#need to do housekeeping when i have the energy...

[serenescribe]

Bit of an odd request but I was listening to a bit of music and I was hit by an idea-

Idk if you know the tale of the Snow Queen, but essentially snow queens powerful ice mirror shatters, all but two pieces are recovered. One shard lands in a boys eye making him turn icey and Queen snatched him up.

However consider- Snow King Silver dragging a “mortal” who has a piece of something that was his. Unaware said “mortal” is actually a fae whose intrigued by this King’s combination of harshness yet tenderness.

the snow prince Twisted Wonderland | 3.9k Summary: A mysterious spell afflicts one Lilia Vanrouge, encasing his heart in frigid cold. AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51960883

FREED FROM UNI, I AM! I actually had this written for a while, but put off posting it to save it for a more appropiate season. I really love Snow Queen retellings and AUs, so this was a LOT of fun to write! Thank you, Olive! :D

(An aside: There are extremely minor spoilers for TWST CH7 in here; they're all under the cut and mentioned in passing. If you're trying to avoid every little detail of CH7, I'd suggest passing up on this!)

In the heat of a sweltering summer that sweeps Briar Valley like a storm, Lilia feels a prick of something sharp enter his eyes.

It happens so fast, so swiftly, that had Lilia not been one of the fair folk, he likely would not have noticed it at all. If he were a human, for example, with their sluggish reflexes and oblivious tendencies, lacking a natural affinity for magic in comparison to the fae, Lilia would have chalked up the prick in his eye to a stray lash falling in, rubbing around until he feels as though he’s flicked it out before moving on with his day.

But Lilia is not human. He is fae.

He knows, at once, despite trying and failing to dig out whatever it is that has entered his eye, that it is not a stray lash or a speck of dust. There is a strange magic emanating off of the tiny sharp splinter, an aura he picks up on in an instant. It’s peculiar, the way it makes him shudder as he brushes against it, the sensation likened to the cold of a dead winter. It is unlike anything he has ever felt before.

But gradually, Lilia has to put a pause on his efforts. He is out on a journey to meet with humans for talks of peace, for their centuries-long wars are slowly crawling to an end. His soldiers look at him in concern, clicking their tongues as they ask him, “General, are you alright? Do we need to stop for a while?”

“I am fine,” Lilia says, waving his hand in dismissal. “I simply got something in my eye, is all.”

It is not wrong to say that, for it is not a lie at all. But Lilia knows as well as anyone else that the strange prick of magic infesting his eye warrants further inspection.

Later, he tells himself, as they continue on with their journey on horseback, for the stalemate in their war has allowed for easier travel through ways of steed.

Time ticks by, the lazy heat of summer dipping into the beginnings of a chilly autumn. But despite the changing seasons, the months that have passed since that fateful summer day, Lilia comes no closer to discovering what it is that ails him so deeply.

He is not oblivious to the changes occurring to him; quite the opposite, in fact. Lilia has carried about him a strange self-awareness about his shifting attitude, only realising the differences in how he’s been acting when he reflects on the changes in hindsight. He’s never exactly been the pinnacle of warmth, and especially not after his beloved friends died, but he’s always held a fondness in his heart for the few he opens up to — namely his second in command, Baul Zigvolt, and the young heir to the throne and son of his deceased friend, Malleus Draconia.

But now?

Lilia stifles a sigh as he reminisces, trudging through the gardens of the castle. The leaves are shifting to warm hues, leaves fluttering in shades of vermillion red and golden yellow, and the fallen leaves give a satisfying crunch when his boots stomp into them.

He exhales, twisting his lips as he raises his head up to the world around him. It looks as it always has, Lilia knows that well. And yet… something about it has felt different since that day.

Everything has begun to feel… boring. Banal and bland at best, wickedly ugly at worst. The crunch of the leaves irritates his ears, the drought of the autumn air makes his nose feel too sore. He turns his nose up at the food the castle staff serve, wrinkling his nose at the pungent smell of a dish he used to love, and he turns down whoever offers him a mug of beer, the foam that guzzles over the rim leaving his hands sticky and gross.

Lilia knows he’s changing. It’s not just his emotions, but also in the way he sees the world — everything is so intimately different in the worst way, and every waking hour he spends feels like a chore, an obligation he drags himself through. Where he used to spend time with Baul and his fellow men, or with Malleus most of all, being the one to raise him since he hatched, he now spends it all… alone.

But knowing something logically is different from knowing it emotionally. There are only so many apologies he can force out with his insincere tongue, schooling his expression into a facsimile of sincere regret. At the end of the day — of each day — Lilia truly feels nothing at all except the vacant void of a howling gelidity, frostbite nipping through his very veins.

At the very least, his men have respected this change, regardless of how perplexed they seem to be. Baul had pulled him aside once or twice to ask if he was feeling fine, but had he not been so preoccupied with his daughter’s sudden interest in the Valley’s newest dentist, a peculiar human who’d chosen to move here, of all places, he would have surely pressed the matter further.

On the other hand…

“Lilia!”

He sucks in a breath at the sound of that familiar voice. Once, it had lightened his heart to be greeted to such a cry upon returning to the castle from one of his many campaigns. But now?

“Hello, Malleus,” Lilia greets, making a deliberate effort to soften his voice as he turns to greet the young prince. Malleus has grown a great deal since he first hatched, now towering slightly above Lilia. Still, the boy has an inclination for continuing to call out to him childishly — something that had endeared Lilia in times past, but now only serves to irritate him by no fault of Malleus at all. “Is there something you require of me?”

“Not require, per se,” Malleus answers, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. He toys with the chain of his cloak with one hand. “I was merely hoping that you could spare the time to join me today for some tea. It has been quite a while, after all. I understand you’ve been busy as of late, but you do not appear to have anything on today, so I thought—”

“You’re rambling again.” Abruptly, Malleus’ mouth snaps shut. Lilia winces internally at his misstep; why had he interrupted the prince like that, in so cold a tone? He sighs. “Apologies. I have been under… a great deal of stress recently.”

“It is no matter, Lilia.”

Well that’s good, at least, Lilia thinks. Averting his gaze, he says, “Unfortunately, I do not believe I can join you today.”

A pause.

“Truly?” He hears it, the surprise in Malleus’ voice, mixing in with a forlorn misery. “I was certain that you had nothing to do today, given your schedule…”

“I—” Pressing his lips together, Lilia thinks before he says, rather stiffly, “It is true that I may not have anything on. But I would like some time to myself if you would be so kind, my prince.”

Ah, another slip up of his. To refer to Malleus by his title rather than his name… the gap between them only widens, and the only reason why Lilia worries about it is because he fears that he may go too far, say the wrong thing when it’s far too late to take anything back. But what’s done is done; Lilia raises his head in time to see Malleus recoil, hurt glimmering in those chartreuse eyes of his.

If Lilia stays longer… will he continue to mess up so miserably?

Before Malleus can speak, Lilia cuts in. “If there is nothing else that requires my attention,” he says, “I would like to return to my walk. Good day, Malleus. Give my regards to the queen.”

And, abruptly, he turns on his heels and leaves.

Oh, Lilia knows that Malleus is displeased. He knows it because, within mere moments, there is a gentle flutter of snow wafting down from the skies. He raises his head, blinking up at the fluttering snowflakes — so delicate and fragile, a byproduct of the prince’s tumultuous emotions, his magic far too powerful for him to properly handle when his emotions explode past his limits.

And yet, when he sets his eyes upon the swirling snow, Lilia feels…

Something.

He raises a hand, watching a snowflake land on his finger — so tiny, so delicate, an eight-pointed speck weaved into such an elegant pattern. It melts almost instantly against the warm flush of his skin — and yet, Lilia is transfixed, mouth parting slightly as he steps back, watching as the snow begins to flurry down faster and faster, cascading through the skies. How long has it been since he’d felt anything other than such apathy, such revulsion, such irritation and disgust? Now, Lilia only feels a sense of childlike wonder.

When was the last time he stopped to stare at the snow as it fell? He cannot remember. Has he ever stopped to observe it like this? Or had war stripped away such inconsequential pastimes from his life?

Lilia does not know how long he wanders around, watching the snowflakes dance until he goes numb, so numb with the cold. He only knows that his fingers are frozen and his lips are blue when he finally returns to the castle in a daze, barely cognisant of the way his entire body is battered, pushed past the natural limitations of his faerie strength.

Winter crashes into Briar Valley like an enemy ambush, a sudden attack spurned from the shadows of nothingness. It is the worst winter they have had in an eternity, everyone says, peering outside the frost-tinted windows as they bask within the toasty walls of the castle grounds; the fire-spells keep everyone warm for as long as they stay inside.

With the thick layers of snow barring any method of safe travel, the ongoing talks of their peace treaties with the humans have been temporarily suspended — more for the children of men’s sakes than that of the fae. If she so willed it, Queen Maleficia could wash away the snow with a flick of her wrist, but such matters, in her opinion, are trivial; nature is not something to be fixed at an instant, so why should she expend her energy for such things?

So during those days, cooped up within the castle walls with little to do, Lilia winds up lounging in the cushioned nook of a window, a little alcove tucked away in a winding tower towards the murky corners of the castle. Few fae ever roam here, save for a scant few servants pattering about cleaning the dusty hallways, and Lilia spends many languid hours with his head pressed against the cool glass, so intensely transfixed on the dancing snowflakes outside.

They are beautiful. Perhaps they are the last bits of perfection he shall ever witness in his life.

He has found no information about the shard that pricked his eye, nor has he found any sort of cure. Lilia has spent many a month searching, sifting through the treasure trove of books in the castle’s library to no avail. He had, at one point, considered going to the queen and telling her of his predicament — “In the month of summer, I believe a magical spell of some kind has afflicted my eye.” — but his own apathy stops him every time; there is simply no point in dragging others into this matter, not because Lilia does not wish to trouble them, but because, try as he might, the larger part of him just doesn’t care.

So, with his head pressed against the cold glass, Lilia closes his eyes and sighs.

The winter solstice is approaching, the longest night of the year. As nocturnal fae, creatures of the night, it is a joyous cause for celebration for their kind. Despite the blizzard that rages across the Valley night and day, many servants, guardsmen, people of their kingdom have been looking forward to the events; the castle town shall be open to all, shielded from the elements. All fae, young and old, can look forward to a night of dancing and festivities, dining on the finest food at the banquets, and celebrating the longevity of the night.

In years past, Lilia would have looked forward to it. But now, like everything else in his life, he feels nothing at all.

“Lilia? Are you here?”

He stifles a groan at the sound of Malleus’ voice. Again and again, the boy continues to scour for him, to seek him out and spend time with him. Lilia tries to indulge him, he really does! But each occasion spent together, needing to force himself to fake sincerity the whole way through — “Oh yes, Malleus, I would like to try the new blend of tea! Thank you kindly for the offer. How is your grandmother doing? I heard she has spent some time with you as of late—”

He can’t stand it. He can’t. It gets harder and harder with each passing day, the chill that permeates his skin sinking deeper and deeper, turning his heart into one carved of ice. His eye prickles with pain whenever he grits his teeth in a false smile; across the table from him, the young prince looks detestable, a selfish beast with far too much time, uncaring of what his servants are subjected to in their indulgence of him.

So he avoids him. As soon as Lilia hears him, he flicks his wrist, a swell of magic surrounding him. Bat-formed, Lilia takes to the rafters, huddling away in the corners of the ceiling as he listens to Malleus come and go. It is only when he hears that familiar voice fading away that he dares to leave, flapping his little wings as he makes a break for another isolated corner of the labyrinthian castle.

The day of the winter solstice arrives, and with it comes the worst blizzard the valley has ever seen.

Cold winds lash against the fortifications of the castle, howling and rattling. Snow crashes from the sky, piling higher and higher upon the dead ground. And yet the castle is alight with the buzz of festivities — the many servants bustle about, wrapping up the last of their preparations, ensuring the banquet is ready with food for all, that the decor floats about in place, that the spells wrapping the castle and its town in a bubble of warmth remain solidly intact.

Throughout the day, Lilia sticks to the shadows, hovering out of sight. Today he feels… he doesn’t know how to describe it. Cold and dead as usual, his heart no longer the warm, affectionate thing it was before — but beneath the thick layers of apathy, there is something nestled beneath: the barest twitch of a muscle, a flutter of something. Lilia finds himself distracted with it the entire day as he meanders about, waiting for the clock to tick to a point when the festivities can start.

And when they do begin, the many residents of the valley teleporting into the castle en masse… Oh, how does Lilia even begin to describe them? Laughter rings freely, the merry melody of music from a string band sweeping the air as dancers circle across the floor. Wine glasses clink as people toast to prosperity and magic, hoping to see the weather ease up soon, and even the queen herself is out and about, walking amidst the crowd, a smile on her face as she mingles with the few faeries bold enough to approach her.

But Lilia—

He feels nothing watching all this. Nothing at all.

And yet… there is something else. That peculiar emotion buried underneath… it sings to him, calls to him, as though someone’s voice were tugging at a string. It only strengthens as the night goes on, likened to an unbearable itch; it is the first blissful thing he has felt in what feels like an eternity, and Lilia—

He misses it. He misses being able to love, to feel something other than apathy at best, and all these horrible, miserable emotions at worst — a repugnance, a rage, an irascibility that sparks every time someone tries to converse with him. Lilia misses being able to love freely, his heart softening as he grows older, brought on by the loss he’s experienced, and the love he mustered up to be able to raise Malleus into the man he is today.

So who can blame him for slipping off, for finding a way out of the castle grounds? Lilia answers the call, sneaking past guards who are far too drunk on wine, laughing and shouting as they play games at their stations. He does not bother with whisking up thick clothes for himself; Lilia merely plunges into the blizzard, battered at once by shrieking winds and a pelting of snow against his face, of a storm so deadly chilling that it would ravage even the strongest of faes.

And yet, he does not feel cold.

He grits his teeth as he presses on, dragging his legs through the thick boughs of snow. Lilia knows not how long it takes for him to trudge, only that it feels like forever — but he knows he is getting somewhere, because with each step he takes, the tugging in his chest grows and grows, the intensity of the emotion exciting him for the first time in months.

Is this the answer to his ailment?

Is there a cure tucked within the heart of the storm?

Lilia takes one step, and then another. He takes a third, and—

All at once, everything stops.

The wind dies away. The blizzard softens to a gentle snowfall. Little flakes of snow dance through the air as Lilia walks forward, head turning to and fro. How peculiar this is! He raises a hand, watching a flake fall into the open palm of his hand and rest there, and it is only the sound of hooves clumping against snow that snaps him out of his reverie.

Lilia turns his head, and sees a child.

A boy, who gazes at him with wide eyes that reflect the northern lights — auroras of shifting veins tinted shades of pink, purple, and blue, lights that Lilia has only gotten the chance to see once during a journey across the world. His hair sweeps across his forehead, locks of the purest silver as though spun from the nighttime stars, streaked with white like the pristine paleness of snow. He sits on a white stag, ice-spun crystals hanging from its glacial antlers, and around him is a fur-lined cloak and hood that swallows him whole, far too big for his tiny body.

Lilia’s breathing hitches—

Because the boy before him is the most beautiful thing he has seen in a long time.

“Hello,” the boy says after a while, a glimmering curiosity in those wide eyes of his. His mount trots forward, bringing him closer. “I’ve never seen you before,” he says, looking at Lilia closely.

At that, Lilia laughs. “I could say the same to you, little one.” He rests a hand on his hips, relishing in the joy, the curiosity, the emotions that flood him in full force; it has been so long! “It is a rare sight to see a young boy riding a stag in a storm like this.”

The boy’s face falls, and Lilia feels… worried. Did he upset him somehow? “I’ve been trying to stop the storm for a while now,” the boy explains, auroral eyes flicking to the storm that rages outside the bubble they’re within, continuing to ravage the valley to no end. “B-but it’s my first time really trying such a thing, and I don’t… really know how.”

Ah, Lilia thinks, finally coming to understand. A lost child. A boy with power over the very elements itself, who can control the season of cold and snow. And yet, who would place such responsibility upon a child, one so very young? He feels the fervent urge to lean in and coddle him, to reassure him that it’s alright, you’re trying your very best, I can help you if you just let me.

And why shouldn’t he do such a thing?

“I can help you, if you would like.”

In a flash, those pupils lock on him. “Would you?” the boy breathes. “I-I wouldn’t want to trouble you, mister—”

“It’s no trouble at all!” Lilia insists, stepping forward with a beaming smile on his face. He reaches out for the stag, feeling the beast nuzzle against the palm of his hand as he strokes it gently. Why should he return to the castle, to that unyielding, endless void of apathy and misery? Here, with the boy with eyes like the auroras and hair like the stars, Lilia feels something — the warm glow of parental affection, already growing so attached to such a young child.

“Then…” the boy mumbles, “would you come with me?”

Lilia only smiles. “Of course.”

And as he clambers onto the back of the steed, he asks, before they leave, one final question: “Pray tell, little one, what is your name?”

“My name?” the boy echoes, furrowing his brows. “I… I don’t know. I can’t remember.”

Lilia arches an eyebrow. What kind of a lonely life must this boy live, if he has not even considered his lack of a name? “Then would you mind if I gave you one?” he offers. Oh, it is such an incredibly forward move to suggest such a thing, with how important names are to his kind. But already, he is attached, his very soul bound to this child who gazes at him in wonder at the possibility of wielding his own name.

And the boy nods.

“Silver,” Lilia says, the name coming to him at once. Like the shine of the gleaming moon, the glitter of the stars, the wispy fall of the snow around them. Love blooms in his chest, the warmth cradling his very soul; Lilia curls his arms around the boy, his body so cold even through the chilling fabric of his cloak, pulling him against his chest into a hug. “That shall be your name.”

“Silver,” the boy echoes, testing it out on his tongue. He tilts his head back, a small smile gracing his rounded cheeks as he looks up at Lilia. “Thank you, mister. Could I ask what your name is?”

“It is Lilia, dear one,” he croons, relinquishing his name without a second thought. The two of them are bonded in mere moments, Lilia filled with a fulfilment he has not felt since that prick of a shard entered his eye.

There is nothing left for him here. That is what he tells himself as Silver leads them away, commanding his steed to take off into a prancing gallop, bursting from the tranquil heart of the storm into the raging blizzard, whisking them back to their home.

(Lilia fails to notice the figure that bursts through the clearing, chartreuse eyes widening in horror as a mouth parts to scream his name. He does not notice the horned boy who shivers in the cold, eyes wide as the wind whips at his long hair, watching the stag prance away, the boy who leads it ripping his guardian away from his grasp.)

[firstkanaphans]

Ik nothing about inn I haven't watched any shows (I'm emfkjd mains) but I am fascinated by the lore in your inn posts who is this man what is his life I need to know more gimme a primer pls and shows to watch I'm mesmerized by the energy

Oh, Anon, I would love to! Full disclaimer: I only became a fan of Inn after he joined GMMTV so everything that happened before then, I've had to piece together through sketchy Twitter posts that may or may not be accurate and an obscene amount of Instagram stalking. But these are things as I understand them:

In 2022, Inn starred in a BL called "The Miracle of Teddy Bear" where he played a teddy bear that comes to life and falls in love with its owner. It's a fantastic BL and I do recommend it (more on that below), but it's long. 16 episodes, an hour and a half each, and surprisingly heavy subject matter for what sounds like it should be a light-hearted drama. Inn did a fantastic job—so much so that it's still hard for me to see him as anything other than an anthropomorphic teddy bear—but while the show was airing, rumors started to surface that Inn had a boyfriend (which he did).

I don't know the specifics, but the general fan perception seems to be that Channel 3 was not happy with these rumors and blamed Inn for them, which led to a rift with his management. Because of that, he left Channel 3 and moved over to GMMTV instead where he knew upon signing that he would be paired with Great, who he was friends with during university. You can listen to Great tell the whole story of how they came to be paired here (with some amusing asides from Inn).

And now for the juicy stuff...

This, my friends, is Inn's boyfriend/husband/business partner, Tie Kuhapremkit. If you couldn't tell, he's a model by trade.

Are you starting to see why I'm obsessed with them now?

I have no clue when Inn and Tie started dating—they were liking each others photos on Instagram all the way back in 2016—but what I do know is that they opened Holiday Pastry together in 2022 and started wearing matching $13k Cartier Love rings that same year. Here's some photos of them wearing the rings at their new bakery launch earlier this month.

I have not yet found a single picture of them alone together. Even in group photos, they are careful to have at least one person between them, and that lack of photos is, in itself, conspicuous. They own multiple businesses together. The fact that there are no photos of them is honestly impressive. (I did find a Twitter user who documents all their Lovestagrams if you want to do a deep dive.)

Inn obviously has ample motivation to keep his relationship private, but I think the reason I've become so obsessed with him and Tie is because it's such a great representation of what this industry could become if fans weren't so toxic. Not only does Inn get an IRL boyfriend, but he also gets an on-screen boyfriend who he gets paid to flirt with. And his two boyfriends get along!

Here's a picture of Great at Tie's birthday dinner (please also note how far away from Tie Inn moved to take this picture).

And here's a video of Tie accidentally walking out of the kitchen at their bakery just as Inn was hugging Great in front of their fans.

It’s all just so perfect. But unfortunately, fans are toxic and one of the most often cited reasons for GreatInn’s lack of popularity is that fact that since Inn has a boyfriend and people are aware of it, they can’t delude themselves into thinking he's with Great, which takes some of their fun away. To those people, I just say: Where is your imagination? Because GreatInn do more fanservice than every other GMMTV CP combined. Here is Inn telling everyone that he and Great practiced their NC scenes on his kitchen counter. And here is Great making sure you know that Inn has a big penis too.

As for the kids, you can watch this video of Inn explaining it himself. The kids are the biological children of his housekeeper but she was going to send them away, so Inn offered to take them in instead. Obviously, I don't know their exact arrangement, but Inn does refer to the kids as his. Like just look at these pictures. I’m melting. 

Sorry for the machine translation on the second one. It's mostly accurate except his son's names is Saifah, which means "thunder." So he's saying Saifah doesn't cry. (And also, yes. Poon has liked every single one of Inn's pictures as far back as I've scrolled—which is far. Do with that information what you will.)

Saifah and Fahsai's mom also recently had a third child that seems to be living at Inn's house as well.

In addition to all of that, Inn is also just a character in his own right. He’s sassy and spoiled and I watch every single variety show or interview he appears in because it’s always a great time. From pole dancing on Live House to being bitter it's "GreatInn" instead of "InnGreat" to complaining that Great gave him the wrong number of roses on Valentine's Day. He's just an amazing human and I am obsessed with him.

As for which shows you should watch, definitely check out WandeeGoodday. It's a GMMTV show and highlights his chemistry with Great really well. I would also recommend The Miracle of Teddy Bear—especially if you're a fan of The Eclipse because the original stories were written by the same author. However, Miracle of Teddy Bear deals with some heavy topics including child abuse so please make sure you're in the right headspace for that.

Inn and Great are currently halfway through filming their second show together, Memoir of Rati, and they're making quick time so I imagine it'll probably be on air within the next three months.

I hope this was helpful? And I hope it makes you want to watch more of his shows because he deserves all the love and support in the world.

[adaobiiii]

"Spare Miracle"

Pairing : Bob Reynolds x fem!Reader A/N : This isn't proof read so go easy on me please.................

Home || Main Masterlist 

The body came in a crate.

Not a coffin. Not a pod. Just a damp wooden crate. Long and heavy, wood scorched at the corners and humming faintly with leftover static. Valentina tilted her head as she circled it slowly, arms crossed, her expression unreadable. She couldn’t remember where it came from, some defect lab tied to Project Lightning Rod? Or maybe it was Project Frankenstein. The name was blacked out on the manifest, the only legible word left. Viable.

She popped the lid with a crowbar. She needed to do this herself. If this project wasn’t successful she would most definitely be shunned.

Inside was a girl.

Or something like one.

Her limbs weren’t fully attached. An arm had laid near the top of the box--far from where it would normally be attached, as though it had fallen off during shipping. One eye was faintly glowing, almost staring, but remained half-open like it was caught between life and death. Her skin had a faint green undertone, not one of rotting but more like overcharged copper. There were thin stitch lines, pale scar tissue connecting torso to hip, wrist to elbow, jaw to neck.

Valentina stared in horror and pride.

“…Just in case,” she muttered, dragging the crate to Sublevel E, the generator floor. “If the Sentry project goes sideways again, we might need a spare miracle.”

As she rode the elevator down, she watched as dark clouds loomed over the old avengers tower. She could only hope this would work.

14 Months Later

The first time Bob saw you, he thought you were a hallucination from the Void.

He was supposed to be the only one left in the tower, the others had left for a mission. It had been about 14 months since the ‘Black Out of New York’, as some would call it. He still had difficulty controlling the void and was unable to be the Sentry without it almost taking over. Not much help. This meant he was often home, quite similar to a live-in housekeeper. 

Not that he minded. Cleaning seemed to be one of the few things that could keep his head clear for hours. Which brings us back to the situation.

You were sitting cross-legged on the floor of the Watchtower’s lower power station, one hand buried in the inner workings of a busted generator and the other absently tossing a small blue bolt between your fingers like it was a coin. You looked up when he moved, eyes glowing faintly with static energy.

“Oh,” you said, blinking. “You’re Bob.”

He hesitated. How did you know his name? “And you are...?”

“Not sure,” you said casually. You waved at him with your free hand, which promptly detached at the wrist and smacked the floor with a thud. You didn’t even flinch. “Oops. Happens sometimes.”

Bob stared. I should call Yelena.

You sighed, picked up your hand, and clicked it back into place with the same ease someone might fix a watch strap. “I woke up in some box a few months ago. Didn’t figure out how to walk until recently, though. My knees used to bend backward.” You looked down at your legs fondly, like this was normal.

Bob took a cautious step forward. “Are you…human?”

You shook your head. “Not exactly. More of a Frankenstein situation.”

He took small steps back, reaching for the phone at the center of the floor. He knew he wasn’t supposed to call the team when they were on missions except for emergencies--but this had to count for one. Right?

He called once. Twice. Three times and the call fell through each time.

The muffled sound of the dial tone rang through the room as the both of you made eye contact. His eyebrows furrowed, head tilting ever so slightly. “How did you know my name?...”

“Everyone here talks in their sleep,” you said matter-of-factly. “Especially the ginger with the shield. Walker? He says your name a lot. Usually when he’s mad.”

Bob’s brow furrowed. You pulled your wrist out of the generator—only to have it detach again.

You muttered, “I really need to get these things tightened…” and peered into the machine. The runaway wrist wriggled among the wires like a mouse. You glared at it. It froze. Then obediently crawled out and into your other hand.

Click. Reattached. Good as new.

Bob was lost. 

Your wrist just crawled on its own and you somehow knew his name. How did none of the team know they had a whole frankenstein monster in their basement. How had she gotten out of their basement? 

