Gi - Blog Posts

HEHEHEHEHEHEHE

🌱Found Family 🌱

I don’t know anything about Genshin besides loving albedo. So I drew albedo for the first time, because my lovely ohhmyguts motivated me but… I also had to try my hand at fanart for her fanfic that is just… mmm. So good. You can read it here!

xavier is sweet and pretty and honestly i would kiss him too

Exploring your boundaries.

"I hate the concept of chubby Xiangling, especially with her new skin!" I say, then I trip and lots of fanarts of chubby xiangling with the new skin fall from my pockets. "oh! dont look at those! theyre not mine!!!" I say, getting the pics off of the ground, and more keep falling from my pockets.

໒⦂ 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

notes. hi mikan, so sorry for the delay! it was hard to choose songs for your request because there are only so many romantic songs left on reputation and i didn’t want to paint the boys as toxic :’) i hope you enjoy!

genre. fluff / suggestive ( scara’s ) + mild angst

for @alatushours <3

ft. xiao, kazuha kaedehara, albedo, scaramouche ( wanderer / kabukimono / kunikuzushi / balladeer )

previous post includes. tooru oikawa, alhaitham, kaveh, ayato kamisato, ajax ( childe / tartaglia ) click here!

gender neutral! reader

ะ ྂ ❤︎ . ˚˖ now playing.. end game.

+ about. end game tells the story of a yearning love where both sides have what most consider big reputations that will cause a lot of talk to rise up regarding them. one yearns to be with the other and not end up as another ex love, but rather the one — their end game.

+ xiao is known for his title as a yaksha and an adeptus, in other words — he has what most would call a big reputation in liyue. his is painted as noble and heroic, whereas yours paints you as someone soaked in drama, all because of media. if you were to be with him, your relationship would certainly make it into conversations, which is something you don’t want. you want to be his first string — his lover, not some other ex to be laughed off because of your past relationships or a one night stand. what you don’t know, however, is that xiao couldn’t care less of what is said about you. he wants to be yours as much as you want to be his. he’s not as perfect as you paint him, he’s got karma surrounding him and past regrets that make him dissatisfied with many aspects of himself, but he knows that you would love him regardless of his flaws as he would love you regardless of yours. he would only believe the truth from your red lips, not the rumors surrounding you.

+ “i wanna be your end game.”

ะ ྂ ❤︎ . ˚˖ now playing.. new year’s day.

+ about. new year’s day tells the story of a love in which one fears the other will leave, for fear of the rumors surrounding them and the reputation they have earned themselves. they pray the other will stay through the worse and will in turn be there to squeeze your hand, through your bluest days.

+ kazuha blew one of his bangs out of his tired eyes, looking to the clock mounted over the doorway. it’s passed midnight with glitter all over after the party, polaroids, and emptied bottles of champagne scattered from the toasts to the new year. everyone had just about left, leaving the two on your own. there was a mild anxiety that swirled in your stomach, recalling the conversations that were shared regarding your history. your boyfriend wasn’t normally one to care, he was carefree as the winter breeze singing outside. but even still, your worries could not be quelled as you gazed at his back until you were all the way out of the building. eventually, you lowered your eyes to the ground until his hand grabbed your own, squeezing three times. surprised, you looked up to find his gentle smile — an assurance to say he wasn’t going to leave anytime soon. and that he too, wanted your midnights as much as you wanted his, regardless of everyone else says.

+ “but i’ll be cleaning up bottles with you on new year’s day.”

ะ ྂ ❤︎ . ˚˖ now playing.. dwoht.

+ about. dancing with our hands tied tells the story of a love that was once secret, for fear of what would become of it if the wrong lights shined on it. such a precious and endearing love, with nothing in the world that could stop it, no matter what was to happen. regardless of what everyone else says.

+ albedo wasn’t one to care or easily worried when it came to other people’s opinions. if people wanted to speak ill of him and his choices, then that was their lives they were wasting, not his. however you wanted secrecy for the beginning, as you were recovering from heartbreak and just overwhelmed with being spoken of in such a foul manner. albedo understood this and respected your wishes, as he didn’t mind secrecy either. but eventually the relationship did come to light. there were supporters, encouraging the relationship while wishing you both well. but of course, there were also those who wished badly upon you being together, which at times, created obstacles for the both of you. at times it made it difficult to breathe and fight through it all. ending it almost felt like the only way out. but albedo wouldn’t throw away something so dear to him. as he would stay until the room burned, holding you as the water rushes in, if he could dance with you again.

+ “yeah we were dancing, dancing with our hands tied.”

ะ ྂ ❤︎ . ˚˖ now playing.. ready for it.

+ about. ready for it tells the story of a competitive love, in which both sides have bad reputations, whether in terms of past loves or just the people that they are. as both are seen as cruel, alternatively it could open opportunity for a relationship to blossom in the darkest of circumstances and gossip.

+ scaramouche has a history that followed whatever path he walked, whether it had been erased, rewritten, or not. people knew to steer away from his direction, yet that gravitated you. now you weren’t a bad apple, but you weren’t an angel either. the people surrounding you had painted you in a light that wasn’t so bright, and shone through all the wrong aspects of yourself. however the same could be said about scaramouche. some boys tried too hard to get with you in the past, but he didn’t try at all to get your attention. being ignored was almost frustrating, yet enticing — it made you want to play this game of getting him to notice and fall for you. the boy would cave eventually like the rest did, you knew that for a fact. and if the former harbinger knew the dreams you had in the middle of the night about him, if he saw the things you both did — he would come sprinting. although, you would take your time, because you knew you were going to be with him.

+ “are you ready for it..?”

notes. unfortunately not a lot of romantic songs remained after the first post i did so i tried my best to pick from the remaining ones to fit the characters :’) don’t blame me and so it goes were candidates but they didn’t really fit the bill much.. regardless i hope these are okay! first time writing scaramouche and albedo..

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

my college experience thus far!

a/n: have fun experiencing college through my eyes, major will not be specified! will definitely be a stem major though in certain scenarios

characters: haikyuu and genshin x gn! reader ; college au with iwaizumi, cyno, kuroo, tooru

warnings: mentions of rejection, these will vary in size because some of the men are not very present in my life anymore nor had a huge interaction (very short hcs because i do not interact enough with others and it shows… kidding. sorta LMAO.)

tooru - the high school best friend

it wasn’t like you guys planned to kiss while watching anime on a saturday night during hanging out

you weren’t a rebound either for his last girlfriend who decided that he prioritized volleyball over him

he did his best to make sure that your friendship was his main priority which is why he always had spoiled you in silly ways, even his parents and family members took such a liking to you

you were rather enjoyable and you pushed tooru to focus on his grades but you never forced him into anything that he was not ready for

which leads back to this moment where you’re outside of your car, not expecting the night to go as it did

you guys ended up having a brief talk before a call from your parents about your curfew

tooru never ended up going to college but he supported your decision to go and let you study with him while he worked on his career for volleyball

“are you sure that you’re ready for a relationship again, tooru?”

and with a quick tilt of his head and a slight smirk as he whispered, “have i ever steered you wrong, y/n?” he smiled as he closed the distance between your lips again before opening your car door, “see you tomorrow.”

iwaizumi - your first college best friend

you two had gotten paired up with two other individuals in your group, it was all your first class together in college. everything is new and different, jetlag included for some (iwaizumi)

he ended up falling asleep and missing an 8 am class, big mistake for this huge group project that you all had made. luckily, you got his instagram account.

it was surprisingly empty on his account so you could not figure out much about him but he had responded later on in the evening to your surprise which blossomed a very close bond between the two of you…

though only just being friends could not only be enough for you, he was everything that you could ever imagine and more as a partner.

after thinking on it enough, one day you decided to tell him how you feel to see if it had been reciprocated.

sure enough, iwaizumi needed time... and you were okay with that. you knew giving him time would be what was best for you both. luckily your friendship had survived it.

after enough time, he finally approached you in person and asked if you would like to hang out and walk around campus.

and eventually, he asked you out to dinner to your favorite restaurant on campus… the food court where you both made it official.

kuroo- we have chemistry together

this guy…

you met him in your chemistry lab together, he made a small comment in your direction about titrations since you could not get the water to be a light pink color. he still wore this devilish smirk on his face as he looked in your direction.

clearly he was messing with you, though bokuto also had been in for it as well… that poor guy had to deal with kuroo constantly.

he managed to make you laugh though on several occasions. you both eventually ended up studying together because of this, it was never intentional how you fell for him.

boy was it a slow play of his, several semesters had passed and you two had several occasions where he eventually started to play a game to see when you would text back since you had been so busy with work yourself.

eventually, you both started to text more and more…

random conversations would come up like “is it gay if you kiss the homies goodnight when they wear socks but you don’t?”

you managed to morph yourself into his friend group, getting all their approval. somehow, they planned to get you two together.

your new friends and you had managed to get a table at a restaurant for ramen. it was rather delicious and the noodles tasted fresh before he jokingly asked you what is the most cliche date ever. though, what you didn’t realize — was he was actually asking you out…

“let’s go to the aquarium, i can tell you the chemistry of how things work there. so how about it?”

dumbfounded. all you could say was sure before waiting for a few other hangouts before your eventual ‘date’. you needed confirmation so you didn’t accidentally find yourself falling for a man who didn’t love you back.

“kuroo… are you asking me out on an actual date?”

“do you want it to be?” there was no hesitation in his words as he picked out another awful outfit for your guys’ date. it would be rather ridiculous to be this dressed up for an aquarium.

and that’s how you managed to get your first kiss stolen.

cyno - a pokemon nerd

you two had met in your recent physics class, you both had failed miserably on your first exam.

“did you get higher than a 0.3?”

“no…”

did anybody??? no. the average was a 0.5 out of 2, a solid 25%! gross.

this exam led you two to talk more, you eventually found out how big of a closeted nerd he was. he tried his best to sound cool in front of you but he forgot about all of that when you mentioned the words ‘pokemon tcg’.

you opened up a can of worms that you hadn’t even realized existed at all… not that you weren’t a fan!

trading card games were not your forte though… you tried your best to get an understanding of how to play, he rated your deck and everything — trying to help you get a sense of the game.

eventually, you guys spent every day after the lecture together. you guys got lunch and you both were talking while playing.

though, cyno couldn’t take it anymore. he needed to call you, he needed to talk. he just needed somebody to hear him out

or so you thought…

he just needed you to hear him out.

“y/n, i can’t shake this feeling that you’re meant to be my player two. there’s something here and i want to pursue it with you, if you’ll let us.”

screaming, literally screaming internally. was he that sleepy? but you heard correctly.

“y/n? did i lose you? was that too forward?” he wanted to make a pun to stop the awkward tension until he heard you speak up.

“how could i cy-no when i feel the same?” you guys were both laughing before you got in your car and started driving to him as you guys called. a simple ice cream date, he said… yet all of these puns about ice cream were NOT on the agenda from what you thought it would be…

“my favorite day of the week is sunday. do you get it? it’s because-”

“you can have sundaes? it always makes me melt to be with you.” he was caught off guard.

perhaps it was an (n)ice day for you both…

melukonova, 2023. 𓂃 ☄︎

11:30 PM. YOUR WONDERWALL AWAITS.

xiao x gn! reader, a drabble.

info: dystopian x cyberpunk au, inspiration from progenitor animation with albedo on youtube by dillongoo, the maze runner series & cyberpunk edgerunners!

tw: you are a robot here, minor mentions of injuries as well as blood loss, possible ooc xiao since this is my first time writing him, xiao is emotionally constipated, open ended.

a/n: just a random thing i thought up of while thinking late at night. very short and extremely unedited, just letting my brain run in peace. enjoy~

a normal summer day, that’s all that you were hoping for today and that is the exact opposite of what you were getting currently as you ran away from the fatui, just what was their fascination with you when you were a simple human? so utterly wrong that you were for thinking the simplest thought after being thrown out for the chip that you harbored in your neck, the code to the cure of psychosis that was hidden inside of you by one of the war generals, nahida of wisdom.

you knew that, of course, it would not be long before you were found out as a realistic human ai so you kept running until you were able to find a way to a desolate area. it was rather beautiful, still with the sun around perfectly in place between the rather teal trees. you could tell they were dying slowly, the color of the leaves were turning a slight gray. the crinkles from the leaves that you had made were too great for another person who was here with you. you hadn’t realized that another fatui soldier had snuck up on you as you pulled out your rapier, fast and quick — just as the pace of your running.

leave, begone. i don’t wish to hurt you.

a voice spoke quietly to you before it vanished instantly, it sounds as if it was all around you, like it had owned the domain that you had suddenly entered. were you safe here if it seems less deteriorating than the rest of the world? you came upon an oasis of some kind, away from the fatui at that. your inner thoughts started consuming you once you smelled the fresh air that had been contrasting to your usual murky, smoke filled air. you knew this had turned into some kind of guilty pleasure before you noticed a blade cut your cheek as somebody appeared with the knife in the grass below you.

“i knew it.” he spoke quietly before a lance appeared in his hands, the sharp end of his weapon now starting to dig into your clothes. “what are you doing here, robot? you shouldn’t be able to make it to such a place as my temple.” he glared before released his blade as you let out a small breath of relief. no paradise could be free of punishment for you somehow, right? “K0S-M0S, from the current war, i’ll ask again. what pathetic reason are you here for now?”

you managed to develop a sense of empathy over the years as you tried to come up with several possibly solutions to speak your words. finally, a sound solution to speak to a stranger came to your mind. “i come in peace to run away from the war, i’m tired of being used for the good of mankind. i seek refuge for only an hour to catch my breath.”

the forest green hair male could only chuckle slightly in pity as he swung his blade to face upward next to him. “these ai are getting smart, master zhongli was right about this much. you’ve even gained a personality at that. is that even real blood?”

you then carressed your wound at his words, had something happen to you overnight? this blood was black and perhaps, you were able to bleed finally. you became human without realizing the oil that spilled from your cheek, in shock even — the male could tell. you shook your head for a moment as you sternly look towards him, “that… wasn’t supposed to happen. though, you work for zhongli so i can only expect you have some knowledge of my existence, are you planning to report me?” you stated as you got in a ready stance for fighting.

“master zhongli faked his death several years ago in order to prevent the war from coming here and i, as his protector, have a sworn duty to get rid of outsiders. perhaps if another were here to stop you, you would have been lucky.” he stated before getting in his own ready stance, swiftly attacking… and yet it never came.

“that’s enough general alatus.” a deep voice spoke as the male had almost made a precise point, knowing exactly where each unit had their cores. you had to thank the older gentleman that had saved your life just now. “we have a contract in order to not kill (y/n), they are within safe grounds.” he stated before stepping down each step of the gold and white front of the temple with his hands behind his back as he had a good look at you.

“zhongli… what are you doing here? nahida had said to lay low but i hadn’t been aware that it was this low.” you raised an eyebrow before being knocked to the ground by this ‘general atalus’ as he hit your legs with the back of his lance, just to temporarily put you at a disadvantage.

“i believe that you being here shows enough proof of what nahida can be capable of, the outside was never where you belonged and the fatui is deadset on using you to exploit the process of psychosis quicker with that chip in your neck as well.” zhongli had try his best to give you an explanation with the best of his abilities as the god of contracts before gesturing to his knight in shining armor, “xiao, let’s give our guest a place to rest for a moment. you will be watching over them as they are re-energizing for the day.”

xiao could only sigh at the change of events in his own life to now, he sworn to zhongli that he would do anything in his power to protect the ideals that his master had given him as a goal once the war was over. once xiao wrapped your arm around his own and pulled you close, you both ended up walking up the stairs. he then realized how ineffective it would be before picking you up bridal style — to which you felt your heart beat a bit.

heart?

you had a feeling that there was more than nahida was letting on now. why was this all so realistic all of the sudden? she has too many questions to answer once you got back into the regular world. seeing as now you had a place to sleep again, you decided to take into it and sink yourself into the bed before seeing that you were being watched again.

“what are you staring at? get some rest already.” he stated before looking out towards the night sky, “zhongli said to watch over you so i’m following orders.” he kept his gaze out before you noticed it too, a code written on his neck too, A1ATUS.

sure he was rather rough with his words but you would be in good hands, knowing that this man was a protector in tevyat’s war too and for justice at that. you were able to close your eyes and cuddle up in the blankets, all while xiao had been close by to watch over you and protect you. perhaps he had felt that you and him were rather similar in this world to understand such peace finally?

melukonova, 2023. 𓂃 ☄︎

can i request a drabble with tartaglia that is a slowburn? for context, he finds the reader struggling in liyue because she’s homesick but she wanted to go see the world for herself and she doesn’t realize he’s with the fatui either since she’s rather sheltered from life before adventuring.

໒⦂ 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄.

notes. hello anon, i apologize for the delay on getting this out but i hope it’s what you were hoping for! been feeling oddly homesick myself, so i went off a little..

genre. hurt + comfort.

tartaglia x fem!reader.

you’ve long since forgotten the rainforest-like scent that greeted you in the mornings, as the wind greeted your face from the window.

today would officially mark two months since you’d left your cozy homeland of sumeru for the luxurious and bustling liyue.

it had been a breath of fresh air to be in a new place, filled with different people, culture, cuisine, music, history — everything you can imagine and more! the world outside of your home in vimdra village was wondrous and bigger than you could ever have imagined growing up.

but that didn’t stop you from missing home, no matter how badly you wanted to leave. which made you feel a bit crestfallen.

for years you had psyched yourself up about leaving home to see the world of teyvat, as it was a valued dream of yours. you envied the children who had the luxury of traveling the nations in their free time — whereas your life was spent mostly in the village. there was the occasional visit to sumeru city or port ormos, maybe to gandharva ville, but that was it. you couldn’t even recall going to the desert if you had!

but you couldn’t blame your parents entirely, they had moved away from inazuma long ago during the thick of the civil wars in search of a better life. a safer and more beautiful one, than one of bloodshed and conflict. it was for the best, you told yourself once, while asking to venture off and see your parents’ homeland.

and now here you were, the appropriate age according to your parents that deemed you independent.. only, there was this pressing urge to drop everything and go home now.

but that wasn’t an option. you were here to prove yourself and live up to the dreams you set out for yourself!

with that thought in mind, you grabbed your belongings for today’s adventure and exited your humble abode.

the smell of spices filled your senses as you crossed the bridge into liyue harbor, spotting a familiar ginger sat with a bowl of calla lily soup before him. you easily recognized him as tartaglia.

though you knew little of his work, you’d met him once at the northland bank while taking out a sum of money your parents had provided you. he had a friendly face and engaged you with ease, considering how cold you thought snezhnayans would be. it seemed he was an exception.

the ocean eyed male lit up when he met your gaze, a smile crossing his lips. “y/n-chan, over here!” he waved you over, carefree as usual with his gestures. who was he to care if onlookers chose to stare?

your cheeks warmed to the touch as you walked over to him with an awkward smile, taking the vacant seat. “hi tartaglia- sorry i made you wait so long, had a late night.” it wasn’t a complete lie, but you didn’t want to worry the snezhnayan. “did you just get your food?”

he chuckled softly, nodding his head. “that’s alright, work can be like that sometimes.” the ginger knew all too well how hectic his could get. “but yes! xiangling just brought it over, yours is on the way.” he winked, sliding you a pair of chopsticks.

