#dottore reader insert

“Check,” you whispered.

Queen to C6 check, in response to white’s bishop checking on F3. Your D7 pawn guarded your queen, but your bishop was stuck in B8 while his king was vulnerable on A6. His only other piece was a knight on A4.

Did he blunder?

After placing down the chess piece, you glanced back towards him, your eyes searching his face for any readable signs or expressions. There were none, save for the hint of amusement that remained eternally etched into both his features and demeanour.

You mentally sighed. Dottore was as indecipherable as ever, leaving you confused about what to do with the nagging itch that tugged at your heart. You tried to push it aside, to dig a hole and bury the feeling six feet underground where it was never to resurface again, but you found yourself unable to. Instead, you found yourself caving into that emotion, the tension thickening the very air that now felt suffocating to breathe in, each of Dottore’s answers only leaving you with more questions to ask—none of which you should’ve paid any mind to, yet you still couldn't resist, barely holding yourself back from asking the one thing you really wanted to know.

You coughed softly, clearing your throat before speaking again.

“My turn,” you tried to steady your voice and sound as confident as possible, pushing past the dryness in your mouth. “Question nineteen, are you going to continue with your plan?”

It shouldn’t even matter. If you were being rational, you wouldn’t have bothered to ask that; whether or not he planned to continue should not affect your judgement in any way. He had done enough wrong as it is, committed far more crimes than could be excused or remotely justified.

Still, you couldn’t help but succumb to your own weakness, the question leaving your lips alongside a silent prayer that you hadn’t exposed your intentions—be it the one to put an end to him, or the far worse one, the one to give up on your original task. The task you should adhere to, despite your traitorous feelings wanting to get in the way. But you were not strong enough.

Dottore’s silence permitted you to keep ruminating over the same thoughts that had ceaselessly plagued you each time you faced him, the same thoughts that had insidiously grown in intensity throughout your interactions, leaving you to realize far too late that at some point, your actions towards him became genuine.

“Perhaps,” Dottore responded at last. You fought to keep your face neutral, trying your best to mask your disappointment at his answer. As much as you had wanted to, you were unable to deny that you had indeed wanted him to say ‘no.’

As shameful as it was, you pushed for a different answer.

“You’re supposed to answer yes or no,” you stated, keeping your tone light and indifferent.

How ludicrous, you thought. Your job was to pretend to be interested in him, yet here you were, desperately trying to act like you weren’t.

“Unfortunately, Y/N, I can’t do that,” Dottore replied. “The answer is dependent on certain variables.”

“Like what?”

“That’s not a yes or no question.” His face did not betray anything, yet you could hear the smirk in his voice, evident in the satisfaction he spoke with.

“But—”

“—My turn,” Dottore interrupted, and though you wanted to protest, you had to maintain an air of calmness, leaning back in your seat as you waited for him to speak.

“Question nineteen,” Dottore drew out each syllable with emphasis, “you are planning to kill me, aren’t you?”

His sentence caused you to freeze, a chill running down each ridge of your spine as you shivered, goosebumps breaking out over the surface of your skin, your hair standing on end as you stared at him, motionless, eyes wide.

That wasn’t a yes or no question. He knew. Dottore knew.

You didn’t need to see yourself to know that blood had drained from your face. There was no need for you to say anything; even if he hadn’t already known, your expression alone would be enough to confirm that everything he just said was true.

“Go on. Why don’t you answer me?” His voice was sharp enough to cut through the pounding of your heart, the pulsating of the organ reverberating in your eardrums being the only sound to muffle the deafening silence of the room.

“Oh, come on, Y/N,” Dottore continued. Though the syllables reached you, your mind struggled to process the meaning behind them. “Did you think I wouldn’t know?”

Dottore scoffed, indignant.

“I find it rather insulting that you think so lowly of me.”

“N-no,” you scrambled to find the right words. “I don’t—”

“—Is that so?” he said, cutting you off while clicking his tongue in mock disapproval. “Do you have a more plausible explanation for that gun strapped to your thigh, then?”

Your heart sank, his words the anchor that plunged it into the bottomless pit in your stomach. It felt like the life was drained from your body, rendering it an immobile marionette whose strings dangled from the tips of Dottore’s slender fingers. As if his words were coated in a paralyzing agent, you couldn’t bring yourself to speak further or move an inch. The only reminder that you were still alive was the harrowing thump of your pulse, each beat accelerating faster than the last.

How did he know?

For a split second you wondered if you’d been betrayed, but that was impossible. You had premeditated the perfect plan, meticulously memorized every step, and followed through with flawless execution.

With clandestine sleight, you acquired the perfect trump card—a gun loaded with bullets meant to destroy both visions and delusions. It was exactly what you needed to put an end to him, to put an end to this madness and absurdity. You’d be done with this once and for all. You’d have your old life back; exactly as it was before.

So how?

And what was more pressing than how, was the question of just what Dottore was planning to do with this knowledge. The urgency that question posed was unmatched by anything else, the answer pertaining to whether you would live or die.

You couldn’t help but wince, unable to conceal your expressions any longer. Dottore had seen through it all, seen through all your plans. You were dead, and you could only hope that your death would not be as unpleasant as some of the others by his hand. You knew what he was capable of, and you knew he was capable of far worse.

“I didn’t think so.” Dottore’s words were firm. Unwavering. And in those very seconds you were forced to accept the reality that you were going to die. This was the end.

“Go ahead,” Dottore said, slowly holding out his hands with both palms facing you. “Shoot me.”

What?

“I won’t stop you,” he finished his sentence. You were still gaping at him, but he was gazing back straight into your eyes, unflinching.

“Is this a joke?” you breathed, unable to comprehend what was just said to you.

“Is that your final question?” Dottore returned, his words somehow snapping you out of your daze and paralysis for a split second. You instinctively reacted by reaching to your thigh, pulling out the gun that you had prepared for this very moment and aiming it directly at him.

