ʚ writing blog ʚ editing blog ɞ masterlist ɞ (discontinued)
ABOUT ME. greetings! I am shu, but only my mutuals can call me that. you may refer to me as velvet, vel, prosperity, or milky. I’ve recently discontinued my writing blog here, but no worries! I have gotten a new one, and I will leave it here until I officially release my first post. anyways- I am she/they INFJ-T who's asexual/demiromantic. please do read my dni before interacting with me. <3
DNI. certain criteria are already on my, but just know I hate problematic media. please do not reach out to me if you like problematic/illegal ships, harass/harassed people, or romanticize mental/eating disorders, as it is very disgusting. and please don’t send me pictures of spiders, it triggers my arachnophobia so I’ll instantly block you. whoever writes Haj! Towa, huge dni.
A/N. not only that, but I’ll also unmoot you if you only talk to me for vents or whenever the fuck you want to because I’m tired of being utilized as a therapist. thank you for reading.
PREMISE . . . in which you’re waiting for him to arrive for your date when a stranger approaches you and begins flirting, refusing to take the hint when you try to distance yourself. unbeknownst to you, he's already spotted what’s happening from afar, and the moment they realize you’re uncomfortable, he'd make his way toward you, ready to step in and make sure the stranger leaves you alone.
ꫂ᭪݁ STARRING . . . lohen, mitya, wanderer, tartaglia, valeriy, alyosha + gender neutral! reader
⚠︎ WARNING . . . › sfw, 900-1.2k word count per character, protective behavior, some of them being possessive, jealousy, confrontation, no actual physical violence but they do threaten the person that kept flirting with you, physical affection, public display of affection, flirting
note . mitya's so fine i had to pause for a moment while writing his part or i wouldn't be able to function properly, childe's part might not be the best but i hope it's still enjoyable..
── ( 𝒍. ) Lohen would notice the situation almost immediately, but instead of waiting to see whether the stranger eventually took the hint, he'd walk straight toward you the moment he realized they were making you uncomfortable. The easygoing expression he'd been wearing on his way over would gradually disappear, replaced by something quieter and more deliberate.
He'd catch the way you kept trying to shift backward, how the stranger continued leaning into your space, and the fact that you hadn't been given much of an opportunity to excuse yourself. "Hey, sorry I'm late." His voice would sound casual, almost as though he'd simply arrived to meet you, but he'd immediately slip an arm around your waist and draw you against his side, his hand settling comfortably at your hip.
He'd lean down to press a quick kiss against your head, then glance at you with a small, affectionate smile before looking back at the stranger. The gesture would be deliberately obvious, not in a controlling sense, but unmistakably intimate, making it clear that you were together and that he had every intention of staying right beside you.
"Everything alright here?" he'd ask pleasantly, though his arm would remain snug around you as his thumb idly brushed against your side. If the stranger seemed confused or tried to continue the conversation, Lohen's expression would become a little firmer.
He wouldn't even give them the chance to step closer again. "I think you've had enough of their time. Give them some space." His tone would remain level, but the warmth would have disappeared from it. He'd keep you tucked comfortably against him, occasionally glancing down at you to make sure you were alright rather than letting his attention become entirely focused on the other man.
When the stranger scoffed, tried to flirt with you again, made another attempt to step closer. He'd take one deliberate step forward, putting himself fully between you and the man.
"Hey," his jaw tightened. "I told you to back off." His voice would be lower now, stripped of every trace of friendliness. "They've made it pretty obvious they're not interested, and you're still standing here bothering them."
If the man tried to laugh it off and asked what Lohen was going to do about it, that would be the point where his patience would finally snap. He'd give him a cold, humorless smile. "Keep pushing me and you'll find out." His hand would tighten slightly around yours, his eyes never leaving the stranger. "I'm giving you one chance to walk away on your own. Take it."
When the stranger hesitated, Lohen's eyes would narrow, his expression turning colder as he watched him. "Unless," A small, sinister smile would slowly pull at the corner of his mouth, completely at odds with the pleasant demeanor he'd had only moments ago. "You want me to have a little more fun with you."
The man's expression would immediately change. He'd freeze where he stood, his earlier confidence disappearing as he stared at Lohen with clear unease, finally seeming to realize that he had pushed the wrong person too far. Lohen wouldn't move toward him or raise his voice again, he'd simply hold his cold, unwavering glare until the man finally backed away.
Only then would that threatening smile disappear from his face, his expression softening as though the entire confrontation had been nothing more than an unpleasant interruption. His arm would remain securely around your waist as he guided you away, and once you were far enough from the situation, he'd look down at you with a much softer expression.
"You okay?" His hand would move gently along your arm before he took yours, intertwining your fingers with his as he looked over you more carefully, his eyes lingering on your face as though making sure the stranger hadn't managed to upset you more than you'd let on.
When you admitted that you'd been trying to get away but the man wouldn't give you an opening, Lohen's expression would tighten, the irritation returning to his eyes as his thumb slowly brushed over your knuckles.
"I don't like that you were put in that position." His voice would be quieter now, all the sharpness he'd shown the stranger replaced by genuine concern. He'd glance back briefly in the direction you'd come from before looking at you again.
"Next time someone makes you uncomfortable like that, don't worry about being polite. Come straight to me, alright?" He'd give your hand a reassuring squeeze, his expression softening as he added, "I'm not going to let anyone make you feel cornered like that again."
He'd keep you close as the two of you continued walking, his arm settling securely around your waist. After a moment, he'd give you a small, almost apologetic smile. "Man, I should've been there sooner.." He'd lean down to press a gentle kiss against your forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling back. "I'm just glad you're okay."
── ( 𝐦. ) Mitya would be approaching you with an almost boyish excitement, walking toward the meeting spot with an easy, cheerful stride as his mind ran through everything he wanted to do with you that day. He'd been looking forward to seeing you for hours, already thinking about what the two of you could talk about, where you might go afterward, and all the little things he wanted to tell you.
More than anything, though, he was eager to tell you about the ideas that had been circling his mind ever since he'd watched Odette and Vodyanitsa's performance. Something about the way the energy moved through the performance had sparked a chain of thoughts in him, and he'd already been mentally arranging the explanation in his head, imagining the moment he'd finally get to ramble about it with you.
He'd probably be smiling to himself as he approached, completely absorbed in those thoughts, until he finally spotted you ahead. At first, the smile on his face would brighten instinctively at the sight of you, then he'd notice the person standing beside you.
The stranger was far too close, leaning toward you with an overly familiar expression while you kept subtly shifting backward, only for him to follow your movements and close the distance again. Mitya's steps would slow. The cheerful expression he'd been wearing only seconds earlier would disappear almost completely, leaving his face unusually still.
Mitya wouldn't need to hear the conversation to understand what was happening. He'd notice the way your shoulders had become tense, the way your eyes kept wandering elsewhere as you searched for an opportunity to leave, and how the man seemed completely uninterested in giving you one.
Rather than approaching with obvious hostility, Mitya would walk over at a steady pace, his expression still carrying that bright, easygoing smile he'd had while making his way toward you. "Ah, there you are! Sorry, I got held up."
The moment he reached you, he wouldn't even think twice before leaning down and pressing a quick, affectionate kiss to your lips, completely natural and effortless, as though greeting you that way was the most ordinary thing in the world.
You'd blink at him in surprise, staring up at him with an expression that practically screamed 'Mitya?????' Your face would immediately heat up, a deep flush spreading across your cheeks as you stood there completely caught off guard by how casually he'd kissed you.
For a second, you'd simply stare at him, visibly flustered and trying to process what had just happened, while Mitya would only smile at you with the most innocent expression, apparently completely oblivious to the effect he'd just had on you.
"I've been looking forward to seeing you!" He'd say it so casually that your bewilderment would only deepen. Then he'd take your hand as though nothing unusual had happened, intertwining your fingers with his and giving your hand a gentle squeeze.
His attention would remain entirely on you for another moment, his smile warm as he looked you over and started asking about your day, completely forgetting that someone else had been standing beside you this entire time.
Only when he finally turned his head would his expression change. His brows would lift, and he'd stare at the stranger for a second with genuine confusion, almost as though he were wondering when they'd appeared. "Oh!" He'd blink once, then give them a polite smile. "I didn't see you there." The sheer sincerity of the statement would make it even more ridiculous, considering he'd just walked directly into the conversation and proceeded to kiss you without acknowledging them.
He'd glance between the stranger and you, still holding your hand securely in his, before adding with complete composure, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything." There'd be a faintly amused edge to his voice now, though the way his fingers remained intertwined with yours would make it very clear that he had no intention of stepping away from you.
"They're with me." He'd say it casually, almost conversationally, but his hand would tighten around yours just slightly. His gaze would settle more firmly on the man as he added, "And judging by how much they've been trying to get some space, I think you've had enough of their attention."
The stranger would look visibly annoyed by Mitya's interruption, his expression tightening, yet instead of taking the hint, he'd turn back toward you and continue flirting as though Mitya weren't even there. He'd throw another compliment your way, stepping closer again, and Mitya's expression would immediately go still.
The warmth in his eyes would disappear, his fingers remaining intertwined with yours while his thumb stopped its gentle movement against your knuckles. He'd stare at the man for a long moment before quietly saying.
"Oh," a faint, humorless smile would appear on his face. "So you didn't hear me." His tone would remain deceptively calm, though the irritation beneath it would be unmistakable now. He'd shift slightly closer to you, keeping you firmly at his side as his gaze stayed fixed on the stranger.
"I thought I was being fairly clear." The man might scoff and insist that he was only talking to you, prompting Mitya to give a slow, almost incredulous nod. "I'm not trying to make this unpleasant, but please give them some room, sir."
His politeness would sound increasingly deliberate, the sort used when someone's patience was already wearing dangerously thin. When the stranger continued anyway, Mitya's eyes would narrow.
"You already know they're not interested. I'm not sure what you're waiting for." A brief silence would follow before Mitya let out a long breath, his smile disappearing.
"You really are determined, aren't you?" He'd hold the man's gaze without blinking, his voice dropping into something far more severe.
"Then stop making me repeat myself. You're ignoring their boundaries, you're making them uncomfortable, and you're acting like my presence somehow changes what they've already told you. It doesn't. So walk away. Now. Before I stop being polite about it."
Once the stranger finally backed away, Mitya would remain still for another second, watching until he was certain the man was actually leaving rather than simply moving somewhere nearby. Only then would his shoulders finally loosen, and he'd let out a quiet breath through his nose, almost as though he'd been holding it in the entire time.
"Phew... finally. That's dealt with." The irritation that had sharpened his expression would fade as he turned back toward you, his attention immediately becoming much gentler.
He'd take your hand between both of his for a moment, looking over your face before his eyes moved down your arms and shoulders as though checking for himself. "Are you alright? Did he touch you or anything?" He'd wait for your answer before relaxing completely, his thumb brushing slowly across your knuckles.
A small frown would linger on his face as he glanced back in the direction the stranger had gone. "Ugh... why did we have to start our date like that?" He'd shake his head with a quiet, disbelieving laugh, though there'd be a hint of relief underneath it.
"I was so excited to see you, too. I had about ten different things I wanted to talk to you about, and somehow the first thing I end up doing is chasing off some guy who doesn't understand personal space." His expression would brighten slightly as he looked at you again, clearly trying to put the unpleasantness behind you both.
"Still, I'm glad I got here when I did." He'd give your hand another reassuring squeeze before adding more seriously, "And listen, if anything like that happens again, tell me, alright? You don't have to stand there trying to figure out how to get away from someone who's making you uncomfortable. Just come find me. I'll deal with it."
Once he was satisfied that you were genuinely alright, he'd finally smile again and gently tug you forward by your joined hands. "Come on. Enough of that. I've been waiting all day to see you, and I'm not letting some random idiot ruin our evening." He'd pull you closer as the two of you started walking, his usual easygoing energy gradually returning as he began telling you about all those thoughts he'd been saving for you, already looking forward to finally having you all to himself for the rest of the date.
── ( 𝒘. ) Wanderer would have absolutely no patience for it. He'd been walking toward you with the expectation of spending the evening together, already mentally preparing himself for whatever plans the two of you had made, only for his attention to catch on the stranger standing far too close to you.
He'd stop almost immediately, his eyes narrowing as he watched the interaction from a short distance away. It wouldn't take long for him to recognize what was happening, the way you kept shifting backward, the stranger following your movements instead of giving you space, and the increasingly uncomfortable expression crossing your face.
The irritation that had initially settled across his features would turn noticeably colder. He wouldn't stand there debating whether he should interfere, he'd walk straight toward you, his footsteps deliberate enough to announce his presence before he even reached you.
You'd notice Wanderer approaching long before he reached you. At first, you'd simply recognize him in the distance, but the moment your eyes settled properly on his face, your stomach would drop. There was something unmistakably frightening about his expression.
The irritation he'd been carrying when he spotted the situation had hardened into something much darker, his eyes narrowed and his entire demeanor radiating a quiet hostility that made the air around him feel heavier. You'd know that look well enough to realize he wasn't approaching with the intention of politely introducing himself.
The stranger beside you, however, would remain completely oblivious, still standing far too close and continuing whatever he'd been saying as though nothing had changed. You'd glance between them, your heart beginning to beat faster as Wanderer's footsteps brought him closer.
The dark aura rolling off him would be almost palpable, and for one brief moment, you'd silently pray that he wouldn't do anything reckless. 'Please don't let this turn violent. Please don't let the Matra get involved.' You'd already be imagining the headache that would follow if Wanderer decided to start something in the middle of the street, especially when you could tell from the look in his eyes that he was already dangerously close to losing what little patience he had left.
"Move." The single word would come out flat and cutting, immediately drawing the stranger's attention. Wanderer would step directly beside you, close enough that his shoulder nearly brushed yours, positioning himself between you and the man without hesitation.
His gaze would remain fixed on the stranger, openly disdainful as he stepped closer, his expression becoming colder with every second the man refused to back away. "Can't you see they're uncomfortable?" The stranger would finally turn toward him with an irritated scoff.
"Who the hell are you?" Wanderer wouldn't even blink. "I'm their boyfriend."
The answer would come flat and immediate, his fingers closing firmly around yours as he pulled you against his side, his other hand settling at your waist. He'd glance down at you for only a moment, checking that you were alright, before returning his attention to the man with an icy stare.
"So now you've been told twice. Leave." The stranger would scoff again, insisting that he was only talking to you and that you could decide for yourself, but Wanderer's expression would turn downright contemptuous.
"Did you not hear what I said? They're uncomfortable and they don't want anything to do with you. Do you need everything explained to you?" He'd take one slow step forward, keeping you securely beside him.
"They're not interested. I'm not interested. And you're standing here making a fool of yourself because you can't understand the word 'no.'" The man might try to argue again, but Wanderer would cut him off immediately. "Enough."
His voice would drop into a dangerously quiet tone. "Turn around and leave. Right now." His eyes would narrow as he added, "Because I'm already being far more patient than you deserve, and the longer you stand here, the less inclined I am to keep this conversation civil."
He wouldn't need to raise his voice any longer or make the first move, he'd simply stare the stranger down with such unmistakable hostility that the warning would speak for itself, his arm remaining firmly around you until the man finally decided that continuing wasn't worth the risk.
Once the stranger finally left, Wanderer wouldn't immediately relax. He'd watch until the man was well out of sight before turning toward you, his expression still carrying the remnants of his irritation.
Wanderer would let out a long, irritated sigh when the stranger was finally gone, his shoulders dropping slightly as the tension he'd been carrying began to ease. He'd look down at you, his hand still wrapped securely around yours, and mutter under his breath, "I left you alone for five minutes.." There'd be a faint edge of disbelief in his voice, as though he genuinely couldn't understand how you'd managed to end up dealing with that in such a short amount of time.
His thumb would brush absently across your knuckles as his expression softened by the smallest degree. "Are you alright?" The question would come much quieter than his earlier words, his eyes searching your face carefully for any sign that the encounter had actually frightened or upset you.
He'd glance briefly toward the direction the stranger had gone, then back at you, his jaw tightening again. "Did he touch you?" He'd wait for your answer before finally allowing some of the tension to leave his shoulders. "Good." He'd click his tongue and look away, still visibly irritated.
"Because if he'd done anything more than waste your time, I'd have had considerably less patience." He'd grumble about how irritating the whole situation was, quietly scolding you for not calling for him the moment the man refused to leave you alone, though there'd be no genuine anger directed toward you behind it.
His grip on your hand would remain gentle despite his complaints, and after another moment, he'd tug you a little closer against his side. "Stay close." It would sound more like an instruction than a request, but the quiet protectiveness behind it would be obvious. He'd continue walking with you without letting go, keeping you tucked securely beside him as though he had no intention of allowing the two of you to become separated again.
── ( 𝒄. ) Childe would be approaching you with an unmistakably cheerful expression, already looking forward to the evening and mentally running through all the things he wanted to do with you, only for his attention to catch on the stranger standing far too close. He'd slow down just enough to properly observe the situation, quickly noticing how you kept trying to shift backward and how the man continued following your movements, apparently oblivious to every subtle attempt you made to create some distance.
