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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 6 months

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i can’t close my eyes alone ; satoru gojo

synopsis; arguing with satoru is always exhausting. bitter and spiteful, you leave him in the bedroom and go find another place to sleep; your couch would be the obvious choice, but where’s the fun in that?

word count; 4.2k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, f!reader (he calls you ’stubborn girl’ n ’pretty girl’ but other than that it’s gn!!), toru and reader have a fight, reader sleeps in the bathtub (don’t ask it came to me in a vision), hurt/comfort, he's doing his best :<, fluff!!

a/n; smth abt …. arguing w satoru gojo ……. idk why the concept has possessed me in the way that it has i just think hurt/comfort w toru is <33

okay, so maybe this wasn’t the best idea you’ve ever had.

in your defense, you weren’t exactly thinking straight; fueled by spite, eager to get far away, and admittedly a little curious as to how it would feel, the decision was made almost purely on impulse. and stupidity, probably.

it’s not comfortable at all.

maybe it could be. maybe if you had just a couple more pillows, a fluffier blanket with a cozier texture. maybe if you had something soft to put beneath you, another blanket or a comforter or — whatever. maybe if you had a warm cup of tea to drink. maybe if you had something warm to hug to sleep.

or someone.

(aw, what’s wrong? can’t sleep without me after all, huh?)

— nope. you are not going back there.

just the thought of how smug he’d get makes you bite the inside of your cheek, increasing your already growing frustrations. in desperate search of a more comfortable position, you nuzzle further into the pillow, but nothing works.

your limbs feel stiff, and your bones can’t seem to relax, a discomforting numbness seeping into your spine. and it’s cold. the feeling of porcelain against your skin keeps you tossing and turning, akin to an icy winter breeze, caressing the apple of your cheek.

still, there’s simply no other option. under absolutely no circumstances can you turn back now. not when you’ve come this far, when you can almost begin to sense an inkling of sleep’s familiar call, the drowsy flutter of your eyelashes.

it takes time, and perseverance — but eventually, the road to sleep does seem to brighten on the horizon. crawling closer and closer, lulling you into its embrace, while all you can do is lie there. completely at its mercy, exhaustion ghosting your subconscious, eyelids ripe with fatigue.

slowly but surely, your consciousness begins to fade. tenderly, soothingly, like a curtain over your eyes being slowly unveiled. you can almost taste it, on the tip of your tongue; sleep is only a moment away.

soon, you’ll fall into that cozy abyss. and then you’ll open your eyes, and the morning sun will greet you. it’ll be a new day, a better day.

so you keep your eyes closed, and sink a little further into the plush of your pillow, and —

the light flickers on.

in the state you’re in, tiptoeing on the edge between dreams and reality, so tantalizingly close to falling asleep, the brightness is positively grating. even through your shut eyes, it invades your senses — a glow so irritating it’s startling. the bathroom lights mock you with their shine, illuminating your figure, curled up in the tiny bathtub.

the whine you let out is involuntary, coaxed out from deep within your throat, as the uncomfortable sensation rouses you from your would-be slumber.

satoru raises an unimpressed eyebrow, where he stands by the door.

chest bare, wearing only a flimsy pair of sleeping shorts, he looks at you with tired eyes. exasperation painted onto his dishevelled features. then he clicks his tongue, voice raspy and rich with fatigue.

”you’re ridiculous.”

the judgemental tilt of his voice only makes the annoyance in your veins bubble up once more, just when it was finally about to dwindle. eyes squeezed shut to escape the burn of the artificial light, you let out a sharp wince, burrowing your face deeper into the pillow.

”turn it off!”

ignoring your angry plea, satoru makes his way over to you. with long, slow strides, vaguely uncoordinated steps. just a little clumsy. he plops down on the edge of the bathtub, and gazes down at you.

you’re lying on your side, arms wrapped around a fluffy cushion, knees against your chest. under the illumination of the bathroom lights, he can see you clearly; messy hair that he yearns to ruffle, a crease between your brows that he yearns to smooth away.

you look awfully uncomfortable, to no one’s surprise. he isn’t sure what else you were expecting.

despite the sting of the bright lights, you force your eyes open — only to give satoru a halfhearted glare, an attempt at appearing intimidating. though you somehow doubt it’ll work.