“oh!” you blinked, surprise that he had ordered for you. had he even known what you wanted? “you didn’t have to do that — but thank you, you’ve been so kind to me, tartaglia.” although the people of liyue had welcomed you with open arms, the hydro wielder in front of you was different.

for he too, was away from his real home, and understood that homesick feeling that crept up on you every now and again. it was only natural to miss home, though he had grown used to being away for long durations. his work, whatever it was, demanded that of him.

“nonsense!” he laughed, shaking his head. “i can’t be the only one eating, besides — meals are said to taste better when you’re with someone.”

surprise crossed your features for a moment, hearing those words that had been spoken to you over the course of time. your parents had always told you that very same thing. it was only in liyue that you’d eaten alone, unless a friend was with you.

still, that statement had you smiling, albeit absentminded. “my parents always used to tell me that growing up, and until i had a meal on my own, i hadn’t realized the truth in those words.” you admitted, staring off towards the chasm — beyond the crater to where your village was. part of you wondered now if your family felt different eating without you.

tartaglia could sense the change in your demeanor as he followed your gaze, wondering what was so interesting over there before the realization came to him. sumeru.

he wasn’t sure on how to stop the sadness from creeping up on you. normally he got it out of his system by fighting enemies or occupying himself with work, but you didn’t operate as he did.

it was time for a new method. “did they?” he spoke up after a pause, readdressing her. “my parents taught me the same, and later my siblings.” he added gently, loosing a breath. “sometimes i envy them for being home, no cares for the troubles of the world.” he glanced northward, beyond dragonspine. “but i chose this life for myself with their protection in mind, so jealously won’t get me anywhere.”

your eyes trailed back over to him, the words echoing in your mind for a second before you nodded. tartaglia was right in every way to say that, and hearing that he felt similarly, made you feel less.. alone.

“a special request for y/n-chan~!” xiangling sang, placing the plate down in front of you before you could answer the ginger.

and there sat the last thing you expected to be eating today.

“biryani?” you spoke the name of the dish, looking between her and tartaglia. “but this- this is a sumeru specialty..”

the petite chef gave you a broad grin as she let out a giggle. “well~ i wanted to explore cuisine options from other nations, and the traveler sent me a copy of the recipes with ingredients i can easily get.” xiangling explained before gesturing to the sapphire eyed ginger. “it just so happens that your friend here brought a pouch of padisarah petals for me to execute the recipe to perfection!”

you looked over at your friend for confirmation, to which he smiled. “i was meaning to bring the flowers back for you.. but i may have gotten into a skirmish or two.” he chuckled sheepishly. “which resulted in some collateral damage.. so i brought them here and xiangling said she wanted to try out a recipe for you!”

padisarah flowers were difficult to come across, as you knew the story behind their making. the original ones would never flourish again, after the goddess of flowers’ passing, but the new ones were just as beautiful.

the smells brought a wave of nostalgia as you got up and hugged the girl tightly. “thank you, xiangling — the dish is everything i could ever want and more.” you have no idea how much i needed it.

pleased to hear your satisfaction, the pyro user returned the embrace, laughing cheerfully. “aww, i’m so glad!! please enjoy, and let me know on what i can improve on!”

with that, she released you to eat, though you weren’t quite finished yet.

tartaglia eyed you carefully when you got up, wondering where you might be going off to before your arms were suddenly thrown around him.

now that caught him off guard.

“woah there!” he chuckled, recovering from his initial shock to hug you back. “didn’t paint you as a public displayer of affection!” the male dressed in gray joked, though he received no answer.

he didn’t need one, anyway. the tightening of your arms around him explained enough.

“thank you.” you finally spoke up after a minute, squeezing your eyes shut to prevent your tears. “for everything.”

notes. this can be read as platonic or romantic tbh but anyway i hope this was okay? i wrote it in two sittings so i didn’t really get to read it a million times like i normally do.. anyway, my tears ricochet kinda fits this vibe??

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

Hi, how are u? If u don't mind, may I request *any genshin characters* with a short female reader who also has a short temper?

໒⦂ 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐂𝐒.

notes. hello anon! i’m okay, bit stressed but thank you for asking! i hope you’re doing well<3 i wasn’t sure on who to do and whether or not you had a preference for girls or boys — so i mixed them up :’) chose headcanon format since it was better suited, enjoy!

genre. chaotic + fluff

ft. alhaitham, ajax ( tartaglia / childe ), ayato kamisato, miko yae, lisa minci

short female! reader.

     ➫    𝓐𝗟𝗛𝗔𝗜𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗠   ୨୧   ˎˊ˗

⌗ you know what’s even more frustrating than living with alhaitham? it’s reaching the top shelf when you want to grab books.

⌗ that “feeble” ass scholar put the books of your favorite genre up on the highest tier because he doesn’t read them as often and prefers having his usual picks within reach.

⌗ ..or he just did it to hear you call out to him to come grab them off the shelf because kaveh is so nitpicky about moving furniture. meaning that in grabbing a chair or stool for leverage, you would risk an argument between the married couple, with the accusations going towards alhaitham, rather than you.

⌗ drama, basically. so you try to avoid it at the expense of your own dignity. and you SWEAR every time you call the scribe over, he’s got this silent, but smug aura about him and the faintest smirk. because oh, he knows what it does to that burning flame of frustration inside you.

⌗ sometimes he might grab the book and act as though he’s handing it to you before lifting it over your head, and it’s like a declaration of war.

⌗ “not funny, scribe.”

⌗ “to you.”

     ➫    𝓐𝗝𝗔𝗫   ୨୧   ˎˊ˗

⌗ thought alhaitham was bad? think again.

⌗ tartaglia is a teasing little shit when it comes to your vertically challenged self, always walking up and coming to pat your head or drape his arm ( sometimes even body ) on you with this innocent smile on his lips ( don’t be fooled ). meanwhile you’re struggling to bear his weight. smh.

⌗ if he ever does something to infuriate you, it usually ends with you pulling him down by the collar of his shirt to give him a piece of your mind. meanwhile he’s just laughing it up, which makes you all the more flushed and annoyed.

⌗ he likes to come up from behind you and babble or coo in your ear about how compact you are in his arms, teasing you with his words since it flusters you. your voice would pick up in pitch when tartaglia does this, and he only chuckles before peppering kisses all over you.

⌗ if there’s something you can’t quite reach and he witnesses you struggling to grab it, he’ll sneak up and pick you up to offer the leverage you need. of course it startles you when he does this, while he’s just holding you up simba style ( yes, yes he would do this ).

⌗ when he comes home from work, no matter how tired he might be, he rushes to your shared bedroom and spoons you, cooing a cheesy nickname and sweet nothings while he cuddles you.

⌗ “aw come now~ it’s only the truth that you’re my little munchkin<3 i could just eat you up!”

     ➫    𝓚𝗔𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗢 𝓐𝗬𝗔𝗧𝗢   ୨୧   ˎˊ˗

⌗ another menace, what is up with hydro men istg..

⌗ he’s usually subtle about things, sly when he teases you about your height. you could be going off on him about something while he’s just doing the closed eye smile. but you swear there’s a smugness behind it that he hides TOO DAMN WELL.

⌗ purposely has things just SLIGHTLY out of reach to hear you call out to him for his help, as you’d be left with way of getting what you need without the help of your adoring boyfriend!

⌗ it takes a sigh and his name before he’s sauntering over, well aware of what you’re going to ask of him. and you struggle each time to get the words out, as the ice holding your pride thins even further.

⌗ yet he still asks what you called him over for, JUST to hear the words. “yes darling? what did you need me for?” there’s the SLIGHTEST emphasis on ‘need’ because that man KNOWS.

⌗ when he’s doing paperwork, sometimes he calls you over to where he’s sitting in the office, and just puts you on his lap. a makeshift chin rest, which has you bubbling with annoyance. but you can’t lie, his clothing is soft to the touch and his warmth serenades you. so the anger all but dissipates.

⌗ whenever the breeze picks up, he’ll drape his overcoat over your shoulders, which just looks like you’re drowning in bedsheets.

     ➫    𝓨𝗔𝗘   𝓜𝗜𝗞𝗢   ୨୧   ˎˊ˗

⌗ and so, the one worse than all of those men combined.. enters the mix.

⌗ miko is one for making sly comments that’s for certain. so teasing you.. will not come as a surprise, in fact- it will be very frequent that she does this.

⌗ DUDE SHE USES THE FALSE SYMPATHY THING ISTG. the whole, “aww, poor little thing can’t reach? you need your dearest most capable lover to grab that for you?” and your face is just burning with embarrassment and frustration.

⌗ pets your head very often AND YET YOU CAN’T PET HERS WHEN SHE’S THE ONE ALWAYS GOING ON ABOUT HER FOX FORM. what in the name of hypocrisy is this.

⌗ strangely protective over you? you’re her adorable little cutie, the last thing she’d want was for you to be hurt! be it emotionally or physically. so she has a somewhat possessive aura surrounding her when it comes to other people. maybe it’s a youkai thing, you’re not that sure, but she tends to keep you close to her.

⌗ if you’re taking too long while someone is talking to you, especially during meetings and discussions for the publishing house, expect her to wrap her arms around you while lowering her chin to your shoulder, eyeing the person across from you with an ‘innocent’ smile.

⌗ wondering who’s the big spoon during cuddle sessions? certainly not you.

     ➫    𝓛𝗜𝗦𝗔   ୨୧   ˎˊ˗

⌗ cut from the same cloth as miko honestly. atp it’s tall electro women with catalysts, there is no other reason.

⌗ now lisa is also one to tease, always cooing words into your ear which has you flustered beyond help. worst part is when she does it in the library and tells you to be quiet since you’re one to get loud. talk about UNFAIR.

⌗ if you’re ever annoyed about something or having a hard day, you can count on lisa to sit you on her lap with her hand on your head, gently urging you to rest on her chest ( pure heaven honestly ). and she’ll let you rant about your worries to her. she’s so mother.

⌗ while working, lisa tends to tire easily, so sometimes she might ask you to grab a book for her. to mess with you, occasionally she asks for something high up just to witness your struggling before eventually approaching to grab it</3

⌗ “you couldn’t have done that five minutes ago.. i was over here jumping and shuffling like a fool!”

⌗ “but it wouldn’t have been as fun to witness, cutie~! you should have seen how adorable you looked<3”

⌗ lisa likes to sleep for longer durations since again, she tires very easily. might be because of her lore where her life span was cut in half, but not sure.. ANYWAY. so if you’re sleeping together and you wake up before her? forget it, you’re not moving an inch. you’re in her arms until she awakens. you don’t wanna deal with angry lisa..

notes. super sorry for the delay, i’ve been busy as of late but i hope these characters are okay and that you’re satisfied with the outcome? i tried to follow what you wanted as best as i could</3 anyway hope you enjoy!

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

໒⦂ 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄.

synopsis. in which you, an engineer major, are paired with a major in architecture — the blueprints of what you’re meant to bring to life.

academic rivals to lovers ( kaveh’s version )

for my fav, @skywalkiings <3

kaveh x gn!reader.

“it’s that time of the year again, everyone!” your teacher called and you nearly smashed your head into the desk in front of you.

“the end of the year project!” she sang, before pouting at the symphony of groans coming from her students. “would you rather i give you another exam?”

silence.

a huff. “as i thought.” the professor continued before smiling again. “this project will be different from the ones in your past years as it will call for everything that you’ve learned here so far at the akademiya! think of it as a preparatory assignment for your future profession!” she elaborated, handing the information sheets to the front row to pass on. “that being said, once everyone has received their paper, i will announce the architect you will be paired with!”

“kill me now..” you nearly spoke aloud, distasteful of the project already. one thing was being assigned a project — another was one in pairs. it was completely unreliable and irritating having to wait on another person or hear their opinions that more than often clash with your own. an architect would be even more stingy, you could just feel it in the very marrow of your bones.

“y/n l/n!” the woman called from her desk, snapping you from your trance. here goes.. “you’re to be paired with a senior, kaveh.”

kaveh? something about that name sounded oddly familiar, but now.. wasn’t the time to think about that.

just as you inclined your head, the bell sounded from its perch on the wall, signaling the end of the lecture.. and the beginning of your pain-in-the-ass project.

waisting little time, you slung your backpack over your shoulder, descending the steps before beelining for the library

it was lunch hour and the halls were bound to swarm with people like a can of sardines. definitely not ideal for a quick getaway and some piece of mind to figure out what the hell to do with this new project of yours.

however your getaway, didn’t quite go as smooth..

as you turned a corner to the entrance of the library belonging to the university, you found yourself smacking face first into someone’s chest. how lucky.

the impact had thankfully been soft, thankfully — nothing to break your nose or anything. unlike some other guy’s chest you ran into once in high school while rushing to class — which nearly knocked you back a few steps.

you rubbed your nose, letting out a quiet ‘ow’, as your eyes lifted, brows now knitted together. “try watching who’s in front of you next time!” you scolded and the boy scoffed.

“i should be telling you the same, you came running out of nowhere! i almost dropped all of my blueprints because of you!” he fired back, holding the rolled up papers tightly against his chest before brushing past you with a huff. “be more careful!”

you were near speechless, wanting to give the crimson eyed male a piece of your mind, but he was gone. deep within the mob of people headed for the cafeteria.

“coward.” you muttered under your breath, clenching your fist before marching into your destination with a low grumble. should you cross paths with that boy again, it’s on sight.

“unbelievable.” you let out quietly, watching as your partner, the blond from the hall, entered through the door of the café you were meeting at.

it was impossible — the kind of thing you only saw in those silly ‘enemies to lovers’ movies. it couldn’t be him, could it? surely he’d been there for someone else..

the architect pushed his sunglasses up onto the crown of his head, looking around the arrangement of tables and chairs before his eyes fell onto yours.

ipad propped in front of you, a pencil case to hold your papers down, and whatever drink you had decided on opting for today.

“the girl in the hall..” he muttered out, realization settling at who his partner had been as he approached you slowly.

an awkward smile replaced the faint grimace he had as he stopped in front of your table. “ah- y/n l/n, i assume?” he asked and you nearly shook your head.

if you’d said no, perhaps he would have left.. but unfortunately, the grade was a priority.

“that’s right.” you answered ( reluctantly ), nodding your head as you moved your papers to one stack. “i’m guessing you must be kaveh, pleasure to make your acquaintance.” not really.

his smile widened, unbeknownst to your true feelings as he took the seat across from you, laying his blueprints down on the free space you’d left him ( begrudgingly ). “the pleasure is all mine! i apologize from my behavior earlier in the hall.. i hope you can forgive me, i didn’t want anything to happen to these.” he chuckled sheepishly, patting the scrolls of paper softly. “they’re the best i’ve come up with! hence why i wanted to bring them to my partner in top condition — which is you, ironically- the girl i ran into..”

you nodded slowly, wondering to yourself if he normally spoke this much and in such an odd manner. but you went along with it, anyway. just bear it for now. “no worries — at least your papers are um.. in tact.” the condition was almost flawless, and yet he still made a fuss earlier. “shall we look through them and see which one works best for the project?”

kaveh blinked at your words, seemingly offended. “beg your pardon?” he asked, lifting his hand from his designs. “which works best? we can’t possibly select one and leave the rest untouched! it’d be criminal!”

his outburst caught you by surprise as you rose a brow at him, judging. “you do realize we cannot make all of those. it’s unrealistic, and there’s hardly time to do all of these when i’m the only engineer working on these..” you trailed off, unrolling one of the papers to show him. “like this — this is meant for a city! i can’t make that!”

“you’re an engineer! there are architects far more demanding than myself, with even more to request! this is your practice!” he reasoned and you scoffed.

“more like my funeral.. these are a total nightmare.” you muttered under your breath and the blond gasped.

“why you- you take that back! i worked very hard on those and i won’t allow them to go unappreciated by a heartless engineer who doesn’t understand art!”

now it was your turn to gasp. “i’m heartless? you humiliated me in the hall today for running into you!”

“i said i was sorry!! now you’re holding a grudge?!”

“as if you have any room to talk!” you bit back, rising from your seat before storming off to what appeared to be the counter. likely to order another beverage — possibly even something alcoholic, with how frustrating your partner was being.

meanwhile the scarlet eyed male parted his lips to demand where you were storming off to, only to close them right after.

he didn’t need to make a scene, least of all with an underclassman! he was better than this — he had to be the bigger person here. not like those petty arguments he shared with his blockheaded roommate at home.

kaveh was a gentleman, a kind soul. it was in his good nature!

..and yet right now, in this petty predicament, he found himself fired up. ready to give you a piece of his mind and defend his hard work.. but he held off. as if there was any need to have the last word, that was an “alhaitham thing” to do!

with a defeated sigh, kaveh dropped his forehead on the dark oak table, groaning to himself.

this project.. was going to be a long one.

“no, no- this won’t do at all! it ruins the aesthetic completely!” the blond complained and you fought the urge to slap him.

this would mark your fifth time redesigning the electrical structure of the layout of where all the lamps and switches would go in whatever complicated ass design kaveh felt the need to use.

granted it wasn’t a real building. the project consisted of making a structure out of a certain material that suited the selected blueprints, and having a working setup of lamps and switches. strangely, the only thing you and your partner came to agree on was using lego bricks as the building materials.

