ᯓ★ hello, welcome! my name is nana and i am from poland (˶˃𐃷˂˶) my pronouns are she/her and i am bisexual!!
ᯓ★ i will be writing mostly for genshin! probably shorter formats, bc idk how i will manage with the longer ones..but we'll see!!
ᯓ★ im very open to making new friends!! (i am 18) so hit my dms whenever! (pls don't if youre 13 or smth tho...i ain't no drake..)
𓂃⟡ ݁ ꒰ 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ꒱ ⸝⸝ .ᐟ .
ᯓ★ genshin impact
𓂃⟡ ݁ ꒰ 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒔 ꒱ ⸝⸝ .ᐟ .
ᯓ★ my asks are generally open for everything! questions, feedback, discussions- i am a very social person!! ꉂ(˵˃ ᗜ ˂˵)
ᯓ★ but when it comes to requesting me to write something..i can't promise anything </3 i'm not confident in my writing yet so i'll probably be too scared to mess up ૮◞ ‸ ◟ ა
i really appreciate all the comments and reblong too! pls do it to help me grow <3
Swan note: Something quick and small to help get out of my writers block, prolly mid 🙂↕️
Something about big, tuff men who seem so scary and unapproachable but are actually sweethearts.
-> Wriothesley as the duke, his big arms covered in scars, each one telling its own story - proof of what he went through and rose from victorious. Those tired, sharp eyes miss nothing. His whole appearance screams that he wouldn’t mind getting his hands dirty if needed, yet those same hands hesitate before touching you, and when they do, the touch is feather-light, as if he’s afraid that even a bit more pressure might break you. Press a kiss to the scar beneath his eye, and he becomes weak.
-> Capitano, known as the First Harbinger - his title alone commands respect. Even without knowing who he is, one look at him makes it clear he’s not someone to cross if you value your life. He’s quiet most of the time, but when he’s with you, he becomes silent. His gaze lingers on you from behind the mask, his arms holding you protectively, the way one would shield a delicate flower from the wind. He nurtures you, fulfills your wishes without a word, all just to bask in your smile and warmth a little longer. Because in those moments, if only for a split second, he finds himself at ease.
-> Varka - he’s not really scary, but he’s still a figure of respect. Rough hands that can lift heavy things without any trouble at all (just look at how fast he swings his claymore). So lifting you up is easy peasy. His confidence is loud, bigger than himself, but once you’re straddling his lap, fingers tracing his scars, he turns mushy. The usually boisterous Grand Master goes quiet, the tips of his ears flushing a soft pink—not because of the alcohol. Give his ear a gentle nibble and his whole face blooms red as he suddenly finds himself stammering and stumbling over his words.
𓂃⟡ ݁ ꒰ 𝑺𝒀𝑵𝑶𝑷 ꒱ ⸝⸝ .ᐟ . just some streamer! au childe headcanons
. ౿ 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑫 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑻 ── .✦ 752
. ౿ 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑬𝑺 ── .✦ HIII im nana and its my first post ever ahhh!!!! i am so nervous abt posting this, pls be nice </3 it might be a bit occ…but i love streamer! au and i love childe even more so here we are…
masterlist
𓏲ּ𝄢 i feel like childe as a streamer would genuinely be EVERYONE’S favorite streamer somehow. like even people who don’t play the games he streams would still watch him because he’s just entertaining (and sexy)
𓏲ּ𝄢 his main platforms are twitch and maaaayyybe youtube, doesnt seem like a huge kick person
𓏲ּ𝄢 would definitely post thirst traps on his tiktok.
𓏲ּ𝄢 he mostly streams valorant, cs, fortnite, apex, weird games on roblox, sometimes random horrors when he feels like torturing himself for fun, but if his viewers want to see something else he will do it
𓏲ּ𝄢 a WHALEE he doesnt care frfr, just give him his v-bucks </3
𓏲ּ𝄢 his setup would be expensive as hell but weirdly messy. top-tier pc (he built it himself, this man is such a try hard) multiple monitors, expensive keyboard… and then an empty redbull can balancing dangerously on the desk for three days straight
𓏲ּ𝄢 definitely the type to stream for “just two hours” and accidentally stay online for nine because he got too invested in ranked games and started having fun with chat
𓏲ּ𝄢 LOVES competitive games
𓏲ּ𝄢 anything where he can either carry the team or start beefing with enemies in all chat while laughing the whole time
𓏲ּ𝄢 his laugh would absolutely be famous. loud as hell, pretty, contagious. one of those laughs where everyone in chat starts spamming emojis in chat
𓏲ּ𝄢 weirdly terrifying at games. like he acts unserious, keeps joking, talks about some bs, starts random stories mid-match-and still somehow drops insane kill counts
𓏲ּ𝄢 absolutely the type to lean way too close to the camera while reading chat. messy orange hair falling into his eyes, blue eyes squinting slightly while he grins at donations.
“chat, be honest, was that play hot or was it HOT.”
𓏲ּ𝄢 he is such an attention whore
𓏲ּ𝄢 definitely sits in his chair horribly. someone should make posture compilations of him
𓏲ּ𝄢 his fans would constantly thirst over him, but he handles it in the funniest ways possible. sometimes he flirts back jokingly, sometimes he acts dramatically offended
“objectifying me again? unbelievable. disgusting behavior. keep going.”
𓏲ּ𝄢 he canonically loves fighting and adrenaline, so modern childe would 100% chase excitement in stupid ways. horror games at 2am, rage queueing ranked, random gym streams, paintball tournaments with other creators
𓏲ּ𝄢 collab streamer btw. EVERYONE wants to stream with him because he naturally makes things entertaining. he’s chaotic in a very magnetic way
𓏲ּ𝄢 his fans would adore him because he’s weirdly attentive. remembers usernames, asks how people are doing, notices when regular viewers disappear for a while
𓏲ּ𝄢 lowkey makes chat feel like a friend group instead of a fanbase
𓏲ּ𝄢 his mods are exhausted btw
𓏲ּ𝄢 literally impossible to control him once he gets excited
𓏲ּ𝄢 but despite being loud and playful online, he’d actually be extremely careful with privacy. especially regarding relationships or family
𓏲ּ𝄢 mentions his siblings constantly though. like every other stream somehow turns into “my little brother did this” or “my sister roasted me so hard earlier.”
𓏲ּ𝄢 if he has a girlfriend? oh he is GONE
𓏲ּ𝄢 not in a “posts couple content every second” way. actually the opposite. he keeps you mostly private because the internet is weird and he genuinely wants to protect that part of his life.
𓏲ּ𝄢 BUT.
𓏲ּ𝄢 he cannot shut up about you.
𓏲ּ𝄢 like literally every stream:
“my girlfriend made me coffee earlier”
“my girl said i look sleep deprived”
“nah chat she’d bully all of you”
𓏲ּ𝄢 he thinks he’s being subtle btw. he’s not
𓏲ּ𝄢 chat would know more about your personality than appearance because he talks about you constantly without realizing it
𓏲ּ𝄢 if you randomly walk into his room mid stream? he’s immediately distracted
𓏲ּ𝄢 like full golden retriever mode activated
𓏲ּ𝄢 “baby wait, is that food for me?? chat LOOK what she made me”
𓏲ּ𝄢 if you speak ONCE during stream the clips go viral immediately.
“OH MY GOD SHE TALKED.”
𓏲ּ𝄢 and he’d just sit there smiling like an idiot because he loves when chat likes you <3
“yeah? cute voice, right? i know.”
𓏲ּ𝄢 he needs his fair share of cuddles after every stream
𓏲ּ𝄢 let him lay his head on your chest and play with his hair
𓏲ּ𝄢 he will melt.
𓏲ּ𝄢 he yapps about everything and nothing until he falls asleep
𓏲ּ𝄢 genuinely just gives off the energy of a guy who loves having fun and loves loving people even more
a/n: THANK U SMM FOR READDINGGGG LUV UUU <333 (consider rebloging and following me if u liked it pls hehe...)
childe and zhongli are too different. they both like you - they both know the other likes you - they just can't figure it out. childe confesses first, of course. immediately, actually. repeatedly. zhongli never says it out loud, but everyone knows with the way he watches you, the way he softens when you enter the room.
it quickly becomes a game of one upping the other with increasingly outrageous gifts and actions.
it's starts simple - childe buys you flowers one evening, and the next day zhongli sends you a larger bouquet. and then all of the sudden you have a pure-bread horse, a summer home in natlan, and a million mora.
childe starts constantly trying to drag you on adventures, holding your hand tight as he practically sprints through the city to get to the outskirts - away from anywhere zhongli might find you.
in contrast, zhongli takes you out to tea or spends hours in the library reading either to or with you. he likes when you read the same book, with you hooking your chin over his shoulder to see the page - unfortunately, childe almost always finds you two when you're alone.
he'll walk into the room all casual - "hey, [name], you busy -" and then pause when he sees zhongli with an audible, "oh. it's you .." of course, he'd never miss the chance to sneer at zhongli over your shoulder as he guides you away.
in private, childe often challenges zhongli to a duel for you affection, to which zhongli vehemently denies.
"you know, [name]," childe says one day, walking you down the street with one reluctant zhongli on your other side, "if we went out, we'd probably be unstoppable. a sort of power couple. world-domination, and all of that."
he pauses to point at zhongli, "what would you even do with this old guy? read a dictionary and quiz each other about it? talk about boring .."
"the choice is, of course, yours." zhongli pipes up, his voice smooth as fine wine.
"coward." childe grits out.
"dolt." zhongli returns easily.
if you choose to go out with childe, he'll brag about it for the rest of his life. zhongli and childe remain friends, but the poor old dragon won't go a day without hearing about your relationship.
"yeah, we're doing pretty great. thinking about getting married, actually, can you believe it?" he says, casually sifting through a shop's ring collection.
if you'd rather go out with zhongli, he's not quite as much of a poor winner. childe may complain about it for months, but zhongli is polite enough to not rub anything in his face. instead, he may ask childe for advice where he feels inexperienced.
"what do you think? would they prefer red or white roses?"
diluc & kaeya
two brothers who already fight about everything. and now, they have another thing to fight over - you! congratulations, you've made their rivalry ten times worse.
the moment kaeya realizes diluc, of all people, has a thing for you, he makes it his own personal source of entertainment. kaeya's new goal is to flirt with you the most when diluc is in the room.
he'll give you his best lines and suggestive looks - "you look positively ravishing tonight, [name]." "do you want to dance, [name]?" "should we go somewhere a little more .. private, [name]?"
only when he leaves does diluc finally come over, "he's used that line before," he tells you, handing you a glass of your favorite drink, "twice. maybe three times."
kaeya keeps track of your interactions with diluc, especially if diluc is getting flustered with you. he'll come up to you later, all smug, like "you should have seen his face. almost passed out, huh?"
it gets a little more complicated, though, when kaeya realizes you're actually someone he likes, and not just another way to irritate his brother.
kaeya starts constantly trying to get you alone. diluc starts constantly interrupting with several mundane tasks he 'needs help' with.
they are definitely the type two glare at each other when you turn your back, and then go back to smiling innocently when you look at them.
if you need help carrying something, they're both on it right away. kaeya can carry it. diluc can carry it. kaeya can carry you. diluc might 'carry' kaeya into the nearest horse trough.
