#la signora imagines

[dead-boys-club]

†  a seat : the fatui.

❥ scenario: their s/o decides to take up residence on their lap --- during a meeting. ❥ no triggers ❥ i don't have any beta readers - you get what you get. ❥ requested.

❥ la signora.

she wouldn't give much of a reaction, her eyebrow raising and a barely noticeable hint of amusement to her gaze. open affection isn't something she's keen to show, especially in a professional setting but she wouldn't make you move. if anything, she would just shift in her spot and adjust her posture to make sure you were comfortable, though her movements wouldn't be big enough to draw attention. she would enjoy your closeness but would remain as cold and composed as always. after the meeting is a different story. while she may not show too much emotion, she wouldn't try to hide the smirk as she approached you. 'you certainly know how to make a statement, don't you, darling?' she asked, reaching out to gently tip your chin up with her pointer finger, 'don't think you can distract me so easily.. you'll have to do better than that.' there was a clear affection and appreciation in her gaze, despite the words, honestly enjoying your boldness.

❥ scaramouche.

at first, he genuinely wouldn't even know how to respond, frozen for a split second before brushing it off, not wanting anyone to notice. he'd look at you, eyes flickering as if looking for an answer to your sudden actions. scara isn't one for such open displays of affection, or any at all, especially in such a formal setting - he would fight between irritation and silent, frustrated acceptance; he didn't want to cause a scene. 'what do you think you're doing?' he would hiss under his breath, leaning close to your ear, enough though he wasn't actually trying to remove you. he would be annoyed for the duration of the meeting, though just accepting your bold statement that he, quite honestly, didn't understand. oh boy, he'd be so fast to corner you, arms crossed and staring you down. 'what was that all about?' he demanded, though something was off - his tone didn't hold the same hate soaked bite it usually did; even his s/o had to deal with that. you could see the ghost of a blush on his features but you knew he'd never admit to being embarrassed. 'you're lucky no one said anything,' he muttered, the tiniest hint of softness forming in his gaze. he wasn't as upset as he wanted to seem.

❥ childe.

it shouldn't come as a surprise that he would be the most openly and unashamedly amused, of course, having no complaints. as soon as you took your place, a grin would form and he'd offer your head a soft nudge with his nose. 'comfortable?' he'd ask in a whisper, teasing as always but still loving. his arms found their own place around you, keeping you close. to childe, holding onto you came easy, automatically knowing how to shift so you were comfortable. he wouldn't be concerned a single bit about the others, the glances only making him grin further. he enjoyed showing off the relationship you had. he'd be pretty excited once the meeting ended, the grin never leaving his features, though softening into a smile once he approached you. 'you made it pretty hard for me to concentrate in there.. that was an important meeting,' he teased, arms wrapping around you once more to pull you closer; if you were honest, neither of you had heard a single word that was said. 'i'm not complaining, though,' he'd chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. he was just happy to have someone who was so open to show him affection.

❥ dottore.

as annoyed as he'd be, he'd also be curious. were you testing him? were you crazy? had you.. taken something? he'd really be at a loss, especially as someone who wasn't exactly one for public displays of affection - meeting or otherwise. he would view your actions as a distraction and wonder just what kind of statement you were trying to make. 'this better be worth the interruption,' he muttered, adjusting his posture to accommodate you, shifting his focus back to the meeting. he would occasionally glance to you, jaw clenching as he tried figuring you out. once the meeting was over and you dismissed yourself, only to be closely followed by him. 'what exactly were you trying to achieve?' he asked, hand taking hold of your jaw to lift your head, though his touch wasn't as rough as you expected it to be. you only blinked and shook your head. there was a shift to his usual demeanor, something a little softer, letting you know he wasn't as displeased as you thought. 'you should know better than to disrupt my focus,' he added, leaning closer to you, eyes searching your own, 'you truly are a strange little creature..'

❥ arlecchino.

she would spare you a glance, expression unreadable as it always was. you taking a place on her lap wouldn't cause even the slightest of budge to her composed nature - you would have to do a lot more for that to happen. she does, however, rest a possessive hand on your hip, making sure to keep you close. there would be no open acknowledgement of your actions but she would make sure you were comfortable, attention never leaving the meeting. all you really needed though were her actions; the quiet protectiveness, even in such a formal place. once the meeting ended, you wouldn't be leaving your spot, held steady by her. she would wait for everyone to leave before speaking, 'that was quite bold,' she spoke quietly, a hint of approval to her tone, 'but you should know others may not be so understanding.' as she spoke, she got closer to your ear, offering your hip a gentle squeeze. arle knew very well how to stake her claim and the last thing she needed was for someone to misunderstand your easy show of affection.

❥ columbina.

like childe, she would have no issues with your gesture, even allowed a soft smile to grace her features. the two of you were known to play your little games and would see this as a simple, easy thing on your part. there would be no words but a soft hum of acknowledgement in the back of her throat. columbina would have no concerns when it came to the others, her attention easily balanced between the meeting and your presence. as she listened, she may let her arms loosely rest around you, head resting on your shoulder. once the meeting ended, she'd just tilt her head to nose gently at your shoulder. 'could you not have waited until after the meeting?' she mused, tone light. she wasn't one to make a big deal of anything, being considerably nonchalant about most things, brushing them off. 'next time, let's save the affection for when we're alone, yes?' she wasn't upset or bothered at all, she enjoyed the question affection, but she preferred keeping gentle, intimate moments to be in the privacy of your rooms.

❥ pantalone.

being the master of maintaining appearances, it came as no surprise that panta would remain composed, his expression calm and pleasant. not many things managed to crack his image, even you and your risky gestures. he continued to participate in the meeting with ease, a hand sliding to settle at your lower back, pulling you closer. 'how reckless of you,' he whispered, the brief show of a smirk evident against the shell of your ear, tone amused. he would enjoy the moment, all while keeping up his perfect little facade. there would be an amused glint to his eyes as he approached you after saying his farewell to the others. 'you realize the kind of attention such actions might draw, don't you?' he questioned, his tone giving no indication of being upset or annoyed with you. 'not that i mind, of course.. it certainly keeps things interesting.' panta was aways aware of appearances and his surroundings, as well as those around him. he would never openly express displeasure with your affection to him, but he'd make sure you understood. 'just be careful, my love.. not everyone will be as forgiving.'

❥ il capitano.

words are not something capitano needs to use often, his imposing presence often speaking for him. even with a mask on, his expression wouldn't change as you silently settled onto his lap - he also knew no one else would make the mistake of saying something to him about it. he wouldn't push you away or show signs of disapproval, he would actually rest a hand on your side, adjusting to accommodate you. he isn't one for grand gestures or openly displaying affection and his hold on you simply sat as a protective claim, however, him allowing you to keep your place during such a time would speak volumes of the trust he shares with you. he would continue as if you'd always been there, his grip on you tightening and loosening upon the subject shifts of the meeting. you didn't bother to move when the meeting ended, knowing he wouldn't let you slip away so easily. once everyone was gone, he spoke, tone low and calm. 'what was all this for?' he asked, though no annoyance or accusation to his words. he was genuinely asking. you knew a head shake wasn't exactly an answer but he accepted it, watching you closely. 'just be mindful of the setting next time,' he commented, this time soft yet firm, letting you knew the actions weren't unwanted but the timing wasn't proper. he was considerably reserved in nature but he appreciated your little moments of affection.

[melodic-haze]

OKAY BUT THE THOUGHT OF FUCKING ARLE IN FRONT OF HER CO WORKERS (ahem the female harbingers and maybe the tsaritsa who knows ehe) IS MAKING ME UNWELL. NEED NEED TO FUCK HER WHILE SHE FACES THEM, HER FUCKED OUT EXPRESSION JUST OUT FOR FULL DISPLAY… AND THEM GETTING A SIGHT OF THE WAY YOU THRUST YOUR COCK INTO HER CUNT OVER AND OVER AGAIN AND THE CUM THAT LEAKS FROM HER HOLE AFTER??? KSHSKSHNWJSBWN IM NOT OKAY PLEAES

AhaahahahahwhehehehehehrhrgeshahwhahAhahhahaahahahAAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAYAHAHAHAAHAHAAAH ik I said three chrs only but maybe the Harbingers are an exception actually 😘 sorry I'm a hypocrite maybe but anyway

Imagine locking up some meeting room reserved for special official gatherings so that there's no one else but you, her, and the sounds of her choked-up grunts and moans that echo in the otherwise quiet room........AND the other Harbingers watching you from their own chairs, their interests definitely peaked as they lean over to watch you absolutely RUIN this unit of a woman. OH and you CANNOT forget the Tsaritsa sitting at the most optimal seat, where she is able to see absolutely everything

At least ofc until she then moves to stand up and stand behind you to actually wrap her arms AROUND YOU (look at youuuu ooooo special favour from a god oooooooooo HAAHHAHA) as she praises Arlecchino about how good she's behaving and how well she's taking you, and in front of her god too like that's craaaazyyyy 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 I BELIEVE IN SWITCH TSARITSA SUPREMACY YESSIR

AND THE OTHER HARBINGERS OHBGBGHG Signora can't help but open her mouth, mocking the Knave about how she's taking it like a simple mutt rather than a person of her station, but there's the lingering question in your mind of why it feels....So Much Warmer than usual, and why you could see her eyes flicker with some sort of fire to them. Columbina's SMILING as if she were unbothered, cooing at Arlecchino as she rakes her nails softly and teasingly down on the latter's naked skin. And Sandrone? Oh she's quiet, she doesn't actually look like she cares.....but it's hard to believe that when she's staring at the pearly white liquid that's escaping once you draw back. Even harder to believe when she (after asking for the Tsaritsa's permission ofc) goes over to lick it all up under the guise of 'analysis'

Arlecchino is. NOOOO BETTER AT ALL. If anything, being exhibited like this is turning her on in so many ways she hadn't even realised she would he. Even worse when she realises not only is she getting fucked in front of her literal coworkers, but in front of her boss as well; literally whatever image they may have had on her, however scary or whatever it may be? GONE. But yk? Weirdly enough, she doesn't care, not when your hand's around her neck, squeezing as she feels herself cumming in front of all these people 🫶

Whether Arlecchino's the free-use in this situation or they all want you to fuck them dumb in a similar state as the 4th (perhaps with varying difficulties too), well!!!! Either way UGGGHBGGGBBGHGH NOBODY's getting out of that fucking room until like hours upon hours later

[adiluv-moved]

✦ : ❝ 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 !

i've always wanted to try making one of these types of posts, and since i didn't have anything easily ready to post this weekend, i figured i'd might as well give it a shot! ꒰ironically, getting the colors to work for all of the character's names was harder than writing everything.꒱ hope you enjoy! ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀི১

612 words. character order is bold > normal > italic; raiden shogun as the puppet, not ei; written before clorinde, navia, and wriothesley release; barely edited.

