery, comes in with nothing but dreadful news.
He couldn't focus on anything else that damn android was saying. In his head, it was so clearly the androids' fault. It was the one who did the surgery, it was the one who couldn't save his son, it's all the robot's fault.
He became everything but a role model for beginner police officers. He started snapping easily, he started relying on alcohol to cope with his grief, his depression, and the spiralling, loud and intruding thoughts that rang in his head. He started rocking up to work after midday, he even skipped work a couple of times. He used to be this, he wasn't that, he never did this, you'll never hear the end of it and neither will he. He couldn't see a way out of the spiral but the alcohol makes things easier temporarily.
He's lucky enough that Captain Fowler won't fire him, even after countless threats for doing so. He's lucky enough to still have a job regardless.
This is where you come into the picture.
You were a detective, you were in the homicide division and very occasionally, you would get assigned a case dealing with deviant androids.
You were his partner. He helped you write reports and show you how they should be written properly. He trained you, he watched you move up the rank and become a detective. He even treated you out to dinner as a little congratulatory party. You were someone he was proud of.
He would get assigned cases with you often; him protecting you and vice versa. Putting oneself in risky situations which lead to arguments after the case.
"Did you even think about how you could've gotten yourself killed by doing that?!"
"They were about to shoot you and you think I'm going to stand back and watch that happen?!"
None of you would let the day end without making up though. Whatever argument happens between the two of you needs to be resolved before any of you go back home.
The two of you would grab lunch together on your breaks, you would hang out outside of work and just have a couple of drinks and talk about anything and everything. He also made sure that his intentions were nothing but friendly since he did not want you to take things the wrong way. Bitching about work, very certain people even, an incident that happened in one of your personal lives. He would occasionally invite you over to his place to play with his son and his lovable dog, Sumo. Sometimes he would even just invite you over to watch the game, only to be shushed by Cole whenever the two of you were being too loud.
He considered you one of his closest friends, family even.
He felt a little embarrassed to consider someone who was relatively younger than him as one of his closest friends, which earned a laugh out of you when he told you one night.
"Seriously, Hank? You're worrying over that?"
"Hey, I never said I was worried about it. I just find it a bit embarrassing being friends with a kid."
"Oh, come on! You're not that old, you're only... Double my age."
"You make me feel old."
But did he care about what others might think?
Never and that hasn't changed.
He started to decline your offers of going out for lunch runs. He wouldn't come up to your desk every morning and annoy you before starting his work. When the two of you went out drinking, it wasn't the same.
He would drink until he could barely walk while you would try and talk him out of the drinks. You would have to drive him home, force him to drink water, give mandatory pets to Sumo, and force him into bed.
Every time, right before you leave his bedroom, he would always call out to you and you would always reply.
"I'm sorry, please don't leave me."
"I'm always here for you, Hank."
Not matter how kind-hearted and understanding you can be of his situation, you need to look after yourself too. Doing this every single week for months on end? It's not healthy. He's becoming slightly dependent on you. It gets tiring looking after someone who's struggling, but if they're not doing anything to help themselves without relying on you, should you really be putting in all that time and effort in?
You can, but there's always a limit.
As much as you love Hank and his old man ways, you can't keep doing this. You're important too. You need to put yourself first.
So you started distancing yourself from him. It hurts doing so, but god was it painful for him to see you avoid him. Even the awkward small talk was unbearable. What happened to keeping things open between the two of you? You knew he would understand if you told him but would he take it well? Absolutely not. You were all he had after Cole's passing.
He knows it's his fault you haven't been doing well and he knows you're avoiding him for the sake of your well-being, he knows. Not only did he lose his son, but he had also managed to lose someone who was family to him, all because of him. It's another spiral he has fallen into.
Androids have become more and more popular. They're everywhere; running their owners' errands, working at any job and place you'll see, helping their owner with a task or simply keeping them company. They're only doing what they're told to do and what they're programmed for.
