neuvillettesadmirer

[neuvillettesadmirer]

A Sweet Breakfast Meal Just For You!!

Pairings : Dr Ratio , Boothill , Sunday , Argenti, Blade , Jing Yuan , Aventurine x GN Reader

Warnings : Pure Fluff , Mentions of Kisses , Little angst Aventurine's part (if you squint real hard) Reader being a little flirty , Not proofread!

| Synopsis — You have been skipping your breakfast recently due to your entire focus being set on work. And your boyfriend took immediate notice of it. He knew you weren't in the mood to eat anything and didn't force you to do so either. One morning, he decides to take the matter into his own hands. You’re his beloved, his guiding star, his life—and apparently, a danger to your own health. Unacceptable. And now, you have a fresh and beautifully breakfast meal just for you.

Author's Note; Greetings my starsss *cutely disappears again* hehe don't worry,I was kidding..(or was l?) I hope you enjoy this silly drabble;3 and also! Don't forget to drink your water and eat your meals on time oki? (Or else l will personally come and feed you.)

•[ Dr Ratio •]

— Veritas doesn’t do anything so basic and plain as a shake to get you awake. No, no. This is a man of calculated pettiness and quietly unspoken affection we are talking about.

He starts by sitting at the edge of the bed, elbow propped on one knee, staring down at your sleeping face like he’s analyzing a specimen that forgot to eat three days in a row. Then slowly, he moves closer to you and—a soft kiss is placed onto your temple. Another to your jaw and one to your forehead. He leans back—taking note of your still sleeping face, Veritas hesitates but leans down once again. Placing a long, suspiciously tender one onto your lips (he will deny it if asked).

And finally, in a voice dry and unimpressed, “Wake up, love. I’ve done something... wholesome. Try not to faint.” when he notices it doesn’t stir you, he’ll pinch your cheek softly and mutter, “You’re really testing how far my benevolence stretches. Get up before it gets cold.” You groan, swatting at his hands and turn to your right side—back faced to him as you murmur about something related to work. Veritas raises an eyebrow, but he couldn't help but crack a chuckle at your sleep talking—that actually (and finally) got you to lift your eyelids. You rub at your eyes with balled fists, “Veritas? What are you doing?..” your voice was groggy and still thick with sleep, the man before you could only tilt his head and kiss your cheek. “Get up. I have prepared something that you have been lacking for a while.” His hand grabs your arm, effortlessly making you sit up. You whine—still half dazed from sleep. But, nevertheless you sat up straight—stretching yourself as a soft yawn escapes you. Veritas has long descended to get the thing he had made for you.

After a few minutes, he returns. You look to him, hair still tousled from yesterday night, nightwear mildly messed up and eyelids barely able to hold themselves up. Veritas simply smiles at your state. He walks in with a wooden tray in his hands, like he’s about to deliver evidence in a courtroom. Back straight, expression unreadable. Then he sets it down with flair on your lap, one brow raised as if he's giving you a rare privilege. “Breakfast, courtesy of your favorite genius. Before you ask—yes, I cooked it. No, it’s not poisoned. Unless you count love as a deadly toxin.” You opened your mouth to question him but, he's already answered you before you could even form them—a smile tugs at your lips, “This is so sweet of you Veritas. ” you smile softly at him, tugging the sleeve of his shirt to bring him closer to you. Ratio huffs and eye rolls dramatically, “It had come to my attention you have been neglecting your nutrition.” he states clinically, however he cannot help but blush as you press warm a “thank you” kiss on his cheek.

“Go on. Eat now—do not complain to me if it has already gone cold.” he moves away, just a little so that your attention is on the food now. “Okay okay genius.” You chuckle—he watches you with that smug tilt of his mouth as, if daring you to say it’s anything less than incredible that's placed in front of you. Your gaze shifts to the freshly made breakfast on your lap. The tray is neat, color-coordinated, and aesthetically satisfying. He might pretend he doesn’t care about presentation, but his precision shows; Fluffy folded omelet with finely chopped chives and a light sprinkle of cheese. Golden-brown pancakes stacked neatly together in the middle of the tray, with tiny strawberry hearts on top (don't ask how he cut them like that, he won't tell you). On the side, there's a fresh fruit salad in a tiny glass cup—kiwi, mango, pomegranate, all cut into even cubes. And we cannot forget everyone's beloved caffeine. A latte was on the right side up on the tray, frothed and warm, with a poorly-attempted heart shape in the foam (he will never admit he practiced it 6 times). A tiny silver spoon, napkin, and even a tiny card folded in half next to your drink. You tilt your head—deciding to read it. Inside it, in perfectly neat handwriting, it says,

“Eat. Or I shall lecture you for an hour on malnutrition and irrational workaholism.”

—Yours, Ratio.

You chuckle—taking a bite out of the pancakes, savouring each bite with a happy smile, “Wow...l never knew you could be this good at cooking.” You comment, Ratio only hums in response—he freezes when he hears your next words, “You truly are a housewife aren't you?” Ratio side eyes you, raising his eyebrow at “housewife” but only a quiet chuckle escapes him, “i'll take that as a compliment. Thank you very much.” You giggle, eating solemnly while enjoying his presence. And just for a second, everything in the background hums into a blur—only leaving him in your line of vision clearly, a very noticeable but absent smile sits at his lips while he watches you eat. With a gaze that softens each time you take a bite. “Next time, don’t make me go full domestic. It’s exhausting.” Veritas comments, crossing his arms—you only roll your eyes in a playful manner, lifting the fork up with a generous piece of pancake and fruit stabbed onto it. “Here.” You smile, lifting it up to his lips and for a brief moment—he lets himself be dumbfounded. He blinks, looking down at the bite your offering. After a few seconds, he takes it from your fork with a smug smirk and, say while chewing on it softly,“Hm. Not bad. Must be the company.” you chuckle and continued to eat.

For once—you forget all of your worries and, work specifically, the only thing your focused on—is the soft clatter of the fork touching the plate and, the pleasant hums Ratio gives you. The morning starts quietly but, beautifully—along with your lover.

•[ Boothill •]

— Boothill is NOT a “kiss-you-awake” kind of man nor is he a man who aggressively shakes you to life from Dreamland either. He ain’t soft nor aggressive like that...Except he is actually soft, secretly, just...real bad at showing it.

Boothill stands in the doorway, arms crossed, hat discarded somewhere, looking at you like you’re a damn feral kitten he’s been stuck with. Then, muttering under his breath like it’s a crime to care, “Alrighty, sunshine. Rise an’ shine. I went an’ cooked somethin’. Don’t make me haul your sorry hide outta bed to feed you like a sick horse.” he continues to stare at you when there's no response, tilting his head as you only groan. And proceed to roll over and not move. He sighs. Loudly but, not in an annoyed way, but it's like that “ how on earth are you able to sleep like the dead? ” kinda way. Then—he just walks over to your side, grumbles something like “Damn fool’s gonna make me go soft”, and pulls you into his lap. You groan, still being asleep—he allows you to sit there, all sleepy, grumpy and floppy against his metal chest. He mutters, real low, like he’s talking to his gun, “Ain’t right you skippin’ meals. You keep starvin’ yourself, I’m gonna have to start feedin’ you myself. Open mouth and everythin’.” He smirks slightly—you freeze. That woke you up, didn’t it?

You very reluctantly lift your eyelids,“Really Boothill?...teasing me like this in the morning?" You sleepily accuse, Boothill chuckles, gutteral and mechanical. “At least give me a morning kiss before you start your shenanigans..” you grumble, pulling him down as you held his red scarf tight in your hand. Your lips briefly met—and the cyborg's entire system heats up at such little contact. “Needy aren't ya?” he mumbles against your lips, voice breathy and warm, you only hum. He parts himself away from you, “Alright, enough chit-chattin' sit up for me ya? Imma go get somethin' ” he adjusts you to sit, you whine—still feeling sleepy but you somehow support yourself to stay up. Though, you were a bit slouched from the grogginess of sleep, but you couldn't help but feel a bit curious, as to what he has made for you.

A few minutes pass, and Boothill walks in—hands occupied with a tray of food. He just plops the tray of food down onto your lap and, gives you this little side-eye like he’s embarrassed to have hands capable of cooking, instead of just killing, “There. Eat it ‘fore I change my mind and give it to the crows.” You playfully scoff—looking down at the tray, almost squealing in happiness, “Boothill, how'd you know I was craving toast?” You ask, a hint of teasing being voiced through your tone—tilting your head to the side in the way, that makes his knees go weak and system to flare up. He only rolls his eyes and looks away, the tip of his ears kissed by a red blush. You giggle at his reaction, eyes shifting to the food now—Boothill is surprisingly.. practical but oddly thoughtful. Three thick slabs of toast, stacked on a bit smaller plate, slightly burned, but buttered and honey-drizzled. (“That’s how my Ma did it,” he mutters softly.) Scrambled eggs on the side, overcooked just a little, but seasoned with whatever the hell he found that wasn’t gunpowder. Pan-fried potatoes, crispy at the edges, a little spicy. (You know he added some mystery pepper like a madman.) and your caffeine—a cup of black coffee, strong enough to melt iron. And lastly, A side of jerky because he doesn’t trust “them city folk fruits.”

And get this—

There’s a single wildflower shoved into the napkin like he’s not trying to be cute but failed spectacularly. If you call it “sweet,” he’ll scowl, turn away, and growl, “It was on the windowsill. Weren’t plannin’ nothin’. Don’t read into it.” (He absolutely planned it.) You eat, and almost ascended for how lovely it tasted—the burnt taste surprisingly adds an authentic flavour to it. In a still 99% consciousness and 1% asleep state, you jokingly say, “Mm, these taste divine. But l bet you would taste diviner instead.” You almost choked when Boothill freezes—snapping his head to look at you, flabbergasted at your boldness, jaw hung low as his eyes were wider than saucers, “Excuse me?!” His face burns bright pink, you could practically hear his poor gears go on fire—but you didn't stop. “What? Once in a while l would also like to see you being served on a platter for me.” ...Boothill did not know how to react to that—not to mention, he couldn't even tell if it was a threat or cheesy pick up line.

Boothill doesn't leave however—instead he leans against the bedframe with his arms crossed, pretending he’s just “monitorin’” you but, really just wants to make sure you’re okay. His gaze lingers on your face longer than necessary and, you definitely notice it. Out of the blue, he suddenly states, “If you say ‘thank you’ I’ll shoot you.” (he won't.) you look up at him—having your own playfulness displayed on your face, you lift the fork up to his lips—a generous piece of toast and jerky on it, completely aware he's not able to digest human food but—hey, never hurts to try. He narrows his eyes. Pauses for a moment. And then bites your fingers, a little too close, to make you squeak. “Told ya. I’ll feed you if you don’t behave.” you huff dramatically, yanking your hand back and taking the food into your mouth.

And just for a moment, your shoulders eased from the stress and tension from work—quietly enjoying the presence of your lover and the aroma of a slightly burnt but, delicious breakfast.

•[ Sunday •]

— Sunday is far too gentle to wake you with anything less than utter reverence.

No shaking. No sternness. Just soft, reverent devotion.

He draws open the thick curtains slightly—just enough for a sliver of golden light to touch your sleeping face. Then he sits beside you on the bed, brushing your messy hair away from your cheek with his fingers, cool and delicate. His voice is low, like velvet, “Darling, the morning awaits you... and I’ve prepared something I hope will remind you that you are worth slowing down for.” You make a tiny sound, something that's similar to a snore and groan—it was small but effective, Sunday's wings fluttered as he smiles at you. He leans down, presses a kiss to your eyelid, your temple, your collarbone—like prayers of sacred promises. You groan—eyebrows knitting together as you murmur sleepily about something that has work involved, Sunday raises an eyebrow. He whispers into the shell of your ear, “Your deadlines can wait. My affection, however, is already plated.” You turn your head to the other side—but he only places a hand on your cheek, diverting you to face him again. His thumb traces lazy patterns on your cheek, and your eyelids lift at the sensation, “Sunday? What are you doing...?” You voice was hoarse from sleep, you rub at your eyes as he only gracefully chuckles. “Good morning dear. I have prepared something for you.” he informs, you can only sleepily “huh?” him before he presses a soft kiss onto your lips—catching you off guard for a second for the soft feel of his lips.

His hand raises, signaling the person outside to step in—you assume it was a polite helper, you great them a quiet “morning..” and they greet you back with a smile. He guides you to sit up and lean against the headboard, he sets down a linen napkin across your lap. The person hands the tray of food into Sunday's hands and bows—exiting the room right after. Sunday gives you a smile as he looks at your still sleep dazed state, looking at him like a kitten who was shaken away from their well deserved nap. The tray is kept onto your lap—it's heavy, gold-rimmed, and he lights a single white candle at the side of the bed for ambience.

There is no sarcasm. No smugness. Just full-eyed sincerity. “Forgive me for the presumption.. but I couldn’t bear the thought of you going hungry again.” Sunday admits, his eyes misted with slight guilt. You chuckle, although his worried expression doesn't waver the least,“Its not a big deal you know?” Your eyes form into a crescent shape and you smile at him. His hand comes to cup your own in his, “I'm aware. But, please—do let me nourish you. Body and spirit alike. Just for today.” He tucks the napkin underneath the tray in tenderly to make sure there won't be any food spilled onto you—and he pours the drink into your cup like he’s performing a sacred ritual. Your nostrils were hit with the aroma of the freshly made food, you hum happily. “Did you really do all of this? For me?” You tease him, his wings flutter for a second—his eyes glanced away from you, cheeks burning a light pink. “Yes..now you should focus on nourishing yourself my dear.” He coughs—trying his best to change the subject, you grin at his flustered state. One of your hands reach out and touches his feathers, your touch sending a jolt of surprise through him as he stares at you wide-eyed and face red. But, you notice the way he subtly leans in. “Darling.. please stop with the teasing, the food will go cold.” You whine when he takes a hold of your hand—but reluctantly oblige.

Your eyes fall down—the breakfast is immaculate, obviously. Sunday doesn’t do “casual” food. Served in a tiny porcelain ramekin, was eggs en cocotte—soft, baked eggs with truffle oil and a hint of cream. Next to it—was freshly baked croissants, warm and buttery, with a thin, crispy shell that shatters perfectly when broken. One has a delicate rose petal resting atop it and you knew he was just being dramatic. And fruit compote with edible gold flakes(he says he thought it’d look nice on it—definitely not because he was trying to exaggerate it). And lastly—tea brewed with lavender and honey, poured into a porcelain cup that matches the bedding, because of course it does. And a single rose in a crystal vase on the tray for the aesthetics. It’s the same shade as your favorite color. He trimmed the stem himself.

“Its beautiful, just like you.” You hum—taking a bite from the baked eggs, and wow you haven't tasted such good eggs in your entire lifetime. Sunday's wings stutter for a second, a soft “Thank you..” emits from him, eagerly waiting for something to catch your attention. Your eyes landed on something—effectively catching your focus.

Tucked beside your plate, there’s a soft linen card in calligraphy that reads,

“To my sun-kissed morning,

May this be the first moment today where you remember that you are loved.”

Ever yours, Sunday.

You pause—fork still pressing at your lips with a bite of food. It seems you’re too flustered to speak, and Sunday feels his pride ignite. He just smiles, that calm, devastating smile of his, and brushes your fingers with his own—guiding your hand which was holding the fork to rest down. “Eat slowly. I want to watch you enjoy every bite.” Now it's his time to tease you—he tilts his head to the side, wings ruffling just enough for your breath to hitch and his expression? Straight up “>;3”

You cough, but he continues, “After all... you’re the most beautiful part of this meal—” You immediately shove the bite of food into his mouth to shut him up, and to prevent him from making you have a heart attack right in the morning. He only smiles happily, chomping down onto the delicious food.

As you proceed on with the gourmet of food Infront of you. Everything blurs into a comfortable silence—a soft instrumental soundtrack playing in the background was heard softly—like silent whispers of something you couldn't decipher. Your shoulders visibly relax—with the presence of your beloved.

[• Agrenti ]•

— To be honest—he doesn’t want to disturb your rest..but he also can’t bear the thought of you going another day without eating properly all because of this work thing.

So he starts with the gentlest touch.