“we can’t be bothered with aesthetic yet if the lights can’t even turn on without someone getting zapped in the process! have you not learned?!” you fired back pointing to your sad excuse of a building. it was barely two floors and kaveh wanted five. “first i get the lamps working, and then you can make it look pretty or whatever it is that you do!”

the architect let out a gasp of offense. “excuse me, i do far more than making things pretty, you just don’t get appeal like i do! who in their right mind would want to go into an ugly half built looking building?!” he ranted, shuddering at his own thoughts. only alhaitham would. “we’d be better off in an abandoned or haunted house!”

you took a deep exhale, willing yourself not to rip him a new one. you were calm, the calmest you could be. this was just a trial to prepare for the future with someone even more snippy and nitpicky.

all you had to do was finish the project as soon as possible and hand it back to your professor. done, finished. no more kaveh, no more irking architects for awhile. just you and your work, as it was before this ridiculous assignment.

now ignoring the blond’s rambling, you carefully smoothed your fingers over the surface — where the wiring was meant to go, humming quietly before taking a ruler out.

although you didn’t want to, you handed it to kaveh, biting back a sigh. “hold this here, do not move it. i have to cut how much wire i’ll need.”

with little chance to protest, the older held the the measuring stick in place, eyeing you with great caution. legos were rather fragile, after all. and neither of you has glued yours, in fear that you would need to go back and fix something.

still, as he watched you at work, he couldn’t help but stare a little. the way your eyebrows furrowed together in concentration, the way you chewed on the inside of your cheek, the meticulous work of your hands. it was weirdly fascinating to kaveh, something he found difficulty looking away from.

“kaveh, could you hand me the pliers and that soldering tool from the stand.” you called out to him, not yet looking up.

but the blond was too focused on what you were doing, the gentle part of your lips. he wondered what you were saying, perhaps muttering to yourself regarding your work.

“kaveh!” you voiced out more clearly, causing him to jolt in surprise.

“what- what is it, i wasn’t staring!”

“the pliers and soldering tool! hand me them, please.” you repeated, gesturing with your nose to what you needed.

the upperclassman blinked once and then twice, not having realized you had been talking to him the entire time while he stared like a weirdo.

unknowingly it made his cheeks bloom with pink, a wave of embarrassment overcoming him. “right-! the pliers and soldering.. tool- on it, heard you the first time!” the blond blurted, quickly rising from his seat to head to where you’d plugged the device in.

careful not to burn himself, he grabbed it by the stem along with the device beside it before moving back to where you sat. “these tools, right?”

lifting your head a little to see what he brought, you nodded in approval, holding out your free hand. “hand me the pliers first, i need to cut off what i don’t need before i can continue.” you told him simply, and thankfully — he knew what those were.

he placed the took in your hand, holding the warmer one in his grasp until you would need it. which didn’t take too long.

“soldering iron, please.” you spoke up again, wiping a bead of sweat from your forehead with a knuckle.

“soldering iron.” he repeated, placing it slowly, and gently between your fingers, as he didn’t want you to burn yourself. banter or not, he wouldn’t wish ill on you.

now that caught you off guard, as you felt his fingers brush your own. so soft and delicate from how careful he was with his craft. unlike engineers, his hands would remain unscathed for the most part. maybe a little sore from many hours spent on drawing, but well kept, otherwise.

confused, kaveh rose a brow at your stillness, uncertain of why you had stopped. “hellooo, earth to y/n.” he waved in front of your face, tilting his head. “there’s a wire and lamp that still needs connecting.”

“i-i’m here, i’m doing it now!” you blurted out unthinkingly, forcing yourself to look away as you lowered your head in a sad attempt at hiding your face from him.

a long project, indeed.

it was the final night to finish the thesis with only the conclusion to be written of your paper.

luckily kaveh had finished up with the building and you managed to create a fully operational battery powered light up system for it.

now all that remained was finishing your research paper and handing everything in tomorrow.

part of you felt relieved to be done with the assignment and all the stress that came with it. but were you done with kaveh? that was the real question.

“that should do it.” the blond breathed out, tucking a fallen strand of hair behind his ear. “all we have to do is check it once more and then print.” he continued, raising his arms to stretch before turning to face you when you hadn’t answered. “y/n?”

you blinked upon hearing your name, snapped from your daze as you looked over at your partner, yawning softly. “sorry i was in my thoughts, guess the coffee wore off.” you laughed, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “anyway, you were saying?”

kaveh clicked his tongue. “i said we just have to check and then print, though i see my voice puts you to sleep instead!” he huffed out. “please don’t let me keep you up.”

you pressed your lips into a flat line, not fond of his sarcasm. and he said he would never act like his roommate, whom you met a few times while working on the assignment. he was definitely a character.

“haha, very funny.” you commented, rolling your eyes. “well then i guess should be it. if anything we can just check again tomorrow morning.”

the architect let out a hum. “probably.” he answered tentatively, clicking save. “well then that’s it.. did you uh- want to get something to eat? y’know as a celebration for finishing, or something.” why kaveh was asking this, he wanted sure of. last he checked he was beyond annoyed to be dealing with you for as long as he had been.

but in the last few weeks, he felt a slight change in his heart. almost as if it would be strange, not being around you as often as he had been recently.

the offer made your brow raise, surprised to be asked out. not that it was a date, of course! he asked you to eat in celebration of completing your project. nothing more, nothing less.

even still. “like.. a date?” you dared to ask, afraid of what he might answer with — but you couldn’t help the words on the tip of your tongue.

kaveh, astounded that you had asked, let alone phrased it that way, flushed a soft pink. he hadn’t planned on you asking that. was it a date? did you want it to be?

screw it, there was no going back now. “do you want it to be?”

a date with your partner, the one you quarreled with for weeks on end.. but someone you grew oddly fond of being around, and someone you couldn’t quite let go of as yet.

with what little certainty you had left, you shifted closer to him, a warmth rising in your chest. “if i said yes.. would that be a bad thing?”

kaveh paused to think for a moment before smiling at you. “not at all.”

your lips curled up into a grin as you nudged his side. “then it’s a date.”

notes. friendly reminder that ms gurl ( me ) absolutely sucks at anything science-y so if i any terms i used are incorrect — it is either due to the language barrier ( bc i learned all of this shit in dutch ) or my stupidity strikes back with technical things!! anyway hi sky i hope you enjoyed this<3 sorry for the delay :’)

໒⦂ 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐃 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒.

synopsis. in which you go from utterly despising what you’ve dubbed as your ‘rival’, with every fiber of your being, to loving his stupid ass self.

academic rivals to lovers ( alhaitham’s version )

for @reiqings <3

tw. mildly suggestive, mentions / consumption of alcohol.

alhaitham x gn!reader.

“look at him, sitting all smug with that stupid little book of his.” you grumbled to your best friend, layla, taking a bite out of your pita pocket. “i bet he’s reading smut, i can just feel it.”

“smut?” the female repeated, nestling her head in her arms. “alhaitham-san is super serious about his reading and reputation.. doubt he’s reading that.. sort of content..” she trailed off into a snore and you nearly face palmed. there goes your friend again.

unlike him, sadly layla didn’t share the same major as you, as she was into astrology, rather than languages and writing. so it was only around lunch hour that you could hang out.. although it was more like nap time for her while you sat in silence.

with a huff, not wanting to be shown up, you finished the last of your meal before grabbing the book you’d been reading as of late. if alhaitham could read without it being for an assignment, so could you!

except he didn’t care.

his eyes barely lifted from his novel as he flipped to another page, deeply immersed in the story.. which in turn, frustrated you each time you peeked at him.

what could you do? there had to be something.

and like a metaphoric light bulb flashing, an idea came to mind.

opening your school bag, you reached for your linguistics notebook, recalling the newly assigned homework.

silly alhaitham was busying himself with his dumb little book, blissfully unaware of the homework you had just received. only a good noodle would make it the day it’s assigned — and that.. would be you!

as you buried your nose in your text book and notes, writing the necessary notes for the homework, you failed to notice groan of the chair few tables away.

until the culprit was standing across from you, overshadowing your work with their stature. it didn’t take any guesses to know who it was, but you were a petty shit.

“can i help you, dear alumni?” you asked without lifting your head, words like knives covered in honey. if you had your way, they’d be covered in bees, too. “your breasts are blocking the natural sunlight.”

“are they now? i hadn’t noticed.” the person in question answered, his tone low, yet there was a hint of amusement. “does that mean you were eyeing them each time you glared over at me?” he inquired, and you scoffed.

“me? eyeing your rack? that is preposterous. i would never do something so absurd. you flatter yourself too much, alhaitham-san.” who was he to think so smugly of himself? like you would be staring at that terrifyingly gorgeous physique of his.

but the silver haired male wasn’t buying it, not one bit. “hm, perhaps i do when flattery is in order. maybe next time you should try being more stealthy if you wish to stare.” he advised, turning on his heel with a faint smirk on his lips, knowing precisely how to rile you up.

and it worked like a charm, as your jaw nearly dropped. “flattery is NOT in order and never in a million lifetimes would i be caught red handed staring there of all places!” you blurted, slamming your books shut before dashing past him to your next class.

alhaitham only rolled his eyes, knowing damn well you would tire your legs before even reaching half way. like the turtle and the rabbit, he would come in like the wise turtle to beat the naive little rabbit.

from the lunch table, layla stirred at the sound of the bell, looking around tiredly before blinking. “y/n-chan?”

and alhaitham was correct, once again, for you did tire yourself before even reaching the doorway to your next class.

he passed you wordlessly, an innocent smile on his lips as he took his seat, watching as you dragged yourself into the seat next to him — the only one that remained. how touching.

“not a word.” you hissed to him, fixing your hair up as best as you could before taking out your materials.

the male ignored your comment, shrugging with indifference as he took out his own things.. along with that book of his. just what in the world was he reading that was so much more important than today’s lesson??

as your eyes darted to the book, you noticed it was unguarded while alhaitham reached into his bad for pencils. an opportunity.

with a wicked grin, you reached out for the book, nearly snatching it from alhaitham’s desk.. had it not been for the hand that encased your wrist. foiled again.

“i believe you should ask before taking one’s belongings, wouldn’t you agree, y/n-san?” the dendro user spoke, his words like a chill breeze. it made you shiver as you looked up at him before trailing your eyes to his hand. yeah, yours was going nowhere.

“quick, think of an excuse!” you warned yourself, clearing your throat as you did so. “you think so illy of me, alhaitham-san. i wouldn’t dare take that abstruse book of yours.” you huffed out, snatching your wrist back. “i was waving a fly away like a good classmate of yours! i should have known my actions would always go by unappreciated with you.” you pouted further, turning away from the gray haired swordsman, who only rolled his eyes, as he knew.

“sure, we’ll go with that.” he retorted in his usual monotone, missing the irritation on your visage as he refocused his gaze on the lecturer.

the twin tailed female below averted her gaze from the bickering pair, clearing her throat. “perfect, now that we’re all listening, allow me to commence today’s lecture with returning your test papers to you.” the teacher — faruzan spoke, smiling while half the students groaned. “i will be going over the all the answers, so should there be any mistakes in my corrections, do approach me after i finish.” the anemo user finished, grabbing the stack of sheets off her desk before handing each out.

as she reached where you and alhaitham sat, she sent your a proud grin. “amazing job on last week’s test, y/n-chan! your story was lovely to read!” the professor praised as you took your sheet from her hands, blinking in surprise. a perfect score!

curious, you looked over at alhaitham’s paper, wanting to shove your grade in his face.. only to find he had also gotten a perfect score.. with a bonus point.

you nearly wanted to smack yourself.

“you’re staring again, y/n-san.” the taller mocked, a smug look on his annoyingly attractive face. who made brains and good looks legal, and why did it have to be him?!

you puffed your cheeks out, tearing your eyes away from his paper. “i’m not staring, you’re imagining it with how inflated your ego must be!” you retaliated, folding your arms over your chest as you sank back into your seat.

stupid alhaitham and his stupid games. it’s like he wanted you to taste the bitterness of defeat while he soaked in the sweetness of victory. what an ass.

his only response to your outburst was a hum, and if that didn’t throw you over the edge, you weren’t sure what did.

“him being right, probably.” you answered in your head before muttering a curse under your breath.

just who does he think he is?

“alhaitham-kun, w-would you go out with me??” a female squeaked, holding out an envelope to the haravatat student as she bowed her head.

a confession a second after the bell rang.

you nearly gagged at the sight, wondering to yourself who in their right mind would want to date the likes of him. he was despicable! annoying, and egotistic! there was absolutely nothing attractive about him other than those horrifyingly gorgeous features of his.

and yet.. there was this strange bitterness you felt, as your gaze lingered on the pair longer. you weren’t sure why, but there was this nervous feeling of what he might answer with.

“sorry, but i’ll have to decline. i have my eyes set elsewhere, hope you can understand.” he responded curtly, rising from his seat beside you as he passed the girl to take the stairs.

the poor maiden barely got a word in after his answer as she watched his retreating figure disappear through the doorway, letter still in hand. “he.. didn’t even take it..” she muttered to herself, frozen in place. all eyes were on her, including your own.

somehow you felt this sense of relief, hearing alhaitham say no. and yet.. you couldn’t help but feel for the scholar as you placed a hand on her shoulder. whether to comfort or wake her from her trance, you weren’t sure. but the female lowered her hands, keeping her head down as she descended the stairs before taking off at the doorway.

it stirred something in you other than that strange relief but rightful pity. fear, was it? you weren’t sure why.

though something else boggled your mind impossibly more.. that being alhaitham’s response to her confession.

i have my eyes set elsewhere.

and just where on teyvat was that?

“your rival sounds awful, y/n! breaking the poor heart of a girl..” the blond across from you sighed out, draining his glass of wine. “reminds me of someone i know..”

you nodded vigorously, lowering your glass in front of you. “see what i mean, kaveh gets me! i can’t stand being around that man,” you hissed out, wiping your maroon stained lips. “he’s always reading his dumb book half the time — i don’t get how he scores higher than i do?!” you groaned out, clenching the column of your glass. “it makes no sense!”

“perhaps if i meet this fellow, i can rob him clean of his tcg deck as revenge.” the albino haired male across from you spoke, twirling a card between his middle and index fingers, which drew a low exhale from the male beside him.

“tcg isn’t to be used as gambling material, cyno.”

the male question sunk back in his seat, grumbling. “who put the sigh in cy-no.”

silence.

“moving on..” you cleared your throat before looking down at your watch. “when is this roommate of yours is supposed to arrive, kaveh? he’s awfully late and we’re already on our second glasses..”

“wow, i didn’t picture you as the alcoholic type. perhaps that’s why you stare so often where you’re not supposed to.”

it couldn’t be.

almost instantaneously, you whipped your head around to look up at the newly arrived figure, widening your eyes. “a-alhaitham?!” you blurted before turning to the blond beside you. “you live with him?!”

kaveh sank back in shame, draping a hand over his forehead. “unfortunately.” he muttered back, sending you a glance after a short pause. “you know him?”

“i wish i didn’t.” you grumbled back when alhaitham sat between you both without warning. it irked you greatly as you looked up at him, brows furrowed together. “do. you. mind?! i was in the middle of a conversation!”

alhaitham only glanced down at you, raising a brow. “did you say something?” he asked, lowering his hand from his ear.

“can he not hear?!” you asked yourself, nearly shattering the glass between your hands. “forget i even asked, you’d probably just annoy me more than you have already today!” you fired back, turning away from your classmate.

already?

that piqued kaveh’s interest as he shared a knowing glance with cyno and tighnari before smiling innocently at you. “say, y/n.. you never did tell us who that guy was.”

the color drained from your face almost instantly as that guy.. was right next to you.

“maybe you could de-scribe him to us?” the spantamad major added and his fennec eared friend groaned.

“can we do without the puns for once..”

a wicked snicker. “well that’s no pun.”

“you guys!” kaveh hissed out before turning to you once more. “so who is it, y/n? you can tell us.” he encouraged, grinning brightly.. for someone who held a similar distaste for the male in question.

it left you in a panic, not wanting alhaitham to know you had been blabbering about him in particular. you’d never hear the end of it if he found out!

“i-i need a drink!” you babbled, nearly jumping out of your seat as you rushed over to the tavern bar, face flushed, and not just from your last two glasses of wine.

when the bartender approached, your ordered another glass of wine and water, smiling awkwardly. you probably sounded like a complete mess as your words jumbled out from your nerves. why was alhaitham making you feel so on edge — so.. flustered. was that the word?

“having too much to drink is no good, you know.” speak of the devil.

startled by his presence, you nearly slapped the boy as you tensed beside him. why was he there??

“sneaking up on people is pretty weird, you know.” you retorted, huffing quietly. “this is the third time today.”

alhaitham hummed in amusement. “and you counted each time?”

“i hope kaveh destroys that book of yours..”

“jealous of the attention i give it over you?” he asked and you nearly choked on your breath.

you? jealous of a book? as if!

“and why would i be jealous of an inanimate object, least of all one belonging to yourself.” you countered, scoffing at his words. “that’s completely ridiculously, even more so when it’s coming out of your mouth.”

“then what was that look on your face, earlier today.” he inquired, side eying you. “when that girl confessed.”

look?

you hesitated for a moment, thrown off by the sudden question, but you didn’t back down. “disgust, perhaps. a normal person would be appalled to see someone confess to you of all people. it’s idiotic when you’re more likely to be committed to a library than a significant other.”

the silver haired male hummed again, which annoyed you, but he wasn’t finished. “funny, it looked like envy to me.” he mused, finally turning to face you. “and repose when you heard me reject her.”

archons, his eyes were so striking — so alluring. was this why he never looked you dead on? or paid you any mind, other than some side glances?

it made the beat of your heart quicken with fear, maybe even excitement. wait.. what were you saying? this was alhaitham — your class rival! he was just trying to throw you off your game!

and yet.. why was he suddenly so close to you? so entrancing? was it the alcohol? no.. the alcohol was bringing it out more — the truth, that which you’d been hiding.

“am i making you nervous? or was i correct with my conclusions?” he asked after a period of silence and you gulped. how long had you spaced out for?! speak!

“a-and why should i tell you anything?” you finally voiced, a puny comeback. “thought you had your eyes set elsewhere.” you elaborated, mustering up whatever confidence remained in you.

alhaitham leaned in closer, a prideful smile on his lips. “correct, i’m looking right at them.”

you blinked once and then twice.

there wasn’t anywhere else or anyone else he was looking at.. except for you.

“that..” you stumbled, feeling your face warm up up. “that can’t be right — you’re joking, you have to be.. did kaveh send you over purposefully? i swear to-mmph!”

and just like that, your disbelief was silenced with a surprisingly soft pair of lips as you felt a hand cup your cheek.

