[havanillas]

drawing cosplayers i saw at a star rail event

[senranx]

my danganronpa phase is coming back

[samcsao3]

Eyelash got into my eye…. You misguided thing, why have you become the very thing you swore to destroy

[samcsao3]

Workaholics

[samcsao3]

Sick days

[samcsao3]

Guess

[samcsao3]

Cooking up yaoi crack with my friends

[mesooph]

heretic

[samcsao3]

☕️

[maru-nage]

[dragon-ascent]

Hand-holding with Zhongli.

In the eyes of most, such a simple gesture would be mundane, insignificant, minuscule even, in the grand scheme of things.

But when your hand slides into his welcoming palm, all you can think about is how this is the hand of a being who has forged countless divine weapons of fine jade, piercing his targets without room for error and claiming the land as his own. Not just weapons, but gold too—Mora, the very currency that makes Teyvat go round. It feels as though even a snap of his long fingers might send the world crumbling to dust.

This is the hand of one who has built his nation from the ground-up, introducing the traditional sloped roofs and sturdy stone exteriors. Under his guidance, Liyue had been turned from a barren land of mountains and valleys to a thriving trade nation raised from the roiling sea. If given enough time, these hands could shape the entire universe, having him mould it to the way he desires.

This is the hand of one who has slain countless gods and monsters alike, showing no partiality as long as the war raged on. This is a hand stained in blood, but all that violence has done little to whittle away at his gentleness. His touch ought to be crushing—yet here he is, beckoning for you to join his outstretched hand.

How can such an exalted presence such as Zhongli even care to throw a glance in your direction, much less hold you like this?

But your insecurities are dispelled with the way he gazes at you, honey-dipped affection and serene smile abound. He tilts his head at you the longer you stare at him, and he merely asks, “Is something the matter, my love?”

He squeezes your hand gently, his thumb running circles over your skin. Yes, all these lofty feats—and he still chooses to hold your hand like it’s the one thing that matters most to him in this moment. The one thing he treasures as much as his own history.

You smile and shake your head, squeezing his hand back. Rough, calloused, but so so warm. “It’s nothing.”

[vingtetunmars]

Take a Hint

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: You were only supposed to help Din Djarin with one bounty. But after the mission, you stuck around — teasing, flirting, testing the waters. He never reacted the way you hoped, always hiding behind practical words and stoic silence.

Or five times you thought Din was dense and one time you realized you were wrong.

Tags: Fluff, 5+1 things, miscommunication, SFW, Din Djarin is oblivious, he's trying his best, one sided, or is it???, idiots in love, protective Din Djarin, Din Djarin being soft (in his own way). No descriptions of reader. No mentions of Y/N.

A/N: I know it's a lot shorter than my other Din fanfic, but I hope you'll enjoy this one as well. If you have any requests, suggestions, or thoughts, feel free to send me a message. Reblogs are appreciated. Please do not steal or cross-post it on another platform without asking. Thank you.

Word Count: 2.7k

masterlist

1.

You stretched your arms above your head, letting out a sharp sigh as the bounty’s unconscious body thudded to the floor of the Razor Crest’s cargo hold.

“That’s one way to say job well done,” you muttered, brushing space dust from your jacket sleeve before slinking into the co-pilot’s chair.

Behind you, Din Djarin closed the ramp and began checking the carbonite chamber, ensuring the target was fully frozen and secure. He hadn’t spoken much since you reached the ship — not that he was ever particularly chatty — but you chalked that up to the Mando brand of "taciturn charm."

“Well, that was fun,” you said brightly, spinning halfway in the chair to face him. “You always do jobs this entertaining, or was this just to impress me?”

His helmet tilted slightly toward you. “It wasn’t supposed to be fun.”

“No? Shame. You looked pretty good out there.” You gave him a teasing grin and leaned back, resting your boots on the edge of the control panel.

