Synopsis: The trembling voice of the tea apprentice carries through the room, and though you can’t see him, you imagine he must be shaking. Who wouldn’t be, tasked with gaining the approval from the Sixth of the Eleven Fatui Harbringers?
Word Count:2240
Notes: Yandere, forced marriage, abuse
“Is–is it acceptable, my lord?”
The trembling voice of the tea apprentice carries through the room, and though you can’t see him, you imagine he must be shaking. Who wouldn’t be, tasked with gaining the approval from the Sixth of the Eleven Fatui Harbringers? Even if its only approval for a selection of tea.
You rock forward, just enough to peek your head past the screen keeping you from view, and glance at the selection laid out carefully in front of Scaramouche–in front of your husband.
▣characters:MONDSTADT’S+INAZUMA’S FINEST x gn reader
⦿albedo, diluc, kaeya, kazuha, razor, and venti
▣trigger warning:yandere content, dark content, murder, drugging, mentions of blood, heavy stalking, manipulation, obsessive mindsets, delusional mindsets, mentions of breaking and entering, mentions of physical abuse, abuse of power, kidnapping/imprisonment, infantilism, dumbification, explicit masturbation, male ejaculation, sexual fantasies, non-con/dub-con, explicitly sexual content.
Temple of Gold - Yan!Zhongli x Priestess!Reader x Yan!Osial
This is part of the “Spoil of War” series collection. You can find the masterlist for this series hereand the first chapter here.
Notes: I am so sorry for taking this long to update, but here it is at last!! I hope you all enjoy it. And BTW… WE’VE REACHED 500 FOLLOWERS! I am honestly so grateful to each one of you, and I’ll be planning some way to celebrate! My heart is full of love and gratitude TuT <3 <3
Credits:@violeteyesofevergarden for letting me vent ideas to her, honestly, you have been such a crucial part of this series and I am so grateful for your help TUT!
Warnings:General dark and yandere themes, isolation, nightmares and manipulation.No beta, we die like Rex Lapis.
“The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself.” ― Oscar Wilde.
The tempest that lashed the walls of Guizhong’s Shrine did not seem to faze the Overlord of the Vortex, the distinguished lines of his face remained indifferent to the touch of the icy water. Everything about him gave the impression that he was used to the world subjugating to his will. His tall figure melted into the darkness around him, as if it belonged to him and obeyed his commands.
You remain immobile to his relentless advance, your feet nailed to the ground and your arms protecting your body. The icy wind turned the raindrops into razors that attacked you mercilessly, but your eyes remained defiant. You were afraid to give in to a monster like him, devoid of all gentleness and the very picture of everything that stood against your principles. You close your eyes, trying to compose yourself as you feel his lips nearing your neck. It’s then that you feel a strange warmth surround your silhouette, and you breathe in a familiar scent.
By the time you open your eyes, a soft, gentle breeze sways the beautiful blooming glaze lilies, all in ghostly silence. A chain of unbridled musings lashes at your mind as you wake from yet another trance. The hours you had dedicated to mourning had been transformed into torments by Osial, who in dreams taunted your devotion with strange visions of sin. You wanted to lock them up, prevent them from appearing in your thoughts again. Wrap them in shrouds and deliver them to the river if need be, let the waters drown them for all eternity.
When you look down, you see nothing but the sea below you. Your feet barely skim the mountain as the only thing stopping your fall is a black and gold-infused arm that imprisons your body in a strong and devoted grip. You feel the air come out of your lungs in shock, and without thinking you cling desperately to the Lord of Geo’s arm, tears streaming down your cheeks as he takes a few steps back pulling you close to him, and away from the sea. Your knees shake, unable to support your weight any longer, and your arms hang delicately as you slowly lose your senses, fainting a mere seconds later.
One step ahead and he would have been too late.
Dark amber glowed in his eyes as he holds you close, fury turning his blood into boiling liquid gold. He rests his knees on the ground with you still in his arms and as he feels your soft hair on his cheek, he turns his face towards your beautiful sleeping form and, unable to restrain himself, buries his nose in the crook of your neck, taking long breaths to regain his composure, allowing your sweet scent to dull his senses.
The leaves rustled under your feet as you silently followed behind the God of Contracts. Shame and sadness flooded your thoughts and kept you mute as your eyes wandered through the beautiful temple Morax had built as a parting gift to his dearest of friends. A place to honor her legacy, to mourn her and your sisters, to keep you safe, as he had promised Guizhong.
Morax’s kindness was enormous, and you felt unworthy of it.
“May I assume you have made up your mind, then?” he says, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts.
“I have, your grace.”
“The tenets you must follow are to remain the same” he adds, tilting his face to look at you, “Are you aware of what said choice entails?”
“I wish to remain a Dust Priestess.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
To that, you raise your gaze, conflict swirling in the deep color of your eyes. Morax’s face remains calm, but his pupils dilate slightly at the sight of your doubt.
You belonged here in this pure world, to which he, a god of battle and blood, was but an intruder … and to which he entered nonetheless, incapable of stopping the part of him that you unknowingly lured in with your warmth. You were the very image of loneliness and fragility as Morax stood in front of you.