You tried to still the tremble of your hands as your index finger hooked onto the trigger, tensing it frozen so it wouldn’t pull.

A moment went by.

“Is that all?” Maybe you were imagining things. You had to be, but you couldn’t help but feel his eyes scan your face, searching for something.

Just what was he looking for? Could it be the same thing you sought?

“Allow me my final question, then.”

You couldn’t help but anticipate, that minuscule flame of hope, that lingering spark that refused to be snuffed out, flaring back to life.

“Sure.” Your voice was low, but you knew that he had heard you, nonetheless.

“Question...” Each second felt like it had been split up into millions, leaving you to experience time a microsecond at once. You were breathing heavily, your blood pulsating in your ears and adrenaline rushing through your veins. “...Twenty.”

“There is something stopping you, isn’t there?” 

Your hands begin to braid his hair. He involuntarily shivers at the pleasant feeling of your fingers in his hair.

He manages to finish his work just as you're at the end of his braid. You help him clean up and close Bubu Pharmacy for the day, and as you’re walking home you ask if the two of you can take a detour tonight.

He’s tired, and he almost asks if you can go on this detour another night, but the stars in your eyes and the way you’re holding onto his arm causes him to say “Okay, but only for a short while.”

Huh.

Looks like he’s not the only one who knows how to use his stunning looks to his advantage.

He follows you to a secluded area on a hill, and he looks to the sky in awe alongside you.

It’s a full moon, and the stars are clearly visible tonight without a single cloud in the sky.

As you continue to look at the stars he subtly shifts his gaze to your face. As your eyes glimmer with profound emotion, the truth reveals itself to Baizhu. 

He realizes he can see the stars anytime he wants.

“It’s getting late, it’s time we rest. Sleep is vital to your health, you know.” Baizhu ushers you away from gazing at the beautiful sky with a teasing lit to his voice.

“But I remember when you told me that you’re usually too tired to come here and see the stars at night. You said the other night when you had enough energy to come here it was raining, so you just went home…” He glances at you as he intertwines your arms together once more, and he chuckles at the adorable pout on your lips.

“Yes, I did say that. However, I recently came to the realization that I could see the stars whenever I wish since you’re always by my side.” He enjoys the way your eyes widen in surprise as you quickly decipher the meaning of his words.

Just in case you don’t come to the correct conclusion, Baizhu clues you in. He leans forward to press a kiss against your now closed eyelids.

Before you can open your mouth to speak Baizhu announces your shared arrival home. 

“Oh, would you look at that. We’re home.” You can only chuckle as he opens the door for you, and you follow him into the comfort of your shared abode.

Diluc ☆.｡.:*ヽ

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

♡ This man is definitely “okokok”

♡Anytime it rains, he always has an umbrella for you to use. He doesn’t need one, but he always has one on him in case you need it.

♡ Whenever he makes a new drink he’ll have you taste it before he releases it to the public. If you don’t like alcohol he’ll make a virgin version for you to try if you still want to taste it.

“Diluc, rest your head here.”  He’s silent for a moment, openly contemplating whether he wants to do what you asked of him.

It isn’t long before he comes to a decision. He moves to stand in front of you, and you motion for him to sit in front of you.

His expression is absolutely adorable as he fulfills your request with a sigh of false exasperation.

“Honestly..” He begins to say, but he’s silent once your hands are in his hair. He visibly shudders as your fingers comb through his thick red strands. You get to work on your usual self care night time routine with Diluc. 

First, you comb through the tangled strands of his hair. You know he enjoys this part the most, but he refuses to acknowledge it whenever you ask him. Once you’ve combed out all the tangles, you usher him up to follow you to the bathroom.

“Do we really have to do this every night?” He asks this as he leans his face closer to you, allowing you to place the face mask on him. 

“Yup. Stop complaining when we both know you enjoy this. Now, come cuddle with me.” Diluc is happy you put the face mask on him already so you can’t see how flustered your words make him. He dutifully follows you to the area of your choice, which is the couch tonight, and he doesn’t voice a single complaint as you pull his body towards you.

He sighs in content as he rests his head on your shoulder, careful not to smudge the face mask. You’ve scolded him countless times for resting his head there with a face mask on, but somehow he always manages not to smudge it so you let it slide.

As you two sit in silence, enjoying the warmth your bodies provide, Diluc quietly begins to tell you about his day. You comment when he pauses to hear your thoughts, and you pride yourself on getting a chuckle out of him when you tell him a joke. 

It feels like hours pass before the timer goes off. When you tell Diluc to get up, he groans as he begrudgingly follows your command. “Can we go to bed after this?” Diluc’s voice is unusually soft as you lead him to the bathroom. You giggle at how cute he sounds.

He’s perfectly still for you as you follow the instructions for removing the face mask. As Diluc washes his face you return to your shared bedroom to hand his clothes to Adelinde to be washed for tomorrow. 

When he returns from the bathroom he looks refreshed and ready for bed; his eyes are noticeably droopy, and he yawns into his hand. 

Diluc joins you in bed, and he wastes no time in cuddling up to you as he places his face in the crook of your neck. 

“Goodnight, love.” His whisper, combined with his lips pressed against the skin of your neck, causes a shiver to go down your spine. You run your fingers through his hair as you reply, “Goodnight, my love. Sleep well.” He’s asleep moments after you wish him goodnight, and it isn’t long before you follow suit.

You’re both asleep in each other’s arms soon after.

Dottore * ੈ♡‧₊˚

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚

♡ How did you get this man to be in a relationship with you? Are you sure it’s him and not one of his clones?

♡ Well if you weren’t sure before, you are now. After all, he wouldn't stop grumbling over the inconvenience of losing his clones due to ‘a fair trade with the dendro archon’ for weeks. 

Will gives you crumbs of kindness to keep you hooked.

That is, until he finds himself buying your favorite treat for you at the nearest grocery store. You ran into his arms crying after a bad day, and he has to do something to cheer you up. He was disgusted by the tears streaming down your cheeks, and aggravated that the source of your angst was another human being. 