He turned fully toward you now, helmet glinting in the light of hyperspace pre-jump. “You almost got shot.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t let that happen.” You pointed a finger at him, lazily. “Knight in shiny beskar and all that.”

“…I hired you for your recon work. That’s all.”

You shrugged. “Sure, Mando. I’m just saying, you throw a girl against a wall to shield her from a blaster bolt, she might start thinking you care.”

He walked past you to the cockpit, flicking switches like nothing had happened. “We leave in ten.”

You laughed under your breath and leaned back further, hands behind your head. “You’re cute when you pretend I don’t fluster you.”

No response. Just the cold silence of a man fully immersed in his pre-flight check.

Not even a head tilt this time.

You pursed your lips, then smirked.

Alright. That one might have been too subtle…for him.

But you weren’t going anywhere just yet.

2.

You leaned against a stack of fuel canisters, watching Din as he crouched next to the hull of the Razor Crest, speaking low and serious with Peli Motto. Something about coolant lines or hyperdrive relays—you weren’t listening. Mostly because he’d taken off his gloves again, and there was something about watching his fingers flex against a piece of machinery that scrambled your thoughts like eggs on a Tatooine skillet.

Grogu was toddling near your feet, cooing up at you. You bent down and gave his ear a little scratch. “He’s lucky he’s got you, kid,” you said. “Shame you’re the only one in this partnership with any emotional intelligence.”

Grogu blinked at you slowly, then burbled in agreement. Or maybe hunger.

“Mando!” you called out, hopping off the crates and sauntering toward the ship. “Since we’re stuck in Mos Eisley for a bit… how about I buy you a drink?”

He didn’t even look up from where he was tightening something under the ship’s belly.

“No.”

You arched an eyebrow. “You sure? Could be a bonding moment.”

“No.”

You sighed, pushing your tongue against your cheek to hide the smile. “Are you afraid I’ll drink you under the table? Or that you’ll have fun?”

“I don’t drink on the job.”

“We’re not on a job,” you replied smoothly. “We’re in between. There’s a difference.”

He finally looked up at you, visor catching the Tatooine twin suns. “We don’t need to bond.”

You opened your mouth, but then shut it.

Instead, you gave a mock salute and walked off muttering, “Alright, Casanova, loud and clear.”

Later, you were helping Peli hook up a new motivator coil when she snorted and said, “You’re wasting your time, sweetheart.”

You turned your head. “Excuse me?”

“With him,” she nodded toward Din, who was now sitting on the ramp with Grogu in his lap, feeding him a little packet of something green and mushy. “You’ve been laying it on thicker than Bantha butter, and he’s just… nothing.”

You groaned, flopping back onto the sand beside her. “Is he dense, or just emotionally stunted?”

“Both,” Peli replied cheerfully. “Don’t take it personally. I’ve seen rancors with better romantic instincts.”

You covered your face with your hands. “Hopeless.”

“Yep.”

You peeked through your fingers, catching sight of Grogu now waddling toward you with food smeared across his mouth.

“Well,” you murmured, sitting up and letting him crawl into your lap, “at least one of them likes me.”

Peli patted your shoulder, greasy handprint and all. “That’s a start.”

3.

The alley was narrow, the kind of cramped, shadowed crevice that smelled like rust and desperation. You ducked in first, tugging Din’s arm behind you just as blaster fire cracked against the duracrete wall.

“I told you that guy looked too twitchy to be a clean drop,” you hissed.

“You waited until we were already inside to tell me that,” Din replied, voice flat but calm as ever. You could practically hear the slight raise of his brow under the helmet.

“Call it a hunch,” you muttered.

Another volley of shots whizzed past, and Din shoved you further into the shadows. He followed in right after, pinning you both against the wall as the enemy patrol ran past. There was barely a breath between you. His arm was braced next to your head, his chest pressed fully against yours, armor cold even through your clothes.

You tilted your head up slowly, voice low. “You know, if you wanted me pressed up against you, Mando, you could’ve just asked.”

His helmet was angled so close you could see your own smirk reflected in the beskar.