You watched as the boy stumbled backwards, almost tripping over his long sweatpants. He held out a hand in front of him, trying to keep you at a distance, as he moved back. He had to get someone. Anyone.

“That’s a bit mean,” you muttered to yourself as you finally got up. Once you stood he could finally see the true extent of your nature. The stitches that kept all your limbs together, the patchy yet harmonious texture of your skin, the nerving glow in your eyes and the two silver bolts sticking out of the sides of your neck that flickered with electric energy. 

“Running away from me already and you don’t even know my name,” she scoffed.

Bob swallowed hard. He wasn’t the best at social cues but this wasn’t exactly a normal daily situation. “S-sorry,” he fumbled over his words, “What’s your name?”

You opened your lips to answer before stopping. “She never told me,” you trailed off. The man’s ears perked.

“Who?” 

“The lady who moved me into your basement a few months ago,” she sighed, walking over to the kitchen. She swore she’d seen a package of batteries earlier. She had been thinking about grabbing some for a while. “She said something about a Sentry project and needing a spare miracle.”

Bob’s jaw dropped. 

“I couldn’t get a good look at her cause I hadn’t been charged properly but she had um...” she motioned to her hair, picking out a few front pieces. “White here and brown everywhere else,” she dropped the bangs and motioned to the rest of her hair as she tossed a duracell battery into her mouth. 

Bob blinked a few times then hurriedly grabbed the phone and quickly hit the dial again.

Nothing. Still nothing.

The screen blinked: “CALL FAILED.”

He stared at it like it had personally betrayed him.

“Okay,” he said, setting the phone down carefully on the counter. “Okay. No big deal. It’s just… everyone’s off-grid. On a mission. In an undisclosed location. That I don’t know of. Because I wasn’t allowed to go. Because I’m—”

He cut himself off, chest rising and falling too fast.

You tilted your head from across the room. “You good?”

“No. No, I am not good.” He pointed at you like it explained everything. “You—You’re a person. That no one told me exists. You eat batteries. Your arm came off. You’ve been living under the tower for what, months? Years? And you’re just. Fine with it?”

You shrugged, absently tossing a bolt of electricity between your hands. “Could’ve been worse.”

“How?” his hands flew out to his sides as he was so filled with confusion that he could no longer physically contain it.

You smiled. “Could’ve woken up to find out the world ended. Or had all my body parts separated in random jars across the world. Do you know how long it would take to put me back together that way?”

Bob opened his mouth to answer, then shut it. You had a point.

He sat down heavily at the edge of the table, running both hands through his hair.

“Valentina,” he said under his breath, “I knew she was hiding something. Everyone knows she’s hiding things, but this? You’re a whole person.. kinda?. And she just… boxed you up like Ikea furniture.”

You glanced over. “What’s Ikea?”

Bob stared. “You know what batteries are but not Ikea?”

“I learn what’s important.”

Bob laughed. Just once. The kind of sound that escapes before your brain can decide if it’s funny or tragic. “So no one else knows you’re here?” he repeated.

You blinked slowly. “Well I thought you did.”

“I live here,” he said, voice rising slightly in panic once more. “And I’ve never seen you before.”

There was a beat of silence. Then, your eyes slowly widened as you properly processed his words. “Wait… oh.”

Bob’s chest tightened. “Oh what?”

You squinted, leaning forward. “...I don’t think I was supposed to wake up yet.”

BOOM.

A sudden, muffled explosion echoed from somewhere up above.

The lights in the hallway flickered. Dust dropped from the vents. You looked up toward the ceiling. “Was that a bomb?” you asked.

Bob darted to the large window. A moment later, a distorted voice buzzed through the intercoms in the building barely audible through static.

“...Walker, get that door open, now!” “I am! It’s jammed, you emo looking rat!” “Shut up, Walker. Just keep pressure on it—Ava’s phasing too fast—”

Bob swore under his breath. “They’re back early.”

You stood next to him, batteries in hand, peeking through the hallway like this was all mildly amusing. “Thunderbolts, right?”

His head whipped toward you. “How do you know that?”

You gave him a look. “You all talk in your sleep, remember? Except that old guy. He just screams. A lot.”

Bob was about to say something when the security door at the end of the hallway burst open—sparks flying. You both turned just as the team spilled into the room, covered in dust, bruises, and adrenaline.

Yelena was first, blood on her temple, knives in hand. She froze.

Bucky followed close behind, gun drawn. He immediately took a step forward, shielding the others on instinct.

John Walker had a dislocated shoulder and a bad attitude, naturally. “Who the hell is that?”

Red Guardian trudged in, coughing and waving smoke away. “What is this? Little zombie girl? Electric Doll?”

Ava phased in last, glitching like a bad hologram. She landed in a crouch, eyes glowing through her mask—locking on you.

You blinked, mid-chew, still munching on half a triple-A battery. “Hi.”

Yelena narrowed her eyes, not taking them off you. “Bob. What is this?”

Bob raised both hands in surrender. “I swear, I just found her.”

Bucky lowered his rifle, flexing his metal arm in case he needed it again. “That stitching… it’s not surgical. It’s military-grade.”

John pointed. “She’s not part of the mission. What is she? Some Hydra leftover?”

You rolled your eyes. “Nope. Just your friendly neighborhood abomination.”

Bob stepped in front of you, arms out. “She’s not hostile... at least she doesn’t seem that way,” he mumbled at the end. 

“Louder Bob,” Alexei boomed.

He fidgeted with the ends of his sweatshirt. “She’s been here… apparently for months. Valentina brought her.”

That got everyone’s attention.

Yelena’s face hardened. “Valentina?”

Bucky growled. “Of course. That snake--”

“She called me a ‘spare miracle’,” you offered, hands making the air quotation signs. “Though I think I’m more like a glorified lightning rod with energy issues.”

Ava’s voice cut through the tension, her voice hoarse after the mission. “She didn’t tell anyone about you?”

You shook your head. “Apparently not.”

The room fell quiet.

Yelena exhaled slowly, eyes still locked on you, then turned to Bob. “We’re going to need to talk. All of us. But first get her upstairs.” she pointed at Walker.

The man scoffed in protest, “This is how it starts. Freaky hands, glowing eyes, next thing she’s ripping heads off. What if she goes for my brain?!”

“You seem to lack one so I think you’ll be alright” Ava mumbled before heading to what must have been the medical room. Holding onto her sides as she breathed heavily.

Bob looked at you as you hopped down from the counter and adjusted your shoulder as it slid slightly out of place. Click. Back in.

As you neared the rest of the group, you turned to one of the men and stretched out your hand, a battery held gently in it. “You look like you could use one.”

He eyed it warily. “I’m not battery-powered.”

You shrugged. “You’ve got a metal arm. Worth a shot.”

Trailing after the team, you glanced over your shoulder. “For a top-secret team, you guys really suck at checking your basement.”

Walker groaned. “I need a goddamn drink.”

Pt 2?

[northgazaupdates]

Housekeeping—please read

Last updated: 12 May 2025

Starting next Monday 19 May 2025, I will be taking a break. My health and personal obligations demand too much of my time and energy for me to keep working at this pace. The demand is more than I can handle, and it is making my health worse. My personal information is also being shared without my consent, a scammer is contacting me incessantly, I am receiving calls and messages all day and night, and now I am being drawn into bitter disputes that do not involve me. Plus NGU now has an impersonator, which Tumblr staff refuses to do anything about, and this has caused chaos and confusion with the campaigns we support.

More below

It is my own fault for not knowing when to say no and stop taking on more campaigns, and for believing that one or two people could be trusted with my phone number. As such, I am forced to set those boundaries now.

When I return from my break, my posting schedule will be less frequent and more regulated. I will also start trying to share people’s posts from on the ground again, which has become impossible due to current demands on my time. Additionally, I will be more stringently conforming to the guidelines previously delineated at the bottom of this post, which I will paste below.* Every campaign will receive a set number of scheduled reposts per given period, no more or less. I will determine the number and frequency at a later date.

I am truly sorry. I did not want to have to take this step, but I am overwhelmed beyond words and simply cannot keep on like this. I often use the word “we” because I see NGU as a wider community, but there has only ever been one person running things here, and I need to tend to my health. I truly appreciate your patience as I continue trying to keep this blog functioning and avoid shutting it down or abandoning it.

Thank you.

*Going forward, I am adopting a new system of prioritization. I have held off doing this for months, but the high volume of need and my own limited resources mean it is no longer an option. In the future, I will be focusing on campaigns primarily (but not exclusively) supporting women, girls, young children, and racial and/or ethnic minority groups like Afro-Palestinians and Domari people. Research has demonstrated that these groups are affected the earliest and worst during conflicts and crises, and also receive the least support.

The details of how this system will function will be forthcoming, but I wanted to notify you all. This is not being adopted because men’s lives are viewed as having inherently less worth, that concept is preposterous. Rather, it is because these specific groups are additionally highly disadvantaged during emergencies and crises. We are trying to respond to the most intense need, and statistically, that represents these populations.

Thank you

[riality-check]

Purpose (‘pər pəs) (noun): a subject under discussion or an action in course of execution

It’s been two years, and Jayce still doesn’t quite understand Viktor.

He’s never really been a people person. They’re a lot more complex and unpredictable than tools and machines, and while he likes them well enough, he prefers to spend his time in the forge or workshop with very few exceptions.

Viktor is an exception, probably because he is almost always in the workshop with Jayce. Two years into working together, and Jayce can count on one hand the days that Viktor has missed in the workshop. Meanwhile, he’s never come to visit Jayce at the forge.

He doesn’t know why. Jayce doesn’t know a lot of things about Viktor, actually. He hasn’t spoken about his time at the Academy - which is something the two of them can surely find common ground in - or his family, which Jayce guesses they can’t. All Jayce knows is that Viktor is from the Undercity, he’s the smartest person he knows, and he’s full of contradictions.

Example 1: “don’t ask for permission,” and yet, the first words out of Viktor’s mouth in the nearly four hours they’ve spent holed up in the Academy library searching through prior literature are: 

“Can I ask you a question?”

Jayce doesn’t call him out on it. His head swims from squinting at faded tables and figures, and the clock rings out an hour far too late for them to have not eaten since lunch. If he teases Viktor about this contradiction, they’d banter and promptly lose track of the original question in the process.

Source: too many confused blackboard scribbles to count.

So, he just nods and peels his eyes away from the writings of one Dr. Kovac, who should consider a career as a sleep therapist with how boring his studies on thermal conductivity are.

Viktor sets down his volume (Applied Physics, Vol. 3, Issue 6) and stretches out his legs. His face twitches briefly into a grimace, a blink-and-you-miss-it sort of flinch.

Jayce notices. You don’t work with someone for years and not notice that type of thing, he reasons.

“I will need some help in the next few weeks,” Viktor says. He stares at his hands, where he passes a small screwdriver back and forth between them. 

He has to hold something when he talks. Usually, that need is satisfied by his cane, but when he’s sitting down, he trades that for another object. Jayce noticed this months ago, and he doesn’t mind. He has to have something in his mouth while he reads. 

In that instant, he becomes shockingly aware of how stale his chewing gum has turned while they’ve been here. A quick scan provides exactly zero (0) trash cans nearby.

Ugh.

When Viktor doesn’t elaborate and Jayce realizes it’s his turn to carry the conversation, he asks, “What kind of help?”

“Cooking, cleaning, laundry.” Viktor counts them on his fingers, starting with his thumb. 

Jayce does it that way, too. So does Mel Medarda, and Caitlyn half (50%) of the time.

“So, you want me to be your housekeeper?”

He stretches his arms above his head - whoever designed the library chairs did so with zero (0) regard for the human body - and snorts when Viktor teases, “Smart-ass.”

“Hey, that’s what it sounds like,” Jayce defends.

Viktor looks up at him for the first time, suddenly far more serious. “I am getting surgery-”

“Surgery?”

“-and as much as I would like, I will not be able to do everything myself,” he finishes as if Jayce had never spoken.

“Shit, Viktor,” Jayce says, setting his own volume (Advances in Engineering, 5th edition) down on the nearest, highly overcrowded end table. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It was not relevant.”

“Of course it’s relevant!”

Viktor raises an eyebrow. Jayce won’t admit it, but he’s jealous he can do that. He practiced in the mirror for months as a kid, but he can still only raise both of them, or none at all.

“How so? If I had told you any earlier, you would have fretted and worried, and that would have taken your time, energy, and focus away from Hextech.”

“We have plenty of time, energy, and focus for Hextech,” Jayce counters.

“True, but Councillor Medarda’s money is not infinite, no matter how well you get along with her.”

Jayce sighs. “You get along with her alright.”

“I do. She is a good investor, and I respect her very much for making something of herself in Piltover,” Viktor admits. “But you are more her friend than I am.”

Jayce runs a hand through his hair. Fuck, he’s tired, and scientific literature isn’t exactly riveting. The data is interesting - at least, the relevant stuff is - but too many scientists write with all the energy of drying paint.

“Aren’t you worried?” he asks, changing the subject. “You said you didn’t tell me because I’d be worried. But you don’t seem freaked out at all.”

Viktor stares at him. “Of course I am worried. They are taking apart my spine to straighten it out with rods and screws.”

“It’s spinal surgery?”

“This is why I did not tell you.”

“Viktor, that’s a major surgery-”

“Correct.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“Of course I was going to tell you.”

Jayce pinches his nose. A headache is imminent, he knows, between the lack of food and Viktor’s obstinacy. “When it became relevant?”

Viktor cracks a smile. “Now you are getting it.”

Jayce can’t help but smile in return. “When is your procedure?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Jayce leans so far forward in his chair, he nearly falls out of it.

“Well, tomorrow afternoon, around 3:00 PM, to be more specific.”

The sunset is just starting to fade to the blues and purples of dusk, but there’s just enough light for Jayce to catch the time on the clocktower centered in the window behind Viktor. They pick this alcove of the library for the view. It’s easier not to completely lose track of time when the bells toll every fifteen (15) minutes and the view remains unobstructed.

That, and because the undergraduate students don’t know about this spot. They’re everywhere. And far too loud.

Jayce takes a look at the clock. Less than twenty-four (24) hours until Viktor gets cut open and rearranged. 

Which hospital is he even going to? Should Jayce visit? Is he even allowed? What should he bring? 

“What if I had plans?” he asks.

“Plans,” Viktor repeats.

“Like dinner with someone.”

“You dine with Councillor Medarda on Tuesdays and your mother on Fridays. Tomorrow is Thursday.”

“Or a performance?”

“The ballet is out of season, and I do not believe you have tickets to the symphony.”

“Or vacation.”

Viktor bursts out laughing. His laugh is loud and a little abrasive, if Jayce is being honest. It’s harsh and imperfect, but he likes it. In a world where he got judged for wrinkles in his slacks as a student, he likes that Viktor isn’t perfect.

It makes him feel less alone.

“It’s not that outlandish,” Jayce mutters. Nevermind the fact that not once in the two years they’ve been working on Hextech has he taken anything close to a vacation.

“It is my sincere belief,” Viktor struggles to compose himself, “that if the words Jayce Talis and vacation ever inhabit the same sentence, a cataclysmic event will occur.”

Jayce pouts. Viktor laughs harder. A few undergraduate students poke their heads through the stacks, silently reprimanding them for the noise.

It is finals season for them, isn’t it? Oops. Jayce doesn’t miss those days.

“I assumed, seemingly rightly, that you had no commitments beyond Hextech,” Viktor says, finally serious again. “Much like me. So, can you help me?”

“Yes.” 

Jayce answers before his neurons have a chance to fire off a conscious thought. He thinks that might be instinct, but it’s been ages since he’s taken any sort of biology or psychology class.

“Yeah, I can help,” he follows up.

Viktor smiles. It’s a crooked, quiet smile, but that doesn’t mean it’s small. Nothing about any of Viktor’s expressions is small.

Jayce is grateful for that. It means there’s no guesswork as to how Viktor is feeling, unlike the vast majority of people in Piltover. It’s refreshing.

“Thank you,” Viktor says, and he looks directly into Jayce’s eyes when he says it, dead serious.

He fits perfectly here, if Jayce only considers his eyes. They’re the same shade of gold as the Academy roof.

“Of course,” Jayce says, and he means it with just as much seriousness. “Should we work out details now?”

“We can do it tomorrow,” Viktor says. He grabs his cane and pushes himself to stand. His brace creaks so quietly that Jayce thinks he’s imagining it for a moment.

“Your surgery is tomorrow,” Jayce says slowly. He follows Viktor’s lead and collects his own books. The ones he plans on checking out go into his bag, and he carries the ones he won’t in his arms.

He takes Viktor’s rejected volumes as well, without being asked.

“It is,” Viktor says. “But you’ll be in the lab tomorrow morning, no?”

They begin the walk toward the exit. Viktor’s cane thunks loudly on the wooden floor. The undergraduate students look up at them as they pass.

Jayce notices. He wonders if Viktor does.

“I was planning on it,” Jayce says, dropping their books at the front desk. Angelina, one of the younger librarians, gives him a friendly wave and checks their books out with lightning speed.

“Then I will see you there.” Viktor passes through the heavy wooden door that Jayce holds open for him and out into the cool night.

Jayce follows. “You can’t possibly mean you’re going to be in the lab the morning of your surgery.”

“Of course I will,” Viktor says, affronted. “I will be dreadfully bored otherwise.”

Jayce shakes his head fondly. “Get home safe.”

Viktor rolls his eyes. “You say that like it is dangerous here.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do,” Viktor admits.

The bells ring for the half hour. Jayce’s stomach growls.

“9:00 AM sharp,” Viktor says when the silence has stretched on a little too long.

“I’ll bring your coffee,” Jayce replies.

With a nod, Viktor turns to walk home.

Jayce realizes, as he begins to make his own way, that he doesn’t actually know where “home” is for Viktor.

He supposes that’s question one (1) for tomorrow.

Second part right here.

[yurmomsawh0r]

•°His Perfect Little Wife °• - p2

You and Nanami’s relationship has been a little difficult during your pregnancy and one turn of events has you ready to divorce him. But Nanami would never let you leave. You were his wife and he’d never let you go.

@delightfulmoonbanana @i-killed-a-prostutute @muzanswaifu @ebonydumbslut

Sorry it took super long! I’m pregnant with a toddler and it’s super hard to have energy to write anything, but I’m definitely coming back on here because YALL, I have soooo many ideas in my notes for tumblr and oof I can’t wait to drop them! But I hope you enjoy part 2 it’s different from part 1 because I kinda had to make it a small story but anyways enjoy 😊 💙

Prompt idea by @ebonydumbslut

“ I’m literally fina write a whole plot feel free to just take parts from it but I’m thinking For his perfect wife maybe yandere and Angst like since y/n pregnant she hasn’t been at her best with waking up on time doing things for her husband hasn’t felt like having sex so her husband hires a maid and y/n can tell that she is trying to take her husband away being to Close and saying things like “ofc I will make you food if you were my husband with how hard you work I would make sure you didn’t even have to ask he doesn’t see it but y/n does he’s also been a little distant and hasn’t been able to see her much because when he comes home y/Ns sleep y/n know this and stays up untill he’s home and by the time she gets all pretty for him she walks down stairs to see her husband and the made doing something that looks inappropriate (yk how In the movies someone walks in at the wrong time and it looks wrong) anyways she runs to her room and he goes after her to tell her it’s not what it looks like and y/n is getting ready to go to her moms house or something she tells him that he can have the maid and she’s going to leave and this is we’re the yandere starts he tells her she can’t and what about there baby and whatever else you want he makes y/n feel bad and she stays then he shows her how much he loves her by yk having sex’s loud to the maid hears everything while there having sex he tells her how she knows that she can’t leave because she needs him she’s to much of a dumb slut to do anything without him all she’s good at is being his perfect little wife y/n falls into this brain washing and promises she will never leave and that she’s his and will always be you could also put some fluff in there sorry for how long this is I Basically could have made the book for you😭”

CW - Yandere-ish, Manipulation, mentions of cheating, pregnant reader, penetration, pregnant sex, cursing, pet names, mentions of a divorce

Part 1 here

–

Nanami was frustrated to say the least. Between working extra hard and keeping your need’s satisfied, he definitely had his hands full. He wiped the sweat from his brow as he typed away on his computer. It was going on another late night and he had many things to get done. It always felt like he’d never have another second for himself or for you.

A knock on the door had an oh - so, very tired Nanami shifting in irritation. “What?” Came his groggy, stress filled voice. A subordinate of his walks through the door. A file in his hand. “Sorry sir. I just wanted to drop off my report you requested.”

“Place it in the black tray.”

The man did what he was told, quickly placing it in the tray and making his way out of the office.

Nanami glanced at the clock and seen that is was going on 1 am in the morning, making a sigh leave him. He knew you’d be in bed by now. You both couldn’t seem to catch a break. Nanami thought about the conversation you both had about hiring a housekeeper. You were about 4 months pregnant and you’ve grown quite a lot. It was getting hard for you to keep up your regular routine.

Nanami has even taken it upon himself to be home more to help out, but it was definitely putting him back, which resulted in him having many late nights and causing him to be way more irritated than normal. Anytime you both found a moment to yourselves, you would be to tired to do anything. You slept way more than you normally would these days, which he didn’t mind. It wasn’t your fault you ended up pregnant.

It was decided, he would take it upon himself and hire a housekeeper as soon as possible once he was able to cut back his work load.

~*~

It’s been about 3 weeks since the new maid started working for you both. She had tremendously been a big help around the house keeping things tidy and organized. Although you’ve had more help around the house, you still haven’t been able to see your husband for a while. The times you both did run into each other, he would always seem irritated with you. You knew work has been hard since he’s been catching up, so you decided to suck it up and do the things he normally liked.

“Oh! I see you cooked dinner Martha!” You honestly weren’t surprised. The past week she had been taking over in the kitchen before you even had a chance. “It was no problem. I understand that you’ve been tired lately.”

Although that was true, you usually pushed yourself to cook dinner for your husband but you haven’t been able to because she always did. It kind of bothered you, but you decided to try and be grateful for all the help.

“Well thank you, I can prepare the plates for dinner, as well as Nanami’s lunch for tomorrow. You can take the rest of the day off.”

“Oh no need ma’am. I already prepared his lunch as well as his plate for dinner.” She spoke. This was another thing that bothered you. She always took it upon herself to do more than she needed. You even seen that she left a note on his lunch one time. It was a small “Have a great day at work.” But you felt as though she crossed a boundary. This was your husband, not hers. Leaving notes wasn’t in her job description.

Before you could say anything else, the front door opened and in walked your husband. You went to greet him as usual. Helping him remove his coat and hanging it up for him. “Hi honey! How was work.”

He only grunted. “It was work.” Was all he said and brushed passed you, not a single glance your way. Not even a small forehead kiss as he usually did. An ache in your heart throbbed through your body.

In the kitchen, you could hear Martha speaking to him. As you went to peak, you seen her placing his plate in front of him and pouring him a glass of wine.

You couldn’t lie and say that it didn’t hurt you to see the small act, but it did. Your own sensitive emotions plus being pregnant didn’t help, the tears started to flow. You turned on your heels and made your way to your shared bedroom skipping dinner that night.

Weeks had passed and still nothing had changed, well except you did. You weren’t yourself. You had completely stop doing your house work and just left it to the maid since, she took it upon herself to do everything. So you just rested in bed most of your days falling asleep when ever he felt like it.

You haven’t seen your husband for most days. By the time he came home you were already in bed passed out.

Martha had also been getting a little too close to your husband for your liking but Nanami didn’t seem to care to stop her advances so you assumed that maybe your were making things up, but you couldn’t help but think about all the little smart remarks she took it upon herself to say.

“Wow, you’re such a hard working man, if you were my husband I’d be sure to reward you everyday.”

“Would you like me to give you a massage sir?”

Maybe she was being nice? Maybe you were reading into it a little too hard. Either way Nanami didn’t seem to mind her forwardness so maybe you shouldn’t either.

Having enough of your pity party, you finally decided that it was time to put an effort in getting your husband’s attention again.

That night you got yourself all clean and dolled up in one of his favorite lingerie pieces and one of his t-shirts. He loved seeing you in his clothing. He always told you it made him feel like the best man in the world seeing his woman comfortable in his attire. It was almost 1 in the morning, the usual time he had gotten home. You had waited all night, despite being so tired, to see him. Lights shown through the curtains and the sound of a motor vehicle pulling into the drive way shook away any traces of sleep you had in you.

This was it! Tonight’s the night you and your husband rekindled.

~*~

Nanami walked through the door tired as ever. He was finally done with playing catch up and attending hour long business meetings for the month. He’s finally be able to catch a break. He felt as though he had be in a trans working and powering through his long streak, and finally he would be able to settle down for a while.

He made his way to the kitchen to look for something to eat. I was a little after 1 so he knew you’d be sleeping.

When he entered the kitchen, he was surprised to see Martha standing there in nothing but a small tank top and shorts to short for her size.

“Oh! Nanami, I didn’t think you’d be home just yet. Are you hungry?” Nanami only grunted and moved passed her and headed towards the fridge.

“Would you like wine with your meal sir?” The sultry tone of her voice rung in his ears. He eyed her suspiciously for a moment before shrugging it off. “No thank you, not tonight.”

He told her with a monotonous tone. He grabbed his plate that was left in the fridge and placed it in the microwave to warm.

“Alright, I’ll just put this back then.” She had a smile on her face as she strut her way towards the wine holder that was just behind where Nanami was standing.

Just inches away from him, she had stumbled, almost dropping the bottle in the process. Nanami kept forward, grasping her in his arms just as he was able to fall, allowing her to wrap her arms around his neck as if they were lovers about to ignite in a night of passion.

She giggled, pulling him closer. “I’m sorry, I’m such a klutz! It’s a good thing a big strong man like you were here to catch me! You’re just like a knight in shinning armor. And my knight deserves a kiss for saving me.”

As she tried pulling him closer, Nanami started to pull away, but it was too late. A small gasp had them both frozen.

“Oh! My lady! I didn’t think you’d be up.”

There you stood from your stop in the kitchen, watching as your maid and husband were about to share such a passionate kiss. It brought tears to your eyes seeing how good they looked together.

You knew you hadn’t been up to par in taking care of yourself as well as him, but you didn’t think he’d cheat on you for such a small inconvenience.

“Wait! Y/n-“ He called out to you but you just turned and ran to your bedroom to grab everything you needed to leave.

Nanami dropped Martha letting her fall to the floor leaving her in pain as he chased after you.

Once he made it to your shared room, he saw that you were packing a suit case with everything valuable and important to you.

“It’s not what it looked like y/n” he tries to reason with you but you didn’t listen. “I don’t care Nami, it’s not like I haven’t noticed we haven’t been the same in a while. Especially since she got here.”

“What do you mean? I know I’ve been busy, but I’d never do something like that to you. I love you.”

“You don’t love me. If you did you wouldn’t have been all up on her. But it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m done.”

