I was curious about the Character + Song requests and decided to send my own.
Could I request Snowman by Sia with Von Lycaon?
note: hello nonnie! here you are~ lowkey inspired from that time my friend put an ice cube down my shirt. lycaon gets to suffer too 😌
send me a character + song!
snowman.
von lycaon x reader. a little snow down your shirt never hurt nobody!
“mx. [name], it appears to be getting quite chilly, is it not?”
lycaon waited for you to answer, but it seemed you hadn’t heard.
“mx. [name]?” he called out again.
your stance refused to change, apparently stuck in a trance. it was a beautiful sight, really- the snow gently falling from the misty sky, coating the ground in pure white. in the midst of this untarnished canvas was you, elegantly poised in the middle of the ground, a circle of melted snow around you.
lycaon could watch you in all your grace for hours on end, but his current concern was your susceptibility to frostbite.
a steady hand behind his back, he walked to you, gently tapping your shoulder. flinching a little, you blinked, sharply turning to look at him wide-eyed.
“apologies for the fright, mx. [name],” he said, kneeling to sit beside you. “but you were so dazed it gave me a fright.”
you shook your head. “it’s alright, i was just zoning out a little.” cupping your palms to the sky, you looked up. “it’s very pretty, the scenery.”
before you could zone out again, a weight pushed down on your shoulders. it was a thick, fluffy jacket. you turned to find lycaon in nothing but his vest and shirt; he’d given his jacket to you.
“sir lycaon, you’ll get cold!”
“i can assure you, mx.[name], i will not. my, ahem, fur will keep me quite warm.”
you giggled at the thought of it, and how flustered he seemed to get at the mention of it. a mischievous thought then flashed in your mind.
subtly, you scooped a little bit of snow from the ground in your hand, and closed it firmly. then you gave lycaon a secretive look. “psst! sir lycaon!” you whispered, calling him closer. “i need to tell you something.”
lycaon was surprised by this request. his expression immediately shifted into one of worry, and you couldn’t help but feel a little bad for what you were about to do.
“whatever is the matter, mx.[name]?” he leaned closer, so his ear was facing yourself. without a beat, you took the hand filled with snow and emptied it down his collar.
“ah-AHEM!” lycaon jolted upright, clearly taken by surprised. you could tell he wished to yelp in surprise, but being the dignified man he was, he only allowed himself to vigorously clear his throat, coughing exuberantly. “mx.[name], you!”
your tried to stifle your laughter, keeping it bubbled inside of you, but the sight was too much for you to handle. you’d managed to hold onto your elegance till now, but at the sight of him now shaking his head vigorously to get the snow out, you absconded all reason.
“i thought you said your fur would keep you warm, sir lycaon,” you teased, eyes full of mirth.
he gave you a betrayed look, as though you’d truly committed a grave sin against him. “you’re getting quite bold, mx.[name],” he said, attempting to regain his lost composure. this vulnerable state of his was very amusing; you were half inclined to take a picture to show trina.
“only with you, sir lycaon.” you tapped his nose, fingers cold to the touch. he flinched back, wary of what you might do next. “would you still be angry with me if i said this was only for you?”
just like that, you’d ensnared him in a highly effective trap. how could he say no to something like that?
“far too bold,” he muttered again. “far, far too bold.”
he sat up straight once more, back to his usual stiff pose. his gaze avoided yours, and you used it as a window to rest your head upon his shoulder.
that photo for trina could wait, you thought. perhaps it was best to reserve this moment for solely yourself.
warnings: just fluff (and floof :D); not proofread, just a small set of hcs to kick writer’s block to the curb; also my first time writing for lycaon/zzz, so i still have to get a feel for the characters
a/n: writer’s block loophole: pick one of your friends to target and lock in (this one’s for you, @zhongrin dearest ^^)
general masterlist
You had recently noticed that Lycaon sometimes switched sides when you walked through New Eridu together. Still continuing your conversation, he elegantly let you pass by him, only to rejoin you at your other side, the motion so practised it almost looked like a dance.
For some time, you’ve wondered why he did it and why he only did it sometimes, until you overheard some girls in a café discussing an old drama, swooning over how the male lead always walked on the side of the road. And sure enough, Lycaon only ever traded places with you when you were the one walking closest to traffic.