The easy grin on Childe's face wouldn't disappear, but it would change into something sharper, his eyes becoming much more attentive as he watched for another moment. He wouldn't storm over looking for trouble. Instead, he'd approach with that same confident, almost playful stride, already deciding exactly how he wanted to handle it.
"Hey! Sorry I'm late, sweetheart." The moment he reached you, he'd slide an arm around your waist and pull you comfortably against his side, immediately pressing a warm kiss to your temple before looking down at you with a bright smile. "I've been looking all over for you."
His tone would be almost excessively affectionate, and he'd make absolutely no effort to hide it from the stranger. He'd brush a loose strand of hair away from your face, let his hand linger against your cheek for a moment, then lace his fingers with yours and give your hand an affectionate squeeze.
"You look gorgeous, by the way. Were you waiting here all this time for me?" The teasing would be accompanied by another quick kiss, this time against your forehead, his grin widening when he caught your reaction.
Only then would he finally glance toward the stranger, as though he'd just remembered there was another person standing there. "Oh? And who's your friend?" His voice would remain perfectly pleasant, but his arm would stay snug around your waist.
When the man tried explaining that he'd simply been keeping you company, Childe would laugh softly. "Ah, I see. Well, thanks for keeping my partner company, but I've got them now." He'd deliberately emphasize my partner, his gaze flicking briefly toward the man before returning to you. He'd keep his arm comfortably around your waist, drawing you closer against his side while his thumb idly traced along your hip.
"Come on, sweetheart. We have somewhere to be, don't we?" He'd murmur to you, deliberately affectionate, his voice warm enough to make it perfectly clear that his attention belonged to you, and that yours belonged with him.
He'd lace his fingers with yours, gently swinging your joined hands once between you as though the stranger had already ceased to matter.
The stranger, however, wouldn't take the hint.
He'd continue trying to flirt with you even with Childe standing beside you, perhaps throwing another compliment your way or attempting to draw your attention back toward him. Childe's smile would remain perfectly intact at first, but the amusement in his eyes would gradually fade. He'd glance toward the man, then down at you, before looking back again, quietly assessing just how deliberately the stranger was ignoring the boundary he'd already established.
Rather than immediately confronting him, Childe would lean closer to you with a mischievous smile, deliberately making the affection even more obvious. "Hm? Did you hear that?" He'd brush his thumb slowly over your knuckles, his eyes never quite leaving the stranger.
"I think someone's trying very hard to steal my date from me." A quiet laugh would escape him, light and teasing, though there'd be something sharper underneath it now. He'd pull you gently closer until you were comfortably against his chest, one arm still secure around your waist.
"That's not going to work, you know." He'd then look down at you with a grin, perhaps brushing his nose lightly against your temple before turning his attention back toward the man. The stranger might protest that he was only talking to you, insisting that Childe was making too much of the situation, and that would be when Childe's expression would finally change.
The playful smile would slowly slip, and his eyes would become noticeably colder. "You're persistent, aren't you?" His voice would still carry that familiar lightness, yet there would be a warning beneath every word now.
He'd tilt his head slightly, studying the man with an almost curious expression. "They've already made it pretty obvious they're not interested, and I've already asked you to give us some space." His arm would tighten just slightly around you as he continued, "So take the hint."
He'd pause, letting the silence stretch for a moment while his smile slowly sharpened. "I'd rather not have to repeat myself." The words would sound almost pleasant, but the sudden coldness in his gaze would make the meaning unmistakable.
Childe wasn't interested in making a scene, but he was also no longer entertaining the idea of letting someone deliberately ignore your boundaries.
Once the man finally backed away, Childe would immediately return his full attention to you, his expression softening as though the unpleasant interruption had ceased to exist. "There we go." He'd gently squeeze your hand before leaning down with another affectionate grin.
"Now, where were we?" A quick kiss to your cheek would follow, accompanied by a quiet laugh. "Oh, right. I was telling my lovely date how much I've been looking forward to seeing them."
Only once the two of you had some distance from the stranger would his teasing give way to genuine concern. "You alright? He didn't touch you or make you feel unsafe, did he?" He'd listen carefully, keeping your hand in his throughout, and once he knew you were fine, he'd give you a relieved smile.
"Good. Then let's forget about him. I've got you now." His arm would settle comfortably around your shoulders as he led you onward, still stealing little touches and playful kisses whenever he could, making it abundantly clear that his protective streak and his affection were two sides of the same coin.
── ( 𝒗. ) Valeriy would approach the situation with a frightening degree of calm, the kind that made his anger far more difficult to read because there would be no sudden outburst to warn anyone that his patience was disappearing. He'd be on his way to meet you, already expecting to find you waiting for him, perhaps even wondering whether you'd arrived before him and started getting impatient, when he'd notice the stranger standing far too close.
His pace would slow almost imperceptibly. From several steps away, he'd simply watch. He'd see the way you kept shifting backward whenever the man stepped closer, the way your shoulders had become tense, and how your attention repeatedly wandered toward the surrounding street as though you were looking for some opportunity to excuse yourself.
The stranger, meanwhile, would continue leaning toward you and speaking with the confidence of someone who either hadn't noticed your discomfort or simply didn't care.
His jaw would tighten slightly, and the hand at his side would curl once before relaxing again. Then he'd start walking toward you. There would be nothing hurried about his approach, yet something in the measured rhythm of his steps would make the atmosphere feel heavier.
He wouldn't call your name or announce himself. He wouldn't ask the stranger what he thought he was doing. The moment he reached the two of you, he'd simply stop beside you and turn his attention toward the man.
"Step away from them." His voice would be low and completely devoid of warmth. There would be no raised volume, yet the command would carry the unmistakable authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed.
The stranger might laugh awkwardly, glance him over, or ask who exactly he thought he was, and Valeriy would hold his gaze without even blinking. "That's irrelevant. I told you to step away." His tone would remain flat and controlled, leaving no indication that he felt the need to justify himself any further.
He'd then move closer to you, placing himself between you and the stranger without making a dramatic show of it, his body creating an immediate barrier while his hand reached for yours. His fingers would close firmly around your hand, warm and steady, and he'd give it one subtle squeeze.
He wouldn't even need to look at you for long to know whether you were frightened. Still, his eyes would briefly move toward your face, checking for any sign that the situation had gone further than what he'd witnessed. Only once he'd confirmed you were unharmed would his attention return to the stranger. "You've been standing too close to them." His voice would remain controlled. "Move."
The man's confidence would gradually begin to falter beneath that silence, particularly when Valeriy refused to give him any reaction to provoke. "I'm speaking to them, not you," the stranger might insist, attempting to dismiss him, and Valeriy's eyes would narrow by the slightest degree. "And? Did you not hear what I said?"
When the stranger hesitated again, Valeriy would take one slow step forward, leaving you safely behind his shoulder.
"They don't owe you a conversation and you certainly don't have permission to keep standing in their way." His expression would remain almost unnervingly blank as he continued, "So you can walk away now, or you can make this considerably more unpleasant than it needs to be."
As the stranger finally begin backing away, and Valeriy's gaze would remain fixed on him for only another second before he decided that was enough.
Rather than standing there until the man disappeared completely, he'd tighten his hold around your hand and gently but firmly pull you away, guiding you toward the nearest narrow alley where the buildings would block you from the stranger's line of sight. His pace would be steady but noticeably quicker than before, his attention briefly shifting over his shoulder as he checked that the man wasn't following.
Once the two of you reached the shelter of the alley, Valeriy would stop and glance back toward the street, remaining there for another moment to make certain the stranger had actually gone and wasn't lingering nearby or attempting to follow. Only after he was satisfied that the man was nowhere in sight would he finally turn back toward you.
His hand would still be wrapped securely around yours, though the firmness of his grip would soften immediately. His eyebrows would remain furrowed, the cold severity he'd shown the stranger replaced by unmistakable concern as he looked over your face.
"My love." His voice would be quiet now, almost tender compared to the commanding tone he'd used moments earlier. He'd lift your joined hands and press a gentle kiss against your knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours.
"Did he touch you?" He'd ask softly, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand as he waited for your answer. "Did he hurt you at all? Or make you feel threatened?" He'd listen carefully to everything you told him, his expression remaining tense until he was certain you were unharmed.
Only then would his shoulders finally relax, though he'd keep your hand in his and remain close, as though putting a little more distance between you and the rest of the world was the easiest way to make certain nothing like that happened again.
When you'd reassured him that you were unharmed, Valeriy would release a slow breath through his nose, the tension finally beginning to leave his shoulders.
"Good." His thumb would brush gently across your knuckles, his grip loosening into something warmer and more reassuring. He'd give you a quiet look for another moment, making certain you truly meant it before his expression softened. "Then let's go." Rather than lingering in the alley, he'd keep your hand in his and guide you toward the opposite end, deliberately taking a different route from the one the stranger had gone.
Once he was satisfied that you were safely away, his pace would gradually return to normal, and he'd gently squeeze your hand as though silently reminding you that he was there.
As the two of you continued in the opposite direction, Valeriy's stern expression would gradually soften, though a trace of concern would remain in his eyes. He'd keep your hand in his, his thumb occasionally brushing over your knuckles as you walked, and after a little while, he'd glance down at you and speak more gently.
"You should have called for me, my love." There'd be no reprimand in his voice, only quiet concern.
"You don't have to stay somewhere you're uncomfortable just because you don't want to cause a scene." His fingers would tighten slightly around yours before relaxing again.
"The moment someone refuses to give you space, you leave. You come find me. That's all." He'd pause for a moment, looking down at you with a softened expression before adding, "Understand?"
You'd give him a small nod and an amused little smile, clearly accepting what he was saying while also finding it difficult not to tease him for how naturally he'd slipped into the commanding manner of a Fatui officer. The stern, almost instructional way he'd spoken would have made his Fatui military side slip out so naturally that you'd have to tease him about it.
Giving his hand a light squeeze as you looked up at him, your expression turning amused as you pointed out how he'd suddenly sounded less like your lover and more like a commander giving one of his soldiers a set of orders.
Valeriy would immediately glance down at you, his expression briefly caught between confusion and embarrassment before he realized exactly what you were teasing him about. He'd let out a quiet sigh, though the faintest hint of amusement would tug at his expression.
He'd make no further attempt to lecture you, choosing instead to steer the conversation back toward the plans you'd made for the evening and letting the unpleasant encounter gradually disappear behind you.
── ( 𝐚. ) Alyosha would notice the situation from a distance and immediately become suspicious, though he wouldn't rush toward you blindly. He'd stop for a moment and study the scene with the same quiet attentiveness he used when tracking something through the wilderness, watching the stranger's posture, the direction of his movements, and most importantly, yours.
He'd notice how you kept trying to create distance between yourself and the man, only for him to follow you each time you moved, casually stepping back into your path whenever you tried to leave. It reminded him of prey being slowly driven into a corner by a predator, every attempted escape met with another step blocking the only path forward.
The more Alyosha watched, the more certain he'd become that you weren't interested in the attention. His expression would gradually lose whatever neutrality it had carried before, his eyes narrowing as he started walking toward you. He wouldn't announce himself from a distance or bother wasting time with pleasantries once he reached the two of you.
"They said no." His voice would be quiet, but firm enough to immediately draw the stranger's attention. The man might look him over with confusion and ask who he was or whether he had some problem, but Alyosha wouldn't even bother answering properly.
His attention would briefly shift toward you instead, taking in your expression and the tension in your posture, making sure you were actually asking for help before turning back toward the stranger.
"You should leave." There would be something colder in Alyosha's voice now, the words delivered as a firm instruction rather than a suggestion.
The stranger, however, would barely acknowledge him, simply laughing under his breath before turning his attention back toward you and continuing whatever flirtatious remark he'd been making.
He'd step closer again, acting as though Alyosha's presence were nothing more than an inconvenience, and that would be enough to make Alyosha's expression harden. His eyes would narrow as he watched the man deliberately ignore him, his posture becoming more rigid while his patience rapidly wore thin.
Tugarin, who had been standing close beside him this entire time, would pick up on the shift immediately. The dog's ears would flatten, his body lowering slightly as a deep growl rumbled from his chest before he suddenly barked sharply at the stranger. The barking would echo through the street, aggressive and warning, followed by another low growl as Tugarin bared his teeth and stepped closer to Alyosha's side.
Alyosha wouldn't need to command him to stop, his attention would remain fixed on the man as he moved closer, putting himself more firmly between you and the stranger. "I told you to leave." His voice would be noticeably harsher now, the quietness no longer carrying patience but restrained anger.
The stranger might still attempt to flirt with you although he was struggling to do so this time, evidently afraid of the dog, throwing another compliment your way as though Alyosha had said nothing, and Alyosha's gaze would immediately snap toward him.
"Are you ignoring me on purpose?" He'd take another step forward, forcing the man to either retreat or acknowledge him, while one arm would move subtly behind him, guiding you farther away from the stranger. Tugarin would continue growling beside him, ready to lunge at the slightest indication that the man intended to come closer.
"They've already tried to get away from you. You're standing in their way, you're ignoring them, and now you're ignoring me." His expression would remain cold, but the anger underneath it would be unmistakable.
"Back away from them, unless you want this to get ugly." This time, it wouldn't sound like advice. It would sound like the final warning before Alyosha stopped being patient altogether.
Once the stranger finally began backing away, Alyosha would remain still for another moment, watching him carefully to make sure he actually intended to leave. Only then would he turn toward you and hold out his hand, his palm open without any attempt to force you to take it.
The moment you placed your hand in his, his fingers would close gently around yours, and he'd guide you away from the situation, keeping himself positioned between you and the stranger until there was enough distance between the two of you.
Once you were somewhere farther away, Alyosha's attention would finally settle completely on you. He'd slow his pace, glancing down at your joined hands before looking carefully over your face, the sharp suspicion he'd carried while dealing with the stranger gradually giving way to quiet concern.
"Did he hurt you?" His voice would be much softer now, the edge reserved for the man completely gone as he waited patiently for your answer. He wouldn't simply accept a quick reassurance and immediately move on, he'd watch your expression, your posture, and even the little pauses in your response, making sure you weren't brushing the encounter aside just to keep the evening from being interrupted.
"Are you sure?" he'd ask gently, giving your hand a small squeeze. "You don't have to tell me you're fine just because you think I want to hear it." Once you'd reassured him properly, the tension around his eyes would finally ease, and he'd give a quiet nod. "Alright. That's all I wanted to know."
Tugarin, meanwhile, would have completely returned to his usual affectionate self now that the stranger was gone. His ears would perk up, his tail wagging enthusiastically as he trotted toward you and began nudging his head against your hand, letting out several happy little barks.
Alyosha would glance down at him with a faintly amused expression. "Seems like someone missed you." He'd let Tugarin circle around your legs for a moment before looking back at you.
"Go on. He'll be offended if you don't say hello properly." You'd crouch down to greet Tugarin, rubbing his head and scratching gently behind his ears, and the dog would immediately lean his entire weight into your touch, tail sweeping happily from side to side as he gave another excited bark.
Alyosha would watch the interaction with a softness that rarely appeared when he was around anyone else, eventually reaching down to give Tugarin a quiet pat himself. "Good boy. They're safe now."
He wouldn't make a grand speech about protecting you or spend the rest of the outing angrily talking about the stranger. Instead, he'd quietly adjust his pace to yours and remain beside you, allowing the unpleasantness to fade naturally now that he knew you were alright.
"Stay close, alright?" he'd murmur, his fingers settling comfortably around yours rather than holding you tightly. "Not because I think you can't take care of yourself. I just..." He'd pause, searching for the right words before giving your hand another gentle squeeze.
"I'd rather know you're beside me." Tugarin would continue happily trotting around you both, occasionally bumping his head against your hand whenever he wanted more attention, and you'd reach down to rub his fur again, earning another pleased wag and a soft little whine. Alyosha would quietly chuckle at him.
"You're going to spoil him." After a moment, he'd glance at you with the faintest smile. "Not that I'm complaining."
The stranger would gradually become nothing more than an unpleasant interruption in the background of the evening, while Alyosha's attention returned to you and Tugarin, content simply to have both of you beside him.
its currently in the middle of the night, and you half woke up randomly feel like you want to go to the bathroom.
as your hand goes to rub your sleepy eyes, you sighed, looking at the pair of arms that hold your waist really tight.
'its going to be bothersome trying to get out from his arms...' you mumbled in your mind, but the urge to go to the bathroom is bigger than your love for him (at this moment) so slowly you tried to lift his arms... and get out from it.
it was hard, at first. somehow your lohen still pulled you back, but after several tries, you eventually got free from his grip.
another sigh left your mouth, but this time its because of relief. with a hurry you left the bed and went to the bathroom.
lohen opened one of his eyes, looking at the now empty spot behind him. he didnt know why youre so persistent on leaving his cuddle when you said you really liked it?! but he gave up and let you wander the outside world for a while now.
for a while...
the blue haired sit up, feeling the way his body sinks beneath the soft bed, his cold red eyes looked around the dimly lit room waiting for you to come back.
after you done with your problem with the bathroom, you walk towards your room. as you stand in front of the door, you prepare yourself with whatever happened in your shared bedroom.
your hand opened the doorknob, with still the sleepy eyes, you found your lohen sat there on the bed, the dimly lit room making his wide red eyes looked like the predator's eye as he stared at your arrival.
well, youre not that surprised, anyway.
