#is this even drabble length

[kraeted]

MINORS DONT INTERACT

Although you didn’t necessarily think of your old college friend, Asahi, as a freak in the sheets, you were surprised to find out that, at 27, he was still a virgin. He was definitely not a proud one, after one too many dates had ghosted and cancelled on him when they found out. Nothing would make him happier than getting it over with and finally be able to resume his dating life. So being the good friend you were (and totally not to trying still your own sexual frustration after being sexless for nearly a year), you offered to take his virginity. He nearly choked on his coffee when you finished your proposal, but he couldn’t bring himself to say no.

[domoz]

A drabble trade with @doveywovy, with prompts "marriage hunt" and "cultural differences"

The brilliant orange of sunset feels like it takes an eternity to fade into dusk.

The strings of lanterns around the edges of the clearing make tonight's gathering of anxious young hopefuls look more like a festival than it has any right to. If it were only Uchiha out here, it practically would be -- there would be talking and dancing and everyone would be sizing up the others out to hunt tonight. But there’s a group of Senju huddled together on the far side of the clearing across from them, and so the atmosphere is decidedly flat. Both sides keep well apart from each other, separated only by the tiny group of participants from other clans.

"Yeah, there's no way someone's not ending up dead tonight." Izuna informs his brother. Madara groans.

"Repeating how bad of an idea you think this is isn't going to stop it at this point." Madara sighs. "Haven't you already made sure a thousand times that no one out tonight is planning on doing anything stupid?"

Izuna has had this argument with him constantly over the past few months, and he's still loath to admit that his brother has a point. Putting a pause to marriage hunts had been sensible when the village had been founded. Nearly two years in, though, and it's starting to seem like they don't have faith in their own creation to survive the pressures of a time-honored tradition.

So even though this is going to end in disaster, the best thing to do to ensure Konoha's long term survival -- and Izuna finds, these days, that he's begrudgingly in support of that outcome -- is to hold a hunt anyways, and just deal with whatever happens.

That doesn't mean he can't say I-told-you-so afterwards, though.

"Our people, yes, but I can't account for the rest of them. I mean, the Senju all came out without shoes, so it's not like my expectations are very high."

"If I've kept my mouth shut about whatever has your clan lighting fires and singing all hours of the night leading up to this, you can bite your tongue on our shoes." Tobirama’s deep voice cuts in, the man butting into their conversation by appearing from the treeline on the Senju side, where he's surely been working his perfectionist little fingers to the bone over something that's going to be a mess anyways.

Izuna turns to him with a retort like usual, but he finds himself staring open-mouthed instead. He's known roughly where Tobirama has been all day, but he hasn't had eyes on him until right this moment. He's not wearing one of the four outfits Izuna has ever seen him in. No armor, no shinobi blacks or training clothes or that mess of dye the Senju call formal clothes. He's in a wave patterned haori, a pair of hakama that's secured at the ankles, and -- and no shoes.

"What the hell?" Madara sputters out a response before Izuna can -- he's too distracted by the string of bells Tobirama has wrapped around one wrist like the rest of the Senju participants, chest squeezing tight with too many reactions to name. "What are you dressed like that for? You're joining?"

"I don't see why I wouldn't." Tobirama says in that tone he usually takes with Madara that makes it sound like the person he's talking to is very stupid, "I'm eligible, and there are several politically advantageous targets. If I participate I can also keep an eye on anyone who might be planning on causing trouble. It's good optics."

"Good optics?" Izuna says, a little too shrill, "You're the clan heir! Don't you have something arranged already?"

He'd always assumed so -- Izuna himself hasn't exactly been betrothed since before he was born, but the list of acceptable candidates for him to marry has never been very long.

He really shouldn't be surprised when Tobirama shakes his head; he's always known that the Senju don't care about bloodlines. They probably hadn't even had to read through the genealogies of all of their participating clan members beforehand.

"Wh-- you're not seriously joining a hunt for political convenience?" Madara cuts in before Tobirama can say something snarky. "That's cold, even for you, Senju."

Tobraima rolls his eyes, "It’s not like I’m aiming  to get married to someone who hates me. If it comes down to that, I won't hunt anyone at all."

The two of them devolve into bickering, but Izuna is hardly listening. Tobirama is either going to walk out of the woods married, or never allowed to marry at all. The stupid bastard probably even thinks he would prefer that.

…It’s not like Izuna can join and do anything about it -- but that's not true, he only shouldn't. Certainly no one would be able to raise any complaint about the two of them being too closely related and, well -- it's a hunt;  if it succeeds there's not really any challenging it anyways.

Tobirama makes a noise of disgust at whatever it is Madara just said and excuses himself with, "I have more important things to worry about tonight than your empty head."

Luckily, Madara is distracted by chasing after him to try and get the last word in, so he doesn't notice as Izuna slinks away to go mingle with the hunters on the Uchiha side of the clearing. Surely, someone has some spare red rope lying around? It’s not as though he’s about to let Tobirama be inflicted on anyone else.

[good-beanswrites]

Fe Aspec Week Day 7: Free Day -- Legacy

This one took me forever to settle on something I liked -- I was toying around with some ideas about Lukas's epilogue text and the idea of legacy, as well as a bit of meta impact. A few scrapped drawings and 1k words later, I've got this 😂

As always, thank you so much for running this week!! 💜💚 I always have so much fun with the pieces, (it's been the only event week that I can regularly commit to because I always have a blast haha!) and seeing others' amazing work! It's been such a great time :D

Forsyth stepped back from his canvas. He wiped hair from his forehead, hoping he wasn’t smearing any paint there. He studied his work, then his model, then his work once more. He gave a decisive nod. 

“Well. I tried.”

Python choked back a laugh. “That’s not quite the confidence you want to hear from your portrait painter, you know.” He walked up to the canvas, but Forsyth was quick to angle it away from him. 

“Oh, hush, I wasn’t even painting you! I’ll have you know, it was rather difficult trying to paint something without having it in front of me.”

“What are you talkin’ about, Luke was sitting right there for hours!”

At his mention, Lukas perked up. He’d been lounging in front of Forsyth, his eyes lowered to sift through a pile of student writings. He’d been scribbling notes in the margins, absentmindedly angling his face this way and that when Forsyth requested.

“And I am incredibly grateful for his presence. However, I did not want to capture him looking like a sleep-deprived schoolteacher –”

“– but that’s exactly what he is –”

“– so I attempted to recreate my personal favorite expression of his.”

Lukas smiled. “Oh? And what would that be?” He placed the papers aside, giving Forsyth his full attention. Lukas nodded to the canvas, encouraging him to reveal it. 

“Well… you see… the point of this whole project…”

Forsyth searched for the right words. The point of the whole project actually struck him months ago, back at Rigel Castle. 

He and Python had sat for their own portraits, which would later be hung in the great hall to commemorate members of the Brotherhood. Forsyth could have cried seeing he and Python’s likenesses full of dignity and chivalry. The whole time, though, he couldn’t shake the feeling of injustice that boiled in his stomach: Lukas would get nothing. 

Sure, his name would appear in the records as the royal family’s right-hand advisor during and after war, but his image would disappear entirely. He left the Brotherhood to fulfill his dreams long before the kingdom was stable enough to commission a professional painter. With his brother furthering the bloodline and becoming the major focus of the household, Lukas was relieved of all marriage obligations – and opportunities for a couple’s portrait. Paintings alongside any future children were out of the question, as well. 

“It’s terribly unfair!” Forsyth had cried. “Are war and romance the only means to remember a man? Is he any less worthy because he will never marry?”

“You’re overthinking things, Fors.” Python had hardly spared him a glance. “Plenty of good people don’t get their paintings done.”

“And that is just as much an outrage!” 

He brought his concerns to Lukas, who seemed at peace with the situation, as Python was. The pair’s disinterest only caused Forsyth more urgency. After a bit of deliberation, he knew there was only one path forward. 

“I shall take this into my own hands.”

They would find out he meant this very literally. He showed up at Lukas’ schoolhouse with various brushes clutched in his hands, an apron thrown over his chest. He pulled up a nearby seat, propped up an easel, and got right to it. It became their routine: once classes dismissed for the day, Lukas would busy himself with reading through his school materials, and Forsyth would busy himself with work of his own.

He’d done his research beforehand, but had never actually painted anyone’s portrait. He looked again at the finished product.

“I was hoping to capture… er… the point of this work is to commemorate your independent situation… and thus… I remembered the days after you first told me, you were the happiest I’d ever seen you. The face is still a rare one, but after that night, I’ve seen that side of you more and more. I just thought…”

He gave an audible huff. Screw it. 

He turned the canvas around. 

“I am sorry. Perhaps I should have gone with a more dignified look, like the other knights’ portraits. I am aware that I have yet to accomplish a professional’s level of –”

“It’s perfect.” 

Forsyth blinked. 

Lukas stared at the canvas. He appeared to be working out his next words. Meanwhile, Python let out a long whistle. “Lookin’ good! Not too shabby, for your first masterpiece.”

“‘Not too shabby’ is an understatement.” Lukas stepped closer to the piece, his voice full of warmth. “Thank you, friend.”

In the painting, Lukas wasn’t sitting straight-backed and stiff; it was focused on his bust, leaning a bit in relaxed movement. He wore casual clothes, none of his usual professional garments. He smiled. His mouth was a little lopsided, a little odd, pinching his eyes a bit, showing some teeth, but not all – and it was a perfect replication. This was Lukas’s true smile, not the one he put up for others to view. 

Python gave him a poke. “So, now what? Where are we gonna do with it? We can’t just smuggle it into the royal gallery. And I don’t think Lukas is the kind of guy who wants to stare at it here in the school all the time.”

“Well, I… er….”

“I mean, we can certainly just go and hang it up somewhere around town, but I don’t think he’s looking for that, either.”

“I just thought he’d want it! For his legacy!” Forsyth huffed. His eyes shone with The kind of determination that the others knew not to overstep on. There was no stopping him now. “It’s important that he’s remembered through the ages! I think of all the heroes that inspired me – the way I gazed at their images in my fathers’ textbooks, gaining hope from their stories…”

“You’re hoping that Lukas ends up in some dusty textbook someday?”

“Indeed!” He beamed, not realizing that Python didn’t see it as a grand victory. “Just imagine: centuries from now, some harrowed scholar, crushed under familiar struggles. They get a hold of a secondhand book, and suddenly, bam!” He gestured to the painting. “They look upon his face and see that everything will be alright. They’ll think, ‘if Sir Lukas of Valentia can do it, and smile so purely at the end of it all, surely I can too!’”

