Letters from…

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1. LAD of Choice: Zayne, Rafayel, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb, Valko

2. Your Relationship Dynamic: (Examples: soft and domestic, teasing/flirty, angsty, long-distance, reunited lovers, etc.)

3. Pet Name of Choice: Darling, Cutie, Starlight, Kitten/Sweetie, Pipsqueak, Little Wolf/Doll/Pup (or a variation of your choice)

4. Setting / Scenario: (Where is the letter coming from? A quiet morning, after a mission, missing you, confession, etc.)

5. Tone & Mood: (Choose any: romantic, yearning, playful, emotional, possessive, comforting, etc.)

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Starlight,

You’ve been quiet in a way that feels… heavier than usual.

Not distant, just thoughtful, like you’re holding something delicate in your hands and you’re afraid of what might happen if you look at it too closely.

I think I understand.

Pipsqueak,

Alright. That’s enough.

You’ve been in your head for days now, and I’m officially calling it.

Yeah, I noticed. Don’t look so surprised.

You get this look, like you’re somewhere else entirely, replaying things over and over, trying to find the one version where you could’ve done it better.

It’s exhausting just watching you do it.

So I can’t imagine how it feels from your side.

Let’s clear something up right now.

You didn’t mess anything up.

Not with him. Not with what he said. Not with whatever you think you should’ve done differently.

Sweetie,

You’ve been carrying something around for the past few days.

Quietly.

You hide it well. Most people wouldn’t notice. They’d think you’re just a little distracted, maybe tired. Nothing worth questioning.

But I’m not most people.

I can see it in the way your attention slips when you think no one’s watching. The way your thoughts pull you somewhere else, even when you’re trying to stay present.

…You’re worried about him.

Cutie,

You’ve been thinking too much again.

I can tell.

It’s in the way you go quiet... not the comfortable kind, but the kind where your mind starts running ahead of you, picking apart every little detail like there’s something hidden you have to find.

Let me guess.

You’ve reread his letter at least twice. Maybe more. Paused at certain lines. Wondered what he really meant. What he didn’t say. Whether you should’ve done something differently.

…Am I close?

Darling,

You’ve been a little quieter since yesterday.

Not in a way most people would notice, but I do.

It’s in the way your attention drifts, in how you pause half a second longer than usual before responding, like your thoughts are somewhere else and you’re deciding whether to follow them.

…It didn’t take much to understand why.

You care about him.

Hey, little wolf.

…Yeah, I stared at this page longer than I expected to.

Don’t get used to that.

I don’t usually write letters. Not my thing. If I want to see someone, I go to them. If I have something to say, I say it straight.

But today’s… different.

It’s my birthday.

You’re back. I heard the door before I saw you. Which means I was already standing up before I decided I was “just passing by the hallway.” Convenient timing.

You look the same. Which is disappointing, because I was hoping you’d come back dramatically changed so I could pretend not to notice and then slowly adjust to it over several days.

Unfortunately for me, you’re still you. My star.

Don’t smile like that. I’ve only just recovered from the fact that you were gone for so long. A couple of weeks.

I stopped counting somewhere in between. It’s strange. I didn’t think it would feel that noticeable.

But the apartment got… louder. Even when it was quiet. I tried blaming it on work. Didn’t work. I tried sleeping more. That also didn’t work. I even cleaned the kitchen twice. That was unrelated, but still disappointing.

And now you’re here again. Standing there like nothing happened.

Like you didn’t leave me to survive on my own questionable routines and even more questionable food choices.

I should be mad. I’m not. That’s worse.

Come here.

No, don’t unpack first. That’s illegal. You always do this thing where you say “I’ll just put my bag down quickly” and then I don’t see you again for twenty minutes.

I refuse to be ignored twice in one day. …Yes, I noticed you were gone. No, I did not miss you. That would be excessive. I simply observed your absence with professional concern.

Come sit down. I made something.

It’s edible this time. Possibly even good. I had time to think about it. While you were gone. Not that I was waiting. Just... occupying time efficiently.

…You’re staring at me. Stop that. I know what you’re thinking. And no, I’m not softer when you’re away.

That’s impossible. I have the same emotional consistency as always.

You’re just imagining things.

My star, you’re going to sit with me for a while. And you’re going to tell me everything about your trip. Every detail. Even the parts you think are boring. Especially those.

And if you don’t, I might have to follow you on your next one. For research purposes. Don’t look so pleased. That wasn’t a promise.

It’s late. The kind of late where the world starts pretending it doesn’t exist anymore.

Everything goes quiet. Except you.

I can picture you. Don’t ask me how, I just can.

