#last 2 r from 2022 though

[silusvesuius]

old LN art i dug back up; most of it from 2021 🌼 it sure wus a time

[helen-with-an-a]

The object that stood in the way of a World Cup

Hi. So this is going to be a 2 part (maybe 3 part) story that I've had floating in my head for a while now.

It's angsty - I do want it to end with a fluffy end, but it's getting a little too long to be 1 thing ahahaha. Anyways.

Ona Batlle x Reader

TW: Angst, no direct mention of bad mental health, but it's clear R ain't ok.

Word count: 3.3k

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Epilogue

Flashbacks are written in Italics; for anyone not aware of the British school system GCSEs you take at 16 (you have 3 or 4 choice subjects and 5 or 6 compulsory subjects) and A-levels you take at 18 (you choose 3 or 4 subjects)

Description: R sees Ona again for the first time since their breakup

This is what you had been waiting for. All summer. All year. Hell, probably all your life. The World Cup Final. And the thought absolutely terrified you.

Your first thought after the final whistle wasn’t one of joy or happiness. You weren’t elated like Lessi or Tooney who barrelled into you and squeezed you so tight it hurt. You weren’t jumping for joy like Gee, Kiera and Lucy who manhandled you into the middle of their huddle. You weren’t screaming so loud your voice went hoarse like Hempo and Es. You weren’t standing in disbelief like Mearps and Millie.

Your first thought was of your ex- girlfriend, friend-with-benefits, situationship, Ona. Your first thought was of Ona. Spain had won against Sweden yesterday. And now you had won against Australia. The last time you had seen her was not a fun experience for you. Screaming. Tears. Spiteful words she didn’t mean. But that was the last time you spoke to her. It had been a long 8 months without her.

You weren’t quite sure what you were to each other when you were both at United. You had met on her first day. You were meant to be her buddy. The management had asked around during pre-season if anyone spoke any Spanish. You had done it at A-level, so you stuck your hand up. Barcelona was The Dream for you, so you had tailored your studies at school as much as you could to help you achieve it – taking Spanish at GCSE and A-level and continuing to watch Spanish shows and reading books to help you maintain it. You weren’t fluent but you knew enough that it would help Ona feel more comfortable. And you clearly had.

After winning the first derby of the season, the team had gone for drinks. Alcohol flowed, inhibitions were lost, and boundaries were blurred as Ona ended up in your bed. You had thought it would be a one-time thing. A drunken mistake that wasn’t much of a mistake to you. And it was … until it wasn’t. The next time it happened was at your birthday. And then her birthday. And then the end of the season. And then alcohol wasn’t a factor in taking you both to bed. She was suddenly all around you. Her jumpers were in your wardrobe. Her football boots were by the door. Her stuff was in the shower. Her snacks were in the cupboard. You had never spoken about what you were, but you drove her to training, she cooked you her mother's dishes, you snuggled into her side when watch your show, she slept in your bed every night.

And then it all came crashing down.

November 2022

You knew you needed to tell her as soon as possible. You wanted to tell her the news that had you pouncing on her the moment she stepped through the door. You were happy and giddy and so, so excited. You hadn’t thought that she wouldn’t be all of those things for you. You had made no secret that Barcelona was your dream. Everyone know that if Barcelona came knocking you would be gone without a doubt in your mind. You had received a phone call from your manager that afternoon.

“Hey, Y/N. Are you free to talk? There’s an offer for you.” Paul said down the phone. He sounded composed but happy, it intrigued you.

“Yeh, I’m free. What’s the offer? It’s mid-season though and I’m out of contract in the summer, why are they wanting to talk now?” You were questioning but not closed off. You knew joining a team mid-season would be hard but not impossible.

“Well… it’s Barca. They’ve but in an offer for you.” You were in complete shock. Barca wanted you. You were going to play for Barcelona. That’s all you’ve ever wanted. You screamed. It was the only thing you could think of. “I’ll take that as a yes, then?” Paul laughed. He knew Barca was the dream. He’d already written up the acceptance email.

“Oh my god! Of course it’s a bloody yes. I’m gonna play for Barcelona” You shouted.

“They want you to sign on the first day of the January signing window. It’ll be announced just after El Clásico. Is that ok with you? It gives you a couple of months to get everything sorted. And since United haven’t played in the Champions League, you aren’t cup tied or anything.”

You were floating on a cloud of happiness when the door clicked open. Ona was back from having a ‘Spanish Day’ with all the Spaniards living in Manchester. She had barely made it into the living room when you jumped her. Lips trailing everywhere you could reach. She laughed that gorgeous sound as you shoved her gently to the bedroom, her coat slipping off as you went.

You lay with your head against the pillows, hair fanned out to the side. You were sweaty and out of breath in the best way. Ona collapsed down next to you, her arms quickly wrapping around your waist.

“I had a phone call today.” You said nonchalantly. “From Paul,” you added as you tucked the duvet around the both of you. “There’s been an offer for me in the January window”. She looked at you expectantly. “Oni, Voy a jugar para el Barcelona” you breathed out. She stiffened in your arms.

“Qué quieres decir, amor?” She choked out after a few moments of silence, sitting up and moving away from you. You knew she wanted to go back to Spain, go back to Barca … but this was not the reaction you were expecting.

“Paul phoned. They’ve put in an offer for me for the January window. I’m signing on the 1st with it being announced after El Clásico.” You stated the facts. The simple outline of the facts that made you feel so, so happy.

“Are we not going to talk about this? You can’t leave in the middle of the season. United need you. We need you…. I need you, amor” She started off loud, angry, and upset, but by the end of the sentence it was barely a whisper. You had never seen Ona so… you could describe the look on her face. The way her body seemed slumped over in sadness.

“Hey… hey. No, don’t think like that. I’m here until the break. We’ve got a month or so. Everything will be fine, Oni. You are well aware that Barcelona is only a few hours on a plane. Everything will be fine!” She seemed to accept your comforting words.

But everything wasn’t fine.

There was a shift in the relationship arrangement whatever this was. Fewer jumpers were in your wardrobe. When she ran out of body wash, she didn’t replace it with a new bottle. Less of her snacks were added to your weekly shopping list. You still drove her to training but her music no longer blasted out of the speakers. She still cooked for you but there were never leftovers for the next day. She still slept in your bed, but she held onto your arm rather than curling up on top of you.

And then it was the Christmas break. Your last day at United. You weren’t sad to be leaving the club. But you were sad to be leaving the people. Of course, you knew you would see some of them during the international windows and whenever you came home but it wasn’t the same. Once again, the alcohol in your system led you to be on top of Ona. The first time you had done anything since you told her about your move. Something felt different this time. She was leaving to go back to Spain the following morning and you wouldn’t see her again before you left.

You woke up with a slight headache, but that wasn’t what pulled you from your sleep. Catalan came drifting across the flat. Ona was awake, and by the temperature of the bed, she had been for a while.

“Hey. Qué ocurre? Qué pasó?” She was pacing the living room, muttering away to herself. “Oni? Hey, estás bien?” She wasn’t paying any attention to you. “Ona”. Your hands rested on her shoulders, halting her scattered movements.

“Don’t touch me,” she snapped. You jumped at the harshness in her tone.

“What’s wrong, Oni?” You asked again.

“I can’t do this.” She answered back. Her tone just as sharp. You knew what she was implying but you hoped you were wrong.

“This being…?” You trailed off.

“Us.” She stated simply. You waited a heartbeat, hoping she would realise you would do anything for her.

“It’s not like there was really an ‘us’ to begin with!” She spat at you. You felt your heart begin to splitter into a thousand pieces. Ona was looking for an argument. She was terrified you’d leave her behind at Manchester without a second look. Ona was hopelessly in love with you. She had been for some time. It wasn’t fast or scary. It was subtle and peaceful. One day she had woken up next to you and she knew it was you. It would always be you. But she didn’t know if she was yours. You were never a tactile person but with Ona, you always had some form of body contact. She thought it little of it. She was Spanish after all, touching your friends was fairly normal – she didn’t realise that you didn’t hug Lessi or Tooney unless they forced themselves at you. She didn’t consider how you were quick to shake off Mary or Maya’s arms. To you, and to everyone else but Ona, it was really obvious that she was yours and you were hers. You just hadn’t had the ‘what are we’ conversation yet. She was also jealous. Barca wanted you. Her home wanted you. Not her. Never mind that her agents had mentioned that Barca wanted her in the summer when she was out of contract. Barca offered money for you. Barca wanted you so badly that they offered a record-breaking fee in the middle of a season. She was scared, angry and jealous. How was she to know that you rarely argued back with someone? How was she to know that your easy-going nature was a result of growing up in a household where shouting was the norm? How was she to know that your mild-mannered temperament was due to your habit of placating your family to stop the noise? You had never told her that particular part of your childhood.

So, she hit you where she knew it would hurt the most, hoping to get a reaction out of you. “Eres sólo un polvo rápido. Fácil. Nada mas para mi. Something to pass the time. I don’t even know why Barca want you, honestly. No eres lo suficientemente buena.” She waited for a reply, but none came. She waited for you to lash out at her. Snap. Do something to make this … breakup? … easier. She wanted to be able to hate you in the same way she was trying to make you hate her. She did the second most painful thing she could think of. She spun on her heels and marched out the door.

You knew she was lying… you think. You hoped she was lying. You knew Ona could get mean when she was upset or scared. You had witnessed it after a particularly bad game – her harshness, her biting words. But she had said those words with such conviction, and you couldn’t think of a reason as to why she would be scared or upset. It had been a wonderful night. Laughter, soft touches exactly where you needed them, and love. You could feel the love between the two of you. Every lingering touch, every passionate kiss, ever whispered word. Everything was done with love, for the pure enjoyment of the other. Everything was perfect.

You're just a quick fuck. Easy. Nothing more to me. Was that all you were to her? Did the late nights mean nothing to her? Did the secrets you whispered into her hair mean anything? Were all the promises she made you lies? Was everything she ever said to you just so she could get her regular fix? Did she really think you weren’t good enough for Barcelona? She knew her opinion of you and your football meant a lot to you. Was every reassurance that you were good enough for the starting XI mean nothing? Was every calming word when you were waiting for Sarina’s call false? Did she genuinely think that you weren’t good enough?

You were in a daze all throughout Christmas. Seeing you family was fun, but you couldn’t shake the clouds in your mind. When you met with the some of the Lionesses in Manchester in between Christmas and New Year, everyone could tell something was wrong. You were normally on the quieter side, preferring to listen rather than speak. But you didn’t really do either. You were just there; not contributing to conversations or laughing along like you usually would. Something was wrong but no one knew what. And then you were on a plane, staring out the window as you watched Spain get closer and closer. You had never been to Spain outside of camps and tournaments. Ona had promised to take you there, to show you Barcelona, to show you her home. But you had to make it your home without her by your side.

And now you were about to play Ona in a World Cup Final.

Lucy knew something was eating at you in the days leading up to the final. She had phoned Leah to come to the hotel to cheer the whole team up and boost morale. It had worked for the other girls but not you. Kiera phoned Alexia as well. But the comforting words had washed straight over you. Everyone thought that it was because you were facing the Barca girls. No one in Barcelona knew of your history with Ona beyond that of teammates at United. If she was ever in town for a quick break, you always, miraculously, had other plans you couldn’t get out of. They didn’t know you lied and hid yourself away in your flat – moving your car a few streets along and leaving your phone off so the location couldn’t be tracked. You’d even gone so far as to phone up Hayley Raso in Madrid to ask if you could come visit her when you found out Ona would be at a team bonding event due to her free schedule coinciding with game-less weekend for Barca. Hayley was a little confused, but you were close enough friends from your time at Manchester that she didn’t question it.

Ona’s words had stayed with you. Every time you failed gave the ball away, passed a too-wide cross, or missed a shot on goal, her words echoed in your mind. You’re not good enough. The venom lacing her tone permeated your brain. You pushed yourself hard then ever before. You went for runs before training to improve your stamina, stayed late to practice free kicks and penalties. You lifted heavier weights and broke your old PBs in the gym. You were eating correctly and always seemed cheery enough, so no one really questioned it. Slowly the muscles started to grow. You were always on the stockier side, the muscles you had slowly built up helping you with your defence. But now you were really built. Your muscles were obvious, even under looser fitting clothes. Not that you really wore loose clothes anymore. At first, it was because everyone on the team, everyone in Barcelona, looked good. Their styles were just rubbing off on you, you had justified to yourself. But eventually, the tops became tighter and shorter. The trousers became low rise, and the hemlines became higher. The Barca Glow Up (and Lotte had coined it) was definitely real. You told yourself it was for you. The clothes you were wearing, the muscles you liked to show off, was because you were proud of them. Which you were. But you couldn’t lie to yourself for long. The Barca media frequently posted game day fits. You knew Ona followed Barca. You knew you would appear on her timeline. Yes, you were a little more tired than you used to be. But that was fine. You didn’t tell anyone the words that rattled around in your head when you were alone. You were fine. Everything was fine. You were playing the best football of your life at Barca. You were a key part of their defence, making your way into the Starting XI quickly and constantly proving your worth in every game.

You were fine. Ok, you hadn’t had sex, or even looked at another girl, since Ona arriving in Spain. Ok, you had to have some form of noise constantly in the background because every time there was silence your thoughts drifted back to Manchester. Ok, you couldn’t be around Ingrid and Mapi or anyone else in a relationship for too long otherwise you might start crying. Ok, you were still very much broken hearted. But you were fine. You weren’t necessarily good, but you were fine

The morning of the final, you were quiet. But everyone was, even Tooney. The buzz of anticipation. The air of expectation. Everyone was doing their own pre-match routine. You had followed yours to the letter. A gentle walk alone this morning followed by breakfast. A full bottle of water on the coach to the stadium. Pitch inspection with Less and Tooney. Warm up with Lucy and Millie. Hair slicked into a bun. A spray of perfume and into the tunnel to walk out.

She was standing just a head of you. Perfect. Breath-taking. Even with her game face on and her concentration as Irene spoke to her, you could see the usual kindness in her features. Those soft warm eyes that you had been lost in far too often. The freckles that littered her skin that you had traced and played dot-to-dot with as you laughed sleepless nights away. The braid that you used to tug on to get her attention before a match that always made her smile and break her focus. You knew you were still desperately in love with her. You shook your head. You couldn’t let her get to you. Not now. Your walls went back up as you pushed all thoughts from her mind. She wasn’t your Oni – even though you knew in your heart she would always be that to you –, she was the object that stood in your way of a World Cup. As Jess and Alex pulled your attention away from the Spanish players, you missed her looking at you.

She knew you had more muscle than before but seeing you in the flesh was something else. Your eyes that have the ability to truly look at a person, looked a little more tired than she was used to. The genuine smiled that was a defining feature for you was replaced with a hard line and a smirk every now and again. She thinks you have had a haircut since being in Barca – your bun wasn’t as big as it used to be in Manchester. She wanted nothing more than to trace her fingers gently over the new scar just above your eyebrow. She knew exactly how you got it. She watched every game of yours, live if she could – on repeat if she couldn’t. You had collided with a player during Chelsea Champions League match. She had been so terrified she almost picked up the phone to call you several times. She did play a little more brutally the next time she faced Chelsea. She had been carded after she left a particularly nasty tackle on the girl that had hurt you. She didn’t know that you also watched all of her games. She didn’t know that you also wanted to phone her after that match but was so scared of her rejection. But right now, you weren’t her Amor – even though you would always be that to her –, you were the object that stood in her way of a World Cup.

Part 2 will probably be out fairly quickly as a lot of it is already written but yeh

[just-some-random-blogger]

hello gorgeous! if you don't mind modern au, i have an idea. if you don't feel like writing anything it'd be great to hear your thoughts abt it. daemon x wife!reader (who's somehow connected with magic but not targaryen) who are devoted to each other like madly in love. before daemon has to go to war they're saying goodbyes kissing, crying and not being able to let the other go. feeling like something's off he says smth like "i'll find you in another life. i'll find you in any time we'll be existing. i will love you any time i am alive" (in high valyrian or calling her some name in it) kissing her knuckles and going away. unfortunately, he was right. reader died some way while he was away and he remains faithful to her for the rest of his life (oc but whatever) and in the modern world he does find her. maybe targaryens are some sort of royal family, maybe they keep a family business or an ordinary family with lots of relatives. but he fins the reader and they somehow just feel. sorry if it's too much. i'd really like to read something about it but it absolutely ok if you don't feel like it. thank u in advance! take care!

Waiting For A Lifetime

Part 1 2 3 ?

Daemon Targaryen x Reader + Aegon Targaryen x Reader cos it just sorta happened

Summary: Overcome by grief, Daemon turned to black magic to revive you. Moved by pity, the witch who casted the spell promised you would live until you met your love again in his next life.

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Modern AU, fem!reader, mentions/depictions of death/still birth/war, my pretty boy aegon whom i would die for, angst, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: i saw this last night when i woke up in the middle of my sleep and couldn't stop thinking about it. I changed a lot about your req nonnie. I do hope you still like it though. I absolutely could not help myself with this one and I got so carried away T_T also a lot of facts about the Targaryens have distorted so just just just roll with it ok ok ok thank you And yes i know this is a gif from the crown but i love it so much the hat falling off the kiss ITS EVERYTHING I WANT TO BE HERRRRRRRRRRRRR also i do acknowledge the fact that this anon came to me with this idea after i reblogged this amazing moodboard sooooo yeah i think this post sparked this fic idea lol ALSO ALSO ALSO 2022 MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!! LOVE YA ALL imagine seeing this post in like 2032 or smth shit thats like 35 years from now Tagging: @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony pssst i made p2 "Never Before"

Daemon's face was streaked with tears and sorrow. His eyes were bloodshot and his voice was as sure as it was grave as he repeated the word he uttered to the shaman, "anything."

She looked at him, able to taste the desperation in the air, "even if it costs your life, prince?"

Daemon looks at his love before him, his love that was carrying his child. He places his bloody palm on the gaping wound on her stomach.

"Your child will not live even if she does."

Daemon screws his eyes shut tightly. He begins to quiver in anger, in grief, in pure sorrow. He mutters, "anything," he slowly opens his eyes to gaze upon her lifeless face, "better it me than her. There is no world worth living without her."

The woman narrows her eyes at the prince. She knew he was the Targaryen, once heir, known to be rugged and harsh. The Rouge Prince. Yet, there was no trace of malice within his being, only what she would describe as true devotion, true love.

"So, may it be done by the gods old and new," she says, drawing the prince's attention to her, "I will plead for her soul that she may live."

Daemon watches the witch, as she stands to her feet from the ground they were both sprawled on, in front of the body of the dead woman.

"I will plead that she may live long enough to meet you again in another life, so that you may have the love you have now once more."

"Another life?"

"Yes," she says, "the gods recreate humans they are pleased with to grace the earth again. I am certain they will let you be reborn to be with her again. I will make it certain."

Daemon grabs the cold hand that was beginning to stiffen.

"Although, I am unsure if they will allow you to remember her."

"I will remember her," Daemon retorts, kissing the hand of his love, "I will remember her no matter form I take... I will, I must."

"So it remains to be seen," she says before speaking out her incantation.

And it would not be seen until nearly 2000 years later.

The times have changed drastically. Women wore pants and voted. Men where made to take more responsibility for their actions, though still got away with things.

And yet...

... my love for him never faded.

Every prince that was born and named Daemon, I hoped would finally be him. It went about like this century after century, war after war, plague after plague, rise after fall. I had feared the Targaryens would die out, but they proved to be as strong as the very foundations of the earth.

And it took the televised of the marriage of Viserys XXIX to Duchess Aemma of Eyrie for me to see the face of my love: Daemon, the Wild Child, the Knight of Knickers, as penned by the press. Ultimately, the prince of my heart.

I burst into tears when I saw his cheeky face as he nudged his brother at the isle. I pressed my hands on the screen, thinking to myself, the wait was finally over, he was finally here.

All that was left was for me to meet the Prince of Valyria.

Yes. That would be no problem at all.

Except it was, because Daemon was just as mad as he was in this life as he was in the last.

After all, he did not get those nicknames from the press for nothing.

I used up so many of my resources to even just get a glimpse of him. It was hard to catch him in one place. I mostly caught him with a scandalous headline in the cover of magazines and newspapers.

Tonight, it was a newspaper.

"You know," the bartender taps his finger on my newspaper that was sprawled out on his bar, "he's a frequent here."

I turn to the blonde, in his white dress shirt, black waist apron, and black slacks. I raise a brow as he purses his lips as though the information was ground breaking. He wipes on a glass with his blue towel.

"Gee, Aegon," I lean on the surface before me, "I would have never guessed that from the picture on the wall."

I nod at the said picture. It's one of Daemon and the current owner of the bar, Tywin Lannister, who also happened to own Lannister Land Corp, shaking hands. Oh, Lannisters.

"Hey," Aegon shrugs, pulling his lips down in a nuff-said manner, "it had to be said, since you're literally the only patron here that has not interrogated me with questions about the Knight of Knickers."

I snort, "then allow me to change that," I rest my head on my hand, "is he truly so dashing that his looks practically steal the knickers of the ladies around him?"

Aegon finishes buffing his glass and puts it down, looking up in thought, "mmm, I think it's mostly cause he's a prince that he's got the effect he's got. I've got no idea what possessed the first girl to throw her panties at him."

I giggle, "are you saying the prince is ugly?"

"Bit harsh, innit," Aegon pulls back, getting another glass, rubbing it down with his towel, "your words, not mine."

I roll my eyes, shaking my head, as I laugh at the light haired boy's muses, "you know, if we had been living at the height of the Targaryen rule, Daemon would have had your head for that, pretty boy."

"Gods, to be beheaded," he sighed, "a dream, rather than working here, taking about some monarch who lives off the money of the people."

I snort once more. Aegon's face softens as he breaks into a laugh himself.

"No, but honestly," he says putting down the glass and the towel, "you, my dear, are my saving grace. The highlight of my begrudgingly stretched out day," he stretches out a hand to me.

I chuckle at him as I take his hand. He presses a kiss on the back of it, making me grin at him in amusement.

"You're the only sane person here," he releases my hand, "everyone else is so desperate to brush shoulders with the prince, or simply even catch a of whiff of his flatulence."

I break out into a fit of chuckles, slamming firmly at the wood between us.

"No, I'm serious! I heard the fittest gal, a total bombshell, boasting with pride about how she managed a sniff of the bloke's fart."

I'm wheezing with laughter, unable to believe what I'm hearing.

Aegon releases a deep and dramatic sigh, "what has the world come to?"

I wipe a tear as Aegon watches me empty myself of laughter. His face crinkles in a pleased expression, Adam's apple bobbing as he chuckles airily.

I sigh, catching my breath, "well, if I ever become that desperate, I ask that you pray for my soul."

Aegon presses his palms together, "praying for that girl as we speak."

I chuckle, folding the newspaper before me, "I must say, I am actually desperate to meet the wild child myself."

Aegon drops his hands along with his humored expression.

I cannot help but laugh at him as I continue to fold the paper, "though, I would say I am the desperate kind that is so desperate..." I eye him as I press the grey material together, "that I, somehow, dread to meet him at all."

Aegon snorts, screwing his eyes shut as he wipes his face, "the Stranger. Don't say things like that! I nearly had a heart attack believing you."

"No, but it's true, Aegon!" I say with a faux wounded pout, "prince Daemon is my great love, we have been destined to meet for millennia!"

Aegon leans on the table, humming as he nodds his head, "yes, and I suppose I am Aegon the Conqueror."

I lean towards him and grab his jaw, "no, you look more like Aegon II. The spitting image, I dare say."

He scoffs, swatting me off, "I'm hotter than him."

I pull away, "yes. That I can agree with, pretty boy. Personal hygiene does wonders."

Aegon snorts and plays off the blush on his cheeks by wiping his nose with his thumb, "you speak as though you met him."

I straighten up, "that's because I have. He was once my nephew."

He narrows his eyes and crosses his arms. His face contorts at the thought.

I raise my brows at him, "have I not told you I am not only a Targaryen historian, an expert at that, but I am also a patron of the Museum of Ice and Fire? I'm married into their family."