Captain Fowler had assigned him to be Hank's partner, even after knowing the hatred for androids the old man has. Connor had been assigned to cases involving deviant androids. As much as Fowler wanted him to start straight away, Hank didn't seem to come into work that day.
There was a lack of people in the station tonight, maybe the people on the night shift haven't started yet. The sound of faded pages flipping, chairs rolling and sluggish footsteps filled the room. He walked over to an officer and began his line of questioning.
"Excuse me, I hope I'm not disturbing you." You looked up at him, fatigue clear as ever on your face. You looked him up and down, taking in his presence before speaking. Why did they make an android look so handsome?
"Not at all, can I help you with something?"
"I was hoping you would know where Lieutenant Anderson is at this time." He saw your tired smile drop immediately. He thought of all the reasons as to why you suddenly seemed saddened by the name. What happened? Were you close? Did he do something to you?
"What's your business with him, if you don't mind me asking."
"Captain Fowler has assigned me to work with him as his partner. We will be working on cases involving deviant androids." His voice was monotone, with little to no emotion, no fluctuations in his tone, nothing like that. He stood with his hands clasped in front of him, patiently waiting for your response.
"Hank isn't going to like the news of that. I can't believe he's on deviant androids as well..." You mumbled to yourself. "He should be at Jimmy's Bar, I can show you the way there if you'd like?" He nodded to your request, stepping back as he watched you turn off your terminal and grab your jacket. He could easily find the bar himself and he should've declined your offer, it would've been quicker to find him, alone. "What's your name? I don't think I ever got it."
"My name is Connor, I've been sent by CyberLife to assist DPD." You introduced yourself, telling him about which division you're in. You brought up the fact that you have been assigned several cases involving deviants, more as a sign for him to know that he can go to you if he's stuck.
Not like he'll ever need the help.
The walk to the bar wasn't awkward, if anything, you were enjoying the interaction with the android. Connor was interesting, he's unique. It felt good within you, finally having a conversation that wasn't work-related or Detective Reed annoying the living shit out of you. You have other officers that interacted with you, but none filled the gap of a true connection. You missed it.
You missed Hank.
"May I ask you a personal question, detective?"
"Of course, you can, Connor. You're free to ask me anything. But please, just call me (Y/N)." You waited at the zebra crossing, waiting for the pedestrian lights to turn green because you know damn well Connor will be on your ass for jaywalking.
"What's your relationship with Lieutenant Anderson?" He looked down at you, observing your reaction. "You seemed upset by me mentioning him earlier. Has something happened between the two of you?" Do you tell him? Have you told anyone about what happened? Have you been bottling this all up this entire time? Was it right for you to just start emotionally spilling everything to him, at this very moment?
Wow, Hank was really your only friend at the station, how sad.
"We... We used to be close." You started hesitantly. How were you supposed to go on about this? Why is it taking so long for the light to go green? "I used to be his partner before I got my promotion. We still worked on cases together though, just not as much." The blaring noise of the pedestrian light going green interrupted. The two walked to the other side and continued their walk.
"I won't go into too much detail but... Something bad happened that turned Hank into the person he is today. I tried to help him but it was starting to have a bad impact on me when trying to look after him." You saw the neon sign of Jimmy's Bar come into view, making you stop in your tracks.
The feeling of anxiety rushed through you. You came here all the time. Was it because you knew that Hank was inside? When was the last time you talked to him? Or even made eye contact with him? You've spent so long avoiding him, even with occasional awkward small talk. When was the last time you sat down with him and had a chat about anything and everything? How long has it been?
"So I stopped talking to him, for my own sake. You can ask him about it but maybe after getting to know him a bit." The android stood in front of you and nodded. His circle LED showed an orange hue before going back to a calm blue. He had been listening intently to every word you spoke, making sure to not miss a single thing.
