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xveenusx · 7 months

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Indifference

Paring(s): Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: Two people who are in love, well he used to be

Authors note: you guys like when I make you cry

Rating: angsty

Warnings: it'll hurt :)

__________________

He was late.

Time was a funny thing. Minutes turned to hours which rolled into days then suddenly months began to blur into years. In that time, people tend to go out and experience things, falling in and out of love, enjoying everything life had to offer.

Yet, I somehow found myself motionless, the spark that once ignited my core had been stifled to a small ember. Life continued to pass by while I remained glued in one place, watching as everyone around me attempted to achieve some form of happiness.

I was once like that. Filled with some much hope for a life with someone I loved, who showed up to support me and believed in my capability, because at one time in my life that was exactly what Rafe was.

Like I said, time was a funny thing. The more time passes with your partner, the more comfortable they seem to get. They stop trying. However, at what point does being comfortable become almost negligent?

Dates were canceled, appointments missed, and important accomplishments forgotten the more time went on. Rafe’s priorities shifted and I went from being the center of his world to being a planet merely circling his gravitational pull.

In his mind, we were forever, so a couple of cancellations here and there and bouts of forgetfulness were nothing in the span of things. I would have agreed had the cancellations not doubled with time or our conversations going from intimate and deep to surface level at best.

He was never home. It was always just me in this large house on figure 8. Suddenly, he went from being the moon and the stars to just a bleak, unforgivable starless night. Cold and dark.

We had met when we were 16 and he was every bit a spoiled little rich boy that had extreme daddy issues, but there was more to him than that. I picked at his defenses until finally they shattered, and I was engulfed by all of him.

He was just different around me and that fact alone left me delighted. It made me feel special, almost stupidly so.

Things between Rafe and his father were already tense enough since Rafe bought a motorbike with the money he was supposed to spend on the generator. Then everything began to snowball out of control from there. He threw himself into his father’s work and when he wasn’t doing that, he was with Kells and Topper doing god knows what and snorting anything he could find.

Despite all of this, Rafe always kept me close and always let me in.

Last year, when Ward had gone with Sarah and John B to South America, and didn’t return, something shifted inside him. His defenses were rebuilt, only this time he left me on the outside, and no matter how hard I tried to break him down brick by brick, nothing worked. He became obsessed with running Ward’s real estate empire better than he ever did.

Rafe was a cold and calculated legacy with a large chip on his shoulder that made him lethal against competing firms. He chewed them up and spit them out.

With every major milestone, it was never enough for him, and like a man possessed he continued to ruthlessly target anyone that had done him wrong. We had everything and yet the bitterness seemed to consume him. He was someone I saw once a day if I was lucky. He always left before I woke up and was never home by the time I went to bed and suddenly we were glorified roommates.

Once upon a time, I would stay up waiting for him with my heart in my hand, hoping to connect in any way. Even if I only had a few minutes to spend with him before he went to sleep, it was enough for me. But, 10 pm became 11 pm which turned into 12 am and so I gave up. My sleep schedule was already a mess as thoughts and insecurities pestered my mind of another woman.

“Any word from him yet? Some of the donors are asking for him?” The question pulls me out of my thoughts and I turn to face my assistant, Rai.

Her question is innocent enough, but I can hear the slight concern in her voice and I know she has her doubts which only serves as another humiliating reminder that Rafe has done this to me repeatedly.

But this was different. He knew how important this charity dinner was to the shelter I opened up for women and children who suffered from domestic violence.

As someone who came from the cut, it was everywhere and so many didn’t have the means to flee and so they were forced to stay and in the most severe instances, die.

Rafe gave me the start-up money as a gift and it was a huge success that I opened several more as well as fund for scholarships for both the mothers and kids. Which is what brings me to now, a charity dinner and auction to help fund said scholarships and pay for all the shelter necessities.

He promised he would be here. It’s important for the donors to see him here seeing as though he donated a huge sum once more and could ease the minds of those who are teetering on the edge. It’s also important to me. This project is mine, something I created and shared with the world and I want to share it with him too.

I want him to celebrate this accomplishment with me and he is nowhere to be found.

“He’ll be here. Rafe promised.” I clear my throat, “He knows how important this is to me.”

Rai gave me a doubtful look and I know that I couldn’t convince her anymore than I could convince myself. The engagement ring that bore my finger instantly weighed a ton.

Glancing down at the large diamond that once meant the promise of everything, stared back at me as nothing more than a simple accessory.

Rafe had proposed and foolishly I believed that it would save us so I said yes.

I stayed and time and time again, the disappointment slowly began to etch away at the childish hope I tried to cling onto until only a dull ache remained.

“Don’t you look lovely?” Plastering a fake smile onto my face, I let out a sheepish laugh as I take in Kiara’s parents.

“Thank you guys so much for coming.” The words ring true but I couldn’t help but feel like I was underwater. My focus is shot and I find myself hardly listening with my eyes darting to the front door every minute or so, desperate to see the man I used to think would never stop loving me.

I float around the room, committed to being a gracious host, because I would not let him take this from me too. Not when he’s taken everything else already. This is the only piece left of me.

My cheeks hurt two hours later from all the fake smiles and my throat burns from the feigned laughing. The sound of my own voice makes me wince.

In those two hours, I felt my confidence slowly get chipped piece by piece as everyone questioned where my fiancé was. And for a moment, I hated him. I truly hated him because even this small piece of heaven I made for myself is tied into him.

Honey, I need to run some numbers with Rafe. Where is he hiding?

Where is the biggest investor? Surely, he’s here, right?

I haven't seen Mr. Cameron. Has he stepped out?

With which I responded,” Work emergency, you know how it is. He’s nothing if not committed.” Considering most of these possible donors run their own large companies, they completely understand but it’s their partners reactions that seem to leave me stunned.

Each had a warm look of understanding dancing in their eyes as I’m sure they’ve used the same excuse time and time again.

I can only take so much. So I excuse myself and glance at the small gold heart shaped watch on my delicate wrist and take note of the time.

There was only 30 minutes left and I haven't gotten so much as a text from him.

A pit began to form where my stomach used to be as I realized once more that he wasn’t coming. As I stood in a packed room, filled with a flurry of activity, surrounded by people, I’ve never felt more alone.

Then my eyes connect with Mrs. Dune, the wife of a finance guru that works alongside Rafe. She was much older than I, having been with her husband for 30 years but she looked even older.

It’s almost as though she can read my thoughts, because she sends me a sad smile as she lets her eyes go to where her husband stands talking to other donors. I haven't seen him talk to her the whole night, instead she’s been standing at his side saying nothing.

I take an uneven breath and my eyes widen in realization. Was this what I had to look forward to? A life sentence of loneliness vacant of any warmth and attention?

Swallowing hard, I force my eyes away and stare at the door. Begging whoever will listen to please, this once, let me be wrong. I’m so in my thoughts that I’m startled when a soft hand lands on my arm.

“You get used to it. Eventually, you’ll feel nothing.” Mrs. Dune says quietly, her eyes moving back to her husband, with a look I can only describe as longing.

That’s the thing. I don't want to get used to it. This isn’t how I want to be loved.

“What you’ve accomplished is amazing. Don’t let him take that away from you.” Was her parting words and she left, not sparing her husband another glance.

When I turn to see if he noticed she left, he’s still engaged in conversations and doesn’t spare her a glance.

This is not how I want to be loved.

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you. This is Amy Park.” Rai looks ecstatic as she introduces me to the stunning tall woman next to her.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Park.” The words come out on instinct.

“I wanted to discuss how open you would be to expanding shelters nationwide?”

And for the first time in awhile, a real smile graces my face as I answer her question.

_____________________

The first thing I notice when I pull into our driveway is the plethora of cars that fill it. The second thing I pick up on is familiar vibrations of music with each step I take along our pathway.

My front door is wide open as people come in and out, clearly under the influence of something and my chest constricts.

This is what he’s been doing? This was more important than me?

Clutching my keys tightly, I welcome the familiar biting against my skin. I recognize many of the faces, most of them having gone to school with Rafe.

If it was any other night, I would have joined them. We were only 22 and yet have lived what seems to be a hundred lives. But, this is different. He’s different.

Climbing up the staircase, I head to the balcony where I hear a familiar boast of laughter.

I cleared my throat. “What’s so funny?”

Heads snap in my direction but my eyes are only on one. One that currently has a short black haired girl nearly in his lap. I recognize her as a bartender at one of the local grills/bars we frequent.

“Don’t you look gorgeous-“ Topper attempts to run interference, but it’s too late. I raise my hand to silence him. I’ve already seen everything I needed too.

His body is positioned slightly in front of them as if I was going to body slam them. I might actually.

“Hey, wait! How did the donor dinner go?” Topper's eyes dart to Rafe’s. “That was tonight right?”

I see the moment everything clicks. His eyes rake down from my newly styled hair to the louboutins in my feet. Everything I wore from the jewelry on my body to the shoes on my feet he bought me, and I’ve never felt more sick.

Rafe clenches his eyes shut as he shakes his head. “Fuck.”

Fuck, indeed.

“Get out of my way, Topper.”

He throws a worried glance to Rafe. “I think maybe-“

“Top, give us a second.” Rafe mutters tensely. He keeps his hard set gaze on me, drilling into me, almost as though he’s daring me to move.

Kelce stands up giving me an apologetic look. “Rafe, man, there’s a bunch of people here.”

I force myself to look away.

“Not right now, Kells.”

He wasn’t wrong. This house was full of people, but the only difference being that none of them matter. Not to me and not to Rafe.

Steady. Keep steady and just breathe.

“So what should I do-“

I look at him. Me or them? It was unsaid but he knew what I was asking him.

“Back the fuck off and give me a fucking second with my girl.” Rafe barks out, running a rough hand through the short cropped strands that brush against his forehead.

Both hold their hands up in mock surrender before shuffling off to the side. The girl doesn’t get up.

Topper coughs. “Sophia.”

Her eyes take me in with clear distaste. Her hand is still dangerously close to Rafe’s waistband. I raise a single eyebrow giving her one last opportunity to move.

She doesn’t. Not when Kelce calls out for her either.

Sophia made her bed. Setting my bag down, I take three big steps before I’m roughly shoving her off the couch sending her sprawling on the floor.

Rafe let’s out a curse but makes no move to help her. At least he’s not stupid.

“Get out.” The words leave no room for negotiation.

The glare she sends me is filled with ice. “I was invited.”

Kelce lets out a groan before whispering,”Is she serious?”

The fake smile I’ve perfected over the years decorated my face as I bent down to her height on the floor.

Flashing my engagement ring in her face. “Get out of my fucking house.”

That seems to shut her up and I watch with narrowed eyes as she struts away, Topper and Kelce in tow.

I can hear my heart pounding in my ears while my chest feels like it’s going to explode. I turn around slowly to face my damnation.

My heels click against the marble floor and with each step I take, the more the ache in my chest grows. Marching up to Rafe, I grab his chin and force him to look at me. Those familiar glacial blue eyes are red. His pupils are blown wide and my chest cracks wide open.

He’s high.

This is not how I want to be loved.

This is what he wanted to do instead of being there for me. Instead of supporting me. Instead of loving me.

Dying would be less painful.

I stare directly into those eyes, searching for an answer, wondering when the love he felt for me slowly became indifference.

I’d almost rather there be a mistress rather than this cold indifference.

“Did you have fun at least?” My words are soft but the intention is anything but.

He says nothing. Instead Rafe studies me like I’m a wounded animal.

Dark. Beautiful. Cruel.

Those are the words I’d use to describe the man in front of me. The gaze that once felt like a soft caress on my skin now felt clinical.

“It seems like you’re having fun.” I quip, flicking the small bag filled with familiar white powder.

I thought I could fix him. I will not make that mistake again.

“I completely forgot-“

“How?” I ask.

His eyes narrow like he’s trying to figure me out. “Work got insanely busy. You know how it is. Even if I own the place, I’m young and the older guys don’t respect me.”

“It was in your work calendar.”

“No, it wasn’t-“

“It was also on your personal calendar and our joint one. I had your assistant send you a reminder email. So my question is how?” My voice wobbled and it was only by a small miracle that I didn’t throw something in his face. “How did you forget the only thing I’ve asked you for?”

Something flickered in his eyes. “It wasn’t intentional. It slipped my mind.”

“Something I worked so hard to accomplish just slipped your mind?” Exhaustion has finally got the better of me and I finally let him see just how much he’s managed to chip away.

“I should have been there for you and I’m so sorry,” His throat flexed a hard swallow. “But there will be other dinners.”

The dull ache in my chest thrummed harder. Rafe was brushing this off, just like he always did. My skin flushed.

At my silence, he braces his elbows on his knees and leans forward, tracking my every move. “I feel like you’re not understanding me.”

“No, I understand you just fine. It just wasn’t important enough for you.”

He stilled. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Of course it wasn’t what he meant but he’s managed to make me feel so insignificant. So small.

“I know that you’ve canceled most of our dates for work. Even an anniversary once. I know that you missed the grand opening of the shelter that I spent a year and half planning.” I force the words out, each breath I take feeling like needles. “I asked for this one thing, Rafe and you couldn’t even give me that.”

“What about everything I have given you? This house, the car you drive in, the clothes on your back, the boat?”

It’s like I’m staring at 16 year old Rafe again. To him, material things were the equivalent to love. He couldn’t be farther from the truth.

I find that I was much happier when I had little to nothing, than I am now, sitting here with everything, in my gown and jewels.

“I didn't ask for any of those things.” By the stubborn gleam in his eyes, I knew he was going to fight me on everything.

Lately, his tactic was always combative and it was easier to give in or to not say anything at all.

“No, but you took them all the same. I fucked up, I get that. I know what this shelter means to you, but that doesn’t change the fact that you wouldn’t even have it if it weren’t for me.”

A familiar buzzing filled my ears. His words were ugly but they weren’t a lie. Even my project was his. I had nothing of my own.

I wonder how many other people came to the same revelation. Maybe that’s why so many of them asked where he was? Because this accomplishment wasn’t mine, no clearly it was his.

There is not enough room in my chest for the ache he caused.

Words can’t seem to make it to my lips. I think my brain has finally broken and realizes that no words I say will get him to change.

Smoothing out my dress, I stand on shaky legs before kicking off my heels. He can keep them. With that, I leave him out on the porch and make a beeline towards our his room.

Opening the closet doors, I reach for the suitcase before setting it on the bed. I wasn’t going to be like Mrs. Dune and waste away beside a man that used to love me, hoping that one day he will once more.

“What the fuck are you doing?” The words are hard and low.

Rafe stands at the door, his arms crossed over his chest. His face is brewing with several emotions I can't quite place.

It was funny. I haven't seen this much emotion from him in months.

I ignore him and toss some clothes from my dresser into the open suitcase, making sure to grab only the clothes I needed.

I slowly take off each piece of jewelry and set it on my vanity. He can keep everything he so gloriously mentioned he bought.

“You loved me once.” I state, tilting my head to the side. I rake over every detail of his face, knowing I’ll never forget it.

I loved him once too.

His face morphed to one of confusion before disbelief. “I still love you. That’s never changed.”

I shake my head. “Yes, it has.”

Rafe stalks towards me, his hand reaching to burl around my neck while the other pulls me to him by my waist. Familiar cologne fills my lungs and I count to ten mentally. It was the same cologne I bought him when we first started dating.

“I work too much, I know. That’s my fault and I’ll cut back. I’ll be home more and we can spend time together. I’ll do better.” Taking my chin between two fingers, he forces my eyes to his. I see the sincerity in his eyes but I know how this goes.

The same way it’s gone the last two times. He’ll beg me to stay, promise to change, and things will be good for a month before he slowly starts missing dates or canceling trips we’ve planned months before. Then the cycle repeats.

“No.” It was time to love myself. Since he clearly couldn’t do it. I will not allow myself to get lost in him again.

“Baby, just wait. Will you wait-“ He huffs as I try to move around him. No such success as his towering body has me moving back and suddenly I’m caged in by his arms. “Just give me a second, okay?”

“I’ve given you years. I won’t give you another second.”

“Talk to me.” His voice breaks. “Please just talk to me.”

Longing filled my body. Words I’ve been waiting to hear for months come so easily to him, but only when I already have one foot out the door.

“I’m alone.” The words come out strangled. “ I’m alone in this. I have been for a long time.”

“What do you mean? Baby, I’m right here.” Rafe’s gripping onto me tighter, almost like he’s ensuring I don’t leave. “I’m right here.”

“You're never here. That’s exactly my point.”

Rafe’s eyes widen before he shakes his head wildly, staring at me like I’m speaking another language. “That’s not true-“

“What’s today?”

“What?”

“What’s today?” I repeat, my eyes never leaving his. I want to see every emotion that storms in his eyes, just to remind myself that he is capable of emotion after all.

“Friday.”

I smile at him sadly. Exactly my point. “I haven't seen you since Tuesday.”

“No, that can’t be right. I was with you when we had lunch with-“ He breaks off, reaching for his phone in his pocket. I watch as he pulls up his calendar, an action that mortifies me, and confirms our scheduled date.

“Tuesday.” He whispers, shocked even.

I wasn’t. Rafe had to check his calendar to confirm that last time he’s seen his fiancé.

“You used to come bring me lunch. If you were more than a couple hours, you always found your way to me or gave me a call that you’ll be late.” I shrugged, blinking back the tears stinging my eyes. “Now, I don’t think I’d get a call if you were in the hospital.”

The buzzing in my ears intensifies.

“You didn’t tell me any of this. None of how you were feeling and you're ready to walk out the door without so much as an argument.” A spark of my old Rafe appears as frustration dances across his face.

“I should have-“

“You’re giving up.” He states, shaking his head in anger.

Maybe I was. “I’m tired of fighting for us. You gave up a long time ago.”

Large hands curl around my cheeks, pulling me towards his face. Rafe rests his forehead on mine, his piercing blue eyes darting across my face in panic.

“I love you. I love you.” He knows he’s grasping at straws, but we feel like strangers now. The words don’t feel like they used to. “You know I love you.”

“This isn’t how I want to be loved, Rafe. I see you every couple days, the only time we’re ever together is when we have sex.” We lost sight of how we once were. The only thing that remained good between us was sex.

That alone isn’t healthy. He goes to open his mouth but I cut him off.

“We never talk and when we do, you don’t even listen to me. Your brain is always somewhere else.”

“I’m in a relationship with a ghost. I’m not letting you suck the life out of me anymore.” My eyes catch the sparkling ring that once brought me such happiness. Now, it simply feels like a ball and chain.

Before I can convince myself otherwise, I start to tug it off my finger when Rafe truly begins to panic.

“Don’t do that. Please don’t do that.” I try to hand it to him but Rafe jolts back like he’s been burned. The look he gives my empty hand is nothing short of destroyed.

I think I’m going to throw up. His words are laced with raw grief that makes it hard for me to breathe.

“Put it back on.” I hear the slight tremble in his voice.

“No.” My lips wobble.

“Please put it back on because if you don’t that means we’re over. That’s not us. We aren’t supposed to end.”

“Rafe, don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

“You’re ripping my fucking heart out of my chest. This isn’t anywhere near hard, it’s excruciating.” Rafe’s hand is notably shaking, but he tries to hide it by clenching and unclenching his palms.

“Welcome to the last year of my life.” The words are brutal but he needs to hear them.

“You promised me we’d never end.”

“You promised to change. I guess we both lied.”

Rafe raises his voice, his arms thrown up in the air in clear distress, “How can you just stand there?”

It was a miracle I haven’t collapsed on my shaky legs yet. The adrenaline pumping though my veins was the only thing getting me through this torture. “Rafe, stop it.”

“You talk about indifference?” Rafe lets out a humorless laugh, shaking his head up at the ceiling. “Who’s heartless now, baby?”

“You don’t get to put this on me. I’ve given you years of my life, showered you with nothing but love and support. I asked for one night, one fucking night, in your busy schedule and you didn’t bother to show up, or send a simple text.” I intake a sharp breath, pushing the hair out of my face with a shaky hand. “Instead, you threw a party in our home and got high.”

I point a finger at his chest, staring at him with open heartbreak. “I needed you,” The tightness in my chest finally pops as I choke on a loud sob, “I needed you and you weren’t there.”

“I lost sight of what’s important to me. I’m just trying to give you everything-” I cut him off.

Grabbing the clothes I haphazardly tossed in the suitcase, ”You want this? Take it,” I shove them into his chest, “Take all of it. I don’t want it. I’d give this all away in a heartbeat if it meant I could have you back.”

I meant every word. I wanted my best friend back, the person I confided in and depended on. I wanted our late nights back watching trashy reality TV. We used to sit in the bathtub together basking in each other's company. Went on walks along the beach or took the boat out for hours, fucking on the deck, not caring that anyone could see.

It used to be simple. He loved me and I loved him.

“I’m angry, baby.I’m so damn angry all the time. At my fucking dad for always having these impossible expections. Then he goes and dies, leaving me without a clue on how to manage everything.” Rafe sags against the wall, exhaustion marring his features, his blue eyes pleading for me to understand. “I feel like I’m drowning all the time.”

I had no idea this was how he was feeling. But, he never let me in. “You could have told me, we’re supposed to be partners in this. You asked me to marry you!”

I think deep down I know that he felt me slipping through his fingers at one point. He could see clearly how unhappy I’ve become and that’s why he proposed. And maybe just like him, I thought the proposal could fix us. This proposal was being manipulated on both ends, it was doomed from the start.

You can’t fix what’s already broken.

“My head has basically been a war zone and I’m losing. The only thing keeping me sane is that I know, when I walk through that door,” he points to our bedroom door, “I’m going to find you in our bed. Every. Single. Night.”

“I can’t let the ugly touch you.” My heart splits into two at his words. Words I know feel like acid leaving his mouth. “You’re the only thing I have left.”

“Then you should have taken better care of me. You should have let me take care of you.”

“Fuck,” He screams, bending down and swiping the lamp clean of the nightstand. The lamp goes flying into the wall, shattering into hundreds of pieces and my eyes are drawn to them. I can’t help but think it reminds me of us.

Dragging my eyes back to his, I fight the urge to wrap him in my arms. Seeing him in pain has never brought me joy, but this was brutal. His eyes shined with unmistakable tears, realizing the strength of my resolve.

There was no going back this time. There was no trying again. I didn’t have another try in me.

I grip onto the fabric of my dress moving towards him, my heart pounding out of my chest. He moves instantly, holding out his hand to guide me over the shattered lamp. Why couldn’t he be like this months ago?

Why did he let it get this bad? Why couldn’t he love me?

Now, standing in front of him, I let myself one deep breath, basking in the comforting smell of him. A large hand curls around my neck, his grip strong and firm, demanding my attention. His blue eyes are daunting and so intense, I find myself fighting the urge to look away.

“I’m going to get you back.”

”Take it, Rafe.” I whisper, uncurling his limp hand, “Take it. It doesn’t mean what I want it to.”

Tears blur my vision as I fumble with the ring he refuses to take.

Rafe shakes his head, clenching his jaw tightly. “There’s no point in taking it off if it’s gonna go right back there in a couple weeks. ”

I can’t help but smile at the determination in his voice. He sounds like the old Rafe and for a second I see a glimmer of who he used to be.

He had me. Then he lost me.

This is not how I want to be loved.

“If spending the next few months without you means that I get to spend a lifetime with you, I can manage. I’ll do whatever I have to. But don’t think for a second that there is anyone else on this entire fucking planet meant for you.”

That’s how I want to be loved. Too little too late.

I drop the ring.

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deonsx · 6 months

Text

When You Ask Them To Be Tougher

Feat: Dazai, Chuuya, Fyodor

Content: Nfsw

Dazai Osamu

Finally, both of you were tired and you were at home, but as if Dazai had enough energy, he climbed on top of you while you were lying on his bed. "Hmm..Bella.." He took your hands and spoke, "Pft I see you still have enough energy" He giggled at what you said and gave you a lot of kisses in the world. You knew what he wanted, of course you wanted it too, but he was always so gentle with you...like a glass that would break more than it should, but you always wanted him to treat you harder, but you never expressed it

You stopped him with your hand as he was already taking your underwear down from your leg. "Osamu..I need to say something.." the brunette, who looked confused, looked at you in surprise and the room fell into a long silence. "And? What is this? Is it something worth ruining the current atmosphere? " you couldn't speak "So you know..You're so kind to me..I'm so happy about it! I'm not saying I'm unhappy..just a little more.." dazai frowned "A little more?" You finally let out a deep breath, "I want you to be harder on me during sex”

Dazai's face didn't change, he looked serious. "Osamu?" You asked trying to break away from the silence. "Yes, my love, I understand." Dazai narrowed his eyes looking at you in a very obedient tone. You smiled at this and pulled him into a hot kiss. His hands went to your legs and he quickly untied the bra, which was the last remaining underwear on you, and threw it aside, leaving scars on your neck that will remain tomorrow. His fingers danced on your chest, while he was playing with one, he was sucking the other with bites with his mouth, then he slowly spread your legs

"Wow..a wet pussy already? Is this because of your request today?" He slowly leaned down to your ear and bit your ear. You felt his breath everywhere. "You are very naughty, aren't you? You are a naughty woman." You shivered as the cold air touched your pussy while he spread your legs with both hands. Dazai unzipped his zipper and you saw that he was already hard. This made your face blush. He slowly adjusted it towards you and gently put his head inside. It was the same as usual, but what was unexpected was that he suddenly pushed in. "Fuck, Osamu!" Your back arched quickly and you threw your head back screaming, "Nothing's Even Started Yet, 'Donna, Let Me Take This Chance You've Given Me”

Chuuya Nakahara

A shining red satin dress and blood-coloured wine on a beautiful dinner table. Everything that adorns this table is together, but for whom? Chuuya Nakahara Your boyfriend PM Leader finds less time for you just with this excuse, so you are angry with him, but is this the real reason for your anger? Not really... You always loved your night life... I also loved your fantasies in your sexual relationships, but it seemed like everything was too monotonous, everything was so simple and calm, you always wanted more from him, you had dreams, you dreamed dreams, but you never had the chance to tell him this

Tonight was a golden tray presented to you to give you that chance, you were going to do your best to seduce him, a thin red dress, black ankle high heels, a silver jewelery necklace, blow-dried hair, simple make-up and spicy perfume, everything was what suits you best, the doorbell rang and The sound of your heels echoed every time you walked on the parquet floors, each step became more exciting to see your lover's face. "Welcome, my love" You said to him in a flirty tone

his tired self seemed to recover quickly he chuckled "you look attractive darling...but all this preparation? are we waiting for someone?" you made a frown on your face "Not really...a special night" chuuya frowned "special?? I forgot an important day? that's impossible.." you giggled at his daze and shook your head no "It's a special night just to talk to you" He turned towards you while looking aside his jacket and hat. "hmm? What do you want to say?" You tried to look away in embarrassment but you had already made up your mind

"My love...I...I think our relationship, that is, our night life, has become a little simpler.." This sentence made Chuuya frown, "Do you mean it's become boring?" You tried to put it together quickly, "no no! Don't think like that...I'm just very towards me...I think you're being delicate" Chuuya caressed your hair and chuckled lightly. You didn't understand this and made an angry face. "What..what's so funny??" Your lover didn't speak and took you in his arms with an unexpected move. "H-hey!" you thought he was taking you to your bedroom but he placed you at the table with the wine "What are you doing??" Your boyfriend remained silent and slowly undressed you by placing kisses and bites on your neck. He slowly took the wine glass and dripped it from your neck to your breasts. "If You're So Shy, Then Let Me Handle İt, You Won't Be Able To Walk Tomorrow”

Fyodor Dostoyevski

Your relationship with your lover had been going on for a year, of course you had a night life, but... he didn't spare enough time for you, but even if he did, he acted very lightly. You knew him, he wasn't that type of person, but then why was he treating you like that? Your nights came to your mind... "My love, I need you... " your fingers crossed his chin as you spoke to him in a flirty tone "Hmm? You need me so much right now darling" whenever you asked him and he agreed it was only licks oral or fingering

You were tired of begging him, of course you didn't tell him openly, but you knew he wasn't stupid either, so why was he hesitant to touch you? Have you ever had real sex in your one-year relationship? suspicious...of course you didn't suspect him, you knew he wasn't cheating then why? Finally you were going to discuss this issue with him. You were really tired of complaining. You tied your hair up in a messy bun and wore a light black dress. Fyodor always came home on time, this was like his routine. Finally, at exactly 20.00 the door rang and finally

You saw your lover with beautiful long purple hair, she had tied her hair into a ponytail, her beautiful purple eyes gave you a quick sharp look "I didn't know you were waiting for me so eagerly" she let out a small breath and quickly walked in she doesn't seem to care much "Fyodor...please I want to talk to you you have to listen ?" Fyodor took off his jacket and put it on the coffee table, rolling his eyes and leaning into the comfortable chair. "What is the reason for this relentless conversation, darling? You seem nervous these days." His eyes followed you until you sat next to him. "Or is some bastard bothering you? Just tell me, I will get rid of him in the most painful way." " you placed your hands on his hand "no no! this is about you..I-I mean us"

You felt so nervous 'what if I break his trust?' you thought, "How long has it been since I last had a truly passionate night with you?...I mean..you love me but you act so gentle and untouchable towards me" Dostoyevsky raised his eyebrows in surprise and tilted his head slightly to the side. This was the first time you saw him make that face. It could have been "I.. I heard you liked such things a long time ago.." your eyes widened old memories came to your mind when you were talking to your friend and she asked you what kind of men you like and you said "Let him treat me like his goddess~~fufufu" the things you said teasingly are now got into trouble

“Oh..those were just things I said casually..” fyodor gently held your chin with his hand “just like that?” You slowly lowered your head and leaned towards his hand, Fyodor's tired eyes closed slightly and he giggled. His harmonious giggle embarrassed you and made you blush. His hands wandered over your black dress. "I understand, dear.. It's all just nonsense." He left bites on your neck and made you blush. He pulled you onto his lap and while you was waiting for him to gently take off the dress you was wearing, he caused you to tear it from your chest. "Ah..!" It caused an unexpected gasp as you took off your underwear and threw them to a corner of the room “So You've Been Lusting After Me For A Long Time, Darling...Today I'll Make Sure You Take İt All İn”

Enjoy!

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almondmilktargaryen · 21 days

Text

Duty & Sacrifice (Part Two)

Summary: Aemond is married with two kids to Floris Baratheon, as it was his duty. But it's when he ventures into Flea Bottom in the night that he faces his sacrifices.

Couple: Aemond Targaryen/Fem!Reader

Category: Flangst

Content: Memories of sexual trauma. Violence, violence, violence. Trying to refrain from spoilers but the degree of violence is referenced in part one, so please take this vague warning seriously and be cautious if you still choose to read. Please be kind as I'm very nervous as to how this will be received. Aemond's hubris will be his downfall and I mean it.

Word count: 7.4k

Also on my Ao3

Part one | Part two | Part three ✍️ | Part four ✍️

A/N: Okay, I caved. I’ve written a part two to Duty & Sacrifice AND have a part three on the way (maybe a part four). Tagged everyone who asked about a part two so you all can find it :))

Also we're going to pretend Chataya and Alayaya were around 200 years before they were for the sake of the story ✨

“I can’t fucking believe it,” Criston hisses. The heat of his anger billows from him like smoke from Vhagar’s nostrils. Aemond feels it against his back as they walk (Criston almost stomping) across the cobblestone paths. He wears the same old brown wool cloak and hat as he had when they were last here, before the Dance.

“I know,” Aemond responds plainly.

“I expected this from Aegon. As would anyone. But you, Aemond.” Criston staggers as he lectures. After years of reflection and buckets of blood on his hands, his anger still gets the best of him, even in the smallest of ways. “Honestly, what would your mother say about all this?”

“She’s gone, Cole.” That’s all he can say. She was taken by the winter fever shortly after Aegon’s second coronation and Helaena’s suicide. Aemond suffered plenty in all three areas. Criston saw. And he was there when Aemond still needed a parent; helping him through his losses and the choices his brother made as king. It is why Criston volunteered to help with the City Watch while also remaining on the Kingsguard to help him. He became a father to Aemond.

And fathers asking their children what their mothers might think of their wrongdoings is supposed to add an extra dose of shame. Aemond learns, despite assuming otherwise, that he is not an exception to this. He feels the shame, like whenever his nephews knocked him to the ground and snickered or when Alicent slapped him after confessing what happened at Storm’s End. He remembers how he couldn’t sleep for days.

There was no way he could sleep tonight, either. The possibility that something could happen to his family while he remained safe in the Red Keep is a burden he could not bear after seeing Alyssa. The gods sewed in the inevitable, and it’s his turn to unlace it. So he focuses on his route as Criston lingers behind, keeping up with the sharp turns and secret alleyways. Aemond recalls the moment he left. All three of them were safe. They were in tears on the cot, but they were safe. He let the image settle in his mind. They were safe. Spotting the door once again, he’ll guarantee it. He avoids glancing down the alley, hoping to forget that.

But Criston does glance. “Was that one of Aegon’s—”

“We’re here,” Aemond says. His fingers wrap around the handle, jiggling the iron to find it locked. Good. Then he knocks three times, then two, then one.

“You actually have a special knock?”

“Not important.”

The bolt shifted behind the wood, and the open door bloomed with light once more. Aemond squinted at the starkness, but he could see that she was alright. She was standing, hunching slightly, and smiling. She stepped aside to let them both in. Aemond spotted the girls on the cot, quiet.