"Okay," he raises a finger, "ew."

I snort.

Aegon lifts his jaw and hums, "well, now that you mentioned it, I always knew you were one of those insanely rich blokes who frequent here. I was thinking you were a mafia boss or something though."

I scoff in amusement, raising my brows at him.

He pushes his white sleeves up then raises his hand in defense, "you have a very intense aura about you."

"That's because you trigger my fight mode," I retort.

He huffs, "do I? I'm scared to know what you'll do to me when I've seen what you do to men who hit on you."

"Aww, don't worry," I coo, "I wouldn't hurt my pretty, baby boy."

Aegon doesn't get to reply when a customer calls his attention. With this, he pulls away and leaves me to my own devices.

We don't get to continue our conversation at all, for it was clear that the rush hour had begun.

I eventually pulled back and decided to entertain myself while my favorite bartender was busy. I swiveled on my stool, looking out to the room, spotting the jukebox collecting dust in the corner. I smile at the sight of it, thinking about how it was still here after all these years, in spite of being older than Aegon.

I stand from my seat and walk over to it.

Aegon, finding one patron missing, frantically looks around then calms, raising a brow.

I place my hands on the jukebox, bending over to check if it was plugged in.

Aegon snorts as he hands a man a beer, eyes not at all fixed on him, "that doesn't work, love."

"Mmm, ye of little faith."

Aegon is annoyed by the man that sits on the vacated stool, blocking his vision. In retaliation, he blocks out the sound of his voice. Aegon calls out, "if you can make that hunkajunk work, I'll clear your tab for you."

I chuckle as I pull the machine forward, checking its wiring, "I wouldn't want to make a kid working on minimum wage to pay for me at all."

"I only said I would clear your tab, doll face," is all he replies before he goes back to tending to drinks again.

I break into chuckles as I fiddle with the wires on the back. I admit, it took me quite a while to go through everything, which was why Aegon warned that he would not call an ambulance for me if I got electrocuted.

The sight of the jukebox coming to life was enough to shut him up.

I get to my feet with a huff, brushing my hands off with each other. I turn to Aegon, who was already looking at me in astonishment, along with a few other people in the room.

I smirk, "my tab then?"

"Good as gone," Aegon shakes his head in disbelief, cutting his hand across his neck.

I release a satisfied sigh as I punch at the hardened buttons and play whatever it was that was available to be played.

When the music starts, I close my eyes and allow myself to drift off with the music. The sound brings back some memories I had in the 1940's. If I recall correctly, it was around this time Daemon's father, King Baelon, was crowned.

I slowly moved to the rhythm of the song, swaying my hips, waving my extended arms out as I made my way to the center of the room.

Aegon stilled in his spot upon seeing this. His breath caught in his throat and he was only brought back to reality when someone demanded a gin. He looked around the room as he poured that idjit his drink and clenched his jaw tightly when he saw the onlooking crowd.

He snorts loudly, grabbing his towel, throwing it over his shoulder roughly, clearing his throat with more noise than necessary.

I smile to myself when I hear Aegon's familiar coughing. He had a tendency to do this whenever men around me started to be a bother. And I loved him dearly for it. He was a sweet boy.

With my eyes still closed, I continue dancing to the soothing song. My smile grows bigger when a section comes that tickles my musical senses. I chuckle as I twirl in my spot.

When I felt a hand come to my waist, I didn't have to open my eyes to know it was Aegon. He wouldn't have let anyone come near me at all without barking up a storm.

I hummed at the scent of him, familiar yet foreign to me at once. He must have changed his cologne. I prefer this one better. He pulls me close when I reach out to him, grabbing one of his hands and placing a palm on his shoulder. His dress shirt is softer than what I imagined it to be.

I am surprised when he leads us into a ballroom dance. In fact, I am so shocked, I open my eyes and see a blur of his white shirt and blonde hair as he spins me around.

I break into a fit of chuckles, screwing my eyes shut in pure bliss when he dips me, "I had no idea you were a dancer, pretty boy."

"Yes, well, journalists don't find it interesting enough to write about."

My eyes burst open at the sound of the deep voice.

My heart is pounding at the sight of the smirking man with silver hair. I nearly faint at the violet irises so close to mine.

"I do say," his hot breath fans on my face, "if we were spotted by one now, they'd have a field day."

I jolt upright and shove the man away. He doesn't seem to be offended by my harsh actions, and, in fact, chuckles as he reels back from my action, "not what I had expected and not the reaction I usually get, but there's a first for everything."

My breath hitches when he smiles at me. I turn from him, to Aegon, who was staring coldly from his place behind the bar. It seems the rest of the people here were doing the same as well, gobsmacked by the presence of the man in the middle of the room

I roll my shoulders back, turning to my dance partner, "Prince Daemon," I mutter, bowing my head slowly, "pardon my rudeness."

He chuckles, waving me off as he stuffs a hand in his pocket, "oh, no need to be so formal, my dear. I can understand the shock," he tilts his head at me, lips still curved, "you surely weren't expecting to be dancing with the prince and thought me to be someone else, no?"

I look at him and stare in silence. For the first time in my life, I was at a loss for words.

Everything was suddenly so real, and it was making my mind and my heart race.

Aegon watches this and clears his throat loudly.

It does not help anyone.

Daemon raises his brows at me in expectation, placing his other hand in his pocket as he leans on one leg.

I open my mouth. A second passes before I mutter, "I thought you were my pretty boy."

His lips spread into a toothy grin. Airy chuckles leave him, "I can be your pretty boy."

When he extends his hand out to me, it was like the heavens opened and I could hear the angels sing.

This was the moment I have been waiting for since that day that I came back to life and kissed him goodbye with a promise of finding him in his next one.

My breath was heavily taxed when I lifted my hand.

My soul nearly leaves me when I jolt in shock over the sound of a record scratching and jumping, repeating over and over again.

In that moment, I am hit by an epiphany. I am so overwhelmed with emotions that I could barely breathe. The sight of Daemon before me brought tears to my eyes. This was all I ever wanted, and yet-- and yet-- I was drowning. I could not breathe properly.

"I..." I shudder, making Daemon's face fall, "I have to go," I mutter through a strained breath.

Daemon knits his brows, shifting in his spot with his hand still out, "what?"

Aegon watched with tightly knit brows as I ran out of the room.

The prince drops his hand and spins on his heels, eyes locked on the runaway. His nostrils flare as his face contorts in confusion, "wait! Stop! Where are you going?!"

I heave heavily as I push past people on my way out. I am absolutely winded when I exit the establishment, hands shivering from both the cold and the nerves that were getting to me in this moment.

I walk aimlessly farther out, down to the lawn that was now dark, since it was gods-know-what hour.

"Wait!"

My heart drops.

I spin around when someone grabs my wrist. My heart is still quick in my chest when I see Daemon, heaving. His short, light hair was slightly tousled in its place. He knits his brows at me, tilting his head, "you dare leave your prince, Cinderella?"

My jaw hangs low.

He releases a sigh, shaking his head, "I forbid it."

Seeing him here and now made everything feel more Real with a capital R.

Daemon adjusts his grip on my wrist, pulling his hand back, so that he was now holding my hand.

I look at him, blinking the glassiness of my eyes away, still in shock of his presence. A million questions were running through my head, and I was glad to be able to even have the mind to ask one in this moment, "do you know me, Daemon?"

He tilts his head upon hearing this, brows knitting, lips curving. He releases a chuckle at the lack of formality and how haphazard the question was, but finds himself further drawn because of it, "no," he shakes his head, "but I would love to know you."

Hearing the words come out of his mouth shatters something in me.

He did not know me.

I turn away from him as I try to even my breath. I retreat my hand and step back as a shiver runs down my spine.

And yet here he was, chasing after me.

Daemon steps forward to make up for the space between us, "don't leave. Come back inside with me. I'll give you my coat, then you can boast that the prince of Valyria gave it to you."

I continue stepping back as I shake my head, "you don't understand," I mutter under my breath in High Valyrian.

"Then make me understand," he retorts in the same tongue with a chuckle as he shakes his head and takes a wide stride over to me, grabbing my hand again.

I gasp at the warmth of his touch. When I turn back to him, tears have finally fallen from my eyes.

Daemon's face hardens at the sight of it. His hand reaches out to my face, wiping the wetness away. The sight of his torn expression tears at me, bringing me more tears.

"Why are you crying?" he asks in High Valyrian.

I do not get to reply, as suddenly there is a loud burst from behind us, commanding both our attentions.

It's Aegon. He busted through the door with my things in his hand. Upon catching the sight of the two of us, he freezes, breathing heavily as the looks out.

Daemon's expression hardens; his grip on me tightens. He turns to me, jealousy coating his mouth when he catches I where I am looking, "is that your pretty boy?"

I do not reply to him as Aegon walks over.

Daemon pulls me close to him. I look up at him with teary eyes. Aegon looks between us, jaw tense as he hands me my bag, coat, and newspaper.

"Thank you, bartender," Daemon dismisses, patting Aegon on the shoulder, before turning from him to face me again.

When I catch Aegon's face, I finally have the wits to move.

I pull away from Daemon to put my coat on. I swallow a heavy lump in my throat at feel of the stares of the two men.

Once I have my coat on, I pull a card from my bag, handing it to Daemon. He wastes no time in taking it from me, immediately scrutinizing it.

"I'd..." I start, taking a deep breath, "like to see you again."

Daemon's eyes dart to me, breaking into a smile.

Butterflies explode in my stomach at the sight of him.

Aegon's face tenses.

I release a breath before asking, "when are you fr-"

"Whenever," Daemon blurts. He places the card in the breast pocket of his white shirt, "I'm free whenever."

I nod slowly at his words, "I have work tomorrow, but I do have a long lunch at 12-

"I'll call you a 11:55."

I purse my lips at his words, trying to hold back my chuckle, but failing, "11:55?"

Daemon grins, nodding once, "on the dot."

I chuckle, turning to my feet as I nod at his words, "11:55 then."

"On the dot," he nods, extending a hand out to rub his thumb on my cheek.

I turn to him just as Daemon pulls away and stuffs his hands back in his pockets, "I'll walk you."

I shake my head, turning to Aegon, who was still standing there, watching the whole interaction between us, "you don't have to. I have a car parked nearby."

"Then I'll walk you to your car."

I turn back to Daemon, who then offers his arm out to me. I smile, unable to deny him, or myself, of the offer. I take his arm, and the next moment, he leads us off.

I turn over my shoulder, raising a hand at Aegon while I offer him a smile, "see you, Aegon."

Aegon watches as I turn back.

There is a twisted feeling inside him that grows. He mutters softly. It is too soft for anyone but himself to hear, "see you."

[sailormoonrarepairweek]

Welcome to the third annual Sailor Moon Rare Pair Week! The event will take place from March 24th - March 30th, 2024, but I'm announcing the themes early to give everyone plenty of time to create their fanworks.

What counts as a rare pair for this event, you ask? Any pairing that isn't Usagi/Mamoru (or any of their incarnations), pretty much! (Don’t get too hung up on the word “rare”. Just roll with it, okay?) They usually have their own week, so this event is a chance for fans to show their love for pairings other than the Miracle Romance, canon or not. You can even include poly, platonic, and cross-over ships, if you'd like! Almost anything goes, as long as you follow some simple guidelines.

Fanworks should somehow incorporate the one of the day's themes. (You can pick just one; you don't have to use both.) How you choose the interpret the theme is up to you!

A non-UsaMamo pair must be the MAIN focus of the work (although Usagi/Mamoru can appear as a side pairing or as part of a polycule).

All ratings allowed.

No smut involving underage characters, which I'm defining as under 18 years old. Otherwise, as long as the characters are portrayed as adults in the fanwork, go wild! Just please make sure to properly tag.

Pairings of all sexual/romantic orientations welcome.

Fanfics should be a minimum of 500 words. Poetry may be shorter, though. (If you would prefer to write drabbles instead, you can write five separate 100-word drabbles about the day's themes, but a day's entry should still be at least 500 words long. You have over four months until the week begins and plenty of time afterward if you don't finish in time. That's plenty of time to write 500 words. I don't think that's too much to ask.) If you're writing fanfic, I REALLY would prefer you post your fics on AO3 or Fanfiction.net and provide a link to your story, but if you must post on Tumblr itself, please make use of the "Read More" option.

Fanart should be a completed drawing. (Any fanart portraying nudity or anything of an R/NC-17 nature should be cropped if immediately visible on your Tumblr post and/or posted with the appropriate community label. You can post the full image under a "Read More" or provide a link to the image on another site.)

Graphics, image boards, playlists, cosplay photos, crafts, meta/essays, etc. are also welcome!

Comments, kudos, and reblogs are encouraged, but don't be a jerk! If you're not a fan of a pairing, please just ignore and move on.

On Tumblr, if you tag #smrarepairweek2024, I will reblog your post. I'll tag explict art and fics reblogs as #nsfw, so feel free to block that tag if you'd rather not see those posts.

Please do not post your works anywhere until the day dedicated to your chosen theme. An AO3 collection has now been set up for this year's event. (Adding your work to the collection will not be required.) If you'd like to look back at the last event's works, the 2023 collection can be found here.

And here is the 2022 collection.

Themes

Day 1: Magic/Mundane Day 2: Hugs/Kisses Day 3: Fire/Ice Day 4: Music/Silence Day 5: Birth/Death Day 6: Break-Up/Make-Up Day 7: Free

(Event Organizer: @kaleidodreams)

[writtenbymkl]

pairing: best friend!haechan x fem! reader

word count: 2.3k

genres: ANGST !! , unrequited love, college au, heartbreak

warnings: none

a/n: the last part to good person !! i wanted to be a short au just because i wanted to test the waters with my first completed written story so i hope you guys enjoy it !!

PART 2 OF GOOD PERSON

Two weeks later and you’re at the get-together that your friends threw for your birthday that was coming up soon. One problem, though, Haechan wasn’t here yet.

You: where r u? everyones here and ur the only one missing _._

Sent 5:37 pm

You: seriously this isnt funny, what r u even doing?

Sent 6:40 pm

You: the get together is ending soon, we have like an hour left here, dont even bother showing up anymore dude

Seen 8:00 pm

You roll your eyes, seeing that he finally read your message.

“Hey! That was mine. If you wanted one, I could’ve just gotten you one, dude,” Mark looks at you with sullen eyes, “But I’m assuming by that reaction, he’s not coming?”

“You know Mark,” You sigh. “He’s been acting really weird since you said that stuff about being a couple. This is all your fault,” You state. You know it wasn’t his fault, it was Haechan’s for being so weird about it, but you had to blame someone. 

Mark’s eyes widen. “How was I supposed to know it would cause a disturbance in your friendship?”  

“Ugh, whatever, let me just blame you peacefully,” 

“Come on, man, don’t be so down today. We came to celebrate before your birthday, so we should make the most of it, even if it means Haechan won’t come. I mean, it’s not the end of the world, right? You guys can celebrate on your birthday?” He suggests. I mean, you guess he’s right, it isn’t actually your birthday yet, but it still didn’t take away from the fact that you wanted to spend it with all of your friends, including Haechan.

“Okay… Sorry, I didn’t mean to be a downer. It’s just, Haechan is-”

“Haechan’s your best friend, yeah, dude, I know, but you also have us as your friends, too, you know?” Mark gives you a gentle smile while looking at your other friends laughing and talking at the tables.

“You’re right. Thanks, Mark. Has anyone told you you’re a really good listener?” You ask.

“No problem, and yeah, I guess,” He shrugs. “Now, let’s get in a good moment for the last hour remaining.” Mark gets up and holds out his hand to pull you up. Right as you're getting up, the door jingling gets your attention. Immediately looking towards the door, you see Haechan walking in and greeting everyone. 

“Haechan, you finally made–” You stop your sentence seeing a girl come from behind him, holding onto his arm. Haechan finally notices you and makes his way over, pulling the girl behind him. You can see Mark from the corner of your eyes giving you a pitiful look. 

“Y/n! Hey! Sorry, I’m late. I had to go pick up Mihye from her house and drive all the way back here,” Haechan explains while the apparent Mihye just giggles. You just give Haechan a blank stare. I mean, this is unbelievable, and you don’t know what to say.

Haechan quickly realizes he forgot to introduce the girl by his side. “Oh, by the way, Mihye, meet Y/n, Y/n, meet Mihye. She’s my new girlfriend,” Haechan smiles. Mihye holds out her hand for you to shake, and Haechans waits for you to grab it, but the moment never comes.

Mark quickly grabs your own hand and places it in Mihye’s.

“Silly Y/n, haha, I think, she’s just, um, in shock and happy that Haechan finally made it,” 

You don’t know what to say. You feel tears already starting to form, but you don’t want to make a scene. 

“I think I’m going to take a breather outside. I’ll be back,” You tell Mark before rushing past Haechan and Mihye to go outside. Except Haechan stops you for a second.

“What’s wrong? You need me to go outside with you?” He says, concerned. 

Yanking your hand back, you bitterly say, “No. I need time alone. You’ve already done enough.”

Mark’s eyes widen. “Y/n, I think now should be a time to leave and talk to him. I’ll keep Mihye company.” Sighing, you give in and walk outside with Haechan following.

Not before he tells Mihye he’ll be back. Standing in the dark, with the wind blowing slightly, you sigh. A moment of silence is filled between you two until Haechan breaks the silence, like always.

“Are you mad because I have a new girlfriend?” He asks. And you snap because this is always the problem you have with him, and it is just a continuous cycle you’re tired of dealing with. 

“What?! Haechan, you cannot seriously be so oblivious?” You look at him, shocked. 

Rolling his eyes, “I knew you’d react like this.”

“How else did you want me to react when you’re telling me you already found a new person and you brought them to my birthday get-together without informing me?!”

Haechan scoffs, “Oh come on, it’s not really that big of a deal, Y/n. It’s not like they’re taking the spotlight away from you.”

“That’s not the problem, Haechan, don’t you get it?! It’s the fact that it hasn’t even been a full month, nonetheless three weeks, since your last girlfriend? Do you enjoy being heartbroken? Do you enjoy the fact that I keep looking after you every time? Are you satisfied with the fact that I’m always there to pick up the pieces? Or is it the fact that you know I’ll always be by your side and drop everything for you?” The feeling of finally being able to speak out feels liberating. Except, it doesn’t mean you’ll get the outcome that you’re expecting. 

“I never made you drop anything for me,” He angrily retorts while pointing. “And so what if it’s been less than a month, or three weeks, whatever, can’t you just be happy for me?! Isn’t that what you’re here for? To be by my side and be my BEST FRIEND?”

You stay silent. “Fine,” you weakly smile. 

“I won’t say anything more, and I'm sorry for overreacting. And you’re right. As your best friend, I should stick by you no matter what choices you make. I’m happy for you, Hyuck, I really am.” You pat him on the shoulder as you walk past him back into the restaurant.

Haechan just sighs and follows after you, grabbing your wrist before you can fully step inside. 

“Talk to me. What is this really about? Why are you so upset? You know I always do this, so why is it a problem now?” You think for a few minutes.

Should you tell him? Should you tell him about the fact that you’ve been in love with him for the past, God knows how many years? Or the fact that you’re jealous about all the girls he’s spent time with when it should’ve been you? How everyone, including his friends, knows that you’re in love with him? Is that a risk you want to take? 

Looking at him with sad eyes, you make your decision and give up. “It’s not that … It’s….” Tearing up, you know you have to get this off your chest. “I just need to get this off my chest,” you say shakily.

Haechan looks at you, concerned. “What is it?”

“I’m... I’ve just been … in-“ you get cut off by someone yelling out, “Haechan? Y/n? Where are you guys?” Your heart drops. Of course, it’s his new girlfriend.

Haechan whips his head around and yells back, “Mihye? What are you doing out here? I said I’d be back. Go back inside.” 

“I was worried. It’s been a while since you guys left,” Mihye says from the door.

“We… We should probably go back inside. They’re probably bored without us, and Mihye’s starting to get worried.”

“No, tell me what you were gonna say,” Haechan firmly states while grabbing you again.

“It’s not important anymore,” You shake off his hands, moving towards the door, as Mihye is no longer there.

“Tell me, or I won’t let you leave.” 

“Fine. I was just going to say how I’ve been concerned for you for many years now. You’ve had me worried whether you’d be able to be happy and find a good person for you, there. Happy?” You sarcastically smile.

“So that’s it? That’s what you made a big deal for?” He lightly laughs.

“It's not funny. I’m just worried about you, you’re my best friend, and I don’t want to see you lose the light in your eyes. That’s what makes you Haechan.”

Wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning his head into your shoulder, he says, “I know you’re concerned for me, Y/n, and you’re my best friend in the whole world, too. It’s a good thing I’ll have you with me every time to get me through it, though, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah, you’re lucky it’s me and not someone else.” He pulls away.

“You know, for a second, I thought you were going to say you were in love with me or something. That would’ve been an easier explanation as to why you were acting like you were, but it’s a good thing that wasn’t it,” he laughs. 

As if your heart wasn’t already torn to pieces. You should’ve known he’d never see you in that light. I mean, look at yourself; compared to Mihye, you were a completely shabby version of her. If only he knew that that was the exact reason why you were acting like you were. But you’d never tell him that, not when it meant risking your friendship and never talking to him again. 

“Yeah .. that’s a ridiculous thought there. I don’t know how you came up with that conclusion,” it just came out your mouth, it’s not like you wanted it to, but it’s the only way for you to cope with a rejection that wasn’t even formal; how oblivious he was. 

Heading back into the restaurant with Haechan following behind you, you notice Mark and Jaemin looking at you both.

 

“Why don’t you head back to Mihye now? I’m sure she’s been waiting for a while,” You say, nodding your head over to where she was standing. Haechan just nods, and you watch as he walks up behind her, embracing her in a back hug and kissing the top of her head.

Looking away, you walk to where Mark and Jaemin are and slide into the seat across from them.

“So? Did you tell him?” Jaemin asks curiously. Mark just nudges him. “What? I’m just asking,” He shrugs.

“I’m gonna assume you didn’t tell him,” Mark scratches the back of his neck. You can’t seem to say anything. Maybe you should’ve told him. No. Everything would’ve gone down the drain if you did. Maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t. 

“I didn’t.” You finally say.

“Well, why not?” Mark asks. 

“Mark,” You look up at him raising your eyebrows. “Are you seriously asking that? He has a girlfriend, and it doesn’t seem as easy as you make it out to be. How am I going to just tell him, oh, I'm in love with you, have been since forever!” 

“Hey, you said it, not me,” He points at you. You roll your eyes. 

You point over to where Haechan is, “Whatever. I mean, it’s my get-together, and he seems to be wanting to spend more time with Mihye than me.”

“Like I mentioned before, you guys can hang out on your actual birthday. Right now, spend some time with us. There’s only a few more minutes left, so let’s make the most of it,” Mark smiles. “Right, Jaemin?”

“Yes, exactly. Forget him for today!” Jaemin says, grabbing your hand to pull you up.

“That’s if he doesn’t forget my birthday too,”

“He won’t! We’ll make sure of it,” Mark pats your back.

“Thanks, guys. I don’t know what I would do without you.” You embrace both Mark and Jaemin, and they hug you back. 

—---------------------------------

It’s been a month since your birthday. You spent the day with Haechan, Mark, and Jaemin. One of the best days and you couldn’t forget it. Except today seems to feel really familiar. Almost as if you’ve done this for the 20th time already. Why? Because Haechan sits in your bed again, eating ice cream and sniffling. 

“I’m guessing Mihye broke up with you?” You ask, sighing, not even surprised he’s here again after a month. You saw it coming, but how could you tell him that? You would seem like a bad friend, and that’s the last thing you want Haechan to think. 

Haechan blows his nose with a tissue, “Yeah….”

All you can do is rub his back once again, and it’s all you can ever seem to do. Watch him find a new girlfriend, fall in love, get heartbroken, and be there by his side when it happens. 

“I’m sorry you have to deal with me all the time,” Haechan sighs, bringing his shoulders down.

“Hey, it’s okay. That’s what I’m here for, right? What kind of a best friend would I be if I wasn’t there for your ups and downs?” He just smiles.