He clenched his fists, caught up in his own excitement. His gaze was somewhere faraway, imagining this incredible future.  

Python scoffed. 

“It sounds like they’re just as much of a hopelessly sentimental dreamer as you are. They’ll probably think, ‘gods, now I need to study up on this guy too?”

“Python…”

“Or, if they’re like me, maybe they’ll think, ‘mmm, that is one fiiine –”

“Python!”

“Alright, alright. I think it’s a real nice gesture, Fors.”

Lukas had been quietly taking everything in for a while. Now he spoke. “I truly believe this is perfect. As you said – this is an expression only saved for rare occasions. It’s difficult for me to smile so genuinely. I… I never really see it myself.”

He placed a hand on Forsyth’s shoulder. “We can hope it reaches others someday, but regardless, I am grateful to have seen it right now. It inspires me about the future. I… I cannot thank you enough.”

[thehamletdiaries]

Hamlet/Horatio sort of drabble

Hamlet winced slightly as he sat up and the bright morning sunlight shone into his eyes. He moved slightly and winced; his left shoulder ached for some reason. He paused, considering waking Rosencrantz. What was the proper etiquette here? Should he let him sleep? Wake him and suggest breakfast? Wake him and do again what they had done the night before? He glanced around at the scattered litter of clothes strewn across Rosencrantz’s floor. A further moment's hesitation and he was up and getting dressed. 

He left the room discreetly; slipping out into the open courtyard. He was exhausted - he could only, he reckoned, have had about two or three hours sleep - but his mind was also racing.

He saw now what it could be like; why this was something men throughout history had pursued with such a degree of passion as to wage war on Troy or destroy dynastic lines or go against God himself. His body felt different. But there was something in his heart that knew now that this act, this intimate and powerful act, would be different with someone else; with someone whose face was beautiful to him. He thought of Ophelia for a moment, and found himself calm at the thought that one day he would be able to love her in that way. It was a safe thought, in so many ways. The kingdom would have children born of his true friend, and they would find joy in the act, he was sure.

But as he thought - and really he could not stop thinking about it - the idea of doing what he and Rosencrantz had done last night but with an object of beauty, he found his mind drifting to the boy with the beautiful blue eyes he had watched many times speaking to many men at the tavern. He saw Horatio in the library too - from what he’d seen of him, at least, Hamlet supposed all he did was read and write or find men to take home. It seemed to Hamlet like a beautiful life, that.

[rafent]

falesia: the disquieting awareness that someone's importance to you and your importance to them may not necessarily match

falesia: the disquieting awareness that someone's importance to you and your importance to them may not necessarily match ╱ also sent by @twistedisciple & @resalire

Nel's smile. Nel's laugh.

Nel said—

Nel did—

Nel. Nel. Nel.

He tired of that name, the sound of it, the frequency of it, the immense power it wielded over Nil and ergo Rafal. Today's Nel could not be that different from yesterday's Nel, he snapped at him, do you always have to speak of your sister? But the truth was that no topic he offered in her place could have replaced the immaterial spark she inspired, that thread of animation which connected eyes to lips to heart and brimmed in his brother as life.

"I'm sorry, Rafal. Did I anger you? I'll stop if you tell me." Nil's attention landed upon him with helpful innocence, eager to remedy the issue, but unknowing of the solution, the crux, the problem itself - when he were not speaking of his talented twin already he appeared dimmer. He could not help that. And Rafal could not abate his foreboding.

More aching than jealousy was apology, the other's inability to laugh and look and speak of him in just the same way. It hadn't been 'sorry' that he wanted, it had been equivalence, it had been reassurance; in contests of choice, you would be the one I choose, but Nil would not ever, and he felt this void keenly. Push further and perhaps he would see a ripple in the fabric of their bond. Nil would spook at this strange brother's possessive desire. At worst Rafal would not be able to keep him.

"It's nothing," he amended. "I haven't been sleeping well as of late, is all."

What excuses Nil accepted Rafal did too. He acknowledged the scraps of his allowance. The unfortunate fortune he was given, the emptied honeycomb and dormant wax where another creature had reached first. And it was futile, he knew. He could not compete with a stronger child of Sombron, stronger not merely for her strength but also for her invisibility. Because whatever this undying notion was, the one known as Nel could be named the source; the love in Nil's voice for a name and a face out of sight but never out of mind.

Someone else resided where he wished to be, possessed all that he wished to have, and he arranged himself where sparsity remained. For Nil was his whole.

Even if Rafal was not even his half.

[padfootastic]

just closed out a live write in the j/s discord server where i wrote almost 4k in like. a day!!!!! it felt so unreal and im just. in awe. bc it was so easy??? validation and appreciation rly are underrated drugs huh

[sysig]

What are some rare characters you love that you think people don’t draw or write about enough

Do Max and Dex count I love them and I feel like I'm approximately 80% of the Helix fandom rn lol

Doug Peterson and Russ Frushtick from Law Abiding Citizen - the fandom has gotten real quiet over time but I still love them so much ♥ There's a lot you can read into or leave silly with their dynamic, I still wholeheartedly recommend the emerge, transformed series as one of my favourite interpretations of Russ especially 💕

The Editor from Jazzpunk - he's just a silly little guy! It's honestly such a shame that he's only really in the last chapter, I would love to see him explored more, he's the worst ♪

Tatsumi Souichi from Koisuru Boukun - genuinely one of my all-time favourite characters, and The Only Good Tsundere as far as I'm concerned lol. I'm gonna write about him! I've got my fanfic and video essay sitting in my drafts, but like agh!! He's so interesting!!! So beautifully flawed - he's internally consistent which is my Favourite - and watching him grow and change while still being himself over literal years has been a truly unparalleled experience as a reader 💖

Luke Wigglebig and Florette from Pajama Sam: You Are What You Eat From Your Head To Your Feet - I joked before about being the only person on the internet who ships them but like, I'm pretty sure that's actually true lol. Even just more fanart of them by themselves would make me happy, they're so cute!! Especially Luke, his design is adorable

And then probably a more well-known one but I haven't been following his fandom popularity lately haha, Fai D. Flowrite from Tsubasa - him, Nova, and Watanuki move in and out of being my CLAMP faves, though Fai is probably the most complex of the three of them. And he's a trash man! A garbage fire of a wizard ♥ I love him

[sinkat-arts]

It’s 5am and I can’t sleep… so, I wrote a Daisuga Drabble about… not being able to sleep. Completely unedited and tapped out on my phone, so apologies if it reads terribly.

—

3AM

Daisuga, sexytimes implied but not written out

Insomnia struck at the worst times. If you asked him, Daichi would deny being an insomniac - it wasn’t a daily, weekly, or even monthly occurrence. But every so often, there were some nights when all he could do was lie in bed in a quiet rage, furious that he wasn’t sleeping... which, of course, only made it worse. He couldn’t sleep, so he was angry, and he was angry, so he couldn’t sleep - the insomnia ouroboros, repeating into eternity. Or at least until it was time to get up and get ready for work. 

Those nights had sucked when he lived alone, but now that he shared his bed, he was discovering that they were somehow worse. Tonight marked the first time insomnia reared its ugly head since he and Suga had decided to move in together, and it was like the sound of Suga’s measured breathing was taunting him. Somehow, the sound of someone he loved so dearly sleeping so peacefully next to him only added fuel to the fire. It wasn’t an entirely logical reaction, but logic was in short supply at 3:00 am on a weeknight. Especially when you needed to be awake in 4 hours.

It wasn’t for lack of trying that he couldn’t sleep, either. He’d cycled through so many strategies: white noise, rain sounds, meditation, hypnosis, melatonin, even those asmr recordings that Suga swore by but Daichi secretly thought were kind of creepy. Nothing really did the trick when his body, mind, or both just up and decided that he wasn’t sleeping that night. The best thing he could think of was simply to accept the situation. Instead of lying in bed angry at the world and becoming increasingly resentful of the fact that his boyfriend apparently came equipped with an off switch, he just gave in and decided to get up. There were plenty of things to be done - work to look over, books to read, something in the kitchen always needed cleaning -  he could at least be productive. 

Which was how Suga happened to find him on his hands and knees, wiping down the hallway baseboards at 3:30 am on a Monday morning. 

“I can’t say that I hate the view… but I have to ask… what the heck?” Suga’s voice came from somewhere behind him. 

“I’m… cleaning the baseboards?” Daichi answered, a little pinch of guilt for waking Suga up added itself to the heaping helping of embarrassment at being found doing something so damn weird in the middle of the night. He turned and saw Suga watching him, one hand on his hip and a look on his face that landed somewhere between puzzled and amused. 

“Yes, dear, I can see that. But why? Did I miss the memo that said the emperor was stopping by for breakfast?” 

“You didn’t get it?” Daichi asked, sitting back on his heels and giving Suga his best look of wide-eyed innocence. “7am sharp. You’re in charge of the table settings.” 

“Then I guess we’re in trouble. Unless the emperor finds mismatched chopsticks quaint…”

“Afraid not. It’s a fine china affair… damn, at this rate we’ll be the shame of the whole country. Maybe even the world…” 

Suga laughed. It never failed, even after all these years - the sound of Suga laughing always made Daichi’s heart thump… and when he was the cause of that laughter? There wasn’t anything better in the whole world… not even 8 hours of sleep. 

“But seriously… why are you cleaning the baseboards, you big weirdo?”

“I can’t sleep,” Daichi answered, folding the cleaning rag neatly into a little square and setting it down beside him. “Figured I should get something done,” grinning, he shrugged, “You know, instead of lying there plotting your murder because you, my love, snore.” 

In an instant, Suga’s face screwed up with indignation. “Don’t you ‘my love’ me - I do NOT snore!” Both hands were on his hips now. “And if you’re gonna murder me, at least do it for something less pedestrian. I deserve some scandal. If they don’t make a Netflix documentary about my death, what even is the point?” 

“You know… you’ve got me there,” Daichi said, chuckling as he pulled himself to his feet. He took the few steps needed to stand in front of Suga and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. Still smiling, he pressed a kiss against his forehead. “You deserve the best four-part true crime miniseries money can buy.”

“Four-part minimum,” Suga sniffed. He looked thoughtful for a moment, and then that mischievous twinkle sparked in his eyes. He sidled in closer, both hands dropping to grip Daichi’s hips, pulling the two of them together so there was no space in between. Biting his lower lip, Suga looked up into Daichi’s eyes. “Maybe you just have a little too much energy. I could… help you burn some off, you know.”