However, despite being enamoured by his thoughtfulness, you also couldn’t help but notice how your lover seemed to hesitate a little on some occasions. At first you thought it was your imagination but you could clearly see an internal struggle going on behind the crimson of his eye before he moved towards the side of the road nonetheless, your window into his thoughts gone as his gaze was shielded from you by his eyepatch.
That was when you connected the dots.
Lycaon didn’t like not being able to easily see you. Sure, he could still turn his head to look at you but just being able to glance at you from the corner of his eye was clearly the favourable option to him. Not only did it facilitate checking up on you, he was also simply charmed by you. Whether it was you savouring a drink or treat on your way through the city or the way your eyes would light up when you saw something in the shop windows that intrigued you, Lycaon didn’t want to miss it. Yet, your safety was still of the utmost importance to him, so in the end he’d always move to the side of traffic for you.
Well, at least you had finally figured out why your boyfriend always occupied the right side of the couch and the bed, leaving you to snuggle up on his left…
Speaking of bed time, after a long day at work, Lycaon gladly left brushing his fur to you. The feeling of the brush in combination with your fingers raking through his coat, untangling all the knots he so carefully tried to avoid and diligently ridding it of whatever was clinging to it after his duties were done, was deeply soothing. Honestly, the first few times you offered to help him, he had almost been embarrassed by how quickly the sensation dissolved all the tension from his shoulders.
But, at this point, he gladly welcomed your gentle touch, even if it weighed down his eyelid and made it increasingly more difficult to stifle a yawn. Especially the attention you paid to smoothing out the areas that had been pressed down by his uniform all day had his eye soften with affection for you. As someone who looked after others day in and day out, it was nice being taken care of like this.
Although, to say this was any less relaxing for you, would be a lie. Lycaon took great care of his fur, so it was always soft to the touch and you never had any real troubles running the comb and brush through it. The only “problem” you sometimes encountered was his tail twitching between your hands as you tried to tend to it, the end tickling you in return for all the attention you were giving it. When you first met Lycaon, never in a million years would you have imagined he’d ever trust you enough to let you see this side of him, but now that he did, you couldn't help but smile fondly to yourself.
It was a rare luxury that you got to wake up in your lover’s arms after a good night’s sleep, reserved for the few precious days where Lycaon wasn’t working. Yet, that only made the mornings on which you could cuddle up to him further to shut out the day for a few more minutes even more cherished. An early riser by habit, there was a big chance the thiren was already awake before you, content to simply hold you for a little longer as you clung to sleep, soothingly running his hands over your back.
When you finally decided it was time to get out of bed, by the time you finished washing up and made your way to the kitchen, the delicious smell of freshly brewed coffee/tea already wafted over to you. Naturally, your lover had very quickly picked up on your preferences and would be damned if he couldn’t put his skills to use at home too. Handing you a warm mug, you soaked in the tranquility of the moment as you leant side by side against the kitchen counter, discussing breakfast options.
Yet, even on the days where he had to leave early for work, Lycaon still made you feel his love for you, even if he couldn’t be there when you got ready for the day. Be it your favourite bread in the basket on the counter or your lunch already prepped in the fridge, he always showed you that you were a priority to him, even after his day had barely started. These small affections were always accompanied by little notes, reminding you to eat, wishing you luck at work or simply telling you that he loved you, spelling out was he already conveyed so clearly.
If it wasn’t clear already, Lycaon would be nothing short of a true gentleman with you, always conscious of your presence and preferences. Be it opening doors for you, pulling out a chair or fixing your clothes, he was always the definition of attentive. And yes, the argument could be made that he was like this at work as well, however the guests of Victoria Housekeeping were never privy to that same affectionate glint in his eyes as he carefully fixed your necklace or even knelt down to fix your shoelace that had come undone. That was reserved for you and you only.
One thing he would not stand for, would be you being demeaned in one form or another. Of course, if you wanted to handle the situation yourself, he always let you, but reminded you he’d support you. If it was an accident, like a waiter bringing you the wrong order, he would very politely point it out. However, if someone deliberately mistreated you without showing any intention to change or apologise, he’d make it very clear that such behaviour wouldn’t be tolerated. He was well aware that you could handle yourself, but not every situation was easy to navigate and Lycaon would do everything in his power to protect you from harm; the last thing he’d want was to see you hurt.
If you were under the impression, however, Lycaon would never use his skills to tease you, you would be sorely mistaken. Really, he couldn’t help himself, your reactions were just too cute, so he’d rather not pass it up when the opportunity presented itself.