“Stay quiet,” he said.

“That’s all you’re gonna say? Really?” You leaned in just a little, voice all honey and trouble. “No comment on the close quarters? The dim lighting? The way your knee is pressed against my—?”

“I said quiet.”

You let out a long, exaggerated sigh, head thudding back against the wall. “I’m just saying, most people would at least acknowledge the tension here.”

Din shifted his weight slightly, and you thought maybe—maybe—that you’d finally gotten through.

Instead, he pulled back just enough to glance outside the alley. “They’re gone. Let’s move.”

And then, just like that, the warmth of his body was gone, his cape brushing your arm as he slipped back into the light.

You stood there for a second longer, staring after him.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, jogging to catch up. “I was practically breathing pick-up lines in your face, and you gave me nothing. Not even a grunt.”

4.

It had been a long day. The kind that sank into your bones and made even the air feel heavy.

The bounty had fought harder than expected, and Din had taken the brunt of it — bruised ribs, a split lip under the helmet, and a noticeable limp that he stubbornly refused to acknowledge.

Now, inside the dim hull of the Razor Crest, the silence between the two of you felt comfortable. Grogu was already asleep in his hammock, snoring softly like some tiny, ancient gremlin.

Din was sitting on the edge of the cot, working one-handed to undo a section of his chest plate. You noticed the stiffness in his shoulders, the way he winced every time he shifted his weight.

“Here,” you said gently, crossing the space to kneel in front of him. “Let me help.”

He started to protest, of course. “I’ve got it.”

You gave him a look, one you knew he could feel even if he couldn’t see your face. “I didn’t ask if you could. I said let me.”

He hesitated… and then let his hands drop.

Your fingers moved carefully, familiar now with the clasps and locks of his beskar. You worked slowly, undoing the armor piece by piece — chest plate, gauntlets, pauldrons — setting each one down beside you with reverence, like they mattered. Like he mattered.

His undershirt was dark with sweat and streaked with grime. You resisted the urge to reach for a cloth and clean him up. Instead, your hands hovered near the edge of his vambrace.

“You always take care of everyone else,” you said softly. “Let someone take care of you, just this once.”

He was quiet for a long moment. Then: “You don’t have to.”

“I know.” You smiled faintly, not looking up. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”

You unlatched the vambrace slowly. His forearm tensed beneath your fingers, the bare skin warm.

He didn’t say anything to that. But he didn’t stop you, either.

When you finally looked up, you found his visor fixed squarely on you. The silence stretched between you like a held breath.

If he felt anything—warmth, tension, the way your fingers lingered against the edge of his wrist—he didn’t say.

Just a small nod.

And then: “Thank you.”

You nodded back, lips curled in the barest smile. “Anytime.”

You stood and walked past Grogu’s hammock, brushing a hand over his ears as you went.

From behind you, you could feel the weight of Din’s stare following you the whole way.

5.

The Razor Crest creaked under the weight of frost, a low groan echoing through the hull as wind battered the exterior.

You were both grounded — a storm too thick to fly through and a bounty who was likely just as frozen as the damn planet. The heating system, true to its usual charm, had sputtered out three hours ago.

You were curled into yourself on the floor of the ship, back against the wall, arms wrapped tightly around your knees. Your jacket was decent, but nothing short of a portable sun was going to fight the kind of chill creeping into your bones.

Grogu was warm in his little insulated pod, snuggled deep in his blanket nest, occasionally letting out a snore.

Across the room, Din sat on a crate, sharpening one of his vibroblades like it was just any other night. No sign of discomfort. No sign he was feeling the same way your teeth were chattering.

You didn’t say anything. You weren’t sure if it was pride or exhaustion, but the silence stretched.

Until finally, without looking up, he spoke.

“You’re cold.”

“No kidding,” you muttered, breath puffing visibly in front of your face. “What gave it away? The blue lips or the full-body shiver?”