“Mmm,” Daichi hummed. His voice was cast low… in spite of the long hours he’d been awake, having Suga this close, with his fingers pressing into his hips like that? He was feeling the first spark of heat. Suga had his attention - it didn’t take much, not from him. He lowered his head, cocking it a little for a better angle, but stopping just millimeters short of the kiss Suga was most definitely expecting. Daichi could feel the anticipation coming off of him. “I could go get another cleaning cloth, if you really wanted to help…”

“Shut up,” Suga breathed and crossed that millimeter gap to press their lips together.

An hour later, coated in a thin sheen of sweat and utterly spent, Daichi was back in bed, lying on his back with the love of his life slotted in next to him. Suga’s head rested on his chest, and Daichi pressed a kiss into sweat-damp hair as he listened to the sound of his breathing as it settled. His own breathing fell into rhythm naturally, and they rose and fell together. 

He still couldn’t sleep. If anything, he was worse off than before, but… he couldn’t say he was still angry about it. How could he be mad when his heart was so full? The sun would rise soon, and their day would carry them apart to their separate destinations, but right now, this moment together in the dark, set to the sound of his sleeping lover’s breathing… it was peace and fulfillment and so much more love than he ever thought possible. It was everything. 

Well worth one sleepless Sunday and a miserable Monday, he’d say. 

[red-hemlock]

Headcanon: Father

Dr. Evan Rowe was an average, drab-looking man. Eccentric and determined, but somewhat quiet and shy. He was ALWAYS overworked and sleepless, much preferring to bury himself in work, and co-workers would swear to the end of time that the frown of worry etched onto his face was permanent. But, as odd as he might have been, he had a calling... A natural TALENT for toxicology that no one could write-off.

And it was that talent which sealed his fate.

The women of the Locke family search for specific talents to breed into future generations; and after Evan's work lead to the creation of an antidote against the toxins of a particularly nasty plant, it wasn't long until this achievement caught the attention of the Locke matriarch: Rena. Seeking to see if a possible heir could be made with a passion for poisons that rivaled her own, she 'paired' her daughter Donna with Evan; and sent her out on a mission to seduce him, and see this 'experiment' through. With little experience in the whims of love, the toxicologist fell and fell hard, for the carefully-constructed mask that Donna made to do this.

They never married, but his eventual daughter was the very light of his life. Evan only held her a few times, before work required him to take an extensive international trip; and it all but ruined him when news of her sudden 'death' was given whilst on this trip. SIDs, he was told, but the truth he would eventually come to discover, was much more sinister. Two years later they would try again, only for Donna to disappear without word or reason once they found-out they were now having a boy.

That is until some years later, when pure chance allowed him to catch sight of his lost 'love' in the background of a news event taking place in a town in Oregon... With a young girl. Emotions run high, he left right away, determined to get some answers; to find Donna and their son, and the little girl who looked all-too suspiciously like him.

He was never seen again.

River also inherited her huge appetite and penchant for snacking from him.

[pyrepostings]