"why did you leave me."
the tone wasnt a question, its more like a statement, especially when he looked at you like you just went on a date with other man.
you walked towards him, standing near so lohen could feel the heat radiating from your body.
"sorry, lohen. i need to go to the bathroom so i have to get out from your hug."
lohen furrowed his eyebrows, sighing as he do realize that its an understandable reason for you to leave his arm.
"what a shame, you couldve just woke me up, bunny. i would like to accompany you at the bathroom..." ...what?
but now that you're here, close to him, lohen pulled you by your wrist so you can lay on the bed or on top of him as he wrapped his arms back on your waist, removing any distance on your current proximity. you can practically feel the way he purrs when he nuzzle onto your neck.
"anyway, let's just go back to sleep, bun. we need a lot of energy for tomorrow's sparring."
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a/n : another lohen fic inspired by lohen fanart, yeah idk why i keep getting new ideas and mood for writing lohen fic. also, pls father come home.
credit to the artist and the user who makes me want to write this, sorry if its bad, english isnt my first language 😔✌🏻
PREMISE . . . In which you decide to give your lover a bouquet of flowers.
ꫂ᭪݁ STARRING ﹕ lohen, tartaglia, wanderer, varka, mitya, wriothesley, venti
⚠︎ WARNING . . . › sfw!!, established relationship, fluff, mild physical affection, teasing, them adoring you (pls note this is before snezhnaya was released so mitya might be ooc and the stuff i mention regarding snezhnaya is just my assumptions).
note . some of them are using irl flower names because I don't think I can look up every single flower there is in genshin and think which suits who ;; also i totally did not just slip mitya in here hihi
── ( 𝒍. ) Lohen would probably be one of those people who gives affection far more naturally through acts of service and simply spending time with someone than through receiving openly sentimental gifts, which would make the sight of an entire bouquet being held out to him almost impossible for him to process at first.
The moment you offered it to him, he'd blink down at the flowers, then back at you, his expression going completely blank for a second as though he'd genuinely never considered the possibility that someone might do something like this for him. "Wait, these are for me?" He'd probably look behind himself for half a second too, as though there had to be somebody else you were actually talking to, before cautiously accepting the bouquet with both hands.
The faintest flush would creep across his ears almost immediately, especially when he realized how openly affectionate the gesture was. He'd be careful with the flowers too, instinctively adjusting his grip around the stems so none of them bent, then looking down at them with a small, almost bewildered smile.
Sunflowers, daisies, and little wildflowers would suit him particularly well, something bright and natural that felt personal rather than extravagant, and he'd probably spend a moment examining the arrangement before looking back at you.
"You actually got these for me?" He'd let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as though he still couldn't quite believe it. "I wasn't expecting this at all. I mean, they're really nice. They're actually really, really nice."
He'd pause, visibly trying to figure out what he was supposed to do with himself now that the gift had left him without his usual confidence. He'd probably make some awkward attempt at a joke about how he was apparently going to have to start returning the favor, only for his smile to soften again when he looked at the flowers.
"You know you've completely caught me off guard, right?" There'd be something almost boyishly pleased about the way he'd keep glancing between you and the bouquet, clearly touched despite trying to play it off.
Then, he'd give up on finding the perfect response altogether, shift the flowers carefully into one arm, and pull you into a warm hug with his free arm, keeping the bouquet safely out of the way. "Alright, fine. I love them. Thank you." The words would come out a little quieter than usual, accompanied by a genuine smile that would make it obvious he meant every bit of it.
What would make the whole thing even more amusing would be the reaction from the other Knights afterward. Lohen walking through the headquarters carrying a bouquet would already be unusual enough, but the fact that someone had apparently given the bouquet to him would have half the room staring before they could stop themselves.
He'd notice the looks almost immediately and glance around with a slightly irritated expression, realizing that people were trying very hard not to stare while simultaneously failing miserably.
He'd probably try to walk past as though nothing unusual were happening, only for someone to eventually glance at the bouquet and then at him with an expression that practically screamed Lohen? Flowers? Someone gave Lohen flowers? The attention would make the tips of his ears turn even redder, and he'd instinctively hold the bouquet a little closer while muttering something about everyone needing to mind their own business.
Later, when he saw you again, he'd probably bring up the whole spectacle with an embarrassed laugh, telling you how everyone had stared at him as though you'd handed him a priceless artifact instead of flowers. "I'm never going to hear the end of this from the other knights, am I?"
Despite all his joking complaints about being put on display, he'd make one thing very clear, he wouldn't trade the bouquet for anything.
"Not that it matters. It's still worth it. Especially since they're from you." As he said the last part, he'd glance toward you with a small, teasing smile, clearly noticing the way your expression immediately changed. The faintest flush in your face would be far too entertaining for him to ignore, and he'd hold your gaze for a moment longer than necessary, looking quietly pleased with himself.
He'd probably raise an eyebrow when you tried to hide your embarrassment, the corner of his mouth lifting further as though he'd just discovered an entirely new way to fluster you. "What?" he'd ask innocently, despite knowing perfectly well what he was doing. "I'm just saying the truth."
── ( 𝒄. ) Childe would have a huge reaction because he's naturally generous himself, and in a relationship he'd probably be the one who was constantly buying things for you without making a big deal out of it.
With his position and wealth, bringing something home for you would be almost second nature to him, he'd pass through a market and see something that reminded him of you, pick it up, and present it later with that easy grin of his, or return from a trip with some little trinket, accessory, sweet, or souvenir he'd decided you'd like.
Because of that, he'd become so accustomed to being the giver that it genuinely wouldn't occur to him that you'd turn around and do the same for him. So when you suddenly held a bouquet out to him, he'd actually freeze for a moment.
His eyes would widen, his usual confident expression falling away into unmistakable surprise as he looked at the flowers, then at you, then back at the flowers again. "For me?" He'd laugh softly, almost disbelievingly, before taking them from your hands with both of his as though he needed to make absolutely certain they were really meant for him.
He'd probably adore something bright and lively like orange lilies, chrysanthemums, red carnations, or sunflowers, flowers with rich, warm colors that suit his energetic personality rather than something overly delicate.
He'd turn the bouquet around, inspecting the arrangement with an enormous grin, occasionally glancing at you as though the fact that you'd thought about giving him something was more surprising than the flowers themselves. "Well, well. Looks like someone's decided to spoil me for once." The teasing would come naturally, but there'd be a genuine softness underneath it that would betray how touched he was.
He'd probably ask where you got them, whether you chose them yourself, and what made you pick those particular flowers, listening with a strangely attentive expression as though every little detail made the gift more special. He'd even laugh at himself when he realized just how caught off guard he'd been. "You know, I'm usually the one doing this." He'd glance down at the bouquet again, his smile becoming smaller and more sincere. "I really wasn't expecting you to get me something."
The cuteness aggression would probably hit him hardest once he fully registered that you had gone out of your way to make him happy, rather than simply buying him something because you happened to be shopping. He'd stare at you for a few seconds with that bright, almost boyish grin, looking like he was fighting the overwhelming urge to do something about how adorable he suddenly found you.
He'd shift the bouquet into one hand, lean toward you, and press a warm kiss to your lips before pulling back with a laugh, his expression still impossibly pleased. "You really surprised me, you know?"
He'd probably shake his head, looking at you like you had somehow managed to turn the tables on him without warning. "I'm starting to think I might've spoiled you too much!" Yet the joke wouldn't stop him from continuing to admire the flowers.
He'd keep them somewhere prominent afterward, making absolutely no effort to hide how proud he was that you'd given them to him, and he'd probably catch himself looking at them throughout the day with a stupidly fond smile.
At one point, he'd be sitting behind his desk with a stack of paperwork spread out in front of him, his cheek resting against one hand while his other arm lay folded across the table. He'd stare blankly at the documents for a few seconds before his attention inevitably drifted toward the bouquet sitting nearby.
His expression would soften almost instantly, his eyes lingering on the flowers with quiet admiration as he propped his chin more comfortably against his palm. The paperwork would be completely forgotten.
He'd just sit there looking at the bouquet, replaying the moment you'd handed it to him and remembering the expression on your face, a small, almost yearning smile slowly appearing as he thought about how much he genuinely loved the gift.
It would take someone entering the room or calling his name to pull him out of it, and he'd immediately straighten, glance back at his paperwork, and pretend he'd been concentrating the entire time.
He'd already be thinking about what he could bring you next, not because he believed he needed to repay the gift, but because giving things to you was one of the ways he naturally showed how much he cared, and now he had even more reason to spoil you.
But when the two of you were alone, he'd probably glance down at the bouquet and then back at you, his smile turning softer. "Seriously, though thank you. I... really love them." He'd pause, looking at you for another moment before that playful grin returned. "Although I think I like the person who gave them to me even more."
── ( 𝒘. ) Wanderer would be one of the most visibly conflicted because receiving flowers is exactly the sort of openly sentimental gesture he'd have absolutely no idea how to handle. You'd hold the bouquet out toward him and he'd stare at it in silence for several seconds, his expression slowly shifting from confusion to suspicion as though he were trying to determine whether this was some elaborate joke you were playing on him.
His eyes would narrow slightly, and he'd glance from the flowers to your face before looking back at them again. "What is this?" Once you explained that you'd gotten them specifically for him, he'd go quiet for another moment, clearly caught off guard despite his best attempt to appear unimpressed.
He'd prefer something simple and understated, perhaps violets, lavender, forget-me-nots, or small blue flowers, rather than an enormous romantic arrangement, because something delicate and quietly beautiful would feel much more appropriate for him. He'd eventually take the bouquet with an awkward little click of his tongue, holding it rather stiffly at first as though he hadn't quite figured out where his hands were supposed to go.
"You bought me flowers?" The question would come out almost incredulously, and he'd immediately follow it with some dismissive remark about how impractical they were, how they'd wilt eventually, and how there was no reason to spend money on something temporary.
Yet the way he'd carefully adjust his grip so none of the stems were crushed would completely undermine his argument. He'd look down at the flowers again, studying the petals with quiet curiosity, and there'd be something almost strangely gentle in the way his fingertips occasionally brushed against a stem to straighten it.
When you told him you simply wanted to give him something, he'd avert his gaze almost immediately, the faintest warmth creeping across his cheeks. "You didn't have to do this." The words would sound dismissive, but there'd be considerably less bite behind them than usual.
He'd probably mutter something about you being strange when you smiled at him, yet he wouldn't hand the bouquet back. In fact, he'd hold onto it rather carefully, occasionally glancing down at it whenever he thought you weren't watching, as though he were still trying to understand why something so simple had managed to affect him this much.
What would really betray him, however, would be everything he did once the initial embarrassment passed. Wanderer would insist that the flowers were merely flowers, but he'd still find somewhere safe to keep them, making certain they weren't left somewhere they could be knocked over or damaged.
He'd probably choose a quiet corner and arrange them himself, pretending that he was only doing it because leaving them lying around was careless. Whenever you walked past, you'd catch him occasionally looking at them, his expression softening for just a moment before he'd realize you'd noticed and immediately look away.
"What are you staring at?" he'd mutter, despite being the one caught staring at the bouquet. He'd become strangely particular about their condition too, changing the water or adjusting the stems while insisting that he wasn't doing anything special.
Once the flowers began to wilt, he'd be reluctant to throw them away. You might suggest replacing them or simply letting them go, only for him to immediately look at you with a faint frown and pull the bouquet a little closer. "It's fine, I'll decide what to do with them later."
When you pointed out that he obviously cared about them, his expression would tighten with embarrassment before he'd immediately become defensive.
"I care because you gave them to me. Of course I wouldn't just throw them away like that." He'd say it as though that explanation somehow made the situation less sentimental, but he'd still keep the flowers.
Eventually, even after the petals had begun to fade, he'd probably preserve one of the smallest blooms somewhere private rather than admit he couldn't quite bring himself to discard something you'd chosen specifically for him.
Giving him flowers had been a strange choice of gift, really. Something so beautiful yet so temporary, destined to last only a fraction of his already long existence, and yet somehow their presence had become quietly ingrained into his mind. He'd find himself feeling strangely at ease whenever he caught sight of them, as though the little reminder of you sitting nearby had brought a sense of warmth and familiarity he hadn't realized he'd grown attached to.
Whenever he looked at it afterward, there'd be that same quiet softness in his expression, the kind he would never willingly let you see for too long, because acknowledging that your simple gift had made him genuinely happy would be far more embarrassing to him than receiving the flowers in the first place.
── ( 𝒗. ) Varka would have one of the biggest and most openly delighted reactions because he's naturally affectionate and generous, and he's the sort of person who'd be much more accustomed to giving flowers than receiving them.
He'd probably have bought bouquets for other people countless times simply because he happened to see something pretty and thought it would brighten someone's day, so having you suddenly approach him with a bouquet specifically chosen for him would genuinely catch him off guard.
The moment he realized what you were holding, his entire expression would brighten, his eyebrows lifting before that broad, unmistakable grin spread across his face. "For me?" He'd laugh warmly, reaching out almost immediately to accept them, though he'd be careful with the stems once he had them in his hands.
He'd adore sunflowers, daisies, wildflowers, or a bright mixed bouquet, especially something that looked cheerful and natural rather than overly formal or meticulously arranged. He'd lift the flowers slightly, admiring them with genuine appreciation before looking back at you, his expression becoming even warmer when he realized you'd chosen them yourself.
"Well, aren't I lucky?" He'd probably turn the bouquet around a few times, pointing out individual flowers and asking where you'd found them, whether you'd picked them because you thought they'd suit him, and how long you'd been planning the surprise.
The moment you explained that you simply wanted to give him something nice, he'd let out another pleased laugh, clearly touched by how simple and sincere the gesture was. He'd pull you into a big, warm hug almost immediately, making sure to hold the bouquet safely away from you so he didn't crush it between you.
"You really caught me off guard with this one." He'd give you an affectionate squeeze before pulling back and looking at the flowers again with a ridiculous amount of pride, already acting as though you'd handed him something far more valuable than a bouquet.
Varka absolutely wouldn't be subtle about how pleased he was afterward, finding somewhere prominent in his office to place the bouquet where the flowers could catch the light and where he'd inevitably notice them throughout the day.
He'd be in the middle of looking through reports when Aether and Paimon happened to enter, only for Paimon's attention to immediately land on the flowers sitting beside his desk. Varka would notice their staring and immediately break into a proud grin, leaning back in his chair as though he'd been waiting for someone to ask.
"Ah, those? My lover gave them to me." He'd probably pick up the bouquet carefully, holding it between his hands while admiring the flowers with an almost ridiculously fond expression.
"She chose them herself, too. Pretty, aren't they?" Even while talking about the arrangement, his gaze would soften as though the flowers had somehow become a reflection of you in his mind. He'd gently turn one of the stems between his fingers, smiling to himself.
"She's got good taste. Though I suppose anything would look beautiful when she gives it to you." Paimon would inevitably tease him for being so openly smitten, but Varka would only laugh, completely unashamed. "What? Can't a man admire his lover's little gift?"
He'd glance down at the bouquet again, his thumb brushing lightly over one of the petals as he continued admiring it. "She saw these and thought of me. That's what makes them special." His expression would become softer for a moment, his usual boisterous demeanor giving way to genuine tenderness.
"You know, I think I could stare at them all day and still find myself thinking about her." Then, almost as an afterthought, he'd smile and shake his head. "Though now I'm wondering what I can do to make her feel just as lucky as I do."
He'd remember the gesture long after the flowers began to wilt. Rather than immediately replacing them with something equally sentimental, Varka's instinct would probably be to return the affection in his own way, making sure your favorite food was waiting for you after a long day, fixing something you'd mentioned was bothering you, saving you a comfortable place beside him during a gathering, or quietly taking care of some little task before you even had the chance to ask.
It would be his way of saying that he'd noticed the thought you put into the flowers and wanted you to feel that same thoughtfulness from him. And whenever he happened to glance at the bouquet afterward, he'd probably smile to himself, remembering the look on your face when you gave them to him.
"You know," he'd eventually remark with an amused grin, turning toward you while still holding one of the flowers carefully between his fingers, "I think you've spoiled me." He'd pause, his smile widening as he added, "Not that I'm complaining."
── ( 𝐦. ) Mitya would probably be so completely absorbed in his work that your arrival would barely register as anything more than a familiar presence in the room.
He'd be sitting on the floor among an almost chaotic spread of books, loose papers, handwritten notes, diagrams, and half-finished calculations, one book propped open beside him while another rests across his lap, his attention moving between several different pages as he quietly pieced together whatever problem he's working on.
The moment you stepped into the room, he'd notice you from the corner of his eye, lifting his head just enough to offer you a gentle, distracted smile before returning to his notes. "Ah, you're here, come in." He'd probably shift a few papers aside with his foot to make space for you without ever seeming particularly bothered by the interruption, already accustomed to your presence being part of his little world of books and scattered research.