Sitting there alone, trying to make your breathing look normal like that somehow makes everything inside you less loud. Staring at nothing. Or worse, staring at everything too much.

…You’re doing that thing again, aren’t you, cutie?

The one where you try to hold it all in because you think no one should have to see it. Like if you stay still enough, it won’t spill over.

Cutie, come on. You don’t have to be “fine” right now. Not for me. Not for anyone. Especially not in the middle of a night like this.

If I were there, I wouldn’t tell you to calm down. I wouldn’t tell you to breathe properly or think logically or “focus on the positives.”

That’s not how this kind of silence works.

I’d just sit with you. Close enough that you’d remember you’re not alone in the room. Not touching you at first. Just there.

Because sometimes that’s all it is. Not fixing. Not solving. Just… someone staying.

You don’t have to keep swallowing everything like it doesn’t hurt. I know what that does. It doesn’t disappear. It just waits.

And then it finds you at night like this.

So listen to me. Right now, in this moment, you are not too much. You are not inconvenient. You are not something to be handled carefully from a distance.

You are someone sitting in the dark who has been carrying too many things for too long.

That’s all.

And I... I don’t like you doing that alone.

If I reach for you in this letter, it’s not because I think words fix it. It’s because I want you to feel something real through them. Something steady. Something that doesn’t leave when the room gets quiet again.

I’m here. Not just in the way people say it and don’t mean it. I mean it in the way that would make me sit on your floor at 3 a.m. without asking why you’re crying first. I’d see it. That’s enough.

You don’t have to explain everything. Not tonight. Not in this hour where everything feels heavier than it should.

Just… let it be here. Let it exist without fighting it. And let me exist next to you while it does.

If you’re reading this right now, you’ve already made it through another night you thought might swallow you whole. That counts. Even if it doesn’t feel like it.

Stay a little longer, cutie. Just a little longer in the world with me in it.

I’m not going anywhere. Not from your thoughts. Not from this moment. Not from you.

…And when morning comes, don’t pretend last night didn’t hurt.

Just come back to me.

Didn’t plan on writing anything today.

Birthdays aren’t really my thing. Never have been. Too much noise about a single day, like it’s supposed to mean more than the rest. I don’t hate it. I just—don’t get the hype.

Still.

Woke up earlier than usual. House was quiet. For a second, I thought I’d just treat it like any other day—car, work, move on.

But then I remembered something.

You.

Yeah, don’t make it a big deal. I can already hear you in my head.

It’s just… funny how things change. A day I used to ignore feels different now. Not because of the date, but because there’s someone who would look at it and say it matters.

You’d probably drag me into something ridiculous. Cake I didn’t ask for. Some homemade thing that’s either amazing or a complete disaster. You’d stand there watching my reaction like it’s the most important moment of your life.

…And I’d pretend to be annoyed. (Keyword: pretend.)

Truth is, I don’t need anything big. Never did.

If I get to spend even a little time with you today, hearing you ramble, watching you get that look when you’re proud of something dumb you made, yeah. That’s enough. More than enough.

So if you’re reading this, pipsqueak—Don’t overthink it.

Just stay close. That’s the only thing I’d count as a birthday gift.

So the packages arrived. I was wondering why you suddenly went quiet.

I assumed you were busy. Maybe resting. Possibly thinking about me.

…That last one was optimistic, in hindsight.

Instead, you were opening boxes. A lot of them, from what I can tell. Characters from your games. Anime figures. Carefully wrapped, neatly displayed, given your full attention.

And then there’s him. Lumiere. I don’t think I like the way you said his name. You didn’t say mine like that this morning.

Interesting... Because from where I’m standing, my star, it looks like I’ve been replaced. Not permanently, of course. I’m not unreasonable.

Just… temporarily sidelined by a collection of very well-packaged rivals. (Some of which, I should note, are currently receiving more affection than I have today)

I watched you pick one of them up earlier. You smiled. Do you know how long it’s been since you looked at me like that today?

…Exactly. I think this is very serious. I might need reassurance. A lot of it. Possibly immediate.

No, I’m not being dramatic. This is a completely rational response to being emotionally abandoned for merchandise.

…Alright, maybe a little dramatic. But still. I’m sitting here, wondering if I should start competing.

Do I need to come in a box? Would that help? Should I stand very still on a shelf and wait for you to admire me?

…Actually, no. I wouldn’t last five minutes. You’d get curious and poke me. (You always do)

Still. I think you owe me something. Compensation for emotional damages. For neglect. For the very clear favoritism I’ve witnessed today.

I haven’t decided what that looks like yet. But I’m leaning toward something that involves you putting all of that aside, coming over here, and reminding me, very clearly, that I’m still your favorite. Preferably in a way that leaves no room for interpretation.