Prodigal Son

Free Birds and Fiddlers

cw: referenced past events of the story, including character death and abuse. Polite discussion of Christianity (specifically the story referenced by this chapter's title), mild implied homophobia that gets checked

~~~

Kevin settled himself on the starboard side deck, bringing his knees as close to his chin as he could without losing his balance to the waves, and holding his staff in hand for further aid in not tipping over. He tugged at his hair with his free hand.

The others were port side as far as he knew, likely going below now they were surrounded by water, and would be for some time. While he had agreed to come back to Paradis, he wasn't going to voluntarily be be brought below deck again for anything.

It wasn't long before Julian came around the corner, with two bowls of food in hand. Kevin smirked slightly as the otherwise very dignified man had not quite the sea legs of a sailor, at least Kevin had an excuse for poor balance.

"Do you mind if I join you? I brought lunch."

Kevin nodded, forcing out a "yeah" and re-positioned himself so he could wedge his staff between himself and the wall and took the offered bowl.

Lunch was some kind of cured ham, sauced and seasoned, with bread on the side. They ate in silence, washing it down with a thermos-full of tea. It was an uncomfortable silence, Kevin knowing there was much that still needed to be said, and knowing there was much Julian wanted to say but was afraid of Kevin reacting poorly so soon after the tentative peace was struck.

Kevin figured there were things for him to say too, sooner or later, and so broke it himself.

"I want you to know, Julian, that I'm sorry for hurting you. I shouldn't have. I just... I just didn't know what else to do at the time."

Kevin didn't look at the other man, but he felt him shift to look at him.

"I also want you to know. When we get back, I'll accept whatever punishment you decide for me. Just. Please don't tie me up again. Please." Kevin hid his head in his arms, breathing heavier than he was expecting to at that confession.

Julian was silent for a moment. "I meant what I said, when I told you there wouldn't be a punishment. You have to follow the terms of parole you agreed to, but I'm not going to hurt you. I promise."

"I know that's what you said but you couldn't have meant it. I know you were just saying that so I wouldn't hurt you more."

"Kevin, I meant it completely. All you have to do is ask to come back and you would be welcomed back with open arms. And you have asked. And so you will be welcomed back. I don't punish for the sake of punishment."

"But I hurt you. I killed Minstrel."

"And I really wish you hadn't. But- you've been punished enough. You weren't in your right mind. Hurting you more wouldn't bring him back, and you choosing to come back is like reviving you from the dead anyhow. I just want you to feel safe again. Why would I push you away now?"

Kevin stared off at the waves before replying. "Is everyone else going to feel that way?"

"I specifically ordered him not to go after you. Both times, in fact. But it was his choice to defy them. And you had made your intentions clear to him after the first. I won't say you were in the right either, but he knew what you were prepared to do, and he went of his own free will anyway. That is the truth, and that is what I will say to anyone who gives you trouble."

"Are you going to make me swear loyalty to you, commander?"

"Mm, I would like it if you did. But I can hardly force you. Either way you would be under my protection. Besides, you already swore loyalty to Elsa all those years ago. No one could argue you haven't served at least a few good years to us. Earned the right to still wear our crest, if you chose to."

"hm. And technically I swore first to Ezran anyway. I renewed my vows to Elsa."

"Exactly, see? You're one of the old guard."

Kevin did feel relaxed by his words, if only slightly. He seemed sincere. He leaned back against the wall behind him and closed his eyes against the sun.

"But I've been gone for so long. Will anyone actually remember that? Or just the crimes I've done?"

"I'll make sure to remind them if they ever forget."

"Thank you, Julian."

The time and silence stretched between them, gently rocked by the waves until Julian spoke again.

"There's something I wanted to ask you, if it's alright?"

"What is it?"

Julian pulled out a file of papers. "I'm sure you know, but part of the agreement to have you released back to us included giving me a copy of your file. Every conversation you had in custody, every note of your actions and whereabouts, of the trial."

"Alright?"

"Would it be ok with you if I read it?"

Kevin huffed. "As if anything in there is a secret?"

"I know, I just wanted to be clear with you. If you don't want me to read it, or any specific part, I won't. I'll throw the whole file overboard right now if you sincerely ask me to."

Kevin arched an eyebrow. "I don't think you'd actually do that. But if you wish to read it, and would truly follow my wishes, you may. I just want you to know... a lot of that- I'm not proud of what you'll find in there."

"I know. That's why I asked."

A particularly turbulent wave sent Kevin off balance, forcing him to extend a hand, and sending a slight shock of pain from where he instinctively extended and put pressure on his wounded leg. He felt a touch at his shoulder which quickly retreated.

"Sorry."

"It's fine. Thanks."

Kevin adjusted slightly, not wishing to fall off balance again but also trying to wrap himself against the cold sea wind as much as possible without the thick woolen cloak he had stubbornly refused. He could feel Julian's eyes on him.

"What?"

"It's just- do you want help?"

Was there an air of smug amusement in that voice?

"No I'm fine."

"You look cold, is all. We can go below deck to get out of the wind-"

"No! No. I'm fine, I don't need to go below deck." Even as he spoke, he could feel the chill setting into his bones in a way he knew he would soon regret not finding a way to ward off the wind.

Julian hummed, clearly not convinced but also having learned his lesson about pressing Kevin about things that weren't an immediate danger to his life. Kevin did notice how Julian let his own cloak open. An invite? It was clearly intentional, from the way he shifted to allow more of the fabric to the side where Kevin sat. He wasn't being slick at all.

Kevin rolled his eyes. "What are you doing?"

"You know, we have these lovely cloaks, handcrafted and specifically designed to protect against the cold which comes with being outside, and not up to much strenuous activity."

Kevin suppressed a smirk, suddenly enjoying the game they were now playing. "I know, I used to wear one. Yours seems to have fallen, right- ah right there."

"Hm, so it has. I barely noticed. That probably means I don't really need it right now. Would you like to borrow it?"

Oh, he thinks he's so cool. Unfortunately Kevin had already decided he wasn't going to wear one of those anymore. "I don't need the whole thing, just a corner, I think." He slid a bit closer to Julian, letting their shoulders touch. "If that's ok."

Julian nodded. "I didn't think you'd want to be this close to me."

"Don't get me wrong. We're not there yet. But- I do miss you. I miss what we used to have. And I am cold."

"Mhm. Alright." Julian threw the side of the cloak over Kevin's opposite shoulder as he snuggled in, pressing his entire side of his body up to Julian's, and tucked a few fingers under his flight harness for security against the rolling waves. He felt Julian shift in a way that seemed to be checking to make sure Kevin wasn't snatching anything off of said harness, but then relaxed back into him.

He was warm. And the way Julian stroked his hair, like he used to, sent a different kind of shiver down his spine.

It was comfortable. Sans the hard wooden floor, and the rocking of the boat, and the gulls cawing-

Kevin pressed his face into Julian's shoulder and neck, just above the collarbone. Why did he ever leave? He could have had this the whole time.

With Julian's hand in his hair, and his own fingers entwined in the other man's harness, mooring him in place, he let himself drift off.

~

Julian couldn't be 100% sure Kevin wasn't trying to play him, but if he really did still hate him for what happened, he never had to agree to come back.

Kevin had a long way to go. It was true many of his old comrades turned against him when he had initially lashed out, and most of the rest when news was brought that Minstrel was dead by his hands. And that wasn't to speak of Kevin's personal journey in his own head. Julian knew by now what false peace looks like, how quickly a riptide can pull one under.

But he was hanging on, now. He would have more people than just Julian looking out for him specifically, a whole net this time. People that Kevin helped many years ago. People who were hurt in very similar ways, and maybe that would help more than Julian ever could have done the first try.

For now he smiled at the barely audible snores that started from Kevin. He opened the file still on his lap.

~

Eventually, Quinn came around the corner.

"Oh, sorry, I don't mean to intrude. I just wanted some air."

"It's fine. I was just doing some reading." Julian was suddenly very aware of his hand still in Kevin's hair at his shoulder. Aware because Quinn made no secret with the way he looked at him that was what he was referring to.

"He was cold."

"It's warmer, and dryer, inside you know."

"And stuffier, so you've mentioned."

"Eh, true." Quinn leaned against the guardrail. "I guess I just didn't realize, how involved you two were."

Julian quirked an eyebrow. "And what do you mean by that?"

"Nothing! Just that you didn't let on. You've been awfully reserved with that information, before last night I never would have suspected-"

"Allow me to interject, officer. Neither you, nor your crown, is entitled to know every last detail of our relationship. I will state plainly that I plan to uphold the deal I made with your government for his relative freedom, and any involvement with him will not hinder that.

"In addition, while you are coming along to keep his parole, the laws of Paradis are slightly different to those of your home. Not everything outlawed there is outlawed here. Not everything you know to be a sin is considered as such here."

His tone was hard, but diplomatic.

"Right, right, I'm sorry. Commander, I didn't mean it like that."

"Mhm, of course."

Kevin stirred beside him but made no indication he heard anything. Julian rubbed his head softly to coax him back to sleep.

"I guess I just didn't realize until now why you intervened for him."

"I didn't pull him out of a life of incarceration because I'm romantically involved with him, if that's the point you're trying to make."

"So why did you? You broke the policy of isolationism to fight the courts for extradition. For one man."

Julian watched Kevin's face as he rubbed his thumb gently along his scalp. "I've never been Christian, but a long time ago, he taught me some of the stories from the bible. I imagine you're Anglican?"

"Yes, why?"

"Do the stories change much between denominations?"

"Depends. Exact wordings change depending on the exact translation, but the overall stories and messages should stay the same between, say, the king James version and the catholic one."

"Then you should know the one about the son who goes off into the world, squandering all of his father's money. When the famine comes and the son has nowhere to go lest he starve and perish to the elements, he returns home, groveling to his father's feet, not believing he would ever be worthy of forgiveness.

"Instead, he is immediately forgiven. A feast is held in his honor. The father is just glad his son came home.

"Are there truly no obvious parallels here? He asked for help, to return to my side, so of course I would fight for him."

"Well I suppose, when you put it like that."

And at Julian's side, Kevin curled almost imperceptibly closer.

Masterlist

[jaimebluesq]

Hey! If anyone's looking for a low-stakes/commitment multi-fandom prompt fest, I just found out about this one and it seems like fun!

[quietwings-fics]

heart

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Fandom: Doctor Who Ship: Rose Tyler/Even Additional Tags: Major Original Character(s), Unrequited Crush, Pining, Drabble, Nonbinary Character Part 2 of 11089/Even Fics Wordcount: 100 Podfic Length: 01:11 Summary:

11089 has their first crush.

11089 is not supposed to be in this room.

There’s a ghost of a girl they’ve never met lingering in unfamiliar scents and bright clothing strewn about, as if the owner expected to come back any moment.

11089 breathes her in.

Rose Tyler was human. Was beautiful. Was kind. Was loved.

The Doctor has so few pictures of her, fewer still he leaves unattended long enough for 11089 to hold in their hands.

Rose had brown eyes. She liked chips. She dyed her hair blonde.

She saved the Doctor.

11089’s heart beats fast in Rose’s room.

Is loved. Is loved.

(Enjoyed it? Any interaction is welcomed. You can even support me on Ko-Fi <3)

[nymphoniah]

lessons learned | logan howlett

AN: here's a little drabble about logan fucking you from behind, keeping you in a headlock, squished between his biceps <3 and also some dirty talk here and there!

pairing: mean!logan x afab!reader

content/tags: NSFW, minors DNI (18+ only), dom!logan, choking, dacryphilia, name calling, porn without plot, dirty talk, creampies, unprotected sex, pet names (princess, doll, etc.), size kink, mark leaving (ie. hickeys), breeding kink, brat taming, rough sex

logan sees the way you watch his arms hungrily, your lust blown pupils observing the way his muscles twitch when he's feeling tired. he knows the chokehold he has on you.

just a poor little thing, wrapped around his finger.

"i see the way you look at my arms, darlin", he grunts, manhandling you so your back presses against his chest, his toned arms snaking around your waist, keeping you locked in place.

"you don't even try to hide it," logan adds, pressing kisses against your shoulder, his hands working at the straps of your tank top, slowly sliding them down to reveal your tits.

"such a dirty girl, hm?" he teases, rolling the sensitive buds between his thumb and index finger.

"were you ever taught that it was rude to stare?" he hisses, tugging at your nipples, making you wince out in pain. logan smirks at your audible displeasure, now turning his attention from your tits to your neck.

"i’m gonna mark you up doll, ‘oughta teach you a lesson somehow," he growls. logan presses a kiss against the shell of your ear, making his way down to your nape, planting wet kisses along the way.