What he wouldn't notice, however, was the bouquet in your hands. You could stand there for a while, watching him work, before finally calling his name and asking him to look at you.
He'd blink and lift his head properly this time, his violet eyes settling on you before dropping to the flowers. His hand would stop halfway through reaching for another page, and for several seconds he'd simply stare.
The surprise wouldn't be dramatic, it would be quiet and genuine, his expression gradually softening as he realized what you were holding and why you were holding it.
The pen in his fingers would stop halfway through a movement, his eyes moving from the bouquet to your face and back again as though his mind needed a moment to understand what he was seeing.
"Are those…" He'd slowly straighten from his notes, looking genuinely bewildered. "For me?"
Once you nodded, a small, bewildered smile would appear, and he'd carefully set his notes aside, standing up in front of you before accepting the flowers from you. "Sorry, I was so focused on all of this that I didn't even notice you were carrying them." He'd glance down at the bouquet again, turning it slightly in his hands with genuine curiosity, before looking back at you with that gentle, almost dreamy expression. "Where did you get them?"
The answer would initially make him smile, especially when he realized you'd gone out of your way to find flowers specifically for him, but that warmth would quickly become tempered by concern once he learned you'd traveled outside the city to pick them yourself.
His eyes would immediately lift from the bouquet to you, his expression becoming more serious as he quietly asked how far you'd gone and whether you'd been alone. The more details you gave him, the more obvious it would become that he was trying not to fuss while simultaneously worrying about every possible thing that could have happened along the way.
"You went outside the city for these?" He'd probably let out a small sigh and shake his head, gently scolding you while still holding the bouquet as carefully as though it were something precious.
"You shouldn't go that far on your own just to pick flowers, especially when it's cold out there without the torch. You could've gotten hurt."
There wouldn't be any real anger behind it, only the kind of gentle concern that made it obvious he'd much rather have had you come to him safely than risk yourself for something as simple as a bouquet.
Even while he was worrying, though, his gaze would keep returning to the flowers, and eventually his expression would soften again. He'd carefully adjust the stems so they wouldn't bend, then give you a quiet, genuinely grateful smile. "Still... thank you. They're very beautiful."
He'd pause before adding, almost as though admitting it made the sentiment feel more real, "And knowing you went all that way to find them for me makes them even more special." Afterward, he'd make sure the bouquet had a proper place beside his work rather than leaving it somewhere among the papers, carefully moving his books aside to make room for it.
His attention would inevitably drift toward the flowers every so often while he worked, and whenever his eyes met yours afterward, there'd be that same soft smile waiting for you, accompanied by the faintest hint of concern whenever he remembered that you'd gone beyond the city walls just to bring them to him.
── ( 𝒘. ) Wriothesley would stare at the bouquet for a moment before looking at you with an amused, slightly incredulous expression, especially because he's far more accustomed to being the one making sure you're taken care of than receiving overtly romantic gifts himself.
You'd hold the flowers out to him and he'd raise an eyebrow, looking between you and the bouquet as though he were trying to determine what had prompted this sudden change in routine. "Well, this is new."
He'd eventually take them from you with one hand, lifting the arrangement slightly while inspecting it with a quiet laugh. Dark red roses, chrysanthemums, and sturdy wildflowers, something elegant but not excessively delicate, with a little character to it.
He'd turn the bouquet around, examining the flowers with a thoughtful expression before glancing back at you with that familiar crooked smile. "Didn't know you were trying to make me sentimental."
The teasing would be effortless, but the way he'd carefully handle the stems would reveal that he was taking the gift much more seriously than he was letting on. He'd probably lift the bouquet slightly, inspecting the arrangement again before asking whether you'd chosen them yourself, and the moment you confirmed that you had, his expression would soften just a little more.
There'd be a quiet pause where he'd look at the flowers, then at you, as though the thought of you deliberately picking something out for him had caught him more off guard than the gift itself.
He'd give you that knowing half-smile before leaning in and pressing a brief, warm kiss to your cheek, lingering just long enough to make you smile before pulling away. "Thank you, sweetheart. They're lovely."
He'd find a proper vase for them himself, trimming the stems and arranging them so they wouldn't be crushed or forgotten among the paperwork, all while pretending this was simply the sensible thing to do. Still, he'd make sure the bouquet ended up somewhere he could easily see it from his desk.
Once the flowers were settled in his office, Wriothesley would become surprisingly protective of them. Anyone at the Fortress who came too close would receive a pointed look, especially if they seemed remotely tempted to touch them, and he'd make it perfectly clear that nobody was to mess with the bouquet.
The amusing part would be that he wouldn't actually act embarrassed about keeping them there. He'd simply carry on with his work, occasionally glancing toward the flowers between documents and meetings, his expression softening whenever he remembered that you'd chosen them specifically for him.
You'd probably catch him doing it eventually, and he'd immediately lean back in his chair with an innocent half-smile as though he'd been caught doing nothing unusual. "What? I like them." When you teased him about being sentimental, he'd give you that knowing look and lightly tap the edge of the desk.
"You gave them to me. I'm not throwing them out." And because Wriothesley's affection tends to be practical rather than overly demonstrative, he'd probably repay the gesture in his own quiet way afterward, making sure your favorite meal was prepared, taking some troublesome task off your hands, or deliberately setting aside time to sit with you when he knew you'd been busy.
The bouquet would remain in his office as a quiet reminder of you, something he'd never make a grand announcement about but would never willingly get rid of either. Long after the initial surprise had passed, he'd still occasionally glance over at the flowers with a faint smile, before returning to his paperwork as though they hadn't just become the most pleasant distraction in the entire Fortress.
── ( 𝒗. ) Venti would probably have one of the most openly delighted reactions because he absolutely adores little expressions of affection, especially something as sweet and old-fashioned as a bouquet of flowers.
The moment you held them out to him, his eyes would light up and he'd lean forward with genuine surprise, his usual carefree expression immediately brightening into an enormous grin. "Oh? Are those for me?" He'd accept them with both hands, almost reverently at first, holding the bouquet close to his chest while looking from the flowers to you with such sincere delight that there'd be absolutely no mistaking how happy he'd become.
He'd adore the flowers you picked; windwheel asters, Cecilias, and a colorful collection of wildflowers, especially flowers that felt as though they'd been gathered freely from the countryside rather than carefully arranged into something excessively formal.
The little differences between each flower would immediately catch his attention, he'd turn the bouquet slowly in his hands, admiring the colors and gently separating a few of the stems to get a better look at the smaller blossoms tucked between them.
Every now and then he'd lift one closer to his face, taking in its scent before looking back at you with that bright, mischievous smile. "You picked these for me? How sweet of you!"
The realization that you'd specifically thought of him while choosing them would make his reaction even bigger, and he'd probably look at you for a moment afterward with an expression that was almost ridiculously fond, as though he were trying to memorize the sight of you standing there with the flowers you'd chosen for him.
He'd continue admiring them while walking beside you, occasionally holding the bouquet up between you both and pointing out whichever flower had caught his attention.
He'd tease you about how you'd managed to make the wandering bard feel like the luckiest man in Mondstadt, dramatically pressing the bouquet against his chest as though you'd just handed him some priceless treasure. He'd probably smell the flowers with an exaggeratedly contented sigh, then look at you over the top of them with a playful grin.
"Ahh, what a thoughtful lover I have." Rather than putting them down immediately, he'd carry them around with him for a while, proudly showing them off whenever someone happened to pass by, and he'd absolutely have no shame about telling them that you gave them to him.
If you caught him being particularly pleased with himself, he'd simply laugh and insist that he was allowed to be proud when his lover had given him such a beautiful gift.
He'd become even more playful once he noticed how happy his reaction was making you. He'd choose one of the smaller flowers from the bouquet, carefully tuck it into his hat beside his feather, and then turn toward you with an expectant little smile as though waiting for you to admire his new decoration.
"Well? How do I look?" He'd already know the answer, of course, and he'd probably laugh when you told him it suited him, reaching over to lightly bump his shoulder against yours. He might even keep the flower there for the rest of the day, treating it like a tiny personal treasure simply because it came from you.
At some point, he'd pluck one of the smaller wildflowers from the arrangement with exaggerated care, twirling it between his fingers before suddenly leaning toward you and tucking it somewhere near your hair. He'd pull back to admire his handiwork, his grin widening when he saw your reaction.
"There! Now we're matching." He'd laugh at his own little idea before returning the flower to the bouquet, treating the entire thing like a wonderful excuse to be playful with you.
Later, he'd find somewhere safe to keep the rest of the bouquet, either beside his lyre or in a little vase near wherever he happened to settle down, making sure the flowers had enough water before wandering off to do something else. Yet he'd inevitably keep returning to them.
He might be halfway through tuning his lyre, stop when his eyes fall upon the bouquet, and smile quietly to himself before continuing. The flowers would become associated with you almost immediately, not because they're particularly rare or valuable, but because you'd looked at something beautiful and thought of him.
He'd probably tell you that sentiment matters much more than the flowers themselves, then lean closer with that familiar teasing smile and add, "Though I certainly won't complain if you decide to make a habit of spoiling me hehe." And judging by the way he'd keep one of the flowers tucked safely in his hat and the rest displayed somewhere he could see them, he'd be enjoying the gift far more than he'd ever let you forget.
summary — your hare was finally back, and after 5 years of pent-up sexual frustration, he was going to show you just how badly he missed you.
themes — hybrid AU, reunion sex (5 year absence baby), hare!lohen, bunny!reader, smut and feelings, prone bone, creampie and orgasm, breeding kink, praise, they're in love your honor ♡
WC: 1.1k | ao3
You hadn’t expected Lohen to show any restraint after his return from Nod-Krai, nor did you want him to.
“Holy fuck,” he said, his breath ragged and heavy. “Bunny, I fucking missed you.”
Your fingers clawed into the pillow beneath you, your eyes wide. The undeniable plap, plap, plap! of his hips against yours resounded through the room, and as you were practically immobilized beneath him, you let out a strained cry. The way he filled you to the brim with each and every thrust, how he dug his teeth into the back of your neck like you were his prey—it had been a long five years of waiting for this.
“Fuck,” you whimpered, the wet slaps of your cunt sending warmth into your face. “Lohen, fuck.”
“Yeah?” he growled. “You like that, Bun?”
“Yes,” you sputtered immediately. “Archons above, Lohen, I—…” Your voice devolved into a whimper. “I missed you so much.”
“Missed me, huh? Missed the way I fill you up?” His hips were lascivious—this pace was incomprehensible. As he laved his tongue along the back of your furry ear; suckling, kissing, biting; he growled, “I won’t make you wait long at all, Bunny. I’ll fucking give it to you if you want me to.”
Sweet Barbatos—you had missed this terribly. Fucking yourself with that silicone dildo every time you were in heat did nothing but make you miss him more over these past five years. You had almost forgotten how good that flesh of his felt, warm and heavy against your back, pinning you against the mattress with his unmistakable displays of dominance. Where your mind lapsed, your body remembered, your cunt wrapping around him with an unparalleled amount of strength. Lohen panted shamelessly by your ear, continuing to feast on any and every exposed inch of skin he could reach from behind you. You felt one of his knees push yours out further across the sheets, amplifying the sound of sex as it filled the air around you.
“You want it?” he asked hotly.
“Yeah,” you whined. “I do.”
He laughed. “Say less, Princess. You’re gonna fuckin’ get it.”
Your toes curled into the soles of your feet as a series of soft gasps escaped you. Lohen’s hips, which were already plowing you at a mind numbing pace, somehow managed to fuck you even faster. The way he stretched you, how his head jammed right against that spot that made you see stars—it was too much.
And yet, not enough.
“More,” you gasped, tears streaming down your cheeks. Your nails clawed the pillow, your hips tried to buck back into his. “Lohen, give me more.”
“Mm, fuck,” he spat. “You know exactly what to say to me, Bun. You’re so fuckin’ sexy, I can’t stand it.”
“Oh, God,” you sputtered, squirming underneath him. “Lohen, please.”
With a loud snarl, he chomped his teeth into your ear, digging hard enough to draw blood to the surface. You leaned your head back and wailed, feeling the deepening rut of his hips rock the very bed beneath you. As the headboard slammed into the wall, as you worried momentarily that he’d break something, Lohen’s hand reached up, his fingers curling through the gaps of yours.
As your tears flowed down your face, you sobbed like nothing you had ever heard. Your hare was back, he was lavishing you with all the pent up frustrations built over half a decade, and he was giving you exactly what you needed—to be bred, bred, bred.
“Mmgh,” Lohen groaned, his hot mouth releasing the flesh of your ear. “Bunny, I’m gonna cum.”
“Please do, please do, please—.”
The guttural sound he made broke you out of your desperate plea. With a resounding smack! he slammed his hips into yours, making your legs squirm, colors flash over your irises. You felt as though Lohen was lighting a fire within you, and as it blazed, you weren’t certain you’d make it out alive.
“Bun, you…” Lohen let out a shaky whimper. “You gonna cum for me?”
“Lohen,” you sobbed, nodding like it was all you knew. “I will, I promise, I will—.”
Abruptly, he rutted into you again. Taken aback, you strangled the pillow beneath you and let out a loud whine. He did it again, and when you still didn’t cum, he did it one more time. Lohen’s dick was already pulsating within you, spewing his seed into your womb with all the force he could muster, and as he fucked it further into you, he moaned, “You’ve gotta cum for me, Bun.”
You choked on your own sob. Your hips flung back, fighting against the weight of him on top of you, and when he pressed his hand to the back of your neck, you writhed.
Your voice was disjointed. Your head was fuzzy. As it ejected from the depths of your core, wet and sloshing, all you could see in your mind’s eye was him.
He let you struggle and snarl, let you sound like a feral animal as you came with his cock buried inside you. It was vile and unladylike, but Lohen didn’t complain once. You were acting like a wild animal, which was exactly how you knew he preferred you. Tear down those white walls and silver chains imposed upon you since birth—show everyone around you who the real predator was.
“I’m,” you gasped, your voice half-whining, half-growling, “sorry.”
“Nah,” Lohen whispered, his hand stroking down your spine. “Don’t be. You’re perfect like this, Bun.”
“Okay,” you choked out. “If you think so.”
“I know so. Let it out, pretty girl.”
“Fuck,” you whimpered, your eyes rolling back into your skull. “Lohen, I want to have your babies.”
He didn’t relinquish his pressure on you. You writhed harder, trying your best to fuck yourself on his softening length. Hot whines mixed with your feral snarls, and as the bunny ears on your head twitched, Lohen gave you a loving nibble.
“I missed you so much,” you groaned. “If you think you can…just cum in me once…you must not want this as bad as I do.”
Immediately, his cock sprung to life again. He let out a sexy laugh, squeezing your hand so hard, you thought he might be on the brink of flying away from you. The way he nuzzled against your ear, letting out a soft hare chuff all the while, made your cunt throb and squeeze.
“You challenging me, Bun?” he crooned. “Wanna see which one of us taps out first?”
“Until I’m pregnant,” you slurred, drowning in the heat of your body, the heat of his. “I’m not tapping out until I’m pregnant.”
“Sounds like something a good fucking girl would say.”
As his hips rocked back into yours, as he pushed you back into the mattress and plowed away at you all over again, you melted into him, hungry for the night you knew might not ever end.
a/n: i kinda forgot i haven't updated hybrid au in a minute LOL! this has been sitting in my drafts for a while so i hope you enjoyed xD
anyway, if you liked what you read, please consider leaving a me a heart! (˶>⩊<˶) ♡ reblogs and comments appreciated!
icymi! chai's last lohen post:
my lady, lohen suggestive oneshot (300+ notes)
masterlist
⊹ ˖ fellow authors, i do not mind if you are inspired by my works to write something similar, but please credit me if you are. these concepts mean a lot to me, so i would really like to be credited for any of my personal ideas that inspire you. thank you!
# sfw headcanon fic. gn!reader. just soft moments. the exact moment these guys realise that you mean more to them than they realised. No confessions, just that oh moment <3
✧ WANDERER (POST-NOD KRAI)
Wanderer’s initial reaction to catching feelings won't be soft affection. It will feel like a trap he accidentally walked into.
The wind howling through the crags of Nod-Krai was sharp enough to scrape paint off iron, carrying the bitter tang of old frost and gunpowder. You were huddled near the dying embers of the braziers, trying to nurse a lukewarm cup of tea, when the air pressure shifted. A quiet thud sounded above you as boots landed on the wooden rafters.
Wanderer sat perched on the ledge, one leg dangling over the edge, his broad hat tilted low enough to shadow his face. He didn't look at you. He was staring out into the dark, barren expanse where the Abyss-corrupted night air rolled over the hills. "You're making too much noise," he said, his voice flat, cutting through the gale with zero effort. "And your fire is smoking. A blind Hilichurl could track you from three miles away."
"I didn't ask you to stay," you murmured back.
A harsh, scoffing noise escaped him. "Stay? Don't flatter yourself. The draft is better up here." But he didn't leave. He didn't move an inch. Instead, as a brutal gust of wind whipped around the corner of the ruined outpost, threatening to blow out your tiny fire entirely, the air around you suddenly went still. A faint, glowing swirl of Anemo rippled in a protective sphere around your small corner of the ruins, deflecting the freezing gale over your head like an invisible glass dome.