"I will head in and see if the lieutenant is inside. Thank you for showing me the way, have a good night." He gave you a nod before making his way towards the entrance of the bar.
"Wait, Connor." He felt the warmth of your hand grip around his wrist. He stared down at you, tilting his head in confusion. You looked like you were having an internal argument with yourself. The way you opened your mouth but nothing came out, the way you avoided making eye contact with him, the tight, trembling grip you had on his hand.
"Is something the matter?"
"Hank is a good person, Connor. He didn't use to be the person you're about to meet. Please trust me on that." Once again, his LED flickered an orange amber before returning to blue.
"I will keep that noted." When you finally looked up at him, relief shown on your face. You let go of his wrist but for some reason, he didn't want you to. He stared down at you, confused about the software instability notification popping up on his window. "I should get going now."
"Oh, of course! Sorry, Connor." And with that, you turned around and started making your way back to the station. Should he keep an eye on you until you got out of sight? It's late, anything could happen at this time of night. He's already stalled enough time on his current mission, he should be going now. He can't waste any more time.
He was going to come here to deliver documents when he realized the office was completely empty.
His first concern was wondering how that happened.
He doesn’t like wasting his time if he can help it, so he had made sure the sage was actually in his office before going up.
According to the regular schedule of everyone and the talks of passing by people, the second sage has not left his office.
The second sage is not in his office. The window is not open, locked from the inside. There were no other doors that came into here. There is no secondary room to this office.
Alhaitham actually checked once before.
The second sage did not leave his office. The second sage is also not in his office.
The second sage has a cat in his office.
Alhaitham places the documents on the desk before he walks around it to the chair the cat is sleeping on.
Upon getting closer the cat opens one eye, looking at him with the same unbothered but grumpy expression cats tend to wear when woken up.
Alhaitham continues staring, trying to see if there is any more clue this cat could give him.
All the cat does is stretch out its limbs, yawn, and then jump onto the desk from the chair, and then drag the papers the scribe dropped on the desk towards itself.
He surpasses the reflexive urge to grab the cat off the desk, in favor of seeing what it will do with the papers.
It stares at them intently, eyes moving as though reading.
He recalls a memory, of the traveler mentioning animals that are able to talk in human language, of a cat that deals cards in Mondstat, of a cat that has assumed the role of Shrine Maiden in Inazuma.
…Did the second sage get a familiar?
“…Are you the second sage’s familiar?”
The cat turns to look at him with an expression that can only be described as ‘You are a fool’.
“Nevermind, I will assume that those documents will be taken care of,” he shakes his head, leaving.
He feels the cat continue to stare after him until he completely leaves the office.
———————————————
The second time Alhaitham sees the cat is when its in the arms of Sumeru’s ruler, who hugs it against herself in a manner of a child who hugs her teddy bear for comfort. He can hear the cat purring as she lays her head on it, eyes closed.
“Is something wrong?” Alhaitham asks.
“I’m fine now,” Nahida says without opening her eyes, “It’s not a matter I would like to discuss.”
He accepts the order for what it is.
“What did you need me for?” She asks, and the cat’s head turn towards him, squinting like he’s a bug under its paws for disturbing Nahida’s time.
Alhaitham internally agrees.
“It’s a matter that doesn’t have urgency,” he starts to say-
“I would rather be aware of matters regarding my nation,” Nahida says firmly, “And you wouldn’t come here if it wasn’t an important, or at the very least, an interesting matter.”
Alhaitham can respect that.
The cat remains where it is, seemingly unbothered even as Nahida’s arms tighten around it mid conversation.
Alhaitham can respect that as well.
——————————————
“Is the cat your familiar?” Alhaitham says.
“How do you know it’s not Lord Kusunali’s?” The wanderer says without looking up from his papers.
“It has markings that are Inazuman in nature,” Alhaitham says, “And makes me think it would be more of a Yokai in terms of origins.”