He sits on the edge of the bed, next to your head—brushing your hair back with warm fingers. His eyes soften at your sleeping form—his hand takes a hold of your own and brings it up to his lips. He tenderly kisses your knuckles like you’re royalty still sleeping in a palace. You make a noise, something mixed with a snore and delighted sound. Agrenti can't help but smile as he lovingly gazes upon you—he murmurs against your skin, voice low and soft like a prayer, “My love, it’s morning. I’ve prepared something for you... Would you honor me by waking up and sharing it with me?”

He doesn’t rush you when you don't stir awake with his words. He’s patient. He waits. He doesn't nudge you or groan—if anything, he just leans in and rests his forehead against yours, his long crimson hair envelopes around you like a curtain. Whispering once again—his voice sugar-coated with honey, “Please, don’t make me worry again. Your well-being is the rhythm of my world.” You groan—blinking yourself alive, slowly and carefully. His eyes meet yours—full of pure adoration and raw devotion. You felt your soul almost jump from your body when you were met with such a sight—but with the help of his gentle kiss on your forehead made your heartbeat go normal. “Good morning my beloved.” He chirps at you, you smile sleepily,“Morning Agrenti..” You sit up, stretching yourself as a yawn escapes you. Agrenti chuckles, the sound rumbling from his chest,“I made breakfast for you. I do hope you enjoy it.” He informs, standing up with a smile. You blink. But only smile ever so widely as he descends do the kitchen.

His voice alone could feed your soul, let’s be honest.

Your fully awake by the time Agrenti arrives—solemnly resting against the headboard as you wait for the arrival of your beloved knight. The second you catch the sniff of roses—you know he's already here. This man carries the breakfast tray in like he’s delivering divine tribute to a celestial being (because you are, to him). You couldn't help but chuckle at his grand entrance, “Awe—Agrenti, this is so sweet of you!” He smiles softly, he kneels beside the bed to present it to you like a knight pledging his life. A silk cloth is draped over your lap, tucked in gently and the tray is carefully placed over your lap—handling it with such reverence you'd think you were royalty. “I may not be a gourmet, but I have poured my entire soul into this morning’s offering. Please, accept it.” He sits by your side, eyes full of hopeful warmth, waiting for your reaction like it's a sacred rite. You look at the food presented before you, cheeks filling with warmth,“It looks mesmerising, Agrenti. I suppose since your such a beautiful knight—you'd cook beautiful foods as well.” You tease—Agrenti's eyes widen slightly, but he teases back, “The best shall always be served for my moonlight. The food will go cold if you don't eat now—or shall l feed you?” You giggle at his cheesy comment.

Your attention is now on the food. Well..Agrenti being the chef, you know well It’s aesthetic. It’s elegant. It’s very (demure, very mindful) Argenti; full of care, a touch old-fashioned, but sincere and beautiful. The flowers arranged in a tiny vase makes your heart warm at the thought of him trimming and decorating them, for you. The food however, makes you feel even more warm inside. Herb omelet with soft goat cheese, folded perfectly, a sprig of rosemary on top like a decorative flourish. Buttered croissant, still warm, flakey and soft, with a tiny pot of honey and a dish of fruit preserves. A few fresh strawberries carved into roses (yes he did that, yes it took him forever, yes he'll do it again just for you). And last but not the least—Chamomile and honey tea in a porcelain cup with gold trim. And a tiny chocolate truffle next to the folded napkin with embroidered corners. When he's asked about it, he says “you deserve a sweet start.” Of course you had to flirt with him, saying “I don't think so—because, your kisses are the only sweet starts for my mornings.” the look on his face was absolutely priceless—his eyes wide and cheeks kissed with a soft red enought to rival his signature ruby hair. For once—the charming knight lets himself be the one to be charmed. He coughs into his fist, avoiding your dreamy eyes, “it may be simple, but I swear on my honor, it was made with love.” he shyly looks at you, you immediately object, “Simple? Agrenti, you beauty-kissed menace—don't you dare say that. This is far from simple. And I absolutely love it.” He opens his mouth to say something—but closes it when you press your finger onto his lips. Hushing him effectively.

You grab the spoon—but notice a handwritten note beside it, reading,

“My beloved, you deserve every comfort and care. May your strength return with each bite, and your smile stay with me always.”

—Forever yours, Argenti

You chuckle—taking the note and placing it in the drawer, where there were some other lovely notes written by your knight. You would store them safe with you, because reading his words is enough for you to regain your energy for the week. You keep all things aside now, taking a generous bite from the herb omelette—the moment the omelette touches your tongue, it dissolves and leaves a splendid aftertaste behind. You hum in delight at the flavour—and Agrenti's entire soul lights up. “I truly love this. The flavour is wonderful.” You compliment, stuffing your mouth with the buttery croissant, he smiles widely. “Truly? Then I shall rise early every morning, if only to see you begin your day in peace.” You chuckle at his words—taking a generous amount of food into your utensil and lift it up to his lips. Ushering him to try the food, and he looks genuinely touched. He happily takes the bite in his mouth, muttering “To be nourished by your hands... What greater gift is there?” He leans in to kiss the corner of your lips—but you turned your head instantly and pressed your lips against his. He chuckles at your cute antics.

You take your time savouring the food. And with each bite, you feel yourself relax from the stiffness of work. And just—bask in the presence of your beloved.

[• Blade ]•

— Blade doesn’t shower you in kisses—no. He doesn’t know what to do with softness like that. But he does it in his own way.

He sits silently on the bed like he’s been there for a while, like a forgotten shadow residing in the corner of a room. His presence is quiet. Brooding. His slender, and slightly roughed fingers brushes the edge of the blanket you were currently wrapped in. His gaze lingers on you for a bit longer, like he's trying to memorize your face into his soul. His calloused hand finds your cheek, you scrunch your nose up a bit at the sensation. His thumb brushes under your eye with rough care. He felt a bit of warmth ignite within him when his hand rests on your soft skin—in a low, gravel-soft voice, “Wake up. I brought something.” you groan, and roll over to the other side—going back to sleep. Blade's shoulders slump at your lack of reaction, but he doesn't seem annoyed—never. He leans in closer, lips next to your ear—voice a bit more commanding, but still quiet, “Get up. You skipped dinner yesterday. Again.” his hand grabs your chin, making you face him—the kiss he gives you is not light—it’s slow and possessive, almost annoyed. Not at you. At the way you refuse to care for yourself unless he intervenes. You groan, your eyelids stutter for a second and lift up,“Blade..?..what are you doing..?” Your voice was thick with sleep, blade only narrows his eyes at you in a way that's like “Are you serious?”

He straightens himself, “Sit up. I'll be back in a while.” Nothing more is said, and he walks away to the kitchen—leaving you, sleepy and lost like you went through fifteen dimensions in the span of a minute. You stretch yourself and yawn—siting up and fixing your bed hair, “Wonder what he's got in store for me.” You cheekily say, chuckling to yourself. A few minutes pass and you hear him approaching, the smell of something freshly made greeting your senses.

Blade’s not the “ta-da~” type. He sets the tray beside you onto the small nightstand—but there’s something almost reverent about it. Like he doesn’t quite know how to say “I care” without gritting his teeth—so he had cooked it instead. He covers your lap with a cloth and places it gently onto you—and just says, “Eat.”

You look surprised—maybe even flabbergasted at what he presented to you right now. Blade? Cooking meals? For you? Oh you know you lived well and was blessed by the aeons to experience this. You chuckle, “It seems the stellaron has grown soft now, isn't he?” You tease him for it, his eyes narrow at your comment. His arms cross over his chest, looking down at you with that signature dead eyes of his—that always light up for a second when he sees you, “Don’t start. You don’t know how close I was to force-feeding you while you slept.” It sounded like a threat, it was meant to scare you—but it's effect only made you smile. “Mhm—totally.” You tease again, shifting a bit to fully lean onto the headboard behind you—holding the tray carefully in your hands, “Thank you though—i haven't had a home cooked meal in ages.” You catch the way his shoulders relax at your soft words of affection and gratitude. His gaze softens for just a second.

And then he looks away. Tch.

You giggle at his slight embarrassment, noticing how his ears turn a soft pink. Your eyes hover over to the tray of food sitting on your lap, waiting to be noticed.

It’s warm. Heavy. Comfort food.

He’s not trying to impress you with plating or decorations—he’s trying to fill you up. Make you feel safe. A warm smile tugs at your lips—your heart skipping a few beats at the thought of Blade doing this—for you. He noticed how you're overworked. Skipping meals. Running on fumes and spite. And he takes care of it in his own caring way. You feel the way your cheeks heat up, how your lower abdomen is feels with warmth, and the thumping of your heart against your chest. A bowl of steaming congee with thinly sliced pork, ginger, scallions—perfectly hot and soul-healing (he stood over the stove at 6 a.m. making sure it didn’t burn. He won't admit it if you ask.) A side of tea eggs, peeled with maddening precision. And some warm oolong tea in your favorite mug—the one with the chipped handle you refuse to throw away and a very suspiciously similar cat that looked like blade was on it. And lastly—a single piece of sweet lotus cake on the side. He won’t say why. He just remembered you liked it once, offhandedly. His voice catches your attention, “You are not dying before me. Not from something so stupid as starvation.” He softly scolds you, you can only give him a lopsided smile—chuckling to yourself.

There's no fanfare. No garnish. Just thoughtful choices and quiet devotion. And next to the tray sits a folded cloth napkin. On top of it, your phone lays—powered off.

He already took it. So you couldn’t check messages or work. Before you could ask why he powered off your phone, he interrupts you, “Eat first. Everything else can wait. Or I’ll make it wait.” You part your lips to object—but you immediately shut them when he glares at you, sharply. Like he's daring you to die before him and ass what happens. A soft sigh escapes you—taking ahold of the spoon and sipping the congee.

And the entire time you're eating—solemnly enjoying the way the flavours dance on your tongue and how refreshed you feel. He sits beside you, back restinq against the headboard, his pinky brushing yours. Watching. Not saying much.

Until you finish. Fully recovered from all the stress you have been carrying,“I feel so energised—thank you for making this. I really appreciate it..” You smile happily, letting your head rest on his shoulder—Blade freezes for a second, and softens again. And he murmurs, “...Good. Maybe now I won’t have to watch you waste away like some withering flower.”

But there's a small crack in his voice. And his hand curls around yours.

And stays there.

[• Jing Yuan ]•

— He wakes you the way a soft breeze passes through silk curtains.

First, you feel the gentle weight of his hand brushing along your cheek. Teasing your soft skin with affection—then, you smell the faint scent of something warm and sweet—honey and roasted chestnut, you assume. But you didn't bulge awake at the delightful smell—soft snoring emitting from you. You feel the subtle way the bed shifts under his weight, he's leaning down. And a kiss is pressed on your forehead, slow and affectionate. You make a noise—almost inaudible, but it catches his ears. Jing yuan smirks—his voice, a rumble against your ear, velvet and amused, “If you keep skipping meals, I’ll have to start personally feeding you. Are you trying to test how doting I can be?” A moment of silence pass—you shift, your consciousness starting to take over you now. And just when you flutter your eyes open, he smiles—tired eyes soft, golden hair a bit tousled, still in his sleep robe, but brighter than ever like the star he was. His hand caresses your cheek carefully,“Jing yuan?” you call his name, and he hums. You sleepily blink, and the man before just smiles—the kind where it's real and filled with fondness.

“Good morning, little one. I’ve brought peace offerings.” you rub at your eyes,“Peace offerings...?” You repeat, confused. You support yourself to sit up, with the help of Jing yuan guiding your still weak body to lean against the headboard. “Be a dear and wait for me. I shall return soon.” He finishes his sentence with a kiss to your temple, you chuckle as he stands and, leaves. It wasn't long until he returns, hands occupied with his present for you.

He doesn’t do theatrics. He delivers it like a lover spoiling his favorite thing in the world—and you are, his favourite thing. He walks over—well, practically glides over to you to be honest. Tray in one hand, and the other smoothing the covers over your lap. You tilt your head to the side, “What's this for?” you ask, confused. Jing yuan looks up to meet your eyes, “You work too hard. So I thought.. let me handle things for once.” He sets it down gently, then pulls up a cushion to sit beside you on the bed, like he has all the time in the universe. Because when it’s about you? He does.

“Jing yuan” You chuckle, looking at the beautiful meal in front of you, “You really didn't have to..after all—l'm the one who's supposed to apologize for making you worry.” You say, but, he just chuckles. “Ah, but I wanted too.” He leans in, breath ghosting over your face like a soft breeze, “Let me take care of you this time.” You cheeks heat up at his words—eyes avoiding his, as you stammer your words. You shake your head, “Okay, let's focus on the food—and not the man who's beside that keeps on seducing me with just breathing!” You think, nodding to yourself as you look at the food.

You better believe this is high-effort homely decadence. Jing Yuan is a man of luxury and softness—he cooks with care, and lord your absolute blessed to have even look upon this gourmet of food.

Congee infused with chicken stock, scallion, ginger—he’s even added tender pork slices and a soft-boiled egg, just the way you like. On the side: pickled veggies in a delicate flower-shaped dish, and a bao bun filled with custard, shaped vaguely like a lion (he saw it at a street stall once and recreated it because he thought it’d make you smile. It effectively did and he can die a happy man.). And lastly—lotus seed and red date tea, warm and faintly sweet, so that was the scent you smelt earlier. It was served in a porcelain cup that he keeps just for you. But there was one thing you noticed when you sipped the steaming conges. A small flower rests on the edge of the lacquered tray, probably one he picked himself during his morning walk. And yes, there's a cloth napkin—he folded it. Into a bunny. And you freaking adore him for that. And you also comment on it, “A bunny? And here I thought you were a just a goofball of a kitty?” You can practically see the blood reach to his cheeks, “A goofball, of a kitty you say?...” he mutters, voice quiet.

You sipped some more, feeling your empty and depressed stomach be filled with delicious soup—you were about to eat some of the pickled vegetables, but you notice something tucked underneath it. A little note written in flowing, traditional brush script, saying,

“You deserve gentle mornings and warm meals. Let me be the one who reminds you.”

—Your sleepy general, Jing Yuan

You smiled warmly—looking to him, and pressing a soft kiss onto his cheek. He hums happily at the feel of your lips against his skin, like a spoiled cat being littered with affection. You mutter to him, “Sometimes. Your adorable, you know that?” He proceeds to give you his signature “>:3” man knows he's the reason why you have critical levels of heart pressure—because he's one always rising it up.

Once you resume to eating, he leans his head on your shoulder and murmurs, “You’ve given so much of yourself to everyone else. I only ask that, for today, you let someone give it back.” You chuckle, acknowledging his comment.

And then when you think it’s over? Nope.

He feeds you. With his fingers. Your in the middle of eating, calmly enjoying bites of the savoury food—but you notice his hand, moving to the bun. Picking up a bit of the soft bread and brushing your lips with it like he’s worshipping you. You cheekily giggle, taking the bite and playfully nibble on his finger pads—his eyes widening ever so slightly, lips parted in a tiny “o” but it only lasts for 0.2 minutes. His sleepy grin appearing back onto his lips.

Jing Yuan lives to spoil you and also scold you gently while brushing your hair out of your eyes like a worried husband. And this? Words cannot and will never, be able to describe how relaxed and happy you are right now—to be in the presence of your beloved while eating a homemade meal, is one of the best things you could ask for.

[• Aventurine ]•

— No dramatic shakes. No overly intense kisses. No hovering over you ominously. Instead,

He gently brushes a stray hair from your face. Softly whispering to you—quiet enough for you to stir awake, “Hey, sleepyhead... it’s time.” Following after his words—he plants a delicate kiss onto your cheek, lingering just enough to make you melt but not enough to disturb your comfort completely. But, your still asleep—Aventurine only smiles, adoring the way you looked at the moment; tousled hair, cheeks flushed slightly, and shining with godly light—just quietly shut off. He hums a little tune while he waits for you to stir, the kind of song that’s quiet but warm, like a secret hug enveloping your form. His fingers okay with your hair while he hums—twisting, curling and, just overall playing with it.

