sagau but with snezhnayan cast... ponders... i need the 2023 cliche "we have gold blood and i accidentally cut myself for a character to see!" trope again but like no impersonator bc itd be interesting enough to see how the characters would act like
summary. alyosha had saved your life, but he was also the man breaking your heart.
— content. 6k words · alyosha x f!reader · minor spoilers for snezhnaya archon quest (alyosha introduction) · angst !! · sfw w suggestive themes · mentions of betrayal · mentions of near-death experience · possibly ooc!alyosha.
— foreword. i don't know what happened but this idea hit me as i was doing the quest and i had to jot it down immediately. this is probably ooc 'cause i didn't have enough time to play enough to form a proper understanding of his entire character, but this idea was haunting me. i'm also not entirely happy with this, but since i've written it, i may as well publish it.
— read on ao3.
— art credit. very_055 on twt.
the snow was falling in heaps from the cloudy skies above with the harsh wind slamming against the structure of your home, its chilliness escaping into your place of rest. the fireplace was going as usual, soothing flames burning beautifully and also providing your home with some brightness as you kept lights off, not wishing to waste energy—after all, energy was becoming a scarcity in your hometown.
your body was wrapped up in that same large fur coat you had been given a few weeks back when the cold truly picked up its intensity, keeping you toasty and rendering you able to move around without the pain of being too much bitterness throbbing in your limbs. the soup you had been making was bubbling in its pot, hanging over the fire as you sat on a folded blanket, a book in your hands as you spent your day reading.
the door was locked shut from the inside, for you had no intention of leaving this warm cabin anytime soon. the blizzard caused by that awful monster lurking up in the east was atrocious, far worse than anything you'd ever experienced in your few weeks of residing in snezhnaya. in fact, you hadn't really resided here for long at all. your roots were natively from inazuma, a far warmer land with no snow or frightful gusts of wind passing by every hour of the day, instead sunny and warm beneath the protection of the raiden shogun herself. your dendro vision wasn't much of a help in these conditions either, allowing you to cultivate vegetables and aid in ensuring fresh produce for the citizens of the town, but that was all you could do.
unlike alyosha, whose house you'd been allowed to seek refuge in, you weren't someone able to hunt down animals and sell your game for mora.
your destination had not been snezhnaya initially, surprisingly enough. nod-krai had been your first and, initially, final stop for the journey you were on. as someone who ventured into the arts of writing, your journey had led to a nation blessed by the moon, protected by its glow and riddled with puzzling abyssal monsters and strange happenings. inazuma did not particularly care much for newspapers, but as light novels became more popular and piqued people's interest in reading, paired with the reopening of inazuma's borders, people were once more eager to learn of the history of the nations beyond theirs, wanting to know what was happening all across teyvat.
and that was when you truly saw a boom in your business, your company's newspapers being ripped off the shelves and demand rising to astronomical heights. you were a simple journalist, one of the only ones employed who held a vision in your hand and whose combat abilities were decent, though nothing to brag about compared to those of the clans of inazuma. assigned to go report on the happenings in nod-krai, you had set out and collected heaps of information, working your tail off as you began taking the scenic route, traversing through nations such as sumeru and natlan, jotting down articles of wonder anytime you had a surface to hold your paper against.
every article you had written was sent back by letter and published in the newspapers, with letters returning to you documenting your success as an established journalist back in your homeland. people were loving your journalism work, praising your articles about the tribes in natlan, and the wonders of deserts in sumeru. words flowing across pages of the average inazuma citizen's newspaper, educating them about the wonderous mountains scattered across natlan's vast land and the lively forest areas in sumeru. you were broadening the horizons of every inazuman unable to travel, all by yourself.
then came the task at hand—head to snezhnaya. your boss was loving the booming business, pleased with the way mora was lining his pockets, and his reputation was soaring. but unfortunately for you, that also meant that your workload was becoming significantly heavier and more dangerous. a trip through natlan and sumeru was easy, for their people were the kindest you'd ever met. they escorted you through treacherous areas of their own accord, they invited you to join their gatherings and into their lives, and more than that, they were mindful of your unfamiliarity with their weather and conditions.
sumeru resonated well with your vision, for it was the nation of dendro. the forest areas were kinder to you than anywhere else, small animals always following your trail, and nature was receptive to your elemental energy. in natlan, you had not fared well in the scorching heat, but the people had done all they could to aid you—they had continuously led you to water sources, thrown scarves and blankets over you to shield you from the sun, and arranged for travels to occur at night so you wouldn't be stuck in the sun for extended periods of time. nod-krai was vastly different, yet its people were also kind. you were treated well, guided through the areas, and protected by light keepers on trips through the beautiful areas around the various islands.
the order to continue up towards snezhnaya had been a surprise to you, as well as everyone you knew back home. the land was led by an archon unfamiliar to people, and its people were just as strange to you. it was the home of the fatui, the land of cryo riddled with coldness like none other, and more than that, it was not a place you'd assume a journalist from inazuma would be welcome. one could not forget that it was your nation's archon who had taken the life of a fatui harbinger, one of the highest-ranking officials from snezhnaya, with her title bestowed upon her by none other than her majesty the tsaritsa herself.
it was absolutely freezing even in the warmest clothes you could purchase in nasha town, the people transporting you also struggling in the conditions. unbeknownst to you, the people whom you'd paid a hefty mora sum in exchange for a safe passage to snezhnograd were not actually from nod-krai, nor were they snezhnayan themselves; instead, they were a mere band of scam artists from fontaine who'd soon leave you in a freezing cold just inside the border of the snowy nation. there were no people around you, all of your belongings had been scattered around as they searched for mora in your bags, and thus you were left lying in the snow, staring up at the clear skies.
the snow had begun to pile onto you, falling marvelously from the sky as you stared directly at it. your limbs were losing all feeling by some point, the time unknown to you as the cold soaked into your bones. your body had been pushed out of the carriage, and you were left lying in a pile of thick and wet snow, unable to move due to the chilliness penetrating the protective layers of your clothes. no tears could even escape your dry eyes, and no words could leave your mouth, for the air was too dry for your body, rendering you unable to do anything else but lay here and wait for hypothermia to truly take your life.