"allow me, i insist." kaeya says, reaching for your bag.
"don't you have something to do for the knights? you are the calvary captain, or have you forgotten?" diluc retorts, smacking kaeya's hand away.
"oh, please, what calvary? they'll be fine without me while i help our dear friend. here, darling -"
"get lost."
"ouch, so cold."
you slip away while they start another catfight.
if you choose to go out with kaeya, neither he nor diluc will forget. diluc will keep giving you free drinks, but he charges kaeya extra when you're out together.
"if you need to get away from him .." diluc mumbles one evening, nodding to kaeya, "just let me know."
"excuse me, what are you saying to my partner -"
if you decide to date diluc, kaeya will back off - stop flirting -, but he teases you and diluc mercilessly. to the point where you both make it a point to avoid being alone with him.
"having fun with him, hm?" kaeya always says, "i always thought he was rather boring, growing up, but maybe that's just me. oh, well, let bygones be bygones, i suppose!"
alhaitham and kaveh.
you've turned their shared apartment into a war zone - to say the least. they already argued before, but once they met you, no dinner table has known peace. and the worst part is - they don't even realize they're arguing over you. not at first, at least.
you start to find them in the hall, near shouting at one another. and once they notice you, they both pause -
"oh. hello."
"good afternoon."
- before going right back to their screaming match.
they invite you over for dinner some nights, and it quickly becomes a competition. kaveh is cleaning, alhaitham is cooking, they're talking over each other at the table, at some point kaveh storms out, and you just sit there trying not to make things worse.
"how dramatic." alhaitham drawls, watching kaveh go before returning his attention to you, "have you finished the novel i lent you?"
kaveh, of course, falls first and falls harder. he starts buying you little gifts and sketching doodles of you next to his architecture work. he glows when you compliment him and sulks when you acknowledge alhaitham.
alhaitham himself is more subtle when he realizes. he wishes he didn't care, but he absolutely does. he definitely memorizes every little detail about you. if you mention wanting a book, it'll somehow appear in your apartment a few days later. if you're struggling with something, he'll provide a solution before you're done complaining.
the problem is that kaveh is trying very hard. alhaitham is not. kaveh will spend three days planning the perfect outing for you and him, and meanwhile, alhaitham will have won you over with a simple "i'm going to the market. you can come if you would like."
this is exceedingly frustrating for kaveh.
most days involve you spending your morning and afternoon with kaveh - he shows you his favorite sights in the city and buys (haggles) all the best food for you. and then, come evening, you sit with alhaitham and pour over your studies. he won't hover, but he'll point out any mistakes you make and offer to finish things for you if you grow weary.
they won't confess. not because they're nervous (well, partially), mostly because they both refuse to lose to the other. kaveh is planning the perfect setting. alhaitham is waiting for the most logical moment.
"[name]," kaveh pipes up over dinner one day, "are you free tomorrow? there's this new restaurant opening, and -"
"life can't just be about studying!" kaveh slams his hands down on the table, making the silverware jump, "you need to see and experience things!"
"is that why you're failing your classes?"
if you want to date kaveh, he starts acting like he's just singlehandedly won the archon war. he brings it up in every argument like it's his secret weapon.
"well. [name] likes me, so .." he trails off, shrugging in that 'what can you do?' kinda way.
"remarkable." alhaitham scoffs, rolling his eyes, "is that your personality now?"
if you choose alhaitham, you doom all of kaveh's friends - they have to listen to his sulking for hours.
imagine this ; you kiss alhaitham hello, kaveh sees, sulks and walks out of the room, and you don't see him for the next 6 hours because he's telling everyone who will listen (which is close to nobody) about this 'horrible betrayal' and his 'fatal heartache'.
itto & wanderer.
oh, hello big and little. loud and quiet. nice and mean.
itto falls for you first. well, by first, i mean immediately. like, you smile at him and he's a goner. head over heels, that guy.
scaramouche doesn't fall for you - or doesn't realize he likes you - for a long time. and even then, it's not like he'll ever admit it. he'll just .. start forcibly pushing any other suitors away from you to keep you for himself. healthy coping mechanism.
itto will announce his crush to the entire nation - "oh, yeah, me and [name] go way back!" (you met three weeks ago) "we're practically inseparable!"
scaramouche would rather die. but it irritates him anyway, how itto acts like he has a claim on you. he doesn't understand what you see in itto - why you keep him around. he watched you laugh at one of itto's jokes and nearly went into psychosis because it didn't even make sense! it barely had a beginning, much less an end.
scaramouche knows he likes you. itto knows he likes you. scaramouche knows itto likes you. itto does NOT know scaramouche likes you.
itto genuinely likes scaramouche and thinks they're good pals - he doesn't think someone like scaramouche could ever be a threat. i mean, come on, he practically towers over the little guy!
so, itto's always trying to drag you and scaramouche out on adventures. it only works because all scaramouche wants to do is follow you around, and unfortunately, all itto wants to do is lead you around. they orbit you, to say the least.
"look at us!" itto exclaims, an arm slung around your shoulders and the other hand playfully jabbing at scaramouche's arm, "a couple of friends!"
"no." scaramouche says, slinking to your other side to try and drag you away.
"best friends!"
"no."
"family!"
"no!"
you might assume that scaramouche would verbally abuse itto. and, you're right. but itto is like a rubber ball. nothing sticks.
"stop bothering them." he tries one day, grasping your wrist to take you somewhere else. somewhere far away from itto, "you're like a fly."
"aw! thanks, buddy!"
"that wasn't a compliment."
that's not to say they don't both want to keep you for themselves.
like, itto might frown one day while walking with you and say, "that wanderer fella is kinda cold, huh? maybe we should just do something alone, today. just you and me, yeah?"
meanwhile, scaramouche will find you and say, "he's a loudmouthed dunce. you can do better."
if you choose to date itto, he is instantly the happiest man alive. it's always "my partner said -" this and "my partner thinks -" that.
scaramouche starts disappearing whenever itto enters a room, but he still lingers around you when you're alone. he doesn't badmouth itto as much anymore, but he won't ever stop shooting him dirty looks.
if you'd rather date scaramouche, he is so smug about it. not openly - that would require admitting he cares - but internally, he preens whenever you hold his hand or kiss his cheek in public, especially if itto is there to see it.
speaking of itto - he really, really tries to be supportive. he would never jeopardize your happiness. but he doesn't really get it, "him? you're dating him? isn't he kind of mean? not that i don't support you! of course i do!"
It’s… honestly not even the first time this has happened to him.
There’s been plenty of instances when he overheard someone talking about him, although mostly it wasn’t the kindest words - perhaps because the person usually happened to be his roommate. Then again, a lot of what he happened to hear were also other students fawning over him, whispering their desires like that was the most important thing on their minds. Alhaitham never understood why they couldn’t just focus on their research and studies.
But with you, he lowers his gaze and listens. He doesn’t make his presence known, simply takes in your words without shaking his head, without the familiar feeling of irritation rising through him. In fact, he notices his body getting warmer. A soft, cotton-like sensation in his chest that makes him feel light.
The scholar analyzes that feeling, where it comes from. Is the difference, perhaps, because you are already his? This is you, sharing something precious that feels too vulnerable to admit to him - a feeling he knows very well - not a stranger gushing over him without properly knowing him.
When you meet next time, Alhaitham seems lost in thought. Yet at the same time, you feel his gaze following your every move. Because he is. He notices everything. Between the two of you, you might be the more outspoken one, the one who tends to confess your feelings more directly. Right now, though, he can see you speak his language of love fluently too - more than he gave you credit for, too blinded by how easily you seem to express your emotions aloud and trying to meet you there.
Now he sees it, though. Every little gesture, every lingering touch, every indirect admission that you care. You startle when he slides his hand across the table to catch yours. Maybe this is enough, maybe just as he knows now, you understood his feelings the whole time.
Ayato
It is not his style to be hiding in the shadows but Ayato always keeps his mind open to trying new things. Such as now, biding his time in the cool shade the tree offers while he listens to the voices approaching. There’s something about the hushed excitement with which his sister speaks that already piques his interest, yet it is only when he hears the unmistakable shyness and panic in yours that he considers abandoning his previous plan of making a surprising appearance. He’s a curious man and if you’re not careful enough to make absolutely sure nobody hears what you’re saying, it can’t be that important after all.
And thinking that is his undoing. He has to stifle a laugh. How foolish he was for dismissing what he’s going to hear as a simple ammunition for teasing. His posture shifts, now he leans against the trunk comfortably as he gets lost in your sweet confessions. He stares up at the sky obscured by the leaves. You’ve said those things before, maybe not with the same words, but he’s never doubted your feelings. So why does he feel this way now?
His surprise is postponed. Instead of scaring you by jumping out of the shadows, Ayato surprises you with dinner ready on the table, the servants dismissed for the remainder of the day. Your home is quiet, safe for your husband describing the delicacies on the table and teasing the special dessert he prepared for later - no doubt something he thought of himself. And while it’s not unheard of for him to make romantic gestures such as this, something feels off.Yet when you press him about it, Ayato offers only a mysterious smile and a playful can’t i adore you for no special reason? accompanied by a fleeting kiss to the corner of your lips.
Baizhu
“You have to promise not to tell anyone.”
“Qiqi will forget this conversation soon. Your secret is safe with her.”
Intrigued, Baizhu ducks closer to the wall. Secrets? Secrets between his two favorite people? He’s curious and amused at the same time. Should your voice be strained, he would worry and interrupt whatever was going on, but seeing as you were giggling along with the little girl, he barely expected more than a silly exchange that would warm his heart and provide him with sufficient energy to push through his tasks for the day.
Instead, what he hears makes his heart stop for a moment and his legs weaken. Perhaps he should make his presence known. Perhaps he won’t need to, simply collapsing on the spot should be enough.
Once the dramatics leave his body with a quiet, shaky breath, he carefully peeks into the room. His eyes land on you in a second, on the shy, embarrassed smile and eyes, fortunately, closed while you laugh with Qiqi about the foolishly sweet things you’ve said. Baizhu bites back a smile and finds another route to his destination.
Later, however, while you’re getting ready for bed, he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you. His lips leave a trail of soft kisses from your shoulder to your jaw, no different than if he was running a feather over your skin. But his arms, they keep you in place without fail.
“The effect you have on me is concerning, my heart,” Baizhu whispers into your ear before you can voice your surprise.
His hand finds yours and guides it to his wrist, allowing you to feel his racing pulse. He feels your confusion growing, but he doesn’t explain - how could he? He will treasure the secrets he heard, although they’ve perhaps never been secret at all. Not when he can see them all now that he looks into your eyes.
Dottore
He bristles when he hears a voice responding to yours, and soon the irritation is doubled. Dottore assigned you a task of utmost importance and time sensitivity. It’s a test of sorts, sure, yet the notion that you’d fail and what’s more - that you’d skirt your duty to mindless chatter makes a confusing mix of irrational feelings well up in his chest.