Gently. A soft touch that flutters over your knuckles, to the point where you’re left to question whether or not you’d even felt it, their lips pressing against your skin, lingering for a second or two before relocating to another part of your face. There’s no rush, in their mind, only this moment of intimacy between the both of you—only this shared moment where they’re allowed to bathe in your presence the same way you bathe in the sunlight’s warmth.

The rest of Teyvat is left forgotten as they reach for two teacups, arms loosely wrapped around your waist as they guide you to sit beside them, planting a kiss or two on your cheek as they pour a cup for the both of you. You’ll hold each other like this, sipping at your beverages as they inquire about your day—the stresses and responsibilities of theirs fading away in your closeness.

Lisa, Zhongli, Ayato, Dehya, Kazuha, Wriothesley, Kaveh, Navia, Ningguang.

Hesitantly. Unversed in the concept of affection, they’ve yet to entirely adjust to the idea of being in a romantic partnership, the thought of being within one seemingly wholly outlandish before they’d met you. While you’re more than content to take the lead within your relationship, initiating physical affection and all the like, they can’t help but wish to do the same for you—keep you safe within their arms and show you just how grateful they are for your love.

This desire culminates in them walking up behind you, timidly wrapping their arms around you as they ask whether or not you’re comfortable within their hold. This initial experimentation begins with them holding you as though you’re made of glass, though they’ll slowly begin to warm up and become more confident over time. Although their fingers still nervously twitch as they hover over your skin, please don’t tease them too much. They’re trying their best.

Kabukimono, Neuvillette, Xiao, Al-Haitham, Eula, Albedo, Clorinde, Raiden Shogun.

Tenderly. They love you—they’re whipped for you, really—love teasing you for interrupting their work, conveniently ignoring the fact that it was ꒰truthfully꒱ beginning to drive them mad. They silently thank Celestia whenever you visit during the afternoon, squeezing yourself into their chair as the both of you share a meal, allowing their mind a much needed break from their duties—though you’d never know with the flirtatious taunts falling past their lips.

During the evening, your attempts to have them accompany you back to your shared home often result in you sitting atop their lap, leaning into their touch, and listening to their heartbeat as you wait for them to finish up just a few more papers and pack up for the night. Neither of you really even realize just how much time has passed before they’re finally ready to leave, too immersed within your conversation ꒰gossip, of which they hear a lot꒱ to pay attention to the ticking of the clock.

Beidou, Kaeya, Ayato, Childe, Heizou, Wriothesley, Yae Miko.

Possessively. There’s absolutely no contesting their grip once they pull you towards them, arms tightly wrapping around your form and leaving zero chance of escape. They’ll lean down towards you, burying their head in the crook of your neck as you’re held still, whispering against your skin that you’re left unable to decipher—though you suspect it's intentional.

Any semblance of space that existed between the both of you is wholly destroyed, bodies flush against each other and their arms pushing you even further into them—almost as if they’re attempting to fuse the both of you together. Their head turns towards you at some point, stars dancing about in their eyes as you catch sight of the small blush dusting their cheeks. Point it out, however, and they’ll be quick to break the embrace, pushing you away with remarkable speed and insisting that you were mistaken.

Scaramouche, Wanderer, La Signora.

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[yuellii]

summer's in the air, heaven's in your eyes

𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐀 memory from innocent times; or, in which they fell in love with you prior to becoming a fatuus

feat. childe, la signora, scaramouche, dottore

note. reader’s gender unspecified, ajax & reader are kids in his part only ( he was 14 when he fell into the abyss )

CHILDE. ajax

Whether it was summer or winter, spring or fall, you could never tell from your surroundings alone.

Hailing from Natlan meant you were so used to the heat all the time, and your classmate Ajax always called you “the sun” for standing out so much in the snow. You were the only one who shivered, the only one who wore such thick coats; and yet, he’d still argue that you were warm like the sun itself.

On your twelfth birthday, he gave you a scarf. “It’s red and warm, just like the sun, just like you!”—that was what he said with the toothiest of grins, and perhaps you teased him about the color of his hair in return.

But he was right; it certainly was warm, and now the red tint on his face made him feel like he would always match you. He, with his bright orange hair; and you, with your bright red scarf. Maybe it was the preteen years that still have him a childlike joy, but if the sight of you wearing the scarf kept giving him this fluttering feeling, then he’ll take it.

Although , for some reason, the days seemed a little brighter now whenever your face was buried in your scarf during school days. Mornings seemed a little warmer when you offered to share your scarf with him. Afternoons seemed a little sunnier when you walked with him home from school.

Maybe, this was what your hometown in Natlan felt like. Or, maybe, everything was so cold without his sun to melt his young heart into a puddle by your shoes.

And now, looking back, with the ends of this red fabric all worn and stretched around his neck—he still thinks it looks just like you.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

LA SIGNORA. rosalyne

Perhaps it was an over-speculation on her part.

Perhaps, you weren’t as bad as she initially thought under this lovely morning light, or with your sweet perfume clashing well with the withering books of the akademiya library. And perhaps, maybe you weren’t a rival in her thesis if your hand felt so nice atop her own ( even though you were reaching for the same exact book ).

“You’re also researching liquid flame?” you perked up, sending her the most nonchalant of glances that made her flustered you even remembered her. The question implied you had no idea she was writing the same topic as you were for her thesis—it implied that you really had no malicious attempt against her at all. Suddenly, she thinks she doesn’t hate you at all, with your hand still over hers on the book, even after the nights she spent obsessively studying to finish her paper before you do.

“Yes,” she says, and there’s quite the chance she forgets how to speak properly. But her senses spike the moment you smile in such a supportive way, completely void of any rivalry to writing the same paper.

Then out of nowhere, she finds herself at a table with you, hunched over this singular book—and perhaps this is the first time she struggles to focus on the words on the page. Because you’re so smart, and somehow even more attractive than she formerly realized, she may think she’s diseased with an admiration she had not even researched before.

The feeling is akin to what she’s read in romance books, but she never had time for it back in Mondstadt or even here in the akademiya. It’s a bit sickening, but it makes her feel so light in the head in this lovey-dovey way she wishes would stay forever. Being so close to her, hunched over a book like this—she can’t wait to see you at your next class together.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

SCARAMOUCHE. kunikuzushi

“So many lavender melons!” he laughed wholeheartedly once he saw the pile of the purple fruit on the floor.

And he laughed with his whole chest, smiling with his whole face—so full of joy that he could trick anyone into thinking he was born with a heart. When he knelt down in front of you, too, the human excitement on his face was ever-so present and clear as day, even as the fabric of his hood fell over his eyes.

“You know, my hair was made from lavender melons,” he eagerly shared, nothing but everlasting enthusiasm in his gaze when he tilted his head back up to look at you.

Show him even the slightest bit of interest, and he’ll ramble on for days. So you simply asked, “Your hair?”

“Not my hair specifically,” he began to explain, “but the color—the dye!” And when he pulled his hood back, you couldn’t help but stare. He looked just like your archon, even the same length of her hair. How could a doll so perfectly made still act so human? “At Konda village, there’s a traditional art to turn the fruit skin into dye. My mother used it for my head,” he almost smiled to himself.

It’s pretty, you could always tell him that again. But of course a man-made set of hair was pretty, for he was more perfect than human. So you bit your tongue, instead moving across the lavender melon pile to sit next to him and grab a few strands of his hair. It was so long, so smooth… “Have you ever thought of cutting it?”

“Huh?” he perked up. A sudden look fear stuck onto his face for just a moment, and you worried you might’ve said something wrong. “Cutting it…? Like, short?”

You only hummed in affirmation.

He stayed silent for a moment, but you didn’t know if he was pondering or close to crying. “Will it… make me look less like a girl?” You were quick to understand the true meaning of this.

‘Will it make me look less like my mom?’

“Yes,” you smiled. He practically threw himself into your arms in excitement.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

DOTTORE. zandik

Intelligence was so attractive.

And intelligence in mechanics was even more attractive.

That was his standard, at least. The name Zandik was already widespread and known throughout the akademiya as the one to avoid, as he is on the brink of suspension. It was kind of annoying, being well into his studies here but still being threatened with getting expelled before he could even achieve his massive breakthrough.

And you were there, too. You, who he somehow secured a date with tonight. It was odd, really, how you accepted his proposal so easily. Well, to him it wasn’t odd—but to the rest of the student community it surely was, simply because he’s the weird kid.

But regardless, he took pride in this. And he was going to take you to his most favorite place in all of his home nation: The gigantic ruin guard robot sitting at the mountains south of Sumeru.

He was a type of person that didn’t realize he rambled on too much, but he was also someone that didn’t like being shut up, either. It took a certain type of patience just to not throw him off—and unbeknownst, you either had that patience, or maybe he just liked you enough to look past it.

But it was odd, it really was. How he caught himself staring at you as you were so deeply etched into your work at the akademiya’s mechanical lab. He swears he’s never seen you before, and that’s how his obsessive, hyperfixated researching leads him to find that you’re a new student who doesn’t even know of his name or his deeds at this school.

And though he’s never cared for reputation, it somehow feels so relieving, like for once in his life he cared about someone else’s thoughts on him. And, ah, it was almost time to pick you up. He hoped you liked robot gears in the shape of flowers.

pre-fatui harbingers will always have my heart 💓

[tragedy-of-commons]

nightshade's embrace

various genshin & gn!reader | ~4k

In which you face danger, fear, doubt, and eerie silence.

tags/warnings: horror, unreliable narrator, character death (la signora), canon divergence (la signora), mild depiction of blood (rosaria), depictions of karmic debt and insanity (xiao), uncertainty, mild body horror/grisly imagery, alternating past and present tense, not yandere so plz don't tag as that ty

notes: here is the genshin thing i was working on! it's by far my longest post, so i do hope you enjoy. basically me trying to make them scary in some capacity lol

Kazuha’s eyes are beautiful.