well, that was until you heard a loud barking in the distance, its volume and intensity becoming louder and much more clear as you heard footsteps rush towards you. there was a voice calling out for both for the running dog, but somewhere in the back of your blurry mind, you'd come to wish that the person was calling for you. the journey through all these nations had been fruitful and enlightening, filling you with a sense of wonder and hope for the world, but you would be lying if you said you didn't miss your home, your friends, and your own life. day after day, you introduced yourself to new people and spent hours delving into their lives and their cultures, but you'd come to miss the comfort of spending time with people who knew you—people whose lives were tied with you in a manner beyond work or curiosity, but the ones you'd come to love.
you didn't remember much from that day, really. even sitting here now, weeks later with a borrowed book in your hands and the knowledge that your latest article had most likely been printed in today's newspaper back in inazuma, you couldn't recall much. alyosha had somehow found you in the snow as his dog tugarin had caught your scent, rushing to your aid. your belongings had been rapidly gathered by the man, who'd taken you all the way back to his own home in sretomorozsk. for days on end, he had taken care of you, bringing a doctor to examine you and ensure your safety and health as he kept you warm, slowly but steadily nursing you back to vitality.
a smile came over your features as you thought of the few times you'd woken whilst recovering, cracking open your eyes to see alyosha tending to you or sitting by you, a book in his hand as the other absentmindedly played catch with the dog running around the home. even when you'd recovered, alyosha never once urged you to leave, nor did he seem at all bothered by your presence. in fact, it became a new norm for you, allowing yourself to recover in the sanctity of his home. alyosha seemed to like the company, or so you believed, for he never seemed in a rush to get you out of there.
and at some point during these past weeks, something more than two strangers becoming friends began blooming. you felt bad about hogging his bed all to yourself, even if the doctor had given strict orders for you to stay indoors and relax. your body had taken extensive damage from lying in the snow for so long, especially with your biology being so unfamiliar with the harsh climate of this nation, and required treatment and rest over a much longer period. but at some point, when the darkness was filling the cabin and the coldness had become too much, alyosha had accepted your offer to share the bed; only you'd woken to his arm wrapped firmly around your waist and your head resting on his broad chest, your bodies mingling in each other's warmth.
the days of lingering gazes and worried words became days of searing touches and an atmosphere full of something new, something exciting. alyosha would sit by your side as you two shared a meal made by either one of you, thighs pressed against one another as those bright yellow eyes watched you with an unknown emotion in them. you didn't know much about alyosha and he never seemed to open up, always veering away from any subjects regarding himself and his life, but he appeared rather fascinated by your job.
you spent days cuddled into his warm body, the two of you sitting in bed with you leaning back into his chest as his arms wrapped around your waist. a book would be placed on your lap, paper against it as you scribbled down your thoughts on the climate. his breath was warm against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine and a flush into your cheeks as his buzzing fingers grazed across your bare waist with reverence. he didn't speak much, but you couldn't miss the way his eyes would scan the pages you were writing, quirking an eyebrow at your statement. he didn't speak much, but he never failed to ask you questions about the things you were writing—he was also very helpful in answering your queries about the environment you were currently stuck in.
but nothing lasts forever.
it had taken a week for you and alyosha to become joined at the hip, spending as much time in bed as possible, his eyes never slipping away from you as you flushed beneath his gaze. you'd never had time for something this long before, which you knew would sound insane considering you barely even knew the man lying behind you, playing with the hyperactive dog as you jogged down your latest article on the blizzard, having chaotic havoc on this small town, along with many others. with your sort of work and the constant traveling, you were never able to actually make time for anything romantic. no man had ever swept you off your feet like this, never made you feel the way alyosha made you feel, especially in the late night when you were trapped beneath the hunter's body with his predatory eyes tracing every inch of your body.
yet it only took another three for you to snap out of the bliss you thought you had found. nights spent with alyosha suddenly became less intimate, less about taking the time to ignite the spark between you two. he would simply drop back into bed, turning his back to you as if you were no longer of interest to him. you'd tried to raise this point on numerous occasions, feeling so very hurt at his sudden coldness. one day he couldn't keep his hands off you, and the very next, he was acting as if you weren't even here.
and you were left on your own. he would leave in the early morning, merely stating that he was going hunting before he vanished out the door. when he returned late at night, his gaze would merely view you as any other person, not as the woman whose skin was still marred with his marks, not as the person whose warmth he'd been soaking in. he treated you like any other roommate, as a stranger and not as someone whose life he had been so curious about just a few days ago. it was as if he knew what point you'd be raising whenever you opened your mouth, because he would promptly but softly shut you down every time, stating he was too tired from his hunting. and like the thoughtful person you thought yourself to be, you would let it go; you would bask in your own hurt before you put that pressure on someone else.
some would call you foolish; others would call you presumptuous. but alyosha had spoiled you rotten in that week, promising you the world and tending to you ever so gently. his demeanor had been calm and his personality nothing but respectful, never making a move on you until you finally bit the bullet and made one on him. his yellow eyes would be full of mirth as he listened to you explain your travels in natlan, appearing very curious about the various kinds of saurians as he posed question after question. his hands would feel the back of your neck; they would rub against your skin to build up heat in your body, and his lips would trace against your neck, leaving burning marks in their wake.
you hadn't left, however. you couldn't. the doctor had been there yet again just a few days ago, stating that you were finally recovering from the intense bout of shock that had occurred after that incident but were still not entirely recovered. she was very adamant that leaving the house for a very brief amount of time could be beneficial to aid your body in building resilience against the snezhnayan cold, but not to push it. but whenever you brought that up, reminding alyosha that the doctor had asked him to take you outside every now and then on perhaps a little walk, he would merely brush you off with a shrug and an excuse about being too busy.
there were knocks on the door, and you barely made it there before alyosha rushed inside with two unknown individuals, one floating whilst the other hurried inside, worrying about the other. you didn't even manage to step back before alyosha slammed closed the door, shutting out the freezing cold as you tried to make sense of this situation. your eyes scanned the two people in front of you, and you felt a stone form in your stomach when you realized that standing before you was the famous traveler and her floating companion, the ones who'd saved various nations all across teyvat. as a journalist, naturally you knew all about them even if you had never met them before.