Seriously, with how often you’d already told your lover not to keep certain items on the top shelves, you’d think he’d already have remedied the problem. Yet, this particular complaint seemed to keep falling on deaf ears. Instead, when you were stretching to reach something once more, you’d suddenly find yourself trapped between the counter and the thiren that had appeared behind you, effortlessly reaching for whatever it was you needed. All the while, the nails of his hand resting comfortably on your hip dimpled the fabric of your clothes and his palm spread heat all the way up to your ears, especially when Lycaon leant just a bit more of his weight into you.
When he handed the item to you, he’d take one look at you and ask if there was something wrong. Perhaps if you didn’t know him well enough, you’d assume the question was truly innocent, that he just wasn’t aware of what he was doing to you. You, however, could very clearly identify the mischievous glint in his eye and the wolfish grin tugging at his lips.
Lycaon might be the death of you. But would you have it any other way?
content: fluff. really, just fluff. discussion of canon prosthetics, references to previous trauma.
Lighter →
Lighter cobbles sleep together in pieces. He dozes off on his feet during gatherings or hooks his legs up over the handlebars of his bike to steal a few precious moments. Anything longer than a nap is playing with fire. That's when dreams creep in, smoke curling under the frame of a door he keeps firmly shut, suffocating, til he wakes up in a cold sweat, clawing at the chain around his neck, clinging to dogtags so they don't burn into his skin.
It's best when he's pushed himself to his limit. Dreams don't come when's he's too exhausted to think past his next step. He stumbles back home, limbs heavy and body weary, and collapses face down onto his bed fully dressed. Come morning, he'll regret not taking the time to peel himself out of his clothes. He'll regret his blood-crusted knuckles and the lingering stiffness in his bad arm - but never enough to trade them for his nightmares.
That habit didn't change when you found your way into his bed. You can nag and insist all you want, but there's no avoiding it. He'll drag himself in at the dead of night and flop right down onto you. No shower. Just the sheer weight of him—sweaty and exhausted, the throat-burning stench of the hollow clinging to him—flattening you into the mattress.
Lighter snores. Swears up and down that he doesn't, ears turning crimson the second you bring it up. He's not shaking the house down or anything, but it's loud enough to rattle his cool guy image. He drools, too - especially when he manages to knock out for more than his usual sparse hours. You'll wake up with a wet patch on your shirt if you let him stay asleep on top of you.
His number one sleep position, though? Little spoon. He makes excuses about it - because this way he can still face the door, see? It's safer. He promises. It has nothing to do with how good it feels to have you wrapped around him, head pressed between his shoulders. It has nothing to do with being held, with your palm over his heart like it's something sacred.
When you fall asleep against his shoulder, he freezes. He's stuck in time. It's a crime for him to move — because what if he wakes you? What if he shifts and you slip away from his side? He'd never let you fall. Of course not. But if he jostles you too much, then you'll never lean against his side again.
He's the sort of sap that gets emotional when you're sleepy around here. He's heard all the anecdotal evidence about feeling sleepy around people you trust and he buys into it. You trust him. That's why you're sound asleep, head on his shoulder. He trusts you. That's why, when his eyes grow heavy and his back aches from holding still too long, he lets himself rest his head against yours.
Rina →
Sleep hygiene is just as important as regular hygiene, and if you try to bend the rules when Rina is in your bed, you'll get more than just a lecture.
Phone on the nightstand, in do-not-disturb. One singular alarm - none of this six plus nonsense. She's up before your alarm anyway. Sheer force of habit; you thought you might someday glimpse her with her hair undone, gazing longingly out the window in her flowing nightgown, a specter to haunt any passerby who turns their gaze her way. If she does any haunting in the dead of night, she keeps it carefully hidden from you. You start to think it's much more likely that she takes the recommendation for a full, uninterrupted eight hours of sleep extremely seriously.
Rina has the most elaborate pillow set up in the world. A body pillow, a neck pillow, a pregnancy pillow — this is just her first line of defense against bed bugs and charley horses. Her pillows are all on rotation, all prompty replaced every six months — there's even little cushions for her wrists.
Rina, of course, knows how overwhelming all of this can be. She forsakes her comforts the first few times you spend the night with her. These things take time. You would be overwhelmed if she rearranged your bed on the first night. Poor thing. She knows she has to be patient with you. You rest your head on her chest and she coils herself around you bit by bit. Her legs wedge between yours. You hadn't anticipated that she would be quite so clingy — and you're correct. Rina is simply focused on ensuring her knees have the proper support and spacing while she sleeps on her side. The deeper into sleep you fall, the more her arms tighten. You make for a fine (albeit temporary) replacement for her pillow arsenal.