Yet he’s stopped in his tracks before his steps can get within your earshot. His enhanced senses can perceive what a regular human couldn’t, such as your voice, calm and poised, explaining the inner workings of your heart to the other person.
It makes his face contort like a child’s after drinking a bitter medicine. Then an incredulous laugh bubbles quietly up his throat. The world tilts on its axis, nausea follows. Those words are not unheard; they’re simply usually heard much more quietly, privately, behind locked doors and between the sheets. You whisper them to him, mumbling them against his skin because he won’t meet your gaze or acknowledge them. He never thought he’d hear them aloud - spoken without hesitation, doubt or shame.
You don’t flinch when you find yourself trapped between his body and the desk a minute later, the other bolting away the moment he appears. He doesn’t feel you stiffen or tremble at all when his breath hits the vulnerable skin of your throat, nor when he bites down on the side of your neck. Not hard enough to draw blood and, he realizes belatedly, not hard enough to hurt. Only enough to leave a faint mark. Somehow his fingers find their way between yours, pinning you to the desk. He’s already panting so hard it makes him laugh.
This is not the experiment he had in mind for today, or any other day for as long as he lives, but inspiration is known to strike at the oddest of moments.
Flins
He wakes up to a voice. Which is strange because he also wakes up to a feeling of safety, and Flins has grown so used to safety meaning loneliness. It takes him a moment to fully process all that he can hear and feel, and for the time being he remains still as if he was resting. First is the touch - a hand combing through his hair slowly, which threatens to lull him back to sleep. Then the voice gets clear enough. Your voice, your words. Suddenly, sleep is no longer tempting.
Fortunately, his face is hidden against your stomach enough that he can allow himself a secret smile. He has to express himself somehow without also being discovered. It’s been so long since he’s known intimacy such as this. Compromising this moment is the last thing he wants. He promises to himself he’ll make it up to you somehow, he has to, but for the time being he chooses to stay as he is.
You don’t seem any wiser when Flins pretends to wake up. Very slowly, uncharacteristically affectionate. So much so that you don’t tease him, skipping straight to suspicion and mild concern. But he only reassures you, telling you about a beautiful dream he had while kissing your wrists, your hands, all the way to your fingertips. He doesn’t let you pull away - every attempt is met with a gentle squeeze and a pleading look. And you’re no monster to say a no to that.
Despite his best efforts, he can’t quite figure out how to make you feel as loved as your words spoken while he was supposed to be oblivious to them made him feel. He ends up hovering around you, and it’s so unfair how effortlessly you pile onto that feeling with every touch, every word of concern. He doesn’t think you understand why he holds you so much tighter when he finally breaks and pulls you close.
Neuvillette
He knows it’s wrong. The Iudex of Fontaine, listening in on hushed voices, albeit voices behind his closed doors, inside of his own office. There’s already been a precedent of a secret being kept from him, and he’d rather not think about an event of similar severity being repeated when the voice he recognizes is yours. The gasps of the melusines do nothing to calm his beating heart, he can only press his ear to the wood of the door and close his eyes.
They don’t stay closed for long. It makes little difference as Neuvillette stares blankly at the ground, his sight unfocused and shaky. He holds his breath, he doesn’t mean to, but if he misses a single word of your confessions he feels he’d regret it for eternity.
The moment passes too soon. Steps get closer to the door and he does his best to act as if he witnessed nothing. He thinks he must be doing fine until you stand in front of him - he feels the facade crumble. Neuvillette leads you back into the office despite your playful scolding that you’ve already held up his work enough.
He confesses to listening in before you can decode the expression on his face. The tips of his ears turn red, his voice wavers. Then the silence stretches, before he eventually, softly, admits how hearing you speak that way about him has affected him. Like you couldn’t tell from the uncertainty radiating off of him.
So now it’s your turn to take his hand and pry details from him. With utmost patience despite your racing heart, you delve to the root of the issue - that he feels just as strongly about you too, yet struggles to come up with a way to show you. The realization comes with a self-depreciating chuckle and an apologetic smile that becomes a little more relaxed when you inform the hydro dragon that a simple kiss will suffice.
Pantalone
It’s almost time to leave. The annual ball is about to start and Pantalone means to be fashionable late. He is the main star, so to speak, after all. Your handmaiden should also be aware of the time, and so he sees no point in knocking-
“I’ve wished the marriage wasn’t a matter of convenience for a long time now.”
His hand hovers above the doorknob and retracts. His brows furrow. While your voice is somber, almost desperate, the voice of your handmaiden is excited, albeit concerned. He doesn’t understand.
It’s only when, upon the woman’s insistence, you let the floodgates of your feelings open that he gets the full picture.
Smirk tugs at his lips, one he can barely contain. A man should not feel as he feels hearing such confessions from the one he’s wedded to, yet here Pantalone is. Pride soars through his chest, a sense of victory, the satisfaction of a beneficial deal struck. And all the while - peace. Like a guard dog with no master stumbling upon a lamb, given purpose anew.
There seem to indeed be some things the value of which cannot be expressed or evaluated.
Nobody, of course, dares to comment that your late arrival at the ball borders on rude instead of fashionable. The talk of the town, or rather the content of the hushed whispers that the speakers think cannot be heard over the music, is all about you and your husband.
About the way the regrator’s hand remains possessively on your lower back, both seemingly to guide you and to prevent you from straying too far away. In fact, it seems the closer you remain, the better. They talk about the many instances when his lips brush right against the shell of your ear whenever he’s talking to you privately.
The whole hall wonders - did the ninth harbinger fall in love?
Tighnari
His ears twitch and turn in the direction of the sound that does not belong this deep in the forest. A smile’s already tugging on Tighnari’s lips when he listens for a moment longer and recognizes the voice as yours, accompanied by another’s. It’s impossible to keep you away from the more dangerous parts of the forest, he’s made peace with that, but he’s at least relieved you listened to him and didn’t venture this far alone.
He finishes the task he was devoted to and is about to greet you and join you, should his company be welcomed, when he hears it. The way your voice drops lower, barely heard above the songs of the birds and the hum of the trees, and how it grows softer, fonder. For a moment he hesitates, some part of him worried about what he might hear because a tone like that is supposed to be reserved for him. Only it turns out it is.
He breaks into a wider smile - then he reels himself in. He shouldn’t be listening in on your private conversation, even if he’s the topic of it. A very, very cherished topic it seems. But his body won’t listen. His tail has a life of its own and his feet remain stuck to the ground. His expression grows softer, fonder. He might’ve remained there, staring in the direction of your voice like a fool if it wasn’t for his emotions simply growing too overwhelming.
Tighnari grins sheepishly when you yelp the moment he appears from between the trees, more so when your friend suddenly has a very convenient excuse to flee - though he calls after them that they shouldn’t be by themselves in these parts. Even if he prefers to have you to himself. Suddenly it seems like all your eloquence disappeared. But that’s fine - that’s cute, he chuckles. He can do the talking now, if you only take his hand.
Zhongli
Idle chatter is a rare occurrence without the director around. Any sort of lively energy, really, especially on days like this one. And so with her out on business, Zhongli is intrigued by what made hushed conversation resonate through the empty halls of the parlor. Above all, he picks up your voice, strained by emotions. Hardly a surprise after the display you’ve all bore witness only hours prior.
Meaning to check on you, he approaches slowly. Yet finding himself to be the topic of the conversation, his steps pause, then stop altogether. His brows furrowed. It’s not that he doesn’t understand why the sudden outburst or why you’d feel the need to talk about your feelings with a third party - what he doesn’t understand is the trembling of his own heart. How can it still be so fragile after aeons of heartbreak?
Later, in the quiet privacy of your bedroom, Zhongli comes clean. It remains a mystery to him why his heart flutters again when he watches you get flustered - first by the realization, then by him recounting similar sentiments to you. It only gets strangers, the feeling shifts into an ache first, then into a stable pressure that feels almost crushing.
You’re lying on his chest, at his insistence as much as your desire to remain close to him. It’s been hours since he coaxed you to sleep but he himself can’t bring himself to drift off. He’s watching you, marvelling at the feeling stirring inside of him. Perhaps it is because of the funeral and the young widow you’ve all witnessed earlier, sobbing at her husband’s grave, that you are - that he is - so desperate to make the feelings you harbor for each other known.
Zhongli turns his head, allowing himself to bury his face into your hair. The pressure in his chest doesn’t ease. His fingers itch to bring you closer, to hold you tighter.
The eight-year-old Segment was unlike any child you had ever met.
When you were in the Akademiya with Zandik, you had gathered bits and pieces from what he told you about his childhood to somewhat imagine what a little Zandik would look like. It was… difficult to envision, not because you couldn’t form a picture, but because the thought of him being hurt so deeply as a child hurt you too. But when you finally saw the slice of his child self in front of you, you quickly realized the reality was far more cruel than you could ever think of on your own.
His eyes were… empty. For someone so young, not even a glimmer of light could be seen within the redness. It would have comforted you more to see even anger or sadness, but there seemed to be nothing of the sort. And yet, it did not deter you from attempting to befriend him, despite Eight’s initial lack of interest.
He was the child, and yet you were the one wandering after him like a lost kid. The Segment would just stare at you before excusing himself. Perhaps he was confused about why you were speaking to him in such an excited tone. Perhaps he did not know how to deal with it. All he knew was that the others had told him to treat you respectfully but not to bother you, and Eighteen specifically gave him a look every time you tried to usher him closer.
But in the end, a child was a child. A child would think and behave like one no matter how much they buried themselves, and that was also true for little Eight. You had noticed Eight frequently spent his spare time writing and doodling in his notebook, although he would always shut it if you got too close, obviously still guarded around you. At least he had gotten comfortable enough to let you stay in his room. Still, it was easy to piece together what he was doing in there. So, one day you slipped him a drawing of an Aranara you had drawn yourself.
Eight recognized the creature immediately, and you witnessed more emotion than you had seen before, with his eyes widening and mouth parting. He closed his notebook shut and tentatively reached to brush his small fingers against the drawing, and you pushed it closer to him encouragingly.
“Have you ever seen one like this? You know, there are the round ones and-”
“The ones that are skinny with long hats.” Before you could finish your sentence, Eight interrupted you. It was like a switch had been turned on.
“And then there are some with flowers on their heads-”
“And the ones with leaves on top.” It looked like he really was an expert on Aranara facts.
“You know a lot, don’t you?” You beamed at him with interest, and suddenly the child felt a bit shy. It was rare anyone took interest in him or anything he liked, but at the same time, knowing a lot had once gotten him in trouble a long time ago.
“I didn’t expect you could… be so detailed,” Eight said, changing the topic as he brought your doodle close to his face, examining the detail as his nose almost brushed it, in true childlike wonder that he always kept hidden.
“Well, in the Akademiya, you’re usually asked to sketch out your observations like wildlife or architecture, even potential machines and inventions, so I know a bit.” He only continued gazing at the messy Aranara. “You can keep it, if you like.” Eight glanced at you, slowly nodding as he finally set the paper down. He looked a bit more relaxed now.