You mumble about something, probably related to work—eyes weakly opening up, as your blessed to see Aventurine hovering over you. Gazing upon you with so much love in his eyes, and a true smile on his lips. “Aventurine..? What are you doing?..” Your voice is hoarse and incoherent—tone laced thickly with sleepiness. He only smiles wider—seeing that you’re still half-asleep, he softly chuckles and tuck the blanket around your shoulders tighter, whispering, “I made something nice for you. You don’t have to get up fast, just... wake up slow with me.” You nod slightly—almost falling back to sleep when you were wrapped in the blanket of warmth, but the kiss he presses on your lips jolts you awake again. “Darling, it's time to eat. Not sleep. Don't make me force-feed you now.” He pokes your cheek playfully as, you swat his hand away gently, huffing out in sleepy annoyance. “Noo...I wanna sleep..” You bury yourself into the blanket, and proceed to cover your head as well—Aventurine laughs at your attempt to stay asleep. It reminds him of a bunny nestled inside it's burrow.

You can feel the weight of Aventurine shift and disappear—for a minute, you think you won. But no—you already lost the moment he woke up with the idea of presenting something you have been neglecting for a very long while. The smell of something fresh, warm and cosy fills your nostrils—,you instantly yank the blanket away from your head, seeing Aventurine in the doorway. Smiling at you, hands holding your breakfast tray. No theatrical “presentation,” just pure sincerity. He brings the tray to you with a confident smile, almost like he’s giving you a little gift touched by the heavens. “Come on little bunny. Get up.” His voice is teasing, but the usual professional edge to his voice is gone—replaced with something soft. Affectionate. Human.

You quietly “huh” him—but sit up as per his request, and he smooths the sheets, placing the tray onto your lap like a sacred offering. Aventurine’s tray is almost like a tiny celebration of you. It’s not just a meal; it’s a vibe. You chuckle, “Aventurine..this is so sweet of you.” You smile at him, your soft words earned a bright smile from him—something only Kakavasha showed to the ones who didn't bring misery to him, and now. It's an emotion that will only be showed to you, his guiding light—by both Aventurine and Kakavasha.

He sits down beside the bed, wanting to share this moment quietly, alongside you. “I thought you might like this... no pressure, just a little care from me to you.” you giggle, kissing him on the cheek,“Go on now. I want to see how my fabulous cooking tastes.” He playfully winks and you chuckle at how engertic he is in the mornings. Your eyes shift to the food, smile tugging at your lips.

It’s cozy, colorful, and unpretentious but perfectly suited to you. Three warm, buttery croissants you assume he brought from some luxury café, but when you asked him about it—he replies with, “Its made with love, darling. But I'm happy to take it as a compliment~” followed after by his usual giggle. A small bowl of berries with a drizzle of honey that glistens like jewels. A soft-boiled egg served in a tiny ceramic cup, with a little spoon beside it. And a steaming cup of herbal tea—maybe chamomile or something floral—that smells like calm itself. The tray is wooden, with a small vase holding a single wildflower—something delicate and a little wild, like him.

You feel yourself relax when you take a bite out of the fresh croissants—Aventurine feels warmth pool at his lower abdomen at your reaction, feeling the way his heart picks up in speed. As you continued eating—you paused when you noticed a little note tucked under the cup, that says,

“For when you forget to take care of yourself, I’ll be here.”

You feel your cheeks heat up—you take ahold of one of the fresh berries, pressing up to his soft lips. You encouraged him to take a bite with a smile—Aventurine is practically on cloud nine. Cheeks kissed with a soft pink, lips parted, eyes wide and heart beat wild. But, he raked the offer gladly—kissing your fingers afterwards.

As you resumed, occasionally feeding him some bites. He watches you quietly, eyes soft with something deeper than words, fingers just barely grazing yours.

He’s content just being near you, no need for grand gestures like he usually does—because, his warmth is in the silence. And that's all you need to feel yourself relax and rest in the soothing presence of his.

Side note: i may or may not have been a silly goofball and lost the plot somewhere.

[neuvillettesadmirer]

Cuteness Aggression>>

Pairings : Blade , Jing Yuan , Dan heng , Caelus , Sunday Sampo , Aventurine x GN reader

Warnings : Pure Fluff , Mentions of kissing:3

| Synopsis — CUTENESS AGGRESSION = UNSTOPPABLE FORCE. CAUSE? Your boyfriend's existence.

Author's Note; Hello my little flowers:3 i hope you enjoy, wrote this at 3am so please do not mind any errors or misspellings!

[• Blade ]•

Poker Face, Kissable Everything.

— There wasn't anything important on your schedule to complete for the day, so you decided to take a small stroll to end the night with—successfully dragging your boyfriend alongside you as well.

Blade stands there, arms crossed over his chest, face emotionless—just doing absolutely nothing, except existing and breathing like a war criminal caught in a candid photo. The night sky was a splendid sight to see—the stars shined bright and the moon hummed a soft light from it's core, weakly but effectively highlighting the scenery. Blade was looking at the sky, lost in a trance—his crimson eyes flick lazily toward you, unimpressed. Then back to the sky. Probably annoyed. Maybe just blank. But, there was a soft edge to his piercing pupils when it landed on you, even if it was for a brief moment.

You visibly collapse. Because—to you? It was a threat. A menace. A weapon of mass CUTENESS.

Blade with his eternally grumpy, stone-cold assassin expression, posture straight and composed, eyes sharper than any sword. To others—he's a merciless hunter. To him—he's something born from the roots of vengeance and revenge. To you? Accessable drug to get high on cuteness overload.

You're gripping the article of fabric your wearing—like it's the only thing tethering you to sanity and not go insane. You turn to him—with all your might to stay neutral, but there was a slight crack in your voice, “...You need to stop looking like that,” you say, tone strangled. Blade merely turns his head to face you—he doesn’t even blink at your sentence. And he has the audacity—the sheer AUDACITY—to question you with that flat tone of his as, if you weren't mentally screaming to squish at his cheeks (pun intended.) “Like what?”

You almost ascend at the way he raises his eyebrow slightly—oh how you wanted to smother his face in kisses will be something not even the aeons would want to question. “Like that! All stoic and deadly and—ugh, that little frown! Do you know what that does to me?” Blade tilts his head to the side—internally questioning what's going on. You take a deep breath,“Blade, I am experiencing...” you pause, “Cuteness aggression and it's critical. I want to bite you. Do you understand?” you fully turn to him, hands itching at your sides. Your words had this unhinged desperation tinged with it—but they were real. Like.. very real.

Silence follows after your statement. But you continue, on what might possibly be what'll happen to Blade in a few minutes prior to the future.

“I want to squish your face and kiss it. Repeatedly. Until you crack.” Blade blinks. Once. Twice. As if he was questioning you or himself, “You’re ridiculous,” he mutters, and turns to walk away. However, you're not gonna let him off that easily—not after he turns on his heel, did you SEE the way his hair just flips around and goes back it it's place like a dis(knee)ney animation? Oh you definitely weren't letting him out of your grip, forever.

You tackle him like a koala in heat. Blade was caught off guard by the sudden hug attack and, spinned around to catch you into his arms on instinct—letting out a soft grunt of surprise as, you pepper his cheeks with rapid-fire kisses while, you stand on your tiptoes. You kiss every inch of his face—nose, eyes, cheeks, jawline, the corner of his lips and literally anywhere you had access to. “S’what you get! You weaponized your face and I retaliated!!” You cupped his face in your hands, squeezing his cheeks like they were your lifeline—you coo, kiss and squeeze him like he was your favourite plushie. He sighs. Deep. Patient. Loathsome. “Are you done?” One of his eyes closes when you kiss his eyelid, huffing in something that was mixed with soft embarrassment. “No. Never. I have to kiss both eyelids and boop your nose now. It’s a matter of national security.” You press your palms against his cheeks, squishing them until his lips puff out into the cutest pout you have ever seen in your life—and before he can protest, you kiss them. Instantly. No hesitation. It’s a tactical strike.

Blade freezes. Stared at you wide-eyed for a solid second. And then, he softly murmur against your lips,“...You’re the most unhinged person I’ve ever met.” There wasn't anything to his words—just soft, silent adoration. Despite his protests—his hands are holding you steady against him. And his cheeks are warm.

Maybe, just maybe—the corner of his lips curl upwards when you continue on with your affectionate assault on his face.

[• Jing yuan ]•

Do Not Yawn Near Me. (You Will Be Kissed)

— The day has ended and, nighttime has arrived. The whole day was exhausting to say the least, but it was the usual routine for you so—it wasn't much. The wind outside was hushed with the gentle whispers of the nightlife starting to stir awake. On the soft cotton bed, you were laying on your back, listening to one of Jing Yuan's bedtime rambles. He was on his side, facing you, his elbow propped up to keep his head from falling—your eyes were set on him, no matter how many his head was slightly not balanced properly. Jing Yuan already has that warm, languid energy that just radiates “I nap like it’s a divine right”, and today, he was quite tired. And that's when his voice drops lower and rougher, and his eyes go half-lid. Yet he still went on, fighting the sleepy allegations as best as he could—because he needs to spill the tea instead of focusing on his beauty sleep.

You were trying to be normal. Trying so hard. Jing Yuan’s voice lulled on about something—probably the latest strategy meeting or, how Yanqing accidentally cut his own sleeve again during training—but he suddenly paused. He had the audacity. The nerve. The audible crime.

He yawned.

It was SPECIFICALLY that one lazy little yawn, that stretches his entire body like a spoiled cat in the sun. Head tilting back just a little, arm lazily covering his mouth, hair tousling in that gorgeous effortless mess of fluffy locks—and worst of all, his eyes fluttered shut with that soft, contented hum at the end. He's acting as if the last string of resistance in you hadn't just snapped—loudly.

You were staring. Wide-eyed. Palms sweating at your sides. Soul screaming. Sanity vanishing.

Jing yuan slowly blinked—his eyelashes fluttering as he notices your staring,“...You okay?” he asked, voice low and gravelly from sleepiness, blinking slowly at you like some mythical beast in a sunbeam. You gulped. Suddenly—you springed up from your laying position, making him confused. You turn to face him like he ate the last piece of cake. “You can't do that!” you exploded, pointing a finger at him. His brows furrowed. “Do what?..” You tremble when he frowned slightly—he looked like a tiny floofball of a kitten who was denied treats before bed and god—that fueled your cuteness aggression even more. “Yawn like that! Stretch like that! Exist like that in front of me when I’m trying to be a civilized, functioning person.” You breathe in. Deeply and rushed. “Jing Yuan, I am THIS close to tackling you down and kissing your entire face.”

He chuckled—warm and rumbling. “This close, huh?”

Before he could blink again, you lunged at him—aggressively cupping his face like a hostage negotiator. His eyes were wide and he's blinking at you like you dropkicked a kitten in front of him. “I warned you.”

And with that—came the kisses. Endless. Wild. Forehead, nose, cheek, chin. His sleepy protest— “Wait, I'm still tired—” was muffled by your ambush and, drowned in your love. His airy laughter shook through you, but he didn’t push you away. He never did. If anything, he pulled you closer, arms wrapping around you lazily like he was claiming a particularly cuddly pillow.

“Mm... now I’m twice as tired,” he mumbled against your hair. Your hands shoot up and grabs his chin—causing his lips to puff out with a tiny pout that you swear, made you go even more feral. “Too bad. You’re not getting a single minute of peace now. You yawned, and I lost the ability to control myself. That’s on you.”

Jing yuan smiled lopsidedly—accepting the fact he's now a victim to your endless affection, and needlessly to say. He's definitely proud of the love you shower him with.

[• Dan Heng ]•

Do Not Disturb. (Except Please Do)

— Dan Heng doesn’t notice it at first. He’s seated at his desk, some ancient text spread open before him—showing all sorts of forbidden knowledge to unravel right before his eyes. The golden edge of a bookmark glinting beneath the soft lamplight. His posture is perfect, composed as always—back straight, shoulders relaxed. He turns a page slowly, eyes scanning, calm and attentive. Completely oblivious to your presence that was in the doorway—he continues to swim through crisp pages of age and intellect.

To him, it’s a normal evening study. To you?

It’s a goddamn spiritual crisis.

You’re staring at him from the doorway like you’ve just been struck by lightning and thrown off a mountain. You only happen to pass by—but you paused when you noticed how absolutely attractive he looked. That little crease between his brows. The light reflecting off his long lashes, casting a god complex shadow underneath them. Lips pressed together in a line, that sharp jawline on full display while he’s reading. That faint, unreadable expression he always wears when he’s deep in thought—why does he look so kissable without even trying the least bit?! Your fingers twitch. Like your body is warning you to act fast. You almost feel your legs walk on instinct.

You shift. Nervously. And gulp down. Silently

But the last sense of literally everything in you dispatched when—he tilts his head to the side, his tiny strands of inky black hair falling onto his face as he scribbles something down on his notepad—lost in thought, all while having that serious, focused face that made your knees go weak.

You explode. “—Dan Heng,” the calling of his name diverts his focus to your voice. He doesn't lift his head, he only hums in response, “I’m so sorry but I can’t take it anymore,” You say, already walking to him. He glances up in time to see you power-walk across the room like your possessed—by overdose of cuteness, might l add.

“What—”

It's too late now. You’re on him. Straddling his lap. Hands gently cupping his face as you proceed to pepper kisses all over. His cheeks, his jaw, that little spot under his ear, the corner of his mouth—every. where. He blinks, stunned. “What are you doing?” he pulls away from you momentarily—face flushed with a light pink. His hand resting on the curve of your hip to keep you from falling.

"You activated my cuteness aggression. You looked too hot while reading. I had to smooch you. ” You giggle, and Dan heng looks clueless with your given answer, “ It's like a condition or something. I don't make the rules.” You shrug nonchalantly—leaning over to him and press a soft kiss between his eyebrows, while he stares at you. Utterly dumbfounded. Like a lost puppy.

Dan Heng's hand reaches the book—and closes it with a quiet sigh.

He’s still blushing though.

"Next time, try giving me some warning." He scrunches his nose up when you kiss the tip of it, the feeling of your lips on the tip of his nose made his lower abdomen pool with warmth. You don't know whether he's giving you these adorable reactions on purpose or, just completely clueless that it's only adding fuel to your overload of cuteness. "Impossible. It’s a primal urge." You cup his face in your hands, nuzzling your nose against his. He sighs,”...Of course it is.”

[• Caelus ]•

You Make My Brain Go Bzzt (Please Let Me Kiss You)

— Caelus—being the usual Caelus. Is currently munching on trail mix, sitting upside down on the couch, wearing two different socks, hair defying gravity like he’s been static-shocked by the universe itself while he munches away. He's just peacefully vibing with his existence and free will. Nothing special or unusual.

Meanwhile, you on the other hand—was watching him from the living room doorway like a predator locked onto its prey. Eyes wide. Breathing shallow. Hands twitching. You swore you were normal—but Caelus said no and, is being extra cute today for absolutely no reason (he doesn't even know it.) You at some point wondered on how you even managed to pull the Trailblazer in the first place—because, no doubt. Caelus is literally the human version of a golden retriever in space boots and loose screws, and the cutest little chaos gremlin ever that loves to go through trashcans. And you aren't going to complain.

Caelus's eyes briefly flicker over to you—he pauses mid-munch. He blinks up at you (or technically down at you, because gravity doesn’t matter when he’s upside down). “Hey, babe! Did you know that your brain is constantly eating itself? Pretty cool right?” You're too used to him randomly spitting out weird facts. But right now..you aren't focused on his words.

You say nothing.

He grins. One of those big, lopsided ones, all sunshine and brain fog—just enough for even passing by people to be concerned. “You good?”

You are, in fact, not good. You are dangerously close to exploding into an affection shrapnel. And that last sense of sanity is hanging on one single thread. You tilt your head to the side with a smile, eyes closed, eyebrows relaxed, “Did you know I'm one millisecond from kissing you until, you stop being such a menace to my cardiovascular system?” You can practically hear the gears in Caelus's head malfunction for a minute. He turns to you, with the most adorable perplexed look you have ever seen,

“Huh?—”

He doesn't even have time to react when you speed walk yourself to him. He’s still mid-chew when you sit down onto the carpet and squish his face in your hands. Without wasting a second—you smother his stupidly adorable face in kisses—cheek, forehead, nose, chin, corner of his lips, the little spot behind his ear that makes him squeak like a malfunctioning microwave. Between your assault of overload of affection, he protests, “Ack! Wait! You’re—you're interrupting snack time!” You didn't even wait for your brain to construct an answer. While you kiss him, you very passively aggressively tell one word during each kiss, “You’re *kiss* interrupting *kiss* my *very aggressive kiss* life Caelus! ” His brows furrowed into confusion as he has no escape way out of your love—his eyes squeeze shut when you kiss the tip of his nose,” With your STUPIDLY CHARMING FACE AND BRAINLESS WISDOM!” You huff out a breath—leaning away to see his red face.