This is a popular sentiment shared amongst anyone who has the pleasure of meeting him. The ronin not only has a way with words, but with emotion itself; he can regale any folktale with ease, communicating the feelings and depth behind them effortlessly. His cherry eyes often light up with joy, close daintily with grief, and widen marginally whenever he weaves an unexpected twist into the story. Suffice it to say, he is a poet through and through.

You’ve always known him to put on a good show. Like every listener before you, you found solace in his presence, giving him more and more of your coveted attention each time he passed through. A wanderer like him has a near endless supply of material, his tongue not as ostentatious as silver but as something more humble, like copper. Ever genteel, ever open-minded, ever pleasant and welcome in your life.

You don’t know when your perception of him started shifting. You’re busy like every other participant in the game of life; work and your close relationships dominate the forefront of your mind, leaving little room for you to think of Kazuha in the way you do now. If you had to place the shift at any point, you’d err towards one of his visits as the catalyst.

Turns out if you tune out long enough during one of his stories, your attention can wander to the littlest nuances - a prime example being his eyes. They’ve always been gorgeous, reactive. Every gentle rise and fall of his chest is followed by a perfect change - a sequence of events that does not naturally stutter or stumble, like every imperfection of his has been painstakingly trimmed away for your viewing pleasure. Shallow breath in, flutter the eyelashes. Shallow breath out, squint in junction with the meter.

Your poker face is unimpressive, to say the least. Kazuha began to zero in on your lackluster reactions. He’d put talking on the backburner to address you in the crowd specifically, catering and attentive. He’d clear his throat (not like it was needed), and ask you if everything’s okay, or if the story was making you uncomfortable. Carmine irises searched and searched after, a smoothly downturned frown pulling his visage together. You’ve likened them to searchlights sweeping the ground for escaped convicts, rolling around in his skull like polished marbles.

This curried the eyes of your fellow spectators, putting you on absolute blast. No one else feels as if something’s off, probably being disappointed that their entertainment is being put on hold for someone who clearly can’t appreciate it in the way that they can. You’d surely feel the same way a few months ago, had another person in the crowd been unable to hide their displeasure; after all, who doesn’t like Kazuha? He’s charming and kind with a heart of gold. Any tale of his exploits is framed in such a way that you’d have to actively be looking for flaws to dislike them. 

…which is to say you’ve been doing exactly that. Your scant downtime became occupied with asking around about the dual-haired ronin, desperate for another perspective. Even if he puts you off in some way, you’d hate to be right, no matter how intrusive your gut feelings are. Most of what you pry out of people familiar with him are things like he’s such a doll, or he kindly saved me from a group of Nobushi during my travels! Not what you’re looking for. After all of that prodding, an uneasy feeling tickled your insides; if no one else has anything negative to say, why are you still worried? Why does something still feel so undeniably… wrong?

That feeling kept you pressing onward, in search of another answer. Your endeavors were rewarded with such after asking some of the older, wiser, and influential people you could track down. His surname, Kaedehara, apparently has some history left almost forgotten - a clan fallen from infamy. You’re reminded of the genuine longing in Kazuha’s voice, struck with a hollowness. It’s reminiscent of pounding on a wall like they do in the light novels, listening for the telling echoes of a secret room. Though he may have a disgraced or muddied past, that does not entirely satisfy you. That does not mean he is guilty of any wrongdoing. 

If anything, it endears him to you - frustrating. Are you just looking for reasons to hate someone who does not deserve it? Someone who can spin gold from nothing but meager goodwill? Are you trying to hate Kazuha just for the sake of doing so? What does that make you? All of your thoughts will not be consumed by something as dumb as this. Maybe it is because you live in Inazuma, where superstition often overlaps with reality - where yokai readily exist and where gut feelings could mean something beyond jealous paranoia. That must be it, you decide. You’ve gotten so bored with your own life that you’re wading through the already enigmatic waters and gawking at anything strange you find.

If there is something wrong with Kazuha, there has to be something wrong with you.

He starts seeking you out. In his words, he wishes to clear up any misunderstanding between you two; he’s seen you become uncomfortable in his presence over time, beginning to avoid his visits, beginning to ignore his greetings. Of course, he remains concerned throughout it all, trying to bury the hatchet. Nothing is off the table, whether it be paying for your lunch at food stalls, offering to be your protection should you venture into a perilous area, things like that. It’s unsurprising, given his charitable streak that you hear so much about.

You say yes each time. He makes good company, even if looking into eyes unnerves you and every protective measure your body offers screams at you to run away. However, you are the outlier, meaning that you must be the problem. 

This is the conclusion you will choose to stick to, if not just to sleep at night.

Kazuha’s eyes are beautiful. They do not remind you of dried blood, rust, or sweet rot. They do not remind you of harrowing loss or the pointless nature of digging holes just to fill them up again. They do not remind you of placating lies or scuffed carnelian.

They do not remind you of anything, you decide.

Sister Rosaria has always been something of a mystery. 

If you ignore the brusque attitude she boasts to the right people in certain taverns, there’s little you can glean from her. The little in question comes in the form of rumors that reach your ears through the grapevine that carefully connects each Mondstadter to one another; gossip circles galore that have nothing better to do than invent things close to ghost stories.

One you’ve heard more than once is that Sister Rosaria is something of a specter herself. 

You believe yourself to be rational. Despite how ridiculous the notion sounds, you understand where it stems from. Her corpse-esque pallor does her no favors, only accentuating her eyebags that would be fitting of a restless soul wandering the cavernous hallways of the Favonius Cathedral. She is striking, to say the least, and you don’t forget her face once you’ve seen it. Visiting the church for prayer as one does, you’ve spotted her loitering outside a few times, smoking and wallflowering and whatever it is that actually does.

These glimpses of Rosaria are a slippery slope. You’ve caught yourself wanting to go over and introduce yourself - feet moving on their own like she has her own unique type of orbit. Needless to say, the conversation that she allows you to hold with her is sparse. If you ask her about work, she scowls like you’ve personally slighted her. If you fill the silence with something she doesn’t want to hear, she doesn’t listen. Trying to be her friend started as a fruitless endeavor, leaving you bereft of reward in any capacity.

Sister Rosaria is not a specter, ghoul, ghost, or phantom. You think she is a misunderstood woman that keeps to herself too much, and that’s that. The only times you actually get through to her would consist of your ramblings about life; your passionate and animated love for your nation, your plans for the future, everything that you’d think she’d hate, given her attitude. But she listens attentively then, no drags taken, no barbs or jabs at your expense.

That’s something you can work with. Her company becomes something you cherish, and you like to think of yourself as her friend - with you hoping she thinks of you the same way. Camaraderie that goes beyond banter with drunkards and halfhearted arguments with her fellow Sisters. Connection that’s a bit more than what she has with Barbatos, which… isn’t saying much.

Even with these new developments, whispers still reach your ears. These are different from the ones before, going from rumors that anyone would shrug off after a few days to something that would persistently stick to you like glue - a thorn in your side that only wedges itself deeper when you try to dig it out. Things like I saw her sucking someone’s blood after service, and our church is no place for her nighttime activities. 

At first, it’s a bit laughable. Just because she can be a bit uncanny under specific lighting does not mean that she’s a vampire. It makes sense that the narrative surrounding her would shift over time. Those types of creatures aren’t even real. Just because Mondstadt is home to a selection of fantastical creatures doesn’t mean that these rumors have any basis in reality. You are better than to think that of somebody you consider close.

…until you aren’t, that is.

When the maw of the Cathedral swallows you whole, you feel regret crawl and prickle up the path of your spine. The curiosity that leads people astray has certainly maintained its grip on you, steps echoing throughout the building after you hauled the heavy doors open with trepidation. It’s true that the church is open to all, even at odd hours (in case someone requires emergency healing, you believe), but that doesn’t mean that it’s welcoming.

The alluring light that normally illuminates the windows from the outside is absent, leaving you to stop in your tracks a few steps down the nave - which seems to stretch on endlessly. If there’s one positive emotion you feel, you’d name it as relief; the rumored vampire herself is nowhere in sight. Leave it to you to investigate silly gossip, huh?

That means you could leave right now. You could pivot on your heel and go home to get some much-needed rest. The idea isn’t as appealing as you’d like it to be, given that your head keeps swiveling about in search of something to substantiate the cold sweat beading on your forehead. Damn it all. 

The moonlight always makes for a beautiful sight in the plaza, but without the buzz of the Sisters and nocturnal church-goers, it’s watching you with eyes of speckled dust floating between the eaves of the ornate ceiling. It doesn’t take long after that for you to make your decision - home is safer. You suck in a breath and prepare to all but run back out onto the streets of Mond, but something just has to bait your eye.

Far into the crossing (too far), there are flecks of black spattered in a trail leading all the way to the altar. They almost blend into the floorboards, but they are distinctly a shade darker—

You spin around to leave, footsteps reverberating harshly off the various partitions and panels. You have seen too little but still not enough. Was this a trap of some kind? A trap to lure you in here? By the looks of it, someone has already fallen victim to curiosity, and you may be next—

Your running is shadowed - dwarfed, even - by a large silhouette that looks an awful lot like a jagged habit and tiara, canvasing the entire expanse of the stained glass window closest to your exit. The colors are dulled by the imposing outline of what you’re sure is Rosaria. This was the trap, it has to be. What else would you call this? Her head, as much as it bleeds into the rest of her body, looks to be sat on her thin neck with little stopping it from rolling off into the grass outside.

She’s out there waiting for you.

…you think.

Adeptus Xiao is as duty-bound as they come.

If you already didn’t hear a lot about him, you’d seen him around even less. Such is the nature of immortal pillars like him. Where is the mystique and reason in being ever-present when you’re deemed a silent protector by Rex Lapis himself?

But you’d like to think you know a bit more about him than the average citizen of Liyue. You’ve seen him a total of three times, and each instance has left a cataclysmic impact in their wake. Putting it into thought sounds ridiculous, which you’re aware of - but in the Nation of Contracts, your words are your forte that will lay as the reliable foundation to aid you in all of your pursuits.

The first time, you saw him in a dream.