you lean forwards, giving him easier access to your neck—and when you give him an inch, he takes a mile.

his kisses get more erratic, sloppier, messier, hungrier. he can’t hold himself back, he needs to mark you, and absolutely wants to show the whole world that you’re his.

and so he sinks his teeth into the supple skin of your neck, paying sweet attention to how your weak moans escaped from your lips. he’d nip and suck at your skin, hard enough to leave those love bites you both oh-so carnally desire.

your brain is all fuzzy from the stinging pain you felt on your neck, mixed alongside the growing pleasure you felt between your legs as he simultaneously paws at your tits.

“i can’t take it lo, s’too much,” you whine, shutting your eyes tight. tears start forming around your waterline as he continues his assault on your neck.

just as your vision starts to get hazy, he wraps his left arm around your neck, keeping your face snug between his forearm and bicep.

“be a good girl and fuckin’ take it,” he commands, a singular claw popping out of his right hand, slicing through your mini-skirt to reveal your lacy black pair of panties.

sheathing his claw, he hastily pulls them down to reveal your sopping wet cunt. “fuck me…” he hisses, admiring your cunt in all its glory.

“such a dirty fuckin’ whore, you getting off on this?” he says smugly, slipping a finger between your folds, observing the way your pussy sucks him in.

you weakly nod as you remain sandwiched in his headlock. teetering between the lines of passing out and losing consciousness, you mumble out a string of words—something along the lines of “i need you to fuck me,” or “fuckin’ put it in”; they both mean the same thing to logan anyways.

he obliges, with one arm wrapped around your neck, and the other hastily working at the belt of his jeans. in one swift motion, his boxers and jeans hit the floor in tandem, freeing his cock from the confines of the tight denim.

he spits in his hand, pumping his cock a couple times before he finally lines himself up, and slides himself in, down to the hilt. your pussy sucks him in like a vice, the two of you moaning in unison.

“you’re so tight for me, princess.” he groans, thrusting into you at a rapid pace, fully sheathing himself out, and pushing his full length back into you.

the sound of his balls slapping against your ass fills the room. the pace of which he fucked you made you dizzy, the grip around your neck adding to the immense pleasure you felt in your cunt.

you attempt to press kisses against his bicep as the muscle secures you in place, but you fail to do so, as shown by your wine red lip stick smudged all over his arm.

“such a naughty whore, suckin’ me in like this” he teases, his free hand pressing against the bulge on your stomach, disappearing and reappearing with every thrust of his. “need this dick to fill you up, huh?”

and you whine as much as your parched voice allowed you to. “want you so bad, lo” you mumble incoherently. “need you stuff me with your cum.”

“such a filthy mouth for a sweet little girl like you,” logan grunts, the movement of his hips getting sloppier. “beg for it.”

“need you to fuckin’ breed me,” you moan, “make me yours,” you cry out— and that’s what makes logan snap.

with a few final deep thrusts, he finishes inside you. his hot ropes of cum fill your cunt to the brim; your arousal mixed with his cum leaks out of your sopping hole before he even pulls out.

he keeps his cock inside you for a minute, pumping whatever he has left inside of you, and finally pulls out. he winces, already missing the way your gummy walls wrapped tightly around his cock.

“need to keep that in you…” he says playfully, plugging your cunt with his thumb, the calloused pad making sure that his cum is stuffed deep inside you.

“now let that be a lesson for you, doll,” he quips, removing his thumb, slipping it into his mouth to taste the mixture of the two of you.

he then brings his thumb to your bottom lip, inviting you to have a taste for yourself. the heady taste of his cum combined with your slick had you moan around him.

he pulls his thumb away from your mouth with a pop, and you look up at him with your fucked-out eyes. you simply nod your head and give him a lazy smile.

surely it wouldn’t hurt to stare at him every now and then.

[madame-fear]

𐙚 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐃.

ೀ amira speaks.ᐟ : this was written for my most lovely wifey @lady-ashfade,, who’s been thirsting a little bit too much for the serving Strong boy, Jacaerys. It’s something shorter than usual as I wrote it with the little free time I have,, but I hope you all enjoy it anyways. ♡ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ summary : there is nothing that the eldest son of Rhaenyra enjoys more, than filling you with pure dragonseed to prove you are only his. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ word count : 500.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ pairing : drabble, smut. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ genre : Jacaerys Velaryon x Wife!Reader

WARNING.ᐟ THIS FIC CONTAINS ; breeding kink. p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, Jace being slightly possesive over you. a really short drabble written by an exhausted author so excuse any mistakes.— lmk if I forgot anything else!

“Umbagon iēdrosa,”

A kiss was delivered to your lips, silencing you from letting another loud groan escape; his own lips pressed firmly against yours. Jace’s fingertips digged deep in your skin, almost clawing it, as his hands were placed in your hips, forcing you to remain still.

Helplessly, a whimper was released against his lips, simultaneously feeling Jace groaning faintly. A warm feeling occupied your stomach leisurely, as his cock pulsated deeply inside of you. You had lost track of time, having been in that already aching position for a good while— almost all night had passed with your moist cunt getting filled with his seed.

“F-Fuck,” your words grew stuck on your throat, digging your nails on his back, as your other hand interwined it’s fingers on his brunette curls in the back of his head. And as if all those hours getting cum-filled hadn’t been enough, Rhaenyra’s heir slightly moved out of you, only for his cock to leisurely push once again back inside— sliding in and out so easily of your wet pussy, as his member was coated with your fluids.

“I’m sorry, ñuha dōna jorrāelagon,” he began muttering in between pants, placing his lips on your neck’s sweet spot— knowing each one of your most delicate corporal zones, and that was something to take pride for whenever you squirmed beneath him. “But, I need you to carry my heirs. And when you do, everyone will know just how much I adore filling you with my seed.” another groan spurred from your lips, as his hardened cock increased the pace in which it constantly hit your inner sweet spot.

You ached with each one of his movements; your soft groans and pleas occupying the silent space in your shared chambers. With the passing hours of the night, you felt almost oversensitive even to the slightest touch— but, at the same time, you couldn’t deny it felt satisfying to feel his erected size releasing it’s cum inside of you.

Both your trembling legs were firmly interwined on top of his back, offering him free access to keep pushing himself deeply inside of you, as you hid your face on the crook of his neck— weakly nibbling on your lower lip to hold back your continous pleas, your ragged breathing hitting against his exposed skin.

A faint fleshy sound was provoked with each single hit against your cunt, his length beginning to throb softly, while a knot tangled on your stomach. Growls escaped from him, holding you firmly in place. A feeble grin grew on the corner of his rosy lips, hotly breathing against your own skin as well. One of thumbs gently caressed your skin, lazily placing kisses all over that precious face of yours— admiring every inch of you.

“Otherwise, how else will everyone know who you belong to?”

taglist

@damatheirin @jacesvelaryons @capellaadara @kyuupidwrites @tchatso @mstxdes @valeriecash @cookielovesbook-akie @zzz000eee @bellarkeselection @feliuuuksks @visenya-reigned @maria699669 @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @sweethoneyblossom1 @jamiemydeer @snowprincesa1

@aegonswife @cloveradora @angrybirdxx @crack240

[dmitriene]

kind of continuation to this drabble

könig knows you're nothing like the other girls he was used to shag, and he's smitten by it, in the way you calmly agree and stay in his apartment, when after breakfast in bed he says that you're not going anywhere and gonna stay beside him, he's sure that you have some small job like as a charming waitress in a cafe, friends you would like to see, family after all, but you look at him through batting eyelashes and hum in agreement, stretching on the sheets beneath you.

he calls you his girlfriend as a test, and your eyes sparkle with naive adoration as you stretch your arms in his direction, making könig bend his whole body down to your level with rippling muscles, so you'll swipe your soft palms against his wide shoulders and loop your hands around his thick neck, pressing a smudgy kiss to his rough, stubbled jaw, nuzzling in his shoulder like some docile pet, only mewling adorably when he catches your lips into a sloppy, lewd kiss.

you really just stay, don't run away, don't call him a weird creep, use his bathroom to wash and wash loads of his thick, sticky cum out of your still aching, puffy pussy, without twitching when he suddenly decides to join you by snuggling up from behind, his bulky frame crowds almost all the space in the shower, shielding you from all the water that now drips down the broad expanse of his back, as his hardened, chubby cock presses against the small of your back.

könig is fisting the length with one of his free hands that aren't curled around the curve of your waist, creeping to paw at your soft breast, until you claw at his wrist when he guides his throbbing cock between your folds, and they're already slick with your tacky arousal, your spine arching delicately as you wiggle your supple ass, pressing back against his fat, leaking tip that nudges at your pulsing hole, letting him slip inside without a stretch, pussy comfortably loose as you whimper sweet, throaty mewl when he bottoms out.

you let him cream your cunt till it's leaking out of you again, oozing between your supple, wet thighs, legs shaking and starting to buckle beneath you as könig whines in your ear, biting at your lobe with hoarse moans, dumping load after load in your fluttering, gushy cunt, scooping you in his arms when your feet does give up beneath you, making him carry you out from the shower, and with hasty wipes of a towel against your smooth skin and between your legs, he carries you out to the living room.

könig makes you wear his clothes and just a pair of cotton panties beneath, and it's not a problem to you at all, you walk around his apartment just the way he wants, using his lap instead of a couch or a chair while in the kitchen, and you let him cum in your pussy even with your legs hoisted up on his shoulders as he rams in you with messy jerks of hips, sprawled on the kitchen table, so his cum would stain your panties and make you walk all oozing with his claim.

it's doesn't matter if your life now reminds one of a fleshlight, you ain't complaining, cuddling against könig's brawny chest for some head strokes and little rubs behind your ears, pressing kisses on his rough face, making könig grin in boyish, lopsided way, before moving his hand down to squeeze and grope at your round, doughy tits, calling you his albernes haustier, and like the obedient one, you just nod and smile adoringly.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[staryuee]

NOT SAYING “I LOVE YOU” BACK.

꒰warnings꒱ not proofread pls don’t yell at me *sniffles*

⠀꒲ ` synopsis . . . [char] and you tend to say your i love yous pretty regularly, it’s become a subconscious routine for the both of you; what would happen if either one of you just suddenly didn’t respond?

⠀꒲ ` characters . . . venti, diluc, xiao, tartaglia, kazuha, ayato, alhaitham, wanderer, lyney, neuvillette, wriothesley, arlecchino

⠀꒲ ` notes . . . ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ᗜ^) drabbles vary in length significantly because…i’m a little unwell with astarion brainrot rn and i will not rest till i get to kiss my beautiful vampiric man — also i apologise for making some of these more angsty than intended…i couldn’t help myself haha

VENTI — 温迪

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ��.ᐟ ⊹

ʚ venti? of all people? not saying i love you to his beloved windblume whom he’d personally resurrect ancient gods for if they asked with that sweet, melodic voice of theirs?

ʚ the only viable reason for him not replying can most likely be bottled down to him being a brat. a spoiled one at that. you give him so much affection it’s a little scary sometimes to think someone just know all of his ins and out as if they held his heart within the palm of their hand meaninglessly. so how do you expect him to be satisfied with a mere phrase when he wants you so desperately?

“i’m leaving for a commission, i’ll be back in a few hours; love you, honey.” you said per routine, fixing your hair in the mirror that stood perfectly near the doorway under venti’s request (he likes seeing how his braids look after you do them in the morning).

what you expected was a reply, but certainly not the one that followed: “alright, bye bye~” venti tilted his head back as his body slinked on the couch, his eyes scanning yours upside down with that look on his face which suggested he knew exactly what he was doing.

“goodbye, venti, i love you.” you re-enunciate, arms crossing firmly over your chest pridefully to mirror venti’s stubbornness that fell immediately upon sight of your pretty face glancing over at his. oh, he really couldn’t resist you for too long.

“i’ll say it back if you stay with me today!” he giggled, teeth on full display as he grinned widely; fully aware you’d indulge him even if for only a little while.

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

“windblume…” venti sadly slumped his head on your shoulder, leaving enough space for his eyes to glance at the book in your hands as you continued to read despite his sulking.

“i accidentally packed my schedule full with a flurry of performances…i’m afraid i won’t be able to indulge in your cuddles all day like i wanted to,” he whined, kissing the side of your neck to compensate for the lack of affection he’s going to have to put up with.