She shut the door with a thud. “You came back!”

“Like I said I would,” Aemond replies. He was hesitant to hug her, but she took the choice away when she instantly wrapped her arms around his neck. He took the opportunity and held her gently, burying his nose in her thick hair. It smelled of sweat and dirt, and he inhaled deeply before letting go. “This is Criston Cole. He’s going to help us. It��s cold out, so you’ll need this.” He takes the spare cloak Criston has and asks her to hold her hair.

“I know how to put on a cloak, Aemond.”

He hesitates to object. The cloak matches her eyes. He notices when she turns and takes it from him. She handles it well enough, so Aemond squeezes by to reach the cot. He sits close to the babes’ feet. They were sleeping. All he could do was whisper “sorry” repeatedly as he picked up Alisha first. She only cooed, not fully awake. He stood slowly to hand her over. “Here. Put her under the cloak.”

“What did you think I was going to do?” She asked.

“I know, I know. I just... have to say it aloud.”

Then came Alyssa. She only squirmed as he picked her up, and Aemond wondered what she could be dreaming about. He stands straight before covering her. He brushed her ginger hair.

“Do you want to see her?” She holds Alisha closer to Criston. She smiles brightly when she turns Alisha’s face toward him. And despite his objections during the entire walk here, he reaches out to hold her little hand, noting how her fingernails are no bigger than grains of rice. He breaks into a grin when he says hello. His palm brushes her hair, and the grin fades as he looks closer—the transition from brushing the whole of her head to examining individual strands. Aemond does not expect them to be noticed at such a late hour, but Criston’s eyebrows go straight as he stares at him.

Aemond only stared back, bringing the other half of his cloak over Alyssa’s face.

“What’s the plan?”

“To find them safety,” Aemond replies. “A better home.”

“Surely you have a more detailed idea than that.”

“Where are the apartments? The ones where you kept that girl from Lys?”

Criston’s hard expression changed. “What are you talking about?”

Then it was Aemond’s turn to stare in disappointment. The disappointment that Criston thought he would never notice the obvious. Celibacy among the Kingsguard has not been as enforced under Aegon’s reign, and Criston is not the only one to take advantage of this, especially for any woman who looks like Rhaenyra.

“Over by the Old Gate,” he caves. “I arranged the rent and servants with Chataya. Her brothel isn’t far from here.”

“Then we’ll go to Chataya’s. We’ll take the Street of Silk. It should be faster.”

“Aemond.”

“Darling, we don’t have a choice. Here.” Aemond traces the loops of his belt, pulling out a dagger. “Take this.” The ripple of Valyrian steel sheens in his hand.

“I-I can’t.”

“You can and you will.” His face softens. “Just in case I’m not close enough.”

She’s hesitant, but takes it anyway, shoving it in one of the cloak pockets.

Alyssa fusses, as if she’s protesting herself now that she’s fully awake. He’s familiar with this one, and she does not let up when he tries to shush her, so he sticks his free hand inside and searches for her mouth. He gently puts his finger in, letting her tiny lips and hands wrap around it like a bottle.

“She’s hungry,” Aemond reluctantly admits.

“I can feed her. Quickly.”

“No. The faster we move, the better.”

“But I—”

“He’s right, ma’am,” Criston says.

Aemond can see the uneasiness reveal itself once more. It’s the remnants of fear sticking around before he left, as the possibilities outside that door (good or otherwise) are closer than ever. So Aemond stepped closer while her eyes glowed wet in the dwindling candlelight. A kiss, another hug, perhaps, or some sort of reassurance that it would be alright could help. But as his arms cradle Alyssa (and Criston waits when there’s no time), Aemond instead presses his forehead against hers. He keeps his eye on her, and her smile is small. It was good enough.

“Let’s go.”

Men in rags stay close to the walls, under torchlights. Some with their selection of whores, others looking to wait their turn. The streets are less congested by stone walls, so pathways are more open, with no carts or livestock blocking the way. They can all step aside and not disturb each other.

Her cloak shielded her arms as Alisha fussed more. She stuck close to Aemond as Criston took the lead this time, many paces ahead. Aemond could hear the speed of her breathing and see the fog rolling from her lips.

“Walk with purpose,” Aemond tells her. “Eyes forward. Do not look afraid.”

“Easier said than done.”

“I’m here. Lean on me if you have to.”

“No. It’s not the time to look weak.”

That damned cot. Sleeping, the pregnancy, and birthing twins on that cot took its toll. Her body has grown weak. Her stubbornness, though, remains unmoved. It’s why Aemond never bought her a new bed. She would cunningly lead him to the floor, so they would lose the topic (as well as the night) before they slept.

Her stubbornness persists all the same as her body struggles with the walk, one step to the other as Aemond continues to be their eyes, centering on Criston (and the men who stare too long). The path is straight and simple. But Alisha still whimpers. Her arms shift under the cloth, muffling her upset, a finger in her mouth. But her adamancy follows through mother and daughter. “Why does this work for you and not me?”

Aemond smirks. “Magic touch.”

She scoffed, nudging him. Aemond responded similarly, planting a kiss in her hair in the safety of darkness. The frizz tickled his nose, and for a moment, Aemond felt peace. A rare thing he relished with his mother or his sister. It’s something he hasn’t felt since the Dance. But even on this road and in the cold, it ruminates over his whole body.

But as quick as that peace washed over him like a bath of sacred waters, he got pulled out. He’s reminded of his thirteenth name day when her blue eyes lock onto his. Aemond turns his eye to Criston once again. He didn’t turn around, but Aemond focused, blinking out the memories.

“Found a replacement, have you?” She stands at the entrance to that brothel all the same as before, when Aemond and Criston were looking for Aegon. She leans casually against the doorway as they pass, and the smirk makes Aemond’s stomach turn.

She turns around, but Aemond pulls her by the arm. “Focus.”

“Was she speaking to you?”

“Focus.”

“Oh… Aemond. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he says with an even breath. He pulls her closer, arm and arm, cloth and cloth. “We’ll get there soon.” Criston is still ahead, and Aemond remembers to breathe.

“Perhaps we should stop.”

“No.” His eye darts at the surrounding men. Most didn’t look at him, and the ones who did offered only a glance. None remember when he was ten and three, despite what his thoughts are saying. The walls are not closing in, and Criston is still well ahead. “We need to catch up.” He pulls her by the arm, and she does her best to keep up.

If it was not the location of Chataya’s that spoke of their expensive price range, it was the perfumes. He recognized the scents of Day’s Dawn and Ginger Palm, authentic from the Summer Isles, along with the smells of cinnamon and nutmeg. Scarlet lamps gave low lighting, but Aemond still kept his head down. He blocked all bodies he noted in the alcove as the lights bled patterns of their shades on the floors and small tables.

“Welcome, sirs,” a woman says. Aemond still keeps his head down.

“Alayaya, hello,” Criston says. “Is your mother around?”

“Always. But I can help you as well.”

“I have a specific request that requires her… connections.”

“There are plenty of specific requests we can and have fulfilled, Ser Cole. Not just my mother.” With her voice alone, Aemond can see her smile: coy and showing teeth, a light accent honeyed with playfulness. All the signs say she doesn’t know this situation is serious.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but we specifically need your mother,” Criston says as he gently puts a hand on Aemond’s shoulder. Aemond forces himself to take a breath before looking up. When he does, he doesn’t let his eye linger out of concern that anyone else in this place would recognize him.

Aemond watches the recollection color her face, her dark eyes widening upon the sight of his. There was no fear in sight, but the realization that she was in over her head (Aemond saw that look a lot during the Dance). She picks at the gold rings in one of her braids as her eyes trail over to her persistently rocking Alisha. Alayaya steps back. “I’ll go get my mother.”

Chataya does not take long to arrive. Aemond spotted the book and quill in her hands before he put his head back down. “I’ll speak with her,” Criston tells Aemond.

“Alright,” he mumbles.

Criston squeezes his shoulder. “I’ll be close by.”

Aemond nods.

She was further away than they were on the street, just an arm’s length away. Alisha whimpers under her cloak, and Aemond cannot afford to spare her a glance, let alone help. Criston isn’t the only one who chooses places like Chataya’s. Non-Westerosi women have a higher price range, which means her customers have likely been in the Red Keep, possibly even invited. Which means they just need to meet his eye once.

It kills him. His stress only heightens when she fiddles with her cloak to find Alisha’s mouth. Nothing. She tries rocking her gently, but she only grows more demanding with each sway. Meanwhile, Alyssa remains quiet somehow, Aemond’s finger still in her mouth, but she stopped suckling minutes ago.

“Gods! Quiet the thing!” Aemond hears from the alcove. The man’s voice is deep in his chest.

“Sorry,” she squeaks. She does what she can, but Alisha does not let up. She’s very hungry.

Aemond sees a woman fall to the floor, just in his limited view. Alayaya helps her up. He sees calf-skin boots come and go out of his sight.

“Lord Baratheon.”

Aemond freezes.

Chataya’s voice is smooth as she remains assertive. “You do not throw my girls around as such.”

“This is not an establishment for children. So she should take the child outside so I can enjoy the experience I paid good money for.”

Alisha is hungry. Aemond thinks about that as he remembers Lord Borros’ funeral after the Battle of the Kingsroad. After that, they acknowledged Royce Baratheon as Lord of Storm’s End. Aemond married his sister two days later.

“Or if you just whip out your tit and feed it, it might—oh.” The gruffness dissipates, and Aemond questions his perspective for a moment. No one is in front of him.

“I remember you.”

“No,” she muttered. “Forgive me, sir. I don’t recognize you.”

“Yes, you do.” Royce drags out the last syllable. It sounded like Baelon insisting on a later bedtime or going hunting with Royce after Aemond and Floris agreed he was too young. Except Royce adds a disgusting singsong tone to it. “Redheads stand out on their own already. With big doe eyes like yours. Baratheons know how to spot that.”

“Sir, please.”

“Lord Baratheon,” Chataya calls.

Aemond has to keep still.

“You remember my cousin. I see it in your eyes. Of course you do. He loved redheads.”

Aemond’s heart pounds in his chest so fast that he’s surprised that Alyssa remains undisturbed. Royce’s voice only grew more heated. He’s drunk. And he’s quick to anger when drunk, remembering Lord Lorren Lannister running into him at the reception. Maesters tended to him while guards carried Royce to bed. Not long after, Floris pulled Aemond aside and asked him to fly to King’s Landing out of sheer embarrassment.

“I wasn’t—”

“But you just couldn’t let him have you, could you? Too good for a Baratheon, are ya?” He curdles a spit and hacks it on her shoes.

Aemond has to stay still. He keeps his palms flat, despite the instinct to clench them. Alisha’s crying continues, and it doesn’t help.

“He followed me to my room. I was not working then.”

“Whores are whores no matter the hour of the day. They bend over when a man tells them to.”

“Only when they pay for it. Your cousin was too frugal for me.”

Aemond didn’t know what would burst first: the vein in his forehead or his lips from the pressure of keeping them closed with his teeth. The desperation to keep his family safe stared him down from all angles. In his mind, he pictures Baelon and Daeron sound asleep. While adjusting to her growing front, he thinks of Floris kissing them goodnight as she stands up. He thinks of something happening to his girls and can feel the fabric of Alyssa’s cloth as he grips her tighter. He thinks of how disappointed his mother would be.

Alyssa fusses. Aemond eases his hold and his teeth.

Alisha wails.

“Is that a hungry bastard of someone who paid?”

“Yes,” Aemond says. He spots her sandals and the reflection of spit already seeping between her toes. Royce is not one to take directions the first time, and Aemond’s instincts smack his meaty fingers away before he’s given the chance to realize he was reaching for her cloak.

Alyssa’s cry leans into a bawl. Aemond’s hand is hesitant to slip back in.

Royce laughs, a small one from the belly. “Oh, I see. It explains the hips she’s got on her now. But if this doting father has his hands full with another bastard, then what will he do to stop me?”

“Then I will be the one you deal with instead.” Criston steps in front of Aemond. “Man on man. Sword and sword.”

“Ser Criston.” The joy depleted from his voice. Normally, Aemond would enjoy it, but Criston is the Kingsguard, the City Watch, part of the royal family. “The king requires escorts of many kinds, huh?”

“If the king or any member of the Targaryen family were here right now, you would bow accordingly. As is your place as a lord and as a Green.”

“My father would spit on the Greens if he were alive today. My youngest nephew doesn’t get to see his future land of Storm’s End because his pompous Targaryen father thinks he’s better than us. He’d rather both of them fly their winged beasts than hunt for game in the woods.”

Criston was silent for a long time. And for a moment, it was strange to find Royce was as well. He didn’t even digest Royce’s insult because Aemond couldn’t believe Criston was using one of his parenting tactics: letting the boy sit in silence with his own words so he could feel the weight of them. The longer they are quiet, the more they understand thinking before speaking.

“If you wish to keep your tongue, Lord Royce, you will keep it safe in your mouth by not speaking further insults about your brother-by-law.”

“Ma’am, sir, you can come with me!” Alayaya calls. “You can feed the babes back here.”

No one moves for what feels like hours, but Aemond follows her out, still looking straight at the floor and hoping to the gods there were no stairs. The gods blessed him as he passed through a beaded curtain Alayaya held open for them. They paused in place and let her lead the way. There were only a few paces before they stopped, Aemond nearly clashing Alyssa into her mother.

“You can look up, my prince,” she whispers. “No one will see you here.”

Aemond hesitates to do so, but the aching in his neck was tempting enough to believe her—a narrow hallway lined with crimson doors and elaborately patterned tapestries crowding corners and windows. Aemond looks back to see the beaded curtain Alayaya held for him, still clicking against itself before stilling, finding no one in his line of sight. No Criston either.

Alayaya pulls out a dull brass skeleton key that matches the door handle. She twists it, and a bolt shifts on the other side. She holds the door once again, waiting patiently for them to enter and settle in. Except this time, they don’t move. It is as if, in silence, without a single glance toward each other, they waited for something else to happen, as if Royce (or someone else) was about to stampede in and finally ruin everything.

But no one does; no one enters or leaves the hallway. A body does not enter or exit any of the surrounding doors. There are no people for Aemond to stare down at as they pass; there is no one here to remember when he was ten and three.

They found more tapestries and scarlet lamps in the bedroom. They also noticed a silk bed that looked untouched, with plenty of pillows that matched the sheets resting against the headboard. Neither of them said anything. Aemond looks back at Alayaya.

“I’ll tell Ser Criston where you are,” she says while looking at Aemond. Then she turns to her. Aemond follows. “You are safe here, ma’am.”

All she can do is nod. It’s good enough since Alayaya shuts the door. And it’s at the sound of the lock sliding into place that they deflate, a long-awaited exhale finally escaping their lungs. They release their arms from under their cloaks to place the babes at the foot of the bed, rolling out their shoulders and stretching their backs.

Then, after a moment of rest, they look at each other. They wasted no time closing the gap, wrapping each other in an embrace. Nothing sensual like this place would inspire, nothing romantic or yearning. Only love. The desperation to hold her was overwhelming, as it was proof that she was still here, present, alive, and safe. Aemond puts one hand atop her tangled curls and the other at her back, gripping her tighter and tighter like he expected her to become glued to his skin. He knows she can hear how incessant his heartbeat is, his ribs barely a cage enough to contain it. Aemond inhales the sweat and dirt, eye closed.

“You were scared too?” Her palms were flat around his waist and shoulder.

“Of course I was,” he admits. It was a simple thing to admit to her. “But you handled yourself so well.”

“He recognized me so fast.”

“And you handled yourself so well, darling.” He pushes the curls that cover her forehead back to kiss her on the skin, hot from stress. “You stood up for yourself, and I’m so proud of you.”

Aemond is present enough to let his heart calm. And once he feels the steady decline, he moves his hands but doesn’t let her go. Instead, he holds her face, kissing her forehead again, then her cheeks, then her lips. He brushes the tops of her hair back as he looks into her eyes. “I love you,” he tells her. “Don’t ever forget that.”

Her smile was small, yet such a wash of relief at the sight alone. The smile of contentment. “I love you too,” she tells him, and it’s a warmth that spreads through him like tea. And he looked at her for a long time. The mother of his daughters, a woman he never thought could love him the way he needed.

Her hands soon travel from his back to his wrists as she keeps her gaze on him. “I need to feed the girls.”

Aemond nods. “I’ll help you.”

“You should rest while you can, Aemond.”

“I’ll rest when you do.”

She does not argue further. She settled with Aemond helping her remove her cloak. He saw the way she was still shivering, but reminded himself that they were almost there. He doesn’t mention it. She instead settles on the bed, only wearing the dirty white cotton nightgown she often wore. It was the only one that had a stretchable collar. It was easier than getting undressed just to breastfeed the babes. She shimmies one sleeve down before bringing Alisha back into her arms. Aemond knows her breasts are still swollen with milk, and she has been in pain since the girls made their hunger known. Luckily, it doesn’t take long for her to latch, and she eats away.

Aemond keeps one palm on Alyssa in the swaddle as he watches. He moves her hair away from her chest, avoiding any mess. The copper spirals end at the middle of her back. She never wore it down when he first knew her. She had stringy pieces in her face that were too short to stay in the unkempt braid, which she only unraveled when the money was in her hand.

“What?” She turned to Aemond.

“Your cousin was too frugal for me,” he repeated in her earlier jab.

“Well,” she shrugs, “he was. Whores require payment, simple as that. Even the drunkest fools would toss coins at me when they were done.”

“I didn’t.”

She snorts with a laugh. “You’re a fool, but you’ve never been a drunken one. You paid me just to sit in my room and talk.”

“You intrigued me.” Aemond kissed her cheek. “Is that so bad?”

“It was daunting at first. You killed your cousin two days prior.”

“He was a cousin by marriage, dear.”

“You know what I mean, then.”

“Well, I didn’t know he was a cousin. It’s not like Royce was around.”

She scoffs lightly before changing her position, trying to sit as upright as she can, like Aemond. “Give me Alyssa,” she tells him.

“We have time. Just take the moment and be with your youngest.”

“Leave it to the youngest to be the most vocal.” She laughs at her joke.

Aemond does too, but he can tell she’s still rattled. “Look at me.” He gently puts his palm around her forearm, gesturing towards his chest, and then up as he inhales, guiding her to do the same. They exhale at the same time once more. “Perfect.”

“Gods, I was so scared.”

“I know. Me too.”

“Do you think your wife knows her brother is in the city?”

“We need to be informed in advance about any visitors to the Red Keep. She was probably waiting to tell me when it was closer to his visit. She knows I don’t care for him.”

“Do you think he recognized you?”

“No. He spat out what he did, but they’re the words of a sober man’s thoughts. Nothing more.”

They remained quiet until Alisha was done. Aemond keeps her hair out of the way as she burps their daughter. There was only minimal spit up—nothing a towelette couldn’t solve. He took the same towelette to wipe between her toes. They then switched out the twins quickly. She pulls the other sleeve down, and Alyssa latches while Aemond swaddles Alisha back up. It’s easy to remember: fold under the arms, across the chest, tuck behind the back, take the bottom, and meet the back. It’s effortless after four kids. Aemond holds her close, watching her eyelids grow heavy from the delightful consequences of a full stomach.

After a moment, he scoots closer to her, looking just over her shoulder as Alyssa eats. Her lids are becoming lazy as well, but Aemond can just make out her purple eye. The right one, just like his. It was something he once saw as a sense of pride. He felt the rush when he held Baelon, clean from the afterbirth, and nothing but a squishy being of joy. Daeron too. With his girl, his oldest girl, it was impossible to sit with that same storm in his blood without being reminded of the tragedies to come. The potential tragedies to come. It is why they’re here—to stop all potential tragedies from destroying his family.

She burps Alyssa. Spit up, as expected. It was more than Alisha, but Aemond wiped it up without hesitation. He dabbed her little plush lips for good measure, smiling at his baby. He swore he saw them curl.

Criston knocked at the door. Aemond knew because he copied his knock: three, two, then one. Aemond still gets up carefully as she watches him. Meanwhile, Alisha is out cold—not a peep. Aemond still keeps her out of view, cracking the door to just see half of Criston’s face. He doesn’t find any bruises, cuts, or a spot of blood anywhere on his clothes. Not even a wave of his hair was out of place. But the bulb in his throat bobs, something he remembers from the Dance. The audible dry swallow was never a good sign. “Royce is gone.”

“Gone where?”

“I don’t know. He left just now.”

“We should leave.”

“Yes.”

They nod to each other before Aemond shuts the door. He looks over at her, and she’s already trying to bring her nightgown back over her chest and shoulders, frantic as Alyssa falls asleep.

“It’s alright. It’s alright.” Aemond crouches down, pulling gently at the sleeve with one hand and pulling it over her breast.

“We have to go,” she said.

“Yes, but let me help. Breathe. And hold her. Be with your daughter.”

She inhales, pauses, and exhales on her own as Aemond pulls up the other sleeve. She brushes Alyssa’s cheek, cooing and kissing the air softly. Aemond drank in the sight as he brought the neckline closer to her clavicle. Then he took her cloak, leaning on the bed, and wrapped it around her until it met in the middle. She shook out her hair as she clasped the cloak shut. Aemond then hides Alisha again as Criston knocks with the same pattern, politely urging them to hurry.

Criston leads them further down the hallway. “Alayaya is waiting for us in the back.” The three hurried down the hall, nearly hand in hand with how close they were. Aemond’s heart raced in rhythm with their hectic footsteps. The narrow halls felt like an endless stretch as he waited for a single door to burst open and finally catch them. With every corner turned, that similar surge came back in full swing, his grip only tightening on Alisha as they rushed to the exit.

Then he spotted Alayaya over Criston’s shoulder, her hand firmly on the knob. She was ready to free them like frantic animals, but she stopped Criston with a polite palm to the chest first. “This leads to an alleyway. Go right, then left out of it. Follow the street until you reach the Old Gate. Make your way across the path, and the building will be on the corner. The top floor.”

As she opens the door, they all nod, and then they feel their feet touch an evenly paved cobblestone as darkness engulfs them once again. Silhouettes of ivy cling to the stone walls of looming buildings. Not a person in sight, not a (visible) Targaryen child in sight. Almost there. It was all Aemond could think of. Criston is ahead again, but he looks back. “Come here,” he says to Aemond. He recognizes the tone when he’s overtaxed. Aemond then looks back at her before approaching his side.

Criston pulls out a skeleton key, a similar brass shade to Alayaya’s. “Yours now. Chataya said she would send you the bill at the end of the month.”

Aemond takes the key, shoving it in his cloak pocket. His dry throat swallows as he feels the heaviness in the air—the shame. His mother’s shame Aemond could outrun for as long as he still breathed. The gods were kind enough to give them time together after the war and cruel enough to take her so soon after he found Helaena on the spikes. The idea of Criston’s shame lingering in his eyes during every small council meeting, every year on any of his children’s name days, every glance in his direction was something he couldn’t tolerate. He did not want to lose more family.

“Thank you for this,” he eventually said. “It means a lot. Truly.”

Criston looks at him, but only briefly. “Don’t mention it.”

“I should, though. You went out of your way for me again. I am grateful for that... beyond words.”

Criston turns back to Aemond. His dark eyes, even in the starless night, softened quickly. “It’s my job to go out of my way for you.”

Aemond’s mouth twitches.

“I know you know what I mean.”

He gazes down at the hidden (finally asleep) mass in his arms. He knows.

“Aemond!”

His instinct takes over again, and he doesn’t remember turning around just as he doesn’t hear Criston draw his sword. His eye rests on the blade against her throat. Royce. Aemond makes out the Baratheon sigil on his chest as she struggles against his hold on her waist, despite not making any difference.

Aemond, however, cannot move. Not because he’s frozen with indecision, but because of the realization that there is no move that isn’t obvious. He is just in need to kill as he needs to protect Alisha. He cannot simply pass her off to Criston. Not even if his hands were free; they are too far away to make any difference. Royce could slice them both before Aemond would even be in reach.

So he is still by force and keeps his eye on her. She’s as fierce as she is terrified.

Royce’s face, however, is puffy from too much ale. And his beard glistens with grease. He chuckles. “So this is what you’re doing when you’re not making heirs with my sister, huh? We went to war—my father died—so you could make your own bastards with a Flea Bottom whore?”

“You will let them go,” Criston orders.

“Targaryen bastards line plenty of alleyways. Give me one good reason I shouldn’t slaughter this one in her arms and bring it to my sister. Have the entire city on the hunt for Prince Aemond Targaryen’s hidden bastard.”

“Royce,” Aemond says through his teeth. “Don’t.”

“Oh. You care about these. The prince I rode with in the Riverlands, he didn’t care for the bastards he slaughtered. He made them dragon dinner.”

“And I will slaughter you before feeding you to Vhagar all the same.”

Royce laughs. “If you cared for your brother’s kingdom at all, you’d drop the babe and hope the stone splits her head open.”

Aemond only holds Alisha tighter. She whimpers as she wakes up.

“I guess we have different priorities.” Then Royce moves the blade from her neck and shoves her into the wall, her back colliding with the stone. She yelped as she landed on the ground. Royce then snatches Alyssa from her hold before she can grip her tighter.

Alyssa whimpers with Alisha as she hangs in the air. Her weight dropped in the swaddle, but she didn’t fall. Her whimpers morphed into panic. His purple tint in her eye gleamed even in the minimal light, and he didn’t know if he could keep his eye open as he watched her kick her little feet in the cocoon, completely helpless.

Then the metal of Royce’s blade came into his sight. “She has your... eye.”

Alyssa was quiet because her mother’s screams pierced Aemond’s ears like blades themselves, digging into the canals. It’s all that forces him to look away from the aftermath, a word that was so easy to use when speaking about a mass of dead soldiers. Dead villagers and dead bastards as well. But seeing Alyssa on the ground, inky liquid pooling around her, it makes everything move slowly. Royce was even slower to stop her from digging Aemond’s dagger into his calf. Royce collapses, and the dagger ascends his body, cutting up his skin and fat like she was climbing a mountain, until Royce gurgles, desperate to keep speaking as his body convulses. When she is on top of him, she digs the blade into his chest. Repeatedly. Until only the hilt is visible

Aemond stays still, watching the twitching in Royce’s ankles. Criston is in his peripheral, his blade sheathed again. It’s her wailing and her rapid breaths in the dark that snap him into motion.

He hands Alisha off to Criston, double-checking that she is secure in his arms as she cries to herself. Aemond scrambles to her, nearly tripping over his own feet as he slides to the ground. His knees are wet as they press into the stone, and he can’t think about who it might be. Aemond finds his blade in the dark and slips it back into one of his belt loops.

Aemond’s throat is tight as he feels around for her, finding her back and the crooks of her knees. But there were small fists pounding against his shoulders and chest as she strained her voice.

“It’s just me,” he says.

“No!”

“Can you walk?”

“No!” She continues beating on his chest. “No, no! Where’s Alyssa? I want to see Alyssa!”

Aemond doesn’t listen, eventually feeling around (and finding more blood drenching her nightgown) until he finds her legs. He pulls her up as he attempts to stand on his own; the realization taking hold as she writhes against him.

“I want my baby!”

Aemond ignores her, spotting Criston and bolting past him before he says anything. He knows where to go just as well as Aemond. From the alleyway, he remembers to exit left. He keeps the image of the Old Gate in his mind as he charges.

The lavishness of the apartment was reminiscent of Chataya’s, with multiple rooms, silks, and warm colors throughout on top of the beautiful view of the city. The same scarlet lamps reflect on the stone floor, almost hiding the blood staining the entryway. Servants lined the archway into the first sitting room. That was until Aemond ordered them out, as they both collapsed to the ground upon unlocking the door.

Aemond’s lungs burned, like dry heat in his chest, as he heaved. When he eventually tried to stand (with great pain), he tried picking her up as well. She smacked his hand away. He understood. He deserved it. She did her best to get up on her own. And though Aemond could hear the struggle in (what remained) of her voice, he didn’t interfere. It was not his place. He stood against the nearest wall like the servants did moments ago. Except that his body lost all posture and royal propriety. He could barely feel his legs, let alone any sign of a heartbeat in his chest. As she stands, snotty inhales as she sees the blood across her body, red and shining even in the dim light. It nearly brings her back down.

That was nearly the case until her eyes locked on Aemond. He watched the surge pulse through her body as she brought herself to her feet with ease. Aemond doesn’t resist when she stomps across the floor toward him. The rage is in her eyes—a fire he never thought would burn so instantly inside her.

And it was his fault.

Her fists collide with the bones in his chest, some catching strands of his hair and yanking them out as she only screams in his face. Aemond doesn’t stop her. It doesn’t hurt. He can’t feel anything.

“I’m sorry,” he eventually says. A single tear streaks down his face. It was cooling as it slid down to his chin, following another. “I’m so sorry, darling.”

“I said you couldn’t do it!” She kept beating him as he remained still. “But you wouldn’t listen to me! If you left us in Flea Bottom, where we were fine, if you weren’t so fucking stubborn, I’d still have my babes!” The last word snapped her back as she looked around. “Where’s Alisha?”

“With Cole.”

“Where is he?” Her eyes flare.

“He’s following us.”

“You mean you don’t know!”

“It hasn’t been long.”

She hits him with a blow to the chest that he actually feels, winding him. “It didn’t take long for Alyssa to die either!”

The blood from her hands stains his tunic. Her punches become weaker as she looks back down at her hands. And she turns around before bursting into sobs again. She runs to the nearest back room, away from Aemond. She looks around at each flat surface, like she hoped she simply misplaced the girls. It’s not Royce’s blood that bothers her. She doesn’t have the girls to hold. Not even one of them—something she hasn’t experienced in three months. The whimpers and cracks in her voice are all that carry when Aemond can’t see her anymore.

Aemond returns to the ground, sliding down the granite wall. He was a pathetic guard for a woman who has every reason to hate him. The numbing stage of his heartbreak will surely pass and descend into the next stage, as will the weighing guilt of his actions. These were his actions. One of his girls died from his mistake. Because he, once again, assumed he was an exception to the rules, to the gods and their wrath.

Three knocks, then two, then one.

Aemond doesn’t have the strength to stand. “Cole,” he says.

Criston opens the door, heavy wood with creaking metal hinges. He looks around the place, spotting the blood on the floor. His arms are cradling Alisha as he crouches to Aemond’s side. He doesn’t see a fleck of disappointment, only wide-eyed concern. “Are you alright?” He feels around his cloak and tunic for a wound.

Aemond shakes his head. “Not mine,” he says. His eye points to the archway on the other side of the room. “She’s over there.”

Criston looks over, her wails trailing out of the room just loud enough to overhear. He’s gentle when showing him Alisha. “She’s safe,” he says. “I only just got her to calm down.”

Aemond’s chest shutters, as though his ribs had finally given in and dissolved inside him. She matched her mother’s big eyes; the whites of them were pink, and her cheeks were red with grief. Aemond is hesitant to touch her, not just because of the blood drying on his fingertips, but also because of the fear of damning his only living daughter with his touch alone. He looked at Alisha as if he were suddenly the Stranger embodied, like one fingertip to her soft ginger hair would eliminate his purpose in doing all of this and destroy any sense of Targaryen exceptionalism he thought he possessed.

He hesitates but forces himself to reach out and touch her, as it may be the last time he’s ever given the chance. There’s a part of him that feels filled (if not partially) when she looks at him, recognizing him as a remedy for his pain and not the cause yet. He brushes the flesh on her cheek before letting his head fall back against the granite. “She needs her more. Go.”

Criston hesitates to leave. “You’re sure?”

“Yes. Go.”

“I’ll be back.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Aemond watches Criston disappear behind the curtains lining the archway, and his eye rests on the ceiling. He looked up like he was looking at the gods in the sept, the grand marble statues that surrounded him when he prayed. Helaena and Jaehaerys’ ashes in the sept came to mind, resting in silence after she screamed and held his headless nephew. The sound was no different from the mother of his children just in the next room, the sound of her heart shattering in front of him—a pain he didn’t have the strength to voice in himself. He didn’t think his heart could break the way it did upon seeing his corpse, wrapped in gilded cloth, like he was only in a deep sleep. He thought about the pieces of Arrax falling from the clouds at Storm’s End, with no sign of Lucerys’ body in the mix. All of them, his fault.

There’s no world where the gods would allow all of Aemond’s children to live when he helped kill two others because of his stupidity. His stupidity bested him again by making him think otherwise.

Criston came back. Alisha wasn’t in his arms, but a bucket and a rag hung off of him. He sets them close to Aemond as he gets comfortable on the floor, inches away. Criston dips the rag into the bucket, wringing out the excess water before taking it to Aemond’s cloak and chest. He doesn’t speak a word as he pushes Aemond’s long hair to his back, preventing any curling.

Aemond’s voice is weak. “Why are you doing this, Cole?”

“We need to clean you up,” he says.

Aemond takes a gentle hold of his arm and pushes him away. “She needs this more than me. Save the water for her.”

“There’s plenty left.”

“Why for me, then?”

Criston sighs. “It’s late in the night, Aemond. The hour? I’m not sure.”

Aemond doesn’t understand.

“Your wife is likely expecting you.”