“You think I’m charming?” He gasps, delighted. “That’s the nicest insult I’ve ever received!” Yep, he's gonna be trapped with your furious kisses for the rest of the day..or week. You're already kissing the dimples off him again. "Shut up and accept my love before I start sobbing into your hair."

Caelus chuckles like a child—it almost made your heart dance in circles like a lovesick anime character for how cute it sounded. “Okay, but just so you know—I haven't washed it in, like, four days.” You pause—for a moment only. You kiss one of his eyelids, “Perfect. Extra seasoning.”

Caelus just laughs—pure and raw form his heart. He tips his head into your shoulder like you're the gravity holding his entire orbit together. And to be honest—you are.

[• Sunday ]•

Winged Menace to My Sanity.

— Sunday tilts his head slightly as the afternoon light filters through the glass, casting kaleidoscope hues across the bedroom—blues, pinks, violets dancing on the walls from the delicate prism of his wings, the light hits him at the most perfect angle you could ever imagine of. His wings—give a lazy flutter, like a sigh made visible. Like a butterfly in human form.

You stare. Blink. The book in your hand suddenly was not that interesting anymore to you. Your hands grasp a nearby pillow like it’s a weapon.

Sunday is just standing there with his pretty, sparkly eyes, shimmering wings twitching slightly, all elegant, divine and unbothered. Just quietly existing like the eternal being he is. But you? You’re on the verge of a breakdown. A mental crisis.

This is illegal levels of pretty. Because why is he allowed to exist in 4K with his fluttering wings, delicate smirk and those dreamy eyes???

Immediately you throw the pillow to the side, like it offended your bloodline.

“Stop that,” you say—warn, absolutely breathless. He glances at you, eyes shimmering with innocent amusement. “Stop what, my dear?” you point a finger to him, accusingly, “Existing like that! With those—those wings!” You gesture violently. “You fluttered them. They sparkle. That’s cheating.”

He pouts—slightly. The kind that could make flowers bloom in winter. “Oh? But I was merely stretching.”

You gasp. Loud. Dramatic. Like you saw him say the most horrendous thing ever in humanity, “That was not stretching. That was SEDUCTION. Do you know what you’re doing to me right now?” You tilt your head to the side, to add more depth (exaggeration) to your words, “I feel like I’m on a sugar high and I’m gonna pass out.” He raises a brow. Thinking for a small moment, his eyes flick down while his brows knit together in concentration—god, he looked like a tiny kitten getting lectures for eating the entire catnip. His eyes look up again, completely oblivious at what he's doing to you with just breathing, “Would it help if I folded them?”

“It would help if you braced for IMPACT.”

You launch yourself into his arms, a tiny yelp of surprises emits from him as his arms take you into his soothing embrace—your own arms wrap around his neck, hands greedily roaming his soft hair and jaw as you absolutely drown his entire face in kisses and utter love. “You’re too pretty. It’s a crime. I'm pressing charges—with my lips.” You kiss the side of his cheek, softly but possessively. Sunday laughs—a soft, lilting sound, like wind chimes in a warm breeze. “Darling, you’re out of control.” Says the one who's heartbeat is going at a critical rate due to the ambush of love attacks from you.

“And whose fault is that?” You plant one last dramatic kiss right between his brows, and his wings flutter again—whether from pleasure or surprise, you don’t know. But one thing's for sure—it hyped you up to absolutely mark his faces in your kisses. But you melt all the same. “I'll take accountability for it then.” despite the fact he's suffocated from the number of kisses your pressing into his face—he cannot help but barely hide a soft, teasing smile. It was heavenly sinful.

[• Sampo ]•

Smirk Me One More Time.

— Sampo leans casually against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, his grin a full-blown menace to society. Hair tousled just right, earring glinting in the soft light above, that stupid tiny cape behind him dramatically fluttering even though there’s no wind in this room. His eyelashes flutter for a second, the corner of his eyes crinkling upwards, “Missed me already?” he asks, voice syrupy, smug, and deeply punchable. His signature smirk plastered onto his lips like he's testing you.

You narrow your eyes at him from the sofa.

No.

No, no, no.

You refuse to fall for it again. Not this time. Not after the last incident where you tried to keep it cool but, ended up kissing him into the couch cushions for thirty straight minutes without no breaks.

But we are talking about Sampo here. Sampo Koski. Famous and infamous for his insufferably smug, “I-just-got-away-with-a-crime-and-I’ll-do-it-again” grin? That twinkle in his eye that screams “I know I’m hot and I’m also probably lying to you right now”? It's the 8th wonder of the world on how you can stay completely composed with such a hot menace like him.

You clutch the book in your hands, the restraint in your body threatening to leave you any second. You gulp, your fingers digging into the cover of the book—like it's the reason for your sanity to be still standing with you right now. Your eyes briefly flicker over to him when you hear him softly chuckle, amused at how you're not giving in yet.

But then he tilts his head. Lets that grin spread across his face like wine spilled on a white carpet. And has the nerve. The damn crime. To wink.

Yep, you can't take it anymore. Your book is kept aside and you launch yourself to him—Sampo flinches when he catches you, “Woah—” You didn't let him to speak any further or else there will definitely be consequences—consequences that revolve around a kiss rampage and endless affection. You grab his face like he’s the last snack on Earth, squishing his cheeks together so hard his lips pop out like a kissy fish. It’s so stupidly cute, you immediately slam a kiss onto them with zero remorse. He blinks at you like you’ve committed a crime, and maybe you have. But it was worth it. You kiss and destroy his face with your love. For him, it's a trophy. For you, it's unconditional love.

Your hands are tangled in his coat. He’s laughing breathlessly between each kiss, trying to talk but getting no mercy. “H-Hey, wow—! Someone’s got the aggression bug today—mmph—!” You pull back only to squish his cheeks in your hands, face burning, eyes wild, breath stuttering,“You need to stop smiling like that. It’s a hazard. I’m filing a formal complaint. To HR. To the IPC. To god.” You huff out.

He just snorts, already leaning back in like a moth attracted to a flame. “Or you could just give in. Again. Y’know, for public safety~?” his voice was teasingly quiet, like he's trying to lure you into his trance of attraction.

You freeze. And he knows what he's done.

You tackle him to the sofa with even more fuel to utterly ruin his face with your lips.

Needless to say. He doesn’t stop smiling for the rest of the night.

[• Aventurine]•

You Smirk, I Suffer.

— Aventurine is lounging—no, lounging like some decadent villain in a luxury casino suite, one leg crossed over the other, suit crisp and immaculate, fingers spinning a chip between them with maddening ease, his sunglasses kept onto the bridge of his nose. His smirk is surgical—precise, devastating, and permanent.

He knows he's winning whatever game this is, that he dragged you in. Chess? Poker? Life? He probably invented half the rules just to watch you struggle helplessly with the choices in your mind. Aventurine watches you ponder on a decision for like 10 minutes straight, he says—smugly, “Well well, darling, seems like luck’s on my side again~” He chuckles, rich and gutteral, it was the kind of sound that could pay an entire city's bills.

He leans into the cushion of the velvet sofa behind him, arms spread out like he's inviting you to just ditch the game and come into his arms instead.

You visibly snap. “Shut up.”

He quirks an eyebrow, smirk widening. “Hmm? Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?”

No. No, this is too much. You tremble slightly, internally fighting with your urges to give in or stay neutral. But, that little tilt of his head, that knowing glint in his eyes, the way he acts like he owns the galaxy and also the rights to your emotional stability? Nope, the restraint in you is now thrown out the window.

You stand up, earning a hum from him. Not even a second is spared as you lunge over the table.

He doesn’t even have time to react—you grab his stupidly handsome face and attack. Not violently. Affectionately. Desperately. Cuteness-aggression-ly.

Your hands cradle his face like he's something fragile, thumbs pressing in until his cheeks squish together, making his lips puff out adorably. His sunglasses on the verge of falling down as they are tilted to the side. You can’t help it—you lean in and kiss them right then and there, heart fluttering at how soft he feels. He blinks, but you didn't give him any mercy. “*Kiss.* *Kiss.* *Kiss.* *KISS.* This is what you get, you smug bastard—” You kiss both of his baby soft cheeks. The tip of his nose. The corner of his mouth. His forehead. His jawline. That perfect smirk disappears for like 0.2 seconds, replaced with a stunned blink. You lean away, still breathless from the aftermath of your violent affection. The sunglasses have already fallen off his face.

“...Darling,” he says slowly, the smirk crawling back, “If you wanted to kiss me breathless, you could’ve just said so.” You hiss, annoyed full of love and affection. “SHUT UP! I am filled with violent love and you’re making it WORSE.” You pull one of his cheeks like a grandma to her grandchild. He grins wolfishly wider. “Good. Makes it more fun when I provoke you.” his hand find it's way onto your hip, holding you steady to him.

You grab a pillow next to him. And he gets a face full of plush vengeance. The chip he was twirling earlier in his free hand clatters to the floor.

A laugh erupts from him. His face filled with raw happiness. Something he'll only experience when he's with you. His anchor to life.

[neuvillettesadmirer]

Skincare Routine With Your Harbinger Bf!!>

Pairings : Childe , Pantalone , Dottore , Scaramouche x GN Reader

Warnings : Fluff , Lil Suggestive(?) , Mentions of Kisses;3 Not proofread!

| Synopsis — It's night now,and it's time for your nightly skin care routine! But wait...There's a catch;3 your boyfriend will be joining this time to do it together with you!!

Author's Note; Hello My room temperature milks:3..that is a very interesting nickname—Anyways! I hope you enjoyed this,got the inspo from my mom doing her daily routine~ I don't know much about skincare so forgive me if there are any mistakes-

|• Childe |•

— The bathroom is dimly lit with warm light from the chandelier above—the mirror was slightly fogged from the warm shower you just took a while ago. You’re leaned against the marble counter,dressed in one of Childe’s oversized shirts—something that you always wore at home,it made you feel at ease as a sense of security would engulf you within his scent,that you so much adored. You were softly humming to yourself as you gently pat your face dry,while you inhale the fragrance of fresh soap and his cologne that faintly lingers in the air—as if it were basically the air itself,it felt familiar but smelt foreign. As you hum away your made-up tune, applying multiple creams and serums onto your face with practiced gentleness—you didn't take note of the familiar presence walking and stopping behind you.

— Your dearest boyfriend,Childe—strolls in behind you, a towel slung around his neck, hair damp and tousled,stray drops of water were present on his toned abs—he looked straight out of a fashion magazine despite his casual wear. A pair of strong arms that were basked in beautiful scars,they stretched amongst his skin like brushstrokes—enveloped around your figure, swallowing your frame in his large shadow. He pulled you close as both of your heats were combined—you were startled at first,but soon that was replaced by a sense of tranquility as you softly smile at him from the reflection of the foggy mirror. “ Hey, you starting without me? ” He teases, leaning over your shoulder to peek at your products which were scattered around the counter. He smells clean and familiar, the kind of scent that makes your heart relax as you lean into his embrace with solace.

— Childe grins, nudging your side playfully, “ You know I only do this skincare stuff because you like it. But I won’t lie—my face has been baby soft lately. ” He points to his cheek dramatically—a small signal for you to touch and feel it,“ Feel it. Go on. ” He urges you, smiling so wide you swore his whole face was practically just his grin. You roll your eyes playfully—but nevertheless,oblige with his request. Your hand reaches up to brush against the surface skin of his cheek—his skin really was nice, and the pleased smirk that follows after tells you he was waiting for that exact reaction. “ Mhm,it really is soft. I suppose all those products were worth it. ” You giggle as you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek—resulting in an amused chuckle escaping from him.

— You guide Childe to sit down onto the counter—his back, sun-kissed and etched with the scars of countless legendary battles, faced the mirror, and his palms held onto the smooth surface of the counter to support him. His legs were placed apart slightly as to create a space where you could stand in-between him, so you could do your work on his face. Childe hums contentedly while you gently dab toner onto his face. He closes his eyes, “ You’re way too gentle, ” He murmurs, half-lulled to sleep by your soft carefulness, he so much cherishes with all of his heart. “ If I were doing this, it’d be over in five seconds and probably painful. ” Childe joked. You pause midway,hand still hovering over his face—and then, you flick his nose, earning a startled gasp from your beloved ginger. “ That’s why I’m in charge. ” You tease,a smirk of your own building up onto your lips as you resume.

— Next was serum. Childe winces slightly as you pat it in,his face could never ever get used to being smothered with countless skin products, since he never really used them in the past so it felt really unfamiliar,but when it was you who was applying..rest assured,he does not care at all about the weird feeling. “ Do we really need this many steps? ” He asked, probably for the seventh time now as you apply a cream over his face,“ Yep. ” You reply curtly, leaving a whiny Childe unanswered as you continued on with your little massaging. However,despite his whines—he still subtly leans into your touch anyway,how could he not? It was too addictive. You can tell he loves the attention more than anything.

— Eventually, it comes to his turn. Childe insists on applying your moisturizer, even though his hands are a bit clumsy and slightly rough on the feel—he still wants to repay the favour for his darling. Childe takes extra care, dragging the moment out under the guise of “ doing it right. ” which takes a little too long for it's own good,but hey—at least he can focus better on you. His calloused fingers brush gently over your soft skin—he moves his motions in a way where it's carefully measured,since he does not want to harm you even in the slightest way possible. “ You’re glowing already, ” he says, brushing your stray strands aside from your forehead while massaging your skin,the act cleared your vision as you look at him softly. “ But I guess a little product doesn’t hurt. ” Childe smiles with the same gaze as you—adoration and pure love.

— When you're both done, he pulls you into his lap with zero hesitation, arms around your waist and grip secure. “ We should make this a nightly thing, ” he mumbles against the soft skin of your neck. You hum approvingly at his comment, shifting a bit in his hold as you made yourself snug in his warmth, “ Combat’s good for the heart, but this? This is good for the soul. ” He ended his sentence with a soft kiss onto the side of your forehead,subtly squeezing you in a playfully way. And with your cheeks glowing (partly from product, partly from the way he’s looking at you like your his heart and soul), you nod slowly. The two of you relax in the company of one another, talking about stuff you did during the day—or listening to him ramble about one of his fights he had come across during one of his missions—all while you sipped a generous amount of herbal tea you had prepared before. He would drink from his own cup but he preferred to drink from yours,it just felt right for some reason to him—so if he happen to talk about the same topic for a bit too long,you can just keep the rim of the cup up to his lips with a smile. Childe will be confused at first,but gratefully take a sip from the cup and kiss you after.

•| Pantalone •|

— The rich scent of white tea and bergamot fills the luxurious bathroom. Crystal vials, gold-trimmed jars— and meticulously arranged products sit neatly across the marble counter—all curated by Pantalone himself,your beloved boyfriend,of course. You were sat on a velvet stool in your fluffy robe—Pantalone stands behind you, the sleeves of his silk robe rolled up to his forearms, his hands warm and precise,as he gently massages a serum into your cheeks. “ You never apply upward strokes, ” he scolds softly, bending down to your level as his lips brush against the shell of your ear. “ Do you want gravity to win this early? ” His tone is teasingly quiet next to your ear, although his eyes are sharp, always observing. He’s annoyingly perfect at this.

— Despite being one of the most powerful men in Teyvat,Pantalone is obsessive about nightly rituals—not just for himself, but for you too—it doesn't matter whether you do skincare or not, he's cleansing your face with multiple luxury products and you can't stop him. Pantalone claims your skin is a reflection of his standards, “ Of course I imported this from Fontaine, ” He hums, dabbing cool essence onto your temples,the smell was faintly minty as it relaxed your muscles, “ Only the best touches your skin. ” You giggle at his cheesy comment, nevertheless he was right—he never ever applied anything that caused even the slightest irritation onto your skin, as that would be considered a grave sin—he says. You silently pout as he smears on a ridiculous jelly mask you desperately did not need(he insisted you needed it though),you felt extremely sleepy with all of the massaging but goodness there's too many steps to his routine. From the mirror's reflection,Pantalone sees your reaction,he just smirks, admiring the sight like he’s painting a masterpiece. “ You always look most beautiful with a bit of effort ,” He says, brushing your hair back tenderly with care. “ Though... even bare-faced, you’re mine to adore. ” He smirks at your flustered state, placing a soft kiss onto the top of your head.