“Can you give me a hug?” You embrace him while patting his back as he sniffles.

“I know I’ve said this almost every time this happens, but you really are a good person, you know?” Haechan says while leaning his head on your shoulder.

“Thanks,” Is all you can say. 

And the cycle repeats, as it always will because you’re the good person he’s always needed in life, even if he doesn’t know it. And you’re okay with him not knowing. The ones who will make him cry, you can only comfort him and be by his side.

[lotusunset]

Far too many pics of the Palais Garnier (Part Three!)

In October of 2022, I had the extraordinary experience of getting to complete an 15+ year old dream of mine to visit the Palais Garnier. I took a metric fuckton of pictures and now I want to share them with you all, the PotO community!

Before I start dumping, a few things:

Please reblog this post. I usually don’t post a lot, therefore I don’t have a big following. I’d really appreciate people sharing these as much as they can. When I was a dumb kid in ye olden days of the internet, finding a post like this was the sort of thing I would have been hyped up on for weeks. Help spread that kind of joy!

Feel free to use these photos for any sorts of graphics, artistic reference or any other fandom related projects, as long as it’s not for profit. Please just credit me in some way. In fact, I'd love to be tagged to see whatever creations come from sharing all this!

This is part three, which is a continuation of pictures from the interior. I will continue to share information from the tour I took in this post as well. In fact, these are some of my personal favorites, as I never knew about some of these rooms as just some silly American girl on the internet. I hope you guys enjoy these even more than the last!

Part 1 (Exterior) | Part 2 (staircase) | Part 3 (HERE) | Part 4 (stage)

This is the grand foyer, an area that is pretty heavily photographed already. Standing in this room is almost as impressive as the massive staircase. The paintings on the walls and ceilings depict a lot of mythological scenes. In one of them, there is a hidden portrait of Garnier, along with the other artists that were involved in creating the paintings. The doors leading to the 2nd level balcony are located in the grand foyer.

Historically, only the gentlemen were allowed in the grand foyer, as it was seen as a place for them to converse and do business until one night, the Queen of Spain decided that she didn't care about such arbitrary rules. Ignoring it completely, she entered the room. The men all decided to leave, offended that even a queen would dare to encroach on their space. As word traveled around the Opera that night, all the other women soon joined the Queen in the foyer, wanting to see for themselves that she was there. Afterwards, men and women were begrudgingly allowed to mingle.

I found this to be a very interesting room. At the end of the grand foyer, this room was full of sunlight and comparatively simple decorations. The wealthy patrons themselves served as the real decorations of this room, as they would gather here for refreshments! The common folk, while not permitted to enter, would come to simply watch the rich people indulge in lots of expensive treats.

In fact, the menu still hangs on the wall in the form of all the portraits! All the women are holding items that symbolize various food items, tea, coffee, wine, game meat, fish, ice cream, citrus fruits and pastries.

I couldn't help but imagine Raoul taking various treats and sneaking them out to share with Christine.

We weren't allowed to go down this hallway but it just continued to make this place feel like a giant maze.

These two rooms were nearly identical, though on opposite ends of a hallway. A few mistakes were made during their construction. The top room is known as the Sun room, for its warmer ambiance. The bottom is the Moon room.

Firstly, the rooms were meant to be swapped locations. The Sun Room was supposed to lead into the gentlemen's smoking room, but the Moon room leads to it instead. On the ceiling of the Sun room, salamanders are painted. The little amphibians were believed to ward off the danger of fire and protect the building. By the time the mistake was caught, it was too late to change it.

The other mistake can be seen in the mirror illusion in the Sun room. Because of a fault in the construction of the mirrors, the glass is too curved and the error is magnified with the illusion. The light appears to bend around a corner, instead of repeating on into infinity.

I imagine Erik was quite cross with the workers when he realized these errors occurred. I certainly wouldn't have wanted to be on the receiving end of his temper that day!

Looking at the star motifs painted on both ceilings, I wonder if they could have inspired Christine's Star Princess costume in the musical.

PART 1 (exteriors) | PART 2 (staircase) | PART 3 (here!) | Part 4 (stage)

[ikoarts]

what up, we finally updating things around here x

im starting from May 2022 onwards, bc if i think if i tried uploading everything since whenever i last uploaded any traditional/non polished digital art, id probs go insane

anyhow here's May 2022 art, ill stick the dates and some info under the cut x

1, 2 - 06/06/2022 : Some FemKaards when I was just getting my design down for her <3

3, 4 - 07/05/2022 : FeMTT and more FemKaard, they r gay ur honour. i still love them a lot, very girlboss of me to make them into OCs

5 - 23/05/2022 : A draft for an updated Honey design. though I ended up reversing the colour of the boots, I wanted to only use the highlighter yellow and b/w, cuz its fun

6, 7 - 26/05/2022 : Fanarts of Surge the Tenrec and Doctor Starline from the Sonic IDW comics, some of my fave characters in the franchise as a whole tbqh

[leqclerc]

honestly carlos also isn’t that impressive when you look at the calibre of drivers ferrari have hired in let’s say the past 2 decades… seb, alonso, kimi, micheal, barrichello are all either world champions or (for barrichello) finished at least 2nd in the wdc (and here we can include charles also!) so if we’re just looking at wdc positions carlos is the weakest ferrari driver in 20 years. it’s ferrari… the standards are different

anyw this is a bit divisive so i understand if udw to reply!

Hello 👋🏻😊

No worries! I see what you're saying. I think the thing with Ferrari is though... I mean, obviously they will always be a legendary marque with plenty of historical successes, and as much as one can pretend that doesn't move them, you can't deny the appeal of wanting to be part of that, wanting to experience a slice of that and be immortalized in the history books yourself. I also think there's a bit of a "I can fix her" aspect at play here, this tantalizing idea that you can be the one to restore Ferrari to end the title drought and bring the trophy back to Maranello, to do the one thing so many others failed to do.

Which kind of brings me to my next point which is that... legendary status aside, I think their stock has kind of fallen in the last few years. Particularly in that 2020-21 period where they came crashing down and then had to rebuild and they already knew they wouldn't be anywhere close to being championship contenders.

I mean every year we see the stats and the "it's been X years since Ferrari's last championship" stuff going around. The 2010s and early 2020s just haven't been a great time for the team. They've had some highs but generally they're probably remembered for the lows (unfortunately.) They've had two (three, if you count 2022) failed title bids that fizzled out before the end of the season. There's been a lot of staff turnover (including TPs), lots of chaos behind the scenes with people trying to do things their way in hopes of breaking the cycle (Binotto.) It's like it's always close but no cigar, if that makes sense.

So at the time they were looking for a replacement for Seb, let's say early 2020 (unbeknownst to us at the time, because the narrative was that they intended to stick with him and then Covid complicated things...) I think they 1. just were not an attractive option for drivers of a similar caliber/world champions. Max wasn't going to move after getting stuck in at Red Bull and Mercedes were having their heyday so Lewis wasn't about to walk either. The only other WDC on the grid at the time was Kimi iirc, whom they had just recently let go to bring in Charles. And 2. I think they were trying to sort of shake things up and almost forge a new identity. They took a chance on Charles, doing something they traditionally wouldn't have resorted to, bringing in a wet behind the ears driver in just his second year of F1. Of course he was their academy driver, he did sim work for them, test-drove their cars and was generally familiar with the people and the environment and factory and everything so it's not like they plucked him out of nowhere, but still, it was unlike them, and many pointed out that they were flipping the script with this move.

Again hearkening back to a point I made previously, on paper Carlos seems like a pretty solid driver and more or less along the lines of what they needed at that time. He generally had a good time at McLaren, he was beating Lando (a rookie but still) and was being praised for his professionalism and team player attitude (little did we know.)

I think the only other name that was mentioned as having credible talks with them at the time was Daniel, who maybe would've been more in line with what we came to expect from their signings (so a driver with more experience and actual race wins under his belt. Not WDC though.)

There was also very much this perception that they were going to go all in and build the team around Charles as their no. 1, so they didn't really need a senior driver he could learn from anymore (they already had that in Seb) but rather someone to back him up. (Obviously things uh. Didn't quite pan out that way but.)

I remember there was a stat going around about how Charles and Carlos were Ferrari's youngest driver pairing since like 1968, which is kind of insane. So I think they also kind of used that to launch their new era where they kind of tried to re-brand themselves as this team that's betting on young, fresh talent.

Now they seem to be on the up again with the development direction, new TP and a surprise juggernaut lineup for 25-26 so there's this sense (and hope) that they're heading towards building something akin to the dominant, iconic team of the early 2000s.

All in all it was a decently long partnership, especially considering the state of modern F1 and the near-constant silly season and people getting short-term contracts, lots of academy drivers waiting in the wings and stuff. Carlos himself was a serial team-hopper so to speak before getting the Ferrari seat, the longest he's been with one team so far in his career I believe? Will this lineup be considered a standout Ferrari lineup some 10, 15 years down the line? Probably not, especially sandwiched in between two WDC drivers and falling in this no man's land period with no titles and few wins (as of right now, who knows what happens this season). But all in all I think Carlos's four season stint with Ferrari is pretty much an accurate reflection of where they were at that moment in time.

[elnotwoods]

r/AmItheAsshole

Posted by u/mainheadK 3 weeks ago

AITA for not informing my son’s K(27) boyfriend P(24) that his mother is not dead?

I know the title sounds crazy, but please hear me out before you make your judgement. My son K(27) has been dating P(24) for a couple of months. They moved in together shortly after they started dating even though I wasn’t very happy about it.

Last week, while having lunch together, my son’s boyfriend was reminded of his parents. He continued to quietly eat his lunch but afterwards he confronted his uncle about some things I won’t disclose to respect their privacy. His uncle must have lead P to believe that I was the person with all the answers to his questions.

While P confronted me about his parents and how I knew them when my son wasn’t there, I answered his questions truthfully but decided against telling him that his mother isn’t dead like he believes.

So, AITA?

EDIT: Many of you asked me in the comments why I chose to keep that information to myself. Well, P is going through a rough time. He lost his job fairly recently, his little brother got in trouble after K’s ex-boyfriend got in touch with K. It was all too much and I thought that me telling him would just overwhelm him more. I wanted to give him some time to process all that happened.

EDIT 2: I see that you keep questioning the authorities and why they chose to disclose the information about P’s mother to me rather than her own son. You see, I forgot to mention that P’s mother is my adoptive sister - something I actually did mention to P when he came to me with his questions (after he went to see his uncle). He was a bit shaken up when he found out, which is another reason why I didn’t tell him. P believed he was orphaned at the age of 11 and I thought telling him about his mother a decade later right in the middle of a stressful situation would not be the best.

EDIT 3: For those of you calling me the asshole, I think you are incorrect. I acted in P’s best interest. P’s memories of the time he was orphaned are scrambled at best. He doesn’t remember the accident and the aftermath, as the whole experience was a bit traumatic for a child his age.

EDIT 4: For those asking if P and K grew up together and then started dating - the answer is no. My sister moved out of the family home and separated herself from the family business to raise her children. P and K met for the first time when P was 23, right as P started working at my company. I recognised P immediately, because of his striking resemblance to his mother. I chose to not disclose my familial relationship with P’s mother, because at the time he was simply an employee and I did not see the point of doing so. When he started dating my son, there simply wasn’t a good time to bring it up.

EDIT 5: Questions about the accident itself have been raised: I can’t disclose much, for legal reasons but: my adoptive sister’s N(48) husband died in a very unfortunate accident - there was a gun in the house without the safety on and during a heated argument the weapon accidentally fired, hitting my brother-in-law in the back, killing him instantly. P was present, hiding in one of the cupboards playing hide and seek with his younger brother at the time… which we found out about later. My sister N was absolutely inconsolable about what happened so I took her out of the house (while the rest of the people present dealt with my brother-in-law and the kids), back to our family home. While I went to call our family doctor, she tried to kill herself in my bathroom. We managed to save her, but her memory has been affected. She can’t remember who she is, who her sons are or what happened that day. I thought it would be better to not tell P that his mother is alive because she can’t even remember him and I thought it would only cause him more pain.

UPDATE 09/07/2022: Thank you to the few of you who actually read all the edits and my reasoning for not telling P, saying that I am not the asshole. For those who voted that I am the asshole, saying I should come clean about what happened (telling me it’s P’s right to make decisions regarding his own mother and his relationship with her), I have an update: P now knows his mother is alive!

UPDATE 2 10/07/2022: Some of you wanted to know how it went. Two days ago, during a heated argument, my son K and his boyfriend P stormed into my hidden office at home and discovered my adoptive sister N there. P recognised her instantly, he screamed at me for ruining his life and hiding his mother from him, threatened to kill me (the boy is a bit emotional, I must say). My son stopped him from doing so. P proceeded to hug his mother and tried to reunite with her, but she did not recognised him. I revealed the whole truth about the accident and explained to P why I chose to hide N and the fact that she was still alive. It’ll take some time to adjust to this new reality, especially for P and his younger brother P(17). But on a lighter note, I gave my son one of our family heirlooms (a ring) to give to his boyfriend as a way to show him he is part of the family. P accepted. They’re now on their way to take over the family businesses (symbolically for now, as I am still the one in charge). So, in the end, all turned out well!

[profiterole-reads]

2022 Favourites

In no particular order. This is content I've read and watched in 2022, not necessarily content released in 2022.

Books

1. A Taste of Gold and Iron by Alexandra Rowland: m/m heroic fantasy + non-binary characters. This was one of my most expected novels of the year and I was fully satisfied with the result. One of the protagonists suffers from severe anxiety.

2. [French] L’Héritage des Rois-Passeurs by Manon Fargetton: portal fantasy with a lesbian protagonist. The French language in the secondary world is different, but I don't know if the author invented the variations or based them on something real.

3. Sword Dance by AJ Demas: m/nb historical fantasy. This trilogy takes place in a fictional world based on Ancient Greece. It's a delightful mix of intrigue and domesticity shenanigans.

4. The Hollow Star Saga by Ashley Shuttleworth: f/f and m/m urban fantasy (YA). This series about the fae also includes a touch of Greek mythology. I care a lot about all the characters.

5. Youngblood by Sasha Laurens: f/f urban fantasy (YA). This is my favourite queer vampire novel. It's an excellent mix of vampire lore, romance and mystery.

6. The Magic Between by Stephanie Hoyt: m/m magical realism. The characters have superpowers, but it's not superhero fiction. It's a fun bi4bi romance.

7. One Verse Multi by Sander Santiago: m/m/m science fiction with a trans male protagonist. This is my favourite read of the year. I loved the science in this story and how the author played with the Mandela effect (false memories shared by many people).

8. Safe and Sound by EM Lindsey: m/m romance. This is a very moving hurt & comfort novel. This author always does a great job with the intersectionality of queerness and disability, deafness and vertigo in this case.

9. If You Still Recognise Me by Cynthia So: f/f romance. This novel is about identity (queer, but also British and Cantonese) and fandom.

10. [Spanish] Anne sin Filtros by Iria Parente and Selene Pascual: f/f/m romance with a trans male protagonist (YA). This novel is also about queerness and fandom. I've read several books by these authors and this is my fave.

 TV shows

1. Ancient Detective: murder mystery/wuxia with BL vibes + a non-binary character in the last few episodes. While this c-drama is mostly m/f, I appreciated the queer touches, as well as the complex plot.

2. Legend of Yunze: GL wuxia. This c-drama is a quick watch, with episodes that are only a few minutes long. What's nice is that the f/f is not very censored for a Chinese show.

3. The Lost Tomb/DMBJ franchise: adventure/fantasy with BL vibes. This c-drama franchise kept me busy for a good part of the year and I estimate that I've seen about half of it. It covers a genre that is relatively rare in Western shows.

4. Bulgasal: urban fantasy with a queer-coded villain. Sure, queer-coded villains aren't the best form of representation, but the one in this k-drama is very well-written. The reincarnation plot is fascinating as well.

5. Vampire Academy: urban fantasy with some f/f and some m/m (YA). I loved the movie way back and I'm glad that they've added queer representation to the show, even though it would have been even better if they had made the Lissa/Rose subtext canon.

6. Wednesday: murder mystery/urban fantasy with a probably a-spec protagonist (YA). This is a delightful adaptation of the Addams Family, true to the old movies.

7. Love in the Air: BL romance. This addictive Thai drama is my favourite show of the year. Payu/Rain are my fave couple, they're so playful and loving. For Prapai/Sky, there's a lot of hurt & comfort, which gave me so many feels.

8. Semantic Error: BL romance. This k-drama's protagonist is on the autism spectrum. It's enemies-to-lovers, or rather annoyances-to-lovers.

9. She Makes My Heart Flutter: GL romance. This k-drama is a quick watch. I love that it mostly focuses on sapphic friendships.

10. Heartstopper: m/m romance with some f/f and a trans girl (YA). I love the webcomic and the adaptation is really well done. It's such a sweet story.

[bcacstuff]

Timeline 6 January 2023 - March 2023

For completeness and to consult when there’s discussion about his whereabouts. In addition to the previous timelines.

Timeline 6 covers 1 January 2023 - 29 March 2023

For previous dates see timeline 5

January 1st 2023 New years Day was spend in London with his friends, the Nics, MN and Sarah, Big Red and fiancée.

January 5th he posted a video announcing MPC partner for 2023 and a Live IG on January 9th. (video is recorded in December 2022 in NYC)

January 6th Wedding of Graham McT and Garance at Borthwick Castle where GMT also celebrated his Birthday (Jan. 4th). More pictures were posted later on

9 January Live IG from a hotel room, most likely at the Kimpton Edinburgh

As of January 11th he was spending some days in NYC, a fanpic and pappics, another fan pic a day later, some IGS pics and video from him self and another fan pic

18 January Starz announced OL has been renewed for an eight and final season and BOMB is officially greenlit

25 January at Burns Night he posted a video mixing a cocktail from his home

28 January Sam and Graham posted a video being together, most likely in London as Graham posted from London in the week before. Clothing and tags on the post give away they were doing a photoshoot for the book cover of the next CL book.

Filming of OL is still going on in January and February

4 February S posts a video of him and Valboo at EDA for MPC

On February 6th he's spotted at EDA Glasgow by a fan who took a fanpic

February 7th a teaser for the trailer of LA is posted saying the trailer will be there on VD

9 February a picture was posted by Kora by Tom Kitchin (Edinburgh) about a recent visit there.

11 February he's participating at the Hyrox Glasgow event with Nic R. The Nics stayed at his place.

14 February, VD, the trailer for LA is released, and a second version, and there is a Live IG via zoom with S (at his home) and PCJ.

Meanwhile buzz is spreading, some of the actors wrapped on filming OL, while others and extras clearly are still working. S was clearly still filming on 14 February. The driver posting the last week and Sophie's trailer getting removed on February 23. Word got out that on February 24th there's a wrap party, and a thank you for the extras

22 February he recorded a podcast for the Scotsman food and drink at the Ubiquitous Chip in Glasgow (also see below, March 3rd)

24 February the wrap of S7 is officially announced, we get an overload of BTS and lots and lots of pictures, videos and other footage and a bonus of the wrap party which was at the Platform, or better known in Glasgow as The Arches.

1 March he shows up at the Stravaigin in Glasgow, apparently for some PR for his booze by several influencers

3 March the new episode for the Scran_podcast for Scotsman food and drink is announced and released the next day.

4 March S was at Chichester doing a Q&A for students,

Apparently he went from Chichester to London as he was papped on March 6 and posted a selfie, working out on March 8th at the Soho hotel. Another fanpic was posted a week later and a video of him running in London was discovered.

On 11 march he was revealing his 'Sassenach Scrambler' at the Scottish Bike Show in Edinburgh. A fanpic at the venue

A fan spotted him at the airport in Brussels on March 17th, apparently stayed the week or days before in Belgium and was heading to London though didn't know what his end destination was.

23 March, a teaser and the release date for OL S7 was announced.

25 March Charley McEwen posted a selfie with S. Since PCJ is in London as well, it's quite certain that the LA promo was recorded around this date.

29 March the 'new project' he hinted about on a podcast is finally revealed. The Couple Next Door will be filmed in Leeds and Belgium. He posted a birthday video for Dries Vos the same day, saying it was his first day on set for CND.

Other timelines:

Pre Hawaii timeline

Timeline 1 August 2020 Timeline 2 September 2021 Timeline 3 February 2022 Timeline 4 August 2022 Timeline 5 October 2022

[rinas4ki]

My top 10 favorite music projects of 2023 ૢ✧∘* ✧･ﾟ

Welcome to this list that 2 people were mildly anticipating tops, a list where I ramble about note sequences that give me a sense of enjoyment, which is essentially what this blog of mine is dedicated to. I’ve been on this site for more than a year now, I had the pleasure of interacting and chatting with my lovely mutuals who share my silly little interests, both here and on @akaneverse. At the end of last year, I simply uploaded a topster of my favorite albums and EPs, and this December, I’m taking my time to review said projects, and show them appreciation with words and expressions slightly bigger than “the production is so insane” and “BANGER”. This year has been good to me as a music enjoyer, with new releases from my longer-time faves and incredible new discoveries, some possibly becoming all-time faves, which will be mentioned in the post. Pitchfork, your bankruptcy is nearing. And yes, the GIF is a spoiler.

⑩ Ichijikikoku (EP) - Atarashii Gakko!

I can say I somewhat got into Japanese music this year and this anti-idol group with a school leader concept looking camp right in the eye were some of the first artists that caught my attention. Having accidentally come across them through snooping around a beloved mutual’s Spotify profile, the quality of their songs such as Pineapple Kryptonite, Nainainai and Freaks caught me off guard in a great way. Their discography offers various genres such as robotic chant-filled hyperpop, groovy city pop, alternative rock, hip-hop and their latest EP truly showcases their diversity and range. From Otona Blue, the funky pop song that was the push start for the girls to get their rightful recognition, to a revisit to their older rock sound, to their first club banger and more city pop hits, this EP presents what their music has to offer in a nutshell. 2023 treated the school leaders well as they both got their deserved success and delivered a well-rounded project along with other listen-worthy singles.

Favorite tracks: Otome no Bigaku and Giri Giri.

⑨ 3 of Us (EP) - FLO

After taking the Internet’s ‘00s R&B revivalists and girl group appreciators by storm with their first EP Cardboard Box in 2022, this iconic trio went on an ongoing streak to constantly deliver the best and improve their music and skills. 3 of Us serves as lunchables before the upcoming full-course meal which is their debut album, and not so surprisingly considering the consistent high quality of the group’s releases, the snack surely is fulfilling. Two of the tunes were anticipated then-unreleased songs but the title track and the later added-on Suite Life were loved by us FLOlifers as well. The four songs showcase both the group’s incredible vocals and their empowering no-nonsense attitude. The title track is an anthem that shows the world the girls have each other’s backs, through a smooth execution of a humorous scenario of a guy simultaneously trying to toy with the 3 of them. FLO are real it girls, and this mini alone is definitely convincing of that enough.

Favorite tracks: what if I said all of them?

⑧ MY World (EP) - aespa

aespa have long-ago established their cybergirl fighter Kwangya concept and a solid spot in the K-pop industry as a group with one of the strongest group identities, top-notch discographies and powerful vocals. I slowly fell in love with them in 2021 and they have been one of the very few anchors to my interest in K-pop lately. Through mismanagement and complete bs coming from their crappy record label, standing ten toes down with these girls and experiencing the comeback of the summer was 100% worth it. Though the label needs to pull themselves together a little for the creative direction of all of their groups, MY World offered aespa’s two different takes on the summer which somehow felt fresh and unique, still suiting the group and proving aespacore’s wide range. The music, however, gave the signature aespa sound we had missed because of the music drought. Reol and Slayyyter’s souls truly split into two each, possessing the four members and giving us the gritty, in-your-face EDM banger that is the lead single Spicy. Welcome to MY World, the mini’s pre-release single, on the other hand, is an orchestral, alluring alternative pop track, which is a genre I never knew I needed aespa to dip their toes into. Salty and Sweet is a package delivery for the MYs who are especially seated for aespa’s metallic hyperpop releases, while Thirsty is contemporary R&B with a bubbly aespacore twist to it and I’m Unhappy is a splendid hyperballad. No offense but had they left the basic and frankly flow-disrupting ballad ‘Til We Meet Again in the vault, the ranking of the EP would be higher on here, and this is my only criticism of the project music-wise. As I always say on aespa comeback release days: the girls did it again.