Taglist: @paprikaquinn @immyowndefender @teal-anchor @dixie-elocin

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danger-noodle-uwu · 11 months

Text

Trigger warning [mentions of killing/arguments/death/break-ups/cheating/etc]

Satan

Wrath is vengeful, wrath is destruction however this never bothered you or got in the way of dating Satan, The Avatar of wrath himself.

But as one could say, the true nature of a being could never remain under the covers. There was vengeance peering above the surface, and destruction awaiting at an unknown's doors, you did not knew.

Satan had great many contacts and to keep that up, he need to do few favors but not every favor was not-so-bloody. And lost in such an expectations of others did he forget an important day like today.

As always the day started as chaos, which couldn't have been helped either way and the blond had grown sick of that, unknown to the cause of chaos and decided to act upon the list he had, completely overlooking your smile, or the stunning outfit complimenting your figure or the day itself.

Upon this ignorance of his, you really wished face-palm. His demeanor was rather annoying, which only fueled you more to smack him. Really hard.

Today was well-planned, at least that's what you thought before dragging him away from his target and scolding him for leaving you on your own in a place crawling with demons.

Satan being the literal embodiment of wrath yet also your lover said "Get off me. I have things to do. And stop being so damn clingy." "Hey, it's your fault for leaving me on my special day!plus, there's sooo many things I wanna do toda–"

"Please shut up for once in your goddamn life!!" His sharp scream cut you off as his eyes bore into yours; eyes full of hatred and disgust as if you were a wretched grotesque placed before him.

Those words accompanied by his harsh glares was enough to make your heart shatter and knifes to be jabbed in your chest while eyes stung with tears that you pathetically hid by averting them as you asked "what did I do wrong..?"

Who knew that one sentence was enough to make those unshed tears flow and litter your rosy cheeks that he'd usually squish and fawn over but alas, all that comforted you was his back.

"Your whole being is the most ugliest!" Lies. Lies. He knew his tongue spat venom at you with words that could never be true because you're his world but the blinding rage doesn't allow him to say so and thus instead, his hand runs through golden locks out of pure frustration as he finally turned to face you.

There was something terrifying about him that very moment which made you mumble out a small "...I'm sorry..." before running off; the sharp pain in your heart only grew with him staring at you like that. It was all just too much. His wrath was suffocating you but to ruin your birthday without even remembering it.

You did didn't care for how bad your muscles ached as you ran further away from him. All that you wanted is to be alone and cry your heart out in hopes that this agony would subside yet part of you hoped that he cared and would come after you or stop you. Which never happened.

Satan has always been so...uncooperative and complicated towards everyone that it almost made him unreachable at times especially when it comes to Lucifer however today, it became different.

His face was scrunched and tense as Lucifer advised him to give you space before talking things out and perhaps getting you a gift as well for both an apology and your birthday; his body pacing back and forth in his room reconsidering things he's spoke until now, not even bothered to consider this as a special day while his elder patiently waited for him to calm down. They both how much you mean to Satan despite him hurting you and making you feel unwanted.

And would anyone look at the avatar of wrath while he's on his knees; practically begging to set things write and for you to accept his apology. However much like always, you don't fail at surprising him when your lips clumsily crash against his.

That he moment he knew how truly beautiful you are in every sense. From physical appearance to your dream-like soul. Every inch was perfect.

Asmodeus

'Touchy and irresponsible as always' you sighed looking over and frowning at Asmodeus who was so clearly lost in the seemingly endless attention they give him as their hands roam his body while he's biting his lip. He was enjoying this, wasn't he?

The thought of him being touched by somebody else made your stomach churn and eyes sting with hurt and envy; he was the avatar of lust, true but couldn't he not do this on your birthday at least and pay attention to you.

You could bet as to how pathetic you were looking drinking demonus with tears in your eyes and surrounded by demons who could just swallow you whole without your lover even batting an eye. Afterall, he'd rather be someone's bed warmer than your boyfriend.

"Hey...are you okay?" Honestly, you didn't know this stranger's name or anything about him but he still had some concern for your well-being; way more than your beloved however made you self-conscious as how pathetic you may have appeared and let your emotions get the best of you in front of unknown people.

"Yea..." you replied flushed from embarrassment and the crimson liquid that rested in your glass. It was really humiliating and made you feel awfully shy at the same time.

"If you say so, but don't hesitate to tell me if there's anything bothering you or if—" He leans closer to whisper in your ear before continuing "—someone's bothering you..." His voice was authoritative yet gentle much akin to a soft breeze from the human world despite being a demon.

"Oh! And I'm Ethan..." a blush ghosted over his cheeks as he realized that he hadn't even introduced himself while you told him yours as he gave you his number offering to help you just in case.

Truth be told, you were smiling to yourself glancing on the tissue that he wrote his number on and the fact that he even wrote happy to help made you grin wider. It was such a sweet gesture.

However unknownst to you, Asmo seemed to have noticed the whole interaction and was fuming with envy; so jealous that he could put Levi to shame. His face burned with heat and beads of sweat rolled down. He hated how that putrid demon had the audacity to flirt and blush at you yet his anger only stirred further when you smiled at him.

The avatar of lust stormed over to you and dragging you out of the fall, harsh grip on your wrist that would probably leave a bruise and then slammed you against the cold wall in the alleyway.

"What are you—!!" You were muffled by his lips smashing against yours; hands roaming your body as desire burned in your veins. Lips synced and danced against each other into a steamy make-out session however he pulled away.

"Why were you flirting with that guy?! You know that demons can hurt you then why my darling must you do this?!" It was irritating as to how he interrogated you but didn't even consider his own actions and the way he neglected you.

Did he even remember your birthday..?

"You say this as if YOU weren't smothering some random people in front of your girlfriend on OUR date!!" And finally, he realized what he's been doing all day. He was avoiding and ignoring you, too busy and consumed by his own...thoughts while you constantly tried to spend quality time with him.

"Baby...I'm sorry..." He coos gently holding your face and cradling you as tears cascaded your face. You looked so miserable because him and he made an internal promise to treat you better and not neglect your emotions.

"Y-you even forgot my birthday..." you sobbed into his soft hands as his eyes widened before he kissed you again. This time much gently and lovingly; full of adoration and affection but desperate for you.

You knew he meant it but forgiving is easier said than done. Even if you would accept him, it'd much later as for now, you wanted him to show is emotions; his real self that was vulnerable and loving; one that was guilty of hurting you. One that loved you beyond his own sin.

You would be lying if you said your heart wasn't melting for him as his hand intertwined with yours while the other rested around your waist and blush littered his face; all for you.

All of him softened just for you; all those emotions showered upon you because all of his love was meant for you.

Beelzebub

Gluttony is like a venom that spreads in your body; turning one into a hungry beast ready to devour his prey and another into a starved being—but for somebody who personified the sin in itself would be beyond a monster or an other horrendous creature imaginable.

Thus, can you really blame Beelzebub for ingesting the whole food supply of house of lamentation alongside of some cutlery after a seemingly intense workout as well 7 hours of helping satan shift his books in order to clean the empty space.

He was salivating at the sight of everything before as his vision molded it into something edible...delicious and well; in front of him were you, standing there awkwardly as his eyes hovered over you however not in a lustful but more like a locking the meat of your bones manner.

"B-beel, you alright..?" His intense gaze made you feel uncomfortable as you shifted in your place yet he didn't blink once as if his hunger overtook him...making him forget who you were.

You couldn't breathe, couldn't move an inch without him lunging at you with those eyes full of hunger for anything to satiate the emptiness within his stomach including you. However, Luck was on your side since it was your own birthday as Asmodeus happened to pass by the scene hoisting his phone up taking selfish before rushing towards you.

"Darling, Beel, what are you guys... doing?" By the end of his question, he knew what was coming. He is well aquaintated with Beel's endless hunger that violently shook the atmosphere in the whole house.

As you stood unblinking staring back at the avatar of gluttony trembling with fear whilst his ragged breaths were heard in the silence of the hall. The very next second he pounced at you transforming into his demon form; claws beared as if he was readily about to rip your heart out.

Yet somehow you were alive; alive and thrown over like a sack of potatoes on Asmo's shoulder as he sprinted towards his room with an echoing sound of certain rumbling in the background that made shiver in dread.

"Honey, you're alright. You're safe, okay? Phew!" He collapsed next to you on the floor next to you after ensuring the door was properly locked, clearly out of breath while still attempting to comfort your troubled form.

Despite knowing he cannot control his hunger, you couldn't help but tighten your throat or fall victim to the ache plastered within your chest. He loves you, you know it but this...hurt more than expected.

The clutches of gluttony were like shackles that bound him and drove him to try to...the thought alone makes you want throw up or is it because his twin succeeded at a similar task.

"Hey...Mc, don't cry, darling. It'll all be okay, I promise! Forget everything it's your birthday, isn't it?" The blond cradled you in his arms trying to shush away your tears meanwhile you sobbed and cried; planned everything, got up early to bake for him and even got the tickets to a movie he was excited about.

"It's so unfair! So unfair, Asmo!!" Why did this have to happen when all you did was try your best? Why are you doomed to fail at every given task? Was this all your fault?

Such thoughts consumed you wholly as your sobs turned into more cries that dragged Asmo's poor heart along with it; it hurt him so much to see someone he considered family be hurt so much. To be broken that they're reduced to a teary mess on the floor.

In the hallway, Lucifer and Satan towered upon Beelzebub who finally calmed down, happily chomping the food he was given; almost uncaring of his twin that laid kissing the ground with a large bruise forming on his forehead.

"W-where *chomp* is cupcake?" He muttered with a mouthful, thinking you must be hungry and not even remembering what he did as he was a puppet under the control of his sin.

"In Asmodues's room..." Lucifer sighed while Satan raged at the sight of the havoc wrecked upon his book—cursed ones, collector's edition, etc. They were everywhere torn into half or bites into and discarded afterwards.

"They must be sobbing since you were ever so nice to them on their birthday!" Satan mocked knowing how badly his brother fucked up while the orange head gushed the memories right into his eyes. Each moment he made a decision worse than the other.

"Oh my poor Mc, sleep well..." you didn't realize how exhausted you were from the whole event that you passed out between Asmo's arms who later tucked you within the comforting confines of your own bed.

But peace never really lasted long as you woke up, only to be greeted by a decorated room, a cake with several other snacks littered on the table and Beelzebub by your side with apologetic eyes as a melody played accompanied by the voices belonging to the remaining brothers.

"I'm sorry, cupcake...I didn't mean to scare you or hurt you, I just don't know what's wrong with me but please forgive me...I love you..." His eyes bore guilt as he was reminded of an older time, an older mistake before his hands caged yours affectionately before kissing them lovingly.

The orange headed demon never wished to be more than your protector, that gives away his life to save yours but also a lover that wants to build a family with you; one that he loves dearer than himself.

Belphegor

Does fate really hate you? If not, why must it be you who suffers with people misunderstanding you or blaming you for actions not performed by you?

"Come on, it's not that bad...just a stupid nightmare!" You hopped onto your feet before changing into your outfit for the day; one that made you feel good about yourself unlike the haunting nightmares that weren't leaving you alone.

As you left your room trying your best to force a smile out, there was a voice that felt familiar as it belonged to a certain great demon who bestowed the wishes of having the best birthday.

"Happy birthday, h-human!" He spoke loudly as if reminding the others of the day despite the whole hall being empty. The gesture in itself was funny, his hand putting your head like a puppy except for the part he himself looked like one.

"Thanks, mammon." And there it was your signature smile that could possibly make anybody melt, though how could you believe it; a rose can never see its reflection.

Reaching the dining hall, the atmosphere felt tense as if everyone was on edge, all but one person. He was missing entirely. Belphegor wasn't there. Was he still asleep?

Before you could ask, Lucifer announced "Belphegor will not be joining us today." And continued to finish his breakfast with what seemed to be a bothered expression.

"Hey beel, what happened?" You couldn't help wonder what did your boyfriend did this time to piss of the eldest and if so, why wasn't satan assisting the crime. "Belphi, h-he said some really mean things..." beelzebub was feeling guilty fill up his stomach, his appetite dying or perhaps killed by someone else.

"Okay..." you knew that the orange headed demon was hiding something, swallowing his own words however why you just couldn't decipher. His voice was strained that it made you feel very uneasy about what really conspired when you were asleep.

"Levi, can you tell me what really happened? Please!!" You pleaded with puppy eyes as soon as the remaining brothers had dispersed from the dining hall; to avoid the extra ears and overly exaggerated explanations.

"Normie, first off promise me you won't tell anybody that i told you this!" He whisper-yelled as you nodded your head vigorously. "Okay--fine, so belphi woke up in a super sour mood and since lucifer decided to call him to the dining hall himself...he said a lot of mean things..."

Leviathan felt a bitter taste in his mouth knowing his next words would most likely ruin your birthday and put you into doubt of your own relationship and partner.

"He spoke a lot of nonsense about lucifer, you know normie...And he--um, he said you weren't that great and just kinda wasted his time w-which is like total bullshit, right? Like normie, you're like Henry 3.0, totally cool and awesome!" He tried his best to soothe the wound he had to give you in order for the truth to be told.

But there it was, a sound of your own heart being crushed and sensation of wet tears dripping down your cheeks. It hurt you so much to hear that your lover spoke of you behind your back that you couldn't take it anymore and sprinted all the way back to your room; leaving Leviathan to only his worry and concern in the dining hall.

Especially on your birthday, that in itself felt like a cheap move being played on you as you felt needles pricking through your chest, and it hurt so much. It felt like the nightmares were true when they played the same scenario where he used you; he used you like a pawn.

Meanwhile, in the twins' room, Belphegor laid in bed with a weird feeling filling him; one that felt so heavy that he couldn't sleep it off. But why? He just couldn't pinpoint.

"Belphi, have spoken with Mc yet? It's their birthday...you should really go to see them..." the avatar of gluttony had his head lowered as he pouted; visibly hungry but at a lack of food.

"WHAT!" "Yea its their birthday, belphi..?" Belphegor panicked for at least 5 minutes before gathering himself and rushing to the kitchen to make something--a cake, should it be okay but what if you're craving ramen instead..? Or something salty? SHIT

He's never been so frantic and panicked; he felt like a single mother raising 6 children...wait why does that sound familiar? ANYWAYS, no time for that.

It took about 2 hours for the whole thing to be prepared; while he had tasked satan to buy your favorite snacks. In the end, he was drenched in sweat from the whole last minute preparation that he did.

On the other hand, you were passed out on your bed; tears dried up on your face and slightly puffy lips and very gracelessly flopped onto your bed.

Belphegor's heart ached at the sight of you, he knew his words have been heard by someone who didn't deserve them. Who deserved love and not such cruel things.

"Love, wake up...c'mon its your birthday..." He voice was gentle as if a one wrong word could shatter you like glass and his hands caressed your cheeks; before kissing you passionately.

You rubbed your eyes as your boyfriend kissed your forehead and pulled you off of the bed. He was smothering you with kisses somewhat lazily; letting eachone feel feather like on your skin.

"Happy birthday my star, I'm sorry for what is said earlier...I promise you that I never meant any of it...I just--lost myself to anger, I'm sorry." He's efforts were visible in both his voice and your room; the blanket Fort certainly seemed impressive and most likely he had your favorite movie paused.

"It's not okay to speak such things about you're partner belphi on any day let alone their birthday. Yet I am much kinder than you think...I forgive you." You pouted with fake anger evident in your voice; playing pretend was fun as hr fell for your words in the beginning but definitely caught up in the end.

And as the day came to a close, you both were snuggled into each other's warmth and cuddling; the harsh words and hot tears forgotten or perhaps changed into smiles of contentment.

Afterall, belphegor was your dark sky and you were his star; without one the other would feel empty and out of place. He was the one who wanted to drown into the depths with you or burn with the passion he held for you...And both remain a pleasure to him...

--------------------------------------

A/n; I had no ideas for belphi and was abt to write he slept that it off like he was in a coma xD

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Anyways,

ℍ𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕒 𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝕕𝕒𝕪

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yahoodarling · 4 months

Text

Yandere Thoma/Ayato X IsekaiedGN Reader

Warnings: Posted in comments to avoid spoilers, please read them if you wish to avoid potential triggers.

Word Count: 20k (Full Fic)

Chapter option: Part 1 ( 3 Chapters, +-6k ea)

It's disgusting, it is discomfort incarnate to have such foresight into the fate of the world and yet be bound to its own laws of destiny, especially when what you were sure was to take place is altered. You no longer have any ground of understanding except the uncanny feeling that things are not as they should be, to be so similar and yet be so changed. You knew things will end up alright, as long as you do not interfere then Inazumas political warfare will reach a peaceful end and it did. You watched, noted those ‘special’ to the world, those who have a story, a life, a reason and you took the responsibility of not getting involved and it worked. You became an npc, avoided any confrontation with those deemed ‘special’, avoided any influence in the ‘plot’, watched as a hero came, a nation saved and a people newly united. It worked. Your foresight was correct yet… things changed. With no base to rely on, how were you to know what the ‘future’ must be, how were you to know what to avoid, who to avoid and what minor choice may change a future? The hero has left, gone to Sumeru you guess, no, you know, you know the hero leaves for a new nation but so has your foresight and with that comes the change. The one day gathering supplies, one day speaking to a fellow npc to fill some sort of social need, one day being in the ‘dark’ and you've caused a spark.

“Oh Aoi, good morning to you!”

He didn't speak to you, it was directed to the npc shopkeep you were chatting with and yet it grabbed your attention. Thoma is ‘special’, Thoma is relevant and so he must be avoided and you failed.

Thoma spoke of how lovely the nights have been, of the soft whistles of sea, even to npcs Thoma was a gentleman starting conversation. He then noted how ‘unique’ your eyes are, a depth to them he's never seen before. That comment frightened you, made you rush to leave, to stop the change. Quickly you felt a hand on your shoulder,

“Please excuse my rudeness but how about we have a stroll? I know its unfair of me to ask a stranger such a thing but… you remind me of a home away from home, if you would grant me such a pleasure that is.” he ended with a chuckle. You have been so realistic up to this point, so good at avoiding ‘change’ but you have a heart and knew all too well that whatever feeling Thoma is experiencing is something important to him. You have a heart and so you accept. A single light hearted stroll became a weekly meet at the shop front, ‘coincidentally’, which became a personal relationship which became a friend. It's alright though, Thomas is a social guy, he's close with many npcs who never impacted the ‘plot’, you can be one such npc, that's fine. Change is fine.

It's not fine. Meeting with Thoma you eventually met with other ‘special’ individuals you knew by name before they even knew of your existence. It's a weird feeling to know a person before getting to meet them, all the private details, their worries, their joys and yet to remain oblivious.

“A formal greeting from the Kamisato Clan, I am glad to see Thoma has a new friend. Do treat him well, sadly I must make short of this meet.” and the man who is most likely the most influential to whatever ‘plot’ is to come of Inazuma greeted. Kamisato Ayato was amongst your top ‘DO NOT ENGAGE’ list other than the archon herself and yet somehow naive bliss and a VERY convincing plea(almost suspiciously good) from Thoma to have lunch by the beaches near the residence of the Kamisato Clan lead you right into his ‘life’. You have no ‘life’, you are meant to have no ‘life’, no value or effect and yet by each interaction with those deemed ‘special’ by the world your plans crumble.

Ayato then promptly bowed and walked out the residents gate, a body guard joining him as he started his track along the path you had just taken towards the city.

“Ah right, he has that meeting. A pity, if his schedule was more open I would have asked for him to join us.” Thoma turned to you with a quick hesitant smile, “he's really not as imposing as you may think he is. Ah well… maybe he still is but just in a different way then what the people expect. If you'd like, maybe I could let you know when my lord and I are doing something casual, if you would be comfortable with that of course. I forget just how intimidating the idea of being casual with a clan lord can be to someone who doesn't know him as well as I do.”

“Thank you for the offer Thoma but I'd like it if we just kept it the two of us. You are right, the idea is a little frightening right now.”

You knew what Thoma meant by all that, he means that Ayato is a genuine person underneath his political mask. Ayato is a brother, a friend and a man caring for those deemed under his protection and to those lucky enough to see under his mask they may be met with the unlucky fate of becoming a target to his mischievous nature.

Still, the idea of getting involved with someone so influential is nauseating even if just for something ‘casual' as Thoma has in mind. In truth you shouldn't even be here, here near the Kamisato Clan, here near someone like Thoma, here in Teyvat in the first place. You shouldn't be here.

“I see, that's expected haha.” Thoma smiled at you wildly, reaffirmed at the idea of something going on in his mind (if only knowing what said idea was was as easy as opening a character profile and reading a line directly out of his thoughts) “Well we are still here for a good time. Let me get that blanket and pillows for the beach quickly. You are going to love it!” Thoma quickly skipped into the yard of the clans walls while you waited outside and watched as the npcs you recognized patterned around the area. That one person at the commission board, you had forgotten his name by now after fulfilling Inazumas reputation months ago. There was the old lady sweeping in the yard, what did she comment on again? … … it never came to you, it was all forgetful anyway. A sudden feeling of envy hit you. They were forgetful, oh how lovely that would be to ease your nerves. To know that each day the sun rises you can follow your coded script without fear of altering the fate of the very universe by the time the sun goes down. Wow, you've messed up haha.

Thoma returned quickly as promised, a blanket and two pillows clutched under one arm as a basket was held in another but probably most heavy of all was the giant smile on his face, wrinkling his cheeks with a sense of genuine happiness. No wonder you messed up, it would be impossible to say no to him. It's all his fault and yet you felt you could never put the blame on him.

“Well, sorry to have starved you of your lunch for so long, we are nearly there and I can't wait to see your reaction.” Thoma then lead you through a short path of the surrounding forest and down towards the beach.

Perhaps your recollection of the game isn't accurate, you could have sworn a group of enemies should be nearby the beach here but all along the coast line was just gentle laps of the waves upon white sand. Thoma layed out the blanket with little worries evident on his face, he placed both pillows down then removed his shoes, each unclad foot stepping on the blanket to avoid spreading sand all over it, you promptly did the same, sitting down and placing the basket you had down next to his.

“This place is lovely at any time of the day but especially during sunset, I would have asked for you to join then but I feared it would make things inconvenient for you but still, spending the afternoon here is just lovely nonetheless.” he criss crossed his legs and then beamed at you.

“Come on then, don't keep me waiting, I'm dying to try out one of your baked goods.”

Right. One of the first things you did when you realised you were now living in the game was (panic, cry, internally scream in confusion as to how this has happened and if your world will keep on going and you aren't in it) actually to set up an identity for yourself. Running around and claiming to have come from another world and how you somehow know very personal details of select people and the future fate of the nation would lead to either your banishment or a future altered and possibly worse where peace was not founded, the resistance killed off and the entire plot of the ‘game’ thrown off. Not a good idea. Instead you tried to incorporate yourself into the ‘npc lifestyle’ as quickly as possible. You came up with a backstory that befit this world, you are a failed Sumeru scholar who has come to Inazuma to lead a new simple life outside of your failures. (In truth you stole inspiration for the backstory from some npc you think was on Sangonomiya Island.) It makes sense, people you tell won't ask you more about your past details in fear of being insensitive and Sumeru scholars are sometimes brought to Inazuma. You explained your (fake) predicament to a shop vendor who referenced you to the local baker who took you on. Now you bake goods behind the walls, don't face any customers and have a very npc-like backstory and job. You set yourself up well which was helped by all the knowledge you have of this world. Too bad you messed up all that work and are sat in front of someone ‘special’. Maybe you can salvage the situation, maybe it's not as bad as you think it is, you only have ‘maybes’ which isn't helpful since you had a ‘definitely’ to rely on before Inazumas ‘quest’ was finished by the hero.

You just smile at Thoma and reach your basket. “I made some simple bread rolls and brought some butter and jam but I also made some black sesame biscuits before leaving work. Thanks again for convincing my boss to let me off early today, things get busy there.”

“Not a problem, I don't often take days off either but I think I just needed a break today and imagined it would be a nice chance to get to know you more. How about you pass me one of your rolls in exchange for a serving of okonomiyaki? Sorry it's probably cold by now but should still be good.” He reached into his basket taking out some wooden containers as well as some cloths, likely for cleaning any spillages, and handed you one with you exchanging and giving him a roll and butter from your pack.

You both nibbled at each other's creations, the bread rolls were still slightly warm on the inside since you had baked them before leaving, which Thoma commented on how lovely it is with the butter. The okonomiyaki you took pieces out of was cold but packed with various spices and toppings which really highlighted Thomas skills.

“I just love that we can do this!” Thoma announced after his last bite. “I love getting to make and share things with friends, it's touching the combined effort put into it as well as the delicious outcome we get to enjoy. Haha, my lord and I do a similar thing but its outcome is not as enjoyable as warmed bread and butter, if anything it's concerning haha. Remember how earlier I said how he can be a little intimidating, our little cook outs are one such example. I really have to steel myself for those.” he chuckled and then leaned down on his elbows.

Once again, what he's trying to explain is something you already know of but need to act oblivious to. You have to convince yourself to be unaware and yet need to be aware enough to avoid ‘changing’ anything, this task has grown rather wearing but is essential to keep up your act.

“Oh? How could cooking together turn out so threatening? You two are close though.” He laughed

“It's because we are close that he feels he can torment me with his cooking. I swear, I'm surprised I haven't kneeled over and died yet. Worst part is he knows it's tomenting, it's the best part to him! Agh- I've had so many of my own treats I've made be ruined by whatever his plan is. Haha, it's amusing to look back on but just so daunting at the moment. When I said we could do something ‘casual’ with him I do not mean having one of these cook outs haha, I could never subject you to that.”

The nature of the conversation stayed light hearted, you both exchanging from your baskets while sharing stories or light hearted moments, you had altered your side of things a little, you spoke truth of personal events but under the filter to fit with your backstory, that way lies couldn't catch up with you or forgetting lots of little made up details. The outing was rather pressuring in concept, so much could go wrong since you are involved, but in reality it was very nice. You had kept yourself back a lot when it comes to building relationships with the people around you in fear of your influence potentially changing something important but you are still human and still have social needs but even people like your boss, coworkers and the shop vendors you chat with in passing never fit what it meant to have a friend, to have someone to sit next to and simply have a good time with.

Maybe you've been in this world for too long, you fear you may slip into making a ‘normal’ life here now that you've had a taste of what it means to ‘live’.

The sun started moving, waves became more rash upon the shore and the signs of the afternoon turning to evening became evident. You started packing up your basket and containers, lightly chatting on with Thoma about the seaside. To the side you heard footsteps and Thoma sat himself up straight to look at the oncomer.

“Oh! Done with the meeting my lord?”

Your hand slipped in fright, the container lid clattering as you tried to put it with its matching box. Shit, why is he here? Shouldn't Ayato be too busy? Isn't that one of his whole character points? Not once was ‘strolls on the beach’ mentioned in any of his character lines. You looked up and smiled at him in greeting, your face tugged up tensely and trying very hard to look at ease. You decided it would be easier to let Thoma handle him and just got back to packing your things away.

“Good evening to you too,” he chuckled softly and shifted his gloves, “the meet is done without any problems. When I got back home I wondered if you were still out here, seems I was right. I can now also fix a prominent mistake of mine.”

Even though you tried your hardest to avoid eye contact and look busy it's not like you had mountains to put away, you were left empty handed with a pair of well polished shoes in front of you, their sheen contrasted with the speaks of sand now defiling them. You took a breath in and looked up properly to meet his gaze.

“I do apologise for being so rash earlier, I would have liked a proper introduction. As you can surmise i am Ayato, Thoma has mentioned of you before and I am glad to have the honor of meeting you in person.” he smiled in greeting, no doubt he would have offered a hand or a bow if you both were at the same height but for now a smile would do.

“Right, it is truly an honour Lord Ayato. Thank you for extending your welcome to me.” you bowed slightly.

He laughed slightly, deeply amused.

“Do just call me Ayato in private like this and last I recall, yes my property is in the area but that doesn't warrant me the entire beach side. In truth I have not welcomed you at all.”

Thoma sighed slightly, “My lord please don't tease them so readily, I would like to eventually re invite them here but I can't do that if you've scared them away.”

“Of course, maybe then I can truly offer my welcome and they may join us to tea in the confines of the clan.”

Thoma sighed again at the slight continuation of Ayato's mischief. You took the opportunity of their exchange as an opening and stood up.

“Thank you for the food today Thoma and for bringing me to such a lovely place. I'll get going before it gets too late.”

“Oh, let me walk you back then.”

You shook your head in defiance, “No need, I know the way and it doesn't make sense for you to walk all the way just to have to return. Bringing me here was amazing in itself.”

You turned to Ayato and bowed again, less in respect and more so to keep away from eye contact.

“Thank you again Lord Ayato. Stay well.” and quickly you make your way off the sands of the beach and towards the trek back home into the outer city.

Thoma and Ayato stayed still, simply watching you go in silence until you were out of eyesight. It was Ayato that broke the silence.

“You are sure they do not carry any ill intent?” he said monotonously, still looking at the spot you disappeared to.

“I am sure. They are a decent person and I double checked, they don't have a past linked to any organisation. Sure they are rather anxious, I see it often, a little skittish at times and slightly paranoid but it's not at the prospect of the clan. Haha, if you've taught me anything it's to be aware of people's intentions, if anything they are trying to run away rather than to get close. I can assure you, they don't have an agenda against the clan.”

Ayato breathed out, then turned himself to properly look at Thoma, his face relieved. “If that's your judgement it must be true then.”

…

An odd moment of silence spread between the two of them on the beach, both looking out as the sky took on warmer hues of yellow and orange clashing with its deeper blues.

“You've been coming here a lot more recently and to have invited a friend here as well, has your mind been on your homeland?”

Thoma chuckled and leaned back out on the blanket, now dusted with sand and corners crinkled after the day's events, “I have. Thinking about the mountains of Mondstadt and all the memories just out there across the ocean. It's not in a sad sense, not at all, it's just that recently-,” he paused, looking away from the ocean and down to his lap, slightly gnawing on his lip in thought, “recently i've felt more… connected with myself. It's a nice feeling if not slightly concerning. I feel I'm getting to know myself better but it also just clearly shows how much I have yet to discover.” He sighed, closed his eyes and fully laid down on his back.

Ayato looked down on his friend, doing as he does best and figuring out just what was going on in his mind, his feelings, the reasons for such feelings and the potential catalysts that brought them about. He kneeled down onto the blanket beside his friend, form straight from a lifetime of practice.

“Does your new friend have anything to do with it?” he asks only to be met with silence, Ayato doesn't need an answer, he already knows it's true but just why that is so is still unknown.

“It isn't that you have fallen for them have you? I didn't think of you as one for love to occur after a reasonably short time.”

Thoma opened his eyes languidly and responded this time.

“I don't think it is love. Not yet but… i'd say i've definitely fallen for them haha, in whatever way that is i'm not sure but it feels… unbridled in nature.” he closed his eyes once more and shook his head at his own emotions. He tugged on a smile and relieved himself of his weighing thoughts, “So i'd appreciate it if you don't chase them away okay? I look forward to figuring out what's going on with both myself and with them.”

Ayato nodded wordlessly, not needing to disturb the quiet with a response.

…

“Ayato, did you notice the look in their eyes? It truly just- it just instantly made me feel like I was reliving my home town but also… not. It was familiar but also so foreign.”

“I hadn't gotten a good look at them in truth. They seemed rather determined in keeping their eyesight on anything but me.”

Thoma nodded in acknowledgement, “Makes sense. I do hope they warm up to the idea of the three of us doing something together eventually. Haha, once they've settled their nerves they are very comforting to talk with, I think you'd like them.”

Comfortable silence stretched along the two, the shades of yellow and orange in the sky deepening to reds and purples. In time Ayato stood up, no doubt with the intent of work to finish. He turned to leave before side glancing at Thoma.

“The nobushi that often occupy these beaches, you've disposed of them correct?”

“Did it just this morning to make sure the beach was safe for today as well as to clear out the threat they bring.”

Ayato sighed in annoyance.

“I still can't believe those ruffians believe they outwit us, thinking being close to the clan means they may spot our vulnerabilities.” he shook his head slightly, like the ‘danger’ the oathless samurai possessed was nothing but a pesky fly.

He then made his way back to the clan home leaving Thoma to steep in his own thoughts.

It was after this interaction that you decided to cut things down. At first you imagined Thoma to be the safest ‘special’ person to come across, given how social he is and loved by many you could become a face in the crowd while also tending to your social needs and appeasing Thoma who, and you still wonder why, wanted to get closer to you. Following the path you've taken recently, of course you were wrong, in fact Thoma should have been on that list of ‘DO NOT ENGAGE’ for the very reason you thought it was safe to: he's social. Very quickly you had realised in your time meeting with him that he would smile and wave to many walking by, one such instance was panic inducing when you noticed Yoimiya come over to greet him. Before she had fully skipped up to the both of you you had promptly dismissed yourself and ran back to the confines of your walls to avoid meeting someone so ‘special’.

This was Thomas' problem, he is the network that is connected to so many ‘characters’ that by staying by his side means undoubtedly meeting with the others. Today's incident was clearly that, you met Ayato, you were right there at the clan bordering the line of stepping into the grounds of one of the most impactful places of Inazuma and it was Thoma that had convinced you to do so. You had been too lenient on your rules recently, too selfish. You don't follow these rules you've written up for yourself because you want to but because you know it's for the better of the future and altering such a future because you can't stay inline is selfish to every being in Teyvat that could possibly be influenced by your choices.