This caused Nanami to freeze. His voice dropped, a menacing tone sounded in his voice. “What do you mean you’re done?”

It sent a chill up your spine but you remained strong. “It means I’m done. I want a divorce. I can’t do this anymore. My own husband doesn’t even want to look at me, let alone act like I exist.”

You finished packing whatever you could and zipped it up, but Nanami was faster than you. He grabbed your luggage and threw it aside, shattering your vanity. “What is your problem! I don’t understand why you are so upset. Go be with your fucking mistress!” You yelled.

“I’m fucking upset because my wife is trying to leave me over a misunderstanding!” He cornered you. His pupils dark and expression angry. It was look you never wanted towards you.

He broke out into a laugh that boomed into the room. “You can’t fucking leave me y/n. You can’t break up our perfect little family that’s just getting started.” His hands slid up the sides of your waist pulling you closer to him.

“I take good care of you and I always will. No matter what. You are mine and I’d never let you go. I need you here with me little one. I don’t know what I’d do if you decided to break up our perfect little life.”

A flood of memories flew through your head. Even images of the future that you thought were to come. You felt a little guilty for trying to leave instead of making things work, but you couldn’t help but think about him being with another woman.

“How long have you been messing with Martha.”

Rage sparked in his eyes as he punched a hole in the wall by your head making your scream. He gripped your chin tightly and forced you to meet his gaze.

“I’ve never touched that fucking woman! She fell and I caught her, nothing more. Do you understand?” When you didn’t respond, he sighed.

“My love. My perfect little bunny, must I show you just how much you mean to me? Shall I show you that nobody can make you feel the things you do for me? Hmm? Must I show you one of the many reason that you love me?”

“Must I remind you who you belong too!?”

~*~

You couldn’t think straight. You really couldn’t think at all. The only thing filling your senses was your husbands dick penetrating you so hard and deep. Your face was wet with tears and saliva that pooled onto the pillow as he drilled into you from behind.

“Ahh, you feel so good little one.” He grunted in your ear. Nanami gripped your neck and pounded deliciously into you. The feeling of your juices getting him going.

It had been too long since you both last had sex and he was going to make it last as long as possible.

“And you’d thought I’d let you leave? With my baby in your womb? You’d thought I’d let another man have you? No, I’d kill anyone who thought they would have a chance.”

Your body shook as another orgasm ripped through you, but he didn’t let up, he just fucked you harder through it. “P-please Nami!”

But your please fell on deaf ears. “No, not until you learn that you can never leave me. You’re mine y/n. You’re nothing but my little dumb slut, my perfect little wife.” He licked up your tears grinding deeper into you.

“Say it! Say that your mine and that you will never leave me! Say that you’ll stay and be my perfect little housewife forever.”

You could feel him going deeper and deeper, skin slapping against each other in perfect rhythm. It was too much, you couldn’t even get a word out. You were moaning so loud and the bed was banging against the wall you were sure it would break. You were also sure Martha could hear everything.

“I’m waiting my little bunny.” Nanami’s voice warmed you. You gushed around his cock even more at his power over you.

He was dominating you. Showing you that you were indeed his. Nobody would make your body feel the way he did. Nobody ever could.

Just as another orgasm ripped through you, you wailed “y-yessss Naaamiiii, yessss i-im yours!”

“You’re my what?” He pressed his shaft into the opening of your cervix making you yelp. “IM YOUR DUMB SLUT DADDY!”

He moaned as he felt you squirt on him. Your essence pooling on the sheets. “Uhhh, that’s it! Let daddy have it all!”

His thrust started to get choppy as he reached his own peak. Spilling all of himself into you. Telling you how much he loved you. How he would never let you go. Ever.

As you both came down, he pulled you into his arms, gently caressing your face and smothering you with gentle kisses. You were exhausted. Falling in and out of sleep with a dazed but satisfied look on your face.

“Fire her.” Was all you could muster up. Nanami laughed and kissed your soft lips.

“Your wish is my command my lady. It always will be.”

You both laid there in each others embraces.

“But don’t think I’m done with you my love. You have awoken a part of me by just telling me your going to leave me. I need to make sure that never happens again.”

His perfect little wife, forever and always.

[zenless-zideblog-zero]

Girls night VS. Boys Night

Zhu-Yuan: *In a High speed chase with a vehicle*THIS IS PUBSEC! PULL YOUR VEHICLE OVER NOW!

Nicole: *in passenger seat Old Smokey, the car Zhu-yuan's chasing* Be careful! This thing hasn't been serviced in a good while!

Piper: *Driving* I can tell. These tires haven't been rotated in at least six years, and I can't begin to imagine how old the oil is. You should take better care of this old girl~

Belle: Less talk, More Speed!

Corin: Master Proxy, are we in trouble! If I get caught Victoria Housekeeping's reputation will be Ruined! WAH!