resting his jaw on the heel of his palm, satoru tilts his head. soft locks of white hair follow the movement, falling over his eyes, a little more tousled than usual. like he’s been tossing and turning, sprawled out on the bedroom mattress.

and, just like you suspected, the dirty look you send his way doesn’t seem to scare him off. not even in the slightest. if anything, you think you catch a flicker of lazy amusement dancing through his eyes. and it irks you, it does — an itch beneath your skin, a taste of irritation on your tongue.

because satoru is looking at you like you’re somehow in the wrong, here, like you’re the one acting out. as if he isn’t the reason you’re here in the first place.

at this point, you barely even remember what the fight was about. too sleep-deprived to recall it properly, too stressed to make a genuine attempt. all you remember is getting ready for bed, and the familiar sensation of frustration prickling your skin. you remember his pretty little grin, his teasing remarks and refusal to take you seriously.

remember the way he laughed, when you told him what was bothering you; the crinkle of his eyes, the warmth of his hands reaching over to squish your cheeks. a little patronizing.

(there was no malicious intent behind it, that much you know. he probably just wanted to lighten the mood. but it irked you, all the same. hurt you, maybe. just a little bit.)

then you remember storming out. grabbing a blanket and pillow and telling him to sleep on his own, if that’s how he was going to be. the words felt cold as they left your mouth, little breathy icicles. and then you left.

which is why you’re here, right now. curled up in your goddamn bathtub, for some reason that still escapes you, trying desperately to get even a wink of sleep without your boyfriend there to help.

and that’s also why satoru is here, back a tad slouched as he sits on the edge of the bathtub, looking at you like you’re some misbehaving cat. blinking slowly, drowsily, dragged down by the fatigue clinging to his eyelashes.

(he can’t sleep, either.)

”you’re really gonna sleep in there?” he sighs, after a moment’s pause. any honest concern in his voice is almost entirely overshadowed by the sense of admonition that follows it.

a scoff falls from your lips, sharp like a razorblade. ”yes,” you deadpan, shifting to lie on your stomach, hiding away from his insistent view. ”i was sleeping just fine before you barged in here.”

satoru shoots you a look, thoroughly unimpressed, entirely unconvinced of your blatant lie. ”you’re being dumb,” he huffs. ”at least sleep on the couch.”

”i don’t wanna hear that from you,” comes a hiss, low and disgruntled. a growing irritation. ”and i’m comfortable where i am.”

another dissatisfied huff. why are you being so irrational? he just doesn’t get it. scrambling for excuses, satoru tries his hand at another tactic.

”you’ll hurt your back.”

another little scoff. oh, so now he suddenly cares? you can’t believe him.

”so what?”

a moment passes. satoru bites his lip, teeth sinking softly into the flesh; a little pang of ache, but it’s nothing compared to the twist of discomfort in his chest. you’re making this more difficult than it has to be, he thinks. always so stubborn.

what is he supposed to say? how is he supposed to convince you to come back to bed, when you’re already so set on denying him?

god, he’s tired. he just wants to sleep, close his jaded eyes. just wants to not have to think, for a couple hours, curled up with the only person who makes him feel safe. just wants to dream in soft shapes.

but if you aren’t there, then…

a deep sigh. weary, annoyed. ”c’mon,” he coaxes, blinking sluggishly. ”you know you won’t be able to fall asleep without me. can’t we just make up already?”

your nails dig into the fabric of your blanket. every word he says only seems to deepen the sense of irritation plaguing your sleep-deprived mind.

it makes you want to shut him out, bury your head in the soft sheets and forget about everything else. he keeps acting like you’re just overreacting, like you wanted to have an argument. like he wasn’t the one who made you upset and then laughed at you about it.

”i don’t need you to fall asleep,” you grumble, muffled by the pillow in your grasp, arms tightening around it. nuzzling deeper into the soft velvet comfort.

satoru’s fingers twitch, as if urging him to pull you close. he almost glares at the cushion in your arms, that you’re hugging so fondly, putting all your body weight on — snuggling into it in search of comfort and warmth.