"paimon feels a lot better in here!" the little fairy exclaimed as she shuddered, arms wrapped around her own body. you could see the redness in her cheeks, her fingers trembling as she dropped to the bed, standing off to the side.
yet it was as if none of them were perceiving you. sure, you had moved back as they rushed inside, standing off to the side by your fallen book with your own arms wrapped around your body as the freezing cold reached you as well. the traveler had taken a seat by her companion's side, gazing down at her with worried eyes as alyosha grabbed a hold of a few blankets and covered the little fairy. your heart was beating at a million miles per hour in your chest, fingers curling into your own arms in nausea.
were you truly so insignificant that they had somehow failed to take notice of you?
alyosha knew you were there for his eyes snapped up to meet yours first, yellow with a lively glint in them as they seemingly took in your figure standing in the shadow with your lips pressed into thin lines. his gaze soaked in every bit of you, lips similarly pressed in a thin line as his eyes caught sight of the fading marks on your collarbone, of your ink-stained fingers from writing down notes for yourself. you could see that his breathing was quicker than usual, but as your eyes drifted down to the woman and the little fairy, you were aware that the glow in his eyes wasn't for you—it hadn't been for days.
"oh, i didn't know someone else was here." the traveler was quick on her feet, a genuinely apologetic expression overtaking her stunning features as she glanced at you. "we didn't mean to interrupt."
but you never got a chance to answer, for alyosha had already assured her it was alright, that she nor her companion were interrupting anything. yet the soup continued to bubble over the fire and your book remained on the floor, for they had interrupted something. they had interrupted your intention to finally make alyosha sit down and have a proper conversation with you. to ask why he would ever let you into his bed and into his arms if he was never going to let you stay? to ask why the hell he was keeping you around and treating you like some half-stranger roommate all of a sudden.
your quest for answers had never once been so painful, for usually your quest was to document others' lives and experiences, yet this time it was about the hurt festering in your chest.
not many words, which included you, were exchanged. the traveler seemed content with whatever plan was made, and even as she asked if you'd be alright looking after her companion, you found that while you didn't care to extend your goodwill to others when your own dignity was hung out to dry, you'd also been in a similar situation, and if not for anyone else, you'd like to extend the favor. so you merely gave a brief nod, although that seemingly doesn't actually matter, for they had already made their minds up.
"paimon's sorry if she interrupted you," the little fairy spoke the very second the door closed behind alyosha and the traveler, who went out once more for their own mission. you couldn't help but notice how he became so willing to aid others, yet never cared to aid you anymore.
you had taken your spot near the fire once more, sliding on a pair of gloves to remove your soup container from its hanging spot. placing it on the little table next to the fireplace, you picked up your fallen book and peered over at the little fairy. "don't worry about that. you don't look too well."
"well, paimon started to feel kinda weird when she and the traveler crossed into snezhnaya," she explained as she buried herself into the layers of warm blankets. noticeably pale and ghastly-looking as her body struggled to adjust to the surrounding temperature.
pouring some of your soup into a bowl and walking over to the fairy, you took a seat on the edge of the bed. "i feel ya on that one, paimon. i've also been struggling in this cold," you explained to her as you offered her the bowl with a small smile, a shawl wrapped around your shoulders. "guess we foreigners aren't as durable as the natives, huh?"
and upon seeing the confused expression and hearing her finally build up the courage to ask who you were, you nodded towards the soup. if she drank some of that, allowing her body to retain heat internally to distribute throughout her shivering body, you'd tell her all about yourself. so even as she lastly sat up and took a few sips, humming in delight at the thick vegetable soup with cuts of meat, you allowed for some life to return to her cheeks before you finally divulged your past.
to some, it would sound strange if you told them that it was nice talking to someone who also knew of all the smaller events you would mention. paimon had so much to contribute with during your tales, making the conversation much longer, but one that lit another fire in your stomach. frankly, you were done with this, and you could not quite understand why you had even let it get this far, for this was not the sort of person you were. since when had you put a pause on everything you'd ever desired, on the bubbling sensation of wanting to experience anything and everything, to jot down all the interesting things happening in the nations across teyvat for everyone to experience?
"wait, paimon knows you!" she had just been handed another serving of your soup as you settled into a chair, pulling your legs up under you as you quirked an eyebrow at her, taking a sip of your own cup. "our friend charlotte, who's also a journalist, is a huge fan of yours. she once said you're her biggest inspiration."
"charlotte from the steambird in fontaine?"
"yes, that's her! do you know her?"
you shook your head at the small fairy whose wide eyes were transfixed on you. "i know of her. she once wrote me a very sweet letter, and i've read some of her stuff in the papers on the travels. she's a very talented writer, so i'm very honored that she thinks so highly of me."