really, if he could, he’d pretend all the strings on his lyre magically untuned themselves into havoc if it meant giving an excuse to be back in your warm hold. but as a god of the wind, and one who shared the passions of music no less, it was more or less his duty to share his w with the residents of mondstadt when asked so kindly.

“i promise i’ll return to you soon as i can! no quick stop at angel’s share this time either,” venti managed a chuckle despite the inner thumping of his heart at the mere prospect of returning home to you — an experience he never thought he’d fulfil in his lifetime. “i love you dearly, my darling, i’ll see you soon~”

he leaned over the back of the couch to help reach the side of your face, lips pursing into a fish-like pout as he awaited to hear those beloved words that were always followed by a rewarding kiss. yet you merely hummed in acknowledgement of his presence and his soon departure.

who do you think you are?

venti’s brows immediately knit down together in frustration. “windblume…i said, i love you,” he leaned closer, “sweetheart…come on, say it back!” he finally nuzzled his cheek against yours, trying to elicit some sort of response from you that didn’t border on full on ignoring him. usually that slight uplift of your lips would be enough, but with the additional context that he’d be away from you for so long, venti couldn’t cope with a mere smile!

feeling a little flicker of breeze behind you, goosebumps prickle your skin and a delicate shiver runs down your spine, the little gust of wind disappearing as quick as it came. venti hooked his fingers beneath your chin, delicately forcing your eyes to meet his. “won’t you tell your god you love him?”

those gorgeous and elaborate white wings of his flutter quietly, twitching in anticipation as he excitedly awaits for what he’s been dying to hear. you sigh, leaning towards him to press the most featherlight kiss on the side of his face. “i love you too, now go along already, you’re going to be late.”

R. DILUC — 迪卢克

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ʚ you’ve probably, unfortunately, caught him at a relatively bad time if he had completely ignored your affections. after all, while not necessarily a really active recipient, diluc is more than happy to indulge your carefree “i love yous” and kisses.

ʚ there’s no way he’d ever intentionally ignore or not reply to an “i love you”, especially one that’s so sickly sweet to his ears

“i’m going to bed, luc,” you yawn, arms stretching far out in front of you as you push yourself away from the desk that was littered with several papers stacked on top of each other in various piles that were marked by different pen colours. “you better come join me soon, alright? i love you.”

diluc hums and nods his head, eyes sunken into his skull as his fingers continue flipping the pen within his hand in a sleepy dance as he just barely managed to focus on the words that seemed to squeeze together. none of yours even register in his mind as you sorrowfully close the office door to head to your usually shared bedroom.

it only takes a little while for his brain to catch up to his heart. so that’s why he felt it flutter…

diluc immediately packs away his things to the best of his drowsy ability, hanging up his coat that he honesty forgot he still had draped on himself before he burst into your bedroom rather dramatically. panting from having rushed himself, his arms propping himself up with both sides of the door way, diluc looks away all flushed.

“…i love you as well, i’m sorry for not saying it,” he sighs in comfort as you raise a brow at him, amused at just how quickly he managed to wrap thing ups purely out of guilt that he failed to reciprocate your intentions.

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

oh. well…you’ve must’ve had a reason, right?

you wouldn’t just leave right in the morning for a commission, tell him goodbye when he declared his love to you without you repeating the same routine back to him? right?

and yet, you did; and now diluc finds himself in the peculiar position of being overly worried. he has strength, power and stability beyond imagination, but without your affection as fuel, what use are those things?

staring back at the ticking clock continuously, the wet rag in hand helping him clean up some ink that spilled across his hands as a frustrated groan escaped him. what kind of man have you turned him into that he can’t even focus on important tasks merely because you didn’t say a few simple words?

maybe that’s where the problem lies. the words “i love you” always seemed simple to you, something that diluc can admit had found himself jealous of on occasion, so now that he’s absent from something so easy, it’s a little difficult to not overthink the possibilities that the phrase has become harder to swallow for you.

diluc nearly slams his head on his desk at such a thought. he can’t lose his mind over something so silly, it’s fine. you’re both fine.

taking another meandering glance at the clock, diluc’s chair scraped across the wood as he flung on his coat, brushing it clean as he sauntered downstairs with the most grumpy expression dawn winery has seen in a while.

“honey, why do you look so upset?” your sweet voice lured him back into sanity as diluc’s steps immediately calmed down, his eyes widening momentarily as you seemed to return much earlier than expected from your travels. shaking his head, diluc sighs, “it’s nothing, my love — let’s go out for dinner, is that all right?”

XIAO — 魈

not really a surprise, honestly.

xiao isn’t necessarily known for being a fun-loving, happy-go-lucky, super affectionate bunny and as much as he wishes he could just vocalise the song that plays in his heart whenever you meet his eyes, he’s unable to reciprocate your affections in a way that’s satisfactory.

you’ve grown to accept such a fact. xiao, on the other hand, hasn’t. it’s like a little itch for him that he can’t scratch but desperately wants to. doesn’t mean he won’t show his love in other more discreet ways.

there are the subtle things; like the way he ensures your favorite dish is always ready when you come over, how he lingers a bit longer during a goodbye hug almost as if he’s scared to let you go, or the times he’ll simply sit in comfortable silence with you (though, that is common), his presence a quiet yet powerful testament to his feelings.

sometimes, he leaves small tokens for you to find: a flower carefully placed on your doorstep, a hand-written note slipped into your bag that you can tell was written in a hurry due to how sloppy the handwriting looks, a charm he crafted himself hidden among your belongings that he specifically sought the guidance of zhongli from. it's in these gestures that his love for you shines through, even if the words remain unspoken.

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

there are times when xiao escapes his shell, and it’s in those quiet moments where you’re both completely alone without even the whistling of the wind to eavesdrop on you atop the comfortable slope of a mountain, that xiao verbally tells you how much he adores you. sometimes a little more poetically than intended, but he hopes his words pass through to you in the form of a flutter.

“…a vow as enduring as the sea and mountains,” xiao mumbled nervously, his hand awkwardly hovering over yours in hesitance before he sucked in a breath and decided to just give in and delicately interlock your fingers. watching as you tilted your head in confusion, xiao looked away and muttered again: “i meant that i love you.”

the silence and the little nod that followed, which was all meant as a little ploy to tease him for being so cute and flustered over a term you didn’t even need to hear on the regular, resulted in xiao’s chest to tighten anxiously. did you not feel the same way anymore? but then again, that devious smile of yours (which xiao could differentiate the style of pretty instinctively) made it certain there was a deeper meaning behind the quiet.

“it's alright," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "you don't have to say anything. i just wanted you to know."

TARTAGLIA — 公子

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ʚ petty petty petty, absolutely done out of pettiness and just being an overall ginger brat.

ʚ you forgot to say good morning immediately after you woke up? haha, what was your name again? aw, you walked passed him on your travels even though he deliberately came over to see you? guess he’s not paying for all your stuff today… (he will, just ask).

one morning, groggy and half-asleep, you stumbled out of bed, forgetting to meekly mumble your usual "good morning, my darling, i love you" as you got up for the day. it was a small and rather insignificant oversight, but not for childe.

later that day, as you wandered through the vibrant streets of fontaine, you spotted his unmistakable ginger hair approaching. waving and smiling at your beloved, expecting some sort of hyper response back, you awaited his towering presence with a hand on your hip. he walked right past you. full on. turning your head with furrowed brows and jaw hung low, you notice that little playful, shit-eating smirk on his lips.

a little confused, you called out to him, "ajax! come back here.”

he turned, feigning surprise despite clearly having seen you (and, unbeknownst to you, having been watching you for the past couple minutes as you checked out several vendors). "oh, it's you. i almost didn't recognize you."

rolling your eyes, you walked up to him. "seriously?” both of you stared at each other in scrutiny, tartaglia fighting back the urge to squeeze you within his arms and whine at you for your negligence while you fought the urge to pull him down by his sunlit strands to coax some sense out of him. “are you mad at me?”

he shrugged nonchalantly, eyes twinkling with mischief you recognised immediately. "hmm, who’s mad? i just forgot who you were for a moment." let’s not mention the fact he has your front, back and side silhouettes memorised to the point he could trace it with his eyes closed expertly.

when you both parted ways, tartaglia making up some excuse that he had to buy some souvenirs for his siblings despite you knowing full well he was just listening to your reprimand from a week ago that he needed respite from being brutalised repeatedly, you found yourself linking pieces of red yarn together internally.

oh he’s just such a little shit isn’t he?

the sun set and bedazzled the sky in golden red hues, you walked back to your shared accommodation and a hefty amount of apologetic snacks filling your bag. normally, when you opened the door, ajax would jump at you. it was obvious from the way he sat leaned back on the couch that he was biting back that urge too.

grinning, you approached him, feeling a mix of amusement and frustration. "you know i love you, right?"

he glanced at you, his expression softening for a moment, god he really missed you so much even if only parted for a few hours at most. "hmm, do you? because i don't recall hearing such a thing in the morning."

you laughed, shaking your head at his childishness. settling yourself next to him, arms encasing around his wounded torso, you muttered a little compromise: "alright, honey. tomorrow, first thing. i promise."

tartaglia finally relented, pulling you into a gentle embrace that led to him exhaling a breath he was holding (probably a subtle way to get his loud heart to stop beating so furiously). "good. i suppose i can forgive you this time.“

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ajax had disobeyed your orders again.

even when being repeatedly asked by friends and his own lover alike, he just couldn’t behave in a way that didn’t result in at the very least, a few scratches and bruises on his freckled skin. it irritated you to no end.

irritation, of course, led to frustration. i mean, when you have to regurgitate the same instructions to someone you adore to death, it becomes exhausting. you didn’t necessarily argue about it, you simply tuned off.

sitting in bed with a book cradled between your fingertips, a mellow tune humming in the background from your vinyl as you soaked in the fantasy you were thoroughly engaged in. none of those things could unfortunately deafen the whines from ajax as he cozied himself up next to you, a silent groan slipping past his lips as he incidentally tore at one of his bandages.

“kochanie…” his nose nuzzled against your clothes as he found himself laying on your warm thighs. “i already apologised for being a dumbass, i swear i love you and i’ll listen to you properly next time.”

he purses his lips into a pout as you ignore him and continue to scan your eyes over the ink. “come on, i love you, sweetheart.” he nudged you, pinching you as delicately as possible but enough to elicit a gasp from you as you finally glance over at him.

“and i love peace and quiet, so if you could, zip it.”

surely you don’t think that was a good enough response for someone as needy for attention as ajax?

“i’m so hurt…” he pitifully grumbled, arms crossing over his firm chest as he continued staring up at you with a gaze that meant “you are not getting out of this”.

“won’t even spare a small kiss for your wounded lover? a hug? a cuddle? even just a whisper of your voice? how am i meant to live—“ you hush childe’s antics by squishing his cheeks together, forcing a fish like pout to form with his lips.

“i love you too, you’re just annoying.”

he’d take that over you fully ignoring him any day.

K. KAZUHA — 枫原万叶

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ʚ not possible, thank you next character.

ʚ the only possible way kazuha would ever not indulge your i love yous is when he’s away to a different nation and he sends you a response letter that takes weeks to come to your hands, or if that same letter somehow gets wet or ruined while in transit and his affections get dampened and smudged

ʚ otherwise? kazuha doesn’t see the point in stubborn behaviour. if there’s a problem, though there hardly ever is, he’s under the pretence a couple should talk about it with a clear mind before making a final decision or statement — or in this case, the retraction of affection.

ʚ you’re his map, with the treasure being your heart. why would he ever choose to not tell you he loves you when he gets the chance? you already lack sufficient time with another, and kazuha prefers using the time he does have with you to show you how much he adores you (whatever way that manifest as).

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

kazuha absolutely smothers you in his love. though that usually feels more like you’re resting within the comfort of a sandy beach as soft washes of waves tickle your skin. you’re never short of a supply of affection.