It was cinematic in nature, but you weren’t in it at all; from what you remember, you were shown an aerial view of the many terrains of Liyue. They all melded together into something vaguely recognizable, legs of discolored land stitched together into one large mountain-plain-hill patchwork quilt. You couldn’t shift your view elsewhere, as if being bid to wait patiently for some big reveal.

At first, you wouldn’t call the reveal big. A hazy figure began to stalk across the ground, akin to a fly aimlessly buzzing about, trying to escape towards somewhere greater than where it’s trapped; what you remember most clearly about the scene is that he was enveloped in this dark miasma that weighed down his every step. There was little sound in this dream, but you recall a guttural growl torn from his throat.

He was struggling. You don’t know what with, but something as simple as walking seemed to be too much. He passed directly under your vantage point, top of his head somewhat visible under the wisps of shadow clinging to his form. A polearm was clutched in his grasp as he hauled himself up a steep incline and began looking around, body heaving like he was about to cough up a vital organ.

You knew then that he was not human. You’d never seen anything like it. A thing so predatory yet wounded. You didn’t even get a good look at his face. Maybe there was a mask in place, but then again, that stuff sticking to him did a pretty good job of impeding your immediate judgment.

When you woke up, your chest rose and fell at a pace comparable to his. It stuck with you.

The second time, you saw him at Wangshu Inn.

A lone figure perched on the balcony railing, entirely similar but also entirely different. There was no parasitic evil hanging off his back, so his normalcy was on full display. Impressionable teal-streaked hair, glowing eyes of amber, and a polearm standing tall in his grasp. You’d heard rumors about the inn, of course, and who lives there, but the reality was just sinking in at that point. 

He, vigilant and regal, quickly snapped his head in your direction when you were caught staring up at him from the ground, your back to the breathtaking scenery. He scrutinized you with his lips pressed into a thin line before swiftly vanishing into smoke. He, Adeptus Xiao, was the one from your dream.

A chat with the owner confirmed this. Armed with this information, you, in truth, had no idea what to do. Verr Goldet made a point of mentioning that he’s reserved, actively avoiding crowds and anything he deems a nuisance. Pestering an Adeptus of all things is the last thing you wanted to do, so you opted to move on with your life. The dreams of Xiao frequented most of your sleepless nights, an omen of what, you weren’t certain.

The third time, you saw him in the mirror.

…well, something like him. You see the dark circles pressed into the skin below your eyes from lack of rest. You see your chapped lips (when did you start picking them?) and you definitely see the tremble of your shoulders staring back at you. You think of Xiao, slogging through your nation in search of miscreant fowl to punish - any threat to Liyuean citizens silenced under the tip of his spear. A sense of foreboding washes over you, numbing the tips of your fingers.

Serving as a protector of this nation may be the only thing saving him from ruin by his own hand. After all, a soldier burdened by karmic debt is far better than a potential enemy wracked with bloodlust. 

You look like him. You feel like him. If Adeptus Xiao is trying to share his burden with you, for whatever reason, you aren’t noble enough to be a part of it. There are voices of old whispering in your ears, taunting and angry and vengeful. Sometimes they peter off into screams that only you can hear. It’s too much, causing you to stumble back from the sink, head thudding against the wall.

That does you no favors. There’s no pain yet, but spots plague your vision, blotting out the familiar sight of your home. If you’re concussed, then you need to seek medical attention, but there’s more to it than that. The disembodied spirits are still here, crooning at your form - were they always there? There’s a small part of you that agrees with the notion, even as you fight the ailments. Maybe this has always plagued you—

No, no, no, no.

…you need to do something. Through the fog, you squint at your reflection to make out tendrils of smoke swimming in lazy circles like sharks. You slide your back against the wall, effectively crumpling against the bathroom floor.

Pleading, you whisper his name.

If he answers, you are not conscious to realize it.

La Signora is feared by anyone that possesses even the smallest iota of self-preservation.

You don’t know what that says about you. You know that if you keep flanking to her side (and if she keeps letting you), it would spell out your downfall in elegant calligraphy. Her attention is boiling at times; you feel yourself being choked out by the flames of her passion. If this surge of heat comes from her love, you don’t want to imagine what her wrath looks like, hurtling towards her enemies.

You think that the heat is unpleasant for her, too. Rosalyne kisses you each time like it will be the last, smooth palms coveting the apples of your cheeks. If it were not for the biting cold of Zapolyarny Palace, something like a cliche rendezvous point - you’d turn to ash in her hands. She knows this, because Rosalyne has had many years pass her by. Everything that burns will someday extinguish, she tells you, whispered between stolen kisses and hushed conversations.

You wouldn’t mind fizzling out if it meant you could have more of her, but she’s always refused you. The eighth harbinger is known for being lethal, but with you, she’s deceptively gentle. Cautious. You have a suspicion you’ve worsened the effects of her power, stoking a Pyro magic that can only be pacified by a pernicious Cryo.

The chill following your intrigues is unbearable. The stretches without Rosalyne are just as tortuous as the stretches with her, yet you still wouldn’t trade it for anything. You wouldn’t trade her, even if she stares gaping holes through you after pulling away, wishing you were someone else. Fine by you. If you are to be undone, you hope it is grand. You hope it’s grand to be stomped out by the consequences of her loving again.

…but it doesn’t come. It may be wrong to let your guard down, but pretending like the nature of your relationship is normal is addicting. She sends you gifts wrapped in red tissue paper and signed with her initial - her real one, which you’re actually given the privilege of knowing. She lays her head in your lap and begrudgingly lets you thread your fingers through her hair. She only tells you about her day if you ask. Rosalyne is a private person, when it comes down to it. You know better than to pry, that she loves you in her own way; it makes sense you’re comfortable enough to forget the stakes at hand. Anyone would do the same.

However, you can only go so long without being reminded, if the sight of your clandestine lover thrashing on the ground is anything to go by. It aches. It aches like you’ve been punctured by a dagger, stabbed and gutted and horrified that she’s been reduced to…

Rosalyne has been described as monstrous by underlings before, but this is a bit on the nose. There are six-phased stakes of ice plunged deep in her eye sockets, the noise of her manicured nails clawing at the floorboards accompanied by a terrible shriek. Frost hisses and crackles, accumulating in clusters against the underside of her jaw. Bile begins to climb up your throat because it looks and sounds to be unimaginably painful. You want, no, need to move, but—

You don’t know what’s happening. You’ve screamed and screamed for help, paralyzed and helpless at her side while she struggles in futility. It seems that your meeting spot came back to bite you, because there is no one around to help; you’re not sure what could even stop this. Your heart clenches painfully when she looks at you (as well as she can), head sloping upward, stiff and weighed down by the ice that’s hellbent on consuming her whole.

Tears roll down your cheeks. The hysteria is unforgiving, you can’t even move your legs—

The freeze nips at your heels. That’s why you’re rooted to the ground, you realize, seconds too late; it’s also creeping up your legs with a vengeance. Is this a product of her Delusion? You’ve heard stories about corruption, but nothing like this. Nothing ever like this. Rosalyne’s teeth gnash as they’re blanketed and then smothered by the ice, breaths coming out in frigid plumes. You can only scream more as you’re sinewed together, closer than ever before.

She’s the furthest thing from Rosalyne, La Signora, The Fair Lady - whatever you want to call her. Dread crystallizes the tears now plastered to your cheeks, thinking that you’re next, and that she is already gone. Is it punishment that binds you together in this embrace of stinging frost? Your penance for breaking the rules?

Yes. You’re being made examples of; sculptures erected for naive souls to gawk at, warning them about the dangers of loving someone you’re not supposed to. Your joints creak and groan, protesting your movements and becoming less responsive as you get even colder. It takes your eyes next. You cannot see as you once could, but you can hear the circulation of your blood and your rabbiting pulse, stunted as you are.

You are not to be stomped out - no, that would be too merciful. 

Whatever left of you and Rosalyne will serve as a reminder: Love is not for the faint of heart.

taglist: @flower-yi, @moineauz, @aphrodict, @nomazee, @singularity-sam, @harque, @thestarswhisper

[incorrectfatui]

Arlecchino: Oh no! I’m doomed!  Signora: Seriously? All you have to do is not insult Crucabena at her own memorial service.  Arlecchino: Exactly! It’s impossible!

[themissinghand]

Genshin Impact: Queen's Guard Dog [2]

Part 1!

Summary: In which you are Tsaritsa’s closest retainer and servant, the one who is at the Queen’s beck and call.

You are Brighella, the Queen’s Guard Dog.

Or, the Harbingers treat you a bit differently, and you take advantage of that.

Pairing: La Signora, Scaramouche, Sandrone, Pierro, Tsaritsa x GN! Reader

Note: Part 2 and final part of this series, I won’t do other Harbingers since I don’t really know how to write them. Hope you enjoy!

Part 2 is slightly darker than part 1 in terms of themes, but nothing too serious.

Warning: Mentions of violence and toxic behaviors.

★・・・・・・★

To Signora, you are a sharp sword, a trusted ally on missions in service to Her Majesty Tsaritsa.

You've pledged your loyalty to the Tsaritsa, and with your streak of successful missions, there is no one to doubt your abilities.

Sometimes, there's a hint of playful teasing in your voice when you approach Signora, where you jest about treating her as you would to Her Majesty.

“My lady.”

When you bow before her presence, or when you knelt before her very feet, the power she feels is tantalizing, but who is she to deny?

Your offer, dangerous yet tempting, is nothing but a little gambit. It's clear that your loyalty runs deep, even if it means taking drastic actions to please Her Majesty.

Signora have heard the times where you were much violent and malicious, but even now the shadow of your past still lingers.

On her first and only mission with you, it was a moonless night.

You and Signora embarked on a covert mission together, cloaked in shadows and secrecy. Your destination was a den of conspirators who dared to defy Her Majesty Tsaritsa’s rule.

As you infiltrated their hideout, your sharp senses and honed skills ensured that you moved with deadly precision.

In the midst of this operation, Signora observed your ruthlessness firsthand.

“Why hello there.”

A snap, followed by screams.

Those who disobeyed Her Majesty's orders were met with swift and uncompromising justice. Your actions were as cold as the steel of your blade, leaving no room for mercy when it came to protecting the interests of the Crown.

Signora, who had witnessed countless battles and covert operations, couldn't help but be both impressed and slightly unnerved by your unwavering dedication. She saw the depths of your loyalty, the lengths to which you would go to safeguard Her Majesty's reign.