You wonder if Guizhong awaited you in the afterlife along with the rest of your sisters… Could that promise be enough to make you feel less of a lost soul whose title no longer served any purpose? Could it make the pain more bearable?
Morax can see that the past, filled with sun and laughter, seemed to torment you. Back then, you were nothing but a naive, sweet girl who had never seen a battle, nor heard a dying man’s plea. A girl whose head was full of nothing but songs and riddles. War had torn apart that child. The gleam of wonder and curiosity that brought light to your eyes was long gone. In its place, however, sorrow reigned exquisitely. Had you ever looked more beautiful and dignified than you did now?
As much as he missed seeing you smile, grief turned ethereal in that splendid face of yours. Your voice no longer held the sweet ring of spring, but the calm, alluring sound of winter’s wind. Those sad songs you used to sing for him would sound even more beautiful now that you understood pain.
An invisible force impelled him with all the might of unsated desire to raise his hand, to hold that beautiful face of yours between his fingertips and bring you comfort. The Lord of Geo restrains himself, however, as he awaits your answer.
Your lips tremble in doubt as you mutter “… I am, your grace”.
With that, you vow to stay hidden behind these walls, away from the sea and every danger it imposes. You are to remain unwed, untouched, and unyielding to every sin that tempts you. With that, the remaining Dust Priestess vows to live a solitary life in this temple of gold, to mourn the loss of her goddess and sisters until her last breath. One step outside and you could no longer be a Dust Priestess.
“Then I am to leave you now, as this temple does not belong to me,” he says in a solemn tone, lowering his gaze and slowly turning away from you. Part of you wants to stop him, and ask him if he shall visit you from time to time, the thought of being utterly alone starting to sink in as the sounds of his steps echoed in the empty, lonely hall.
“Your grace?” you call, meekly.
He tilts his head slightly, not looking at you but indicating he is listening.
“I… wanted to thank you, for saving me.”
Your eyes linger in his form as the heavy stone gate starts to close, a small pool of tears clouding your sight. He doesn’t answer, but nods his head before stepping outside the entrance of gold and stone.
Once outside, the Lord of Geo stares silently at the sky, taking a moment to mourn his friend.
“I’m keeping my promise, Guizhong. Your daughter has a temple of gold to keep her safe, and I shall not interfere… However, leaving the temple is her renouncing you… and welcoming me.”
Morax then lowers his gaze in contempt, facing the raging sea that howls at him.
“So do your worst, Osial,” he says, a sinister shadow forming in his eyes, “Lure her out if you must.”
Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, and mild not SFW themes. Word count: 5k. Note:i’m absolutely in love with the raiden shogun . i wanted to do a fuller story to honor her best, and here it is, after getting more inazuma lore. there isn’t much in terms of spoilers here, just the information we knew from the trailers + tidbits of references to inazuma geography!
What is Eternity?
You, a mere mortal, could never hope to comprehend the full weight of the word.
That’s what simpleminded folk in Inazuma would tell themselves. The reason they’d avert their eyes to atrocities, claiming neutrality in the face of oppression, as not to disturb the delicate balance of their vacuous lives. Oh, how you pitied them. What a terribly simple way to carry out your days. Waking in the early dawn, fetching supplies and haggling for better prices at noon, working the fields until evening then resting as the night settles in. And so the cycle begins anew each day. What troubled you most about the common rabble of Inazuma’s people wasn’t the complacency, the self-preservation that remains core to every human.
No, what troubled you most as you sat in this rotting cell, was that those fools were right.
▣characters:LIYUE’S+KHAENRI’AH’S+SNEZHNAYA’SFINEST x gn reader
⦿ chongyun, dainsleif, tartaglia, xiao, xingqiu, and zhongli
▣ trigger warning:yandere content, dark content, heavy stalking, obsessive mindsets, delusional mindsets, mentions of breaking and entering, implied physical abuse, abuse of power, mentions kidnapping/imprisonment, infantilism, dumbification, mentions of explicit masturbation, male ejaculation, sexual fantasies, mentions of non-con, explicitly sexual content.
Summary:In the middle of Liyue’s darkest period of terror, the legend of a bloodthirsty Yaksha terrorizes the land. The little village you grew up in is growing weaker as raids continue, and you become the victim of their despair and superstition. So they offer you as a sacrifice for the Yaksha to take.
CW: Stalking, General yandere behavior, mentions of violence.
“The one who makes blood pour like rain over the fields”. That is what you and everyone you knew called him.
You were taught to believe that even speaking his name out loud was the same as wishing death upon your people. That he was a bloodthirsty demon, that he was death incarnate, the product of sin and everything evil.
But no one told you how beautiful he was, not one tale mentioned his eyes that gleamed like yellow stars haunting the night.
Had you known the fate your so-called people chose for you, you would have whispered his name and let the most beautiful being in the world bring its carnage upon them.
You smile bitterly at the darkness of your own thoughts, maybe you deserved this fate after all.