Favorite tracks: answer changes every 5 business days but right now I’m gonna go with Welcome to MY World and Spicy.

⑦ Crying in the Carwash (EP) - Lolo Zouaï

I’ve been keeping up with Lolo Zouaï on the low (pun intended, see Encore) since the release day of her sophomore album PLAYGIRL but I might have to pay closer attention to her because of her elevated excellence showcased on this mini. Besides giving her more freedom over her work and artistic direction, returning to her independent artist days allowed her to wiggle more with her own feelings and experiences directly, as opposed to the personas she conveyed the story of PLAYGIRL through. Before the unveiling of the EP, the roll-out fully hooked me in with both the singles and mesmerizing visuals. Encore was the perfect earworm-y invitation to the era, and Crying in the Carwash showed us the rainy panorama none other than Lolo’s mind with soft, melancholic jungle drums as the track’s stand-out point. The rest of the three songs, sitting prettily in the middle, give us soulful R&B blessed with the artist’s gentle vocal runs and UK garage reminiscent of e-motions by Mura Masa and Erika de Casier. All in all, I can’t be the only one who can’t wait to see what Zouaï will have to offer with her future work.

Favorite track: Crying in the Carwash.

⑥ ESFERA DE AMOR - Simona

Esfera de Amor? In “my top 10 favorite projects of the year”? More like “top 10 most slept on albums of the year”. I’m not saying this just because of my personal opinion or just by looking at the streaming numbers either. This project is worth checking out for everyone looking for ethereal, light, bubbly pop à la 4th gen K-pop girl group music. Simona took recent pop micro-trends such as the incorporation of house, UK garage, hyperpop, neo-reggaeton and baile funk, and shaped them up into her very own world of love. The record, while being a relatively easy listen and having the ability to appeal to a wider audience, keeps you attentive and never bored, with an intro that leaves the sense of time and reality behind to make room for dancing and a classy vintage-style interlude. At one stop you unwind, at the second you dance at midnight in your bedroom, and at another you’re an otherworldly romantic. Feel free to do whatever you please, because after all, you’re in a sphere of love where everything’s fine.

Favorite tracks: Adentro de Mí, Polidrama, Plush, Meloni and Llaga Verdadera.

⑤ BB/ANG3L - Tinashe

Tinashe has been an impactful figure in modern R&B for nearly a decade now, with her resumé ranging from choreography material groovy bops to heartfelt, calmer, vocal-heavy songs. BB/ANG3L, in the musician’s own words, combines her past and her present, her darker debut day sound with her faster-paced, catchier, dreamy tunes. The songwriting keeps it real and personal: we go from a dramatic reflection on a toxic relationship, to wanting to be pampered and treated with respect and class, to more reflections and slowly letting go. In the music video for Talk To Me Nice, Tinashe peels away her former self and gets purified with the dripping water, getting down to her essence. (I will further elaborate on my newly found love for water concepts/metaphors in some next entries.) Thanks to producer Machinedrum, garage and dnb rhythms (can you tell those are my weaknesses yet?) are beautifully incorporated in two of the tracks, and the production is atmospheric and tastefully bleak throughout the entire tracklist. Keeping up with Tinashe’s releases for a good while, a couple of years in my case, remains a pleasure with this project of hers.

Favorite track: answer changes often once again and this time I’m picking Tightrope.

④ Raven - Kelela

If there were courses on how to take breaks of long years after releasing a top-tier album and make an even more world-shaking, majestic comeback, Raven would be the diligently studied textbook. Though I personally can’t relate to the 6-year wait as I discovered Kelela at the beginning of this year, my commentary is unnecessary for one to know she is a legend whose impact on alternative R&B, dance music and neo-soul is not up for any questioning. While Raven has even more of a slower and sultrier side than before, the intimacy and maturity stays consistent whether we’re talking jungle, aurora-like synths or soothing orchestration. It’s a true, well-constructed and developed body of fruitful work, with seamless thought-out sequencing, an art that’s being kept alive by artists that rightfully value it. Motifs reappearing in her previous albums such as “all the way down”, “on the run”, “far away” make their returns, but in no way does anything feel repetitive or any less unique. The album cover art and the music videos for Washed Away and Enough for Love present us more water imagery that couldn’t have been any more suitable for the sultriness and haziness of the record. Raven is the deep melancholic ocean that you trust to wrap your body around, where you witness musical scenery that’s so breath-taking that you can barely tell if it’s real.

Favorite track: On the Run.

Let’s get some honorable mentions out of the way before the top 3: Heaven knows by PinkPantheress (literally 11th place, Feelings was on repeat for like a week straight), My 21st Century Blues by Raye (robbed by the Scammys), Unlock My World by fromis_9 (if I make a best ‘23 K-pop b-side list Prom Night has a high spot secured), seOul collection by OnlyOneOf (I ignore the old tracks included in the album and candy bOmb is the K-pop b-side of the year) and Bébe Yana’s singles this year bc even though they’re not a body of work they’re too good not to get a shout-out. 

③ Code Ge4ss - 4s4ki

As I was getting into Japanese music in March, I suddenly wondered whether there was a full-fledged hyperpop or experimental electronic music scene in Japan. After a quick Google search, an interesting artist popped up, with the metallic cybercore aesthetic I’ve been craving more of on the cover art of her latest album called Killer in Neverland. Interesting album name, intriguing song titles too, and as soon as I heard Log Out she took it in my eyes, there and then. Listening to Killer in Neverland as a whole took my shock to another level. Who was this and why did her music satisfy my cravings to this extent? As I went through her discography in a day or two, I fell deeper and deeper in love with her enchanting production (she’s her very own producer, mind you), crunchy autotuned vocals that somehow sound magical, her risk-taking unique concepts, something in between camp and outright beautiful visuals, precisely crafted songwriting and artistry. She manages to be the perfect amount of fun, the perfect amount of edgy, the perfect amount of bright, the perfect amount of sharp, the perfect amount of real, the perfect amount of satirical, the perfect amount of joyful, the perfect amount of sad on each and every project of hers. What didn’t hit me like a truck at first, however, is her tremendous improvement as a musician in pretty much every aspect: production, songwriting, album cohesion, creative direction, visuals. Not until her latest album Code Ge4ss finally got released in late June.

I was confused at first at the Code Geass anime collab thing, I wasn’t exactly sure of the release date and whether 4s4ki was actually releasing yet another scrumptious FULL album not too long after I got into her. The album dropped, I was tuned in right at midnight and my already high expectations were surpassed. Banging (kicking if you will) Jersey club beats, birds chirping accompanying glitchy trap instrumentals, screams followed by almost Machine Girl-level noisy circuit board sorcery, samples of characters’ speeches over electro guitar riffs, a piano interlude paired with opera runs taken from the show, pacifying ballads which are a mix of acoustic guitar and hard-hitting pots-pans and 8-bit synths, all closed by surreal orchestration with the classic electronica touches of 4s4ki and collaborator producer Kotonohouse. I’m sure I’d appreciate the Code Geass-themed lyricism on an even deeper level if I hadn’t paused watching the anime after 5 episodes like the terrible TV consumer I am. What I can be certain about is that everything about this project feels genuine and from within because it IS genuine and from within. 4s4ki couldn’t have been a more suitable choice for this collaboration, she’s been a fan of the franchise since elementary school and very few emit the weird cyber-glitchcore internet baby aesthetics the way she does. The cover art is stunning and references the series once again, and the Shirley MV leaves us with calming visuals that may remind you of Welcome to MY World by aespa, which spoke to the aespa x 4s4ki truther in me.

As I was saying, this album is what really rubbed her major progress as an artist and musician in my face. We’ve gone such a long way from the calmer EDM-pop antics of Your Dreamland, for example, not even to mention the synth-pop balladry in her debut Gender. Every era of hers sonically gets increasingly complex and intense and ethereal, and in every body of work she leaves in a bigger, more intimate piece of her. There’s just so much personality in everything she puts out and presents. She built her sonic and artistic identity from the bottom to the top and even as a fan for less than a year, continuing to witness this makes me feel pure admiration. Words aren’t enough to properly express how I feel about her art but that won’t stop me from typing up paragraphs to try to get someone to understand me on this. People have various opinions on 4s4ki’s experimentation and self-expression, however what absolutely nobody can ever deny is that she’s a true artist, visionary and one of the most skilled producers of this generation. 2023 brought her both achievements and unfortunately some hardships, and I sincerely hope 2024 is kinder and even more generous to her. (She’s not done with taking over the year yet! Stream her new single Continue and stay tuned for winter again coming Dec 15.)

Favorite track: Eleven.

② Fountain Baby - Amaarae

I touched upon my adoration for water imagery on my entries for BB/ANG3L and Raven but as you can see from the title, Fountain Baby took the theme to an entirely different level. The analogy potential of water is infinite as the fluidity, cadence, calmness, riptides, uncertainty, contradictions of water can very well be converted into the multi-faceted human emotion. The same water that you’re dependent on in order to live can poison you at an overload, the same water that rinses your body and soul can drown and choke you up when contacted with the wrong places. Fountain Baby expresses various moods and states of mind not only through concept visuals, but more importantly by sprinkling water euphemisms throughout the entire record: “fountain baby, wash her, make it wet”, “water on my neck, come make it warm”, “water from wine”, “water, it mix with the substance” being prominent examples. Amaarae chats love, sensuality, materialism and lastly, meeting your maker in a way other than passing away. She defines a “fountain baby” as “a person with endless charisma, someone that is abundant in their blessings and ultimately a blessed child of God.” The universe Fountain Baby resides in is essentially rich, delicate, cloudy and raw.

While water is a consistent element of the album, it was far from being Amaarae’s only source of inspiration. She draws on ‘00s pop staples Timbaland and Britney Spears, The Neptunes, Clipse (sampled in Counterfeit), Janet Jackson, Missy Elliott and diverse genres such as Afro-beats, classic and contemporary hip-hop, Americana punk rock and dance. The melting pot of live orchestra, harps, baile funk, tire whirring, R&B-infused shiny Afro-futurism, Japanese folk song samples, Chinese bow violins, Arabic scales, gunshot and cash register clicking sounds, mid-song switches that make you feel like the main character of a coming of age movie, glitter and sax and guitars creates a record that refuses to be boxed into one genre or label. A “clever alchemist” and “a chemist who fuses world music” are titles that are deservingly given to the artist for these reasons. The record has plenty of variety yet the sequence all comes together akin to a satisfying crossword. It’s lucrative and shimmery but has its child-like, playful side that’s a natural result of Amaarae getting in touch with her inner 8 year-old during the cultivation process. The music videos are all different but inseparable approaches to the Fountain Baby-verse. The MV for the first pre-release Reckless and Sweet is based on editorials and has a silky luxurious look, with direct hints at the album’s concept. Co-Star, the second pre-release, casts zodiac signs as racer-models and fast cars come running around in a competition, keeping the high fashion coded color grading and filming style. The music video for the lead single Wasted Eyes is heavily inspired by the film Rush Hour and pays homage to Japanese culture about as much as the song does (it’s worth to mention the song is co-written by the iconic Crystal Kay whose speech you can hear in it). The intricacy and planning of every aspect of this era is pop music at its peak. With Fountain Baby, Amaarae finds the epitome of pop perfection without special dedication to seeking it.

Favorite track: Wasted Eyes.

① Ambrosia (EP) - Namasenda

Some projects make your jaw drop from the get-go, some others grow on you with some time. Ambrosia crept up on me the longer I kept it on repeat, all the way to being my favorite project of this year. I already enjoyed Namasenda’s previous songs such as Black Ops 2, Demonic and the pre-release single maserati. As I later found more about the background of the project, how its concept came together and read the translation of the lyrics to rosa, my love for the it multiplied. Right now if I were to describe the EP in two simple words, they would be “ethereal”, “gorgeous” and “atmospheric”. These words are used with way more power than you may realize this time.

Sonically, the already unique artist stays true to herself but the execution of her vision is somehow… better than her previous work. north star and deathrow bby are unorthodox but celestial perspectives on baile funk, the former being a siren-like intro-lude that lures you in and the latter having a slightly haunting catchy Europop inspired jingle feel, serving as closer out of the 4 songs. maserati is a fresh take on polished but cutting pop, while rosa is a divine ballad that takes you to a dream realm. “Unconditionally here / I mean what I promise / When the sky is completely pink”, she sings in her home language Swedish, over the Casey MQ co-produced blissful synths. Maybe it’s executive producer Simon on the Moon’s musical genius (he’s also to be thanked for his involvement in Natural Brown Prom Queen by Sudan Archives), maybe it’s Namasenda unveiling a more authentic side of herself and therefore causing the music to be the most authentic version of itself. This authenticity drips through the production, the visuals and the lyrics. The stark contrast between Ambrosia and the jeweled, metallic, extreme meta-pop in her previous work, specifically Unlimited Ammo, opens up a conversation on the future of hyperpop.

Besides the heavy, detail-embroidered production, the focus of hyperpop was pretty much always exaggerating the artificial aspects of pop music, such as vocal manipulation, heavy bass, deafening drums, unforgettable melodies and shallow lyrics. How long could one use these funnily unrealistic musical personas before wanting to face themselves and do a deeper, more pure dive on pop? This I-D article on PC Music (the record label pioneering the hyperpop scene) shutting down concludes with “Perhaps it’s time to get off the computer and rediscover the personal.” Indeed, we can’t exactly reach a verdict on whether “hyperpop” will become just another fad or not, but moving on from simply exaggerating pop to expanding, beautifying and authenticating its sound isn’t an inaccurate prediction. 4s4ki and Namasenda (who, by the way, parted ways with PCMus before Ambrosia) are two of the artists that embody the beautiful, complex hyperpop-transcendent sound and experimental electronic pop music is in good hands thanks to artists like them.

To finish off this entry, Ambrosia manages to pinpoint exactly what I like to hear, both characteristics that I mentioned and things you can’t really put into sentences, only listen to and let them sink in. The production is some of the most stunning I’ve ever heard in my life, the EP is cohesive despite the short 9-minute run time, the visuals are simple but creative and the craft is passionate and genuine. Next time somebody asks me about the music I like, I’m sending them this EP with no further elaboration as it summarizes my tastes like no other body of work ever has.

Favorite track: rosa, it also grew on me the most drastically.

Now to end this post, every year gives me brand new outlooks on how I consume music and the details I notice, the things I pay attention to. 2023 was filled to the brim with musicians offering their own outlooks on how they create. I’m keeping my eye on the masterpieces that will come out of 2024 and I wonder how my interests will transform with me next year.

Hey @nayeonline (special thankies for indirectly fueling my writing process) and @timetravellingkitty, I wiggled my keyboard a bit 😗

[yesthatsatumbler]

hey ill send you an ask! hows it going? post your favourite coin

Thanks!

Not much is happening TBH? Or at least to the extent that stuff is happening, in the short-to-medium term, I don't know what to say about it without some much more precise prompts on what exact kind of stuff you're interested in. I went to a beach today I guess? (And in the medium-to-long term things are too uncertain to say much about yet; too much depends on what would happen in places I don't really have influence over.)

I've moved to another country in 2022 because everyone was abandoning (and/or putting active sanctions on) my previous country due to a deeply unpopular war (that I didn't even vote for) and I was worried about being conscripted (and also for family reasons but the conscription thing was probably the main reason). Then in 2023 I saw my new country start its own (slightly less deeply) unpopular war that made approximately everyone abandon it, and I didn't really have any more places to go to... but at least I knew I didn't have to worry about being conscripted, and ongoing US support (and a long tradition of relative self-sufficiency, even if mostly for religious reasons) means that the sanctions are barely noticeable so far.

Not counting circulation finds, I had bought a grand total of about ten coins for my collection since October 2022. (I've received a few hundred more as gifts from friendly relatives.)

Favorite coin... it's a really hard question, you know! I don't recall your criteria/preferences for good coins offhand, and maybe if I knew them (I think I've seen them posted at some point...) I'd figure out which of my coins was the best fit for those. But also maybe that's not the right question to ask anyway.

For what it's worth, as of the moment I started writing this response, the first coin I thought of was that one silver coin I accidentally got for way under its true value because it was in such perfect condition that I thought it was probably made of aluminium (and accidentally confused it with a vaguely similar aluminium type while initially looking it up, though I don't recall whether that happened before or after I decided that it couldn't possibly be silver), and the dealer knew even less about those coins than I did, so he believed me and lowballed the price.

Then I figured out what went wrong and posted that on a forum, and it was a whole mess, and I eventually came clean to the dealer, and IIRC he basically said something to the effect of "I mean I didn't invest in it much either, happy that it's with someone who at least knows what it is". (Then I proceeded to buy a semi-key-date Barber quarter from him for under melt - and this time I did ask several times if he was sure about the price. I miss that guy.)

Yemen - North Mutawakkilite Kingdom (1918-62) Yahya Muhammad Hamid ed-Din (r. 1918-48) AR 1/10 (Imadi) riyal 1362 or 1364 AH? = 1943 or 1945 AD? Y# 5.5, Numista 39981 (my coin is currently the page example)

"Wait, if the coin is in such great condition, then how could there be an uncertainty in the date?"

That's because it's an overdate! The 6 is engraved over a 4 (that is, ٦ over ٤ - you can see both shapes here, but the 4 is mostly obscured), and the last digit is either 4 over 2, or 2 over 4 - but both of the ٤ (4) and ٢ (2) shapes are strong enough that it's hard to tell which was there first, and of course both 1364/42 and 1362/44 are chronologically possible.

The references (i.e. Krause) include 1362/44 (though I've never seen an example labeled as such), but not 1364/42, as a possible option; they do, however, have 1364/43, for which the NGC World Coin Price Guide provides this example... an exact die match to my coin.

Unfortunately, a comparison of their coin and mine makes it clear that the supposed "3" is almost certainly a misreading; a combination of wear (flattening out the relevant area) and what appears to be a slight crack (?) gives the digit ٢ (2) a seeming extra bump at the top, making it look like ٣ (3). On my coin there is no bump and the digit can only be read as 2.

I've been uncertain over the years I've had this coin over whether it's actually dated 1364 (1945 AD) or 1362 (1943 AD), though I tended to default to the former. I thought that this is entirely unknowable, but now that I think about it, it might theoretically be possible to find a match to the pre-rework die, and see if it says 1342 or 1344? But there's not a lot of those 1/10 riyal coins depicted online in the first place, and none of the ones I could find seem to match this die - and of course there's no reason to assume that the die as originally made was used to mint coins at all, as opposed to being some kind of unneeded surplus that got reused two decades later.

...Comparing the styles, I think 1344 (and consequently 1362) is more plausible, but I can't be very sure. But at least now I've figured out at least a theoretical possibility for how it could eventually be known what it actually is?

Numismatics is complicated.

(Maybe some day I'll actually write up my extensive post on a possible reattribution of the monogram AE4 type traditionally attributed to the usurper Leontius... I was a good way in before I discovered that the question was treated in far more detail, with far more examined examples, in a Swiss article from 2020. Of course the article is [mostly] in Italian, and IIRC it did not raise some of the points I noticed, so maybe it is worth writing out my version as well. TL/DR: it's probably not Leontius, but it's hard to say who it might be, and the only other historical attribution for the type makes the Leontius option look sane.)

...Sorry for the long and rambling post. I think I had another point to make in here but if so I've completely forgotten what it was.

[bengiyo]

CURRENT ASK GAME

Tagged by @lurkingshan mostly so she can troll me about one of these questions.

Current time: 8:22 am

Current activity: Having breakfast and rolling into my workday.

Currently thinking about: My first time hanging out with a friend in person in months and brunch logistics for tomorrow.

Current favorite song: Meme choice is Planet of the Bass, which I love unironically. I've been returning to Golden Ears a lot though.

Currently reading: Ravensong, the second book in the Green Creek series by TJ Klune since @lurkingshan's commentary has me back in my Bennett Pack feels. I'm also working ahead on Strength of Thousands for my Pathfinder table. I'm also about to start The Fight Within by Andrew Grey at @lutawolf's suggestion.

Currently watching: Shan pinged me for this just so make me type the entire list of shit I'm watching because she is a villain.

Currently airing shows I'm watching: Be Mine SuperStar, Dangeros Romance, Hidden Agenda, I Feel You Linger in the Air, Jun & Jun, Kiseki: Dear to Me, Laws of Attraction, Love Class 2, Love in Translation, Minato's Laundromat 2, My Universe, Only Friends, Stay by My Side, Taikan Yoho (aka My Personal Weatherman), Wedding Plan (Bonus episode next week), Why R U? (Korea)

Shows about to start this weekend: Naughty Babe, Venus in the Sky

Current shows I'm high-key rewatching: A Tale of Thousand Stars, Eternal Yesterday, Is it Wrong To Try to Pick Up Girls in a Dungeon?, Kieta Hatsukoi, La Pluie, Midnight Diner, Star Trek: The Original Series, Three Star Bar in Nishi Ogikubo, What Did You Eat Yesterday?

Friends and I also watch a movie every Saturday mostly uninterupted for the past four years. Last week we watched The Long Walk (2019), a Mattie Do horror film from Laos. It's very good. This week we're either watching Sisu (2023) or Vikram (2022).

ARE YOU SATISFIED, SHAN???

Current favorite character: This question is hard. It's probably Minato from Minato's Laundromat because I get him. Also probably Segasaki from My Personal Weatherman.

Current WIP: I have been kicking around a post on how I introduced my friend Emily to BL and turned her into a regular viewer as a guide for some of the new folks. It's super short, but it feels like I'm missing something.

Tagging @shortpplfedup just because I know she's busy, @ginnymoonbeam because she's always secretly watching something and I'm curious, and @warningtothecurious just because I still see you around and want to wave.

[cypressmoons]

bane of my existence and object of all my desires [full story]

it's finally here! i finished editing through and compiled all 8 parts into one single post for your enjoyment. i didn't realize how many pages 24k words is until now - it's a whopping 60 pages :o kinda shook that i was able to write this much but also kinda proud hehe

you can find a chapter-by-chapter index here, or if you'd prefer to read the parts individually, you can find them here. happy reading!

started: april 19, 2022  finished: august 22, 2022 edited: october 19, 2022

word count: 24,056

general summary: bridgerton!ayato is the head of inazuma's most influential commission, and he has sworn to never fall in love because that only ends in heartbreak -- except to find a vessel to carry his heir, of course. but when he meets the dashing y/n with her headstrong personality that goes against about everything he has ever known, he is not so sure if falling in love is such a bad idea anymore. inspired and based on the book "the viscount who loved me" by julia quinn and season 2 of netflix's bridgerton.

general contents: strong language; sexual/nsfw content (both implicit and explicit); mentions of death, injury, violence, murder, blood, battle; implied gender roles/mentions of misogyny; spoilers for the book and show, and lots of fluff and tears.

pairing: kamisato ayato x female reader, she/her pronouns  timeline: inazuma post-sakoku decree, irodori festival, ayato story quest

names: fukuchi y/n - reader, fukuchi emiko - sister note: unless otherwise stated, the chapters will contain spoilers. minors are encouraged to not interact due to suggestive/sexual content, especially with the last two chapters which are marked mdni!

𝐨𝐧𝐞.

Kamisato Ayato does not want to find a wife under these circumstances, if he had any say in this at all.

To him, a wife is nothing more than a somewhat tolerable person who doesn’t bore him to death every time he speaks to her. Who is educated but doesn’t talk back to him. Who follows everything he does, because he is the man of the house. Definitely not the defiant ones who don’t know their place. And most importantly, someone who is able to bear children to continue the Kamisato bloodline.

A wife is nothing more than a birthing machine, it seems. Her existence a mere fulfillment of the unwritten contract Ayato took on when he became the ninth Yashiro Commissioner.