As you and Signora emerged from the shadows, victorious in your mission, there was a palpable tension in the air.

You had a gentle smile on your face, as if you were on a leisurely walk. There were no stains of red on you, maintaining your professionalism and elegance.

“Dear Lady, I hope I haven’t disgusted you with my actions.” You pull out a handkerchief and gently wiped the blood by her lips.

You leaned close until Signora pushed you aside while rolling her eyes.

But you were unfazed by Signora’s action, for you think they are cute and quite adorable.

Like a cat who likes to scratch.

A successful mission as always, and just like usual, you fade away in the shadows to be by Her Majesty’s side.

Signora couldn't help but ponder the dangerous duality of your character—a loyal and deadly weapon in service to Her Majesty Tsaritsa.

How frightening it would be if you were a double-edged sword.

To Scaramouche, you are a mask.

A mask that hides your true self.

A mask that you can put on others.

You play a unique role in his life, akin to that of a father figure.

You take care of him exceptionally well, providing support and guidance when needed. From the moment he joined, you were an inspiration, a listener, and a trainer.

Yet, Scaramouche knows your care is driven by pity. After all, he has told you many things (even when you told him nothing).

So what?

“My dear Balladeer.”

When he calls for you, you answer.

The Balladeer wears this knowledge with a smug demeanor, as if your special attention validates his worth.

“I would never betray you.”

The little head pats and the little nods. The cheeky little smile and the gifts he received.

“Happy birthday my little Balladeer.”

“Let this day be your birthday.”

With your special attention, it felt like a drug, something to keep him content in this dirty world.

You possess the remarkable ability to shapeshift into the very people he's encountered in his life, indulging in his elaborate fantasies.

“I’ll kill you!” Scaramouche cackled as tears flowed down his face, as a sword plunge deep into the Lord of Electro, Bal’s chest.

Blood spilled, but his laughter subsided.

Seeing Bal’s dead body brought so much pain but so much relief.

You brought him close to you in an intimate hug.

“Good job, my little Balladeer.”

Together, you both create a fake reality, one that you both know is built on falsehoods and pretense. It's a charade that you willingly participate in, if only for a fleeting moment.

A mask is easily put on, as it is easily taken off, you play this game of pull and push well.

But Scaramouche doesn’t mind, for he is too far in with this drug of yours.

But an illusion will forever be fake, and just like this relationship, it will never be real.

To Sandrone, you are a rose.

Something so beautiful yet deadly.

As the annual tradition went, Brighella entered Sandrone’s sanctuary of automatons, a place where gears and mechanisms whirred harmoniously, creating a symphony of mechanical marvels.

“My dear Sandrone. It’s that time of year again.”

“Brighella.”

Sandrone greeted you with a gleam of excitement in her eyes, for she had a unique fascination with you.

"I’ve been waiting for you," Sandrone smiled, her gaze locked onto you.

"You never change. I wish my automatons could be as pretty as you."

Her words were flattering, and as you stood there, she couldn't resist the urge to touch your face and body.

“You say that every time.” You responded and leaned forward to indulge her.

Her fingers moved with a delicate curiosity, as if seeking to understand the secrets of your agelessness.

From your eyes, to your nose and lips, she gently traced them with her hand.

With a sly smile, you decided to play along.

You took a delicate necklace from your pocket, and with a mischievous glint in your eye, you carefully tied it around Sandrone’s neck. As your fingers brushed against her skin, you leaned in closer, your lips almost touching her ear.

"Shall we take this elsewhere?" You whispered, your voice carrying a hint of playful suggestion.

Sandrone’s eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and anticipation dancing within her.

But how could she dare covet something that belongs to the Crown?

“Your Highness, I wouldn’t dare.” She says, though her hands drop to your neck, slowly tracing your collarbone as if she was a sly snake.

“A shame.”

You pull back with a cat-like smile, and she showed a face of frustration for a moment before dissipating.

“Now, shall we get to work?” You extend a hand, and she accepts it greedily.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

If only you could be her marionette, how nice would it be?

To Pierro, you are a candle.

“Do you seek revenge?”

A light burning so bright in his life.

Khaenri'ah.

Pierro remembers Brighella as a mysterious figure, yet a figure of power and privilege.

The Immortal, is what people called (worshipped) you as, and Pierro never understood why.

Until he saw the Immortal go against the Gods.

An indescribable, impossible scene of the battle of immortals.

But you fell from grace, as if the heavens were not by your side.

That was the last he saw you.

His light flickered and died.

At least that was what he thought.

In those tumultuous days, where he thought it was the end, you extended a hand to him, a hand filled with promise and a hint of mischief.

“The Immortal? But you perished?!”

With a wave of your hand in front of your face, you changed your appearance from a fallen warrior to a clean butler’s appearance.

“‘I’ have perished. But who says ‘I’ cannot be reborn?”

Brighella smiled, a smile that held secrets and intentions known to no one.

“My name is Brighella, won’t you come with me and defy fate?”

It was an offer of partnership, an invitation for Pierro to seek revenge together.

Who was he to deny?

Pierro, brave and determined, took that hand without hesitation. Pierro had never regretted that decision.

You two had a transactional relationship, a give and take as you will.

It may seem distant, but to the both of you, it was enough to get work done.

Time connects the two of you like a thread, and even if Pierro wishes to, he couldn’t stay away from you.

Because he was like a moth to a flame.

You who shined so brightly, and him who would protect your light. Taking on your tasks in secret and ensuring you have the best of everything.

Over the years, your paths diverged, and Pierro went through profound changes. Life molded Pierro into someone unrecognizable from the man Pierro once was.

Yet, you remained unchanged. Time seemed to have no hold over you.

You was the constant in Pierro's ever-evolving world, a mysterious figure who transcended the years.

Perhaps that was your role, to be the remnant of the past.

A reminder of their purpose and their reason.

And Pierro didn’t want that to change. Ever.

To Tsaritsa, you were like a mirror.

A mirror that revealed who she truly was beneath the crown and the title.

One who had traversed the world and learned of the dirty secrets just as she did.

“You called for me, Your Majesty?”

Tsaritsa saw not just followers but molds, reflections of a world that had shaped her reign.

Tsaritsa sat on top of her throne with elegance, her expression as cold as ice.

“Brighella, report to me on the Harbingers.”

You smile, one of professionalism and acknowledgement.

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

Out of all of her subordinates, you who have stayed by her side since eternity, are the only one she ‘trusts’ the most.

You were her shadow, her sword, her ever-vigilant guard dog, and no one else could lay claim to what was rightfully hers.

Not even the other Archons could dare to lay your hands on you.

“Your Majesty, may I?”

Tsaritsa returned a nod, and you quickly ascended the steps to her stone and knelt by her feet.

You glanced up, admiring the cold beauty of your master before lowering your eyes to her feet.

Tsaritsa never understood why, perhaps it was your shrewd nature or your hidden desire. Or was it your pursuit for power?

Even now, she could not fully comprehend your heart.

However, she has your loyalty.

Your loyalty was a pledge sealed with unwavering dedication. That was all Tsaritsa required of you.

A gesture that transcended words, you kissed her feet as a symbol of your eternal bond, a testament to the power of their connection in a world where power was everything.

“Your Majesty, I am your guard dog. Use me as you see fit.”

You smiled so brightly, only with her, as she is the only one that can understand you.

“I’ll bring the world down to your feet.”

[minzart]

Thinking of Signora and how she compares you to her former lover, your eyes are difernet but carry the same pride as his once did, you voices so distinguish and yet she can hear the same words as if an echo of the past, actions so unrelated but she still see a phantom of him in you.

But things change as time demands it and she slowly notices how this time you were the one laughing by her side, your hands hugging the tea pot tightly in an effort to not let it slip and break as you couldn't contain your michevous happiness from shining through, face darkening as it becomes hard to breath. And as she takes the micelania from you the corners of her mouth twitches up, amusement from your unreveled state touching the deeps of her soul, she did that to you, the woman thinks a warmth growing inside of her, so natural it's almost as if it never left, and only when dawn breaks is when the realization hits, there was no mimicry for a man behind you that time.

Thinking how she slowly realizes how things reminds her of you now, the rain is calming as your hand in hers, the hum of the flames she commands cast a golden shine she so vividly remembers being also in your eyes, a chivalrous bow never looked the same since you did one for her, you were everywhere, like the last stroke a painting needed to being completed.

So think of Rosalyne, finally letting go, the cold of her vision not nearly as needed as thousands of years before to calm her fervent blood, understanding that perhaps a new love can grow, one doesn't obscure the other, nor it should, she loved once, and she can again, given time, given patience, oh beloved weren't you so blesed by that virtue, but by the time she could fully accept this, her ashes were being scatered to the winds and sealed in a glacial tomb.

[idyllic-affections]

dad!pantalone ii.

summary. the eighth and ninth both adore [name].

trigger & content warnings. slight angst (but only if you squint), fire & accidentally lighting a harbinger on fire. no-one gets seriously hurt though.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. fluff, slight angst. pantalons & child!reader, la signora & child!reader. 0.7k words. they/them pronouns used for reader. < previous | next >

author's thoughts. i sort of implied where in genshin's timeline we are in this post; collei is implied to be present as one of dottore's subjects and is suggested to be around [name]'s age!! so yk, several years before the traveler appears in mond.

without a doubt, pantalone absolutely adores his child. for them, he would tear down teyvat in its entirety.

he's completely enamored with them. he's always spoiling them; his love language is gift-giving, after all, especially in their case. he has the mora to spare. what else would he use it on? funding dottore's experiments? pfft, please. he'd rather spend it on his lovely child!! it's his money, he can do what he wants as long as it doesn't noticeably affect the fatui's funding. additionally, he finds himself cherishing physical touch just as much as he does gift-giving—the fatui agents in his division claim that he's generally less irritable if he has his child in his arms while he's working.

of course, pantalone can't always have them around. he doesn't want them to be too deeply involved in his fatui work... not yet, anyway. it'll be a different story when they're a little older. personally, he thinks they'd make a very impressive fatui debt collector one day; everyone's already terrified of upsetting them. if they became a debt collector, such fear would increase tenfold. they'll end up joining the fatui one day regardless, so why not as a debt collector?

for the most part, he doesn't trust anyone to watch them, not even his own business partner. what fool would trust il dottore with a child? not pantalone, that's for certain, especially since this particular child is his heir, his flesh and blood. the regrator knows about what the doctor is doing to that little girl with eleazar. archons forbid that kind of treatment was directed at his gem. dottore and all of his segments know damn well not to bring any kind of harm to them, but still. the ninth would rather not leave them with the second unless it was absolutely necessary.

he settles on enlisting the help of la signora.

as arrogant and cunning she is—what harbinger isn't, really?—the regrator knows very well how fond she is of his child. he's not blind to her blatant affections towards them.