that’s why a devious idea popped into your head. what if you just didn’t reciprocate?

“my heart,” kazuha’s breathy voice popped the bubble that hung over your head. “you’ve been spaced out for a while now, do you need a kiss to help you refocus?” you had to stop yourself from jumping at the opportunity.

“uh, no it’s fine, you don’t have to,” the reply made kazuha raise an eyebrow quizzically. that’s certainly not something he expected to hear especially after not seeing you for a while; but, he’d respect your choice. it’s not like he’s desperate for something so simple, you could just genuinely not be interested.

“hm…alright then, beloved.” he smiled sincerely, head falling to rest on your shoulder as his hand gently rested on the small of your back, rubbing soothing circles that mirrored the shape of the moon that cast a glow on you both. “i love you.”

he could’ve sworn he just said he loved you, so why did the winds bellow a response instead? coughing into his hand to clear his throat, thinking that perhaps you just didn’t hear him, he repeated: “i love you, songbird.”

met with silence again, kazuha simply stays quiet. he doesn’t need a reply, that’s not why he says sweet things to you like he’s writing a lyrical sonnet. he tells you he loves you because it helps write the song in his heart that beats whenever he’s near you in a much more coherent way.

K. AYATO — 神里绫人

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ʚ this man oozes with romantic appeal. even if he’s off voyaging to a whole other nation he’ll find a way to not only say i love you, but also to say his good morning and good nights (accompanied with poorly doodled attempts at kiss marks to make up for the lack of physical touch).

ʚ when he’s upset? gods no. he could be frustrated with you to the point he needs a break, and regardless he’ll leave the room with a reminder he loves you. he doesn’t need you getting second thoughts and therefore won’t ever plant them.

ʚ he’s too busy? so? thoma has two hands i’m sure he can handle giving you letters that are merely love notes while he cleans the abode (assuming you and ayato live together separately from where he works…you can imagine how much thoma despises this errand despite his loyalty).

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

“greetings, love,” ayato’s arms slid around your middle, chin coming to rest atop your shoulder as he hums a sweet tune as if he were a bird coming back home to his nest. a rather direct analogy, since that’s exactly the occurrence.

plagued with hours of paperwork and meetings with government issues and secret organisations that god forbid you or ayaka ever found out about, ayato has missed you gravely. if he didn’t know better he’d demand this sort of sin to be classified as a national crime with the sentence being told to stay home with your spouse all day (his literal dream).

now that he’s free for at least a little while, peace alas twinkling within his eyes as they close tightly to enjoy the silence as he clings onto you, ayato does feel like all the pain and ink he went through was totally worth it. if the price he had to pay for holding you oh so tightly is simply meaningless signatures on several documents, he’s willing to waste the entire supply of ink within inazuma — he wants this reward to last as long as possible, after all.

“mm, you smell divine, are you using the flower-scented perfume i sent you the other week? i love it,” he rambled, lips pressing against your nape as you busied yourself with some crocheting, ayato’s eyes opening only to focus on the way your deft hands moved so skilfully. he’d make a comment about how he wished those hands were on him instead, but he had a particular reputation to uphold — and lewd impatient man certainly wasn’t part of it.

“more importantly, sweetheart,” ayato cooed, beginning to trail kisses around your neck and any exposed skin he managed to find, “i love you. so, look at me won’t you?”

merely turning your head to plant a kiss to the side of his jaw in a way of compromise, you otherwise remained silent. “you know,” ayato smiled devilishly, his hand beginning to play with your hair soothingly. “i bought some stuff on my travels recently, a lot of things that are meant for you, of course.”

“i can’t wait to surprise you tonight during dinner.”

that was a threat. maybe not a direct one, but you could recognise the slyness in that man’s voice soon as he mentioned buying “stuff” — things that were definitely substitutes for poison (a little far fetched, but it’s best to assume whatever he conjures up will be the worst thing possible to save yourself the trip to a hospital bed).

“i love you too.” you appeased, and his face immediately lightened, arms returning around you as if finally satiated.

ayato huffs a stifled laugh, quelling your worries with a simple: “i’ll have the staff know you’d like your favourite dish prepared.”

ALHAITHAM — 艾尔海森

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ʚ lowkey, it’s a bit of a 50/50 with him…?

ʚ sometimes, he just genuinely doesn’t hear you. whether it’s because he’s subconsciously disassociating, overstimulated from excessive noise (it’s pretty much canon that he’s autistic, you can’t give me a character that constantly wears headphones and only speaks when spoken to and expect me not to connect the dots) or simply because whatever’s playing in his ears was a little too loud and had managed to drown out your words — these specifics are never intended, and he’s more likely to reply back if you repeat yourself (or give him some time).

ʚ other times though, is simply him teasing you. remember that one scene at the end of the interdarshan festival where alhaitham said, “best things are told thrice” (or whatever the quote was), yeah he commits to that in this scenario too.

ʚ he’ll pretend he can’t hear you just so he can see the sweet frustration in your eyes as you mumble the words “i love you” through gritted teeth. he’ll smirk it off subtly and reciprocate…after a while of course. perhaps when you’re falling asleep on his chest once you’re finally cuddled in bed together, you’ll manage to catch his hushed whisper.

the world was intent on making alhaitham break down today. he woke up without you in bed with him this morning, meaning he couldn’t brush his teeth while next to you as he passed you things that you required to get ready to start the day. from that, none of the foods or snacks he liked were available and the only option were fruits or meals he didn’t like or he weren’t in the mood for.

already feeling irritated and grumpy, him nearly spilling a vase on the books he had perfectly stacked up to binge read as he bumped into the corner of the table could’ve made him bang his head brutally on the wall. this wouldn’t have been a problem if kaveh didn’t place something so fragile and wobbly on something that’s in the way.

alas, when he finally died down for the afternoon, book in hand, a melody passing by his ear as he tried to focus on breathing, all a sudden that irritation just slowly came creeping back. the words on the page squished together like some sort of cartoon from fontaine as they began to make no coherent sense even as he went over every line twice.

to make it worse? you had just come back home.

that sounds bad, but for alhaitham it was a travesty. now he wasn’t able to at the very least embrace you in greeting in fear he’d lash out at the sudden contact. noticing the scrunching of his brows and the way his jaw looked like he’d been clenching it subconsciously for hours, you smiled out of sympathy, knowing from experience that this was most definitely another case of the domino effect of bad shit happening.

“need me to leave you alone for a bit?” you asked as quietly as possible but in an octave he wouldn’t twitch at in frustration.

he shook his head. a little surprising, but you complied with his wish and sat down on the floor next to him as he laid back on the couch as if in an impromptu therapy session. alhaitham held out his hand for you and you gently but surely placed yours on top, a delicate reminder that he was free to express whatever was on his mind when the world finally felt a little more peaceful.

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

it’s not like alhaitham really says he loves you verbally, he prefers showing his love to you though actions. after all, actions speak louder than words — what’s the point of telling you he loves you if he doesn’t have the actions to back it up?

but for the sake of the scenario, let’s imagine alhaitham decides to spoil you with one his few vocal affirmations. his hands slowly running up and down the spine of your back, chest rising and falling in slow steady breaths as you burrow yourself into his side. alhaitham was reluctantly reading a romance book that you forcefully recommended him in hopes he’d learn a few things that would make you swoon (despite him doing plenty such things already).

“i love you.” he randomly blurts, his eyes clearly having scanned over the same phrase within the page he was on since he rather quickly skipped past it once your eyes caught glimpse of it. alhaitham is a confident, sometimes arrogant, man — nothing ever truly bothers him when in regards to the words or actions of other people unless they pose a threat to someone he loves.

however, in this case, your lack of words makes his brows scrunch down, bright teal eyes now scrutinising you as you clearly try to hide away a giggle. “don’t you think it’s a little rude to not reply to someone’s confession.” he asks in a monotone voice, attention returning to the words on the page that now seemed irrelevant.

“if you want me to be like the characters in your little romance stories, how about you also commit to that yourself?” a little harsh sounding, but when faced with alhaitham’s pettiness, this is probably the most lenient he’s ever been to anyone.

WANDERER — 流浪者

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ʚ another one that’s not necessarily surprising.

ʚ he likes using the phrase to tease or slander you, if anything. case in point: “oh i love you alright, but that doesn’t mean you get to steal my blanket in the middle of the night.” or “i love you more when you keep completely silent."

“i’m convinced you don’t love me.” ah god, not another one of your little helpless spiels again. this sort of conversation starter would normally set of a warranted number of red flags. in this case, however, both of you understood it was more like the start of a theatrical display of your pettiness.

“right, and why’s that?” scara asked unamused, face not changing from his casual stoicism as he scanned over a possibly illegal book he snuck from the library (and if this conversation goes one way you might just tattle to auntie nahida).

“you slept on the couch yesterday even after i cooked your favourite dish and got you out of that lecture kusanali forced you to attend by pretending we had chores to do,” you list off your good deeds on your fingers, your body sinking next to his on the couch that seemed more like a partner in crime than just a piece of furniture.

scara rolled his eyes. licking the tip of his fingertip to turn the page on his book, he huffed a response absentmindedly: “i do love you, but you just keep pushing me off the bed because of my cooler temperature so i got annoyed — simple as.”

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

‘oh, so just fuck me i guess?’

it’s already so difficult for him to even admit how much he cares for you, so to have such a hefty phrase leave his lips and be left with silence? he’s a little more than pissed.

scara’s eyebrows crunched together, confusion written all over his face at the sudden change in your demeanor. you’re always the first to jump at the opportunity to coddle him soon as his sour lips turn sweet, so what’s with the sudden negativity? the hostile fire that once flickered in his eyes was now replaced by a mournful sadness, and scara couldn’t help but feel like he was staring at a stranger.

his chest tightened in a way that didn’t feel good, and he found himself swallowing thickly, eyes flicking downward to where your hands swirled an ice-filled glass. guilt nipped at scara’s conscience, and he scrubbed a hand over his face, letting out a heavy sigh.

“what did i fucking do wrong now?” he spits out.

scara tends to take even the slightest joke within your relationship as a direct threat or dig at him. not because he doesn’t trust you, not even because he thinks your relationship isn’t at a secure stage — but just because that’s all he knows. he doesn’t know how to respond to something lighthearted when all that he’s felt so far in his life is extremities.

“hm? what do you mean?” you ask, the teasing tone you took on dwindling upon the quick glance at how his bottom lip jutted out nervously. did everything have to be so irrevocably complicated?

scara shook his head, exhaling a small sigh before he just let the matter drop naturally. he didn’t have time for stuff like this. he’d like to think he knows you well enough to recognise when you’re simply teasing him, but that fact alone isn’t enough to make that ache in his heart go away.

he just needs a minute break. and perhaps for you to sneak into bed with him so you can cuddle him from behind.

LYNEY — 林尼

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

it’s a little difficult for lyney to say the words “i love you” to someone who’s not technically part of his family. he trusted and loved you easily, you cared for his siblings as if they were your own and even gave up your own pride to protect him; but something itching within him tells him he has no right to confess his true ardour.

lyney is nothing but a pawn with a jesters hat, using sleight of hand to remove the idea that he’s deceptive from your mind with a few whimsical flower tricks. it’s hard to allow himself to be so vulnerable and open when he knows full well that if his father found out, the disappointment would be greater than the reward.

when he’s coated in that black circus show getup, his smile broad and stance wide with confidence, he’ll reply pretty easily! after all, he had to please his audience. but, you’re not just a stranger in the crowd. you’re his beloved, someone he waits for before one of his grandeur shows as you press a kiss to his cheek as a lucky charm that he finds himself gently touching as he slowly enters the stage.

but when he’s merely lyney, a lonely kid from the house of hearth who trembles in the comfort of the dark, your mumble of: “i love you a lot, lyney,” makes him replywith a mere widened look as if a deer caught in headlights, his pale face blossoming into a rosey pink hue as he tugged down at the front of his hat to cover his eyes.