“Now… would you mind if I see your drawings?” You pressed the tips of your fingers together, brightening with hope. Eight already guessed you had been itching to ask him that for a while. At first, he would have rejected you, but now he felt a bit more… comfortable.
The child Segment didn’t need to answer, only opening his notebook to the first page and leaving it there for you. You clasped your hands together with a resonant ‘thank you’ as you pulled a chair to sit next to him at his desk.
“Some Aranara have hats of different shapes and colors. Some of their hats cover their faces. Others have leaves drooping down instead of hats,” you read aloud from the journal. Each description was accompanied by a drawing. “Some also have bowties or carry around weapons. They’ve also picked up habits from humans, such as cooking or living in houses.”
For someone who didn’t seem to feel much, Eight watched you intently as you examined his notes. Maybe he subconsciously looked for approval. At the very least, you looked to be absorbed in his words, allowing him to feel a bit proud of himself.
“This is some really good research. Thank you for trusting me with it,” you said softly, hand reaching out to hold his, until you stopped midway and drew back. Perhaps it was best not to push things so quickly. “Though… I do think some of these sketches could use some color.”
“I would,” the boy nodded in agreement, “but I don’t have anything to color them with.” A spark of sadness flickered in your heart, knowing that he was chained to the mindset of a child and was not even allowed to indulge in it.
“Well, why don’t I get us some colored pencils and we can fill them in together? Adding a bit of color is sure to add some life, hmm?”
And so a few days later, you were once again sitting near Eight with his notebook open. You had made sure to order the most high-quality coloring supplies for little Eight. Even he could not hold back his excitement, observing them up close one by one and picking out the ones he’d use for the Aranaras. In all honesty, he was more focused on coloring than you, and seemed very intent on making sure everything was accurate… But you didn’t mind. You only gave some pointers here and there and answered his questions on whether the color he chose was good or not.
“Thank you,” Eight said eventually. He couldn’t remember the last time he expressed gratitude for something, because the only thing other people ever did was hurt him.
“Anything for you, sweet one.” He didn’t respond to the pet name, and you quickly worried you had overstepped, before Eight nodded and went back to coloring.
Perhaps if he had just had someone who supported him when he was young and took interest in him, things could have turned out differently.
—
One day, you had called Eight to the kitchen, and he was immediately greeted with a delicious smell.
“Oh, you’re right on time!” You called for him and ushered him closer. He took in the mess of the kitchen before he noticed what was making his mouth water. A tray of baklava sat there, sliced and ready to be served.
“You all still like to eat, don’t you? I thought I’d make something for all of your hard work.” You were busy cleaning with your back turned. “I invited you to have the first bite. Help yourself.”
He and the other Segments would go to the Fatui’s cafeteria, and although it was nice, it didn’t really have food from Sumeru. They would never bring up their dissatisfaction, however. But now, one of his favorite treats from his homeland sat in front of him. The older Segments might have lingered around you some more, but him? The child couldn’t help but want to dig in as soon as possible.
“Thank you.” Those words were starting to become familiar to him again. Eight’s fingers pinched a piece of the dessert and took a small bite before immediately devouring the whole thing. It was probably the best thing he’d ever tasted. He glanced at you before taking another piece, and another…
“Do you like them?” You finished cleaning the area and washing the tools as you made your way to the table. “It’s been a while since I made any so-” You paused when you noticed at least a third of the tray was gone, and the child had stuffed cheeks.
Eight blinked at you. You blinked back. You were at a loss for words before you burst out laughing at the sight.
“Y-You don’t need to eat that fast, you know. I can always make some more.” You grabbed a tissue and began wiping around his mouth. You remembered Zandik being a fast eater back in the Akademiya, but you didn’t know he could gobble stuff down this quick. Eight stiffened as you tenderly wiped off the crumbs and fussed over him, and though it felt weird, it wasn’t weird enough for him to push you away.
“Hmm… I guess I’ll portion the rest for the others. We can give Eighteen the least for being a big meanie. Hehe, don’t tell the others, alright?” Your little accomplice nodded, chewing the dessert slower, not only savoring the flavor but… your kindness too.
Eight had started to open himself up to you, slowly but surely.
—
Little Eight had begun to seek you out on his own, cling to your side, to grab onto your sleeve and look up at you with expectant eyes. With that, the boy had become oddly observant of you.
“You don’t look well,” he pointed out.
“Hm? Oh. I’m… I’m fine. Just a bit tired but-” Before you could finish, Eight grasped your clothes and led you over to sit down. Of course, you couldn’t refuse him. “Really, I don’t-” Eight pressed his small hand against your forehead.
“Your face is warm, and you’re sweating a bit. You should stay here. I’ll get one of the others and the medical record.” It was almost jarring to see a kid assess the situation with such calmness. Perhaps he already had experience with this from Regrator, though. Or maybe he just had to grow up quicker than other children.
“But… you don’t need to do all this. I can take care of myself…” He should just be allowed to be a child, you wanted to say. He shouldn’t have to be in this dreary lab with experiments of this nature.
“I want to.” Eight was surprised those words left his lips as easily as they did. He had thought he had become numb to the suffering of others. He knew something was wrong with him for that. But when he looked at you, it made him upset that you were in pain.
“… You’re very sweet. Thank you.” The others had told you that the child Segment had already lost his compassion, but every day, you learned that clearly wasn’t true.
—
The eight-year-old carried around his notebook like it was a lifeline, clutching it to his chest. If he had to put it down, he’d always make sure it was within his line of sight. You knew that his notes were important to him, but you couldn’t help but feel that there was something else to this behavior.
You found out the answer one day, when you were in Eight’s room. He was searching for his notebook in front of you when he opened his drawer to reveal a few copies of the same black notebook, before grabbing one of them.
All of the notebooks looked the same, so you had no idea he had multiple. But it didn’t strike you as unusual at first. You just assumed he had filled up that many notebooks with his ideas, and naturally, you wanted to see.
“Do you mind if I read these?” You pawed at the covers.
“You can, if you want. But you probably already read most of them.” That made you pause.
“What do you mean?”
“Those notebooks all contain the same content. I just wrote most of the important stuff in all of them.” So… he was making duplicates of the same thing?
“But why?”
“Sometimes I misplace them. And then sometimes one of the others throws it out.”
“Throw… throw them out?” You repeated, as if you were in disbelief, but Eight seemed to be unaffected.
“It’s mostly Eighteen that does that. But I don’t want to lose my ideas, so I just write them down in multiple places just in case.” Your jaw was left slack as Eight calmly flipped through his current notebook.
“A-And what does he say?”
“That it’s childish. Or a waste of time. Things like that.” He didn’t think about it when you didn’t respond, but before he knew it, you were up and pacing around the room. “What’s wrong?”
“He can’t do that to you!” You had never spoken to him this loudly, which took him off guard, and you recognized that and took a deep breath. “That… is just wrong. I will not let him do it again. I’m- I’m going to speak to him right now!” Eight realized that this was the first time he saw you truly frustrated, and it was on his behalf, too. You almost burst out the door before he called for you.
“Wait,” the child requested. Never one to ignore Eight, you listened. “You don’t need to do that.”
“Yes, I do. If I’m here, no one is doing that to you. Why, I might as well go and throw out his property and see how he likes it!” Eight felt a bit of warmth prick his face at your outspokenness. But he really didn’t want to start a fight with Eighteen, which would probably escalate to the others, with Thirty-Five telling them not to hinder his work, Forty-Five laughing, Sixty-Five being tired, and the original Zandik… what would he do?
“I’d prefer it if you stayed with me.” You opened your mouth and closed it again, expression softening.
“Well then… I guess me and Forty-Five will do something to get back at him in secret instead then.” You couldn’t help but give in to Eight, especially when he was learning to be so genuine with you. You sat on the edge of the bed with him and rubbed your hand on his back. However, you still looked troubled.
You thought back to the days you spent with the original Zandik back at the Akademiya. Eighteen was the only Segment you had a concrete understanding of, considering he was a replica of the one you knew so deeply when you were young. You had seen his bitterness firsthand, the desire for himself and his ideas to be acknowledged, only for it to never happen, sending him deeper into his resentment for the world. He would grip you, stubborn tears rolling down his face that he silently asked you to ignore. Perhaps if you had remained in the waking world, you could have done something, but…
“You know, um, Eight,” you began, and the Segment gave you his attention. “About Eighteen… I wouldn’t say he hates you. He just…” The child’s eyes bore into you as he watched you fumble for words. “I guess… He might be a little jealous of you.” That seemed to surprise the little boy.
“I don’t understand. There is nothing I have that he doesn’t.” Eight furrowed his brows, carefully thinking, and a part of you was flattered he was taking your opinion so seriously. “Eighteen has his own lab, office, equipment, proposals, funding, experiments… I don’t really have any of that.” Well, there had been proposals he had been drafting for Pantalone, some with your assistance, but he had yet to present any of them… Most of his duties included assisting the others with their tasks instead.
“Well, all of that is true but… Eighteen doesn’t have your mind.” Perhaps deep down, Eighteen wished he too could be a bit “childish.” Although Eight had clearly gone through something rough, he managed to retain something Eighteen could not. Could Eighteen ever find something and pursue it with pure wonder and excitement as a child could? He couldn’t. Instead, the older Segment was only trapped within the harsh reality of this world’s cruel rules and laws. But how could you explain that to a little boy?
“By which I mean, he doesn’t have the proper mind to appreciate your dear Aranara. And it’s a shame, because he wants to, but… can’t.” You tried to word it as best you could. “Of course, what he did is still wrong, but…” You trailed off, really not knowing what to say, but Eight only leaned into your embrace. He could understand that this was your attempt to make him feel better. Honestly, you had already done more than you knew, because Eighteen always seemed to be in a far better mood whenever you were around. And whether he liked it or not, the older Segment still stayed with him for a lot of things.
The original Zandik, the one who was fascinated with you more than any sort of research, had once told him that your warmth could fill an entire room. Obviously, that didn’t make sense in the literal way, so it was metaphorical. But only now did Eight understand what the older man had meant by that. Actually, now he understood why all the other Segments trailed after you, looking for attention.
You were truly a warm person.
His eyes flickered from you to the floor, and back to you again, as if he was making an important choice. Within the span of a few moments, the tiny Segment turned to fully embrace you, arms wrapping around your body, making you softly gasp. Without hesitation, you gently reciprocated and held his smaller body. Eight always did like when you patted the top of his head.
The child really liked you a lot. Maybe you could convince the others to let him take a trip to Sumeru? Or at least get one of his proposals approved? But for some reason, those things didn’t seem as much of a priority now, when compared to spending time with you.
They just love to spoil their pretty little princess . . .
FEM!Reader x Tartaglia , Pantalone , Ayato (separate)
Dividers by: @/dollywons
‧˚꒰🦊꒱༘‧—CHILDE
You shouldn't be complaining.
You have everything. Money, food, an amazing mansion. But the way you were getting all these was starting to make you feel guilty. Mostly because your boyfriend didn't know how to stop spending money on you.