(little did he know, sometimes she wonders if this is the child she never got to raise with her lover gifted to her by the heavens above. signora knows better, but the thought is comforting. she even shared her name with them. such a sweet little one shouldn't be calling her a name like la signora.

the first time they called her 'mother rosalyne,' she may or may not have shed a few tears, knowing very well that their mother seemed to have disappeared off the face of teyvat after leaving their newborn self with pantalone. 'they don't have a mother,' she thought to herself one day, 'so I will gladly take up that role. no harm shall come to them for as long as I live.')

he has little issue leaving them alone with her, as they also seem quite fond of the woman.

one day, she suggests teaching them to harness pyro based on the old art she learned at the akademiya. no need for a vision, she insisted—all they need is patience. she expected him to reject the idea, but to her surprise and delight, he gave her permission to do so as long as she doesn't forget that they will be making public appearances in noble society soon enough. as such, they do need to have some restraint. she gladly agrees to his terms.

signora quickly discovers that they are a very fast learner. they take her lessons very well. what a smart little one they are! she thinks it's very funny when they accidentally light the balladeer's coat on fire. he was not happy. the fair lady, however, found it absolutely fucking hysterical. she praised them in secret for it!

"you are very, very important," she had said, "there are very few people on teyvat that could hurt you and get away with it. the balladeer is not one of those people, so by all means, light him on fire again, my little flame <3"

she is creating a firey (literally and metaphorically...) little noble. pantalone doesn't really mind.

they are very important, indeed, and if la signora is encouraging that ideology, then he doesn't care whose coats he will need to replace.

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

[dead-boys-club]

†  do you love me? : the fatui.

❥ scenario: their mute s/o asking if they love them. ❥ no triggers ❥ i don't have any beta readers - you get what you get. ❥ requested. [ my pending isn't updated, it's a liar. ]

you had thought over it for a while, curious as to where you actually stood with your lover, no.. partner? did they love you? as your curiosity grew to a sickening need for an answer, you decided to write your question down, small and neat; 'do you love me?' before approaching to hand the paper off.

❥ la signora.

as she took the paper from you, you'd be unable to read her expression, something that was awfully common. you couldn't help but become slightly anxious as a few moments of silence went by, giving her the time to process the question. you had learned that signora was a very complex someone, someone who was guarded and difficult to read, but you had grown to understand those things about her. when she finally looked to you, there was a warmth in her gave and she set the paper down, now folded in half. she wouldn't have much to say, a simple 'yes' being whispered, full of sincerity and adoration for you, even if her expression didn't match. she reached out to cup your cheeks, the touch tender with her gloved hands, and she leaned to press a kiss to your forehead. it wasn't easy for her to express how she felt but she would never allow you to live with doubts on how she felt for you.

❥ scaramouche.

unlike signora, scara's response would be heavily complicated. he would be reluctant to take the paper to begin with, his expression immediately showing discomfort and clear distaste. love had never been something that worked out for him very well, nor did he understand it as much as others - love was one of the reasons his life had been filled with betrayal and manipulation. he was wary of emotions to begin with but love held a different kind of weight - it was almost like the word alone left a bitter taste at the back of his throat. he would quickly narrow his sharp eyes, masking the vulnerability with agitation. 'what kind of stupid question is this?' it would have hurt you had their been any malice to his tone. even as he crumpled up the paper and tossed it away, you could see some type of softness slipping through the cracks. it would take time but after a few minutes, he'd glance to you, gaze softening slightly. 'i don't know,' he admitted, voice quiet as he decided to be honest, 'i don't know if that's something i'm capable of but.. i don't hate you, if that's what you're worried about.' for scara, that was the closest thing to a confession you'd be getting and you understood and accepted that. besides.. he was a lot better with his actions than his words, even if he didn't realize.

❥ childe.

childe is always happy to accept your notes, be it during full conversations, asking him about missions, and so forth. with that happy expectation, he took the paper, only to falter briefly before a warm smile formed. 'of course i do,' he answered without hesitation. he'd wave the little piece of paper between two fingers before setting it down, 'this is a silly question.' he wasn't being demeaning, just pointing out what he thought - hoped - was obvious to you. his arms would find their way around you, hugging you close to lift you off your feet with a soft chuckle. 'why would you even feel the need to ask that?' childe had always done everything in his power to make sure his love was open and honest, being hidden from no one because he never wanted you to doubt him. he would actually wonder if he'd done something wrong that lead you to asking but it would be put on the back burner for later. 'you're one of the most important people in my life,' he whispered as he set you down, pressing a kiss right below your ear, 'and, i'll always love you.'

❥ dottore.

you knew such a question could leave you with an aching heart but you'd prepared yourself before hand, knowing the day you agreed to be the doctor's lover, it may not be in such a manner. as he took the paper from you, he read over it with an impassive expression, which you'd expected nothing less. minutes passed as he worked through your question. love was not something dottore considered valuable - emotions, in general, were considered a hindrance to him. love, most of all, was the worst there was. the paper was set down without an answer as he returned to his work, leaving you lost and hurt, despite knowing this would be the outcome. you began to turn on your heel to leave when he glanced to you. 'love is a trivial thing,' he said coldly, almost bitter. 'it's a distraction and a weakness.' you stopped yourself from frowning. contrasting his words, as you looked closely at him, you found something - a hint of conflict that told you there was more he wasn't willing to acknowledge. dottore never was one to answer things directly but his actions - his way of keeping you close, keeping you safe and granting you attention in ways no one else was allowed - that was enough, you decided.

❥ arlecchino.

she would take the paper from you and take no time in reading it, her expression calm. she isn't brought to emotional response easily - you were sure you'd never seen her flustered. she set the paper down with a thoughtful hum before looking at you, her gaze gentle. 'love isn't something i give easily or take lightly,' she answered, steady and serious, 'but if i didn't care for you deeply, you would not be here.' in another of situation or context, you'd have taken the words as a threat but instead, they calmed any frayed nerves. arle's way of showing how she feels is protective and pragmatic, something that doesn't rely on cheap words. she wouldn't give flowery words or pointless gestures - but she would make sure you felt valued in your relationship. 'yes, i do.' she finally admitted, her tone leaving no room for doubt, even as she turned away from you. 'you are mine, and i protect what's mine.'

❥ columbina.

immediately going off of your facial expression, she knew she didn't need to read the paper to know the type of question you had, a gentle, knowing smile forming. columbina is the most attuned to emotions, her own and others, especially yours. she would quickly be able to feel the vulnerability and doubt behind your written word. without hesitation, she collected your hand in her own, making sure to hold your gaze. 'yes,' she said easily, 'i love you more than words will ever be able to express.' columbina leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek. 'you needn't doubt that,' she whispered, letting your hand go only to pull you into a hug, her eyes closing, 'i always will, beloved.' her love was soft, open and nurturing, a presence that never ceased and you almost felt guilty for doubting her. she had done her best to make sure you felt cherished and adored and she would continue to do so.

❥ pantalone.

he wouldn't question why you were suddenly handing him paper but he would be curious, eyes shining with interest as he read the question. panta is a man who sees emotions as secondary to his ambitions and goals, especially with his wealth and power. however, he wouldn't hesitate to admit that you, are different. this may be something that lead you to thinking you were more of a possession than a lover - he would be smart enough to figure out where the doubt blossomed from. folding the paper neatly, he set it down and let a thoughtful smile show, turning his attention to you. 'love, like any valuable asset, is not something i take lightly,' he began, head tilting slightly, 'but you, my dear.. are more precious than anything to me.' reaching out to you, his fingertips brushed over the apple of your cheek. 'yes,' he answered directly, 'i love you, and i will make sure you never doubt that again.' like the others, panta's love is often expressed through actions - keeping you comfortable and safe, your happiness being of utmost importance to him.

❥ il capitano.

he would take the paper without a second thought, reading the words slowly and feeling the weight of them. it would take him a moment to find how to answer, knowing if he was careless, it would bring you unnecessary hurt. love has never been something capitano was accustomed to, not when his life was outlined and defined by duty, loyalty and the cold fate of a soldier. he briefly wondered if love was something he could feel or understand. would he know if he was in love? after what seemed like an eternity, he would slowly set the paper down and look to you, speaking just as careful. 'love is a concept i have little experience with,' he began, his tone apologetic, 'i do care for you, deepy.. your wellbeing, your happiness. i want to keep you safe.' his answer would be straightforward, almost as though he was searching through his own words. he wished he could use the same pretty, poetic words he'd heard in passing, but that wasn't possible. 'if that is love,' he nodded slowly, 'then, yes, i do love you.' he wouldn't be as confident in those words as he wanted to be but he felt as thought it was as close to what you wanted to hear as he could get.

[melodic-haze]

that signora ask and the making out after was such a mood

but i mean why would you only make out with one pair of lips when you have another pair—

SEE I wondered whether to write it out the first time but then I cba bc I was feeling extra lazy then

NOW I'M NOT THOUGH HAHAHAHAHAH1 oh mygodddddd just the thought of keeping your animosity in bed bc really the constant back-and-forth and conflict between you two? SUFFOCATING sexual tension. You may or may not admit it but SIGNORA fucking would bc she's loud and mouthy as hell but there's just a point when your shared snarkiness started to shift into something....different before you both decided to go "fuck it" and kiss each other

Fighting her IN THE BED for dominance, to be on top of the other, to have one of you cum first as the winning condition as you both scissor each other while making out MESSILY (on both ends HAHAHAHA). You eventually go from battling against each other to having such a vice grip on each other, with her nails digging into your thighs and your hand pressed into her neck as you both tell each other to cum together or you swear to your god you will--

And when you come down from your shared highs, you both go a lot slower, lazily eating each other out (and you better feel grateful and privileged to be anywhere close to her pussy) and it just turns into something much more.. weirdly tender. Not soft—Signora doesn't do soft, she abandoned that the same time she found Rostam dead—but.. something close to it, something intimate. And you feel her warmth, a previously both a raging inferno and a freezing tundra all at once, dial down into something more......comfortable for once when you both cum again

[reaper2187]

La Signora x subordinate female reader

The cold air of Snezhnaya bit at Y/N's cheeks as she hurried through the dimly lit corridors of the Tsaritsa’s palace. The grandeur of the place never ceased to amaze her, with its high vaulted ceilings and opulent decorations that spoke of power and influence. Yet today, her thoughts were solely focused on the urgent message she had received, summoning her to La Signora's private chambers.