(that should be his chest.)

the gears in his head turn, slowly and mechanically, as he brings a hand up to card through his hair.

satoru hates seeing you so upset, so far away from him. having to watch you close yourself off, not allowing him to be near, soothe you and take care of you. kiss all your worries away. that’s all he wants to do, everything he needs to keep himself whole, to keep himself from being devoured by an exhaustion he’s lived with for as long as he can remember.

a strong frustration gnaws at his conscience. a certain desperation.

a big, heavy sigh leaves his lips. it bounces off the walls of the bathroom, the white tiles and shiny mirror, as he drags it out. almost childishly. then he’s angling his body to face you properly, big hands resting on his knees, a determined gaze set on your figure.

”look, i’m sorry,” he starts, rigid and earnest. blinking once, twice, chasing away the drowsy weight of his eyelids. ”i shouldn’t have laughed.”

your ears perk up.

shifting to your side as if hoping to hear him better, you peek up at him through half-lidded eyes. almost in disbelief, a kind of hope sprouting in the corners of your dilated pupils.

is he genuinely going to apologize, you wonder? admit that he was in the wrong? does he actually feel bad?

a moment passes. slow, drawn out, until satoru’s voice spills into the air again.

”there. i apologized,” he exhales, a little gruff. annoyed. ”now will you please just come to bed?”

…

wow.

okay, nevermind. you hope the ceiling fan falls on him.

beneath your skin, a mellow kind of anger bubbles up, blood slowly coming to a boiling point. he’s not sorry at all. of course he isn’t. you were stupid to think he’d actually give you a sincere apology, stupid to think he’d do the one thing that would actually make you want to fall back into his comforting embrace. stupid, stupid.

clenching your teeth, nails digging into the velvet fabric of the pillow, your eyelids flutter shut once more. only this time, you don’t plan on opening them again — at least not until morning comes. not until you see the sunkissed tiles of the bathroom, until the ache inside your chest has passed.

”satoru,” you enunciate, frigid and final. ”just let me sleep. we can talk tomorrow.” a beat. the tiniest grumble resounds from your lips, tinged with exhaustion. ”i’m too tired for this.”

under his breath, satoru winces. that palpable fatigue in your words sends a tremor running through his chest, discomforting, a shiver of his heart. you won’t look at him anymore, and the hint of finality in your tone makes him feel slightly dejected.

god, he’s awful at this. sincerity has never been his strong suit. he’s gotten better, lately, but it’s still so very foreign.

he didn’t mean to make you angry, didn’t mean to upset you. didn’t mean for the lilt of his voice to make his apology sound insincere. but that’s still what happened.

and satoru isn’t quite sure what to do.

he’s tired. eyes heavy with lost sleep, glimpses of would-be nightmares he knows he’d have were he to fall asleep right now. an anxious lump has long since formed in the back of his throat, and he misses you. misses your presence, your warmth. misses the feeling of having you close, the knowledge that you haven’t left yet.

(without you, he can’t —)

a sigh. soft, and resigned, flowing from his lips.

the inner turmoil in satoru’s mind begins to fade, slowly but surely, smoothed away by the sight of you. bundled up in a blanket too small to cover you properly, lying in that cold and cramped bathtub, discomfort evident in your features. sadness dripping from the bitter words you grace him with.

so out of reach, too far for him to follow, a boundary he wants to cross more than anything. but something about that meek expression makes him falter, makes his heart twist and turn inside his ribcage.

(he knows that you’re tired, too.)

so satoru swallows his pride.

the words are spoken in a whisper, hushed, through a voice so low you wouldn’t hear it if the silence of the bathroom wasn’t so suffocating. a soft lilt of his voice, bare and raw. meek, in a way that makes him want to crawl under a rock and die. but it’s there, and he lets you hear it; that soft little truth.

”… i can’t sleep without you.”

satoru doesn’t look at you. his confession rings in your ears, laced together with a softness you’ve come to associate with warm spring mornings and rooms so dark you can’t see his face. moments in which satoru feels safe. safe enough to be sincere.

— inevitably, your heart begins to soften.