Belle: Corin, Sweetheart, please listen to me when I say Ellen and Lucy should have a distraction coming!

~~~~~

Wise: That's ... Twelve Ice Damage, and Nineteen Slashing damage.

Anton: Brometheus Fought the good fight! He believes his friends will save the world, even in his Death!

Wise: Stellar, Arctunoct the Frost-Bringer has just knocked your dear friend unconscious, and the Rituals Almost Complete! He give you the most vile, toxic smirk as he pulls his spear from Brometheus! What do you do?

Billy: Uh, how bad does he look?

Wise: He's decently hurt, but so is the rest of your team. You're the last in the initiative order, and if he's still up when your turn ends, the world may just end.

Billy: Okay then ... Stellar draws his hand-crossbows, looks Arctunoct in his dumb face, and proclaims "You are nothing but a selfish fool! And the Void of your heart will be pierced with STARLIGHT!" and will fire his crossbows.

Billy: And that's- NAT 20!

The Table erupts in cheers

Wise: Okay, how much damage?

Billy: Uuhhm, first I'm throwing Smite on that with my last level two slot and Lightbringer's final Divine Charge, so that's ...

Billy: Twelve piercing, and ... FOURTY THREE RADIANT!

The Table erupts into louder cheers

Wise: okay! WOW! That's a LOT of damage! uh- You Lightbringer's bolt CRACKLE with the fissile power of the stars, bleaching the shadows from view, stirking him square in the heart!

Wise: He clutches the metal piercing his chest, falls to one knee ... *grinning* and Laughs ...

Billy: WHAT!

Anton: NONONO!

Seth: HOW TOUGH IS THIS GUY!

Wise: Spitting up blood Arctunoct wheezes out "And so the light is swallowed by shadow ... a brave show young Paladin, but this ... THIS IS WHERE YOUR SUN BURNS OUT!"

Billy: Hold on! I have one more attack!

Wise: Yes, yes you do.

Billy: okay so that's ... Thirteen.

Seth: Bless!

Billy: Uh, Fifteen?

Anton: Brometheus's Inspiration!

Wise: And inspiration. You just need to roll a three.

Billy: ... I GOT THREE!

The Table erupts in even LOUDER cheers

Wise: Okay, Billy?

Billy: Yeah?!?

Wise: *Writing something down* I'm writing down Exactly how much health he has left, And then I want you to roll your damage.

Billy: Okay ... it's just the one roll ...

Billy: *Rolls Damage*

Billy: Okay,so that's Four damage, plus Five for my dexterity, and one for the Enchantment.

Wise: ... the first shot brought this beast of a man to his knees, but he still breathed.

Wise: Billy ... he had only nine Health after it, How do you Wipe him out?

*Seth, Anton, and Billy Freak the fuck out*

Billy: okAy! Okay! Okay! As he's laughing from the first blow, Stellar whispers under his breathe "It's always Darkest before the Dawn." And send this last bolt right into his neck, causing him to fall into the ritual, and is eviscerated as the spell goes haywire, unfinished!

Wise: Perfect. As his body is wrenched apart by the arcane Energies misfiring, you feel in your heart as you've accomplished what you were meant to do. The World is saved, the Sun just peeks over the horizon, as if to say thank you, to the knight that has let it blaze one more day.

[theladyheroine]

Team Sonic’s Favorite Disney Movies! ✨👑

❥ Hello everyone! So, I was a little bored so I decided to make this lol, but I hope you enjoy! Thank you & have a good one! 🙌💕

Sonic 💙

Treasure Planet

He thinks Jim Hawkins is the coolest Disney protagonist: loves the action, the pirates, the dramatic flair of the characters, & the board! The solar board tricks are his favorite scenes! He sometimes asks Tails to make him one, but Tom says no. (Lol)

Loves the world building & even thinks about buying the original “Treasure Island,” says he will but completely forgets. Asked if there was a comic ver. or a graphic novel.

Was suspicious of Long John Silver, but adored their relationship at the end. Thinks his cyborg arm is cool!

Cars

Everyone saw this coming (lol) but Sonic adores the Cars franchise! Every single one! But prefers the first since they’re always the best ones, sings “Life is Highway” every time it comes on! Adds it to his running playlist or whenever he needs some good energy. The perfect mix of rock & country!

Wishes cars could talk after first watching this. Will sometimes go all the way to Arizona just to take a crack at running the canyons; Knuckles is the only one that knows…

Loves Cars 2! Thinks it’s hilarious but also pretty epic in its own way. Tow Mater makes him laugh every time.

Tails 💛

Big Hero 6

While the action & vibrant color schemes are amazing, he’s more interested in the advanced technology & world building. Loves Baymax & has even considered building his own version of a medical robot for Maddie’s work. But she claims they’re just fine. Tom has tried asking for a robotic housekeeper though!

Relates to Hiro Hamada a lot about wanting to prove himself as both a good friend & an inventor. Loves the passion Hiro puts into his work, but the big scene with Tadashi is a little too sad for Tails. 🥺

Cheers every time Baymax comes back! Will sometimes play the film as background noise when he’s working, or just the soundtrack.

Luca

The unique art style & colorful landscapes are what catch his eye first, until the whole sea monster bit rolls in. Loved the concept of them becoming human when dry, but sometimes doesn’t understand the science behind it. He might think a little too hard about it… 😅

Luca’s relationship with Alberto reminds Tails of him & Sonic when they met! You can guess who’s who (lol) but their hijinks with the race always make him giggle. It reminds Tails of Sonic’s antics.

Loves Luca’s want to learn & study things about the human world. Will look for a book about old Italian history or even sea creatures after he finished the movie. Every time!

Knuckles ❤️

Beauty & the Beast

Gets super into romance films after hanging out with Wade’s mom, & it’s always his first pick for family movie night! Enjoys the songs after Tom explains musicals, but Knuckles loves Belle’s endless curiosity & fearlessness. Absolutely despises Gaston though, sometimes he can’t sit through his song.

Enjoys the message of “beauty within” & loving someone for who they are, not for their appearance. If Shadow joins the family, they’re both watching this film! 😂

The ending always catches him off guard even though he knows what happens next. But the heartfelt moment between Belle & the Beast always tugs at his heart. Poor guy teared up a little when he first watched it.

Brave

Was immediately intrigued by the warrior princess! So much so he took up archery by carving his own bow & arrows. Until he used all the firewood to do so; he had to help Tom find more after that. But at least he’s a skilled archer now!

Finds the concept of a bear curse interesting, as to him bears are powerful but loving creatures. Honestly thinks it’s cool having a bear mom. He gets real invested once the action starts to kick in, & admires Merida’s valor greatly.

At one point he found a little bear cub out in the woods while training & believed it to be abandoned. Maddie flipped out when she saw it, & made Knuckles take it back home. He did & even became friends with the Mama bear.

Bonus! Shadow 🖤

Robin Hood

I imagine this was Maria’s favorite & she would always have this as an option for Shadow on movie night. A classic Disney film that also has a lot of whimsy & color, which Shadow appreciates since the main cast is so likable. Don’t tell anyone that though. 🤫

Loves romance as well & is not ashamed. Sees Marian & Robin as the perfect Disney couple since their will to be together is so strong. But sometimes wishes Maid Marian would do something other than wait for Robin, but he appreciated that pie toss! 🥧

Decided to take up archery along with Knuckles, but becomes frustrated he can’t get it right away. Eventually he gives up after attempting a trick shot on a smaller target, that being Sonic’s old baseball cap.

Finding Nemo

While Shadow loves his found family tropes, he really likes the film because of Nemo. Finds him & his little fin adorable, but enjoys Nemo’s determination to become better. Also don’t tell anyone. Especially Sonic! 😅

Finds the vibrant ocean images & setting very calming, but loves how educational it can be. With how animals work with their environment & whatnot. Especially the part with the whale, he gets so amazed but also very confused by it (lol).

Another secret is that he finds Dory funny; her little quips & funny moments usually get a small smile or even a chuckle out of him. Even her little noise effects during the jellyfish scene get him smiling! But her behavior reminds him of Maria a little bit, so he enjoys her screen time a little more.

[dawn-moths]

"Sunflower in the Summer Rain"

Thoma x Female Reader x Ayato

word count: 21,500+

(You’ve been working at the Kamisato estate for a while now and have caught the eye of both your cheerful colleague and your stoic superior. However, after they discover that each other has feelings for you, they have to come up with a plan so they don’t have to fight over you and risk losing each other's friendship. So, as long as you’re ok with it, they suppose they’ll just have to share.)

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! mostly fluff with smut at the end, slow burn, threesome, size difference, friends to lovers with thoma, mutual pining with both, some hurt/comfort with both, really both of them are sweet to you and wanna take care of you, polyamorous relationship, aftercare.

*ao3 mirror*

***

The soft rays of dawn’s light spilled in through the windows, flooding the estate with pale, buttery light. At this time of morning, the house was as still and silent as a ghost, only the brief shuffle of the first arrivals scraping lightly across the polished floors as they made their way down to the housekeeping quarters to report their attendance and change into their uniforms.

You covered a yawn, dragging your feet a little as you followed suit, still feeling groggy and half asleep. Sometimes it felt like you never left this place. Like you only spent your unconscious hours inside your own home, curled up in bed, as if the idea of rest existed only in a dream.

But that was the life of a housekeeper, you supposed, especially if you worked for a family as prestigious as the Kamisatos. You were the first to arrive and the last to leave. Well, you, specifically, were usually running a little late, but after getting scolded by the head housemaid yesterday for your habit of tardiness, you figured you’d better not do anything to get on her bad side again anytime soon.

“Hey!”

You turned when you heard the familiar voice calling out your name, Thoma’s smile greeting you from across the way and causing a soft, sleepy grin to spread across your face.

“You’re here early!” he remarked merrily as he paced closer to stand before you, always a morning person no matter how many hours of sleep— or lack thereof— he had gotten the night before.

With a light scoff, you responded with a slightly dismal, “Yeah, well, one more write up and I might not be working here anymore…”

“Oh, c’mon!” Thoma chuckled, the sound like the sun coming into view as the lingering clouds parted in the sky. Hands on his hips, he then lowered his voice to a whisper and gave you a playful wink as he said, “Y’know I’d never let that happen.”

“Yes, well…” you rolled your eyes, retaining your lighthearted smile as the hint of something slightly sarcastic tried to work its way in. “We both know that you’ll never lose your job. Not when you’re best friends with the boss, at least.”

Thoma walked beside you now, taking note of your state of exhaustion and asked, “Did you sleep at all last night?”

You shot him a glance that was almost guilty, apologetic as you vaguely admitted, “Technically, yes, I did.” And then, unable to bear the weight of his concerned stare, you added on after another yawn, “For a couple of hours, at least…” Before he could begin to lecture you about how important getting enough rest was, you turned the question onto him. “But what about you? How is it you’re always so full of energy this early?”

Thoma grinned, but it was a little crooked, like he was hiding something. “Ah, y’know… Same as you, probably. But when I started to think about all the work that needs to be done this week I got a little restless…”

When the two of you reached the housekeepers quarters, you temporarily parted ways while you changed clothes and took stock of all your supplies. You started waking up a little more once you began to shift into work mode, but you had a feeling today was going to be a long one.

“Which wing are you assigned to?” Thoma asked once the two of you rejoined, traveling down one of the long hallways side by side once again, Thoma making sure to match your stride so as to avoid causing you to rush to catch up to him.

“West, I think…” you answered a little unsurely, suddenly doubting whether you’d read the posting correctly or not. “What about you?”

Thoma never stayed in one wing for an entire day. He was always bouncing from one corner of the estate to the next, making sure any and all loose ends were tied up, visiting you when he had the chance, and then, of course, attending to some more specific work the eldest Kamisato had entrusted him with. You also knew that Thoma was the only member of the housestaff allowed in Ayato’s personal quarters. You’d tried to press him for details about what it was like in there before but all Thoma seemed to offer in response was that it was big and, as expected for someone who was rarely there, kept meticulously organized.

“Have you ever found anything interesting or weird in there?” you’d curiously inquire. “Does he collect anything? What’s the coolest thing he owns?”

But Thoma would always avoid your questions, just saying something along the lines of, “I’m in there to clean, not spy on him,” and that would usually be the end of that conversation.

As you two exchanged some more last minute small talk, you let out a big yawn, which Thoma then caught, leaving him smiling a little and joking, “I better get going before your sleepiness rubs off on me.”

You cracked a grin and rolled your eyes. “Better watch out. Too much time around me and you might start spontaneously napping.”

Thoma let out a chuckle. “Can you imagine?” he said, and in all truth, you couldn’t. Even on his most busiest, exhausted day, Thoma was somehow able to put on a mask of energy and delight and get the job done. On one hand, you envied that ability in him, on another, it sort of freaked you out.

“Well don’t push yourself too hard,” you reminded him. “Even you need to sleep eventually. Besides…” You tipped your chin up, turning your body halfway in the opposite direction of him, nose sticking up in playful mockery as you perched your broom before you like a sword stuck down into the stones, a valiant weapon for a fearless soldier, so long as clearing dust bunnies was considered an act of selfless bravery. “If you don’t watch out for your health, maybe I’ll rise up the ranks and become Master Kamisato’s new head housekeeper instead.”

Thoma let out another one of those bright bursts of laughter. The careless kind. The kind that sounded so genuine, even at something as ridiculous as your little comment. “You wish!” he teased, lightly nudging at your broom with his foot to send you stumbling off balance. You stifled a giggle as you regained your stance and went to swing the sweeping end of the broom at him, purposely missing but still causing him to jump back a pace or two.

“Just ‘cause you’re the only one of us who regularly sees the head of the Kamisato clan face to face doesn’t mean that he’s not still keeping an eye on the rest of us,” you reminded Thoma with a little more sternness. You then took up a much more conservative posture, pretending to sweep the already spotless floor as you concluded with, “He could be watching us right now, for all we know.”

“And what about that?” Thoma gestured to the ring you were wearing and you quickly clapped your other hand over it. You knew wearing jewelry while on duty was prohibited, and if the head housemaid caught you wearing it you’d be written up for sure, but still, you just couldn’t help yourself.

“What about it?” you replied, a little defensive. Thoma had never ratted you out before. Would never even consider it. But that didn’t stop him from worrying that someone else might. All he gave you in response that time was a suggestive raise of his eyebrows. You knew the rules. He didn’t have to remind you. Besides, no matter how many times he’d tried, you never seemed to listen.

“Ok, well, just remember…” he sighed, “I can only bail you out so many times.”

Thoma strolled by to pass you, knocking down your proper and professional act as he tousled your hair, the simple motion earning him a disgruntled whine of, “Thomaaaaaa!” before sending you back into a fit of giggling as you danced about the confines of the hall around him, movements swift and excited as if urging him on into a chase.

“Just keep up the good work and you’ll have nothing to worry about,” he quipped, shooting you one of those boyishly devious smirks from over his shoulder as he continued on his way. “Or else I’ll have to tell the boss you’ve been slacking off!”

“Yeah, right!” you called after him, your voice echoing slightly through the spacious halls. Thoma turned the next corner and was gone, off to begin his long list of work for the day. If you were lucky and stayed on schedule, you might get to see him during the afternoon break. That chance alone was enough to get you moving doubletime. Meanwhile, as you began your work, you used the secret version of him you kept tucked into the corner of your mind to help pass the time.

Thoma was like the sun, you always thought— bright and warm, his presence alone enough to boost your mood and energy. Once, you’d grown brave enough to tell him that to his face, and since then he’d started to joke that, if he was the sun, you must be his pretty little sunflower, always turning towards him to open your vibrant petals.

That’s usually when you’d give him a nudge, tell him to get back to work as you tried, and failed, to wrestle the awkward smirk from your lips, feeling your ears growing hot with his flirtatious comments, however seemingly innocent they might’ve been intended to sound.

But, for as long as you’d worked as a maid for the Kamisato estate, your housekeeping colleague had never tried to make any real moves on you. Every time you thought maybe today would be the day he finally asked you on a proper date, even if the opportunity presented itself, Thoma seemed to insist on continuing your shared game of will they won’t they.

Thoma liked to see you smile, make you laugh, and— when he was feeling a little mischievous— become the reason for your flustered giggling and blushing cheeks. But, unlike most of the other patrolling guards, shopkeeps, and various locals who’d tried their hand at pretty words to woo you, he was the only one you actually gave the time of day.

Which was why this game was becoming rather frustrating.

Most days, you wished he’d do something. Anything. So much as a gentle brushing of his hand against yours, a sultry glance that turned into both of you holding each other’s stares for a little too long to read as just friends, a hand on your hip to guide you closer to him as he reached above you for something high up in a cabinet that you couldn’t quite grasp…

The golden haired, gleeful boy with the kind green eyes and sunshine smile had captivated you, as you were sure he had many of the other female housestaff— even some of your male co-workers, as you’d heard through the quiet mumbling and gossip that drifted through the distinguished halls after hours— yet you couldn’t allow yourself to get your hopes up too high.

Because you didn’t have reason to believe that Thoma’s attentive and genuine disposition towards you was exclusive.

Sure, you’d never seen or heard him interacting with others the way he did with you, besides the fact he was generally pleasant with everyone, if he could help it. Yet still you continued to hope and wish and pray that maybe tomorrow he’d drift a little too close to be regarded as professional.

But so far it seemed like you were just another sunflower in his garden, rooted deep into the warm earth and destined to only admire him romantically from afar.

At least you two could share lunches together, pick little samples from each other’s bento boxes and then laugh when one of you tried to toss up a piece of food and catch it in your mouth only to completely miss, sending the morsel rolling across the tatami mats or into the freshly raked sand gardens. Taroumaru would come scampering by to clean it up, if you two found yourselves working at the Komore Teahouse that day.

You usually preferred getting assigned to Komore Teahouse because that usually meant it would just be you and Thoma, providing you plenty of time to banter and several opportunities to slack off. You hoped you’d end up back there again in the near future, but for now, having been assigned to the main Kamisato estate and all its arching architecture and opulent wealth, generations of strict tradition and strategic marriages subliminally laced into every hand-crafted piece of furniture or masterfully painted portrait that lined the wide, spanning halls, you’d just have to settle for the bits and pieces of his time and attention you could get.

Snapping from your daydreaming, you returned to your previous task. You did have use for the broom in your hands, after all, same as the duster at your hip and the rag tucked into the pocket of your skirts.

The West Wing needed to be tended to so that the Kamisatos could host a very important meeting in one week’s time. Something about discussing the Yashiro Commission’s new role among the Tri-Commission what with the Vision Hunt Decree recently being abolished and all. Anything else you knew about it was merely pieces of gossip you’d overheard being shared among the other housestaff at the end of the day.

Like a majority of the other maids, you’d never seen the master you served in person, as he was both extremely busy with work that often sent him away from the estate and, in the few and far between moments he was home, skillfully elusive to the public eye and much more inclined to seek out the solitude within his own domain.

Maybe, if you were lucky— you imagined as you washed windows and mopped floors— you’d get a chance to catch a glimpse of the head of the clan for yourself over the coming days. Because, as was another tidbit of chitchat you’d overheard from some of the nosier maids, Ayato Kamisato was said to be extremely handsome. A gentleman too, from the sound of it. Every shred of speculation you collected about him, the more your curiosity grew eager at the prospect of catching just a glimpse.

As you pondered before the window you’d just finished cleaning, you absentmindedly began to fidget with your ring. It was your most prized possession— the only real reminder you had left of home. Not the tiny apartment you currently resided in, but the cottage of your childhood, a space nestled among the sloping valleys of the Inazuman countryside, a quiet refuge from the hustle and bustle of the city. The one where your mother and younger siblings still lived.

A home you may never get to see again before it was empty, you sometimes feared, but then reminded yourself to work hard so hopefully you could one day return.

And wasn’t it a little ironic? You’d gone off to care for the home of someone who was rarely ever around to enjoy or appreciate it, yet you missed yours so much it often made your heart ache, only able to carry around its memories.

It wasn’t until the head housemaid snapped at you to stop daydreaming and get back to work that you realized just how long you’d been gazing wistfully out the window, skittering along to return to your chores.

***

Ayato rarely had a moment to rest.

His packed schedule and endless itinerary of business related travel and events meant that he was away from the comfort and familiarity of his own home more than he was among it.

But, as he’d been reminded of since being born into such a prestigious and powerful bloodline as the Kamisatos, and as the eldest son no less, he was expected to carry out his duties as head of the Yashiro Commission with poise and precision.

Yet, the mysterious figure, though revered by most, was not without his criticisms…

“He’s arrogant.”

“He indulges himself too much!”

“He has a mischievous streak…”

All valid observations, Ayato noted privately, yet still he contemplated a way to eliminate them from the public sphere.

His housestaff had their own opinions of him too. More favorable, perhaps, but still troublesome, if left unchecked.

“He’s so handsome.”

“I think he looked directly at me today!”

“He even has a Vision. Imagine how powerful he must be…”

Ayato Kamisato had handpicked every single guard, butler, maid, chef, gardener— you name it— himself. He had the power to keep them, even if some of his advisors thought some of the female staff were a little too pretty for Ayato’s own good, and he also had the power to let them go, no explanations required.

But, even with every body type, facial structure, complexion, hair color, and temperament to choose from right under his own roof, Ayato only had one who’d really caught his eye…

You.

While you were among the newer batch of young and excitable maids— so honored, so grateful to be working for such a distinguished clan as the Kamisatos— he had still found himself drawn to you quickly.

Not just because of your unique and effortless beauty, the mixture of your feminine softness and boyish banter, but because he had a feeling— after all the years observing various kinds of young women both inside and outside of his influence and control— that you were different.

What you searched for in people wasn’t wealth or status or pedigree.

It was kindness and humor and empathy.

And he’d observed you with Thoma, the natural way you two interacted, how quick you both could put smiles on each other’s faces— like two mirrors reflecting joy back and forth between each other, all familiar warmth and tenderness.

He saw you two become playful, heard your lilting laughter echoing down the halls, sometimes catching the little quips you threw the housekeeper’s way when he started getting a little too rowdy, only for him to shush you and remind you to be mindful of the volume of your voice, which usually just earned him an eye roll and a mocking repetition of his previous remark.

You were a little firecracker, at times, a delicate, flickering flame at others, swaying back and forth over the polished floors as you hummed a melancholy tune during your chores.

Ayato wanted to get to know both sides of you, the same way Thoma had.

He wanted you to show them to him willingly, not only engage in them when you thought no one was watching and then hide them away like a fox burrowing into its hole when a superior— especially the head of household— walked by, scared into hiding by the hunting hounds.

But Ayato knew he was different too. So different from you. Different from Thoma. Different from all of the people who got to walk through their lives saying and doing as they pleased.

He knew that, unlike most of the other maids, with his name or title alone, he could never win you over. He’d have to bear his heart, such a fragile, guarded thing, and be prepared for you to still deny him.

The very thought terrified him, shook him to his core.

Ayato had faced perilous battles, outwitted dangerous foes, navigated through the years with the attitude of someone who was used to getting what they wanted but the mind of someone who knew they couldn’t really have everything.

So, now that he was back in some sort of proximity to you, the eldest Kamisato continued to watch.

He collected your effortless smiles and gentle laughter like secret, shiny trinkets, only ever getting close enough to remain invisible, often tucked around the corner of his study with his back pressed to the wall, sneaking careful glances through the crack in the door when you hurried by to meet the beck and call of the head housemaid and receive your next assignment.

At night, when your work was done at the main estate, he’d gaze out the window of his study and find himself smiling as your little silhouette strolled through the zen gardens below and disappeared around the grand front entrance gates. He’d try and catch you arriving in the morning sometimes too, but was rarely ever awake early enough to beat you to the beginning of your busy schedule.

But perhaps that was why Thoma had gotten to you first, been able to create a little nest of affection in your heart. The golden haired boy was like the sun, and you his sunflower, always opening your vibrant petals and turning them his way, letting him see the joy he’d helped nurture and create.

For Ayato, someone of the moon and the stars and the storming rains that came and went in the night, most times the only indication left behind that it had happened at all being the water sleek pavement the morning after…

How could he ever expect you to open up your petals to him?

You might as well have lived in two different worlds.

Yet, perhaps, if Ayato were to find his moon passing the sun in a rare eclipse, then maybe, just maybe, he could bask in the gold of your flowers, even if only for a fleeting moment.

***

“All done for the day?” Thoma pleasantly inquired, wearing his signature smile and posed in a confident stance. You’d just returned the cleaning equipment to the downstairs supply closet and he’d made you jolt as you came up the stairs, not expecting to see him standing right around the corner.

“Yeah,” you sighed, clutching your heart and wearing a worn out expression, though still trying to pep yourself up a little bit to match his unwavering amiable energy. “Finally… This upcoming meeting has us all working overtime.”

Eventually, you and Thoma began to walk out together, chatting about the quickly approaching event, all the importance surrounding it and how every detail had to be precisely in place when the day finally arrived.

For now, you could kiss your hopes of being sent over to Komore Teahouse for the afternoon goodbye. It was going to be crunchtime at the Kamisato estate until the conference commenced, only being able to relax once the very last guest exited through those gold embellished entrance gates. At least, you’d be able to relax until the next day when your endless list of chores would inevitably begin again…

“You know Ayato— uh— the Yashiro Commissioner, don’t you?” you promptly amended, unsure if it was improper to refer to the master you served by first name so casually, even if it was around a fellow colleague and trusted friend.

Thoma nodded, holding the door open for you before following behind and exiting the grand mansion for the day, the sunset over Inazuma painted with its usual lavenders and peaches, periwinkles and golds. “Sure do,” he replied. Then, without you even needing to ask he elaborated, “I may be his housekeeper, but I’m also his friend. Same goes for Miss Kamisato— Ayaka— as well. I’m not as close with his sister but, from my experience, she’s as kind and dignified as they come.”

“But what’s he like?” you then pressed a little further, your curiosity about the mysterious figure getting the better of you yet again. “I mean, when he’s not being the Yashiro Commissioner, is he still all like, proper and elegant or however everyone describes him all the time?”

Thoma smirked to himself.

The Ayato that he knew— the real Ayato— was still graceful and gentlemanly, yet carried an edge of mischief and frivolity. When he shared this with you, you perked up a bit, hungry to learn more.

“And, god, he’s so good at strategy games!” Thoma exclaimed, half in frustration, half in awe. “I swear, I must’ve played him at least a hundred times in shogi— never beat him once! Friend or not, he doesn’t go easy, and he definitely doesn’t ever let anyone win!”

You felt a crooked smile work its way onto your face then, breathing out an amused puff of a sigh from your nose. “So all you guys do all day is play games?” you asked, sounding a little sardonic. You then leaned on Thoma’s shoulder, your sudden weight sending him slightly off kilter as you whined, “C’mooooon, Thomaaaa! I wanna know about him, not how good he is at shogi!”

At this, your colleague raised a brow, catching onto your true motives now. “Oh? Why so curious all of a sudden? What—?” Thoma spun on his heel and walked backwards to face you, causing you to stumble off balance for a moment as your support beam vanished before straightening yourself and huffing out another annoyed sigh. When you met Thoma’s eyes next, the sunlight warmth he usually gave off was gone. Now, his emeralds held a darker quality, something lurking far below the surface and waiting to strike. “Think you have a chance at getting noticed by Ayato Kamisato, himself?” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, quickening your pace to pass him and taking the lead in your routine after work stroll. “Please,” you scoffed, tone pulled taut and a bit strained, like the string on an instrument gone out of tune. “I could care less about that, so long as I keep getting my paychecks. What I’m saying is…” Now it was your turn to spin around to face him, the pebbly path under your feet shifting and crunching with each step. “It’s all just a bit strange, isn’t it? That, out of everyone who works for him, you’re the only one who sees his face on the regular. Have actually talked to him— hung out with him!”

Thoma wore a proud, almost mocking look, until you concluded your point with an only slightly cruelly satisfied, “Perhaps Master Kamisato doesn’t have an eye for maids in general.”

You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself when Thoma’s expression dropped, instantly jumping to his own defense with a less convincing stammer of, “Ayato and I are not— He’s not—! We’re just friends!”

Feeling rather mischievous that evening, you turned back to walk forward and responded with a lilting tease of, “Whatever you saaaaay…” before you heard Thoma click his tongue, catching him shaking his head out of the corner of your eye.

“You’re just jealous,” Thoma shot back, catching up to stride directly beside you.

“Of your rich boyfriend,” you retorted, “well, obviously.”

Thoma threw an arm across your shoulders and pulled you into his side, ruffling your hair around and making you shout in mostly unbothered protest until you both were laughing with each other again.

You wished that your walk home would last a little longer on nights like this, when you were both having fun poking at each other but always in a good-spirited and harmless way. Just as the skyline of Inazuma City came into sight from down the hill, you began to fidget with your ring when a sudden realization hit you.

“Shoot!” you exclaimed in a hushed breath, beginning to double back the way you’d just come.

“What?” Thoma called after you, watching as your hurried walk morphed into a frantic jog. “What is it?”

“I forgot something back at the estate!” you shouted over your shoulder, your jog now becoming a run. “Just go on without me! Sorry!”

You didn’t quite make out what Thoma responded with, your heart beat already pounding in your ears as you willed your legs to go faster, cursing yourself for making such a stupid mistake.

You just hoped that you made it back in time to retrieve your most prized possession before one of the lingering maids discovered it, mistook it for trash, and discarded it.

***

As you burst back into the maids’ quarters, your heart fluttered with relief upon finding that your beloved belonging was not lost to you, but then, as it registered to you who was currently holding said belonging, your stomach sank with a deep, heavy dread— your heart an anchor plummeting beneath choppy waves.

Even without the family portraits whose frames you relentlessly dusted and polished day in and day out, so used to studying the careful, oil paint strokes from the art pieces, you still would’ve recognized him. 

Ayato Kamisato was, after all, the kind of man you’d remember even after one quick glance.

“Such interesting craftsmanship…” the Yashiro Commissioner remarked, almost as if to himself, as he gripped the tiny wooden ring between his thumb and forefinger, holding it up to the light and staring through the middle, examining it. “I wonder, was it made from a Thunder Sakura, by chance?”

Absolutely dumbfounded, you stood in the doorway, chest still heaving with the remnants of your panting breaths, ears slightly ringing, hair tousled from whipping in the wind, and eyes wide as the master you served locked stares with you.

If the head housemaid had been around, she would’ve smacked you upside the head and hissed at you to bow and show some respect, but you were all alone.

Just you and Ayato Kamisato.

Not another soul in sight.

Your brain was spinning, thoughts leaving your head almost as fast as they could enter it, and you felt a prickling heat rising up your entire body, your ability to speak suddenly lost to you.

You flicked your wild stare back to the ring, the dark, polished wood that— just as Ayato had perceived— was indeed forged of Thunder Sakura, gleaming under the low light.

On days like today, when the floors needed to be scrubbed by hand, each crack in the bamboo boards tended to meticulously, you left your prized ring on the table at your station to ensure it wasn’t damaged by the soap and water that had your hands so dry by the end that they— especially during the bitter winters— would split and crack.

You always made a point to put it back on as soon as you were done, returning all the supplies to your station and being reminded where you’d left it before departing the estate.

But today had been such a long day. By the afternoon you’d been sent running from one wing to the next, too much work to be done and never enough hands when an event as important as the upcoming one was only a few days away. So when one of the maids you were friendly with offered to return your supplies back to your station as she was already on her way, your exhaustion answering for you before your logic could chime in, you’d obliged.

