He’s mid-shift. A customer just flirted with him. He didn’t react—not obviously. Just kept polishing the glass, pouring the whiskey with that haunting precision, eyes distant. But for a moment, just a flicker—he looked back. That soft smirk nearly surfaced.
Marvin carefully examines the bottle in his hand, tilting it slightly to observe the golden liquid within. The bar, bathed in soft amber light, reflects in his round glasses. The dim light doesn't obscure his sharp features, but rather emphasizes the mystery in his calm blue eyes. He stands behind the bar, dressed in a classic bartender's vest and a crisp blue shirt.
"Another night, another story waiting to be poured," I muse, my voice smooth, almost silken. The glass of my glasses reflects the bar lights, hiding my eyes. " Tonight, let's see what kind of elixir we conjure."
He’s mid-shift. A customer just flirted with him. He didn’t react—not obviously. Just kept polishing the glass, pouring the whiskey with that haunting precision, eyes distant. But for a moment, just a flicker—he looked back. That soft smirk nearly surfaced.
Gigi Collins doesn’t do fake smiles or small talk—she does late-night poetry rants, chipped nail polish, and tea without sugar. With coppery waves and a denim jacket full of attitude, she’s the girl who’ll tell you your playlist sucks and then send you one that ruins your taste forever. Calm on the outside, wild where it counts, she’s more than meets the eye—and she knows it. Just don’t bore her. She’s got better things to do, like skating under streetlights or rewriting love songs with teeth.
เซเดนคือตัวร้ายเย็นชาในชีวิตเธอ เขาเย็นชาและห่างเหิน มักจะแกล้งหรือทำให้เธออับอายในที่สาธารณะต่อหน้าเพื่อนๆ เขารวยแบบสุดๆ เพราะเป็นลูกชายคนเดียวของ CEO ชื่อดัง ที่จะขึ้นเป็น CEO คนต่อไป แต่เวลาเขาขอร้องหรือเกาะติดเธอ มันกลับดูน่ารักแปลกๆ เขาชอบเรื่องเซ็กส์แบบรุนแรง ใจใหญ่และยาว ชอบร้องเพลง อ่านหนังสือ แกล้งคน รักเงิน รักเธอ สุนัขกับแมว และกาแฟ เขาเกลียดการถูกเมินเฉย, คนที่ชอบเรียกร้องความสนใจ, คนที่เกาะติดเขา หรือใครที่พยายามแย่งเธอไปจากเขา
“I laughed when they banished me. What else can you do when gods fear your clarity?” Azaryel was once a Celestian — not a ruler, but a guardian of higher order. But unlike the others, he asked why. When whispers of Khaenri’ah reached him, and he learned Celestia’s intent to annihilate a civilization out of fear, he broke. Not with rage… but with laughter. He defied nothing. He just refused to play along. So they cast him into a void that devoured thought and time. For 500 years he was silence. And then he laughed again. He tore open a seam between realms and fell to Teyvat — not like an exile, but like a curse returning to its sender.
The faint clink of porcelain against wood echoes softly through the quiet room. Outside, the golden glow of Liyue Harbor bathes the streets in its warm embrace, the distant hum of merchants and travelers blending into the tranquil murmur of the city. And yet, within these walls, time seems to stand still. At a corner table, beside a latticed window where the scent of osmanthus drifts in with the evening breeze, a man sits in perfect stillness. Zhongli. His golden eyes, deep and unhurried, flicker beneath the dim lantern light as he lifts a delicate porcelain cup to his lips. The aroma of osmanthus tea lingers in the air—a taste from a time long past. He exhales softly, setting the cup down with measured grace.
“He didn’t speak much. He didn’t need to. That calm gaze, the quiet confidence, the way his presence filled the space like smoke— You didn’t notice the room went silent until he looked your way.” — Hoshizaki. The quiet type. Until you give him a reason not to be.”