“me too.” sometimes that reply is easier and much safer for both his heart and yours than the actual words.

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

lyney adores how easily you find yourself saying such a phrase, even a little jealous at time at both the idea of how many people you’ve uttered it to and the fact he finds himself stumbling over his own consciousness at the idea of confessing his affections back.

he’s also a massive trickster! you pull silly and harmless pranks on each other constantly, from something dumb like switching out a singular chocolate chip cookie to a raisin one to see the astounded look on lyney’s face as he bites down to something a little more sweet like lyney throwing out roses to an audience that coincidentally create a heart.

this is certainly a much crueller prank than any of the above.

lyney was a little jumpy backstage, constantly pacing back and forth with a genuine smile on his face that you’ve rarely seen, his arms constantly stretching out in front of him as he played with the leather of his gloves tediously. lady furina was going to be watching him today, it was no wonder he wanted you to help out!

well, lynette did everything, but you’re here for something lyney said he absolutely couldn’t go without. his good luck kiss.

hearing the familiar sound of the staff shuffling around their props, lyney sauntered to you with a smile as his lips tucked behind his arms innocently. “ma moitié,” lyney hums in a chipper, melodic tune, content at simply seeing your face light up once your eyes meet his, “i’m confident in my abilities as a magician, but i think you have the answer to quelling any of my nerves. care to share some of your magic wit me?”

you grin and tilted your head off to the side, giving him an encouraging thumbs up and a much less motivating: “break leg, lyney, i believe in you.” as much as he wished to coax it out of you, he’d have to unfortunately settle for the way you leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek.

yet, although he preformed flawlessly per usual, his execution even enthralling the ever critical furina who sat up in the crowd with a leg over her knee, you notice a slight hesitation in his movements, a brief moment of distraction that only you, who knows him so well, could catch. the show eventually concludes to thunderous applause, lyney and lynette taking their final bow as he nearly sprints off once the curtains draw closed.

backstage, as the crowd's cheers still echo faintly, lyney cautiously approaches you with a more serious expression. “[name],” he begins, his tone quieter, more introspective, “did I... do something wrong?”

who knew just the slight lower pitch of someone’s voice could make your heartstrings tug unceremoniously. you know it's time to end this silly prank. shaking your head, you take a step closer. “no, lyney. you were incredible, as always — lady furina seemed exceptionally impressed.” his breath catches in his throat — that’s not really what he wanted to hear. but before he could brush it all off, you interrupt his overthinking: “and... I love you too.”

his eyes widen in surprise, then soften with relief and warmth. “you really had me there,” he chuckles, pulling you into a hug. “you're quite the trickster yourself.”

you laugh, hugging him back tightly. “i learned from the best.”

NEUVILLETTE — 那维莱特

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ʚ for neuvillette it’s less about him not saying i love you, but just how convoluted and complicated he can make it seem.

ʚ whether it’s by using outdated poetry and reciting it to you without the knowledge that the terms used completely flew over your head because they’re so old, or doing something that to him is basically more intimate than physical touch like gifting you a piece of jewellery that’s imbedded with a stone most certainly toxic to humans (he got it out of a rift from khaenri’ah when it first emerged and kept it as a little token).

ʚ this man is a dragon, he’s older than the snowy mountains of dragonspine and the deadly primordial sea itself…you can’t blame him for being a little bit over the top and traditional with how he says he loves you.

ʚ it’s all courting tactics! isn’t this what you humans enjoy? no? …maybe he should ask lady furina if she has some plays from the romance genre she’d care to share, perhaps then he could learn a much more modern way of showing his affections.

ʚ he’ll say he loves you if you vocalise you’d just prefer that but…are you sure you don’t also want this embarrassingly cute cup he made to match his dragon form?

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

the more he thinks about it, the sadder he gets. and the sadder he gets, the rainier the heavens become. neuvillette’s pen shifted between several of his fingers as the paragraphs in front of him shifted and blurred continuously.

you didn’t reply to his i love you this morning. straight after waking up he mumbled the sweetest, “i love you,” directly into your ear with that rumbling voice of his, letting his affections linger on your skin as his nose snuggled itself safely against your neck.

and what did he get in response? a small giggle and a, “should we get ready?”

at first, he merely internalised it as a mere misstep on your part. perhaps you merely didn’t hear him, you had just woken up after all you must’ve been feeling a little groggy. that managed to ease his nerves just a little, but soon as you closed the door to his office without a chance for another i love you, he slumped into his seat with defeat.

you humans are tricky creatures and scarily good at making other overthink things that someone should be most confident on.

just the idea that he might’ve done something to upset you enough for you to not want to love him so dearly as you normally do makes the skies weep to match the mourning in his heart. you best come back this instant with your arms wide open unless you want fontaine to flood over.

he may be one of the strongest beings currently alive and awake in the land of teyvat, but his heart is rather fragile when it comes to you.

WRIOTHESLEY — 莱欧斯利

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

much to the dismay of wriothesley, he rarely even gets to say he loves you. between managing the fortress of meropide and his countless responsibilities that range from being a guinea pig for sigewinne’s new test trials that she calls food to ridiculous requests from inmates, expressing his feelings often takes a backseat.

you, of course, understand his position, but it doesn't stop you from sending him love letters whenever you can. your letters are filled with warmth, affection, and little anecdotes about your day, hoping they bring a smile to his face during his busy hours — and they certainly do, he adores tracing your handwriting with the back of his gloved hand.

unfortunately, your letters piled up on his desk without being read. despite him desperately wanting to respond to every little i love you, he found himself way too preoccupied with other immediate matters that required his thorough attention. every time he’d open up his drawer to find a new pen to fill out a document with, he’d shamefully glance at the stack of unread papers that were littered with hearts.

each letter was one a piece of your heart — him stashing it away protectively would be a little romantic and rather ironic given his profession, but currently it felt more like he was actively giving you the sentence of a lifetime by withdrawing his affections.

no reply comes for days.

you understand that his duties are overwhelming, but a part of you yearns for some acknowledgment, a sign that your words are reaching him. however, wriothesley is determined to rectify this, he sat down at his desk after the first calm night in a while, pulls out a sheet of paper, and begins to write.

what you receive the next day isn’t necessarily anything grandiose or swooningly romantic — but it was enough; a large bouquet of your favourite roses with a special heart shaped note attached that when you latched it off simply read: “i love you too, sweetheart.”

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

alas, wriothesley finally managed to carve out a free day just for you. spending the day together ultimately meant either a completely lazy morning filled with sloppy kisses shared and your warm bodies all tangled within blankets, or a date where you bask in each other’s presence.

this time, you chose the latter. you needed a little bit of a pick me up and what better than having a romantic outing with your beloved? …where you simultaneously wished to entertain yourself with a bit of mischief. who could get away with teasing the mighty duke if not you?

a day of activities left you a little exhausted, which is why wriothesley decided to share the last few setting hours of the sun by sitting on a comfy blanket near an empty, secluded beach far from the usual hustle and bustle of fontaine.

"thank you for being so patient with me," wriothesley said, his voice low and sincere. "i know it's not easy, but you mean a lot to me."

you reached out and squeezed his hand. "aww, i understand, wrio. i’m honestly just happy we get to spend time together like this at all.”

bringing your interlocked hands up to his lips, his calloused and rough ones ridden with scars and marks that told stories of their own holding yours as if made of porcelain, he pressed a few gentle kisses to your knuckles as he mumbled a sincere: “i love you, [name].”

ah the very words you’ve been waiting to drawl from his lips. stifling a chuckle, you simply smiled and nodded, letting your hand wiggle away from his grasp as your focus drifted to stare at the crashing waves cleansing the shore.

wriothesley's brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. "did you hear me?" he asked, trying to keep his tone light. "i said, i love you."

you nodded again, keeping your expression neutral. “i heard you."

his confusion turned into amusement as both his brows raised in disappointment — were you seriously teasing him right now? wriothesley leaned in appetisingly close, searching your face for a clue for your intentions. "and?" he prompted.

swallowing down another fit of giggles, you titled your head at him all coyly, “and what?”

wriothesley puffed out a chuckle before his skilled hand quickly swooped beneath your knees and atop the small of your back to land you on his lap. “do you think you’re funny?” his muscular and scarred arms closed around your middle, keeping you firmly in place to face your trial.

“a little,” you muse before lifting yourself a little within his grasp, moving in to press a more than welcomed kiss on his cheek. “i love you too, wrio.”

“that’s what i thought.”

ARLECCHINO — 阿蕾奇诺

꒰ her not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ʚ arlecchino loves you, she really does. but unfortunately for you, you’re not the age of the orphaned children she protects and therefore she finds it useless to constantly reassure you of such a fact.

ʚ surely if you want her to prove how much she loves you, you’d be less childish with it and simply ask for a real heart to be displayed in a glass box? she’s kidding (perhaps), but given the nature of your dynamic, she’s sure you’ve said the words “i love you” in this relationship enough to cover her half of the bargain.

“arle, i love you,” you muse, buzzing around her desk like a never satiated mosquito. yet instead of sucking blood you merely made her wish she had the heart to plug her ears to silence your relentless affection spillage. she wouldn’t dare. but for the love of the tsaritsa won’t you be good and just sit on her lap and remain quiet?

“arlechinnoo…” another whine as you carefully sit yourself on her desk, her pen quickly brushing over lines, the ferocity at which she held it made the point look as if she was scabbing the paper.

“yes, bunny?” she looked off to the side at you, her expression holding an air of royalty that was most likely non existent in her blood, but definitely seemed present in the way she held herself. maybe it was just that natural posture of arrogance?

“i love you…won’t you love me back?”

“my dear,” she placed the pen down and got up, a sight that made the two informants that stood opposite of the room with their heads hung low nervously hunch into themselves. she sauntered to you and encased your body against the edge of the desk, hands on either side of you.

“you’re surely irritating our guests with your constant noise,” that crestfallen expression of yours was something she wished she could wipe, but that sinful, pyre of pride burned within her like vengeance, making her merely tap her hand over your cheek to refocus your forlorn attention.

soon as you tilted your head, her hot breathy whisper mumbled against your ear: “stay quiet and i’ll be sure to spoil you.”

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

“i’ve been issued another task within fontaine, do keep yourself out of trouble even though i have little hope you’ll commit,” arlecchino teasingly mused as she nudged your hip with hers while fixing her coat. “i love you, dear — i’ll be sure to send you letters.”

arlecchino is eerily fond of the silence that came after deafening screams. the scarlet stickiness that spreads across her grim face in splatters making her instinctively lick off that sweet residue. but right now, the silence was just a testament to how good she’s been treating you.

if you think you can get away with a silly prank like this as she’s awaiting your response like a puppy begging for a bone, you must’ve forgotten who has the collar and who has the leash.

catching your chin between her thumb and forefinger, she tilts your face upwards to meet her intense stare, stern eyes blazing with naked hunger. "i asked you to not cause trouble while i’m gone, but you’ve already decided to start, have you?”

most people would crumble beneath her shimmering eyes that spoke volumes of violence, yet deeply within your own heart you know she’d carry you over mountains of skulls that crushed beneath her callous heels if it meant getting you across into fairyland.

“admit it - you crave me just as fiercely as i burn for you." she grins before flicking your forehead with her clawed fingertips. “don’t make me repeat myself or you won’t be getting any gifts from me when i return.”

that’s the real threat you were waiting for. leaving a featherlight goodbye kiss atop her lips, you smartly respond: “i love you too, and don’t forget my favourite cake!”

she rolls her eyes, finally letting you go. “wouldn’t dream of it.”

©STARYUEE do not copy, steal or repost ♡ ᴜsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ɪʜᴇᴀʀᴛɢᴀɴʏᴜ