Wanderer looks up at him from under his hat, “Is there an importance?”
Alhaitham supposes no. There isn’t. But he doesn’t like the laughing glint in the others eyes, the rest of the Wanderer’s eyes otherwise expressionless.
synopsis: gaining freedom makes you realize how hard it is to keep it. and, despite everything, you need to ask dottore for a favor to make sure your plan works. just what will he say?
pairing: dottore x gn! reader
word count: 2.8k
warnings: reader wears heels but is gn!, one half-way suggestive comment at the end.
Truth be told, there are absolutely zero reasons why you should be walking up these stairs. Okay, there are absolutely zero good reasons why you should be here. There are some, well a few – okay, there is only one bad reason why your heels are making noises trying to find a certain irritating doctor.
But, you cannot be blamed. Rather, you should not be blamed. Signing up to be a harbinger or being picked to fill in the eight position, it meant blame. You are to be blamed for your allegiance, you are to be blamed as the future destroyers of the old world, and, of course, you are to be blamed as the helper of calamity in the eyes of your enemies.
However, your family did not blame you for that specific choice. They were happy. Becoming a harbinger was just another step in them gaining domination on the social ladder. The closer you are to the wishes of your ruler, the closer you are to the grace and benevolence she extends. And, if the mirror of history reflects back on you as one of those who stood by her side – it will reflect power. The consequences or missions that became successful or fell apart will only come secondary.
If your focus is power that serves grace and idyllic ice – that means you are power. And, by extent, it means your family grows more powerful for every good mission you complete; grows in social standing for every fear you manage to strike into someone’s bones.
However, you think there is just one thing you should be grateful for when it comes to having this position. Others do not notice it, but you certainly do. Since your family wanted domination over other families, it meant they wanted domination over you. When you really think about it – it spreads like poison. If they raise you from the start to fear them, you will never disobey. If you blossom, it will be because they shaped your thorns and leaves to suit their tastes – they shaped you to bloom on their terms and on their soil. Disobeying them became impossible, but thanks to the benevolence of ice – you found freedom.
That freedom did not come easy. Being allowed to choose your own meals was a grace you never had before. Being allowed to steal Dottore’s pudding because he did not want it showed you how other humans live. Holding hands with Columbina while she walked down a dark corridor and hearing her sing for simple joy were things you swore to never take lightly again. Capitano giving you a nod and a ‘job well done’ showed you how ‘normal’ people congratulate others. Your family always said ‘You satisfied us’ no matter how much trial and turbulation you put in. All of these simple freedoms made you know larger ones.
The freedom to leave this nation and go to another one. The freedom of sitting in a simple restaurant with your shoulders slouched and drinking mint tea became insurmountable in your mind.
But, as these simple freedoms added up to your heart and spirit; to the very fabric of your soul; so did your simple rebellion against those that forced you to bloom on their terms. They found faults in you but in reality, there was very little they could do to stop it.
It made you too careless – too proud.
They were smart and they managed to lure you into a trap you would only describe as the most intricate of webs inside an illusionary dream. They hooked you because you got prideful. Cornered you with another decision you would have to listen to.
And, in the end, it led you here. Led you to having to seek out a man who said you were ‘pretty pathetic and without grace’ just for taking the pudding he did not want to eat. Nobody annoyed you more that Dottore did when it came to the harbingers. But, nobody else came to mind when you thought of ways to solve this problem.
You had to give it to him – for how annoying he was, he was also efficient in everything he did. What other harbinger returned with two gnoses instead of one? How insufferable!
There is one good reason you are walking up these stairs to get to his lab. Just one.
Your freedom.
“We understand that you are a Harbinger.”
“What a grammatical mistake. I am a Lord Harbinger – your Lord Harbinger.”
When you climbed the stairs, his obnoxious servants offered you tea and made you sit at a small, circular table.