To live means to influence your environment, to live means to leave an impression that proves your existence. You wish for nothing right now other than to ‘die’, be void of life and find comfort in that, to finally release the stress of what it means to have all this information of the world and not belong in it but you are still human, you have needs to fulfil and ‘dying’ is not one of them.

It was time to cut Thoma off, it hurt because you knew it would hurt him but it would be better this way. That night you closed your eyes to rest, determined on your new path but gut wrenching in a myriad of emotions, fear, pressure, uncertainty, sadness. You haven't slept well ever since coming to this world and that night was no different. You fell asleep cursing the ground you walk on, cursing the details that swamped your mind, cursing your very existence and the trouble it causes to both this world and yourself.

Separating yourself from Thoma was simple, firstly you changed your shopping time, no longer ‘coincidentally’ meeting with him like you had these last few weeks. Secondly, you asked your boss for more work, that way you have an excuse. You aren't a ‘bad person’ for suddenly leaving Thoma, no it’s because work has been busy and you just don't have the time. This system worked, you hadn't stumbled on him while in the city and the few times he did come to your workplace you simply told him that you were busy and needed to get back to work. This system went on for weeks and was perfect for devoiding your existence of ‘live’, which yes was depressive, you could feel yourself go mad at the amount of work you put on yourself and lack of outlet, but it worked. The extra work did help with the issue of mora as well (the value of mora being confusing ingame where how a single egg was 400 mora and yet 1 mora is represented as a single coin but you realised quickly it was just the ingame market system) which lightened the financial strain a little. You worked from early mornings to late nights, arms dead by the end of the day. In truth you know it isn't a healthy cycle, often coming home and skipping meals just to bathe and sleep, but it was necessary.

Inazumas rains soaked the land, luckily no thunder was present but the trek from the city to nearby village was still made difficult in the wet weather. Your eyes focusing and unfocusing, legs on autodrive walking you towards a particular customer of your workplace who the boss is very fond of. The old lady you were delivering to had been coming to the bakery for years but in her age can no longer make the walk to the city. Your boss found it mandatory to provide for such a loyal customer and so your weekly walk to deliver her breads was on the way.

In the rain was silence, just the sound of your wet shoes on the mud and the rhythmic clank of the wooden box you carried and its latch. The world began to blur, shapes and colours combining as the rain obscure your vision and the melody of your steps, the rain's patter and the wooden latch soothed your mind. Peaceful, a sleepwalk yet not unconscious.

Peace is never retained.

“Look, a stray lamb. Ha! The rain brings fortune indeed.” a swallowed out voice but a few steps away from you got you out of your daze. A wandering samurai, perhaps 3 all together, walked from the side of the path towards you from the river. If this had been ingame the confrontation would be nothing more but an annoyance, 4 ‘characters’ to choose from to easily snuff them out or the option to just run away until they gave up chase. In reality this confrontation means little less than a deathly denouement. Heavily armed, well trained men with seemingly no morals and a thirst for sick entertainment against a human bering no vision, a basket of bread and a fatigued body leaves little wonder as to how this will end. Panic arose at the realisation, the very human phenomenon of ‘fight or flight’ kicking in, and as a baby bird strives to the air you push off your feet, adrenaline quickly awakening your senses and urged your body to a change of direction and just as a fledgling's first flight you fall. Hard. Your mind may have awoken but your body had not caught the message, instead you lay your head in the dirt, all motive diminished, just your sad existence lay bare for a bunch of hostile mobs, stupid coding of copy paste enemies, to take your life. In all honesty this is perfect, you wish to retain as accurate to an npc life as possible? What better way than to die a meaningless death. That brought enough comfort to you to allow yourself to close your eyes (disregarding the other factors such as shock, exhaustion and most likely a concussion from the fall)

Perhaps a few of your questions will be answered now, if you die here will you reawaken into your own world? Will the months of lifetime in this fictitious game be nothing but a dream or will you truly die and merely sink into the mud as nothing more than a mistake upon this world? Neither as it seems the feeling of the rain pelting on your body ended, the sounds of swords being drawn and clashing washed away and your head, though still paining, layed on something far more welcoming than wet earth.

“Are you regaining consciousness then?” you feel hands lean your body up, a hand moving you face side to side prompting your eyes to open. They are met with the analytically eyes of Ayato still looking over your features for whatever wear and tear you may have gathered.

“To have fallen so gracefully in such a life threatening moment, truly your abilities are unmatched to any I have seen before. I am surprised you garner such mud and bruising, I had expected you to be dressed in only the most comfortable of clothing by the way you so effortlessly went to rest.” Oh for fucks sake-

You properly awaken, now relying on your own balance to stay sitting upright and Ayato moving his hands away only to have his eyes peering closer to you. You swipe at your face, lumps of mud clinging to your hand in turn. You heave a sigh just to gather yourself for a moment before speaking.

“What happened? Why would you be here if it means I'm not dead? Ah- sorry,” you jumped into accusations before even giving thanks, not suspicious in the slightest, “my head is still sore. Sorry, I must thank you for rescuing me, I would be dead if not for you.”

Ayato hummed and nodded his head. “To answer your question, I was on my way to the city before the rain started, not wanting to get wet. I waited here under this shelter until I saw you stumble right into that group of noboshira and now we are sat here. As for your apology, it's accepted, you are welcome.”

Why was he acting like this? Mischievous sure but with a slight hint of pride or cockiness in vulgar terms. Sure he's a noble but usually he adores the ‘polite lord’ act rather than ‘cocky aristocrat’. His attitude reminded you of how he interacts with those he deems ‘close’ rather than a stranger he's met only once. Yes you are close with Thoma which may influence how he sees you but surely not to the extent of you two being ‘close’ in turn.

And still you must play the fool, be gracious and oblivious like you could never tell between his mask and his true face.

“Thank you so much Lord Ayato, truly you've saved my life.”

You stand to bow, to leave but he holds your wrist at the movement.

“Do not move so hastily now, the rain is still ongoing and I would not like to see a recurrence of you laying in the mud, no matter how amusing the first time may have been. Do sit back down.”

No denying that, no matter how much you wanted to make distance between the two of you, trying to run away would only cause more problems. You sit back down on the bench, a rickety structure just outside the village with hardly enough space for two. You look to the ground at your feet, watching as rain drops just a few inches away. Ayato sighs, made clear you have no intent of starting a conversation. Perhaps his political side kicks back in, going blunt and straight to the point.

“You have been avoiding Thoma these last weeks, he's become distressed at the idea he's done something wrong.” you do not reply.

“Is it because of my involvement? I understand you may be pressured by our difference in class but both Thoma and I have made it clear that should not be a problem when in private so why is it you fear me? I have seen those intimidated by my title but your anxiety runs deeper than that. I personally don't care as much but if it distracts your relation with Thoma then I suggest it should be dealt with.”

This questioning is unnerving, it is tearing right to the point where the only truth is to reveal the true origin of your situation. That cannot happen so you reply with what you usually do, not exactly a lie but a truth wrapped along with missing context.

You fake a sigh, “My Lord I am… I am an introverted person by nature. When Thoma approached me I- I accepted his conversations not to be rude and i do genuinely enjoy being with him but i- he's a social person, I knew he was and it was uncomfortable for me to get involved but I tried it's just the moment I met with someone such as yourself, someone so… powerful I realised just how large his social circle is. I can't keep it up, being with him means being with others and I can't handle that.” it was the truth, yes you played it up a bit but hopefully it's an explanation Ayato would accept.

“So you do not consider your friendship special enough to warrant such efforts?”

“No!” you lift your head to him, for once properly looking at him, “It is, he is special, he is special beyond your understanding it's just that… I don't fit in, I don't belong by his side and meeting you and others just proves that.”

Ayato looked at you for a moment, seemingly lost in your words, perhaps not understanding the phrasing you used but he quickly morphed back into his usual laid back but self assured look.

“Was that your decision to make?” He let out a soft huff of air and looked forward to the oncoming rain. Why did he wish to avoid the rain? Given his character trailer where he casually accepts it, his skills being water based and summoning quite literal rain not to mention the casual manner his attacks have him kneeling right into it, how could he act so off put by walking along when the storm was hardly harsh, a summer spray in truth, you wouldn't have accepted going on this delivery if the weather was any worse.

“It's comforting. Something I can appreciate both from a distance and up close. Water has a tendency of being both stubborn and flexible, it moves as it wishes and chips away at that it deems in its way. When in motion it is hard to stop, when stagnate it proves hard to move.”

Ayato turned back to you, eyes alight with something more than just his blue hues, they appeared with a sheen, not from the gloss of tears but of something you couldn't exactly tell what it embodied. Without a character profile to read it actually is very hard to tell what goes on in his mind.

“Such waters remind me of you. So stubborn in some label you've put yourself under and yet so quick to wash away when it is threatened. You call such a label as being ‘introverted’ but I imagine it's something more isn't it? Perhaps it is insensitive of me to get into, from Thoma I hear you've had an unfortunate past in your time as a scholar and the depths of your reason may lay there but if you truly wish to integrate into a life in Inazuma then avoiding the people you come across, myself and especially Thoma, all under the pretext of being ‘introverted’, then you will find your burdens much heavier.”

In a very storylike fashion the rains seemed to ease, droplets turning to drizzle. Ayato stood up and readjusted his coat cuffs, “At the very least explain to Thoma your reasons, I did not exaggerate when I said he has become distraught.”

You stood in turn, head buzzing but no longer in the previous pain. You nodded to Ayato, your anxieties haven't shown any actual proof and yet you hurt someone who has shown nothing but kindness and acceptance to you, it is wrong.

“I will, you are right.”

Ayato offered his hand to you for a hand shake, both as an untold promise to explain yourself to Thoma and as a simple goodbye gesture, you shook it with a strong resolve.

“I look forward to hearing more about you in the future. Do keep yourself well and avoid potential naps in the mud, it's not the most comfortable of places.” he smiled at you with a cheeky glint of amusement before turning his back and walking to the direction of the city.

You sat back down on the bench, intent on waiting out the remaining drizzle, and leaned against its wooden pillars. It's all so conflicting, when you try to do right for this world you hurt and confuse those around you, if you try to appease the people around you you risk threatening their future. You bare a cursed mind of information, a cursed existence upon this plane, it isn't right to affect others by the curse you bare but it also isn't right to devoid someone so giving as Thoma.

You sit and contemplate until the drizzle gives way, your carry box placed by your feet filled with breads untouched by dirt and still awaiting their destination.

Ayato strolls along the path to the city, it is not his usual reasoning for taking the trip but still a reason worth doing so. Along his path all threats had been eliminated, you should arrive just fine but it wasn't that which plagued his mind, rather it was a soft sense of amusement, a sense of glee that left him softly chuckling to himself. He adjusted the cuffs of his gloves, a sign to his Shuumatsuban in hiding that they are to leave him for a moment, once the soft shuffling of unseen ninja pass he turns is view to your direction, the distance hindering the sight, he needed a moment to himself, to gather all possible elements at play to give reason to his unspoken questions.

“As expected, Thoma was right, they do hold some degree of depth.”.

The words Ayato left with you clung to your mind, in all this time interacting with ‘characters’ you haven't once seen anything alter the course of the world yet. Perhaps it's a twisted Butterfly effect and your actions have changed something you cannot see but Teyvat was still intact and no news of a newly declared war has come about (for whatever reasons your actions may potentially had started a war in the first place). Perhaps the time of paranoia can finally come to an end and you can ‘live' a little, truly live here if it means spending the rest of your life in this world. You also owe it to Thoma. You've done everything in your power to avoid him when he's done nothing less but show genuine interest in getting closer to you and with Ayato's words you can confirm that you've hurt him. In your time knowing him, truly knowing him, not as a character reading lines of script, not as a collection of pixels on a screen but as a real person with flesh and feelings, it's really made you appreciate him more than anything one could feel for a fictional character. Thoma is not fictional in this world and in this world he looked to you for a friendship, you lead him on in your weakness and now he has to face the loss because of your choices. Ayato was right, you truly don't have the right to make this decision but the least you can do is make up for your mistakes and keep your promises. Teyvat isn't going to fall apart just because you want a friend, what led you to think you could change the fate of the universe in the first place? Fate is a strong thing, it will not break so easily just because you exist. The rest of the ‘plot’ will go on as normal, the ‘hero’ is most likely still in Sumeru sorting out their issues and that ‘hero’ can go on and change Teyvats fate, you can sit still, live a normal life and they can keep the story going.

You decide the best way to apologise is to show Thoma you genuinely care and the best way to do that, (other than actually talking to him) is to do what he's already established means a lot to him, make something. Thoma loves to see the effort people put into something much more than the actual execution of it. You are hardly a master baker yet he savours what you bake like it's been done by a professional, so play to your strengths. You finish your work day, inform your boss you will no longer be taking the overtime and rest for the day. Not wanting to rush into things too quickly you wait a few days and in your spare time make a batch of miso butter cookies and a simple fresh loaf of shokupan on the day you decide to meet him. It being a weekend you were off work but that also meant Thoma wouldn't be in the city, he does his trips here only during the week when he needs specific supplies for his upkeep of the clans residence. Taking a walk to the Kamisato Clan is quite the walk but you owe it to him to get this done, he can't be the one to keep chasing after you, you need to show you want to be close as well.

You arrive midday, the walls of the clan still so daunting, and walk to the entrance where the clans guards await, noticing your presence long before you could actually stand before them.

“Good day, I am here to deliver something to Thoma.”

The guard eyes you but responds, “He's out. If you have any deliveries you can leave them here where they will be checked before entering the clan.”

Thoma isn't here? Shit. That makes this whole thing a bust.

“Do you know where he's gone or when he'll come back? I'd prefer to see him in person.”

“No. Please leave any packages here and-” the guard was cut off as the man of the house walked up to the entrance, Ayato offered a slight smile, perhaps to ease your nerves at the guard's menacing stance though that is his job, before turning to said guard.

“They are a guest and are welcome to the clan. Thank you for serving your duties but they are free to enter.”

The guard bowed and uttered a small, “Yes my lord.”

Ayato then stood to the side to allow you in, his arm outstretching the direction in welcoming.

“Ayaka and I were just having tea in the break of our schedules. Please do join us.”

Well it seems you will be meeting Ayaka (for the second time), not expected, not something you were prepared for but if you are to truly let go of your worries then meeting Ayaka should not be a problem.

You follow suit and see Ayaka sitting at the table on the outside courtyard, she smiled in greeting as you and Ayato approached.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, I am Ayaka Kamisato.” she nodded in greeting. It's a little difficult to respond to people such as Ayaka and Ayato whom are so versed in proper Inazumaian etiquette but you've been in Inazuma for long enough to have picked up some things. You bow slightly in turn, “A pleasure as well Lady Ayaka, thank you for welcoming me to your home.” You responded in a similar way when first meeting Ayato though you imagine conversing with him from now on would be a lot more relaxed after your previous meetings. Said man indicated for you to sit beside his sister which you did, form a lot less refined compared to the pair of siblings.

“Ayaka, this is the person Thoma has been talking about as of late. A new friend to the Kamisato Clan.”

“Oh! It's truly wonderful to put a face to a name. Thoma has spoken only positives about you. What brings you here?”

You look down to the wooden box in your hand, your apology gift.

“I need to speak with Thoma and give him something.”

You don't even need to look at Ayato to know that he's fully aware of what your meeting with Thoma is all about.

“I see. He's gone out for a walk at the moment but should be back soon. Anyway,” it felt like ice drawn at the blunt way she changed the topic. She quickly turned back to Ayato, more specifically the paper in her hands, with a look of true delight on her face.

“The travellers' tales of Sumeru are incredible! Such a different place but the stories they are embarking on are memorising.” her eyes had a sheen to them, not the gloss of tears but of something you couldn't exactly tell what it embodied.

“Their letter details so much, the food, the culture, the people as well as all the situations they've ended up in.” she giggles, lifting her hand to cover her joy but not truly caring about it since she was in such comfortable company which is… odd considering you just met.

Ayato looks at you with a quick strained smile, almost to say, ‘sorry she's overlooking you’ but quickly returned to paying his attention to Ayaka.

“I am not surprised they often find themself in trouble haha though it is good to know they are enjoying their time there. Do they mention when they may return to Inazuma?”

Ayaka looks slightly dejected at that, “No. They say they need to stay in Sumeru for now but will come to the next major festival if they can.” she takes a deep breath in and releases it. “I hope it's soon. I want to hear all these stories from their mouth rather than just as words on a page.”

So Ayaka also has that ‘crush’ on the traveller which was very heavily implied in the game. That must be the reason she is so relaxed and open with her emotions here.

She looked back down at the letter, a soft smile developing. “I hear Yoimiya is planning on taking a trip to Sumeru in the future, perhaps I can ask her to deliver a token from me to the traveller while she is there.”

Ayato's smile remained as always listening to his sister but the small crinkle of the wrinkles by his eyes increased slightly for but a moment before relaxing. His wrinkles… a pity the game models of the characters didn't implement small details such as those. It would have been interesting to see what small features the characters had ‘realistically’ that weren't shown. Would Jean have bags around her eyes? Would Albedos skin have a slight difference of texture than normal? Perhaps Cyno has a more defined tan or Xiangling having slight burn blisters on her hands from cooking and her vision? You've only had a closer look at Thoma and he was so much more ‘real’ than just a 2D image which was slightly unsettling at first but normal now. What interesting things to think about…

“How about you join her?”

Your fascination died instantly. What? No, Ayaka will NOT be joining Yoimiya, that's not how it goes. Ayaka will deny or something will stop her.

“Really? But what of my responsibilities? I don't even know if she'd accept me joining.” Exactly.

“Do not fret, I will have your duties covered and Yoiymiya is your friend, I think she'd appreciate getting to share the trip with you. You deserve a break as well and I see no better opportunity than this.” No, no, no, no you won't because she's not going.

Ayaka stood up, elation beaming off of her while she clutched the letter closer to her.

“Thank you brother! Oh I must ask Yoimiya right away!”

She bowed and made haste out the residence not even sparing you a glance, to her you were a nobody. Her mind was solely on making this trip. You sat in shock, in the past her forgetting about you would be amazing, proof of your ‘npcness’ but you only felt stunned. Ayaka doesn't go to Sumeru, only Yoiymiya does for her second story quest, Ayaka is not involved, Ayaka does not show up, Ayaka is not part of that plot!

“I'm glad she can have a chance to experience the world outside the residence though having to cover for her duties will prove tedious.” Ayato shook his head, then chuckled. “But I'm not opposed to it for this.”

Just how- how has your involvement changed this?! It must be your fault, it can only be your fault, the story has gone on exactly as it was shown in the game so why is this different? What could you have done to make Ayaka go?

“Hmm?” Ayato noticed your silence, “Is something the matter?”

You swallow the spit that had accumulated in your mouth and regained as much composure as possible. “Yes yes I am fine I just- I just need to go have a quick walk by myself. I will be back soon.” It's all you could say. Your mind switched to autodrive in shock and walked you away, neither mind nor eyes truly focusing on anything but your legs walking you a path you've taken many times before yet never once stepped on, into the forests behind the clan house.

Walking in the tanuki filled forest may not have been the best idea, you recall ingame how Hilichurls and Fatui mages are ‘spawned’ here yet your walk was nothing but peaceful. The sound of the stream was somewhat calming, it helped you to think logically. Just because Ayaka says she's going to go on this trip doesn't mean she actually will, something will happen that will prohibit her from going to Sumeru. She is a very important character, her absence in Inazuma may cause something terrible to happen that didn't ingame. Maybe she helps a person in need ‘canonically’ but because in this existence she leaves for Sumeru she isn't there to save said person, that person dies or many people die which could upset their families which could cause them to lose faith in the (police) which could lead to disrupt in the city which could… which could… leave blood spilt?

You stopped your rambling thoughts, eyes zoning in on the pools of blood on the moss covered stones. Whatever caused this is nothing you should get involved in, until a sound of a strangled hiss, electro energy popping and fizzing in the air, a shriek of vengeance and then… nothing. The sound came from further ahead to the right behind a large mound, you watch to see the source, feet ready to run away as the slightest threat. Footsteps sounded and around the bend came a semi dirt covered Thoma, looking ahead with a solemn expression, seemingly dazed. His chest huffed out periodic breaths of air to regain himself and latestly wiped off his brow and took out a cloth and dabbed at the specks of blood on his clothes and arms, while doing so he turned and saw you standing motionless, eyes awide and still in semi shock. Almost instantly devastation fell upon his face, his eyes sunk in immediate sadness, he just looked at you for a second, whatever his thoughts were were his own, before quickly putting the cloth away and rushed to step towards you.

“Please just- i'm just doing my duty, I don't mean-, i'm not…” the more he tried to justify himself the more he seemed to sink into his own hole.

“I know this looks bad, you are the last person I'd want to see me like this but-” he took a deep breath in, steeled himself to elaborate properly, “it's to protect the clan. Fatui spies, rogue samurai, rival clans, a lot of them come here to spy on the clan or put us at risk, i'm just doing my duty and protecting the people who protect me.” he looked at you earnestly, hoping for your understanding, hoping you don't see him as a murderer, hoping to retrain the image of an amicable person but his soft smile of a plea also held the acceptance that you may not acknowledge his reasonings, that you'd turn your back and leave.

You do understand, you do know Thoma isn't a harmless friendly face, that he can and will do what must be done for the people he cares about, it's just that… it's a little hard to easily be calmed even with that notion when the very real blood and remains of that dedication is shown spewed across the forests floor, it's not something any ‘average’ person would not react to but still, this is Thoma, he has his reasons, it was done in the name of goodwill and he's trying to explain it to you.

You take a few steps towards him and offer a hesitant smile, “I get it, I don't see you as any less than before.”

Before you even regain your senses properly you feel his arms around you, tight and secure, his hand cupping the back of your head and hiding his face in your shoulder, so desperate to have the reassurance that it's okay but still hesitant to look at you, like you may change your mind.

“Thank you… archons above I was worried I've scared you. My word, that's the last thing I'd want…” she shook his head slightly, took one last deep breath and moved back up, his hands grasping your shoulders lightly, you could see his face up close now and he finally allowed himself to look at you, his face held a smile. “I am so happy to see you!” the heavy atmosphere diminished as Thomas usual radiance shone, “Haha, what are you doing here? It's been ages, the last place I thought I'd see you was all the way here.”

“Oh yeah, I actually came to apologise about that, about being distant. It wasn't right of me to just cut you off, I'm sorry.”

He stayed silent, only looking at you, his eyes softened and nose wrinkled in his genuine expression of embrace. “Dont worry about it, I was clingy, I'm just glad to know you are here now. I'm really happy about that.” he chuckled and shifted his weight to point you back up the path to the Kamisato residence.

“Let's go catch up shall we?”

On the walk back up you explained to Thoma your ‘reason’ for avoiding him (your half lie, half truth reason), the same one you told Ayato. You are shy and get intimidated by how social he is. Thoma nodded at your explanation, expressed his apologies for not noticing your discomfort and promised from now on he'll be more aware when you are together and not encourage meeting with others you aren't comfortable with. The walk was nice, a bit strained because of the topic but after all the knots had been loosened it felt good to be relaxed with him again.

You two entered the Yashiro court again, Ayato still sat at the table reading through some papers. Thoma turned to you, “Oh sorry, meeting with Ayato was one of the things that made you uncomfortable right? We could go somewhere else to catch up?”

“No it's alright, I met with him earlier when I arrived. I told him I'd return so it would be rude not to haha.”

The noise must have alerted said man, Ayato peaked his head up and greeted the both of you with a smile as you walked towards him and sat down.

“The both of you have returned safely from your walks then, it's good to see. How was it?”

Thoma hesitantly chuckled, “Haha, came across some trouble but nothing I can't iron out. Otherwise we just had a little talk.”

Ayato nodded and hummed.

You remember your carrier box filled with the apology gifts for Thoma and opened it.

“Thoma, I made some more biscuits and bread and wanted to give them to you, to further state my apology.”

“oh? Perfect then, we can have them with tea.” Ayato must have had someone refill the teapot while you were away as Thoma poured you both cups of steamed golden liquid and refilled Ayatos. Thoma took a biscuit and devoured it in delight, did he always over exaggerate when eating the things you baked or was his reaction authentic?

“Ayato, would you like one? They really are divine.”

“No thank you. It would be wrong of me to strip you of your joy haha.”

It was odd but so welcoming to be able to have a casual conversation with the two. It seemed easy to get lost in Thomas stories, he seemed fully invested in everything he spoke of and when listening he truly captured every word. Ayato, though not as vocal as Thoma when he did speak his words were like a maze you'd have to do a small mental puzzle to understand if they were a wise response or a guileful remark coming from his teasing nature. Though harder to understand, Ayato's words were still a welcoming part of the conversation as the three of you went on to drink and share.

Ayato shuffled his papers, putting them to the side, even on his supposed break he was reading through documents, Thoma hummed, took a quick look around then returned his gaze on Ayato.

“Where is Lady Ayaka? I thought you two were having this tea break to discuss something.”

Oh wait… Ayaka…

“Yes, she received a letter from the traveller today and was eager to share it, haha she truly is fascinated with that adventurer. She's not here at the moment however, she's gone to speak with Yoimiya. She says Yoimiya will be taking a trip to Sumeru in the future and has gone to ask if she may join.”

“Oh that's wonderful!-” Thoma hesitated, “Oh but doesn't she have some important meetings lined up these coming months with the shrine? There were those exchanges that need to be made, some deliberations about the upcoming festivals… as supportive as I am about her going on a trip, it doesn't seem doable with just how much is installed for these next 3 or 4 months.”

Oh Thoma you are truly a blessing, not only are you a true friend but you reestablished that the ‘plot’ wont change. You mouth a soundless thanks to him.

Ayato hummed and tapped his quill* rhythmically on the table. “That is true but I want Ayaka to enjoy her years and not only focus herself on clan affairs, this trip is a good first opportunity to see the world outside Inazuma and with Yoiymiya as her travel partner I do not doubt they will have a good time. As for the workload-” Ayato reached over to the paper stack and shifted through them, “I was busying myself with planning and rearranging the meetings and visits she had in the time I expect her departure will be. It is more work but it will be rewarding, you'll see.”

Thoma seemed confused, it seemed from the look on his face he was doing the same as you when it comes to Ayato's words, figuring out the puzzle but if there was an underlying meaning to his words you didn't detect them, Ayato was simply stating facts and expectations yet Thomas silence ment he was looking for more than just that. Whatever mental games Thoma was tackling he must have failed, he chuckled and melted back into his relaxed self.

“I'm glad then, it will be good for her.”

No… no this isn't right. There will be something, something will stop her from going, there must be.

“mhm, I only await to hear back from her and her meet with Yoiymiya, I don't see any reason why she would decline.”

Yoiymiya will decline, she will, she must.

“oh? Are you okay?” Ayato looks at you in concern, he puts his quill* down and gives you his full attention.

“Is something the matter? Whatever it is, I am sure we can address it.”

“No, no its okay I just realised- I had some serious stuff to do for work which i've forgotten.”

Ayato's face turns to mock surprise, you know he didn't believe you but he doesn't comment on it, Thoma does the same but you can detect the small quiver of his smile in disappointment that you are leaving so soon.

“Oh dear! Do you need help getting back home?”

“no no, i'll be fine thank you” you rush to stand up and then smile down to the two. “Thank you for today but I must go. Enjoy your afternoon.” you rush pleasantries and are out the gate before the two could press you further on your actions.

You've done it again, you came here to try to fix things but you've just made a mess. You can try to fix it tomorrow, for now the more pressing thoughts of the potential Sumeru trip Ayaka will go on drowned out any other thoughts. You walk home rushed, the long walk not helping much to ease your nerves, you can only hope fate will prevail and Ayaka will stay in Inazuma.

Ayato and Thoma sat in silence as you left, mutual understanding of the odd nature of your departure yet not wanting to address it.

“So… your ‘walk’ was fruitful then?”

“Just a few stray Hilichurls and a Fatui mage but it's been sorted.”

“Thoma, you know securing the perimeter is not part of your duties, you needn't lie about the reasoning for going out.”

Thoma did not respond.

Ayato breathed in deeply, “I am not opposed to you going out to release your emotions but I worry you may get caught up in them only to further feed into your obsessions.”

“I'm not obsessed! I'm just-” he grit his teeth in his own turmoil, “I don't want to label these feelings as ‘obsession’, that wouldn't be right to them. I don't know, I still don't know. When they stopped talking to me it felt like I'd lose them forever, that everyday I don’t see them with my own eyes is a day that they may disappear and I know that sounds obsessive but… but I don't want to call it that. I just don't…”

Ayato soaked up his friend's words like a sponge and as always his responses were either clear or muddled with undertone, this time Thoma could tell instantly Ayato's words were transparent.

“You need not worry yourself about labelling your feelings then, you two are back in contact and there is still a future for you to explore what the emotions you are holding mean. Just do not lose sight of your health and those around you, even obsession can be tamed. “

The next few months were both easier and harder than the times you were avoiding Thoma. Sure, you lessened your workload and your health improved, you stayed in contact with Thoma, not as much as before but still enough to bond over. It was good to have a friend again and the feeling was mutual, every time you did meet he seemed eager to enjoy it to its fullest. You had even met with Ayato a few more times, never to the extent of Thoma but at least it became comfortable to sit and have tea with the both of them in a relaxed manner but that was the positives, the looming threat of Ayaka changing the plot was a heavy cloud always looming. The few occasions she saw you she was cordial and respectful but her interest glossed right over like you didn't even exist. She and Yoimiya made plans, fulfilled the work she could and now here you stand on the beach you woke up on exactly 2 years ago, 2 years since you randomly came to be here in Teyvat, the same day fate was changed and both Yoimiya and Ayaka were set sail for Sumeru.

In blunt terms, youve fucked up. This was pure proof of your paranoia, this was proof your existence can cause the plot to change and the realisation of just how helpless you are in this situation dawned on you. The very act of your existence, whether you interact with those deemed ‘special’ or not, can and will change the story and you can only wonder if it will end well or if you've led something to doom.

It's not fair, it's not fair at all. Even though you've been friendly with Thoma recently it's not like you can truly confide in him and he's just a painful reminder of your mistakes. The burden of wearing this responsibility, one you didn't even know how to fulfil, one you failed to fulfil, it's unfair. You are only human, you have needs to fulfil and ‘dying’ isn't one of them…

But

But is it moral to be so selfish as to care about your own being when putting the risk of others on the line? Ayaka is gone from Inazuma, just how many people was she meant to interact with if she stayed? How will her presence in Sumeru affect the story? If you guess right the ‘hero' should be done with the main quest of Sumeru if it means Yoimiyas story quest can start but what if something happens that prohibits the plot for future stories? What of Ayakas presence delays the ‘hero’, even for a minute, in which that minute was originally meant for something in the greater scheme of things?

This is awful… this isn't right. Not only has living become so difficult because of the constant nagging of anxieties and worries but you also have the potential to be responsible for disaster simply by existing.

It isn't right… it isn't right you afflict this world with your existence and the threat it brings.

Two years ago when you awoke on this beach you hoped to retain a normal life, perhaps find a way back home but at the very least, set up a life for yourself, an npc life but at least something. It's only fitting that you felt you had to come here, to kneel in the sand and watch how its granules slip through your fingers, it's because you exist that this sand is moving… it's only fitting that you finally come to the conclusion that you must die while being here. This is the place of your ‘birth’ into this world, perhaps it can be the place of your death as well. Not ‘death’, not some convoluted meaning of ‘dying' and becoming a new person, no you need to die. You need to die to ensure the people of Teyvat can remain on course. You are the virus here, you are the disease you need… you need to die.

Tears ran down your cheeks at such a resolute statement, sure youve thought about it all but now and truly you've decided that this is it, that you must do this. It's not like you want to die, not on a personal scale, but on a mental and emotional scale all this is too much, too much to bear and too much to live through.

It's not fair to leave the people you've so selfishly afflicted with your presence without giving them a reason but you are too much of a coward to tell it to their face. It wouldnt go well if you were to stand infront of Thoma and tell him you were going to kill yourself, thats for sure but at the very least he could get some form of an explanation.

You decide tonight is not the night you die, that would be tomorrow, you stand up from the ground and walk home, the weight of your choice still as raw as the moment you decide it, death is no light matter after all.

You get home, a small space a person like yourself could afford, only the basics of furniture and 2 rooms. There under your door lay a letter, you pick it up and sit at your table where unblemished paper sat to become future suicide notes. Taking a look at the letter it was sealed in wax, the crest of the Kamisato Clan dug into its mass.

You open it,

‘Dearist XXXX

May this letter find you well. Both Thoma and myself wish to invite you for a stay at the Kamisato Clan as both a guest and a friend. The changing season brings a beautiful opportunity to witness it first hand as the trees take on their new hues and the oceans change their tides, you are welcomed to join us. Thoma sends his best wishes but asks for them to properly be said in person rather than in post. We eagerly await your response.

Signed

Ayato’

Haha… how casual for a man like him… haha… haha here you are preparing to write letters announcing your death to them and yet they think only of including you in their lives. Haha… how horrible, how utterly vile it is to be able to experience emotions such as these. These feelings only prove your point more. You put the letter to the side and stared blankly at the response you are going to reply with, oh of only it were as optimistic and welcoming as theirs was.