As he quickly makes his way back to you, your favorite treat in hand, he suddenly stops walking as his anxious thoughts of you come to a halt. He’s come to the unfortunate realization that you’re not the only one in love. 

He’s a busy man with things to do and places to be, yet he finds himself content holding you in his arms as your tears slowly subside upon his return. 

He hates the way his cheeks warm when you finally smile as you eat the treat he most definitely did not go out of his way to retrieve for you. 

He silently contemplates if he ever felt this way for another person before as you make yourself comfortable in his arms.

He decides it doesn’t matter as he sneaks a picture of your sleepy face, with your cheeks squished against his chest and droopy eyes struggling to stay open.

Hm.

Maybe he enjoys your company more than he lets on.

♡ He will begrudgingly happily go along with whatever you ask of him. His annoyance and snarky comments are only for show.

“Dottore, hold my hand.” “And why should I waste my precious time heeding your childish request? I have research subjects I need to test on, and I need both of my hands available to do so.” You roll your eyes as he slips his hand into yours, even as he continues to complain and ridicule your request. 

Good thing a kiss never fails to shut him up.

You relish the rare flustered look he gives you when you pull away, and you internally swoon when he chases after your lips.

Speaking of expressions, has he ever shown his face to others beside you?

Zhongli * ੈ♡‧₊˚

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺

♡ You’re still struggling to solve the mystery of where this man gets all his money from.

♡ There’s no way Zhongli has the funds to be buying you all the extravagant gifts that he does, but somehow your room is full of gifts. All of the finest quality.

He’s a calming presence beside you wherever you two go, and you love to close your eyes as he tells you facts about something that has caught your interest.

You may or may not go out of your way to think of things to ask him, things that you know only he’ll know being the Geo Archon. 

Just so you can hear his voice.

As you two are walking side by side around Liyue Harbor, you decide to ask him something so you can listen to him talk. You slip up and ask him something that’s virtually common knowledge to the people of Teyvat. His eyebrows rise in question. You anxiously hope he doesn’t catch on as he remains silent.

It takes a moment before his facial expression changes, almost like something registered for him. You realize he’s finally caught on to the truth behind your endless slew of questions. You can only hope he isn’t offended by your actions. 

Zhongli starts chuckling, and soon he’s hunched over and slapping his knee in amusement.  

You start laughing at the sight of Zhongli bent over and slapping his knee like an old man, but you don’t tell him that.

Zhongli literally has tears in his eyes as his laughter continues. Since he’s bent down, you move closer to him before you press a kiss to the unshed tears on his pretty lashes.

He awkwardly coughs as he suddenly stops laughing; your actions clearly fluster him. His face is as red as a Jueyun chili, and you adore the sight of him in this state. Oh, the tips of his ears are red too. Wait, is he.. shuffling his feet?

Aww.

His hand searches for yours, so you waste no time in fitting your hand in his. He squeezes your hand as he straightens himself. 

You squeeze his hand back as he begins to tell you everything he knows about your very obvious topic of conversation.

You take note of the way his eyes soften as he looks at you, and a warm smile presents itself on your lips. His eyes follow the curve of your lips with a gentle smile of his own. 

Oh, he loves you more than you’ll ever know.

Tartaglia ✧˖°.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

♡ Surprisingly really serious??

♡ Once he’s closer to you he drops his whole ‘happy go lucky’ act since he feels he can be himself around you without judgment.

♡ He’s still friendly and silly at times, but it’s significantly less than the front he puts on for others.

He almost hates the way his heart lurches as you finish getting a bath ready for him.

“Come.”

He’s silent as he obeys your command. He sits on the edge of the tub as you do your usual scan of his body for any new cuts, bruises or scars.

“Has this one always been here?” You suspiciously eye a cut that, yes, has been there for two days now. He recalls you scolding him when you initially discovered it.

“Actually, it has-“ The rest of his sentence gets caught in his throat when he feels the press of your lips against his skin. You mindlessly trace the scar with your finger as your beautiful orbs stare into his.

“Are you okay, Ajax? You seem a bit.. out of it tonight.”

A lump forms in his throat at your question. His emotions threaten to spill over as he gives a shaky exhale. He’s not sure how you can tell he’s had a rough day today, but he’s thankful for your keen eyes.

“Join me tonight?” It’s almost as if your clothes magically come off as you usher him into the welcoming bath. 

He steps in first, and you’re right behind him. Your arms wrap around him as your fingers locate the scar they were previously tracing.

“Want me to wash your hair?” You reach over to grab the shampoo bottle, already knowing what his answer will be.

As you gently rub the shampoo into his hair he closes his eyes in bliss.

He always appreciates your doting.

So it’s no surprise that once you two exit the bath, you open your shared bedroom to an overflowing pile of expensive gifts ranging from clothes to a physical copy of the newest video game, if that’s something you’re into.

“Ajax.” Your stern tone only causes his grin to grow larger. “I have to show my appreciation for you in some way.” His playful tone is quite adorable, but you push that thought to the side. 

“Ajax-“ He stops your scolding with a passionate kiss to your lips as he wraps his arms around you to bring you closer. 

“Well, there is another way.”

He loves the knowing look you give him. “Oh really? You might have to show me, I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

He loves the way you shiver as he presses a kiss below your ear. “Gladly.”

Xiao ༺♡༻

Reader is implied to be afraid of heights. If you aren’t afraid of heights, imagine it’s high enough to make you feel a bit nervous. 

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊

♡ Bro’s touch starved.

♡ King of hand holding and innocent touches.

♡ He loves to caress your thigh as he rests his head on your shoulder, watching on with whatever you’re doing.

If you happen to be on your phone and you scroll past a cute couple video, he tells you to scroll back to it so you two can watch it together.

Will shyly suggest you two do whatever couple trend is going on, but make it seem like you were the one who asked.