As a subordinate of the formidable Harbinger, Y/N had grown accustomed to the rigorous demands and the ever-present tension that surrounded La Signora. She was known for her beauty as much as her cruelty, and anyone who served under her knew that failure was not an option. Y/N had always prided herself on her efficiency and loyalty, qualities that had earned her a position close to La Signora. Still, being called to her chambers was unusual and stirred a mix of curiosity and apprehension within her.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N knocked on the heavy door. It swung open almost immediately, as if La Signora had been waiting for her. The room beyond was lavishly furnished, with rich fabrics and intricate designs, but the atmosphere was as cold as the blizzards outside.

"Come in," La Signora's voice commanded. It was a tone that brooked no argument, icy and imperious.

Y/N stepped inside, closing the door behind her. La Signora was standing by the window, her back turned to Y/N, gazing out at the snow-covered landscape. She was an imposing figure, even from behind, with her elaborate dress and the aura of power that seemed to radiate from her.

"You summoned me, Lady Signora?" Y/N asked, her voice steady despite the nervous flutter in her chest.

La Signora turned slowly, her crimson eyes locking onto Y/N's with an intensity that made her breath catch. "Yes, Y/N. I have a task for you, one that requires discretion and skill. I trust you are up to the challenge."

Y/N nodded, her heart pounding. "Of course, my lady. Whatever you need."

A faint smile touched La Signora's lips, though it didn't reach her eyes. She moved closer, her gaze never wavering from Y/N's. "Good. There is a matter that needs to be dealt with in Mondstadt. A certain individual has been causing problems for the Tsaritsa's plans. I need you to go there and take care of it."

Y/N's mind raced. She had been to Mondstadt before, but this mission sounded more dangerous than any she had undertaken. Yet, the thrill of the challenge and the chance to prove herself to La Signora outweighed any fear. "I will not disappoint you, my lady."

La Signora's smile widened, and she reached out to touch Y/N's cheek, her fingers cold as ice. "I know you won't. You have always been reliable, Y/N. That is why I chose you for this task."

The unexpected touch sent a shiver down Y/N's spine, and she found herself leaning into it, craving the approval and recognition of the woman she served. "Thank you, Lady Signora. I will leave immediately."

"Good." La Signora withdrew her hand, turning back to the window. "And Y/N, remember: failure is not an option. Do whatever it takes to succeed."

With a final nod, Y/N left the room, her mind already focused on the mission ahead. The cold air of the palace seemed less biting now, replaced by the warmth of La Signora's brief but meaningful touch.

The journey to Mondstadt was long and arduous, but Y/N was driven by a determination to succeed. She kept La Signora's words close to her heart, a constant reminder of what was at stake. Arriving in the city, she blended in with the crowds, gathering information and identifying her target.

As days turned into weeks, Y/N meticulously planned her approach. The target was elusive, always surrounded by allies and guards, but she was patient. She knew that one mistake could cost her everything, and she refused to let La Signora down.

Finally, the opportunity presented itself. Under the cover of night, Y/N infiltrated the target's residence, moving silently through the shadows. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she remained focused, her mind sharp and her resolve unshaken.

The target was alone in his study, unaware of the danger lurking just beyond the door. Y/N took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. She had done this before, but the weight of La Signora's expectations made this mission feel different, more significant.

In a swift and decisive move, Y/N entered the room, her blade gleaming in the dim light. The target barely had time to react before she struck, her movements precise and lethal. It was over in moments, the silence of the night unbroken save for the soft thud of the body hitting the floor.

Y/N stood over her fallen target, her breathing steady. She had done it. She had succeeded. As she cleaned her blade and prepared to leave, she allowed herself a moment of satisfaction. She had proven herself once again, and she knew that La Signora would be pleased.

Returning to Snezhnaya, Y/N felt a sense of accomplishment that was tempered by the knowledge that her work was never truly done. There would always be more missions, more challenges. But for now, she allowed herself to savor the victory.

Entering the palace, she was immediately summoned to La Signora's chambers. The Harbinger was waiting for her, a look of satisfaction in her eyes as Y/N recounted her success.

"You have done well, Y/N," La Signora said, her voice filled with a rare warmth. "You have proven your worth once again."

Y/N bowed her head, a smile playing on her lips. "Thank you, my lady. I am honored to serve you."

La Signora stepped closer, her gaze softening as she looked at Y/N. "You have always been more than just a subordinate to me, Y/N. Your loyalty and dedication are unmatched. I am grateful to have you by my side."

The words sent a thrill through Y/N, and she met La Signora's gaze, her heart swelling with pride. "I will always be here for you, my lady. No matter what."

La Signora reached out, her hand cupping Y/N's cheek once more. This time, the touch was warmer, more intimate. "I know you will, Y/N. And for that, I am grateful."

In that moment, Y/N felt a connection with La Signora that went beyond duty and loyalty. It was a bond forged through trust and shared purpose, a bond that she knew would only grow stronger with time.

As they stood there, the coldness of Snezhnaya seemed to fade away, replaced by the warmth of their unspoken understanding. Y/N knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, she would face them with La Signora by her side, and together, they would conquer anything that stood in their way.

[musings-ofthe-unamused]

Honey So Sweet pt. 2 - Genshin Impact

Pairing: Harbingers x reader, Signora x reader, Childe x Reader

Warnings: Glucose parent activities, mild suggestiveness

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: Whoo! I will no longer post updates for this series here. It will all be on my AO3!! Enjoy!

You were not sleeping with Childe. That was a hard no from you. But there was some hand holding. And some kissing… lots of kissing. But it was nothing special. Just a little extra. You slowly sat up, yawning as you stretched your arms. Childe was sleeping peacefully beside you. Fully clothed. You poked his cheek.

"Wake up."

He groaned and rolled over. His eyes fluttered open. "What?"

"I'm going shopping. I'll see you later this week."

He slowly sat up. His red hair was askew and he didn't try to brush it back into place. He gave you a kiss on the cheek. It had felt odd at first, this whole interaction. But now that you had been doing this for weeks, it felt natural. You even went through the app with him and he helped you sort through who would be good and who would be bad. It was nice. He wasn't judgmental and wanted you to be happy. 

His arms wrapped around you. "Want my card?" 

"It's fine. I have some money in my account."

"Not good enough." 

You groaned. "Childe, you know how awkward I feel about using your card."

He didn't listen and instead reached for his wallet on the bedside table. This is how it always was with him. He spoiled you in a way that he thought appropriate. Allowances, gifts catered to your tastes, and weekly dates were just some of the things he did for you. He loved to spoil you. And you had yet to get completely used to it.

"There's a shop in town. Dress shop, super high end. Go there and tell them that I sent you. She'll help you out."

"She?" You asked, taking the card from him. "Who's she?"

Childe just hummed and leaned in, kissing your cheek. "Have a good time. I expect to see at least a thousand spent."

Ah, yes. The spend limit. If you spent too little, Childe would always scold you. He wanted you to learn that you deserve the finer things in life. With a grumble, you got out of bed and got dressed. A high end dress shop? You supposed it wouldn't hurt. You only had two evening gowns, both of which Childe picked out for you. There was no harm in having more.

The shop was relatively easy to spot. The sign name, La Signora, was written in a fancy golden cursive. You timidly opened the door. There wasn't anyone inside. Not really a surprise, considering everything looked like it cost an arm and leg. You started to look around. You wouldn't say you had a bad sense of fashion, but this stuff was completely out of your league.

You stopped in front of a gorgeous dark blue dress. It looked like the night sky, sparkling and stunning. You couldn't tear your eyes away. You reached out and your fingers gently brushed against the fabric. This wasn't some cheap sequined dress. The fabric felt nice, not itchy. It was… perfect.

"Can I help you?"

You whirled around. Standing in front of you was a tall lady. Her blonde hair cascaded over her shoulder. One arm was slung across her stomach while her other arm rested on top of it. Her skin was pale and pure from any blemishes. Her gray eyes traveled up and down your body. Your face heated up as if you had just been caught doing something bad.

"O-Oh! Hi… Uhm… I'm looking for a dress."

"I see." She hummed and leaned closer. "What for?"

"A-A date. My friend Childe said this was the place to shop."

Her eyes lit up. She smirked and straightened. "Is that so? Well, I can help in any way possible. Childe is a… acquaintance of mine."

You nodded, unable to take your eyes off of her. How could someone be this elegant yet so terrifying? You wiped your sweaty hands on your pants. It was easier being with Childe because he was immature and you knew how to handle him. But someone like this? You had no clue what to do.

"Don't look so scared, darling. I don't bite."

"S-Sorry!" You sheepishly smiled at her. "Could you help me? I don't really know what to do."

"What's your name?"

You told her your name. She introduced herself as Rosalyne. Even her name was fancy sounding. You let her lead you around the shop, picking out clothes for you to try on. You had told her that you had no preference between dresses or suits. You just wanted to look good. She gently pushed you to the dressing rooms. The first outfit was a pure black suit, with velvet elbow and collar detailing.

"How is this one?" You asked, stepping out from behind the curtain.

Rosalyne smiled and clapped her hands lightly. "Oh, adorable! It's quite nice."

You looked down at yourself. "I feel like a poser."

"That's alright. We still have many more to try."

There was something about Rosalyne that made you blush yet comfortable at the same time. Her confidence radiated off of her, enveloped her in this glowing light. You couldn't help but act like a moth to a flame. Every compliment she gave you as you tried on each outfit had your heart fluttering. Finally, you finished trying on all outfits.

You sighed and looked in the mirror. "None of them feel right.. This was stupid."

"You have one more dress." She said, motioning to the dress that had first caught your eye. "That one."

"Oh no, I couldn't! It's way too pretty to go on me."

"Please. I insist."