You tried to make it easy for both yourself and those intended to read it. You state that the mistakes of your past have lay heavy on you and that death is the only relief, that you are sorry you cannot return the sentiment of friendship and must lay your mistakes to rest.

To Thoma you leave a more personal note, telling him that he made your life here in Inazuma so much better, that it was only in the moments with him you forgot your ‘mistakes’ for even a moment and for that you are grateful. It's true, it's only Thoma who made you forget the fact you don't belong here when you spend time with him. Sending this letter to him is assured to rip his heart, he sees you as a friend and he's going to beat himself at the thought that he did not help you enough to make you feel you'd want to stay, that he wasn't a good friend, which is not true at all but you know there is little you can do to convince him otherwise. In a moment of distressed induced vulnerability, with tears in your eyes you state something so cliche as that perhaps in another life you two may be able to have the friendship you both craved in this life, if only there is a case of reincarnation and you may be born in the same universe as him and live that life with no burdens or guilt of your existence.

To Ayato you are more cordial, less emotional or descriptive but you tell him that he was right on that day in the rain, that there is a deeper problem than you just being ‘introverted’, otherwise you keep it professional.

After the hardest two were done it was rather simple, it's not like you have any friends or family to write to and sending a letter to the street vendor you buy from doesnt make sense. You do write a letter and tell your boss that you simply will not be returning to work, you don't say why, and that you thank him for all the opportunities and help he has given you.

For once it was easy to fall asleep, for the first time in 2 years the moment you lay your head on your pillow you were unconscious. For once you've felt the release of the burden you feel and the comfort that will come when your plague on this world is done. You are so tired and finally you can rest.

The next day went on simply, it was a weekday and you went to work, in the afternoon you submitted your letters to the post and walked back home, taking in the scenery of Inazuma. This will be the last time you walk these streets. You wait at home quietly, have a decent meal and enjoy the sounds from outside of leaves and people. You felt in an odd state all the way through the day, like your senses were hypersensitive noticing the slightest thing around you which was lovely. You got to focus on the squirrles you passed on your way to work, the smell of baked bread smelled heavenly once again like it had the first day you were in the bakery, the pink and purple blossoms of the trees were so vibrant on your way home. You had given the shop vendor a smile and a wave as you passed her, that day you felt no burden, no grief. You only had one more step to take, the hard part was already over with.

In the late evening you stood by that beach again, the view was incredible. You sat down in the sand and got comfortable leaning against a rock and letting the tide touch the tips of your toes. You were naughty today, you bought enough substances from clinics or herb stands to be sure you felt good in your last moments. You took them quickly and then rested your head back against the rock, letting the sound of waves softly crashing, leaves rustling and the odd animal chirp lull your mind. It took some effort not to fall asleep just yet, you blinked your eyes harshly and woke yourself up a bit. This part was slightly uncomfortable, the beach you woke up on had a slight cliff, nothing you'd die by jumping off of, it was just a little steep incline but it was enough. You took a large rock from nearby and rolled it closer to the edge, tying a rope around and around your ankle. Drowning didn't seem like a peaceful death but at least like this your body can be washed into the sea where it can decay in peace without traumatising a random person strolling the beach. You relaxed and took out the large knife you had brought with you. Bleeding out decreases the time by knocking yourself out and not having enough energy to wake up in the water and struggle. You should be numb enough now. You closed your eyes and cut lengthwise, both arms, a leg… you tried your neck but even drugged up that was beyond doable. You didn't even register when you had stopped, you didn't see the blood flowing or feel the pain as it pooled, slowly your will died out as everything became hazed. It was a feeling, not a good or bad one, you couldn't even think. You felt the weight on your ankle tug, your consciousness dropping and allowing the gravity to pull you away. Black.

You woke up. You woke up. Dazed, in pain but you did. Your eyes opened lightly, luckily it wasn't very bright. Slowly your mind awoke as well, you saw the walls and crest oh so familiar of the Kamisato Clan, of its low light lanterns on the floor and dark wood trims. What were you doing here? What were you even doing?

Each of your senses woke up from the shock they were in and soon your ears picked up sound, at first the static was all you could hear until it was voices. You inclined your head to where the sound came from. Thoma and Ayato sat at a table, what they were talking about was inaudible. Why? Why were you here?

Everything slowly came back to you, what you did, why you did it and mainly the fact that you should be dead right now and yet you were here. Panic arose which was enough adrenaline to push your body and mind completely awake. You shuffled up and looked at the two. Thoma turned at the movement and instantly reached out for you, arms cradling your head which he buried his to your shoulder, a grasp seeking for comfort yet trying to give support.

“Archons above you're awake. My word… oh my word…,” he softly cried into your shoulder but picked his head up to look at you, “Why?! Why did you do that? Why did you feel…” his face was morphed into true distress, his eyes red and slightly swollen from no doubt a long time of distress but renewed with fresh tears. “Please, you are here, you are here and yet you wanted to go-” he choked, “Why, I nearly lost you.” his head fell back down to rest onto you, “I nearly lost you…”

His arms held you tightly, confirming that you were there.

Ayato finally announced himself with a soft clear of his throat, he stayed sitting at a distance.

“Thoma, they are safe and alive. We confirmed this the moment we got them here. “ he took a moment, thinking over his words. “How about you go prepare us a pot of tea and eats and we can discuss this once we all have gathered ourselves?”

Thoma lifted himself back up, “yes… yes you are right” he gave you a squeeze and a haste kiss on the crown of your head before standing and giving you a very strained smile, ‘everything is going to be okay’ it read. Quickly he turned and sped walked out as if staying in the room for too long would prohibit him from ever leaving you. Now it was just you and Ayato.

“Come sit please or do you need assistance getting up?”

You look down at your body, arms and legs patched up in bandages and feeling weak but with a struggled attempt you found you could stand up and walk to him before nearly falling into a sitting position and looking at him. He knows what's happened, he knows the aftermath and you don't.

Ayato sighed and shifted at papers on his desk, 2 in particular, the ones you had sent out.

“We got these well after we had saved you from your incident,” he looked up to you with something of a harsh look, “you can thank the fact one of my shibatsu were watching and stopped you from falling and promptly brought you here.”

He sighed, closed his eyes tense for a moment then released and folded the papers neatly. He returned his gaze back to you.

“I know, or at least suspect, what elements are at play here. The identity you have made for yourself here as an ex Sumeru scholar, that is false, correct?”

How… How did he figure that out?

“You need to speak now, for your and Thomas' betterment. No more lies, no more half trues, no more hiding because after an event such as the one you pulled yesterday I will no longer allow such threats so please, speak.”

You opened your mouth, it felt hoarse and sore. This is it. No more hiding, no more rules or running away, he can see it all, he will know, he probably does already.

“Yes.” is all you say.

An odd assortment of a smile crosses his face, not happy but at least pleased for the development, he then went back to his blunt nature.

“I will even be so bold as to say you are not here from Teyvat, correct?”

“Yes” tears built at your eyes. 2 years of work gone, 2 years of struggling to keep the truth bound, the thing you tried to die for to keep all gone.

“There are matters I do not understand, such as the truth of the reason for your attempt yesterday but what I do know is that you are not of Teyvat, that the way my sister looks at the Traveller is the exact same way Thoma looks at you, bewitched by some foreign entity.”

What?

“I know that the Traveller is not of Teyvat, they themself have stated this to both Ayaka and myself and it was a stretch at first to make the claim you were the same as them for the simple reason that Thoma fell for you as Ayaka did for the traveller but what perhaps confirmed my suspicion was when I felt that pull as well. For some reason the way my sister described her fondness for the traveller it was only you I could imagine, when I saw Thomas eyes alight in excitement at seeing you I could tell exactly what it is since I feel the same. For nearly no reason this feeling appeared.”

He cleared his throat and continued, “I didn't only come to this conclusion based on feeling, I, as I do with all those who involve themself with the members of the clan, had research done into your past. There is no record of your existence in any school of Sumeru, there is no record of anything proving of your past, no family line or even record of you arriving by boat which is all recorded by name, yours were on no such documents.”

He sighs and then relaxes his shoulders, like he is glad he's gotten the hard part over.

“Do not worry, I can assure you I see you no less as I did before and I can promise that Thoma is the same, he in fact needs to know the truth. I have not told him of my own discoveries just yet but when he gets back I hope you reveal the light of truth on everything here and the burden you decided to relieve yourself of.”

It's hard to actually listen to him, you are too busy swimming through the currents of your own thoughts to really hear what he has to say, if you had you'd have noticed just how fond he really was being, the slight curve of his forehead in concern, the way he spoke in a tone confident but also reassuring. Ayato is a man who puts his family, friends and the clan first, even in this instance he was doing that, whatever his personal feelings on the matter were they were subdued.

You look down to the table and see the fruits of your labour, sour, distasteful fruits that bore no other purpose but to make one sick on consumption: your letters. It seemed a good idea at first but now the sight of your handwriting was nauseating, you couldn't even bare properly rereading it, to see those words you meant to be comforting only being a stain and reminder to the people who had to read them of the bilious nature of your actions. Poor Thoma…

You had no words for Ayato, not out of fear or resentment but simply because it felt like you had disappointed him, the only way you could try to make this all better is to come clean about everything, he's made it clear, there is no more hiding. Now the weighting doom of changing the course of fate didn't matter, what mattered is the crestfallen frown on his face and mellow gaze, what mattered was the troubled Thoma in the other room whom grasped at you to stay so tightly even through all the torment you've lead him though. It's over, not the good kind of ‘over' like dying would have been, your life would be over and the secrets and threat you bring would have been over, no the ‘over’ you experience is the loss of hope. Its over, all the attempts and work, the secrets and efforts made to try keep this world as safe from changing as possible was all over.

Ayato let you mull in silence, he cleared his desk and closed his eyes in wait. Not long after Thoma returned, kettle in hand and cups at the ready. He seemed quiet, more collected and focused on the task of pouring tea before sitting next to you, his folded knee jutting up and down being the only show of his nerves. He took a breath, turned to you and smiled.

“I really do just want you to know I am happy you are still here, that I want to give you all the support and care I can to make sure you know you being here is just so important. I know that I don't understand everything you've gone through and that me saying all this doesn't help make it easier but-” he had to grit his teeth, his voice stirred slightly and slight beads of tears brimmed at his eyes,”but you don't have to be alone. Right now or even dealing with your past, you don't have to be alone.”

Your breathing hitched, chest lurched and fresh tears escaped, how couldn't you? You tried to cover your mouth of noises but couldn't help but curl into yourself and cry, you don't want to do this anymore, you want his support, you want to confide in him, you want to live. Thoma rubbed your back while you cried, gentle reaffirming strokes and just let you release all the build up. After regaining yourself you lifted yourself back up, swallowed the last fragments of tears and tried to secure yourself. You took some breaths and calmed down. Thoma held your shoulder, a physical display of support, you looked up and only saw Ayato watching with an unreadable expression. Right, you need to come clean. To… get it over with…

“Thoma, thank you for this, I'm sorry, I really am.” You could tell he tried to speak, to tell you it's okay or not your fault or something along those lines but he kept himself quiet and let you speak.

“I’ll… I'll come clean about it all, about everything.” This is it. “I'm not originally from Teyvat, I believe you know the Traveller and how they aren't either? Yeah I'm something like that. So no, I'm not from Sumeru or have lived here my whole life. Just woke up one day from my world into this one and… that was that. No explanation, no guide, no help…”

Ayato had no reaction, he knew, Thoma was wide eyed in shock but stayed silent, to him you shared memories of your ‘past’, to hear what you have shared with him was wrapped in falsification was… hurtful to know that what he did know of you was all a lie in his eyes but still, he remained silent and let you continue.

“I'm sorry, I am. I didn't want to lie and a lot of the stuff I did say is true. I just… I just covered it up to match my story of being from Sumeru.”

“It-It must be hard” Thoma meekly said, “to have lost everything, your home and family… I can see why things have been so hard and confusing for you.”

You nodded to his words. It is hard, it is bloody hard. All the plans you had made for your future, your loved ones and hopes… you'll never get to see them bloom, you'll never get to see the person you hoped you'd become because you had been stripped away from everything. The extra layer of knowing what world you came into and the threat you caused of course did not help lighten the load.

You've been away for 2 years and there is no hope of going back but you are here now and have to deal with the present.

“So that's basically it.”

Ayato's frown deepened, “There is more.” his words cut through the air bluntly. “There is more to the story you haven't told us, many things that don't add up-”

“Ayato please,” Thoma interrupted him, “let them say what they need and-”

“No, they said they would clear things up here and I will make sure it is so.” he moved his gaze back to you, it was penetrating into your soul nearly emotionlessly. “So I will ask, what is the truth to your ‘introvert’ label? Why distance yourself from others at random when in your position you are needing as much support as possible?”

Shit… shit shit shit, you can't even keep this? You can't even keep the fact you know this is a game secret? Whatever… he's right, you said you'd come clean.

“... I know things I really shouldn't if I was to make a life here. It may be confusing but in short the world of Teyvat is not where I was born but I know of it, I know of its people and some of its history and even select parts of its future. I was just… trying not to change the story. I was never supposed to be here, me being here goes against what's supposed to happen- I was scared I'd change something and things would go bad, that the good endings won't happen because I've done something so I tried to distance myself from it all but i've failed! I've failed and the story has changed and I don't know what's going to happen next!”

Thoma was quiet, now this was a bit too much for him to respond to but predicting the unpredictable is Ayato's strong suit, he didn't falter his questioning even at such a bizarre statement such as the one you made.

“Why? What element has changed that pushes you to believe you’ve doomed this world?”

“Ayaka left! She's not supposed to! I don't know how or why me existing changed the story but Ayaka was supposed to stay here in Inazuma and only Yoiymiya goes to Sumeru. Now its all wrong and I don't know just what else i've affected.”

Silence for a moment, Thoma still doing his best to soak in everything while Ayato shifted his gaze away from you, when he spoke he still refused to look you in the eye. “Hmm, seems your paranoia was proven right then, it is your presence that has changed the future you believe was to take place and in truth the fault is mine.” He looked back at you, “See when I heard of Ayakas excitement in the potential trip to Sumeru I thought it would be a great opportunity, not only for her to gain new experiences but also to ask you something i've had my mind on for a while.” Thoma perked at this, recognising what Ayato was referring to.

“I had hoped to ask you to extend your services to the Kamisato clan, in whatever element suited you, I assume in the kitchen though Thoma did not disagree with the idea of potentially aiding him in his duties.” What? He wanted you to join the clan? Why? Like reading your mind he answered your unspoken questions, “See I thought you being stationed here may help the issue you seemed to have about your ‘introvertness’ with Thoma as well as providing a fresh start for you to reforge your relation with him, of course this would all be a suggestion and if you didn't agree then there is no loss and you can simply continue as you were. That is why I encouraged Ayaka to go, not only for herself but to allow you some space to get used to the idea of potentially staying here.” So that's why… but still, why?!

Thoma interrupted your thoughts, a fresh wave of excitement running through him, “But it's okay now! Now you've let us know everything and sure it's a little hard for me to understand right now but things have been cleared up and everything can go back to normal! We can work on things together and you can rely on us for help so all the other stuff can just be put to the side for now.”

“I must disagree with that Thoma, things cannot go back to normal.” Both you and Thoma turned to Ayato for his explanation, “See they have brought forth an issue, if there is supposedly a prewritten fate we follow and such story has a good end, that their influence can change such story and has already proven to do so then… that is something to consider as a threat.”

“What? No, Ayato-”

“Thoma, I am not suggesting we take the route they tried, their death is not a solution but rather I suggest the best way to reduce the effect they have is to narrow the area of impact of their presence.” Thoma sat himself back down and listened, his ability to understand Ayato far surpassed your own, you only heard his words, Thoma was on the same scale as him. “Ah, so you suggest they stay here?”

Huh? No, that still doesn't solve the issue though! You are still going to change stuff, being in the clan may make it even worse!

“I'm sorry but that can't happen!” you state, you cant let them doom themselves,”I can't stay here, you've seen I change the things around me so me being here is not a solution.”

“And what do you suggest then? Death is not an answer. Wherever you go you will impact the environment around you, is it not wise to be in an area that is accustomed to handling threats and problems? To be within the vicinity and means of a place such as here with people like Ayaka and myself whom can negate such issues? That is even under the assumption you can cause damage with your existence, all we know is that you can change this supposed ‘plot’ but have you seen any actual harm come from it?”

Your silence answers him.

“Right, though it is important to be concerned and prepared. Staying here is no prison I can assure you,” his smile brightens up to a chuckle “in fact my original plan was for it to be a holiday for you. The environment is interesting to explore, there is much you can learn from the people here and most of all friends who are willing to show you support which it seems you so desperately need. To me there is no questioning it, staying here is the best course of action for you.”

You could have thought up a retort, some explanation as to why he was wrong and why going back to your ‘normal’ life was better but there is a certain air around Ayato in moments like this where doubting his reasoning is unheard of and denying them is impossible. He was right, he's always right after all.

“Are you sure? Are you sure this is all… this is all okay? Is me being here okay?”

“For further confirmation, yes it is. Thoma?”

Thoma grasped your shoulder again and leaned to your side, a great wave of support rushing from him, “I think it's an awesome plan. You don't have to worry about a thing, we’ll all have it settled for you!”

“Right, could you go make sure their room is properly prepared? I'd imagine they need some rest after all this. A proper, peaceful sleep can do wonders to soothe the soul and you will find no safer place than under my roof. “

Thoma used your shoulder for a moment to get himself back up, “I'll be back in a jiffy okay!” and made a quick pass to the backrooms.

You and Ayato watched him go in silence, when he was out of sight and out of earshot Ayato repositioned himself.

“He does not know about the foreign effect you may have on him. Once again it is only a theory to suggest that just because you and the Traveller are not of Teyvat you have some bewitching effect but there are some elements of truth to such a theory, still I think it is unwise to tell him this. To tell him his feelings are fabricated would break him…” Ayato closed his eyes and sighed, he looked tired, “And it truly would be a shame to name these-those feelings as false.”

That wouldn't be good… “Okay, I won't tell him about it. … …” you really are tired, your mind isnt working as it should anymore. The adrenaline of shock has worn down and the latent feeling of exhaustion had begun to ebb its way through your very bones, at a moment of self reflection you felt your arms so much heavier to hold, legs stiffened all while the dim pain of the wounds across your body became recognisable. A good rest is what you need…

Ayato didn't say a word after, only left you to your own musings.

“It's all set up! There are fresh towels and guest clothes if you want to bathe but otherwise it was all pretty much done!” Thoma did a slight jog to your side and offered you a hand, “You need help getting there?”

You look up at him, for a room rather dim he outshone the very sun itself. “I think I just want to rest for now, i'll bathe later.” You reach up and take his hand, do a little wobble as you reconnect with the notion of having to walk, Thoma readily supplied his elbow for you to hold onto as well as you got your balance.

“Alrighty. Just hold on and don't shy away from leaning your weight on me okay? I've got you.” you two take a few tentative steps to test it out, walking seemed doable now.

“I'll send them off to bed, i'll be back shortly my lord.”

Ayato looked back at you two and gifted a smile, “Rest well then.” you did a slight nod in return.

Even with the support of Thoma and still retaining the ability to walk the short trip down the hall seemed so much more of a struggle then it should have. Not only was your body in dull pain but your mind was simply tired, overrun and everything slowly seemed to mesh into each other. Thoma was true to his word and kept you upright, guiding you to a neatly made bed and gently easing you into the cushioning. After 2 years of a cheap bed and your most recent nap being in the sand and hardwood floor the feeling of high quality bedding was sensational, a moment of respite from feelings and thoughts.

“You all settled in?” Thomas' voice sounded muffled in your half sleep state but you registered him with a nod.

“I'm glad…”

The cushions you lay on shuffled, his weight sat nearby you. “You know you really did scare me there, when I saw- when you were brought here in the state you were I didn't know what to do, something so unlike me. I didn't know if I wanted to rush for medical care or just to slump down beside you and cover you.” He leaned down, his head lay on the mattress beside your shoulder, his one arm wrapped around you, an awkward hug of one person sitting and another laying down. “At least I can do this now, please just let me indulge in this for a little, everything is just a lot to take in still.” He sighed out his tension then shifted his head to lean slightly on yours. “I know this is wrong of me but in truth I can be rather selfish. I want to be selfish here and not only show you how much I care for you but also how much I love you which is wrong because… because I don't love you. It would be insensitive to both you and myself to label this obsessive feeling as ‘love’ and I don't want to do that… Only now, only now will I be a little selfish and join in the delusion that this is love.”

…

“but I want to make this scalding passion of deranged obsession into the soft warmth I know it can be, of genuine endearment and not just an infatuation.”

He lifted himself to finally look at you, he had tears running down his face, “So you can't go. You can't leave me until that happens. You can't leave until I can properly say I love you, okay? I'll be here every step of the way, you can lean on me, you can trust me and I'll give you my everything so please give it your all and just… keep finding the incentive to keep going.” He pursed his lips in a strained attempt of a smile, gave up on trying and instead leant back down to give the crown of your head a kiss. He got up and stood by your side. “Sleep well, I'm sure tomorrow will be the start to a beautiful new future.” He closed the door and left.

If you had been in a more stable sense of mind there was a lot you could have responded to him, the not-so love confession, the odd descriptions of desperation and just how close he got but your mind was fazed, Thoma gave you nothing but comfort as you went to bed, he hugged you and told you it will be okay and that was nice, the feeling of the linin was nice, the chance to close your eyes was nice… He left you off with a nice feeling.

“All is settled then?”

“Yep, they should have no problem falling asleep, they were practically already unconscious once we got there.”

Ayato laughed and Thoma sat back at his original position, by now Ayato had taken out some late night documents to go over while waiting.

“So, did you tell them?”

“Hmm? Which part?”

“haha, your feelings Thoma, knowing you you would have.”

Thoma on reflex scratched the back of his neck and chuckled awkwardly at being so easily caught.

“Yeah I did though with the state they were in they probably didn't hear any of it.”

“Which is why you felt you could tell them hmm?” Ayato looked up to Thoma with a knowing eye, “You are just as bad as me you know.”

“haha, have I been caught? You really can't blame me though, I learnt all my skills from you.”

“And yet at times I wonder if you are even more skilled than I when it comes to swaying one's mind.”

“yeah…” Thoma dulled off, “I'm still confused about it all. I care, that part is undoubted and all the time we spent together really means something but I just can't put my hand on all these feelings. It's not what I think love feels like, not entirely. Haaaa, all I know is that I want to be by them and I guess that will do for now until I figure it all out.” Thoma shifted his weight and got more comfortable, “What about you though? Such feelings are just disruptive to you, right?”

Ayato hummed,”Perhaps but that is nothing I can't deal with and as you can see I am dealing with it. I do hope the notion of sharing isn't distasteful to you, I know we've met a consensus about this but I want to ensure we are on the same page here. Your friendship is much too important to risk over miscommunication.”

“haha of course! Your feelings are just as valid as mine.”

“Good.” Ayato smiled fondly then returned to his papers. Thoma sighed in mock exhaustion, “That's the face you pull when you're thinking about work. Haha, I will leave you to your important papers, do not work too much and fall asleep at your desk again, okay? You don't want to be ruining your back at such a young age.”

“haha. Yes Thoma, good night.”

“Goodnight my lord, just let me know if you need anything done alright!”

“You know I will.”

Ayato shook his head at his friends teasing, it is fun when Thoma is the one responding with tauts of his own. Thoma left Ayato to his business in the slightly dimmed room.

For as much as Thoma has grown around Ayato, for being the closest person to understand him and balance the position of respectful employee and casual friend, it is still funny to Ayato how he can still be so oblivious to things. Of course his mind is not only on work, however could it be when finally you were in his home, in his care and finally he can display his… love.

Rest is crucial for recovery, on any normal day you'd let guilt swallow you for staying in bed for as long as you have this day, waking up in the late morning and simply laying in bed till afternoon, this is peak sloth behaviour but in all you deserve it, you are on ‘holiday’ you are allowed to be a little lazy here. After waking up you had gone through quite a bit of internal conflict, between failing to ‘delete’ yourself of this world, revealing everything, going through the motions and now seemingly stuck here it's all just a lot to process. There is joy brought from the relief that you no longer must carry these burdens but also disgust that you have let the situation get to the state that it is in now. Everythings changed yet at the core nothing has. When your mind tired of thinking it just wallowed in the present feelings, how lovely the bedding is, how scenic the light looks coming from the window, how lovely the atmosphere of the room is, you had been left off with such a lovely feeling last night, odd considering the nature the night took, but for some reason everything just felt so comfortable when you let your mind just dissipated and ease into the surroundings. Eventually you figured you should get up, that there was enough strength in your legs to keep you steady. You got changed into the provided clean clothes and left to find someone to ask about getting something to eat. It's rather awkward walking these halls not knowing where you are meant to be but Thoma and Ayato said you were a guest so it should be fine. You reached the main clearing where Ayato's desk sat, where you three conversed last night, and as if nothing had changed since then Ayato was sat exactly where he had been left off, his eyes scanning papers and writing or editing others, he placed his brush down as you entered.

“Good afrternoon, I hope you were able to sleep well. Shall I arrange for someone to prepare you a meal?”

It's still slightly odd to be casual with Ayato after last night but if this is how things are going to go from now on then you truly do need to get used to it.

“Yes and yes please, thank you.” you gave a slight bow, you can't help being awkward no matter how much you tell yourself otherwise.

Ayato chuckled, of course he did, he saw the world in 4D compared to you, of course he found something funny. “Then please, have a seat. Any meal requirements?”

You word off your response and Ayato relays it to a staff member he calls in. After the order was completed Ayato went back to his work while also starting the conversation, hes easily noticed a pattern when it comes to your reluctance to initiate it in your own stead.

“Now that you have some free time from work, are there any activities you'd like to try? I want you to consider your time here as a holiday and for that I will provide whatever materials you need to make that happen.”

“Oh, no. I'd just like to relax for a bit before making any plans on activities.”

“haha, I meant anything to help with that. Do let me know when you think of anything, there are very few items I cannot provide so the options are yours to demand.”

“mhm…” you nod your head but say little else. Ayato lets this slide and allows you to sit in your peace. In time a well prepared meal is brought to you, you sit to the side of the room and eat with yourself as company, as it has been for the last 2 years. 2… years… Your previous life really is just gone now, everything is gone. You don't have anything, you don't have to do anything, you don't have- no you do have some things. You have a supportive friend, Thoma, you have… Ayato perhaps? He says he will provide for you. What else do you have?

Nothing, you cant even say you have your own life to live, you cant even do that.

Quickly you swallow down both your thoughts and the least of your meal, you've brooded enough today doing it more won't help. You thank the person who takes what remains of your meal and then rejoin Ayato who, much to your surprise, has not left his spot (the surprise being sarcastic since it would shock no one to see the head of a clan swamped in governmental affairs). You walk back up to his table almost as if awaiting orders or just something to tell you what to do, where you should be just anything to help alleviate the concern of not being where you belong. Ayato let his brush lay back on the table, he closed his eyes and sighed as an indulgent smile graced his face. When he looked back up to where you so awkwardly stood he showed only adoration shortly broken as he shakes his head with a chuckle.

“This may surprise you, I know this isn't the proper setting to say this,’ he stood up and made his way to you, “but I do so enjoy being unpredictable and I can't pass up on this opportunity.” he stood right in front of you, posture poised and proper but radiating only mischief. “My dear I must confess i've come to love you.”

Huh-

You feel a hand on your cheek. “There it is, what a pretty expression.”

huh…

The hand cups around your flesh, leather to skin, chill to warmth.

“It's true. I do adore you-”

“no…”

“hmm?”

“you can't…”

“haha, really I can-”

“No. You Can't!”

You grit your teeth as you feel your hands begin to shake. He can't, he can't love you, that's too much, too much of an impact. The change, the change that could come from him LOVING you, no its too much. Your hands move to grip the arm reached to you, “you- you can't. You just- that's not how… how any, any of-” you are crying again, surprising how your body still has enough tears to shed after everything. You can't feel your legs anymore, they aren't working again, your hands are shaking, they aren't working again, you can't feel yourself breath, you are not working again. You don't register yourself fall, you only see the rise of doom again. Everything was fine, you had JUST accepted your situation but you can't accept this. This is going to change everything- it's so hard to breathe…

Ayato kneeled down with you, he held his one arm to your waist leaning you into him as his other cradled the back of your head, fingers intertwining between the strands of your hair and stroking along in a calm motion.

“I was scared of this but I felt it best to tell you now. In truth I was devastated with the events of yesterday but held on for as much as I could to secure everyone, it is only fair I am open to you as you were with us.”

no-

“The love I have for you is true and it would be my greatest honour to support you as I do with my clan, with you as a part of the clan.”

no-

“I understand your fears, whatever concerns you have of the future changing. I want you to know I am well resourced to handle them.”

You can only cry.

“It is early for me to confess but it is my sign to you that I hope for a future where we may share such a sentiment. We can grow together and face your fears together.”

why-

His hand strokes feel reassuring…

"Your tears remind me of the rain, both comforting and disturbing. How I cringe at each drop yet yearn to hear them patter against me. My dear please do remember for each storm or drizzle you bring to me I will open my arms for whichever embrace you bring."

You lean back into him, he's got you.

“To know you are here is reassurance enough, I want- I do love you.”

For as comforting as his hold is, for how easy it feels to accept his words it all feels murky. You lay in the sun-touched waters of the ocean, warm as it engulfs you in the most pleasing manner but it is sticky, it clings to you and you cannot shake the feeling of the undercurrent grasping at your ankle slowly leading you deeper into its embrace, it's easier to accept.

Ayato is right, he's always right and here he is offering you his love. You have been given the best opportunity you could ever achieve considering your situation, you have been given the freedom to finally ‘live’. With Thoma supporting you and Ayato willing to address any threat that may come you have been given a beautiful new start at a paranoid free life and not only that but to be graced as to have someone love you as well? It's amazing, you are so lucky.

“That's it my dear, I am here at your side.”

You sink into his arms, your cries can finally stop. “If we believe that tomorrow will come, we can bear a hardship today. For today, tomorrow and everyday that follows you may cry, you may hurt but you will never be alone. Alright? Do not feel pressured by my confession, I merely want to show you that you are loved.”

Ayato sighs deeply and readjusts to hold you tighter, lays his head on yours and remains quiet but the stroking of his hand never stops. The time flows by easily, your arms stop shaking, your breathing returns, you can sense your body's weight so clearly but you can feel the pillar that is Ayato keeping you up.

"Thank you." you mumble eventually

Ayato hums in question

"Thank you for everything. thank you for… loving me"

You can feel the wide smile grace Ayato, “You needn't thank me for something so natural.”

You don't clearly register the world around you while enveloped in Ayato's hold but you can hear footsteps, someone speaking, someone sitting nearby. Ayato's shoulder is cool and refreshing, the hand that holds yours at the side is cosy and tender, you are so lucky.

An explanation blurb for those who want to read some of the reasonings for how i went about this

Header done by me cause i felt like whipping up a quick pixel art

#yahooworks #genshin x gn reader #x gender neutral reader #genshin impact ayato #genshin thoma #yandere male #genshin x reader #yandere thoma x reader #yandere ayato x reader #yandere ayato #yandere thoma #genshin x female reader #genshin x male reader

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growingstories · 4 months

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Enrico

Enrico, a very handsome Spanish chef, stood tall and broad at 6 feet in height. At 39 years old, he exuded confidence and charm. Enrico had a love for life, evident in his glowing smile and twinkling eyes. He possessed an amazing chest and broad shoulders, but also sported a bit of a belly, evidence of his culinary indulgences. Despite this, Enrico was content with his appearance and embraced his curves. He ran a successful restaurant in the popular coastal city of Marbella, where he knew everyone and was well-respected in the culinary world. Married with three children, Enrico cherished his family life but occasionally slept around, seeking excitement and adventure in brief encounters. His wife was unaware of his infidelities, or so he thought.

Enrico's life took an unexpected turn when his wife discovered his secret affairs. Driven by hurt and betrayal, she demanded a divorce. In the settlement, Enrico faced a significant financial payout to his ex-wife. Determined to reinvent himself, Enrico vowed to make a change as he approached his 40th birthday. He decided to dive headfirst into fitness and joined a gym.

As Enrico committed himself to his newfound fitness routine, he gradually regained his young and sculpted physique. He even managed to achieve six-pack abs once again. With his irresistible charm intensified by his new body, Enrico found himself being pursued by numerous admirers. Every night, he had a different woman in his bed, embracing the life of pleasure and luxury. His restaurant business also flourished, bringing in money like water.

One fateful evening, whilst under the influence of alcohol, Enrico encountered a vivacious young woman named Julia. Intrigued by her magnetic energy, Enrico was surprised when she expressed her desire to involve her gay friend, Gio, in their encounter. With curiosity and an open mind, Enrico participated in a thrilling threesome with Julia and Gio. The experience awakened desires and emotions within him that he had never felt a connection he shared with Gio during this encounter sparked something special. Gio, a 25-year-old wealthy individual living in his parents' holiday home, became the object of Enrico's affections, and soon they began dating, even incorporating threesomes into their relationship.