“We will not apologize because we assure you that what you consider a mistake is our order. We serve Lord Dottore – the Doctor – we do not serve you or any of the other harbingers. While we respect you, we do not bow down to you. Lord Second is a very peculiar man you see. We respect you, but we do not bow down to you.”
“Are you saying he ordered you to only refer to him as a lord?”
“No, but, it was heavily implied based on previous happenstance.”
You took a sip of the gray concoction. These people were too used to mixing potions and elixirs that you were not sure if that should explain the bad taste of this tea, or, if it should only make it more confusing.
“It is so clear which harbinger you serve. You are almost as annoying as he is with all of your peculiar words and behavior.”
They did not reply to the direct nature of your insults. They did not even flinch. You suppose nobody could be more creative with their insults than Dottore.
That made your current predicament more unnerving. This gray concoction did not help considering how old it had gotten. There was nothing that could soothe your nerves. If he called you pathetic and without grace for taking pudding he did not want, what would he say to your next request? What creative spin would his wit grace you with now?
All you could do was wait until he was finished with his current experiment. Nobody ever visited his lab like this…perhaps he would be glad to see you? You should definitely show a big interest in his current work to soften him up just a bit before asking for your favor. It should help, right?
The door to his lab opens once you are on your second slice of a semi-stale strawberry cake. The air it sends your way makes you get goosebumps all over. You don’t dare imagine how cold it actually was inside that room nor how long he spent in it. But, to your lovely surprise, he looks clean. Looks like this experiment was different than the usual ones. Yes! You could lead with that and win him over!
“Well, Doctor, looks like this experiment was different than the usual ones.”
Dottore stands still after closing the door as if surprised by your voice. Then he throws on the usual smirk as he takes off his gloves and makes his way towards you.
“Ah, look who is here. A lost kitten it would seem. I would ask to what do I owe the pleasure but all of you are the same.”
The eloquent servant from earlier puts down a chair for him across from you. It is of higher quality. Another one brings Dottore his warm tea and you can see the strawberry cake on his plate is fresh when compared to yours. How clearly but subtly they show favoritism impresses you even in such a situation. You would never ask this of your subordinates but everyone has their rules.
Dottore sits down and rises his eyebrow.
“Tell me what you need and be quick about it. I can’t promise I will decide to help you but you can ask.”
Ah, here it is, the moment you have been dreading. The cold gray mixture in your ornamental cup suddenly seems like the most delicious thing to drink if only to avoid his inquiry. Your freedom is on the line. How will you save it if you do not even feel free to ask Dottore to help your cause?
Instead of taking one sip, you take three and Dottore finds it amusing to see you squirm. The signs of your nervousness are so subtle that his servants miss them but he can clearly tell you would constantly hit the tiles with your heel by bouncing your leg if only he was present.
“Well, I called you a kitten but it seems like the cat has got your tongue. If you are here to ask for some pudding, I am afraid that they did not serve it today.”
Asshole.
It is better than being called pathetic but by what price?
“Dottore, I need to…”
You remembered that his other servants were still in this room.
“Are you unaware you aren’t allowed to attend the meetings of your lords? Scram.”
Dottore had to hold in a laugh at your authoritative display. They would not leave just because you said it. They dispersed once Dottore moved his head in the direction of the door.
“I suppose you are not here to take any sweets considering how serious this matter is for you.”
There it is. You are bouncing your leg. He can’t hear it but he can see the way the tablecloth moves ever so slightly on your side. What could be troubling you so? Seeking him out is usually the last line of resistance for most people – harbingers especially. It means that they are not strong enough on their own.
“I have something very important to ask you.”
“That has been obvious all this time. So why don’t you go ahead and say it?”
Asshole.
He could at least give you a bit more time. Maybe his experiment went sour? So he has no patience for you? No, just him drinking tea here means he is patient and giving you time.
Your leg begins to bounce in a more noticeable way. Your desire for freedom is tied to the way your heart beat quickens. Your pulse and eyes that blink more while looking at the horrible – tasteless – gray matter in front of you are all signals to show how hard this is.