(he’s trying. it’s difficult for him, but he’s really trying. sincerity and honesty are things that have been used against him all his life, so it’s no wonder he’d be scared.)

it’s very hard to stay mad at him, when he sounds like that. when his words come out sounding a little too much like a plea, a silent call for help.

with hesitance, you allow your eyes to flutter open, shifting a little to get a better look at him. he’s there, staring into space — the man you’ve grown to love so dearly. his tousled white hair, those slightly forlorn eyes. the vague darkness beneath them, slightly puffy skin. that tired, tired expression.

satoru taps the edge of the tub with the pads of his fingers, absentmindedly. index finger, middle finger, ring finger, over and over.

then, at last, he meets your gaze. and you think he swallows down a gulp, before smiling — it’s a pretty smile, somewhat tiny. a little sheepish, but awfully sincere. awfully satoru.

he tilts his head, gazing into your eyes with a tenderness that melts your heart to the marrow.

”… please?”

a second passes. then two.

soft and melodic, your heartbeat resounds in your ears, akin to a lullaby. like the call of a siren, coaxing you into giving in. and you’re weak, you realize, so very weak. just a smile and a tilt of his head, and you’re rendered utterly helpless.

(he’s just too pretty.)

without fully realizing it yourself, you’ve begun to move, dragging yourself up with sluggish motions. blanket still draped over your shoulders, and pillow snug against your chest, you blink. drowsily, slowly. a little meekly.

and satoru brightens.

it’s visible, in the way he physically perks up, back straightening, smile finally reaching his aquamarine eyes. a blend between hope and affection sprouts in them, slathered over with something honeyed.

a soft grin blooms on his lips, and he opens his arms wide — silently beckoning you to fall into his embrace. a raspy coo tiptoes on his tongue.

”c’mere.”

before you can make a move to do so, satoru leans over. scooping you up with ease, as if you weigh absolutely nothing, tucking you into his warm embrace. smothering you in his cushiony chest.

almost instinctively, your arms go to wrap around his neck, cheek smushed against the warm skin of his shoulder. if you strain your ears, you think you can hear the soft patter of his heartbeat. he smells of the tiramisu you ate before going to bed, and just a hint of expensive cologne. he smells of comfort.

satoru is soft, and warm, and everything you need right now. lulling you back into that cozy, sleepy state. your very own personal dose of melanin.

with a big palm on the small of your back, satoru keeps you pressed up against his chest, as if you could change your mind and try to escape at any moment. he stands up, still holding you, and hikes your legs around his waist. breathing out a satisfied hum, before turning on his heel.

satoru smiles, and presses a kiss to the crown of your head. ”let’s get you back to bed, baby.”

after turning the bathroom lights off, he begins to walk to your shared bedroom, still carrying you with one arm. always so strong and reliable. you know for a fact that he’s not going to drop you, so you opt to close your tired eyes; stretching out your limbs, lazily, releasing a quiet yawn that makes his lips curl up.

despite your lingering frustration, you find yourself nuzzling into the crook of his neck — and satoru coos, so painfully soft that you barely even hear it. the restlessness inside his own chest washed away, by the familairity of your body against his.

and before you know it, he’s dropped you down on the mattress. gently, but still enough to make you feel a little jostled, so close to falling asleep in his arms. he drags the blanket up to cover you, tucking you in; this one is bigger, with a fluffier texture, enough to cover you both with ease.

smiling softly at the sight of you all cozy, content in the knowledge that you’re finally comfortable, satoru crawls beneath the blanket and takes his rightful place beside you. eyes crinkled at the corners, rich with affection.

two strong arms reach around your waist, to pull you flush against him, until your head meets his chest and you can hear the soft thrumming of his heartstrings. then he sighs, in pure bliss, thoroughly content. melting into your embrace, rubbing his cheek against the side of your head, nuzzling into the warmth that seeps from your body to his.

he runs his big hands down your back, affectionately, rubbing circles into your skin. coaxing you into melting a little, too.

”see, isn’t this much better?” he smiles, a little cheeky. such a tease.

”… the bathtub was fine.”

a chuckle rumbles through his chest, rich with fondness. his hand goes to card through your hair, nimble fingers smoothing down your scalp and running through the soft strands. every touch gentle, full of care. every word soaked in a syrupy sweetness.