And the spending just keeps getting worse when he's away in Sneznayah, one day without him and you're waking up with ten gifts and of course a breakfast in maid by his service staff.
You really lived like a Royalty, so why would you be mad?
"Childe, you hav—"
"CHILDE?" He yelled, quickly standing up from his office chair as he ran toward you in the doorway. "Babyyy, what did I do?"
You exhaled, staring at the melodramatic of a boyfriend you have, watching the ginger kneeling down infront of you. "Did I not give you enough gifts?"
"No Childe, actually—"
"Shit, Is it attention? Sex?"
"No! It's about your bank account. You need to stop spending money on me, I feel guilty Ajax..."
"Aww babe." He looked at you. "I don't mind spending a little bit of money on my gorgeous girlfriend? Her happiness is worth millions."
"Yeah but—"
"Shhhhh, honey don't worry about it. You know I'm rich and can handle a bit of money going away, you just sit pretty and spend my money, girlie."
And you couldn't do anything. Though the guilt disappeared soon after because he keeps giving you stupid funny reasons of why he do it and you genuinely giggle.
You two would then cuddle in his couch in his office, two cups of tea poured and blanket over the two of you.
"Plus, you spending my money turns me on—"
"AJAX."
And so, you just let the man spoil you. Diamond bracelet to gold necklaces filling your jewelry shelf in your dressing room. Flowers and love letters decorating your bed each time you wake up. And the warm scent of your boyfriend nuzzling into you late at night.
Even if he could give you anything, you couldn't wish anything else.
‧˚꒰🦚꒱༘‧—PANTALONE
You must have saved an Archon in your past life, because you genuinely can't believe that of all people. YOU got this luxury.
You had everything someone could dream for, a powerfull and rich as fuck boyfriend giving you everything. 5star meals always presenting themselves to you and a staff in your mansion.
Of course you knew what door would open to you when dating the 9th Harbinger of the Fatui. Your boyfriend was the symbol of elegance and wealth, not forgetting his pretty features, you just wished to drown in those field of purple flower when you stared at his eyes.
"Zoning out again, my dear?" His velvety voice spoke up, eyeing you in the corner of his eyes as he worked on his paperwork in the Nothland Bank.
"Ah, I was just wondering what I did to deserve you."
His laugh reached your ears, mouth smiling a slight smile as he looked at you.
Fuck was he attractive.
"Thinking of me again? Be carefull, I might start thinking you're obsessed with me darling." He teased, looking back down at his Pen.
"Excuse me, I didn't know I couldn't be obsessed with my perfect partner." You teased back, head rolling back in his couch.
"Hm, come here," He said, legs pushing his chair back to make room for you to sit.
You plopped down on his lap, arms hugging his neck as you kissed his cheek.
"Well aren't you adorable?"
"Only for you, honey."
"Hm, you're right." He agreed, sliding his chair to one of the drawers of his desk, he then pulled a short purple little box, and handed it to you. "Here, open it."
You nervously opened the little box, an audible gasp left your mouth—In the box, there was a ring, a gorgeous shining crystal resting on top of it.
"No way." You excitedly said.
"Of course, I wouldn't have proposed like this. It's just a New ring I got you."
"Honey, it's gorgeous!"
"Haha, The best for you my love. It's made with rainbowdrop crystal, it's popular in Sneznayah so I got you this as a souvenir."
"I Love it! I love you so much baby!" You kissed him, stars shining in your eyes in happiness.
"I love you too, love,"
‧˚꒰🐺꒱༘‧—KAMISATO AYATO
Dating the head of the Kamisato Clan wasn't easy.
You knew the influence your partner had on Inazuma and his reputation precedes him. It didn't help that he was also ridiculously attractive, the single glimpse of him walking in Inazuma with you—though those embarrassing girls didn't notice you, had them screaming.
So you didn't really like going on dates because of that, but Ayato always found a reason to make you ignore the comments they do and manage to bring you once again for a date in the city.
Everytime, either you were feeling down or not, Ayato would always buy you gifts and jewelleries to make you forget the incidents. Either flowers or dishes specially made for you, sometimes, Ayaka would help him and spend time with you. It's mostly because she loves spending time with you and keeps getting giggly about how you're becoming her step-sister soon.
The mornings, you would wake up with him preparing to go work, a kiss on each of your cheeks, and breakfast in bed.
You did know how wealthy your boyfriend was, but the amount he spends on you weekly always makes your jaw drops.
He doesn't even blink or complain, a smile from you is enough to make him hand you his credit card. Some would say it's called being irrational, he just calls it 'being in love'.
Since you started dating Ayato, you've been a huge victim of princess treatment. In Public or in private, he'd always have a hand down your back or his lips are on your knuckles. He'll sometime intertwine his hand with yours too, often much zoning out while staring at them because he simply cannot stop imagining the picture of a ring permanently decorating your pretty ring finger of yours.
"...Ayato?"
"Yes dear?"
"Are you listening? You've been looking at my fingers these whole time." You nervously chuckled.
"Hm, I am. I'm simply thinking about something."
"About?"
"Don't you think that your ring finger is too...plain? Maybe a pretty diamond would make it more...noticeable No?"
You eyed him suspiciously, watching as he kissed said fingers. "Ayato, you always buy me rings."
"Well is it too bad for me to want a ring on you that you'll never take off?"
Smooth.
"Then what are you waiting for?"
He chuckled, placing one last kiss on your finger. "You're right, what am I waiting for."
𓂃⟡ ݁ ꒰ 𝑺𝒀𝑵𝑶𝑷 ꒱ ⸝⸝ .ᐟ . just some streamer! au childe headcanons
. ౿ 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑫 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑻 ── .✦ 752
. ౿ 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑬𝑺 ── .✦ HIII im nana and its my first post ever ahhh!!!! i am so nervous abt posting this, pls be nice </3 it might be a bit occ…but i love streamer! au and i love childe even more so here we are…
masterlist
𓏲ּ𝄢 i feel like childe as a streamer would genuinely be EVERYONE’S favorite streamer somehow. like even people who don’t play the games he streams would still watch him because he’s just entertaining (and sexy)
𓏲ּ𝄢 his main platforms are twitch and maaaayyybe youtube, doesnt seem like a huge kick person
𓏲ּ𝄢 would definitely post thirst traps on his tiktok.
𓏲ּ𝄢 he mostly streams valorant, cs, fortnite, apex, weird games on roblox, sometimes random horrors when he feels like torturing himself for fun, but if his viewers want to see something else he will do it
𓏲ּ𝄢 a WHALEE he doesnt care frfr, just give him his v-bucks </3
𓏲ּ𝄢 his setup would be expensive as hell but weirdly messy. top-tier pc (he built it himself, this man is such a try hard) multiple monitors, expensive keyboard… and then an empty redbull can balancing dangerously on the desk for three days straight
𓏲ּ𝄢 definitely the type to stream for “just two hours” and accidentally stay online for nine because he got too invested in ranked games and started having fun with chat
𓏲ּ𝄢 LOVES competitive games
𓏲ּ𝄢 anything where he can either carry the team or start beefing with enemies in all chat while laughing the whole time
𓏲ּ𝄢 his laugh would absolutely be famous. loud as hell, pretty, contagious. one of those laughs where everyone in chat starts spamming emojis in chat
𓏲ּ𝄢 weirdly terrifying at games. like he acts unserious, keeps joking, talks about some bs, starts random stories mid-match-and still somehow drops insane kill counts
𓏲ּ𝄢 absolutely the type to lean way too close to the camera while reading chat. messy orange hair falling into his eyes, blue eyes squinting slightly while he grins at donations.
“chat, be honest, was that play hot or was it HOT.”
𓏲ּ𝄢 he is such an attention whore
𓏲ּ𝄢 definitely sits in his chair horribly. someone should make posture compilations of him
𓏲ּ𝄢 his fans would constantly thirst over him, but he handles it in the funniest ways possible. sometimes he flirts back jokingly, sometimes he acts dramatically offended
“objectifying me again? unbelievable. disgusting behavior. keep going.”
𓏲ּ𝄢 he canonically loves fighting and adrenaline, so modern childe would 100% chase excitement in stupid ways. horror games at 2am, rage queueing ranked, random gym streams, paintball tournaments with other creators
𓏲ּ𝄢 collab streamer btw. EVERYONE wants to stream with him because he naturally makes things entertaining. he’s chaotic in a very magnetic way
𓏲ּ𝄢 his fans would adore him because he’s weirdly attentive. remembers usernames, asks how people are doing, notices when regular viewers disappear for a while
𓏲ּ𝄢 lowkey makes chat feel like a friend group instead of a fanbase
𓏲ּ𝄢 his mods are exhausted btw
𓏲ּ𝄢 literally impossible to control him once he gets excited
𓏲ּ𝄢 but despite being loud and playful online, he’d actually be extremely careful with privacy. especially regarding relationships or family
𓏲ּ𝄢 mentions his siblings constantly though. like every other stream somehow turns into “my little brother did this” or “my sister roasted me so hard earlier.”
𓏲ּ𝄢 if he has a girlfriend? oh he is GONE
𓏲ּ𝄢 not in a “posts couple content every second” way. actually the opposite. he keeps you mostly private because the internet is weird and he genuinely wants to protect that part of his life.
𓏲ּ𝄢 BUT.
𓏲ּ𝄢 he cannot shut up about you.
𓏲ּ𝄢 like literally every stream:
“my girlfriend made me coffee earlier”
“my girl said i look sleep deprived”
“nah chat she’d bully all of you”
𓏲ּ𝄢 he thinks he’s being subtle btw. he’s not
𓏲ּ𝄢 chat would know more about your personality than appearance because he talks about you constantly without realizing it
𓏲ּ𝄢 if you randomly walk into his room mid stream? he’s immediately distracted
𓏲ּ𝄢 like full golden retriever mode activated
𓏲ּ𝄢 “baby wait, is that food for me?? chat LOOK what she made me”
𓏲ּ𝄢 if you speak ONCE during stream the clips go viral immediately.
“OH MY GOD SHE TALKED.”
𓏲ּ𝄢 and he’d just sit there smiling like an idiot because he loves when chat likes you <3
“yeah? cute voice, right? i know.”
𓏲ּ𝄢 he needs his fair share of cuddles after every stream
𓏲ּ𝄢 let him lay his head on your chest and play with his hair
𓏲ּ𝄢 he will melt.
𓏲ּ𝄢 he yapps about everything and nothing until he falls asleep
𓏲ּ𝄢 genuinely just gives off the energy of a guy who loves having fun and loves loving people even more
a/n: THANK U SMM FOR READDINGGGG LUV UUU <333 (consider rebloging and following me if u liked it pls hehe...)
imagine not taking accountability for being a pathalogical liar that psychologically manipulates and torments people ... big yikes!
if anyone genuinely supports this user, please unfollow and block me.
I cant even elaborate on anything further bc its not my story to tell, but I am sick and tired of the things I have seen (which isnt even a lot, but its still disgusting).