“I know humans love their silly trends. You don’t have to look at me like that, we can do it. I’m only doing this for you, you know.” He even sighs as he says it, making it seem like you’re really forcing his hand when he’s the one taking the initiative.

You honestly don’t mind and find it adorable.

Although some trends he’ll hesitate to do, especially if they’re a bit more hands on.

“Do I really have to guess what flavor this is?” He’s asking this as he leans in to kiss you, his cheeks blossoming into a hue that’s as red as a rose.

Despite his obvious hesitance, he enjoys any and all “incomprehensible” fun human past times you two do together.

Cue going to an amusement park as Xiao somehow wins all the rigged games and all the oversized stuffed animals you could ever ask for.

When he rides roller coasters with you his face becomes more expressive the more intense the roller coaster is. You love the subtle wide eyes he’ll make or the clench of his jaw as you two go barreling down the coasters’ track with the other riders.

Your favorite part of the whole day is when you two go on the ferris wheel.

I know, cliche, but it’s the feels good warm butterflies in your chest cliche.

When you two reach the top it stops, and as much as you’d love to enjoy the beautiful orange and purple hues of the sky your heart is pounding in your chest.

You look anywhere but down, eyes darting left and right.

Xiao huffs in annoyance, and when you turn to look at him he’s walking over to you from across the small pod.

“How could I forget? Humans and their weak minded fear of heights.” Before you can retort his comment with a snarky reply, he’s beside you and pulling you into his arms.

You muffle a weak “sorry” against his chest, and his response is a heartfelt sigh. 

When he presses a sweet kiss against your hair, your heart pounds for a different reason. 

“Be quiet. I like holding you like this. I don’t need the sunset with you here in my arms.” Although he probably wasn’t intending to be romantic, your cheeks warm and a giddy giggle escapes you.

Que the adorable sight of two idiots holding each other as the ferris wheel makes its slow descent down, the orange hues of the sky faded long ago, as the stars glimmer and wink in the romantic night sky.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ˳༄꠶ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ˳༄꠶ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ˳༄꠶ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“Lalala”

Alhaitham, Kaveh, Ayato, Wanderer, Albedo

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

Alhaitham ✧˖°.

Listen, I know Alhaitham would be an “okokok” person in a relationship. Just let me indulge in my delusions for a moment, okay?

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

♡ Alhaitham has never been in a relationship before; he’s a busy and productive man who has things to do. He goes home early to be alone and read in relative peace.

♡That is, until he got to know you.

Alhaitham doesn’t see himself as the romantic type, yet he finds himself doing simple acts of service for you without a second thought.

Do you wake up completely exhausted after studying all night? A steaming cup of coffee is gently placed into your tired hands as soon as you greet Alhaitham. You don’t like coffee? Alhaitham substitutes it for something that’s more your taste.

You’ll find fluffy blankets draped over your previously slumped figure on cold nights, your papers neatly organized after a quick bathroom break, and even little note cards placed on your belongings with encouraging words.

It took you multiple instances of these caring acts of kindness before you realized Alhaitham was the one behind them.

The notecards are what gave him away.

You thought you were being delusional as usual when you recognized Alhaitham’s handwriting on one of the note cards, despite sparsely seeing it. You confront him about the little note cards you've been seeing despite your apprehension of him behind the person behind these kind acts. 

Lo and behold, a few conversations and a study date later, Alhaitham is your dedicated boyfriend. Although he’s different than you thought he’d be in a relationship. 

In a good way, of course!

During a late night stroll in Sumeru, Alhaitham gently intertwines his hand with yours. When you look at him in surprise, he looks away with an obvious redness to his cheeks.

In another instance, Alhaitham walked in on you dozing off over your study notes. “I thought you said you were going to study all night, no interruptions?” Alhaitham’s teasing voice against your ear catches you off guard, but what really surprises you is the lingering kiss he presses underneath your ear.

With your study partner Kaveh gawking at him from the other side of the table.

This time around, Alhaitham’s head is resting on your chest as his tall figure is basically sprawled across your lap. It’s honestly adorable, but if anyone were to see this scene with their own eyes they’d probably think they’re hallucinating. Surely there’s no way the Akademiya’s scribe would behave this way, right?

Well they’d be proven wrong, and quite quickly.

Alhaitham reads his book without a care in the world as his head rests on your chest, flipping a page to continue reading out loud to you. “Honestly Alhaitham, I didn’t expect you to be so… openly affectionate like this in a relationship.” You hope your words don’t come across as offensive, but this is Alhaitham you’re talking to; You're not worried.

Alhaitham’s silent for a moment before he looks into your eyes. Your heart skips a beat at the swirling emotions you see in them, a rare sight for a man like Alhaitham.

“I feel at ease when you’re around, and I love many aspects about you, including your flaws. Why should I be bothered to conceal these feelings? Doing that won’t get me anywhere. Only a fool would hesitate to show how much they love and care about their partner.” Alhaitham’s words are concise and brutally honest, yet it’s as if he’s serenading you with a romantic ballad.

In a trance, you hardly register the way he presses a sweet kiss to your lips before he continues to read out loud to you, distracting you from your many assignments as he originally intended.

…

Oh.

“Okay.” Is the only breathy response you’re capable of. 

You don’t miss the smirk on his lips when he hears your response.

This time, you’re the one who kisses him.

Kaveh ♡˗ˏ✎*. ˚

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺

♡ Putting Kaveh anywhere other than lalala wouldn’t feel right.

♡ Kaveh, the hopeless romantic who smothers you with affection like it’s his job.

♡ Kaveh, who’s somehow always up before you to make you breakfast and ensure you have everything you need for the day.

♡ Kaveh, who pepper's your face with sweet kisses before you walk out the door in the morning and when you return home for the evening.

♡ He was a blushing mess when he asked you out, and his face was an adorable display of elation when you happily agreed to be his partner.

Now, Kaveh rests his head on your shoulders as he peers at the video you’re watching on your phone. “Honestly if that were me I would have broken up with him by now. Did you see the way he rolled his eyes as he let go of their hand? How disgraceful.” Kaveh clicks his tongue as he criticizes the male lead. 