Below the brim of his hat, his hands were tense where they gripped the stone of his Vision. His knuckles were white. He was looking down at you now—his indigo eyes narrowed, dark, and terribly intense, filled with a complex, burning frustration that had nothing to do with the cold.
Pathetic, he thought, watching the way you leaned closer to the warmth he was maintaining for you. Look at you. Vulnerable. Soft. A single misstep in these borderlands and you'd be ash.
And the worst part—the part that made his chest ache with an old, bitter agony he thought he’d left behind in the Irminsul—was that if you became ash, he knew he would tear this entire region apart looking for the fire that did it. "Drink your tea," he muttered, turning his face away sharply into the biting wind, though the Anemo barrier didn't waver for a single second. "Before I decide to throw it into the snow.”
✧ VARKA.
The moment Varka realises he's in love with you, he goes quiet. Because he’s never quiet. He’s the guy who fills every silence with a boom of laughter, a clink of a glass, or a booming order. When a man who commands that much noise suddenly drops into total, uncharacteristic silence? That means something.
The table between you was strewn with the remnants of late-night work—spilled ink, burnt-out candle stubs, and an empty bottle of dandelion wine that Varka had finished an hour ago.
He was in the middle of a story, broad arms resting on the dark oak, spinning some utterly ridiculous tale about a northern bear that had allegedly tried to steal his boots during the expedition. He was leaning in, loud and animated, his laughter rumbling low in his chest like distant thunder, waiting for you to call him out on his obvious exaggeration. Instead, you just reached across the table.
You didn't say anything grand. You were just exhausted—eyelids heavy, voice soft—as you casually reached out, plucked the stray goose feather clinging to his lapel, and set it aside. Your fingers brushed the worn leather over his collarbone, trailing down for a split second to pull his askew cloak back over his broad shoulder so the draft from the window wouldn't catch him.
It was an entirely unconscious gesture. Instinctive, domestic. The action of someone who had simply gotten used to looking after him when he forgot to look after himself. And right in the middle of a syllable—Varka went dead silent. The sudden lack of his voice hit the room harder than a slammed door.
You blinked, looking up from his cloak, expecting to see him grinning or rolling his eyes. He wasn't. The lazy, theatrical warmth had entirely evaporated from his face. He sat completely motionless, his massive frame utterly still, blue eyes fixed on your hand where it still lingered near his collar.
"Varka?" you murmured, frowning a little. "Did I...?"
He didn't answer immediately. For three long seconds, the only sound in the office was the ticking of the grandfather clock and the howl of the wind outside the glass. In that quiet, you could practically see the gears turning behind those sharp eyes. The boisterous old lion was gone, replaced instantly by the seasoned commander—a man who had just recognized a massive, terrifying shift in the terrain and realized he was completely exposed. He wasn't scared; Varka didn't do fear. He was just... stunned by the absolute weight of it.
Ah, the thought struck him with the force of a broadsword. I’m done for.
Slowly, his chest rose as he let out a long, quiet exhale—no laugh, no joke attached to it. "No," Varka said softly, his voice dropping an octave, losing every drop of its usual performative flair. It was surprisingly rough, grounded, and entirely intimate. He reached up, his massive, calloused hand covering yours where it rested on his chest, gently trapping your fingers against the steady, thumping heat of his heart. He leaned back just an inch, his gaze locked onto yours with a terrifyingly clear, undivided focus.
"You didn't do anything wrong," he murmured, his thumb rubbing a slow, heavy circle over the back of your knuckles. A tiny, somewhat helpless curve touched the corner of his mouth—not his Grand Master grin, but something painfully real. "Just... stay right there for a second. Let me catch my breath."
✧ LOHEN
For a fighter used to sharp boundaries—someone enters your space, someone leaves your space—the concept of someone's presence remaining behind after their physical body has left is entirely foreign. It disrupts his internal logic.
The muffled rhythm of rain was tapping against the stained glass, casting long, fractured shadows across the stone floor of the archive. Lohen was leaning against the heavy oak table, arms crossed, trying his absolute best to look like the picture of composed authority. You were leaning over a spread of old maps, your shoulder brushing his sleeve every time you reached to trace a faded trade route.
"So," you said, not looking up, though the faint curve at the corner of your mouth gave you away. "If the shipment is delayed at the pass, your brilliant grand strategy collapses before the week is out."
"It won't be delayed," Lohen countered smoothly, though his eyes flicked down to where your hand rested on the parchment. "I sent the patrol out hours ago. Unlike some people, I don't leave my logistics to luck."
"Right. You leave them to terrifyingly precise planning and zero sleep." You finally looked up, turning toward him. You were standing entirely too close—close enough that he could see the tiny flecks of gold in your eyes, close enough that the soft, warm scent of bergamot and rain swept right past his carefully maintained defenses. Lohen’s throat went dry. He opened his mouth to deliver a sharp, witty comeback, but the words completely dissolved on his tongue.
"What?" you asked, tilting your head, amused by his sudden silence.
"Nothing," he said, stepping back just half an inch—a defensive maneuver he’d never admit to. He cleared his throat, forcing his usual smugness back into his voice. "Just waiting for you to finish cluttering my desk so I can actually get some work done."
"Charming as always, Lohen." You laughed, a quiet, rich sound that seemed to hum right through the quiet archive. You rolled up the map, tucking it under your arm, and patted his shoulder as you passed. "I'm leaving. Try not to miss me too much."
"Don't hold your breath," he called after you, watching as you headed for the heavy arched doors.
"Goodnight, Lohen."
"Night."
The heavy oak door clicked shut with a soft, final thud, the latch catching in the frame. The sound echo-canceled the energy in the room, leaving behind a sudden, heavy stillness. Lohen didn't move. He stood by the oak table, intent on grabbing his coat and heading out. But as he stepped forward into the space where you had just been standing, the air felt different. Thicker. Warmer. He caught himself inhaling—a slow, deep breath he hadn't planned on taking—and the faint, unmistakable trace of bergamot washed over him.
Lohen froze mid-step. He stared at the empty space in front of him, his chest tightening unexpectedly. His body leaned in just a fraction—an instinctual, unbidden impulse to catch the tail end of the scent before the cool draft from the window swept it away entirely.
What are you doing?
The thought hit him like a splash of ice water. He straightened up abruptly, a sudden flush of heat crawling up the back of his neck. He was a knight, a tactician—he tracked movements, anticipated strikes, read battlelines in seconds. Yet here he was, standing completely alone in a silent room, leaning into the lingering perfume air like a fool, trying to hold onto someone who had already left. He covered his face with one hand, letting out a breath that was half-sigh, half-disbelieving laugh.
Gods above, he thought, his heart hammering a stupidly fast rhythm against his ribs. I am in so much trouble.
✧ ILLUGA
For Illuga, love isn't just a sweet feeling—it’s an existential crisis. His immediate instinct won't be to jump in; it'll be to keep a protective distance to keep you safe from his "curse.” Wanting to survive for you becomes his greatest hurdle and his greatest growth.
Illuga’s voice carried over the wind with the crisp, ringing clarity of a drawn blade. "Third squad, fall back to the treeline! Hold the perimeter, don't break formation!" Efficient. Absolute.
In the heat of an ambush, he moved like water and struck like iron, stepping smoothly between a bleeding scout and an incoming blow, his shield taking the brunt of the impact with a heavy thud. He didn't flinch, he never flinched. Taking the hit was second nature—a bill he paid willingly every time he brought his people home breathing. It was only after the dust settled, when the silence of the forest crept back in, that the exhaustion set in.
He was crouched by the supply crates, methodically wrapping a strip of linen around his bruised forearm, when you sat down beside him. You didn't ask permission. You just reached out, took the bandage from his hands, and began fixing the messy, hasty job he’d done on himself.
Illuga opened his mouth to tell you he was fine, that there were others who needed the medic’s kit more, but the words died in his throat. You weren't yelling. You weren't even scolding him. But the quiet, sharp tension in your jaw, the gentle precision of your hands as you worked... you were angry because he’d thrown himself into the line of fire again. You were hurt because he treated his own life like an acceptable loss.
"Illuga," you murmured, your voice low, almost a whisper over the rustle of the leaves. "Stop treating your life like a spare part."
His chest tightened—a sharp, sudden ache that had nothing to do with the combat. He looked at you, really looked at you, tracing the exhaustion line under your eyes, the dust on your cheek, the fierce, stubborn concern glowing in your gaze. For years, he’d believed his life belonged to the ghosts he left behind. He was a shield, and shields were meant to break eventually. But as your thumb brushed softly over the back of his hand, anchoring him to the present, the realization hit him like a physical weight: If I break, I shatter them.
"I'm sorry," Illuga said quietly, his voice losing its commander’s edge, softening into something raw, human, and deeply tender. He covered your hand with his own, his large, calloused palm warm against your skin. "I'll... I'll be more careful. I promise."
And for the first time in his life, he actually meant it. Not just to win the fight—but to make sure he came home to you.
✧ FLINS
Flins uses death and his graveyard as punchlines. He’s the guy who teases you about having a plot picked out for you. The moment of realization hits when he tries to make one of those dark jokes about you—and suddenly finds the concept utterly revolting.
The air around the Final Night Cemetery was always biting, carrying the sharp scent of frost and turned earth. Flins walked with his usual measured, soundless grace, the azure light of his lantern casting long, eerie shadows against the gravestones.
You were walking beside him, bundled heavily against the Nod-Krai chill, complaining good-naturedly about the morbid route he’d chosen for your evening stroll.
"Come now," Flins purred, his voice a smooth, cultured hum as he tilted his head to look at you. His pupil-less yellow eyes caught the blue light of the flame. "It is perfectly peaceful. In fact, I was just admiring a spot under the weeping willows over there. It gets wonderful moonlight. I could reserve it for you, if you'd like?"
It was a standard line. A tease meant to draw out that exasperated little sigh he found so endlessly fascinating. You rolled your eyes, laughing breathlessly as a puff of white fog escaped your lips. "Keep it up, Flins, and I'll make sure you're the one who has to dig it."
He opened his mouth to deliver a perfectly timed, elegant retort—but the words died in his throat. The moonlight hit your face, illuminating the pink flush of the cold on your cheeks and the vibrant, undeniable warmth of your life against the frozen backdrop of his cemetery. Suddenly, the thought of you under the earth, cold and still beneath the willows, flashed through his mind. For a creature who had lived for centuries, who treated death like an old colleague, the imagery felt like a physical blow. The joke turned to ash.
The azure flame in his lantern violently hissed, flaring so bright it painted the snow in stark, electric blue. You blinked, startled by the sudden light, and looked up at him. "Flins? Are you alright?"
For a long, agonizing second, the Lightkeeper simply stared at you, his perfectly composed mask fracturing as an unfamiliar, suffocating possessiveness curled tight in his chest. He didn't want you as a memory. He didn't want you as one of the beautiful, tragic tales he told to travelers. "Yes," Flins finally murmured, his voice dropping an octave, entirely stripped of its usual teasing lilt.
He stepped closer, the graceful movement swift and almost predatory, until he was shielding you entirely from the biting wind. He reached out, his cold, gloved fingers gently but firmly adjusting the thick collar of your coat to cover your neck. "I just realized," he said softly, his golden eyes unblinking, "that I would very much prefer you stay above ground for a long, long time. Please... do not speak of digging graves tonight.”
# a.n: hands, HANds, HANDS!!! *summoning scara/wanderer nation*. we love wanderer’s hands here. no i didn’t stutter. sfw short fic. gn!reader. contains spoilers for his lore.
# w.c: 1.3k
Wanderer’s hands really did carry every version of him, like layers of lacquer on an antique doll. You’d know that if he were to find himself close to you, enough to reveal the shape of his soul to you.
Hands originally carved to be a vessel for divine power, left empty in a quiet pavilion when Ei deemed him too soft. Hands that hammered iron in Tatarasuna, held a dying child’s cold fingers, and tried—and failed—to keep human fragility from slipping through them. Hands that gripped an Electro Gnosis with absolute, arrogant reverence, wielded the lines of fate, and fought Dottore’s grueling, bloody experiments.
And now? Hands that dip feather quills into black ink, scroll through dry Academia papyrus, cut vegetables for students who get too engrossed in their studies to eat, and wield Anemo Vision with precise, effortless grace.
Puppets don’t generate their own body heat the way living things do. His skin is smooth, unblemished, and perpetually cool to the touch like polished marble or chilled glass. When his fingers accidentally graze a human’s wrist or hand while handing over a book, a scroll, or a bowl of food, there’s that micro-second delay. A subtle, instinctual stalling. His mind registers the pulse, the quick jump of blood beneath skin, the radiant, living warmth. If called out on it, he’d snap something sharp about “human inefficiency” or “carelessness.” But the truth is, to a creation that was abandoned for being “too fragile,” he is secretly fascinated by how soft, warm, and resilient human life actually is.
He acts like he despises weakness, but when he considers something fragile—a delicate flower in Sumeru, parchment, an exhausted student—his gentleness is much clearer. He knows his own strength. He knows he was built to hold divine weight. So when he touches something mortal, his knuckles lock into absolute, hyper-controlled carefulness—as if he’s afraid the mere pressure of his mechanical joints might shatter them.
The first time you noticed the contrast between your skins—of porcelain and pulse:
The ink on the margin of the thesis was still wet.
Wanderer moved with a quiet, lethal efficiency that belonged on a battlefield, yet here he was, sliding a fresh stack of references across the wooden desk without making a sound. His fingers—slender, immaculate, unblemished by the scars that should have come with four centuries of violence rested on the edge of the paper.
As you reached to take the document, your knuckles brushed against his. You didn’t pull away immediately, and neither did he.
His skin was cool, smooth as sea-smoothed glass, lacking the soft give of human flesh. But against his fingers, your skin was a sudden, violent contrast—radiating a steady, quiet heat. Beneath your skin, he could feel the faint, rhythmic thrum of a heartbeat. Thump. Thump. Thump. So fast. So fragile.
For two beats of that fleeting pulse, Wanderer didn’t move. His thumb twitched, a barely perceptible micro-movement, leaning into the warmth just enough to feel it sink into his artificial joints.
Then, like a line cut on a kite, he drew his hand back, pulling it into the deep sleeve of his robes. “You’re distracting yourself,” he muttered, his voice flat, though his indigo-blue eyes remained locked on the spot where your hands had met. He turned his head away, crossing his arms over his chest to trap the fading heat against his skin.
“Finish the third section before the oil in the lamp burns out. I won’t rewrite it for you when you make a mess of the conclusion.”
But that night, you’d noticed that touch. You’d noticed that curiosity and longing in his gaze. Maybe that’s why the second time his hands caught your attention, you held on tight.
—of human fragility and mechanical discomfort:
The brass kettle had a faulty latch, something he’d noted three days ago and meant to fix, if only the student housing maintenance wasn’t so utterly incompetent. A sudden, violent burst of steam sputtered from the spout, followed by a harsh splash of scalded tea water cascading off the lip of the desk.
Before the first drop could hit your skin, he was already there.
His movement wasn’t human, it lacked the slight recoil of panic or shock. His hand shot out, palm flat, cutting through the spray like a blade to block the worst of it from splashing over your face and chest. The near-boiling liquid pooled across the back of his knuckles, dripping onto the floorboards in heavy, dark spots.
“Careless,” Wanderer snapped instantly, his voice sharp, cold, and tight with a sudden, disproportionate tension.
He didn’t even look at his own hand. His indigo eyes were pinned entirely on you, scanning your face, your throat, the front of your collarbones—checking for red marks, for blisters, for the telltale signs of human pain. “You sit there staring at parchment until your mind turns to soup. Did any of it hit you? Answer me.”
”I’m fine,” you breathed, blinking at the sheer speed of him. There was no hiding how startled you were. “Wanderer, I’m fine. It missed me.”
Only when he was entirely satisfied that you weren’t burned did the rigid line of his shoulders drop half an inch. He made a low, irritated sound in his throat and reached for a dry cloth to wipe the desk.
“Look at your hand,” you said, reaching out to catch his wrist before he could pull away.
He froze at the touch. Steam was still rising off his skin. The water had been hot enough to redden a human palm, to cause sharp, agonizing pain. But his hand was... unchanged. Smooth, pale, and entirely unaffected.
“It’s fine,” Wanderer muttered, trying to pull his arm back with a dismissive flick of his wrist. “Don’t be dramatic.”
“No, it’s not that,” you said softly, your fingers tightening gently around the cool curve of his wrist. You turned his hand over, tracing the back of his knuckles where the hot tea had pooled. “Your hands... they don’t hold heat. The water was scalding, but you’re still cold.”
The sentence hung in the air, deceptively simple, but it hit the quiet room like glass shattering on stone. Wanderer went dead still. He stared down at where your warm, living fingers were cradling his. To him, the contrast was blinding. You were skin and blood, prone to burning, prone to bruising, carrying a pulse that beat like a trapped bird. And he was a vessel built of synthetic joints and everlasting silver wood—impervious to the sting of hot tea, but forever barred from generating the warmth you gave off so effortlessly.