꧁“There is nothing like staying at home for real comfort.”꧂
✦ synopsis: your knight spending his summer break with you (aka getting cozy and domestic with Lohen <3)
✦ warnings: might be OOC and slightly suggestive? Wrote this because I was bored :p
• All knights have the chance to get a paid leave two times a year, and of course your knight has been waiting for the weather to warm up to use this opportunity.
• After his request for leave got approved, Lohen was barely able to sleep because he was so excited to spend the days ahead with you <33
• How great it is to wake up not having to rush, the sunlight dancing, lazily pulling you closer with the excuse that the air is still chilly in the mornings.
• Lohen loves that only he can see you in such state, hair messed up, your eyes slightly puffy from too much sleep.
• You’d basically have to drag him out of the bed and even then he is attached to your hip. Now that he doesn’t have knightly duties to do, all his attention is focused on you.
• Great until..its not so great. Lohen has always had an obsession with biting you, so now that he is home he gets to do that plenty. (Wouldn’t even hurt he just likes your skin in his mouth.)
• He gets the zoomies like a rabbit in the mornings, one of the many reasons he seeks the thrill of fight. Imagine dealing with this at home
• Would go from sleepy to bouncing off walls after hes calmed down a bit hes back to your side.
• Anyways! Lohen likes hearty meals so he’d make sure to bless you with one for breakfast and lunch.
• No shame whatsoever would slap your ass and then sprint around the house while you chase him.
• As shameless he is, Lohens just as romantic. Remembering your favourite dishes, taking you out for date nights every week (even if he was busy with his work now that he isn’t, those dates are present almost every night. “Almost” because whenever you don’t feel like going out cuddling and sharing a meal together at home suffices too. Atp everything does so down bad for his lover) , checking the temperature of your hot beverage before handing it to you, automatically pulling you to his side in large crowds.
• Although he loves to see you all pretty for him, he likes being at home more, Lohen doesn’t give much thought to public opinion he could pull you in for a kiss or more anytime, what he cares about is you being comfortable. Not that he wouldn’t pick a bone with whoever makes you purposefully uncomfortable… Lohen knows sometimes you don’t want all that affection in public so being alone with you is win-win situation.
• “No you don’t get it we have to shower together there is a water drought in Mondstadt :((“
• Every day is chaotic and different with him, you can’t really get bored the only predictable thing Lohen sticks to is that he needs kisses 25/8
@ananeuvii, I'm tagging you directly since you have a history of ignoring things that require accountability.
I'm not someone who makes posts like this. I think callout posts can easily come across as dramatic or performative, and I've always avoided them for that reason. But this isn't drama. I'm going to lay everything out with receipts, and people can form their own opinions.
cw: mentions of self-harm/suicide, harassment, predatory behavior toward minors
There are more than 30 Ana's.
Ana runs multiple accounts and uses them in ways that range from embarrassing to genuinely harmful.
One that I do feel is a mix of both is the @lyneyhatersdni blog. Ana claims this is her ('ex') boyfriend… she's the boyfriend.
Someone told me that before the account was fully set up, the following list and recently liked posts were publicly visible (which is just a default setting Tumblr uses).
Every liked post was content from Ana, Lilac, and Karma.
The account types exactly like Ana's; she tries to switch her typing style on it, but she slips… a lot.
I always thought it was weird when I first found that account, that it's rarely active.
That only Ana responds/likes my comments if I interact with them??
And what made my assumption feel far too true is this post she made:
This is a self-report if I've ever seen one. And why does this matter beyond just being weird??
This account was used for publicly 'dating' Ana, complimenting her, calling her pet names, having entire conversations with her in the comments of her post. She is having a relationship with herself in front of everyone.
And here's the infamous conversation she had with herself when she posted "im gonna kms" on her main, where lyneyhatersdni shows up in the comments to comfort her. She is roleplaying emotional support from a person who does not exist.
He is only online when she needs him to be (like making that "ana won't be online" post or interacting with herself). He never used it outside of using it for ana. They always happen to be online at the same time, and now she's active on his account bc shes "going to be offline for a long while" and is addicted, so that's what she uses right now.
But it gets worse than just beyond fake dating.
'lyneyhatersdni' was the account behind the anonymous hate messages that Lilac received on her old blog. Lilac's old account (scaraobsession) is now deactivated, so those specific asks are gone, but they were horrible nonetheless.
Lilac had to turn off anonymous asks entirely because of the harassment, and Ana had the audacity to reblog Lilac's post about it, acting like she was defending her.
Ana sent anonymous hate to her own (ex) close friend. And then publicly positioned herself as the one protecting her from it.
That's fucked up.
What's more fucked up? If this 'boyfriend' is real, dating your friend's bully is fucked up.
She also very, very likely sends herself anonymous requests. Some requests are for engagement on her blog; others are hate-directed at her(self). She literally discovered the feature publicly on her blog, as seen in the image with the anonymous hate at the top. The proof is all there.
The vent account(s).
Ana has had multiple vent accounts in the past; her newest was leaked recently. What was on it was absolutely disturbing.
One of the very disgusting things that stood out on this account was the posts written as conversations between herself and what she frames as an internal 'voice,' using brackets to distinguish it. In these posts, "the voice" says things like 'i hope they die', 'i hope one of them dies', and other… odd things you'll see below.
Ana responds back to "the voice" as herself, pushing back mildly, but she's the one writing all of it. She typed every word, fantasizing about (ex) friends' deaths.
And in the tags? She writes things like "these r kinda just like the thoughts I don't agree with, but r still there" and "pls know that's not actually me." She tagged her own death wishes toward her friends with a disclaimer. As if that makes it fine. As if hitting post and putting it on the internet is somehow not a choice she made.
These are all directed towards both Karma and Lilac. Ana's always been jealous of Karma, hated them. When they were all a trio, Ana would constantly leave Karma out on purpose; she tried to kick Karma out of the friend group, but ended up kicking herself out instead.
She crashed out on Lilac once, called her a slutty b*tch, over Lilac saying "plsplspls" to Karma. This is exactly what this post is about, and this is on one of Ana's yapping side blogs' accounts.
She treats her own spiraling as a performance and then demands that other people warn her before they vent.
Both Lilac and Karma found her recent vent account and reblogged it. This also isn't the first time Ana's vent account got leaked; you'll see in the image below.
After being caught, Ana deactivated her recent vent account (belovedofbarbatos), and ranted on her main before deleting and then making an announcement post saying she'd be offline for a very long time. Her ass is too chronically online for that, and she's still active on her @windspokenwhispers sideblog.
She only cares that she got caught.
Ana and minors.
This is the part that made me decide I needed to post this.
Someone sent Ana an anonymous ask saying: "Am I allowed to join in on the flirting if I'm 16?" Her response: "YUHP!! Just clarify that at first and make sure it's nothing tooooo suggestive, ur still underage! however in some countries that's legal, and I don't mind harmless stuff."
When someone called her out for flirting with a minor while being almost 21, she defended herself by saying she's only ever said things like "IMMA KISS YOU" and "I WANNA CUDDLE" and that those are platonic. The tag's on the post don't help the accusations.
On her recently deactivated vent account, she interacted with an anonymous person who said they were 15. Ana's response? She doesn't mind.
She doesn't fucking mind that a 15-year-old is looking at a vent blog that talks about serious topics, including self-harm.
When she started getting called out for this, she posted: "no becuz why am i getting pedo allegations" with tags about how she's just showing "platonic affection."
Ana is nearing 21, and she posts content not safe for minors while actively seeking new mutuals with anyone of any age (unless they're under 11, because that's her minimum apparently).
Why am I posting this?? It's a community concern.
Because Ana is an extrovert. She's outgoing and chatty, and she comes across as friendly and fun at first. She reaches out to people in the Genshin writing community, and if you're new to the community or shy, that attention feels good. That's exactly why it's dangerous.
The people who chose to interact with her deserve to know that the person behind the friendly posts has a vent account where she wishes death on her once closest friends. That she sent her own ex-best friend anonymous hate and then pretended to protect her from it. That she tells minors she doesn't care about their age.
I also want to make something very clear: Lilac and Karma are the victims in this situation. Both of them are people Ana called her best friends, while privately writing about wanting them dead. Lilac was harassed by Ana's alt account. Both of them were targeted on the vent account. They've already dealt with enough, leave them alone.
If Ana wants to respond to this publicly, she's welcome to.
In which Albedo doesn't mind going to the tavern with the other knights.
Notes: Requested! Request was "albedo + the concept of an almost kiss". Quick drabble/writing exercise that I tried to do without thinking too much.
Tags: Albedo x fem reader, reader working at Angel's Share, Albedo is a Lurker, alcohol, sfw
Reblogs and comments much appreciated
~900 words
Minors DNI
"Look at him, completely lost.."
Varka's boisterous laughter, soon accompanied by both Kaeya and Venti, filled the tavern.
It was past midnight and the crowd had only gotten livelier with the passing hours as wine and beer continued to flow. Patrons were singing merrily and cheering, upstairs it sounded like some had taken to dancing on the tables.
Albedo would usually be fascinated by the displays. The sheer joy in such mundane and pointless acts that served no purpose but fulfil what he'd long since deduced as a most human yearning to belong with a group. Nights at the tavern were social events, and with the Grand Master back after so many years? The festivities seemed to reach new heights every week.
But not even that could pry his gaze from your form tonight.
You moved through the dense crowd with such graceful ease, never spilling a drop from the mugs you balanced on your tray. Except when it was planned. Albedo had seen the way you looked at some patrons, the little flicker of annoyance and the scrunch of your nose just before you oh so accidentally spilled some of their drink on the floor. Or onto their pants if they had been particularly demanding throughout the night.
There was something about you that had captivated Albedo since the first time he'd let himself pay attention. He'd been sketching from a rooftop when he'd caught sight of you, all by yourself by Angel's Share, trying your best to haul barrels from a cart and into the tavern. You'd looked so determined straining in the midday sun.
A week later he'd seen battling the same heavy barrels once more.
For reasons unknown, or at least unacknowledged, Albedo happened to walk by at that time on the third week and offered his help.
Varka laughed and nudged his shoulder with all the care of a drunk man the size of a bear.
"Talk to her!"
"What?" Albedo blinked at his companions, each of them wearing a grin bigger than the last. "I have nothing to say to her."
"Barbatos above-" Kaeya groaned (Venti lazily raised his mug), "ask her for another round then! Anything would be better than the way you're ogling her!"
Albedo cleared his throat, feeling just the smallest hint of heat rising through his body. Embarrassment, the same unpleasant feeling he'd gotten familiar with in the infancy of his creation when his master would ask a question and he would answer wrong.
He wasn't ogling you.
On the contrary, you seemed to be staring right at him. Albedo tried to smile naturally, feeling the urge to look towards someone else for reinforcement. They were far better than him at this whole 'going to the tavern' thing.
You looked like you were practically beaming when you noticed Albedo's raised hand, if peace for a little while would cost him a round of drinks then so be it. He could acknowledge the truth in their words (betrayed by the same flutter in his chest as when an experiment yielded interesting results) another day.
Once more, Albedo admired you expertly dodge singing patrons and chairs that fell when someone would stand too suddenly. The twirls and dodges looked almost like a dance, especially with your hands held high to balance trays of drinks safely out of reach. It would make for dynamic sketches.
