ahnaiee

[ahnaiee]

LADS Imagine

Hear me out!! Might be ooc, but its a thought–!

Tattoo Artist! Rafayel who is easily mistaken to be a client. But he’s an artist, and what if he wants to express that art on another canvas– such as skin? 

Tattoo Artist! Rafayel whose art is flowing, and he garners a lot of attention for it. 

Tattoo Artist! Rafayel who, when asked if he has his own tattoos, smiles, and nods. On his arms, his chest, below the ribs? When you asked, he showed you the one on his back

Tattoo Artist! Rafayel, whose back tattoo is so pretty, he lets you trace the curves, the lines, and the corners of it, smiling at how gentle you are with him. 

Hear me out </3 on Tattoo Artist! Rafayel please see my vision Please please please-

[ahnaiee]

me when i remember sending an ask to a fellow writer, but i don't know if ask was actually sent.

[ahnaiee]

Tired from practice 🫣

[ahnaiee]

The ring on your finger feels heavy. 

Not in a bad way. Just in a way that makes you very aware of its presence. There’s a weight on your finger, your favorite gem, carefully melded in gold. And in a few months, it’ll be another ring, one that matches your fiance’s. 

Fiance. 

It tastes weird in your mouth. Not unpleasant, weird. And you like it. 

“Fiance.” You whisper, staring at the ring he had slid on your finger just hours before. 

You glance at your boyfriend-now-fiance, watching as he works in the kitchen. Sleeves rolled up, apron tied around the waist, and you lean on your hand as you watch him from the couch. 

It’s silent. The only noise being him in the kitchen as he prepares dinner, and you feel it. The familiar pinch in your heart, the heavy feeling that you call love resting heavy in your chest. It invades, creeping out from your heart, to your ribs and slowly, slowly, slowly, it envelops your entire being. 

“You know.” You murmur, loud enough for him to hear. The sounds in the kitchen quiets. He doesn’t turn to you, not yet, but you hear him hum. A smile tugs on your lips, and you raise your hand up next to his figure. The ring glints under the light. “I can’t wait.”

“For what?” You hear him smile. 

He turns to face you, soft eyes, smile on his lips, and you hum. “To say ‘I do.’” 

You watch as he pauses for a brief second, before putting down whatever he was holding to round the kitchen counter to you, seated peacefully on the couch. His smile mirrors yours as he kneels in front of you. Both knees. He takes your hands in his, thumb carefully rubbing on the ring, and he raises your left hand to his lips. 

“Me too.” Your breath hitches as he looks at you over your hand, and he smiles. “I truly cannot wait for the day I can officially call you my wife.”

©ahnaiee [do not repost, copy, translate, or modify]

note. ough i want to pull for the cards but i cant i have no space im going to CRY

[ahnaiee]

Oblivious boyfriend Caleb !

[Part 1] [Part 2]

wc: 2.6k

a/n: sorry i had to make caleb suffer. he's also still kinda stupid, so read at ur own risk!! i kinda made myself sad so i'm gonna start working on fluff/smut.

pairing: non-MC!reader x caleb

content: self-indulgent, angst, emotional neglect, quiet breakup, fem!reader, avoidant!reader, i had to make caleb ooc, he's a basketball player, college au, hurt/no comfort, lots of caleb just spiraling and rotting in his own guilt

p.s this one isn't as bad.

——

Caleb didn't know.

You never yelled at him, never really told him what was wrong. You just shut down, then pretended everything was fine again. And when he pushed, you deflected.

He never meant to hurt you, he was just careless in a way he didn't understand. He saw it now.

It was too late, but he saw it.

He kept checking his phone. Kept biting the inside of his cheek and bouncing his leg every time he was met with an empty screen.

"She's not gonna text you."

Caleb glanced up at his teammate, shame creeping up his throat.

"I know."

It'd been a week since the breakup. But he kept checking his phone for new text messages. Kept staring at it in the morning, waiting for a good morning text that never came.

It was dumb.

The way he was always looking for you—in every crowd, in every coffee shop, in every library.

The past week had felt like a month. A month of torture—of replaying every interaction he ever had with you and finding his fault in every one.

"You gonna be good for the game next week?"

Caleb's eyes hardened just a fraction. "Why wouldn't I be?"

His friend stared at him, a little too knowingly. They both knew what he wanted to say. 'Because your girlfriend broke up with you, duh!' but his teammate just pressed his lips into a thin line and shrugged.

"You.. I dunno—You just haven't been that focused lately."

Caleb sighed, tearing his eyes away and tossing his phone in his bag. He wasn't even supposed to have it out; if his coach saw, he'd be running lines.

"I'll be fine," Caleb insisted, shuffling back onto the court as if that might give him some peace, but his teammate just followed him.

"Look, if you ever wanna talk—"

"I'm fine," Caleb bit out. "I'll—I'll be fine, alright?"

Silence. Then finally, his teammate sighed and shrugged.

"Alright."

But Caleb wasn't fine.

He was anything but.

At night, he'd lie in bed, his eyes burning from how long he stared at your guys' last texts. In the morning, with his eyes all red and puff from the night before, he'd rummage through his drawer to find something to wear and pause the Hello Kitty pajamas he'd bought for you two.

He'd stare at it too long—enough to feel his stomach curl and his chest tighten—then he'd stuff it to the back of his drawer. It always found its way back up when he looked through it the next day though.

The morning of his game, he found them again. Held it for a little too long. Rubbed his thumb over the fabric as he remembered the last time he wore them on a comfy night in with you.

Maybe that's why he missed the first shot. And the second. And the third.

Maybe that's why he kept looking in the crowd like he might find you there, in that little corner you loved so much. He always said it was hard to see you up there and you always said you got a better view of the game. Of him.

He'd smiled then. Never complained about it again, because how could he when your eyes were all soft like that?

"Caleb! What the hell?"

Caleb stumbled as his teammate nudged his arm. It was meant to be a light push, but he was caught off guard.

"What?" Caleb breathed out, but he knew. He didn't have to look at his teammate or even listen.

He was fucking up.

He was losing them the game. Like he lost you. Like he—

First you, now this shitty game. The world was taunting him. Reminding him.

"What the hell are you doing? You said you'd be fine."

"I am," Caleb insisted, even as his eyes flicked to the stands again.

Fuck. Stop it.

They quickly darted back, but his teammate had already caught the look. Everyone knew what this was about.

His teammate looked like he was about to say something else before the whistle blew. Their heads snapped toward the bench where their coach was gesturing them over.

The minute Caleb got close enough, his coach immediately grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him onto the chair.

"Coach—"

"Are you kidding me?"

Caleb flinched. His tone stung more than he wanted to admit. Normally, he didn't care about things like this, but he was raw and exposed. And when Caleb met his eyes and saw the anger and disappointment, he couldn't bear to look anymore.

Shame.

That was all he felt.

Shame, shame, shame.

Shame for missing those shots. Shame for forcing his coach call a time out. Shame for not realizing he was losing you. Everything came back to you.

"How the hell are you missing those shots, Caleb? We need you and you think now is the best time to start half-assing..."

