Greetings, wanderer! (Masterlist not updated//Will update soon)
welcome to my blog and thank you for taking interest with it hehe.
PLEASE READ MY CARRD FIRST!: click here
☆ﾐ quick disclaimer : i am, by no means, a professional writer. surely, you will find many errors on this blog, and i can only apologize on your end for the inconvenience while reading. i am still trying to learn how to write and expand my abilities in writing so bear with me as i do <333 ]
☆ﾐ which fandoms do you write for? : BLACK CLOVER, GENSHIN IMPACT, TEARS OF THEMIS AND HAIKYUU!!
☆ﾐ can you make a request? : yes! my inbox is open, but you must know as well that i write on various platforms so requests may take a while.
i do not write lime or nsfw. however, i see no issue in writing one with suggestive content
☆ﾐ link to my wattpad account? CLICK HERE!
☆ﾐ enjoyed my fics? please consider donating a cup! they’ll be used to find my law books and i’ll naturally take requests too. thank you! TIP HERE!
CLICK BELOW FOR MORE OF MY WORKS
GENSHIN IMPACT:
- Achilles Heel: Pantalone X GN Reader [Series]
BLACK CLOVER:
(one shots)
FUEGOLEON VERMILLION:
- What He Read
- Wrapped Up [ Holiday Special ]
- Shampoo
- Valentine’s Day Pick-Up Lines
NOZEL SILVA:
- Sanctuary
- Affection
- Light Me Up [ Holiday Special ]
- Valentine’s Day Pick-up Lines
JULIUS NOVACHRONO:
- You’re My Favorite
- Bread Thief [ Holiday Special ]
WILLIAM VANGEANCE:
- Sky [ Holiday Special ]
- Christmas Boy [ William X OC ]
- Valentine’s Day Pick-Up Lines
- Garden [ Valentine’s Day Special ]
- Always
MEREOLEONA VERMILLION:
- Wrong Landing [ Holiday Special ]
YAMI X CHARLOTTE:
- Dainty Fingers [ Holiday Special ]
- Valentine’s Day Pick-up Lines
NACHT FAUST
- Love Is War [ AU ]
NOELLE X ASTA
- Valentine’s Day Pick-up Lines
ZORA IDEALE
- Sparkles [ Valentine’s Day Special ]
YUNO GRINBERRYALL
- Allergies [ Valentine’s Day Special ]
List of BC Headcanons:
- BC boys who would kiss you to shut you up, and you’d kiss to shut up.
- Relationship HCs for Mars, Patri, Licht and Liebe
- Most Romantic/ Most Lowkey HCs for William, Nozel, Yami, and Fuego
Just a simple something I had in mind for a Genshin otome game... I have 0 attention span, 0 time, and 0 knowledge to write and build a full-fledged 3D game with intricate stories, plot, and mechanics. This is just a simple visual novel with a streamlined plot and partial voices. You should be able to complete everything in like... 30 minutes long in total. Might be less, even.
◇ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 ◇
The game will contain the following: established relationship, FLUFF, comfort, lots of pet names, suggestive themes, lots of kissy sounds on some routes, implications of violence (not towards player), a sprinkle of protective behavior
◇ 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ◇
Zhongli, Xiao, Childe, Diluc, Kaeya, Itto, Kazuha
(Zhongli is selected by default because who doesn’t love geo daddy???)
◇ 𝐰𝐡𝐨'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫? ◇
This is a very self-indulgent project, hence the dialogues were written with fem!player in mind. It will contain suggestive themes, so please be aware of that before downloading / playing!
◇ 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲? ◇
Yes, it's totally free - in fact, I do not accept payment.
◇ 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲? ◇
Click the link to download the appropriate file based on your OS. Only Windows, Linux, and Mac are supported. No, I won't release it on other platforms.
Open the game, and you’ll find that it’s pretty straightforward. Customize your profile, select your love interest, then start the game.
There are no wrong answers and the love interest can be changed anytime (just go back to main menu and select the character’s picture on the right side).
◇ 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐢 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬? ◇
You can personally send links to this post / the game’s itch.io page to your friends via DMs, but outside of that (reposting), NO. For example, posting about this on Reddit is prohibited.
◇ 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞? ◇
This is a super casual project.
Scripts are not proofread. Probably lots of grammar mistakes.
Novel format without narration (full dialogs).
There are no actual sprites, just official art and something akin to a speech bubble to cater to the characters’ changes in ‘expression’.
There are voices, but only partial - mostly just grunts, chuckles, kisses, and stuff. I’m using JP voices EXCEPT for Itto because Max Mittelman is a gem. No, I will not add other languages' voice versions.