Gradually, she introduces her pillows back into your bed. They appear one at a time, each an apparition that pops into existence while you're out at work. Explaining the use would be too obvious. It would expose her pillow-based scheme. Instead, she demonstrates their proper use each night, expecting you to pick it up subconsciously.
"Let me tidy up for you," she insists. You can only turn down the offer so many times before you start to rationalize it. Maybe this is how she shows her love. Maybe it's acts of service off and on the clock, and words of affirmation wrapped around you the second you stepped in the door. A warm shawl knit from praise, a hot mug of tea pressed to your hands.
Her true intent is, of course, to intertwine her belongings and habits seamlessly with your own. You don't realize it until the conquest is complete — until your bedroom has been transformed into a fluffy haven.
"Ah, yes," you drone, propping yourself up on an elbow to watch Rina pile her hair into a satin wrap. "Me. My girlfriend. And this brick wall she's built between us."
"A down wall," Rina corrects. She leans across the pillow dividing you to kiss your temple. "Would you like to cuddle before bed?"
Of course you do. Even if you're going to wake up to a pillow wedged between you, you'll fall asleep curled up in each other.
Yanagi ->
For a while, you thought she just didn't like you that much. She kept rescheduling nights at your place, kept having work emergencies that made her leave early, taking her spend-the-night bag with her. You understood - honestly, you did. She's a busy woman, she's got a kid, the whole nine yards. You wouldn't still be there if you expected things to move at your pace.
But it was starting to feel purposeful. So one night, holding her bag out to her while she slipped back into her heels and pinned her hair up, you just ripped the bandaid off. Was this going anywhere? Was there something wrong? If she didn't want to sleep over yet, she could just say that - no need for pretend, no need to bring along props or plan out the night.
Yanagi fumbles with her words. She fidgets, adjusts her glasses, strokes her hair back. You brace yourself for the inevitable, for the 'this isn't working'. She says your name lowly. Lamplight gleams off her glasses.
She confesses with all the seriousness of a general sending you to your death:
She has to have noise to sleep.
That's all. She acted like it was a big deal, said she understood if you would rather sleep in separate rooms — or, perhaps, not even together at all. She's flustered when you remind her that ear plugs exist— that this, in the grand scheme of things, is nothing. You can accommodate that.
The next time your schedules (and the stars) align, you march her back to the bedroom to show off your fancy new white noise machine. 33 different sounds. High fidelity stereo sound. You flick through a few different options, wiggling your fingers and waiting for her review.
It takes months for her to introduce you to Soukaku, and even longer for a proper sleepover at her place. After it all settled into routine, you found that Yanagi's bed was frequently abandoned in favor of the couch. Rather than keep you awake with tossing and turning, she folds the covers back over you, turns off the sound machine (moved from your apartment to hers permanently) and escapes into the TV's low drone.
Some nights, you wake alone. You can piece together the order of events. Yanagi fled the bed first. She untangled herself from the both of you, placed the covers back - tucked you in, even, if the covers at your back are any indication. Then, Soukaku - hair mussed, yawning big, pushing at her eyes and blearily calling for Nagi from the bedroom door. She would have clambered out of her bed, left the covers a mess behind her.
If you sleep through Soukaku's calls, you'll slip out of bed at brink of dawn to find both of them asleep on the couch. The TV plays a compilation of old infomercials, casts them a flickering glow. Yanagi sits upright, glasses askew, Soukaku passed out with her head on her thigh.
You slip her glasses from her face and settle onto her opposite side. Your head nestles against her, throw blanket carefully arranged over the three of you. You need to get a larger blanket, you think. This, too, you can accommodate.
Lycaon ->
Big. Fluffy. Warm.
That's what you anticipated. It's not quite what you got.
You wake up with fur in your mouth. A cold, wet nose presses below the hinge of your jaw has you shuddering awake. You squirm and he has the audacity to huff - as if he hadn't just wrested you out of sleep. His arms tighten around your waist, drag you closer, maw hooking over your shoulder to anchor you there.
"Not yet," Lycaon grouses. It's his (only slightly) more dignified version of 'five more minutes'.