His voice trailed off. Or rather, Caleb wasn't listening anymore. He couldn't. Everything around him grew muffled. Fuzzy. Distant. It was just him and his thoughts.

He kept messing up.

He should've known. He should've seen when you were upset—he did—but you never told him what was wrong. You always brushed him off, why didn't you just—

No. It was his fault. He should've known. He should've—

"Sit the rest of the game out."

Caleb blinked, finally looking up. "What? No, I'm—"

"Hey, you, you're in."

Caleb's chest stung. But he didn't argue. Instead, he sat back, the chair creaking under his weight as he watched someone take his spot.

He was losing it.

Basketball used to make sense. It used to be his. Now he couldn't think straight. Couldn't find it in him to make the shots he was always valued for.

He watched the rest of the game in silence. Didn't cheer. Didn't speak. Not even in the huddles when his coach was glaring at him like the look alone might force some encouraging words out of him. He gave nothing.

He was too tired.

After the game, when MC approached him, he barely said a word—just followed her out the gym to walk her to her dorm. Usually, he would've been with you—his sweaty arm draped over your shoulder, you giggling softly when he ranted about his favorite plays or how nice you looked up there.

"That was..." MC thought for a second, then bluntly ended with, "bad."

Caleb scoffed. "Yeah. Pretty bad."

A beat of silence.

"You kept looking at the stands."

Caleb's jaw tensed, his grip on his duffel bag tightening. It was a reflex. He was used to finding you there.

"She's not there, Caleb."

Hoarsely, it came out, "I know." Even if he didn't act like it. Even if he still checked his phone or looked up at the stands, he knew.

"You miss her."

"..Yeah."

"So what happened?"

Caleb sighed. "Don't."

MC ignored him. "Why did you push her away?"

"I didn't—" Caleb bit back his exasperation. "I didn't mean to. I never meant to."

He swallowed hard. He could feel MC looking at him, waiting for some sort of explanation he wasn't sure he was ready to give because what the hell did he say besides, 'I fucked up'?

"I just—She was quiet. She got hurt, never talked to me about it, then pretended it never happened."

"So you're blaming it on her?"

Caleb's head snapped toward her, guilt burning in his veins. "No! That's not what I'm saying! I'm saying I didn't know."

He took a small breath, his voice softening. "I didn't know how much she was hurting."

Another quiet breath.

"I didn't mean to hurt her."

"But you did."

Caleb's throat tightened. "What are you doing?" he asked, his steps slowing to a halt. "Do you think I don't feel bad? That I don't know?"

MC stopped beside him, her eyes softening at the telltale tick in his jaw. "You know I love you, Caleb, but you were shitty."

He felt sick.

"I know that," he murmured.

"You treated her like a second thought."

Caleb felt a lump forming in his throat now. He could defend himself. Say he didn't mean to treat you like that, but at the end of the day, he did. So, he kept his mouth shut and let her continue.

"You know how embarrassing that is for a girl?"

Caleb let out a shaky breath. "MC—"

"People don't get this."

He blinked. "What?"

"They don't get our friendship. They don't understand that when you pat my head or grab my waist, it doesn't mean anything."

Caleb couldn't speak. He was too embarrassed.

He never thought it could look like flirting. With anyone else, sure, it would've been flirting. But with MC? It meant nothing. She was like a sister to him.

But you thought he—God, he was horrible.

"You mean well. I know you do, but you hurt her." A beat. Then, "So stop looking for her."

Caleb didn't say anything. He just stared, his throat a little too tight and his eyes a little too glassy to see right.

MC sighed, wrapping her arms around him in a quick hug. "I'm sorry. Goodnight, Caleb."

"..Night."

-

Caleb tried to stop looking for you. Maybe it would be better that way. For both you and him.

And that day, he really did. He kept his eyes down, fought the urge to whip his head the other way when he thought he saw someone who had your hair.

But then he actually saw you. It wasn't a figment of his imagination—no, you were there, walking down the sidewalk with a friend right in front of him.

He wanted to apologize. Blurt out whatever sad little story came out the second he got close enough.

But he didn't.

He didn't deserve that.

So he clutched his bag tighter and tensed his jaw to keep his mouth shut.

You wore a hoodie (not his, he noted), and your hair was pulled up in that hairstyle you did when you were too lazy to do it in the morning.

You looked pretty.

Too pretty.

And looking completely content as you laughed at something your friend said.

Then your eyes met his as you walked past, and it wrecked whatever illusion of composure he had left.

Because your smile didn't drop instantly. It was more of a natural stop, like the moment of laughter was over. Not because his presence did anything to you. No, like you just... didn't care.

Like he wasn't someone you shared a bed with or went on dates with. Like he wasn't the boy you told everything to at one point.

You looked at him as if he were a complete stranger, and finally, it hit him.

Really hit him.

He didn't lose you when you broke up. He'd lost you way before then. He was just too blind to see it.

Caleb had no right to feel hurt. No right at all, but it didn't stop the burn. The ache. If anything, it intensified it.

-

That night he stayed up until 2 a.m., drafting a text message to you. He wasn't even sure if he'd been blocked or not. He tried not to think about it too much.

Caleb reread it to himself over and over again, his finger hovering over the send button multiple times, but he couldn't do it.

He could hear MC now. "You cared too late."

It made his chest ache and his eyes sting.

He could hear you, too, crying on the phone with him that night, murmuring that quiet, "I'm tired."

God, he remembered too much.

The flashing lights, the crowd pressing in, the bass vibrating in his chest.

You, standing near the drink table, twisting the hem of your shirt. He thought you looked bored. He didn’t realize you were overwhelmed.

He should’ve known when you stopped reaching for his hand.

He tried. Even when everyone was joking and playing a shitty game of beer pong, he glanced over at you, tried deciphering whatever messages you were or weren't sending him.

He was stupid.

They were all right there.

Caleb had managed to slip away from the crowd and sit down beside you, carefully, as if you were some spooked animal.

"Hey.. You okay?"

You nodded, but you wouldn't quite meet his eyes. "I'm fine," you told him over the music, but your voice barely reached his ears.

He leaned in again, about to ask something else when his teammate grabbed him by his arm and started pulling him toward the beer pong, claiming it was his turn to play.

"Wait—Y/N is—"

"She'll be fine! Just one quick game!"

Caleb glanced over at you one last time. Even if he stayed, would you have told him what was wrong? His stomach curled. No, probably not, which is why he gave in with a grudging, "Just one game."

And when he came to check in later, he said, "Hey, you wanna get out of here?"

You'd smiled and said no.

Now, looking back, that smile felt rehearsed.

He should’ve known it was your way of saying please don’t make me spell this out for you.

He should’ve tried harder.

Fuck.

And then you left.

After that group picture—that was the last time he saw you. Caleb didn't notice it then, but he did now, and he felt it—the way you slipped away from him. Quick. A little too quick. Like you couldn't stand to be near him.

He looked around. He thought he spotted the top of your head as you nudged the crowd, but he didn't get a chance to go after you because his friends were fussing about how bad the picture was.

About how they needed another one.

Caleb swallowed hard. "Y/N isn't here—"

Flash!