As their love blossomed, Gio and Enrico started spending more time together. Gio would often visit Enrico's restaurant, bringing along his rich friends and celebrities, leading to a booming business. However, their relationship remained a secret among the staff. Gio would always be the last guest, and Enrico found solace in hanging out and drinking at Gio's table. The staff made sure Enrico's glass was never empty. Late-night Burger King visits, nightclubs, and midnight snacks at Gio's place became a part of their routine. With time, Enrico began to lose control of his eating habits and regained all the weight he had lost.

Gio's desire for Enrico to come out intensified, but Enrico's fear held him back, leading to frustration and further indulgence. He started eating more to cope with his emotions and the stress of potential discovery of him being gay. Enrico found comfort in food, gorging himself on a variety of treats. He would stress eat throughout the day, indulging during staff dinners, enjoying bites and snacks with guests and Gio, and even continuing to eat after his shifts ended. The weight began to explode onto his frame, resulting in a massive belly.

Gio made the difficult decision to break up with Enrico, longing for someone who could be open about their love. Heartbroken, Enrico spiraled into a cycle of self-destructive behavior. For weeks, he stayed in bed, eating buckets of ice cream, chocolate, and cake. His weight skyrocketed, and his excessive eating began to take a toll on his body, making it difficult for him to work.

After hitting rock bottom, Enrico made an important decision - to come out and openly declare his love for Gio. Determined to make their relationship work, Gio decided to give Enrico another chance. They entered into a proper, loving relationship. Five years later, Enrico and Gio continued to enjoy life together. They embarked on amazing trips and indulged in thrilling nights out, all while sharing an intimate and passionate connection. Gio took special care to ensure Enrico was satisfied and fulfilled in every aspect of their relationship, including his physical desires. Enrico grew even larger, his presence on Marbella's beaches causing gossip and intrigue among onlookers. However, Enrico didn't care about public opinions. He relished in his success, happiness, and his hot, loving boyfriend by his side. No one and nothing could stop them from thriving, and Enrico only grew fatter, embracing his new sense of self.

Time passed and Enrico's love for food and indulgence only grew stronger. He found comfort in his expanding waistline, reveling in the way his shirts strained against his bulging belly. He no longer had any desire to go to the gym or maintain his once-fit physique.

Gio, who had a deep admiration for Enrico's newfound size, embraced his partner's love for food. He would cook extravagant meals for Enrico, ensuring that every craving was satisfied. The couple would spend lazy afternoons in bed, surrounded by empty bags of chips and trays of pastries, indulging in their mutual love for gluttony.

Enrico's restaurant continued to thrive, not only due to the delicious cuisine but also because of his newfound reputation as the "largest chef in Marbella." People would flock to the restaurant just to catch a glimpse of Enrico's massive form, marveling at the way he would waddle from table to table, his round belly preceding him.

Despite the occasional judgment and whispers from others, Enrico and Gio were content. They had found love and acceptance within each other's arms, as well as a shared passion for food and pleasure. Enrico had no intentions of slowing down or losing weight; he had found his true happiness in being a larger-than-life figure, both literally and figuratively.

Together, Gio and Enrico continued to explore the world, enjoying lavish vacations and luxurious meals. Enrico's appetite knew no bounds, and he indul in everyged culinary delight that came his way. He wore his size with pride, not caring about societal standards or the opinions of others.

As the years went by, Enrico's girth expanded further, his belly reaching colossal proportions. He had become a symbol of indulgence and excess, a living testament to the fact that happiness could be found in embracing one's desires, no matter how unconventional they may seem.

Enrico knew he would forever be the handsome Spanish chef with an insatiable appetite. He had found his true self, his true love, and his true happiness. And as he continued to grow, both in his relationship with Gio and physically, he knew that nothing could dim fire the that burned within him.

And so, the story of Enrico, the very handsome Spanish chef, continued unabated. He lived a life of pleasure, satisfaction, and gluttony, unapologetically embracing his larger-than-life existence. For Enrico, there was no such thing as too much, and he relished in the knowledge that he had found his own version of perfection in his ever-expanding figure.

#fictionalweightgain #maleweightgain #maleweightgainstories #weightgain #weightgainstories #fictionalstories #wg fantasy #wg fiction #exjock #aiweightgain

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lees-chaotic-brain · 23 days

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So happy for your 300 followers! For your event, can I please request Nanami. The song is Mine by The Chainsmokers. Genre, maybe keep it cute and fluffy, domestic romance?

WC: 4.1k (holy shit i have no idea how that happened)

CW: reader is called a girl once, angst to fluff, lovers to strangers to lovers, marriage proposal, a ton of sappy dialogue, light swearing, if the readers emotions make no sense because they're all over the place it's because reader is me coded (as always lmao)

a/n: hi vee tysm!!! this somehow became not very cute and fluffy, but i hope the ending makes up for it :') special shout out to @not-enough-homestuck-upinthis @hcdwigs @valentiraa + @yeshnn for help with headcannons for teenage nanami!!!

listen to this while reading

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You had known Nanami since before your days at Jujutsu Tech, your friendship spanning all the way back to middle school when you moved in next door. In high school, the two of you dated, falling deeply in love only for your relationship to end suddenly with the death of Haibara.

One day you were dating your best friend who you knew better than you knew yourself. You knew that he was a bit of a dork who had My Chemical Romance paraphernalia hidden around his room.

You knew that he was shy, and that he placed so much importance on doing the right thing. You knew that when he was thirteen he wanted to learn to play the stylophone and electric guitar so he could start his own band. That he unironically spoke in an old fashioned manner for a few months because he wanted to be “proper.”

You knew that he always brought extra pens in case you forgot yours; his favorite type of bread, and why he loved it so much. You knew that blue was his favorite color because it reminded him of the ocean, that he wanted to go to Malaysia so he can experience true peace without the chaos of the jujutsu world around him.

You knew everything about him, from the bigger aspects to the small quirks that made him him, then you didn’t. After Haibara’s death the boy you knew and loved just…disappeared. He withdrew into himself, stopped talking to you, didn’t show up for your date, unresponsive when you reached out to him. Then after graduation, he just left. He didn’t break up with you, didn’t even say goodbye. He left a note informing you that he was leaving the jujutsu world, and that was it.

So when you bumped into him outside the gates of Jujutsu Tech, to say you were surprised was an understatement. Honestly, you had given up hope of meeting him again a long time ago, resigning yourself to remain in this weird limbo where you had no closure but no means of getting it either.

But there he was, completely different from the man you used to know. The lankiness of his teenage day had long been outgrown, replaced instead with sheer muscle and power. His long hair had been cut neatly into a practical style that was low maintenance and kept it out of his face. His shyness had morphed into reserved stoicism.

Locking eyes with him, the two of you stared in silence for some time, neither sure where to even begin speaking. All you knew was you felt like you were looking at a stranger. Not the boy you had once loved.

I look at you and you look at me Like nothing but strangers now

Despite both of you being so different, falling back in love with Nanami Kento was so simple, like slipping into the familiar warmth of a well used hoodie, because you had never truly fallen out of love with him.

It had only been weeks since you had seen him again outside of the school gates, but you were already back to the way you had been a decade ago; young and in love. It was like nothing had ever happened. Like the past ten years never happened.

The two of you left work together every night and walked over to the food stall you visited every day in high school for dinner. You checked in on each other before and after missions, made sure the other was drinking enough water and taking care of themselves. It wasn’t until Shoko pulled you aside and mentioned it that you realized you had never actually addressed the slight awkwardness in your relationship due to his leaving.

And maybe it was stupid, or selfish, but you didn’t want to talk about it with him. You had missed him so much you just wanted to enjoy spending time with him now that he was back. Your hearts seemed to be the same as they were then, young and burning with the force of your love, so why would you do anything that could potentially jeopardize that? Was it really so bad that you didn’t want to risk extinguishing the passion that seemed to still exist?

Two kids with their hearts on fire Don't let it burn us out

Eventually you realized how much you needed to have the conversation with him. You couldn’t pretend that nothing had happened. For the last ten years you had lived in a weird existence in which he hadn’t broken up with you, so you were technically still together, but he had abandoned you without even a proper goodbye.

Now he was back and the two of you had fallen back into your old relationship without addressing the massive elephant in the room. Up until now you had convinced yourself that you were fine with that, the only thing that mattered was that he had returned. But as the weeks went by you began to realize that you were lying to yourself.

Of course you weren’t okay with what happened. You were angry. You wanted answers. How dare he just disappear one day, then waltz back into your life one random day almost a decade later?! Amping yourself up, you gather the courage to bring up the topic you had spent so much time and energy avoiding.

Which brought you to your current predicament, sitting across from him as you ate dinner together, hyping yourself up for the conversation ahead of you. Clearing your throat awkwardly, you got his attention, setting your chopsticks down in your bowl.

“Listen, I know we’ve both been trying to avoid this conversation, but I’ve been thinking about it lately and I realized some things.” He looks at you intently, something strange crossing his expression before disappearing. Taking his attention as agreement, you take a shaky breath then continue. You can do this. Just like you practiced in your head. Easy as pie.

“I’m not okay with this!” All prior thinking and planning goes flying out the window as the words burst from you, and once the dam broke there was no going back, the words flowing from your mouth as irreversible as a floodgate breaking.

“I’m really not okay with this. I mean, I don’t even know you now! I can’t keep doing this. I can’t allow you to waltz back into my life and my heart when I don’t even know why you returned! Or even why you left! You said you came back because of your morals. That you couldn’t live with yourself if you sat by as innocent people suffered. But if that’s the only reason you returned, and I’m only a side perk that comes with being part of the jujutsu world, I'm not going to be part of your life at all.”

You take a moment to catch your breath, feeling like a weight has been lifted off your chest as you lay down your ultimatum. You were nearly giddy, woozy with relief. It was up to him now, and what he said next. You didn’t have to worry about this any longer. It was all up to him.

“So. Tell me. Do you need me in your life? Am I important? Or am I going to walk out of here tonight and never see you again?”

Think about what you believe in now Am I someone you cannot live without?

In the aftermath of the line you drew in the sand, a boundary you constructed to protect yourself, you find yourself holding your breath. As liberating as it felt to pass the burden onto him, your fears only intensified because it was truly up to him now.

As much as you talk the big talk, you’re not sure how you’re going to survive if he tells you he doesn’t need you. Because even after ten years, you still don’t know how to live without him. And you really don’t want to learn now.

'Cause I know I don't wanna live without you, yeah

He sat perfectly still for a moment, and you waited for his reaction, your inability to see past his stoic mask just another reminder of everything the two of you had lost. Awkward silence permeates the air, coiling its oily tentacles around your throat and making it hard to breathe.

You can’t do this. You have to get out of here. Screw standing up for yourself and protecting your heart. You’re not brave enough to sit here and look him in the face as he tells you he doesn’t need you.

Just as you go to push your chair back and flee, his voice cuts through your panic, its familiar warmth pulling you out of your panic. “I’m sorry.”

Bring it all back to the bar downtown When you wouldn’t let me walk out on you, yeah

You almost break your neck with how fast you meet his eyes, stunned as you notice him fidgeting with the edge of his napkin. You had forgotten that he did that when he was anxious or uncomfortable. Suddenly anger bubbles in your gut, and you explode, unable to hold back any longer.

“What does that even mean at this point?!” Your voice is sharper than you intended, and you see him flinch slightly. “You walked out on me! You disappeared! You didn’t even say goodbye. Nanami I-”

“Kento.” He interrupts you, looking at you oddly. Was he…hurt? You make a vague sound of confusion, too distracted by the pain and guilt in his eyes to formulate a proper response.

“That’s my name. Kento. I’ve put up with you using my family name these past few weeks, but I can’t tolerate it any longer. To you I am Kento. Never Nanami.”

Slight vulnerability shines in his eyes, the first real emotion he’s let you see all night. But you can’t bring yourself to care, too caught up in your own anger and rage. “You know what, Nanami?” You place emphasis on his family name, not caring how petty it was.

“I only call people I’m close to and know well by their first names. And unfortunately for you, I no longer consider you someone I’m close to. You’re a stranger to me now. I don’t know why I’ve been pretending otherwise these past few weeks.”

Sighing, you lower your voice, suddenly exhausted. “Yeah…I have no idea why I’ve been pretending you’re anything more than somebody I used to know. Please, let’s just forget these last couple weeks and go back to the way things were before, each of us leading separate lives.”

You grab your purse and take out your wallet, hoping to pay the bill and get out of there as soon as possible. You went into this night a mess of emotions, willing to let bygones be bygones as long as he told you he still cared. Only for you to realize that you weren’t okay with that, and he’s hurt you too badly for your relationship to recover.

In the wake of your rapid emotional development, you’re left feeling dull and empty, which probably accounts for why you didn’t realize he was even speaking to you until he reached out across the table and grabbed your wrist.

Distantly you hear him saying your name, but you’re so out of it you don’t look up until he stands and rounds the table, dropping to one knee in front of you as he gently tilts your chin up and takes your hands.

Nanami Kento, all crisp ironed lines and strict discipline, knelt on the ground before you, dirtying the knees of his pristine slacks as he grovels. People around you are staring, and while some distant part of your brain is embarrassed, the vast majority of it is occupied by the feel of his hands holding yours.

You hated yourself. You hated your traitorous hands for seeking the warmth of his, your stomach for filling with butterflies against your heart. You hated your heart and mouth for staging a mutiny against all common sense, hardly believing the words that left your lips.

“I’m sorry.” You blink down at him. “I missed all of that. Do you want to go somewhere quieter to talk?”

Unfettered relief filled his face and within seconds he was flagging down the server and paying the bill, not even allowing you to open your purse. He zipped you up into your coat, making sure he had all of your belongings and was ushering you out of the restaurant in two minutes flat, as if he was convinced that if he gave you any longer you would change your mind.

Which he wasn’t entirely wrong about. You were already feeling your apprehensiveness creeping back in. Who in their right mind would consider taking someone back just because they knelt on the ground and took your hands. Apparently you, although you didn’t feel like you were in your right mind at the moment (you never were when he was involved).

The two of you loitered awkwardly on the sidewalk, neither of you sure where to go before you finally mustered up your courage and spoke. “There’s a bench in a park around here that I like to go sit on a lot. And it’s fairly secluded, although I doubt many people will be in the park at this time of night.” He just nodded, and the two of you set off for the proposed destination, you leading the way.

Which is how you found yourself perched next to him on your bench, the quiet practically screaming at you. Say something!!! You screeched telepathically at him, hoping he got the message. Please don’t make me regret this. Prove to me that I’m not an idiot for giving you this chance. Please just-

“Listen I-” He cleared his throat, cutting off your attempts at sending him your thoughts. “I know that what I did was unforgivable, and I will spend the rest of my life regretting the hurt I caused you by leaving.”

His shoulders drooped, and you could practically feel the remorse emanating off of him. “Trust me. If there was any way I could go back and time and punch myself in the face I would. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to change my poor decisions.”

“But you can’t.”

“I know that.”

“Can you at least tell me why you did it?” Your voice cracks slightly, and he graciously ignores it. “Can you at least tell me what was going through your mind? What led you to abandoning me without a word? You say you loved me, but if you did, why did you leave?”

“I left because I loved you.” His deep voice is full of regret, and you pause, incredulous. “Kento, that makes no sense.”

“I know that.” He takes a deep breath and holds it for a second before letting it out in a great whoosh of air. “After Haibara died, I realized how powerless I truly was. I was right there, yet I couldn’t save my best friend. Hell, I could barely save myself. The only reason I made it out alive was because reinforcements arrived.”

The desolation in his voice hurt you, so against your better judgment you reached out and took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He squeezed back, and continued, this time with tears hanging on his water line.

“And if I can’t trust myself to keep myself safe how can I trust myself to keep you safe? And you-you’re just better than me. You’re braver and stronger. I knew that no matter what I said you wouldn’t leave the jujutsu world because you weren’t a coward like me. So I convinced myself that the best option was for me to leave.”

“Kento I-” You start speaking, suddenly flooded with guilt. You had had no idea he was struggling that much. But he simply squeezes your hand and gives you a look that asks you to allow him to continue, so you shut your mouth.

“I thought I wouldn’t be able to survive losing you. That I wouldn’t be able to live knowing that every time you left I might never see you again. And since I wasn’t strong enough to protect you, I decided I needed to leave the jujutsu world. At least then there was a chance you would leave the jujutsu world to follow me. And if you didn’t, you could be with someone who wasn’t such a selfish coward. Someone who deserves you.”

At this point he was crying, and you were too. Your anger fades away, and in its place comes sorrow and…relief. Sorrow for all the years you lost, but relief because he didn’t leave because he stopped loving you. Relief because he still loved you even after all these years, he hadn’t stopped loving you once.

“Hey.” You brush his tears away, your own tears spilling down your cheeks. “You’re a dumbass, you know that?”

“I know. I spent every day for the last ten years regretting the decision I made. I’m so sorry that it took me so long to work up the courage to come back to you. But I need you to hear this.” His face grew serious, and he held your face in his warm palms as he looked at you intently.

“I will stay in your life as long as you permit me to, and spend that time repairing the damage I have inflicted. If that is only a week, then that will be the most cherished week of my life. If it is only a month, then I will use every second of it. And if it is the rest of your life, then I will spend the rest of mine loving you.”

He paused, cheeks reddening slightly. “The latter would be my preference. As long as what you plan to do with your life has space for me, I will occupy it gladly. I do not care if that means you leave me in a year, two years, three. I just-”

For the first time since he had reappeared in your life you laughed. And laughed. And laughed some more. Clutching your stomach and wiping a tear from the corner of your eye, you looked at him, eyes shining.

“Kento.” Your voice was soft, despite the traces of mirth still lingering in it. “I appreciate your confidence in me, but I don’t even know what I’m doing for the rest of tonight, let alone for the rest of my life. Why don’t we just take it one day at a time, okay?”

He slumped forwards in relief and wrapped his arms around you.

“Thank you. Thank you. That sounds much more than okay sweetheart. Sounds perfect, actually.”

You said, "Hey, whatcha doing for the rest of your life?" And I said, "I don't even know what I'm doing tonight"

Time went by, and you relearned everything about the man named Nanami Kento. You learned that he still wanted to go to Malaysia, and that he moped around for a month after his favorite bakery closed down. You learned that he had tried to take up painting as a hobby in his early twenties only to discover he was extremely bad at it and quit, and that he pretends to be reading when Gojo is around so he has an excuse to ignore him.

You noticed that he was less open with his emotions than he used to be, but that didn’t stop him from expressing his affection in other ways. Be it always greeting you with your favorite pastry and a coffee in the mornings, or going out of his way to profess his feelings towards you, he made sure that you never had another reason to doubt his love for you.

It took time, and while it never fully went away, the hurt and anger faded until it was unnoticeable. When he left you had been in love with the eighteen year old version of him, and you got to experience falling in love with him all over again, this time with his twenty-seven year old self.

Fast forward two years, and the two of you are taking a nighttime walk in the park from two years ago, holding hands as you enjoy the peaceful night air when he suddenly speaks, startling you.

“Love.” You jolt looking up at him. “Yes? What’s…”

Part of you relished in the fact that you could see past his stoic facade straight to what was in his heart again, but tonight the intensity of the emotions swirling in his warm brown eyes caused you to trail off.

They weren’t bad emotions, in fact, they were far from it. He was looking at you like you were his whole world, like he could spend the rest of your life gazing into your eyes and still not have enough of your face. A little flustered under his full attention, you spluttered, then became deathly still.

Maintaining eye contact the entire time, your boyfriend got down on one knee just like he did all those years ago in that restaurant when he was begging for another chance. Except this time he reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a velvet ring box. And suddenly a simple, yet elegant diamond was twinkling up at you from where it was nestled in the plush velvet.

You looked at me and I looked at you Like we'd never look away

Your hand flies up, covering your mouth as tears fill your eyes. “Ken are you…?” He smiles tenderly up at you, and the sweetness of the moment absolutely nearly gives you heart palpitations.

“Y/N.” He looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on with so much conviction that you can’t help but believe him. “The first time I met you I knew you were the one for me. I-”

“Hold up.” You hold a hand out, cutting him off with a watery giggle. “The first time you met me I was laughing so hard about a dick joke Shoko made that I shot soda out of my nose. That’s what sealed the deal for you?”

He chuckled dryly. “What can I say, I saw a beautiful girl who was unafraid of expressing her joy to the fullest extent. When I heard your laugh, it literally gave me butterflies. It was beautiful, unrestrained and full of joy, just like you are.”

Taking a deep breath, his expression sombered slightly and he continued. “I know that I hurt you when I left. I will never forgive myself for that. And I will never stop being grateful to you for giving me another chance to prove my love to you. I won’t be as bold as to ask you to be mine; I know I don’t deserve that”

At this point you were openly crying, the moonlight glimmering off the unshed tears in his eyes as well.

“But, if you would give me the honor of being yours, of becoming your husband, I promise you won’t regret it. I promise that you will always be supported and valued. I promise that I will stay by your side and love you through thick and thin. So, would you give me the honor of being yours? Of staying by your side and loving you for the rest of our lives?”

You fling yourself at him and wrap your arms around his neck, crying into his shoulder. “Save the vows for the wedding loverboy, what are you going to say when we get married now that you’ve already made all of your promises to me? Huh?”

“When we get married?” His arms wrap around you as his voice trembles. “So, is that a yes?”

You lean back the salt from your tears mixing as you plant a sweet kiss on his lips.

“Of course it is. You’re mine. That’s something that’s never going to change. However, Mr. Nanami Kento, would you give me the honor of being yours?”

He throws his head back and laughs. “Of course I will. Is that even a question you have to ask?”

And as he slips the ring onto your finger (it fits perfectly, of course) you know that being his is the one decision you will never regret.

And you said, "I never regretted the day that I called you mine" So I call you mine

taglist: @ponderingmoonlight @arlerts-angel @m0k0k0 @starlightanyaaa

#lee's brain writes #lee's brain writes: requests #lee's song fic event #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami #nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fluff #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n

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xjulixred45x · 7 months

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This could be considered a variation of Gojo with an older brother, but in reverse.

Suguru Geto with a younger sister.

and not! no weird shit, I'm not allowing it >:( (I have an older brother myself and it's SO UNCOMFORTABLE to read those "stepbro Geto" fanfics just NO--)

AS I WAS SAYING

You and Suguru have a considerable age difference, he was already a rather big boy when you were born, but he took it better than most older brothers who now have to deal with younger sisters.

more than anything because he was entering the stage of his life where he could see the Curses, you were a breath of fresh air. He was there in every moment and achievement, when you took your first steps, when you spoke your first words--

when you started seeing the curses.

Suguru could never forget the feeling of pure terror when he heard you screaming from the bottom of your lungs for help, only for both of your parents to be extremely confused as they couldn't see the abobinable being that was in your room. Suguru ate it, obviously, and proceeded to try to comfort you.

These types of moments only brought You both closer in a certain way, your parents were never bad, far from it, quite the opposite, but they never fully understood your brother, but with you it translated to something worse.

They didn't even believe you.

You were a young girl, with a special brother, they believed that perhaps you were "jealous" of your brother's abilities and that you wanted to imitate him in some way, show that you were also special, being unintentionally condescending to you.

Even when Suguru tried to explain that IT WAS NOT THE CASE your parents just didn't believe him. They thought he was just supporting you like a good older brother would.

Thanks to this, Suguru would spend a lot of his time at home with you, doing things that you both enjoyed or, of course, girly things that you would like to learn with him. comb his hair, ask him for opinions on dresses and clothes, tell him about gossip about your school, possible crushes, etc.

Overall your brother became your sanctuary, the place you would go when the world became too much to handle, a safe place, your role model. and without realizing it you became something similar to Suguru.

You were the only member of his family who understood the minimal burden that he suffered, having to deal with curses and no one believing you, being minimized, how difficult it is, how unfair it is. but still you remained loving and happy.

Apart from the fact that you never, ever took it for granted, you were always terrified of curses while growing up, that was a fact, and even if you could use cursed energy and wanted to help your older brother, he wouldn't allow you to enter Jujutsu Tech, he just wouldn't.

One moment that especially stuck out to Suguru with you was an occasion in which you went to see him off at the door with food, but you also told him that you had no idea how difficult it must be to exorcise curses (much less eat them) or live like a sorcerer, but that you knew how important your brother was and you hoped that he would at least find his way there. even if he end up far from you.

Although of course, Suguru calmed you down and told you that no matter what he chose, he would always try to be in your life...

and boy did he accomplish it.

You remember the days before the incident, how Suguru acted strangely after a very VERY bad mission, even distant, but since it was work, he was kind of sensitive in your eyes, you just try to make his life easier with some meals and try to get him to talk to you.

nothing worked...

When the events of THAT night occur, everything is a haze in your mind. your brother. two girls. curses. blood. total darkness.

When you become conscious again, everything has changed, not only your environment, but also how you see your brother.

Suguru appears to be the same, he is still a loving and protective brother, who loves you very much, but knowing what you know... you don't know if you love him the same way now.

The same man who says he loves you kills without thinking people he had sworn to protect, the same man who swore to protect you ripped you from your normal life, the same man who is your brother killed BOTH of your parents because "he couldn't have exceptions" to his plan for "Sorcerers' paradise."

You love your brother, but a part of you deeply resents him. fears him.

and even if he manages to get his propaganda into your head, he only manages to have a darker version of you, which doesn't look much like how BOTH of you were before all this.

but Geto doesn't realize this until his final moments, reflecting on things, he realizes that maybe...just maybe, you could have had a happier life if you hadn't been related to him.

If you had been born in a clan of sorcerers, you would have had a better family circle. You would have had more confidence.

You could have had so much potential that he denied you for fear of losing you.

If you had been able to grow normally you could have even reached second or first grade!

You have a great personality after all, but everything turned out badly because HE finished raising you...

Hope that now, at least, you can have the opportunity that he took from you. You don't have to forgive him at all, just live your life as you would have liked to.

your older brother loves you very much after all...

Shares, reblogs, and comments are very welcome!

#fem reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu no kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #Drabble #jujutsu geto #jujutsu kaisen geto #geto suguru x reader #platonic geto #geto x reader #jjk geto #geto suguru #those two remind me A LOT of Gyutaro and Daki to be honest #drabble

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starrydixon · 1 year

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Happily Ever After

*Requested from this ask :)*

Era: Alexandria (Post-Negan) Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Pronouns: She/Her Word Count: 4.3k Warnings: none! just pure fluff!!

Summary: Dedicating a day out behind the walls of Alexandria, Daryl takes you for a ride on his bike as he leads you towards a special place in the woods. There, he intends to ask you a very important question.

You couldn’t remember the last time you felt like this; happy, giddy, and relaxed. You supposed it was during the time spent in the prison back in Georgia, but those feelings of content were fleeting due to the fear that the Governor could seek vengeance at any moment. Now, after months on the road, countless losses of people you saw as family, fighting in brutal wars, and not knowing if you’d make it to see another day, you finally felt peace.

Sure, you owed it to Alexandria’s protective walls and supportive community, but Daryl also had a huge contribution as well. The two of you have been dating for a little over a year now, but have known each other since the beginning of the apocalypse back at the Georgia quarry. Unknown to you, at the time, your romantic connection with the archer began to kindle during the weeks spent on the Greene’s family farm. After the farm fell and the harsh winter began, you then began to recognize that the feelings you felt for the archer exceeded past platonic. It was scary at first, having romantic feelings for someone as stoic and unreadable as Daryl, but you grew comfortable with your revelations the closer you two became. A week before the prison was found, you two had finally stopped dancing around those harboring feelings and kissed for the first time. Ever since then, you and Daryl have been in a loving relationship that you cherished so deeply.

Now, you were sat on the back of Daryl’s bike with your arms wrapped tightly around his torso. Wispy strands of baby hair blew around your face as gusts of winds whipped past you. With your chin resting on Daryl’s shoulder, the ends of Daryl’s hair occasionally got in your face, tickling your skin so much, you often found yourself you found yourself nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck in an effort to conceal the school-girl-like giggles from escaping past your lips.

You hadn’t been able to stop beaming since the moment Daryl informed you the previous night that he would be taking you outside of the walls for the day. It had been a while since you and Daryl went on an excursion together, since your individual duties around the growing community had been keeping you both busy. Just the idea of being able to spend some quality time with Daryl had sent you over the moon. The moment you awoke that morning, you’ve been bustling around your shared home; searching for supplies to pack for the journey and for the picnic that the two of you would enjoy later that day. Picnics were always a staple activity whenever you and Daryl went on a date. Although the archer never explicitly called the excursions you’d share together dates, you always got the unspoken message.

Unbeknownst to you, Daryl’s plans for today exceeded far beyond the typical date. If his courage didn’t defy him, he planned on finally giving you the diamond ring that has been burning a hole in the pocket of his vest for the past few months.

“Are we almost there yet!?” You shouted over the rumbling engine of the motorcycle while peering over Daryl’s shoulder in order to get a proper glimpse of his face. You had no idea where the archer was taking you, so the excitement coursing through your veins was making it hard to remain patient.

“Thought I told ya to quit askin’ every five minutes?” Daryl stated from over his shoulder. Although he tried to suppress it, you could see a smile twitch at the corners of his mouth.

“I waited six minutes this time!” You grinned proudly as you tightened your arms around the archer’s frame. With a slight shake of his head, a lighthearted scoff escaped past his lips. Daryl had a hard time not finding your eagerness endearing.

Tightening his hands around the handlebars of the bike, Daryl picked up speed. An uncontrollable squeal fell from your lips as your body jolted forwards, colliding into Daryl’s strong back. Although your hearing was deafened due to the loud engine that powered the bike, you could feel Daryl’s back vibrate with goading laughter. The scenery around you became even more blurry and dizzying as you sped down the deserted road; you had to squeeze your eyes shut to avoid getting a headache. Instinctively, your hold around Daryl’s strong frame tightened.

Less than ten minutes later, Daryl had pulled up to a small opening that led into the forest. With your help, the two of you covered the bike with leaves and loose shrubbery in order to hide it from any potential onlookers. After a little bit of bickering, you allowed Daryl to take the wicker basket that was packed full of all the essential picnic necessities you would need in order to have a successful picnic. Lacing your fingers with Daryl’s you two began to follow along a dirt trail.

“Did you make this trail yourself?” You asked once you noticed how new the upturned dirt seemed. Daryl hummed in confirmation and gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

“It’s the clearest section of woods around…figured I’d put a trail here for huntin’ and stuff.” The archer shrugged his shoulders dismissively.

“Oh, so it’s not for taking your girlfriend on romantic strolls?” You teased lightheartedly as you wrapped your arm around Daryl so you were hugging his arm. Daryl just scoffed and gently shook you with the arm you were holding.

“Keep that up, and I’ll take ya to the swamps instead.”

Your face scrunched up at the thought of eating your sandwich with mosquitoes swarming around your face and biting into your skin every ten seconds. It wouldn’t be the first time the archer purposely led you to a swamp as a means of being mischievous with you during one of your outings. You supposed that was his unique way of being playful with you. Preferring to be safe than sorry, you didn’t tease the archer any further. You knew Daryl was extremely capable and willing to act out on his taunt.

With your head resting comfortably on the side of his shoulder, you and Daryl continued to follow the trail that led to whatever destination Daryl had in mind. As a child, you enjoyed exploring through the woods that sat in your backyard; pretending to be in mystical worlds or an explorer who was on the verge of finding her next discovery. Once you hit your teenage years, those days spent in the woods and finding solace in the natural beauty the forest provided was gone. Once you met Daryl and began accompanying him on his hunting trips, it reignited the love you once had with nature.

As you enjoyed listening and watching the way nature moved around you, vibrant colors caught the corner of your eye. Intrigued, you stopped in your tracks and turned to get a better look at what had grabbed your attention.

“Oh!” You couldn’t help but gasp in delight as you viewed a patch of assorted wildflowers that was diverted from the dirt path only a few feet away.

At first, Daryl thought you had spotted a walker, or maybe some people due to the unidentifiable surprise in your voice. Instinctively, he grabbed the strap of his crossbow, ready to protect you from the potential threat. With a deep sigh and a curse spouting from under his breath, the archer relaxed as he watched you practically leap towards the patch of flowers. Your clasped hands were held against your chest and your smile only seemed to widen as you observed the flowers. Carefully, you knelt down and picked a few different wildflowers from the patch. Satisfied with your small collection, you hid the bouquet behind your back and skipped back over to Daryl, who had his free hand resting on his hip as he waited for you.

“We’re burnin’ daylight y’know.”

With a smile so bright and charming that never failed to make Daryl’s knees go weak and heart skip a few beats, you removed your hands from behind your back and presented the flowers to him. One of the archer’s eyebrows quirked upwards towards his hairline as he stared down at the floral arrangement. Bringing his gaze back up towards you, his head tilted to the side slightly.

“Are these for…me?”

All you could do was nod your head excitedly while bouncing on the balls of your feet. You always enjoyed doing sweet and, as Daryl called it, rather corny romantic gestures for the archer. Daryl gave you happiness every single day; just being able to wake up beside him was enough to give you joy. Daryl deserved so much love and appreciation, and you thought he could never get enough of it. It was little things, like picking his favorite fruit from the garden, finding cheesy cards about love from souvenir shops whenever you went on runs, or setting up romantic dinner dates with candles and low music playing in the background. It always surprised him, without fail, whenever you did something sweet for him. This time was no different.