Hence, ring left behind, panic ensuing, and now, as you blinked a few times to refocus your vision, the head of the Kamisato clan in your very presence.

“I’m assuming this is yours…?” Ayato spoke, voice low and soothing, as if trying to prove he wasn’t a threat to you. Next thing you knew, he was standing before you, his shadow engulfing your form, making you feel small under his presence, his gaze calm yet calculating. He held out the ring to you but, despite how worried you’d been about leaving it behind, you were now rather hesitant to take it. Because, as you dared to look up at him to meet those lilac eyes, you realized that the rumors about him couldn’t even begin to match up to the real thing.

The eldest Kamisato wasn’t just handsome and elegant and gentlemanly— He was intimidatingly so.

He was overwhelming, almost god-like in presence with his regal stature and all that ivory fabric cascading down his slender, toned form. Fastened at his hip was a sword, the hilt gleaming with silver and obsidian, tendrils of aqua winding through it with a pulsing glow, as if the weapon were alive.

You shuffled back a half step, swallowing hard. Too bad it did nothing to ease the nervous lump that had formed in your throat.

“Am I wrong…?” he then asked, drawing back his extended hand a fraction, more distance between you and your only piece of home. But as he prepared to close his gloved fist around the object, you found your voice.

“No—!” you blurted out, a crack in your voice causing you to turn a new shade of red. After clearing your throat, you restarted with a slightly calmer, but no less urgent, “It is mine. I left it behind by accident. I…” Ever so slightly, your quivering little hand began to reach for his where your ring sat, dwarfed in his massive, gloved palm. “Can I… Can I have it back, please?” You seemed to remember your manners then, sucking in a quiet gasp before forcing yourself into an awkward bow, adding on a panicked mutter of, “Master Kamisato, Sir.”

Ayato curiously considered the ring in his hand before training his gaze back on you, a soft smile forming across his previously stoic features. Then, before you could even begin to register what was happening, he was gently placing his gloved fingers under your chin, guiding your gaze back upwards until you were standing, your entire face flushed, a dangerous dizziness overtaking you for a moment at the unexpected contact, heartbeat pounding in your ears.

“There’s no need to be so nervous,” Ayato nearly whispered, his lithe fingers still lightly cupping your jaw. For a reason you couldn’t quite place, you felt the threat of tears welling in your eyes, your body beginning to tremble as you stared up at him, unable to tear your eyes away despite wanting nothing more than to snatch the ring and run.

You opened your mouth to speak only for a small squeak to emit from the back of your throat, any more sound than that sure to break the dam you were trying so hard to hold back.

“Here…” Ayato removed his touch from you, used it to take one of your hands in his own, and placed the ring into your open palm, his other hand gently clasping around yours to close your fingers around it. You’d gone numb, not even fully realizing that the object was back in your possession. “Be careful not to lose it again,” he seemed to warn, though with that mischievous, deviously playful air Thoma had told you about laced into his words. With a wink you’d figured you’d imagined, he concluded with, “I may not be around to recover it for you next time.”

And with that, Ayato Kamisato disappeared around the corner, leaving you standing in the doorway of the empty maids’ quarters with your closed fist held out before you for an amount of time you’d lost track of. Maybe it had only been a few short minutes, or perhaps until the sun had sunk fully beneath the horizon that you’d been waiting for your body temperature to lower and your senses to return to you, the weight of the ring weighing heavier in your palm than it ever had before.

When you opened your fist to view it, part of you expected your hand to turn up empty, as if the entire exchange had been some sort of odd and delirious dream. But there it sat, the dark wood still gleaming under the low light.

You slipped it back onto your finger, your hands still slightly shaking, and hurried from the estate, only sure that not too much time had passed once you stepped back out under the sky and saw the moon barely glowing from between the darkened silhouettes of the clouds, the horizon still lined with the thinnest sliver of gold. Yet still, the entire way home, you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking…

Had Master Kamisato’s warning been a command to stay vigilant, or rather, had it been a hint on how to possibly run into him after hours again?

***

The following few days of work proved more difficult than any other you could recall.

Whereas normally your constant stream of daydreams helped make your day go faster, your current fantasies only distracted you in all the wrong ways, caused you to misplace things most considered far more important than some old ring, and had your head spinning to such an extent that you often bumped into fellow housestaff in the hallways or had your shoulder colliding with the wall when turning a corner.

“Get your head out of the clouds!” The strict head housemaid had scolded you when you’d accidentally stepped back too far and knocked over a bucket of water meant to clean the windows, several surrounding maids rushing over to soak up the mess before it seeped into the expensive carpet. “Keep acting so negligent and you might find yourself searching for a new place of employment!”

You didn’t know what was wrong with you, but after that, you’d locked yourself in one of the servants’ washrooms and cried, head in your hands and trying to keep as quiet as possible.

“Hey…” a familiar voice spoke softly following two gentle tapping knocks at the door. Instantly, you perked up, holding your breath and keeping still in hopes that they’d think they’d only imagined hearing someone behind the door and continue on.

But Thoma knew you better than that. And you knew him well enough to know that he’d never just continue on if he even suspected you were upset.

“C’mon…” he sighed, a rare sadness twining through his tone. “I know you’re in there…” He leaned against the door, and from under the thin crack you could see his shadow slightly shift. He crossed his arms, lowering his voice to something a little more soothing, and pleaded with you, “Just let me in… You know you can talk to me…”

Before you’d made a conscious decision to let him in, you were reaching forward to crack open the door, falling back into the corner and looking over at him with fresh tears welling in your eyes as he slowly entered the tiny bathroom.

His eyes widened once he saw you, all that jade cracked with concern as he closed the door behind him and shut the both of you into the cramped space, barely enough room for the two of you to stand without breathing each other’s air.

But you were too upset to care about personal space right now, and you surprised the both of you when you reached forward to hug him, burying your face into his shoulder as your body shook with a new wave of sobbing.

Thoma wrapped his arms around you, one hand cradling the back of your head, lightly stroking his fingers through your hair, murmuring, “It’s ok… It’s alright… Everything’s gonna be fine… I’m here…”

Oddly, that only made you cry harder.

Because it wasn’t like he could do anything about it. It wasn’t like he could just tell the head housemaid she couldn’t fire you, that it was up to Master Kamisato and Master Kamisato alone who remained employed under his order or who was let go. It wasn’t like Thoma and the head of the Kamisato clan were close enough to—

You looked up at Thoma, the realization hitting you and forcing an awkward, embarrassed smile to spread crooked across your lips. Upon seeing this expression, Thoma turned a little nervous.

“What are you…?”

“Please, Thoma…” you muttered, sniffling and hiding your face in his shirt again. “Please don’t let him fire me… Please… I need this job. If I lose it I—”

“Whoa— What are you—” Thoma took you by the shoulders and held you out from him just far enough to look you in the eyes, his gaze darting frantically back and forth between yours. “What are you talking about? Why would you be fired? You—”

You looked like you were about to start crying again, so Thoma quickly amended with, “Look, no one’s gonna fire you, ok? Sure, the head housemaid can get… a little ahead of herself sometimes but, trust me…” He smoothed some stray strands of hair away from your face, reaching over to grab one of the towels hanging by the sink to dab away the salty streaks shimmering down your cheeks. “I’d never let anything bad happen to you. Ok?”

You nodded, unable to meet Thoma’s gaze but feeling the gratitude that had sparked in your chest for him finally catch flame, reminding you of all the times he’d cared for you— not just now, but ever since the beginning. Ever since you’d been the newest face at the Kamisato estate, a small town girl already overwhelmed by the opulence you’d be expected to maintain on your first day before any of the real work had even begun.

Thoma, who was always there for you with a snack in between shifts.

Thoma, who insisted on walking you home.

Thoma, who would always look out for you, whether you worked with him or not.

“Hey…” he cooed, taking your chin in his fingers and lifting your gaze to meet his. Just like—

You froze.

Just like Ayato Kamisato had done.

The catalyst that had started everything that had led to this breakdown in the first place.

“You know that, right?” Thoma lightly pressed, and you could see it in his eyes, how badly he wanted— needed— a direct answer from you. A truthful answer.

Your lashes fluttered, blinking rapidly to try and clear away some of the mist in your vision, and replied in a low murmur, “I— I know…”

And then Thoma was leaning in, his lips nearly ghosting against yours, close enough that you could taste the strawberry mochi he’d had for dessert on his breath, and you closed your eyes, anxiety brewing but not enough to cause you to pull away.

Because how long had it been since you’d wanted this— wanted him— whether you were willing to admit to it out loud or not?

“Hey—!” someone called from beyond the door, giving three harsh bangs to further signal their impatience. “How long are you gonna be in there?!”

And then you and Thoma flinched, retracting from one another, shuffling as quietly as you could and knowing that, if the person was still waiting outside, things would only be worse for you if you were caught in that close of quarters with a male member of the housestaff.

“What should we do?” you whispered, worried.

“Just wait…” Thoma replied through a disappointed sigh. “They’ll get impatient and go find somewhere else.”

Sure enough, after another thirty seconds, you both heard an agitated huff and the sound of footsteps trudging off down the hall, clearly having grown tired of waiting.

“I’ll go out first,” Thoma instructed quietly. “Wait a few minutes then just return to work.”

“Thoma, I—”

“Don’t worry,” he interrupted, cracking the door open to take a peek outside. “Everything’s gonna be fine. I’ll even talk to Ayato, if that’s what it comes down to. But for now…” He slipped out of the tiny bathroom, closing the door and speaking to you through the crack, “Just do the best you can, kay?”

He flashed you one last smile before closing the door, leaving you alone once again.

You stood there, almost as if in shock, until you felt like several more minutes had passed. When you emerged, you fell back into line with the other maids, kept your head down, and hoped to evade the head housemaid for as long as possible.

But that night, you didn’t walk home with Thoma. In fact, you hadn’t even seen him for the rest of the day.

So you left the estate on your own, fidgeting with your ring and fighting the urge to relive all the previous catastrophes over and over again in your head.

Because lately, you felt like you were one mistake away from ruining everything.

***

“You’re friends with quite a good number of the maids, are you not?” Ayato suddenly thought to ask Thoma one day while the housekeeper was accompanying him on his afternoon errands.

Thoma thought nothing of it, simply shrugged and answered, “I guess you could say that, yeah.”

Ayato hummed out a note of contemplation, his gaze falling upon a jewelry stand they were passing by, a silver ring with a chunk of crystal marrow glittering among the other precious gems— cor lapis and jade, ruby and sapphire.

Ayato stopped to examine the ring closer, the night he’d found yours returning to his mind.

You’d been hard to read. Nervous, obviously, and rather upset at thinking you’d lost something that belonged to you. But unlike most of the other women Ayato crossed paths with, you’d seemed genuine.

That scared Ayato a little bit.

It also excited him.

Because you were a challenge, like one of his strategic games.

He was going to have fun figuring out how to win you over, and though material gifts seemed the easiest route to take, it was also a test.

Because if that was truly all it took to sway you, then maybe you weren’t the kind of girl he really thought you were.

If that were the outcome, it would be disappointing, yes. But Ayato was a busy man. He didn’t have time to give his affection to just anyone.

“And what of that one maid…?” Ayato continued to casually pry as he lifted the silver ring from its bed, studying it closer, the shopkeep nearly holding his breath upon watching the clearly very wealthy man surveying his wares, hoping for a purchase. “The one who’s always with you?”

Thoma’s pleasantry dropped, his tone turning dark, accusing. “What of her?”

Ayato met Thoma’s eyes, caught off guard by his housekeeper’s— his friend’s— sudden shift in mood. He placed the ring back, the man behind the stand exhaling with disappointment as Ayato and Thoma moved on.

“I didn’t mean to offend,” Ayato assured his friend, their slow stride now veiled in an uncharacteristic tension. “It’s just… You two seemed close so I wasn’t sure if you…” His sentence trailed off.

“We’re not together, if that’s what you’re implying,” Thoma admitted, clearly dissatisfied with that fact. “But the other day I—” He stopped short as a ball came rolling their way, three little boys skidding to a halt from up the path as they watched their toy tumble towards the strangers. Thoma grabbed it up, gave them a smile, and tossed it back, earning a trio of thank you’s and a fading chorus of shouts and laughter as they went running off again.

Ayato knew Thoma had a habit of being effortlessly kind. It was one of the things that had drawn him to the Mondstadt native, at first weary that his courtesy came with some ulterior motive only to learn that Thoma was just a rare breed within Ayato’s circle of upper class company.

Even for someone who had so much less than the Yashiro Commissioner, the housekeeper always seemed to have more to give than any rich elite Ayato had ever encountered.

“The other day…?” Ayato tried to guide Thoma back on track.

“Oh—” Thoma then seemed to remember, the remainder of the confession seeming to fluster him, even in front of his trusted friend. “Well, I almost kissed her.”

At this, Ayato was able to hide his surprise, though just barely. Because, while the emotion didn’t show on his carefully controlled features, the strain in his voice said otherwise.

“You almost kissed her?”

“Yeah…” Thoma kicked at the dirt, staring at his scuffed up shoes. “But then we were interrupted and… I dunno…” He met Ayato’s eyes then, and if he noticed any jealousy, he didn’t make it known. “I guess I’m just afraid I’ll overstep somehow. Like, what if that’s not what she really wants, y’know?”

Ayato nodded to himself, buying some time to organize his thoughts before strategizing his next move. Because Ayato now found himself caught in the middle of things— pulled back and forth between supporting his friend or selfishly taking what he wanted for himself right from under him.

He knew the power he held, but also knew that exercising that power in this situation meant jeopardizing his carefully established trust with Thoma.

“Have you ever thought to ask her?” Ayato said.

“Ask her what?”

“Well, what she wants, of course,” Ayato clarified. Thoma continued to look confused, oblivious. Ayato sighed, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “If you know what she wants, then that would help you understand the right thing to do, would it not?”

Now it was Thoma’s turn to nod to himself, rolling that idea over in his head. “I guess you’re right…” he muttered. “Though, I suppose the timing wasn’t really right anyway.” Thoma chuckled a bit, saying, “I doubt she’d want to remember her first kiss with someone while she was in the middle of crying.”

Ayato’s eyes widened. “Crying?” His concern was unmasked. “Why was she crying?”

Thoma recounted what he knew of that particular situation, how the head housemaid had had it out for you that day and the stress of the approaching event was wearing you down. To this, Ayato immediately decided to give you the next two days off, let you decompress a little.

“It’s not like one maid missing will really hinder things…” Ayato shrugged, then looking to Thoma for confirmation, asked, “Right?”

Thoma, though knowing how busy the maids had been as of late, couldn’t disagree that some time off would be beneficial to you. “A few days couldn’t hurt. Pretty sure we’ve got most things in order for the meeting at this point anyway…” And, if it came down to it, Thoma would have no problem picking up the slack for you.

Ayato smiled, soft yet guarded, too afraid to let the outside world read his true emotions as easily as you and Thoma so carelessly expressed. “Brilliant,” he concluded, clapping Thoma on the shoulder. “Though, similar to the maids, I, too, am looking forward to the end of all this commotion and anticipation.”

Thoma and Ayato shared a laugh and prepared to double back towards the estate. Ayato could only dodge his responsibilities for so long before one of his advisors noticed, after all. On the way back, however, he couldn’t help but stop at that jewelry stand one more time, the same crystal marrow ring catching his eye. That time, with the shopkeep even more blatantly eager, Ayato bought it, tucking it into his pocket to save until the time was right.

“Who’s that for?” Thoma teasingly asked, always trying to guess what kind of girl the head of the Kamisato clan was currently courting, since Ayato never seemed to give him a straight answer about it.

“I’ve decided to start a new game,” Ayato replied vaguely, though with no absence of that mischievous smirk. “And this…” He held the ring to the sky, ensnaring the brightly glowing sun within the silver loop like he intended to trap it, to claim it for his own. “This is my strategy.”

***

When you’d been informed that you’d been given two days off, your first thought was not, “Oh thank god, a well deserved break”, it was, “Oh, I’m fired alright. This is just an excuse to keep me away while they find a replacement.”

You were restless for most of those forty-eight hours, pacing about, mind spinning and unable to focus or relax or sort anything out like you should’ve been doing, now that you’d been given the opportunity. But Thoma had stopped by your apartment one night, brought you something special for dinner, and as you’d shared the meal together he’d helped ease some of those worries.

“So I talked to Ayato,” Thoma admitted during dessert, “told him what was going on, and everything’s fine. It was his idea to give you time off…” Thoma slid another strawberry mochi— his favorite— onto your plate. “So cheer up!” You’d given a weak smile, a vague attempt at reassuring him, and perhaps possibly yourself as well, that you believed him.

And for a little while, you did.

You believed that everything was fine.

Once you returned to work and got back to your regular schedule you’d almost forgotten about the conflict completely. But all of that changed the very next time you laid eyes on the master of the house, catching a blur of periwinkle and ivory rounding the corner near his own personal quarters.

“Oh— M-Master Kamisato…” you stammered as you gave a rigid bow. “Please excuse the intrusion… I wasn’t aware you’d be at the estate today, I—”

Ayato hummed out a note of gentle amusement. That was all it took to silence you. You straightened your posture and blinked a few times as your vision focused on him, surprised to find him smiling.

“Please, no apologies necessary,” Ayato assured you, already beckoning you towards him with a wave of that elegant, gloved hand before saying, “Do you have a moment? There’s actually something I wanted to show you.”

Stunned and frozen in the conflict of indecision— because what would the other maids say if they found out the Yashiro Commissioner himself was inviting you beyond the doorway of his private rooms? But also, who were you to deny a direct order from the master of the house?— your mouth hung slightly open with the words of polite denial desperate to escape, yet found themselves trapped behind your teeth, some of them getting lodged in your throat.

“It’ll only take a moment,” Ayato then insisted. You chewed the inside of your cheek nervously, though ultimately complied and hurried past him and into the room where he then closed the door behind him.

You felt ridiculous, your hammering heart and nervously fidgeting fingers making you feel like you must’ve looked like a wreck around him, getting all worked up when this was all probably just something to do with tomorrow’s meeting. Just an important, albeit last minute, detail that he’d just grabbed the first staff member passing by to assist him with, right?

But then the night that you’d first run into him flashed through your mind again. You felt the gentle way his fingers had lifted your chin, the ghost of that curious lavender gaze coming back to haunt you. He’d even winked at you, made you feel like maybe he’d meant it as more than a joke when he’d alluded to the fact that if you left your ring lying around again he’d have cause to come see you.

But who am I, a bitter whisper hissed in your mind. Who am I to think for a single second that someone like him would want anything to do with someone like me?

Outside of your cleaning services, that is.

“The other day…” Ayato began, slowly pacing over to the counter of his vanity while you remained standing stiffly not too far from the doorway. “I was walking the halls and came upon something that I believe might belong to you.”

Instinctively, you reached for the finger that you wore your ring on, afraid the little piece of carved Thunder Sakura had slipped from your grasp again. It was secured exactly where it was supposed to be, and you didn’t make a habit of wearing other jewelry, especially while you were working, so you had no idea what it could be that he was alluding to.

Ayato plucked up the shiny Crystal Marrow ring, the rare gem glittering under the light even from across the room, and held it out to you, once again drawing you strategically closer to him. He said, “This wouldn’t happen to be the same ring you lost just recently, would it?”

As you cautiously approached, your gaze shifted from him to the ring that— you both knew— didn’t belong to you.

Ayato was watching you carefully, keeping track of your hands to see if one would try to hide the other, cover up a lie before it left your mouth, but all your hands did was clasp and wring tighter together, your throat bobbing with a particularly hard swallow.

“That’s…” you began, as if unsure. But then you met his eyes again, his gaze as unyielding and unreadable as ever, and you shook your head. “I’m sorry, but that’s not mine.”

“Oh?” Ayato tested, pretending to examine the ring closer before once again extending it towards you. “Are you sure? I thought it looked like the one I recovered down in the maids’ quarters… Perhaps I was wrong.”

Ayato began to turn, feeling somewhat satisfied with himself as you’d nearly passed the test. But then, as you blurted out a startled, “Wait—!” his heart sank a bit, already accepting the fact that you weren’t the kind of girl he’d thought— hoped— you were.

“Yes…?” he hesitantly encouraged.

“I— Uh, well— It’s just…” You were shifting on your feet and fidgeting with the hem of your sleeves now, never able to hold still when you were nervous. Even in a moment of oncoming disappointment, Ayato couldn’t help but find that trait endearing in you. But then you cleared your throat, tried to steady your quivering voice, and suggested, “Perhaps you should keep it in a safe place until someone comes forward. I can ask the other maids if any of them have lost anything recently. I won’t say what, just in case, but if that ring truly does belong to one of us, they’ll have an exact description of it.”

You looked at Ayato differently now, with more urgency, as if returning this unknown person’s lost item was suddenly the most important task you could undertake.

“I mean, whoever it belongs to, surely they must be worried about it. I mean, it does look very expensive, so they’re probably in a panic over losing something so valuable.” You were rambling now, yet another sign of your building anxiety. “Perhaps we should gather all the housestaff right now just to make sure—”

Ayato slowly reached for your hand and you let him take it, though couldn’t contain the little gasp that escaped you upon the surprise contact. Once again you were reminded of how gentle he was, how softly his gloved hand cradled yours, turning your palm upward and placing his closed first in the center, allowing the ring to land in your possession.

“I trust you will return this to the rightful owner then?” he grinned, a faint tint of mischief twinkling in his eye.

He hadn’t originally intended to let you keep it— He’d planned on gifting it to his sister once he’d used it to test you, actually— but in that moment, the eldest Kamisato had experienced a change of heart.

You looked at the ring that sat in your palm, so much prettier than the plain wooden one wrapped around your finger, so much more expensive, and for a moment you wished that it did belong to you. But as you closed your fist around it, dropping it into your apron’s pocket for safekeeping, you simply gave Ayato a firm nod and replied, “I’ll do my best.”

You’d hurried to depart from his chambers then, nearly forgetting to bow and address him formally on your way out, and it was then Ayato’s turn to be stunned.

He thought that you couldn’t do anything to surprise him further.

But he was proven wrong when you returned to him two days later, informing him that you’d inquired with everyone who worked both at the estate and Komore Teahouse and no one had been able to claim it, and placed the ring back into his palm, apologizing that you hadn’t been able to help after all.

***

Several more weeks had passed and you had yet to run into Ayato again. But that was fine with you. After you’d felt like you’d failed him, you were a little embarrassed to meet face to face any time soon. Other than that, however, your spirits had considerably lifted over the last few days.

For the most part, you and Thoma were back to your old selves, the halls filled with your playful banter and harmless teasing. He’d walk you home at the end of the day, sometimes lingering by your front door as if trying to buy himself a little more time with you. Sometimes you’d linger too. And during those small, intimate windows of quiet and staring, he’d look at you the way he had when he’d found you crying in that tiny, cramped little bathroom in the servants’ quarters and, more often than not, you found yourself wishing he’d finish what he’d started. But, night after night, Thoma would bid you farewell and leave you be, waiting until you were safe and sound inside of your little home before venturing back to his own lodgings.

“What…?” you’d finally gained enough courage to ask through a mutter one night when he was gazing at you in that way again.

“Nothing…” Thoma lied, the word barely a breath as the breeze came to whisk it away. “It’s just…”

“Just…?” You repeated, a hopeful lilt of encouragement in your tone.

Thoma couldn’t decide which was harder— to meet your eyes or retreat. On one hand, your stare was a familiar one. One he wished was reserved only for him, similar to the way he saved certain looks only for you. But, adversely, it was because of that familiarity that he found himself so hesitant to move forward.

Because if he misread things, if he messed them up, he’d risk ruining everything with you.

And that was something he wouldn’t be able to bear.

“Thoma…” You called him back to reality, caused him to meet your eyes again, almost with a look of premeditated guilt. “You can tell me…” You spoke quietly. Soothingly. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

You thought you saw vulnerability welling behind all that emerald green, but lost a little confidence when something sad and almost regretful rippled within it.

“Thoma…” you began again. “I—”

But before you could speak another word, his hand was cupping your cheek, fingers gently combing themselves into your hair, and his mouth was on yours, his lips sweet with strawberry mochi.

You melted into the gesture, feeling your worries dissolve like sugar cubes dropped into afternoon tea as you parted your lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss. You felt yourself heating from the inside out as his tongue mingled with yours, taking his time to learn you in this way, a lazy, honey-drip of arousal slowly working its way through your blood, settling warm and heavy in the pit of your stomach.

And how long had Thoma waited for this? Waited to feel like you were his, as if you hadn’t been from the start? How long had you wanted to be his, even when you’d tried to convince yourself you were nothing special? How could either of you have forgotten that he was the sun and you were his sunflower, opening your vibrant, golden petals for him and only him?

Perhaps because there were storm clouds rolling in to stand between you two.

Though, how could the warmth of the sun be appreciated without the reminder of the rain?

How else would the flowers grow?

***

You hadn’t expected things at work after the night Thoma had kissed you to feel so… awkward.

You’d thought things would be the same as always, only now, you couldn’t shake the inkling of dread that crept over your back like a looming shadow that everyone knew. You hadn’t told anyone, and you assumed Thoma probably hadn’t either, but every time a new set of eyes landed on you, whether in the halls of the Kamisato estate or on the Inazuman streets, you wished you could just disappear for a while, like how a turtle tucks itself back into the safety of its shell at the first signs of danger.

You focused on keeping your head down, trying to work so hard you went home so exhausted at the end of the day you fell right to sleep before your mind was forced to endure the torture of dwelling on all this new anxiety that had stirred up within you. A few times, when Thoma passed by when you were in the middle of mopping or sweeping or dusting, he’d divert his prior path and migrate towards you, seeing the look of growing weariness etched into each feature and line of your face and ask a quiet and concerned, “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine…” you’d lie with a forced half smile, unable to meet his gaze as you said, “Just tired, is all,” before making up some excuse about how you were needed in another wing of the house and were running late. As you hurried off, not looking back before rounding the corner like Thoma was so used to, he’d find himself standing in place, staring down the vacant hall while the ghost of your image growing smaller in his vision haunted his mind.

Eventually snapping out of it, he, too, returned to work. Though, similar to you, Thoma couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different. Something was wrong. And no matter how long he dwelled on it, the fault came up as his every time.

Because maybe you’d changed your mind after the night you two had first kissed.

Maybe he’d overstepped.

Maybe you’d decided you didn’t want him anymore.

Though, as far as you were concerned, the issue didn’t lie with Thoma, himself.

The issue was how much you couldn’t stop thinking about him, how you kept replaying that moment over and over in your mind, trying to recapture the feeling it had given you, how safe you’d felt, how relieved.

Now, unfortunately, all you could feel was anxious.

Because what if Thoma changed his mind about you?

What if he’d been let down?

What if he didn’t want you anymore?

If only you could gather up enough courage to talk to him about it, see where he was at. Then maybe both your minds could be put at ease.

But there was something else that was bothering you too. Something swimming just below the surface that you could just barely make out the shape of yet were still unsure of just what kind of creature the swirling silhouette belonged to…

Though, from time to time, flashes of a certain Kamisato would race through your brain— the way his touch had cradled your chin, how your little hand had been swallowed up in his gentle grasp, the way he’d gazed at you so tenderly that, for a second, you’d been able to convince yourself he actually cared for you.

It was all too confusing to sort through at the moment, but it seemed the more distance you tried to put between yourself and your troubles, the further they dug their claws in, latching onto every emotion and thought you felt or had and flooding them with images of crimson and gold, periwinkle and ivory, until all the colors mixed into an indistinguishable grey.

When you ran into Thoma again at the end of the day, you were turning down his offer to walk home together before he could even get the question out. And the way his voice— always so gentle and bright, shining even through the cracks in his disappointment— trembled a little with a nervous laugh at the end when he assured you it was ok, wishing you a good night before parting ways…

That was what finally sent you over the edge.

That was what broke the dam that had kept everything at bay inside of you.

Because here you were, sabotaging yourself just as you’d feared.

Feeling the rushing waters welling behind your eyes, you forewent your usual path towards home and instead found your feet carrying you closer to the gardens of the estate.

At least there, you thought, you’d be able to let your heart break in private.

***

You’d barely made it to the secluded little nook in the gardens before breaking down, tears sparkling in your eyes and spilling down your cheeks in shimmering pairs as you cupped your hand over your mouth, hoping to muffle as much of the hiccuping sobs that were slipping through your fingers as you could.

If someone found you here like this it wouldn’t be the end of the world— you were at least allowed in the gardens, after all— but you knew how fast word spread between the maids and the last thing you needed right now was more gossip and another target on your back.

So, crouched and curled in on yourself, you wept as silently as you could, your heart feeling like it was being torn in two all while your worries continued piling higher and higher by the moment that you knew all it would take to send them all toppling down would be only the slightest nudge.

That nudge, as it turned out, came to you in the form of ivory and periwinkle, the low, soothing tone of Ayato’s voice asking from right above you, “What ever seems to be the matter?” in a way that sounded both startled and genuinely concerned.

His sudden appearance made you jolt, rocking back off your heels and hitting the ground with a graceless thud before scrambling up to your feet and frantically wiping your reddened, glassy eyes with the edge of your sleeves, sputtering out a string of frazzled nonsense that was meant to be an apology.

But Ayato stopped you before you made an even bigger fool of yourself, one hand slightly raised as if hesitantly reaching out to an injured animal, unsure whether it would accept the aid or bare its teeth in a defensive snarl. “Please, don’t be upset,” he attempted to comfort you, shuffling half a step closer. “Whatever’s happened, I’m sure it can be resolved…” You finally gained enough courage to look up at him, seeing how he stood only a few feet away, arms open as if beckoning you to him now.

When your stares met, Ayato gave a soft smile and said, “It’s alright… Now, won’t you tell me what’s gotten you so upset?”

Much to Ayato’s dismay, this kindness only caused you to cry harder, a new round of tears bursting forth as you nearly fell to your knees, body shivering with your sorrows as all the emotions flooding you froze over into a bitter ice, trapping you beneath the surface and drowning you from the inside out.

You weren’t sure how long Ayato had his hands on your shoulders, bent slightly as if to better see eye to eye with you, and was cooing out words of comfort before it registered to you that he was really there, was actually touching you, brushing stray strands of disheveled hair from your face and using his thumb, now tugged free from its glove, to gently wipe away your tears.

How many others had felt the direct touch of his skin on theirs, you then wondered, staring up at him, reverent, entranced. How many people has he even dared to touch? For someone who seemed like a god among men in many strangers’ eyes, it was almost terrifying to be this close to him. To have him be this close to you.

As your head cleared a little, your bleary vision returning to you with the sharpness of Ayato’s regal colors, you thought you heard him saying in a quiet, serene whisper, “There, it’s alright… It’s all going to be alright… I’m here…” a few times over until he thought you’d calmed down.