Caleb blinked. He barely had time to speak again before his friends were nudging him.

"Dude! Smile!"

So he did. And when the picture was done with, he looked for you. But he couldn't find you. You weren't by the drinks. You weren't by the couch. You weren't in the bathroom. You weren't in any goddamn room he checked.

But maybe he just kept missing you.

So he texted you and started asking people about you.

No one knew where you were.

And when he checked his messages, he was left on read. Fucking read.

Dread filled his chest, like no matter how hard he tried to deny it, something was incredibly wrong.

But he kept texting you. He had to make sure you were okay, at least.

That's when you went on do not disturb.

It stung.

It made him wonder if you were okay (physically at least). If you were you still at the party. Because you wouldn't try and go home, right? He was your ride.

So, for hours, he spiraled.

He even texted Tara, your dormmate who also wouldn't answer.

Then everything else happened—

You finally responded and he—

You left.

Caleb clenched his jaw, fighting back the lump that crawled up his throat.

He stared at his texts, the letters glaring back at him. It almost felt like they were taunting him, laughing in his face for being so oblivious.

His finger trembled over the send button again.

He missed you. He missed you so much.

He reread his text one last time, trying to look for any typos through the blur of tears he'd fought so hard and failed to keep down.

'I know I was careless. I didn’t mean to make you feel small or forgotten. I don’t deserve another chance, but I wish I could take it all back. You meant more to me than I showed. I'm sorry.'

Caleb took a shaky breath, finally tapping the send with his thumb, and all at once, everything came crumbling down. His throat closed, his stomach tensed, his chest burned.

Not delivered.

He blinked rapidly, trying desperately to keep his everything down.

Maybe the wifi was acting up again.

He waited a second, refreshed his messages, turned his wifi on and off. Still not delivered.

No.

No, you—you didn't.

With a shaky finger, he pressed the call button.

He waited for the usual ring.

But it never came.

Instead, he got: 'The person you are trying to reach is not available.'

You did.

[ahnaiee]

OW.

Oblivious boyfriend Caleb !

[Part 1] [Part 2]

wc: 2.6k

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for a while and after reading all that angst, i was inspired to finish. it's kinda meh BUT im gonna drop it here anyway.

pairing: non-MC!reader x Caleb

content: self-indulgent, angst, emotional neglect, quiet breakup, fem!reader, avoidant reader, i had to make caleb ooc, he's a basketball player, college au, hurt/no comfort

——

When you first started dating Caleb, you thought you could handle it—the attention he got, his friends you never really got along with, his charm, his wit, his friendliness.

But the more you watched him, the more you realized you might've been over your head. That maybe, you were right.

That maybe, you never had a chance.

That maybe, he was never really yours to keep.

You always tried reminding yourself that he loved you. Because he did, right? He opened doors for you, bought you flowers just because, had an album just for you, introduced you as 'his girl'. That was love, wasn't it?

You bit your nails, glancing at your phone for the umpteenth time tonight. Your laptop was in front of you, Caleb's favorite snacks sprawled out on your bed, unopened and waiting, and your favorite Hello Kitty pajamas on (Caleb had a matching pair).

It was 6:24. Where the hell was he? He was supposed to be here at 6:05.

You flicked your mouse across your screen as your computer dimmed. You glanced at the time again—6:25 p.m.

Seriously, where was he?

You sighed, opening his contact and calling him.

It rang once. Twice. Three times.

Was he seriously not going to pick up—

"Pips!"

You couldn't help the small breath of relief that spilled past your lips. "Caleb."

"Hey! Uhm—look, please don't be mad."

Your heart sank.

"What?"

You heard laughing in the background, then a hushed scolding before Caleb was speaking into the phone again. "So, uh I got caught up with my friends at the courts. We were just supposed to stay for a few minutes but now I'm all sweaty and gross."

"Okay..." you murmured. "So, you're not coming?"

"I promise I can make it up to you."

You bit your cheek, trying your best to hide just how disappointed you were. But to do that, you had to stay completely silent.

After a beat, Caleb started again. "Babes.. I'm really sorry. Are you mad at me?"

"No," you managed, but the word was clipped.

"Hey, I'll see you tomorrow and I'll take you out on a date, yeah?"

Silence.

"Babe?"

"'Kay."

You thought you thought you heard Caleb's breath hitch. "Kay? Hey, if you're mad, tell m—"

"I'm not mad. Just text me to let me know you're safe."

"Wait, hold—"

'End call.'

You let out a shaky sigh. Of course, he missed this. Of course, he missed the one day of the week he didn't have practice or conditioning.

You switched your phone on do not disturb and placed it on your nightstand. You roved your eyes over the assortment of snacks you'd gotten him. You guessed they were yours now.

He'd been missing more dates recently. Had been having to make up a missed date or late arrival more often. It was always basketball, or his friends, or her that kept him from you.

But he still loved you, right?

-

You were curled up in bed with him, your arm lazily draped over his chest as you scrolled through TikTok, only half paying attention to the videos because your mind was swimming with the question: Who is Caleb texting?

You didn't want to be the girl who peeked at her boyfriend's phone or demanded to know who it was, so you just lay there, pretending you were fine when you were dying to know who he was talking to.

But you knew.

Deep down, you knew it was her.

At some point, he got up to get something from his mini fridge and you turned over on your side so you wouldn't impulsively grab his phone and swipe through every conversation he's ever had.

But then his phone buzzed.

Then again.

And again.

Caleb glanced up from his fridge. "Hey, think you can respond for me?"

Your heart leapt in your throat as you slowly turned on your side and glanced at his phone. "Oh." You slowly picked it up and entered the password.

You stared at her contact name: 'MC 🏃‍♀️'

His childhood best friend. Track girl. Tanned and skinny with toned legs like every other track player.

Of course. Why would you ever hope it would be anyone else?

You swallowed hard. "She said that she forgot her foam roller and her coach is going to kill her if she doesn't bring it tomorrow.. She's asking if she can borrow yours."

Caleb hummed in thought, taking out a small bottle of water and taking a sip. "Uh, type back 'sure'."

You hesitated. "Don't you need it?"

Caleb shrugged, crossing the room back to his bed and settling in beside you. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

Was that special treatment? Or was he just being nice? Just being him? Slowly, you messaged her back and handed him his phone back. You didn't say anything. Didn't look, just lay there on your back instead of cuddling with him again.

"Hey, why are you all the way over there?"

You shrugged, already scrolling on your phone again. "I don't know. Just got comfy here."

Caleb furrowed his brows. "You seemed fine just seconds ago."

"Mm."

Caleb sighed, sitting up straight. "Look at me."

"I'm fine, Caleb."

"No, Babe, please just—"

You sighed, shifting in his bed as you curled back into his side, and gave him your best smile. "I'm fine. See?"

Caleb stayed silent for a moment, his eyes softening. "If I hurt you, I didn't mean to. MC's just a friend."

Your throat tightened as you looked away. "I know."

"Do you?"

No.

"Yes."

Caleb sighed softly before lying back down. You guys didn't talk about it after that. Just settled into an uncomfortable silence.

But that was fine.

It was fine.