“still think i’m joking?”

notes. this was longer than i expected and oml istg it went everywhere.. ANYWAY here you go rei i hope you liked it BAHAHAHA half of this was me clowning around with an old idea i drafted soooooo yeah.. but i hope i did the boobman justice and fulfilled your request<3

MAIN MASTERLIST. ༝ REQUEST RULES.

heyyyy, can i request a cute modern au fake dating prompt with kazuha where he’s the reader’s pretend boyfriend in order to get a free dessert at a restaurant? the reader is his close friend btw. in headcanons please!!

໒⦂ 𝙁𝘼𝙆𝙀 𝘿𝘼𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙃𝘾𝙎.

note. hello anon! tysm for requesting, here is your modern au fake dating headcanons with the leaf sniffer himself, enjoy✨

genre. fluff + crack

kazuha kaedehara x gn!reader.

⌗ kazuha.. yk, he’s pretty easygoing, goes with the wind and all of that shit, so normally he’s down with whatever his best friend ( you ) may come up with

⌗ but when you come up to him and ask for him to pretend to be your boyfriend.. for a free dessert, that has his brow raising

⌗ “let me get this straight — you.. want me to be your boyfriend.” he would repeat, and you nod so he continues, “for a dessert..”

⌗ “and that’s so out of the ordinary how?” you would fire back, to which he would throw his hands up in defense.

⌗ to him it’s completely unheard of, but he knew your love for sweets, and wouldn’t want to deny you of what made you happy; he was your best friend after all, and he did have feelings already to begin with..

⌗ playing the role of a boyfriend was a once in a life time opportunity, and it maintains your friendship without you being weirded out by his feelings — it was a win win situation!

⌗ besides, who wouldn’t want free food???

⌗ “alright, alright.. i’ll be your boyfriend for this dessert of yours. what kind is it anyway, for you to get worked up this much?” he’d chuckle, loving the way your features would perk up. you were just too precious to him

⌗ “that’s just it — the menu is a mystery! but there are different options to choose from and whatever we pick is free! it’s an ideal situation if you ask me.”

⌗ and ideal it was.

⌗ the following day would be the day kazuha becomes your boyfriend.. for a free dessert

⌗ the minute you step out of the gates to your university, his mannerisms and attitude take a one-eighty as he reaches for your hand and steps closer to your side

⌗ it takes you by surprise, knowing your best friend to be rather respectful of space, not as touchy as he was being now — but you didn’t mind it, it sold the act after all

⌗ and it felt.. nice

⌗ but you couldn’t help the comment on your tongue. “initiating first, are we? seems like someone wants free dessert after all!”

⌗ a hum left his lips as he looked up at the sky. “something like that, i suppose. but i would think you’d want to convince the staff of your totally real relationship.”

⌗ the bickering jabs would continue all the way to your destination, where kazuha would open the door for you — though he’s done that before. he’s polite, after all.

⌗ says the whole “after you”, which just has you giggling and smiling upon entry.

⌗ the two of you are eventually seated and you ask for the couple’s special.

⌗ a kind employee would then explain the requirements to receive your free dessert, which came as a surprise to you.

⌗ in the ad online there was nothing on requirements, only to have a significant other — but it seemed the workers really wanted to put the both of you to the test..

⌗ it made sense, though. they couldn’t just give free desserts out for nothing — and surely many people would pretend to get free food!

⌗ there was no going back now.

⌗ and so you accept the challenge.. which is none other than the classic kiss of proof.

⌗ as fake couples would likely hesitate, and maybe even try to work around it.

⌗ kazuha stiffened at first, but was still determined to get you that dessert. cold feet would only decrease your chances at getting that dessert you wanted.

⌗ he looked into your eyes, searching your take on the criteria, and found you nodding just slightly — consent.

⌗ and so kazuha did what any boyfriend would have done as he leaned in to press a quick, yet gentle kiss on your lips.

⌗ they felt soft, against his own — his very first kiss, and with his best friend no less..

⌗ stuck in a daze, the two of you just stared at one another for a moment, processing your actions — the feelings a singular kiss stirred up..

⌗ until a plate of the dessert you’d ordered was placed between you.

⌗ “enjoy~!”

notes. i realize this is my first time writing something for kazuha so hopefully he wasn’t too ooc.. anyway hope you enjoyed and that i was able to fulfill what you wanted in your request<3

MAIN MASTERLIST. ༝ REQUEST RULES.

I did a thing

If someone were to ask me what me least favourite trope is, I'd say booktok dark romance to a normal person.

But what I would really think inside is whatever fucked up combination of ANGST HURT AND SUFFERING THIS FIC IS BECAUSE WHAT

HOW DO YOU FIT THAT MUCH INTO 40K???

Guys I'm starting chapter 17, I had to finish on chapter 3 last night because I couldn't do it. I should've just dropped it when I had the chance, now I low-key have to finish this. Please go give it a read, there are few things that make me scream so bad my neighbour has to check no one's breaking in

I Think About You Sometimes [Pastel Flowers] on Ao3, written by yuuuki_ris

M/M

Alhaitham/Kaveh

A tag i'd like it add : The dog gets better before it just fucking dies.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59366269?view_full_work=true

The Master of Shadows

In the bustling heart of Fontaine, where the laughter of children mingled with the symphony of splashing water, a sinister undercurrent flowed beneath the city’s pristine surface. It was a place of wonder, but also of secrets—secrets that Pulcinella, the enigmatic Harbinger, thrived upon. His cunning and resourcefulness allowed him to navigate the shadows, manipulating events to suit his needs.

You had recently arrived in Fontaine, a curious soul drawn to its vibrant life and intricate waterways. However, beneath the glimmering facade, you sensed an unsettling tension that seemed to pulse through the streets. Rumors whispered of a figure that moved unseen, a puppeteer pulling strings from the shadows—none other than Pulcinella himself.

One evening, while exploring the winding alleys of Fontaine, you found yourself entranced by a street performer. The way he danced and twirled captivated the crowd, but your gaze kept drifting to the dark figure lurking just beyond the lantern light. His presence was almost magnetic, yet shrouded in an unsettling air. As the performance drew to a close, the crowd erupted in applause, but you felt an inexplicable pull to the shadows.

Before you knew it, you had followed the figure into a narrow alley, the laughter of the crowd fading into the distance. The atmosphere shifted; the air grew thick, and the shadows seemed to stretch and twist around you. You caught sight of him then—Pulcinella, his features partially obscured by the darkness, a sly smile playing on his lips.

“Curiosity can be quite the double-edged sword, wouldn’t you agree?” he said, his voice smooth as silk. “What brings you to my domain, little moth?”

You took a step back, heart racing. “I—I was just watching the performance.”

“And yet, you chose to venture into the dark,” he mused, stepping closer. “Not many dare to tread where shadows linger. You must possess a spirit of adventure.”

“Or foolishness,” you replied, summoning your courage. “What are you really doing here?”

His smile widened, revealing a glimpse of the cunning mind behind those sparkling eyes. “Ah, the eternal question! I am but a humble observer, a collector of stories, if you will. But every story has its secrets, and every secret has a price.”

“What price?” you asked, intrigued despite your better judgment.

He tilted his head, studying you. “Knowledge, dear one. The knowledge of what lies beneath the surface of this grand city. Fontaine may appear idyllic, but it harbors darkness, secrets that can be used to your advantage if you know where to look.”

“What do you mean?” you pressed, feeling a mix of fear and fascination.

Pulcinella stepped closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Imagine the power of invisibility, of slipping through the cracks of society unnoticed, manipulating events from the shadows. Would you not want to know how to weave your own destiny?”

You hesitated, the allure of his words tugging at your heart. “And what would I have to do for this knowledge?”

He chuckled softly, the sound echoing against the brick walls. “Nothing more than a simple favor, a small act of courage. Help me retrieve something that has gone… astray, and I shall share with you the secrets of the unseen.”

“What is it you need?” you asked, curiosity burning brighter than your trepidation.

He gestured with a flourish, and a small, intricately designed box appeared in his hands. “This box contains a device—a tool of invisibility, crafted by the greatest minds of Fontaine. But it has fallen into the wrong hands. Retrieve it, and the knowledge will be yours.”

Though a voice in your head warned you against the path he proposed, the thrill of adventure was intoxicating. “I’ll do it,” you agreed, steeling your resolve.

With Pulcinella’s guidance, you set out into the night. He led you through the winding alleys, instructing you on how to move with stealth, to remain unseen. You felt his presence behind you, a dark shadow guiding your every step. The thrill of the chase consumed you, the pulse of adrenaline racing through your veins as you approached the hideout of the thieves who possessed the box.

The thieves’ lair was a crumbling warehouse, illuminated by flickering lanterns. You could hear their raucous laughter mingling with the clinking of bottles, a sense of bravado hanging thick in the air. As you crouched behind a stack of crates, you could see the box, gleaming under the dim light, resting precariously on a table surrounded by drunken revelers.

“Now,” Pulcinella’s voice whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “You must be quick and clever. Distract them while I retrieve the box.”

With a nod, you prepared yourself. Stepping out from your hiding place, you let out a loud shout, your voice echoing in the hollow space. “Help! Someone’s after me!”

The thieves jumped, startled, their laughter cut short. In the chaos, you darted to the side, watching as Pulcinella slipped into the shadows, his movements fluid and silent. The thieves scrambled to their feet, trying to grasp the situation.

“Get her!” one of them shouted, but Pulcinella was already moving, a blur in the night as he made his way toward the box.

You caught a glimpse of him as he deftly retrieved the device, his expression one of triumph. But just as he turned to leave, one of the thieves spotted him and lunged forward. Without hesitation, Pulcinella reached out, pulling a string from his pocket that shimmered like silk. The string danced through the air, ensnaring the thief’s feet and sending him crashing to the ground.

“Now, let’s go!” Pulcinella urged, his voice filled with urgency. You both dashed back through the labyrinth of streets, the sound of angry shouts fading behind you as you made your escape.

Finally, you reached the safety of the shadows. Pulcinella halted, catching his breath, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Well done, my daring accomplice! You have proven yourself more than capable.”

You felt a rush of exhilaration. “What now? What do we do with the device?”

He held the box up to the moonlight, a gleam of mischief in his eyes. “Now, we reveal the truth of the unseen world, but first, allow me to show you how to use it.”

With deft fingers, he opened the box, revealing a small orb that glowed with an ethereal light. He gestured for you to take it. “This will grant you the power of invisibility for a time. Use it wisely.”

As you grasped the orb, a strange sensation washed over you—a heady mixture of power and responsibility. “What will you do with it?” you asked, intrigued.

Pulcinella’s smile faded for a moment, replaced by a flicker of seriousness. “I will continue to operate from the shadows, influencing events in ways that many cannot comprehend. There are forces at play in Fontaine that require a careful hand.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine as you realized the extent of his ambitions. “And what about me? What role do I play in this?”

“Ah,” he replied, a glimmer of mischief returning to his eyes. “You shall be my eyes and ears, my little partner in crime. Together, we can weave a tapestry of influence and intrigue.”

As you considered his offer, you felt a spark of excitement. The thrill of adventure, the allure of the unseen world—it was intoxicating. With Pulcinella at your side, the possibilities were endless.

“Let us begin,” you said, determination igniting within you. “Show me the way of shadows.”

And with that, you stepped into the darkness together, ready to manipulate the world around you from the hidden corners of Fontaine, where secrets thrived and the invisible danced just out of reach.

The Strings of Deception

The fog hung heavy over Sumeru, cloaking the landscape in a shroud of mystery. Your small cottage, nestled on the edge of a tranquil grove, had once been a sanctuary—a place where you could escape the chaos of the world and find solace among the trees and whispers of nature. But lately, an unsettling presence had settled in your mind, a creeping sensation that you were no longer alone in your secluded haven.

It had begun with the arrival of a peculiar letter, an invitation to a gathering organized by Sandrone, the elusive Harbinger known as the Marionette. The townsfolk spoke of her in hushed tones, warning of her mechanical creations that danced and moved with eerie precision. Whispers circulated that she could manipulate not only the lifeless but the living, bending them to her will with a mere flick of her wrist. Curiosity got the better of you, and against your better judgment, you accepted.

The night of the gathering, the sky above was shrouded in deep indigo, the moon a ghostly glow against the vast expanse. As you approached the destination—an abandoned mansion perched atop a hill—you felt an unsettling chill in the air, the atmosphere thick with unspoken secrets.

You stepped inside, the door creaking ominously as you entered. The grand hall was dimly lit, shadows playing against the walls. The flickering of candles cast moving patterns, resembling the delicate movements of the marionettes you had heard about. A shiver ran down your spine as you took in the room, your heart pounding in your chest.

Sandrone emerged from the shadows, her presence commanding. Clad in flowing garments adorned with intricate patterns that shimmered in the candlelight, she seemed to blend seamlessly into the ambiance of the mansion. Her porcelain skin and striking features captivated you, but there was something unsettling about her gaze, an intensity that seemed to pierce through your very soul.

“Welcome, dear guest,” she purred, her voice smooth like silk. “I trust you’re ready for an evening of wonder and revelation.”

“I… I’m not sure what to expect,” you admitted, trying to keep your composure.

“Expect the unexpected,” she replied cryptically, her lips curling into a smile that held a hint of mischief. “Tonight, you will see what lies beneath the surface.”

As the evening unfolded, you were introduced to her creations—mechanical marionettes that moved with an unsettling grace, performing elaborate dances that captivated the few guests who had gathered. The air was charged with an energy that felt almost alive, and you couldn’t help but be drawn into the spectacle.

But as you watched, a nagging feeling gnawed at you, a whisper in the back of your mind that something was amiss. The marionettes, while enchanting, seemed to carry an undercurrent of menace, their movements almost too precise, too controlled. It was as if they were merely shadows of something darker lurking beneath the surface.

“Do you see their beauty?” Sandrone asked, her voice a melodic whisper in your ear as she leaned closer. “They are an extension of my will, reflections of my artistry. But they are also more than that. They hold secrets, truths that the living often overlook.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, your curiosity piqued despite the growing unease in your chest.

“Life is an illusion, dear one,” she replied, her eyes gleaming with an otherworldly light. “We are all puppets on strings, manipulated by forces we cannot comprehend. My creations remind us of that, of the fragile line between control and chaos.”

As the night progressed, the atmosphere shifted. Laughter and music faded into a low hum, and the guests seemed entranced, caught in a trance-like state. You glanced around, noticing the blank expressions on their faces. It was as though they were no longer participants but mere spectators in Sandrone’s grand design.

“Join me,” she beckoned, her hand outstretched, a marionette string appearing in the air, shimmering like silver. “Let me show you the truth of your existence.”

A shiver ran through you, an instinctive warning. “What truth?”

“That life, as you know it, is but a performance,” she murmured, her voice dipping low, almost hypnotic. “You fear the strings that bind you, yet they are what give you form, what allow you to dance.”

As you stepped forward, drawn to her like a moth to a flame, you felt an inexplicable pull, a connection that defied logic. The air crackled with tension as she grasped your hand, and in that moment, the world around you shifted.

Visions flooded your mind—images of puppets and marionettes entwined with memories of your own life, the moments you had felt manipulated by unseen forces, the times you had danced to the tune of others’ desires. The lines between reality and illusion blurred until you could no longer distinguish between the two.

“Do you see?” Sandrone’s voice echoed in your mind. “You are not the master of your own fate. We are all marionettes, controlled by the hands of fate.”

Your heart raced as the realization settled in. She was right. You had spent so long trying to escape the strings that bound you, striving for freedom, yet had never truly confronted the depths of your own manipulation.

“Join me,” she urged, her grip tightening, the marionette string weaving around you like a serpent. “Together, we can break free from these illusions, redefine our roles in this performance.”

But a flicker of defiance ignited within you. “No! I won’t be a puppet to your whims!”

With a surge of determination, you pulled away from her grasp, the string unraveling as you took a step back. The room seemed to tremble, shadows flickering like dying embers. The other guests blinked as if awakening from a dream, confusion filling their eyes.

“You dare defy me?” Sandrone’s expression darkened, a flicker of something dangerous sparking in her gaze. “You would choose the chains of reality over the freedom I offer?”

“I choose to face my own truths!” you declared, your voice steadying as you stood your ground. “I refuse to be your pawn in this twisted game!”

A silence fell over the room, tension hanging in the air like an electric current. For a moment, it felt as though the world had paused, caught between illusion and reality. The marionettes froze, their movements stilled, and for the first time, you saw Sandrone’s true self—a woman who had lost herself in her quest for control.

“Then you leave me no choice,” she said, her voice low and resonant, laced with both admiration and frustration. “If you wish to walk away, then you must sever the strings entirely.”

With a flick of her wrist, the marionettes sprang to life, their movements now more menacing, their eyes glowing with a fierce intensity. Panic surged through you, but a newfound resolve blossomed within your heart. You had come to understand the power of choice, the strength that lay in defiance.

“Stand with me!” you shouted to the other guests, your voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “We can break free together!”

As if awakened from a trance, the guests rallied around you, their collective strength pushing against the force of Sandrone’s control. Together, you faced her, united in your resolve to reclaim your agency.

“Enough!” Sandrone’s voice rang out, the marionettes hesitating as they sensed the shift in energy. “You think you can resist me? I am the master of this illusion!”

But the resolve in your heart burned brighter than the shadows around you. “We will not be your puppets!”

With that declaration, you and the guests reached out, intertwining your hands in a circle, a barrier of defiance against her grasp. The marionettes faltered, their movements stilled as the power of your collective will surged forward.

A blinding light erupted from your joined hands, washing over the room, and in that moment, the illusion shattered. The marionettes crumbled to the ground, lifeless and still, as Sandrone’s expression shifted from fury to realization.

“No… what have you done?” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper.

“We’ve broken the chains,” you said, your voice steady as the light enveloped her. “We will not dance to your tune any longer.”

In that moment, the mansion transformed, the shadows receding as the truth emerged. The once-oppressive atmosphere shifted into one of liberation, the lingering darkness replaced by the warmth of newfound freedom.

As the last vestiges of Sandrone’s control faded, she stood before you, her porcelain features softened, vulnerability shining through the remnants of her facade. “You… you have taken everything from me.”

“No, we have taken back our own lives,” you replied, a sense of empathy washing over you. “You have your own strings to cut, Sandrone. Find your own truth.”