And to the high society of Inazuma, Kamisato Ayato is a promiscuous young man who plays and breaks the hearts of unknowing ladies. He chases the high of watching other people squirm under his touch, his kiss, his presence. It’s like a drug to him, and certain rumours have made some mamas steer their daughters away from him like he is the drug. Whatever the case is, the exhilarating thrill of being the capital-R Rake of Inazuma is too addicting. The addiction to him, though, may prove to be the downfall of some, and the exaltation of others. 

°•. ✿ .•°

Had it been up to Ayato, the social season would not be in the middle of spring. It is the most delectable time of year indeed, time that should be spent hunting or riding or playing games rather than the constant whirl of balls, trips to the modiste, and endless suitors lining up at his door.

He slouches on the armchair, the upholstery providing a bubble of comfort that he does not want to get out of. From his position, he watches mindlessly as the handmaidens scurry around his younger sister, the governess gesturing wildly with her hands in an attempt to provide her with a last reminder on formal etiquette. 

“Remember, your fan is your friend, not your enemy. Don’t go sending false signals to the gentlemen with your carelessness now.” 

Ayato can’t help but let out a snort-laugh at the pathetic state his sister is in, earning a hard glance from the governess and a small chuckle from the girl. “My lord, the carriage is ready.”

A footman approaches Ayato, bowing his head slightly at the young Commissioner.

He dismisses the man with a curt nod and returns his attention to the girl clad from head to toe in ivory whites, an amused smile on his lips as he notices the feathers on her head resembling that of a peacock’s.

“We shall make haste then, sister.”

The gilded carriage slows to a halt in front of the Shogun’s palace, and Ayato’s head buzzes with annoyance the moment he glances out the window. If anxiety was visible, he could see a dense cloud of it floating above the heads of all the desperate mamas and young debutantes, dressed in the same shade of white as his sister sitting across from him in the carriage.

“Do you think Her Excellency would like me?” Ayaka’s brows furrow at the sight, all the other girls will be her competitor the moment she descends from the carriage.

He scoffs not at his sister’s own cloud of anxiety, but at the noise of hundreds of overlapping voices, “Of course she will.”

Ayato stands among the sea of other family members waiting along the aisle, his lonesome presence a stark contrast to the bigger families of young siblings and married elder sisters hovering around the debutante. Ayaka tugs at her gloves, adorned in pearls and made from the finest Liyue silks. She does not speak, but Ayato feels her uneasiness all the same. Despite his distaste about social events like these, he knows that being there for Ayaka is his duty as a brother. And regardless of what societies gossip about him being a coldhearted man, his family would always come first.

The voices die down to a quiet whisper as the Shogun’s guards emerge from behind the doors. A girl several places in front of him trembles from the nerves, and a mama next to him frantically dabs her forehead with a handkerchief. Ayato straightens his back and offers his arm, and Ayaka takes it as if leaning onto him for stability.

“You’ll be alright.” He whispers and gives her fingers a reassuring squeeze. The blue-haired girl offers a tight-lipped smile in return.

The line in front of them disappears slowly. The room is getting too warm for Ayato’s liking. He would love nothing more right now than a refreshing drink and to loosen those stupid buttons around his neck. The seam sewing one of the pearls to Ayaka’s glove is dangerously close to snapping from her constant picking, and before Ayato has time to comfort her one last time, the double doors swing open and the Almighty Shogun in all her grandeur is revealed from behind those doors, earning several light gasps from behind him.

“Lady Kamisato Ayaka of the Kamisato Clan.”

At the consort’s cue, the pair takes slow and steady steps up the aisle, and Ayato fights to suppress his urge to throw dirty looks of dismay at the “eligible bachelors” of this season. Just the thought of one of those old men ogling, or even worse, marrying his sister is enough to make him want to vomit.

“Your Excellency,” Ayaka says with lowered head as they bow in front of the Shogun, her voice calm but sweet from years of practice.

It isn’t until a few moments later that they allow themselves to stand up, and Ayato notices the small smile tugging at Her Excellency’s lips right away. His heart rate speeds up, and he feels Ayaka’s grip on his arm tighten.

“As flawless as always, Lady Kamisato.”

𝐭𝐰𝐨.

Ayato has never been more glad to get out of the estate. Perhaps the officers noticed the clenched fists and forced smiles, they reassured him that they could chaperone Ayaka and her suitors just fine. After all, his presence was probably enough to ward off a handful of suitors already, and for a lady like Ayaka, that is the last thing she needs.

The air of Chinju Forest somehow feels crisper as Ayato ascends into the woods after yet another night spent with beautiful women at the baishun yado [brothel], the cacophony of bird calls lifting his spirits. He feels his footsteps lighten with each stride. A bake-danuki hurries past, turning into a torch before his very eyes. Ayato chuckles at the cute little creatures, and continues with his stroll home. 

The rustling of some leaves stops him dead in his tracks. This is not the all-too-familiar sound a bake-danuki makes as it transforms, or even that of a kitsune roaming around the woods. The noise of dried leaves crunching under pressure sounds again, and before he has time to react, a shadowy outline leaps from behind a large rock and dashes across the path. 

“Hey there!” He calls out, instinct prompting him to follow. 

The hooded figure does not stop, and expertly navigates through the stones, trees, and shrubs towards the glistening stream running through the forest. Ayato calls out again, this time noticing a nearby hilichurl shooter readying its bow at the mysterious person, the power of cryo already gathering at the tip of the arrow. He reaches for his sword, preparing himself for battle and making a mental note to send some of his men to clear the forest later. Inazumans must pass Chinju Forest to reach the Grand Narukami Shrine, and it is simply not proper for him to leave the monsters making themselves at home here.

He visibly cringes as the figure leaps across the stream, thinking they would miss the river bank and land in the water with an embarrassing splash. To his surprise, they touch down on the other side effortlessly, as if they had been preparing for this jump all their life. Noticing the hilichurl as well, the stranger makes swift work of their blade and after the flash of a flame, the forest returns to its former stillness. 

Ayato freezes. Another vision bearer. 

“Who are you?” He does not approach any closer, hand remaining on the golden hilt of his sword, preparing for the worst. 

The moonlight filters through the leaves, illuminating the figure’s face in the eternal night of the forest. Dark eyes meet his as the person slowly removed their hood.  Ayato feels his heart palpitate, a burning sensation rising in his stomach as if he just drank a Treasure Hoarder’s pyro potion, as if he was the one hit by this strange girl’s elemental attack just moments ago. Despite himself, he loosens his grip on his sword.

“It is not safe out here. Where is your maid?” 

“I have no maid,” the girl answers with a light shrug. 

“So you are married then?” 

Even in the dim light Ayato sees the raised eyebrow and incredulous look. He bows his head slightly, “Forgive me.” 

The girl does not respond, and turns to continue her journey. 

“Wait!” 

She stops but does not face him. For the first time in his life, Ayato fumbles with his words.

“Why are you running?”

“To save myself from the dull conversations of the Season,” she grumbles, eyeing Ayato from head to toe long enough that he begins to feel self-conscious -- a rare occurrence, “and from creepy men chasing after me in a forest.” 

It’s his turn to cock an eyebrow this time. Him. Creepy man. In all his years of being alive, he has never considered anyone daring to utter those words in front of him. 

“I warned you about the hilichurl first.” 

“And yet you didn’t do anything to stop it.” She shots back without missing a beat, “seems what you’re missing in manners is lacking in swordsmanship too.” The heat in his stomach turns into annoyance. A woman talking back to him. That’s the first he’s seen it. 

Without waiting for him to respond, the girl continues on her journey up the hill, twisting a newly bloomed flower off its stems on her way and taking a whiff of its fragrance as if she doesn’t have a single care in the world. 

Despite his irritation, Ayato finds him calling after the girl again. 

“I didn’t even get your name!”

She only laughs and waves her arm in dismissal, disappearing into the thick foliage of the tree and away from his sight.

°•. ✿ .•°

Amid the high of the social season, the workload of the Yashiro Commissioner naturally becomes heavier with all the ceremonial affairs he has to get in order. Preparations for the first ball of this season, for example, is well under way at the Kamisato estate. Ayato sits at his desk, the smooth yumemiru surface barely visible under the mountains of paperwork. Food and drink have been taken care of, he mutters to himself, but the list of servants has yet to be finalized, and Ayaka needs a new kanzashi made for the kimono she will be wearing to the dance. 

Ayato pinches the bridge of his nose to steer himself away from an oncoming slumber, his fingertips stained in jet-black ink from all the documents he had to sign. The lights outside have been out for hours, the only thing illuminating the courtyard being the moon and the faint candlelight through his shoji doors. To serve Her Excellency and all of Inazuma is your honour and duty, Ayato. His father’s voice echoes in his ears, jolting him awake from his half-sleep. He blinks a few times, letting out a sigh when he realizes that he was only dreaming. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to hear his father’s reassuring words one more time. Mindlessly his hand reaches down to the cerulean orb hanging off the waist of his coat, the Vision emitting a soft glow in his palms. The same glow it has always had since the moment a young Ayato found it laying on his desk, and the same glow it will always have for the rest of eternity. Just like Her Excellency desires. 

He closes his eyes, the image of his father’s smiling face already blurring at the edges in his mind. It has been ten years since he last saw the eighth Yashiro Commissioner. Had he been here today, he would have known exactly what to say to cheer Ayato up from all the tedious work. Perhaps a friendly spar in the courtyard would work, or a short break down to the beaches of Ritou. Ayato gently shakes his head with a smile, the fond memories motivating him to pick up his brush pen again. 

I won’t let you down, Father.

°•. ✿ .•°

Even from quite a distance away, the festive music can be heard radiating from the Kamisato Estate. The once quiet courtyard is bustling with activity, brightly-coloured kimonos and gold-painted hairpins glistening under the sunlight. Ayato leans against the wall, once again finding himself waiting for his sister to get ready for the ceremony. 

Faint footsteps come from the hallway behind him, and soon enough a head of golden hair emerges from behind the doors. His retainer, Thoma, greets him with a bright smile.

“My lord, everything is going to plan. There’s no need to worry.” The Mondstadter reassures as if sensing his uneasiness. He always seems to be able to read people’s minds. 

“Thank you, Thoma,” Ayato smiles in return, the simple motion slightly more laborious than usual.

“Is everything alright?” 

“Hm? Why wouldn’t they be?” Caught off guard by the sudden question, Ayato snaps out of his thoughts and clears his throat, putting back on the indifferent expression that always adorns his features. 

Thoma does not respond, but simply looks at his master. In all the years Ayato has known the man, this is the first time he finds himself unable to meet his eyes, ever so caring observant towards his and his sister’s every need. 

Ayaka’s voice interrupts the awkward silence that has fallen over the room. It is almost time for the dance to begin, and the Shirasagi Himegimi is due to make her formal appearance as host of this ball. 

A quick speech and some courteous introductions later, the ceremony formally begins. The green of the courtyard is dotted with bright yellows, blues, pinks and purples, the gagaku plays eloquently as ladies twirl in their partner’s arms.

Ayato leans against a pillar, allowing himself a moment of solitude before he is bound to be whirled away for a dance by an overly-enthusiastic mama.  

Or Lady Yae, for that matter.

The pink-haired Guuji approaches Ayato’s spot by the door, and he grimaces before forcing a pleasant smile. 

“Lady Guuji. To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

Before he can even finish his polite bow, Ayato’s body freezes as if the blossoming ice crystals of Ayaka’s Hyouka skill have accidentally hit him rather than her training target.  

“Lord Kamisato, a pleasure to see you as always,” Lady Yae says with a slight nod, “allow me to introduce my personal special guests of this season, Lady Fukuchi Emiko and her sister, Lady Fukuchi Y/N.” 

“Delighted to make your acquaintance, my lord,” the younger lady says with a deep bow, and the elder follows with a smaller one. Amused by the clear differences in enthusiasm, Ayato finds himself chuckling at the older sister’s inability to hide the daggers in her gaze and her obvious annoyance at being shoved into this situation.

Ayato smirks, looking directly past the younger girl at the same dark eyes he met in the shadows of Chinju Forest a fortnight ago, still flickering with vexation about the very fact that she’s here, at his ball, under his watchful eyes. The boring dance suddenly got a whole lot more interesting now that he has someone to tease. He’s going to enjoy this. A lot.

“So we meet again, Lady Fukuchi.”

𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞.

Dearest Readers,

The Season is well under way, but Her Excellency has yet to name the Incomparable. It is not surprising that Lady Fukuchi Emiko has caught the eye of many suitors. But will she emerge as the diamond of the first water, or will another lady take her place as the hot topic of discussion in Inazuma? Any bachelor hoping to ask for Lady Fukuchi’s hand, however, must first tame the rather prickly spinster of a beast, otherwise known as her sister.

Lord Kamisato Ayato is the single most eligible bachelor of the Season indeed. As this author has already established, a lowercase rake is youthful and immature, brimming with naivete as he thinks himself being dangerous to women. An uppercase Rake, on the other hand, knows he is dangerous to all women. With his sister presenting into society for the first time this season, will the Kamisatos secure not one engagement but two? If so, ensuing dynamics between the Tri-Commission are sure to be gossiped about from Watatsumi Island to Ritou for months to come.

Yours Truly,

Lady Naoki 

“What kind of absurdity is she saying about me this time?” Ayato hums, pouring some freshly made sencha into delicate china cups. 

Ayaka sets the folded pamphlet down on the table, a silhouette of a lady with a shimada up-do framed in the centre of the cover: “Just you being the most eligible bachelor of the season, or… whatever ‘a Rake with a capital R’ means.” 

“That’s not a word for a proper lady to say.”

He grunts with disdain, snatching the cream-coloured papers from the table, wrinkling the corners in the process. His eyes skim through the usual shenanigans until he spots his name, printed square in the middle of the page, with the capital R Rake next to it. Ayato snorts as he reads Lady Naoki’s gossip column, an activity too “feminine” that he otherwise would have never engaged in if it were not for the favourable mentions of the younger Lady Fukuchi.

And the particularly unfavourable ones of the elder. 

Ayato hides a smile as he savours the satisfaction upon reading the words “prickly spinster of a beast”. He could not have described her better himself. Surely it must be fun to stir up some more rumours about the diamond, would it not?

Without even finishing his tea, the young Commissioner stands up from his seat, answering the questioning look from his sister, “I’m going to pay the Fukuchi Clan a visit.”

The ascend up to the Grand Narukami Shrine is not always an easy one, but Ayato feels lighthearted as he steps over the exposed tree roots and runs a hand along the aged clifface, damp with humidity and green with moss. A bell rings from the shrine above him, the crisp sound bouncing off the mountainside in an echo before disappearing into the air. 

As soon as he reaches the top of the staircase, though, Ayato realizes he isn’t the only one. A line of suitors has already gathered by Guuji Yae’s residence, where Lady Fukuchi is staying for the season. He huffs with annoyance, bypassing the gift-bearing men to knock at the door, earning angry protests from the other suitors. He scans the faces behind the fresh flowers and exquisite foreign gifts, and the murmurs die down when they realize it is the Yashiro Commissioner before him. Whatever objections they have, they do not to dare speak of it aloud. 

“Hm.” Ayato lets out a satisfied hum, turning to open the door before running head-first into a shadow of pale lilac.

Words of apology are quickly swallowed when Ayato’s eyes focus on the facial features of whoever it is that collided right into his body. Without the dark hood or a thousand hair pins securing her kanzashi in place, Lady Fukuchi Y/N somehow looks ten times more dashing than he last saw her. Small beads decorate the neckline of her lavender-coloured dress, and though they are no crystals from Liyue or pearls from Fontaine, they are more than sufficient to draw the attention to her b–

“My lord,” Y/N’s voice interrupts Ayato’s thoughts from tumbling down to some inappropriate place. Lifting his eyes from her chest to her face, he notices the same cold stare he is now all too familiar with. 

“May I request a moment with your sister, Lady Fukuchi?” He dips his head in a polite greeting, mostly to avoid unnecessary rumours about him being improper from the watchful eyes behind. 

“There is in fact a queue, my lord, in case you have not noticed.” Y/N replies coldly, surely not sharing the same concern about Ayato’s manners.

“Ah. You see, a certain author has made it clear that your sister is the most desirable of the Season, is she not?”

“And the same author has made it clear that you are to be avoided.”

Ayato is taken aback by the directness of her words, but his mind is quick to respond: “Surely you don’t think that terribly of me?”

“I’m only here to make sure my sister finds a love match that she deserves, not marrying to fulfill some…duty of birthing children.” 

With that, she spins on her heel and brushes past Ayato, nodding a quick “my lord” at him before continuing down the hallway to speak with the other suitors. Despite her sharp tongue and relentless insults, he can’t help but take a sharp inhale at the sweet combination of sakura blooms and dendrobium that linger in the empty space where she was a moment ago, the scent tickling the right places in his brain more than a heavy dose of Naku weed ever could – not that he has ever indulged in those kinds of pleasures, of course. 

The sound of a throat being cleared once again jerks Ayato from his thoughts. He opens his eyes – strange, he doesn’t remember closing them – to see a smug Lady Yae glaring at him with a knowing smile. Frustrated with both being rejected in front of everyone and caught by the Guuji, he shoulders past the ever-growing line of suitors and exits the building. 

If anything, the humiliation of rejection only serves as motivation to secure Lady Fukuchi’s hand in marriage. If marriage is just a duty, he might as well have some fun and indulge in the best pick of the season. After all, he is the Yashiro Commissioner, the most eligible bachelor, and perhaps one of the richest too. If Lady Fukuchi is named the diamond, it is only natural for him to take her home, no? 

And what made you think they’ll accept your proposal? Are the ladies here on Narukami island truly so easily won by some good looks and money? 

Ayato rubs his temple as Y/N’s voice rings in his ears. After Lady Yae introduced the sisters to him a few nights ago at the dance, Y/N had overheard him declaring his requirements for a wife to his acquaintances in the Kanjou Commission. The recent engagement between Lord Kujou and Lady Hiiragi instilled new pressure on the other commission heads to establish families, and the men had teased Ayato about his habit of sleeping around. 

“Simply pick the least objectionable and get her bed, wed, and bred, so you aren’t tied down by the chains of marriage from…more pleasurable activities.” One of the Kanjou officers had joked.

“If I care anything about my children at all,” Ayato had replied, “then their mother must be reasonably good looking and have some wits in her.”

The men hollered in laughter. The thought of Lord Kamisato settling for a lesser woman and throwing fits over ugly children was a particularly enjoyable one for them. 

A flower pot tipped over somewhere behind them and Ayato noticed immediately. Seeing the other men too engrossed in friendly banter to pay much attention to a flower pot suddenly growing legs, Ayato excused himself to find Lady Fukuchi Y/N behind a meticulously trimmed shrub, an exasperated look under the glittering hairpins and smoothed over curls.

“You were eavesdropping.”

“Oh please, one hardly had to eavesdrop to hear your lofty requirements for a wife.”

The low flames of anger crackled in his stomach again, but he was intrigued. As if seeing a foreign invention from Fontaine for the first time, the warning bells did nothing to stop his curiosity. He crossed his hands behind his back and took a step closer, his interest only piquing more seeing the unwavering expression on Y/N’s face. Had anyone dared to speak to him the way she did, they would’ve lost their marbles at his towering presence over them by now. 

But not her. Dark eyes remain boring straight into his as she stands tall, and Ayato was determined to see her falter: “So you admit you were angry you can’t meet my…lofty requirements?”

And that’s when she retorted with the snarky comment about ladies in Narukami Island being too stupid to see through his facade or something of the sort. This woman is really going to get herself in trouble if she doesn’t stop with the constant mocking. It’s one thing for him to joke around about finding some fun in the duty that is marriage, but it’s a whole other thing for a woman to meet the same level of contempt he has, or even worse, a higher level of contempt. 

Naoki has declared to all of Lady Fukuchi’s suitors that they have to get through the “prickly beast” of her sister before they can even consider taking a promenade with the debutante. But Kamisato Ayato is never the one to shy away from a challenge. You want to stop him from doing something? Better luck next time. He has spent too long of his life learning how to cleverly play the politics game or risk losing his family. A single woman isn’t going to prevent him from getting his hands on what he wants. No, he is too proud to admit defeat, least of which to a spinster.

Dearest Readers, 

Her Excellency has, without surprise, named Lady Fukuchi Emiko as the Incomparable of the Season. And while we await news of an engagement, the game is afoot between Lord Kamisato and Lady Fukuchi Y/N. This author is most delighted indeed to watch what moves Lord Kamisato has to pull to win over Lady Fukuchi’s heart, or even more intrigued to find out how the sister is going to stop him. Words about the young lord surely have spread to Watatsumi Island for the elder lady Fukuchi to be so adamant about keeping him away from her sister. Or are some other underlying causes making the Commissioner so unpopular in the Fukuchi Clan?

Yours Truly,

Lady Naoki

𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫.

Kamisato Ayato has never been the one to believe in a love match, or in love, for that matter. Inviting the Fukuchi Clan to his estate for an early celebration is all part of his master plan in securing Emiko’s hand before it is too late. His fingers draw mindless circles on the small box in his hand, the delicate velvet containing the Kamisato heirloom. Today shall be the day, yes, where Ayato can put an end to Lady Naoki’s annoying speculations about who’s courting who once and for all.

It is no secret that Ayato has had his eyes set on Lady Fukuchi for a while now. Some of the more…self-aware suitors of hers have since ceased their pursuits, knowing they could not out-compete the Yashiro Commissioner anyway. Ayato is tired of the little gusts of wind that come whenever another young lady furiously bats her eyelashes in his presence, but he finds Emiko’s presence strangely comforting amid the chaos. Anyone with a pair of eyes could see the how much Emiko enjoys being in his companionship, too. Though it is no doubt that she would love the title of commissioner’s wife just as much as the next lady, there is more to her that clearly shows her willingness to be his wife first, and a lady with a title second.

Now all that he needs is to get the blessing from her sister. The hardest part, if you ask him.

But with Emiko, you never know what kind of ingenious plan she has in mind, hidden behind a graceful flick of her wrist and the subtle waves of her fan.

Bathing in the glorious afternoon sunshine, Ayato lets himself relax and fights the sudden urge to prop his feet up on the table. As he awaits the arrival of the Fukuchi carriage, he makes a mental list of most ideal scenarios for a proposal that would leave all of Inazuma savouring over for days. Somewhere not too public where the pressure of the watchful people could tip of the anxiety of the most composed person, but also not too private where the secret writer of the gossip column cannot draft up good words about him. It needs to be the perfect balance, and it perfectly executed just like everything else the Commissioner has ever done.

The carriage slowly grinds to a halt outside the Kamisato courtyard, and Ayato springs to his feet. Following closely behind is Ayaka, dressed in a light blue kimono very suitable for today’s beautiful weather. The footman opens the door and offers the ladies his hand in their descent from the carriage.

Ayato notes with great pleasure in Emiko’s radiance. He lowers his head in greeting, and the girl grins at the sight of her future lover.

“My lord, we are most grateful for your hospitality.”

As sweet as the ripest lavender melon, Ayato chuckles to himself. “The pleasure is all mine, Lady Fukuchi.”

“And you must be Lady Y/N?” Ayaka asks with great expectancy as the ladies exchange a formal greeting as well.

Emiko’s smile freezes, and Ayato feels his heart sink. What has given his sister the impression that his biggest obstacle, the one person making all his thoughts go awry and his heart beat so erratically like a race horse running off track.

“This is her sister, Lady Emiko.” Ayato corrects, not daring to look at either of the sisters in the eye.

“Oh, my apologies!”

“Not to worry at all, milady.”

Emiko and Ayaka engage themselves in small talk as they make their way into the estate, leaving Ayato standing a respectful distance away from Y/N, neither of them saying anything for a brief, blissful moment.

“Lady-”

“My lord-”

They both pause at the overlapping of their voices, before Ayato picks up his words, “You are smiling.”

“At the view. Which you are now blocking.”

How naive of him to have thought she would let him off easily this time.

“I’m sure you will grow to like me as much as you do this view.”