-

You fidgeted in his passenger seat, pressing your legs together. You tried something new that day—a bit of makeup, nicer clothes, a new hairstyle. Caleb told you how cute you looked before you left the dorms, but his words seemed to fade as you pulled up to the small restaurant.

"Hey," Caleb said, squeezing your hand. "I promise you look great."

You gave him a tight-lipped smile. "Okay."

With that, you two stepped out of the car and made your way inside. It wasn't upscale or anything, just some place to grab a quick bite and chat, but you felt out of place nonetheless.

His friends greeted him. They greeted you, too. They were never mean to you, your personalities just never really went well together.

But sometimes it made you wonder how you were with Caleb in the first place if the people he surrounded himself with were the complete opposite of you.

At first, everything was fine. You sat there, smiled at all the right times, and spoke when you were spoken to because you had no idea what you would say otherwise.

Then—"How come you barely speak?"

You glanced at his friend. The table had gone silent, all eyes on you now, like everyone was wondering the same.

"I do," you tried, offering a nervous smile.

"Sure, every now and then, but what is it? You don't like us or something?"

Caleb squeezed your hand under the table. "C'mon. So what she doesn't like talking?" he huffed.

His friend frowned. "We just wanna get to know her." Then he turned back to you. "So? What is it?"

Heat stung your face. You hated being put on the spot. Hated how everyone, including your own boyfriend, was just staring at you now, waiting.

You fidgeted in your seat, your throat suddenly too tight.

"No, I like you guys. I guess I just..." you shrugged, "don't have a lot to say."

One of his friends clicked his tongue. "You're really... shy, huh?"

You went even quieter at that.

Shy.

The way he said it was odd, like it was almost an insult. Was it meant to be an insult? What was wrong with being shy?

"I guess," you murmured, avoiding his gaze.

Before anyone could say anything else, Caleb cut in. "Alright, alright, let her be guys."

They all started fussing, begging Caleb to let them ask more questions, but you weren't listening anymore. You were staring at your half-empty cup of water, your cheeks burning so hot you felt like you couldn't breathe.

Caleb leaned over to you once his friends settled down. "Hey, you okay?"

You looked up, trying for a smile, but it didn't reach your eyes. "Yeah. I'm fine."

He looked like he was going to say something else, but you stood up before he could, your chair squeaking against the floor. His eyes followed you, his brows furrowed with concern. "Are you sure?"

You nodded. "Yeah. Just want to use the restroom."

Caleb stood up beside you. "Want me to come?"

"No. It's fine." Then you were gone, hurrying through the restaurant blindly. You had no idea where it was, but when by some miracle, you found it,you slipped into the first available stall. You sat there, too overwhelmed to care about how dirty the seat was.

You just breathed shakily, resting your elbows on your knees and bringing your hands to either side of your face.

So what if you were shy? Why did it have to be such a big deal? Why didn't Caleb stop them sooner? He would've immediately jumped to MC's defense if the roles were switched, wouldn't he?

No, don't do that to yourself. You were just—You just—You sighed, burying your face in your hands.

You didn't want to go back out there. Maybe you wouldn't.

-

That day made you spiral. It made you question why Caleb was even with you.

You stopped asking for things after that—pictures, phone calls, texts, hugs, kisses. You started deleting messages you meant to send like 'I miss you's and 'I love you's. Started stalking his old posts and compared them now.

He looked happier back then. Louder. More him.

Caleb noticed the small shifts and would suddenly say things like "You know I love you right?" You always nodded and told him you loved him too, but you believed him less and less.

Now you were at a party he insisted would be fun, but the second you got there he was pulled into conversations and games. And worst of all? MC was there, laughing and smiling with him like it was second nature. And Caleb smiled back—so big and bright. He never smiled that way with you.

And you stood off the side, a bitter drink in hand that was barely doing anything to quiet the voices in your head.

You felt lost for hours, and Caleb only checked in on you twice. Twice. He looked at you, talking to you, but he didn't see you. Not really.

"Hey."

You glanced up from your drink, blinking at MC who had padded over to you and took a seat on the couch next to you.

"Are you okay?"

You smiled. Or tried to. You didn't have the energy for it though. "Yeah. I'm fine."

MC wasn't mean or malicious. That's what really pulled this all together. She was nice. Observant. She saw you more than your own boyfriend and something about that made you want to break down right then and there.

She sighed. "Listen, me and Caleb aren't—"

"Picture!"

Before she could finish her sentence, you were both being pulled into a group photo. You were at Caleb's side, she was on his other.

Then it happened. He wrapped his hand around her waist and tugged her close, then smiled into the camera like nothing.

You felt the flash, but your eyes were glued to him. To his smile. To his hand.

Your stomach coiled with something hot and ugly. Your eyes stung with tears and you immediately decided no. No, you couldn't be here anymore.

You slipped from his side and started pushing through the throng of partygoers. You didn't care that Caleb was your ride, you'd figure something out.

You stepped into the cool air and let out a soft breath. You blinked furiously, trying to keep your tears at bay, but they streaked down your cheeks unbidden and ruined your makeup.

Not that it mattered. You weren't sure Caleb even noticed it tonight.

You stood there for a second before finally starting down the sidewalk. You were 5 minutes in when you got a text.

Caleb: Where'd you go?

Nothing.

Caleb: Hey, you alright? I can't find you. Call me.

Still nothing.

Caleb: Babe, why aren't you answering? Just text me if you're okay.

Do not disturb.

Caleb: Why'd you go on do not disturb? I'm sorry. Please answer.

You shoved your phone in your pocket and kept walking. Your feet ached and your body shook from the cold, but anything was better than talking to Caleb right now.

You weren't sure what happened once you got to your dorm, all you knew was that it was 3:00 a.m., your makeup was wiped off, and your shoes were on the floor near your bed.

Probably Tara.

You let out a small yawn, about to settle back into bed when your phone went off again. You let out a tired groan, blindly reaching for your phone that was on your nightstand and squinting as you looked at the screen.

20 unread texts from Caleb.

Slowly, you opened the messages.

You read over all of them, each one making your chest a little heavier. Then finally, you typed back.

You: I want to sleep.

Caleb: Jesus Christ. That's all you have to say? I've been worried sick.

Read.

Caleb: Stop doing that. Please talk to me.

Suddenly, your phone lit up with his contact. You sighed, hesitantly accepting his call and pressing it up to your ear.

You didn't say anything at first. Just sat there, listening.

"What the hell?" Caleb immediately breathed out. "I was so worried about you. Why didn't you tell me you were leaving the party?"

You waited a second, then quietly you said, "I didn't think you'd notice."

You heard something soft, like disbelief. "Why wouldn't I notice?"

You stayed silent.

"Y/N, please talk to me. What's going on?"

Tears stung your eyes again. You felt your lip tremble with a small cry, but you swallowed it back. "I'm tired."

Silence.

"Tired of what? You can't just leave a party like that."

You took a shaky breath. "Of this."

More silence.

Then you heard the stutter in his breath. "What?"

His voice got so quiet, you almost didn't recognize it.

"What do you—? I don't—Okay, just wait." You heard rustling, then again—"What does that mean?"