And with that, you turned away, leaving the mansion behind. The fog began to lift, revealing a world unshackled from the chains of illusion, where each step felt like a reclaiming of agency and truth. The night was still, but it was no longer filled with the haunting echoes of manipulation.

As you made your way back to your cottage, the stars twinkled overhead, and a sense of hope blossomed within your heart. You had faced the darkness, and in doing so, had discovered the light.

The Legend of Capitano

The evening mist rolled through the quiet village of Liyue like a whispered secret, shrouding the cobblestone streets and thatched roofs in a spectral embrace. Lanterns flickered dimly, casting shadows that danced along the walls as villagers hurried home, eager to escape the encroaching darkness. Tales of a fearsome figure had spread through the town like wildfire—an enigmatic warrior known as Capitano, one of the dreaded Harbingers of the Fatui. The stories spoke of his martial prowess, of battles won and enemies vanquished, but more than that, there were whispers of something supernatural, something that sent chills down the spines of even the bravest souls.

You had come to Liyue seeking peace, a place far removed from the conflicts that plagued the rest of Teyvat. Yet, as the tales of Capitano reached your ears, it became clear that even this tranquil village was not immune to fear. The villagers spoke of shadows lurking in the woods, of a great figure clad in dark armor, and of an unseen terror that stalked the night.

It was on one such misty night that you found yourself wandering the outskirts of the village, drawn by a strange compulsion. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, and the moon hung high above, illuminating the path ahead with an otherworldly glow. You had always been captivated by the unknown, by the tales that stirred the imagination, and now you found yourself drawn into the very heart of one such legend.

As you ventured deeper into the woods, a sudden rustling caught your attention. Your heart raced as you turned, expecting to see a mere animal, but instead, you found yourself face-to-face with a figure draped in shadow. The imposing silhouette loomed before you, armor glinting in the moonlight, a dark helm obscuring his face. It was Capitano.

“Lost, are we?” His voice was deep, resonant, and sent a thrill of both fear and intrigue through you. There was an authority in his presence, a strength that made your pulse quicken.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely a whisper. “I was... curious.”

“Curious?” He stepped closer, the light catching the edges of his armor, revealing a fierce expression beneath the shadows. “Curiosity can lead to peril, especially in these woods. Many have wandered too far and have never returned.”

There was something almost hypnotic about him, a magnetic pull that drew you in despite the warnings echoing in your mind. “What are you doing here?” you asked, your curiosity piqued even more.

He tilted his head, a glimmer of something—perhaps amusement—flashing in his eyes. “I am the guardian of these woods, or perhaps a specter, depending on who you ask. The villagers fear me, as they fear the unknown. But fear is a double-edged sword. It can protect or consume.”

His words lingered in the air, heavy with meaning. You sensed a depth to him that transcended mere martial prowess—a complexity that made him both fearsome and fascinating. “Why do you stay here, then? If they fear you so?”

“Because I am bound to it,” he replied, his gaze piercing through the veil of night. “These woods have secrets that must be guarded. My duty is to ensure that those secrets remain hidden. There are forces at play that even I cannot fully comprehend.”

The tension in the air thickened, and a chill ran down your spine. You wanted to ask him what he meant, but something in his demeanor warned you to tread carefully. “But what about the villagers?” you ventured, your heart pounding. “Don’t you wish to show them you mean no harm?”

A shadow passed over his features, a flicker of sorrow mixed with determination. “They would not understand. To them, I am a monster. They see only the surface—the armor, the darkness. They do not see the burden I carry. To break that perception would require more than mere words.”

You stepped closer, feeling an inexplicable connection forming between you. “What if I could help?” you offered, your voice steadying. “What if I could show them that you’re not a monster?”

Capitano studied you for a long moment, as if weighing your resolve against the shadows that cloaked him. “It would not be easy. Fear runs deep, and once instilled, it is not easily erased. But should you choose to tread this path, you must understand the risks.”

You nodded, a surge of determination coursing through you. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Perhaps you should be,” he replied, a hint of a smile breaking through the darkness. “But bravery often lies in the face of fear, does it not?”

Over the next few days, you returned to the village, emboldened by your encounters with Capitano. Each night, you would meet him in the woods, sharing stories, learning of his past and the weight of his role as protector of the secrets hidden within. As you grew closer, you realized that beneath his fearsome exterior lay a soul burdened by duty and loneliness.

With each passing night, you formulated a plan—a way to bridge the gap between him and the villagers. You spoke of Capitano’s virtues, of his bravery, and the purpose he served, hoping to dispel the darkness that surrounded him in their eyes. But skepticism ran rampant. The villagers were too entrenched in their fears, too quick to dismiss your words as folly.

“You’re risking everything for a man you barely know,” one villager admonished. “He is nothing but a specter, a harbinger of death.”

But you couldn’t give up. You felt a connection to him that you couldn’t explain, a shared understanding of the burdens that came with their respective paths. “He is not a monster! He is protecting us from the true dangers that lurk beyond our perception!”

On the night of the harvest festival, you finally devised a plan to reveal Capitano’s true self to the villagers. You invited them to the woods, promising a spectacle that would dispel their fears once and for all. You hoped that, if they saw him not as a shadow but as a man, their perceptions might change.

As the villagers gathered, whispers of doubt filled the air. You stood before them, heart pounding in your chest. “Please, trust me! Capitano will show himself.”

With a wave of your hand, you called out to him. The silence thickened, the air electric with anticipation. After what felt like an eternity, he emerged from the shadows, his armor gleaming under the moonlight.

Gasps echoed through the crowd. Fear was palpable, yet there was also intrigue. Capitano stood tall, imposing and formidable, yet there was a softness in his gaze as he looked at you, urging you forward.

“Fear not,” he called, his voice steady. “I am not here to bring harm. I am bound to these woods, to protect that which is sacred.”

But the villagers remained wary, their fear outweighing your efforts. “You’re a monster!” one shouted. “We know what you are!”

At that moment, you felt the weight of their fear pressing down on you, but you refused to falter. “He is not a monster! He has protected us, hidden us from true danger! You cannot let fear dictate your lives!”

Capitano stepped closer, lowering his head as if to bring his presence to their level. “Listen to your hearts,” he implored, his voice echoing in the silence. “I am but a guardian, tasked with a purpose you do not yet understand. Embrace the truth, and you shall find peace.”

Slowly, the atmosphere began to shift. Some villagers took tentative steps forward, curiosity igniting where once there had only been fear. But others remained entrenched in their distrust, their eyes darting between you and Capitano.

“Who will stand against me?” he challenged, his voice rising above the murmurs. “Who will join me in the fight against the darkness that threatens to consume us all?”

In that moment, you felt a flicker of hope. One brave villager stepped forward, heart pounding yet resolute. “I will,” they declared. “If he truly protects us, then I will stand with him.”

With that, others began to follow suit, stepping out of the shadows of their own fear. And as the realization spread through the crowd, Capitano’s presence shifted—no longer just a figure of dread, but a symbol of hope.

As the night wore on, you watched the villagers engage with Capitano, their laughter mingling with the whispers of the night. The fear that had once held them captive began to dissolve, replaced by an understanding that had once felt so distant.

In that moment, standing beside Capitano, you felt a warmth blossoming within you. Together, you had shattered the chains of fear that bound the villagers, transforming dread into camaraderie.

Yet, as you looked at him, a thought nagged at the edges of your mind. You knew that even now, the specter of fear was not entirely vanquished. But perhaps, together, you could face whatever lay ahead—whether it be darkness or light.

Capitano met your gaze, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes. In that moment, you understood that legends could evolve, that they were not merely stories of fear, but of the courage it took to confront it.

And perhaps, just perhaps, the legend of Capitano would transform from one of dread into one of resilience, a tale of a guardian who stood steadfast against the night, with a heart that beat fiercely beneath the armor.

The Masque of Columbina

The air in the grand palace was thick with the scent of incense and the distant hum of whispered conversations. The moon hung heavy in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the sprawling ballroom where masked guests twirled in an endless waltz. Opulence dripped from every corner—the walls gilded in gold, chandeliers sparkling with a thousand jewels, and the attendees dressed in extravagant silks and velvets, their faces hidden behind intricate masks.

It was a masquerade unlike any other, a night meant to banish the specter of death that loomed ever-present outside the palace walls. You stood at the edge of the festivities, uneasy, even though the laughter and revelry echoed around you. For beyond these walls, the Red Plague ravaged the world, an unstoppable force that devoured villages and cities, leaving only death in its wake. And yet, inside this haven, a fortress of privilege, it was as though the world had forgotten its suffering.

Your fingers tightened around the stem of the wine glass in your hand, the dark liquid inside reflecting the light like blood. No matter how much you tried to lose yourself in the grandeur of the event, you couldn’t shake the weight that pressed on your chest—the sense that something was terribly wrong, that no amount of gold or velvet could hold back the inevitable.

And then, as though your thoughts had summoned it, a figure emerged from the shadows.

She appeared at the far end of the room, as if from nowhere. At first glance, she seemed to be one of the countless revelers—a woman in a flowing gown of deep crimson, a mask obscuring her face. But there was something different about her, something that drew your gaze and refused to let go.

Her mask, unlike the others, was pale and delicate, like the face of a porcelain doll. Her eyes, though hidden beneath the shadows of her mask, seemed to gleam with an unsettling light, as if they saw through the façade of the masquerade and into the heart of every soul present. Her movements were slow, deliberate, almost like a dance—ethereal, haunting, and yet utterly hypnotic. The music swelled, and as if on cue, the other guests parted to make way for her, though they did not seem to notice her approach.

You found yourself rooted to the spot, unable to look away as she glided across the floor, closer and closer, until she stood before you.

"Why do you linger at the edge of the party, dear one?" Her voice was soft, lilting, as though she were singing rather than speaking. It sent a shiver down your spine. "Surely, on a night like this, you should be dancing?"

You swallowed, trying to ignore the way her presence seemed to fill the space around you. "I... I don’t feel much like dancing tonight."

The woman tilted her head, as if considering your words. Her lips, painted the color of blood, curved into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Ah, I see. You’re afraid, aren’t you?"

You stiffened. "Afraid of what?"

Her smile widened, and she leaned closer, her voice a breath against your skin. "Afraid of what waits outside these walls. The Red Plague. The death that no mask, no walls, can keep out forever."

A chill ran through you, and you took a step back. "Who are you?"

She laughed softly, the sound low and melodic. "I have many names," she said, brushing a delicate hand against her mask. "But tonight, you may call me Columbina."

The name sent a wave of unease through you. Columbina, one of the Harbingers of the Fatui, a woman shrouded in mystery and darkness. You had heard of her, of course—whispers of her ethereal beauty and her deadly power. It was said that she moved through the world like a ghost, untouched by time, untouched by the pain and suffering that gripped the rest of Teyvat.

"I didn’t realize you were... invited," you said cautiously.

Her eyes glittered behind the mask. "Invited?" She laughed again, this time louder, the sound echoing through the ballroom. "I don’t need an invitation. I go where I am needed, where I am called."

She reached out, and before you could react, her fingers brushed against your cheek, cold as ice. "And tonight, I am here for you."

Your breath caught in your throat. "For me? Why?"

Columbina’s smile softened, though it did nothing to ease the growing dread in your chest. "Because you are not like the others. You see the truth, don’t you? You know that no matter how grand this masquerade may be, no matter how many walls they build, death cannot be kept at bay."

Her words wrapped around you like a vice, tightening with every breath you took. She was right. Even now, you could feel it—the creeping, suffocating presence of something inevitable, something inescapable. The Red Plague had not yet touched the palace, but it was only a matter of time.

"That’s why they wear the masks," Columbina whispered, leaning closer still. "They think they can hide from it. But death is not so easily fooled."

Your heart pounded in your chest as she pulled away, turning her gaze to the rest of the ballroom. "Look at them," she said, gesturing to the swirling mass of dancers. "They laugh, they drink, they dance. All the while knowing that their time is running out. They are all trying to escape, but none of them will."

The room seemed to blur, the laughter and music fading into a distant hum as you stared at her. She was right—there was no escape. This masquerade, this charade of life and luxury, was nothing more than a distraction, a way to pretend that death wasn’t looming just beyond the doors.

"Come with me," Columbina said suddenly, her voice pulling you from your thoughts. She held out her hand, her eyes locking onto yours. "Let me show you the truth."

You hesitated, your mind spinning. There was something about her, something you couldn’t explain. She was terrifying, yes, but there was also a strange allure to her—a beauty intertwined with doom, as though she were both the angel of death and the one who could save you from it.

"What truth?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Her smile returned, soft and knowing. "The truth that there is no escape. That death is not the end, but a beginning. That I can give you peace, if you are willing to see it."

The weight of her words settled over you like a shroud, and for a moment, you considered it. What if she was right? What if there was something beyond the fear, beyond the endless running? What if there was a way to face the inevitable and emerge unscathed?

Before you could make a decision, the clock struck midnight.

The sound reverberated through the ballroom like a death knell, and in an instant, the atmosphere shifted. The laughter ceased, the music faltered, and the dancers froze in place. The room was silent, save for the slow, deliberate footsteps of a figure at the far end of the hall.

It was a man—tall, cloaked in black, his face hidden behind a mask the color of blood. He moved with the grace of a predator, each step purposeful and slow. And as he approached, the guests began to back away, fear etched into their faces.

Columbina watched with a smile, her eyes gleaming with a strange light. "Ah, the final guest has arrived."

You stared at the man, your heart pounding in your chest. There was something unnatural about him, something that set your teeth on edge. And then, with a sudden, sickening realization, you understood.

The Red Death had come.

The man stopped in the center of the room, his gaze sweeping over the silent crowd. Slowly, deliberately, he reached up and removed his mask.

The room erupted into chaos.

Guests screamed and fled, their masks torn from their faces as they tried to escape the inevitable. But there was no escape. The doors were locked, the windows barred. And as the Red Death moved through the crowd, his touch bringing swift and terrible ends, you realized that Columbina had been right all along.

There was no escaping fate.

You turned to her, your heart racing with terror. But Columbina was calm, serene, as though she had known this would happen from the start. She met your gaze, her smile soft and haunting.

"Do you see now?" she asked quietly. "There is no need to fear. Death comes for us all. But I can offer you peace."

Her hand extended once more, and this time, you didn’t hesitate.

As you took her hand, the chaos around you seemed to fade into the background. The screams, the terror, the inevitability of the Red Death—all of it vanished, leaving only Columbina’s gentle presence beside you. She led you away from the madness, away from the fear, into the quiet stillness of the night.

And in that moment, you understood.

She had been right all along.

The Island of Sandrone

he mist hung thick over the ocean as your ship approached the remote island. Your heart raced with both anticipation and unease. This place—this isolated stretch of land, shrouded in secrecy—was known only to a select few, whispered about in hushed tones across Teyvat. The island belonged to none other than Sandrone, the Puppet Tinkerer, one of the enigmatic Harbingers of the Fatui. It was said that here, far from the eyes of the world, she conducted her experiments—pushing the boundaries of life and death, of human and machine.

You were sent by your nation’s scholars to investigate the rumors. Word had spread of Sandrone’s mechanical creations—beings who looked like people, but weren’t. Puppets that moved, thought, and acted with eerie precision. It was unclear whether they were mere machines or something far more disturbing.

As the ship docked at the desolate shore, a chill ran down your spine. The island was a bleak, inhospitable place—rocky cliffs and twisted trees bent against the ceaseless wind. But it wasn’t the landscape that unsettled you. It was the silence. No birds, no animals. Just the sound of the waves crashing against the shore and the faint hum of machinery in the distance.

A small figure approached from the mist—a woman in white, flanked by two tall, mechanical beings whose joints creaked as they moved. As they drew closer, you recognized the woman from the descriptions. Sandrone.

She was younger than you expected, her delicate features framed by an elegant, yet utilitarian outfit. Her eyes were sharp, like a craftsman studying their latest creation. There was an air of cold detachment about her, as though she existed on a different plane of existence from those around her.

"Welcome," Sandrone said, her voice soft but commanding. "You’ve come to see my work, I presume."

You nodded, feeling the weight of her gaze. "I’ve heard... rumors," you said cautiously. "About what you’re doing here."

A faint smile tugged at her lips, though it didn’t reach her eyes. "Rumors," she echoed, turning away from you and beckoning you to follow. "People always fear what they don’t understand. But I assure you, my work is far beyond mere gossip."

You followed her deeper into the island, the mechanical beings flanking you both like silent sentinels. The terrain shifted as you approached the center of the island—what had once been wild and untamed gave way to carefully constructed pathways and towering structures. The air buzzed with the sound of machinery, and as you looked around, you caught glimpses of Sandrone’s creations—mechanical puppets, each more intricate than the last, moving about their tasks with eerie precision.

"They look so... lifelike," you murmured, unable to tear your eyes away from them.

Sandrone glanced at you with a hint of amusement. "Lifelike, yes. But they are not alive. They are my creations, my masterpieces. Machines, nothing more."

Her words were cold, clinical. But as you continued to follow her through the winding pathways, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of unease. There was something unsettling about the way these puppets moved—something too smooth, too perfect. They walked, spoke, and gestured like humans, but their eyes were empty, devoid of any spark of life. It was as though they were merely imitating humanity.

"How did you create them?" you asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

Sandrone stopped in front of a large, glass-walled structure—her workshop, it seemed. Inside, you could see more puppets being constructed, their bodies in various stages of assembly. The sight was both fascinating and horrifying.

"The process is... complicated," Sandrone replied, her voice taking on a tone of pride. "It requires a delicate balance of mechanics and... biology."

Your stomach twisted at her words. "Biology?" you echoed, feeling a knot of dread form in your chest.

Sandrone’s smile returned, sharper this time. "Oh yes. Machines alone cannot mimic life. There are certain... qualities that must be taken from living beings. Tissue, nerve endings, sometimes even organs. Only then can they truly function as I intend."

You recoiled, the weight of her words hitting you like a blow. "You’re using... people?"

Sandrone’s gaze remained calm, unbothered by your horror. "Only those who no longer have use for their bodies. Criminals, the condemned, the forgotten. They are given new purpose in my creations. It’s a kindness, really. To transcend the limitations of human flesh, to become something greater. Isn’t that what we all desire?"