”stubborn girl.”

despite your best wishes, you’re too tired to bite back the blissful sigh that leaves your lips. a part of you still wants to protest, to push him away —

but then you start leaning into his touch. helpless to his warm hands, his soothing voice. satoru is just a little too good at making you melt. so good that you finally begin to let your guard down, nuzzling into his bare skin, sinking a little further into the mattress.

and satoru stifles a coo.

”honestly,” he sighs, equal parts exasperated and amused. ”sleeping in the bathtub… you’re so silly.”

before you have a chance to respond, he’s pulling back — ever so slightly, just to get a better look at your face. arms looped around his neck, you blink up at him with droopy eyes, and he can’t resist the dopey grin that sneaks its way onto his lips. doesn’t even begin to try, when you look so unbearably sweet.

unable to stop himself, he broaches the distance between you, leaning close to kiss the top of your nose. and you squeeze your eyes shut at the gesture, face scrunching up, but it only makes him chuckle. smiling, honey-sweet, he admires your sleepy pout. soaks up every soft little grumble that slips from your lips.

his hand comes to cradle your cheek, thumb smoothing down your cheekbone. just gazing at you, taking you in, every single contour of your face. there is only adoration in his eyes. something silently delighted, that seeps into his words, his raspy voice.

”my pretty, pretty girl.”

a heat rushes to your cheeks. looking up at him, into those lovesick eyes, you can’t help but grow flustered.

he looks so content.

all you manage is a weak furrow of your brows, pressing a palm against his bare skin. softly, as if pushing him away, forehead meeting his chest with a soft bonk. hiding away, so he won’t see how much his words affect you.

”lemme sleep, toru…” you mumble, stifling a yawn.

unfortunately, your boyfriend is not one to give in so easily. before long, his fingertips are trailing across the skin of your jaw, coaxing you into lifting your chin. and you’re too sleepy to resist — practically melting, as he begins to smear openmouthed kisses all over your face. all you can do is close your eyes, attempting to ignore the sound of his exaggerated mwahs, frowning in a silent disapproval that you know you don’t actually mean.

satoru notices it, though. he always does.

”you still mad at me, baby?” he asks, in a way that sounds a little like he’s cooing at you. there’s a teasing tilt to his voice, but it’s also a genuine question. your frown deepens.

averting your gaze with a soft huff, even as he cradles your jaw with his slender fingers, a pout plays at your lips. under his kind eyes, you feel just a bit meek — recalling your argument from before. absentmindedly, you fidget with the waistband of his shorts, hoping to ease your nerves.

despite your valiant efforts to direct your vocal cords in a different direction, the voice that spills from your lips comes out sounding just a tad hurt.

”… you never take me seriously.”

satoru’s eyes soften.

his smile falters, by a hair, a brief stilling of movement. subtle, but hard not to pick up on. there’s a certain sense of shame in his irises, a genuine guilt stirring his heartstrings; several discomforting sensations, gnawing at the bones of his ribcage.

(you look so small.)

two hands reach out to cup your cheeks, big and warm. swallowing up your whole face. and before you can react, satoru leans in to press a sweet, chaste kiss against your lips. he tastes like tiramisu.

”’m sorry. we can talk about it tomorrow, okay?” he hums, and you can tell that he means it. ”i promise that i’ll take you seriously. for real, this time.”

as you look into those eyes of his, blue and soft around the edges, the last of your frustration is finally washed away. with a meek downward glance, and a faint nod, satoru relaxes — releasing a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. relieved at your silent forgiveness.

tomorrow, he’ll definitely make it up to you. he’ll hear you out, without opening his big mouth, or trying to skirt around any emotions that make him feel even slightly uncomfortable. smoothing a big palm down your back, he hopes you feel it as a silent apology.

for now, he’ll just hold you. he’ll hold you, and kiss all your worries away, and keep you comfy and warm. that’s his duty. the only one he’d willingly choose, the only weight on his shoulders that never feels even a little bit suffocating. the only one he wouldn’t cast away, if given the chance.

nuzzling back into the safety of his collarbone, your heartbeat settles into a drowsy rhythm, slow and serene. satoru squeezes you in a tight hug, reassuring. comforting.

he can be a handful, and a little insensitive, but you love him a lot. you can’t imagine not loving him.