For a long dangerous second, the sharp comeback died in his throat. He looked at his own hand—the hand that had held a Gnosis, that had drawn blood in the abyss, that had just shielded a mortal from a minor household accident—and felt the quiet, hollow truth of what he was.
“They were made not to feel it,” he said, his voice dropping into a register so quiet, so stripped of his usual venom, that it sounded almost alien. He didn’t pull away this time. Instead, his fingers twitched against your palm, a slow, hesitant curl of his hand—not closing into a fist, but resting heavy and quiet in your grasp, absorbing the heat he couldn’t make on his own.
“It makes no difference,” he added, turning his face toward the window, though his hand remained stubbornly, silently anchored in yours. “So stop fussing over it.”
Wanderer is a weapon made of wood and ancient Khaenri’ahn technology, trying to navigate a world made of flesh, blood, and mortality. Yet, when he felt you lean in, brushing his fingers gently against your cheek, and pressing soft kisses to the knuckles—he thinks maybe he can start loving his puppet-self the way you do.
Husband!Wanderer who gets furious if anyone else tries to handle your things or cater to you. The moment a shopkeeper offers to help carry your packages or a friend tries to fetch you a glass of water, he immediately steps in, takes the item, and gives the person a razor-sharp glare. "They don't need your help. Mind your own business."
Husband!Wanderer who insists he doesn't want any affection in public, yet his hand constantly finds yours the second you step into a crowd. He’ll latch his fingers tightly around yours with a scoff, muttering, "Don't get lost. I am not spending my afternoon looking for you."
Husband!Wanderer who silently keeps track of every tiny thing you offhandedly mention liking: a specific pastry from a bakery you passed weeks ago, a ribbon in a shop window, a rare tea, and then "accidentally" acquires it. When he drops it in front of you, he flushes slightly, turns his face away, and lies through his teeth: "Someone gave it to me. I have no use for it, so you take it."
Husband!Wanderer who gets absurdly protective when you're sick. He will ban you from leaving the bed, tucking the blankets around you so tightly you can barely move. He’ll sit on the edge of the mattress all day with his arms crossed, glaring at you every time you try to sit up. "If you move so much as an inch, I will personally tie you to that headboard. Drink your soup."
Husband!Wanderer who hates the cold himself, but the moment he notices you shivering, he will yank off his outer layer or pull you straight into his chest under his cloak. When you point out that he’s warm, he’ll wrap his arms tighter around you and grumble, "Shut up. I'm just using you for body heat."
Husband!Wanderer who secretly loves it when you play with his hair, though he'll die before admitting it out loud. If you start running your fingers through his bangs while relaxing together, he’ll sigh deeply, lean his entire head heavily into your lap, and pretend to fall asleep just so you won't stop.
Husband!Wanderer who aggressively defends your terrible habits or minor mistakes to anyone else, even if he rags on you for them at home. If someone gently critiques your cooking or work, he’ll cut them off instantly with a cold, condescending sneer: "And who asked for your opinion? They did it better than you ever could, so keep your mouth shut."
Husband!Wanderer who hoards every little note, doodle, or trinket you’ve ever given him, keeping them hidden away in a safe, pristine box that he thinks you don't know about. If you ever catch him looking through it, he snaps the lid shut in a panic and accuses you of snooping on "important documents."
Husband!Wanderer who gets petty if you pay more attention to a pet or animal than to him. He’ll stand in the doorway, staring daggers at the cat in your lap until you finally look up, at which point he’ll cross his arms, roll his eyes, and snap, "Are you going to sit there petting that useless creature all day, or are you going to pay attention to me?"
Husband!Wanderer who, despite all his sharp edges and loud complaints, will gently rest his head against your shoulder after an exhausting day and just hold your hand in total silence, letting his guard completely down only when it's just the two of you behind closed doors.
|| When you wipe away their kiss as a joke. || Genshin Impact Reactions ||
hey guys I’m back from a short inactivity! I can’t just not post my weekly reactions now can I? lol really went all out with this even wrote for characters I’ve never written for either so sorry if it’s ooc anyways enjoy the short men squad!
❥ Albedo’s expression doesn’t change despite your actions. He doesn’t feel the slightest bit of the dejection you hoped to evoke instead, he is awfully curious. He leans in with a thumb to his chin, observing your reaction with a studying gaze as his mind races for potential causes.
“An interesting reception. Could you elaborate on what caused such a reaction?”
You can almost feel yourself regretting the joke now that you’ve made yourself his next problem to solve. He tilts his head slightly as he continues to wonder silently to himself before asking various clinical embarrassing questions that immediately make you reveal the punchline just to get him to stop.
“How unfortunate. I was just about to explore some possible hypotheses.”
❥ Venti gasps loudly, dramatically grasping his chest where his heart is in mock pain. He’s quick to take on the role of a wounded lover, acting as though you had just committed the most heinous offense possible. The words leave his lips like a tragic play scene.
“Oh, my beloved! How you wound me with such a cruel response…!”
When a suppressed giggle escapes your lips at his ridiculousness, his face morphs into his familiar cheeky grin. Happy that he was able to amuse you. He playfully leans in, giving your lips a quick tap accompanied by a boyish wink, ready for a repeat.
“Would my love care for another round~?”
❥ Xiao freezes like a statue at the sight of you wiping your lips, worry quickly filling his eyes as his mind swarms with the thought that he might have caused you pain or unease. He feels his gut twist, averting his gaze and crossing his arms to turn away from you before mumbling a question.
“Did I… make you uncomfortable…?”
You feel guilt practically eating you alive for causing such a reaction. You’re quick to explain it as a joke in a hurried panic, worried he’ll disappear the longer you let the misunderstanding simmer. You only calm down once a tired sigh leaves his lips. You vow to yourself never to pull a prank like that again for as long as you live.
“I… see. Do not startle me like that again.”
❥ Kazuha feels his eyes widen in momentary surprise before his lips pull into a soft apologetic smile. The slight hurt he feels is nothing compared to the fact that he made you uncomfortable. He pulls out a clean handkerchief before taking your face in a gentle cradle.
“May I?”
He dabs your lips softly, his tender eyes gauging your reaction for any unease you might feel. His delicate handling of you evokes a flutter of butterflies within your chest. He’s just so effortlessly charming that you almost want to pull him into another kiss! Though, maybe you should apologize to him first…
“My apologies, my love. I hope that makes you feel better.”
❥ Heizou’s lips curl into a mischievous grin — he knows exactly what you’re up to, but two can play this game. He puts on a serious, detective like face, placing a hand on his chin as he observes you the way he would a fresh crime scene.
“Subject shows mild signs of feigned displeasure, elevated heart rate, and flushed cheeks… I’m going to need to inspect the evidence closer.”
He places a hand gently on your cheek, his eyes intensely locked onto your lips in a way that makes your heart skip a beat. He whispers that he has finally deduced the answer, telling you to lean in closer to hear it. Only to seal your lips with his once more, a triumphant smile playing against your mouth.
“Turns out the suspect just wanted to tamper with the evidence, but I cracked the case first~”
❥ Cyno cocks an eyebrow, watching you silently as you use your hand to wipe your lips. His expression is serious and stern, completely betraying the reaction you had hoped to pull from him. His gaze is sharp when he suddenly takes hold of your wrist, pulling your hand away from your face.
“I hope you understand that what you’ve done is a serious offense.”
You tense in surprise, wondering how wiping your mouth could possibly be a crime. As he begins to elaborate with utter deadpan seriousness on the exact legal extent of your "infraction,". The more you listen, the more you realize how ridiculous it sounds and that he’s turning the tables on you.
“I’ll let you off with a warning this time. Do it again, and I’ll have you arrested.”
❥ Wanderer’s expression hardens as he watches you wipe your lips. His usual scowl grows harsher, and he crosses his arms in displeasure — trying to hide the sting he felt from your action. He’s quick to mask his true emotions with mocking sarcasm.
“If you’re so disgusted, maybe I should scrub your lips until they fall off.”
He’s also fiercely petty, so as soon as your hand leaves your mouth, he grabs you by the collar of your shirt and pulls you into a sudden rougher kiss that leaves you gasping in surprise. It’s wet and sloppy, intentional just to make even more of a mess than what you originally planned to wipe off. Something he usually refrains from doing but right now, he’s feeling spiteful.
“Tsk, do that again. I dare you.”
❥ Lyney’s jaw goes slack, as if he’s entirely unable to believe what you just did. His reaction goes from zero to one hundred as he flamboyantly portrays his heartbreak. A hand resting dramatically on his forehead before he grins, having immediately thought of a counter ploy.
“I see you’re in need of some professional assistance. Let me pull a magic item right out for you…!”
He reaches behind you as if pulling off a sleight of hand, and a handkerchief magically appears in his fingers. Right as you reach out to take it, he playfully swoops in to steal a kiss instead, offering a charming wink and a smile as he pulls back. He doesn’t even bother to hand you the handkerchief.
“How’s that for a magic trick~?”
❥ Kinich blinks, his eyes locking onto you as he wonders why you’re suddenly wiping your lips. Instead of feeling embarrassed or dejected, he fishes a handkerchief from his pocket and hands it to you, briefly wondering if his lips were somehow stained with ash or dirt from his latest hunt.
“Here, use this. It’s better than using your hand.”
As you take the handkerchief from him, it doesn’t take long for the sound of voluminous booming laughter to ring out from a certain floating dragon lord. Whom Kinich promptly swats away like an annoying fly.
“Ha! They’re trying to scrub off your gross mortal germs, Kinich!”
❥ Illuga watches you with eyes filled with concern. His first instinct isn’t to take your action as offensive or hurtful, but to worry. He briefly wonders if his lips had turned cold or rough from the frigid temperature and all the traveling he’s been doing lately.
“Sorry... did I make you cold?”
He gently pulls your hand away from your lips, encasing it warm between both of his own. Bringing your fingers close, he softly blows warm air over them. Hoping to chase away the chill. When your cheeks turn red ー not from the warmth, but from sheer fluster — he presses a tender kiss to your knuckles, offering a gentle smile. How could you possibly reveal it as a joke now when this is his reaction?!
“Feel better? Do you want me to lend you my coat?”
❥ Lohen’s eyes widen for just a fraction of a second before his lips curl into a smirk. He’s by no means offended. In fact, he’s taking it in with sheer delight. He’s quick to lean in again, just to watch you jolt in surprise, his thumb playfully swiping against your bottom lip.
“Wasn’t to your liking? Well, let me try again…”
Before you can even protest, his lips seal onto yours. The thumb that was previously on your lip now holds your chin in a tight grip, pulling it so that your mouth opens wider, his tongue entering to tangle with yours. Maybe you shouldn’t have provoked a tiger when it’s still hungry…
tags: established relationship, tooth-rotting fluff, kissing, cuddling, Lohen being a little shit, gender neutral reader
summary: Lohen prefers kissing you over sleeping.
words: 545
You blow the last candle out and crawl into bed beside Lohen. He is lying on his side, smiling sweetly up to you. You can not resist giving him a small peck on his cheek before lying on your back and looking up at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to claim you.
Not even a second of ceiling staring later, Lohen is above you with his hands planted beside your head.
"Just oooone more", he pleads, not waiting for your answer before taking what he wants. It doesn't stay with just one kiss, though. Without leaving room to breath, he connects his lips with yours again and again, deepening the kiss each time. You put your arms around his neck and do your best to keep up.
When he gives you room to breath, he is moving down to pepper small kisses on your jaw and neck.
You attempt to speak "Isn't it en-mmh-" but are promptly shut up by his mouth on yours. This goes on until you are running out of air again. You grab a fistful of his hair and yank it up harshly. He is grinning from ear to ear and breathing as hard as you. Taking a moment to gather your thoughts, you let go and run your fingers through his hair.
"I'm not going anywhere. It's late. We need to wake up early tomorrow."
"Hmm..."
Lohen tilts his head.
"I prefer kissing you over lying awake and only thinking about kissing you."
You firmly plant your hands on his shoulders and push him to the side and on his back with ease, reversing your position.
His eyes look at your lips, then at your eyes. You sigh but can't hide a smile. You lean down and press your lips on his for the last kiss.
"You're not getting any more today. Rest up for tomorrow."
Then you lie your head on his chest, lie down on top of him, and make yourself comfortable.
Lohen's arms hover at you sides for a moment and then engulf you in a hug.
"..."
For minutes, you enjoy silence. He almost convinces you that he accepts to go to sleep. You almost nod off yourself.
If not for a voice to suddenly wisper "Can we pretend that airplanes in the nights sky are like shooting stars?"
You feel obligated to continue and whisper back. "I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now ... and that is to sleep. Archons, I hate you. Don't ever become normal."
"For that I would have to not be normal."
"You are not normal. Please don't ever change."
You cuddle closer and nuzzle into Lohen's neck.
"Love you."
Lohen holds you a little tighter and turns to his side, putting you next to him. He creates a little distance and kisses the top of your head lightly.
"Guess I'll allow you to get some rest", he says in a voice so soft and affectionate, it makes your heart beat higher and your temperature rise.
It is too warm to fall asleep and too comfortable to move. Not that you can, with his arms wrapped around you. His heartbeat so close it feels like your own. There is no place safer than this, right here.
___
A/N: On one hand, I should stop imagining scenarios with my comfort character to fall asleep. On the other hand, I am more productive when I'm tired and less critical about what and how I write.
song ref: Airplanes by B.o.B.
PREMISE . . . In which you decide to tease your lover by withholding your usual “I love you” before leaving to see how they'd react and what they would do if they noticed the sudden change.
ꫂ᭪݁ ﹕ STARRING . . . varka, dottore, pantalone, neuvilette, flins, venti, lyney, lohen (in order)
note . was gonna add more genshin men but this is already quite long um,, hope you all enjoy this piece! <3
── ( 𝒗. ) Varka would notice the missing 'I love you' almost immediately, but instead of looking genuinely bothered, he'd first give you a knowing look as though he'd already figured out exactly what you were doing.
You'd give him your usual goodbye, perhaps gathering your things and stepping toward the door, only for him to call after you with a low laugh. "That's all I'm getting?" He'd watch you turn around with an innocent expression, clearly waiting for you to admit what you'd done, but you'd simply ask what he meant.
Varka would fold his arms across his chest and grin, shaking his head as though he couldn't believe you were actually going to commit to the act. "Oh, come on. Don't tell me you've suddenly forgotten our little routine." He'd probably imitate the way you usually say it back to him just to make his point, his amusement growing when you continued pretending you had no idea what he was talking about.
Rather than immediately demanding the words, he'd let you enjoy your little joke for a while, approaching you and leaning against the doorway and watching you with that patient, entertained expression of his. You'd get a few steps away before he'd eventually call you back again, his voice carrying that unmistakable teasing warmth.
"You're really going to make me spell it out, aren't you?" When you still refused, he'd finally push himself away from the doorway and stroll over, slipping an arm comfortably around your shoulders as though he'd decided that letting you leave was no longer an option.
"You know, I could simply let you go, but then I'd spend the entire day wondering why my favorite farewell suddenly disappeared."
He'd give your shoulder a gentle squeeze, clearly far more amused than offended, and when you finally laughed and admitted you were only teasing him, he'd shake his head with a deep chuckle. "Cruel. Absolutely cruel. I leave you alone for five minutes and suddenly you've decided to test me."
Even after you'd confessed that you were joking, Varka wouldn't let you off quite that easily. He'd keep you tucked against his side for another moment, looking down at you with an exaggeratedly wounded expression before the grin returned. "You know, I was beginning to think I'd somehow forgotten something important."
He'd probably laugh at himself for having 'fallen' for it, but the fact that he'd noticed immediately would make it obvious how deeply ingrained your little routine had become.
His affection would be easy and unselfconscious, the sort that showed itself through a hand resting warmly on your shoulder, an arm around your waist, or a quick kiss against your forehead before finally allowing you to go.
Still, just as you reached the door again, he'd stop you with one last amused reminder. "Now, before you go, there's something you're supposed to say." He'd raise his eyebrows expectantly, waiting with exaggerated patience while you tried to make him say it first. Varka would eventually laugh and shake his head. "I'm not doing all the work here."
Once you finally gave in and told him you loved him, his entire expression would immediately brighten into that broad, unmistakable grin. "There we go. Much better."
He'd give you one last affectionate squeeze before releasing you, perhaps watching you walk away with his arms folded and that satisfied look still on his face. And naturally, the moment you glanced back, he'd call after you one final time just to have the last word. "Love you too, troublemaker. Try not to forget next time."
── ( 𝒅. ) Dottore would notice immediately, though his reaction would be far more restrained than the others. You'd give him your usual goodbye, perhaps already halfway through gathering your things and turning toward the door, but when you failed to return his usual declaration, his eyes would follow you with quiet, deliberate attention.
He wouldn't say anything at first. He'd simply watch for a few seconds, almost as though he were waiting to see whether you'd realize your mistake yourself.
When you continued toward the door without a second thought, he'd finally call your name in that calm, measured tone of his. "You're forgetting something." You'd pause and look back at him with an innocent expression, asking what you could possibly have forgotten, and he'd give you the faintest, knowing smile. "Don't insult my intelligence, my dear."