Her words chilled you to the bone. There was no remorse, no hesitation. To her, this was science, progress—nothing more. But to you, it was something far darker. The lines between life and death, between human and machine, had been blurred beyond recognition. What she was doing here on this island was unnatural, an affront to the very essence of what it meant to be alive.

"You’re playing with forces you don’t understand," you said, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anger. "This... this is wrong."

Sandrone’s eyes narrowed, her expression hardening. "Wrong?" she repeated, stepping closer to you. "Tell me, what is wrong about pushing the boundaries of science? What is wrong about creating something perfect, something that transcends the frailty of human life?"

You stumbled back, your mind reeling. "But they’re not alive. They’re puppets, machines—soulless."

"Souls are irrelevant," she snapped, her calm demeanor slipping for the first time. "What matters is control. Power. Efficiency. Humanity is weak, prone to failure. My creations... they are flawless."

Her words echoed in your mind, filling you with a deep sense of dread. She wasn’t just reshaping life—she was destroying it, twisting it into something unrecognizable. And worse still, she believed she was doing the world a favor.

"What happens to the people you take?" you asked, your voice shaking.

Sandrone’s smile returned, colder than ever. "They cease to be. Their bodies become vessels for something far greater. They live on, in a sense. Isn’t that a form of immortality?"

"No," you whispered, backing away from her. "It’s a nightmare."

Sandrone watched you, her eyes gleaming with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. "A nightmare?" she repeated softly. "No, my dear. You’re mistaken. This is the future. And soon, the world will understand that. Whether they wish to or not."

You turned, your heart pounding in your chest as you fled the workshop, the sounds of the island’s machinery ringing in your ears. But as you ran, the truth of Sandrone’s words settled into your bones. There was no escaping this island, no escaping the horrors she had created.

And as the mist closed in around you, you realized with growing terror that you were already too late. You had walked into the web of a woman who saw herself as a god—and now, there was no way out.

The Banker’s Thirst

The sprawling estate of Pantalone, known far and wide as the Regrator of the Fatui, was a place of beauty and terror. Its cold, marble halls stretched endlessly, its opulence and luxury flaunting wealth and power beyond imagination. There, in the heart of Snezhnaya, it stood like a fortress, casting long, foreboding shadows over the snow-covered landscape, a symbol of untouchable dominance.

You had arrived at Pantalone's estate after weeks of correspondence. It had started innocently enough—formal letters exchanged between you, a representative of a foreign business, and the notorious banker. He had expressed interest in expanding his influence beyond the frozen borders of Snezhnaya, his ambition stretching out like an unseen force. You had been tasked with handling the negotiations on behalf of your nation, unaware of the dangerous game you were about to play.

From the moment you stepped foot onto the icy grounds of his estate, you could feel it—a sense of dread, lingering beneath the surface. The cold seemed sharper here, the air heavier with unspoken words and hidden intentions. And as you approached the grand entrance, the massive doors opened, revealing a figure that commanded attention.

Pantalone was waiting for you.

He was a man of refinement and elegance, his every move calculated and precise. His clothes were tailored to perfection, his demeanor one of quiet control. But it was his eyes that drew you in—sharp and dark, like the endless depths of the ocean. They seemed to see through you, reading every thought, every fear that flickered across your mind. His smile, polite and welcoming, held a dangerous edge, as though he were a predator preparing to devour his prey.

"Welcome," he said, his voice smooth and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world. "I trust your journey was pleasant?"

You nodded, though your heart raced in your chest. There was something unsettling about him, something that made the fine hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. But you pushed the feeling aside, reminding yourself that you were here on business.

"The journey was long, but manageable," you replied, doing your best to match his calm demeanor. "Thank you for receiving me on such short notice, Lord Pantalone."

His smile widened slightly, though it never reached his eyes. "It is my pleasure," he said, stepping aside to let you enter. "I am always eager to meet those with... potential."

As you crossed the threshold into his home, you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, heavy and penetrating. The estate was as grand as you had imagined, its walls lined with priceless art and artifacts, the very air humming with the wealth and power that Pantalone had accumulated. But there was something else here, something you couldn’t quite place. An undercurrent of darkness that seemed to seep into every corner, every shadow.

"I must commend your reputation," Pantalone continued, leading you through the labyrinthine halls. "It is not often that I find someone so... intriguing. Your letters were most informative."

There was a pause as he glanced at you, his smile still present, but colder now. "But I imagine you know that already."

You swallowed, trying to ignore the unease that twisted in your gut. "I’m here to discuss the details of our agreement," you said, hoping to steer the conversation back to the business at hand. "Your interest in expanding your operations is well-known, and I believe we can find mutual benefit in—"

"Mutual benefit," he interrupted, his voice a purr. "Yes, I’m sure you believe that." He stopped walking, turning to face you fully, his eyes narrowing slightly. "But I must ask... do you truly understand what you are dealing with? Do you know the nature of what you have stepped into?"

There was a threat in his words, subtle but unmistakable. You met his gaze, trying not to show your fear. "I understand enough to know that this partnership could be lucrative for both sides."

Pantalone chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "Lucrative, yes. But there are other... considerations." He stepped closer, his presence suffocating. "Power, for instance. Influence. Control. These are things that cannot be measured in mere currency."

You found yourself backing up, instinctively retreating from his looming presence. But there was no escape from him. His eyes were locked onto yours, his gaze piercing, as though he could see the very essence of your being.

"You are here because I chose you," he said quietly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "I have seen countless individuals come and go, each one thinking they could strike a bargain with me, that they could outwit me in some way. But none of them truly understood the nature of the game they were playing."

He reached out, brushing a gloved hand against your cheek in a gesture that was both intimate and terrifying. "You, however," he continued, his tone soft and almost tender, "are different. I can sense it in you. There is something... pure. Untapped. And I find myself drawn to it, like a moth to a flame."

You wanted to pull away, to run, but his gaze held you captive, his touch sending a strange warmth coursing through your veins. There was something about him, something otherworldly, that made it impossible to look away. His voice was like silk, wrapping around your mind, clouding your thoughts.

"I can give you what you desire," he murmured, his lips curling into a smile that was both seductive and sinister. "Wealth, power, influence—everything you could ever dream of. All you have to do is... trust me."

His words hung in the air like a dark promise, and for a moment, you considered it. The temptation was there, undeniable. To have everything you ever wanted, to rise above the constraints of your world, to be free from the limitations that had always held you back. It was an offer too good to refuse.

But there was a price.

You could see it in his eyes, the hunger that lurked beneath his calm facade. He wanted more than just a partnership, more than just an alliance. He wanted you. Your mind, your body, your soul—he wanted to possess you completely.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," you whispered, though even you could hear the tremor in your voice.

Pantalone’s smile widened, his teeth gleaming in the dim light. "Oh, but you do," he said softly. "You know exactly what I’m talking about. And you know that there is no escaping it."

His hand moved to your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze fully. "I am offering you immortality," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "A life free from the chains of time, from the decay of the mortal world. Together, we can transcend it all. You and I—eternal, unstoppable."

Your heart raced, your mind screaming at you to run, to escape before it was too late. But your body refused to move, held in place by the sheer force of his presence. There was no escape from him. No way to break free from the web he had woven around you.

"I... I can’t," you managed to say, your voice barely audible.

Pantalone’s smile faded, his expression darkening. "You can," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "And you will."

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Because if you don’t... I will destroy you. And everything you hold dear."

The threat hung in the air like a blade, poised to strike. And you knew, in that moment, that you had no choice. You were trapped in his web, bound to him by forces you couldn’t understand. There was no escape from the Regrator’s grasp.

With a final, trembling breath, you nodded.

Pantalone’s smile returned, cold and triumphant. "Good," he murmured, his hand sliding down your arm in a possessive gesture. "You’ve made the right choice."

As he led you deeper into the shadows of his estate, you couldn’t help but wonder what you had just given up—and what dark fate awaited you now that you had fallen into the grasp of the Banker.

The Portrait of Innocence

The cold halls of the House of the Hearth were filled with whispers—dangerous secrets and murmurs that seemed to drift like smoke, lingering in the air long after the words had faded. It was a place of power and influence, ruled by the most cunning of the Fatui, each member carefully selected for their skill and ruthlessness. And at the center of it all was Arlecchino, the Knave.

Her reputation preceded her, a woman of cold beauty and even colder ambition. She commanded respect, fear, and devotion in equal measure. The children of the House, raised under her watchful eye, adored her as their matron, but they knew better than to cross her. Her mask of elegance and charm concealed something far more dangerous beneath, a predator lurking behind every polite smile and graceful gesture.

You had come to the House under strange circumstances—a visitor, an outsider with no ties to the Fatui. Your connection to her world was tenuous at best, and yet, you found yourself drawn into it, into her orbit. Arlecchino had taken a peculiar interest in you from the moment you met, her sharp eyes assessing, her gaze lingering on you with a calculated intensity that left you unsettled. And though you should have feared her, there was something undeniably magnetic about her presence, something that pulled you closer despite the warnings that echoed in the back of your mind.

"You are different from the others," Arlecchino had said, her voice soft yet commanding. "You don't belong here, and yet... I can see something in you. Something untouched."

Her words had left you confused and intrigued, a strange mixture of emotions that you couldn’t quite place. There was something in the way she spoke to you, something in her eyes when she looked at you, that made you feel both exposed and desired. And as the days passed, you found yourself seeking her out more and more, captivated by her presence, despite the danger that seemed to radiate from her like a warning.

It was during one of these encounters that she led you to a small, dimly lit room deep within the House. The air was thick with the scent of incense, and in the center of the room stood an ornate, gilded mirror—a masterpiece of craftsmanship, its frame adorned with intricate carvings of serpents and roses. The surface of the mirror gleamed in the candlelight, reflecting the room with eerie clarity.

Arlecchino stood beside you, her hand resting lightly on your arm as she gestured toward the mirror. "Look," she said, her voice a low whisper. "Tell me what you see."

You hesitated, glancing at her before stepping closer to the mirror. For a moment, you saw nothing out of the ordinary—just your own reflection staring back at you. But then, as you looked deeper, something shifted. Your reflection began to change, subtly at first, then more noticeably. The face that stared back at you was no longer quite your own; it was a version of yourself—perfect, flawless, untouched by time or imperfection. It was the idealized image of who you could be, who you wanted to be.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Arlecchino's voice was like silk, smooth and intoxicating. "This mirror shows you not just your reflection, but the possibility of what you could become. Untouched by the world, untainted by age or hardship. Eternal beauty... eternal youth."

Your breath caught in your throat as you stared at the reflection, unable to tear your eyes away. It was mesmerizing, this vision of yourself—a version of you that was more than just human, more than just mortal. It was perfection, in every sense of the word.

But something about it felt wrong. You could feel it, deep in your gut—a gnawing sense of unease that tugged at the edges of your mind.

"What is this?" you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

Arlecchino’s lips curved into a smile, but it was a smile that did not reach her eyes. "It is a gift," she said softly, stepping closer to you, her presence almost overwhelming. "A chance to escape the decay of time. To become more than you are, more than anyone else. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?"

Her words were like a poison, seeping into your thoughts, twisting your desires. You had never been one for vanity, never craved the kind of beauty that others sought so desperately. And yet, standing here in front of the mirror, you couldn’t help but feel the temptation tugging at you.

"What’s the cost?" you asked, your voice barely audible, though you already knew the answer.

Arlecchino’s smile widened, her fingers brushing lightly against your skin. "The cost is nothing... and everything," she said. "You won’t age, you won’t change. But your true self—the one that lives beneath the surface—will remain hidden, locked away in the mirror. Every sin, every vice, every cruel thought will manifest there, leaving you untouched. The reflection will bear the weight of it all."

The idea was both seductive and terrifying. Eternal youth, eternal beauty, the chance to live without consequence, without fear of time’s cruel hand. But at what cost?

You looked at her, searching for some sign of deception, but all you saw was her cool, calculating gaze. She was offering you something that most people would kill for, and yet you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something darker at play, something far more dangerous than she was letting on.

"What happens to the reflection?" you asked, your voice tight with unease.

Arlecchino’s eyes glinted with amusement, as if she had been waiting for you to ask that question. "The reflection will take on all the burdens of your soul," she said. "Every act of cruelty, every moment of weakness, will be etched into it. But you won’t have to look at it. You can live freely, without the weight of guilt or regret."

For a long moment, you were silent, your mind racing with the implications of what she was offering. Could you really live like that? Could you accept eternal youth and beauty at the cost of your soul?

"I don’t want to lose myself," you said quietly, turning away from the mirror to face her.

Arlecchino’s smile faded, her expression turning cold and unreadable. "You wouldn’t be losing yourself," she said, her voice sharp. "You would be elevating yourself. Becoming something more."

"But what would I become?" you asked, your heart pounding in your chest.

She stepped closer to you, her hand brushing against your cheek. "You would become whatever you want to be," she whispered, her voice like a siren’s call. "Free from the chains of morality, free to live as you please, without consequence."

Her words hung in the air, thick with temptation. And for a moment, you considered it—considered what it would be like to live without fear, without pain, without the constant weight of conscience. It was a tantalizing thought, one that tugged at the darkest corners of your mind.

But deep down, you knew that it wasn’t freedom she was offering. It was enslavement—to her, to the mirror, to the reflection that would slowly consume everything you were.

"I can’t," you said, stepping back from her, your voice trembling with resolve. "I won’t."

For a moment, Arlecchino’s expression remained unchanged, her eyes cold and calculating. But then, slowly, her lips curved into a smile—a smile that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Very well," she said softly, though there was a dangerous edge to her voice. "But remember this: the world is not kind to those who reject its gifts. And beauty... beauty is the most dangerous gift of all."

With those words, she turned and walked away, leaving you alone in the room with the mirror. The reflection still lingered in the glass, watching you with eyes that were no longer your own.

And as you gazed into it, you realized that the temptation would never truly leave you. It would haunt you, just as Arlecchino would, a shadow lurking in the corners of your mind, waiting for the moment when you would finally give in.

Melody of the Forgotten

The grand opera house of Sumeru City was the jewel of the nation’s artistic world, a towering edifice of stone and glass, alive with music and drama. Its stage had seen performances that transcended the mortal plane, and its corridors echoed with the whispers of stories long forgotten. You had been drawn to it from a young age, captivated by the splendor of the performances, the allure of the music, and the dream of one day performing on that hallowed stage yourself.

And now, that dream was within reach. You had been accepted into the opera’s prestigious company, your voice singled out as one with great potential, a rising star in the world of song. The opera house had become your second home, its backstage corridors a maze of opportunity and challenge.

But there was another presence in the opera house, one that the performers rarely spoke of—at least, not aloud. There were stories, rumors whispered among the stagehands and the older performers, of a phantom who haunted the opera house. He was said to be a master of disguise, a shadowy figure who could slip between worlds unseen. His moods were as tempestuous as the sea, his emotions unpredictable as the wind. He was both feared and revered, his influence felt in every corner of the grand theater.

No one had ever seen his face. And those who claimed to know more often spoke in cryptic tones, as if afraid to say too much. Some said he wore a mask, hiding some hideous deformity, while others claimed that he was a spirit—an echo of an ancient, forgotten soul who could never rest.

You had dismissed these stories at first, focusing instead on your training. But soon, you began to notice strange things—small, unsettling signs that you were not as alone as you once thought. At times, you would catch a fleeting glimpse of a figure in the wings, watching your rehearsals. Doors that had been locked would mysteriously open, and you would hear faint whispers in the corridors when you were sure you were alone. Most unnervingly, though, you began to find letters—perfectly folded pieces of parchment, slipped under your dressing room door.

The first letter had been a simple compliment: “Your voice is like the first breath of dawn—pure, yet aching with potential. Do not waste it.” It was unsigned, written in an elegant hand, but you had a suspicion it was from the phantom.

From that point on, the letters became more frequent, sometimes offering advice on your performances, other times cryptic messages that left you pondering their meaning for hours. And slowly, you began to realize that the phantom, whoever he was, had taken an interest in you—an obsession, even.

One evening, after a particularly demanding rehearsal, you lingered on the stage, watching as the candles in the chandelier flickered, casting long shadows across the empty seats. The house was quiet now, the other performers having retired for the night. You stood alone in the vast, echoing space, your heart still pounding from the intensity of your singing. You could feel eyes on you, though you saw no one.

"Why do you hide in the shadows?" you called out, your voice barely above a whisper, yet confident.

There was no immediate response, but you could sense something shifting in the air. Then, from the darkness of the wings, a figure stepped into the dim light—tall, with a slender frame and an air of theatricality about him. His face was obscured by a half-mask, covering the right side of his face, leaving only his left eye visible, cold and calculating.

It was him. The Phantom.

Or rather, Scaramouche.

He was known by many names—the Balladeer, the Wanderer, the Sixth Harbinger—but here, in the shadows of the opera house, he was the phantom. His movements were precise, his posture one of practiced elegance, as though every step was part of an unseen performance. His dark hair framed his mask, and though his lips were hidden in shadow, you could feel the weight of his gaze on you.

"You're brave," he said, his voice smooth and velvety, with a hint of danger lurking beneath. "Most would flee at the mere mention of me. But not you."

Your breath caught in your throat, but you refused to look away. "You’ve been watching me."

He tilted his head slightly, a slow, deliberate gesture that sent a shiver down your spine. "Yes," he admitted, with no hint of apology. "Your voice—it is unlike anything I’ve heard in years. Pure, yet raw. It needs... guidance."

His words hung in the air, and you felt a strange mixture of fear and fascination. Scaramouche was as much a part of the opera house as the stone pillars and velvet curtains, and now he stood before you, a living mystery wrapped in enigma and shadow.

"I don’t need your guidance," you said, though your voice trembled just slightly. "I’ve made it this far on my own."

He chuckled, the sound low and mocking. "Is that what you think? Do you believe you’ve come this far through sheer talent alone? No... you’ve had help—whether you knew it or not."

His words sent a chill through you. "What do you mean?"

Scaramouche’s visible eye gleamed with amusement, and he took a slow step closer. "I’ve been behind the scenes, pulling the strings. I have arranged for you to be noticed by the company, whispered in the ears of those in power. Without me, you would still be singing for an empty hall. You owe me... everything."

Your mind raced, trying to comprehend what he was saying. Had he been manipulating your career from the start? The realization struck you like a cold wave of fear and anger.

"I didn’t ask for your help," you said, your voice firmer now, though your heart was pounding.