— It has been some minutes and your jelly mask was off—you glance at Pantalone’s reflection in the mirror, his eyes focused and sharp as ever—even while gracefully applying moisturizer to your skin like he’s performing a delicate surgery. But tonight, you’ve decided he doesn’t get to be the one to stay in control. You reach for a soft sheet mask from the tray—a cooling, rose-scented one he imported from Fontaine (and pretends not to hoard in drawers). He raises a brow when he hears you peel it open. “ That’s not for you darling, ” He says, lips curling to form a gentle smile—something he will only show to you. “ It’s far too floral for your usual preferences. ” He explains, placing the moisturiser onto the counter. Pantalone pauses when he hears your reply,“ It’s for you silly, ” You reply sweetly, getting up as you step in front of him, “ You always take care of me, but you never let me return the favor. ” Upon hearing your words,Pantalone starts to object—something about not needing such things, or how "my skin is already at optimal condition"—but you silence him with a finger to his soft lips and a cheeky grin.

“ Shhh. Sit, Regrator. ”

— That alone makes him pause, nostrils flaring with the tiniest flicker of amusement. He reluctantly obliges, sitting back against the plush ottoman, arms crossed like a prince enduring something beneath him—but you see the way his eyes soften as you press the chilled mask against his face after taking his glasses off. His long lashes flutter slightly at the contact,you smooth the sheet over his high cheekbones, down the bridge of his nose, and across his sharp jaw. “ Don’t wrinkle your forehead, ” you tease, tapping it, “ You’ll undo all that fancy serum. ” He glares playfully through the eye holes of the mask,unable to hold back a smirk. “ You do know that I could buy out every spa in Fontaine and still not receive treatment half as undignified as this.” he says, leaning back into the cushions of the chair, “ And yet... you’re letting me do it.” you reply back softly,gently smoothing the face mask to make sure there weren't any creases.

— Silence followed after your response. Then, a reluctant hum emitted from him. “ Only because it’s you. ” You smile at his response, leaning over towards him as you press a quick kiss to his lips(you cutely ignored the fact that now your lips were covered with the serum of the mask,but it was worth it)—his eyes widened at the soft feel of your lips against his and how bold you were—but, he's got to admit..he loves it when you're like this.

— Later, you both sit side by side in the glow of the vanity mirror, facemasks on, legs touching, embraced together in eachother's company. Pantalone takes your hand in his quietly,and threads his fingers through yours as he scrolls through skincare data on a fancy tablet, already planning your next regimen. He’ll never admit how much he loves these quiet nights—just you, him, and the soft glow of vanity lights. “ Next time, we should get matching robes, ” you murmur, leaning against his shoulder as the sleepiness you have been holding in finally gets to you, “ I already commissioned them. Silk. Embroidered with your initials. ”

...

— Of course he did. However,you were too quick to surrender to sleep so you didn't hear his answer—quietly letting go of your consciousness as you slip into a peaceful slumber in the presence of your dearest. Pantalone looks to your side as he noticed you suddenly went silent—only to see your sleeping form,a smile crawls it's way onto his lips as he presses a kiss to your forehead—even though,you still had the face mask on that won't stop him from showering you with his kisses and affection. Also,did l ever mention that Pantalone secretly keeps photos of you in the facemask because he thinks you look cute? Well now you know;3

•| Dottore •|

— It was late in the evening—in a sleek, dimly-lit Snezhnayan lab-residence. The hum of machinery is soft in the background, the scent of faint herbs and metal danced in the air. You’re seated at a counter in his private quarters, wrapped in a warm robe—while Dottore meticulously sets out jars and bottles—custom formulations, of course. “ Sit still. ” His voice is smooth, clinical with a hint of teasing affection—something you would never find in such a man like him but,it happened to be that you were the only person he shared even the smallest bit of affection with,a rare achievement you gained. Dottore, still in a partially unbuttoned lab coat, adjusts his gloves before taking them off entirely, “ You let your skin go dry again. Tsk. If I left you alone for a week, would you turn to dust? ” His voice was sharp, however there was this underlying sarcasm to his words. Dottore gently tilts your chin up,as his other hand dabs a cleanser onto a cotton pad—one he crafted himself, probably with suspiciously advanced tech. You couldn't help but chuckle at his gentle scolding—as he wipes away the day’s grime with surprising gentleness, his gaze flicks from your skin to your eyes, “ You’re lucky you’re cute. Otherwise I wouldn’t waste my genius on exfoliating your face. ” He huffs and throws the used cotton pads into the nearby dustbin and walks to one of his tables—that was littered with various items, you couldn't exactly make them out from the far distance,but you guessed it was just some skin products he made with that cursed intellect of his.

— Dottore hovered over the metal table,a hand on his chin as his ruby eyes ran over the items displayed—despite them being sheltered by the bird mask he wore,you could still make out his clinical gaze. After a little while,he returned to you with bottle in hand,you tilt your head to the side as you ask him,“ What's that? ” he places the bottle down, “ A Foam cleanser. ” he shortly replies. Dottore applies a gentle foam cleanser that smells faintly like mint and lab-grade roses—he massages it in, precise and efficient. He doesn’t rush,he doesn't need to—but there’s a strange reverence in his touch. “ Even your skin reacts differently when you're flustered, ” he murmurs, taking a note in his head,as it had come to his attention on the subtle heat blooming across your cheeks,caused by his intense focus on you. He continues slowly,it was a bit boring to admit—but seeing how your insane stoic boyfriend's clear concentration on massaging your skin,not to mention how ominously gentle his touch was...it was kinda fascinating to you.

— Now it was time for the toner. Dottore pats the toner on gently, using only his fingers this time, “ Normal skin, but prone to environmental stress huh.. ” He mutters, almost to himself, like you're a precious and fragile specimen—but his thumb brushes against your lower lip as he works, soft and lingering. You knew he was teasing you,in his own way—but you remained oblivious which made him amused..almost. “ Hmph. I’ll fix this too. But later. ” Dottore tells,his index finger tapping against the soft skin of your lips—you couldn't help but play back as you pretend to bite him,but he was fast to react and escaped your little trick of playing. If you were to squint a bit,you would notice the way the corner of his lips twitch up in enjoyment.

— Now, it's serum. He produces a small vial,that happens to be a very vivid colour of a mixture from blue and purple, “ I only used this on test subjects who didn’t scream, ” he says with a smirk,you could feel the corners of his eyes crinkling up as he noticed your eyes widen from his comment. “ Kidding. Mostly.” that happily did not ease the situation. As he applies It on,It tingles—cool, refreshing, unnervingly effective. You hum softly, leaning into his cold touch. Now it's finally for the last step—moisturizer. The moisturizer is thick, luxurious, and smells like sandalwood. Dottore scoops some onto his palm, warming it between his hands before applying it slowly to your cheeks, temples, and neck. His fingers trace along your jaw and neck longer than necessary,“ Soft, ” he says quietly,too quietly for it to be heard by you—he was looking strangely thoughtful keeping aside half his face was covered.

— Now,a little bonus for you; lip balm and forehead kiss. Dottore dabs on the lip balm—he insists it’s essential(totally not because he wants to feel your lips on his fingers)—and then leans down to press a surprisingly delicate kiss to your forehead. “ Done. Your skin is acceptable now. ” Then, with a satisfied sigh,he says, “ Now. My turn. You're helping—no gloves. ” You can practically see the smirk tugging at his lips.

— Dottore lounges on a velvet chaise in his private lab quarters, one of his many blue segments flickering on a monitor in the background. He's stripped of his coat— leaving him in a loose, black undershirt, hair slightly tousled, arms folded as he watches you approach with skin products,“ You really are going to touch me with those little hands of yours? ” His tone is teasing but a softness is kept within it as well—he lifts a brow, smirking as you roll your eyes, “ I could automate this in seconds, you know. ” You reply back. Before he could speak,you press your finger to his lips to silence him. “ But where’s the fun in that? ” you reply sweetly—Dottore huffs—mock offense. But he tilts his chin slightly anyway, surrendering himself to you as you delicately take off his mask, revealing his beautiful ruby eyes to you—looking up at you with an unreadable glint to them.

— You gently apply the cleanser to his face, your fingers tracing the strong lines of his jaw and cheekbones—he does take a lot of notice on how your fingers linger around certain aspects of his face a bit too long,but nevertheless he lets you do it(he secretly likes it). His eyes flutter half-shut, long lashes casting shadows under his eyes, “ I see. So this is how you tame monsters now. With warm water and patience. ” His tone is almost unnervingly calm,he tries to keep his composure intact, but the way he leans into your touch betrays him. You feel the tension melt from his shoulders. As he lazily hums,you dab some toner onto a cotton pad and swipe it along his face. His eyes open,and watches you the whole time, unsettlingly still, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “ You’re far too gentle with me, ” he murmurs, catching your attention—you tilt your head, “ Aren’t you afraid I’ll bite? ” his next words earned a tap from you onto his forehead, catching him off guard, “ Only if you misbehave. Which you definitely will.” you answer him back.

— As you apply a custom serum—one he crafted and swore was “mild enough for mortal skin”—he catches your wrist mid-movement, causing you to pause. His fingers are cool against your pulse point, “ You enjoy this, don’t you? ” He directly asks as he brings your hand to his lips, brushing a kiss across your knuckles—never in a million would you ever even catch this man doing these type of things,but here he is.. solemnly enjoying your presence while occasionally kissing spots of your skin. He continues, observing the way colour rushed to your cheeks, “ Handling me like I’m something precious. ” with a quieter tone,he admits, “ No one’s ever done that. ” You were only able to let out a chuckle as you bent down,“ Well,someone has now. ” you ended your sentence with a kiss pressed to the crown of his head. Dottore mumbles too quietly for you to hear,but loud enough for him, “ You touch me like I'm fragile. I find that...endearing. ”

— You massage the moisturizer into his skin with care, making small circular motions on his pale skin. His head rests lazily against your palm as he exhales—utterly relaxed now. You don’t even realize how close he’s gotten due to your still focus,he whispers, “ Finish this, and I’ll return the favor... in my own way. ” There’s heat in his voice now—low, smooth, dangerous. You scoff playfully, distancing yourself from him and pushed him straight to the velvet cushions, resulting in a rich and raw laugh from him. Now, it's time for your bonus; lip balm, because yes. You hold up the lip balm tube, pressing it slightly to squeeze some balm out of the tip, “ Don’t move.” He raises a brow, but lets you apply it with no complaints, “ You’re lucky I like you, ” He mutters under his breath,then—softly, eyes locked on yours,he says “ Touch me like this again, and I might start mistaking it for love. ”

•| Scaramouche •|

— You sat beside Scaramouche on the soft futon,a small bowl of lukewarm water and gentle cleanser resting on the low table. Scaramouche’s arms were crossed,as usual—his usual sharp gaze fixed somewhere distant, but today you’d decided he needed a break—from his worries, from the harsh world, even from himself. “ Come on, just let me do this, ” You said softly, holding up a warm and slightly damp cloth in your hands, “ You need to wash off the grime. It’s not just about looking good—it’s about feeling good. ” You say, your smile never leaving your lips as you patiently await his response. He scoffed lightly at your words—not too harsh because he knew you were telling the truth, and he didn’t pull away when you intertwined your fingers with his, squeezing it gently to give a bit of reassurance to him. “ I don’t need the luxury of fussing over my skin like some pampered noble. ” He spat, avoiding your eyes—despite the fact his hand was tightly wrapped around yours,like a vice grip. It hurt, yes—but it was Scaramouche,your beloved boyfriend,so you ignored the pain and comforted him instead.

— You smiled and dipped the cloth in the water to make it wet again, squeezing the excess water out of it and neatly placed it down—your free hand hovered over your other hand and his own. You placed your hand gently on top of his,causing him to recoil at the warmth from your skin—something he could never get used to, “ Maybe not. But even gods and puppets deserve a little care. Don't you think so? ” Before he could respond, you pressed the warm cloth against his cheek, resulting him to freeze against the heat of the towel. Scaramouche’s eyes narrowed,considering whether he should question you or himself—but there was no resistance. The warmth soothed the tension in his jaw, and a rare softness flickered in his gaze,“ Don’t get used to this, ” he muttered, voice low,eyes barely able to meets yours, “ It’s not like I’m going soft. ”

— You laughed quietly, brushing a stray lock of dark purple hair from his forehead, giving you full access to his slightly flushed face, “ I’m not asking for soft. Just… a little kindness. ” He shot you a mock glare but didn’t move away as you delicately wiped his face—in rare moments like these,only you and him,his shoulders relax..just a little. After you finished,you kept aside the cloth,and dried his face—you couldn't help but tease him for how cute he looked with the towel wrapped around his face—he could only grumble but, the blush on his face failed to stay neutral. You grab the moisturizer and tell him, “ Hold still, I’m going to apply this moisturizer so your skin doesn’t get dry and flaky. ” Scaramouche raises an eyebrow,quietly eyeing the bottle of cream in your hands,“ Are you sure I need this? I don’t exactly have time to coddle myself like some… flower. ” He tries his best to sound dismissive—keyword: tries—but you catch a hint of curiosity in his voice. You applied the moisturizer gently,your fingers tracing along his porcelain like skin with unexpected tenderness. For a moment, he seemed almost vulnerable—like a sharp blade laid down just long enough to rest. He was slightly stiff the whole time as you applied but,he never pulled away—so you knew he was getting a bit used to the new concept.

— Scaramouche was still a bit uneasy with this skincare thing—so he only allowed you to apply some moisturizer and that was the end of it. You were kind of saddened by him backing out from taking care of his skin—but hey,you were at least able to apply a cream on him, and that was progress of him opening up to you. You hum and went on with your own skincare—you washed your face, dried it, applied the necessary creams and serums onto your face. While you were busy putting a face mask on—you didn't take notice of how Scaramouche stared at you the whole time,he took note on how you applied the moisturizers, serums and creams. The way you patiently took care of your skin..made his stone heart soften—his eyes were locked onto your every move, quietly observing you as he stayed silent,as if he was just apart of the background—and you, were his main attention.

— After you noticed his obvious staring,he recoiled and looked away—trying to act as if he didn't watch you like a hawk the past few minutes. His eyes widen ever so slightly when he heard your soft giggles echoing through the room,he turned to you—puzzled,“ Do you want to try a facemask? I promise you,your skin will look much better afterwards. ” You hand him a packet,he scoffed as he read the scent—it was a floral scented facemask,“ Floral? Seriously? I'd rather cover my face with dirt than that. ” He crossed his arms and looked away,your only response was a chuckle and you scooted closer to him,“ Come on, even gods and puppets need to take care of their skin once in a while.” Scaramouche didn't respond,a few minutes passed—the silence wasn't uncomfortable or anything..more like comforting for him,he could feel your eyes on him and that ungodly patience of yours never left. Then he started with a soft sigh, “ Fine, but only because you’re doing it. Don’t let it get to your head. ” You nodded your head happily,and peeled the facemask open and guided his face to confront yours,his breath would hitch at the action, “ It's going to be a bit weird to feel,but you'll get used to it. ” Scaramouche hesitated,but compiled with it. You applied the mask onto his face—resulting for him to recoil at the cool touch. You smoothened the mask over his face,he would wince at the strong rose scent and freeze for a moment, slightly stiff but not pulling away—he would never pull away if it was you. Scaramouche was silent the whole time as you busied yourself with clearing any creases,“ Hmph. This is... surprisingly tolerable. Though, don’t think this means I’m going soft. Got it? ” You warmly laugh at his response, despite him wincing and urging you to get it over with—you will always notice the way his lips twitch in what almost looks like a smirk. You were now finished and, commented,“ Your skin looks better already. See? A little pampering doesn’t hurt. ” Scaramouche just rolled his eyes—he felt.. somewhat relaxed,not to mention he secretly does enjoy the moment, even if he won’t admit it out loud or never.