And then there was a long moment where the two of you were just gazing into each other’s eyes, faces mere inches apart, that caring smile still spread across his lips while you gaped at him like someone who’d thought they’d just seen a spirit drift across their path, curious and petrified and a little bit in awe all at once.

He began to lightly cup your jaw in his grasp again, humming out a quiet, lovely little note when he thought perhaps he was getting through to you, but, without meaning to, you flinched away from him, nearly stumbling back among the pebbled walkway but catching yourself at the last second, and watched as his smile dropped to a regretful frown, his hand still reaching out to you as if begging you to stay, imploring you to return to him so he could give you the comfort you so desperately needed right now.

Your senses returned to you and you flushed with sharp, prickling shame. “I— I’m so sorry…” you sniffled, trying to swallow down the lump that had formed in your throat, tongue feeling heavy and lethargic in your mouth as thick saliva garbled your words. Clearing your throat and trying to adjust your rumpled uniform, you averted your eyes from him and began to speak more formally, saying, “I’m so sorry you caught me like this, Master Kamisato, I was just—”

“Please…” Ayato cut in, so much power contained in a single word, though the request was spoken softly. The gentleness of it forced your eyes to flick back to meet his, your next breath catching in your throat. Because he wasn’t just seeing you, wasn’t just catching a glimpse from the corner of his eye as you passed along in the halls of the manor, busy with work.

Ayato was really looking at you, as if trying to search the very depths of your soul. Like he was trying to figure out every little detail that had occurred in your life thus far that had turned you into the person who stood before him right at that very moment.

And you knew, in that moment, you weren’t just another maid to him, another girl in the same uniform who wasn’t meant to be seen or heard.

You were you.

Just you.

And Ayato looked like he liked you.

He looked like he liked you a lot.

“There’s no need for formalities…” he went on, cautiously closing the gap between you two and gauging your reaction on whether it was ok to proceed. When you didn’t move, didn’t make an attempt to get away or even avert your eyes that time, he allowed himself to come as close as he had before, close enough to reach out and touch you.

That time, it was your hand he reached for— the one that wore that precious Thunder Sakura ring— and he turned it over in his grasp so your palm was face up to him. You watched, body so still you would’ve believed even your heart had stopped beating, as Ayato traced the lines etched into your palm, his lilac eyes entranced by how small your hand was in his, how precious you were, how soft your skin was despite all the work you did all day long, lingering on a few callouses that came and went depending on if the manor had any big events to host in the near future or not.

“Master Kami—” you began, but stopped yourself, swallowing down the remainder of his title and trading it for the name he preferred from you right now, “Ayato…” His view snapped back to yours, pausing where the pad of his bare finger was tracing your love line. “If we’re going to do this, don’t you think it should be somewhere a little more…” You looked around you, the space wide open for any prying eyes to spy on you, only vaguely shrouded by the various flowers and trees and hedges that crept around the garden’s edges.

But then his smile returned, allowing you to take your hand back as he said, that hint of mischief prevalent in his hushed voice, “Of course. And I know the perfect place…” He began to slowly stroll away, as if expecting you to follow him. He glanced over his shoulder after a few smooth strides. “This time of day, we should have Komore Teahouse all to ourselves.”

***

Ayato had been right, the teahouse was completely empty, all save for Taroumaru, but it wasn’t like he was going to go around spreading rumors about who he saw walk in with whom. Besides, it wasn’t any random strangers you’d been afraid of encountering there while in the company of the Yashiro Commissioner.

It had been Thoma, obviously.

But, lucky for you, after everything that had just happened, you knew he’d headed straight home, no more chores or duties to attend to that day.

What would he think if he walked in and saw that you’d ditched him to spend time with his boss though?

You prayed he actually had gone home and didn’t make any last minute stops along the way just to ensure that all his work for the day really was complete…

“So…” Ayato prompted as he took a leisurely sip of his tea, the scents of honey and bergamot wafting pleasantly through the air on the tendrils of steam that curled from both your porcelain cups. “What’s been troubling you? I certainly hope the head housemaid wasn’t the cause of all those tears…” It seemed like perhaps he was joking, though he also knew just as well as you did that there was more truth to that suspicion than you wanted to admit.

Awkwardly sipping your tea, comforted by the warmth against your palms at the very least, you gave a crooked, nervous grin and shyly replied, “It’s… complicated.”

Ayato wore a more grave expression now, setting his cup down on its saucer with a quiet clink. “So she is bothering you?” he deduced, as if ready to get up and go fire her on the spot. “I shall have a word with her. There’s no reason for her to—”

“No, no, that’s not it…” you brushed off Ayato’s severity with a wave of your hand and an only slightly less crooked smile. “It’s just…” you sighed, defeated, hanging your head a little as the words you knew you were about to say weighed heavy in your brain. “It’s…” You felt your leg resisting the urge to restlessly bounce and fidget from where it was folded underneath you.

You had the words in the right order, but did you have enough courage to say them out loud?

Ayato leaned in a little closer, encouraging you to speak freely, already invested in whatever it was you were about to say.

But why should he be? He was your boss, and you two had barely spoken, barely even seen each other face to face much before now anyway. Would it be out of line to tell him what was really bothering you, even if he really wanted to know? Would it be a betrayal to Thoma, who was also Ayato’s friend?

So many questions began to trickle into your thoughts and soon you found yourself once again on the verge of tears, overwhelmed.

You hid your face in your hands, just feeling like an idiot now, so embarrassed you thought you might curl up and die from it, but then Ayato was scooching around to your side of the table, your name leaving his lips with distress as he placed an arm around your shoulders, helping pull you close to him as you instinctively leaned against his chest, shamelessly seeking out any comfort he’d give you now.

“It’s just all so messed up…” you sobbed, voice cracking with frustration and fear. “I’m so messed up. I just— I just don’t know what to do or how to feel or think anymore, I—”

As you cried into the expensive, silky fabrics of his custom-tailored clothes, face buried into his shoulder, Ayato kept rubbing a hand up and down your back, unsure of what to say anymore but still hoping his touch could bring you some relief.

It was how he used to comfort his sister when she was small, back during the times she remembered they didn’t have parents anymore and all she could do was cry. She was the only person Ayato had ever really had a chance to comfort, the only person who was allowed to show such open, vulnerable emotion in his presence. Ayato used to weep for his parents too, though, when it came to his own sadness, he’d chosen to bear that weight alone, only safe in the silence of the night, buried beneath the layers of his bed that often felt so big and lonely he could’ve drowned in it.

“I think I love him…” You finally were able to admit, tearing Ayato from his tapestry of childhood trauma. “I think I have for a while but I never thought he’d feel the same and I— He— I just don’t know what to do because what if I ruin everything? What if I already have? I don’t want to lose him but I don’t know how to be with him either and I’m just afraid that either way I’ll end up making the wrong choice and—”

You hadn’t said his name once, yet Ayato knew exactly who you were talking about. He knew that Thoma felt the same way you did in so many ways that perhaps if you two just were as honest with each other as you were being now with him all your troubles could be resolved.

Yet, all the while, as he comforted you through your crying and confessions, Ayato’s heart was breaking. Because he could tell just how much you cared for Thoma, same as he’d been able to learn just how much Thoma cherished you.

And how could Ayato— Kamisato or not— ever hope to compete when the two of you were already so symbiotic?

Maybe because, as much as the sunflower needed the sun to warm its golden petals, it also needed a little rain here and there so it could grow, thick stalk reaching closer towards the sky once the clouds receded.

Hope is a dangerous thing, Ayato heard a voice in the back of his head warn as he tended to the garden of your suffering, willing to stay beside you and keep you in his arms for as long as you needed even if this would be the one and only time he’d get to hold you like this. Act careless and you’ll find yourself caught out in a storm you can’t weather.

You both had sustained enough worries and woefulness for one day, so Ayato did one of the things he’d learned to do best. He put on a mask to hide his true emotions— this one crafted of comfort and kindness to shield his heartache— and gave you a light shake, pulling you back to your senses and causing you to meet his eyes again.

With a smile that was only a little bit sad, Ayato said, “You know, whenever I’m in need of a pick me up, I always find myself wandering back to my favorite bubble tea spot…” He studied your features, hoping his invitation to help cheer you up wouldn’t be denied. “It’ll be my treat, of course.”

And, thank the Archons, that actually got a smile on your face, even if it was just a small, slightly shy one.

“Well, alright…” you replied, some of the playfulness you usually reserved only for Thoma sneaking into your next words, “but only if you’re paying.”

It would only be after he walked you home and you found yourself alone again that you’d realize just how deep in trouble you really were.

***

Several more weeks had passed and you and Ayato had continued with your secret meetings. He’d bring bubble teas to Komore Teahouse after hours at the end of the week when you got out of work, and you’d make up some excuse to Thoma as to why you couldn’t walk home together that day.

And you felt bad about it every time you did it, but you also felt like things between you and him had smoothed over in the days following your breakdown, so you didn’t want to risk sabotaging it now.

Though, that still didn’t change the fact that you were lying, and to someone who you most certainly did love, at that.

But it’s not like things between you and Ayato had gone beyond two friends getting to know each other better over boba, right? Even if your heart did flutter a little whenever you saw him and whenever your hands accidentally brushed you felt your stomach do a tiny somersault…

“We should really invite Thoma sometime,” you eventually proposed, when things between you and Ayato seemed right on the verge of crossing over into something a little more than just friends. “I know he likes bubble tea too, what with his sweet tooth and all.” You’d giggled out a melody of lilting, joyfully innocent notes, and Ayato felt his heart leap into his throat, though not for a good reason.

“Yes, perhaps we should…” he responded, careful to upkeep the light tone you two had grown accustomed to using around one another, though his voice still came out a little strained.

Because Ayato didn’t want to share you. Despite the fact that he already was— that you’d been Thoma’s first, after all— the selfishness of someone who was used to always getting what they wanted filled Ayato to the brim, a single, venomous drop of ink turning the crystal clear waters of his heart a deep, dark obsidian.

But maybe his entire problem could be solved if only he could learn to share. It wouldn’t be easy, that was for sure, and the entire prospect could go up in flames the moment he so much as hinted as much to Thoma, but he had to try.

Because if he didn’t, then he might lose you altogether and regret it for the rest of his life.

***

In all the time Ayato had known Thoma, he’d never seen his friend wear such an expression as he did now. He’d gone through a complex range of emotions in just a few seconds, first shock, then anger, then betrayal, then sadness as he’d listened to Ayato confess how he felt about you.

The two had been talking casually, as they normally did, when something had brought up your name and then, before Ayato could stop himself or let his better judgment kick in, he was telling Thoma everything. Even he couldn’t believe he was doing it, each word that left his mouth seeming to bury him deeper, digging out a well to drown his trusted relationship with Thoma in until it was dead in the water.

But then, as Ayato turned more apologetic, admitting that he was only telling Thoma this because of how much he cared for him, how he felt like keeping the secret in the first place was a betrayal in and of itself, the housekeeper seemed to soften a little, become more sympathetic to Ayato’s plight once he remembered that he’d been in the same exact spot as him once before.

“She was yours first…” Ayato acknowledged with a despondent sigh, the sun sinking behind the two of them as they sat on a ledge, half finished boba staining the stones with a dark ring of condensation. “So I don’t intend to get in the way of that. And if you wish for me never to see or speak to her again as I’ve been doing, just say the word and it will be so.”

The way Ayato looked at Thoma then was so pained that it nearly made Thoma flinch. Ayato’s lilac eyes were begging Thoma not to make it so, yet Thoma knew at the same time that the head of the Kamisato clan would honor his promise either way.

“But, Thoma, please…” Ayato continued, his voice now devoid of all its usual regality, more low and trembling than Thoma had ever heard it, had ever thought possible for someone of Ayato’s confidence. “If I can no longer see her, then I need you to promise— to swear that you’ll always be there for her no matter what.”

And then, just as quickly as it had disappeared, the eldest Kamisato’s poise and prestige was back, his posture straightening and his features setting into something more stoic, though it was all just a way for Ayato to cover up how terrified he truly was and regain some semblance of control.

For a while, Thoma didn’t speak. He just sat there, searching Ayato’s expression with those honest emeralds until he’d seemed to have found what he was looking for.

“Ayato…” Thoma began, a hard expression still present on his face. But as he reached over to place a hand comfortingly on his friend’s shoulder, Ayato found he truly had no idea what to expect next. “Listen to me. You and I are going to have a talk, and once that talk is over, if we’re both on the same page, we’ll go and have the same talk with her…”

The more Thoma explained his proposal, the more Ayato felt the aching tightness of anticipated loss in his chest loosen. The idea was certainly unconventional, especially for someone of Ayato’s standing, but, if you were on board, it might be the only way all three of you could end up happy in the end.

So, the two of them made their pact, preparing to approach you together and see if perhaps you’d grant them both the privilege of sharing you, willing to give their precious little sunflower all the warmth and rain she needed to thrive.

***

The proposition of the conversation initially came to you as a shock. The mere idea that both Thoma and Ayato needed to have a serious discussion with you equating to only one thing in your mind— that, despite how much they’d tried to assure you that worse wouldn’t come to worst, you were about to lose your job.

But when that hadn’t turned out to be the case, your dread was quickly drowned out by confusion. Because, if you weren’t in some kind of trouble, then what could possibly be so pressing? Surely not a promotion, you knew you hadn’t done anything significant enough to deserve that. Though, the more you thought about it, the fact that you’d grown so close to your boss recently might say otherwise.

Once they’d said their piece, both of them were patient with you while you sat before them, stunned and, quite frankly, a little embarrassed. You’d never given such a scenario a thought, let alone between your best friend and your boss, but here you were, the two of them staring at you with equal amounts of apology and longing and hope that it all felt like some kind of surreal dream.

You couldn’t help but raise concerns about what your fellow co-workers would think, not to mention with someone of Ayato’s pedigree engaging in such unconventional relations, but they both assured you that the secret would remain safe between the three of you until you worked out a way to make things more public, however long that took.

For you and Thoma, it would be a lot easier, so long as your mutual behavior at work didn’t change too drastically. For Ayato, however, he’d be lying if he said the fact he wouldn’t be able to spend as much time around you out in the open didn’t bother him a bit.

Because Ayato’s heart was like an ice cube not quite frozen, just the tiniest crack causing all of the water within to spill out, hence why he tried so hard to keep it away from the open flame you and Thoma had seemed to carry between your own ribs for so long.

He wouldn’t exactly call it jealousy, per se, but more so on the spectrum of grief, feeling like there would always be a constant reminder of the divide between your two worlds, that you and Thoma were the original matching set and he was just a spare.

And there was something about hearing those words come from Ayato’s own mouth that had broken something inside of you, awoke something inside of you too, and before Ayato had time to process or realize what he’d even just admitted, both you and Thoma were wrapping your arms around him, the three of you holding each other close and fitting together like missing puzzle pieces that had just been reunited.

And you were happy. You were so, so happy. Because, for once, you truly believed everything would work out the way it was meant to be. And soon, you’d be opening your vibrant, golden petals towards the prismic arc of a rainbow.

***

You’d gotten the day off from work. It was a rare occurrence, but one you appreciated all the more for it. Thoma had also been granted a much needed break. He showed up outside your quaint little home at sunset, the two of you walking hand in hand, fingers interlocked and arms lightly swinging between you, as he led you through Inazuma’s lantern lit evening streets and all the way to Ayato’s master bedroom at the Kamisato estate.

It seemed all of the Kamisato Clan’s help had been given a vacation, as neither you nor Thoma saw, heard, or even sensed another living soul within the mansion for possibly the first and only time you could remember. Day or night, the place was usually full of housestaff, always finding more work to be done. But now the house was dark. Quiet. But not eerie. You knew this place well, after all. You had nothing to fear.

“This way we won’t have to worry about anyone overhearing us,” Ayato had explained after letting you and Thoma into his private chambers, still keeping his voice low out of habit for there usually being curious ears eager to listen in. “Plus, by giving everyone the day off, it won’t put any suspicions on either of you if someone noticed you weren’t around.” Ayato gave you a small smile and a reassuring nod as he said this, also adding on that even his sister was away tonight, apparently addressing some business on her brother’s behalf.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Ayato cooed, tenderly cupping your face in his palm and smoothing his thumb along your cheek as he did so, his eyes sparkling with adoration instead of mischief for once. “I’ve taken care of everything.”

But for all the reassurance the eldest Kamisato was trying to give you, you still couldn’t help but feel nervous. You’d never done this with two instead of one, and even then, it had been a while since you’d done this at all.

Thoma hadn’t let go of your hand the entire time, tying himself to you, keeping you tethered to his warmth, and as Ayato took your other hand and the two of them led you towards the plush, king-sized bed, you felt your heart unfurling its wings and fluttering up into your throat.

“Thoma…” Ayato muttered to the blonde beside him, placing an ungloved hand upon his shoulder. “Why don’t you help her feel a little more comfortable while I work on undressing us?”

“Us?” Thoma couldn’t hide his sheer surprise, blushing beet red at the implication. Because, for as much as they’d discussed this new dynamic in relativity to you, one thing Thoma apparently hadn’t taken into account was the part he’d play in this triangle when it came to him and Ayato.

Us…

The more he let that idea sink in, the quicker he was to remember that that’s what the three of you were now. A collective us. And if Thoma and Ayato were to share you, to take care of and satisfy you, then there was absolutely no reason why they couldn’t do that for each other as well.

Thoma gulped down his trepidation, swept his gaze back towards you, and, as Ayato began to shed his own pristine clothing not too far behind him, Thoma knelt before you, taking your hands in his, and offered to answer any questions you might have, any concerns. He was pretty new at this too, but he could try, at least. So long as you felt comfortable and safe, that’s all that really mattered to him.

You and Thoma talked quietly, Ayato’s body half bare as he began his work on freeing Thoma of his clothes. It was strange to see the master of the house attending to someone of his staff in such a way, but nice nonetheless. It proved that here, behind the closed doors of this bedroom at the very least, the three of you were equals, no titles or bloodlines to separate you.

“Just know that we’re gonna take good care of you, ok?” Thoma promised, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead after shrugging free from the undermost layer of his shirt, Ayato tossing the thin black fabric over the back of a chair where his own clothes were draped. “You’re in good hands.”

Your eyes fell upon the two of them, feeling yourself blush at the sight of their bare chests, the way they were both toned with muscle, just in different ways. The two of them truly were like night and day, but, lucky for you, you didn’t have to choose between sun and moon in the instance of an eclipse.

Ayato had the build of someone who trained and sparred regularly. He was slightly taller than Thoma, his shoulders a little broader and speckled with a sparse constellation of beauty marks and moles. Your line of sight traveled further down his torso, tracing the chiseled definition of his abs with your eyes, swallowing hard when your view reached the waistband of his trousers, the way his pale skin stretched thin and taut over sharp hip bones. Ayato looked like he could’ve been carved from marble, the sculptor’s greatest creation, but this didn’t make the man beside him any less alluring to you.

Thoma was more lithe and lean, his skin a little tanner from too many afternoons spent out tending to the gardens in the hot summer sun. His arms were covered with a fine dusting of fair, blonde hairs, a chaotic speckling of light freckles beneath. The same wisps of spun gold snuck out from his waistband and up towards his navel in the thin line of a happy trail. Thoma’s posture was, surprisingly, slightly more relaxed than Ayato’s. He merely appeared as if he were patiently waiting, one of his thick-fingered, calloused hands absentmindedly fidgeting with a loose thread fraying off the article of clothing he was left wearing. He gave you a reassuring smile, his entire body seeming to sigh with adoration as his stance became even more relaxed.

Ayato’s gaze shifted back and forth between you and Thoma, as if trying to gauge whether he should take the lead or not. In hindsight, you’d been a little surprised that he hadn’t taken initiative right from the start. But perhaps that was just another unseen side to him you’d get the chance to explore more in the future.

Even Ayato was learning that those who appeared the most charming and confident could find themselves uncertain sometimes.

Ayato then came to sit on the edge of the bed next to you, resting one of his big, gentle hands on your lower back, gazing into your eyes like he was entranced, only removing his stare long enough to flick his eyes towards Thoma again, silently motioning for him to join you both on the bed.

That’s when one hand became two, two hands becoming three as Thoma began to help you out of your own clothes. Three becoming four as Ayato massaged the knots of tension from your shoulders and neck, taking special care of your wrists and hands as he knew how much they craved some care.

It was a reminder for him to not work you so hard— not that your position in the hierarchy of housemaids had been up to him, that assignment had been up to the head housemaid— and to make sure you were given the rest and relaxation you so well deserved when things started to get too busy or stressful. At least Ayato knew Thoma would always be there to support you during the hours he could not, but with that in mind, he was starting to realize perhaps he shouldn’t work Thoma so hard either.

“Go on, Thoma…” Ayato encouraged, applying light pressure to Thoma’s back, urging him closer to you. “It’s only fair…” He leaned in closer to Thoma’s ear, brushing the shell of it with his lips teasingly as he whispered, “She was yours first.”

Again, the heat rose in Thoma’s cheeks like a fire burning to life in its hearth, hoping to still his shaking hands before they found you, reminding himself how long he’d dreamt of this, how long he’d wished for it and willed it into existence. And then he was kissing you, his tongue teasing at the seam of your lips until they parted for him, warm and wanting.

Ayato pulled you back into his lap in the few moments it took for you and Thoma to catch a breath, helping you settle your back against his chest, skin to skin, and letting you lean on him as Thoma moved closer, until his and Ayato’s legs were practically intertwined, and kissed you again, deeper that time, longer, slower, taking his time to explore every inch of your sweet mouth. When he’d discovered all he could there, drinking in every little whine or moan you made, he moved onto your neck, your head resting in the crook of Ayato’s shoulder as Thoma sucked dark bruises into the sensitive flesh of your throat.

Ayato could feel you trembling, already sensing the electric buzz of overstimulation humming through every nerve and vein inside of you as two sets of hands— one calloused and slightly smaller than the other, the second large and slender, soft and deft— began to knead at different parts of your body, never seeming able to hold enough in just their palms.

Ayato massaged gentle circles onto your hips and thighs while Thoma cupped your breasts, lightly pinching one nipple until it elicited a reaction from you, causing you to arch your back a little more and a soft, broken mewl of a cry to escape from your lips, chasing after his touch as your breathing picked up speed, chest rising and falling a little more rapidly than before.

His kisses then ventured lower until his mouth latched onto one of your sensitive, perked little buds, a moan of his own eliciting from the back of his throat as he felt his own arousal swell and his eyes fluttered closed. Your stomach was beginning to flinch, steadily growing painful as it writhed in its desire, but Thoma didn’t stop until he’d given both sides the same thorough treatment. At one point, Ayato had a hand resting on the back of the blonde’s neck, urging him to keep going with you, even if it was with a slight selfish want to watch the two of you like this a little longer, so vulnerable and pleasured.

“Are you ok like this?” Thoma eventually asked before continuing, patient with you as you took a moment to catch your breath and answer. You gave a weak nod, reaching out for him, cradling his cheek in your palm, watching as his emerald eyes— completely enamored— gazed upon you like you were a diamond among stones, so bright and dazzling it could be blinding at times. 

Perhaps he also knew what it was like to be a flower some days, soaking up any light and warmth you’d been willing to give him.

But that’s when the clouds rolled in, a drizzle of rain misting the gardens as Ayato locked eyes with Thoma and gave a gentle, encouraging nod. “It’s ok,” you heard Thoma mutter, shifting his position to lower himself between your legs, which Ayato had hooked over his own, beginning to bear you to Thoma. His touch was tender as it glided across the soft skin of your thighs, gently coaxing them further apart until you were on full display for him, beautiful and glistening. Ayato helped, of course, spreading you further apart when you shyly tried to close your legs again, you turning your head to the side and trying to bury your face in Ayato’s shoulder as a new wave of embarrassment and vulnerability flooded you, one of your hands keeping firmly intertwined in the long strands of sky that cascaded down his neck as if that could anchor you to him.

“I’ve got you…” Thoma said, flicking his gaze back to Ayato for just a moment before locking in on you. “We’ve both got you.”

The first kiss to your fluttering pussy sent a shockwave of chills racing up your spine, blood turning hot and electric as little sparks of pleasure ignited through the very marrow of your bones. You couldn’t help but emit another one of those delicate little whines, the sound of it causing both Ayato and Thoma to grow harder, the press of your back against Ayato’s chest causing your skin’s temperature to increase a few degrees with both of your combined body heat. 

When Thoma started teasing you with his tongue, you almost thought it would be too much, that surely there was no way you’d last long enough to take them both, that you’d go blind with the euphoria. He started out slow, savoring the taste of you, experimenting with different pressures and patterns to find what made you pulse and quiver most, dipping his slick muscle into your fluttering little hole a few times for good measure, his moans vibrating against your cunt whenever he felt your body try and suck him in deeper, your silky walls desperate to be filled with something more.

“Thoma—” you gasped, his name choked out by a broken whisper at the end, both your hands reaching back to grip Ayato’s biceps now, little nails biting shallow crescents into his skin and clinging onto him like he was the only thing currently tethering you to earth. “It’s—” But as he placed a languid, open mouthed kiss to your sensitive clit, another broken cry killed what had remained of your sentence.

“I’ve got you,” you kept hearing Ayato coo, though it sounded distant, muffled and far off and nothing like he was sitting just behind you. “That’s it… I’ve got you… Such a good girl…”

Unrelenting, Thoma continued his assault on your pussy, his face painted in your glistening arousal, the obscenely wet sounds of his mouth and tongue working you up to your first orgasm of the night filling the room and making you dizzy with both lust and embarrassment. But right before you could become too self conscious, he’d send another wave of mind numbing warmth rolling through your core, traveling through your body all the way up to pump more pleasure into your hazy brain.

You swore you couldn’t take much more, at one point were practically begging— though for it to stop or keep going, you didn’t know— but what finally nudged you over that sharp, steep edge was when Ayato reached around with one hand and took one of your nipples between his deft fingers and gave a gentle, teasing squeeze, as if just out of curiosity to discover what they’d feel like, how soft they would be.

The head of the Kamisato clan let out a pleased hum when your back arched against him and you let out another one of those adorable little cries, carefully twisting the sensitive bud of your breast in a way that was now entirely intentional. Pressing his lips right against your ear he whispered, low and sultry, “Oh? Our pretty girl likes that, doesn’t she?” One more ministration and you were coming undone, losing all control of your body, legs spasming and spine arching with a jolt as your mouth hung open in a silent scream, eyes rolling back as the feeling coursed through you like a thick, heady drug.

Thoma came away from you with his mouth and chin shining in the dim light, watching your expression melt from tense to tranquil over the passing seconds, captivated, still partially unable to believe this was actually happening and not some kind of extremely vivid and bewitching dream. For a moment, he almost forgot how painfully hard he’d become, a reminding pulse of his own desire making him wince, pulling him back to the matter at hand.

Ayato cast him a half-lidded glance, periwinkle gaze shimmering with mirth and mischief as he continued to gently brush the pads of his fingers against your peaked nipples, keeping you on the cusp of the high while you slowly came down.

It was almost like Thoma was asking for permission from Ayato, as if they hadn’t agreed on all of this beforehand already.

“Go on…” Ayato granted, voice quiet and careful, as if speaking in the same room as someone who’d just drifted off to sleep. “It’s ok, Thoma. She’s ok…”

You were more than ok. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so good, so light, as if you could float outside of your own body and end up on an entirely different plane altogether. When was the last time you’d felt this relaxed? Had you ever? But still you couldn’t bring yourself to speak. You could barely even move. All you seemed to be able to do was listen to the rhythm of your own breathing, the steady rise and fall of your chest lulling you until you sensed the shadows behind your closed eyelids shifting, Thoma slowly climbing atop you.

Ayato helped shift you, carefully lowering you further back until you were laying flat on your back. You looked from Thoma to Ayato, seeking the answer to a question you didn’t even know to ask, but they seemed to read your facial expression then, quick to rush in and give reassurances.

“It’s alright…” Ayato sighed, taking your hands in his and pressing them lightly into the mattress on either side of your head, just holding them, gently stroking his thumb across the thin, delicate skin of your wrists.

“I’ll go slow,” Thoma said, pulling your attention back to him, his slender silhouette engulfing you from above. “I promise…” He kissed the tip of your nose. Ayato felt you tense slightly as your grip around his hands flexed. Thoma pressed a kiss to your jaw, down your neck, your collar bone, shoulder, chest, retracing the path his lips had traveled previously as if he’d already memorized it. His voice was resolute, reverent, all the while laced through with that edge of care and concern as he said, “I’m gonna take really good care of you.”

You believed him even without him saying it. You’d never had a reason to doubt that. Not with him. And even when a small pang of apprehensive fear flared inside you as he freed his aching cock and pressed it against your dripping cunt, you still trusted him. 

“You need to prep her, Thoma,” Ayato suddenly reminded him, watching the blonde with something hungry and almost vulture-like, patiently awaiting his turn as he held back his envy. Envy that Thoma would get to have you first, even though that was only fair. Ayato didn’t resent him for it, but still, he couldn’t help the small part of him that wished otherwise. “Here, let me…”

Thoma let out a choked whimper, so close to getting to feel you in full he almost couldn’t take it. And as tempted as he was to ignore Ayato’s request and give into his own selfishness, he obliged. When Ayato appeared before you next to Thoma, your hands had nothing left to grip but the sheets. Thoma was flustered and eager. Ayato appeared calm and serene as ever, though that mask would soon chip away.

You felt one long finger glide through the petals of your dewy folds before slowly sinking into your hole, then two, a sensation a little foreign but not entirely uncomfortable as Ayato began to pump them in and out, occasionally scissoring them inside of you only to feel you try and suck him in deeper, your eager cunt clutching his digits with a vengeance.

That was when Ayato’s careful mask of control cracked to reveal something more akin to unbridled desire beneath.

“That’s a good girl…” Ayato sighed as your body stirred back to life, lazily writhing atop the tousled sheets as you felt that familiar pressure begin to build again. “Now you’ll be ready to take Thoma so well…”

It wasn’t long before Thoma was leaning over you again, his and Ayato’s murmured exchange of words lost to you amidst the lustful haze. Though, you did hear him when he spoke directly to you, his voice breathy and sweet, “Gonna make you feel so good, baby… Promise…” right before you felt the blushing tip of him catch on your sensitive little hole.

You let out a hiss as the first inch nestled itself into your tight, wet warmth, the sting of the stretch not entirely unpleasant, but definitely enough to jolt some of your senses back to reality. You heard Thoma’s breath catch, a strained gasp stuck halfway up his throat as he slid in a little further, all the while Ayato stood behind him and pressed languid kisses to Thoma’s neck and shoulder, running his fingertips over the toned expanse of the blonde’s torso.