His finesse unspools behind closed doors. He lets you pick at the buckles of his restraints one by one until he's unbound before you. Late nights are for catching up. The petals of his flowered language fall away while he removes his prosthetics and carries out his nightly routine.
All the irritants and complaints of the day, the little things he had brushed off, the small moments he had smothered a smile at — he lays it all at your feet while he brushes his tail. You swap stories until he's curled around you, his voice and words gradually roughened. Even with his prosthetics off, he manages to envelop you. His tail is insistent, tucked around you, swishing and lashing — emotive for the first time all day.
God help you if you have to get up in the middle of the night. He's a light sleeper, and he prefers to have you in his arms through the night. He's grumbling when you stir, grip tightening, only releasing you when you insist. And if you take too long? There's a very sleepy, very ruffled, very grouchy wolf thiren watching you from the doorway. He guides you back to bed with a hand between your shoulders. No more detours. Just because he can sleep without you doesn't mean he would choose to.
He's not quite the morning person you would think he is; once he's up, he's golden. Put together and professional, ready for the day. In those early hours, though, his voice is still scratchy. He yawns, tongue curling, jaw clicking shut. The alarm clock has nearly rattled off the nightstand by the time his big paw smacks it silent. He shakes the sleep off, ears slapping with the force of it, and even then, he's still groggy and grouchy well into his routine.
On rare mornings where he has nowhere to be, he rests his muzzle against the pillow and watches you go about your routine. He's still, save for the occasional swish of his tail and the prick of his ears. He'll be up in just a moment. He swears it. He just wants to soak in a little more time like this, to bask in the sun on his fur, in your easy, unhurried motions. Allow him this indulgence before he picks up everything he had laid down the night before.
Hugo →
Of course, by the time you're out of the shower, he will have put himself together — bound up for the day, looking professional and well-groomed while he tends to breakfast. He saves his tail bindings for last. How else would you get to watch it wag when you step into the room?
Hugo is the king of microsleeps. Genuinely, he could fall asleep anywhere.
Can and will sleep with his eyes open. It's awful. You'll be talking to him, thinking wow — he's so engaged with this story. Can't wait to hear his insights. Surely he has some revolutionary pearl of wisdom to share.
And then you'll see it - the way his eyes suddenly sharpen, the way his they flutter as he blinks the sleep back. Somehow, fresh out of sleep, he's raring to go. No grogginess, no nothing — just mild surprise that you're before him now. He knows you hate it, too, and deliberately leans into it to get on your nerves. "Well, hello — when did you get here?"
He's been known to fall asleep mid-conversation — especially if you're chatting with Vivian. It's his favorite white noise. The steady chatter, the soft peals of laughter - you're both close by, safe. His head tips back, arms folded loosely across his chest. He doesn't shift, doesn't make a sound. He's a silent, still sleeper, would be perfectly at home in a coffin.
It's hard to stay mad at him for falling asleep (and he knows it) because, frankly, he doesn't adhere to a regular sleep schedule. Between his above board, legit practices and his less-than-savory business ventures, he runs himself ragged. He's grown to appreciate it. Hugo feels restless without something to work towards. Sleep comes easier when he's filled his days with his ambitions and his limbs are heavy from the effort.
Still — there's a peace that comes over him when he truly sleeps. His features soften. That ever-present vigilance falls slack. You brush the hair from his face and there's no teasing comment, no snatching your wrist. Just the subtle lean into your touch, his most vulnerable self craving the contact. He will never truly slow down, but in moments like these you can imagine a future where he's content. Where he dozes like this regularly and the bags under his eyes have disappeared entirely.
Surprisingly, he's not prone to nightmares — not ones that he remembers, anyway. Sometimes he'll wake with nothing but dread and a cold sweat. Hugo centers himself with tactile sensation, with temperature. He kicks the covers off of himself, tucks them in around you to keep you insulated from his sudden downturn in mood. He shuffles into the kitchen, finds himself making a hot drink and an ice water just to alternate sips of them.
You'll have to drag him to bed most nights. Hugo lies as easy as he breathes. He'll be right there, he swears it. You leave the lamp on, wait for her to crawl into bed next to you. Before you know it, you've passed out with the lamp on. You stir hours after he promised to come to sleep, to see him with his hand on the switch, caught like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar.
He's easily most likely to let his personal care habits slack. As a result, the top drawer of your nightstand has become an emergency stash. He stumbles to bed, looks a little too pale, words a little too slow and slurred, and you're practically launching a packet of fruit snacks at his face.