Sound cues and voices are quite important for this game so I recommend using headphones.
Depending on when you open the game (morning, afternoon, nighttime, midnight), your currently selected love interest might greet you differently.
To reiterate, there are no wrong answers.
Selecting all talk/act options for a character will unlock a small event where they'll give you unique gifts.
I lowkey have so many ideas on how to expand on this in terms of gameplay and options but let’s be real here it probably won’t happen lol why can’t my brain be this creative when it comes to work
◇ 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐮𝐬??? ◇
No... That said, anyone can literally say that. Please be responsible for your own actions.
I have also released other games on the same itch.io profile, so this isn't my first rodeo. Feel free to check the reviews on those before making your decision if you're wary about downloading!
◇ 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 ◇
hyv please don't sue me i gain 0 dollars for this and i just wanna simp in peace
pairing/s: neuvillette x reader
context: fontaine's chief justice experiences his first heartbreak and realizes he may be in love. desperately and hopelessly so.
He supposed it was fine.
For a whole week, Neuvillette had meticulously planned on taking you out for dinner so that he could confess by the insistence of Sedene with the support of all Melusines. After all, they were tired of watching the two of you chasing each other in circles.
It didn't matter if he was the Chief Justice of Fontaine with a jam-packed schedule. It did not matter even if he's just finished one of the worst and most soul-draining trials in his time as the Iudex. He would drop it all at your beckon; in a heartbeat if you asked him, needed him. So long as it was you the word hesitation could kiss itself goodbye. He doesn't have the time, but for you, he could.
But due to an emergency, you had to cancel at the last minute.
There is an old saying that tells the tale of a dragon’s hardened shell made from the rarest and strongest of ores in all of Teyvat; a material of stardust no mortal could ever dream to acquire. And yet in these small moments that equated some sort of indirect rejection from you, he rather thought that perhaps his shell was not as tough as the other Sovereigns.
“Monsier Neuvillette, are you sure it's fine?”
He watches the way your eyes crinkle, the anticipation of disappointment from him settling in your gaze as you await his reply, and the thought of being selfish just this once is clawing within his chest. Be honest, say the truth. He had lived under the light of truth for as long he breathed so why was it so hard to do so now?
But he also catches your subtle, minuscule gaze at the clock behind him and he knows whatever the emergency was is important to you. And the mere thought of him preventing you from being where you should be, somewhere, with someone far more consequential than him wounds him.
Neuvillette wondered that if love always felt as agonizing as this, why would any person willingly place themselves in such torment? And yet one look at you and he knew. If he could endure a heartache for a single moment with you...
He would endure a hundred more.
“Of course, [Name]. We can reschedule another time.”
The restaurant would always be open, doors waiting for your steps, valets expecting your presence. But that did not change the fact that it ached and hurt in every crevice of his hollow heart he never knew he could feel pain from.
Fuck I’m at a fencing tournament and literally a minute after I reblogged this my dad told me that he talked to the point people and I’m probably going to win a medal.
I need to follow up to say I reblogged this last night, and this morning I got some of the best news of my life, like, a life dream come true news thing.
FUCK, I though it was just another lucky meme but LISTEN. Since a week ago I was waiting a phone call to confirm me if I got a job or not in my university. I reblogged this yesterday’s night “just for fun and because I don’t want any bagel to be mad with me”, and today’s afternoon, while I was losing my time as always, the professor I was supposed to work with called me and asked me for my personal information to start working with her.
┊Tomorrow the papers / contracts of a school that I’m moving to is gonna be sent to my current school so that I could move to the school that I’m moving too, but there’s a chance that I’d have to stay longer in my current school which makes me cry . I guess I’ll just try [ ? ]
so imagine this, albedo is a well-known painter in the kingdom due to his intricate penchant for detail. he's not the most famous per se, but he's got enough credit to him to get a commission from the king.
the king's request is simple: a portrait of their child to celebrate their adulthood.
he expects the heir to be rude. after all, that is how every noble-blooded child was but no, you weren't. you didn't sneer at him for his origin. you didn't even say anything while being painted, only replying for polite conversation.
but once he was finished, you fell in love with the painting he made. it was absolutely soul-stirring. did your eyes really look like this?
you tried to chase him, but he's gone just like that. a decade later, he's become the best painter in Teyvat.
but after a few mysterious years when he became radio silent, you find out he's died of an incurable disease. to pay your respects, you went to the museum which would showcase all of his works never before seen in public.