Dropping the picnic basket from his hand in shock, you watched as the tips of Daryl’s ears and the apples of his cheeks began to tint pink. In an attempt to conceal his flustering, Daryl covered his face with his hands. Your laugh was light and filled with joy as you reacted to Daryl’s heartwarming reaction that never got tiresome to witness.

“Ya didn’t…ya didn’t have to do this.” Daryl spoke bashfully as he removed his hands from his face and shook his head a little in disbelief, which caused his bangs to curtain over his eyes.

“I know, but I wanted to.”

Gently, Daryl took the flowers from your grasp and held them a bit awkwardly in his hands; unsure what to do with them now that they were in his possession. “Uh-I ain’t too sure what to do with ‘em…never been given flower ‘fore.”

You laughed again and shrugged your shoulders loosely. “You can do whatever you want. They’re yours now.”

For a moment, the archer couldn’t help but admire you. The placement of the sun caused an angelic glow to frame your figure, and your eyes were shining like stars. He always saw you as the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, but this moment just proved him right. Picking a pale pink flower from the bouquet that was gripped tightly in his hand, Daryl cleared his throat and shuffled closer to you before tentatively placing the flower behind your ear.

Heat rushed to your face, and it was your turn to become a flustering mess.

Wordlessly, you expressed your gratitude for the sweet gesture by placing a kiss on Daryl’s cheek. A boyish smile spread across his lips as you placed your arms around Daryl’s again. Content with the feeling of warmth spreading across your chest and up your neck to your face, you and Daryl continued down the dirt trail.

It didn’t take long for you to arrive at your destination. Shooting a shy glance your way, Daryl nudged his chin towards the shrubbery that concealed whatever place Daryl wanted to show you. Although you trusted Daryl with your life, you were still a bit nervous about what was about to greet you on the other side. Tentatively, you pushed back the lush and overgrown foliage and stepped through the branches.

You felt like you had stepped into a fairytale, much like the ones you often imagined as a child whenever you played in the bleak woods of your backyard. The clearing you were met with seemed enchanted, like the specific spot had been put under a spell to preserve its natural beauty. Visible sun rays shone through the trees making the entire space radiate. Fallen tree trunks that looked strong and non-decomposed laid in the dense and rich greenery that covered the forest terrain. Birds could be heard singing and communicating with one another from the tops of the trees. Even the buzzing sounds of the insects that lived on the plants and flew in the air sounded hypnotizing. As you spun around to take in your surroundings, you even noticed a few mossy vines hanging off of a few tree branches.

“Daryl…” You trailed off in awe, unable to hide the gawk that took over your face. Daryl couldn’t decipher your reaction, so the growing unease began to make his palms sweaty and his blood pressure rise. If he misjudged his choice of scenery, then the rest of his plans for the day would be up in flames.

“Listen…if ya don’t like this spot, I can find another one. It-uh-ain’t a problem.”

Hearing the nerves and uncertainty in his voice made you instantly shake your head as you struggled to find the right words to express how truly awestruck you were. With the type of relationship and connection that you had with Daryl, there was never a sense of having to explicitly state how you felt about things. Most of the time, you could share a look or read between the lines in order to understand what the other was trying to convey. As words failed you, you decided to tell Daryl how much you enjoyed this spot by throwing your arms around his neck and burying your face in the crook of his neck.

The archer had nearly toppled over by the unexpected reaction. It was welcomed though, and he found himself snaking his arms around your waist and letting his chin rest on your shoulder. When you pulled away just enough to get a proper glimpse of his handsome face, tears had welled up in your eyes, and your nose was on the verge of dripping. Instinctively, Daryl cupped each side of your face and let both his thumbs rest on your cheeks. His eyes flitted between yours, searching for any sign of disdain. When all he found was genuinely lighting up your eyes, he allowed himself to relax.

Your eyes fluttered shut as Daryl placed a gentle, but meaningful kiss on your lips. For a moment, it brought you back to that spring morning when you and Daryl shared your first ever kiss. When your eyes opened again, they were met with the sight of Daryl’s lopsided smile and unique shade of blue eyes that were so bright, they lightened up his entire face.

“C’mon…I’m gettin’ hungry.”

After gathering a few stones from off the green terrain, you placed the rocks on each corner of the laid out, homemade quilt an older resident of Alexandria had given you as a way of thanking you for helping them with some mundane chores around their home. You decided to place your soon to be picnic under a large oak tree that provided shade from the bright sun that shone in the sky. With a grunt, the archer plopped down on the quilt and stretched his legs out in front of him as he watched you diligently take out the variety of foods you had packed that morning and lay them out between the two of you.

Conversations flew comfortably between you two; catching up on the things you each had done over the last few days, reminiscing on almost forgotten memories, and flirting with one another by using witty retorts and teasing jests. When you weren’t conversing and instead eating from the array of food that was laid out in front of you, comfortable silence filled the space.

“How exactly did you come across this place?” You asked the archer once your stomach was aching and full. Your back was pressed against Daryl’s chest as you sat between his legs. One of his arms had draped loosely around your waist, and the pad of his thumb slipped under the hem of your shirt to caress your hip bone.

“When I was findin’ places to make trails, guess I got lucky when I stumbled upon here.” Daryl shrugged his shoulders dismissively. Glancing down at you, heat flushed his chest when he realized you were already looking at him, staring up at him with a sense of deep attention and light in your eyes. Your eyes were magnetic, and he had a hard time looking away from you.

“I’m glad you found this place. It’s so beautiful and peaceful here…it’s like this is the one place on earth that hasn’t been touched by walkers.” A smile graced your lips as you settled comfortably against Daryl’s broad frame. The archer hummed in response and tightened his arm around your waist before letting his chin rest on the top of your head.

As another comfortable silence fell over you both, the archer was trying not to get in his head. So far, everything was going well. You seemed to be enjoying the date so far, as a wide smile hadn’t left your face since the second you drove out of Alexandria. However, there was still one remaining thing Daryl had to do; and he was growing increasingly worried that it would mess up the entire day. The archer figured he’d just have to bite the bullet already. If he allowed himself to think any harder about the potential proposal, he was sure he would back out.

Not wanting to disturb you, Daryl carefully plunged his hand into the pocket that was inside his vest. His fingers felt for the pouch that held the precious piece of jewelry and concealed it in his palm as he fished it out. The nerves in his stomach began to flare, which caused the feeling of constricting knots to form and bring him discomfort. His hands began to clam up, and sweat began to form at his hairline and down his back. If you hadn’t been so lost in the feeling of solace the forest gave you, you would have thought the archer had suddenly gotten sick.

Glancing down at you again, Daryl swallowed the lump in his throat as he took in the image of your peaceful face. You seemed to be soaking in the warm sun rays that shone down on your face, eyes gently shut while your eyelashes sat delicately on top of your skin. There wasn’t a single worry line creasing your face; which was further proof of just how relaxed you felt. It had been a while since Daryl saw you this tranquil, and he was worried he was about to ruin it. His fingers anxiously twiddled with the string of twine that kept the opening of the small black pouch sealed.

Not knowing how to approach the situation, Daryl simply tossed the pouch into your lap and hoped for the best. Although he preferred actions over words in order to express his love for you, performing romantic gestures were still rather awkward and foreign to him.

When you felt something fall onto your lap, your first instinct was to look up at the oak tree, thinking that a small cluster of acorns had fallen from one of the branches. When you turned your gaze down to your lap, you were surprised to see the pouch in your possession. Shooting a questioning look towards Daryl, you noticed the light tint of red flushing the tips of his ears, the apples of his cheeks, down his neck, and across the expanse of his chest. Whatever he had just given you, it was making him uncharacteristically nervous.

When Daryl made no effort to stop you from inspecting the item he had given you, you tentatively began to untie the piece of twine. When a few of your fingers slipped into the bag and brushed over something small and smooth, your heart began to race. You had no idea what you were expecting as you carefully shook the item out of the bag, but a diamond ring falling into the palm of your hand definitely wasn’t it. A light gasp escaped past your lips as you eyed the glistening jewel.

“Daryl…?”

After the years of knowing Daryl, you had become fluent in, as you called it, “Darylism”. You understood what each different grunt meant, what look or glare said that words didn’t, and what underlying meanings meant without having to explicitly say it. However, you had no clue what was going on now, or what this gesture meant. The lines were blurred and written in an ancient text that not even the best decipherment experts could decode. This puzzlement caused you to become stunned into silence.

Daryl interpreted your silence as rejection, and quickly tried to backpedal his initial intentions. “You don’t gotta wear it or nothin’ if you don’t wanna…” The archer trailed off, his eyes darting everywhere but your face and his fingers pulling a frayed piece of thread hanging from the hem of his black button up shirt.

“Is this…is this a proposal?” You never deemed Daryl as the marriage type, so you couldn’t help but sound a bit tentative when you asked. Tearing your gaze away from the ring that sat in the center of your palm, you looked over at Daryl.

“It can mean whatever ya want it to.” Daryl shrugged his shoulders loosely while rubbing at the back of his neck. He was still unable to look you in the eyes, but his body had angled back towards you instead of away.

Fluttering butterflies erupted in your stomach, and the sensation rose up your body until the apples of your cheeks had heat to them. The more you thought about it, the giddier you felt. The bright smile that practically hadn’t left your face all day returned, accompanied with tingling sinuses and stinging eyes full of tears that had yet to be seen. Ever since the apocalypse began, you quickly dismissed the idea of ever getting married; it just didn’t seem plausible anymore. Even after you met Daryl and fell in love with him, that ideology didn’t change much due to the fact that the archer had made zero indication, up until this point, that he wanted that with you as well. It never bothered you much, or at least you convinced yourself that it didn’t.

Now, as you had a presumed engagement ring sitting in the palm of your hand, you realized just how badly you’ve wanted that extended bond with Daryl.

“I-uh-never believed in that sorta love crap ‘fore you, and ya mean a lot to me. I guess I just want us to be closer, ya know? So that ring can mean somethin’ or nothin’ at all. Just whatever you want.” Daryl clarified in his resumed anxious ramble as your silence was beginning to become too unbearable for him to stand any longer.

His choppy efforts of trying to explicitly bare his heart out to you was endearing, and you felt your heart swell two sizes too big for your chest to hold.

“You have to say it.” You stated with a slight quiver of emotion in your voice. Tears had finally begun to well up in your eyes, and you found yourself having a hard time sitting still as you waited with anticipation.

“Huh?” The archer quickly shot his gaze towards yours, and was taken aback by the genuinely in your brightened face.

“You have to ask…the question.” You reiterated as the corners of your eyes crinkled with delight.

“I ain’t gettin’ down on one knee…I won’t be able to get back up.” Daryl grumbled as he anxiously wiped his sweaty palms over his pants.

You couldn’t help but laugh joyously at your soon to be husband’s concerns. With a slight shake of your head, you grabbed one of Daryl’s hands and placed the diamond ring in his possession with a slip of your hand. “You don’t have to…you just have to say it.”

Glancing down at the ring that now sat in his hand, Daryl’s worries were slightly relieved by your reassurances. Clearing his throat, Daryl held the ring up to you and stared deeply into your awaiting eyes.

“Will you-uh-marry me?”

You couldn’t help but laugh out of glee and throw your arms around Daryl’s neck, falling into him as your face became buried in his shoulder. The archer practically fell over as he caught your embrace. A smile danced around the corner of his lips while he allowed himself to relish in warmth he felt rushing his body. Instinctively, his strong arms wrapped around you, holding you against him.

“Yes! Yes! A million times, yes!” You were glowing with glee as you spoke the cheesy romance line.

Did you really need Daryl to ask you to marry him? No. Did you only request it just so you could see his reaction to the corny response you gave? Yes.

“Alright, ‘m takin’ that ring back now.” Daryl snickered as you pulled away from him slightly, a look of freight contorting your face that previously held a rather smug grin. A rare, teeth baring smile graced Daryl’s face as he felt your arms tighten around his shoulders.

“Absolutely not.” That seemed like enough of a statement to retract Daryl from his playful taunt. Holding your left hand out, you wiggled in excitement as he slipped the glistening diamond ring on your ring finger.

With hushed voices and tear filled eyes, you both exchanged your individual vows to each other. You didn’t need a white dress, an officiant, or guests observing the most vulnerable proclamations of love to ever be spoken in order to solidify your marriage to Daryl. Being alone with the love of your life, and surrounded by forestry that seemed unearthly and enchanted, was more beautiful and held more sincerity than any wedding party could ever hold.

As far as you and Daryl are concerned, he was your husband, and you his wife. Together, you would live happily ever after.

A/N: This was so cute to write! I’m sorry this took awhile for me to finish, I’ve just been so busy with irl stuff and it’s just exhausted me. Thank you to the anon who requested this, I hope it’s what you were looking for! Thank you all for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!! <3

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #the walking dead #twd #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfiction

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dreamonseems · 1 year

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hii, if you are open to more writing about dad!erling, i have a request/idea?¿

maybe like, their son is maybe 1.5 years old/2 and is already aware to recognize erling and stuff like that, so one night, when erling is having a game and you and son stay home, baby cant fall asleep until erling is there, so y/n and baby just walk around their apartment waiting for erling to return and all of them sleep together in their bed🤭🫶

Baby's Wish

Erling Haaland X Female Reader

Summary: Baby Ragnar can't sleep without Daddy Erling.

I love writing about dad Erling 🥺💓

Ragnar had recently celebrated his second birthday, and he had become the ultimate daddy's boy. With his striking blue eyes and a crown of bright blonde hair, he was a mirror image of Erling, his father. It was almost comical how little he resembled Y/N, and she would playfully tease about how disrespectful it was for her to carry Ragnar for nine months, only for him to emerge from the womb looking like a spitting image of his dad.

Ragnar was an incredibly energetic and curious little bundle of joy. He had an insatiable thirst for exploration, always eager to discover the world around him. But amidst all his adventures, he remained deeply attached to Erling. Their bond was unbreakable. It was no surprise when Ragnar's first word rolled off his tiny lips, and it was "Dada." The sheer adoration in his eyes whenever he laid eyes on his father was undeniable.

Erling's heart would swell with pride and love every time he heard his son call out to him. It was as if Ragnar had chosen Erling to be his ultimate hero and guide in life. The connection between father and son was a testament to the special bond they shared.

Y/N would watch in awe as Ragnar followed his father around, mimicking his every move and hanging onto his every word. She couldn't help but be filled with both amusement and affection at the sight of her little family. Ragnar's unwavering attachment to Erling was a beautiful reflection of the love and care that his father bestowed upon him.

But Days like these were particularly challenging ever since Ragnar became more aware and deeply attached to Erling. Y/N found herself grappling with the difficulty of explaining to their young son why his beloved father wasn't always present, especially during training sessions or when he had matches to play.

It became even more challenging during bedtime, as Ragnar preferred to have his daddy put him to sleep. Tonight was one of those nights.

Erling had an important match scheduled, and Y/N and Ragnar watched the game fervently from the comfort of their home. Ragnar's eyes were glued to the television screen, his little face lighting up with excitement as he recognized his daddy's familiar face among the players.

Y/N couldn't help but find it absolutely adorable, witnessing the pure joy and connection Ragnar felt towards his father.

However, when it came time for Ragnar's bedtime routine, everything changed. The usually calm and peaceful transition to sleep turned into a tearful ordeal. Ragnar cried out for his Dada, his tiny voice filled with longing and sadness.

Y/N's heart shattered at the sight of her baby, his messy curly hair tousled and wild, tears streaming down his face as he desperately called out for his daddy.

"It's okay, sunshine. Daddy will be home soon," Y/N whispered, holding Ragnar close in her arms, trying her best to console him. However, the tears and calls for Erling showed no signs of ceasing. Y/N knew that she needed to find a way to ease Ragnar's heartache and longing.

Making a decision in the moment, Y/N gently suggested to Ragnar, "Let's take a walk around the house and wait for Daddy to come home. Maybe we can see the stars together and make a wish for him." She knew it might provide a temporary distraction and help Ragnar feel closer to Erling, even in his absence.

With tears still glistening in his eyes, Ragnar nodded, his tiny hand grasping Y/N's tightly. They walked hand in hand, exploring the familiar corners of their home. She told him little stories and gave him little tickles, making his laugh fill the house, as they patiently waited for Erling's return.

Y/N hoped that the gentle rhythm of their steps and the love that enveloped them would provide solace to Ragnar's tender heart, reassuring him that his father would be back soon.

As the night progressed and the moon cast its gentle glow, Ragnar's tears slowly subsided. His trust in his mother and the anticipation of Erling's arrival provided a glimmer of comfort. They stood together, looking up at the starry sky, their hearts intertwined, sending their wishes into the night.

And just as Y/N's words had promised, Erling eventually returned home, his footsteps echoing through the hallway. The moment Ragnar caught sight of his daddy's tired but smiling face, his eyes lit up with pure delight. Running into Erling's arms, he finally found the solace and warmth he had been yearning for.

Y/N watched the tender reunion, her heart brimming with gratitude and love. In that moment, she knew that even on the hardest days, their family's bond would always prevail.

"What are you still doing up, my little mischief-maker?" Erling chuckled, scooping up his son into his arms. Ragnar's face lit up upon seeing his beloved father, and he mumbled, "Dada, dada home, miss dada," making grabby hands at Erling's face and showering him with sloppy kisses.

Erling's heart swelled with joy as he watched his son, his eyes shimmering with pride and affection. Ragnar's words melted away any remnants of exhaustion Erling might have felt. His presence had been sorely missed, and he knew just how much his little boy longed for him.

Y/N approached the pair, a smile gracing her face as she witnessed the heartwarming scene. She joined them, pressing a gentle kiss on Erling's cheek. "He couldn't sleep. He cried for you," she said, her voice filled with warmth and love.

Erling tightened his embrace, savoring the feeling of being surrounded by his precious family. There was an indescribable sense of contentment that washed over him, as if the world outside their cocoon no longer mattered.

Nothing else in the world could compare to this moment, where he was at home, embraced by the love of his wife and the adoration of his son.

"Let's go to bed then," Erling suggested, his voice filled with tenderness and determination. With his arms wrapped securely around Y/N and Ragnar, he led them towards their cozy haven, their sanctuary of dreams, and shared moments. As they settled down, intertwining their bodies and hearts, a profound sense of peace washed over them.

In the quiet embrace of the night, Erling whispered softly, "I love you both more than words can express." It was a simple declaration, yet it held the weight of a thousand promises, a testament to the depth of his devotion.

Y/N nestled closer to Erling, their love radiating within the warmth of their shared embrace. Ragnar, his eyes heavy with sleep, nestled against his father's chest, finding solace in the familiar rhythm of his heartbeat.

With a gentle sigh and a heart overflowing with gratitude, they surrendered to the serenity of the night, knowing that in each other's arms, they were home. The world outside might have its demands and challenges, but in this sanctuary of love, they found respite and strength.

As sleep finally claimed them, their dreams entwined, painting a picture of a future filled with love, laughter, and endless joy. Together, they embarked on this journey, united in their bond, ready to face whatever adventures awaited them.

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dollya-robinprotector · 8 months

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FINALLY! DOLLYA CONCEPT

I'll have a little look back and remember how I came up with this current Sona design. The me of 2021 definitely would look at this and go "WTF???". When I search and place old drawings side by side for comparison, It's really been a process of changing my perspective on myself and constantly finding what I want.

It'll be very random and full of my old drawings, so if you don't mind a little rambling, welcome to go under the cut and go back in time with me!

Let's start with this design. As you can clearly see it was based on how I actually look irl, from the outfit, hairstyle to make-up.

Tbf this was not my first attempt to create a Sona, but it was a huge milestone because it's 2018, the year I got into my dream Art university and left home. My style completely changed, and this Sona showed it perfectly.

I drew this with my fingers, on my broken phone, to enter a Vietnamese clothes design competition, where we modernized some traditional clothes. What I did here is a modernized Nhật Bình. I won and got my design made into real clothes and sent to me. I'm still proud of it to this day XD

It was fun! I draw her almost daily, like how I do with Lya and Lyah in this blog. I used her to make friends with other artists. I even created a gender-bent version for her : D

But the uni life was stressful, especially when I entered my third year and tried to escape my parents' grasp. They were furious and threatened me, I started working extra and do commission to pay for my own living and rent, lessons were hard, and homework and projects were pilling,... As a result, I often use my sona to stress draw.

It didn't help much, my anxieties and insecurities kept adding to the molten fire inside me, and my overthinking got worse day by day.

But then at some point, I decided to separate myself from that sona. She turned into one of my many OCs, maybe more special but I no longer see my entire self in her anymore.

I have to thank my two besties for that. They pulled me out of my darkest moments and stayed with me. They remain to be my only two most important people in this whole world.

I started to "reuse" the sona appearance into creating many other OCs for many other fandoms I joined (Cookierun, HnK, FGO, KnY, Genshin,...). I had fun jumping between different styles lol.

The idea for the current design started to take shape when one day I drew her wearing a white delicate dress (I usually just do red) and a see-through sleep dress I just bought.

Something started clicking.

Then I became an assistant for an Ero Artist. Yup. I started to be exposed to more "sexy" character designs and tbh I just love those. I love drawing female characters already, but there's something something about cute and sexy girls in lingerie... If you know what I mean.

The design slowly became clearer. Cute and pristine-white, see-through lingerie, with little four petals flowers, and little bows, perfect.

The details still varied. They depended on the style I was using or my mood, whether I wanted to go into details or not. That's the fun of drawing your own design, let's keep it.

And here we are~ Maybe it's still not final, but I'm happy with it, and that's enough for me now!

If you've been reading this far, thank you and congratulations! I will send you a kiss and wish you a good day~~ Hope you're having fun scrolling on my blog~

#Dollya concept #dollya art #Just Dollya herself #cw self destruction #cw self doubt #cw self loathing #cw self deprecation #concept art #character concept #all in all this is a fun journey

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xxenia14 · 1 year

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Public Affection - Gavi

Summary: y/n and Gavi rarely showing public affection but then there is the end of season dinner.

Story written by AI/ChatGPT because I am the most uncreative person this planet ever witnessed 🤣 don‘t like ChatGPT written stories, don‘t read it. Hate messages and name calling is unnecessary!

Y/N and Gavi had always been a private couple, rarely showing affection in public. They preferred to keep their relationship away from the prying eyes of the media and fans. However, on this special evening, at the FC Barcelona end-of-season dinner, something seemed to have changed.

The restaurant was filled with laughter, chatter, and the clinking of glasses as the players and staff celebrated the successful season they had just completed. Y/N looked stunning in an elegant black jumpsuit, her hair cascading down her shoulders, half up half down. Gavi, dressed sharply in jeans and a black bomber jacket, couldn't take his eyes off her.

As they entered the hall, Y/N noticed a mischievous glint in Gavi's eyes. He extended his hand, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Y/N hesitated for a moment, surprised by the sudden public display of affection, but then she placed her hand in his.

The moment their hands intertwined, Gavi couldn't help but lace his fingers through hers, not wanting to let go. Y/N felt a warmth spreading through her body, an unfamiliar sensation of pride and love. Gavi pulled her gently toward him, wrapping his arm around her waist as they made their way through the crowd.

Their teammates, Ferran, Pedri, Lewa, and Ousmane, were already enjoying themselves at a nearby table. They watched in surprise as Gavi and Y/N approached, unable to hide their smiles.

Ferran, the team joker, leaned over to Pedri and whispered, "Hey, have you seen this before? Gavi can't keep his hands off Y/N tonight!"

Pedri chuckled, shaking his head. "No, it's definitely a first. Look at them, they're practically glowing."

As Gavi and Y/N joined his teammates, the table erupted in cheers and applause. Xavi, their manager, raised his glass to toast their presence. "Here's to our incredible team, both on and off the field. May our bond continue to grow stronger."

The evening was filled with joy, laughter, and heartfelt conversations. Gavi never once let go of Y/N's hand, cherishing every moment spent with her. The teammates enjoyed each other's company, reminiscing about the highs and lows of the season, and exchanging plans for the upcoming summer break.

As the night progressed, Ferran, known for his mischievous nature, couldn't resist teasing Gavi about his newfound openness. "Gavi, my friend, what's gotten into you tonight? We've never seen you so affectionate."

Gavi blushed, a sheepish smile forming on his face. "I guess love has a way of changing you. Y/N brings out the best in me, and I can't help but show it tonight."

Y/N's heart swelled with happiness, realizing the depth of Gavi's feelings for her. She leaned over and planted a soft kiss on his cheek, earning a round of applause and cheers from his teammates.

As the evening drew to a close, Gavi and Y/N reluctantly released their hold on each other's hands, but their connection remained strong. The dinner had been an eye opener for their relationship, reminding them of the importance of embracing their love openly.

From that day forward, Gavi and Y/N no longer shied away from showing their affection in public. Their love story became an inspiration to their teammates and fans alike, a testament to the power of love and the strength it can bring to a team both on and off the field. And as they walked out of the restaurant, hand in hand, they knew their love would continue to flourish, guided by the support of their loved ones and the unity of the team.

#pablo gavi #pablo martín páez gavira #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi x reader #gavi x reader #gavi x yn #fc barça #fc barcelona #pablo gavira #gavi imagine #gavi fanfic

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kykyonthemoon · 3 months

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Limerence (noun) — a mental state of profound romantic infatuation, deep obsession, and fantastical longing.

⋆˚✿˖° This chapter is a part of a mini-series of dark fairy tales and romance sets in another universe. It consists of three chapters, each with a Male Lead and is separated from one another.

⋆˚✿˖° Character x Reader/MC, from another (OC's) point of view. Reader/MC's pronounce is "she/her/hers".

⋆˚✿˖° Warnings & tags: 16+, MDNI, angst, hurt, thriller, emotional and mind control, manipulation, love spell, obsession, unrequited love, major character death, dark fantasy, dark fairy tale, m.urder, s.uicide attempt.

⋆˚✿˖° Leonard is my OC.

⋆˚✿˖° Read more chapters:

✦ Xavier's ✦ Zayne's

⋆˚✿˖° Masterlist

⋆˚✿˖° My friend Cery made an art for this fic here: x

Chapter: The Muse — in which he brings the world his most significant work of art.

⋆˚✿˖° Word count: 3k1

These days, the artist community was vibrant, with some even competing for acceptance to the exhibition at Mo Art Studio.

So did Leonard. He had to rush around and ask for help everywhere in order to be given a chance. Money was not an issue, but the host of this exhibition was certainly not an ordinary person. He wasn't offering tickets to the highest bidder, but rather to those who possessed an artistic vision and passed his evaluation.

“The ticket will be sent to you within the next three days. Please keep in touch.” The other end of the line cut the discussion off, but Leonard's mind remained lightheaded, unable to believe the gift he had just received.

“Wait…” He spoke before the other person hung up. “Excuse me… May I do an interview with that artist in the exhibition?”

There was no response. Leonard believed they were reviewing his proposal. He held his breath and wait for a while, then the manager named Thomas spoke:

“We do not accept interviews. But a few individual queries could suffice. Of course, if you are able to leave a good impression.”

"I got it. Thank you."

Putting the phone aside, Leonard leaned back in his office chair. How to impress Linkon's most talented painter, or should he say - the world's best artist? Despite his young age, there was no one in this city who had never heard of his work.

The artist's name was Rafayel. He became well-known for his landscape paintings, which brought admirers to a dreamlike state when they stood in front of them. He seldom appeared in public, despite having organized hundreds of major and minor exhibitions. Who he truly was remained a question, and the most mysterious part was probably his disappearance a year ago.

For a whole year there were no new paintings or art activities. No one saw him in Linkon during that time. His manager and studio kept it silent, as if everything had evaporated overnight. Then, last weekend, he unexpectedly reappeared and made an important announcement, which was an exhibition called The Muse.

In contrast to his previous events, guests had no idea what they were about to witness. According to the majority of internet comments, Rafayel returned with a work of a lifetime, a painting that exceeded anything he had ever created. That was the final result of a year-long hunt for inspiration. Of course, there were those who believed he was steadily degrading since he hadn't been able to draw anything decent in a long time and had simply planned this event to earn some money.

For Leonard, either truth was fair. He must uncover all of the details and secrets surrounding Rafayel's reappearance. Since that was what he did for a living.

Leonard was a journalist who specialized in arts. Despite his greatest efforts over several years, he still had little hope of succeeding. He had been without a single decent piece for a long time. Then the opportunity to visit the Mo Art studio presented itself before his eyes. He was not going to miss the chance to see a place that had never been accessible to the public before.

The day of the exhibition approached. Leonard had purposefully showed up early, but as he reached the gate, he noticed that about fifty formally dressed guests were already present. They were enjoying wine and food as they walked in groups into the main hall, where the primary event was held. Leonard also entered with nervousness. All of the windows and doors were wide open, allowing the sea air to convey a salty fragrance into the hallway. Rafayel's famous works are framed, and hung or placed in the center of a floral garden that the host tenderly arranged himself, giving guests the impression that they had just lost themselves in the Garden of Eden.

However, that was not the primary attention of the event. Something massive and cylindrical appeared in the center of the hall. It spanned from the ground to an exceedingly high glass ceiling. It had a diameter of up to ten meters, and was covered in a crimson velvet fabric, protecting it from inquisitive eyes of guests. Even the personnel had not an idea of what was inside.

"Rafayel did all of this himself." Thomas, the manager, spoke up. "I can't answer your questions because I'm not sure what's there. But whatever it is, it will undoubtedly live up to the name of his Muse."

The flock of intrigued guests around Thomas nodded, then split out to stroll around and admire the pillar, as if its very presence was already an art. To them, the less they comprehended something, the more valuable it became.

Leonard found a seat close to the window but not too far from the center of the hall. He was afraid of missing the opportunity to witness Rafayel's Muse. Late in the afternoon, the sun glided across the horizon, casting golden rays into the place. The guests began to get tipsy, wondering if Rafayel would show up or if this was all a hoax, when, down the stairs, the host of the party appeared.

He donned a lavish dark blue suit with sculpted sleeves and shoulders that looked to be encrusted with spectrum fish scales. His presence was as magnificent as his name, causing the entire hall to fall silent. Guests held their breath as they watched the young artist stroll down the steps, the heels of his shoes reverberating on the marble floor as if a piece of music had just been executed.

“Welcome to the exhibition.” Rafayel spoke in a solemn voice. "It appears that all of the guests here are wondering; what exactly has he been doing during the past year? Why didn't he present any of his new work? What's the point of this exhibition?"

Rafayel halted for a moment, his dark eyes behind a few purple curls scrutinizing each guest individually, as if reading them all. The corner of his mouth twisted up in delight as he effectively piqued everyone's interest. He resumed his speech:

“It all began with a muse. My muse. That's a story perhaps a lucky visitor would unveil in this exhibition. But for now…” Rafayel lifted a hand. “Let me introduce you to my one and only, Muse.”

The scorched cloth transformed into crimson tiny particles that flew all about, blending into the fiery sunset outside. The crimson sun halted in the center of the room's largest window, and emerged as an illusion was Rafayel's Muse.

Leonard blinked. In front of him stood a tank of water with a thick glass cylinder. The inside was ornamented with flowers, coral, and white pillars of broken plaster encircling an oval of the glass tank, offering him the sense that he was staring at a lost city under the depths of the ocean. There were schools of brilliant small fish swimming around, weaving between the crevices of the broken world. In the midst of the tableau, there was a woman floating in the water in an upright stance, a few meters above the tank's bottom, conveying an illusion that she was flying. Her head was adorned with pearl jewelry, eyes were closed, as if she was in deep slumber. Her hands opened, allowing the orange-red fish to whirl around her wrists. Then they invited each other to swim along her tiny unclothed arms, to her exquisite neck covered in shimmering pearls, and down to the thin white garment that was floating in the water like her own body. Her bare feet lingered above the seaweed, as if to tease them with the fact that they were unable to grasp her no matter how hard they tried.

A beauty out of this world. That was what Leonard's mind could think of. When he came here, he was full of determination to discover Rafayel's secret, but now, when he witnessed its beauty with his own eyes, he was speechless. His brain felt empty, as if that beauty had filled it and he no longer needed anything else. A melodic rhythm could be heard somewhere, distant seemingly from another universe, but apparently emanating from the tank itself.

All guests were drawn to the center. Rafayel vanished among the crowd that was cheering him. Nobody suspected that Rafayel's Muse was not a painting but an entirely distinct thing. Whatever it was, she was the size of an adult in her mid-twenties. A statue or a doll that resembled a real person?

Leonard brushed past a few astonished others to get closer to the tank. Rafayel's exhibit could easily shock the entire art field. Leonard had already begun pondering concepts for his next piece. Unlike the other guests, who were merely engaged in the beauty in front of them, he was more enthralled by the narrative behind The Muse.

Who was she? Where did her story begin? Leonard sought around for Rafayel's silhouette but could not find him. However, near the stairs, he encountered Thomas with a look of panic and utter shock on his face.

“It can't be… No… It can't be her…” Those were the words Leonard could hear before Thomas bolted out of the hall.

There were just a few people invited to the show, and after approximately an hour, they had presumably spent all of their admiration and hypothesis on the tank. They met again in groups to tour Rafayel's studio. Who knows when they would be able to return here again, in ten, twenty, or even fifty years?

Leonard took advantage of the reality that people had left the area to approach closer and examine more, now that he was the only one standing nearby. The Muse was still inside, a smile on her lips, but why did Leonard feel a suffering coming from her? He strolled around the tank to better view her. It was hard to discern whether this was in fact a sculpture by Rafayel or a real person. That was also what the guests spoke about all day.