"paimon read your article on the saurians in natlan, actually. she saw it on the newsstand in nod-krai and got a copy because she remembered charlotte's admiration for you." paimon smiled widely at you, sharing your adventure through a land with such unique but beautiful life forms. "it was really good! paimon loved how you'd also included facts from the tribes, adding cute pictures of the saurians with their companions."
that article she was referring to had been one of your longest, but also one of your most popular. the tribes of natlan had graciously opened their homes to you, telling you their history and allowing you to observe their lives, alongside their saurian companions. your entire worldview had shifted on that memorable trip, leading you to form worthwhile and lasting friendships with some people there, with whom you still exchanged letters.
you and paimon chatted for much longer than you would ever have thought, finding that the little fairy was an excellent conversationalist who was as well-traveled as yourself, sparking all sorts of fun exchanges. she told you all about how she met the traveler and their time in mondstadt, and in return, you told her about the first time you'd been brought in by the soldiers working directly beneath the raiden shogun due to an article you'd written. when she told you all about liyue, you couldn't help but notice one particular name, slotting it into the back of your mind as you nodded along. you were able to relate when she told you about her time in your homeland, and the two of you were able to exchange quips and details that only people with extended stays in inazuma knew about. but speaking of your homeland, of the beautiful sakura trees and the delicious dango milk, was only fueling that fire in you to stop moping around.
when alyosha took you in and nursed you back to health, you were grateful, but you were also sincerely attracted to him, finding his personality to be to your liking and his looks striking. his eagerness to indulge in you, to have his calloused hands remain wrapped around your thighs and his marks all over your neck, had sparked something in you, for you'd always wanted to find someone to call your own. but you were foolish to believe that anything could ever happen between you—foolish to believe that you were special to him.
for after all, you were still here. you were still denied every means of communication you presented to him. you were left with his back turned towards you and complaints of tiredness, driving a wedge between you, as he now spent his time with someone else. he wasn't able to spend his time going on short walks around the town with you, all so you could begin to recover properly and acclimate to this weather, but he was somehow able to venture out with the blonde traveler. and that hurt. because why were you not worthy of that? why had he suddenly decided that the affections he bestowed upon you, the glimmer in his eyes when he heard you talk about your work, and the way his hand would linger behind you to keep you from losing your balance were not luxuries you were deserving of anyway?
why had he allowed you to catch feelings for him and then left you here, all on your own, now essentially babysitting someone else while he roamed the town with another girl? yes, your talks with paimon had been some of the most fulfilling and fun you'd had in a while, but that wouldn't negate the fact that he'd shot you down numerous times and refused to take you out into the town, yet he didn't even hesitate to go above and beyond for the pretty traveler. you could talk to him, you told yourself as you lay down on the bed as well, feeling your body already luring you into a peaceful sleep. they would leave, and you could finally have a talk with alysoha; did he actually want you here at all, or did he want you to leave?
but that chance would never come. for when you'd wake up hours later, most likely the next day, you'd find yourself alone in the home. with groggy eyes and a heavy blanket of sleepiness hanging over your body, you'd glance around the house in confusion. where was paimon and why hadn't alyosha returned yet? but something about even that consideration rubbed you the wrong way, especially as you sat up in a half-asleep daze, finding a note on the table addressed to you. one that would soon be curled up in your fist, now wide awake as the realization dawned on you.
he had taken the traveler to snezhnograde.
you had been asking him about the main city for weeks now, and he always promised he'd get you there, but only when you were feeling better. yet as you began to recover and your doctor returned to her home in the main city, he still would not take you, citing too much work, but assuring you that the next time he needed to go to the snow-covered city to sell his game, he would bring you. then a blizzard swept over snezhnaya and alysosha would insist the trains had all halted, with no way to head into the main city available at the time. and you had believed him, for you had no other option. but sitting here now, all alone in a home belonging to a man whose priorities never included you, it was becoming clear that you'd become too isolated, too dependent on him. this was his home, and as you weren't able to leave, you were left believing everything you were told.
but as the sleep left your body and your brain began reminding you of various instances, a certain memory came to mind. at some point during the evening, you had woken up briefly, just enough to remember slivers of a conversation between alysoha and the traveler. and suddenly you felt sick, feeling last night's soup make its way up as the feeling of his sheets, of being in his bed, made you feel sick to your stomach. they were having some sort of whispered talk, and while you weren't able to catch most, you were now awfully reminded of them speaking of alyosha's hometown, the one he was actually from. he didn't say much about the town or his family, but it sounded like he was merely expounding on something they had been discussing earlier.
you did not even know that alyosha was not originally from sretomorozsk.
but she did. in the past weeks of you growing closer with him, becoming someone he curled up to at night and who made him feel less lonely, he had never told you this. during the cold nights where you'd laid against his chest with sleepy eyes and your body melted into his, when his fingers were tracing over yours with gentleness and care, and you'd told him about your life back in inazuma, he never once cared to divulge anything about himself beyond his occupation. yet, now she knew. someone he'd met earlier today officially knew more about the man who'd promised you the world, who'd provided his knowledge for your work, and read your work with great interest, praising your ability to bring words to life.
your clothes were easier thrown into a bag as you packed your stuff up again, thanking the archons above that you always packed light and never slugged too much stuff around with you. with a hastily written note left on the nightstand, one resembling the rather primitive and rushed note he'd left, you glanced back at the home once more before you left the home of the man whose burning passion had fueled a fire in you, but also reminded you once again why you didn't do this. because you deserved better. you deserved to be loved by a man whose love for you would not falter this easily, who wouldn't continue to feed you empty promises and never follow through. the concept of him never making time for you, his habit of telling you that somehow anything and everything you wished to do wouldn't be possible yet became possible when it was about someone else, and his distance were not factors you were looking for a man.
perhaps you had misunderstood or expected too much. but you still deserved respect and honesty.
yes, the train track could indeed have been covered by snow and thus rendered unusable. and perhaps it had indeed become usable again the second the traveler needed it, for you knew in your time as a journalist that she had something magnetic about her, something special. you knew all about the miracles and lucky events that became possible when she was near, but why would he not have taken you as well? you were basically told by your doctor to go outside for small periods, but also to come see her in snezhnograde at your earliest convenience. he knew you had business there, yet that had not mattered to him, for he'd left you all alone in this cold cabin while he spread himself thin trying to accommodate her.
that no longer meant anything to you, though. for sitting in a train headed into the city with a letter of approval in your hands, you were finally headed into the city to fulfill your calling. you had plenty of mora, something alyosha knew as you'd tried to offer to buy the kresnik kristalls only to be denied, and could easily find yourself a new place to stay within the city. the first order of business would be to write to your boss, informing him of your arrival in snezhnograd and forwarding all the stuff you'd worked on while recovering in alyosha's home.