Manato →
A veritable jungle gym of a man. The kids swing from his arms and climb all over him, only to tire themselves out and crash, curled into his side, cheeks squished against his chest. He doesn't let it stop him from carrying about his day. He curls his arms around them, balances them where they lay and lets them snooze away while he runs errands.
It's not uncommon to see Manato heading back from the store, sleeping kid in one arm and a mountain of groceries in the other. His steps smooth unconsciously, gait gliding, rocking them further to sleep. It's as easy as breathing, second nature to keep them comfortable when they're bundled up against him.
Manato's the kind of partner to recognize when you need a break and enforce it. If you're walking around dead on your feet, then it's his job to get you to rest. It's not always right away, but when he realizes it — whether your social battery is completely drained or you're just exhausted — he's leaning close, his voice a low rumble. "You ready to go?"
And if you insist that you can stay, that you're not tired, that's cool. He'll respect that for all of about ten minutes. Then he's bumping you with his shoulder, the question evaporated from his voice. "I'm ready to go."
You can cling to him like the kids, too, if you want. Shoes hurt your feet? Just too tired to stand? He's crouching down, waiting for you to climb onto his back. It doesn't matter if you're big or small. What, you think he can't carry you? That's just gonna make him carry you harder. Or, well — more often. He adapts that same smooth, steady gait as he navigates back home. You'll be lucky if the warmth, the steady pulse of his heart, and the easy pace he sets doesn't lull you to sleep before you've even crossed the threshold.
He'll flop down on top of you on request, but he finds it… not weird. Well, a little weird. He's just concerned. He's muttering 'can you even breathe?' while you're smothered by his weight. It's secure, it's cozy, yeah — whatever you say. He's not buying it.
Manato would much rather you sleep on top of him. (Hypocrite.) It just makes sense. His chest is broad, see? And you're always saying how warm he is, so you probably don't even need a blanket. You can squirm, can toss and turn all you like. It doesn't particularly bother him. He's your favorite nap spot, after all. He's more than content to stretch out on the couch with you firmly in place. His thick arms act as guard rails to keep you from spilling out onto the floor when you shift. He's not hearing any apologies, either. The kids are way worse than this.
Besides. When you plop down on him like that, you're going to be there for a while. He shows you post after post on his phone — often from the forums, but sometimes he just uses it as your daily catch up. Why text you every funny thing he comes across when he knows he'll have a captive audience? This way, he can see your reactions for himself.
SUMMARY: You're a famous artist/illustrator in New Eridu, absolutely tired of trying to deal with recent problems. then you decide to call Victoria Housekeeping Co. for some help, it was the best decision of your life.
- cw/tw: none.
- A/N: im so obsessed over this man its genuinely concerning, pls help. also this might be messy/ooc(?)...it's my first time writing this kinda stuff so bare with me.
Being such a well-known artist in New Eridu is tough work. Not only do you have to keep up with your clients' demands and expectations, you also have to deal with thieves trying to steal your work.
You were thankful that some of your most valuable artworks were in museums that had incredible security, but even so, those bastards are still trying to break into your mansion and steal your canvases that have yet to be delivered or even unfinished.
Understandably, you grew tired of all the stuff you went through, slowly becoming restless from the amount of sleepless nights you had to fight through. To the point where you wanted to quit art completely but you just couldn't. Art was your passion. You've been drawing for nearly your entire life; you couldn't quit now.
Thankfully, a kind client of yours took notice of your situation and recommended Victoria Housekeeping to you. At first you were skeptical; there's no way a housekeeping company could help you with these problems, right?
—
"I don't think they'll be able to help me..." you kindly said. The client merely smiled and gave you a pat on the shoulder.
"Just give them a call. Trust me."
—
And here you are now, constantly being served and protected by the members of Victoria Housekeeping. You were extremely grateful for their service; they've made your life so much better than you expected.
You've grown so close to them that you became one of their most respected clients, having to be close friends with each of the members. You didn't want to say that you had a favorite attendant, but you do have a preferred one.
Rina, although her general services are incredible and you'd always find yourself having a great time with her, her culinary skills are...questionable at best, but still, you didn't want to upset her by any means.