There'd be no uncertainty in his expression, he'd already figured out exactly what you were doing. Rather than immediately approaching you, he'd remain where he was, watching you with an almost amused patience as you continued pretending that you had absolutely no idea what he meant.
He'd let the silence stretch for a moment, perhaps even returning to whatever he'd been doing as though he weren't particularly concerned, but his attention would remain fixed on you.
Eventually, he'd set aside whatever was in his hands and approach at an unhurried pace, stopping in front of you before you could actually leave. "You normally say it back."
His tone would remain composed, almost clinical, but there'd be a subtle amusement underneath it, especially when he noticed the smile you were trying to hide.
You'd insist that you hadn't forgotten anything, and he'd simply raise an eyebrow. "Is that so?" He'd study your expression for another second before adding, "Then I suppose this is merely a coincidence." The dry sarcasm would make it obvious that he wasn't buying your act for even a moment.
Once you finally admitted that you were deliberately teasing him, Dottore would let out a quiet laugh and shake his head, looking at you with the sort of patient disbelief reserved for someone who had knowingly created a completely unnecessary problem.
"How childish." He'd say it almost dismissively, but there would be no real irritation behind it. In fact, the amusement in his expression would give him away. He'd still make absolutely certain you didn't leave without finishing the little ritual you'd interrupted, though he wouldn't simply demand the words.
Instead, he'd stand there with his hands folded behind his back, looking entirely content to wait you out. The longer you refused, the more entertained he'd become, as though he'd decided the situation had transformed into a battle of patience and he had every intention of winning.
After a while, he might reach out and gently catch your hand before you could turn away again, his thumb brushing once over your knuckles as he looked at you. "You were rather enthusiastic about it yesterday. What has changed?" When you finally laughed and told him you loved him, the satisfaction on his face would be subtle but unmistakable.
His expression would soften into the smallest smile, and he'd give your hand a quiet squeeze before finally allowing you to go. "There. I knew you hadn't suddenly forgotten." You'd probably tease him afterward, pointing out that he'd clearly been waiting for you to say it and had been far more bothered by the missing words than he wanted to admit.
Dottore would simply give you an amused look, completely unwilling to surrender the point. "I merely dislike inconsistencies." He'd pause at the doorway, gaze lingering on you for another moment before adding with deliberate casualness, "Particularly when they concern me." Then he'd finally step aside and let you leave, wearing that faintly satisfied smile that made it painfully obvious he'd gotten exactly what he'd wanted.
── ( 𝒑. ) Pantalone would notice the missing words almost immediately, but he'd handle it with the kind of composed amusement that made it difficult to tell whether he'd been genuinely caught off guard at all.
You'd give him your usual goodbye, perhaps straightening your clothes and gathering whatever you needed before turning toward the door, only for him to pause behind you with a quiet, thoughtful hum.
"Hmm." He'd let the silence linger just long enough for you to wonder whether he'd actually noticed before adding, "That's an unusually incomplete farewell."
You'd glance back at him with an innocent expression and pretend not to understand, and his lips would curl into a knowing smile. "Don't worry. I'll give you another opportunity."
Rather than immediately stopping you, he'd allow you to continue toward the door, watching you with that calm, entertained expression as though he'd already decided exactly how this little game would end.
You'd make it several steps before his voice followed you again, smooth and unhurried. "You seem to be forgetting something rather important." Still refusing to give in, you'd probably insist that you hadn't forgotten anything at all, prompting him to give a quiet laugh.
"Is that so?" He'd let you continue pretending for another moment, clearly enjoying how determined you were to maintain the act. Then, he'd approach you himself, not with any urgency but with the effortless confidence he carried in nearly everything he did.
Rather than confronting you directly, he'd casually straighten the collar of your clothing, adjust your coat, or smooth some small wrinkle from your sleeve as though his only concern were making sure you were properly prepared to leave.
His fingers would linger for just a moment before he looked at you with an amused glint. "You really are going to make me ask, aren't you?" The entire exchange would feel less like an argument and more like a private game between the two of you, with Pantalone perfectly content to let you keep teasing him until you finally gave yourself away.
Once you finally admitted that you were deliberately withholding the words just to tease him, Pantalone's expression would soften into a quiet, almost victorious smile. "Ah, so that's what you've been doing." Rather than insisting that you say it immediately, he'd simply shake his head and give you a look that said he'd already forgiven you.
He'd take your things from you, perhaps fixing the strap of your bag or making sure you'd remembered everything before you left, all while occasionally glancing back at you with unmistakable amusement. "You know, for someone in such a hurry to leave, you've certainly managed to delay yourself."
The teasing would continue naturally until the two of you were standing at the doorway, and only then would he lean against the frame and look at you expectantly. He wouldn't ask you to repeat the words because he needed reassurance, he'd simply enjoy watching you finally break character and admit defeat.
The moment you told him you loved him, his smile would widen, and he'd give a small, satisfied nod as though you'd finally reached the obvious conclusion of the game. "There you are." He'd brush a single strand of your hair behind your ear before pressing a brief kiss to your forehead, then step aside to let you pass.
"Now go. Before you decide to torment me again." As you walked away, he'd probably call after you with one final remark, his voice carrying that effortless amusement. "And for the record, you weren't nearly as convincing as you thought you were."
── ( 𝒏. ) Neuvilette would initially assume you had simply forgotten, because the change in your usual farewell would be so unexpected that he wouldn't immediately suspect you were deliberately teasing him.
You'd give him your customary goodbye, perhaps already turning toward the door and gathering your things, and he'd respond with the same calm warmth he always did. Only after a brief pause would he realize that something was missing.
His gaze would follow you for a moment, his expression becoming subtly thoughtful as he replayed the exchange in his mind. "You have forgotten something." You'd stop and look back at him, genuinely innocent as you asked what you could possibly have forgotten, and he'd give you a slightly puzzled look before gently reminding you of the words you normally exchanged before you left.
"You usually say it back." There would be no accusation in his voice, only quiet certainty. When you continued pretending that you had no idea what he meant, he'd study your expression a little longer, eventually noticing the faint amusement you were trying to hide. That would be when understanding finally dawned on him.
His expression would soften, and the smallest smile would appear. "I see. So that was intentional." Rather than becoming embarrassed or trying to force the words from you, he'd simply accept the situation with remarkable patience.
He'd let you continue toward the door, perhaps watching you gather your things with an almost amused fondness, before calmly adding, "If you are attempting to tease me, I must admit that it has been rather effective." You'd probably laugh and insist that you hadn't done anything, only for him to raise an eyebrow slightly.
"Of course." The quiet skepticism in his voice would make it obvious that he knew perfectly well what you were doing. Even so, he wouldn't make a fuss. He'd simply remain nearby, allowing the playful silence to stretch while making no attempt to hide the fact that he was waiting for you to finish the little game you'd started.
When you were genuinely about to leave, Neuvillette would call your name once more. There would be something almost gently expectant in his voice now, though he still wouldn't sound demanding. "Before you go." He'd approach you with his usual composed grace, perhaps reaching for your hand and holding it between both of his for a moment.
His thumb would rest lightly against your knuckles while he looked at you with that patient expression, as though he were perfectly willing to stand there for as long as necessary.
The teasing would probably become difficult to maintain once you saw how quietly amused he was by the entire situation, and eventually you'd give in and tell him that you loved him. The faintest smile would immediately appear on his face, subtle but unmistakably genuine.
"Thank you. That is what I was waiting to hear." He'd give your hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it, perhaps leaning forward to press a brief kiss to your forehead before finally allowing you to leave.
Once you admitted that you'd only been teasing him, he'd give you a quietly amused look, the sort that carried far more affection than reproach. "Then I shall remember this the next time you are in a hurry to leave." There'd be no actual threat behind the words, only a rare hint of playful teasing from someone who was usually so formal.
── ( 𝐟. ) Flins would notice the missing words quickly, but his reaction would be much quieter and more understated than someone who would immediately call you back or make a dramatic fuss about it.
You'd give him your usual goodbye, already turning toward the door and gathering your things, and he'd remain still for a moment after you finished speaking, his eyes following you with a faintly puzzled expression. Something about the farewell would feel incomplete, and he'd quietly replay it in his head before finally looking at you.
"You're not saying it today?" You'd pause and turn around with an innocent expression, asking what he meant, and he'd give you a long, almost unreadable look. At first, he'd genuinely seem unsure whether you'd forgotten or simply changed your mind, but the faint amusement in your expression would eventually give you away.
His eyes would narrow just slightly before a small, knowing smile appeared. "So that's how it is." He'd understand immediately that you were deliberately withholding the words just to see what he'd do. Rather than rushing after you, he'd remain where he was for another moment, leaning casually against the nearest wall or piece of furniture while watching you prepare to leave.
"You know exactly what you're doing." His voice would remain calm, though there'd be a subtle teasing edge to it now. You'd probably continue pretending not to understand, and he'd simply shake his head with a quiet sigh, almost amused by how committed you were to the joke.
He'd let you take another few steps toward the door, watching with patient attention before eventually pushing himself away from the wall and following at an unhurried pace.
By the time you reached the doorway, he'd gently catch your hand, stopping you without force. "Wait." His fingers would settle comfortably around yours, and he'd look at you with that same restrained little smile. He wouldn't even have to say what he wanted anymore; the silence between you would make it obvious.
He'd hold your hand for a moment, his thumb moving once across your knuckles while he waited for you to finally break character. The longer you tried to maintain your innocent expression, the more amused he'd become, though he wouldn't tease you excessively about it.
Eventually, you'd laugh and admit that you were only messing with him, and Flins would give a quiet exhale that sounded almost like relief mixed with amusement. "I thought so." He'd look down at your joined hands for a moment before meeting your eyes again.
"You seem to really enjoy making things difficult for me." Even then, he wouldn't pressure you to say the words. He'd simply stay there, still holding your hand, until you finally told him that you loved him. The corners of his mouth would lift into a small, genuine smile.
"There it is." His grip would tighten briefly around your hand before he finally let you go, perhaps giving your fingers one last affectionate squeeze. He'd step aside to let you leave, but there'd be a quiet warmth lingering in his expression that made it obvious he'd enjoyed the entire exchange despite himself.
Just before you walked through the doorway, he'd add one last understated remark, his tone carrying the faintest hint of playful reproach. "Don't make a habit of leaving things unfinished." Then he'd watch you go, returning to whatever he'd been doing with the same composed demeanor as before, except for the small smile that would probably remain on his face for a while afterward.
── ( 𝐯. ) Venti would notice immediately and turn the whole thing into an exaggerated tragedy, because there was absolutely no chance he'd let such an obvious opportunity for theatrics pass him by.
You'd give him your usual goodbye, already halfway through the doorway, but without returning his familiar "I love you more," and he'd suddenly go completely still behind you. His eyes would widen as though you'd just delivered the most devastating news imaginable, one hand slowly rising to his chest.
"Oh? That's it?" He'd stare after you in exaggerated disbelief, looking genuinely wounded for precisely long enough to make you wonder whether he'd actually fallen for it.
"My beloved has abandoned me without even saying those three little words?" You'd probably turn around laughing, insisting that you hadn't done anything, and Venti would immediately follow you with an increasingly dramatic string of complaints.
"How cruel! How could you do this to poor little old me?" He'd trail after you as though he'd been personally betrayed, sighing dramatically and shaking his head while claiming that he'd clearly been forgotten after all this time.
The more you tried to suppress your laughter, the more ridiculous he'd become, perhaps clutching at his chest and announcing that he might never recover from such heartbreak.
When you finally tried to escape through the doorway again, he'd catch your hand and give you a playful twirl back toward him, grinning the moment you stumbled into him.
"Ah-ah, not so fast." He'd hold onto your hand for another moment, looking at you with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. "You can't simply leave me with an unfinished farewell. That's terribly unfair!"
The moment you finally admitted that you were teasing him, Venti's entire wounded expression would vanish as though someone had flipped a switch, replaced by a delighted grin. "Ah, so that's what this is!" He'd laugh, shaking his head as though he'd just discovered the trick you'd been playing from the beginning.
Rather than being offended, he'd seem almost impressed that you'd managed to catch him off guard, though he'd immediately decide that meant you owed him compensation for the emotional devastation he'd supposedly endured.
"Then I'm afraid you'll have to make it up to me." He'd lean closer with a playful smile, looking up at you expectantly. You'd probably laugh and tell him that he was being ridiculous, only for him to insist that his suffering had been very real and very tragic.
"Do you have any idea how difficult it is to survive such heartbreak?" He'd sigh dramatically before breaking into another laugh. Eventually, you'd give in and finally tell him you loved him, and the satisfaction on his face would be immediate.
"There it is! My three favorite words from my favorite person!" He'd brighten as though he'd just won some grand victory, squeezing your hand before pulling you into a quick, warm hug. "Much better. Now I can let you go without spending the next hour composing a sad ballad about your betrayal."
He'd probably make a show of wiping away an imaginary tear before finally releasing you, only to call after you once more as you started walking away. "And don't think I didn't notice what you did!"
── ( 𝒍. ) Lyney would notice instantly and would never let you get away with deliberately skipping the part of your usual farewell he liked most. You'd say goodbye and start walking away without returning his familiar declaration, and he'd freeze dramatically behind you as though he'd just witnessed some terrible betrayal.
"Oh?" He'd place a hand over his heart, staring after you with exaggerated disbelief. "Was that really all you had to say before leaving me?" You'd probably turn around with an innocent expression and ask what he meant, only for him to follow you with that dramatically wounded look, his voice becoming increasingly theatrical as he insisted that something was clearly missing.
"I must have misunderstood. I could've sworn you normally say something very important right about now." He'd give you a suspicious little glance, already knowing perfectly well that you were teasing him, but he'd play along anyway.
He might even sigh dramatically and shake his head as though trying to accept his tragic fate. "Perhaps I've simply become forgettable. How unfortunate."
The more you tried to hide your laughter, the more exaggerated he'd become, following you toward the doorway while continuing his ridiculous complaints.
Eventually, he'd step neatly in front of the door before you could leave, wearing that playful smile that made it obvious he was having far too much fun with the situation. "Surely you wouldn't abandon your poor boyfriend without a proper farewell?"
He'd tilt his head, watching you expectantly, and when you continued refusing to give in, he'd let out an exaggerated sigh. "Very well. I'll simply wait." He'd cross his arms and stand there with remarkable patience, perfectly willing to turn your little joke into an entire game of who could hold out longer.
The moment you finally laughed and admitted that you were only teasing him, Lyney's wounded expression would immediately disappear, replaced by a bright, satisfied grin. He'd shake his head fondly, looking at you as though he'd just caught you red-handed. "You really do enjoy tormenting me, don't you?"
He'd step closer, but rather than immediately demanding the missing words, he'd simply look at you with an amused, expectant expression, giving you every opportunity to finally say them yourself.
You'd eventually give in and tell him you loved him, and his entire demeanor would brighten at once, the playful triumph in his smile making it obvious how much he'd been waiting for that little part of your routine.
"See, that wasn't so hard now was it?" He'd say it softly this time, without the theatrics, before leaning down to press a brief kiss to your forehead. Then he'd step aside with an exaggerated little bow, gesturing toward the door as though granting you permission to leave.
"Now you may go. I suppose I'll allow it." He'd probably hold the door open for you with a grin, only to add one final teasing remark as you passed. "Though next time, my dear, try not to forget the most important part."
── ( 𝒍. ) Lohen would notice the missing words almost immediately, but unlike someone who would simply tease you about it, he'd become visibly confused first.
You'd give him your usual goodbye, perhaps smiling as you gathered your things and turned toward the door, and he'd remain standing there for a second as though his brain had encountered some completely unexpected error in a routine he'd already memorized.
His eyebrows would knit together, his head tilting slightly as he watched you reach for the handle. "Wait, you forgot something." You'd innocently turn around and ask what, and he'd stare at you for another second before his expression slowly changed as realization finally dawned on him.
"You're doing that on purpose, aren't you?" He'd let out a short laugh, shaking his head as he pointed at you with an incredulous smile.
"No, because you definitely know what I'm talking about. We've literally done this the same way every time. You say you're leaving, I tell you I love you, you tell me you love me more, and then you go." He'd start rambling on, "That's the routine. That's how this works."
He'd probably pause, glance toward the door, then back at you as though genuinely trying to understand why you had suddenly decided to disrupt something so established. "So why are you changing the rules now? Because if there's a new rule where you're allowed to just walk away without saying it back, I feel like somebody should've told me."
You'd probably be struggling not to laugh by then, which would only make him more suspicious. "Oh, you're laughing. Okay, so you are doing this on purpose." He'd follow you when you turned toward the door again, continuing to talk almost entirely because he couldn't stand leaving the situation unresolved.
He'd eventually catch your hand before you could leave, his fingers closing around yours as he gave you a mildly exasperated look. Once he realized you were only teasing him, Lohen would visibly relax, letting out a breath that sounded suspiciously like he'd been holding it.