”… goodnight, toru,” you whisper. ready to give into sleep’s call, at last.

satoru smiles. you can hear it in his voice, sweet and silky, a soft curl of his lips. ”goodnight, honey,” he presses a kiss against your shoulder. warm, his breath on your skin. ”i love you.”

a yawn escapes your throat. ”love you too…” you mumble, sleepily. that one soft truth, before your consciousness fades.

and satoru’s smile only grows. hopelessly, inevitably, in the same way his hands can’t help but to bring you closer. until your heart is flush against his own, and he swears he can feel your heartbeats synchronize.

finally, with those three little words, satoru should be able to go to sleep. drifting off, he can only hope you’ll still be in his arms by the time he awakens.

(then again; you always are, aren’t you?)

#im not arguing w satoru gojo lol . whatever u say princess ! <3 #this is an old piece that i polished a lil (lot) phshdh so the writing might not b anything special but !! i kinda like this toru .#just sleep-deprived n grumpy <33 #gojo has this duality where he can be silly n goofy but then also serious when he needs to be… n kinda gruff….#but then he also has this. Sincere Tenderness to him. that i think would bleed through w someone he loves #hhhhh i love this man w all my heart T_T #usually i make all my fics gn but. smth abt satoru gojo …. callling u his pretty girl………… yeah. sorry. for being this way #me personally i would fold immediately but i respect reader for trying #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you

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m1d-45 · 1 year

Text

hidden blessings

summary: thoma takes you to the teahouse, but you two are interrupted. you don’t know whether it’s fortunate or not, but it will affect your trajectory within inazuma.

a/n: this one goes out to @shizunxie and @alexteea, who asked for a part two to small miracles. i now fear talking in the tags [/hj].

word count: ~2.1k

-> warnings: spoilers for inazuma archon quest, spoilers for ayato story quest, probably out of character ayato…. green tea?

-> lowercase intended!

taglist: @samarill

<< first part || < masterlist > || third part >>

komore teahouse is warm.

the moment the door opens, it’s the first thing you notice. the air smells of honey and spices, heated by some invisible fire. your hand is still in thoma’s, leading you behind him as he moves into the teahouse.

taroumaru sits up a little straighter on the counter as you two approach, but doesn’t seem on guard. strange, considering you’re not a member of the kamisatos, but since you have thoma with you…

“hey there taroumaru! is anybody here?”

the dog barks once. you don’t know what that means, but thoma seems satisfied, pulling you to one of the tea rooms.

“komore teahouse is owned and operated by the yashiro commission, so only those approved by the con can enter. whoever your hiding from-“ how did he know? “-can’t get in here, alright?”

he waves at a cushion and starts to fiddle with a tea set, lighting a small flame on the end of one of his fingers for the heating element. it’s strange to see such nonchalant usage of his vision… but wouldn’t that be normal here?

people with dendro visions selling herbs grown to order, hydro users automatically refilling their drinks, anemo wielders catching a dropped pen or paper before it hits the ground…

not for the first time, you wonder how you ended up in such a world.

“there! that should be ready soon. i’ve made you green tea, hope you don’t mind.”

you shake your head. even plain water would be fine to relieve the burn of salt on your tongue, and the fact that he went so far to make you tea when he barely knew you..

you lick your lips, “thank you.”

he waves it off with a laugh, sitting down himself. “oh, don’t worry about it. and please, save your breath, id hate for you to irritate your throat on my behalf.”

you swallow. salt stings. you’re quickly getting tired of the taste.

“that being said, i do have some questions, if you don’t mind. for starters, you are hiding from the shogunate, right?”

you pause, watching the fire flicker. yes, he’s with the yashiro commission, but he personally had to hide with yoimiya from the vision hunt decree, didn’t he?

you nod.

“thought so… well, the good news is that i can help you, but you have to tell me why they’re looking for you, alright?”

there it is. the fact that he went so long without asking why you were hiding is a testament to his character, but even he couldn’t trust fully when he’s so close to the kamisatos.

though, he did bring you into the teahouse…

“you stay here, and i’ll go get a notepad from the back room. if the tea’s done by then, feel free to pour yourself a cup!”

he stands up from his spot and exits the tearoom, hesitating for a moment in the doorway before undoing the string keeping the cover tied above the doorway. the mat rolls down smoothly, swaying, and you’re suddenly alone in the room.

though being ‘alone’ probably doesn’t apply in a tearoom belonging to the kamisato clan. you don’t remember seeing the girl at the front, nor have you heard the other two NPCs inside, but that must only mean there’s more security elsewhere.

and that the clan must have moved the prior personnel.