but when his magnum opus was unveiled, the description only broke you:
(Name) (Last Name), Year XXX
Teyvat Kingdom's finest treasure
My first, last, and only love
(here's another genshin royalty au idea i might flesh out *or not*)
kaedehara kazuha, other than being your closest friend and confidant, is one of the most prominent writers of your generation.
the general mass loved him and his works, and he was grateful for your support each time he releases a new volume. despite the hectic demands of being the heir apparent to the throne, you always had time for him.
from sneaking into ice cream shops under obvious disguises to midnight rendezvous in libraries, it didn't take long for you to fall in love with him. how could you not? as if his gift for words were not enough to sway your heart, he understood you and accepted you; flaws and all.
the problem is that he's in love with someone else. he never said it directly, but for the past few years, his books have always been dedicated to someone who was apparently not you. otherwise, he would have said so.
but during the release of his final addition to the series (which he mailed you), he's hurt when you've cut all contact with him. when he couldn't take your silence anymore, he sneaks into your room.
when he gets there, however, he laughs like a maniac at the sight of your bookshelf. how could you have received the message he was trying to convey if you bought every edition of his work?
so kazuha re-arranges his books on your shelf and it hits you right in the face like the dumb idiot that you are.
the spine of each novel he wrote spells out your name.
no, but like imagine scaramouche, the prince of a neighboring nation is all but loved by his mother for failing to be everything she needs and wants from an heir to the throne. worse, she wishes he never existed at all.
so in a fit of emotions and decisions, he decides to kidnap the darling— "crowning jewel" of another empire, you, whose nation is in war with theirs to prove to his mother that he isn't so useless after all.
during your imprisonment, it is evident that he is detestable and you hate every breathing part of him.
however, he is unaware that the darling of the country is actually your twin sibling and the king does not value you at all. in fact, the whole kingdom doesn't even notice your disappearance.
so you use this as your leverage to annoy the fuck out of your captor and he is vexed.
❝I cannot kill you, for your end will become my eternal damnation.❞
Pairing/s: GN! Reader X Pantalone, Various Harbingers X Reader
SYNOPSIS: Pantalone does not do well with love. He never thought, wanted, much less had experience in that field. He viewed it as a weakness, a bad omen hanging above his head. But he was prepared to make an exception for you.
He'd let you become his only Achilles Heel if it meant keeping you.
-> ACHILLES HEEL CHAPTER NAVIGATION
CHAPTER THREE: between the lines (3/21)
⸻ "DID YOU BRING ME HERE TO MAKE ME ENVIOUS?"
Pantalone was a considerate host, much to your surprise.You were given too much of a spacious and elaborate room for a guest, bathed in a warm bath, clothed with silken night wear paired with an equally comfortable winter coat. Nothing of the attention given to you was mediocre— if it hadn't been for the maidservants who kept sneering at your presence.
In fact, you believe they loathed you.
If only they had simply scowled at the sight of you then maybe you'd believe they found you repulsive to look at. No. They articulated their dislike for you through actions such as brushing your hair too harshly and accidentally tripping the tray that carried your coffee, burning your skin with the hot liquid.
You decide to hide the burn scar and avoid the plight it may stir.
At half past seven, the devil invited you to his office. For what reason? To annoy you as if you don't already hold a grudge against him for needlessly choking you out of spite.
Thank Celestia for your patience.
"Of what are you envious, [Name]?" the Harbinger asked, his hands moving in a slow manner as he ate another spoonful of his scrumptious breakfast while you sat there arms-crossed with a plate of nothing.
"You know what I'm talking about." you glowered, "Did you bring me here because we have something to talk about or to make me hungry?"
Pantalone's lips curled into a smile, "Perhaps both."
The man sips from his coffee, one which Frederick came to personally blend in his small cabin office earlier and the aroma capered the room in a medley with the maple syrup and french toast.
"How old are you?" you asked, an obvious attempt to obscure thoughts of the food from re-entering the surface of your mind.
"I don't particularly see the importance of your question."
You harrumph, "A little privy on the age, hm? Well then, Lord Regrator, what do you do for a living?"
"We should skip the formalities [Name]. After all, we've already shared quite an intimate moment with each other yesterday." he sliced a piece of mouthwatering pancakes and brought it to his delectable lips before continuing, "To answer your question, you could say that I am a banker of sorts."
"A banker? Like, with money? Your niche is numbers?"
"I was not aware there were other kinds of bankers."
"Uhm, those who gamble? Like, they give cards and anoint the game."
"The conductor of a gambling table is called a croupier, not a banker."
You ignored his input, persisting with your original question, "So, are you good at it? The numbers?"
Pantalone shakes his head. You were like a child staring at him with so much veneration despite knowing he was a Harbinger. As such, he is unable to stop the tugging of his lips.