But, with your freedom on the line – you force yourself to dare and ask this sarcastic man for help.
“Dottore, you need to hear me out.”
“And what have I been doing so far, exactly, If not that?”
“Just.. just, listen, just answer my next question and don’t talk until I ask it, okay!?”
Dottore scoffs but finds it too intriguing to stop you.
“To be honest, I need you to do me a big favor.”
He does not say anything.
“You may be..familiar..with my particular circumstances when it comes to my family and how they raised me. The whole tyranny of it all if you will.”
Dottore knows. Obviously he does.
“Well, recently, by their words – I have been acting out and they found a solution to make me return to the way I was before. And I need you to do me a favor to make sure they don’t have their way.”
Here it comes. The moment you have been dreading over. Surely you have to act quick but even now it does not come easy to just say the request. The request is too much. He will reject you surely. But, you still have to ask! Those who do not ask, get no answers. Those who do not seek, get lost before they begin.
You have to do it. You simply must!
“Dottore…” are some pipes leaking somewhere? Or is that just the sound of your ears ringing from being this nervous?
“Please, please, crash my wedding next weekend!”
As you say it – the sound in your ears stops. The leaking is suddenly no more. Everything goes quiet and seconds feel way longer than they usually would.
Dottore isn’t saying anything. You closed your eyes when asking him so you must look like a fool. But, that is simply a normal reaction to fear. His rejection would clearly be shown on his face immediately. Nobody can blame you for prolonging the answer like this.
But, Dottore isn’t saying anything. And, when you open one of your eyes in hesitation, he throws his head back laughing. It reminds you of a small child who just heard the silliest joke in their life. Kids on playgrounds look like him. You have never seen him this joyful. He might be laughing at you but the sound causes you to open up both of your eyes and to take him in. To take in the joy he is radiating. Even if it is at your expense.
“You have a wedding next weekend? Your wedding? And you are asking me to crash it?”
Dottore continues to laugh and he covers his mouth with his hand. Courtesy, you think. The laughter dies down and he removes it once it is over.
“My apologies. This was simply just too unexpected for me to hear.”
You can see his shoulders move up and it is clear he is trying not to snicker.
“I am glad something made you laugh truly for once but it really isn’t that funny! My freedom is on the line here!”
“And you suppose your freedom will be saved by letting it entangle with a man such as myself? On your wedding day nonetheless? What an interesting world you have going on in that brain of yours.”
“Are you agreeing or not? I need to know as soon as possible.”
“Why the rush? Oh, it is only in a matter of few days after all. Who is the lucky fellow?”
“Some schmuck from another family my parents are fond of.”
“Wow, not even a name?”
“The name does not matter. What matters is that you crash it and I can remain free.”
“Ohh, quite the big prize you are after. Your freedom. For heaven’s sake, you are a harbinger. You can say no.”
“It isn’t as easy as that you blue-haired-iduolon—uhm, I mean, you brilliant researcher. I can’t simply say no. They would find another man to throw my way who would work for their cause.”
“And you think me crashing your wedding would prevent that?”
“Of course it would! Everyone knows your reputation! Not even they would dare to challenge me if you crash the wedding and show interest in me.”
“Show interest in you? You might have to pay an even bigger price. Crashing a wedding is one favor. Showing interest in you is a completely different one. What? Should I pretend to be your obsessive lover who cannot believe the charade?”
“…Could you?”
“Could I? It is indeed possible to do that with my talents but…would I? That is a completely different matter altogether.”
For whatever reason when your shoulders slouch you find that touching the surface of the gray tea with your index finger seems like an appropriate thing to do at this moment.
“Ugh…then I need to think of another way to get out of this predicament. I have no desire to be controlled again.”
“No human being does I suppose.”
“Your wisdom is not helping after you just rejected my request you know.”