— While the facemasks did their thing—you had beforehand prepared some sweet and savoury snacks for the two of you to nibble on. As you grabbed a biscuit—which was a creamy yellow and the drawing of a sakura petal was present in the middle of the snack. You turned to him,“ Here. ” You gestured for him to try it as you held it up, Scaramouche would side eye you and then the biscuit—he had a deep seated aversion to sweet things... He was reluctant to tasting it, but he anyways leaned in and took a bite because..it was you who was offering it,he would never say no. You smiled,“ You really spoil me, ” he said, voice teasing, but his usual edge was gone. You chuckled, cupping his face softly to not move the wet mask,his eyes widened at your action,“ Only the ones I care about, ” you whispered,a smile tugging at your lips as you adored his new look—while a small blush formed on his cheeks. Scaramouche looked at you, something unreadable in his eyes—maybe gratitude, maybe a flicker of affection,maybe..happiness?—and with a slight smirk, he added, “ Maybe this isn’t so bad after all. ” You grinned. “ Told you.”

Deep down.. Scaramouche really appreciates and cherishes your attention, even if he grumbles about it. Maybe..just maybe—he might accompany you during your nightly routines now.

[neuvillettesadmirer]

Going Shopping with your Husband!!>

Pairings : Blade , Jing yuan , Aventurine , Dr Ratio x GN Reader

Warnings : Reader is married to character, Fluff , Modern Au , Not proofread!

| Synopsis — It's time for your daily shopping! Normally you would go by yourself as your husband couldn't accompany you due to his busy schedule,but today he's coming with you!!

Author's Note; hello my beautifuls and handsomes,I hope you enjoy this lil drabble:3 got the inspo from my mom going shopping

[• Blade ]•

— it's the end of the week..you know what time it is? It's time for your weekly shopping!!! You were excitedly getting ready—dressing in some causal clothes, flipping on your shoes and covering yourself with a jacket as you reached for your wallet/purse. You smiled brightly,but you felt like you were forgetting something?..mm what did you forget? It's definitely something important—ah! You forgot to notify Blade you're going out for shopping,how could you forget the most important thing? You turned around to go find him—your soul almost ascended when you were met with a broad chest.. supposedly belonging to your husband. You looked up,confused and surprised by his sudden appearance—he was as well dressed in normal wear..? Was he going out too? Blade examined your expression before flatly saying,“ Let's go. ” He grabbed you and, headed out with a very confused you.

— it wasn't long when you realized he was accompanying you for your weekly shopping, honestly it was nice of him (he would do anything for you.) Blade wasn't really the type to directly say things so it was up to you to figure out by the tiny haints he's giving. At first glance, Blade also doesn't seem like the type to enjoy mundane errands such as shopping—but when it's you, he obliges without any complaints—recently he was very occupied with his work and rarely could go out with you,because he was stuck in a pile of neverending workloads. So it seems today,he had finally finished all his work—and to make up the time he couldn't be with you,he decided to come along with you for your shopping. You go on about the things your hoping to buy as you two walk by each other's sides, you didn't even notice how Blade silently slipped his hand into yours as you both enter the large mall.

— He doesn’t say much, but he’s always watching you—making sure you don’t carry anything heavy, subtly steering the cart when you’re distracted by all the items displayed on the high shelves, and glaring at anyone who gets too close to you whenever they come to you, asking where a certain product was to get a little conversation out of you,which is immediately closed by Blade stepping in. If someone bumps into you—accidentally or with intent, expect a withering stare from your husband that could freeze lava.

— As the two of you go on with the shopping haul,you’ll hear his occasional soft sighs whenever you happen to spend too much of time on comparing fruits or get distracted by a cute knick-knack which always never comes up to your expectations. He'll says things like,“ You’re not seriously thinking of buying that, are you? ” with a blank tone. (He still carries it to the register anyway.) “ It's shown on the cover it's supposed to be strawberry flavor,why does it taste like cardboard? ” You ask, Blade's reply would be a soft hum at seeing how successfully you were fooled by the marketing gimmick. Don't worry though! He'll buy you some good snacks you can nibble on for you to feel better.

— Blade doesn’t necessarily care about brands or price, but he does remember the little things you like, it's very essential for him to note things down in his mind like—your favorite tea,your favourite chocolate,and that rare candy you mentioned once and never did again—and sometimes, he'll silently drop them into the basket when you’re not looking.

— if you get tired or overwhelmed, he’ll wordlessly wrap an arm around your shoulders, shielding you from the crowds, murmuring next to your ear, “ Let’s finish this quickly. You’re too soft to be here for long. ” Yeah..and this man has the most blankest expression you'll ever see in your life, yet he mutters such romantic words that makes your knees go weak and butterflies to host a party in your stomach.

— After shopping, he insists on carrying everything,and l mean everything (even if you try to help). He'll grumble and say that you're too fragile to carry such weight, though there’s an unmistakable softness in his voice and eyes. If you ask if he had fun, he just scoffs, “ Hmph. As long as you’re not running off without me, I’ll endure it. ” it was supposed to come out as a joke,a very bad one at that—but it sounded as if he'll literally kidnap you if you were to run away from him or if you're not seen in his line of vision for one minute, he'll personally cry and run everywhere to find you.

— By the time you're home—you are exhausted from your bones but Blade looked like his usual aloof self. But one thing's for sure,he's already brewed your tea, and everything is put away in their respective places—like he’d done this with you a hundred times before, and wouldn't mind doing it a hundred times more. You two will end the night together,all snuggled up on the couch as you doze off in eachother's embrace—if you happen to fall asleep first, he'll carry you (specifically bridal style) to your shared bedroom as he quietly retires the night by your side.

[• Jing Yuan ]•

— You were scrolling away at your phone outside your house, leaning against doorframe as you wait for your husband—who's taking a very suspicious amount of time to get ready for a simple outing. Jing yuan and you would always go on even the smallest trips by eachother's sides,no matter what,where or who—just know your husband will be next to you. But last week,he was swamped in his work so he had to miss some trips which you took yourself (you just bought some snacks at the closest convenience store and he's already feeling as if he failed his duties as a husband). Suddenly,the door opened with a creak—which made you lose your balance and accidentally fall back..into your beloved husband's strong arms. Jing yuan's expression was a mixture of smug and happy as he holds you in his arms,the best way to describe it was he practically “ >:3 ”yed you,a classic move of his. You sigh,“ what took you so long? Were you shedding and grooming your fur or something? ” You joked,not bothering to manoeuvre yourself out of his arms,it was kinda comfortable to be honest. “ Worse,l couldn't find my white shirt. ” He has six white shirts for your information.

— When you both arrive at the mall,you'd be the one tugging his hand half the time. Not because he's uninterested—but because he strolls around like he has all the centuries in the world. While you're scanning shelves, he stands a few paces behind, arms crossed, watching you with a soft, unhurried smile that says, “ Take your time. I'm already home.”

— Every so often, he leans in close to you and murmurs things like, “ Are you sure we need another kettle? Or is this just your excuse to drag me here and spoil me with your presence? ” He giggles at the end of his sentence as you shot him a glance—not an annoyed one,never an annoyed glance. Instead,it was a mixture of “ You do know the kettle broke right? ” and a playful intent as well.

— He doesn't fuss over prices. He gently insists on buying anything you show interest in—even if you claim it's “ too expensive ” or “ not necessary. ” When you ask him why he does it, he'll respond by saying, “ Mmm… I believe what’s necessary, is keeping you happy. ” Then he proceeds to walk away to an aisle he wants to check out,while leaving you in your flustered state. When you’re distracted, he might sneak a few things into the basket—your favorite snacks, a book you hesitated over buying or leaving it on the shelf, that scarf you looked at once. Later, you’ll find them at checkout, and he’ll just shrug, “ You deserve them. I simply acted accordingly. ”

— He’s attentive but not overbearing. Carries the bags without a word, subtly steers you away from crowded aisles, and occasionally offers his arm with a smile that’s a bit too knowing. If someone stares too long at you or tries to flirt with you at any given chance, Jing Yuan will slowly wrap his arm around your waist and blankly stare at the person. He won't say anything. He doesn't need to,his presence alone sharpens the air and suffocates the molecules. If you get tired, he’ll suggest stopping for tea at a small cafe he's been eyeing for a while. You sit by the window,a sigh of relief escaping you as you look around and take a generous sip of your drink. Jing yuan will gaze at you while sipping his own—content to just exist beside you.

— When the both of you arrive home, it's already late(Jing yuan is the cause of that,since he was mindlessly walking around like a lost child and you had to drag him away). He'll help you put the groceries away and prepare the ingredients for dinner, occasionally pressing some kisses to your forehead or attacking you with hugs from behind while you cook. He'll cling to you like a baby koala, profoundly refusing to let go and proceeding to tighten his grip 10x more. After the two of you are done,Jing yuan and you will eat at the dinner table while chatting some ordinary spouse stuff all the while, quietly enjoying the company of eachother. He will be the first to fall asleep since all that walking did tire him out—when you come out from the shower,please don't be confused when you see him hugging your pillow like his life depended on it—at least he didn't drag you in the middle of your shower and cuddled with you in bed, you're still dumbfounded on why he did that, but rest assured,you gave him a very good lecture (he's bound to do that again,so don't you worry). Look,Jing yuan literally cannot sleep without having you next to him so in order to not get lectured again,he decides to take the closest victim (your pillow) to sustain himself. And the night will end by you two,all snug in eachother's embrace while drifting off to a deep and tranquil slumber.

[• Aventurine ]•

— You had one goal; pick up some necessities and restock some items around the house. Simple. Normal. But the moment Aventurine took your hand and stepped out into the mall, it became anything but ordinary. You thought he would be locked away in his office, drowned in his stack of work,but you were deemed wrong when you saw Aventurine leaning against the doorframe of your living room, expression smug,arms crossed,and dressed in..some very extravagant clothes. He’d dress sharp, of course—designer shades, immaculately styled hair, cufflinks just to buy toothpaste. He'd offer his arm like a gentleman escort, turning mundane errands into a glamorous date. You’d barely walk five steps out before people started staring. He thrives on it, of course..

When you ask him why he wore such expensive clothes for such a small short trip,“ We’re not just shopping, ” He’ll say, flashing that trademark, calculating smile that made colour rush to your cheeks. “ We’re building an experience. ” And that alone was the only explanation you needed to hear to know that you two would definitely come back home—hopefully,since the two of you would probably have to book at a hotel for how late it will be by the time he's finished—with arms holding way too many bags of luxury brands.

— Grocery Store? He'd pretend it’s a high-stakes auction. “ These apples? Too bruised. The bananas? A gamble. But this mango—this is the jackpot. ” He announces to you, while throwing the fruits into the cart as you stare at him..not sure whether to cry or laugh at his antics. Aventurine makes a show of inspecting products like he's evaluating billion-credit investments.

You roll your eyes. He winks.

— Clothing Store? He insists on spoiling you. “ Try this one. And this. And—ah, yes, that red one too. Humor me, love.” He says as he—expensively—leans back in the velvet chair like a smug king while you model outfits,you really just wanna go home and sleep so bad. When you come out in something Aventurine really likes, his eyes darken just a little with a glint you knew too well for your own being. “ I’d wager the universe that no one else could pull that off like you. ” You knew too well he'll eventually be the one to pull it off you in the dressing room,wink wink, If you know,you definitely know;3 Expect whispered praise, subtle touches on your waist, and the kind of smoldering gaze that makes the poor shop assistant scatter in a haze of “ Single And Always The Third Wheel ”.

— At Checkout? He insists on paying—flashing everyone's poor eyes with his IPC-black card with flair. He'll say things to get you blushing like a school girl like, “ Let me invest in my favorite asset—you. ” He'll grin so wide when he notices how red you have become from his flirtatious comments, that's basically his victory—he doesn't even take note of how his presence alone makes everyone feel single,even the married couple and the elderly woman—no one is safe. When you finally give in and let him pay, Aventurine will smile like he just bought half the galaxy,no..the entire dimension. Even if it's shampoo and a bag of chips, he'll curtly say,“ Luxury is in the intention, darling. ” and drag you away to another store.

— When you’re both walking home, hands full of bags and luxury items—you happen to zone out while thinking of the ingredients that needs to be prepared for tonight's dinner—Aventurine notices your spaced out state as he slows just enough to tug you closer, “ Careful now,l wouldn't want my prince/princess to trip and wound themselves, ” his low, lightly teasing and rich voice dragged you out of your thoughts as you were gently pulled to his side—you couldn't help but chuckle at the cheesy nickname. “ Today was quite relaxing for me, don't you think my gem? ” You giggle at his other nickname for you—you responded to him by leaning your head on his shoulder—humming in approval and content. Even though you were exhausted from your soul...you had to admit it was kind of fun. Aventurine softly smiles at you leaning on his shoulder—he hums back slowly, looking up to the sky as he observed the stars with you. While you two were walking—one head relaxed on a shoulder,one arm wrapped around another arm lovingly—Aventurine suddenly paused in his tracks, making you stop as well. You looked at him,confused—tilting your head as you ask him,“ Why'd you stop? Is something the matter? ” Your only response was a short silence,as he cuts in it—voice suddenly changed to a tone dangerously low,“ Mm.. it's nothing really,l just happened to recall you smiling back at one of the clerks and that customer. That's all. ” He flashes you with his smile—you let a sigh out of relief at his answer,and here you thought he was actually mad or something similar to that. And Aventurine being the most naturally unreadable but readable man on this planet,you should have expected it—of course he would have commented on how you smiled back at a clerk or a customer you were helping directions with. “ Are you jealous Aventurine? ” You playfully tease him, “ Why should l be? ” He playfully responds back, resuming to his walking again as he pretends to be “jealous” while you giggle at it. “ You're so silly Aventu— ” Before you could even finish your comment,you were startled by him grabbing your cheek all of a sudden and kissing it—possessively. His lips were tightly pressed against your cheek—he pulls back,not too far but not too close,just enough for his breath to fan over your flustered cheeks. He quietly murmurs next to your ear—too quiet to be heard by anyone but,just high enough for you to hear only, “ You know.. I could’ve had anyone in the universe... but the risk I took on you? Worth every star. So of course I would be jealous darling, don't ever smile back at such worthless peasants again,okay love? ” You knew he was just being a dramatic sap,but his words left a heavy grip on you as you nodded slowly. You absolutely adored him when he's being like this.

— Would you get anything done with Aventurine shopping beside you? Barely. But would you enjoy every second of it? Absolutely.

[• Dr Ratio ]•

— Despite claiming shopping is a “ banal societal ritual for acquiring goods with limited intellectual return,” Veritas never really accompanied the idea of going shopping—how would he even do that anyway? He's literally suffocated with countless exam papers and reports of students with an iq below the underworld's temperature and swamped with meetings and work. He couldn't avoid it,he was an esteemed professor at one of the most prestigious collages after all—but it stings his heart to see you arrive home, exhausted to your every breath you took,all because of shopping. Even though he helps you place the items away—it doesn't help ease the fact in his mind that you had drained yourself for such a trivial thing. So,you were at first,so shocked that your heart could just respectively crawl out of your mouth and ascend to the heavens (basically in terms of moderation,the ceiling)—when Veritas so out of the blue just insists on coming along with you for the weekly shopping. When you asked why,he would give you a very practiced excuse such as,“ Someone has to prevent you from making irrational decisions, ” While tugging on his gloves with exaggerated purpose. But in all reality,he actually meant he was deeply saddened by, how exhausted you look from going outside to buy the items to restock the house and wishes to aid you by your side—but that would mean his dignity would be stabbed and stripped from it's very core.

— Once at the store, he's hypercritical—but caring. He scrutinizes every item you pick up from the shelf and he analyzes each ingredient listed on that item to determine if it was worth it. “ You want this brand of soy sauce? It has 12% more sodium and 60% more marketing fluff. Put it down, darling. ” He says as he takes the bottle from your hand and replaces it with a soy sauce he explains is more “ proper ” and “ better ”

— Veritas is the stoic professional everyone fears and heavily respects—he walks around with a dark,calculated and imposing presence to him that leaves everyone in a scatter to not block his way. But seeing him by your side—albeit the numerous stares from people who look to your direction,asking eachother how can such a theoretical looking man—bend in front of you to tie one of your shoelaces,reach for an item on the top shelf and hand it to you,and most importantly what left their jaws slack—was the subtle kisses he would press to the back of your head or on your forehead. When you noticed the people staring at the two of you,you immediately become nervous under their eyes—Veritas instantly catches on as he tilts his head dramatically and scoots closer to you—muttering to you, “ Fools. Their minds can’t comprehend what they're witnessing.” Your anxiety levels somewhat calmed down when he diverted your mind onto something else,while shooting a sharp glare that could leave the even sharpest knife in a puddle of shame.