He didn’t rise to the sarcasm. Instead, he reached into the compartment behind him and pulled out a heavy, worn blanket.

“Come here,” he said, scooting to the edge of the crate and patting the space beside him.

You blinked at him. “You’re inviting me to share body heat?”

“Purely practical.”

You snorted as you stood, dragging yourself over. “Right. Not because you enjoy my company or anything ridiculous like that.”

He didn’t answer, just opened the blanket as you sat down beside him.

It was warmer than you expected. His armor had retained some heat, and beneath it, his body was a furnace. The blanket went around both of you, his arm loosely draped behind your shoulders to keep it up.

The silence settled again.

Then, a little softer: “Better?”

You tilted your head toward him. “If I said no, would you let me shove my hands under your shirt?”

He didn’t so much as flinch. “No.”

You laughed, but it was quiet. Tired. The kind of laugh that cracked into something tender. You leaned your head against his shoulder, your voice dropping low.

“...Thanks, Din.”

He didn’t say anything. But you felt it — the shift. A subtle lean into you. The way his fingers adjusted the blanket more tightly around you both.

And then Grogu stirred in his pod, peeking out, blinking at the sight of you nestled together. He blinked once. Twice. And let out a soft, amused coo.

You met his gaze with a smirk.

+1

You stopped calling him Din.

Not on purpose. It just… slipped away.

It had started subtly: the teasing softened, the smiles dimmed. You kept your hands to yourself more, kept your jokes to Grogu instead. You still worked with Din, still followed him into the fire and out again, but the space between you felt wider than it ever had.

And maybe it was for the best.

Maybe you'd crossed a line, misread something. Maybe your flirting had made him uncomfortable, and he was too kind—or too stoic—to say it outright.

You hadn’t realized how much it hurt to pull away until you were halfway across a frozen plain, following behind him in silence, and he didn’t say a word about the wind biting at your skin.

He always offered the blanket before. Always stood just a little closer.

Now?

Nothing.

You tried to tell yourself it was fine. You were fine. You weren’t here to fall in love with a man who never showed his face. You were here because you wanted to be.

You didn’t expect him to care.

Then one night, as the ship drifted through hyperspace and Grogu was snoring softly in his hammock, Din stood in the middle of the hull, hands loose at his sides. Watching you.

“Why are you avoiding me?” he asked.

You blinked from where you sat on your bunk, caught mid-polishing your blaster. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

You looked down. “I just figured maybe I was… pushing too much. Saying things I shouldn’t have. Being… flirty.” The word stung coming out of your mouth. “Didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

There was a long pause. You expected silence. Maybe a brush-off. But instead:

“You weren’t.”

You glanced up. He stepped closer, the quiet clink of his armor unusually loud in the quiet. “I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?”

He hesitated, then said carefully, “I was flirting back.”

You blinked. “You what?”

He tilted his head. “You remember the first job? When we caught that bounty together, and I told you to leave right after?”

You nodded slowly.

“I made sure you got a full share. Paid for your passage off-world. Protected you during the shootout. I don’t do that for strangers.”

You swallowed. “That’s not—”

“And on Tatooine,” he cut in, voice quiet but firm. “You asked me to bond over a drink. I told you we didn’t need to bond.”

You furrowed your brow. “Exactly. You turned me down.”

“No,” he said. “I said, ‘We don’t need to bond.’ What I meant was—we already do. I didn’t think I needed more than what we had.”

Your mouth opened, then closed.

“In the alley,” he continued, stepping even closer, “when I had you pinned against the wall… You think I didn’t want that? That I wasn’t aware of how close we were?”

You felt your pulse jump.

“I wanted it,” he said simply. “I just couldn’t say it then. Couldn’t risk you thinking it was anything less than mutual.”

You sat up straighter, the air tight in your lungs.

He took another step, now close enough that you could feel the shift of his weight. “When you helped me take off my armor… I don’t let anyone do that. No one touches it. No one touches me.”