…like to hunt for the imposter running around teyvat.

no matter how kind they looked, they were still involved with the shogunate. there’s no way they haven’t heard of the situation, and have likely dispatched some of their best to find you.

and you’ve walked right into one of their bases.

suddenly the warmth in the room feels oppressive, the soft smell of green tea overwhelming. you shouldn’t have caved. you shouldn’t have agreed to come with thoma, shouldn’t have let his kindness pull at your bruised, beaten heart, you shouldn’t you shouldn’t you shouldn’t-

“-ot necessary, my lord, i-“

“-best for you. please, allow-“

words outside your room pull you from your thoughts, muffled by your heartbeat in your ears. it’s familiar but you don’t know why, footsteps and voices passing through the thin walls. three men are speaking, and are quickly approaching your room.

you tense, but settle for grabbing a spoon to try and soothe yourself. they won’t come in here, you tell yourself. you have to trust thoma.

the footsteps stop.

“is this the room?”

it’s not your room. it’s not. you’re safe in the teahouse. you have to be. thoma is on your side.

fingers fit between the mat and the floor, carefully curling the edge to roll it back up.

no.

three sets of shoes appear. two are dark, one dressier with a golden design on it, and the third are taller, heeled, with a buckle. the mat rolls higher, almost ridiculously slow, revealing details you struggle to place.

white pants. brown striped shorts. a black belt, a jacket lined with purple on the inside, yellow tassels and black gloves and you hate that you don’t know who it is.

the mat reaches the ceiling, hands you now recognize as thoma’s tying it back up.

to his side are two men. one is dressed simply, like the many NPCs around the city, and the other…

kamisato ayato.

his clothes are far simpler than his model, but he’s unmistakable. calculating lavender eyes, framed by deceptively soft eyeliner and baby blue bangs. the vision dangling off his hip, the set of his shoulders….

it’s only by sheer will that your terror doesn’t show on your face.

the unidentified man hums, crossing his arms, and thoma looked between the two of them with obvious unease. they must be the voices you heard.

“hello.”

ayato is the one who breaks the silence, and you almost wish he hadn’t. his presence is far more intimidating in person, very much so what you should have expected from somebody of his status. you clutch your spoon tighter.

“i don’t recognize them, my lord,” the unnamed man says, and something in ayato’s eyes shift. you can’t decide if it’s better or worse.

“so you’re the one that’s caught thoma’s eye.” ayato walks into the room, taking a seat across the table from you. “why?”

you shouldn’t be surprised he knew that. you still are, as information couldn’t possibly be passed all the way to him in time for him to arrive.

thoma walks in, taking off the pot you didn’t notice was boiling, attempting to break the tension by pouring out two cups of tea.

the pot hesitates over the third cup. “hisashi, would you like some tea?”

hisashi. why is that name familiar?

the man—hisashi—shakes his head, but does walk in to lean against the doorframe. “no.”

the teapot is set back down on the table, but ayato raises a hand as thoma steps away.

“please, stay. i have as many questions for you as i do for…?”

his eyes turn to you and you can feel the bitter taste of salt burn away any thought you have of responding. the tea looks too hot to drink, and you’re not sure if green tea would taste the same here anyway.

“ah, i never got you your notepad!”

thoma tries to leave for a second time, and ayato stops him again with a questioning look.

what had you gotten yourself into?

“they’re sick, and their voice doesn’t sound too good. i was getting them a pen and paper to ask my own questions before..”

a small smile crossed the commissioner’s face. “excellent job, thoma. you may leave; and please, take your time.”

thoma quickly bows before leaving with hurried steps.

ayato’s gaze returns to you, and he picks up his cup, swirling it twice before taking a small sip. his eyes sweep your figure, pausing momentarily on the hand with the spoon. you let it go, pulling your hand back into your lap, and he hums. after another drink, he sets down his cup.

