How about Zhongli and Xiao with an immortal (or whatever would be the equivalent of an adeptus in Snezhnaya.) traditional unicorn that serves the Tsarista/Cryo Archon.
Mostly because of this quote from the Last Unicorn:
"I can never regret. I can feel sorrow, but it's not the same thing."
a diamond heart (is not unbreakable) |
yan!zhongli x reader (x xiao)
content warnings: yandere themes, slight references to drugs (but not in the not-sfw way lol). reader discretion is advised.
word count: 1.0k
notes: this prompt really interesting! i will say i was quite stumped on this one because i have no idea what the last unicorn is—bless our wikipedia overlord—but the film premise looks interesting! I just went with whatever came to mind at the quote to be honest, so hopefully it’s up to standard/ xiao seems quite harmless here, not really yandere like i intended at first, but well. sometimes the words write themselves instead. (also this is extremely late, so apologies:'))
“Rex Lapis has welcomed you with open arms,” Xiao hisses, the grip on your arm taut and just shy of dangerous, force strong enough to splinter human bones, “and you return hospitality with daggers and lies?”
His voice is more desperate than threatening, as though he were on the verge of cracking instead. You smile woodenly, not a trace of pain in the expression. “I had my orders from my Tsaritsa. I did what I had to do,” you repeat. The famed adeptal realm is more dim than you thought, you think vaguely, staring up at its artificial skies. Sunny blue, to be sure, but your senses tell you it is mere illusion—a prison, crafted by Rex Lapis after your betrayal.
“Don’t look away!” The gloved hand of your prison guard reaches out for your chin, forces your eyes on him. How fragile the gold in his eyes seem, sparks of frustration tangled with longing. “Why?” he demands. “Why did you try to kill Rex Lapis?”
“It was my mission,” you repeat softly. “Nothing more and nothing less, Xiao. Tell me, if it were between me and Rex Lapis, who would you choose?”
As expected, there is no answer.Â
“You see?” you say gently.Â
Xiao grits his teeth and flings your arm away from him, as if the contact of skin burned, even through his glove. “Fine,” he mutters. “Have it your way. Stay here forever then.”
His face becomes stony—like Rex Lapis’, when your hand plunged into his heart, searching for that precious, precious gnosis. Perhaps Xiao and Morax were not as different as you initially thought.
What was Zhongli thinking, you muse as you stare at Xiao’s tense shoulders, using such a lost little prison guard. So fragile, you felt the slightest sorrow at his mission—it must torment Xiao, to know that your heart had never moved an inch, despite your times together. The Tsaritsa crafted you from the coldest ice in Snezhnaya, after all. A touch of your horn freezes everything in its path.
You look at your arm dispassionately, wringing it to check for fractures. The lack of such breaks, despite Xiao’s uncontrolled strength, confirms your words: you were never built to melt. To crack, despite what Xiao wants of you—and Zhongli, too.
Zhongli visits you on the third day of your imprisonment. You sit alone, waiting. Xiao flitted away when the earth rumbled, already alerted to the presence of his sovereign.Â
He brings a jug of traditionally brewed wine. Sets it on the granite table in front of you, crisp clink as stone meets clay. The scent of osmanthus flowers drifts lazily in the air when he lifts up the lid.Â
You regard him with a cool gaze.Â
The corner of his eyes lift, a byproduct of the wry smile on his lips. “You’ve stopped pretending,” Zhongli says. “This honest look—it suits you better. Xiao thinks differently, of course, but he is more naive than I, unfortunately.”
“Have you always known?” You settle your palms in your lap, as still as ice.
Zhongli twists his hand—and from thin air comes goblets, vessels used long ago by the archons. The Tsaritsa kept one such cup in her vault, you know. A souvenir from Archon summits long ago. “I had my suspicions,” he admits while pouring the wine into the goblet. It’s effortlessly graceful, the smooth flow of liquid. Zhongli never did anything by half measures. He places the filled goblet in front of you.
“Yet you let me get close enough anyway,” you say quietly, taking a small sip. Floral osmanthus blooms on your tongue, but it’s too sweet. More fruit than osmanthus, you find. How ironic, the mask this wine wears in its scent. “Close enough to thrust my hand through your chest. I didn’t know the blood of the Archons were crimson too. How mortal of you.”
“Gods bleed too,” Zhongli murmurs, eyes half-lidded as he stares at you. Takes a delicate sip, and says, “They feel too, despite what the legends say.”