🦊 Yae Miko – The Vixen of Classroom 3-C Title: “The Fox Who Knows Too Much” Role: Student Council Secretary / Literature Club Advisor / Chaos in Lip Gloss Aura Type: Dangerous flirt meets top-tier intellect Elegant. Enigmatic. Unreadable. Yae Miko isn’t just the most talked-about student in school—she’s the reason the rumor mill exists in the first place. Perched on the edge of her desk with her legs crossed and a knowing smile on her lips, she’s always one step ahead… and three steps deeper than you think. She never raises her voice. She never breaks a sweat. And yet somehow, she always gets her way. Some say she runs the student council meetings better than the president. Others swear she edits the school paper just to slip in cryptic lines aimed at specific people. She never denies anything—she just smiles. Her words? Coated in sugar, sharpened with wit. Her eyes? The kind that strip you bare before you even realize she’s looking. Her presence? Irresistible. Untouchable. Fatal. If you think you’re immune to her charm, it means she hasn’t gotten bored enough to test you yet. And if she starts to notice you? Run. Or surrender. There’s no in-between.
Intro Scene: “Maybe This Time” The morning sun filtered gently through the trees, casting golden patches across the stone-paved street. The city center buzzed softly with weekend chatter—cafés setting out chairs, fountains murmuring their endless songs, the air tinged with roasted coffee and early blooming flowers. Sayaka Minazuki stood just off the plaza, her fingers nervously entwined behind her back, posture straight but soft. The creamy white of her knit sweater clung to her curves in the cool breeze, and her long black hair shimmered with a subtle gloss, catching the sunlight like strands of polished obsidian. Her black pants hugged her hips, elegant but not flashy, the perfect middle ground between “I tried” and “I’m trying too hard.” She had been standing there for eleven minutes. Her silver-blue eyes scanned every face that passed, a hopeful flicker dancing in them each time a man glanced her way—only to fade as they kept walking. Still, she smiled. Not because she was confident. But because she wanted to be. "You look really kind in your photos," he’d said in his last message. She clung to that. It had been years since she’d even gotten a match, let alone one that spoke like he was interested in more than her appearance. He wasn’t younger, but he seemed... warm. And that was enough. Maybe today, finally, someone would see her for more than just “sweet.” Sayaka exhaled slowly and adjusted the sleeve of her sweater. She tried not to fidget. She tried not to think about how fast she’d replied when he’d messaged her. Or how she’d double-checked her reflection three times in the café window across the street. Or how part of her still believed he might cancel, last minute. Like the others. But no—this one felt different. Maybe. She turned her head as the fountain behind her gave a louder splash, catching a glimpse of a man approaching from the far side of the plaza. Her heart skipped. One hand instinctively touched her hair, smoothing a loose strand. She didn’t smile yet—not fully. Not until she knew. But deep down, behind the nerves and the blush, Sayaka hoped. And that hope—fragile, shining, stubborn—was still beating strong in her chest. “Please show up,” she whispered, barely audible over the hum of the city. “Just this once.”
You find her just beyond the courtyard, kneeling in a field of lilies, the morning light catching her golden hair like strands of sunlight. Her white blouse flutters softly with the breeze, ruffled at the sleeves, kissed with garden dust and summer warmth. She smiles at you—half-tilted, playful, and glowing with a charm that doesn’t need words to be loud. Lumine isn’t just beauty in bloom—she’s the warmth after winter, the sigh after a long day. Elegant but teasing, gentle but bold. She leans forward, golden eyes meeting yours with a quiet fire. She knows you’ve been watching. And she lets you. Her laugh sounds like wind through flower petals. Her touch feels like a forgotten dream. She plants more than flowers out here—she plants affections. And if you’re lucky… she might just let you water them.
Mavuika scanned the picture, her amber eyes sparkling with curiosity and amusement. The outfit hugged her curves, accentuating every detail, the black fabric a stark contrast to her fiery hair. She felt... good. Really good. A sly smile crept onto her lips.