How detestable it is to feel satisfaction from the likes of you.
"I am Northland Bank's head director. That much should suffice your curiosity." Pantalone dabbed his lip with a handkerchief, swerving his eye from the plate to your face. You suppress the urge to shiver.
"How admirable," you complimented, reaching for his coffee but he swats your hand before the cup touched your lithe fingertips. You frowned, "Is it out of inclination that you chose banking as a profession?"
The smile on his face disappears, and you begin to panic that you've let an offensive remark slip your brazen mouth.
"Do you think of me so little that the probability of monetary principles being my natural talent was out of the prospect?" Pantalone spat, annoyed.
You attempt to reach the coffee again. He moves it away from you. "Why is it that you always assume I'm disparaging your character?"
He eyed your countenance, examining it for any indication of falsity but find nothing. "So I take it that you're not?"
"No, of course not. I asked you that because sometimes, innate talent isn't enough of a motivation. You could be born with the most potent brain for something but want another thing that's entirely different from what you're gifted with."
Clarity is often difficult to grasp when a person's mind is in a constant battle with the heart's desire. You've seen how it conflicted people until it ultimately ravaged their minds leaving nothing but a shell of what used to be a bright flame.
Pantalone cleared his throat, "[Name], why is it that you ask so many questions?"
"Well, you can say that it's my nature. I come across something or someone I don't understand and I become curious of them." You explained, shifting in your seat.
"Curious?" He raised a brow.
"Yes," you smiled, leaning a little to one side just enough for the light of the morning sun to kiss your figure in a soft glow.
"I mean, what kind of person strangles you on the first meet after you've done them the favor of getting your own hands bloodied? Clearly, I should be enraged but that doesn't prevent me from thinking you're uncanny... but not in a bad way, I guess."
An unmistakable flicker of delight rippled through Pantalone when his lips turn into a coy smile; the drumming of his fingers on the table coming to a halt.
"Do correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't you confessing, dear [Name], that you find me remarkable enough to be the subject of your interest?" his tone remained the same as before but there was a hint of mirth; teasing, even, if one listened close enough.
"Don't put words into my mouth." you avoided his gaze feeling the rush of blood to your cheeks, the realization of your words only dawning now like a broken cash register.
The Harbinger watched as you fumbled with the cuffs of your sleeved coat, gratification seeping through his veins at the sight of your unease.
He decides then that he would stop at that for today. "I have a business to take care of today." he pushed himself up and trudged near the wooden coat rack, the metal embellishments of his fur coat clanking together in resonant as he wore it around himself.
You tilt your head, "You trust me enough to leave me here, alone, in your office? I might find secrets here you would want to remain hidden, who knows."
A chuckle erupts unexpectedly from his lips, "Trust is quite the big word, no? Try as you may to flee this place, I can simply have my men search for you and bring you back." the undertone in his statement did not go amiss by your clever ear.
"I'll be honest, I don't know why I'm still held captive. But for the free food and settlement, I really have no plans of leaving." you grinned.
Pantalone makes no other comment as he draws near you and you realize through his thick glasses that whatever it was he was thinking is the penultimate reason he called you here.
He stalls beside you in brevity, an inquisitive gaze studying your neck. "I believe you'll find what's in this box suitable. If you do not like it, simply throw it away." he hands you a package exorbitantly bundled in shrouded wrapping, offering no other explanation of the box's content.
Confused, you take it from his hold, fingers touching his in the briefest of seconds, and yet your pulse spikes all the same. Whether or not Pantalone noticed he did not say, but the satisfied smile on his face as he left convinced you he did.
When you open the neatly tied box after the man's exit, you find a new scarf within it that was beyond 'suitable.'
You huff an air of disbelief upon realizing that the cravat he gave you was the exact color of his own.
CHAPTER THREE, END.
<- chapter two
chapter four ->
tip this broke law student here! thank you, travellers! i hope you enjoy the rest of the fic! <33
❝I cannot kill you, for your end will become my eternal damnation.❞
SYNOPSIS: Pantalone does not do well with love. He never thought, wanted, much less had experience in that field. He viewed it as a weakness, a bad omen hanging above his head. But he was prepared to make an exception for you.
He'd let you become his only Achilles Heel if it meant keeping you.
content warning: excessive choking and implied dacryphilia
CHAPTER TWO: OF BLOOD AND TEARS | 2/22
⸻ WITH THE SOFT GLOW OF the furnace disappearing into a motley of crackles resembling a graveyard of fireflies, the frigid temperature of the room wedged itself into the crack of the walls and, by extension, your back that was pressed against it.