— Commentary galore. He literally critiques the grocery store layout, the other shopper's choices,the uniform of the staff,the music playing overhead—and for the seventh time,your dear husband comments on the music,“ This... jingle has been playing for 37 seconds on loop. Is this what passes for audio stimulation these days? ” You chuckle at his statement, his eyes glanced towards you due to your chuckle—but nevertheless,the corners of his lips turn upwards as he manages to sustain himself from smiling, he's happy that he made you laugh from his statement. When you pause by a display of snacks he secretly likes but will never admit, he tries to act above it all—he (eagerly) silently waits for you to ask him whether to buy his favourite secret snack which isn't really a secret,since you knew about it,“ I suppose it wouldn’t be entirely irrational to buy these. For research purposes. Purely anecdotal testing.” You almost burst into a fit of laughter at his answer, chuckling to yourself as you plop some of it in the cart. As you steer away,from your peripheral vision,you can see him smiling softly at you—a smile he will only show to you,his dearest.

— Veritas picks out a gift for you without mentioning a word—whether small or large,food or clothes, it doesn't matter to him, because he only chose it because it reminded him of you—the size never mattered, because you deserve everything—its thoughtful, and extremely you. He tosses it in the cart casually like it’s nothing, but watches your reaction out of the corner of his eye,a small tiny smirk would be plastered on his lips when you ask him why he threw it in the cart. He'll simply just not answer your question and stride away with a certain proudness.

— At checkout,If the cashier flirts with you—he instantly slides an arm around your waist and tugs you to his side—he smiles (way too smugly) when the cashier flinches when he notices Veritas,who practically hovered over your form and engulfed it under his shadow. “ Ah, yes. This one’s taken. By me. But by all means, continue miscalculating. ” Even though his comment sounded goofy (in a way—) it had this underlying tone of “ I'll bury you alive if you even breathe in my partner's presence again.” kinda way,along with a possessiveness that was only heightened when it came to you.

— Veritas carries the bags without being asked. When you offer to help him carry some of it, he'll close down the offer without even speaking—he grumbles about “ unnecessary physical exertion ” the whole time, but if you so much as try to take one bag again, he snaps, “ What kind of husband lets his partner carry a single gram of weight? Tch. Barbaric. ” Even though his comment is quite rough, there's this undeniable softness that is conveyed within it. He'll subconsciously skim closer to you and press a quick kiss to the side of your forehead, mumbling silently to you,“ You did good today. Let's go home and rest now. ”

— In the end, even though he gripes the whole time—he walks beside you with content ease, fingertips brushing yours as you head home. When you thank him for coming, he scoffs,“ I merely observed your inefficient shopping methods for scientific purposes. But... I suppose it wasn’t completely intolerable. ” let me give you an official and proper translation;when he meant was,he absolutely loves spending time with you more than he’s willing to admit.

[neuvillettesadmirer]

Your Favourite Lil Dress Up Companion

Pairings : Mr Crawling x GN reader

Warnings : Mostly Fluff, Lil suggestive(kisses) , Cross dressing (Mr Crawling)

| Synopsis — Dressing Mr Crawling up and him being all giggly><

~

Imagine dressing Mr Crawling up in those cute and short dresses that contain an appealing pastel colour palette and some good ol lil hair clips that you find on Pinterest. Oh how precious would he look!!>

Imagine Mr Crawling's long, ebony and shiny hair—that would normally cascade over his back as he crawls to wherever he was headed to,some strands would sit around him like a soft void whenever he sits for a rest. Once on the dirty floor,were now gathered together to be tied into two pigtails that were held secure by two oversized satin bows—possibly pink or pastel blue. While hair clips would adorn the side of his strands or maybe some by his forehead—little kitties,bows,hearts,cupcakes,and any type!

Imagine dressing Mr Crawling like the gorgeous being he was. He’s in a lacy, frilly Victorian-style dress, maybe layered with tulle and ribbons—he would look like those haunted porcelain dolls you would find in old antique shops. This style of clothing you happen to dress Mr Crawling in was something very different from his usual look—so at first he would be confused,asking you in his broken voice that you always found alluring for some reason, “ Dress..pink? confused? ” But nevertheless,as he babbles questions at you, he'll let you continue your decorations on him because he can't help the certain brewing of excitement at his updated look> Mr Crawling and the other monsters wear a very dull colour palette so seeing such high and light colours was a foreign concept for him.

Imagine swapping Mr Crawling's black kimono, for a white and silky,puff-sleeved blouse and a pastel pink poofy skirt that jingles softly as he crawls along the floor like a lil cute puppy. Despite the new adorable outfit he's been placed in—he still moves unsettlingly—too fast, too low to the ground,too silent to be noticed for slithering along the floors like he was apart of the shadows—smile unchanged—but now it’s cute and deeply cursed all at once. He isn't your ordinary sleep paralysis demon anymore now, he's the new version of an adorable dress up model—all pretty just for you;3

Imagine putting Mr Crawling into a dress that features a structured corset bodice,adorned with delicate lace and rosettes—enhancing his slender waistline with soft elegance. The most eye-catching feature is the oversized white bow at the bust, balanced by a massive pink bow at the back, giving him a doll-like silhouette. The skirt is multi-layered with tiers of chiffon and organza— combining soft ruffles and flounces to create a voluminous cupcake shape which...l have to say,just looked too adorable whenever he crawled—it would bounce like a poofy cloud around him. The color palette would be a mix of soft pastel pink and white—emphasizing his dull and greyish skin that you would litter your kisses on. The overall look on him was whimsical, romantic, and reminiscent of fairytale royalty or elegant dolls. His high pitched giggles were the cherry on top for the doll-like look.

Imagine Mr Crawling into an outfit that was a playful mix of cozy and sexy, something that always looked good on him no matter what. The off-shoulder white sweater is corset-laced with pink satin ribbon—showcasing his somewhat broad but lean shoulders,you couldn't help but tease him by pressing your lips on one of his shoulders—earning you a loud giggle from him. The clothing cinched at his torso for a structured shape despite the knit fabric, highlighting his slender and tall frame. The bottom half consists of a tiered micro skirt in pleated, ruffled pink fabric, emphasizing volume and movement—which made the look of his bare thighs almost too attractive..so you just had to feel his soft skin under the pad of your fingers,you had too—when you grab at his thigh,Mr Crawling would be startled at first,“ Why..do..that? ” He would ask softly,his breath coming out a bit unsteady and a wave of light blush would ghost his cheeks at the action. God he looked so smoochable. The color palette would be white and pastel pink. The lacing details runs down the entire bodice, emphasizing his cute waist while maintaining a sweet, feminine aesthetic.

Imagine putting Mr Crawling into a dress that was a style of clothing like luxurious full Lolita coordinate. The bodice is ornately decorated with lace, pearls, bows, and ribbon roses—which Mr Crawling would playfully tug at times. The skirt has extensive tiered layers, combining lace-trimmed panels with varying textures and soft pastel tones. The hem is delicately scalloped with lace edging. The sleeves are puffed with ribbons and lace cuffs, further contributing to the antique doll look. The entire dress exudes an air of elegance around the man—who looked completely horrifying but..too beautiful as well, as the colour palette was twirl of cream white and baby pink made him stand out amongst the dim atmosphere. Like a rare gem.

Imagine him tilting his head softly,tugging on the hem of his lacey skirt—while asking in his slow, distorted voice that you couldn't help but coo at how cute he sounds,“ Pretty...? I am... pretty... now? ” The end of his sentence will be accompanied by his signature giggles while he twirls (well, crawled around would be more suited—)to give you the full look of his new clothes. You would smile and shower him with his well deserved kisses—tease him as much as you want because you'll be getting a lot of precious reactions from him. If you were to playfully squeeze the inner of his thigh,a low whine would rumble from the back of his throat as blush covers his face at the intimate gesture. Smoother his bare shoulders in kisses,in return you'll be rewarded with either those high pitched giggles you absolutely adore or kisses of his own to you!><

Bonus —

Mr Crawling would definitely flex to the other monsters of all the affection you showered him in and telling them they'll never get it—all while his pastel dress would make their eyeballs pop out of their skulls as their jaw drops. Let's be honest,these monsters definitely hadn't even heard of the word pastels or any other colours in general,maybe a certain red umbrella man and Silvair might have heard of a few colours but that's all it. So seeing how Mr Crawling is dressed up in such foreign colours—would have three reactions from them. One, they'll go blind because they have definitely not seen such colours,two they'll be impressed by how the dresses look and maybe..some might even come to you asking to be dressed up like Mr Crawling—or just ask where in the world you even got them from while taking notes as,they are kinda fascinated at the feel of the fabric or accessories—and three.. they'll be jealous of the fact they weren't the ones who was dressed up and be all grumpy because of it.

Now, I'm proud to announce that Mr Crawling is officially—your favourite lil dress up companion.

[neuvillettesadmirer]

Haircut With Your Bf!!>

════════════════════════════

Pairings : Alhaitham , Diluc , Neuvillette , Zhongli x GN Reader

Warnings : Fluff, Established relationship, Not proofread!

| Synopsis — Your hair has overgrown the past few weeks,and it has been bugging you a lot lately which disturbed your work and daily tasks. You were in desperate needs for a haircut—and your boyfriend happened to notice your displeasure. Being the sweet gentleman he was,he offered to cut it for you! ><

Author's Note; hello lovelies, I got this inspiration from cutting my mom's hair so l hope you enjoy! P.S this is my first ever blog so please do not mind any mistakes or errors in the characters!

•| Alhaitham •|

— Alhaitham's offer of trimming your hair made your heart jump out your mouth at first—because,he was never the type to even utter a sound of such things to anyone..so you were a bit suspicious about his out of the blue offer. The scribe immediately noticed your somewhat reluctant expression, with a soft sigh—he cleared all of your doubts that he did have experience with self made haircuts. Of course, he didn't mention the part where he observed how displeased you looked with your overgrown hair through the past few weeks. It was just too much for him to admit(he's too embarrassed). At first,he could have just made an appointment for a haircut at a proper salon and get it done with..but,it just didn't sit right with him—having someone else touch your precious hair? Nuh uh,so in the end of his conclusion, he'll be the one to trim it. And finally you'll be in solace without having to trouble yourself so much.

~

— A soft cloth was draped over your shoulders, covering them and your back. Alhaitham made sure you were comfortable—he bought some snacks for you to nibble on while he focused on your hair,along with some products like a water spray bottle to dampen your strands,a proper salon scissor and some hair clips. And don't worry your pretty head,as he had practiced the whole week before even asking to cut it—so rest assured,your in the hands of a professional (?)

— After Alhaitham had prepared everything,he took a brief step back and stared at your reflection from the mirror in silence, making you a bit nervous under his calculating and sharp gaze. He’d approach the task like a puzzle to solve—analyzing the shape of your face, your hair texture, and how to best achieve balance and symmetry without causing any imperfections which might clash with your undeniable charm. Alhaitham might not say much—as being in silence helped him achieve the best of concentration. However,you will feel the sharp focus lingering in the air.

— His hands reached for the scissors quietly—you didn't even notice him grabbing them when the sound of something metal being sharpened stripped you from your thoughts. Alhaitham patiently sharpened the edges with measured pressure,so that your hair would be cut neatly without any extra strands escaping—he is quite the perfectionist after all... “ Sit still. I don’t plan on making mistakes just because you fidget. ” He states,his eyes still rested onto the sliver metal of the scissor,which bluntly held his reflection against it.

— After sharpening,he kept the scissors down,his hands taking a hold of the comb—he sectioned your hair with military precision,it was almost unnerving for how easily he did it. As he parts your hair, Alhaitham silently measures lengths with his slender fingers—ones that used to write countless reports and flip through the cream pages of books that carved knowledge within their words—were now separating your hair with a profound softness he only harboured towards you. You chuckled softly at how focused he was,it looked so adorable to you! The stoic and aloof acting grand sage,who was deeply respected for his esteemed reputation and beautiful intellect—was here, behind you,eyebrows slightly furrowed together in deep focus,fingers brushing your hair with maddening precision. Upon hearing your chuckle,he pauses. His hand freezes mid-motion—still wrapped around your soft locks, and you can almost hear the gears turning in his head, “…Was that necessary?” He says it flatly, but there’s a subtle twitch at the corner of his mouth—amusement, maybe. Or disbelief. Either way, you’ve disrupted his perfect concentration. Now what do you have to say to defend yourself?

“ Sorry.. it's just that..you look so cute being all focused like that! I couldn't help myself.. ” You say shyly, avoiding his gaze as you divert your eyes somewhere around the room. You could feel his eyes bore onto your back—it caused a small tremble in your bones. Then he spoke,his voice catching your attention,“ If I cut your fringe unevenly, you’ll only have yourself to blame.” Still, there’s a gentleness to the way he resumes, his fingertips brushing slower now, almost deliberate. You smile at his response,“ Alright, I'm fine with that. Gives a bit of an authentic vibe to it then. ” You tease, the corner of your lips failing to keep neutral—curled up into a wide grin. He was unfazed by your comment—his voice drops just a little,almost unnoticeable but you managed to catch it, “ Honestly… you’re far too easily entertained. ” The little smirk he hides behind your head doesn't go unnoticed by your eyes.

– As he snips away at your overgrown strands—each gracefully fell down onto the ground. Yet, in his own quietly considerate way, he might tuck stray strands behind your ear or adjust your chin with a gloved hand, murmuring,“ Tilt your head. That side’s uneven. ” It wasn't because he cares deeply about styling, but because sloppiness annoys him..and maybe..maybe he kind of wanted to hold your chin as your eyes would stare back at his..he will never admit that, whenever he looks into your eyes—his heart skips 20 beats.

— After Alhaitham is done—he won’t compliment you outright. But he might pause, studying how his work turned out, and say “ It suits you. Fortunately, you didn’t interfere. ” Although,the small tiny curve at the end of his lips was barely even there,it was still there though. He was proud of what he made on the inside. Now reward him with kisses and cuddles,he demands it.

→ Precise? Absolutely. Efficient? Yes. Gentle? Surprisingly, yes—but only because it’s practical. Conclusion: If you want a good haircut without having to pay, Alhaitham is highly recommended💯

•| Diluc •|

— Diluc would likely hesitate at first as,one he's not exactly a professional,not because he’s incapable, but because he doesn’t want to mess up something involving you—he can't even look at himself in the mirror for three weeks when he accidentally poured your coffee into a different mug instead of the one you usually drank from. And two,he doesn't have much free time from his schedule as being the wealthy owner of Dawn Winery was kind of exhausting,so he couldn't cut your hair in peace. But those two reasons were instantly thrown out the window, when he noticed just how drained you looked with your overgrown hair. At first Diluc thought of appointing a haircut but..he felt some kind of strange surge of determination brew inside him when he looked at your hair—nope,forget the hair cut he's doing it himself. He will not and never will,let other people touch that beautiful hair of yours—look he cherishes it and it would break him to see that someone else can touch such a treasure without even knowing how valuable it is. So,he brought the items and asked Adeline for tips just incase.

~

— You sat on the chair with a soft smile,you are finally breaking free from the restraints of overgrown hair! Yay! Diluc tapped your shoulder softly, snapping you back to reality as you slowly turn towards him,“ Are you really sure you want me to do this...? ” You have been hit with this question almost about a dozen times in the span of one minute—He just wasn't sure he would be the best to do it okay?! All that determination had anyway been thrown away the moment you sat on the chair. “ Yes..don't worry,I trust you. Plus it's just a trim, it's completely fine if it's a bit uneven. ” You reassured, flashing him your signature smile that would make his stomach host a butterfly party and his heart to skip a few miles. “ Hm. Alright.. But stay still okay? ” Diluc turned to where the scissors were—he held the scissors like a weapon with his fingers clasped tightly around the object to keep him grounded from his brewing uncertainty, but seeing you smile ever so gracefully in the reflection of the mirror. He would wield it like you're glass in his hands.