Take your time. I’ll be here. Patiently waiting.

(Hi! Like a letter request or an actual story told in his pov type of request?

We have our letter request form pinned.

You’ve been quieter. Not the peaceful kind. The kind where you’re thinking too much and enjoying too little.

Let me guess. The trip isn’t what you hoped it would be.

Too many voices. Too many expectations. Not enough space to just… be.

And somehow, without anyone meaning to, you’ve ended up feeling like the smallest version of yourself again.

You’re not that person anymore. You might feel like you’ve been dropped back into that role, overlooked, a little out of place, trying not to take up too much space, but that’s not who you are now. That version of you didn’t have what you have now. Didn’t know what you know. Didn’t fight as hard as you’ve already fought just to become yourself.

You did all of that. No one gets to shrink you back down. Not even accidentally.

I wish I were there. Not in a dramatic way. I wouldn’t sweep you away or anything like that (…Okay, maybe a little)

But I would steal you for a while. Just long enough.

We’d step outside. Find somewhere quieter. A bench, maybe. Or a corner café that smells like something warm and sweet.

You’d sit there, still a little tense at first. And I’d probably say something mildly ridiculous just to see you roll your eyes. It would work. It always does.

Then we’d just stay like that for a while. No expectations. No roles to play. No one needing anything from you. Just you. Breathing again.

So since I can’t physically do that, we’re going to improvise.

Find a moment. Even five minutes. Step away if you can. Or close your eyes if you can’t. And imagine I’m there with you. Not saying anything important. Just sitting close enough that you don’t feel alone in it.

You don’t have to enjoy every second of this trip. That’s not the requirement. You’re allowed to feel overwhelmed. You’re allowed to feel irritated. You’re allowed to not like parts of it. It doesn’t make you ungrateful. It makes you human.

And when you come back, we’ll make our own version of this. One that actually feels like you.

Until then, be gentle with yourself, my star. You don’t have to be on all the time. Not for them. Not for anyone.

You’ve been frowning at your photos again. Don’t try to deny it.

I can see the way your expression changes, like you’re looking at someone you don’t quite recognize, and you’re not sure you like what you’re seeing.

I wish you could see what I see. Not the angle. Not the lighting. Not whether your hair fell perfectly or if your outfit sat exactly the way you imagined.

I see the way your eyes move first. How they catch on everything... colors, shapes, little details most people walk past without noticing.

I see the way you exist in a place. You don’t just stand in it, you soften it. You make it warmer. More alive. And somehow you think a still image, one second out of thousands, is supposed to capture that?

That’s not fair to you. Photos are… stubborn things. They flatten everything. They miss the way you laugh right after the picture’s taken. The way you shift your weight, the way your expression changes when you think no one’s looking. They miss the best parts.

And those outfits you were excited about?

They didn’t betray you. I promise. You were glowing when you put them on. I remember.

You had that little spark in your eyes, like you were stepping into a version of yourself you really liked. That doesn’t disappear just because a camera didn’t catch it the way you wanted.

…Cutie. You are not “wrong.” Not in those photos. Not in those clothes. Not like this. You’re just used to seeing yourself through a harsher lens than anyone else ever would.

If I had been there, I would’ve taken a hundred pictures of you. And not the careful, posed ones. The real ones. You mid-laugh. You turning away. You not ready. Those are the ones where you shine the most.

So don’t delete them. Even the ones you don’t like. Especially those. Because one day you’ll look back and see what I see now.

Or, if you don’t, you can hand them to me. I’ll remind you. Every single time.

If you’re reading this, then I was right. You didn’t check every pocket before you left.

…Don’t worry. I accounted for that. You’re probably in your hotel by now.

Shoes kicked off somewhere inconvenient, suitcase half-open, telling yourself you’ll unpack “in a minute” and then absolutely not doing that.

I can see it clearly. Annoyingly so.

You’ve been looking forward to this. You needed it.

More than you were willing to admit out loud.

So go. Enjoy it properly.

Eat too much. Stay out too late with your family.

Laugh until you forget what time it is.

And for once, don’t rush back to responsibilities waiting for you at home.

They’ll still be there when you return.

(I will be too, in case that wasn’t obvious.)

…That said, my house is already too quiet. You have a way of filling space without trying.

Noise, movement, commentary I never asked for but have apparently grown used to.

I caught myself turning to say something to you earlier. You weren’t there. Unfortunate.

I suppose this is where I say something dignified.

Instead, I miss you. Already.

Don’t let it inflate your ego too much.

You’ll become unbearable. Though I imagine you’re smiling right now anyway.