“you should really try some,” he says, nodding at your untouched tea. “thoma always makes excellent tea.”

you don’t doubt it, but you’re not keen on drinking something still steaming. it may be wise to drink it, something something green tea has medicinal properties and the warmth will ease your throat…. you still don’t touch it.

his eyes flash, and you feel like you passed some sort of test.

“are the shogunate after you?”

you nod.

“do you know why?”

you hesitate. you technically do, as it’s likely the same reason you were chased out of liyue and everywhere prior, but you still don’t know why they’re accusing you of such things. you didn’t do anything initially, you’d barely gotten out your name before…

“interesting.” you look back from where your eyes have wandered, seeing his smile has grown. apparently your silence was answer enough. “you’re not from inazuma.”

it’s not a question, but you shake your head no anyways.

“and yet you know me.”

why wouldn’t you? he’s the head of the yashiro commission, a prominent figure in inazuman politics. even outside of inazuma, surely there’s people that know the yashiro commissioner, right? you know he stays out of the public eye most chances, and that ayaka handles that side of things, but still. it can’t be that rare.

ayato takes another drink of his tea. you wonder when thoma will come back. ayato told him to ‘take his time,’ but finding a pen and paper shouldn’t…

…oh.

kamisato ayato. what else did you expect?

“do you have any plans to stay in inazuma?”

you didnt have plans at all, really. you fully expected to die in the ocean, whether by the fall or the waves or the rocks below. perhaps even osial, if you were unlucky. all you wanted was food and maybe some clothes; you didn’t think you’d get this far.

you shrug.

“given your state, i doubt you can leave,” he points out. “do you even have any mora?”

the jab works better than you thought it would, the memory of the kind hilichurls sharing the mora from the chests they guarded for you to get things from marketplaces sparking defensiveness. of course you have mora, because you had friends.

“even if you did-“ oh, he is far too good at his job “-i don’t believe it’s enough for you to make yourself presentable enough to get a job.” he’s speaking to his teacup, watching the tea swirl. “so i offer you a deal.”

of course. of course he wants a deal.

“you tell me why the shogunate is after you, and i will protect you from them.”

what.

there’s no way he could do that. he couldn’t just go against the tenryou commission like that. there’s no way. there has to be a catch.

“i can see you’re confused.” if you weren’t certain it would hurt, you’d have said something sharp in reply. “thoma is an excellent judge of character. though he is sometimes far too kind for his own good, he still knows a criminal when he sees one. i am inclined to agree with his judgement, and this wouldn’t be the first time the tenryou commission has unwittingly accused an innocent.”

…huh?

the sudden tone shift sends your brain in a loop, repeating his words over in your mind. he was offering you an out? why was he willing to go so far from his duties for somebody he didn’t know?

ayato finishes his tea, setting down the empty cup on a platter. he seems to be waiting for your response, surprisingly, and the only problem is that you don’t know what to say.

you’re faced with the same dilemma again: trust, and get involved with people that could get you in severe trouble were you to be caught, or decline, and risk getting caught quicker by giving up that safety.

footsteps project thoma’s rearrival. he hesitated in the doorway, likely sensing the tension, but comes in anyway, placing down first a plain notepad, then a similarly simple pen on top.

“would you like anything else, my lord?”

“sit, please.”

thoma pauses again, and it’s comforting to know that not everybody here knows everything.

that point is driven further home when he chooses to sit next to you rather than ayato.

the commissioner himself seems shocked, his eyes widening slightly as he sits up straighter. beside you, thoma’s hands twist in his lap, and you wonder if even he knows why he chose what he did.

ayato clears his throat, catching your attention once more.

“do you accept?”

#hisashi is ayato’s ‘most trusted member of the shuumatsuban’ as told by himself during his story quest btw #genshin #genshin impact #genshin sagau #sagau #thoma #sagau thoma #thoma x reader #coping with the knowledge that somebody reads my shit tags #getting war flashbacks to all the rambling i’ve done below the ‘see all’ button oh no #sagau ayato #ayato #i honestly feel like this one is so much worse than the first ughhhh #do i like it? sure! is it bad? absolutely!#duality of man n all that #also never fear i am in fact doing a part 3 haha #this is just a good place to stop #editor me saying that this isn’t as bad as i thought. poggers #ehhhhh yeah this can be posted. as a treat.

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