You shrugged, tears spilling down your cheeks now. "I don't want to do this anymore, Caleb."

"Stop," Caleb blurted out. "I don't—I don't get it."

"I tried," you whispered, your voice breaking on a quiet sob. "I'm just... I can't do it anymore."

"Are you breaking up with me?"

You couldn’t stop the sound that broke from your throat. The thought of being without him hurt. Maybe even more than everything you've gone through these past months, but you knew it wasn't right anymore.

Not when you were invisible to the one person who was supposed to really see you.

"Yes."

There was a beat of silence, until quietly, Caleb murmured, "I don't want to break up."

Your throat tightened painfully.

"I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, baby. I can—I can stop being friends with MC. I can quit basketball. I can talk to my friends and make them stop being such assholes. I can—"

"I don't want any of that." You closed your eyes, chest aching with all the months you'd spent trying to hold on, only for it to end like this.

“I just want it to stop."

WARNING. (it's just an additional a/n i didn't feel like adding)

[ahnaiee]

i stop posting for a few days and i get ao3 author'ed

[ahnaiee]

i barely have a love life but why is it the moment i have one its the most dramatic lore drop ever i cant believe this

[ahnaiee]

me when i cant download the actual game and CANT GET MARRIED BECAUSE MY HPONE WONT WORK

[ahnaiee]

when i rb my own work w the same tags, does if show up on feed or js on the followers' feed....

[ahnaiee]

thats the loml of my life right there !!!!

Thoma is honestly such an underrated husbando pick. He's genuinely so kind, talented and hard working but he's also not some doormat you get to just walk over on. I'm pretty sure there are some people who are even terrified of him in canon LOL.

One thing I also like is just how average he is. He's so delightfully normal and level headed. He's literally just some guy. But he's so kind. I really like kind men, can you tell I love kind men?

[ahnaiee]

Pretty Boy

[📃] when you call your boyfriend pretty boy as a way to call him over.

[🖇️] Multiple Characters

[🖋️] Some would be in like, in the first months of your relationship? They would react differently if you've been dating for a while imo

Kaeya | Ayato | Heizou

He's smug about it.

Like, really really smug. He goes to you with the most smugest grin ever.

He immediately knew it was him you were calling, and the way he turned to you made you regret (slightly) what you called him.

"Pretty boy?" He grinned, tilting his head to you and raising a hand to your chin. "Im flattered you think of me like that, dear."

You grimace at his smug grin, and he notices, his smile only growing more.

"Darling, why the grimace?"

You huff at his teasing tone. "I shouldnt have called you that."

"Awe, am i not pretty?"

"Well, no— stop grinning like that. Shut up, stop being smug!"

He will never let you live it down and you will have to hear him brag about you calling him pretty more than once to the people close to him.

(If its Kaeya, Diluc nearly threw him out of the tavern once)

(Ayato has run Thoma's ears off into oblivion about it, despite his "subtlety" in bringing it up)

(and Sara wishes to fire Heizou everytime he brings it up)

Childe | Itto

Beams.

You can see his whole body light up and the way he runs to you with so much excitement.

He picks you up and spins you, earning him a squeal of surprise then a giggle.

"I'm your pretty boy!" He loudly proclaims, putting you down to grin at you.

"Yes, dear, my pretty boy." You repeat with a laugh, and the way he puffs up with pride makes you smile.

"Good, now start calling me that more, baby." He wraps his arms around you and presses a kiss to your lips.

"Im your pretty boy :D!"

You can only laugh at his reaction.

You should call him like that more.

They, just like the other characters however, would brag about it to anyone who would listen.

Scaramouche once summoned lightning at Childe when he won't shut up.

Thoma | Diluc | Gorou | Xiao (slight)

Looks behind him, then at you, then looks behind him again.

He points to himself, blinking in surprise.

"Oh, you mean... me?"

You could only laugh, nodding your head at him.

"Yes, babe. You're pretty boy."

He's red, hurriedly walking towards you. Theres a small, shy smile on his face and although he tries not to show it, he likes being called that.

He wraps his arms around you and brings you to him.

"I like that. Can you call me that more?"

He asks you, muffled and hiding his red face from you by burying his face in the crook of your neck.

You just let out a fond laugh and hug him back.

"Of course, love. I can call you that how many times you want me to."

Should you do it again after that, he would beam, either a big grin or a small, fond smile and immediately head over to you.

He would hug or press a sweet kiss to your forehead or cheek.

He very much is your pretty boy.

©ahnaiee [do not repost, copy, translate, or modify]

[ahnaiee]

summary. It didn’t matter that you loved him first. The only thing that mattered was that he loved her, and she loved him.  tags. Non!Mc x LADS, angst, hurt/no comfort, unrequited love, reader isnt mc!! now playing.I love you, I’m Sorry by Gracie Adams

“You were the best, but you were the worst As sick as it sounds, I loved you first”

It was unfair. 

Every universe, every dimension, for some reason, you always fell for him. 

A prince, a God, a dragon– every one. You loved him. In every, single, one, you always did. 

He was the best thing to ever happen to you, really. A stretch, but it was true. Soft hands, gentle eyes, and in every single universe, in every life, you were there with him. 

But she was always there, too. 

If he looked at you with those gentle eyes, then the gaze he has every time it lands on MC was sickeningly sweet, gentler– loving. If he had ever held you for a moment, a hug, a handshake, a helping hand, with soft hands, then the way he held her was softer. In those ways, he was also the worst thing to ever happen to you. 

Because just as he became the reason for your heart to beat quicker, he was also the reason why it began to break.

It was truly unfair– how he was the one your heart kept choosing, yet his own heart never chose you. Of course it didn’t, because there was MC.  

In the same way you loved him, he loved her. 

You were always on the side, then, weren’t you? Cursed to watch them fall for each other while hiding the way your heart broke into pieces. 

It’s a sick, sick feeling, especially when you couldn’t help the ugly emotions of hurt, anger and jealousy. Because you loved him first, before she came along. Because you were always by his side before she was, weren’t you? 

It was unfair, how your feelings seem to be nothing but a stepping stone for their love story. It didn’t matter that you loved him first. The only thing that mattered was that he loved her, and she loved him. 

“I was a dick, it is what it is A habit to kick, the age-old curse”

There were times in your lives where you harbored deep resentment for the two. There were moments where your anger, your jealousy got the better of you and you became the worst version of yourself, and you took it out on them. It is what it is, but those were moments that you wished to never repeat. Times and lives that you bury deep into your mind, locked away, but never forgotten so you would never repeat those mistakes again. 

Funny, how even then, you never deemed your love for him as a mistake. 

Because loving him was a curse, and also a blessing. 

You hated him, you hated MC, but at some point, you stopped hating them– because they don’t deserve the hate you had harbored. No, they don’t deserve it. 

Even so, those feelings never truly went away, and even now, as you watch him fall for the Hunter, you couldn’t find it in yourself to even harbor any other deeper feelings other than hatred for yourself, and the feeling of being resigned to your fate.

You were resigned to a lifelong curse of falling for someone you can never have. And that was all you could do.