You've been trained for endurance, and weather such as this should have been nothing. Yet Snezhnayan winters were far different from the cold you've been accustomed to in all your eons of being alive.
"I assume you did not decide to visit here on a whim seeing your rather... peculiar attire," he said, not an insult, but as an observation.
"Excuse me, sir, for not fitting your standards of fine design. But mind you, this cloth is made of the highest quality and the bearer adds value to it." his grin widens ever so slightly at your remark.
"Well then, I shall be the judge of that." before you could question his statement, he had already reached for your hood, the fabric slipping to your shoulders in a swift motion.
The man has no shame, you conclude, when he drinks the sight of you and an inkling in your stomach is telling you to hide. You do not and instead stand there, waiting.
His smile does not falter, but his hold from your neck slackens. Your stomach twists at the supposition he's recognized your identity.
From your current situation, you've deduced a few things though they offered little to no help. First, this man who towered over you was strikingly handsome.
His hair, tied into a one-sided ponytail, was dipped in coal black, darker than oblivion but smelt of the wind on the seashore during twilight; cold, invigorating, resplendent. It was a great contrast to his face; pale, and devoid of any human warmth.
He not only looked expensive but was the epitome of the word itself.
This man was rich. Scratch that, he's filthy rich.
However, there was something about his concentration that unsettled you— it felt like he had donned his eyes with a loupe, scrutinizing every part of yourself; determining the clarity you had as if to assess whether you were a precious diamond or an odious rock he'd have no qualms with throwing away.
Second, he had quite a temper. Whether only around you or others included, you did not know nor care for.
He places his hand on your shoulder and you become optimistic that he might be kind enough to let you sit down. He does not make the offer. "Let us make this quick, hm? I have other affairs to attend to and I'm not fond of wasting time."
Not even an exchange in pleasantries? So much for being the illustrious dignitary of Snezhnaya.
You feigned obedience with a nod. "What a pleasure to be held captive by you, Sir. I'm [Name]."
A victorious grin tugged his lips and you subconsciously thought that you deserved an award for your stellar performance.
"Thank you for being cooperative, [Name]. May I ask what you've done to my men?" from his tone, you could tell that it was a command, not a question.
"They're alive," you tilted your head to the side, glimpsing at the Fatui agents who were nearly freezing to death from being in a standstill "I knocked them out by striking the back of their necks." you smirked.
Pantalone warningly places a finger on your neck, mistaking your words for pride. "Clever, you are. I would appreciate, however, if you specify how you've executed your obvious violation."
"And why should I? Does that even matter ah—"
"I suggest," he gingerly glided his gloved thumb over your barely visible adam's apple, conducting slow and deliberate movements of pressing it to lodge your throat, "that you answer me when I ask a question."
'Can I kill him?'
That thought had passed you ceaselessly, and you wondered yourself why he was not reduced to ashes. Strong in presence but impotent with Celestia's 'gifts'. He was visionless. You had one, he did not. It should have been easy, yet here you were contemplating.
The Tsaritsa's Harbingers are the recipient of superlative delusions. You've seen one—held it even, and though it wasn't the same as a vision, it was powerful still, and alluded to its master only by fitting whatever its bearer lacked or demanded.
Whoever invented it was a genius, but reckless; an evident proclamation that the creator was against the gods who reigned supreme from above. That they opposed how Celestia manipulated the lives of the vision bearers like marionettes. Those who wielded it probably held the same disdain over the puppeteers.
"I have offered you my kindness, and I expect you to repay it equally." Reality came back to your senses when the Harbinger pressed your thyroid gland harder and you perspired, a tear skidding itself across your cheeks from the sudden force. How risible indeed, your faux mien of frigidity had come undone because of this lunatic.
While your mind raced to keep your sensibility together, you failed to notice how his demeanor shifted. His face had turned blank, his mouth in a grim line, and an unreadable expression danced on his pale countenance that was luminescent under the moon's light.
"P-Pressure points on, on the Vagus nerves." you choked, consciousness slowly drifting from your hold. You think again of murdering him.
"How knowledgable." he praises. The man moved his other hand towards your hair to set it aside, your nape exposed for him to pounce on. His lips descended closer to your earlobe, cool breath tickling your skin as he asked, "Is it here, perhaps?"
The Regrator had only been testing waters, seeing which button would push you to the edge of your sentience, wholly unaware of how the kettle had been steaming and whistling alarmingly.
Perhaps you should kill him. "You son of a bit—"
"My Lord! Are you alright—" The doors swung open bringing forth frozen crystals of water that billowed through the room, and in goes a vested man with a tie on his neck.