You think of your Cryo Archon, her too-big heart, wounded and bleeding in her chest. Love kills, she’s taught you. Love hurts. Maybe that’s why she made you, so you could remain unfeeling in her place. “You’re right,” you say. “I’ve forgotten.”
“And when you tried to kill me, did you remember this?” The grip around his wine vessel tightens.Â
You don’t flinch. “No.”Â
Zhongli laughs humorlessly. “Of course. I am the fool for expecting any less.”
“Will you keep me here forever?” you ask evenly.Â
“Not forever,” he says. “Only until…”
“Until I return your affections?”
Zhongli stills. Soft orange irises harden into cor lapis. “I am foolish,” he says, “but not quite that foolish.”
Still, there’s a glimmer of something behind the hardness of his eyes. Want? Anticipation? Ah, you think, closing your eyes from unexpected fatigue. They feel heavy. The master is as foolish as his disciple. “What did you lace this with?” you finally whisper. It’s a small betrayal compared to yours. Besides, you can’t hurt anyway—not anywhere important, at any rate.Â
Zhongli smiles again. “Nothing harmful, I promise.”
“I only have loyalty toward my Tsaritsa,” you say, words melding together from how leaden your tongue feels. There’s a burning sensation in your chest, uncomfortable for you to clutch at it, and oh dear, what is this heat at the corner of your eyes? Â
“No matter what,” you gasp, some liquid leaking from your eyes that you don’t understand. It hurts. “I.. I won’t falter. That was how she made me, Zhongli.”
Before the world blacks out, Zhongli’s expressionless face is the last thing you see. His words are the last thing you hear too: “We will see who lasts longer against time, dear heart—yours or mine.”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
âś“ Live Streamingâś“ Interactive Chatâś“ Private Showsâś“ HD Qualityâś“ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Uh...maybe Zhongli has a crush on reader who happens to be a father/mother (gn pls)? Their wife/husband/spouse has already died but reader doesn't want to fall for another person. They are loyal to their dead lover all the way!
notes: written for 700 followers mini ficathon
somehow, Zhongli is always unlucky enough to be in love with a darling that has a dead spouse in these requests. do people just like to see him annoyed
sudden relocation | yan zhongli x reader
“I do not think I heard you correctly,” Zhongli says politely. “Could you repeat yourself?”
“I’m sorry,” you say apologetically. A little bit flustered at the attention he’s afforded you; flattered, even, but you don’t think you can move past the grave of your dead lover, so recently buried. “But I’m content as I am. My little one too.”
He frowns, and you wince a little. You’ve never quite seen Zhongli so… shaken. As if your rejection of him came unexpected.
“I had thought…” He furrows his brows together, eyes going dark. “I must have not…”
“I-It’s not you,” you scramble to say, rubbing your neck. “You’ve been nothing but good to me. I just… I’m not ready to move on just yet. It…” You shake your head, finding yourself pained from remembrance. “It hurts to think of being with someone else right now.”
At that, Ling’er comes bouncing into the room from the gardens. “Oh!” She comes to a stop, little pigtails swaying from the motion. “Mr. Zhongli! Have you come by to play today?”
You freeze. Open your mouth, and find that no words will come out. How do you explain this to a child? Especially considering the fact that after your rejection, Zhongli may not wish to come around anymore. What a miserable break in your relationship.
He glances at you with his eyes, hard amber. “Not to play, Ling’er. You see, we’ve been talking”—and here he gestures between you—“and we thought it’d be best if you both pack up and move in with me.”
Ling’er claps her hand. “Really?” Her eyes sparkle, and she jumps for Zhongli, hugging his leg. “That means we’ll have even more time to play together, right?”
You reel back. Shivers go down your back. “What are you saying—”
But he cuts you off with a sharp look. A shimmer comes into his eyes, and he bends down to pickup Ling’er before you could stop him. With a sinking horror, you realize the vision at his back is also glowing.
And he has your child in his hands.
“Yes, Ling’er,” he says mildly. “You see, it may not be safe for the both of you, living alone in the outskirts of Liyue Harbour like this. It will be safer—and more fun—in the city proper. Isn’t that right?”
And here he looks at you. The command in his eyes is clear: you can only agree. Or else.
You force down the panic in your mind. You… you can’t do anything rash. Zhongli has never quite been so volatile until now. You had thought him rock-steady. Predictable.
But now, there is only fear. He has Ling'er right where he wanted—by his side. Leaning into his embrace, her cheek pressed to his chest. And you can do nothing to separate them without risking Ling'er's safety. You, who is so helpless and weak. You, who is visionless.
So you can only swallow your cries and protests, numbly saying, “Yes. That’s right.”