perhaps the cold would lastly get rid of you in the next few days, settling into your bones and engulfing your organs in layers of snow. perhaps this blizzard would finally take your life the second you stepped off the train. some would say that the meeting you had been promised with a fatui harbinger was a path to certain death, and others would say it could potentially become your greatest work ever. but none of that mattered. for as you stared out the window, feeling the coldness already wrapping around you as your eyes indulged in the marvelous sight of snezhnaya passing below you, at least you knew you were doing the right thing.
whether alysoha had ever perceived you in the same manner as you had him was yet another mystery you'd never want answered. smiling to yourself, you glanced down at the picture you'd taken of him on your kamera. for you would merely think of him as yet another who wasn't right for you, as someone whose affections for you were conditional and fleeting. maybe he just hadn't been with a woman in a long time and took the chance to indulge in a time-limited role of an affectionate lover to experience how it would feel, or maybe he truly did care for you but became unable to express himself.
none of it mattered to you now. for you were never someone willing to settle for anything that was done with half-hearted dedication, to settle for someone who wouldn't love every part of you. and you would always and eternally be grateful for his aid when you needed it the most, for saving your life and nursing you back to health, which was why you'd left him a rather gracious gift. but that was all you were willing to give him now.
whatever happened from now on, whether the cold claimed your life, whether you lost your life to a harbinger, or whether you followed through with your ambitions. you would be doing it of your own accord, for yourself. you had always been a free woman, someone whose whims and whose aspirations were the most important thing to her. and even if those yellow eyes and the touch of the warm hands came back to haunt you, if nights spent between his sheets or the days spent reading and talking came back to remind you, then you would merely think of these as fond memories and proceed.
alyosha had reassured you that you were still able to see the best in people, to dedicate yourself to someone worthy.
you were still able to love someone, but alas, he was not the one you were meant to love.
thgll plot where reader was the most powerful spellcaster in modern twst times and being famous for it but suddenly disappearing, blot phantoms appearing more often over the years, with reader teleporting years into the future whilst having beaten a rather strange overblot—shoving themselves out of the coffin !! same school they graduated from but apparently theyre back somehow?!
reader tries to hide their magical aptitude from the mirror with other abilities && successfully gets away with it (for now), and leona is suspicious of what theyre hiding, although they just want a normal life now, theyre definitely not prepared for their chaotic future with the overblots !!!
Both of the outfits are based on rabbit fest and playful land respectively because i don’t trust myself to make original outfits. Hopefully they gave off doll vibes.
I just started rewatching eah and seeing the wonderland kids just make me remember adeuce and so i want to draw them in eah style hehe
── THE CLOSEST TO HEAVEN I'LL EVER BE ノ HOW THEY KISS YOU (PT. 1) ‧₊˚ ⋅
✦ . . . three men. three different kinds of devotion. and the quiet, intimate moments where possessiveness, tenderness, and love blur into something consuming.
content. f!reader. sfw, minor injuries, kissing, suggestive themes, implied/referenced violence, needles, discussions of religion, established relationships. 3.9k+ words.
⤷ features osamu dazai, chuuya nakahara, and fyodor dostoevsky.
would you like to see more content? fill out the taglist!
✦ — 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈
The plush leather of the chair warmed like an old ceramic pot left in the sun, cradling your tired body as it soaked up the light. Your feet braced against an adjoining stool as your diligent hands stitched a nasty tear on Dazai’s coat sleeve, ripped in a violent, early-morning raid in one of the harbor warehouses. You’d already been tempted to fix it, but Kunikida’s persistent complaints forced your hand—though the dedicated man hadn’t intended for you to do it, it would be obvious come Monday morning that the coat’s wearer had no hand in its sudden repair.
Speak of the devil and he will appear, standing at the entrance of your living room, tapping his foot with the impatience of a child.
“How long is this gonna take?”
“It’s only been ten minutes.” You didn’t even bother to look up, preoccupied with piercing the needle through a particularly tough patch of fabric. “And this is your coat. I could just not fix it at all.”
“Then I’d be practically naked!”
“That’s what I thought.”
Dazai’s eyes slitted like an ill-tempered cat, the distance between you unable to muffle the amusement in your tone. He was certain you were smiling, a crescent-shape drawn across your lips as you perched in the chair, pleased with yourself.
“Such a cruel woman!” he cried, hobbling like a midday drunkard across the room. “Can’t you have pity on a poor man’s heart?”
He tumbled into the chair, the motion accidentally forcing the needle into the tip of your thumb. Hissing, you snatched your hand, eyeing the bead of blood that blossomed from your fingertip. Your frown only deepened as a drop glided down your finger, claiming a piece of coat fabric for itself.
“Great. Now I’ve got blood on it.”
“It’ll come out.”
Your glare dried out any words that tried to come out of his mouth, flopping your unfinished handiwork down onto your lap.
“I’m the one who’ll have to clean it.”
“We certainly can’t have that, can we?” Your pissed-off face only egged on his shit-eating grin. “How will you be able to manage with such an injury?”
Uncareful hands rustled your shirt like they were attempting to placate a stray animal, the same uncareful man prancing off toward your bathroom.
“This is your fault, you know!”
He either didn’t hear you or completely ignored you—only he would know, but you could guess—the cliff-edge of a tune on his lips as he rummaged through your bathroom cabinet in the dark. Not that he needed to turn on the light to find it, hands meeting the cool plastic of a medical kit before he’d even finished the first verse. He returned, and you were in the same state he left you in, unamused and wilted.
He almost felt bad. Okay—he did feel bad. For you getting hurt, that is.
Not for messing with you. Much. It wasn’t his fault! You were so absolutely darling when enraged.
“Excuse me,” he sang, plopping onto the stool with the kit in his lap, nudging your feet with his hip as he reached for your hand. “Alright. Let me see it.”