“I think your opinion of yourself is entirely too high.” Despite her comment, Ayato notices a trace of a smile on her lips, which she is now desperately trying to hide. He does not recall the two of them getting on such personal terms, joking and teasing like old friends.

His small glimmer of hope is immediately crushed when Y/N brushes past him with a curt nod, catching up with her sister and Ayaka on a tour of the estate. Ayato may be arrogant, but he is not stupid. A mistake made once is bound to not be repeated again. Surrounded by her sweet sakura scent but somehow maintaining a clear enough mind to remember Lady Yae’s warning look from days before, he forces his feet to move from their previous spot despite every cell in his body yelling at him not to.

If only he could spend a lifetime breathing in that scent.

No, his heart is with Emiko. A simple perfume should not steer him off course.

When Ayato joins the ladies at the courtyard, they are already engaged in a particularly animated conversation with the exception of Y/N, who is merely nodding along to whatever words are exchanged with a polite smile.

“Brother, do come join us!”

Taking the only remaining seat — next to Y/N — and making himself comfortable, Emiko immediately jumps at the chance to offer a glimpse into whatever new idea of hers.

“My lord, I think it would be a great idea for my sister to join you on a walk in a moment!” She beams, purposefully casting a blind eye to the fervent hints being thrown at her by her sister.

“I do not think that would be necessary-” Y/N refutes quickly, failing at her inconspicuous attempt to kick her sister under the table.

“That is a fine idea indeed, Lady Emiko!” Ayaka chimes in, this time earning a hard look from Ayato. The last thing he needs is unchaperoned alone time with Y/N, the exact opposite in every way from his intended.

If he wasn’t the punchline of whatever joke the younger ladies are playing, Ayato would have found this situation especially entertaining with the almost comical side eyes and hushed no’s coming from the older siblings. But alas, there is no convincing his sister once she sets her mind on something.

“I suppose there is no harm in doing so,” he finally says through gritted teeth, not wanting to suffer for one more second under Ayaka’s best puppy dog eyes.

Y/N sighs and smooths out her skirt as she stands, but not before throwing one last dirty look at Emiko, a look Ayato would not have expected a lady of her stature to be capable of.

He offers his arm that Y/N reluctantly takes, which she immediately drops the moment they can no longer be seen from the courtyard. Unsure of whether to laugh at her attempts to get rid of him or to be offended at that same attempt, he pretends to become increasingly interested in the soil beneath their feet as they descend into Chinju Forest once more.

The pair spends the majority of their walk in silence, albeit a less awkward one than the forced wordlessness in front of the whole of Inazuma. They take slow and relaxed steps down the mountain, and finally come to a stop near the torii gates by the path.

“There’s been monsters roaming around here lately, we should return before we run into any of them.” Ayato suggests, eyeing the calm surroundings in a nervous manner unlike his usual self.

“Are you doubting my abilities to defend myself?” Y/N challenges with a raised eyebrow.

He sighs then. There’s no convincing this girl to do anything, even if it’s for her own good.

“Quite the opposite, actually. I’m more worried about having to put out a whole forest fire if you run into a monster.”

Y/N lets out a short scoff, but follows him in their return to the estate anyway. Ayato’s internal celebration of this small victory doesn’t last long, as Y/N turns to face him with a questioning look.

“Is there anything you’d like to tell me about my sister, my lord?”

“Your sister?”

“Yes.”

Ayato pauses. If he is to propose to Emiko, he would need Y/N’s blessing first. And there’s no way she would give that to him easily without a fight.

“She sent us on this…walk in hopes of getting us to hate each other less.” She mutters, clearly unhappy with her sister’s ploy.

“Well, is it working?” He teases.

“No.”

“Come on, I’m sure there’s at least something you find amiable about me?”

She does not answer, and Ayato only hopes she is being too stubborn to reveal it.

After a brief silence, he speaks again with the intention of asking about Emiko, “If I were to ask for your sister’s hand in marriage, would you allow it?”

To his surprise, she does not shut him down immediately, but only seems to be especially interested in examining the earth beneath their feet. Finally she looks up at him, her eyes filled with genuine concern as opposed to the usual confidence.

“I want her to be happy, my lord. My whole purpose here on Narukami Island is to make sure Emiko can find someone she truly is content being with.”

“And you are not finding that yourself?”

“This isn’t about me.”

Puzzled, Ayato matches her footsteps and examines her face slowly. Her features are unmoving and she does not say anything for a while, but there is a sorrow in her eyes that manages to escape her façade anyway. Suddenly Ayato feels sorry for her, a revelation that shocks even himself. How terrible it must be to give up everything you want for someone else, to sacrifice everything just to see someone else happy.

Then it hits him. He would walk to the edge of the world or through the depths of hell just to make sure Ayaka is safe and sound. And he would not hesitate to do it over again.

Maybe he and Y/N can finally see eye to eye on something, after all.

°•. ✿ .•°

The festivities are turned up a notch when the rest of high society joins them at the Kamisato estate for a fun-filled evening of food, music, and dances. Reflecting upon his earlier doubts, Ayato realizes that inviting the ladies earlier has not been a mistake. Y/N did not say another word to him as they made their way back to the estate, but he found all the answer he needs. If he can somehow prove to her that he, Kamisato Ayato, can indeed make her sister happy, then Lady Naoki’s next issue can surely include something more interesting than where the best kimono silks are bought.

Emiko looks especially happy next to Y/N as the ladies emerge out of the house in new dresses for the night. His eyes linger on Y/N for a moment too long before he catches Emiko’s bright smile, and he can’t help but offer a small one back in return, an action not unnoticed by Thoma.

“Forgive me for asking, my lord, but has there indeed been a special lady like the papers are speculating?”

“I think there are better things to do in one’s pastime than reading the nonsense that lady whatever-her-name-is is writing.”

Despite his teasing remarks, Thoma laughs heartily, his inner Mondstadter showing once more. That’s what Ayato likes about his retainer, though. Never afraid to speak his mind, but also genuine in his care for others.

“Thoma, if there were…indeed a special lady, how does one go about proposing to her?”

Green eyes widen as silence falls upon them. Thoma considers carefully before responding, “I suppose you must find a suitable moment for you both. If it were me, I wouldn’t want to pressure her into accepting a proposal in front of the whole nation.”

“Hm.”

“O-of course, I’m sure nothing you had in mind would be below the best, my lord.”

Ayato chuckles at Thoma’s panicked amendment to his previous words, and gives him a gentle pat on the back as he readies himself for the incoming swarm of unsuspecting mamas wanting to make the best introduction to their daughters.

Repeated formalities and several more small windstorms of eyelash-batting and fanning later, it is finally time for the first dance. Emiko stands next to her sister, their arms linked and looking closer to each other than he last remembers seeing them. Even then, he allows himself a moment of pure enjoyment as the crowd parts to make way for him, savouring the power he singlehandedly holds over all of the people here.

Almost all. He is not sure if he can say the same about Y/N.

“Lady Fukuchi,” he bows politely as he reaches them, “may I have the honour of the first dance?”

“Of course, my lord.” Emiko’s smile is brighter than the stars as she happily takes his outstretched hand, but not before exchanging an overexcited look with her sister.

The band plays the first notes and Ayato places his hand on her waist, the smooth silks of her kimono melting away into the smooth curves of her figure. As the dance progresses, Ayato finds it increasingly difficult to focus on his practiced footwork under Emiko’s expectant eyes on him, the same eyes soon turning disappointed as the music comes to a graceful stop and Ayato still has yet to say a word to her. Even so, she is quick to push her sister out to the dance floor while other gentlemen go around requesting the company of the young ladies.

“I think it would be great for you to have a dance with Lord Kamisato, don’t you think, Sister?”

Before Y/N can stammer out an excuse, Emiko has already caught Ayato’s eyes and it is too late to look away now. Of course, he does not let any of his inner emotions seep through his calming surface. Y/N now has no choice but to accept the dance, the look exchanged between her and Emiko now slightly angrier compared to the earlier one.

“Lady Fukuchi.”

She looks up at him, surprised by his voice next to her ear.

Little does she know, had they not been in public, Ayato may not have been able to hold back on the primal urges bubbling inside of him under such close proximity to her. Nevertheless, he quickly composes himself and asks the words every elder sibling in Inazuma has wanted to hear.

“Will you give me your blessing to marry your sister?”

Y/N hesitates, her feet missing a beat and stepping squarely on Ayato’s toes.

“My apologies!”

He can only laugh at her flustered state. Whatever happened to her witty comebacks?

“If you can promise you won’t treat her like a disposable object, then maybe I will consider it.”

There they are.

“She will have everything the Kamisato Clan has to offer. Whatever things she wants—”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

He knows that’s not what she meant.

But how can he make that promise, when he is so afraid of falling in love?

°•. ✿ .•°

Kamisato Ayato isn’t afraid of many things. He has everything he could possibly need in this lifetime and the next – money, power, family, an endless line of suitors…

But he is terribly afraid of dying.

Pathetic, he knows. A man of his stature should not be as bothered by the mortality of humankind as he is. But after his parents’ untimely passing, the fear of dying young grows bigger with every day that goes by.

It is clan politics and betrayal that killed his father, and a broken heart his mother. Losing two of the people that meant the most to him in such a short period of time made Ayato take on the burden of being the head of the Kamisato Clan way too early. Boys of the same age were still playing chess and sparring friendly duels out on the streets when he was presented with all the documents pertaining to Inazuma’s cultural affairs in the dimly lit study, his eyes wide with fear and empty with grief.

It was then he promised to himself that he would never let anything happen to Ayaka, the only remaining family he has.

He has built the Kamisato Clan back from its crumbling ruins after his father’s death, and reemerged as one of the most influential families in Inazuma. All while knowing that the constant politics will eventually cost him his life someday. He may be smart in his maneuvers around power-hungry clan heads, but the same cleverness has gained him more enemies than he’d like to think about. Even though he tries to be levelheaded in all his affairs and avoid making enemies, he cannot change the fact that some people would do anything to get what they want, whether they be rival clans of the Fatui, who would not hesitate to use force to eliminate any obstacles in their way.

He has long accepted that assassination attempts and evil schemes against him are just part of his job. The less interesting parts, anyway. But he has yet to grapple with the thought of leaving Ayaka behind the day he finally succumbs to power and desire. Just thinking about it makes his blood run cold. And if he were to be a good clan head, like they say, the duty of continuing the bloodline naturally lands with him.

How is he supposed to continue the glory of the Kamisato bloodline, when he is so afraid of dying before he can see it all happen? When he can’t even allow himself to form any emotional attachments to any woman out of fear that his own untimely death will leave her brokenhearted?

He could not do that, not in good conscience.

The solution, then, is to marry a woman of gentle demeanour that would not get on his nerves, produce an heir, and most importantly, avoid falling in love at all costs.

𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞.

“Lord Kamisato.”

He only quickens his footsteps despite the repeated calls and equally fast-paced footsteps from behind him. The pleasant buzz of the ball grows quieter with every corner he turns, until he is finally alone with his thoughts.

The door to the study is roughly pulled open and before he can close it in a swift, angry motion, Y/N’s hand has already held onto it, forcing him to look at her.

His head is empty with nothing but fury. Seeing the girl in front of him, head held high and chest puffed out in her oh-so-annoying stubbornness is hardly doing anything to help. Ayato cannot understand why she is so insistent on following him to the study when what all that needed to be said had already been said? When she made it her life’s goal to clearly show her hatred towards him in every single thing she does, every single interaction they have? When she took every chance she gets to keep him away from her sister, his intended? What has he done to deserve such unrelenting malice?

His breathing grows heavier as he paces around the room, eyes scanning the stacks of documents on the desk but barely registering any of the words written on them.

“When will you leave?”

Taken aback by his sudden question, Y/N stands stunned and does not answer.

“Immediately after your sister finds a match?” Ayato sneers.

“I presume so, yes. Wh—”

He rests his hands on the desk then, as if holding onto the solid wood for support.

“And you will not concern yourself with finding a match of your own?”

“Why would that concern you?”

Ayato does not know why that would concern him at all. The family heirloom ring has been sitting safely inside the drawers of this very same desk for days now, waiting for the moment to finally adorn its new owner soon. Whatever Y/N decides to do with her life, who is he to question?

Even though he cannot recognize it yet, he secretly wishes she would stay.

Throwing his hands up in frustration, he stomps across the office, coming face to face with Y/N, the same unwavering expression on her face.

“It seems you will find any opportunity to keep your sister away from me! You simply do not like me!”

“Of course I do not like you!” Her attempts to stop her voice from rising any higher is proven futile, and the answer comes out in a near-shout.

“Have I done something to you? Why is it that you dislike me so?”

Y/N’s lip quivers, but her eyes remain harsh. Had this been a few days ago when Ayato was trying to find ways to make her falter, he would have enjoyed this immensely. But caught up in the moment of red, hot anger, all he wants is to find the answer to the reason behind all her unkindness ever since the first day they met.

Her hands are balled into fists and the fabric of her gloves wrinkle under the pressure, before she finally blurts out the words that have been driving Ayato crazy.

“Because you vex me!”

“And what is it,” he seethes, “do you think you do to me?”

Marriage should not be difficult to him, not as the most eligible man in Inazuma. Marrying Emiko should not be difficult for him. Hell, even if this whole thing turns to shit, there’s plenty more fish in the sea waiting to take his bait.

So why is he so hung up on this one family? With the one person driving him absolutely insane every time he so much as thinks about her?

“What?”

The cocky upturn of her head only makes Ayato’s blood boil even more. If only he could show her all the things she is doing to him.

“What do I do to you?” She says through gritted teeth, her whole body slightly trembling with what can only be assumed as anger mirroring Ayato’s own.

Trying his hardest to compose himself, he takes one, and then another step forward until the space between them becomes almost nonexistent. The silence of the room is replaced with heavy breathing not just from him, but from Y/N as well. His vision blurs as he remembers the bitter taste of defeat, of rejection, of hatred, all coming from the woman before him.

“You hate me.”

When he speaks again, his voice is surprisingly calm.

Y/N holds her ground firmly and nods, “I do. I hate you.”

Had these words come from a man of a different commission, for example, Ayato is sure his fists would have done the talking a long time ago. The bothersome existence of the Kujou rascals trying to undermine Lady Hiiragi feels like nothing compared to the aggravating way she spat out those words. Call him spoiled or entitled, but Ayato has never heard anyone so blatantly admitting to hating him, let alone a lady of high society.

The thoughts running through his head now are too scandalous for him to even admit them to himself. For a moment he can only stare at Y/N incredulously, watching her expressions – or rather, a lack thereof – slowly succumbing to her innermost feelings. He is sure he saw tears welling up in her eyes, but the next time he blinks, the same eyes are burning back into his again, the only evidence of any emotion being the trembling of her lip. The heavy breathing has somewhat quieted down, returning the study to its former stillness, but Ayato’s mind is screaming at him louder than ever.

He has been raised a gentleman, and he will handle this the way one does…

Or so he thinks.

“I am a gentleman,” he states, perhaps more to himself than to Y/N, but the step he takes towards her is proving all his self-convincing a lie. Whatever ungentlemanly thing his mind tells him to do, he has to physically chase them out with a violent shake of his head.

“And your heart is with my sister.”

All the screaming and yelling from before are reduced to a single whisper, and Ayato peeks at Y/N from under hooded eyes, the close proximity suddenly making it even more difficult to breathe in this stuffy room.

“And my heart…is with your sister.” He repeats, this time definitely to himself.

How can his heart rest with another woman when the one before him has intrigued every fibre of his being since the morning he saw her singlehandedly take down several monsters? How can his heart be with anyone at all, when all love brings is pain and despair?

Nothing in the world makes sense anymore as the both of them lean into each other, as if an invisible magnet is drawing them closer. All rationality leaves his brain when he is so close to her. He wants to stop. He needs to stop, but the voices of protest are drowned out by a sudden strong desire to kiss her right there. The shallow intakes of air from Y/N are only making his insides stir even more, her breathlessness mere inches from his face threatening to kick out what is remaining of his self-control.

“Say you do not care for me.” Ayato shuts his eyes as he lowers his head to her cheek, the heat emanating from her body putting him under a spell, “Tell me you feel nothing, and I will walk away.”

She lets out a small gasp. His plan is working.

If he just lowers his head a millimetre more, their lips would have locked in the most satisfying way possible. Yes, that sounds like a solid next step—

“Brother—oh god iamsosorry—”

The pair jumps away from each other like loaded springs at the sudden opening of the door, and Ayato feels all sorts of emotions ever known to man coming together inside him, a time bomb set to explode at any moment. Frustration, anger, and utter yearning for another human being he has never known before.

Ayaka’s eyes are wide and panic-stricken in a quick flash before she slams the door shut, and Ayato does not hesitate before chasing after her, leaving a breathless and dumbfounded Y/N alone in the study, her world turned upside down and her body on fire.

°•. ✿ .•°

The earliest rays of sunshine seep through the paper windows, leaving a pleasant glow on the scattered papers on Ayato’s desk. The Commissioner sleeps with his head resting on his folded arms, a half-dried pot of ink still open next to all the requests and accounts. He has not left the study all night, having returned to occupy his mind with budget records after a heated argument with Ayaka, a rare exchange of harsh words between the siblings.

At least, he wishes the paperwork could take his mind off of some things.

When Ayaka enters the study again, she makes sure to knock gently first.

“Brother?”

Ayato wakes with a jolt, eyes still heavy with sleep that quickly dissipates when he realizes the time. He has spent another night buried in work, again.

“Come in.”

The sheets are gathered and crinkled in one swift motion and he adjusts his collar, trying to make himself look somewhat less of a mess than he really is.

His flustered state becomes even more apparent when his sister walks in, already meticulously dressed despite the early hours.

“So…I take that things are going quite well?” Ayaka says with a voice too cheery even for her own liking as she studies the titles on the shelves, pretending to be particularly interested in one tome about botany.

“Lady Emiko is quite pleasant, indeed,” he answers, praying that the conversations of last night would not be brought up again, “she is beautiful, charming, and even wise – did you know she speaks three languages?”

Seeing that Ayaka does not respond, he quickly adds, “What exactly is your objection?”

His sister turns to study him instead, suddenly appearing older and wiser than her age that Ayato tries his best not to waver under her stare.

“I suppose I do not have any, then,” she retraces Ayato’s steps from yesterday in a slow pace around the room, “if you say that you and Lady Emiko are a good match.”

His victory smile freezes when Ayaka continues her monologue.

“If you say that Lady Emiko makes it…difficult for you to breathe around her, if she gives you that feeling of…”

“Of what?”

“Hm?” Ayaka finally looks up from the yellowed pages of the botany book. He doesn’t remember his sister ever being remotely interested in such a subject matter.

“The feeling that makes it impossible for you to look away from her, or to even stop thinking about her…as if your body will explode into flames whenever you are near each other…that’s the feeling of love, brother.”

Ayato’s smile is permanently wiped off his face now when she mentions the four-lettered word. Since when is his sister so enlightened in love and marriage?

“Do you feel that way about someone? Is there a gentleman that I need to personally meet—”

“If you do feel that way about Lady Emiko, then I am quite happy for you.”

He doesn’t attempt to steer away the topic again and remains silent as Ayaka finally shuts the book and leaves the room.

Love.

Out of the two of them, only Ayaka can afford to mention love when it comes to marriage. Even her status as a woman does not take away from the endless possibilities of a love match. To find someone who cares for you the way Father cared about Mother…that is a luxury Ayato will never have the privilege of enjoying.

His stomach is in knots and he suddenly feels nauseous, as if he is about to engage in a battle he is destined to lose.

No, he cannot risk falling in love.

Marriage is not a game of longing looks and smitten smiles. It is a duty that needs to be fulfilled if he cares anything about the future of the Kamisato Clan. It is about survival. If he does not take on that duty and Ayaka is married off to another clan, all the hard work of restoring their former glory will have gone to waste, and he will never forgive himself for it.

He doesn’t dare savouring Ayaka’s words any longer. His heart beats erratically, having yet to come down from the sudden panic of realization. When she described the feeling of love, only one person comes to mind. One person he cannot have, because falling in love means destroying her future the moment he is taken away by the vicious battles of superiority, power and fame.

The camellia flower has to bloom again, and Ayato has to make sure of it.

°•. ✿ .•°

The night is pitch black outside the estate, and Y/N can only see her own reflection in the window, the shadow dim and fading in and out of existence in the dark. First drops of rain splash against the glass, the sudden pitter patter making him jump. She sighs, still unable to find any trace of sleepiness despite the late hours.

Taking a lamp from the bedside table, she gives in and tiptoes out of the chamber, closing the door gently behind her to not wake Emiko up. She remembers passing by a beautiful library on the brief tour that Ayaka gave, and decides that reading a book about some boring subject may be her best shot at finally falling asleep.

In the study a few doors down the hallway, Ayato dips his brush into the pot of ink for the umpteenth time that night, signing his name in an elegant twirl of the pen on some ceremonial requests from the Tenryou Commission. The candle flickers, hot wax dripping down into the holder and instantly solidifies, becoming one with itself once more. Ayato glances at what is remaining of three burnt out candlesticks and rests his pen on the desk. Perhaps it is time to take a well-needed break from paperwork and turn in for the night.

He takes his coat from the chair beside him and slides open the study doors. A faint glow of light coming from behind the paper shoji makes him pause his footsteps. Did he leave a light on in the library by accident? Or did a servant forget to blow out all the candles earlier?

A loud thunder crashes, and he hears a shaky whimper. Ayato can feel his heart thumping in his chest now, and he takes quick, adrenaline-fueled steps to the source of the faint light.

When he opens the library doors, however, there is no one inside but a lone lamp on the table, set beside some thick tomes about botany. The room briefly flashes white as lightning strikes outside the window, and the whimper sounds again, this time from way closer. Ayato has never believed the ghost stories the elder retainers used to tell him when he was little, but he is coming close to wondering about their existence now.

“Hello?” He calls out in a hushed whisper, careful not to wake anyone else up.

A sniffle, then the squeal of a chair leg as it slides on the floor.

Ayato reaches for the lamp in defense, but his guard quickly lowers when he sees a shade of white beneath the maplewood desk.

“Y/N?”

Teary eyes meet his from the cocoon of the table, and the girl instinctively backs herself against the wood in an attempt to gain some footing.

His voice immediately softens upon seeing Y/N’s panicked state. Her knuckles are white from gripping onto her knees too hard, her entire body curled in the corner like a small child afraid of thunderstorms.

Oh.

“Is it the storm?”

She nods, barely able to meet his eyes as she looks away in shame.

“Got room for two?”

Without waiting for her response, Ayato sets the lamp on the floor next to them and crawls under the desk, the cramped position reminding him of the days where he played hide and seek with Ayaka in the very same room before one of the retainers scolded them for damaging the books. Y/N looks at him in confusion, the question swallowed by a new wave of panic as another bolt of lightning strikes, followed soon by a loud boom of thunder.

The small space and close proximity to Y/N makes Ayato’s head spin. His eyes are open, but he no longer registers the objects in front of him, the legs of a chair and the lamp only blurry shadows to him. Tossing aside all his logic, he reaches out to pry her hand away from their death grip on her knees. Her skin is cold but soft under his touch, the slight tremble only stopping after he firmly envelopes her hand in his palm.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this. It must be quite unflattering.”

When she speaks again, her voice is steadier than before.

“Not at all.” Ayato smiles before he can stop himself, hoping the darkness will swallow the upturn of his lips before she can tease him.

Only she doesn’t.

“I’ve always been terrified of thunderstorms, ever since my mother died.”

Ayato doesn’t speak, and only listens as she rambles on to calm her nerves.

“I don’t know…it’s just lightning and we’re inside, I know they won’t hurt me, but I’m still overcome with fear every time. I thought it would get better as I grow older, but…”

She jumps and shrinks into herself even more when the thunder shakes the ground outside, her breathing becoming fast and erratic as if she has been submerged underwater for far too long.

“Hey, it’s okay.”

The manner in which he is holding her now has long passed what’s considered “appropriate” for a lady and a gentleman. At Y/N’s violent shaking, the only thing Ayato knows to do is to pull her closer to him, hoping his body heat and his soothing words can ease her suffering, even just by a little bit. His mind is blank and all he can think about is her intoxicating scent and how he would hold her like this for the rest of eternity if he had the choice.