Once Thoma was all the way inside you, you wincing as he brushed against your cervix, you both took a moment to catch your breath. Then, Thoma began to move.

Every roll of his hips seemed to hit you just right, sparks of pleasure shooting up that taut string stretching up through your core and a delicate moan leaving your lips as he began to pick up speed. Thoma was biting his lip, trying to keep his gaze on you but having to squeeze his eyes shut sometimes when your cunt gripped his length like a vice. He couldn’t help but let out his own melodic moans, the sounds he made almost as beautiful as yours.

Ayato had taken to sitting back and watching you both, enjoying the music you made together, his cock already painfully hard as he began to palm himself, the silk pillows cradled around him shifting out of place as he threw his head back and tried to hold out.

You both looked so gorgeous on display like that. Vulnerable and euphoric. Raw.

Ayato couldn’t wait to see what view you’d provide when he was the one looking down on you.

You were gripping Thoma’s shoulders now, your moans growing louder and higher in pitch as he reached the peak of his pace, both of you singing in tandem with pleasure until your trembling legs seized, locking around his waist, and your back bowed off the bed, mouth hung open in another silent scream as you came undone for Thoma yet again.

It was hardly a moment later before Thoma was curling over you and finishing himself, trying to stay coherent so he could savor this sensation, this memory, as he filled you to the brim with his warm, sticky seed.

Both of you were breathing hard, panting out short, shallow little breaths into each other’s necks as you kept your bodies pressed close together, as if you could stay in that moment forever so long as you were still enough.

Ayato had to force himself to assert control over his own desires for just a little longer, removing his hand from himself and trying to focus back on you. But as you and Thoma’s chests returned to a slower, deeper rise and fall rhythm, Ayato pushed off from the bed.

He’d been plenty patient in waiting.

Now, it was his turn.

“How do you both feel?” Ayato asked as he came to sit on the edge of the bed closest to you. Thoma was still nestled deep inside you, his cock softening yet reluctant to leave the lovely warmth your body provided. But he knew his time was up. It wasn’t fair to keep you all for himself. That had been the deal. So, slowly, carefully, he pulled out of you, choking on a whine as some of his balmy whiteness leaked out of your pretty little hole, dripping down your ass and threatening to make a mess of the sheets.

Thoma went to swipe some of it away with his fingers but Ayato stopped him, gripping his wrist and giving him a playfully chiding look. “Don’t,” he stated, as if he’d read Thoma’s mind. “Let it stain.”

So used to taking his master’s orders, Thoma obeyed, stepping back and trading places with Ayato, who now assumed position over you.

“How’s our pretty girl doing, hm…?” Ayato cooed, so soft and safe that Thoma nearly didn’t recognize the voice as belonging to him. But what had actually caught him the most off guard was the word he’d used.

Our.

As in, belonging to both Ayato and Thoma.

The Kamisatos had never wanted for anything and had always had the power to take what they wished to claim for their own. Never had Thoma ever thought Ayato would be willing to share such a valuable rarity with the likes of his housekeeper. Not when there was only one. Not when it was you.

But he was.

And now it was Thoma’s turn to watch and trust that his friend would honor their deal when all was said and done. That Ayato would still be willing to share you even after he’d gotten a taste for himself.

You were just barely coming to when Ayato was staring down at you, haloed by the glowing moonlight, pale blue locks cascading over his broad, toned shoulders, skin glowing like a comet’s tail.

“Think you can go again, sweetheart?” Ayato asked, the question just above a whisper, as if murmuring a secret to you. And, for a moment, he feared he might not get to experience you at all. He feared you might’ve already had enough for one night and he’d be forced to finish himself off and wait until you were recovered to resume where things had left off. But all that fear disappeared once you gave a wobbly nod, reaching for him, wanting to pull him closer.

Ayato leaned down to meet you, his lips teasingly brushing against your own, letting you feel him smile against you, a mischievous little hum lilting in his throat. He pulled back a fraction, taking a devious satisfaction when you whined and tried to close the gap. He was going to have so much fun playing with you, learning how far to push you, how much you’d try and push back. But, for now, he gave you what you wanted.

When his mouth met yours, Ayato swore he could still taste Thoma on your tongue, something sugary sweet mingled in with your saliva that was unmistakably him.

Deepening the kiss, Ayato left you breathless, had you getting lost in the sensation. He could’ve kissed you for hours, kissed you until he forgot his own name.

But that would also have to wait for a later time, it seemed. Right now, there were more pressing matters at hand.

“That’s a good girl,” he praised you, gripping your hips to slide you further down the bed towards him. His strength was effortless, gracefully regal in its own right. He placed a big hand between your shoulder blades and slowly lifted you up a little, seeing the curiosity glittering in your gaze as you stared up at him, an unspoken question forming on your tongue.

“I think I want to try something a little different,” he told you, voice still soft and cautious. Then, with one of those subtle, charming smiles he asked, “Do you trust me?”

You nodded again, knowing that, whatever he had in mind, it would benefit you both.

Ayato shifted you so that you were straddling him, his hard cock poised and at the ready just inches below your sore little entrance, both of you sitting upright and facing each other. Your hands held his shoulders for purchase, able to feel all that lean muscle coiled beneath pale skin, while his hands made quick work of positioning you both for what came next.

With one, he guided his cock towards your hole, with the other, he kept a firm hold on one of your hips, helping you to sink down on his length, every velvety inch of him sliding deeper into your slick heat as you let out a few whimpers and your grip on his shoulders tightened.

Ayato felt different than Thoma, though no less pleasant. He filled you in a way that made you wince, stretching you just a little wider than Thoma had, but not quite sending those shooting jolts of pain to your core like when Thoma had brushed against your cervix. He was certainly close though, and once you got moving you’d be prepared for the pain.

He waited for you to catch your breath, let you slump against his chest as he stroked languid lines up and down your spine to try and help you relax, and once you’d seemed to adjust, he moved his hands to grip your both sides of your hips, beginning to help you bounce on his cock.

Your eyes were rolling to the back of your head before long, mouth agape with panting huffs and silent pleasure, Ayato’s strained moans punctuating the air. Thoma was once again entranced, watching the two of you with a dazed sort of reverence.

Thoma had been so gentle, so sweet and servicing, but Ayato held more of a dominance over you. Though, again, to choose one over the other wouldn’t have been easy for you. Good thing, you kept remembering, you got to have both.

“That’s it—” he told you, all prior control and elegance gone from his voice now, only left over with the raw vulnerability of pure animal desire. “That’s a good girl— Just like that— Fuck…”

Hearing the swear leave his lips had your legs trembling again, on the edge of being plunged beneath the surface of so much mind-numbing pleasure. Ayato was holding out, nearly getting lost in his own lust as the intoxicating clench of your cunt around his length made him see stars, but the moment you went tense with the height of your orgasm, silky walls squeezing around him the tightest they had yet, Ayato couldn’t wait anymore.

He lost any and all control he had left and filled you with his own sticky warmth, your quivering form slowly going slack against him, now entirely spent.

“Archons, baby…” Ayato sighed, holding you in his strong arms like you were the only thing in the entire world that mattered to him. The only thing he’d ever wanted. He briefly met eyes with Thoma who already looked halfway to getting hard again and beckoned him closer with a loose wave of his hand.

Thoma approached, already expecting orders, but instead what happened was Ayato gently wove his fingers through the short hair at Thoma’s neck and guided him closer until their foreheads were touching, resting against each other in a silent pact.

A promise.

After a while, Thoma starting to feel a little self conscious, he began to say, “I should go get something to clean us up with,” but Ayato stopped him before he could finish the suggestion with a shake of his head.

Carefully, he pulled out of you, both him and Thoma helping to lay you back on the bed and fluffing the pillows, adjusting them until you were most comfortable. You were so full from both Thoma and Ayato you swore you could feel it in your tummy, a whine escaping you as you felt their combined pleasure dribbling out of you, the cool night air hitting your soaked pussy and sending a shiver up your spine.

Thoma pulled one of the sheets over your form, and before long you were already dozing off. Once you were settled, Ayato finally said, a hint of mischief playing at the corners of his lips, “You stay here with her. I’ll take care of the cleaning up for once.”

Thoma went to interject and insist that he could do it— that he should do it— but Ayato wouldn’t hear of it. And so Thoma lay next to you in bed, watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest and the flutter of your lashes while he waited for Ayato to return.

“Do you know how long I dreamt of this?” Thoma murmured, his voice barely detectable to you amidst the pleasure-fueled high of your slumbering daze. “Of you. Of us…” He sounded as if he were gliding through a dream, glazed over with pure adoration and only a little disbelief. Then, after the length of a few more of your slow, peaceful breaths, “I just could’ve never imagined it would feel so much better than anything I ever could’ve thought up. The during…” He propped himself up on one elbow, gingerly pressed a tender kiss to your sweet little forehead. “And the after…”

Ayato returned with a basin of warm water and a bundle of silky cloth. He handed one to Thoma and they both got to the careful and meticulous work of cleaning you up. You stirred upon their touch, both of them murmuring lulling words to you as you blinked open bleary eyes. When they were done taking care of their most special girl, Ayato wrapped you in his finest, softest robe and Thoma tucked you into bed, making you a spot in the middle among all the silk sheets and satin pillows, looking like a princess amidst all the fabric finery.

Ayato went to clean Thoma next, unable to suppress a smile as he caught his housekeeper blushing brighter shades of red the further down his body his careful, tentative hands traveled. He thought about letting him off the hook, but it seemed his habit of teasing him couldn’t resist.

“Feeling shy now, are we? After everything we’ve done?”

An embarrassed squeak crawled up Thoma’s throat as he opened his mouth to speak. Then he stammered out an adorably defensive, “N-no, it’s just— I’ve never had someone— And you of all people— I—”

Ayato Kamisato silenced his nervousness with one of those deviously charming chuckles, a low hum of mirth trailing off the end. “You should get used to others taking care of you for once, Thoma,” he lightly chastised. “Besides, if we’re to keep doing this I can’t have you feeling ashamed. The two of us agreed to share her but…” Ayato stood from where he’d been kneeling, finishing with his work of the mess that had been glazed over Thoma’s skin. He straightened to his full height, considering his housekeeper with a look that was almost pleading. “Would it be so bad if we partook in each other from time to time as well?”

Thoma flushed beet red from his chest all the way to the tips of his ears, averting his eyes from the taller man and nervously worrying his lip between his teeth. Of course he wouldn’t mind that. Him and Ayato had been close enough even before tonight that the consideration wasn’t entirely implausible. But to say it out loud…

That was a different bridge to cross.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Ayato suggested, seeming not to mind that Thoma was hesitating. There would be plenty of later opportunities to revisit and develop their new relationship and all the different dynamics of it. For once, Ayato Kamisato was content with being patient. He then nodded towards you, both of their eyes falling on your form. Your eyes were still barely open, watching them as if they were familiar, benevolent ghosts that appeared before the foot of your bed every night. “Poor thing’s had quite the exhausting night. Don’t want to keep her waiting.”

And with that, Thoma and Ayato climbed into bed to join you, both of them snuggling up to you at your request, reducing your trio of warm, sated bodies to a loose tangle of tired limbs and synchronized breathing.

As you fell asleep between them, you briefly reflected on your initial hesitation of being shared. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to handle it, whether physically, emotionally, or both. But now, after placing your trust in their hands, after experiencing how gently they’d treated you, how attentive they’d been, well…

Now you couldn’t imagine things any other way.

***

(Hello and thank you so much for reading! I sincerely hope you enjoyed! <3

I actually started this fic over a year ago but kept putting off finishing it, so I’m glad to have it done and concluded in a way I’m pretty satisfied with. I’ve loved Thoma and Ayato ever since I first played Inazuma so I’m glad I’ve finally been able to write a fic featuring both of them.

Anyway, thank you so so much once again for reading. I hope you have a wonderful day and do something kind for yourself. See you next time! Byyyyeee~!)

[starset21]

Two Worlds, One Summer

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Leclerc!reader

Standard disclaimer: I do not consent to the posting, translating, or publishing of my work to any 3rd party site, the only place it may currently be found is on tumblr and Ao3. This is all fake. It does not reflect real people, real events or their actual actions or relationships.

Summery: Separated at birth twins Juliette Leclerc and Amélie Verstappen meet for the first time at camp, after practically becoming rivals they are forced together in an attempt to get them to get along.

This is part 1. Looking for the other parts? Double Trouble Masterlist 

The afternoon sun cast golden streaks across the Leclerc penthouse, overlooking the Monaco harbor. Below, yachts glided through the water, their white sails catching the breeze. Inside, 13 year old Juliette Leclerc carefully folded the last of her designer dresses into her Louis Vuitton suitcase. Her mother’s atelier had been buzzing with energy all morning—models coming in for final fittings, seamstresses adjusting gowns, and stylists prepping for an upcoming bridal fashion show. 

Despite the chaos, Y/n Leclerc remained calm, effortlessly directing her team like a queen ruling her empire. Juliette admired her mother for that. She was graceful, composed, and impossibly elegant, qualities Juliette had spent her life trying to embody. Still, as she zipped up her suitcase, a small frown formed on her lips. “Maman, are you sure about this?” she asked hesitantly. “I don’t see why I have to spend the summer at camp. I could stay here and help with the wedding collections. Or assist you at Paris Fashion Week.” 

Y/n, sipping green tea from a delicate porcelain cup, gave her daughter a knowing smile. “Ma chérie, you need to do more than just ride horses and come back to sketch designs in my studio all summer,” she said, stepping toward Juliette and tucking a loose strand of her daughter’s long blonde hair behind her ear. “You should be having fun. Making friends.”

“I have friends,” Juliette muttered. Her mother’s gaze softened. “You have acquaintances. When was the last time you spent time with someone your age, outside of a fitting or lessons?” Juliette didn’t have an answer to that. “I promise, it won’t be so bad,” she reassured her. 

The family’s butler, Louis, appeared in the doorway, a silver tray in hand. He was dressed immaculately, as always, in a pressed suit despite the heat. “I took the liberty of packing some extra essentials, Mademoiselle Juliette,” Louis said as he set a neatly wrapped package onto her suitcase. “You’ll need proper skin care after lake adventures and long days in the sun.” Juliette sighed. “Of course. I should have known.” 

Louis gave her a pointed look. “Your mother may have insisted on this trip, but I insist that you keep your standards intact.” Juliette tried not to smile. If anyone could make sure her life remained orderly, even from afar, it was Louis. Still, as she looked around the penthouse, at the high ceilings and racks of designer gowns, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she didn’t belong at some outdoor adventure camp. This was going to be a disaster.

Rain splattered against the garage doors of the Verstappen estate, a sleek, modern home nestled just outside of Amsterdam. The faint scent of burnt rubber still lingered in the air from the morning’s karting session. Inside, 13 year old Amélie Verstappen was sprawled across her bed, absentmindedly tossing a baseball into the air. Her duffel bag sat half-packed on the floor, a mess of hoodies, sneakers, and a few stray racing gloves. Across the room, Maria, the family’s longtime nanny and housekeeper, stood with her arms crossed, watching Amélie’s lack of effort with a disapproving look. 

“I don’t understand why I have to go to this stupid camp,” Amélie grumbled, catching the baseball and hurling it toward a stack of magazines. It knocked over a framed photo of her and her father at a race track. Maria picked it up with a sigh. “Because your father wants you to have a normal summer. One that doesn’t involve engines and exhaust fumes.” Amélie scoffed. “I like engines and exhaust fumes.” Maria sat down at the edge of the bed. “I know, querida. But you also need to know how to have fun outside of racing.” 

Amélie groaned dramatically. “Karting is fun.” Maria gave her a pointed look. “When was the last time you did something that wasn’t karting?” Amélie hesitated. “…Last week?” Maria shook her head. “Testing at Red Bull’s junior program does not count.” Amélie flopped back onto the bed, groaning. “Fine.” 

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway made Amélie sit up. Moments later, Max Verstappen entered, dressed in his usual Red Bull hoodie and jeans, looking slightly exhausted but happy to be home. “Papa!” Amélie perked up, hopping off the bed and running to give him a hug. “Hey, mijn meisje,” Max greeted, ruffling her already-messy hair. “All packed for camp?” Amélie crossed her arms. “I don’t wanna go.” Max sighed. “I know. But trust me, it’ll be good for you. And if you really hate it, you can come home early.” 

Amélie perked up. “Really?” Maria shot Max a look. He winced. “Uh—well, let’s see how it goes first.” Amélie smirked. “I’m taking that as a yes.” Max laughed, shaking his head. “Just… try to behave, alright?” he asks. “No promises,” Amélie said cheekily, grabbing her duffel bag. Max sighed. “That’s what I was afraid of.” As Amélie headed out, Max turned to Maria. “She’s going to be a nightmare for them, isn’t she?” Maria smirked. “Oh, absolutely.”

The sun shone brightly over Camp Star, nestled in the rolling French countryside. The estate was enormous, complete with horseback trails, pristine tennis courts, a sparkling lake, and even an exclusive sailing program. For Juliette Leclerc, it was the kind of place she was used to—an elite summer camp for Europe’s wealthiest families. For Amélie Verstappen, it looked like a prison sentence. She slung her duffel bag over her shoulder, stepping onto the gravel path leading toward the main lodge. The other campers around her rolled in with sleek designer luggage, their parents lingering to give them polite kisses on the cheek. Amélie rolled her eyes. Fancy Rich kids and their weird fancy goodbyes. Then she spotted Juliette. 

She wasn’t sure why, but something about her instantly got under her skin. Maybe it was her perfectly styled hair, or her designer handbag, or the way she carried herself like she owned the place. Juliette, meanwhile, noticed Amélie at the same time. The girl’s messy ponytail, scuffed-up sneakers, and untucked camp T-shirt practically screamed unpolished—and the way she was staring at Juliette made her feel uneasy. There was something strangely familiar about her. Juliette dismissed the thought, giving Amélie a polite yet dismissive glance before walking away. That was all it took for Amélie to decide that she hated her.

It didn’t take long for dislike to turn into an all-out war.

Example #1: The Door Incident

At lunch on the first day, Juliette was walking gracefully into the dining hall when Amélie “accidentally” cut in front of her, letting the door swing right into her face. “Oh no, did I do that?” Amélie said with a smirk, not even bothering to hide her amusement. Juliette, rubbing her nose, gently smoothed down her dress and forced a smile. “I’m sure it was just a lack of manners.”

“Oops,” Amélie said, shrugging.

Example #2: The Shampoo Disaster

Juliette decided to get even for all of Amélie’s passive aggressive quips and rude actions. She swapped Amélie’s shampoo with blue dye. The next morning, when Amélie walked into breakfast, her hair was streaked with blue. The entire dining hall erupted into laughter. Amélie, furious, stomped straight up to Juliette’s table. “Hope you like it,” Juliette said sweetly, sipping her tea. Amélie grabbed Juliette’s perfectly arranged breakfast tray and flipped it over, spilling tea and fruit all over her white blouse. Juliette gasped. “You savage!” Amélie grinned. “Oops. Must’ve slipped.”

Example #3: The Bed Switch

That night, Amélie moved Juliette’s mattress outside onto the porch while she was in the showers. Juliette returned, exhausted, and flopped onto what she thought was her bed—only to fall straight onto the wooden floor. A few campers peeked out of their rooms, snickering. Amélie, lying comfortably in her own bed, called out, “Sweet dreams, Princess!”

Example #4: The Canoe Disaster

The next day, during water sports, Juliette got her revenge. The camp required everyone to pair up in a canoe for the lake challenge. Of course, Juliette strategically switched out Amélie’s oars for a mismatched pair, making sure she could barely row straight. By the time Amélie realized what was happening, her canoe had drifted completely off course, sending her straight into a cluster of reeds while Juliette rowed past effortlessly. As Juliette sailed by, she smiled. “Having trouble?” Amélie gritted her teeth. “I hate you.”

Example #5: The last straw

The camp’s Annual Go-Kart Race was supposed to be a friendly event. For Amélie, it was personal. Finally—something she could actually win. The other kids barely stood a chance. She knew how to handle a kart better than most people could drive a car. She dominated the track, weaving through turns with flawless precision. Juliette, meanwhile, wasn’t bad—but she was more strategic than aggressive. With only a few laps left, Amélie was leading. Juliette, in second place, narrowed her eyes. She didn’t need to win—she just needed to make sure Amélie didn’t. As they approached the final corner, Juliette did something… reckless.

She nudged Amélie’s rear tire just enough to send her spinning out of control—straight into a hay bale. The crowd gasped. Dust swirled in the air as Amélie pulled off her helmet, her hazel green eyes blazing with fury. Juliette pulled up beside her, smirking. “Oh dear. Did I do that?” Amélie was about to throw her helmet at Juliette’s head— 

Until Madame Fournier stormed onto the track. “That is enough!” she snapped. “Since you two can not seem to behave, you are now roommates. Effective immediately.” The entire camp erupted in whispers. Juliette’s jaw dropped. Amélie stared in horror. “Non,” Juliette said weakly. “You can’t be serious.” Amélie groaned. “I’d rather sleep in a ditch.” Madame Fournier crossed her arms. “That can be arranged.”

[diggity-didge]

I think we need to give that dysfunctional Entrati family iphones ASAP. I want them to be a fucked up family vlog channel where they all have their own social media accounts. They have a jillion subscribers but half of them are out of horror. Like yes someone needs to call the police but also notifications are on for their next post

Their most popular video is the candy salad/trauma dump trend. There ends up being a fistfight and it goes viral

They have, for better or worse, become a part of internet culture. Reaction images, video clips, memes, quotes, have all come from their videos. People dress up as them for "meme day" during spirit weeks.

Their let's play streams are INSANE. Yelling, cursing, airing family secrets out, the whole nine yards. Father and Daughter usually win if the game includes PvP/fighting

People can’t tell if they’re rich or not. They have a very large house filled with technology, and are all obviously very intelligent, but their house seems constantly overtaken by rot and vermin and is even crumbling in some places? They don’t seem to mind so fans pretend it isn’t there

Father has a podcast. This is...interesting, as he becomes especially popular with divorced men, but also some of the younger generations think he’s funny because his dad energy is evident. Definitely calls himself the grill master or something corny

Otak and his brother Loid are the family’s housekeeper/utilities guy/family friend and a fan favorite. Two of the most "normal" people featured on the channel

The favorite family member isn’t even related to them by blood. It’s some guy (gender neutral) named Tenno (nicknamed Ayatan) who is the only guest star to date to not attempt to punch Son’s lights in

They all call each other by their family title, and fans don’t know if its either a running bit, they hate each other so much that they refuse to call each other by their name, or the chemicals they’re constantly using in videos has finally got to them. (It's actually a disease so rare they are some of the only currently documented cases, and it's known to mess with memory)

Daughter has a fishing channel. People would use her videos as studying background noise until she started butchering fish on-camera. A lot of her videos get taken down for excessive violence and PETA absolutely HATES her ass. However, swamp and large aquatic animal hunters SWEAR by her DIY bait videos

Son becomes an influencer. This is bad for everyone because he’s constantly doing callouts that are always obvious at who they’re targeted at. He’s especially popular with the queer community because there’s no way someone that bitchy isn’t bisexual and his cadence of speaking is basically textbook gay lisp. Posts shit like “GRWM and storytime: how a family member COLLARED ME over an INCONSEQUENTIAL MISTAKE”

Mother has an educational channel. She’s extremely good at teaching but has also traumatized generations of “her children” (middle school to phD students) when she reads their comments or takes fan calls. (“You watched all my videos but STILL only got a 63%? PATHETIC! Unsubscribe until you succeed. Half-baked scholars have no need to follow me.”)

One time Tenno performed CPR (?) on the family’s power supply which was in the shape of a heart (??) It’s unsure whether or not it was staged and whether the power supply was fit for human use

When they all post apology videos to each other and begin to not hate each other’s guts, the Internet freaks the FUCK out (they finally got medicated and were forced to talk shit out)

Grandmother is a popular recurring guest and KNOWS it. Constantly reads her family to filth and comments under posts by her family with "Grand MOTHER 💜"

So many fans and other youtubers have entire multiple hours long video essays dedicated to them to figure out what the hell is going on. Anytime the family guests on another channel or podcast the mystery gets deeper and deeper. Is it black mold? Genetics? Sheer human hatred? Who knows!

[eiightysixbaby]

this is heaven, what i truly want

oliver quick x fem!reader

you’re never truly alone at saltburn. there’s always someone watching. (3.4k+)

18+ only! oral f receiving, voyeurism, unprotected piv, creampie, spit kink, use of pet names (darling, sweetheart, baby, etc.), one use of ‘sir’, cum eating (just a smidge), biting and choking (literally one brief instance of each), edging. lmk if I forgot any!

a/n: hooooo boy I wanted to try something new, so here it is! promise I’m not fully veering away from my usual stranger things content, I just desperately needed to write some filth for ollie 🤭 hope you enjoy!! I proofread this a couple times but if there’s mistakes iM SORRY. my closing statement: I can fix him your honor.

Watched. For days you’ve felt like you’re being watched. Carefully, closely, tracking your every move. Maybe the walls have eyes, who knows with a place as eccentric as this. All of the ornate fixtures and ancient paintings do have a bit of an eery, haunting feel to them.

Or perhaps it’s just because you aren’t used to having housekeepers around at all hours of the day. Duncan has always been off-putting; every summer you’ve spent at Saltburn throughout your life there’s been an energy about him that’s made the hair on your neck stand up.

Regardless, you’ve tried to shake off the feeling, wondering if you were finally losing your mind. Because here, with Felix and Venetia, Elspeth and James and Farleigh — you’re safe. They’re lifelong family friends who, as strange as they may be at times, make you feel secure. Nobody would have any business spying on you.

But oh, you should’ve known better.

You slip out of the large clawfoot tub, bare feet planting themselves on the white tile floor. Water drips from your body, the tiniest puddle forming at your feet. Grabbing your towel, you begin to dry your body with the soft fabric. You hum softly to yourself, reaching for your satin robe where it hangs by the vanity. For a moment you think you hear something, the tiniest creaking sound, and you move to look around the unnecessarily large bathroom. It’s dark in the corners where the light doesn’t quite reach, but even squinting you see nothing out of the ordinary.

You’re fucking losing it, you mentally scold yourself. It’s an old house, it’s going to make noise.

You lean against the vanity, palms flat on the marble countertop. Letting out a heavy sigh, your head hangs low, eyes closed. Get it together.

When you’ve finally steadied your breathing, you look back up to greet yourself in the mirror. You work your hairbrush through your wet hair, taking care to untangle any knots. The feeling won’t go away, your defenses raised. Eyes on you. There’s someone watching. There has to be.

You see him in the mirror before you actually see him.

Turning on your heel, a loud gasp escapes you. Your heart pounds behind your rib cage, your eyes focusing in on the figure lurking in the dark hallway. The bathroom door is open a crack, eyes you know to be blue piercing through you.

Oliver.

“What the fuck, Ollie!?” you shout, watching as he slips fully into the bathroom and shuts the door behind him.

You retreat, back pressing against the counter behind you. He stalks calmly towards you, caging you in. You swallow, unable to stop the way your eyes study his muscular frame, his tank top clinging tight to his torso.

“Now now,” he says, soft and steady. “We don’t want the whole house to wonder what’s up, do we?”

“What are you doing here?” you grit, nostrils flaring as you exhale heavily. Your posture stiffens, tense under his chilling gaze. “Why were you watching me?”

“Don’t act so offended, darling,” he says, stepping so close that your chests nearly touch. “Do you think I don’t see the way you look at me?”

Your lips part, breath hitching in your throat. It’d be a filthy lie to act as if you haven’t been admiring him since he first arrived, under Felix’s wing like a timid little animal. Something about him has captivated you, intrigued you, lured you in. He’s just so quiet, so skittish. So beautiful.

Being as close to family as you could get, you didn’t want to make things awkward by putting the moves on Felix’s friend, so you avoided him when you could. But that only made things more unbearable for you. Many a night was spent with your hand between your thighs, softly crying his name into your dark bedroom. Imagining he was there with you. He couldn’t know about that… could he?

“I don’t know what you’re implying,” you say, looking up at him defiantly. Lying through your teeth. You should know he can practically smell the nervousness on you.

It’s cute that you think he’d buy this.

“Oh, save the games, sweetheart,” he tuts, taking a final step closer to you. His chest fully pressed against yours now, his face dipping forward until his mouth is right beside your ear. “I know you touch yourself at night, stretching open that pretty little cunt, wishing it was me.”

Fucking hell.

“Did you really think you could be slick? Think I wouldn’t catch the way you stare at me all of the time, think I wouldn’t figure you out?”

“How long have you been watching me?” you ask quietly, your voice meek now.

“Not any longer than you’ve been watching me.”

“I haven’t—” you start, but he presses a finger to your lips, quieting you. He raises a brow, as if to say ‘Do you really want to go there?’

God, you were so stupid. Staring at him any chance you got; looking out your window at him while he’d lounge shirtless by the pool, or peering through his cracked bedroom door one evening after dinner in hopes of seeing him changing. You were sick. And here you are, chastising him.

You keep your gaze directly on his, feeling your heart rate increase under the scrutiny of those piercing, gorgeous blue eyes. He gently holds your chin, keeping you focused on him as he studies your face.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, letting his free hand come to rest on your waist. You’re reminded then that you’re only in a robe, and suddenly your skin feels like it’s ablaze.

“Oliver—” you start, your eyes big and pleading as you stare at him. What exactly you’re hoping for you don’t know, you just want him to do something.

His gaze flits to your lips, his tongue poking out to wet his own. Leaning in, his mouth ghosts over yours, barely grazing your waiting pout. He pulls back, teasing, and you chase him. Seeking out his lips until he gives in, one hand on your lower back, holding you against him as he kisses you roughly. His tongue licks into your eager mouth, swirling around yours, tasting you. It feels as though you’re nearly devouring each other, teeth clashing as your hands reach up to tangle themselves in his hair.

You whine, a high-pitched and pretty thing when he lets his mouth find your neck, sucking harsh on the delicate skin. Rolling your hips against his, you can feel the bulge straining in his boxers and he groans at the sudden friction.

“Ol— Ollie, please,” you beg, for what it isn’t clear, but he removes his lips from your pulse point to look at you.

“Such a needy little thing you are,” he says, regarding you down the bridge of his nose. “And to think five minutes ago you were acting like I wasn’t welcome in here…”

You chew at your bottom lip, thighs pressing together involuntarily at the way he speaks to you. His tone is ultimately patronizing, and you’d have no complaints if he spoke to you like this all of the time.

He dips his head back down, this time kissing over your collarbone. Every inch of skin he kisses seems to ignite, electricity coursing through your veins. He unties the fabric belt securing your robe around your front, letting it instead fall open for him. You’re completely bare beneath the black silky fabric, and you watch the way his eyes trail down your figure. He studies you like you’re the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen, and there’s an insatiable hunger behind that stunning blue. He’d eat you whole if it were possible.

Continuing his descent, he takes the nipple of your right breast into his mouth, kneading the left with his hand. You gasp, tipping your head back as his tongue rolls over the sensitive little bud, sucking on it. He diverts his mouth’s attention to the other side, then, making sure he gives equal attention to each of your tits. You can feel yourself throb for him, nearly dripping at your core in anticipation.

“Such pretty tits,” he mumbles, lips trailing against your skin. He lets his face linger between them for a moment, caressing them with soft hands.

Your mind wanders as he works his way down, kissing down your stomach, nipping at your hips. You wonder how often he’s spied on you without you catching him — exactly how many times he’s seen you touch yourself to the thought of him. It only drives you further up the wall; picturing him peering through a crack in your bedroom door on nights where you’d lay completely bare on your bed, pleasuring yourself to thoughts of his fingers and tongue. He’s sick, you’re sick, and maybe you’re perfect for each other.