It remained firmly held in your other. “You don’t have to go through all this trouble, you know. It’s just a prick.”
“No, no, no.” Despite his teasing, he was careful not to irritate you or your wound further, easing the hand into his lap. “You just sit there and relax. Doctor’s orders.”
That determined look on his face made it clear there was no arguing with him, so you didn’t. Submitting with a huff, you allowed your hand to be examined, now careful fingers tracing up the ridge of your thumb. Still, you couldn’t help your suspicion.
“Why do I feel like this was all just an elaborate scheme to make me pay attention to you?”
“They didn’t call me the demon prodigy for nothing.”
You swallowed the retort in your throat, suddenly exhausted by the idea of an endless back-and-forth. Your firm mask of anger did not take long to crumble to your feet, eyes fluttering as the sun tempted them to close. It had been an overwhelming day, and Dazai was more than happy to provide a momentary respite, nimble fingers massaging the tense muscles of your palm as you unwound.
He popped the kit open, reaching for one of the small bandages, only to halt at the sight of one of his wraps. If he was going to take care of you, why not draw it out for as long as he possibly could? He was sure you wouldn’t mind.
Unwinding a section of the wrap, he slowly spindled it around your thumb, careful not to wind it too tight. Your hand was so warm—unbearably so. Like you’d soaked up the sun itself. It would’ve been no surprise to him if you were its reincarnation, though he’d wonder what he had ever done to deserve sunshine in his hands.
The faint rhythm of a rickety fan guided his fingers, encasing your palm in the protective fabric. His thumb brushed past an old scar from a year he couldn’t name, and he made sure to document it in his mind with the reverence of a scholar.
“Uh, don’t you think this is a bit overboard?”
You were right, he knew, but he refused to answer, pressing his lips to the bandaged tip of your thumb. “Is there a problem with me wanting to take care of my beautiful girlfriend?”
A small noise from your lips—maybe in disbelief, maybe in something far more remarkable—shattered the remains of his soft intentions, his heated mouth drawing a line between the constellation of beauty marks on your hand. Scars, freckles, moles—anything he could see.
The medical kit landed with a thunk as he snatched you by the waist, dragging you onto his lap as he journeyed from wrist to arm. You flushed underneath his touch, taut like a spring pulled back on the verge of release.
“What is going on with you?” Your breath hitched, head craning back as he nipped at the sensitive patch of skin found in the juncture of your neck.
“What?” he asked, unrelenting. “Is something wrong?”
You didn’t know how to reply. Found yourself not wanting to, biting back a noise as he marked delicate, binding kisses up the curve of your neck.
“Truth is—” His breath prickled your skin. “I’d wrap you up entirely if it meant keeping you all to myself. I’m greedy like that.”
He met his destination at the curve of your jaw, darting his heated touch from the crinkle of your eyes to the wrinkle of your brow, ending at the corner of your lips to sit on the tempting edge of an actual kiss.
He pulled back, and despite the smirk on his face, the softness of his eyes had you melting.
“You okay, pretty girl?”
The heat left you dazed, replying with a simple, “Mhm.”
He hummed, caramel eyes flickering from your own to your lips. You were truly the most breathtaking creature to ever exist—you could feign indifference all you liked, but the best part of his day would always be watching you unravel the moment he had you in his arms. How could he not fall in love with such simple beauty?
“You'll have to forgive me, then.” His touch, despite his words, was gentle as he whispered against you. “I’m a weak man.”
You grabbed at his collar as your lips collided, sighs spilling into the kiss as your last drop of restraint dissolved. The coat bunched between you joined the kit on the floor, his hand circling your hip, chest pressed flush against his own. Could you feel his heart beat from this close? He certainly could feel yours.
“God—” he breathed. “Can’t believe you’re all mine. So beautiful.”
You laughed against his lips, eyes shining like he’d brought you back from the dead.
“You know this isn’t gonna get you out of cleaning, right?”
He snorted, knowing nothing could be more perfect than the realization that you had both been positively made for one another.
✦ — 𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀
It had been a long day for the Port Mafia executive.
Not because of missions or paperwork—he would’ve preferred either to the assortment of mundane duties he’d been forced to attend. Fights were supposed to be fun. Exhilarating, even—at least that’s how he saw it. A clash of power and will, pushed to the brink to see which would win. He’d always admired foes that met him with that understanding.
Which is why he wasn’t too pleased by the string of cowards lined up for him to capture.
The latest had been a group that had attempted to breach one of the mafia’s largest depots. He had been looking forward to it for days, only to be met with disappointment as its members turned tail and ran the second they spotted him.
They were dumb enough to mess with the mafia, but not enough to even try to fight him?
What a serious buzzkill.
His shoulder creaked as he rolled them, like an old metal pipe, the elevator to the mafia’s private garage thankfully opening without delay. He wished for nothing more than to return home. Malaise crept in the shadows of his footsteps, halting with him as he spotted someone in the distance, messing with the top box of his motorcycle. His feet found flight like a second wind, rushing toward them.
“Hey!” His hands itched to tear them a new one—verbally or physically, he hadn’t decided yet—only for the wind to hit back at him as he met the familiar eyes of the woman he was dying to see. “Babe? What the hell are you doing here?”
You smiled, barely bothering to register how suspicious you looked as you closed the lid of the box, inching your way towards him.
“Hey, hun. How was your day?”
His eyes narrowed, flickering between you and whatever you were hiding.
“Fine. What’s going on?”
You were planning something—those eyes couldn’t hide mischief for long. He struggled to maintain a stoic facade as his annoying heart thrummed beneath his chest. You always managed to do that—he loathed it. One look, and he felt like a teenager all over again.
“I actually wanted to ask—can you drive us somewhere?”
His hard stare weathered. “I mean, of course I can. Where do you need to go?”
“It’s a surprise!”
And just like that, the stare returned. Chuuya had rarely experienced a nice surprise. They’d either been terrible on their own or followed by something worse, like the reaper kept a debt he couldn’t estimate. Even the word surprise left a bad taste in his mouth.