Maybe he could sketch a little on some of the napkins. None of his three companions seemed too affected by his disinterest in the conversation anyway. Varka had been spinning some tale for a while as Venti made it into rhymes, both much to the delight of Kaeya.
Albedo was rummaging through pockets for a pen when he heard the clatter of empty mugs being collected and the joyous roar when full ones were left in their place. Warm air ghosted along his cheek and Albedo looked up, expecting one of his companions slumped across the table and breathing heavily to be the most reasonable explanation.
What met him when he lifted his head was unexpected.
Soft skin brushed his nose and against his lips until he was level with your gaze. Albedo felt himself lose focus, ensnared by your wide eyes and the heat that had crept up your face. You looked even prettier up close where he could see every little detail.
You didn't move away, not until Kaeya laughed and shattered the tension like a drunkard dropping a glass.
What followed was a string of apologies from you mixed in with the attempt to explain that you'd been trying to reach across the table for a mug. There was nothing graceful about your retreat back behind the bar.
Albedo jolted when something with the size and weight of Varka's hand hit the back of his head.
"Ask her for a kiss you idiot!"
"You saw how she looked at you!"
"There wasn't anything on the table-"
Their voices blended into the background, Albedo's focus now solely on the lingering warmth rapidly fading from his lips and how he could get to experience it again.
petition to have Lohen overstim himself masturbating to the thought of you, smiling all dazed and feral, tears rolling down his cheeks, imagining himself as your submissive power bottom as he whimpers and whines pathetically over fucking himself stupid ramming into your cunt. maybe hes panting and begging and rambling mindlessly about the filthy things he wants you to do to him, all while shaking and covered in his own cum, yanking at his choker like a collar to restrict his airflow
Synopsis - Being a secretary for the 9th Fatui Harbinger comes with its ups and downs. Pantalone likes you a bit too much, and he shows it. But all hell breaks loose when Dottore also takes an interest in you. You'll have your hands full now
Tags - OOC Dottore and Pantalone/ Jealousy/ D and P hate each other/ Part two/ Sexual tension/ Both smitten but wont admit it/ The reader actually has a voice/Pantalones chapter
Part one - Part two
The office had long since emptied.
Most of the lamps had been extinguished hours ago, leaving only scattered pools of warm golden light across the quiet hallways of the Northland Bank.
The distant ticking of a clock echoed softly through the stillness, accompanied only by the occasional scratch of pen on paper and the rhythmic clacking of keys from her typewriter.
Clack.
Clack-clack.
Pause.
She frowned down at the figures in front of her, rubbing lightly at one temple.
“…That total is wrong,” she muttered under her breath.
Except her focus kept slipping.
Again.
And again.
Because every few minutes, her thoughts wandered right back to yesterday.
To heated fabric wrapped around her shoulders.
To gloved hands against her face.
To the impossible closeness of Il Dottore standing over her in that strange glowing laboratory, speaking like she was some once-in-a-lifetime discovery.
Her face warmed instantly.
Again.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she whispered to herself, pressing both hands briefly against her cheeks.
She shook her head hard, trying to physically fling the thoughts out.
Work.
Focus on work.
Not on Dottore staring at her like she hung the stars in the sky while explaining illegal science.
Clack.
Clack.
She reached for another document—Only for the paper to vanish from beneath her fingers.
She blinked.
Looked up immediately.
“…Sir.”
Pantalone stood beside her desk, elegant as ever even at this hour, gloves immaculate, posture relaxed, dark eyes calmly scanning the stack of paperwork he had just removed from her hands.
She straightened instinctively.
“I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I noticed.”
His tone was smooth.
She smiled faintly anyway, immediately assuming he was finally leaving for the evening.
“Goodnight, then,” she said softly. “I was just finishing these up.”
He looked down at the papers again.
Then back at her.
And smiled.
Small.
Polite.
“…I didn’t assign you these.”
Her stomach sank slightly.
“…No.”
“Mm.”
He flipped through the stack once.
Another quiet pause.
Then:
“Whose work is this?"
There it was.
That perfectly controlled voice that somehow still carried irritation beneath it like silk over steel.
She tried to sound casual.
“Just a few reports from the others.”
“The others,” he repeated.
“They were behind.”
“And so naturally,” he said smoothly, “they allowed *you* to compensate for their incompetence.”
“It’s not that bad—”
“It is if you’re still here doing it after hours.”
His gaze lifted fully to her now.
Not angry.
Never outwardly angry.
But attentive in that sharp, unsettling way he got when something displeased him.
And apparently, her being overworked displeased him greatly.
She shifted slightly in her chair.
“I didn’t mind helping.”
“That,” he said quietly, “is part of the problem.”
Her chest tightened a little at that.
Because he wasn’t scolding her.
He sounded… concerned.
And somehow that was worse.
He set the papers neatly back down onto the desk.
Farther away from her.
Deliberately out of reach.
Then he extended one gloved hand toward her.
Elegant.
Steady.
“I believe,” he said, “you’ve worked enough for one evening.”
Her eyes flicked from his hand back up to his face.
“…Sir?”
“I’d like to help you relax.”
The words themselves were simple.
But from him—carefully chosen, calmly spoken, impossibly sincere—they settled somewhere deep in her stomach and stayed there.
Heat climbed immediately into her face.
Pantalone noticed
Something faintly pleased softened his expression.
“Come,” he said gently.
She hesitated for all of two seconds before placing her hand in his.
Warm gloves closed around her fingers instantly.
And before she could fully recover from that alone—he lifted her hand slightly and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss against her knuckles.
Her breath caught
Dottore overwhelmed.
Pantalone dismantled.
“You spoil me,” she murmured weakly.
A faint chuckle escaped him.
“That is very much the intention.”
Her pulse stumbled.
He released her hand only long enough to help her out of the chair, guiding her with a light touch at her back that lingered just enough to make her acutely aware of it.
Then he reached for her coat.
Not handing it to her, helping her into it.
Carefully lifting it around her shoulders, adjusting the fabric so it sat properly, smoothing it lightly near the collar afterward.
The entire thing felt absurdly intimate for something so mundane.
Especially because he acted like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“There,” he murmured.
She looked up at him, still flustered.
“…Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, dear.”
Dear.
Her poor heart.
He offered his arm next.
Looping her arm through his as he guided her toward the entrance of the bank.
The halls were quiet around them now, the staff mostly gone, their footsteps echoing softly across polished floors.
Outside, snow drifted lazily through the night air.
Pantalone paused only briefly to open the door for her before stepping out beside her into the winter evening.
Dottore made her feel exhilarated.
But Pantalone—Pantalone made her feel treasured.
--------
The tea house was unlike anywhere else in Snezhnaya.
That was the first thing she noticed.
The second was how quiet it felt.
Not empty—there were people scattered throughout the building, low conversations murmuring softly beneath the delicate sound of string instruments somewhere deeper inside—but quiet in a way that soothed instead of silenced.
Warm lantern light glowed amber against dark polished wood. Thin trails of steam curled lazily through the air carrying scents she couldn’t quite place—floral, earthy, sweet in subtle ways she wasn’t used to. The windows were painted with elegant Liyue-style designs, gold and crimson catching against the snowy night outside.
It felt… gentle.
Which somehow surprised her.
Because she had expected something grand from Pantalone.
Luxurious.
Extravagant.
Instead, this place felt deeply intentional.
Calm.
Carefully chosen.
And watching him now as he guided her further inside with one hand lightly at her back, she realized that probably *was* the luxury.
Peace.
The hostess nearly startled herself into a bow the moment she recognized him.
“L-Lord Pantalone—welcome back.”
His expression remained pleasantly neutral.
“You’re too kind.”
But she noticed the way the poor woman’s hands trembled slightly anyway while leading them through the restaurant.
Apparently being one of the Fatui Harbingers had that effect on people.
She tried not to smile.
Their table sat tucked into a quieter corner near the back, partially hidden by carved wooden screens and hanging silk decorations. Isolated enough to feel private without seeming closed off.
Of course he’d picked this spot.
Pantalone pulled out her chair before she could even reach for it herself.
“Thank you,” she murmured, sitting carefully.
“You’re welcome.”
His voice always sounded smoother in quieter places.
More dangerous somehow.
He took the seat across from her, posture elegant and relaxed as though he belonged there more than anyone else in the room.
Maybe he did.
A waiter approached almost immediately.
And the second he realized exactly who was seated at the table—the poor man nearly forgot how to breathe.
“L-Lord Pantalone,” he greeted carefully, bowing his head. “It’s an honor to see you again.”
Pantalone offered him the smallest nod.
“The usual.”
“Of course.”
Then his attention shifted toward her.
And she felt immediately responsible for the waiter’s rapidly worsening nerves.
Pantalone noticed too.
His lips curved faintly.
“She’ll need something lighter,” he said calmly. “Not overly bitter.”
She blinked.
The waiter nodded frantically like his life depended on it.
"Yes, my lord.”
She looked between them. “…I haven’t even ordered anything yet.”
Pantalone finally looked back at her fully.
And smiled.
Not the public smile.
This one was smaller.
Softer.
“I’m aware.”
Her face warmed instantly.
“I don’t really know what I like,” she admitted quietly. “I don’t drink tea much.”
“No?”
She shook her head slightly. “Mostly coffee.”
His expression shifted into something that looked dangerously close to disapproval.
“That explains several things.”
She laughed softly.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” he said smoothly, “you routinely exhaust yourself and compensate with stimulants instead of rest.”
“…That sounded judgmental.”
“It was.”
She tried not to smile again.
Failed.
Pantalone turned back toward the waiter.
“Bring her the jasmine pearl.”
The waiter bowed immediately. “Right away.”
Then practically vanished.
She stared after him briefly before looking back at Pantalone.
“You already knew what I’d like?”
“I had suspicions.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
“I’m rarely wrong.”
The confidence in his voice should not have been attractive.
The music drifted softly around them while silence settled between them—not awkward, not strained.
Comfortable.
She found herself looking around again, taking in the warm lantern glow and painted screens with quiet fascination.
“It’s beautiful here,” she murmured.Pantalone didn’t answer immediately.
Because he wasn’t looking at the room anymore.
He was looking at her.
Specifically at the expression on her face.
The quiet wonder in it.
And she only realized after a moment because the silence stretched just a little too long.
When she looked back at him—he was smiling again.
Softly.
Like seeing her enjoy herself had rewarded him somehow.
“What?” she asked, suddenly self-conscious.
“You relax differently outside the office.”
Her brows lifted slightly.
“That’s an odd thing to notice.”
“I notice many things about you.”
Her stomach flipped.
His gaze lingered another second before his hand lifted slowly across the table.
She barely had time to process it before gloved fingers brushed lightly against her cheek.
Just once.
Gentle.
The touch startled her enough that she froze outright.
And then immediately—heat flooded her face.
Pantalone’s expression softened even further at the reaction.
“There it is,” he murmured quietly.
Her pulse stumbled.
“There what is?”
“That look.”