You’re brought entirely back to the present when you feel his breath fanning against your cunt, his eyes peering up at you from where he rests on his knees. He doesn’t break eye contact as he brings two fingers up to swipe through your folds, collecting your slick. You shiver, mouth agape as he brings those fingers to his mouth, sucking your sweet honey from them.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet for me, darling. And you taste so sweet,” he murmurs, pressing his face against your mound. He inhales, the tip of his nose nudging at your clit, making your hips jerk slightly. “Smell even sweeter,” he praises. He’d bottle up your scent and wear it like cologne if it were possible, anything to feel close to you all of the time.

His lips part, hot breath fanning against your exposed cunt as he collects himself. You feel his tongue lick a delicate stripe up through your folds, a barely-there sensation, but it makes your back arch regardless.

“Oliver,” you moan, tangling your fingers in his hair.

You hear him exhale in a smug laugh before you feel his tongue again. He’s far more intentional this time, letting it lap up your juices from every crevice. You tug hard on his hair when you feel the wet muscle breach your entrance, lewd slurping sounds coming from the way he pleasures you. His strong hands grip your thighs, fingers digging into the plush skin, keeping you right where he wants you.

It feels like you’re levitating, ascending to a higher realm as he licks and sucks at your pretty, glistening pussy. He allows his mouth to focus on your clit, teeth grazing it in a greedy little nip before he soothes the area with his velvety tongue. You’re seeing stars when you feel two of his fingers slip generously inside of you, scissoring within your walls.

“Oh— oh my god,” you whine, your eyes pinching shut as you tip your head back.

“That’s right, baby — I’m your God. Worship me like I’m your God,” he growls, in a different headspace entirely.

While he’s usually so soft-spoken and polite, in this moment he’s cocky; more confident than you thought he’d ever be. You can’t fault him for it, though, because you do want to worship him. You want to get on your knees and pray for him.

Weeks of yearning, lusting after him from afar have come to fruition. Your longing now seeps out of you, with his eager mouth to swallow it all. He fucks his fingers harder into you, curling into your sweet spot as his tongue flicks rapidly back and forth over your sensitive bud.

The thing is, it’s been weeks of yearning on his end, too. This place, warm and wet between your thighs, is his altar — his holy ground. He wants to worship you just as much as he wants you to worship him. He’s dreamt of what you would taste like, how you’d suck him right in, and now that he has you he never wants to let you go.

“Fuck, Ollie, don’t stop,” you plead, letting loud rhythmic moans fall from your lips. At this point you don’t care if the entire house hears you; so fucking be it if they do. You know Farleigh would love something to gossip about; what better topic than how Oliver gave you a religious experience right under this massive roof?

Reading your mind, he speaks from his spot between your legs. “So fuckin’ loud, darling. You want everyone to hear us? To hear how good I make you feel?”

“Yes, fuck yes,” you pant, grinding down on his fingers, nearly humping his face.

He hopes in his twisted mind that someone is listening. Hearing him claim you, mark you as his. He shakes his head back and forth, tongue laying flat as it swipes over your clit messily. You can feel yourself about to let go, to come completely undone for him.

But he can sense it, he can see it on your face that you’re so deliciously close to release, and he’s not having it yet.

Your brows furrow when he removes his fingers from your cunt, pulling his mouth away as well. You’re about to protest, about to plead with him to keep going, but he’s standing and pressing his lips to yours before you can get a word out.

There’s a painful ache in your core, and you can feel yourself still soaking wet for the man before you. His teeth bite at your bottom lip, tugging on it while he studies you with half-lidded eyes. He rolls his hips against yours and you can feel his excitement, his cock stiff in his boxers.

You paw at the waistband, attempting to free him from his confines, desperate to feel him. His fingers wrap around your wrists, stopping them from getting any closer to his cock.

“Don’t get greedy, sweetheart,” he warns. “I call the shots.”

He grabs you by the waist, encouraging you to sit on the counter behind you. You jump with his assistance, your skin cold where it rests on the marble surface.

His lips latch onto your neck once more, sucking on delicate skin, leaving tender bruises. He takes his sweet time, drawing out your agony as your arousal drips down your thighs. Pitiful whimpers crawl their way out of your throat, tilting your head to the side to allow him better access. He nips at the skin at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, licking the stinging spot afterwards to calm the ache. His thumbs tease your nipples, palms squeezing your breasts and making your back arch into him.

He removes one hand, reaching down to discard his boxers onto the floor. Finally, he grips his weeping cock in his fist, thumb running over the angry red tip. You gasp at the size of him, letting your eyes take in every inch, every vein. Committing him to memory.

“So fucking big, Ollie,” you murmur, reaching a tentative hand out, running a fingertip gently along his shaft. You’re almost surprised he lets you, and you don’t miss the way his jaw clenches in an attempt to keep his composure.

His large, warm palms move to your thighs, parting them for him. His tongue pokes out to lick his lips at the sight of you spread open for him, completely bare and wet with both his saliva and your arousal. In a moment of boldness, you pull him to you by the chain around his neck, your tongue instantly finding its way into his mouth. He exhales heavily, your tongues licking fervently into each other’s mouths, lips grazing.

You register the feeling of him lining his cock up at your entrance, the tip pressing against your folds. He slips inside, a groan leaving his lips as a shrill moan of his name leaves yours. The way he stretches you is bliss, there’s no other word for it. Pleasure that just barely teeters on the edge of pain, his cock reaching spots inside of you that your fingers could only hope to. He dips his head slightly, trailing kisses along your jawline until he reaches your ear, biting at the lobe. He starts with slow, calculated thrusts, his fingers digging harshly into your hips.

Your breathing is ragged, sinful sounds leaving you over and over as he starts to fuck you faster.

“Bet I feel so much better than your fingers, hm? Is this what you wanted all along? My cock stretching you out?” he asks, voice breathy and low. His words send shockwaves right to your core, turning you on even further.

“Yes, god, yes. Thought about this every night, Ollie. Wished you’d sneak into my room and have your way with me,” you confess, your cheeks growing warm as he smirks at you.

“Dirty little girl,” he tsks, letting his forehead rest against yours, fucking into you hard and fast.

The sounds of skin on skin mix with his pretty noises and yours; grunts and whines and sighs that reverberate off of the walls. Your nails claw at his shoulders, grounding yourself as his cock drives into your sweet spot again and again and again. Your eyes go wide when you watch him dip his head, spitting down onto your pussy, adding to the slippery mess that you’ve already created.

When he looks back up at you, your lips are parted in awe, your eyes begging for him to give you more. Spit in my mouth, please, is the unspoken cry that he understands instantly.

He grabs your face in one hand, squishing your cheeks hard enough that your lips part further. Your eyes roll back into your skull as he lets a string of saliva fall into your waiting mouth, his fingers tapping the bottom of your chin twice, encouraging you to close your mouth and swallow. You do as he wants, willing to swallow whatever he’d give you.

“Such a good girl,” he praises, slowing his thrusts briefly, giving you long and passionate strokes before returning to his previous quick pace.

“Oliver, oh my god,” you cry for him, your eyes screwing shut. “Feels so good, don’t stop. Please don’t fucking stop.”

You can feel your previously staved-off orgasm approaching once more, the coil in the pit of your gut tightening more and more with each snap of his hips against yours.

“You getting close, baby?” he asks, letting his fingers wrap around your throat and squeeze. It gets the reaction he wants, your eyes snapping open and focusing on him. “That’s right, you look at me when I’m making you feel this good,” he instructs, letting go of your neck. “Otherwise, you don’t get to cum.

“Y-yes sir,” you comply. “Please make me cum, I’m so fucking close, Ollie, need it so bad,” you beg, making sure to keep your eyes on his. That stunning, icy blue pierces through your soul, sending a chill down your spine. His stare is intimidating, raising the hairs on your neck just as it did each time you weren’t quite sure who was watching you.

He bites down hard on your shoulder, rutting into you faster and faster until you’re finally tumbling over the edge. Your orgasm hits you in overwhelming waves, your walls clenching tight around his thick length.

“Oliver, Oliver, Oliver,” you chant his name, a prayer being raised to the sky as he shows you pure ecstasy.

His movements don’t slow, his lips greedily sucking at your neck before making their way back to your mouth.

“Gonna let me cum inside you sweetheart?” he asks between desperate kisses, your instantaneous nod nearly embarrassing.

“Please cum inside me, need your fucking cum, Ollie,” you respond, lips brushing against his. “Fill me up, make me yours.”

He groans low at your words, eyelids fluttering closed as you feel his cock twitch inside of you. Warm, thick ropes of his cum paint your walls, shuddering breaths leaving him as his head tips back.

“Fuuuuuuck,” he moans, giving you every drop that he has, continuing to rut into you until he’s completely milked dry.

Heavy breaths fill the room, his spent cock slipping out of you, leaving the mixture of your arousals to drip out and onto the floor. Trying to catch your breath, you watch in shock as he drops to his knees once more.

“What are you… what are you doing?” you ask, a sly smile on his face as he looks up at you.

“Just making sure you’re properly cleaned up, is all. Can’t have you going to bed like this,” he muses, collecting some of the sticky mixture with a quick swipe of his tongue. “Just lean back and relax, darling. Got to make up for all those nights you spent alone.”

[johnwickb1tsch]

Sympathy for the Devil ~ Part 14

A Donaka Mark x housekeeper!Reader fic, based on the amazing @discoscoob 's concept & bot!

Warnings: Donaka Mark is a bad man with a soft spot for you. dark romance, possessive behavior, nonconsensual voyeurism, red flag red flag girl!🔺, psychological games, power imbalance, dubcon/nsfw. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS!!!

one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven. twelve. thirteen.

Fourteen 十四

When the end of the day comes, you do not dare defy Donaka again so soon. You report to his room–and find it strangely empty. 

A single lamp burns at the bedside. You slowly make your way through, half expecting him to jump out at you just to hear you scream. But all you find is a note, with a beautiful little potted orchid beside it. The flower is certainly an unexpected touch, and you can’t stop yourself from stroking the meaty white petals. 

You read:

I’ll be out late. Make yourself comfortable. -D

There is a nightgown set out upon the bed. It looks like real silk, and you are relieved it’s nothing too ridiculous, no complicated straps or suggestive cutouts. Just soft, ivory colored fabric, thin straps, a little tasteful lace. You peek at the tag, and nearly fall over when you see Yves Saint Laurent. 

This garment may have cost as much as a plane ticket home.

You wander into the bathroom next, your brightly printed little travel bag of toiletries looking fairly ridiculous next to his sleek black boutique purchased items. You open a bottle of his lotion, taking an experimental sniff. Something light, slightly herbal. You’re fairly sure the characters on the label aren’t Chinese, but Korean. You put it down. 

You hate to admit that Donaka’s rainhead shower is pretty fucking fantastic after a long hard day. And so is his soft mattress, that feels like laying on a cloud. You don’t even have the energy to snoop around while he’s not here–and he’s probably watching you anyway. You’re not sure where the camera is yet, but you are sure it’s there.

You think on how the room is unlocked now, but you do not dare attempt an escape tonight. You almost wonder if this is a test–or a trap. It would be just like him to bait you like that. 

Feeling slightly cheeky since you’re all alone, you take your half out of the middle of the big bed, and snuggle up with a pillow that smells delectably of him. Even in his absence, you cannot escape Donaka Mark. Have fun watching me snore you big creep.  

You wonder where he is, before sliding into a surprisingly deep sleep.

You don’t know what time it is, only that it is still dark out, when he slips into bed behind you, moulding his long body around yours. You are not quickly coherent when woken from the depths of dreamland. In fact, it could be said that you are downright stupid. The sharp edges of your earlier fight forgotten in this state, you groan, snuggling back into his warmth. “Back so soon from committing acts of villainy?” you murmur.

You only think you’re making a joke.

His soft chuckle behind you is pure dark chocolate–bitter, yet somehow delicious. “Mmm hmm.” You slowly undulate against him as his big hand runs over your curves, the thin silk barrier between you a wickedly marvelous thing. “Were you a good girl while I was away?” His voice is a gravely rumble in your ear that curls your toes. 

“I thought about setting the house on fire, but I like it too much,” you grumble into the pillow. 

Again, he laughs lowly, a deep sound that awakens your desire once more. “I know you like it here,” he whispers into your hair, a possessive hand cupping your breast, lightly teasing your nipple. “I think you even like me. Just admit it.” 

“Not right now, I don’t,” you grumble, even as you writhe back against him, his erection pressing into the seam of your bottom a maddening thing. Maybe you’re still half asleep–but you really have lost your goddamn mind for this man. All thoughts of revenge have flown for now, replaced only by the warm, slow simmer of need for his body pressed against yours.

“No? Doesn’t feel like it.” You sigh as he slips his hand beneath the skirt of your nightie, finding nothing but bare skin, no panties to your name. “Oh, I like this,” he tells you, running his fingers up the sensitive seam of your legs. A plaintive whine escapes you, as he places his velvety fever-hot flesh between the soft cushion of your thighs, teasing you. “It feels…” He moves his hips just slightly, bestowing the barest minimum of friction. “Like you actually obeyed me for once.” 

It’s true. You didn’t give in to the low-burning desire that nearly drove you insane all the rest of the day. Partly because of his orders, and the way he scared you today, and partly…because you knew it just wouldn’t be as good without him.  

You growl into your pillow, hoping the cushioned down will mask some of your need for this man’s thick, beautiful cock inside you. It’s not fair, that such a bad man should be built as though the very shape of him was made for pleasing you.  

“What was that?”

“Just this once,” you sigh, and he chuckles behind you. 

“Hmm. I think someone wants her reward.” 

You hadn’t forgotten about it, though you’d figured at this point you’d never find out what he’d had in store for you. You doubt you’ll ever meet his standards for truly good behavior. 

“I want this,” you answer, squeezing his manhood between your thighs, angling yourself so that you almost capture the tip of him at your entrance. The sound he makes from deep in his chest raises gooseflesh all across your skin, your nipples tightening into aching points. You were no blushing virgin before you came here, but jesus christ has this man turned desire into a painful business for you. You’ve never wanted anyone before, to the point where you would throw yourself on a fire for them. It’s what this feels like, with Donaka Mark. Absolute self-immolation, and maybe you’re doing it with a reluctance, but it’s certainly not enough to stop you. 

He takes some mercy on you, and maybe on himself, when he grips your hip to penetrate your weeping cunt. But all he gives you is the tip, and glorious as it is, it’s just not enough. 

“More,” you whimper, and you’re not sure who breaks, when he eases himself home, filling you to the absolute brim. The sound of surprised satisfaction that is torn from your throat is barely human. You might regret it later, but at the moment you feel no pain. 

“I’m trying not to hurt you,” he grumbles. “But when you beg me so sweetly I want to fuck you silly, my sweet sweet girl.” 

You laugh, a strained huff of mirth, at the idea of him not hurting you. You know what he means, and yet…and yet. 

Coherent thought escapes you completely, when his thick fingers seek out your clit while he fills you like this from behind. You clench upon him greedily, needing more. He lets you take what you want upon him, gyrating your hips, fucking yourself upon his cock and his slippery fingers as his other hand teases the tips of your breasts, holding you fast against his broad chest. After walking around all day in your sad state of unfulfillment, your orgasm quickly fills you, tearing a ragged scream from your throat as the tingling ecstasy spills through your loins and spreads through your body, leaving you utterly spent and pliable in his arms.  

Only as you clench and flutter upon him does Donaka take his own pleasure, rolling you over to thrust from behind. Through the haze of your euphoria you are vaguely aware that he is still careful with you, and does not punish you like he could. The shudder of his hips and the hot rush of his seed is almost soothing inside you, and you know you are well and truly fucked. Completely deranged. Flown high over the cuckoo’s nest for this terrible man who has made his way inside your body, and inside your head. 

His gentle kiss on the back of your shoulder sears you like a brand–his forehead resting on your spine weighs like your inevitable surrender. Has he already won?

You don’t know. You don’t fucking know, this late at night, when you are rendered idiotic by desire and hormones and lack of sleep. For what feels like the umpteenth time that day, your eyes fill with tears and you are so glad for the darkness of the room that gives you some cover. 

When he recovers Donaka goes to the bathroom to clean up, bringing you a warm soft cloth to swipe between your thighs. As usual you aren’t sure if he’s caring for you, or simply doesn’t want you to stain the sheets and your new couture sleepwear. Maybe you’ll never truly know with this man, if his actions are based out of care or practicality with you. It’s a daunting thought you are too sleepy to give proper attention to. 

Donaka pulls you back into his arms, and you rest your cheek upon his broad chest, your legs entwined with his. 

“Where did you go tonight?” you ask quietly, not really expecting him to answer you, but partly hoping he will tell you something dastardly so that you can talk yourself out of this insane warmth that is blooming in your chest, taking root in your mind like some kind of brain-eating parasite.  

“I was watching a fight,” he tells you simply. 

“Like…a tournament match?” 

“Usually it’s more interesting than that.” He kisses your hair. “Not tonight though.” 

What he doesn’t tell you directly, is that the whole affair rather bored him, and tonight, he couldn’t wait to come home to you. The fighter he’d been cultivating failed to finish things the way Donaka wanted, so he’d killed him with his bare hands. Even that didn’t give him the pleasure it used to. Once he would have basked in the power of it, the feeling of superiority over yet another fighter culled, an imposter who had no right to the true title of Warrior. But tonight, he could not stop thinking that this is a side of him he could never show to you. 

It would ruin everything. 

This night, he just got into his Bugatti, and tore home with his mind on you. 

Annoyed by the time he came through the door, he stood at the foot of the bed for a good ten minutes just watching you sleep, wondering who was changing who. He reasoned that he just has to be careful with you; that his obsession does not come to rule him, rather than the other way around. A part of him wondered, as you slept so innocently, if he should just dispose of you now and return to his purer pursuits. 

The thought did not please him, so this time, he chose not to. 

Oblivious to all this, you lay there wondering why his chosen diversion wasn’t interesting to him. Did it have anything to do with you? 

“Donaka–” 

“Sleep,” he tells you firmly, shutting you down, and effectively leaving you with that one last enigmatic line to worm its way into your thoughts. Like a parasite, you try to tell yourself. A gross, wormy, wriggly thing. 

But this man whose side you are curled up against doesn’t feel like a worm. He feels warm and solid and his strong, steady heart is beating like a drum beneath your ear. You like this, and maybe he’s right. Maybe you do like him, a little bit. 

You really are well and truly fucked. 

all chapters

[worriedvision]

A one time commission part 2 - Von Lycaon

Gender neutral reader, part 1 here. Read part 1 for context.

--

Your team kept whining at you because the equipment was not easy to move. To make things worse, the lift broke down and conveniently, the technician was out sick. You had to use the stairs to move the furniture into their respective rooms, so you worked from the lightest to the heaviest pieces.

The office spaces were all done, chairs and desks ready in addition to the computers, but then came the staff room. Those sofas, the coffee table, the vending machine, the side tables being in place already gave your team less room to move.

"We don't get paid to move damn furniture, we're going home!" Most of the staff complained, which wasn't exactly wrong. Their job description did not include moving heavy furniture.

You didn't want to contact the Victoria Housekeeping Company, solely because you just knew in your mind that Von was creeped out by your sharing of personal information. You walk towards the vending machine, turning to give your assistant the least reassuring smile as you both know this is going to cause you both some serious damage.

--

Meanwhile, Von kept looking at his phone. He saw you starting to type, but those bubbles left and they didn't come back. He did miss your company, but he didn't want to step across a line. Besides, he had other things to take care of.

Rina saw what he was doing, and she shakes her head in disbelief.

"Just ask if they need any help." Rina sighs. "You care for them, and there's nothing wrong with entertaining that."

"But..." He begins, trailing off when he realises Rina was right.

Sending you a message, he grows concerned when he realises you're offline, and have not been online in two days.

"Rina, please take over my duties. I must look into something."

--

"I'm so tired, _! Can we please just take a short break? If we aren't getting help, we should at least pay the moving company another day to rent their van." Your remaining assistant cries out, exhausted from working as hard as you were to get the furniture into their rooms.

"I'll give you more paid time off after, I'm sorry. We need the place ready for employees tomorrow morning." You yawn, feeling your body shut down. You catch yourself almost slipping your grip on the vending machine, your foot slipping with each step, and you can't help but think this thing isn't important. You let out a sob of frustration.

Unfortunately, corporate told you specifically this had to be in for "employee morale", despite the requirement from management to still have to pay for the things in the machine.

Two thirds of the way up the stairs, you hear someone yawn. Was it you, your assistant, or the both of you? You didn't know, but you knew you had to get the task done quickly. Hearing something downstairs, you assume it's a draft before you feel your eyes drooping, your body grown weak from two days of almost constant moving of furniture. You can feel the loud vibration of a pair of footsteps, but you don't have the energy to stay awake at this moment.

You feel your body let go of the vending machine, but you don't feel the machine land on you at all. You fall asleep, feeling your body roll pathetically down the stairs as you get some rest.

-

You wake up in an unfamiliar bed, and you see Von is there. You groan inwardly, knowing you'd have to pay a fee for not getting a quote from the company, and you'd have to pay for that damn vending machine.

"Master, are you feeling better?" Von asks. "I have moved the rest of the furniture free of charge."

"That's not fair, the furniture was heavy and you should get paid." You pout. "Don't you have other things you need to sort out, but couldn't because of the commission I assigned to you?"

"...Apologies, Master, but when I said we had places to be that was not because of you." Von begins, looking at the door before continuing. "Miss Rina was going to offer you some of her... Culinary conceptions." He finishes, shuddering at the memory.

"...Oh, I see." You nod.

"...I was really worried at the sight I saw last night." Von admits. "Had I been a second later, you would have been crushed under the weight of that vending machine."

"Please, stay for a cup of tea."

[aquz]

babysitter . . . # one

☆ ortho has a temporarily new babysitter and idia has to walk him there every morning before school. idia isn't a fan of clichés but... who knew the babysitter was so cute?

☆ gender neutral reader, reader is kind of a shut-in yet is good with kids, strangers to crushes with idia shroud featuring ortho ! magicless au !

idia groans as he drags his feet down the stairs, clutching onto the railing as to not fall down. sure, he knew what he was getting into by staying up all night playing a new video game he was obsessed with as well as studying for an upcoming mock exam, but he still doesn't feel exactly... awake this morning.

his eyes sleepily gaze towards the kitchen, where he could recall hearing his mothers voice. they're usually never in the kitchen... that's where the housekeeper is supposed to be. in fact, where is she? idia couldn't smell the fresh coffee she brewed normally, or the smell of his favorite breakfast... toaster waffles.

he slumped into the kitchen and sees his entire family getting themselves ready with breakfast. ortho sits at the island in the middle of the kitchen and dining area, the latter only being used for at-home business and fancy friends-only dinners. "where's the housekeeper?" idia groggily asked, swinging open the freezer to dig around, looking for his waffles.

"ah, you're awake, idia!" his mothers sweet voice cooed, idia could already feel what little stamina points he had left, drain completely. "she had to leave late last night due to a family emergency... so it's just going to be you and ortho home for a while!" she said, gliding her feet across the floor to put her warm hands into idia's face. he gave her a deadpan look, closing the freezer when he finally grabbed the box of waffles.

"that being said..." his father began, catching idia's attention over his mom cooing at him like he was a baby. "you have to attend school in person, no? we found a temporary babysitter who is in need of a little extra spending money. they live close enough to here as well as being around your age, so your mother and i decided they were a good choice."

idia deadpanned harder than before, if that was even possible. his shoulders slumped as he felt a headache begin to form. "eh? a new babysitter? so, like, ortho has to stay at someone else's house? with a stranger?" he asked slowly. "yes, that!" his mother answered with such enthusiasm that idia almost stormed back upstairs. too much energy for one morning. "you have to drop him off before you head to school! luckily, they live on the route you normally take! i'll text you the address!" she added.

idia shook his head and put the waffles back in the freezer, feeling too sick to eat. he has to drop ortho off HIMSELF!? what do his parents take him for!? he has zero charisma points and negative socialization experience! does he just... knock on the door and run away while ortho stands there like a framed ding-dong-ditcher? what if you try talking to him? ugh! now he's so nervous he can't even eat his favorite breakfast.

ortho, on the other hand, had been too excited to listen in on the conversation. he was scarfing down his breakfast of cereal like his life depended on it. at least SOMEONE had yet to annoy idia. ortho was dressed in an oddly nice outfit, a short-sleeved dress shirt and some dress shorts along with his normal sneakers and knee-high socks. "what's with the outfit?" idia managed to mumble, walking past his parents to get to his little brother.

"i wanted to impress the new babysitter!" he smile, mouth full of cereal. "but isn't that material, like, super uncomfortable? it's summer... dress outfits are hardly comfortable to wear in this heat." idia said, leaning on the counter to talk to the younger boy. "yeah, yeah, i know! i'll gladly wear it, if it means i get to impress them!" he replied before jumping off his stool. idia's mother laughed at his eagerness as he ran to find his bag.

"what a lovely child he is.." she sighed happily, which idia hung his head to, in response. how come HE was never called lovely? with an eye roll hidden by the hair blocking his down-cast face, he went to find his own shoes and bag.

ortho held tightly onto the straps of his backpack, a serious face present as if he was attending his first day of military boot camp. "loosen up, ortho, they aren't going to scold you for being happy." 'i hope..' idia thought. ortho smiled and laughed childishly, looking up at his brother despite the unforgiving sun casting harmfully bright rays down on them. 'it's still too early..' idia thought, wiping sweat from his brow. "i know, but i need to calm down, so i don't wear myself out before we can play together!" ortho responded.

idia nodded quietly and looked up, seeing the address he was sent by his mother. no cars were in the driveway, nor were there any lights on in the house minus the living room light. 'is this... the right house?' idia gulped as he took ortho's hand and guided him up the steps onto the porch. he rung the doorbell and kept himself from fainting on the spot. what if it was the wrong house and some creep opened the door instead? what if it was a trap?

the door opened slowly as a teenager, idia assumed, peered through the crack, smiling once they saw him. the door swung open the rest of the way. "hi! you must be ortho and..." the teenager stuck their tongue out a little on concentration. "idia, right? your parents told me you were dropping him off." they said, idia remaining still as if they couldn't see him if he didn't move. "ah- um..." ortho laughed at his shy brother. "yes, that's us! excuse my brother, he's just super duper nervous! he also has to take a mock exam soon, so he's definitely not happy."

"oh, is that so? well i assume you're off to school, then? i won't keep you here any longer, so i'll take ortho and you're free to go!" the other teen said, moving so ortho could get through the doorway. idia kept his mouth opening and closing like a fish. they weren't too overly energetic for this early in the morning, nor were they necessarily scary... hell, they weren't even that overbearing! they were just... so gorgeous. idia was expecting someone totally different - maybe a stuck-up cheerleader or a total nerd but THEM? they weren't the cliche he was expecting.

though, he didn't wanna talk any more than he had already today. with a quick nod, he turned on his heel and briskly walked away from the new babysitter's house, leaving them a giggling mess in the doorway, ortho close behind. "is he always that anti-social, or did i scare him off?" they asked ortho, turning around with a silly grin. "hard telling... but i think you might've spooked him!" ortho returned the grin. "i like you, babysitter!"

authors note? hope this was an interesting first chapter ~ i wrote it a few days ago ! i have nine chapters planned (and that's all, the series will end at the ninth chapter) so i hope it'll be interesting enough ! this is my first series / non-one shot in a while so let's hope it goes well...

[glacierclear]

Can I... can I ask for some househusband Leon hcs?

alright. okay. we're gonna work with a few assumptions for these headcanons.

this all comes from the hypothetical of leon being fully retired from his line of work. he still has the same backstory, skillset, traumas, everything, it's just...now he's your loyal house husband!

cooking? this all depends on where he's at in life. mid-30s and onward? he's a chef. i don't believe he'd be terribly gourmet about it. you aren't coming home to a roasted duck served with a reduced wine glaze and a perfectly made risotto...but god. he can make some damn fine spaghetti. he'd likely shoot for simple dishes, with perhaps an added flair or two. homemade burgers. lots of steak dinners. he'd prefer anything that can be prepared with minimal mess. recipes that are made with one pot or one pan...a big hit for him. he is not a pretentious eater, and that would reflect in his cooking.

now, if we're talking early to late-20s leon? erm. well. let's just say he's learning. his transition from zombie apocalypse policeman to military meat shield didn't do much for his cooking skills. and a diet of MREs and scrounged up viper parts did even less. if post-re4 leon is your house husband you're gonna be eating a lot of questionable meals. he's not completely oblivious. he won't try and feed you absolute slop, but his abilities don't much exceed kraft mac and scrambled eggs. still! he's a domestic man now. plenty of free time to try out all sorts of new things in the kitchen! be on standby with a fire extinguisher when he decides 3am is a great time to make fried chicken from scratch!

leon's independent food preferences likely revolve around utility. protein. nutrition. careful rations. compact energy a growing boy needs to kill bioweapons. he doesn't strike me as having a particularly strong sweet tooth, but he also won't say no to a bit of dessert! but he's adaptable, of course. one must be in his line of work. your tastes and favored dishes will influence his palate a lot. he'll naturally associate flavors with you and will, over time, come to adopt a lot of your dietary choices.

cleaning? leon will do his best. you can count on him to not accidentally mix mustard gas in your bathroom, but his knack for cleanliness would be...odd. i choose to believe leon has a strict standard for bodily hygiene. his extended exposure to all manner of glop and viscera means he strives to smell nice and stay on top of dirt the best he can when he is able to...on his body. a house is different. he's never had to see it as a home, merely an empty room where he sleeps and eats. so maintaining it as a tidy space might not come naturally, and it's not as if he had a proper upbringing to teach him proper housekeeping techniques (cough, cough, he's an orphan).

man's a fast learner though. expect a lot of trial and error. him accidentally using glass cleaner on the stove. or not understanding the exact purpose of fabric softener. why do we need make our bed if we're just gonna sleep in it and mess it up again? he likely has a lot of bad habits from living on his own, but gentle guidance and persistent advice will go a long way.

of course, leon needs his private time. space for him to isolate and be alone...but, you're at work all day. the loneliness is easily accessible, and now that he has all the time and freedom to be with you...it's grating. his favorite sound is the noise your key makes when it unlocks the front door. he's careful, not incredibly overbearing, but you don't make it more than a few steps into your home before his head is poking around the corner. "how was your day? you look tired. here, let me take your coat off-" leon is a listener. he doesn't talk about himself much, if at all, so he'd prefer to just hear you ramble on about whatever you need to or want to. neck rubs. gentle squeezes on your arm. light kisses on your brow. he doesn't smother. he doesn't drown you in the touch he's so starved of. but you can tell, he misses you a lot.

the real issues will probably stem from the quiet. the absolute lack of danger. take a person out of their traumatic environment and things start crumbling real fast before they can start to heal. he's hyper-aware. paranoid. has all this pent up energy and an instinct to fight. and he has to redirect it all somewhere, right? it'd come out in bizarre ways. diy projects. you come home from work and he built you a fucking chair. you don't even need a chair, but now you have one. lots of yard work. he renovated your patio and set up a birdhouse (also handmade). you didn't really want him to rearrange your living room but he did it anyways.

and it's hard for him to relax. for him to feel truly safe. he'd insist on installing locks on all the doors. bulletproof windows. guns hidden and stashed in corners of the house, just in case. any tech that could impede on his privacy (ie, amazon echos, doorbell cameras, etc) are out of the question. he'd run you through drills and hypothetical scenarios. make sure you know what to do in any situation. he's vigilant, and honestly, you've never felt safer, but it wears him down and you aren't sure if it's truly good for him.