“Din—”

“And the blanket? On the ice planet?” His voice gentled. “That wasn’t practical. That was me finding the only excuse I had to hold you. To make sure you were okay.”

Your heart thundered in your chest.

“I thought I was being clear,” he said, finally. “But I guess I’m not great at… this.”

You blinked rapidly, trying to catch up. “You… you’ve been flirting this whole time?”

“As much as I know how to.”

There was a beat of silence.

And then, softly—warmly—he added, “So. You gonna keep pulling away? Or are we finally gonna admit we’ve been on the same page since the beginning?”

You stood, moving toward him until you were close enough to touch his chestplate.

“You could’ve said something.”

“I just did.”

You smiled, helpless and stunned. “Guess we’re both kind of hopeless.”

His hand brushed your arm, hesitant but deliberate. “Maybe. But not anymore.”

And just like that, all the quiet tension between you—weeks of half-meant jokes and unspoken affection—finally settled into something real. Something shared.

And just like that, all the quiet tension between you—weeks of half-meant jokes and unspoken affection—finally settled into something real. Something shared.

Not lost in translation anymore.

[l0vecrush]

Genshin men - moments of affection

All Genshin men x gn!reader (alphabetically) / sfw / established relationship -> women version (coming soon)

Aether

He won't acknowledge the way he sinks back into your touch when your fingers thread through the golden strands of hair hanging down his back, nor the way a low rumbling sound of bliss seems to emerge from the back of his throat when you massage a particularly sensitive spot on his head. Simply the feeling of your gentle hands brushing and re-braiding his adventure-knotted hair is a reprieve from his demanding everyday life.

Albedo

Watching you sleep is something he can't seem to stop, eyes wandering to you slouched form, observing the rhythmatic way your chest rises and falls as you dream, draped across his work desk or tucked into his side. He'll smooth a gloved hand across your hair, or drape a blanket around your shoulders to prevent the sub zero temperatures of dragonspine from seeping in. There's just something so peaceful about the way you look that soothes his fabricated heart.

Alhaitham

He'll be lounging on the plush cushions of your sofa after a long day of being the academia's scribe, one arm resting lazily behind his head and the other cradling some academic text or another. You'll slide in beside him, attempting to squeeze yourself in next to his broad form on the narrow sofa and he'll grumble under his breath in feigned complaint - he never really means it - but the shift of a bicep from behind him to tucking you securely into his side tells another story.

Ayato

He often takes a brief respite from his duties to wander the estate grounds, pausing in doorways when he hears the soft tune of your humming as he passes by. You'll be doing something inconsequential he doesn't bother to note, but the sound - no matter how perfect or off key it might be, it matters little to him - just seems to lure him closer. He'll wind his arms around your waist, whispering in your ear with a tone full of both amusement and fondness alike - yet he won't yet mention how the mundanity of such a task feels like a refreshing break from the formality of his everyday life.

Baizhu

Never will he outright admit his condition has worn him down, yet when you see him and the weariness of bearing the weight of Liyue's health on his shoulders, it touches a soft, vulnerable part of his tired heart. He'll gently decline your invitation to help, his duty is something he deigned to shoulder alone - and that is to be his fate - though when you insist on sharing that burden, such a concerned expression on your face well, he just can't say no to you it seems.

Capitano

He's not accustomed to gentleness or softness, so the contrast of your slow, soothing touch against the cold hard steel of his helmet is such a foreign sensation he takes weeks to get used to it. Your soft hands trace the inky black abyss where his face would be with such tenderness it feels like he doesn't deserve this sort of adoration, yet he'll lean down into your touch, bringing one large hand up to dwarf your own, brushing his fingers against your knuckles in what he hopes is a gentle manner.

Childe

He may or may not say - depending on the outcome - that being scolded by you is something of a guilty pleasure, though guilty is probably less of the right word in his case, try obvious. He tries at least a little to school his expression into something neutral when you frown and press the antibacterial cloth a little harder into the cuts littering his skin, telling him off for being so reckless. Despite the reprimanding tone of your voice, he can see the worry flickering across your expression - ok maybe he's a little guilty now.