You burst into a fit of laughter when Kaveh begins to cheer the male’s partner on for dumping a glass of wine over his head.

“He doesn’t understand how lucky he is to have someone care for him so deeply and intimately.” Your words strike a chord in Kaveh, and he reaches over you to pause the video.

“Wait, what do you mean by that?” Kaveh’s worried tone reaches your ears. You’re quick to turn around and press a loving kiss to his lips to dispel his worries.

“What I mean is, I’m lucky to have you in my life. You’re a ray of sunshine on my sunniest and darkest of days. I can only hope I make you feel as loved and cherished as you make me feel Kaveh. I’m the luckiest person in the whole of Teyvat to be able to wake up to your pretty snores.” Kaveh blushes as he scoffs in indignation. “Snores? I do not snore. Even if I did, you're wise to realize they’d be the prettiest snores you’ve ever heard. They wouldn’t be as obnoxiously infuriating as, say Alhaitham’s, would sound.” 

You chuckle at Kaveh’s indignation, before your chuckles quickly morph into uncontrollable giggles as Alhaitham chooses that moment to return home.

Unfortunately for Kaveh, Alhaitham heard his name being said. As Alhaitham questions Kaveh on your topic of conversation, Kaveh's fingers trace imaginary hearts on the back of your hand.

You enjoy the sound of surprise Kaveh makes when you grasp his hand to place a kiss against each of his fingertips.

Thankfully Alhaitham takes the hint to leave the two of you alone, and you two spend the rest of the day in each other’s arms, enjoying the irreplaceable warmth your bodies provide each other. 

Ayato❀

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

♡ To be the partner of Kamisato Ayato is a blessing in and of itself.

♡ Waking up to his pretty face resting beside you is now your favorite way to start your day.

♡ You love the way he’s always one step ahead of you. When you suddenly remember you forgot to bring an important item, Ayato’s calming you down with hushed whispers of love as he hands you the item in question.

You groan in annoyance as you put the paper in your hand down. You’ve been craving your favorite snack since this morning, and it’s getting harder and harder to resist the craving. You come to the conclusion that it’s worth putting your work down to get it, and at that moment Ayato enters the room.

It’s almost creepy how Ayato walks into your shared room with said food item you are currently craving.

You love how Ayato’s not afraid to kiss you in front of his retainers, and how he often brags about your achievements to others in front of you.

“Thank you for your hard work. Oh, speaking of hard work, my partner successfully completed that assignment I told you they were so worried about. Haha I know, they were worried over nothing. I’m quite proud of how far they’ve come. They even- my, what’s got you so riled up?” Ayato knowingly teases you when you approach him with a flustered expression, dismissing the retainer's soft chuckles and fond expression as they watch the two of you.

Ayato’s not one to shy away from cuddles and spending time together. No matter how busy his schedule is, he always makes time each and every day to spend with you.

 Whenever you’re together Ayato always has some part of him touching you. Whether that be his hand against the small of your back, his chin on your shoulder, or even his hands tangled in your hair, he’s always touching you.

When asked about this habit of his, he’ll simply respond, “It brings me a sense of comfort.”

Whenever Ayato’s seen with you, he’s the physical embodiment of  “…and all of the stars and infinite galaxies could be found in the vast beauty of their eyes. All it takes is one look at their partner, and their eyes shine like the sun's first rays of dawn.”

Wanderer *ੈ✩‧₊˚

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰ ─── ───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰ ───

♡ You fell first but he fell harder… and when he did fall, oh boy.

♡ He’s severely touch starved.

He’ll make any excuse to cuddle and be physically close to you. “This pillow isn’t fluffy enough and it’s hurting my neck. Move closer so I rest my head on your chest.” “But my chest isn’t fluffy???”

“I’ve never been in a romantic relationship before, and I need practice.” “Practice holding hands? That seems pretty straightforward to me-” “Silence.” You only watch in amusement as he averts his gaze, shyly holding your hand.

He looks so cute like this, you know you have to take a picture. As he’s preoccupied with avoiding your gaze, you deftly maneuver your phone in one hand and open the camera app. You snap an adorable photo of him.

Unfortunately for you, your phone flash was on.

You talk your way out of deleting the picture by agreeing to take a selfie with him.

When the alarm on his phone wakes you up the next morning you tap his phone to turn it off. You stare at his phone in shock as it lights up. His lock-screen is the selfie you two took together a few hours ago.

♡ Will literally do the sweetest and most heartfelt gestures without being asked, and then get defensive about it when it clearly makes you happy.

You wake up to a bouquet of flowers and breakfast in bed. Wanderer’s silence as you stare at him says all the tender words he struggles to voice.

When your eyes water and a wobbly smile presents itself on your lips, he clenches his jaw and rolls his eyes.

“I returned home late last night and missed the opportunity to fall asleep beside you. I figured you’d appreciate this sweet gesture, but clearly your mind is too addled with sleep to properly thank me. ..Wipe those tears away, they’re unsightly.”

He’s the one who gently wipes your tears away without complaint. 

As he presses a chaste kiss against your lips, you tell yourself you chose the right man to be your partner.

Bonus: If you ask for him to pray with you to whichever deity you follow, including the archons, he will. Despite believing in no deity or higher being, he’ll happily pray with you since he knows it’s an important aspect of your life. He’ll respect that and pray with you. It’s no big deal; he enjoys the thankful expression you have anyway. Don’t worry, he knows he doesn’t have to, but he chooses to do so with you because he wants to. Plus, he gets a free favor out of it every time. What he uses that favor on differs each time, but it’s always a good result for the both of you. 

Albedo ｡･

.・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜

♡ Albedo is known to not be the most.. expressive individual, yet he has no trouble expressing his love for you, consistently and with the same amount of fervor every time.

♡ Overall he’s the best partner you could ask for. He's your safe space, and you’re his.