“I tend to laugh whenever I'm sad I stare at the crash, it actually works”

It was easy. After many lives of pretending, the smile was easy to pull off. The casual “I’m okay!”, the laughs in moments that needed a laugh, and in every life, that was all you could do. 

Laugh. Smile, and stare at the wreck of who you are. 

It works. It made things easier to move past from. But it never truly healed those hurts, did it? 

Instead, it strains your cheeks, it leaves laugh lines that remind you of how much you have to pretend, how much you had to laugh just to keep the underlying sadness hidden. 

Because who are you to stand against fate? 

It never worked in the other lives, so why would it work now?

So whenever MC casually invites you out for a hang out, whenever he greets you with a smile, you nod, you smile, you laugh. Even when seeing them together hurts. 

It was easy to pretend. 

But it never truly got easier on your heart. 

“Making amends, this shit never ends I'm wrong again, wrong again”

It doesn’t matter how many times it happened. The universe doesn’t care what you think about your situation.

It was unfair. But that was what life is. 

You, always the one to fall, and never be caught.

©ahnaiee [do not repost, copy, translate, or modify]

[ahnaiee]

LADS— thoughts

Luke and Keiran has enough of you and Sylus being so... so..... frustrating??? They know both sides of the story, and it frustrates them to no end that both of you express your doubts and fears on your relationship BUT YOU DONT TALK TO EACH OTHER.

so obviously to prevent their favorite boss and other boss parents from arguing divorcing, they lock you two in a room (made specifically to prevent their strong ass boss and his hunter gf from escaping) with the only instruction of:

"Please just talk to each other, full honesty, no lies please please please—"

it works.

[ahnaiee]

posting angst most likely tmrw, if i cant get the basis pics for the crack fic i alr finished 😢

[ahnaiee]

"Rex Lapis, The Warrior God"

[📃] Rex Lapis is the Warrior God. [🖇️] Zhongli [🖋️] Archon War Timeline ; angst, hurt/no comfort ; longfic (3.7k words) [1]  Ignore lore inaccuracies (I know Mauvika is the God of war, just bear with me here), I haven’t played in so long but I love the characters TT [2] Fun fact, before I was a Thoma girlie, I was a Zhongli, geodaddy girl through and through. I also Rewrote this 5 times in different fonts and different characters. God help me, I was struggling. Honestly nawt my best work</3

He is Rex Lapis, the Warrior God.  

Groundbreaker, an archon.

Morax. Rex Lapis — The Warrior God.

The Warrior God is not a stranger to death. He is not a stranger to the blood that spills on the earth, to the blood that stains his hands.

Chaos reigns when there is war. Rex Lapis is all too familiar with it.

The Archon War is just another War – and Rex Lapis… his land is burdened with it. He is the God who lives on the battlefield. He thrives on it, and anything on the bloodied grounds is anything but a stranger. He is not a stranger to cries that fill the sky. And his chest does not hurt at the sight of friends, comrades, falling on every side. Not anymore, for it is inevitable.  

His hands are calloused after years of holding a weapon. Gloves do little to prevent those- gloves do little to cover the stains of blood.

It comes with war. It comes with his title. 

And with every cry, every scream, every blood shed, he pushes on, for Rex Lapis is the Warrior God.

Rex Lapis does not grieve. 

He does not weep. 

He must not do so.

The Warrior God has to continue on, for the war has yet to be won.

But then he met you. 

—

“Guizhong,” Rex Lapis eyes his friend. “Where are we going?” The God of Dust merely smiles, secretive and full of mischief. She senses the impatience in the dragon, the furrow of his brows tell of his annoyance at her, but she doesn’t budge.

“It is a secret, my dear friend.” She only leads him further up the mountain, moving through the trail with ease of someone who has been here far too many times. 

“We could have been at the peak in moments. Yet you insisted on walking.” Rex Lapis grumbles, the gold of his arms pulsing slightly as he scowls. Guizhong rolls her eyes at him. 

“Oh, don’t be a grump!” The God huffs. “It is for the experience, Morax. Come, hurry up!” The Warrior God eyes her with half the mind of ignoring her remarks, wishing to instead teleport to the peak to leave her alone to walk up… then he smells brewing tea. 

It wafts down the mountain, and he gives Guizhong a glance. Her smile merely deepens. She does not say a word, instead continuing the trek up. Rex Lapis scowls at the secrecy of his friend, but follows nevertheless.

Then they arrive at the peak, and a small, quaint teahouse meets them. There is a noise behind the teahouse, and Guizhong leads him to the source.

He sees you. 

You seem unaware of the presence of two Gods behind you, your eyes focused out into the view of the sea, hands curled around a tea cup and a peaceful smile etched on your face. 

A peaceful figure in the midst of a war that rages beyond the mountain.

Guizhong calls out your name. A wide smile, a cheery voice, and you turn. 

Amber eyes focus only on you, and Rex Lapis’ interest in you increases.

Your smile widens and you bow your head at the God, before gesturing to the seat near yours. “My Lady.” 

“Guizhong. I have told you far too many times, my friend, to only call me Guizhong.”  The Warrior God watches your interaction with the God of Dust. Curious, scrutinizing.

You do not notice him following Guizhong, and simply smile at her. You shake your head, “I am in the presence of a God, I cannot do that.” 

Guizhong huffs. “You’re so stubborn. You remind me too much of this brute of a man.” She waves a hand towards Rex Lapis standing behind her, and at that, he sees your eyes flicker over to him, finally noticing him. 

You pause, eyes wide, before you quickly move to stand, head ducked low. 

Rex Lapis is quick to stop you, “Please stay seated.” His tone is low. You stop midway of getting up, and you glance up at him. “You do not need to bow.” 

You look at Guizhong, who shrugs and takes a seat near yours. Slowly, you nod at the God of Wealth, the Warrior God, Rex Lapis and sit back down. 

“Tea, My Lord?” You offer to the God. You are quick to regain your composure, and Rex Lapis scrutinizes you with a furrow to his brows. He opens his mouth to respond but Guizhong is quick. She doesn’t wait for Rex Lapis to accept or reject, forcing him to take the seat opposite hers: the one to your left. He shuts his mouth, eyes the two of you, and does so. 

You pour him a cup, quietly murmuring. “Green tea. I do hope it's to your taste.”

Then Guizhong calls for your attention, and you turn, a content, peaceful smile appearing on your lips. 

Peace, in a time of war. 

Rex Lapis takes a sip of the tea, his eyes focused on you. 

How curious.

Chaos reigns in war.  Rex Lapis pushes through.  There is chaos all around. He remembers you.  Peace, in the midst of a war.  Rex Lapis is unfamiliar with it.

He visits again, without Guizhong. 

You had jumped in surprise at the sudden appearance of the God right at your doorway, but you are quick to regain your composure, and you offer him a small smile.

“Hello, my Lord.” You reach for a tea box above the counter, and tilt your head at the God. “Please come in.” 

At your invitation, he enters, Polearm disappearing as he takes a seat on one of the chairs. 

“Guizhong praises you.” He says, low and cautious. You continue your movements, placing tea leaves into the kettle. You pull back the sleeves of your dress as you place the kettle above the fire. 