Cyno

He returns home late most days, well into the early hours of the morning, so the last thing he expects is to see you slumped over the arm of the sofa - clearly where you've slid down from an upright position. He'll slide strong arms under you and slide you back into bed, only joining you after shedding all his heavy gear and the weight of his duties for the night. You'll receive a mild lecture in the morning - why you shouldn't wait up for him when it poorly impacts your own sleep - but when you shyly mention you seem to struggle to sleep without the warmth of his presence next to you, he can't help but soften and let you off the hook, only to find you in the exact same position the next night.

Dahlia

He's easy to please, any time spent in your company is pleasure enough for Dahlia, yet when you drag him to the sofa with two cups of warm sugary tea waiting for you on the coffee table - insisting he regale you with every minute detail of his day (not to mention the gossip he mentioned offhandedly a few days ago) - it's both surprising and heart warming to realise you've noticed and listened to the random things he says. And for that, he'll gladly indulge your curiosity, no matter how mundane.

Diluc

Watching you tiptoe your way back into the bedroom, swathed in one of his silken shirts that practically drowns your form and balancing a cup of coffee in each hand will forever be one of Diluc's favourite sights. You don't even notice he's awake, half propped up on his elbows with that piercing crimson gaze following you as you edge closer. When you do eventually catch him staring and burst out into laughter, passing him his mug as you slip back into the sheets beside him, he'll allow himself to join in, even if a little pink in the cheeks.

Dottore

He'll openly admit that he gets a little thrill when you depend on him for anything. No matter if it's something trivial and you could most likely do it yourself or you genuinely require help from him or a segment (unless you're interrupting important research - that will earn you a look that could put you in your grave and an irritated huff indicating you should 'do something yourself for once'). Though his favourite instance is when you get sick, he can test all manner of new remedies on you to his hearts content, satisfying that mad scientist element in him, but also quietly tend to that tiny part of him that still has something loving inside.

Heizou

Oh if anything could prove more entertaining and endearing then having you perched on his lap, attempting to help solve a case he figured out twenty minutes ago. He would tell you, but the sight of your brow furrowed in concentration and the gleeful look on your face when you turn around to point out a clue you'd linked is so terribly charming to the poor detective he'll follow along for just a little while longer. He then tests how many times he can repeat this scenario before you notice that he's already solved these cases, he just enjoys seeing your face light up, even more so when his own cheeks tint pink at the sight.

Flins

He's developed the awful habit of hiding away in his lantern every time you so much as have a petty dispute - terrible sulker that he is. Every time you sigh, chastising his childish behaviour under your breath but still picking up said lantern, purple glow flooding the darkness of the corridors, and set it on the bedside table before turning to sleep - he never expects it. He eventually comes to the amusing realisation you most likely can't sleep without him near, or struggle to at the least. When you wake, you'll find a certain fae out of hiding, wound around you like a constrictor with his face buried in the crook of your neck.

Gorou

Seldom does he let anyone near his canine features, until you manage to become a small exception to that rule. Oh he'll never admit it, but the blissful sleepy expression on his face whilst you comb through the matted fur of his tail after an exhausting day sparring and patrolling betrays his true emotions. If you deign to tease him even a little, he blushes a furious red and huffs in grumbled protest, yet he still can't seem to pull away from your soothing touch.

Ifa

Oh he's weak for seeing you in his clothes. When he emerges from the bedroom to find you perched on the edge of the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee in hand and another waiting beside you, black and bitter - exactly how he has it - his discarded shirt from last night haphazardly thrown on, he swears he has momentary heart palpitations. Even more so when you throw a knowing grin his way and gesture to the cooling caffeine waiting for him.

Itto

The bigger question is what don't you do that makes him fold instantly? If he had to pick one thing in particular however, it would have to be when you indulge his childish dramatics. He'll boast about an onikabuto fight against a child from the city he won, he's aware it's not anything significant, yet when you laugh and clap encouragingly, it touches him in profound ways he can't seem to articulate.