The Muse was so genuine. To the point that Leonard expected her to open her eyes and climb out of the tank. But she remained still, absorbed in her own undersea world. He stayed frozen, unable to move his gaze away from the tank, for Rafayel had previously stated that within this, his secrets hidden.

Yet Leonard, with his mundane eyes, might never discover it. The only thing he found was possibly a tiny coating of pinkish red water coming from The Muse's breast. That ruby hue seeped through the attire that enveloped her, and it looked nothing like the color that Rafayel often used in his paintings. There was something rather odd about it. It resembled blood, from The Muse herself.

The exhibition came to an end. Guests departed on their own after being notified. Rafayel returned to the lobby. Leonard took the opportunity to ask in an instance:

“Mr. Rafayel. May I ask you a few questions regarding the exhibition?

Rafayel gazed at him. To increase his reputation, he identified himself as a journalist who specialized in writing about art.

"Ah. "I remember you." Rafayel responded. "Among the guests, you were the only one who gave an impressive answer to my question."

Leonard tried to recall the survey he was required to complete before Thomas reached him to inform he had an invitation. These questions were all about Rafayel's career, and the answers were readily accessible online. There was just one question, the last one, that sparked a lot of consideration in Leonard, while having nothing to do with Rafayel's works at all.

"If you were given a magical spell that made the person you love love you forever, would you use it?" Rafayel reiterated his query. "You're the only one who chose not to."

Leonard nodded. It was truly what he had said.

"May I know, why?" Rafayel glanced at him with curiosity. Leonard was taken aback, as he had come here expecting to be an interviewer. Who would have guessed it was the other way around?

"A spell is just an illusion." Leonard responded honestly. "That is not love." "Love must come from a true heart."

"A true heart…" Rafayel repeated each word. His eyes were as sorrowful and deep as the tranquil water, yet it was terrifying since he had no idea when the storm would arrive. "Perhaps, she would choose the same answer as you."

"Pardon?…" Leonard interrupted Rafayel's thoughts. "Who are you talking about?"

Rafayel smiled but remained silent. Fearing that the young artist might leave without answering, Leonard impatiently said:

“Aren't you talking about your Muse? Can you tell me who she is?”

Rafayel gazed at the girl in the aquarium. He smiled. Just a small movement of the lips conveyed devotion, anguish, and regret.

"She is my true heart." Rafayel's voice resembled a song. But he said nothing more, and Leonard was asked to leave right away.

The Muse's story was forever a mystery. The mystery that Leonard had yet to come very close.

That story began a year ago. Or perhaps, it had originated a long, long time ago.

When a Lemurian gives their heart to someone, it will die if not reciprocated.

Rafayel had given his to a human girl.

He met her when she was a child. She was his savior when he was expecting such a painful death on land, and she helped him return to the sea.

She could not remember who he was, nor did she know that all those years, he had been watching her from afar. Amid the waves, behind the rocks, he watched her grow up.

He met her again as a painter many years later. She happily accepted his company. But it was not all he wanted. He longed for her. He craved her touch to make her become his, in the way he had determined his heart belonged to her.

But, her heart belonged to someone else.

A year ago, she told him that she was getting married.

Rafayel could not recall how frightening his emotions were. No matter how powerful the storms were at sea, they could never match his rage at the time. And, with a dreadful calamity brewing in his head, he did what he did to her.

He bound her with an ancient Lemurian enchantment. He made her fall desperately in love with him. She did everything for him, even abandoning her engagement and following him to a far away place. A secluded island only for them. Glorious summer nights lingered forever on the beach, when she and he were entangled, merging in the waves of never-ending love. He had her how he wished.

However, like an illusion, that spell did not persist forever. It drove her to insanity. She wandered alone on the shore, tears streaming and her mouth constantly crying out the name of the person she truthfully loved with each sob. She begged of him.

“Rafayel… Please… Let me go… Please… set me free… Set me free!”

Her screams were drowned in the ocean waves. Little did she realize that seeing her in this way made his heart bleed as well.

"Please…" She sobbed. Rafayel's dagger was in her grasp, and she pressed it to her throat. "If you won't let me leave... I must free myself..."

"Hush now, my dearest…" Rafayel quietly stretched out to her. This was not her first time in this state. He approached her, placed a hand on her forehead, and brushed away her wind-blown hair. Her fingers on the dagger tightened, urging him to back away. However, Rafayel seized the blade that was cutting into her neck, forcing his hand to bleed.

"You don't want to cut yourself, dear."

She trembled and stared at Rafayel. He hummed a very familiar melody, which made her thoughts muddled once more. The dagger slipped from her hand as she collapsed to her knees on the damp beach. Screaming.

“Be still, dearest love.” Rafayel gently lowered down. His knees were next to hers, as if he, too, was begging her to stay. “I can ease all our suffering… If you listen to me now…”

She covered her ears and shook her head with ferocity as if she never wanted to hear another word from him. Rafayel smiled in bitter. She had been like this lately, forgetting who she was and how profoundly she was in love with him. But that was alright. He would help her rekindle her love. She would obey at once as soon as he began singing.

He sang their song. He sang it the first time they met, and he still sang it day by day with her by his side.

She wept tremendously. She clutched her head and pleaded with him to stop. But Rafayel could never. Just like he could not stop the waves from crashing against the shore, who could ever stop his love for her?

After a while, she became quiet. No more yelling and pleading. She gave him an empty stare and a smile.

"Rafayel." She called his name. Her hand found his body, as though she had desired to be close to him since forever. Rafayel embraced her. He stroked and kissed the top of her head. His tears sank, condensing into pearls and nestling on her hair.

“I'm sorry… I'm sorry for turning you into someone like this…” Rafayel whispered in her ear. “But I've found a way to fix everything. You shall not suffer any longer... And neither shall I..."

Rafayel held her with one hand as the other sought the dagger's hilt in the moist sand.

“Will you do this for me?”

He gazed into the eyes of hers which were dreamy under the spell of love. She nodded.

"I vow to do everything for my dearest beloved."

"Very good." Rafayel smiled as he kissed her lips. "You will always be my Muse… Mine, forever..."

The dagger swung across the fiery sunset. The water chanted its melody in an ancient ritual. Then everything fell silent.

Rafayel watched her passionately as she slept within the water tank he had specifically built for her. That was her home, now and forever.

His hand stroked across the beautiful design. Her body was adorned with jewelry crafted from his teardrops. She was a masterpiece of his lifetime, which extended to no end. His Muse. His lips found hers on the other side of the glass, and he pressed a kiss.

From now on, she would weep no more. She would feel no pain.

A crimson light emanated from inside the pocket near Rafayel's chest. He pulled out a blazing red protocore.

This entire world will soon know that, her true heart shall forever belong to him and him alone.

101 notes · View notes

lavendertales · 10 months

Text

SEÑORITA: Chapter 4**

pairing: Javier Peña x Murphy!f!reader

summary: Javier agrees to help you fix the pipes at your apartment. though you don't expect to be so affected by his presence there, certainly not when you seem to be friends now.

word count: 5.5k

series warnings: reluctant friends to lovers, lots of playful banter, mutual pining, slow burn, secret relationship, filthy smut.

chapter warnings: some tension, female masturbation.

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

series masterlist | AO3

One might think that after all the loss, bloodshed and destruction witnessed in Colombia, nothing—or very little—would daze Javier. The rough, cruel things, those he’s used to.

What he’s not used to are the little things: small rituals that could make or break his day. So it comes as nearly a shock within the following few weeks when he unknowingly begins a morning ritual with you.

The two of you go to work in the opposite direction of the street; Javier takes his car, you head for the subway. Nonetheless, you began to run into each other as you rushed out the building in the morning. He greeted you with a nod, to which you flashed the typical polite smile down his way and he held the door open for you.

Once, twice, thrice… and before he knew it, he’d been doing it every single morning, five days a week, for over a month. You didn’t exchange pleasantries or talk much, just the occasional “how’s work” and “how have you been”. This was the sole interaction you had with Javier; you never visited each other or even looked for each other. That sole good morning salutation, paired with the bare minimum of holding the door open for you, was the one contact you had with your brother’s best friend.

Yet somehow it became important for Javier to maintain that little morning ritual, otherwise his whole day would just be no good.

Even today, a Sunday, he feels fidgety as he mindlessly cleans the nooks and cracks of his apartment. Is it safe to say that greeting you in the morning has been the highlight of the past four weeks? Sure. Would he do the same thing for any other neighbor, considering there is no serious meaning behind the gesture?

This question remains unanswered.

Mostly because Javier doesn’t want to acknowledge that there is anything special about his morning ritual with you. There isn’t anything special, he reminds himself as he begins to clean the sink. You’re just a neighbor, his friend’s little sister who is very much off limits. And luckily, he doesn’t feel attracted to you, not in the typical way. He’s curious about you and amused by your comebacks towards Steve, oddly mesmerized by your intelligence and determination, but that’s about it.

That’s as far as he’ll let it go.

And you too know your limitations: you never do more than offer than stereotypical polite smile at him, never give him anything which could be interpreted as flirting. You do find him very attractive, but that is simply an objective remark. Matter of fact, neither one of you crosses that invisible line between politeness and flirting.

You choose to spend your Sunday morning a little differently, however; when Sylvie called you at 7 am sharp to let you know she was on her way to have breakfast with you, you grumbled something along the lines of “great, I was totally awake before you called” and jumped out of bed to get ready. Ten minutes later, if the brewing pot of coffee didn’t alert your senses, the incessant buzzing at the door certainly did it.

“You know you can buzz just once, right?” you tell Sylvie.

She shrugs, letting herself in. “What’s the fun in that?”

You roll your eyes, welcoming her inside nonetheless. Sylvie has been a godsend in all aspects—ever since college, the two of you have been practically inseparable. One could not invite you to a party and not expect Sylvie to show up, and vice versa. You were a little afraid once you graduated, wondering where life would take the two of you and hope that the two of you could stay in touch at least.

Luckily, when Sylvie told you she got a job at the same library you did, you couldn’t have been happier. Things were perfect, and somehow they still managed to remain perfect once Sylvie met Zack. Curiously enough, Zack fit in with the two of you just fine, never making you feel like the third wheel in their relationship, or like he was an extra whenever you and Sylvie required your girl time.

Such as this morning: you and Sylvie enjoy a hearty breakfast together, followed by a much needed cup of coffee, laughing and sharing updates about your lives without any outside distraction.

“Have you talked to Steve since the dinner?” she asks.

“Quite regularly, actually.”

“I really don’t know how you do that.”

“What?”

“Move on like nothing happened. You never really talk about the elephant in the room, so you just let things boil and boil—“

“Syl, it’s just not like us to have sappy conversations. Mostly because he’s so much like mom and dad, he probably won’t ever hear me properly.”

“Baby, that dinner was proof that all this tension you let simmer between you guys for over a decade is brewing at dangerous temperatures now and it’s starting to tip over! You’ll need to have an open and honest conversation at some point.”

You put down your mug and so does Sylvie, staring right at you. She opens her mouth to say something else, probably something smart like always, when her eyes shoot upwards, the hint of the smirk on her face disappearing. Even when confused, there’s just something about her that’s very enthralling, like she’s a piece of art staring off into the distance. You’ve always been a little jealous of how she carried herself so effortlessly and cool, while you had to put on a brave and sarcastic front just to survive in the concrete jungle and let people know you meant business.

“What’s that noise?” she inquires.

“Pipes are acting up again. Other tenants reported the same issue. I called the building manager and he said a guy will get here.”

“Great!”

“Next week.”

She swallows a groan. “Typical.”

“Yeah. Gotta find a faster and better solution. Maybe I can ask Javier. He seems quite handy.”

Instantly, Sylvie raises her brows suggestively, waiting for a continuation on your part. But what she gets is a mere snicker from your side, disapproving and mocking.

“Don’t start,” you warn her.

“You know, I’ve seen this Javier around. Steve’s best friend, right?”

“So it’s been established.”

“What you failed to mention is that he’s ridiculously hot. I’m talking strictly objectively here, of course.”

You frown. “And how is that relevant to the pipe situation?”

“Might be, since you’re considering bringing him into your apartment to ‘fix your pipes’.”

“Okay, first of all, theoretically, it’s still our apartment. Your name is still on the lease. Second of all, could you please not say it like that? And lose the air quotes, for fuck’s sake. That’s exactly what I want to ask him. Don’t turn this into something dirty.”

Then Sylvie bursts into laughter, a sound serene and alluring like her, much to your annoyance.

“Oh, my sweet summer child,” she laughs, putting her mug down as well. “You are such a fool.”

“We’re neighbors. Acquaintances through my brother, and maybe—maybe—a tiny friendly, but that’s being generous.”

“Yeah, I bet you’d like having him be all handy for you.”

You can’t help the chuckle that leaves your mouth. “Would you stop it already? It’s literally nothing like that. Besides, he let everyone know that I am not his type, which is great because—“

“Because he’s exactly your type.”

“Uh, no, excuse you, I was into bad boys. Which he is not. Not anymore, at least.”

“Are you kidding me? Hello! That is the sexiest category of bad boys there is!”

Your frown deepens. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Sylvie sighs, irritated at your possibly purposeful oblivion, so she stands up and walks around the kitchen, as if trying to compose herself.

“I cannot believe I have to explain this to you since you were the queen of dating bad choices,” she sighs again, “but here we go. A reformed bad guy is the sexiest thing because he wants to put his past behind him and be a better man. He wants to do good things, to be good. And mark my words, this Javier is gonna be on his knees before you, asking you to teach him how to be good, and then you’re gonna be in big trouble, missy.”

You listen to her all the way through, rummaging her words carefully before deciding that she must’ve been insane. “I was following you in the first half, but then you lost me. This man is super stubborn and way too independent to ask anyone anything.”

Sylvie grins, sitting back down. “Like I said. Mark my words. He’s gonna be on your knees for you, being all ‘teach me how to be good, baby’.”

“You seriously gotta stop. I cannot imagine this ever happening.”

“Really? Not even the part about him being on his knees for you? Cause that’s hot.”

“Syl—“

“Hell, it did things even for me, and you know how grossly in love Zack and I are.”

“Okay, finish your coffee and get out of here.”

“You’re throwing me out?!”

“You said enough shit for one morning.”

Sylvie giggles, and it prompts you to do the same. You do your best to shun all those images about Javier, images you absolutely did not need. Not now, not ever.

Again, there is no denying the objective fact that Javier is a very attractive man. However, there is such a thing as dating bad boys, even reformed ones, and those days are long gone for you. You know better than anyone that those flings never ended well, and how different could it be with someone who’s aware of past mistakes and wants to be a better person?

Mark my words, this Javier is gonna be on his knees before you, asking you to teach him how to be good.

Sylvie’s words echo painfully in your head, so you shake your head vehemently to deny their mere existence having been spoken into the world. There’s nothing to worry about, you reassure yourself.

Monday mornings at the library were some of your favorite times ever. There wasn’t a crowd—because yes, this could be a real problem sometimes—which meant you could organize the shelves at your own pace, sip from your coffee, far away from your boss’s eyes, and even read something for yourself if things were really quiet.

So you woke up in a very good mood, managing to ignore the obnoxious noise coming from the pipes whenever you used water—while you still had it, that is—and went downstairs. To your surprise, there was no sign of Javier this morning. You didn’t want to wait around like some kind of creep or even like someone who’d acknowledge that the reason why you were waiting was something bigger, so after roughly a minute you made your way into the street and towards the subway.

You were a tiny disappointed that you and Javier didn’t get through your little morning ritual, mostly because you wanted to ask him if he could help you out with the pipes in your apartment. There was no way you’d last in this state till the end of the week, and by then, it was highly probably that you’d run out of water too.

So you take a mental note to stop by his place after work and ask him if he has some time to help you out.

“Still not thinking about what I told you yesterday morning?”

You raise your eyes from the book you’ve been reading to find Sylvie’s smirk waiting for you. With another roll of your eyes, you close the book and stare disapprovingly at her.

“About what, exactly?” you retort.

“Handsome guys on their knees—“

“Stop it.”

“So… yes.”

Her smirk turns into a bright smile, one that you could not be less impressed of.

“Is there a point to this conversation or…?”

“Of course. You’ve got a handsome customer waiting at the counter.”

You frown. “Why didn’t you help him out?”

“I’m on organizing duty in the back. Sorry.”

You exhale, heading to the front whilst mumbling several cuss words at Sylvie. God, you love her to death but sometimes she can be so relentless with all of her damn—

“Javier?”

You’re more surprised than you were this morning, that’s for sure; you exchange a glare with him, noticing he’s not sharing your sentiment.

“Hola, seño—“

He stops himself, pursing his lips together and following up with your name and nothing else.

“Hi,” you smile, albeit your unremitting confusion. “What are you doing here?”

“People usually come to these places to get books, so… I’m here to try that, too.”

“I meant more like, what are you doing at this library?”

“I’m on my lunch break and Murphy did mention you worked nearby so I figured I’d stop by for some books.”

You nod slowly, returning to your usual customer voice. “Okay then. What can I help you with today, Javier?”

“Do you have any Pablo Neruda books?”

Eyes wide and mouth parted, you stare at Javier for what feels like minutes on end, trying to acknowledge what you just heard.

“You read Pablo Neruda?” you can’t help but ask.

You also realize that you must look incredibly shocked, which could be deemed offensive to him, and yet it seems that Javier is ready to burst into laughter, even as he frowns at you.

“Why is that surprising?”

“It’s not, it’s just—I wouldn’t have expected you to read love poems.”

“How so?”

“Well, I’d expect someone visibly soft and kind, a hopeless romantic, to read love poems. If you are like that, you’re very good at hiding it. Or rather you really don’t like showing it.”

Javier gulps, avoiding your eyes for a little bit.

“Hit a nerve?” you check.

“Kind of. I wanna say you read me like a book but—“

You chuckle, making a sign for him to follow you. “Anything specific from Neruda you’re looking for? We got some of his work here.”

“Cien Sonetos de Amor. One Hundred Love Sonnets.”

“Have you always read love poems?”

“Not always. Since I came back from Colombia, a whole lot more though. They’re… hopeful, I guess. And soothing. Is that weird?”

You smile, thankful that you’re in front of him so he doesn’t notice that.

“Not at all,” you reply. “It’s wonderful, if anything. I haven’t met any guy who willingly read love poems. Especially not someone I’ve heard is some sort of bad boy.”

“Reformed.”

“Right.”

A reformed bad guy is the sexiest thing because he wants to put his past behind him and be a better man.

He wants to do good things, to be good.

You quickly shake your head, denying Sylvie’s words. She might be right, but this is not what it’s happening here.

“So you’re secretly a romantic?” you joke, perusing through the N shelf.

You hear him draw a heavy breath, which prompts you to turn around to look at him. You think you detect a hint of sadness on his face, but you could be mistaken. You don’t know him that well, after all.

But you do wish you could be there as a friend at least. He does look like he needs a confidant.

“I don’t know,” Javier eventually replies, his voice distant when he does.

“Surely you had at least one relationship that could confirm or infirm that theory.”

“I did.”

“And?”

“And… I don’t know if I am.”

“Didn’t you love her?”

“I loved her. I was just not… in love with her.”

“Oh.”

Suddenly you’re thinking that the reason why Javier reads love poems isn’t necessarily because he’s romantic, but maybe for research. Maybe he wants to better himself by knowing more about intimacy and relationships and how it’s perceived by the opposite gender.

He wants to do good things, to be good.

“Here you are,” you announce, handing him the book. “Cien Sonetos de Amor, 1959, paperback.”

Upon noticing the look on Javier’s frown, you take a step back and stare at him.

“What?”

“N-Nothing. You just—your Spanish pronunciation is really good.”

“Are you serious?”

“Very. I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone pronounce the words so clearly, so…”

He gulps, choosing not to finish the sentence and definitely not to recall how you basically had your hand in his pants without anyone really noticing.

“Thanks,” he clears his throat. “For the book.”

“Anything else you need?”

He falters; for a single fucking second that freezes in time, he falters.

“No, I’m good.”

“Oh, by the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you for a favor. If you have the time and patience, obviously.”

“What’s going on?”

“Not sure if this is happening in your apartment too, but there’s a pipe maintenance situation going on. Or lack of maintenance thereof.”

“I did hear some funny noises, yeah.”

“I called the building manager and he said someone will come by the end of the week but I’m afraid I’ll run out of water. Any chance you’re good with pipes?”

Javier opens his mouth to respond, coming to acknowledge the fact that this is foreign territory: him coming to your apartment, even if to help you, is something hard to explain. Just picturing the explanation to Steve is equal parts hilarious and troublesome.

No, yeah, I went over there just to help clean her pipes. Drained them out entirely. Nothing else happened.

But he doesn’t need to justify his help offering to Steve, does he? It’s innocent.

“You’re in luck,” Javier announces. “I know my way around a house.”

“Secretly a romantic and good with housework? Hard to believe you’re not fighting off the ladies right now.”

“If I were, I wouldn’t be going through this shitty ass dry spell.”

Fuck. Why did he say that? He shouldn’t have said it ever, much less in a public library or to you. Luckily you just seem amused.

“You too huh?” you chuckle.

“Wait, you too?”

“A year and a half. You?”

“A year and two months.”

“This is… interesting. No idea why I just confessed to this here, or to you.”

“Maybe we do have some things in common.”

“No people to sleep with? Great common ground to start on.”

You both chuckle, eyes straying away from each other though. You feel that if you look at him now, you acknowledge the fact that there is a simple solution for the biological need you’re feeling, and that you both have the same idea, but know that it would only complicate things and that you should not go down that road.

Even if it would be a great distraction if nothing else.

“Anyway,” you clear your throat this time around, “here you are, sir. One Pablo Neruda book, 19.99.”

Javier hands you a twenty dollar bill, you cash it, give him the receipt with a smile. Your fingers accidentally graze against each other and you both pull away abruptly, oddly embarrassed as if every little thing that happens to you isn’t a normal occurrence, but rather on purpose.

Could it be because of Steve’s warning to Javier, constantly booming in the back of your heads? Did he really get to you that bad that you viewed any regular interaction as a threat? And a threat to what? Fun? A potentially good relationship, or friendship?

“Is it okay if you stop by tonight?” you ask him.

“Sure.”

“I should be home by six.”

“Then I’ll see you at seven.”

“Great. Thank you, Javier.”

Seven p.m. Plenty of time to prepare mentally.

You had enough time to take an improvised, super quick shower, arrange things in the apartment and—wait. Somehow the waiting around is causing your head to spin for whatever reason, so you decide to at least make some dinner. Maybe Javier will be hungry too by the time he gets here.

When the doorbell rings, you twitch. It’s involuntary, a reaction from deep within your conscious. You’re not sure why, it’s not like you plan to do anything devious or mischievous in any way.

Or maybe it’s just the notion that you got an attractive man visiting you in your private quarters, which hasn’t happened in almost two years. And truth be told, that one time wasn’t really exciting. At first, sure, but the whole experience just felt wrong.

“Hi,” you say as you open the door.

“Hi.”

“Come on in.”

Javier does, and he takes a look around. The place is shiny, as clean as he would’ve expected, hints of pale lavender around the walls. You fleetingly remark that he’s still dressed from work, wearing a black suit with white shirt and a navy blue tie.

“Can you tell I’m a fan of purple?” you joke.

“It adds color, it’s nice.”

“Why, thank you.”

“Are you hungry? I made some roasted vegetables and chicken breast.”

“Oh, it’s okay, I don’t—“

“You don’t—what? Eat?”

Javier smiles embarrassedly, eventually agreeing for a plate of food. This isn’t so bad, he thinks. It’s just dinner with a neighbor, and he’s here to help said neighbor with an impending emergency.

But the moment he takes the first bites out of the food laid on the plate before him, it takes everything in his willpower to not groan at the culinary delight that’s in his mouth.

“Wow,” he munches instead. “This is… amazing.”

“You’re not just saying that, are you?”

“We don’t really know each other but I think you know by now that I don’t ever say shit I don’t mean.”

“Fair point. I’m glad you like it.”

“This is seriously amazing. Were you always a good cook?”

“Shockingly, no. learned early in my twenties so that Sylvie, my best friend, and I don’t starve. Students surviving solely on noodles or bags of chips it’s just not healthy.”

“If you cooked like this, it’s more than healthy. Shit, I don’t think I’ve had such a great meal since I was a teenager.”

Your smile widens, simultaneously at the compliment and at picturing a young Javier at the dinner table with his family, eagerly devouring the food.

“Thank you,” you coo. “I take it you didn’t get to enjoy many home cooked meals in Colombia?”

“Not really, no. Not unless Connie and Steve invited me over or I went to restaurant, but the latter wasn’t a common occurrence.”

You notice the bleak expression on his face and you refrain yourself from asking more questions. You eat in silence, exchanging the occasional glare, and you feel a dark cloud resting above Javier, as if it’s always with him.

“I’m sorry if I hit a nerve asking about Colombia,” you apologize. “I know from Steven that it was a very dark time and… it’s none of my business.”

“It’s okay. It’s not like I’m trying to hide anything.”

“But you don’t like talking about it.”

“Not in particular, no.”

“Okay. Then how about we finish here and see what we can do about the pipes?”

“Great idea.”

You don’t get to protest when he cleans the table and starts doing the dishes. You try to, but he does it so fast you don’t even fully process that he’s doing it. Instead, you thank him and steal the occasional glance at the mystery man in your kitchen.

“Do you want a glass of wine?” you offer, regretting it the moment it came out of your mouth.

“Uh… it’s fine. Shouldn’t drink tonight.”

“Right. Probably not a good idea since you’re working with tools.”

Yeah. That’s why.

You open the door to the cabinet beneath the sink and hand him the toolbox you had prepared when you rushed home, and let him do the job. Your throat feels ridiculously dry when you see Javier rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, thus exposing his forearms. You feel the need to talk; this way, you’ll be able to control those pesky thoughts that begin to run free throughout your mind right about now.

“Thank you so much for helping me out with this,” you say. “How are you good at this, by the way?”

“Growin’ up I used to help my pop a lot around the ranch.”

“Grew up on a ranch, did ya?”

“Sure did. Laredo, Texas.”

You could hear a little bit of accent earlier, but you try your hardest to not focus on it at the moment. It’s a slippery slope from that to… other things.

“What’s it like in Laredo?”

“Hot as hell.”

You giggle against your better judgment, avoiding looking too intensely at the way his biceps flexed under the shirt as he screwed the nails harder.

“But it can be beautiful too,” he continues, a slight groan leaving his throat as he does so.

“Why did you leave then?”

Javier makes brief eye contact with you, and you instantly feel remorse. “Sorry,” you whisper. “None of my business.”

“I don’t mind. It’s just—no one’s ever asked me aside from Steve and Connie.”

“So what you mean is… no woman you were seeing has ever asked personal questions about you.”

“You got me.”

“Regardless, I really appreciate your help. You’re a cheaper option than calling the handyman myself. No offense.”

“None was taken until just now.”

You allow your eyes to fall to his arms, feeling your heart race a little faster. It’s just the dry spell talking, you remind yourself.

“I could still pay you though,” you try to joke.

Javier glares at you from under the sink, a dark look in his eyes, one that seemingly thinks about devouring you wholly, and you shudder.

“Cash only,” he replies, “and I’ll need a down payment. Other types of payment are accepted."

“Not gonna sleep with you.”

“You’re missin’ out.”

“I’m good.”

“So am I.”

You laugh, audible and hearty, and Javier smiles as well, grateful to be under there where your visibility to him is limited.

“Got any plans for the weekend?” he changes the subject instead.

You grin. “Why, are you asking me out?”

“I’m good.”

“So you’ve said.”

“Just makin’ conversation.”

“Well, since you asked, Connie and Steve suggested getting some drinks and dancing. In reality, I’m pretty sure it’s a setup for a blind date, but I am prepared to let the guy down gently if that’s the case.”

There’s a bitter taste in Javier’s mouth, even as he keeps switching the nails on the pipes and grunts in the process. He feels the sweat accumulating at his temples and trickling down his neck and chest, causing his shirt to cling to the skin a little bit, but he doesn’t care.

“You’re dating then,” he says, voice hoarse.

“No. But I figured I can at least be polite and hear the guy out.”

“Right, yeah.”

“You can come too if you want.”

The snort Javier lets out is mocking, and you realize as much.

“To witness your date?” he keeps mocking. “Why would I wanna do that?”

“I meant to join us for drinks. But now that you mention it, maybe if I show up with you, then I won’t have to go through with the blind date.”

“So… what, you want me to pretend to be your date? That costs extra.”

“Just—be there. Or not. Whatever you choose. But you do realize this might involve dancing, right?”

“I can handle it.”

Shook, you scooch down to catch at least a glimpse of his face. “You dance?”

“I suddenly regret ever telling you anything.”

You laugh, even heartier and crystal clear, and it’s such a pleasant sound to Javier’s ears, even underneath the sink, in that bizarre and crowded place, he still smiles.

“You should regret it, Texas, cause I’m definitely using this against you. as friends to, of course.”

“We’re friends now?”

You shrug, unbeknownst to him. “I’d say so. You ate my food, we shared some information about each other and now you’re fixing my pipes. I’d say this is what friends do.”

“Alright. Friends.”

“Unless you’re incapable of befriending a woman.”

“I’m not.”

The exchanges continue, with you and Javier teasing each other almost relentlessly for nearly another hour. Gradually you steal more than glances at Javier; at some point you downright stare, obnoxiously so, but without a clue from his side. It feels forbidden to even glare at his strong arms flexing, stretching the white shirt covering what you can only assume is golden brown skin, but you can’t really stop yourself. You only look away when Javier shifts in the slightest or when it looks that you might make eye contact, but otherwise you feel like a hawk stalking its prey, listening to its call.

And the way Javier calls out to you right now, unknowingly and unwillingly, is through grunts and little beads of sweat and muscly arms. It hits one of your weakest spots, and you cannot deprive yourself of at least this image, regardless of how indecent it might feel to blatantly stare.

You cannot deny in this moment that you feel deeply attracted to him, and that the dry spell definitely impacts your thinking. You barely think of anything coherent to tell Javier on his way out other than what now feel like meaningless thank you’s, so you resort to walking him out with a polite smile and ask if he plans to join the three of your for drinks over the weekend. He says he might take you up on that offer, and all you can see is the way sweat clings to his now semi-buttoned shirt.

When you’re alone in the apartment again, you exhale at long last, denying yourself a glass of wine that you crave because there is a much urgent need to be taken care of.

Time seems to stand still as you dim the lights and lay on the bed, your fingers nearly twitching in anticipation. You try your best to empty your mind as you bury your fingers in the hot, wet bundle of nerves between your legs. That first stretch is delicious, needy, and all but begging for immediate release. A soft gasp escapes your parched mouth, unwanted images plaguing your mind with each thrust of your digits, growing more and more impatient. You deny the existence of those images, yet they still flood your mind and body no matter what you do.

You don’t normally think of anyone in particular when you’re bringing pleasure to yourself, you never have; but now, your body is completely afire reminiscing of Javier’s strong arms, biceps bulging beneath the thin white shirt, his little grunts, sweat collecting at his temples and on his forehead dripping dangerously south to his neck. Your fingers work on their own accord, moving faster and alternating between thrusts and circles around your clit. You arch your back, imagining the same arms pinning you down, those thick digits of Javier’s being buried in your cunt instead, and a jolt of pleasure tingles your spine, prickling your skin.

Eyes closed still, the images of your mind get more vivid and now Javier’s darkened figure rests above you, both your bodies joined together and an overwhelming sensation of fulfillment. Though a ghost sensation, you’ve never felt this full, all stuffed with Javier’s cock, his palms gently cradling your face. You imagine him to be a mixture of rough and soft, always attentive to his partner’s needs.

You’re so close now—so fucking close it’s damnable considering what you’re thinking about: Javier burying himself inside of you to the hilt, balls deep, till there’s physically no space left for him to be inside you, and yet you’d still beg for more. You’d beg for more of his cock and his hands, more of his mouth, any part of him he’d wish to share with you. You’d beg him to make you come however he likes it, self-esteem long abandoned after your second or third orgasm. You’d beg him to come inside you, to milk every droplet he’d have to spare and to feel both your arousal dripping from your swollen pussy.

At long last, you come, an unexpected sound staining your lips.

“Ja—Jav…”

It’s a repeated sound, something throated and raw, animalistic even, and it shocks you to your core. It shocks you when you begin to settle down, your body temporarily sated. It feel wrong on all accounts, forbidden and so damnable. There’s a faint taste of blood as you bite on your lips and beg your mind and body to not finish the rest of that ecstatic sound. You’ve never came this messily on your own, especially not whilst thinking of someone. You remove your fingers from your heat, now slick with arousal and a filthy proof of your forbidden desire.

Fuck. What did this man do to you?

No. No, it’s not about him. You’re going through a dry spell and he’s just the recipient of a biological need. If you would’ve met an equally attractive guy and have interacted with him on the daily, this would’ve most likely happened as well.

It’s just something biological. It’s not about your brother’s best friend. It can’t be.

Can it?

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tags: @pedrostories @psychedelic-ink @milkymoon2483 @ifall4dilfs @casa-boiardi @spidermanfrog