“She does?” You turn to the God. 

“She calls you a friend.” Rex Lapis is slow in his words, despite his usual bluntness and impatience when it comes to these things. “One she speaks of a lot.” 

Your hands brush down the wrinkles of your attire as you listen to him. A smile appears on your face, gentle, full of amusement. “... My lady has been a regular here for quite some time. A speaking companion of mine. She finds the quietness of my home endearing. Enjoyable.” You eye the kettle above the fire. 

Rex Lapis' eyes are focused on you. He seems to be quietly studying you. 

He doesn't seem like the God Guizhong raves to me about, you think. She described him as stubborn, thick-headed, impatient– a God too blunt, hot-headed. But the God in your home is quiet, curious– not at all easily angered. 

You glance at him. Instead, you think to yourself. He seems like a watching cat. A chuckle leaves your lips at your thought. If he is to hear your thoughts, perhaps you might see a glimpse of that hot-headed temper Guizhong told you about.

“Guizhong seems to adore you. She talks my ear off about you.” He finally says. You laugh softly, “Is that so? Are you curious as to why My Lady is fond of me?” You take the kettle with careful hands when the smoke begins to leave its spout. It takes a while, and you pour out the tea and place a cup in front of Rex Lapis. He nods at your words, and you smile again. Gentle, soft, full of amusement.

“I, too, wonder the same. Perhaps it is because of my tendency to listen, instead of speaking.” You hum, “I’m one to speak only when spoken too. The silence, the quiet, the peace– I like listening to that.” 

It is silent for a moment, and the man asks. “Why do you not move?” Rex Lapis clears his throat. “I mean, why do you not move away from the conflict?”

You pause in the midst of pouring your own tea, and you glance at him. You laugh softly, “I do not want to.”

“Why is that?” 

You put the pot down and shrug. 

Rex Lapis probes further. “Why do you not? The war moves closer. It is not safe. Should you not move?” You do not say a thing, tucking your legs under you as you sit across him.

“After all,” He says. “Being in the mountains does not mean being safe from war.” 

You smiled again at the confused God. “The teahouse is my home, My Lord. I cannot leave it. I do not want to.”

“And why is that? No matter how far you are, the battle moves closer to Mt. Tianheng. Not even a day ago, the earthquake had affected this mountain.” Rex Lapis could only look at you with may have been puzzlement, perhaps annoyance at your insistence, the steadfast stubbornness.

“My home has been passed down from generation to generation. I’ve been raised to not leave it, despite any storm that may come.” You blow at the hot cup of tea. “It may be a bit stupid of me, in your eyes, My Lord, but I carry  a strong attachment to this home, so I wish to not leave.”

“And if you get caught in the crossfire of the war?” Rex Lapis eyes you curiously. You smile at the God, and shrug. 

He does not get his answer.

Death is not a stranger to you. Many of your family perished long before, and you are the only one left in this quaint teahouse.  Rex Lapis learns this later. He is not a stranger to death– nor are you. You do not seem scared of death. A strange understanding. A strange feeling rests in Rex Lapis’ chest. 

Rex Lapis continues to visit the teahouse, with or without Guizhong. 

For what reason, he cannot bother to remember. It may be the strange quietness that came from the teahouse, or just the fact you are a friend of Guizhong, or perhaps it was the smell of brewing tea that wafted down the trails on the mountain. 

Or, perhaps, it is because of you, the strange mortal who lives quietly, who merely brews tea, and who has never seen the battlefield he himself is so familiar with. 

He finds his routine begins to involve you. 

(Rex Lapis shakes the ground. He breaks through the earth. The Gods that war against his authority find themselves impaled. His people insist on fighting with their Gods.  He could not find it in himself to refute, for this is War.  Chaos reigns in War. Blood is spilled, cries are heard. Rex Lapis does not grieve. He does not weep.  Guizhong offers a steady hand.  The Guili Plains stand strong. There is still a war to win.)

“Good Day, Morax.” You greet him. 

It has been his fifth visit this past week. Whenever he isn’t in the midst of the battlefield, you find him in your teahouse.

Rex Lapis just nods, and enters the quaint home. 

You say nothing, but brew another cup of tea.

It is routine. It has become routine after a year of visits. A year since Guizhong brought him here, a year since he has begun to visit consistently. The visits that began to seep into Rex Lapis day to day, the visits that once brought fear to your heart, confusion at the presence of the Warrior God… now brought excitement– expectation of his arrival. 

A careful emotion, one you cannot, you must not express to the God. 

And so, your smooth, careful hands, brew him another cup of tea. Placing it in front of him, you are rewarded with his smile, and your chest blooms. 

“Green tea?” His voice rumbles, and you smile as you shake your head. Your own cup sits in front of you as you fold your legs to sit across the Warrior God. “No, My Lord. Chamomile. It has calming effects on the body.”

Before Rex Lapis could say anything against you, you continued. “I simply wish to offer you a moment of calm, My Lord. After all, the war is restless, and … “ You trail off, hoping you have not crossed the line, and you peek at the God. He looks at the tea you gave him, and he nods. 

Your chest is filled with relief, and you duck your head to hide the small smile. You miss the gaze of the God that lands on you. 

Quiet, scrutinizing… soft.

A mortal who lived far from the conflict.  A mortal whose hands have never held a weapon. 

(Rex Lapis holds a fallen friend's hand, but he pushes forward. There is still war– His hands are calloused.  Stained.  There is still a war to win.)

Your hands are smooth. 

They are proof of the lack of a burden you do not carry. 

You are a mortal, whose home is far from Guili. You are a mortal, whose hands have not held a weapon, whose hands are not stained with blood.

Your hands, instead, are smooth. They are soft, careful– clean. 

Rex Lapis has met many with hands like yours- but none of them had the same, gentle smile on your face. 

Often, in the rare moments he gets to hold your hands, he cannot ignore the difference between his calloused ones and your smoother palms. Despite his insistence on using his gloves, slight fear at the roughness of his hands hurting yours, you tell him that it is okay– it is alright. 

“You do not have to be ashamed.” You whisper gently. “I do not mind. You do not have to hide them, My Lord.” 

He looks at you, puzzled. You smile– gentle, soft. “Your scars are proof of your acts to protect your people. Proof that it's you.”

“Me?” His voice is low, questioning.

You hum, “You. Rex Lapis, Morax– Warrior God, God of Wealth…” You run a gentle hand over his, carefully pressing on his palms. “The calluses are proof of the things you have done as those titles- they are what made you, you.”

His heart squeezes.

(Guili plains lay waste.  Rex Lapis does not grieve. He does not weep. There is a cry of pain, a scream. It comes with war. He does not grieve. He does not weep. There is a war he must win.)

Your gentle fingers trace the gold patterns on his arm. 

Guizhong has died. 

The moment Rex Lapis had time to collect himself, he sought you. 

The news made your hands shake. Guizhong, your friend, your companion. You had always thought you would die before her. 

He let you grieve. Let you cry, and in those moments, you had let him collect you in his arms. You could not find it in you to push him away, and now here you are, head on his chest as he holds you. 