The moment you finally laughed and told him you loved him, his expression would immediately soften into a relieved smile. "See? Was that so hard?" He'd give your hand a little squeeze before pulling you into a quick hug, though he'd probably keep talking even while doing it.
"Alright, go. Before you decide to 'traumatize' me like that again." He'd open the door for you, still grinning, only to call after you once you'd started walking away. "And I love you more, by the way. That's still part of the routine!"
summary — at this point, you were starting to think that lohen was looking forward to your time of the month.
themes — established relationship, period sex, missionary, porn with super light plot, creampie and orgasms, they're in love your honor ♡
WC: 1.3k | ao3
At this point, you were starting to think that Lohen was looking forward to your time of the month.
“What do you want me to do this time?” he asked, grinning so hard that you knew he could barely contain himself. “Eat you out? Fuck you? Finger you? You tell me, Bun.”
“Uh,” you said, giving him a smile while your hand pressed to his chest. “You’re pretty excited.”
“Well, it’s not every day I get to see you bleed,” Lohen chirped. “You look so pretty when it’s all over you.”
An odd compliment, but a compliment nonetheless. Rubbing his chest, you let out a soft laugh.
“I don’t really care for how it looks,” you said, “but it does feel good. I’m cramping, so…it helps.”
“Which is exactly why we do this. Primarily to alleviate the pain and suffering of my fairest lady.”
He kissed your brow, making you giggle again.
“Primarily,” you echoed.
“Uh-huh. The blood and sex is just an afterthought. Promise.”
Those hands of his were already working at your hips. He grabbed your ass with a firm squeeze, and when you shifted somewhat, you felt a gush of wetness between your legs. It was a bit embarrassing, but in the back of your mind you knew that the more blood there was, the better a time Lohen would have. It was a symbiotic affair—your cramps were eased and Lohen’s bloodlust was fed. When it came down to it, you could both reap the benefits.
“What do you want me to do?” he murmured, his voice low and rumbling into your ear. With another groping, tight squeeze of your ass beneath his palms, pulling your body further into his, he purred, “Tell me, pretty girl.”
You closed your eyes, smiling.
“Let’s get in bed,” you whispered.
The way he giggled made your face flush with heat.
“Ah, yeah,” Lohen whispered, his hands stroking the curve of your hips. “Look at that, Bun. Look at you all over me.”
Amidst your soft, breathy gasps, you turned your eyes to your pelvis. Lohen’s hips smacked into yours, wet and squelching with each plunge of his thick member. With every meet of your skin to his, a crimson color splattered itself further across his pale skin, staining him red with you.
“So pretty,” Lohen murmured, his blush nearly as red as the blood on his stomach. “Do you like it?”
The way he grinned made you whimper. Your brows arched across your forehead as you desperately nodded, pressing your hand to your lower abdomen. Not only were your menstrual cramps now nonexistent, but the rub of Lohen inside of you was making you weak.
He laughed, giving you a firm squeeze. With his red eyes trained on yours, he purred, “You’re turning me into a fuckin’ masterpiece, Bun.”
“Lohen,” you whispered back, your nails scratching across the surface of your stomach. Forming a tight fists right above your pelvis, you said, “That feels so good.”
“Oh, yeah?” he said, matching the softness of your voice with a hushed whisper of his own. “Would it feel better if I went faster or slower?”
“Faster,” you answered instantly, your face blazing with heat. “Faster, please.”
“No need to say please, Princess. You know you can get whatever you want from me.”
When he thrust into your harder, his skin smacking against yours in hot, wet bursts, you let out a shocked gasp. Lohen grinned at you, and with pleasured tears budding in your eyes, you whimpered, “Kiss me.”
No please from you, and no delay from him. He all but lurched over you, his hot mouth coming down onto yours like he was your only chance of salvation. Like his kisses were the only source of sustenance that could appease you, like the movement of his tongue across yours was your panacea. You furled yourself around him, hooking your arms and legs against his warm skin, and felt a hot tear roll down your cheek. Something about Lohen’s love for you always managed to grab hold of your emotions in these heated moments, and remind you of just how lucky you were to have him.
Lohen breathed hard through his nose. The way he fucked into you, stopping curtly afterwards, told you all you needed to know. When his mouth parted from yours, long eyelashes parted to reveal the lower half of his smoldering crimson eyes. He stared after you like he was in a drunken daze, giving you short, deep, and separated thrusts. Within you, you felt him twitching.
“You feel that?” he whispered, blinking lazily. “You did that, Bun. That’s yours.”
“Oh,” you whimpered, your nails digging into his back. “Lohen, please keep talking to me like that.”
“You don’t have to say please.” He lifted his hands to your face, continuing the motion of his hips as he throbbed within you. “I already told you I’d do anything for you, yeah? Just tell me to do something, and I’ll fuckin’ do it for you, Bun.”
“O-okay,” you answered shakily. “T-talk to me, then.”
“I’ll talk to you all you want,” he murmured, soft and slow. “Tell you about how you’re such a good girl. So warm…” Plap. “And wet…” Plap. “And tight for me.”
“Oh, God,” you sputtered, feeling the instinctive twitch of your hips up into his. “Lohen, I’m gonna cum.”
“Well,” he laughed, “that’s kind of the point, Princess.”
“Oh, fuck,” you whined, blinking rapidly as tears streamed down your face. Strong contractions wracked through your core—stronger than you usually felt when you weren’t menstruating. You could hardly even speak properly when you felt so euphoric, but there was always one word you could repeat like a mantra.
“Lohen,” you breathed, high-pitched and strained. You tucked your legs around his hips, pulling him into you. “Lohen. I feel so good.”
“Mm, yeah?” he murmured against your chin. “Do I make you feel good?”
“Yes,” you gasped, clawing at him. “Yes, Lohen, you do. I love you.”
He chuckled, saying, “I love you too, Bun.”
The sounds you made when you arched your back and tried to fuck back into him made the strength of your orgasm all that stronger. Lohen gave your jaw a playful bite, his teeth rubbing along your skin before being replaced by his hot tongue. You reached for a fistful of his hair, pulling it, and whined, “I love you so much.”
“I love you so much more,” he murmured, his breath rumbling against your chin. “You’re always so good for me, pretty girl.”
“Ah,” you gasped, “fuck.”
“You always look so pretty when you cum.”
“Fuck,” you repeated, your fingers in his hair grasping hard. “Lohen, don’t stop.”
The way he giggled was perverse—one of your favorite sounds when you needed it most. As you rode the wave of one orgasm after the other, practically fucking yourself on his half-hard dick, Lohen said, “Feels a lot better when you’re on your period, huh?”
“Yeah,” you sputtered, blinking rapidly. “It really does.”
He giggled again. “Maybe ‘cause your body knows it’s safe. Gotta make you feel extra good when you know you won’t be having my babies, right?”
With a hot moan, you fell back against the mattress. Your hand slackened against Lohen’s head, and as hot breaths entered and exited your parted lips, you stared up at him. He looked down on you with a toothy grin, but that blush of his told you all you needed to know.
“I wanna have your babies,” you whispered.
His eyes widened, the smile on his face turning a touch wider. Laughing somewhat nervously, he murmured, “It sounds so hot when you say it.”
You cracked a smile back at him. His lips parted for his bright grin.
“Wanna keep going?” he murmured. “Maybe roleplay a little bit? Like we’re actually trying?”
Coyly, you stroked your fingers along the hair at the nape of his neck. Giving him a playful look, you nodded.
“How about we try a more appropriate position?”
a/n: wrote this a while back when i was on my period lol. i will be writing a second part to this, though i don't currently have plans for when that may be!
anyway, if you liked what you read, please consider leaving a me a heart! (˶>⩊<˶) ♡ reblogs and comments appreciated!
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🍓Waiting for shop to reset so I decided to rank and evaluate how some genshin men (my favorites, sorry i’m biased) deal with jealousy. Quick answer is: Not well, lol. May do the women next, if there is demand.
Venti: 4/10
Venti has very little reason to be jealous, in fact, he kind of enjoys when others come onto you. Finds it funny. Encourages it at times. Sure he is possessive, but that plays into it a bit. He lets it go for a little while, only to come in when the other party thinks they’ve really got a chance and squash them all at once. You will likely not be privy to his annoyance with the other person, because he plays it off so well. However, you can get him pissed off if you lean into the flirting just a bit. In that case, he’ll make it very known to both you and your companion just how taken you are. Best prepare for a long night, my friend :)
Varka: 1/10
Sorry if this disappoints, guy doesn’t care. Most carefree, hands off man in the world. Someone’s flirting with you? Good! You’re fantastic! Really, why wouldn’t he want to share your wonderful smile with the world. Besides, everyone knows you’re the grandmasters partner. Think of it like him showing off, he doesn’t mind it at all so long as you come home with him. Though, sometimes, you’ll hear him admit that it bothers him just a bit. He knows your loyalties, but it’s hard when he has to share your attention sometimes. Just kiss him, his tail will start wagging and he’ll forget why he was upset in the first place.
Lohen: 5/10
He’s a bit of an odd case. On one hand, he has no doubt in his mind that you could do any better than him (egotistical freak). On the other, what’s up with all the testing his boundaries, don’t these people know who you’re with? Kinda stupid if you ask him. I doubt he gets all that jealous often, just annoyed that people are taking up your time when they don’t need to be. It’s not hard for him to scare them off, of course, so he’d never have any reason to do much about it… but still… you’re not on the market. Does he need to tattoo it on your forehead? Maybe a ring would work instead…
Tartaglia/Childe: 7/10
Chalk it up to his lack of emotional maturity, he gets jealous pretty easy, and he makes it well known to you and your little friend. Walks up behind you and makes it very obvious you are an item. A duo. Two peas in a pod. You get it buddy? Go away?? Still, he’s… nice enough about it. There’s a level of decorum he has… a level. It’s best to just pull him away quickly, or else he’ll get a little mean, and we don’t need this dog (fox?) barking do we?
Zhongli: 4/10
It may surprise you to see him be anything over a 2, but I believe old man’s still got it. Of course, he’s fairly chill, and he’s not the type to worry about anything like that too much. But, he does know what a prize you are. You caught the eye of the lord of geo, that little mark on your wrist proves it, you’re special. Others most certainly will agree, so he has to be wary. When he does have to “confront” an issue… he does so, so smoothly, you and the other party hardly realize he’s moved the conversation to another topic. Gramps still got that smoothness.
Kazuha: 2/10
Are we surprised guys. Kazuha wouldn’t bat an eye to any stranger you’re talking to, only gets concerned if they seem aggressive. He’s a gentle soul, and he knows what your relationship is. You can hold your own, and you’ll say no if you need to. You’re not an object to covet, you’re a person. His person. So no need to worry about anything like that. Still… he’s a little more willing to step in than Varka if he feels someone is being too pushy. Checks on you subtly, and watches the interaction with a careful eye. Just in case.
Tighnari: 7/10
You absolutely have to hear me out on him I’m begging. He’s a fairly laid back person, I don’t think he gets jealous often and he doesn’t mind strangers being a little friendly with you or you back to them. However, why I put him so high, is when he does get jealous? He’s insufferable. Blame it on genetics or whatever, but when he gets that itch in the back of his skull, he has to scratch it. Very much a “I’m part of this conversation now and I’m going to remind you about ten times that this is my partner and they’re not interested oh did i tell you this i my partner yet?” kind of guy. Also a little more touchy than usual. It’s embarrassing as hell, but it’s just how he is. You smile and laugh it off, so it can’t be so bad in the end.
Cyno: 4/10
*Points behind me* This guy, amirite? Cyno is less jealous more naturally protective. He always eyes new people around you with caution until he’s sure they’re not a threat to your wellbeing. That being said, the flirting tends to just be dismissed as harmless in his eyes. So what if they’re interested, so was he. He made the move, they didn’t. …They better not. He’ll keep an eye on them just a little longer, to make sure… Yeah, you might have to get this guy to chill a little. He’s (mostly) harmless, but that endless glare freaks everyone around you out.
Kaveh: 10000000000/10
Hates sharing your attention so much, oh my god he’s pathetic. He doesn’t really have much to call his own, but you are his partner, therefore he gets to be a little jealous about the people who approach you. He’s not subtle, though he thinks he is. Sliding up against you, cuddling you into his side with a huffy little glare. It’s so funny, like an angry little rabbit. Don’t tease him, though, he won’t like that. (Alhaitham points it out every time he does it, and every single time it starts a “fight”)
Wriothesley: 6/10
He’s not outward with it, but he gets jealous pretty easily. As the person he is, he feels there are things he can’t provide you with. Sun, being the main one, but among other things. So, when he sees a relatively normal guy with a normal house and a normal job in the regular old city… he gets a little nervous. Of course, you’d never do that to him. But… well… he wouldn’t blame you for wanting a normal life. Just kind of watches the interacting with a patient stare, smiles at you when you’re done. He won’t mention it unless you notice, but he’s honest too. Figures it’s better you know than not. Give him a hug, won’t you…?
Neuvillette: 9/10
Doesn’t clock that he’s jealous, that bothers him more. Unnamed emotion he doesn’t understand haunting him like a goddamn ghost. He just knows he doesn’t like when the secretary touches your shoulder, or when the cafe owner speaks to you in such a soft affectionate voice. Never asserts himself either, just stands by and watches… wondering why he’s so… irritated by the sight. When he finally asks Wriothesley, it bothers him even more to know he is jealous. Jealous of what? You are already his. But, unfortunately, emotion doesn’t like his logic, so he stews in his jealousy quietly until your attention is back on him.
Ifa: 5/10
True Neutral. Does get jealous, doesn’t like to act on it. He’s got a good head on his shoulders, he’s not gonna cause a scene over a little friendliness. Again, he’s the type to sit on the side and watch with a passive expression. Waits for you to come back to him, then he’ll tell you he didn’t really like that person. If they keep you too long, he’ll make himself part of the conversation, but won’t do much else unless they’re touchy or pushy. Pretty relaxed and mature about it, all things considered.
Kinich: 1/10
I don’t think he thinks about it. I mean like, really. I don’t think he cares enough about the other person to really consider them a “threat” of any kind. He might recognize “Hey that’s a weird thing to say,” but if it doesn’t bother you it doesn’t bother him. Usually him just being there is enough to scare the other person off. His stare is intense when paired with his silence. Still, if they’re being too pushy, he’ll just bluntly ask what exactly they’re doing and why. Pretty effective for scaring the rest off.
Flins: 3/10
I think he would find “jealousy” a funny feeling, if he felt it much at all. Very much the type to stand to the side in bemusement of the offender. His eyes crinkle in this creepy way as he does, simply observing with delight as you give them nothing to work with. Of course, as anyone does, he doesn’t like seeing others flirt with you… but you can handle your own. And if you can’t? Don’t worry, Flins is more than able to spook any strangers from your side. All as long as you turn your pretty, praise filled smile his way.
Dottore: 9/10
Feels the jealousy, doesn’t like to acknowledge it. As I said before, I don’t believe he gets jealous all that often, because he genuinely believes he is the most superior partner for you… But when he does, he’s quite nasty about it. He’s never above underhanded tactics to get your other suitor away from you. He’ll play the long game, just to see how much hope he can give them before it’s squashed without a second thought. Very much will limit your “freedoms” (aka, get in your way when you have plans by distracting or other methods) just enough to feel you and the other party separate. He’s not much for sharing outside of himself and a special someone else.
✦ Insecure!Lohen whom you'd frequently find looking into the mirror absentmindedly, eyes tracing over every curve and edge of his face. His eyes would then fall to his clothes, a sort of cast down and dejected expression plastered on his face. If he caught you noticing, which he did most of the time, he would quickly look away and awkwardly cough while patting down his clothes as though pretending the vulnerability you had just managed to witness was something you had imagined entirely.
✦ Insecure!Lohen who would deny any form of insecurity if you ever confronted him about it; deflecting it with teasing or a joke.
-> 'Me- insecure? Bun- come on.'
-> 'Sounds like someone's jealous-'
✦ Insecure!Lohen who asks himself every night if he's good enough to be with you. Sometimes he suffers from insomnia- which he would rather die than admit- but on such sleepless nights he gets plagued by thoughts of you leaving him for someone much stronger and much more powerful than he is. In the morning he still stares at you sleeping and slowly reaches for your hand, still wondering why you would choose him of all people.
✦ Insecure!Lohen who is very self conscious. If a situation plays out during the day where he feels nervous or second guesses himself, he repeats it at least a hundred times in his head, leading to hours just blankly staring into space while you try and get his attention.
-> 'Lohen- are you okay? You've been staring at your breakfast for over 20 minutes- don't tell me my cooking is that awful.'
✦ Insecure!Lohen who feels judged when you walk down the streets of Mondstadt together. He's aware of what people think about him and, next to you, he feels as though everyone is just waiting for you to leave him for someone better. If you ever happen to notice him shying away, you make sure to squeeze his hand thrice, reminding him that no matter what, you'll aways be there for him.
✦ Insecure!Lohen who gets jealous extremely quickly. However, instead of charging in and dramatically addressing it, he would pull away and distance himself; believing that you would be better off with someone else. It's only when you finally reach out to him that he expresses himself- leading to entire evenings of you just holding him in bed while he lists his worries to you.
