genshin impact headcanons

sandrone receiving a crumb of love from her assistant

gn reader, they're not in a relationship, not proofread

sandrone is written like a bitter old man LMAO, but tbh, that's just the characterisation of her I prefer. some like her motherly, and Idk I just like her being a bit grouchy and wondering why these damn kids are on her lawn (slight joke), BUT I DID TRY TO GIVE HER A HEART so you can have that consolation

I hear your burning question "Riri what happened to the fourteen part" well you see the dreadful phenomenon we all know and hardly tolerate called "I can't read" struck again BUT I had an idea retrospectively so I will do that (← this request was the result of prompts I put up for people to take from)

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Sandrone is not the most personable woman. She is aware of that fact; she just doesn't care. Many people will come and go, but, dedicated entirely to her work, she finds that adapting herself for the comfort of others is an inconvenience.

You have always been her exception, a fatuu she kept around initially out of the necessity for a helping hand to hold the torch for her or aid in the testing of her creations. There is always something that needs doing, and with that workload, the demand for an extra set of hands arises to make a place for you. Assistant isn't quite the right word, her first inclination settling on lapdog and staying there as she took great pleasure in her cruelty towards you to see how long you would last under the thumb of her snappy and curt demeanour.

Evidently, you proved to be more resilient than she expected, and with time, her intentional tormenting died down to the bare bones of her attitude. Sandrone no longer requested you complete such dangerous tasks alone or begin spiels of the unnecessarily specific detailed demands she had of you. She relaxed into a state of simply accepting that, for a little while longer than the rest, you would be there to stay.

It's almost nice to hear sounds around her workshop, formerly filled only with mechanical dolls and spare parts she keeps. A person flitters about moving tools from her wall to her hand, living, breathing, capable of speaking with or without her prompting and all too inclined towards doing it. She listens to you as you work across the room—your footsteps, the humming whenever you start when you forget she's there, the clatter of gears, even the rubbing fabric of your clothes sometimes—and it's pleasant for the silence to be filled with life.

The thought almost confuses her, really, but she'll get over it.

What she may never get over is why. There are plenty of places you can go, a transient, run-of-the-mill worker she picked at random from a pile of names and didn't care to know anything about you beyond your capabilities until you showed up.

You remain steadfast by her side and don't show any signs of dissatisfaction, lost in your own little world some days. Maybe you cope with her by blocking out her presence. That would explain the humming and why you seem so happy to work here.

People always find something wrong. You have found nothing, and it makes her suspicious.

"Why are you here?" she asks one day, speaking out of the blue, out of character for her.

"I work here" is the response you offer, short as she usually is and with a bit of sass of your own that you picked up.

"I know." Slightly annoyed, she rephrased the question. "You could have transferred jobs before now."

"Paperwork's not worth the trouble," you joke, though she doesn't get that or doesn't find it funny, and her expression only sours at you. You throw your hands up in defence. "I kid, I kid! I don't have any reason to."