He laughed again, this time with more cruelty. "No. But I gave it nonetheless. And now..." His eye darkened, his tone shifting to something far more possessive. "Now you belong to me."

The finality in his voice left no room for argument, and for the first time, you felt the weight of his obsession settle over you. You had always thought of him as a distant figure, a myth that haunted the opera house, but now, here he was—real, tangible, and far more dangerous than you had imagined.

"What do you want from me?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Scaramouche’s gaze lingered on you, his eye narrowing slightly as if assessing your every thought. Then, in a swift motion, he moved closer, his gloved hand reaching out to tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"I want your voice," he said softly, but there was a dark hunger in his tone. "I want it to sing only for me. I want to shape it, control it, make it perfect."

You tried to pull away, but his grip tightened, his fingers cold against your skin. "You don’t understand," he continued, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, almost tender. "I have waited so long for something... someone... who could complete my music. I’ve seen mediocrity, incompetence, but you... you are different."

His obsession was suffocating, the intensity of his words sinking into your bones. You could feel the weight of his desire pressing down on you, and for the first time, you understood the full extent of his control.

"I’m not your puppet," you said, your voice shaking with fear and defiance.

Scaramouche’s lips curled into a cruel smile beneath his mask. "No... you’re not. You’re something far more precious. But make no mistake—you are mine."

The candlelight flickered as his words echoed in the empty opera house, and you felt the walls closing in around you. You were trapped in his web, caught between fear and fascination, between a desire to run and an inexplicable pull that kept you rooted in place.

"I can make you a star," he said, his voice turning soft, seductive. "I can give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of. Fame, fortune... all of it. All you have to do is sing for me."

You hesitated, the temptation of his offer gnawing at the edges of your resolve. There was something irresistible about his words, something that made you want to believe him, to trust him.

But deep down, you knew the truth. Scaramouche was no savior. He was a phantom, a manipulator, a creature of shadows who sought to control you for his own ends.

"You don’t control me," you said firmly, stepping back from him.

For a moment, Scaramouche’s smile faltered, his eye flashing with anger. But then, just as quickly, the mask of calm returned.

"Perhaps not yet," he said softly, though his tone carried an unmistakable threat. "But in the end, you will sing for me. Because there is no one else who understands you like I do. No one else who can bring out the true potential in your voice."

He stepped back, his form blending into the shadows once more, his presence as ghostly as ever.

"You will sing for me," he repeated, his voice lingering in the air as he disappeared into the darkness. "Sooner or later... you will."

The opera house was silent once more, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a curse. And as you stood alone on the stage, you knew that your fate was now intertwined with his, bound by the melody of his obsession.

The Abyss Within

Mondstadt had always been a city of song, of laughter, and the gentle murmur of wind-blessed freedom. It was a place of safety, a sanctuary from the chaos that roiled beyond its borders. But in the past few months, something had changed. A shadow had fallen over the city, creeping ever closer with each passing night.

It started slowly—a series of mysterious disappearances in the outskirts, rumors of strange creatures lurking in the woods. And then there were the sightings: a figure, tall and broad-shouldered, moving with inhuman speed and brutality, leaving destruction in his wake. Whispers spread through the city like wildfire, and the people of Mondstadt began to grow wary, unsure of what malevolent force was stalking the darkness.

You had heard these rumors, too, though you dismissed them at first. After all, you had your own distractions to deal with—your meetings with him.

You had met Childe, or Tartaglia as he sometimes called himself, by chance during your travels. He was charming, bright-eyed, and seemingly always one step ahead of you with his playful banter and infectious grin. You had taken a liking to him, finding his adventurous spirit and easy smile disarming. And despite the fact that he was a member of the infamous Fatui, you felt something... different in him.

Childe had become a frequent presence in your life, an unexpected friend, even as you knew there was more to him than the affable, mischievous man who walked beside you through Mondstadt’s markets and taverns. There was something dark beneath the surface, something you couldn’t quite place. But he had never shown it to you—until the night everything changed.

It was a crisp evening when you last saw Childe, sitting by the fountain in Mondstadt’s plaza, his usual confident grin plastered across his face as he waved you over. He greeted you as warmly as ever, but there was a tension to him that you couldn’t ignore. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, and his usual lively demeanor felt strained.

“You seem... distracted,” you said, watching him carefully as you sat down beside him.

He chuckled, though the sound was hollow. “Do I? Just a lot on my mind, I guess. The Fatui never rest, you know. But you don’t want to hear about my troubles. Let’s talk about you. How have things been? Still stirring up trouble in Mondstadt?”

His teasing tone was there, but there was an edge to it. He was hiding something. You had known Childe long enough to see when he was masking his true feelings.

“Childe... you can tell me if something’s wrong,” you said softly, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

For a moment, something flickered in his expression—a flash of vulnerability, of conflict. But then it was gone, replaced by that familiar cocky smile.

“Nothing’s wrong. I promise,” he said, standing up abruptly. “Actually, there’s something I wanted to show you. Come with me.”

You hesitated for only a second before following him, the unease in your stomach growing stronger with every step. Childe led you out of the city and into the woods beyond, his pace quick, almost hurried. The sky was darkening overhead, and the air was thick with the scent of rain.

“Where are we going?” you asked, glancing around at the shadows stretching across the path.

Childe didn’t answer right away. His shoulders were tense, his eyes focused ahead. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke.

“There’s something you need to see,” he said, his voice lower now, more serious than you had ever heard it. “Something I haven’t told you.”

The trees grew denser as you followed him deeper into the forest. Your heart was pounding in your chest, a mix of curiosity and fear swirling in your mind. Childe had always been unpredictable, but this felt different—more dangerous.

Finally, he stopped in a small clearing, the moonlight filtering through the canopy above. He turned to face you, his expression unreadable.

“Do you know why I joined the Fatui?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You shook your head, frowning. He had never talked about it, and you had never pressed him for answers.

“I wasn’t always like this,” he continued, his eyes dark and distant. “There was a time when I was... different. But something changed me. The Abyss—”

He paused, his jaw tightening as if the mere mention of it was painful.

“I fell into it. I became something else. Something... darker.” His gaze shifted, his usual playfulness replaced with a cold intensity. “I’m not just the Childe you know. There’s another part of me. A part I can’t control.”

Your heart sank as his words began to sink in. You had always known there was more to Childe than he let on, but this was something far worse than you had imagined.

Before you could respond, Childe let out a low, humorless laugh. “I thought I could keep it hidden from you. I didn’t want you to see... him.”

“Who is ‘him’?” you asked, your voice trembling as you stepped closer.

Childe’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, the vulnerability you had seen before returned. But it was fleeting, quickly replaced by something darker.

“You’ll see soon enough,” he said, his voice heavy with resignation.

Without warning, Childe doubled over, clutching his chest as a pained groan escaped his lips. You rushed to his side, panic flooding your veins.

“Childe!” you cried, reaching out to steady him.

But he pushed you away, stumbling back as his body began to change. His once warm, blue eyes turned cold and lifeless, glowing with an eerie orange light. His muscles tensed, his posture shifting into something more animalistic, predatory. His breath came in ragged gasps, his grin twisted into something cruel, dangerous.

“I told you...” he rasped, his voice now a guttural growl. “I’m not always the Childe you know.”

The transformation was complete. The man standing before you was no longer the charming, mischievous warrior you had come to care for. This was someone—something—else. His eyes gleamed with a sadistic hunger, and his movements were sharp, calculated, like a predator stalking its prey.

Fear seized your heart as you took a step back. This wasn’t Childe. This was the monster he had warned you about. And now, you were alone with him in the heart of the forest.

“Childe, please,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your pounding heart. “You don’t have to do this.”

But the creature that had once been Childe only laughed, a low, chilling sound that sent shivers down your spine.

“Childe?” he repeated mockingly, stepping closer. “That weakling? He’s always fighting me, holding me back. But not tonight. Tonight, I’m in control.”

Your pulse raced as he circled you, his eyes glinting with malice. This was no longer the man you had trusted, the man you had thought you knew. This was a nightmare brought to life.

You stumbled back, your mind racing as you searched for a way out, but he was too fast. In an instant, he was upon you, pinning you against a tree with a strength that left you breathless.

“Don’t look so scared,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. “You should have known this would happen eventually. Did you really think you could get close to someone like me without seeing the truth?”

His words cut deep, the weight of his dual nature pressing down on you. You had seen glimpses of this side of him before—the ruthlessness, the bloodlust—but you had never imagined it would come to this.

As his grip tightened, you fought to keep your fear at bay. Somewhere beneath the monster that had taken control, the Childe you knew still existed. You had to believe that.

“Childe,” you said, your voice shaking but firm. “I know you’re still in there. You’re stronger than this—stronger than him.”

For a moment, his cruel smile faltered, a flicker of doubt crossing his face. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a snarl of frustration.

“You’re wasting your breath,” he growled, though there was a hint of something—something fragile and fleeting—in his voice. “He can’t save you now.”

But you refused to give up. “I’m not asking him to save me. I’m asking him to save you.”

His eyes widened, and for a brief, agonizing moment, the monster’s grip loosened. You saw the flicker of recognition in his eyes, the faint glimmer of the man you had come to care for. The two halves of Childe’s soul were at war with each other, fighting for control.

And then, with a shuddering gasp, he let you go, stumbling back as if the weight of the conflict was too much to bear. He collapsed to his knees, clutching his head as he fought against the darkness threatening to consume him.

“Go,” he rasped, his voice raw with pain. “Before I...”

You hesitated, torn between the fear that kept you rooted to the spot and the desperate hope that Childe could still be saved. But in the end, you couldn’t leave him like this. Not when he was fighting so hard to hold on to himself.

You knelt beside him, your hand resting gently on his shoulder. “You’re not alone,” you whispered, hoping your words would reach the man trapped within the monster.

For a long moment, there was only silence, the weight of the night pressing down on you both. And then, slowly, Childe’s breathing began to steady, his tense muscles relaxing as the darkness receded.

When he finally looked up at you, his eyes were blue once more, filled with a haunting mix of relief and sorrow.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice trembling. “I never wanted you to see that side of me.”

You smiled sadly, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “It’s part of who you are. And I’m not afraid of you.”

Childe looked at you, his expression unreadable for a moment before he leaned in, resting his forehead against yours.

“I’ll always be fighting him,” he whispered. “But as long as you’re here... maybe I can win.”

The Crimson Veil

The heat of the summer had been oppressive, relentless. Your family estate, nestled deep in the forests outside Mondstadt, felt more like a gilded cage than a home, despite its grand stone halls and sweeping gardens. You had spent most of your days languishing in the shade of the great oak trees, seeking respite from the heavy air that clung to you like a second skin. The boredom of isolation was wearing on you, but your father insisted it was for your safety. Strange happenings had been reported in nearby villages—disappearances, whispers of something unnatural prowling the night. He would leave for long stretches, journeying to Mondstadt for business, leaving you in the care of the house staff.

And then, she came.

It was during one of your father’s longer absences, a warm evening bathed in the amber glow of the setting sun. You were in the garden when the commotion at the front gates broke the tranquility. A carriage, drawn by horses as black as midnight, had appeared out of nowhere, thundering down the dirt path leading to the estate. The servants were quick to gather at the entrance, murmuring nervously as the door of the carriage swung open.

You watched from a distance, your curiosity piqued.

A figure emerged—tall, graceful, and draped in a flowing crimson cloak. Her presence was commanding, even from afar. The hood of her cloak shielded her face from view, but the way she moved was almost hypnotic, as though every step she took was a deliberate act of seduction.

The woman paused at the entrance, her head turning ever so slightly in your direction. Even though you couldn’t see her eyes, you felt the weight of her gaze, and a chill ran down your spine despite the warm summer air. You were frozen in place, unable to look away.

The housekeeper hurried forward, her voice trembling as she addressed the mysterious guest. “M-madam, may we help you?”

The woman’s voice was like velvet, smooth and rich, yet carrying an undercurrent of something dangerous. “I apologize for the intrusion. My carriage met with misfortune on the road, and I seek shelter for the night.”

Your father had always been generous, especially to those of noble blood, and the stranger’s attire suggested she was no common traveler. The housekeeper hesitated only a moment before nodding, gesturing for her to enter. The woman swept past her with a fluid grace, her cloak billowing behind her like a pool of blood spreading across the stone floor.

From that moment, the house was changed.

Her name was La Signora.

She revealed little of herself, offering only vague details about her background. She was a widow, she said, and had been traveling through the region on matters of personal business. Her voice was always low, measured, but it seemed to carry with it an air of authority that demanded attention. The servants were quick to obey her, drawn to her every word, though they rarely spoke in her presence.

But it was you who became the focus of her attentions.

The first time you truly spoke with her, she found you in the garden once more, reclining beneath the shade of the oak trees. She approached without a sound, her footsteps as light as a whisper on the breeze.

“I see the sun has no power over you,” she remarked, her voice almost teasing. You looked up, startled, but as soon as you met her eyes, you felt a strange sense of calm wash over you.

Her eyes—they were the color of molten amber, glowing faintly in the dim light. Her face was striking, impossibly beautiful, yet there was something unnerving about it, something inhuman. Her skin was pale, like porcelain, and her lips were painted a deep, blood-red.

“You must be our guest,” you managed, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts to stay composed. “La Signora, is it?”

She smiled, and the sight of it sent a shiver through you. “Indeed. And you must be the lady of the house in your father’s absence. How fortunate for me to find such enchanting company.”

Her words were flattering, but there was an edge to them, a weight that made your heart beat faster. You had never felt anything like it—a mixture of fear and fascination, as though you were both repelled and irresistibly drawn to her at the same time.

“I’ve heard you’ve been unwell,” she continued, her gaze sweeping over you like a caress. “These warm summers can be so draining, can they not?”

You nodded, unsure of how to respond. In truth, you had felt more fatigued than usual, a strange lethargy that had settled over you ever since her arrival. But as you sat there, beneath her gaze, you found it difficult to think of anything but her.

For the rest of the evening, La Signora remained at your side, her conversation light but somehow captivating. She spoke of distant lands and forgotten places, of beauty and tragedy intertwined. She told you stories that made the hairs on your neck stand on end, though you could not say why.

And when she finally took her leave, you found yourself longing for her return, despite the growing sense of unease gnawing at the edges of your mind.

As the days passed, your relationship with La Signora deepened in ways you could not explain. She was always near, her presence a constant, magnetic force. She began visiting you in your room late at night, when the rest of the household had long since gone to bed. The first time she appeared, it was like a dream.

You had been lying in bed, half-asleep, when you heard the faint creak of your door opening. You sat up, your heart racing, but there she stood, framed in the doorway, her cloak draped loosely around her shoulders. The candlelight flickered in her eyes, casting strange shadows across her face.

“Do not be alarmed,” she whispered, her voice soft as silk. “I thought you might enjoy some company.”

You should have been frightened, should have called for the servants. But instead, you nodded, your pulse quickening with anticipation rather than fear.

La Signora approached your bedside, moving with that same eerie grace. She sat beside you, her eyes never leaving yours. Her fingers brushed against your skin—cold, so cold—and yet you did not pull away. You felt yourself sinking into her presence, as though she were drawing you into a trance.

“I can see the fatigue in your eyes,” she murmured, her fingers trailing lightly across your wrist. “You’ve been suffering, haven’t you?”

You nodded weakly, though you were no longer sure if it was the heat or her that had been draining you. Every moment in her presence left you feeling both exhilarated and exhausted, as though she were consuming something vital from you.

She leaned closer, her breath cool against your skin. “I can help you, if you’ll let me. You have but to say the word, and I will ease your suffering.”

You should have refused, should have resisted. But her voice was like a lullaby, soothing, persuasive. Before you knew it, you had whispered, “Yes.”

Her lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. “Good.”

Without another word, La Signora leaned in, her face inches from yours. For a brief, dizzying moment, you thought she might kiss you, but instead, she pressed her lips to the curve of your neck. The sensation sent a shock through your body, a strange mixture of pleasure and pain as her fangs pierced your skin.

You gasped, your hands gripping the sheets as the world seemed to spin around you. Your vision blurred, but all you could feel was her—her cold touch, her breath, the strange pull of her fangs as she drank from you.

It was over in a matter of seconds, but it left you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. La Signora pulled away, her eyes half-lidded with satisfaction. She licked her lips, the faintest trace of blood staining them.

“You are mine now,” she whispered, her voice a soft, dangerous purr. “Do not forget that.”

You lay there, trembling, unable to speak as she rose from your bed and disappeared into the shadows.

From that night onward, La Signora’s hold on you tightened. You grew weaker by the day, your skin paling, your body frail. But every night, she returned, her presence both a curse and a balm to your growing despair. You could not escape her, and deep down, you weren’t sure you wanted to.

The villagers whispered of a sickness that had begun to spread, of young women falling ill, drained of life. But you knew the truth. It was her—La Signora. She was the cause of it all, and you were her willing victim.

Your father returned one evening, his face lined with worry as he looked upon you. He demanded to know what had happened, but you could not tell him. You could only lie there, weak and helpless, knowing that La Signora’s hold on you had grown too strong to break.

That night, she came to you again, but this time, her smile was different—sharper, crueler.

“It’s almost time,” she whispered, her voice a cold breeze against your fevered skin. “Soon, you will be mine completely, and we will be together forever.”

You wanted to resist, to fight against the dark fate she had woven for you. But as she leaned in, her lips brushing against your neck once more, you knew there was no escape.

You had been drawn into her web of darkness, and there was no going back.

The Clockwork Creation

The thunder roared, splitting the night in two, as jagged bolts of lightning illuminated the darkened skies above the lonely Snezhnayan lab. You stood outside the towering building, feeling your heart race with anticipation, knowing what lay within. Your hands trembled as you clutched the edges of your cloak tighter, hoping the cold night air would soothe the anxious energy surging through your veins.

It had been weeks—months, even—since you had seen him last. Il Dottore, the brilliant, enigmatic man you once knew, had withdrawn into his secret laboratory, obsessing over his latest experiment. Letters were few, and each one more cryptic than the last. His mind, once so sharp and full of purpose, seemed to unravel further with every success.

The heavy oak doors of the lab creaked open as if sensing your approach. Stepping inside, you were greeted by the harsh smell of chemicals, the scent burning in your nose. The place was darker than you remembered, the air thicker, suffocating.

You had known Dottore for years, working alongside him in pursuit of knowledge, always fascinated by his mind, his ambition. But something had changed in him. The brilliant scientist you admired had begun to twist under the weight of his obsession, pursuing power and discovery without regard for ethics or consequences.