Kaeya

He may not remember it most of the time, his memories a hazy blur of wine and charm, yet on the occasion he does recall you leaning his weight against you and dragging him home from the angel's share to heard him into bed and make him drink some water - swiping a damp cloth over his forehead in an attempt to sober him up just a little, lest he suffer another god awful hangover - he feels the sickeningly sweet feeling of what he refuses to admit is love settle at the pit of his stomach.

Kaveh

Oh he's far too flustered to admit that when he finds himself slumped against his desk, head on an array of architectural papers and pencil still in hand - waking up to instead realise he's propped up on a pillow, blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a freshly made cup of tea still emitting steam inches away - his heart does a little flip in his chest. He knows you know it's a bad habit he won't stop anytime soon, yet the little things you do show him just how much you care.

Kazuha

He's a wandering spirit, unable to stay in one place for too long, and though it pains him to leave you behind every now and then - he can't help but feel a little more in love every time he sees you at the dock, waving at him with that saccharine smile and unbridled enthusiasm. It's the knowledge that you'll always be here, waiting for him to inevitably follow his loyal heart back to you that keeps him going.

Kinich

In the rare moments Ajaw isn't trailing behind Kinich like a loud record that won't ever stop playing - much to both yours and Kinich's disdain - he can't help but allow himself the indulgence of your touch. He may not seem like a very touchy guy on the outside, which is partially true, but with Ajaw's frequent interference, physical contact is a luxury not often afforded. So he finds himself wrapping his arms around you like he'll be ripped away the next second, leaning into the warmth of your body like it's his saving grace.

Lyney

He's become so adept at maintaining the façade, the show persona, that when you see past it for the first time, he can't help but be thrown a little off guard. It's when you notice the fatigue under the performer, that he feels seen. It's an odd feeling for him but one he learns to embrace anyway, and one day he finds there's little more comforting than the warmth of your embrace when you ask after his wellbeing.

Neuvillette

Hardworking and hardly ever home should become the motto for Neuvillette's life sometimes, being chief justice of Fontaine means piles of paperwork makes their way onto his desk every time he so dares to glance away from it. It makes the bright afternoons where you slip into his office with lunch and a adoringly sweet kiss to his cheek all the more gratifying. Even spending those 30 minutes with you every few days makes the workload looming above him seem a little smaller.

Ororon

He's perfected the art of awkward fumbling and shy gaps in conversation at this point, no matter how close you get to each other he seems to never overcome this lull in interaction, though you find it endearing, he still flushes with embarrassment every time. Therefore he's come to favour the time he spends with you that takes place in comfortable silence. Whether you're helping him in the vegetable patch or simply sitting side pressed to side on the sofa together, minutes away from falling asleep - all of it soothes his anxious heart and lets him enjoy your company without the nerves of conversation.

Pantalone

For such a wealthy man, he's the farthest from profligate someone could be. Every expensive is documented and accounted for, yet somehow the jewel encrusted necklace that appears on your vanity one day seems to escape the logs. So does the subtly expensive perfume a few days later, then the flowers delivered to your workplace. When questioned, he'll deny any knowledge of such things, claiming they simply don't exist, but the way his lips curve upward when he presses a lingering kiss to your forehead is telling.

Sethos

He's a tease, a fact he won't even deny himself, especially when it comes to you. But then on occasion you'll find it amusing to return the favour, and suddenly he finds himself at a loss for what to do. He never expects you to turn the tables on him and whisper something in his ear or drag a finger down his chest in smug reciprocation, and it makes him blush and mumble something inaudible under his breath every time, much to your delight, he finds.