His thumb brushed once more near the edge of her cheek before he withdrew his hand with maddening composure.
“The one you make when you’re flustered.”
Her breath caught slightly.
“You make it often around me.”
“I wonder why,” she muttered weakly.
That earned a soft chuckle from him.
The tea arrived a moment later, saving her from further embarrassment.
Steam curled elegantly from delicate porcelain cups as the waiter set everything down with visibly trembling hands before escaping once more.
Pantalone lifted his own cup first.
Graceful.
Unhurried.
She copied him carefully, still eyeing the unfamiliar tea with suspicion.
“Trust me,” he said simply.
Dangerous words coming from him.
Still—she took a sip.
And blinked.
Oh.
It was light.
Warm.
Softly floral without being overwhelming.
Comforting.
Her eyes widened slightly before she could stop herself.
Across the table, Pantalone looked unbearably satisfied.
“You like it,” he observed.
She glanced at him over the rim of the cup, cheeks still warm.
“…You’re annoyingly good at this.”
“At what?”
“Knowing things about me before I do.”
He leaned back slightly in his chair, gaze never leaving her.
“That,” he said softly, “is because I pay attention.”
Steam curled softly from her teacup as she held it carefully between both hands, letting the warmth seep into her fingers.
The tea really was good.
Annoyingly good.
Light enough not to overwhelm her, but warm and calming in a way coffee never managed to be. Coffee kept her awake. This felt like it was actively convincing her body to unclench for the first time in weeks.
Across the table, Pantalone watched her with that same composed attention he always seemed to reserve exclusively for her.
Not staring.
Never crude enough to stare.
She took another sip, trying very hard not to think about the fact this entire evening felt suspiciously intimate.
Then Pantalone spoke.
“You left rather abruptly yesterday.”
Her entire body jolted.
She nearly inhaled tea.
Coughing lightly, she lowered the cup with wide eyes while Pantalone sat there perfectly composed, one hand resting near his own untouched tea.
Smiling politely.
Oh no.
“Oh dear,” he murmured smoothly. “Was the question that alarming?”
She stared at him.
“…You noticed?”
“My dear,” he said softly, “I notice when you leave the building for lunch three minutes later than usual.”
Right.
Of course he did.
She looked down at her cup quickly, suddenly very interested in the steam rising from it.
“I, um…”
Pantalone waited.
She swallowed.
Then mumbled into the rim of her teacup:
“Dottore took me somewhere.”
Silence.
She looked up carefully.
Pantalone was still smiling.
Exactly the same as before.
“Oh?” he said lightly.
She rushed onward immediately.
“He just kind of… appeared while I was working and said he was bored and then suddenly I was outside and—and then he took me to this lab—”
Pantalone’s brow lifted slightly.
“A lab.”
“Yes.”
“With the Doctor.”
“…Yes.”
His smile sharpened by the tiniest degree.
How elegant of him.
Managing to look annoyed without changing expression at all.
She rambled harder under the pressure.
“It was strange! There were tanks and glowing things and I think something alive in a jar? I didn’t ask. He kept showing me inventions and weird experiments and—and he teleported us somehow?!”
At that—Pantalone actually closed his eyes briefly.
Like he had just developed a headache.
“How charming,” he said dryly.
She laughed nervously.
“He’s very… strange.”
“That is an extraordinarily generous description.”
“But…” she hesitated, cheeks warming faintly, “…he’s kind of charming too.”
Pantalone looked at her.
Long enough that she immediately regretted saying it aloud.
Not because he looked angry.
Never that.
Just…calculating.
Then he sighed softly through his nose and leaned back slightly in his chair.
“The Doctor possesses many qualities,” he said carefully.
“Charm is unfortunately one of them.”
She smiled weakly into her tea.
“He’s pushy.”
“That,” Pantalone said smoothly, “is the understatement of the century.”
She laughed despite herself.
And his expression softened immediately at the sound.
There it was again.
That thing he did.
The way he visibly relaxed whenever she smiled.
Like it rewarded him somehow.
Her gaze drifted down again after a moment.
Quiet.
Thoughtful.
“…I still don’t understand it.”
Pantalone’s fingers paused lightly against his cup.
“Understand what?”
She shrugged one shoulder faintly, avoiding his eyes now.
“Why he likes me.”
A pause.
Then quieter:
“Why you do either.”
Pantalone blinked once.
Then—unexpectedly—laughed.
Not politely.
Not softly.
Actually laughed.
Warm and genuine enough that she stared at him in shock.
It wasn’t cruel.
If anything it sounded startled.
Disbelieving.
“My apologies,” he said after a moment, still smiling. “I’m not laughing at you.”
She crossed her arms immediately anyway, cheeks pink.
“That sounds exactly like laughing at me.”
“No,” he said, still far too amused, “I’m laughing because apparently you have absolutely no understanding of your own appeal.”
She looked away immediately.
Which only seemed to prove his point.
Pantalone sighed softly, though there was fondness in it now.
“My dear…”
His voice lowered slightly.
“You are intelligent.”
Her face warmed.
“You speak honestly even when it would be easier not to.”
Warmer.
“You work harder than everyone around you while asking for almost nothing in return.”
She shifted slightly in her seat.
“And despite your competence,” he continued smoothly, “you remain remarkably kind.”
Her fingers tightened around the teacup.
Pantalone watched her quietly for a moment before his expression softened further.
Dangerously further.
“And then, of course,” he said, “there is the issue of you being breathtakingly beautiful.”
Her entire face burned.
Immediately.
She made a small noise of embarrassment and hid part of her face behind one hand.
“Oh, don’t do that,” he murmured, sounding genuinely disappointed.
“You say things like that so casually—”
“Because they’re true.”
“That doesn’t help!”
A quiet chuckle escaped him.
God.
He was so composed about it.
Like saying devastating things to her was effortless.
“You underestimate yourself severely,” he said gently. “Frankly, it’s astonishing.”
She peeked at him through her fingers, still mortified.
And Pantalone—Pantalone looked entirely sincere.
No games.
No teasing.
Just certainty.
It made her chest feel strange.
Then, after a pause, he added smoothly:
“As for the Doctor’s interest…”
There it was.
That faint edge again.
Subtle.
Controlled.
“He tends to become obsessive regarding things he finds stimulating.”
Things.
Not people.
Interesting.
Pantalone lifted his teacup calmly.
“I would prefer his attention remain elsewhere, naturally, But.”
His gaze met hers over the rim of the cup.
Certain.
And suddenly very, very confident.
“I’m not particularly concerned.”
Her brows lifted slightly.
“…You aren’t?”
“No.”
The answer came instantly.
Smooth as silk.
And somehow far more possessive because of how calm he sounded saying it.
He set the teacup down carefully.
Then smiled at her again.
Slowly.
“My dear,” he said softly, “I have very little doubt regarding which of us you would ultimately choose.”
------
Eli note! I really thought I preferred Dottore but after writing this, I have no idea lol. I love them both! I don't know what to do after this so id love to hear everyone's ideas! >3<
Outside of your bedroom, the silvery light of the moon cascades through the sleek curtains, enveloping your bedroom in a soft ethereal glow. The plush of the mattress beneath you feels cool, a stark contrast to just ten minutes before, when the stifling heat had felt nearly unbearable. You swallow, throat dry with exhaustion. Your husband, ever the observant type, gently lifts the prepared glass of water from the nightstand and holds it to your lips, careful not to splash you.
“Pantalone—“ you whine, panting. You’re shaking. You want him to hold you. To tell you it’s okay. To curl up around you and never let go.
“Shhh,” he croons instead, briefly leaning in to brush against you, “just stay here, I’ll be right back.” You make a noise of protest when the mattress rises once relieved of his weight. He leaves the door open, but you can’t tell if it was intentional or not. You listen to him scuffle around in the bathroom before turning on the sink, the sound of the downpour making you thirsty again. Within seconds, he’s back, a wet washcloth in his bare hand. He presses it to your head, then your collarbone, before dragging it down the rest of you.
“Look at you,” he praises whilst cleaning in between your thighs, “you did so wonderfully.” Your breathing is still uneven, body scrambling for air after the intensity of your workout. Even so, you manage to get out a weak “I love you”. He smiles and presses a kiss to your stomach, lips still wet from your lip gloss, which has since been smeared across the pillowcase. You settle back, exhausted. The red lamp is still on, casting a deep crimson glow across your body. Pantalone looks exquisite in the red light, even with his chest slick with sweat.
Your eyes droop with sleep, blinking slowly before resting your head on the pillow behind you, allowing your body the privilege of going slack. Pantalone laughs at the sight, moving back to his side of the bed so he can properly hold you. Somewhere outside, the train whistles.
“Do you feel alright?”, he questions softly, “would you like for me to fetch you anything?” You shake your head, already sinking into sleep. The gentle push of his chest against you every time he inhales just lulls you further. Barely conscious, you watch him reach over for the pack of Marlboros on his nightstand, lighting one and setting it haphazardly in his mouth. A long strand of smoke rises from the butt, stinking up the bedroom.
“Stop that,” you scold, “you’ll ruin your lungs.” He scoffs and holds it out, exhaling dryly. He smoked one just before dinner as well, and before he left for the bank. You don’t even want to imagine how many he had while at work. You’re worried about his respiratory system. He doesn’t need another surgery. He glances at you again before putting his cigarette out and tossing it into the bin beside his spot on the bed. You murmur a soft approval and settle back onto his chest, curling up underneath the fancy silken covers.
“You know I’m only looking out for you,” you assure him, snuggling up closer. The scent of his vanilla hand lotion is now suddenly overpowering now that the smell of sweat and intimacy has begun to fade.
Pantalone settles one hand on top of your head, “I know, my dear,” he croons, peering at you through downturned eyes. He leans over towards his nightstand to shut off the red mood light. In an instant, the once crimson-lit room is cast into darkness, the only light coming from through the closed curtains. You murmur softly into his chest, already drowsy.
“I love you,” you repeat, enjoying his warmth. Pantalone lifts one of your hands up to his lips, planting a determined kiss onto your palm. Your breathing has slowed, now a constant pattern rather than the heaving gasps from before. He enjoys the nights like this, the ones where you two get to sit in bed until noon of the next day. This week has been utterly exhausting. Perhaps he’ll take you out for dinner tomorrow, or go walk with you in the gardens. He knows how much you’ve been wanting to get away from the house and back into the city.
“I love you too, beloved,” Pantalone purrs lowly, hugging you closer to him. You respond with a sleepy mutter, listening to the distant screech of wheels on train tracks. Snezhnaya is always far more peaceful once the dusk settles. Although, of course, the nights tend to be chillier than the day. The thought of the frigid landscape outside makes you shudder, curling up even more to keep warm. “It’s alright, my dear,” your husband croons, nuzzling against you, “I’ll stay right here.” He places a protective hand on your back, feeling across the dips in your muscles. By the looks of it, you’re already asleep, still bathing in the afterglow. Tomorrow he’ll have to make sure you feel well enough to walk, although he’s sure you’ll want to stay in bed at least until noon.
“Sweet dreams, beloved,” he sighs, pulling the covers up to your nose, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