♡ Albedo’s experiments are of utmost importance to him, so when an emergency arises that you need assistance with, it warms your heart when he stops his experiment mid way through to help you.

“I’m sorry I asked for your help while you were in the middle of an experiment. I couldn’t reach anyone else, and-” Albedo stops your hysterics with a tight hug and a kiss against the crown of your hair.

“You’re just as, if not more important to me than any of my experiments. Please, don’t hesitate to contact me at any given time, even if it’s not an emergency. I’ll always welcome the opportunity to hear your lovely voice, although I’d prefer if you didn’t sound so distressed.”

“Hey, ‘bedo, you’re zoning out again.” “Oh, my apologies. Here, I’ve completed it.” He hands you yet another sketch of yourself. Your features are beautifully depicted to be looking off into the distance, with dragonspine serving as a mystical background.

“You could sell these you know. You’d make a lot of Mora.” Albedo looks at you with clear offense in his eyes. “The day I sell my drawings of you is the day I stop loving you, and that’s a day that will never come to pass. Come, the temperatures are dropping and I’ve gathered enough starsilver for my next experiment.”

Your heart skips a beat as your hands effortlessly find each other’s. Albedo’s flushed cheeks are prominent as he presses a kiss against the back of your hand.

“Oh, there you are. I made you hot chocolate, the temperatures are lower than normal… Do you want to cuddle?” When your response is an immediate “yes” Albedo wastes no time in guiding you to a comfortable area and tangling your limbs together.

<- previous chapter

Power presents itself in many different forms. Most often, those with power are thought to possess strength, intelligence, wealth, or status. However, you were not exceptionally talented in any of the above. Instead, you found yourself gifted with something much less conventional—charisma.

—

“Pantalone!” You opened the door, beaming at the raven haired man who stood before you. “Lovely seeing you here today.” You stepped back and held the door for him.

“Y/N,” Pantalone returned the smile, thick eyelashes fluttering as his eyes crinkled with joy. “The pleasure is all mine.”

He walked inside before pausing, waiting for you to push the dense mahogany door into place, making sure it locked shut. Your home was in a rather secluded location where few people passed by—much less dare intrude. Secrecy was invaluable to all of your father’s guests.

“Unfortunately,” you began, “my father is running late today, which I apologize for. But please do come in and make yourself comfortable in the meantime.”

Your father was a busy man with a full schedule, one he went out of his way to readjust for the impromptu meeting request. It would have been unreasonable to expect perfect punctuality, and the apology wasn’t necessary.

Still, you had one job, and it was to be nice.

“Nothing to apologize for,” Pantalone replied. “Your generous hospitality more than compensates for it.”

While being cordial was more of a chore with the often unpleasant and impatient businessmen your father associated with, you found Pantalone’s company an effortless task.

You weren’t sure of the exact reasons behind it, but your home was often used as a place for meetings and negotiations relating to your father’s work. You weren’t present for the discussions themselves, but you did greet and welcome every guest—something your dad was not fond of doing himself.

For someone who worked a job where conversation was important, talking was not one of your father’s strengths. Though he managed just fine when it came to business, small talk and pleasantries were burdensome activities for him, which is why you handled them instead.

It wasn’t like you particularly enjoyed talking about the weather which never deviated from cold, or listening to middle aged men complain about joint pain, but you disliked it significantly less than your dad did. If anything, you had a tendency to avoid matters of actual significance, preferring your meaningless exchanges over accountability.

Pantalone was just another one of your father’s many associates, but he visibly stood out from the rest. You didn’t know much about them, but you were confident that everyone you’ve greeted was in some way or another, a powerful dignitary.

But they were no Harbinger.

That fact alone was enough to separate Pantalone from every other person you’ve ever interacted with throughout your approximately two decades of lifespan. You didn’t know for sure, but you knew well enough that his wealth and power surpassed that of all your father’s clientele combined.

But that wasn’t what truly made him different.

Pantalone was a striking contrast to your father’s other associate; not just because he was a Harbinger, but rather he was the sole person you could consider a friend.

You hadn’t bothered making new friends after moving to Snezhnaya. There wasn’t any particular reason for it. Although confidentiality could qualify, you found yourself either occupied with your own hobbies or keeping your father company when he was actually home and not busy with work. Anything you desired was delivered directly to your residence, so you had no need to venture into the city and make small talk with the shopkeepers.

This meant your interactions were limited to your father and his associates, all of whom were as pruned and grey as him. The only exception was Pantalone, and though you didn’t know exactly how old he was—it would be rude to ask—he didn’t seem significantly older than you, both in appearance and mannerisms. At the very least, he didn’t possess the wrinkles and bitterness the others did.

At some point, you began looking forward to your interactions, which both preceded and succeeded Pantalone’s business meetings with your dad. While you still maintained an air of professionalism with you, your amity went beyond mere pleasantries.

As you led him down the wide hallways and cavernous rooms, you couldn’t help but ask the question that had been nagging at you since yesterday.

“Pantalone,” you broke the silence, “may I ask a question?”

“Of course, dear,” he replied.

“Today’s a Monday,” you stated, “and you were just here last Tuesday.” For as long as you remembered, Pantalone had a very specific schedule. Once every other week, every Tuesday, he’d visit. As far as you knew, never had he strayed from that schedule—not until now.

“Ah, as observant as ever, Y/N,” Pantalone remarked.

“And on such short notice too...” you continued, letting your words trail off before asking him directly, “Is something the matter?”

You stopped in front of your father’s study, turning the doorknob and allowing Pantalone in, before you let the door leisurely shut on its own behind you both.

“Oh, no, not at all. It’s just that business can be unpredictable at times—I’m sure you understand.” His tone was as carefree and relaxed as ever, but you were certain this was no trivial matter. However, it wasn’t your business, so you set aside your curiosity and didn’t push any further.

“You’re right,” you agreed. “I was just a bit worried that something was up. I’m glad to hear that everything’s fine.”

