Whateverrrrrr Anyway Capitano Kneels In Front Of You And Offers You His Sword Instead Of A Ring

whateverrrrrr anyway capitano kneels in front of you and offers you his sword instead of a ring

Lily of the Valley Vases 🪷

Hey Nana ~

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nagi likes watching you.

a lot of his time is spent with his eyes closed, strained from the light of his phone or fixed onto a football when he's in control, which takes great focus; sleep included. but you? it's totally different. he doesn't watch because he has to pay attention, or he has to stay alert, but because it's easy. it's easy to take note of your every move when you fascinate him oh so much. and it's even easier when you're in the middle of taking care of him, tending to his needs and getting him what he wanrs like you have to do it. but he can tell by that gentle, sweet look in your eyes, everything you do is out of love.

he never thought he'd have someone special enough who would have him sitting up from his spot, as if he's making sure you won't get hurt or make any silly mistakes. or someone special enough who he'd willingly drag himself out of bed for when you leave the room, whining and saying that you should stay close and that you remain within his eyesight. even in the morning and his eyes crack open, the smell of your cooking in the kitchen has him scrambling to his feet, striding his way towards you and draping his body over your frame. not a word comes out of his mouth, just unintelligible mumbles and groans as he rests his chin on your shoulder, arms around your waist.

nagi grows unbelievably attached, believing he has to spend every waking moment with you. actually, include when he sleeps as well. this man just knows when you're not beside him, knows when you're not cuddled up close to him and enjoying his warmth. you'll be stuck in his grasp for hours, not able to reach your phone or anything. often, he falls asleep with his head on your thighs, and you will have to sit there while your legs fall asleep and sizzle, because apparently pillows just aren't good enough. give him a thousand, and he'd still choose to crawl towards you, tugging on your legs to get them in the perfect position.

he's surprisingly handsy, or unsurprisingly, take your pick. he needs contact with you at all times, and it doesn't matter where. your shoulder needs to be against his when you're sat next to each other. you have to hold onto him or reat your forehead on your chest on the train. your hand (somehow) has to be holding his when he's playing video games. if he loses, so be it.

you're like toast, and he's your butter. once he's melted on you, he's not coming off.

little chick...

roses are red, violets are blue, lynette is so done with the two of you

lyney x gn!reader

lynette thinks fontaine’s worst kept secret isn’t how neuvillette wears blue underwear or how the hydro archon loves a good drama, no, fontaine’s worst kept secret is lyney’s massive crush on you and how everyone and their grandmother know except you.

comedy, pining lyney, lynette being so done

Lyney’s frowning.

Most people would find it an odd expression on him, used to having him direct dazzling smiles and playful laughter their way. But Lynette isn’t just anyone, and the sight of Lyney frowning is hardly a rare phenomenon within the privacy of their household.

Freminet’s usually Lyney’s choice of victim for whatever nonsense he’s managed to build himself up in that head of his, but Freminet’s busy doing errands and Lynette is unfortunately the only person within vicinity that Lyney trusts with his secret—which isn’t even a secret by this point, people have been making bets on how long it would take you to realize that Lyney’s been pining over you since forever.

Case in point: Lyney frowning over two identical flowers. She doesn’t need to be a mind reader to know that her brother is having a midlife crisis over which flower to give you.

Lynette thinks he should just man up and confess. Preferably within the next week or so, otherwise she’d lose her bet.

“Lynette, which one is more eye-catching, the crimson one,” he holds up the flower in his right hand, then he raises the other one, “or the maroon one?”

Lynette gives him the deadest stare she can muster. “They’re the same color.”

“Oh, sister, have you no taste?” Lyney tuts, pouting at her for a moment before returning to that constipated look as he squinted at the ‘crimson’ and ‘maroon’ flowers. Talk about being delusional.

“(Y/N)’s not gonna care whether the rose is crimson or maroon or red,” she tells him. You’d probably accept a dead flower if it came from Lyney, with that starry-eyed look you always got whenever he so much as glances your way. Lynette’s not one to judge other people’s taste too harshly, but she does wonder what you see in her overdramatic and annoying brother.

Ah, well. They do say love makes people blind. Hopefully not literally though, Lynette’s not looking forward to performing shows alone because Lyney got blinded by his love for you—though if you asked Lynette, she’d tell you it wasn’t love so much as obsession. Only someone insane would spend hours picking out flowers and calling them ‘maroon’ and ‘crimson’. It’s just red.

Lynette squints at him. “And since when were you interested in the meaning of flowers?”

“Well, I suppose you could say I like to dabble in other pursuits.” Lyney gives her a cheeky grin.

“Right…” He’s clearly losing his mind.

“Red roses symbolize true love, though rainbow roses in particular pertain to passion, and…” He trails off, eyes blinking in astonishment. She can practically see the lightbulb appearing on top of his head.

With a flick of his wrists, the ‘crimson’ and ‘maroon’ roses disappear. Lynette watches him warily, wondering what kind of outlandish idea has formed in that head of his.

But he doesn’t elaborate more, only shoots a wink at her and says, “I’ve got a great idea.”

✧

His great idea, as it turns out, is to corner you in an alleyway and make it rain rainbow roses around you as he asked you out on a date, all while Lynette is crouched on the roof, dumping sacks of rainbow roses and vindictively hoping one of them stabs Lyney in the eye. No such luck.

You, as the ever-crazy romantic that you are, are awestruck and amazed by what he’s done instead of weirded out like how a normal person would be. With an eager smile and a twinkle in your eye, you accept the rose in Lyney’s hand and say yes when he asks you to meet him for dinner tomorrow. Lynette wants to barf, but settles for dumping another sack of flowers on top of the two of you.

And if she uses a little bit of anemo to direct a few petals to Lyney’s face? Well, you removing a petal sticking to his cheek and having your fingers linger there for a few moments wasn’t part of the plan (the plan being: embarrass her brother by having him choke on a petal while he’s speaking), but she can’t entirely begrudge the result. Not when Lyney looks like he’s about to have a meltdown with just one touch from you. Good blackmail material right there.

Lynette’s happy that the two of you have finally gotten your heads off your asses and are actually going on a date. Though mostly she’s happy about the amount of mora heading her way soon.

She’ll have to thank Freminet for telling her about the bet about you and Lyney. Maybe she can start a new bet on when the two of you are getting married—probably soon, if the lovestruck look on Lyney’s face is anything to go by. She hopes he won’t be crazy enough to propose on the second date, because you’d certainly be crazy enough to accept if he did.

Oh, well. Lynette will put a bet on one month just in case.