His eyelids grow heavier with the day’s exhaustion, and as the storm finally passes, he feels Y/N’s tense muscles slowly relax in his arms. Staying up till the dead of the night is nothing new to Ayato, but he has never felt so comfortably safe as sleep begins to overtake him. Even the busiest day of official meetings and paperwork could not have given him the same sense of blissful fatigue that he has right now--under a desk, out of all places--with pins and needles in his foot from the awkward position. He is safe from the harsh reality of politics and jealousy and dark plots, even it’s just for a little while.

But you see, the choice was never his to make.

°•. ✿ .•°

The servants are busy lifting intricately decorated suitcases onto the carriage, and Ayato finds a moment of solitude in the soft sands of the courtyard while the world bustles around him. The festivities have drawn to a close and the Kamisato Clan has unsurprisingly executed every detail to surgical precision, that even Lady Naoki seldom had any comments about the capabilities of the siblings. Yes, that is exactly the future he wants for the Yashiro Commission.

Laughter rings from the front gates as the ladies bid each other goodbye. Ayato becomes increasingly restless, knowing that Y/N and Emiko will soon return to Lady Yae’s residence, and he will not get a chance to speak with them until whichever family decides to host the next ball. The younger sister looks visibly disappointed about something but tries to cover it up with a smile, bowing elegantly at every guest she passes by.

Ayato finds himself smiling. Rising to his feet, he makes a beeline to the gates, catching the ladies by surprise in the last moment before they ascend into the carriage.

Y/N’s face falls when she notices him, whatever words she was saying to her sister coming to an uncomfortable halt at his presence.

“Lady Emiko,” he dips his head in greeting and leaves a polite kiss on the soft skin of her knuckles.

“My lord,” the young girl returns the formality with renewed excitement, her smile much more genuine when Ayato finally straightens up to look at her.

Soft gasps sound from all around them when the Commissioner lowers to one knee, presenting a gorgeous jeweler’s box to the lady.

“Lady Emiko, will you please do me the honour?”

She is speechless and can only look at her sister in shock. Ayato feels like a carriage horse being blinded with invisible blinkers to the sides of his face, taking up all the willpower inside his body to keep his eyes focused on his future wife, and not the unpleasant woman beside her.

Surely if he believes the nasty words said about the older sister, he will start to like her less?

“Oh, of course, my lord!” Emiko squeals in pure delight, and the next few moments pass in a glorious blur of cheers and excitement.

Even with an overjoyed Emiko obscuring a good part of his vision, he still spots Ayaka standing next to Thoma, the smile on her face three shades darker than those around her. Ayato’s own grin fades too, suddenly remembering the whole love talk she gave not too long ago. He shakes the doubts out of his head and tells himself that this is the best choice to make, this is the only choice he can make.

𝐬𝐢𝐱.

If Ayato has had any doubts or second guesses about his proposal to Lady Emiko, he does not show them.

He doesn’t question the late night thoughts about his own wedding day, only to find himself wondering what dress Y/N would be wearing instead.

He doesn’t question the jeweler when he asks Y/N to model the ring for size adjustments as her hands are similar in size to that of Emiko’s, only to find himself wondering how beautiful the heirloom would look on her finger instead.  

He also doesn’t question the perfect image of his and Emiko’s children running around the estate, playing tamari or hide and seek like he used to do, only to find himself wondering what the children’s faces would look like if they were his and Y/N’s instead.

He doesn’t allow himself to dip his toes into those deep waters, knowing that once he does, there can be no return.

A match with Y/N is doomed from the start, and now that the whole of Inazuma has already begun buzzing with excitement about his upcoming nuptials, there can be no going back.

Truth is, the proposal could have been a million times more glamorous had he taken an extra few days to plan it, and he knows Emiko deserves nothing less. No matter where Ayaka learned those deep philosophical words of love, he knows there is only one person that comes up in his mind whenever he thinks over those words again. A person he cannot afford to dream about. Every fibre of his being is so consumed by them that the brotherly duties of meeting Ayaka’s suitors have ceased to cross his mind.

The proposal was rushed, panicked even, all because he was too scared to face the possibility of admitting that the other sister is the one he’s been in love with all along.

What a coward that makes him.

°•. ✿ .•°

When Ayaka’s repeated attempts to get her brother to follow his heart fail, Ayato’s lies to himself become her burden too. Despite the elder Kamisato’s reassurances that nothing, in fact, happened between him and Lady Y/N in the library that night, Ayaka is no longer sure what she should do. Any word about their secret rendezvous can ruin both families for good, especially now that Ayato is engaged to be wed.

She has not gotten a good night’s sleep since, and she knows Ayato hasn’t, either. Part of her wants to say something before it’s too late, before she watches her brother go down a road he cannot return from. She watches worriedly as Ayato shoots daggers from his eyes at the gentleman engaging in an animated conversation with Lady Y/N.

“Brother?”

“What?” He blinks quickly to cover up any traces of his trance.  

“Blue and pink would be a great colour combination for the wedding, don’t you think?”

“Hm? Yes, of course. My apologies.

Emiko smiles softly to alleviate some of the awkwardness, gracefully covering her lips with her fan.

“I heard Lady Yae is hosting a banquet this coming weekend to celebrate our engagement, I hope you will be in attendance, my lord?”

Ayato has to physically force himself to peel his eyes away from Y/N, who is now laughing heartily at some joke the gentleman cracked. His hands ball into fists behind his back, and for once he is grateful of the long sleeves of his coat that always appeared as more a nuisance for him.

“Of course we will be,” he clears his throat, “right, Sister?”

“Most definitely.”

“Oh, how delightful!” Emiko beams, and immediately fans herself to cover up her excitement.

Yes, delightful indeed.

°•. ✿ .•°

The Sacred Sakura glows a soft violet hue as the sun sets behind the mountains, and the courtyard is illuminated by the warm light coming from within the houses. Gone are the visitors offering prayer to Inazuma’s deity, the continued chatter coming from Lady Yae’s most distinguished guests instead.

Ayato finds himself seated between Emiko and Lady Takara, the only daughter of a lowly ranking officer in the Kanjou Commission. Though he has never met or spoken to the lady, he has heard rumours of the pressure her father placed upon her to marry into a rich and powerful family in order to preserve his own position in the commission. Of course, Ayato is naturally topping the list of most ideal husbands for her father.

The servants carry plates after plates of carefully prepared food, some of the arrangements so beautiful that one seldom dares to eat. From rose-shaped sashimi platters to tricolor dango made shaped into swimming fish – no doubt another one of Yoimiya’s own creations, the vibrant colours under the lamps doing a fair bit in clearing Ayato’s mind of the worries from the day.

“Lord Kamisato, I must congratulate you on your engagement to Lady Emiko,” Lady Takara says, and Ayato cannot help but notice the hint of jealousy in her voice.

Picking up on a hot, new topic of conversation, several pairs of eyes turn to a heavily blushing Emiko, and voices of congratulations chime in from all directions.

Ayato turns to look at his soon-to-be wife, who is now desperately trying to shrink into herself in the chair. He reaches out a hand under the table and rests on her knee, which shakes slightly below his touch. In the seat next to her, Y/N pretends not to hear the chatter and focuses intensely on the assorted plates of tempura.

Before either of the betrothed could respond in gratitude, Lady Takara takes it upon herself to continue the conversation, with a devilish smirk on her lips.

“Although…it is such a pity that Lord Fukuchi was a traitor.”

The room falls dead silent. Y/N’s chopsticks clatter as they fall to the ground.

“I beg your pardon?” Ayato’s hand freezes on Emiko’s knee, the girl suddenly looking terribly pale.

“Oh, did you not know? The Watatsumi resistance couldn’t have defeated the shogunate all by themselves had Lord Fukuchi not offered them intelligence, of course” Takara grins innocently, “he was a shogunate samurai before he betrayed the Almighty Shogun and joined those lowly rebels.”

“Lady Hinode, that is enough.”

Even with the somewhat teasing relationship between Ayato and the Guuji, the grand priestess’ stern look at the lady next to him is one that he has never seen before, not even when his mischiefs caused her another impending headache.

Ayato can now somewhat figure out why Takara’s father was never promoted despite all his years in the commission.

“But Lady Yae, aren’t you afraid that the lovely sisters you so kindly presented will turn out to be just like their father, a traitor right in the middle of the Yashiro Commission?” She bats her eyelashes pointedly at Ayato, but instead of the small windstorms he received from other ladies, Takara’s was an icy blizzard.

Seeing that no one else at the table dares to speak, Takara becomes ever more emboldened to sputter lies out of her mouth.

“Poor Lord Kamisato, I’m sure you’re not aware then, the little scheme the elder Fukuchi sister has been plotting all along? To get Lady Emiko to marry you and restore their tainted reputation with your pristine one? What a shame.”

“And you think your reputation is any better than mine?”

Y/N’s voice, barely above a whisper but colder than the winters of Snezhnaya.

Takara feigns an offended gasp, but her eyes turn a wickedly dark hue.

“You should be ashamed of yourself, Y/N. Taking advantage of Lord Kamisato’s favour like this. Your dirty little secret isn’t a secret anymore, the whole of Inazuma should know that you are vying for his lordship’s money and position, you greedy—”

“That is enough.”

Rage boils within Ayato’s chest and finally explodes as he stands with a sudden slap on the table, causing the silverware to tremble slightly. Every word that comes out of Takara’s mouth is another temptation for him to return the cruelty to her tenfold. Alas, a proper gentleman does not do such things…

Unless it hits him right where it hurts the most.

“I will ask you to leave the room, please, Lady Takara.” He says through gritted teeth after a long inhale.

“What? But surely you can’t—”

“Out. Now.”

Ayato’s tall figure towers over Takara’s, who appears smaller than ever but does nothing to stop his resolve. Seeing she does not move, he takes a threatening step forward before meeting Lady Yae’s eyes from across the table. He backs down a little, and repeatedly flexes his fingers under his sleeves to ease some of the anger. He cannot lash out at a lady like this, no matter how much he wants to.

“You heard his lordship. Or would you rather be escorted out?” Lady Yae says flatly, but her eyes are glowing an ominous purple.

Takara scurries out the door with her tail between her legs, and it isn’t until then that everyone lets out a breath they didn’t know they were holding.

“I must apologize for her inappropriate behaviour,” Lady Yae finally speaks after an extended silence.

Ayato’s knuckles are white from balling his hands into fists too tight, and he has to take several breaths before he can speak normally.

“There is no need for this dinner to continue. Thank you very much for your hospitality, Lady Yae.”

He turns on his heels and swings open the door, leaving Emiko on the brink of tears and several mouths agape from around the room.

His footsteps are heavy and his heart pounds wildly in his chest, longing for nothing more than to be out of this damned confinement of a house.

“My lord,” the doors behind him shake as they are pushed open with such force, and in the dark of the night he almost sees the familiar hallways of the Kamisato Estate, in an evening similar to today’s and the same voice chasing after him.

“Y/N, I’m not in the mood to—”

“Please let me explain.”

He stops dead in his tracks hearing her ever so steady voice shake and falter. When he turns around, he sees a glimmer of tears in her eyes, and his heart wrenches painfully in his chest.

“What else is there to explain? You’re going to admit it’s all true, then?” He studies her from a distance away, not daring to stand any closer in fear of his innermost desires growing a mind of their own. Not now, not ever, especially not mere hours before he swears the rest of his life to Emiko.

“My father did leave the shogunate, yes, but you see, he never meant to betray Her Excellency in that way. He worshipped her, but forgive me, my lord, you cannot understand how much the Sakoku Decree has hurt all of us on Watatsumi Island.”

Ayato does not speak, silently allowing her to go on.

Y/N stubbornly refuses to let her tears fall, “My mother…she lost her life because of it. The famine killed half of the village, and we would not have survived were it not for Madam Kokomi and my father. That’s what no one wants to tell you here on Narukami Island, because the truth is too hard to bear when there’s so much politics entangled in it! Please believe me, my lord, I never would have even thought about taking advantage of your money or position or title--”

He shuts his eyes and feels his nose sting, a telltale sign of an overwhelming amount of emotion inside him, a sign that he should go and be alone before anyone sees him lose face like this.

A long, shuddering breath later, Ayato finally gathers enough courage to look at her again.

“I’m calling off the engagement.”

“You’re what?”

He crosses his arms in front of his chest as if to brace himself from the impact of his own words. Seeing Y/N’s shock and disbelief, he allows her a few moments to collect her thoughts, but more so to convince himself that he wouldn’t immediately change his mind.

“What has my sister done to you? And don’t tell me you’re worried about the dowry – we both know you do not care for such things—what has she said? Or done? Or—”

“It is not her, it is you.”

Y/N is taken slightly aback by Ayato’s confession, and her eyes dart between his own, searching for an answer.

“This match is doomed from the start, and it is you who made it impossible.”

“But I’m leaving! To Liyue or Fontaine or wherever—”

“And that is not fucking far enough!”

She lets out a small gasp at the strong language. Years of etiquette lessons tell him he should apologize and ask for forgiveness immediately, but he has no thought of such words when the world around him blurs and all that he sees is Y/N, her features illuminated by the soft moonlight.

“Do you think there is any corner in this world that you could travel to far enough to free me from this torment? You could be amongst the gods in Celestia, and I would still burn for you.”

Her breaths are coming in short and hurried huffs as he takes one, two and three steps closer to her, until they are nearly touching.

Memories of that evening in the study come rushing back to Ayato, and he suppresses the urge to reach for her, to finally hold her in his palm as to ease the pins and needles in his heart, stabbing at him every moment of every day. He can no longer tell if he wants to kiss her senseless or to engage in a duel to let off all the pent up steam. Spots cloud his vision and all he knows is that as long as she walks this earth, he will not get a moment of peace.

“I am a gentleman, I am a man of honour,” he mumbles, lifting his eyes to bore directly into hers, “but that honour is hanging by a thread that only grows more precarious with every moment I spend in your presence.”

Y/N lets out a small whimper, and something in Ayato’s insides stirs.

He dares taking another step forward until there is barely any space between them. It is suddenly very hot. Too hot for his liking. He feels sweat down his back even in the cool evening air atop the mountains. Nothing in the world makes any sense to him anymore, and he only wants to put a stop to this foreign sensation of being so flustered and restless.

Every shallow breath that Y/N exhales becomes Ayato’s next inhale, and he no longer knows where he ends and where she starts. His eyes flicker down to her lips and back to her eyes with measurable difficulty, until he finally whispers the words he has been dying to tell her.

“You are the bane of my existence, and the object…of all my desires.” His voice breaks as he fights to stay afloat in the ocean of emotions, “Night and day, I dream for you.”

She lets out a shaky sigh, and he is only encouraged to go on.

“And I…” A sharp intake of breath and his nostrils are filled with the sweet scent of Sakura blooms, one that haunts his dreams every time he closes his eyes, “Do you even know all the ways a lady can be seduced?”

A hand, coming up to rest at the curve of her hips, longing to go further.

“The things I could teach you…”

A dip of his head, nose grazing against hers. It tickles slightly and he wants to laugh, but he cannot fathom any other thing to do when he is so close to where he wants her the most.

“The things I could show you…”

A slight pull, and she is pressed flush against him, the bodies fitting each other’s perfectly and his lips mere millimetres away from hers that he can almost taste her.

Oh, how he wants to capture them with his own and imprint that sensation on his mind forevermore.

Y/N’s eyes flutter shut and for a moment Ayato almost believes that she is going to let him kiss her. But she turns her head to let out a pained sigh this time.

“I did not ask for this…to be plagued by these feelings, hiding from my sister…to be driven to madness every time you enter the room…”

He lets himself smile. Is that an admission?

The hand comes up to rest on her cheek now, tucking away a stray strand of hair behind her ear. He can almost see her, even behind closed eyelids, and feel every dip and curve of her features resting in his palm, burning skin against burning skin.

Ayato chases after the thrill of inching ever closer to her. If they brush lips by accident, surely that wouldn’t be so inappropriate?

But her words. Plagued by her feelings and imitating his own distraction whenever they are in each other’s presence. The skies could come crashing down and the world could be burning, but he wouldn’t have minded as long as she is in front of him. She is his whole universe.

“So you agree,” he rests his forehead against hers and whispers, “it is insupportable.”

They stay like this for another blissful moment and time seems to stop, the surface of the water perfectly still.

“Impossible.”

A sharp ripple, and the mirror of the smooth water shatters like broken glass.

Despite the shaking of her head, he indulges himself in their proximity for just a second more. He can feel the plump of her lips touching his own like a ghost, and immediately vanishing. It takes everything within his willpower and probably that of the seven archons to finally pull away from her, shaking his head a little too hard that his brain starts to hurt, as if the motion could somehow discard all his thoughts.

His father would have been proud at this display of self-restraint. His earlier indulgences? Not so much.

Y/N backs to a safe distance away from him and finally lets tears well up in her eyes. Ayato wants to run his thumb down her cheek and catch those that fall, and make sure they never have to fall again so long as he walks this earth.

“Please don’t break the engagement. Promise me.”

He looks at her, and he can feel his heart breaking into a million pieces. A heart that others do not believe he has.

“I’ve given everything I have so that Emiko can grow up outside the shadows of our past. Please don’t break her heart. Please.”

Ayato sighs. Is it also part of her duty, making sure that her family can get all the good things they deserve? Even if it comes at the cost of her own happiness?

In that moment, he suddenly realizes that he and Y/N are not so dissimilar, after all. “I promise.”

𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧.

A shamisen plays a cheerful tune, and the Kamisato Estate is filled from wall to wall with guests. Those not participating in the social season have occupied every inch of available space between the trees along the path up Chinju Forest, awaiting the arrival of the new Kamisato mistress.

Ayato is dressed in a somewhat uncomfortable hakama, the ceremonial wear tied too tightly around his waist. Even the servants have put on their best clothes in preparation for the big day. Thoma has made it his life’s mission to ensure that this is a wedding Inazuma will talk about for years to come, and the blond Mondstater is now running from room to room, meticulously checking off every detail on his notebook.

The young commissioner sighs. Luckily, the word from last night’s dinner had not gotten out, and if Lady Naoki knew about it, she wisely kept her mouth shut. Ayato has sworn to never question or betray the Almighty Shogun, the blessings of which had made him who he is today. He finds console in the fact that Emiko was too young to have known about her father’s indecencies, and marrying her doesn’t make his devotion to Her Excellency any less sincere. He can only hope that the Shogun will allow it this once.

Solemn music plays and the guests settle, and he watches as Ayaka descends the aisle to join him. He quickly lets himself imagine the day he will have to walk her down the aisle, and pride swells in his chest. She has grown into such a fearless young woman—

His breath hitches in his throat, and time feels as if it has permanently stopped.

Y/N, dressed in the softest shade of lilac, trailing behind Ayaka.

His vision blurs like a Kamera that has gone out of focus, until the only clear image he can see is her. The lilac fabric looks almost an ivory white under the sunlight, and a million thoughts combust in his mind. Forget about walking Ayaka down the wedding aisle, this must be what it feels to die and ascend to Celestia.

He forgets about the eyes watching him, and even ignores Emiko after her, arm liked with Lady Yae’s. Y/N’s eyes briefly meet his and quickly shies away, as if catching a glimpse of something she was never meant to see. He knows he should be looking at his bride instead, returning her smile and basking in the excitement of marriage. But even as Emiko makes her way to the end and stands before him, all he can think about is Y/N being here, dressed from head to toe in that pure innocent white.

Lady Yae’s voice feels like it’s coming from a thousand miles away, and the ambiance of the courtyard feels like nothing but a low buzz of noise in his now wiped-out mind.

Why is Y/N here? And her dress…has turned into a wedding uchikake? She smiles softly at him, and he almost melts into a puddle beneath her feet.

He blinks, and it is Emiko’s face once again, concern pouring from her eyes.

“Lord Kamisato?”

The Kamera in mis mind finally shifts its focus and his vision becomes clear again. Lady Yae studies him with suspicion, and the guests whisper quietly to each other.

“Forgive me.”

The Guuji continues with her prepared speech, but not before throwing Ayato one more questioning look.

He clears his throat to regain his composure. As if on cue, one of the many glittering and dangling pins on Emiko’s head falls, making a delicate rattle as it hits the ground.

“Oh!” She exclaims softly in surprise, turning around to look for the culprit but stopped by the rigid pose she is stuck in from her rather large and bulky dress.

“Allow me.” Ayato bends down to reach for the hairpin, not registering that Y/N has started to do the same until both their hands lay on the kanzashi at the same time.

Their eyes meet and in that split moment, the world turns black once again.

Neither of them makes any intention to stand up from their crouched positions, and neither can remove their gaze from the other’s.

Is it fate? Coincidence? A sign from the gods?

Somewhere above his head, he hears Emiko gasp, snapping him back into reality. Y/N stands in a movement as swift as lightning, lifting her hand to try to place the pin back into her sister’s hair but is suddenly stopped by an uncharacteristically violent shake of her head.

Emiko looks at her sister, mortified, then at Ayato, then back to her sister again, before gathering her dress in a moment of panic and running away, disappearing into one of the doors as everyone gapes in disbelief.

Murmurs erupt from among the guests, and Y/N’s own panicked eyes lock with his for only a second and she, too, runs away from the altar, shoving the hairpin in Ayato’s hand in a hurry.

“What is happening?” The Shogun questions, clearly displeased at the commotion.

“It seems the bride has run away, Your Excellency,” the okuzumeshuu next to her explains unhelpfully. Were it not for the dire situation, Ayato would have laughed at the stern glare the Shogun sent in her bodyguard’s way, but he decides it better to chase after Emiko, too.

His shoes make heavy thumps across the floor as he searches around every corner and peeks into every room, looking for the ladies’ whereabouts. When he turns to the hallway that houses the guest bedrooms, he hears a scream that stops him dead in his tracks.

“I didn’t ask you about the reputation thing, because I trusted that you knew what’s best for us. Why can’t I for once make my own damn decisions? For myself?”

“Because this is the best choice you have! Don’t you want to be happily married? Isn’t that what you always wanted?”

“But you’ve been in love with him all along! And you never thought to tell me, to stop this embarrassment from happening?”

“Emiko, I said I’m sorry—I don’t know what else there is to say!” Y/N’s voice, angry tone matching her sister’s.

“So you admit, you’re in love with him?”

“I—”

Ayato doesn’t dare breathe. Through the small gap in the door, he sees Y/N, shoulders slumped and eyes lowered to the floor. Across from her, Emiko appears a complete stranger. Gone are her shy and quiet demeanour, and she looks as if she could eat Y/N alive, a sight that would frighten anyone who knows her.

Even with the worry that Emiko would explode at any moment, Ayato feels his heart thumping haphazardly in his chest. Why isn’t Y/N denying it? If she says no, if Emiko believes her, there’s still a chance at salvaging this wedding, one that he so desperately needs.

But despite so, part of him silently pleads for a sign, any sign that Y/N loves him, too.

Emiko laughs coldly, and lets her arms fall to her sides. Y/N looks smaller and more vulnerable than he has ever seen her. Had he not known for sure that this is the same person who always had something witty and sharp to say, he would not have believed that the woman a few steps away from him are capable of doing such things.

“I see.”

The younger sister does not speak, and disappears behind the screen without another look behind her shoulder. Y/N suddenly bursts into a sob, and turns to bolt outside the room, not wanting to spend another minute in its cursed presence, running head on into Ayato.

“Lady Y/N—I know I’m the last person you want to see right now, but please—”

“Leave me alone.” She replies tearfully, and stomps down the hall in search of a shelter, anywhere that could hide her away from the guests, the Shogun, her sister, and most of all, Ayato.

The commissioner chases after her without a second thought, muttering under his breath about how the pair seems to be in constant pursuit of each other day in and day out. Just why are they always running after each other down every hallway that exists in Inazuma?

Before Y/N could shut the door to a nearby storage closet, Ayato grabs her wrist with more force than he intended. She snaps her hand away from him, and they engage in a brief exchange of outstretched fingers and evading grasps as she tries to pry his grip off of her, the offender unrelenting in his determination to keep ahold of her.