— Diluc will take his time—too much time, if you were to ask anyone else. Each snip is deliberate, maybe even a little slow, because he’s overthinking it. He probably frowns in concentration the whole time, brow furrowed and lips pressed tight into a flat line. You didn't notice that you were getting a bit sleepy for how long he was taking,but you weren't complaining though—seeing his cute reactions to seeing a side which isn't cut correctly or his concentrated expression. It was testing your patience to not get up and smooch his face into an oblivion of kisses. If your hair brushes his hand slightly when he's combing or cutting it—he might pause and quietly clear his throat, pretending like it didn’t affect him when it very much did, “ You’re lucky I’m patient. ” The comment earned a tiny giggle from you, making his heart stutter as he quickly tries his best to resume to what he's doing.

— He’s mid-snipping, brow furrowed, totally absorbed in his careful work when suddenly—you yawn. Quiet,soft, relaxed, maybe even stretching a little while you do it. Diluc freezes like a statue. Scissors held mid-air, eyes narrowing slightly—not in irritation, but in that “did you just yawn while I’m trying not to stab your neck?” kind of way. He says nothing at first, just slowly lowers the scissors and lets out a small sigh, “Am I boring you?” (Totally deadpan, but you can hear the dry sarcasm under it). His response made you jump from your drowsy state,you immediately reply to him to clear any misunderstandings,“ Ah,l'm sorry.. I'm just a bit sleepy..your hands relax me so l couldn't help myself. ” You smile tiredly. You might catch the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth at your answer. Not quite a smile, but close. Then, softer,maybe a little flustered,he murmured,“ If you’re tired… don’t move too much. I don’t want to accidentally cut more than your hair” There’s a pause before he continues, and this time—the touch of his fingers against your hair is even gentler, like he’s trying not to wake you and instead relax you into a slumber.

And if you happened to lean forward a little, half-dozing while he works,he’ll just quietly adjust your posture, maybe brushing a hand over your head once without thinking, quietly mumbling to himself, “ Honestly… You’re too trusting. ” But there’s something soft in his tone. Protective. Like he likes being trusted that much more than he lets on.

— When he is finally done,he won’t compliment you directly. Although,he’ll glance away shyly, ears slightly red, and mutter something like, “ It looks... fine. Better than before. ” But in reality,what he actually meant was that he’s obsessed with how it turned out, and he won’t stop thinking about the feel of your hair in his hands. Despite the occasional uneven strand, he’ll never admit it bothers him and disturbs a certain braincell in his mind—but you might catch him sneaking in little touch-ups days later when you're not paying attention.

→ Precise? Not exactly. Careful? Yes. Tender? More than he’ll admit. Conclusion: He's the cutest flustered and nervous haircutter of all time, despite the uneven strands it looks beautiful 🤚

•| Neuvillette •|

— The chief of justice was known for being a figure that is composed and formal,who adapts and observes any situation with a gaze that rips lies from criminals and uncovers true and raw honesty. So Neuvillette was quick to notice how stressed his beloved was during the last few weeks,and the cause of that was your overgrown hair. Neuvillette knew you were a person who was carefree and happy out going,so seeing you in distress left a bitter aftertaste on his tongue. He sat in his office, thinking deeply on what he should do—well it kind of was simple,he could put you in an appointment in one of Fontaine's best salons but the idea of it just didn't seem right to him. Maybe it was just his slight possessiveness protectiveness of you,it couldn't be helped since his dragonic self would go berserk if he were to see someone or something even look in the presence of yours. He was stuck between his ideas,that was until a melusine decided it was time for him to take the matter into his own hands—by offering him the suggestion to cut your hair,which he, at first was considering it,but he decided it was best option so he agreed. During Neuvillette's break,he suggested the melusine's idea to you. Which you,accepted. Neuvillette couldn't help but smile and took the day off to focus entirely on you!>

~

— Neuvillette prepared the items and made sure you were comfortable. Neuvillette treats the act of cutting your hair with a level of reverence that feels almost ceremonial. Not because he’s done it often, he's never cut someone else's hair before except his own—but because it’s you, and to him, that makes it significant. Whether it be a simple common thing or something so rare and extravagant.

— You were smiling so brightly it put the sun to shame,you looked up to him and said,“ Thank you again Neuvillette,I really am in desperate needs of it. ” He’d pause for a moment as he stared back at you—head tilted slightly, silver eyes unreadable—and then nod once, solemnly. His soft voice calmed all of your inner stress,“ Very well. I will do it with care. ” And with that,he took a hold of the scissor which was placed neatly on the table. He’d move gracefully, hands steady, scissors elegant and shining like rain-forged silver. Every movement is precise, calculated with careful softness,almost regal. He’d part your hair with long,thin fingers—not hurriedly, but with thoughtful silence. And yet, he’s gentle. Exceedingly so. It was if he was afraid you would shatter like a porcelain doll if he were to put the tiniest of pressure.

— You might feel the cool brush of his gloved fingers near your nape, his breath faintly ghosting over your skin as he adjusts a strand. And though his expression barely changes, his voice may soften—a softness that is only heard when he is with you, “ Tell me if it’s uncomfortable… I wouldn’t want to harm what is precious to me. ” Your heart would skip a beat at his words—a soft hue of pink kissed your cheeks and the tip of your nose. Which he immediately caught on to—a smile would tug at his lips,he would stop his movements which made you confused until—you felt the subtle press of his soft lips on the top of your head. His eyes narrowed in a playful glint when he saw how red you are,a soft cackle would leave him as he graciously resumed to his work.

— He’s standing behind you, calm as a still lake,like a soft shadow that guards you from the corruption of the world. He was delicately trimming your hair with almost divine precision. The air is quiet, peaceful—then,but you felt a faint itch in your nose—you didn't take note of it then it increased and—

“ Ah-CHO! ”

You sneeze. Just once. Not dramatic. But enough to make you jerk a little in your seat. Neuvillette immediately freezes like ice. Scissors paused mid-air, his hand hovering, eyes widening ever so slightly in surprise. “ ...Are you alright?” His voice is still composed, but there's a tightness to it—like he just watched you nearly topple off a ledge. “ Yea..sorry about that. The weather is kind of chilly haha.. ” You apologize, embarrassed. Then he gently lowers the scissors, stepping around to face you. He inspects you for a moment, as if trying to determine whether that sneeze was a symptom of some deeper condition only the laws of Fontaine could diagnose. “ You’re not ill, are you? ” He asks, eyebrows furrowed in concern. You shake your head,“ No I'm fine— ” You get interrupted by his worried tone,“ If you are unwell, the haircut can wait. Your health takes precedence. ” You might laugh it off, but Neuvillette would remain slightly tense for a few moments, lips pressed in concern. He’s not annoyed—not even close. But he doesn’t like unpredictability when sharp objects are involved near your head. It would take a couple of minutes of you saying you are alright and it was just a simple sneeze and him not believing it and ushering you to take a rest as he will prepare some herbal tea for your “ supposed ” illness.

Eventually, when he resumes, he’s even more careful than before. Slower. And then, with a tone so gentle you almost don’t catch it, “ ...Next time, please warn me. ” You suspect he’s only half joking. And maybe... just maybe... if you were to sneeze again, you’ll see the corners of his mouth twitch upward, almost amused. “ Perhaps we should prepare tissues and tea before the next haircut. ”

— And when he finishes,he’ll gently brush loose strands from your shoulders and look at you, long and contemplative, drinking in your beautiful features,before quietly murmuring, “ You look… serene. It suits you. ” Your smile would soften his heart as a slight pink hue would be dusted over his cheeks.

And in the far distance, outside the window..

The rain calms. Just a little.

→Precise? Immaculately. Deliberate? Absolutely. Emotionally restrained? At first. But underneath? Pure softness. I would highly recommend him as well,this silly goober is well trusted with these things👍

•| Zhongli •|

— Zhongli, being the ever so observant man he was— took extreme note of your frustration caused by your overgrown your hair. During one of the daily talks about the history of Liyue you two would host at evening together—he noticed how you continuosly tied your hair which always fell down and irritated your neck,strands of hair was covering your forehead which made you having to always keep them back. He spoke about ancient tales and memories he had stored in his mind,however he still kept a mindful eye on how tired you looked—yet you still smiled at him and continued to listen like the kindest person you are. It burdened his heart to see how exhausted you were,so he thought of appointing a hair cut for you but he reconsidered it. It just didn't feel right with him—his primal dragonic senses immediately didn't agree with someone touching your hair? No,so he took the first option he had in mind—him suggesting to trim your hair by his own hands! You were caught off guard by the sudden suggestion since you two were so engrossed in Liyue's history and you were suddenly just hit by the mention of a haircut all of a sudden,but you only nodded with a sincere smile. Finally,you can break free from this annoying overgrown hair of yours.

~

— Zhongli would treat the act not merely as grooming, but as a ceremony of care and refinement. Zhongli quietly and elegantly prepares everything; antique scissors (possibly a Liyue heirloom), an incense burner to create a calm atmosphere, and a silk cloth draped over your shoulders with reverence. His fingers would thread through your hair like leaves blowing in the wind,he asks, “ Hair reflects the passage of time. To trim it is to mark a new chapter. Are you certain you’re ready? ” His soft and relaxed voice earned a tiny nod from you,you giggled as you knew he was definitely turning it into a philosophical moment in his memory.

— He moves with the kind of slow, steady elegance—that makes you feel like you’re in the presence of something sacred. Each snip is measured,perfectly balanced, like he’s crafting a sculpture—not just trimming hair. “ Your hair’s texture reminds me of the osmanthus petals that fall in the autumn breeze. ” His comment made butterflies run around in your stomach,you shyly looked away as your cheeks burned with a red hue. Zhongli took a slight minute to release your flushed state,when he did. He would laugh affectionately,the sound rich and carved with ancient elegance.

— Zhongli will softly talk during the hair cut to keep you occupied. Sharing old stories about ancient Liyue, customs surrounding hair, maybe even the symbolic meaning of cutting it in different dynasties. All while,he gently combs through each section with practiced ease,his hands cataloguing a part of you only he will ever have access to—while checking for symmetry from every angle. Even one stray strand wouldn’t escape his sharp notice.

— You would listen eagerly to his stories, fascinated every time—while sipping from the cup of herbal tea he prepared for you beforehand as in a means of quenching your thirst as he rambled on. But then,a few strands blocked your vision as they scattered around on your face—the strands slightly irritated your skin as you brought your hand up to your face. Flicking them backwards,you sighed a breath of relief from not drowning in your own hair..however,those same strands of hair decided to aim straight at Zhongli's face,you gasped and immediately apologized, “ Oh my god! I'm so sorry I didn't mean to hit you!— ” You couldn't help but crack a laugh as you see your boyfriend,thanks to the reflection of the mirror—standing dumbfounded as if he was assaulted and stripped of his dignity. His body was still as he diligently wipes a strand from his cheek,and just stares..mostly to gather what just happened as you continued to laugh at his expression. But you immediately froze when you heard him mumble,“ ...That was once considered a courting gesture in an ancient opera. ” You both stared at eachother,each newly dumbfounded. A few minutes passed like a comical breeze—and the two of you burst into a fit of airy laughter,“ I suppose we are now courted together? Please do take care of me Mr Zhongli ” You dramatically flick your hair,but this time Zhongli dodged it as if it was a nuke—a teasing smile on his lips,“ Yes l will my dear. ” He promised with a kiss to the side of your forehead as he resumed to his trimming.

— When he was done,he gently brushes the loose hair from your shoulders, his touch featherlight and gentle, and says, “ There. You carry yourself differently already. Change suits you well. ” A soft smile would be plastered onto his lips as he is very proud of what he had created. You might notice the incense has burned halfway down. Time moved slowly—but peacefully—just like him.

→Precise? Impeccably. Graceful? As if sculpting marble. Ritualistic? Almost spiritual. Conclusion: This silly ol dragon is definitely one of the best hairdressers✨

[neuvillettesadmirer]

• Masterlist •

Genshin Impact —

Haircut with your bf!!>

Pairings : Alhaitham , Diluc , Neuvillette , Zhongli x GN Reader

Warnings : Fluff, Established relationship

Skincare Routine With Your Harbinger Bf!!>

Pairings : Childe , Pantalone , Dottore , Scaramouche x GN Reader

Warnings : Fluff , Lil Suggestive (?) , Mentions of Kisses

Honkai Star Rail —

Going Shopping with your Husband!!>

Pairings : Blade , Jing yuan , Aventurine, Dr Ratio x GN Reader

Warnings : Reader is married to character , Fluff , Modern AU

Cuteness Aggression>>

Pairings : Blade , Jing Yuan , Dan heng , Caelus , Sunday Sampo , Aventurine x GN reader

Warnings : Pure Fluff , Mentions of kissing:3

A Sweet Breakfast Meal Just For You!!

Pairings : Dr Ratio , Boothill , Sunday , Argenti, Blade , Jing Yuan , Aventurine x GN Reader

Warnings : Pure Fluff , Mentions of Kisses , Little angst Aventurine's part (if you squint real hard) Reader being a little flirty , Not proofread!

Homicipher —

Your Favourite Lil Dress Up Companion

Pairings : Mr Crawling x GN reader

Warnings : Mostly Fluff, Lil suggestive(kisses) , Cross dressing (Mr Crawling)

Love and Deep space —

← Wanna Go Back Darling?

[neuvillettesadmirer]

⁠۝ Welcome my loves, I'm Addison or simply refer to me as Admirer, and I'm a certified Daydreamer! ⁠۝

⁠❥ In this chaotic comfort space I have created from the very core of my tiny braincells—you'll come across writings at concerning and unconditional hours with the normal existential crisis of my poor decisions and,of course—we cannot forget the occasional fluff brainrot. P.S I'm a beginner writer so please do not mind me!—

☆｡⁠∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°Fandoms I write for ∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°｡⁠☆

° Genshin Impact

° Honkai Star Rail

° Homicipher

° Love And Deep space

MASTERLIST

!!! IMPORTANT N O T E !!!

I write only about men however,l will try my best to write about women as well so spare me my love (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

This blog is strictly sfw,if you want to read my nsfw blogs,please go to my second account, @guiltyforneuvillette

R E Q U E S T S — ⁠⁠╣⁠ ⑅ C L O S E D ⑅ ╠

☆☆Things I Will Write About☆☆

• Platonic, Smut & Fluff

• Hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending.

• AUs (example : modern AUs)

• Young Characters as your little siblings (only young characters,not older ones)

• Dubcon,BDSM,noncon, occasional age gap,blowjobs, rimjobs, kinks.

• Heat Cycles,demons, angels,hybrids (only ears and tail,l feel quite uncomfortable about writing anything other than that)

Xx Things I Will Not Write About xX

• Rough kinks (example — Misgendering,ageplay,mommy kinks, foot fetishes,etc)

• I will not write overly explicit mpreg,as I'm not comfortable with it much.

• Femdom,afab reader, female reader (although l will write about gn reader!)

• Suicide,self harm, cheating,breakups

✿ R U L E S ✿

Before you request something,please read the following ↓

I ) The reader is male by default. I can write gn reader upon request.

II ) The reader is dom & top by default. However,I will write sub / bottom reader upon request.

III ) You must be over 18 to request anything,even sfw. If you are a minor,please do not interact with any of my blogs.

IV ) I can write headcannons,oneshots and scenarios.

V ) If you want your request to specifically be a headcannon/oneshot/etc,please specify in your ask. Otherwise,l will pick whichever format fits while writing it.

VI ) Maximum of 2–3 character for oneshots. 1–4 characters for scenarios or headcannons.

VII ) Requests will be accepted through the inbox (asks). Not from DMs,replies to a post,tags, etc.

VIII ) I age up characters (usually to 20 or older). If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not interact with any of my blogs.

IX ) I reserve the right to refuse any request without explanation.

{ Extra Note }

I'm not often active on Tumblr since l have to wash my fish daily 💔

All work belongs to @neuvillettesadmirer. Please do NOT repost and claim as yours, modify, translate, or plagiarize in any way on any platforms. Thank you(⁠~⁠￣⁠³⁠￣⁠)⁠~