You folded. How could you not? She was so enticing and confident. That confidence should only be shared with you. So you nodded. She brought the dress over and let you get dressed. As soon as you put it on, you knew this was the one. It was like it was made for you. You stepped out of the dressing room and walked towards her.

"Can you zip up the back, please?"

She smiled and nodded. Her hands brushed against your bare back, sending a shiver down your spine. She slowly zipped up the dress. Her hands then went to your shoulders and she guided you over to the mirror. Her hands stayed on you, her head peeking out behind you.

"See? Absolutely stunning."

"I… wow. I don't even recognize myself." You murmured.

Rosalyne hummed and ran her arms down your arms. "I think this one is a keeper."

"Me too."

"I think I should keep you too."

Her breath brushed against your neck. You bit your lip to hold back any embarrassing noises that may accidentally slip out. She stood next to you. Your eyes flicked from the mirror to her. "Keep…. keep me?"

"You're a friend of Childe's, right?"

You nodded.

"Then you can be a friend of mine. I certainly wouldn't mind keeping someone as cute as you around. You can try on as many clothes as you like and I can help you become more confident."

Ah. So she knew. Of course, it's not that hard to figure out. Someone who was rich wouldn't act so nervous in a high end boutique. With the mention of Childe, Rosalyne probably connected the dots. You sheepishly smiled.

"You wouldn't mind?"

"Of course not, darling. Just look at you!" She reached out and pinched your cheek. "I will be much more helpful on shopping trips than that man."

You couldn't say no. She was too pretty. "Okay."

"Great. Now let's go pay. Put his money to good use."

You followed her like a puppy. Did you just get a sugar mommy? Heavy emphasis on mommy? 

Yes. Yes, you did.

[dumbtruk]

The cold winds of Snezhnaya howled outside the Zapolyarny Palace, but inside, the atmosphere was even more frigid. Rosalyne, known to the world as La Signora, stood by the window, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon. She had received her orders: she was to go to Inazuma and confront the Raiden Shogun.

Arlecchino, the Knave, watched her from the shadows, her heart heavy with dread. She knew what this mission entailed, and she couldn’t bear the thought of losing Rosalyne. Their relationship, forged in the fires of ambition and the chill of understanding, had become her anchor in the storm of their lives.

“Rosalyne,” Arlecchino called softly, stepping into the light.

Rosalyne turned, her eyes cold and distant. “Arlecchino. What is it?”

Arlecchino took a deep breath, steeling herself. “Don’t go to Inazuma.”

Rosalyne’s expression hardened. “You know I have no choice. The Tsaritsa’s orders are absolute.���

“But you don’t have to follow them,” Arlecchino insisted, her voice trembling. “You don’t have to throw your life away for a mission that could be your end.”

Rosalyne’s eyes flashed with anger. “You think I fear death? I have faced it countless times. This is my duty.”

“It’s not just about duty,” Arlecchino pleaded, stepping closer. “It’s about us. About what we have. I can’t lose you, Rosalyne. Not like this.”

For a moment, Rosalyne’s icy facade cracked, and a flicker of pain crossed her face. “Arlecchino, you know what we are. We are Harbingers. Our lives are not our own.”

“But they could be,” Arlecchino whispered, reaching out to take Rosalyne’s hand. “We could find a way. Together.”

Rosalyne looked down at their intertwined fingers, her resolve wavering. “And what would you have me do? Defy the Tsaritsa? Abandon my duty?”

“Yes,” Arlecchino said fiercely. “If it means saving you, then yes. We can leave, disappear. Start a new life somewhere far from here.”

Tears welled up in Rosalyne’s eyes, and she shook her head. “You don’t understand. This is who I am. This is all I know.”

“And I know that I love you,” Arlecchino said, her voice breaking. “I can’t stand the thought of losing you. Please, Rosalyne. Stay with me.”

Rosalyne closed her eyes, a single tear slipping down her cheek. “I wish it were that simple,” she whispered. “But I can’t. I have to go.”

Arlecchino’s heart shattered at those words, but she refused to give up. “Then let me come with you. Let me stand by your side.”

Rosalyne opened her eyes, her gaze filled with sorrow. “No. This is something I must do alone.”

Arlecchino’s grip tightened on Rosalyne’s hand, desperation in her eyes. “Please, Rosalyne. Don’t do this.”

Rosalyne gently pulled her hand away, her expression resolute. “Goodbye, Arlecchino.”

As Rosalyne turned and walked away, Arlecchino fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face. The weight of her love and the agony of her loss crushed her, leaving her feeling more alone than ever.

In the end, Rosalyne’s duty to the Tsaritsa took her to Inazuma, and Arlecchino was left behind, her heart forever scarred by the choice that had torn them apart.

The days following Rosalyne’s departure were a blur for Arlecchino. The once vibrant halls of the Zapolyarny Palace felt empty and cold without her presence. Arlecchino threw herself into her work, trying to drown out the pain of her loss, but nothing could fill the void left by Rosalyne.

One evening, as Arlecchino sat alone in her quarters, a knock on the door broke the silence. She opened it to find a messenger, a grim expression on his face.

“Harbinger Arlecchino, I bring news from Inazuma,” he said, handing her a sealed letter.

With trembling hands, Arlecchino took the letter and dismissed the messenger. She broke the seal and began to read, her heart pounding in her chest. The letter was from a fellow Harbinger, detailing the events that had transpired in Inazuma.

Rosalyne had confronted the Raiden Shogun, and the battle had been fierce. Despite her immense power, Rosalyne had been defeated. The letter spoke of her bravery, her unwavering resolve, and her final moments.

Arlecchino’s vision blurred with tears as she read the last lines. Rosalyne had fought until the very end, her love for Arlecchino giving her the strength to face her fate. But in the end, it hadn’t been enough.

The letter slipped from Arlecchino’s fingers, and she sank to the floor, her body wracked with sobs. The pain of losing Rosalyne was unbearable, a wound that would never heal. She had tried to save her, but in the end, duty had taken Rosalyne away.

Days turned into weeks, and Arlecchino struggled to find a reason to go on. The world felt empty without Rosalyne, and the weight of her grief threatened to crush her. But she knew she couldn’t give up. Rosalyne had fought for her, had believed in her, and she couldn’t let that be in vain.

With a heavy heart, Arlecchino rose from the ashes of her despair. She vowed to honor Rosalyne’s memory, to carry on her legacy. She would become stronger, not just for herself, but for the woman she had loved and lost.

As the seasons changed, Arlecchino found a new purpose. She became a beacon of strength and resilience, her determination unyielding. And though the pain of losing Rosalyne never truly faded, it became a part of her, a reminder of the love they had shared and the sacrifices they had made.

In the end, Arlecchino knew that Rosalyne’s spirit lived on within her. And as long as she carried that love in her heart, she would never be alone.

[incorrectfatui]

Crucabena, walking into the house of the hearth: Hello, people who do not live here.  La Signora: Hey.  Dottore: Hi.  Columbina: Hello :D! Sandrone: Hey!  Crucabena: I gave you the key to the house of the hearth for emergencies only. Columbina: We were out of doritos!

[mayullla]

Okay so how about Childe's workplace, I thought it would be nice to see what the first meeting between you his sister and his workmates are like.

Genshin 13 stepbrother au; child!reader, fem!reader, modern au, platonic fluff, crack

"Hoo, always knew that guy was a maniac for his siblings and always wanted a sister but I didn't think he would go so far as to brainwash a small kid," Scara complained as he looked at you. Doe eyes look innocently at him looked so different from the crazed eyes Childe had when it comes to work and a lot of things in general.

"They look nothing alike."

"Hey, don't you think you are a little mean comrade?" Childe tried to smile but it seems nobody believed it really when there was a hostile aura surrounding him.

"She is such a cutie tho... here would you like a candy?" Marionette smiled at you eyes closed you wondered what her eye color was. Handing you a little strawberry candy that was like the color of her hair. "Hold on you already gave her too many" "But she is just so cute Capitano I can't help but spoil her!"

"I can't believe that you lost her. It is only a good thing that Capitano was the one who found the little girl and she wasn't scared of him." La Signora placed her chin on her hand resting on an armchair she glanced at you and then at Capitano.

It was an amusing situation really. Childe had been going on and on about finally having a little sister he could physically actually dot on. He showed them every picture he took of you to the point some of them had to actually run away so that he would not be dragging their ears with his adoration for you. The many times they slammed their doors and locked them the moment they saw Childe's excited proud eyes and his phone turned on with the gallery opened.

How amusing it was the day he was supposed to bring his little sister to the office to show off did he lose her?

Childe or Tartaglia was frantically looking for you at the 50-story buildings hoping to even find a hair of yours. The two that he somehow managed to drag in his search were La Signora and Scaramouche. (much to their annoyance)

So after actual hours of searching for you, they could only stare quietly at you who was in the lap of Capitano and feed cookies by Columbina. It seems that Dottore was the one who found you and because you recognize who he was from seeing a picture from Childe's phone you started to trail after him.

Much to his annoyance.

He didn't know why a child would even be here! But you were, as you continued to follow him even after he told you not to. You looked so lost and confused in the middle of the halls and offices at what you were supposed to do when he told you to leave multiple times yet instead hesitantly chose to ignore his words and continue following him. (Pantalone had an amused smile on his face when he saw Dottore followed by a child. Patting your head in greeting but didn't do anything to help and left the poor man to deal with you by himself.)

It was when he saw Capitano he wondered if he would finally get you off his tail thinking you would become scared of the other man and run away like most kids do when they see him. Instead, you looked at him curiously asking if he was Capitano. It was a weird sight for many as Capitano was a little confused at your existence but still answered your question. (Dottore took this as a chance to escape.)

So here you were now the kitchen used for the higher-ups in the company. Capitano had quickly figured out that you were the step-sister of Childe and decided to bring you to the poor man who was searching for you when he heard your stomach grumble.

"You were here all along?" Childe asked weakly trying his best to smile. You nodded your head smiling, small cookie crumbs stuck to your mouth. Childe looked at Capitano his eyes asking- begging to tell him when has he not told him about the fact that he found you.

"I called you several times and even messaged you but you didn't answer," Capitano explained, looking at the other two behind Childe barely able to contain their evil laughter unsure if he should tell the weeping guy (who unfortunately forgot his phone at the car and too much of a panic to even notice that he didn't even have it) that he also informed the two about you too...

Let's just not.