“Doll,” he sighed. “You know how I feel about surprises.”
“I know, I know,” you replied, confidence waning. “It’s a nice one, though, I swear. Very laid-back.”
He knew you had good intentions—he really did. His mind feared the pattern outlined in his footsteps, but he knew, truthfully, he couldn’t say no to you. Chuuya Nakahara was a man who’d rather experience a brief moment of happiness over a lifetime of wondering what-if.
He was a whipped man. If anyone else saw him like this, they’d never believe he was a member of the mafia, much less an executive.
With a browbeaten look, he surrendered. “Alright.”
It took some time to reach your destination, the bike a speeding bullet as it weaved through noisy, rush-hour traffic, escaping into the outer stretches of the city. He’d rarely been in the countryside, completely disoriented as the road shifted from concrete to rock, forced to rely on your directions alone as the path took multiple winding turns. You finally stopped, sat within an unremarkable patch of trees.
“Okay, I’m lost,” Chuuya said, removing the helmet you’d insisted he wear. “Where the hell are we?”
“You’ll see,” you sang, hopping off the bike and removing your own gear before snatching his hand as he dismounted. “Follow me.”
The trees were thick and dense, so he hadn’t expected the intense block of light that pierced through the leaves, forcing him to squint as he blocked it with his other hand. His eyes adjusted, he blinked, and the sight before him stole his breath.
“Damn.”
The hills of Yokohama quietly offered the best view he had ever seen, capturing the skyscrapers and the setting sun in a single scene. None of the hustle and bustle of city life could be heard from here, muted by the wind as it mixed with the flustering leaves and grass around it.
“I used to come here a lot when I was younger.” His eyes strayed from the city, breath ceasing entirely as it became restrained in the tranquil image of your face. “I thought you’d like it.”
There was a time, when you first started seeing each other, when he questioned if you could be any more beautiful. He thought it impossible, but it seemed his past self was a fool. Here, you were in your element, face cradled by a warm sun, the sky a frame around the canvas of your figure.
You were fucking ethereal.
“Oh! I almost forgot,” you said, dipping back behind the trees.
He was a weak man; he knew—had to be, if just your absence alone put such a monumental strain on his heart.
You returned, carrying what he assumed to be the items you’d not-so-sneakily placed in the top box.
“We have this—” In one hand, you raised a bottle of one of his favorite Bordeaux wines. “To ourselves for the next few hours. I’ve got a ride scheduled and everything, just in case we indulge ourselves a bit too much.”
He scoffed, too charmed by the proud look on your face.
“How’d ya manage that?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Flopping onto the ground, you set the basket from your other hand down, prying it open to dish out an impressive number of finger foods. You almost forgot he was even there, stomach growling as you snatched a pastry from its container. It was only halfway through a bite that you’d realized he hadn’t joined you in the grass yet, eyes darting between him and the dessert, patting the space next to you since your mouth was occupied.
He tried not to crumble at the sight of sugar smudged across your lips.
“Sweetheart,” he said, settling on the ground at your side. “You’ve got a little something on your face.”
Your hand swiped across your lip, only managing to wipe a small portion of the mess, brow furrowed in the most endearing act of concentration he had ever witnessed. If he fell over now, dead from the sight, he would be okay with that.
You blinked, looking at him expectantly. “Did I get it?”
He allowed himself to drink everything in for a moment longer, a thought rolling around in his head. His thumb brushed against your bottom lip, only working to smear the mess further.
“Oh! Thank—”
His restraint snapped, diving in for a bite. Jam mixed with the taste of your lips in an exquisite blend, satiating a vacancy he once thought could never be filled—one that had burned since the day he gained consciousness. He drove you into the soft grass, hands moving with their own goal, stealing the noise from your throat as he took in each tempered breath like it was his last meal.
“What did I possibly do to earn you?” he groaned, fingers varnishing your lashes as watercolor eyes blessed him once more.
He sank back in, shivering at the way you breathed his name.
“I thank the gods you’re mine every morning.” The words escaped his throat like a man in prayer as he parted your lips with his tongue. “Couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else getting to have this.”
Your hands cupped his face, and he knew he was forever changed by the unrivaled fondness of your eyes, looking at him the same way he looked at you.
“You deserve it. Even when you don’t think so. Especially then.”
He let the air circle around you both as passion waned into contemplation. You knew trouble when you saw it, especially when it circled the blues of his eyes, reflecting a trouble not yet justified by the alcohol forgotten at your feet.
“We’ve got a couple hours to kill, right?” One of those traitorous hands toyed with the trim of your shirt. “I think I’d like to taste something else.”
✦ — 𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐄𝐕𝐒𝐊𝐘
Tears poured from the sky in a symphony of thunder and lightning, crackling against the earth without care for rhythm or melody. Pious men claimed it to be God, maddened at the ill-deeds of a forgotten, immortal son. The son—a demon—knew it was just a reminder. That there will always be two sides to a coin, whether that be sun and rain, good and evil. He was simply there to ensure balance between both.
The damp, underground labyrinth that served as Fyodor’s temporary hideout did little to soothe his stiffened joints. It was not the best place for someone of his fragile constitution, but he’d lived in far worse conditions with far worse company.
Not that his subordinates counted as such.
They nodded or waved as he passed, and whether it was from respect or fear, he didn’t care; many slipped by as their work concluded for the evening. None of them would serve any use if they didn’t receive rest, after all. He didn’t need them sharp. He needed them capable. This brought a thought to his mind, stopping a man before he slinked by.
“Where is she this evening?”
It didn’t matter whether he said a name or not—anyone with a brain could decipher who the Demon referred to.
“She’s in your office, boss,” the man replied, trying to hide his nerves to no avail.
“My office?” Fyodor raised a brow before waving the man off with a nod. “No matter. Thank you.”
The familiar path to his office echoed as people cleared from the halls, his footsteps racketing against an unforgiving metal that announced his presence. A rumble returned the unspoken greeting in kind, the clicking of keys crescendoing from the illuminated figure inside.