‘Worried’ was an exaggeration. While you did care about Pantalone, you had no reason to fret over his well being. It was unlikely that anyone or anything could pose a serious threat to him, ever—he was a Harbinger. Perhaps it was disingenuous for you to feign concern, but you thought it was a polite sentiment regardless.

All of your dad’s meetings, with all of his associates, were held in this room. It was furnished with this intent in mind; a well-lit room with a coffee table flanked by two sofas near the centre, encircled by a desk, a few china cabinets, and most importantly, a kitchenette.

“I didn’t know you cared so much, Y/N.” A teasing remark, as you should have expected. You watched as Pantalone sat down on the sofa with a smirk.

“Do I seem that heartless to you?” you prodded back.

“Quite the opposite. If anything, you have too much heart.” Your eyes widened ever so slightly, Pantalone’s reply catching you off guard—you didn’t expect him to answer so sincerely.

Despite your familiarity with conversation and flattery, you were usually the one to give compliments, not receive them.

“You’re flattering me. I’m not doing anything special,” you brushed it off awkwardly. You quickly turned towards the kitchenette to escape the topic. “Earl grey tea with cream and two sugar cubes?”

“Why, I’m flattered that you remember how I take my tea,” Pantalone said. You filled the kettle, waiting for the water to boil as you took out a teacup and saucer from the cabinet above you, along with tea leaves and an infuser. You opened the refrigerator beside you, retrieving a glass bottle of cream.

You weren’t sure how or when exactly it started, but you always had a fondness for tea. The shrubs themselves, the processing of the leaves, the plethora of varieties and tastes, the simple act of brewing tea—you adored it all. When you still lived in Fontaine, where the weather was warmer and vegetation was abundant, you would often tend to your imported Chenyu shrubs and curate the leaves yourself; something Snezhnaya’s harsh, frigid climate didn’t allow for.

Though you missed the extensiveness of your tea hobby in Fontaine, you found other ways to keep yourself occupied. The time you would have otherwise spent on picking leaves was now dedicated to baking. It was something your mother taught you from an early age, a craft you now spent time perfecting. After all, freshly baked goods were a perfect accompaniment to tea, and your father’s clients appreciated the assortment of delicacies.

It was an excuse to bake batches of pastries that you otherwise wouldn’t be able to finish if anything, but it was something everyone was happy with. The guests enjoyed your confectioneries, your father evaded vapid chit chat, and you baked to your heart’s content.

“I’ve made you tea every other week, ever since we’ve moved here,” you pointed out. “So about two and a half years. It’d be awfully rude if I didn’t remember your preferences by now.”

You earned a soft chuckle from Pantalone.

“Well, now I’m curious. What else do you remember about me?” he asked, the question making you gulp.

You did not have a good memory, and you were especially uncomfortable with being put on the spot, your brain oftentimes turning blank, forcing you to blurt out any nonsense to try and salvage whatever situation you were being put in. You tried to think of something to say so it wouldn’t be obvious that you couldn’t recall; that would be rude.

“Only your darkest secrets.” You fumbled with placing the dried leaves in the infuser.

“So you know her name then?” he interrogated, and of course you didn’t.

“Of course,” you declared with utmost confidence. “Full name, date of birth, medical records, everything.” You knew you were just digging yourself a deeper pit, but you had just poured the water and the tea wasn’t done steeping yet.

“And what about her death certificate?” he continued. You stirred the tea rapidly, pouring in just the right amount of cream alongside two sugar cubes, before picking it up and serving it with the plate of madeleines you had baked earlier.

“That’s included in the medical records.” You placed the tea down on the coffee table a bit too hard. You made sure to place the plate down more gently, as if to absolve yourself of embarrassment. “Here’s your tea. And of course, some madeleines I baked this morning.”

You sat down on the sofa across from him, awaiting his expression as he brought the teacup to his lips, sipping the beverage with elegance.

“It appears you really are as observant as ever,” he smiled with visible satisfaction.

“I’m observant when people are interesting,” you noted, relieved that the conversation had finally shifted.

“Is that so?” Pantalone put down the teacup. “Y/N, what about me do you find interesting?”

There were a plethora of things you found interesting about him, and you wondered if some of them would be too intrusive or direct to point out given his status, but promptly discarded the consideration.

“Well, for starters,” you said, “you’re a Harbinger.”

“Oh my,” Pantalone spoke with feigned surprise. “I nearly forgot!” He reached towards the plate, picking up one of your madeleines and taking a bite. You watched his face hungrily for validation, awaiting his judgement of your madeleines. Even though your confectioneries were never worse than satisfactory, you often liked to try new variations or entirely different recipes, taking note of any feedback from guests to further improve your skills.

“Wonderful baking as always, Y/N.” Pantalone’s words seemed to align with the pleased expression on his face, and you couldn’t help but grin, feeling proud of yourself.

“You know,” Pantalone started, bringing your attention back to the conversation, “such status can be quite cumbersome. People behave rather differently around you. It becomes hard to tell when such pleasantries and favours are coming from a place of genuine kindness, or somewhere else.”

The atmosphere suddenly dropped to a more solemn tone, startling you.

“Be that as it may, I’ve always felt at ease in your company. Contrary to popular opinion... us Harbingers aren’t all that different from everyone else, and I feel refreshingly ordinary in your presence.”

You listened to him attentively, musing over his sentences in your head to carefully formulate a response.

“Refreshingly ordinary...” you muttered. “I didn’t expect to hear that. If anything, you’re quite special to me. Regardless, I’m happy to hear that I’ve been pleasant company for you. The feeling is mutual.”

You finished speaking, a wistful smile on your face as you glanced downwards, the focus slipping from your gaze. While you and Pantalone had many conversations over the years, they primarily consisted of playful banter and idle chatter. Rarely would you be as pensive as you were now, and while sentimentality usually made you uncomfortable, you found yourself not minding it right now. Perhaps you were more lonely than you had originally considered, but you realized your words held more truth than expected.