Corin is a sweet girl. When the two of you became acquainted, you saw her as a little sister. Although you were surprised at how strong she is for her age, you didn't think much of it. The problem with her is how much she doubts herself; you'd have to constantly remind her that she's not doing anything wrong, and as much as you hate to admit it, you were pretty annoyed.
Ellen, well...she isn't too enthusiastic about regular housekeeping jobs, not to mention she's always low-energy. But the number of times she saved you from the most dangerous situations was enough for her to gain your respect. Plus, talking about internet trends with her is always fun.
And there's Lycaon. Oh, did you have so many words about him. To keep it simple, he was just right. His services are always near perfect; he has saved you countless times from hollows and thieves; he is elegant; he is a gentleman; you could ramble about him all day for all you cared.
To be perfectly honest, you grew a crush on him. Every time he'd lean behind you to see what you're working on, you'd always freeze in place. Too flustered by what was happening. Every time you'd hear his voice, you'd melt. The way he acts just makes your heart flutter...He was perfect.
As your own personal request for him, you wished he'd spend more time with you. Be it in the mansion or outside. He smiled, bowing down in front of you.
—
"As you wish, master. I'm more than happy to spend time with an amazing artist such as yourself." He said. You saw his tail wagging ever so slightly, but decided to say nothing; you merely smiled.
—
Every now and then he'd come to your office to check on you; he'd bring you food every time you lost track of time; he'd give you a massage whenever you had free time.
"It's always important to maintain a good posture, master." As he would say.
But being an attendant for a full-time artist comes with its own challenges. Other than having to constantly be on guard at night for possible thieves, he'd always let out an irritated sigh whenever he saw your workspace covered in paint. Especially when you're making abstract art. But he understands that art can be messy sometimes, and that's fine.
Every time you get a commission to make abstract art, you'd always rent a workspace outside of the mansion. Just so Lycaon doesn't have to deal with the mess.
But other than that, the two of you were grateful for each other's company.
Much to your dismay, however, your feelings for him grew the longer you spent time with him. You became so close to Lycaon than any of the other attendants; he knew your weakness, he knew your strengths, and he even knew some of your secrets.
You couldn't express your feelings for him with words, and so you did what you knew best: to draw. As a request, you asked Lycaon if you could take a few pictures of him. Of course he obliged. Amidst the photography, he asked.
"If I were to be bold to ask, master, what is the purpose of this?"
You merely smiled at him, saying that it's nothing important. A part of him knew about what you're planning, but he decided to keep quiet and merely chuckled.
After the interaction, you quickly but stealthily took a small canvas and a few of your painting supplies.
—
Days passed, and the painting was finally ready. You have pulled many all-nighters to finish this; you spent so much time carefully adding details and capturing his looks to the formerly blank canvas. And you couldn't be happier with the results; you just hope it was enough to make him understand the message you're trying to pass.
You took a deep breath and finally called for him. He quickly arrives at your workspace, noticing the medium-sized easel and the small paint stains on the floor. Your back was facing towards him, trying to hide the painting from his view. Realizing what to do, you flipped the canvas and turned towards him. He was understandably confused, and you were too nervous to say anything. You quickly walked up to him and handed the canvas to him.
"Here. I...made this for you." You said in such a shaky voice, he was almost concerned. But he gently grabs the canvas, and finally, he turns it to reveal the drawing. He was... speechless. Absolutely speechless. Just standing there, appreciating what he's seeing. You stuttered, trying to get words out of your mouth.
"...as a way to express how much I'm thankful for everything you've done. You're an amazing attendant, and I wanted to repay you somehow. W-well, other than using money." You awkwardly laughed, fidgeting with your fingers.
Lycaon continues to silently admire your work of him. You captured his features so well; the colors were so nice to look at, the pose, the lighting... it was so beautiful. He always appreciates the time and effort you put into your artwork. Secretly, he has been going to your workspace at night to admire all of the work you've done. He couldn't help but laugh once he saw how red your face was.
"My sincere apologies, master. But if I may ask, what are you trying to say?" He asked, almost in a teasing matter. Oh, he knows.
You panicked, so overwhelmed by the situation at hand. A part of you is trying to come up with lies, but ultimately, you gave in.
After taking a deep breath, you officially admitted your true feelings. Well, in the simplest way possible. You couldn't help but cringe at what you've said. This is so embarrassing, you thought.
Lycaon smiled, looking back at the painting to caress the sides of the canvas. He chuckled once more.
"What an astonishing way to express such feelings towards someone. I must say, master, I'm truly impressed."