He squinted as he crossed the threshold, eyes adjusting to the bright screens in front of him.
“Welcome back.”
The smooth timbre of your voice was a balm to the cold, like a false, warm summer heat; the perfect antithesis to the storm outside.
“Good evening, my dear,” he replied, stripping himself of his hat and coat before settling them onto a nearby rack. You didn’t stop typing, another hand leading the mouse across the screen as it expertly sorted through multiple operations.
He waited, and then struck.
“I’m quite surprised to see you out of your normal hiding spot. Is your office not to your standards anymore? I’m certain I can find a solution to whatever it is you’re lacking.”
The mouse stilled. Caught in the trap.
“You’ve got more screens than I do.”
The statement was weak. At best.
“It’s helped me get more work done.”
He hummed, a smirk etched into the wintery paleness of his cheeks. “Is that right?”
You’d never admit you were here solely because you missed him—you both knew that well. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t relish the thrill, stringing you through a maze of his own design, enthralled at the possibility that he would one day hear the truth from your lips.
“The mission went well, I assume?” you asked, changing the subject. “I know it was supposed to start raining. Hope you didn’t get caught up in it.”
“It was barely a drizzle when I arrived. The mission itself went just according to plan.” He trapsed across the room, equally too stubborn to admit he had longed to see your face after a week’s absence. “All thanks to you, of course.”
Mellow eyes met his against the vibrant light.
Your shoulders rested, a smile perched on your lips. “What a flatterer you are, lyubimyy.”
It took more willpower than he’d ever, ever admit to another living creature to suppress the quiver that ruptured from the vacant cavity in his chest.
But it was the sight of you that almost destroyed him entirely, swaddled up in his spare coat, legs tucked to your chest as you huddled beneath the makeshift blanket. The gap between the coat and your body exposed the indecent slip you wore underneath. He would’ve commented on the lack of proper attire, around your subordinates specifically, if the mere sight hadn’t utterly entranced him.
What a cruel strike to the heart was the sight, seeing you tucked away and content in the small world he’d crafted. Safe from the storm outside. That was his purpose, too, he supposed. To keep balance meant to protect the sacred. And if the divine took mortal form, would it not be you?
But he was still a demon, wickedness in his blood. A tempting thought came to mind.
“Now that you’ve mentioned it,” he mused. “You look quite cold yourself.”
You shifted from content to confused, eyes flickering down to the coat.
“I guess a little bit.”
You yelped as frigid hands hoisted you from the seat. Fyodor planted himself down, taking his rightful place, before spreading you across his lap as if it were yours. He drank in your wide eyes and parted lips, stealing your warmth as his fingers glided across the underside of your jaw.
“Oh, dear,” he said, voice a mockery of concern. “You still look cold.”
Your eyes scrambled, looking anywhere but him. “I-I’m fine.”
But, like a shepherd, he guided you back.
“Don’t lie to me.” You knew you were doomed, ensnared by the squall of his stare. “You never have been able to. It’s alright.”
It released you for a moment, turning downward, but the breath you took was another trap.
“I know just the way to warm you up.”
He pressed his lips to yours—gentle, at first. Like someone knocking at a door, waiting to be let in. But it wasn’t long before the door was barged down, rendering your mind useless in a tremor of curses and sighs, uncaring as he methodically pried you apart. He wanted everything you gave. The warmth of your body burned, and he played your spine like a taut string, trembling beneath an expert touch before calloused fingers smoothed at the nape of your neck.
Still cold, it seemed. That wouldn’t do.
Your arms snaked around his neck like vines of ivy, and part of him—the man that remained despite the years that weathered away at him—wondered what it would feel like if they squeezed tighter.
“Fedya,” you pleaded, and he knew you were both damned.
You didn’t know what you wanted. Only knew that he’d be the only person you ever wanted to give it to you.
“Shh, milaya.” His hand returned, firm against your back, pressing you closer as his other hand plucked at the thin fabric pooled atop your thighs. “I’m not finished yet.”
Your breath surged as his touch sparked earthquakes across your skin, chest heaving, arms shaking. You couldn’t find the strength to look him in the eyes, tucking your face into the exposed skin of his neck as you attempted to calm the pounding drum of your heart.
“Are you warm now?”
If you didn’t love him so unbearably much, you’d have punched him at the first chime of that insufferable, cocky tone. You took another moment, strategically, an eye of the storm, before grabbing his face. You searched for something amongst those deep, ocean-like eyes, widened ever-so-slightly, pushing him down once you found what you were looking for.
“Not yet.”
part one of bungo stray dogs has finally concluded! how was the chapter? this was queued prior to its drop, so i can only imagine (in horror) the events of the current update.
i also had a funny realization while making this piece. it's been over a year since i've written anything for fyodor. feels like i've returned home after a long journey away. hope you enjoyed!
can people stop making smut of minors in fandoms, like okay whatever but genuinely this is one of the most annoying things when i scroll through tumblr and i just see aged up minors solely for the purpose of smut.
i get why youd age up minors for other headcanons or something, but genuinely only for smut ?? especially if there are adults in said fandom. i remember scrolling through twst & pjsk and just seeing full smut of like the first years and fantasista squad (pre 3rd anniversary where tsukasa and rui aged up), or like how i see people justifying when their character just aged up to 18 (which is literally barely legal) so its fine to make it, which, personally, feels kind of predatory in ways where you literally just wait until birthday before writing smut or something.
suggestive feels okay for me personally as, one, with how teenagers act and stuff (altho its not justifiable as much), two, its not explicitly smut and with all of the details that are included, three, depending on how its written and whatnot.
obviously this is just a rant about whatever and probably wont change peoples minds (who write stuff like this) but i feel like sometimes it gets to a point and it can be harmful in fanfic etiquette (obviously i know if you dont like it, then dont read it), this is just aimed at a general audience so dont leave hate comments and just scroll if you dont like this post.
romaincrisis