Pantalone was someone special to you. There used to be others, too. When you still lived in Fontaine, you had close friends; people you deeply valued and cared for. But distance does not make the heart grow fonder. Distance simply meant the space between, and the space from Snezhnaya to Fontaine would parallel the growing disconnect between you and the ones you used to hold dear.

Everything in Teyvat had a limit to its elasticity, tangible or not. Things can only be stretched so far before the tension eventually causes it to sever. Emotional connection was no exception to that. Despite your agreements to continue writing one another and keep in contact, eventually the letters became fewer and longer between. The last time you had received a letter was about seven months ago.

People separate. People move on. It was only natural, and you had come to accept it. You had no idea what your former friends were doing now, but you were probably nothing more than a passing thought in their heads every once in a blue moon.

You didn’t often reminisce about them, either. But when you did, you would naturally ponder the idea of making new friends. Even though it would be wise to make an effort, you didn’t want to. Meeting new people, getting to know them, becoming as close to them as you were with your former friends—it was exhausting just to think about. You didn’t want to bother yourself with something so tedious.

But since Pantalone had been routinely visiting for the past few years, your attachment to him inevitably grew without you even realizing it.

Your rumination was interrupted by the sound of heavy, pounding footsteps rapidly approaching.

“Oh,” you said, “it seems like my father’s—”

“—Oh, Lord Pantalone, please forgive the delay!” The door flung wide open, your father rushing into the room. “Such tardiness in the face of a Harbinger is unacceptable and—”

“—Please, it’s all right, F/N,” Pantalone tried to calm your very much frantic father. “I was enjoying a lovely conversation over tea with your daughter just now and—”

“—No, no, no! This will not do!” your father declared. “You must be impossibly busy with work! We should discuss business as soon as possible—Y/N, you may take your leave now while we discuss urgent matters!”

You were halfway through getting up when Pantalone spoke.

“Well, actually, F/N, the reason I requested this meeting was because I wanted to speak with you regarding your daughter.”

What?

Your head snapped towards Pantalone, the rest of your body still frozen in an awkward motion between standing and sitting, your eyes wide with shock and mild horror.

You weren’t sure if you had heard him right or not. But judging by the similarly surprised look on your dad’s face, you likely heard him correctly.

You would be lying if you said you hadn’t ever thought of Pantalone as attractive. His elegantly styled black hair was smooth and silky—or at least it appeared so, you never ran your fingers through it—and his skin was radiant, fair as porcelain, his amethyst irises embellished with full sets of ebony lashes, sitting behind intricate silver glasses that framed his gracefully poised face just right.

However, you had never thought of anything beyond that. Not only were you unsure about how old he was—he could be twice your age, for Archons’s sakes—he was also your dad’s business associate, and you weren’t sure how your dad would feel about that, though you supposed you’d find out soon.

“Uh,” your dad stumbled over his own words, “Lord Pantalone... are you sure you want to, uh, discuss such matters with Y/N present?”

“Why, of course, F/N,” Pantalone replied, completely nonchalant. Your eyes darted between him and your father, the two of them wearing completely opposite expressions.

“Uhh,” your dad gibbered awkwardly, “are you sure you want to discuss such matters with me present?” You could see that he, too, was looking back and forth at the both of you in a futile attempt to grasp the situation. He was presumably contemplating the prospect of anything having happened between the two of you. The thought alone was enough to fluster you, and you were just thinking of how to explain that no, you were not and had not been sleeping with his business partner, when Pantalone spoke again.

“Oh, Archons, no, it’s nothing like that, please don’t misunderstand!” he exclaimed, his statement sending you into a brand new state of confusion. “I merely want your daughter to spy on Dottore.”

“I’m sorry, what?” you interjected, evident disbelief in your voice. You didn’t need to look at your dad to know he was even more disturbed than you, considering how he was at a loss for words.

“You see, it has recently come to my attention that Dottore is plotting something rather unfavourable to the Tsaritsa,” Pantalone elaborated, though you weren’t sure whether his explanation was helping or worsening the situation. “As a Harbinger, it is my duty to ensure her safety, and as Dottore’s closest associate, I’m in a most advantageous position to do so. Alas, I am but one man, so some assistance would be incredibly helpful.”

While the initial misconception was already difficult to process, the clarification was even more incomprehensible. You were stunned, unable to formulate any coherent thoughts until your dad managed to snap out of his stupor.

“You want my daughter to spy on Il Dottore? Forgive me, Lord Pantalone, but are you daft? How the hell is she supposed to do that? She is a child!” Despite its irrelevance to the situation, you couldn’t help a spark of irritation rising up at his words. You scowled, but put your annoyance aside for now, for there were more pressing matters at hand. Your father was becoming agitated, so you made an attempt to assuage the tension.

“...It’s fine,” you said, straightening up as you turned towards the Harbinger. “Pantalone, could you please elaborate?”

“Well, you see, I need someone whom I know and trust, that Dottore doesn’t know, but can come to trust,” he asserted. “I need someone new, unassuming, but not entirely unfamiliar. Someone who can keep a secret and find a secret. Who better than the daughter of the magnificent F/N?”

From an outside perspective, it was easy to make the assumption that you were knowingly assisting your father in keeping his clandestine activities concealed. Most people likely thought that, but it’d be incorrect.

Truthfully, your role in your father’s work was limited to greeting associates and serving them tea, along with any freshly baked goods you had made. Of course, you knew that your father wasn’t the most noble of men, considering his clientele—the Harbinger on your sofa being a perfect example—but that was the extent of your knowledge, and you preferred to keep it that way. You knew it made you apathetically recreant, but it was much easier to stay unaware and turn a blind eye to his questionable doings. You would keep yourself uninvolved in his business, hiding under your security blanket of willful ignorance.

The exact shelter that Pantalone was trying to coax you out of.

“Well, okay, sure, but—” your dad tried to protest.

“—And as a token of my gratitude,” Pantalone furthered,

“I would bring M/N back to life.”