The thiren carefully puts the canvas on a small table next to him, then he walks towards you. Gently grabbing your hand.
"As for what are my thoughts regarding all of this," he then proceeds to kiss the back of your hand. You jumped to his action, watching every move he made. He looked back at you softly.
There you heard it—the words that'd make you fall to the ground instantly.
"I'd be delighted to be more than an attendant for you, my dear."
it's been a good while since i've done these type of things. im writing this for good luck so i can finally get him on my account!!! Σ(°ロ°)
scenario: a general synopsis of your developing relationship with von lycaon.
❅ A Relationship With Von Lycaon
It took him quite a while to even realize he had feelings for you.
He was already aware that he was growing quite fond of your presence, but he passed it off as nothing more than that.
But the more time you spent together with him, even you had began to notice that something was different about his behavior.
Whether it was the faint wagging of his tail whenever you two crossed paths, the way his nose twitched whenever you were nearby, or how his gaze lingered on your face for far longer than you would've expected from him, the signs were there.
He tries his best to keep his appearances professional as to not sully your image of him, but the moment he finds himself alone with you, all that goes out the window in an instant.
However, for him to verbalize his emotions was another thing.
For the most part, Lycaon kept such feelings to himself, not wanting to risk souring the friendship you both had, or even losing a valuable part of his daily life in the process.
Rina was the first to tell that he carried himself differently than before, but Ellen was quick to pick up on the why. Corin didn't understand it as much as the others, but she was still supportive.
With a bit of encouragement from the team and some interference (Lycaon was rather insistent on bringing a bouquet, but the three managed to talk him out of it) - he was ready.
"—Perhaps it may be out of my place to ask such a question," the Thiren paused, taking a moment to gather himself as he thought of what to say. "But might I make a small request of you, Master?"
You nodded, urging him to go on as he did.
Lycaon cleared his throat at that, his ears pressed back against his head as he took a step forward, the heavy metal of his legs rattling against the floor. "If it’s of no trouble to you, would you allow me the honor of taking you somewhere this weekend—just the two of us?"
His gaze remained locked on yours, the silence stretching between you. "Ah, forgive me for being so forward, Master," he continued, his voice earnest yet tinged with a hint of uneasiness.
"I understand if this request of mine is rather unusual, if not unexpected. But I would be honored nonetheless, if you'd will it."
Needless to say, you agreed without a second thought.
A date with Lycaon turn out to be a lot more laid-back than you were initially expecting. He favored taking you to Lumina Square in hopes that being casual would help him understand you better.
He didn't even let go of your hand once the entire time.
Once your relationship is official, Lycaon will not hesitate to spoil you. As a butler, he would do anything in his power to show you just how much he cared for you. Professional habits die hard.
Consent matters - he will constantly be asking for your approval before doing things as to not make you uncomfortable. Communication is very important to him, so Lycaon wants this relationship to be as perfect as you are in his eyes.
Speaking of which, he absolutely adores doing things for you, whether it be something small or making you breakfast in the morning. Acts of service is a big part of his love language.
He won't outright tell you, but praising him is the quickest way to make him melt. At most he'll clear his throat and try to change the subject, but he can't stop his tail from wagging a mile a minute.
His actions might come off as a little overbearing at first, but you know that he simply means well and wants what is best for you.
He’ll even let you touch his tail, but only if you ask beforehand. For a Thiren, allowing such a thing is the ultimate sign of his trust.
If needs be, Lycaon will allow you to rest yourself on his chest if you're too tired to go to bed. He certainly doesn't mind one bit.
He holds himself back when kissing you. It's gentle and chaste at most, and Lycaon prefers for it to stay that way. He doesn't want to lose control of himself and risk hurting you in the process.
You'll also have to make do getting along with the rest of Victoria Housekeeping. After all, they're his second family, so in the scenario where you're incompatible with them, it'll definitely put a heavy strain on your relationship with him. As long as you get along with them, he'll be over the moon in love with you.
It takes a lot for him to finally say "I love you," but whenever he does say it, he means it with his entire heart. You are his world.
not sure if anyone noticed or cared but the alnst merch previews on the mofun website are way higher quality than any of the other ones they posted... so saving them here
anatomy studies.. referenced liann_1006 (im pretty sure the art i found on pinterest was made by them), really like this one (eyepatch bcs i couldnt get the other eye right lol)
2087
prguitarman
kianamaiart