You instantly recognize the pattern on his suit, and from the way he addressed him, it was unmistakable that this old man was the Harbinger's butler.
The butler surveyed your... entangled position and composed himself as quickly as he had been caught off-guard, "My apologies, Lord Pantalone. I did not realize you were in the middle of a session, Sir." 'Session?'
Pantalone, as the butler called him, shifted his body and moved away from yours. While the two converse in a muddled discussion, you fall to the ground in an attempt to catch your breath
When you turned to look at the butler, he tore his gaze away from you; cheeks flushed in either discomfort or the cold. Curious of his reaction, you threw yourself a glance from one of the mirrors near the Harbinger's table, and a gasp escaped your lips at the sight of your bruised neck with his hand prints.
This bastard!
"Heavens," you exhaled loudly, and the other two people in the room heard you, "you ruined it." you tilted your head in the mirror, observing the lines he had created from choking you half to death moments ago.
Pantalone regarded you for a moment, "Frederick," he called.
The butler straightened his posture, "My Lord."
"Awaken the men idly sleeping outside and take them to the barracks. Their incompetence, after all, must be paid in equal amount." the Harbinger gave you a fleeting look.
"While you're at it, kindly escort my guest to the spare room and have the servants fix their...disarrayed state." you scowled at him while his eyes simply cruised your form, "Ensure that my guest changes into warmer and more comfortable garments."
Frederick nodded, "As you command, Sir." he hovers on the threshold, ushering you to follow him.
In your hesitation, the Harbinger spoke up, "We will continue our... discussion tomorrow, [Name]. I don't suppose you have any other plans?"
You trudge to the coat rack above a lavishly ornamented credenza and snatch a scarf, "I take that this has no value to you seeing how austere it is compared to your choice of fashion? Doesn't matter, I'll be using it either way."
Pantalone slyly nods, "Do as you please. You may borrow it, for the time being, if you wish to cover the marks of our prior engagements."
You throw him a scornful look as you step beside Frederick and said, "We're not done yet." then walk out.
The butler raises a brow at his master but makes no comment. He bows at Pantalone and closes the door to follow the guest kicking the snow outside in a fit of anger.
Left in his desolate office, Pantalone removed his glasses and ran a hand over his hair, tousling it a little in the end. His mind drifts back to your disheveled state; the vision of a tear escaping your eyelids returning to him.
He grimaced at himself. He did not mean to intimidate you too harshly. Though he did not feel the need to apologize, seeing as how his actions were justified by your pretentious mouth and trespassing, he made a mental note to purchase a new scarf for you.
It was unusual for him to break character so easily. How contemptible. The Regrator's mouth tasted a flavor he was not akin to and he detested it tremendously to the point that he had unguardedly crushed the bifocals he owned.
However, you were right with one thing: he was not yet finished with you and it seemed unlikely that he would be anytime soon.
Pantalone fished his drawer for a new pair of glasses, sparing but a glance to the mirror when he fixed his appearance and made his way to the barracks. Confusion was often transient. There was no time to be placid and sink through inane thoughts.
Implacable punishment was dinner's main course, so it seems. And the Harbinger was more than thrilled to drown inept people in a bath of their own blood after today's ordeal.
CHAPTER TWO, END.
<- chapter one (previous)
-> chapter three (next)
updates are posted almost every day until chapter eleven. thank you for reading <3
Achilles Heel [Pantalone x Reader Series] Chapter 1
❝I cannot kill you, for your end will become my eternal damnation.❞
SYNOPSIS: Pantalone does not do well with love. He never thought, wanted, much less had experience in that field. He viewed it as a weakness, a bad omen hanging above his head. But he was prepared to make an exception for you.
He'd let you become his only Achilles Heel if it meant keeping you.
CHAPTER ONE: A LION'S DEN | 1/22
⸻ PANTALONE WAS A PATIENT MAN.
It wasn't luck that had gotten him the seat of being the second richest person in Teyvat. Nor was fate the reason why he ended up being one of the renowned Harbingers. That was his doing, not of any god, not of any preordained fate. Every deal he had made was calculated carefully to match his objectives and each contract he handled traipsed on a rope of his cleverness.
He deserved his riches, his power, and his influence. His job required excellence in the observation of how the economy fluctuates, and sharp wit to act on the scene. While it is true that being a banker required empathy as well, only a fool with no self-awareness would dare and test his tolerance.
The Regrator was in search of a temporary secretary— his former one had unfortunately been hospitalized for poisoning— when a man in his late fifties pleaded him for a moment of his time, claiming he was the one he has been looking for.