Thoma

Everyone on the Kamisato estate knows Thoma is arguably the best cook within a 50 mile radius, and he himself cannot deny that his skills in the kitchen are proficient. But on days housework and errands have made his muscles feel like lead and the thought of facing yet something else to tackle when he gets home makes him want to run in the opposite direction, walking through the front door to the smell of your already half finished cooking fills him with gratitude like no other. He'll smother you in kisses while you try and finish purely for taking the weight off his shoulders every now and again.

Tighnari

He's often up late, working on ranger schedules or logging another mushroom related incident as a result of yet another person that's not listened to his advice correctly - yet when he feels a pair of warm arms wind around his shoulders and your face settle into the crook of his neck - he can't help but feel an irresistible temptation to retreat back into the bed. He's been brushing off how tired he feels for at least an hour now and the way you murmur in his ear for him to give up and get some sleep has given him a fresh realisation of the weight in his bones. Maybe the work can be finished in the morning after all.

Venti

As the so called 'weakest archon', he's become used to falling into last place, and he doesn't even mind honestly - sometimes it's better to not have the pressure of being the most powerful. Yet the first time you call him 'my strong archon', he stops like a deer in headlights. He doesn't remember the last time someone referred to him like that, and so confidently too. For once the bard is genuinely flustered - having to turn away and bashfully hide his face before you can notice the impact those three words had on him. Maybe with you he can let himself feel like something other than the weakest.

Wanderer

He often finds himself awake during the night, restless and plagued by memories of the pasts he's lived. He won't admit it, but he doesn't want to burden you with the same, so he'll carefully extract himself from your embrace, pour himself a cup of the most black and bitter tea he could possibly make and head out to sit on the back step, staring up at the endless expanse of Teyvat's star smothered sky. He comes to realise merely minutes later, footsteps approach from behind. He won't turn to look - he knows it's you - but when you settle in next to him with your own cup and inevitably end up falling fast asleep against him moments later, he won't complain.

Wriothesely

Seldom does Wriothesley have the time to emerge to the surface, and that consequently results in very little shared time between the two of you. Therefore imagine his surprise when he returns to his office after seeing to a matter elsewhere in the fortress to find you perched on the edge of his cluttered desk, tea tray stocked and set beside you, with that knowing smirk dancing across your features. He's taken aback for all of a second before suddenly he's right in front of you, sweeping you up into his strong arms. A short break from his duties couldn't hurt.

Xiao

He's not used to being around people, that much is blatantly obvious after spending any amount of time in Xiao's company - he doesn't care for company much either. However after some persistence, he finds you've snuck your way into his space without him even realising, or caring at that - something about your companionship is less bothersome than most. You'll clamber your way up to the roof of wangshu inn most nights, perch yourself next to him and just... exist. He notes you don't scramble to fill the silence, you just lean against his shoulder and watch the stars with him.

Zhongli

He's lived for centuries, and every memory, every whisper of a ghost in the hallways of someone he used to know, is a burden he and he alone must bear. He's steeled himself to this reality - the price an archon must pay - yet when you, a mortal, string your hands through the golden tips of his hair, or gently trace the gold markings that line the charcoal skin of his forearms, listening intently to his stories like there's weight to each and every detail - the load on his heart feels just that little bit lighter.

A/N: This has been in my drafts for way too long why did i think this would take me like 10 mins </3

©2026 V4MP1R1CS please don't repost any of my work on any other site, copy, modify, claim as your own or feed into ai.

[flowercanopy]

zhongli and flins.... the type of men who would have absolutely no issues going down on his knees before asking if you'll allow them to help you into your shoes prior to going out. they make it a habit to do so, actually. tapping the shoe upside-down first to remove any debris, slipping your feet ever so gently into the footwear, lacing up and/or tightening any straps that needs to be fastened... and the last touch, of course, is the soft kiss on your knee followed by a gentle (and proud) “all done, dearest.” 𑣲

[cnl0400]

Ueeeegh 😭😭😭 I would Buy an art book with all the concept art from Sinners Choice. This artist has my favorite cards in both OG/NB

[poanist]

Ah shit, here we go again

[yes-i-love-dreaming]