Your people feared you too, deemed you a curse long ago when you had your first encounter with the Wind Yaksha. “You were marked!”, they said as you were being tied down, “He chose you back then, and by denying him you will end up dooming us all!”. Your pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears as they dragged you outside your house. You promised to leave the village and begged to be given the chance to survive on your own. They were condemning you, you screamed, amidst chants of “Get her out of here!” and “Cursed child!”. The faces of all the people who knew you since you were born twisted into demonic disfigurements as your tears clouded your vision and you lost consciousness. By the time you had woken up, he was there. Staring right into your soul.
No fair trial for the wicked, it seems.
Your lips tremble as a few more tears stream down your face. Right, I am about to die. How awful would it be that your last thoughts are of the traitors you once called friends and neighbors. You force your eyes open once more, looking directly at the monster in front of you, the moon shining on his back as your sole, silent witness. If you were to die now, you wanted the last thing you see on this wretched, cursed land to be beautiful.
“I guess this is it.” you mutter, incapable of stopping your voice from breaking “It’s been weeks now, I think.”
His eyes travel towards the ropes that painfully tie your wrists. You must be imagining things, as you almost see anger and pity swirl in his eyes. You hold your breath as he steps towards you, and flinch as he nails his bloodied weapon on the wood floor.
He approaches carefully as if you were some type of wounded animal. You were, deeply. The unfairness of it all made your blood boil.
“I remember when I first saw you.” your voice stops him in his tracks as words blur out of your mouth. You didn’t know if you were trying to distract him to stay alive, or just wanted to speak your mind before you were gone. “I went beyond the gates to pick mushrooms. I had never done that, you see. I knew the rules, I knew there were too many dangers beyond the village’s borders, I knew that I was too weak… And I can stand hunger, but not children’s tears. And the little boy two houses next to me cried of hunger, and no one else seemed to do anything about it.”
Tears build up until you have no choice but to close your lids, you couldn’t speak more, and you didn’t need to. He knew the story very well. Saving you from the attacks of monsters and delivering you to the village’s entrance had not gone well for you.
Of course, things could have been better for you had he not made his presence around the village known. After that little incident, sightings of him became more and more frequent, as if he was, somehow, waiting for you to come out again. You learned of the gifts left on the village’s entrance, which often remained untouched out of fear. Sometimes the gifts were comprised of food and medicinal plants. Other times, corpses of beasts that used to terrorize the village.
But you didn’t leave the village again… Until now that is, but that was not voluntarily.
When you open your eyes, you find the Yaskha untying the ropes off your wrists, without touching your reddened skin. You notice that the gloves on his hands had small, scattered marks that gave them a slightly rough appearance. They were the hands of someone used to wielding a weapon, no doubt. You think about the lives that he has ended with them, and how easy it would be for him to tear you apart, should he want to.
You dare not to move as you watch him looking at the dents left on your skin. Almost imperceptibly, his thumb slides over the red mark on your wrists, and the other fingers follow the same motion. The sensation was the same as if a bird’s wing gently brushed your skin. His eyes travel back up, seemingly unable to hide how elated he is to have you this close. His gaze shines as he studies your face up to its last detail. A sick feeling stirs on your stomach at the eerieness of being watched so thoroughly.
“You won’t hurt me,” you realize out loud in a sad tone, “but you won’t let me leave either, isn’t that right?”
Nine months in the human trafficking circuit has destroyed every sense of normality you ever knew. For you, it’s commonplace to be ordered on your knees for your owner, his clients, anyone else Childe deems necessary—and you’ve reached a point where you accept it this misery, just going along with the motions of life because there’s nothing else to do.
Diluc and Kaeya change that.
They enter your life on a regular workday afternoon, stepping inside Childe’s massive office under the pretense of sorting out a business deal, but a single hastily written message makes it clear that they’re not here to hurt you: they’re here to help you.
The only issue is that you have no idea how to escape Childe.
… the look of absolute, raging anger in Itto’s eyes as you lay there in front of him, blood oozing from the corners of your bruised lips, your body limp from the exhaustion and sore from the bruises that littered your body from head to toe. Itto was for the most part, calm, very calm. His breathing was heavy, his footsteps were so quiet you’d think that he almost wasn’t there. Outstretching his strong arm towards you, his fingers gently traced your beaten face. Anger boiled in his heart as raging screams started to echoe throughout the massive field you were in.
You were foolish enough to take a commission in regards to handling some treasure hoarders, underestimating their skills along the process. They caught you off guard in the dark of the night, stealing you away into their camp as they toyed with you, threatening to gut you like a fish as you begged them to set you free, that you wouldn’t go anywhere near them but the cruel men just weren’t having it.
He knew something bad was going to happen, that’s why he followed you. That’s why there’s red hot blood on the ground and his hair, that’s why there is the disgusting smell of gore on his weapon. The cries of the men fell on deaf ears as he swung his claymore like a madman, slicing through anything and anyone that dared to stand in his path. They ignored your pleas for mercy, why should he listen to theirs? He was going to teach these bastards a lesson, and they were going to pay with their lives. He made a mental note to be extra sweet towards you, to spoil you a bit more than usual once this was all said and done.