But with his patience growing thinner, perhaps this imbecile should have begged for his life instead.
He glanced at the watch hidden underneath the layers of his thick coat, before begrudgingly placing his attention back at the buffoon in front of him. 10 minutes. The oaf sitting across the table had been uttering pure nonsense for ten minutes of speeches filled with self-centered praises, and glories of his wealth.
The relevance of his self-boasting to their interview? Nowhere to be found.
"What was your name again?" he asked. The man, obviously offended by the sudden interference, frowned and straightened his posture.
"Diego, My Lord." Pantalone thought briefly of how common his name was and how this man's stupidity blinded him from seeing how angered the Harbinger was.
He gathered every parchment from Diego's resume, pretended to scan them quickly, and smiled wryly. "After such a short-notice meeting, I'll require more time to evaluate certain things before I reach a decision. Regardless of such, you have a remarkable taste for gifts."
Diego seemed pleased with the compliment, eyeing the sack of treasures he had gifted upon his arrival.
"Anything for you, My Lord." the man replied standing up from his seat, holding a hand out for him to shake.
How ludicrous. Did this dolt really think he'd win him over such useless trinkets?
Nonetheless, he kept his façade and shook Diego's hands.
"It was a pleasure doing business with you, My Lord. I hope we will meet again soon." the man removed his hat and placed it on his chest as he bowed at him.
Pantalone acknowledged it, waving his hand in the air to dismiss his presence. Words should not be wasted on unprofitable assets which Diego was the moment he walked his hubristic soles into his office.
Once the man had left, the banker called out his guards stationed outside the cabin they settled in. At the sight of him, the Fatui saluted, awaiting his orders.
Pantalone's eyes drifted to the fading figure of the man outside talking to his coachmen, barking orders. Men like Diego needed to be put back in their place. He appreciated ambitious people. Essentially, it was those kinds of employees that worked more diligently than the rest as if they had to prove to the world that they were capable of doing something. That their presence was needed. Their talents sought after.
After all, that was how his own story began; destitute from birth with no blessing from the gods. He loathed it. His meager disposition, the vulnerabilities of his upbringing, and how those experiences dubbed him detestable to society.
Rather than listening to his Aria of misery as everyone else with ill-fated lives, he stole the baton from the conductor and became the maestro of the orchestra. When an instrument to his masterpiece invariably sounded out of tune, he took it upon himself to pluck the strings of his own fate— weaving it meticulously, till he had the results he wanted.
Till the pitiable harmony that was his life sounded like a symphony worthy of reverence.
Though so minuscule, he could see that in Diego. A man yearning for success to improve his life. However, it seemed that the career-driven man was long gone.
Pantalone turned to his men and with an unmoving gaze said, "Kill him. Swiftly, and not a sound should be heard."
They nodded, moving in synch comparable to robots, and went away.
Embers from the cabin's fireplace crackled slowly in a faded resonance within the sanctuary of the office. The sheer cold from outside slowly invited itself as it crept up the nails of the roof similar to an unwelcome guest— dampening the firewood until its glow dimmed. What a quiet reminder that Snezhnaya's frost was unforgiving, much like the Tsaritsa herself.
Truly, Pantalone was grateful for the benevolence of their Archon. Whilst it was the Director who recruited him into the Fatui, the Tsaritsa saw him for his aptitude in financial affairs, thus granting him the power to the nation's economic policies and the position of Northland Bank's head.
She did not bat an eye when his greed overtook his senses, a case rarely ensued but still did at a certain point. To the Tsaritsa, as long as her children remained faithful only to her with their long-term goals aligning her grand scheme to overturn Celestia, the manner in which they carried out their duties was irrelevant.
The clack of the door hitting the wall pulled him from his thoughts, and a figure with a hood entered his office: unwanted, unannounced, with a stature so confident it almost vexed him. Which ignorant moron would dare enter a Harbinger's office without their permission?
Turns out only you.
"Oh," you said, "so there's one more."
Pantalone looked through the window only to be greeted by the sight of all his men on their knees, tied up together like a present, unconscious.
Though the Regrator was a businessman to heart, the sight of blood never fazed him. If anything, he greeted death whenever the two crossed paths on the battlefield with a nod of his head. One is not a true member of the Fatui if danger is not their companion.
The Tsaritsa only accepted results beyond satisfaction and Pantalone was prepared to do anything even if he was just artillery to the Archon. Therefore, dealing with you should be easy if he hadn't just finished dealing with his former client. He wasn't quite in the mood for a fight.
What a nuisance you are.