“Ah, you wound me with such a cold tone. It was rather cute when you were begging for my help.”
“I never begged. I simply asked.”
“Maybe that was your mistake. I do love to see people begging me to do them a favor nobody else can. Shouldn’t you know that by now?”
“….How twisted can you be?”
“So twisted that you would think of me first for your absurd idea. Isn’t that in fact what brought you here?”
“…You were just waiting to use that one weren’t you?”
You sigh once. You sigh a second time.
And just when you think it is all over – Dottore slides the plate with his fresh cake in front of you. Maybe this is his consolation? People like him are never good at expressing it a regular way.
“It isn’t pudding you always steal but it should do the trick.”
“Thanks….But I won’t get on my knees to beg for your help with this. I already did more than enough.”
Dottore hums.
“You are right. That can wait after I help you. You need to show me your gratitude somehow after all.”
Your whole face lights up. You stand up from your chair and it is so sudden that your hand touches the soft cake instead of the table.
“Do you really mean it Dottore? Do you?!”
He can’t help but be amused by you. Dottore takes out his handkerchief and holds your hand. He wipes off the frosting and the strawberry pieces very slowly. He always looks focused on his tasks and for whatever reason the display makes you cold hands heat up.
“Settle down. I just think crashing a wedding might be fun. And, you would have to repay your debt anyway. Surely, those two are enough to excite me for some time.”
a/n: Thank my professor who made us mad cus I could use the time from him not deciding to let us in online to write this piece
This one is not much, it's just a morning thought b4 I leave for exams, I don't feel well but man what's new 💀
I just wanna hold baby zandy and treating him how a real father, or mother would, to their child. I want to hold him, reassure him that he's not a freak like everyone says and leave the town for good, and watch him grow into a fine young man, even though his aspirations are dark. Innovation can be deviance to society, but that's okay, he's my baby, I never liked conforming anyways. I want to reach out and heal his inner child, one that was alone, abused and ostracized...
(Maybe because I want him to do the same with me, I have severe issues I want to ignore 😋 average dottore stan huh)
I just think dottore would have. ALOT of feelings if ur first instinct when you saw baby zandy for the first time is hold him and coo at him, picking him up n treating him how society would never treat his child self.
Cya smooches, I need to wipe my tears b4 I leave 😔
KAI I LOVE THIS SOOO MUCH ZANDY IS WAY TOO CUTE (also i know you sent this in like. freaking October IM SORRY i hope you're feeling better now though, and that you did good on your exams mwah mwah <3)
Okay but. real. It actually makes me a bit emotional thinking about comforting baby Zandy so much 😭 You would hold him so tenderly, stroking his hair and the little boy would be confused at first because why are you being so kind? Normally he's met with indifference or more insults when he talks about how others treated him - "a demon child like you deserves it" "a heretic like you has no feelings" so eventually Zandy just became used to it :( But you? Oh, you're the complete opposite. You cradle him so gently, in a way not even his own parents ever held him, and you say such kind words that they never had the decency to say to him either. That he's an excellent young boy, and he doesn't need anyone in the village to grow up, and that he has you too now, that you'll never let anyone hurt him ever again. And, the young child can't help but believe you this time, because this is all he's been longing for, for someone to accept him, to just show him basic kindness. He's attached to you like glue after that and you fill that parental role for him a lot :( bedtime stories n all and helping him eat vegetables and teaching him lots of cool stuff :( You can't change the past but... you can help Zandy feel loved now.
BUT YEAH ugh i don't even know how to express how Dottore would feel seeing you treat his child self so sweetly :( Zandy would like. Be a bit wary around you at first because of his general apprehension around adults but you just swoop in and give him the biggest hug and swing him around, smiling so hard and making a ton of effort to understand and spend him with Zandy... he finds you one night in Zandy's room, fallen asleep with him after reading too many bedtime stories and he just. indescribable.