Go ahead. I’ll allow it.

Take pictures of the places you like, the ones you don’t.

Things that remind you of me (if anything manages to compete, I’d like to see it.)

And Emma, take care of yourself.

Not in the way you say you will and then conveniently forget.

I mean it.

Eat properly and rest.

Don’t overextend yourself trying to make every moment “worth it.”

Being there is enough.

When you come back, we’ll argue over which gelato flavor is objectively superior.

You’ll be wrong. I’ll prove it.

Until then, carry this with you.

Not because you need reminding, but because I like the idea of you thinking of me when you least expect it.

You’re quiet this morning. Not the usual kind. Not the one where you’re thinking five steps ahead, or plotting how to outmaneuver me in a conversation you haven’t started yet.

No, this one is heavier. Like you’re afraid anything you say might crack something open again.

…Is it because of last night? I remember it clearly. That look on your face when the argument got too sharp. Too familiar. Like you weren’t just standing there with me anymore, but somewhere else.

I shouldn’t have pushed you like that. I know better than to corner something already on edge. And yet there I was. Old habits. Old ghosts. They don’t die quietly, do they?

You saw more of me than I intended. That wasn’t calculated. Wasn’t part of any plan. I don’t… do that. Let people see the parts that don’t hold together cleanly. The ones that remember too much.

The ones that slip. You didn’t flinch. You stayed. Even when I said things that didn’t make sense. Even when I went quiet in that way that usually makes people leave.

Do you know how rare that is, Jaan? I’ve spent a long time making sure I’m the one in control. Of rooms. Of outcomes. Of myself.

Because when you’re not... things unravel. They get… loud. Messy. Too close to things I’ve spent years keeping buried where they belong.

Last night wasn’t controlled. It was honest. Uncomfortably so. And I hated it for about five seconds.

Then I realized you were still there. Looking at me like I hadn’t just handed you something breakable. Like I wasn’t something you needed to fix or avoid. Just… something you understood.

That argument... it wasn’t really about what we said, was it? It was the echoes. Yours. Mine. Two pasts colliding in a room neither of us built.

I saw it in your eyes. That moment where you checked out, not fully gone, but not entirely here either. Like the world tilted just slightly off its axis. I know that feeling. More than I’d like to admit.

So listen to me carefully. You’re not back there anymore. You’re here with me. And I don’t intend to repeat what hurt you. I don’t care how deeply it’s carved into muscle memory, I will unlearn it if I have to. Piece by piece.

You don’t have to brace yourself for me. Not like that.

And as for me… don’t get used to it. This level of honesty. It’s highly inconvenient. But if it means you stop looking at me like you’re about to disappear, I can tolerate it. (That’s about as close to a confession as you’re getting today, kitten. Don’t let it go to your head.)

Come here. No arguments this time. No sharp edges. No ghosts invited into the room. Just us.

And if your mind starts drifting again, if things get too loud, tell me. Or don’t. I’ll notice either way.

I’m not going anywhere. Not because I have to. Because I choose to.

So… you finished it. I had a feeling you would.

You always act like the world is ending right up until the moment you cross the finish line.nThen suddenly, you’re standing there, wondering what comes next.

And now you’re thinking about it too much. Aren’t you? Results. What ifs. All the paths branching out in ways you can’t control yet.

…You don’t have to answer. I can hear it in the way you’ve been quiet.

So I did something. Before you ask, no, it’s not dramatic. You’d just laugh at me if it were.

I cooked. Don’t look at me like that. It’s edible. I made sure of it.

I figured if I can’t solve everything for you, I can at least make sure you’ve eaten something warm that didn’t come from a vending machine or a rushed decision.

It’s waiting for you.

And before you say you’re not hungry, you are. You just forgot.

After that, I had a few ideas.

We could go out somewhere quiet. Or somewhere busy, if you want the noise to drown things out. Or we stay in.

I don’t mind either way.

We could watch something. You’ll pretend to pay attention, and I’ll pretend not to notice when your thoughts drift.

Or... you can talk. About everything that’s running through your head.mAll the possibilities you’re trying to map out before they even exist.

I’ll listen. Like I always do.

But I want you to remember something first. You’ve already done the hardest part. You showed up. You pushed through it. You finished.

Whatever happens next, it doesn’t take that away.

You don’t have to have your entire future figured out tonight.

Or tomorrow. Or even when the results come in.

…Though I know you’ll try anyway.

So here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to come here. Eat. Sit down somewhere comfortable.

And for a little while, you’re not going to think about any of it. I’ll handle the rest. And if your mind wanders back to it, that’s fine.

Just come back to me after.