It all started with one question that spiraled into madness: Could life be recreated?

Dottore had once confided in you his dream to conquer the boundaries of mortality, to shape life from death, to bend nature’s laws. What was once a philosophical debate had transformed into something real, something terrifying.

You swallowed hard, your footsteps echoing through the empty halls as you descended deeper into his workshop. Every corner was filled with the remnants of abandoned experiments—half-constructed automata, strange, ticking contraptions made of metal and sinew, and medical devices whose purpose you dared not imagine.

The sound of whirring gears and clanking metal grew louder as you approached the heart of the laboratory. In the center of the dimly lit room stood a towering figure—Dottore.

His back was turned to you, hunched over a large table littered with surgical tools, tubes, and vials of unknown substances. Sparks flew from the apparatus around him, filling the air with the stench of burning metal. He didn’t notice your presence at first, so consumed was he by the work before him.

“Dottore,” you called out softly, your voice barely audible over the hum of machinery.

He stiffened, then slowly turned to face you. The moment his eyes locked with yours, you knew he was no longer the man you once knew. His sharp red gaze gleamed with a feverish intensity, and a twisted smile tugged at his lips. He looked gaunt, hollow, as if sleep and sanity had long since abandoned him.

“You came,” he said, his voice low, smooth, but tinged with something unsettling. “I knew you couldn’t stay away.”

You took a hesitant step forward, your eyes scanning the room. On the table before him lay the culmination of his work—a creation. A body. It was large, humanoid, though something about it was grotesque in its stillness. The flesh, stitched together in patches, was pale and unnatural. Tubes connected to the figure pulsed with dark liquid, and electrodes attached to its temples sparked occasionally as Dottore worked feverishly on some unseen adjustment.

“What… what have you done?” you whispered, your throat dry as you stared at the lifeless form.

Dottore’s grin widened, his hands twitching with manic excitement. “I’ve done it. I’ve surpassed them all—Celestia, the Archons, the very laws of nature itself. I’ve created life!”

Your stomach churned at his words. “This… this isn’t life, Dottore. This is an abomination.”

His expression darkened, the once playful glint in his eyes replaced by something dangerous. “You don’t understand, do you? You never truly understood the potential. This creation—this being—is more than life. It is perfection, designed by me. It will be the first of many, a new race crafted from the brilliance of science and human ingenuity.”

You shook your head, taking a step back as the horror of it all sank in. “You’re playing with things no one should. This… this thing you’ve made—it’s not natural. You can’t just stitch together parts of the dead and call it life.”

Dottore’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you saw a flash of the man he once was. But that moment passed quickly, and the mad scientist was back, his voice dripping with condescension. “Natural? Do you think nature cares for the weak, the fragile? I’ve improved upon it. I’ve made something better. It can’t die, it can’t fail, and it will serve me as no living creature could.”

He moved closer to the table, his hands hovering above the switches and levers of the device connected to the body. The electricity in the room crackled with a strange energy, the tension thick and palpable.

“I invited you here,” Dottore said, his voice softening in an eerie imitation of warmth, “because I wanted you to witness the future. You’ve always understood me, haven’t you? You’ve been by my side for so long. I thought… you might appreciate the genius behind it.”

You stared at him, torn between the loyalty you once felt and the growing horror gnawing at your heart. He had lost himself, his brilliance consumed by ambition and madness.

“This isn’t right,” you whispered, taking another step back. “I can’t… I can’t be part of this.”

Dottore’s smile faltered, the disappointment clear in his eyes. For a brief moment, you saw a flicker of hurt, but it was quickly replaced by the cold, calculating gleam you had come to fear.

“Pity,” he murmured, turning away from you. “I had hoped you would understand. But I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore. When my creation awakens, the world will understand. You will understand.”

With a flourish, Dottore pulled the final lever. The room exploded with light and sound as the machinery roared to life. Lightning arced from the coils overhead, striking the body on the table with violent force. The air buzzed with raw energy as the figure convulsed, its limbs jerking in unnatural movements. The smell of burning flesh filled the room.

You watched in silent horror as the body twitched and spasmed, the once-lifeless form beginning to move with purpose. The creature opened its eyes—dull, glassy orbs staring into the void—and let out a low, guttural groan.

Dottore’s laughter echoed through the chamber, a sound of pure, manic joy. “It lives!” he shouted, his voice trembling with triumph. “I’ve done it! I’ve conquered life itself!”

The creature on the table sat up slowly, its movements stiff and jerky, like a puppet being manipulated by unseen strings. It looked around the room with blank, unfocused eyes, its mouth opening and closing as if trying to form words. But it was clear—this was no miracle of life. This was a mockery of it.

You couldn’t take it anymore. “Dottore, stop this!” you cried, your voice breaking. “This is madness!”

He turned to you, his eyes gleaming with a wild fervor. “Madness? This is brilliance! This is what humanity has been striving for all along. To become gods!”

But as the creature rose from the table, its body shaking with each movement, you saw something flicker in its eyes. Fear. Confusion. Pain. It was no god—it was a broken thing, pieced together by a man who had lost sight of what it meant to truly live.

The creature let out a low, mournful wail, its hands trembling as it looked down at its own patchwork body. For a moment, you thought you saw the smallest spark of humanity in its eyes, a brief glimmer of recognition. And then, it turned to Dottore.

The scientist stepped forward, his arms outstretched in a gesture of welcome. “You are my greatest creation,” he said softly, his voice filled with reverence. “You belong to me.”

But the creature’s face twisted into something dark, something primal. With a sudden, violent movement, it lunged at Dottore, knocking him to the ground. The two figures struggled, the sound of ripping flesh and grinding metal filling the air as Dottore’s creation fought against its maker.

You watched in horror, frozen in place as the scene unfolded. The scientist’s screams echoed through the lab, but there was nothing you could do.

In the end, Dottore’s obsession, his need to control life itself, had destroyed him.

As the creature stood over his broken body, it turned to you. For a brief moment, you thought it might attack, but instead, it simply stared. There was something in its eyes now—an understanding, perhaps. A sad, broken understanding of what it was and what it had been made to be.

And then, without a sound, it turned and lumbered out of the lab, disappearing into the cold night.

You stood there, the wind howling outside, your heart heavy with the weight of what had transpired.

Il Dottore, once the brilliant mind you admired, was gone—consumed by his own creation, a monster of his own making.

The Blackened Court

It began with a letter.

You were summoned to the far northern territories, deep in Snezhnaya, to handle an urgent matter for a prestigious client. The task seemed simple: visit an estate and help a noblewoman finalize some documents before her imminent relocation to Mondstadt. Though the instructions were vague, the pay promised was enough to make the long, dangerous journey worth it.

The letter was signed only with the name Arlecchino. A noblewoman, or so you thought.

The journey to Snezhnaya was long and arduous, the cold biting at your bones as you ventured farther into a wilderness untouched by time. Every village you passed was eerily quiet, the locals avoiding your gaze, speaking in hushed whispers whenever you mentioned your destination. You couldn't help but feel the weight of their fear, though none dared to say it outright.

By the time you arrived at the manor, high on a hill overlooking an icy expanse, the sun had already set. The grand stone building loomed over you like a tomb. Its towering spires clawed at the sky, and the air around it was thick with a sense of foreboding. Every instinct in you screamed to turn back, but duty—and the promise of gold—pushed you forward.

The heavy iron gates creaked open of their own accord as you approached, and a figure stood waiting for you on the grand staircase. She was tall, her presence commanding, even from a distance. The noblewoman’s figure was shrouded in black, her posture impossibly still.

You stepped closer, the snow crunching beneath your boots, and there she was—Arlecchino.

Her beauty was striking, but not in a way that felt comforting. Her skin was pale, almost too pale, like the marble statues of long-forgotten deities. Her hair, black as midnight, was swept back, accentuating her sharp, almost predatory features. And her eyes—her eyes were a deep crimson, glowing faintly in the dying light.

“Welcome,” she greeted, her voice soft but with an undercurrent of something darker, something ancient. “I’ve been expecting you.”

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure. “Lady Arlecchino, I presume?”

A faint smile tugged at her lips, though it never reached her eyes. “Indeed. Please, come inside. The night grows cold.”

There was something about the way she moved, her steps utterly silent as she led you through the grand entrance of her manor. The air inside was cold, and every shadow seemed to stretch farther than it should. The walls were lined with portraits of people you didn’t recognize—men, women, children—all staring down at you with vacant eyes. It was as though you had stepped into a place frozen in time.

The door slammed shut behind you with a resounding thud, making you jump.

Arlecchino noticed but said nothing. Instead, she led you to a lavish sitting room where a grand fire roared in the hearth. “Please, make yourself comfortable. I imagine the journey has been exhausting.”

You nodded, though you felt anything but comfortable under her unblinking gaze. You couldn’t shake the feeling that her eyes were always on you, even when you weren’t looking.

As you sat, she poured a glass of deep red wine, her movements graceful, fluid, like a shadow given form. She handed it to you, her fingers brushing yours ever so slightly. They were cold—too cold.

“To your health,” she said with that same unnerving smile.

You hesitated but took a sip, the wine thick and almost metallic on your tongue. The warmth you had hoped for never came. Instead, a strange heaviness settled in your limbs, a languid feeling of surrender washing over you. You set the glass down, your mind spinning.

“I’ve been in this manor for a very long time,” she began, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Too long, some might say. It has been… lonely.”

She moved closer, her presence suffocating as she stood before you. The firelight cast flickering shadows across her pale face, making her look almost ghostly. “I have had visitors before. Many, in fact. But none have stayed.” Her crimson eyes glinted with something dark, something hungry. “I wonder… will you?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and oppressive. You tried to answer, but your voice wouldn’t come. Every instinct told you to run, but your body refused to obey. It was as if the very air around her held you in place.

Arlecchino crouched before you, her cold hand cupping your cheek, forcing you to meet her gaze. “There is no need to be afraid,” she whispered, though her smile said otherwise. “You’ve come here for a reason, haven’t you? And now, you will be mine.”

Her breath was cold against your skin as she leaned closer, her lips brushing the side of your neck. The sensation sent a shiver through you, though not from the cold. It was fear—pure, primal fear. You felt her lips curve into a smile against your skin, and then, without warning, you felt the sharp sting of her fangs piercing your flesh.

The world around you seemed to spin, your vision blurring as she drank deeply, her grip on you unrelenting. Your heart pounded in your chest, but with each passing moment, the struggle became harder, your body growing weaker under her hold. And yet, there was something intoxicating about it, something that made the pain blur into pleasure.

When she finally pulled away, you collapsed back into the chair, gasping for breath, your vision swimming with darkness. She wiped a trickle of blood from her lips with the back of her hand, her eyes half-lidded in satisfaction.

“You’ll stay with me now,” she said, her voice low, intimate. “You’ll stay with me forever.”

You wanted to scream, to run, to escape this nightmare. But even as you tried to stand, your body betrayed you, sinking deeper into the chair. Arlecchino’s voice filled your mind, her presence wrapping around you like a shadow.

“There is no escape,” she whispered, her fingers brushing your hair back with a mockery of tenderness. “You belong to me now, little one.”

Your vision dimmed, and the last thing you saw was her smile, sharp and wicked, as darkness consumed you.

The days blurred into one another, time slipping through your fingers like water. The manor became your prison, its labyrinthine halls twisting and turning, always leading you back to her. You saw her in your dreams, in every shadow that danced along the walls. She was always there, watching, waiting.

Arlecchino was no mere vampire—she was a creature older than the ice that surrounded her home, an ancient being who had ruled these lands long before you were born. And now, she ruled over you.

Each night, she came to you, her cold hands brushing against your skin, her fangs sinking into your flesh, drawing life from you until you were nothing but a hollow shell of your former self. Yet, no matter how much she took, she always left just enough to keep you alive, to keep you bound to her.

You were hers. Forever.

And in the cold, eternal night of her manor, you knew you would never be free.

A Song for the Depths

Disclaimer: This fanfiction contains mature and dark themes such as kidnapping, obsession, and other potentially triggering content. Reader discretion is advised.

The waters were calm tonight, unusually serene for the coastal cliffs you’d visited in search of rare treasures washed up by the waves. Something felt off, but you couldn't pinpoint why. You stood alone on the shore, the salty breeze tugging at your clothes. The moon hung low, casting a silver glow across the black ocean that stretched endlessly before you.

You had heard the rumors—a siren, known for her beauty and cruelty, said to haunt these shores. Her name echoed like a whispered legend: La Signora. But you hadn't believed such stories. Not until you heard it.

A melody. Soft, beautiful, and impossible to resist.

It wrapped around you like a lover’s embrace, filling the night air with its alluring tones. You could feel it pull at your mind, a song that seemed to beckon you toward the water's edge. The sound grew louder, more intoxicating, until you found yourself stepping closer to the shimmering sea without thinking. The melody resonated deep within your chest, commanding you without words, and your feet moved of their own accord.

There, rising from the waves, was her.

She was breathtaking—tall, pale, and deadly. Her lips curled into a sharp, predatory smile as she sang, her voice the same irresistible melody that had led you here. Her long, silver hair cascaded down her back like moonlight on water, and her crimson eyes glowed with a hunger that sent chills down your spine. But even in your fear, you couldn't stop staring, couldn't stop wanting her.

“Ah,” she purred, her voice now a low hum as the song faded. “I knew you’d come to me.”

You tried to move, tried to run, but your body was frozen in place. You could only watch as she emerged fully from the sea, her lithe form moving with otherworldly grace. The water seemed to cling to her skin as though even the ocean itself couldn't bear to let her go.

Her hand cupped your cheek, and you shivered beneath her touch, your breath catching as her nails lightly traced your skin. She leaned in close, her breath warm against your ear, her voice dripping with wicked delight.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for you, little one?”

Your heart pounded in your chest, but the words refused to come. You wanted to ask why, wanted to scream, but all you could do was stare into her eyes as her other hand trailed down your arm, her nails sharp enough to raise goosebumps in their wake.

“You’re mine now,” she whispered, her lips brushing against your ear. “My sweet, sweet mate.”

Before you could protest, before you could even comprehend what was happening, La Signora’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you against her. The world around you spun as the ocean rose, swirling at her command. The next thing you knew, you were plunging beneath the waves, the cold water swallowing you whole.

You thrashed for a moment, panic taking over as the saltwater stung your eyes and filled your lungs. But then... you heard her voice again. Her song. It was clearer now, more powerful, echoing through the deep like a siren’s promise of eternity. The panic faded, replaced by an overwhelming sense of calm, of belonging. Her arms tightened around you as the ocean cradled you both, dragging you down into the depths.

La Signora's lips met yours underwater in a kiss that felt both tender and possessive. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a claim. The sensation of her sharp nails digging into your skin, even beneath the water, was as intoxicating as the melody still playing in your mind. She owned you, body and soul.

“You will love me,” her voice rang in your head, the words intertwining with her song. “You will be my perfect little mate.”

Time seemed to lose meaning as she took you deeper into her realm. Down, down into the abyss, where light barely reached. It was dark and cold, but her warmth surrounded you, her presence comforting in a way that scared you.

You were no longer just a visitor to this world—you were hers.

In the depths of her lair, where the sea creatures dared not approach, she laid you down on a bed of coral and seafoam, her sharp smile never faltering. Her gaze was one of obsession, hunger, and something that bordered on affection, though twisted in its own way.

“I will keep you safe,” she cooed, her fingers gently brushing over your trembling body. “You’ll never leave me, my little mate. Never.”

The air—what little there was—felt heavy around you, thick with the weight of her desire. Her song was all you could hear, all you could feel. It vibrated through your very bones, making you pliant under her touch. She moved closer, her body wrapping around yours like a serpent coiling around its prey.

Then, you felt it—something inside you, something warm and foreign, spreading through your core. Her sharp nails dug into your skin as her smile grew wider, more sinister. She watched you with rapt attention, her crimson eyes gleaming with satisfaction as your body reacted to the strange sensation. It was almost too much, overwhelming and invasive, yet there was a twisted pleasure in it.

“You’ll bear my legacy,” she whispered, her voice soft, almost reverent. “You’ll carry my future, and you will love it. Just as you love me.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but still, you couldn’t resist. The bond between you and La Signora had been sealed the moment you heard her song. You were hers, bound to her by the depths of the sea and the curse of her obsession.

She leaned in once more, kissing your tear-streaked cheeks with almost gentle affection, a mockery of tenderness in her touch.

“Such a sweet little mate,” she whispered against your skin. “You’ll never escape me.”

Her voice was both a promise and a threat, the final words you heard before you were pulled under, deeper into her abyss, where you would remain—forever.

The moon hung low over the frozen landscape of Snezhnaya, casting a pale glow on the snow-covered ground. La Signora stood at the edge of a cliff, her crimson cloak billowing in the icy wind. The cold never bothered her; it was a part of her, just as much as the flames that burned within her heart.

She heard the soft crunch of footsteps approaching and turned to see Arlecchino, the enigmatic Harbinger known as “The Knave,” making her way towards her. Arlecchino’s eyes, sharp and calculating, met La Signora’s with a mixture of curiosity and something deeper, something unspoken.

“You’re out here again,” Arlecchino said, her voice a low murmur that seemed to blend with the wind. “What are you thinking about?”

La Signora turned her gaze back to the horizon, where the first light of dawn was beginning to break. “The past,” she replied, her voice tinged with a sadness that she rarely allowed herself to show. “And the future.”

Arlecchino stepped closer, her presence a comforting warmth against the chill. “The past is a heavy burden,” she said softly. “But it doesn’t have to define us.”

La Signora glanced at her, a small smile playing on her lips. “You speak as if you know something about letting go.”

Arlecchino shrugged, a rare hint of vulnerability in her eyes. “We all have our ghosts,” she said. “But we also have each other.”

For a moment, they stood in silence, the only sound the whisper of the wind and the distant call of a lone bird. La Signora felt a strange sense of peace, a feeling she hadn’t known in a long time. She reached out, her gloved hand brushing against Arlecchino’s.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For being here.”

Arlecchino’s fingers intertwined with hers, a silent promise of support and understanding. “Always,” she replied.

As the sun began to rise, casting a golden light over the frozen landscape, La Signora and Arlecchino stood together, their hearts beating in unison. At that moment, they knew that no matter what the future held, they would face it together.