Something in your chest stirs.

“... What now?” You ask the silent God. Rex Lapis turns his head to you, and you see resolute grief in his amber eyes and you nod in understanding. 

“I must move my people. Somewhere far. Before they are ravaged further by the Gods.” 

You swallow, fingers still tracing the patterns on his arm. “To where?”

“.... Perhaps near this mountain.” Rex Lapis says. “The land is good.” 

You nod. “It is.” 

His eyes focus on you, and you don’t make a move to return his gaze. His free hand reaches for your face. 

You don’t move, and he takes it as a sign. The rough pads of his fingers trace gentle patterns on your cheek. 

Swallowing, your eyes flicker nervously from his eyes, to your hands as you try to calm your heart. “My Lord–”

“Morax.” He quietly interrupts. “Please.” 

You meet his gaze. Careful, quiet, searching. Then you nod. “...Morax.”

Rex Lapis smiles. 

He sees why Guizhong adored you so. 

You, the mortal who has taught him slowly, quietly and in your own way… to take his time, to be more than Rex Lapis, than the Warrior God. 

His visits increase, and in the quietness of your home, you express your thoughts to him. He wonders of the peace you find in the mountains, you tell him of the idea of taking your time. Rex Lapis— Morax listens. 

His calloused hands hold yours who is smooth and free from the pains of holding a weapon. Your hands that cradle his face with such tenderness, such care…

Rex Lapis finds his peace. 

Rex Lapis is soothed from his burdens.

But he is still Rex Lapis.  And he is still a God. And there is still chaos.  There is still a war he has to win.

Rex Lapis raises his polearm to the enemy, and yells out a battle cry. 

Mortals fall left and right, yet he does not stop. 

He continues on. 

Bodies fall left and right. He cannot stop. There is a war to win. 

Then there is a cry. 

Then there is the sound of a whimper. 

Then there is your voice. 

He turns, and there you are, hidden behind some rubble, hands stained with blood.

Rex Lapis is not a stranger to death.  That does not mean he is immune to it. 

“Why are you here?“ Rex Lapis breathes. 

You look up, eyes wide. 

He repeats the question. You shake your head. “Because I want to.” 

“You can die.“

“I can. But I won’t.“

Rex Lapis grips his polearm. “You...” he cannot say anything. 

But he quietly moves to bring you to safety. 

Your hands are calloused. They match his, whose hands have held a weapon and have been stained with blood.  

He clenches his teeth, yet does not say anything. But in his heart, he begs you to not make him grieve. To not make him weep for you as you lay in his arms lifeless and unbreathing.

Rex Lapis moves on. There is still a war to win. 

He no longer visits your teahouse. 

Instead, he visits you on the battlefield, and every time, he wishes you to go back. 

You just smile, shake your head. He cannot convince, so instead, he simply exists next to you, in hopes that maybe, you change your mind and return to the teahouse.

—

You are barely breathing. 

You, the mortal he has known the past year. 

You, the mortal who welcomed him in their home, whose wine filled his throat and his heart with affection. Whose hands he held, whose laugh, smile, and affection he has held so dear to him...

You, whose blood is on the ground. Spilling, staining the ground with red. 

The ground is red. It is seeping with your blood. Your blood.

His name falls off your lips. His feet are grounded as the people rush forward.

Then he drops his polearm and rushes to you. 

He holds your head up as you inhale and exhale in short gasps. He hushes you. “Save your breath. The healer-”

“Is far.“ You mumble through pained gasps. 

Rex Lapis Morax holds you close, hands stained with your blood. 

“Why are you here again?“ He says, hand gripping your side as he puts pressure on your wound. His words are harsh. Clipped. Yet they hold fear and worry for you. 

You raise a hand to his cheek. A calloused hand. A hand that has held a weapon. 

You smiled, eyes gazing at him with warmth and peace, in the midst of a war where there is nothing but cold bodies and chaos. 

Do not join the rest of those littered on the battlefield, he begs. Stay alive. Stay with me. 

Yet you only chuckle and mumble your affections, your heart to him, whispering of the war he has to win. 

The archon war.

May Celestia strike him down for his blasphemy but then what is the point of the war if at the end, he loses you? 

You smile at his words. Reassuring, sad– gentle. 

He curses, but then you mutter your last words. 

A calloused hand, your calloused hand, falls to your side as the light in your eyes fade. 

Rex Lapis is not a stranger to death. 

Rex Lapis does not grieve.

Rex Lapis does not weep. 

But for this moment, he is no longer Rex Lapis, the Warrior God, but Rex Lapis, the man who loves you. 

And so he grieves. 

He weeps for you and the hands that have gone cold. 

He grieves, and he weeps. 

There is still a war to win. 

But Rex Lapis already felt that he had lost it. 

—

“Zhongliiiii~!” 

A high, chipper voice calls out from behind the dark haired man. He turns in time to see Paimon and Aether appear from the trails leading up to Mt. Tianheng’s peak. 

“Ah, Paimon, Aether.” Zhongli smiles in greeting. The pair move closer, Paimon floating side to side as she complains., “We’ve been looking for you for so long!” 

Aether follows close by, smiling as Paimon continues, “We went all over Liyue! Ugh, I’m so tired.” 

Zhongli chuckles at the pixie’s whines, returning his attention to the view of Liyue Harbor. The pixie floats close to Zhongli, Aether now joining him to look over the view. “What are you even doing here?” Paimon sighs, eyes peering curiously at the ex-archon.

The man hums low, amber eyes softening as he answers. “Reminiscing.” 

The traveler tilts his head, questioning him with a raised brow. Paimon isn’t subtle in her curiosity, turning her entire body towards Zhongli, eyes wide. “Of what, Zhongli?”

It takes a while for Zhongli to answer, his eyes looking far at the sea of Liyue. He looks contemplative– sad, Aether notes. He doesn’t comment on it however, and waits for Zhongli to answer.

When he does, he does with a sigh. “Why were you looking for me, Paimon?” The pixie blinks at the lack of an answer to her question, and she turns to Aether with a questioning frown. Aether just shrugs, and Paimon lets out a sigh before turning back to Zhongli. 

“We were going around Liyue Harbor and we heard something from Madame Ping.” Paimon floats around Zhongli, tilting her head curiously. “Who is [name]?” 

The familiar name brings a smile to Zhongli’s face. “Ahh…” He chuckles. “What brings them up, traveler, Paimon?” 

Aether clears his throat, “Well, Madame Ping mentioned something about… a mortal who was close friends with Guizhong and Morax.”

“And we’ve never heard about them from other adepti.” Paimon says. “Who are they?” 

Zhongli smiles. He looks out again towards the sea of Liyue. Aether watches as Zhongli seems to think of a memory from before. The pair waits for his answer, however, when he finally speaks up it isn’t an exact answer to Paimon, instead, he asks the pixie a question in return. 

“...Would you like to accompany me on a walk?” 

The pair exchange glances, and nod.

©ahnaiee [do not repost, copy, translate, or modify]

[ahnaiee]

is my room basically a graveyard of my hobbies/projects/ideas that i never finished