Instinctively, his hand went to his delusion, hidden from plain sight underneath his overcoat. Even so, you simply went past him and reached for the sack Diego had brought earlier. After only seconds of rummaging, you brought out a piece of old jewelry— a pendant with a faceted rock.
You looked at him briefly, the papers on the table, then to every part of his body except his eyes. "Sorry for the mess. This is very important to me and that man," you pointed at Diego outside, dead from the looks of it. "stole it from me. Just had to get it back. I heard your order to kill him from the roof so I did it myself."
"Now, now, there's no need to thank me just a smile from you is enough." you added, chuckling a little.
Pantalone drew his brows together. Were you perhaps... an escapee from the mental hospital? That's strange. He was sure there were no psychological institutions nearby.
When no response still came from him, you stared at the papers again. "By the way, the fifth clause in that contract technically breaks the policies stated in the first." you said.
The man finally moved. "What?"
"That resume on your table," you gestured at the papers. "Not only are the stipulations contradicting, but the estimation for the projects are all wrong, and that seal on it is fake. Whoever forged that was clearly stupid."
He knew that. Admittedly, it took him six seconds of reading the documents to conclude they were written by another hand who clearly did not understand the demands of a secretary to a Harbinger's work, but you merely glimpsed at it still inches away from yourself and already recognized what they were.
How odd you were.
You sighed from his inability to continue the conversation, "Well, I'll be taking my leave now." you then placed a hand on your chest out of respect. "Goodbye, kind sir."
Before you could take another step, Pantalone seized your wrist, the warmth from your bare hand seeping through his gloves.
"Are you deranged?" he asked.
"My insanity depends on the amount of breakfast I've had. I've barely eaten a spoon today so I think you've made the correct assessment. Are you a doctor?" you grinned.
Pantalone almost snorted in amusement if he hadn't stopped himself. What civilization did you live in for you not to recognize who he was? Wait. He shook his head. What was he doing? Enough time was already wasted on the wrong interviewee, he couldn't waste much more. He tightened his grip on your hand.
"How courageous of you to walk into my office, thinking you'd step out freely with no sanction. Do you know which den you've walked into?" His tone was crisp, like the unrelenting ice that plagued the room.
Obviously, he was livid with regard to your lack of manners. And from the looks of it, you were about to be served the wrath of the Ninth. The hand that once preyed on your wrist was long gone and moved to your neck.
There was a flicker in your eyes one that he knew was of acknowledgment, albeit the hood that covered most of your face. But it wasn't recognition of his position. The sudden shift in your facial expressions—what you recognized was not who he was but how dangerous he is.
Yet what intrigued him was how you were more beguiled, curious even, rather than afraid.
"I think I've walked into a lion's den," you answered, almost gagging at the force of his hold. But despite the lack of air you managed to crack another smile as you continued, "Though I must say, I'm not afraid of being bitten at all."
CHAPTER ONE, END.
-> chapter two
tip this broke law student here! thank you, travellers! i hope you enjoy the rest of the fic! <33
❝I cannot kill you, for your end will become my eternal damnation.❞
Pairing/s: Pantalone x Gender Neutral Reader
SYNOPSIS: Pantalone does not do well with love. He never thought, wanted, much less had experience in that field. He viewed it as a weakness, a bad omen hanging above his head. But he was prepared to make an exception for you.
He'd let you become his only Achilles Heel if it meant keeping you.
INTRODUCTION | part 1 / ?
"What do you want from me?" you asked.
"Want is too shallow of a word, I'm afraid." Pantalone pivoted the heel of his shoe to face you directly. His eyes, illuminated by the fickle candle of the room, glimmered in determination— one you haven't seen yourself since the day he hired you. He looked like a judge in a courtroom, a verdict ready to roll out of his tongue. But behind it, there was a hint of discomposure.
What had made this man who was so sure of his principles falter?
"I do not care for the welfare of others. But you," he breathed, marching in your direction. He reached out to hold the tip of your chin, his thumb gently caressing the skin of your face as if you were porcelain. "You make me irrational. Emotional. You make me feel weak. Do you realize how much of a problem that is for me?"
You leaned into his touch, answering, "Then kill me. I do not want to become a liability to you."
Pantalone heaved a sigh, now gingerly cupping your face while his eyes admired your features, like a jeweler inspecting the rarest of all gems. So pristine. So inimitable. And now that treasured jewel stared back at him with an unwavering gaze.
How he revered your attention. "I can't,"
"Why not?"
❝I CANNOT KILL YOU, FOR YOUR END WILL BECOME MY ETERNAL DAMNATION.❞
The only exception, his Achilles Heel; the cause of his greatest downfall.