In the distance, footsteps grow louder until Ayato catches a glimpse of an unknowing servant, arms full with fresh linens and heading in their direction while humming a quiet tune to herself. Even the servants are in particularly good spirits today despite all the housework, a state of mind Ayato only wishes he could afford.

With no time to think, he forces himself into the cramped space and pulls the door to a close behind him, Y/N protesting silently through her pushes and spiteful looks.

She collapses against the wall, chest heaving with choked sobs. The air seems to thin in the small storage closet, and she gasps for oxygen, her heartbeat echoing in her ears.

Ayato watches her. There is nothing for him to do except watching. He wants to hold her, tell her things will be okay, but how can he promise those words when he no longer believes that himself?

When the servant finally passes without any suspicion of the panic contained in the room, Ayato lets out a breath of relief. He opens his mouth, but is interrupted by Y/N’s voice, hoarse and breaking at every syllable.

“Are you satisfied now?”

“Satisfied? Why would I be?”

“All the things you said to me…did to me…do you just expect me to forget them all?”

“What?”

She throws him an accusing glare, and Ayato lowers his head in defeat. Had the roles been reversed, he’s not sure if he could maintain his honour, either.

Every rational thought remaining in his head tells him that he should go, get out of this closet before anyone discovers them and spreads even nastier rumours, but he physically cannot begin to lift his feet, as if invisible chains had bolted him to the floor. He is in pain, but he won’t admit it to anyone, least of all Y/N.

“You shouldn’t be here.” She finally says, slightly more collected than before.

“Neither should you.”

She huffs and stands from her slouched position, straightening out her dress and reaches for the door handle, but not before turning to face him one last time.

“Goodbye, my lord.”

Y/N holds Ayato’s gaze for a second too long, and he loses the rest of his conscience. Eyes still stained with tears, filled with so much pain, longing and regret that she can no longer hide.

In that moment, all the logic that Ayato has ever known disappeared to the back of his mind, and only one thought remains. He loses himself and without thinking twice, he grabs Y/N’s wrist, spins the shocked girl around, pins her to the wall and presses his lips onto hers.

A silent protest dies in her throat, flailing arms soon finding their place on his back, his neck, and eventually tangled into his hair. He kisses her with so much long repressed fervour, and he can only hope that it is enough to convey the feelings he has denied himself for far too long. It could never be enough.

When she gently tugs at the roots of his hair, something snaps within him and he lets out a low, primal growl. He trails his fingers up the round of her cheek, then down her back to the small of her waist, memorizing the beautiful curves of her body, as if this is the last time he will ever kiss her again. And if Emiko’s outburst is any good of an indication, this might very well be the last time he will see her.

Air is no longer a necessity as their lips crash onto each other’s. Behind closed eyes, stars explode and fireworks blossom into golden florets of sparkle and light. He craves to taste her, smell her, feel her every day for the rest of his life, and he cannot fathom holding another woman ever again. Is it regret? Shame? Thinking back to the nights he’s spent in the arms of strangers, tossing a few coins in exchange for a brief moment of ecstasy. Even though he did not know Y/N at that time, he wants to slap himself for ever indulging in the sensual caresses of other women.

He only wants to be held by her, touched by her, loved by her.

When they finally break from each other, Ayato feels a sense of sudden emptiness. He lowers his head to press a few more gentle kisses to her lips, savouring the way they fit into each other like missing puzzle pieces.

With hands still holding onto him for dear life, Y/N lets out a shuddering breath and looks up at him, their heads only far away enough from each other’s for him to see her clearly.

“What…just happened?”

°•. ✿ .•°

The Shogun is not happy with the wedding. Or rather, the lack thereof.

Lady Yae has apologized on Ayato and Emiko’s behalf so many times, but nothing could stop the gossips running through every alley of Inazuma. The bride of the Yashiro Commissioner leaving him at the altar. What a shame that brings to the Kamisato Clan.

After carefully exiting the storage closet like runaway criminals, he mustered enough courage to find Emiko. He wasn’t afraid of facing her, per se, but rather at the thought of having to somehow carry on with the wedding as if he didn’t just completely give his heart to another.

With every word he says, he feels guilt piling onto him like a small mountain. Yes, I do love you. And no, nothing happened between me and your sister.

If his father was still alive, Ayato is no longer sure if he would be proud to call him his son. And that’s what hurts the most.

No. What hurts the most is knowing that he can never love anyone the way he loves Y/N, but is still duty-bound to marry her sister instead. It scares him, realizing that his father’s opinions are no longer at the forefront of his moral compass like they have always been, ever since the night he received his Vision.

He sits with his face in his palm. Beside him, Ayaka paces the length of the library to the point that he fears the wood is rubbed shiny from all her walking. Several times she opens her mouth, but chooses to keep her words to herself.

“You can say ‘I told you so’. And can you please stop pacing.” Ayato finally says, letting out an exhausted sigh.

His sister only looks at him with what can only be described as pity. And he despises it.

“I do feel sorry for you, Brother. I really do.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

She pulls up a chair and seats herself across from him, forcing him to finally free his face from the shield of his hands.

“Ayato. You deserve to be happy.”

“What choice do I have?” He snaps, the words coming out harsher than he intends and he immediately regrets talking to his sister like this.

“Oh, but you have so many choices! You’ve spent your life living for other people, don’t you think it’s time you start living for yourself, too?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t get to decide who or what I live for. You and I both know that I owe everything I have to the commission and to our clan.”

“That is simply not true!” Ayaka stands, her voice raising an octave in frustration.

“I don’t expect you to understand.”

“No, I really don’t.” She says, making her way to the door, “But I hope you think on what I’ve said, Brother. If you are set on making your life as miserable as possible, I cannot stop you.”

When the room quiets down again after Ayaka’s annoyed departure, her words still hang densely in the air.

A seat cushion on the armchair nearest to him becomes his unfortunate victim as he throws it to the floor in a sudden outburst. Deep inside, he feels fear. Fear of losing control of his emotions like this, of people finding out the truth, of accepting the truth himself. Moreover, he tastes the bitterness of guilt with every breath he takes, his own mistakes putting Ayaka’s future in jeopardy. And if his sister never finds a husband from a family downfall brought about by his utter inability to fulfill his duty, he would never let himself live it down.

He wants to scream off the top of his lungs. When he looks around blindly in search of anything to confide his feelings in, he realizes that the only person he would want to talk to is Y/N. Even if that means hearing her call him the biggest idiot alive. Since when did he go from being annoyed by her wittiness to craving the sound of her voice? Why can he never get enough of her, even when she makes him lose absolutely every last bit of patience?

No, it’s not hard to see why.

She vexes him, too.

°•. ✿ .•°

Ayaka has decided that the best course of action to avoid scandal is to pretend like nothing ever happened. You suspect something unspeakable has happened between the Kamisato Clan and the Fukuchi Clan? Must be an unfounded rumour. Look at the two families taking a nice stroll together, even when every other person they acknowledge on their walk acts as if they never knew them at all, as if a simple “good morning” would somehow spread the curse of scandal to their own families.

They are like a disease, and everyone in high society knows that. But Ayaka won’t let them win easily.

After all, why act like you are guilty of a crime when there is nothing to be forgiven for?

On this fine evening, the two clans are scheduled to attend the closing show of the Irodori Festival. Ayaka has left early to help Yoimiya with the last of the preparations, and Ayato wouldn’t see her again until after the festivities conclude. Relieved from the constant finger-pointing and whispers, Ayato slips away from the crowd, hidden by the dark of the night, and finally finds some solitude in a pavilion nestled in a meticulously kept garden.

He sinks onto the plush seats, letting out a long sigh of relief. Though he never cared much for what other people thought of him, he has to admit that the last few days have been more exhausting than any work has been for years. Maybe he still doesn’t care much about being the topic of gossip at tea time in every household, it is the fact that he dragged those he loves into this mess that weighs down on him the most.

In the quiet of the garden, he remembers Ayaka’s warnings again.

Don’t you think it’s time you started living for yourself, too?

Perhaps it is finally time.

Before he can even mouth those words to himself, the golden koi in the pond scatter away into deeper waters, startled by a sudden noise.

He springs to his feet in alarm, and immediately lets down his guard when he sees Y/N, in a different shade of purple this time, looking clearly more unpleased than the last time he saw her. He can’t blame her. What else is there to be pleased about these days?

When she notices him, she stops in her tracks at the bottom of the steps.

“Oh.”

Ayato gestures at the now vacant seat, and she shakes her head.

“My apologies. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No, I was actually just leaving.”

She eyes him questioningly, knowing all too well that being back in the crowd is the last thing on both of their minds.

“Are you, though?”

He gestures at the seat again, “I insist.”

Still unmoving, Y/N glances Ayato from head to toe, as if trying to find any evidence of his distress. Perhaps it would make her feel better knowing that she wasn’t alone in feeling like the world has fallen apart.

Ayato grows slightly impatient.

“Is it so difficult to agree with anyone, for once?”

“I don’t have to agree with you.”

Only a few days without speaking to each other, and how he (does not) miss the sarcasm with which she responds to his every request.

“You have been like this from the day we met. Utterly relentless, stubborn, and— I don’t know how you can communicate to anyone when you don’t even yield to plain common sense.”

It wouldn’t really be fair to take his anger out on her, but every time he meets her headstrong gaze he feels an irrepressible anger, like fuel poured onto a roaring flame. She is simply aggravating.

“I can see why that must be so difficult for a man like you to accept, you’re used to giving people orders and having everyone follow them,” she says coldly, deciding to end the conversation there before either of them takes it a step too far, “good night, my lord.”

“I do not give orders—”

“You do. And I won’t be another person that blindly does everything you say.”

“Perhaps you should start to listen at least!”

“Oh, I will never listen to you! Anyone but you,” she almost yells now, defying every rule ever made for ladies of high society, “The fact that you’re only now realizing that I do not want to take any orders from you—”

“You want to know why?” The flame of anger burns higher, and Ayato takes a threatening step forward.

“I don’t even think you know why yourself!”

“But I do.”

Y/N throws up her hands and rolls her eyes in annoyance, “Great, enlighten me with your obviously sharp sense of self awareness—”

“Because I have never met anyone like you.” He interrupts, voice calmer than he feels inside. Y/N suddenly grows quiet, gaping at him in a moment of delightful wordlessness. Ayato takes a sharp inhale through his nose to try to suppress the millions of voices in his head, “It is maddening. How much you consume every fibre of my being.”

She huffs and looks away from him impatiently, but makes no intention of leaving.

“My family is on the brink of ruin, and so is yours. I have royally fucked up my sister’s only chance at a good, happy marriage, and everyone in my family and the Commission probably despise me, despite the fact that I’ve lived my entire life for them, and—” he takes another sharp inhale, “and yet all I can ever think about, all I see every night when I close my eyes, all I find myself being able to breathe for…”

Y/N’s brows furrow in thought, her hardened expression softening for just the slightest touch.

“…is you.”

She opens her mouth but no sound comes out.  

“Do you think I want to be in this position any more than you do?”

A shake of her head, eyes downcast.

“Do you even know that at every moment of every day, I have to fight the urge of acting on the most…impure, forbidden desires, all because you—because I have to remind myself that I’m a gentleman, and you’re a lady…”

A third inhale, this time with his nose inches from the nape of her neck, and he feels more lightheaded than the time Thoma put the worst possible things in his bowl for the hot pot game.

“…of that scent…sakura blooms…”

Y/N gasps at their close proximity. Ayato spends another blissful moment engulfed in her sweet scent, breathing it in like a drowning man deprived of oxygen for far too long. He closes his eyes and savours the memory of his lips on her skin, until he finally forces himself to take a step back, the separation like sharp blades cutting in his flesh even though they were never touching in the first place.

“You have to stop.” He whispers.

“I have to stop?” She asks in disbelief, voice increasing several decibels, “It’s been you this entire time, turning my world upside down, making me doubt everything I have ever told myself…”

She takes a moment to breathe, finally freed from the constraints of his hovering figure, “I came here determined to get a brand new start for my family. Everything that I have ever done—”

“Has been for them.” Ayato cuts in, and Y/N repeats the same words in a whisper.

Forget about the orders given, orders received, questions unasked, questions unanswered. Behind the thick curtains of ivies and vines that obstructed his vision, he sees a version of himself in the woman before him. Having given up their everything for the ones they love, having convinced herself at an early age that this life, although unfair, is the only one she could live. There is simply no other option.

It is in that moment he suddenly comes to an acceptance of Ayaka’s advice.

Y/N’s voice suddenly breaks, “You are the one who must stop,” she shakes her head again, her silent plea getting lost in the sound of fireworks exploding and onlookers cheering, and she says it again, “you’re the one who must stop…before…”

“Before what? Before we finally do something for ourselves?”

She only looks at him with those eyes, filled with sorrow but an unrelenting force behind them keeping her strong, and he feels his self-control slowly but surely starting to wane with every passing moment.

After what happened in the storage closet, he cannot let such scandal happen again, not now, probably not ever. Even if there is nothing he wants more than to feel her against him.

“Please go inside.” The words seem to get stuck in his throat, and he whispers them with great difficulty.

She only stands a little taller, her feet unmoving and her gaze never leaving his.

“Go. Inside.” He repeats, a storm already brewing behind the tiniest upraise of an eyebrow.

“What did I tell you about you and your orders?”

Something snaps inside him, the look in Ayato’s eyes turns dark and dangerous. If he could see himself in a mirror, he probably would not even recognize the man in the reflection, Y/N bringing out a side of him that he carefully tucked away long ago.

The tension is so thick it could be cut with a knife. She does not waver, not even after seeing the storm in his eyes.

This woman will be the end of him, and in this moment he could not care less.

In one quick stride, he collides into an eager Y/N and pulls her towards him with a hand on her cheek, their lips finally meeting the second they crash into each other’s body.

His hands are no longer shy and make bold movements across her back, her waist, and down further, exploring every inch of her body like a treasure map waiting to be found. His touch leaving a blazing trail on her skin, and he desperately wants to feel more of her. Every spot he reaches, his hand only remaining for long enough to feel her burn before he selfishly moves to unexplored territory.  

As he kisses her, an unwelcoming thought bubbled up from the back of his mind and refuses to leave, only growing louder by the second. It isn’t right to take advantage of her like this. She knows nothing about lust and desire and what it means to wholeheartedly crave someone, and what it entails. He might have been a capital R Rake with his frequent visits to the brothels, but he cannot allow himself to break Y/N’s innocence just for a moment of his own pleasure.

The Ayato from a few weeks back would have been puzzled about his sudden development of honour. A man who has spent night after night in the arms of strangers do not change in the blink of an eye like this, but Y/N has somehow made it happen. He knows that there isn’t a single part of him that does not belong to her now.

She lets the tiniest moan slip past her lips, and Ayato’s last line of defence comes crashing down like a house of cards. An almost animalistic growl escapes from his throat as he forcibly breaks the kiss, the girl instinctively reaching for him blindly in a moment of frustration from denied pleasure.

“I must stop,” he says, his breath still escaping him.

“Do not stop.”

He repeats his declaration with what little conviction he has left in his body, even though all he wants to do is to sink back into her kisses and never break away again. His mind is foggy, and his eyes seeing nothing but pure, unfiltered lust.

“Do. Not. Stop—”

And that’s all he needs to capture her mouth once again before the words even have time to reach his ears. He grows bolder still, grabbing her dress by the handful and hiking the fabric up to her waist, the exposed skin of her thigh burning under his nimble fingertips. His body is on fire and his head spinning, every single thing he has ever known replaced by her name and her name only.

And when she reaches for the buttons on his coat, his shirt and eventually slides it down his shoulders, he is finally able to put into words the meaning of his entire existence.

He’s been waiting for a lifetime for her. He was not looking for love until he found her, and when he lowers his head to press open-mouthed kisses on the woman pulling him closer, he is convinced that she is an angel on earth, an angel sent just for him despite all his sins. And he will never fall in love unless it’s her that he is falling into.

𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.

Y/N slams the door with a loud bang, not caring if the sound would wake anyone up, and sinks to the floor.

Then she stands. And paces. And sits back down again.

She runs her hands through her hair in frustration, feeling tears already welling in her eyes.

His fingers combed through her luscious locks. The fancy hairstyle is now in shambles as he hungrily reaches for more of her, as if he wanted to permanently mold himself into her.

She takes several breaths to try to regain her footing, to feel more present in reality.

She pulled back reluctantly out of her damned need of oxygen, but the air was filled with his scent. Like snow-covered pine, like a clear spring running through an endless field of white.

She tugs at her nightgown. The flowy fabric feels positively suffocating.

Goosebumps. The thrilling, tingly, hair-raising kind. Everywhere all at once. She shuddered when the cold night air hit her exposed skin, but when he ran a hand down her back, she felt like she was on fire.

She opens the window, half hoping it would somehow ease the haphazard thumping of her heart.

She could hear her own heartbeat in her ears as he trailed a line of kisses down the side of her face, her neck, her chest, and going even lower….

Until she was certain she would explode right there.

The sounds escaping her lips have long passed the threshold of what was appropriate, but they were music to his ears. Better than any band he had ever heard perform in all the ceremonies he’d attended. Despite having sworn off of alcohol, he felt drunk. Intoxicated. Lightheaded. It was the smell of her, the taste of her, that hooked him and would not let go.

He had never felt a woman tremble beneath him the way that she did.

The little gasps and whimpers shot straight down to the pit of his stomach. He wanted more. He needed more. And he would give anything in the world to hear them everyday for the rest of his life. He would do anything for her.

He picked up the pace of his movements and she simply fell apart, fingers tangled in his hair and pulling on the roots, earning a low grunt against where she needed him the most. She let out a loud moan and he grew even more impatient then, lifting her legs up to rest on his shoulders as he continued devouring her like a man starved of food for days.

For the first time in his life, he no longer cared about his own pleasure, his own release.

All he wanted was to hear her again, and taste her sweetness as she succumbs to her innermost desires, all for his eyes only.

It brought him peace, and maybe just a little bit of pride—okay, a lot—knowing that he was the first, and hopefully the last, man to see her like this. It’s selfish, but he wanted her all to himself. If that meant he could have her for the rest of time, he suddenly didn’t think the Shogun’s notion of eternity would be so bad, after all.

And when she finally came undone against his scorching kisses, his name being the only syllable she could muster, he was sold. Utterly, completely lost in the bliss and daze of this crazy thing called love.

He didn’t believe in love before, but that was because he hadn’t met her yet.

But when he woke, she was gone. Like a fever dream, she was gone without a trace.

And he has never dressed himself faster.

°•. ✿ .•°

“I need to see Lady Y/N. Now.”

Ayato repeats rather impatiently, pushing past the guards standing outside her residence. The latter tries to stop him to no avail, and backs down with heads lowered.

“My lord, it seems Lady Y/N is not here—”

“I can wait.”

The maid pauses, stunned at Ayato’s resolution.

Just as he starts to wring the water from his rain-soaked coat, a stable boy hurries in, failing to catch his breath.

“One of the horses are missing.”

Ayato freezes, a thousand thoughts come rushing into his mind. He charges out the door, ignoring the dull pain from the heavy raindrops hitting his body, and jumps onto his own horse.

There is only one place she could be.

The horse trots down the mountain, the sound of its hooves against the stone path a symphony with the rain, but Ayato is too preoccupied to take notice. He gives the stallion another squeeze with his legs, urging it to go even faster. The wind blows mercilessly against his face, clouding his vision. He knows it is dangerous to speed up any further in a steep decline like this, but he has only one thing on his mind.

To get to Y/N before she does anything stupid.

Through the mist and fog, he suddenly notices a hooded figure, galloping towards the beaches that face the towering buildings of Inazuma City.

“Lady Y/N!” He calls out, voice barely discernable against the heavy rain.

She does not turn. If anything, she goes even faster.

He calls again, not daring to rush the horse any further. The heavy rain makes it difficult for him to see anything beyond what’s immediately in front of him, and Y/N’s shadow disappears and reappears in the fog like a phantom, luring him to go closer.

When he finally sees his surroundings, his blood runs cold. Several oversized shadows lurk behind the trees, disguised by the mist and rain and everything in between. They take one step, then another, towards an unsuspecting Y/N, who is still racing at top speed towards archon-knows-where.

Always running away from her problems. And from him.

When one of the shadows raises what can only be described as an unproportionally big hammer and aims it at the girl on horseback, Ayato’s blood runs cold.

“Y/N, watch out!”

His voice is drowned out and he can only watch in pure horror as a bolt of lightning strikes, only that it wasn’t from the skies.

He opens his mouth to scream, but no sound comes out.

A hand to the hilt of his sword and his trusty weapon glimmers a cerulean blue in the dark, contrasting with the gloom and death around him. When he is finally close enough to see the Fatui’s faces – not that there’s much to see, anyway, they’re all going to be dead soon – he hops off of the stallion and charges into them without a second thought.

The harbingers are taken by surprise at seeing the Kamisato heir himself before them. They do not hesitate, though. They had one order and one order only: either get him to their side, or to rid the Tsaritsa of this threat to her power.

“Looks like someone is here to negotiate.”

“I think you know better than that.”

The hammer swings, and Ayato expertly dodges its impact with a hydro illusion. The garden of purity rains down on the harbingers, to the point where one can no longer distinguish between the camellia petals and the heavy raindrops.

“Maybe you didn’t hear me last time, but you would really do well to update your intelligence about me,” he grunts as he charges at a geochanter, “and keep your fucking hands off of my wife.”

He pauses. He wants to slap himself.

Wife?

What the hell is wrong with him?

He mouths the word again, the syllable rolling off his tongue effortlessly, so familiar as if he has been saying it since the day he was born.

Is that who she is to him?

The Fatui stand stunned, too. As faulty as their intel are, they are at least confident that they reported the right sister as the Commissioner’s intended.

Ayato snaps out of his trance. There will be plenty of time to overthink this later. While the Fatui are still gaping at each other, panicked that they chased down the wrong sister to kill, a quick flash of light and ashes are all that remain of the harbingers.

He rushes to Y/N’s side. The horse is nowhere to be seen, and even in the dark with their soaking clothes, he can clearly see a pool of crimson red around her midriff. Her eyes are shut and her skin pale, as if…

“Fuck. Y/N. Stay with me. I love you. Please.”

His words feel like empty promises as he mumbles them over and over again, hoping she can somehow hear him and open her eyes. Oh how he longs to see those eyes again, even if they’re still shooting daggers at him, he would trade anything for it.

He takes off his coat and wraps it around her body, her frame feeling smaller and weaker. Carefully, Ayato places the girl onto the saddle and hops on behind her, circling one arm around and creating a protective cage as he rushes the poor horse back up the mountain.

The storm shows no sign of slowing. Is this the Shogun’s wrath over a cancelled wedding that she personally endorsed?

If that’s true, then so be it,

He spits salty water out of his mouth. He can’t tell if it was rain, his tears, or a mix of both. Strange. He doesn’t remember crying.

The moment the estate doors are swung open, he is greeted by the initial shock and ensuing yelps of surprise from the staff.

“Lady Y/N!”

“Oh my god.”

He carries her limp body and shoulders his way into the estate, where Ayaka almost spits out her morning tea at the sight of her brother, completely drenched, hair disheveled and matted to his forehead, his ivory coat a shade of gory red.

“Call the doctor at once!”

Footsteps scramble away, and soon enough the doctor hurries into the room. Ayato, still panic-stricken, can only order the servants around in his moment of helplessness. She needs dry clothes, yes. I’ve applied pressure to the wound. Will she need surgery?

“My lord, please let the doctor work.” Thoma rests a tentative hand on his shoulder, and Ayato nearly collapses into him.

“It’s all my fault,” he mumbles, covering his face in an attempt to hide his fear, “it’s all my fault.”

Thoma is taken aback by his master’s sudden vulnerability. He has never seen him like this and for a moment, the normally omniscient housekeeper does not know what to do. Ayato doesn’t wait for him to extend further words of comfort, though. The sight of Y/N’s lifeless body surrounded by doctors and healers is quite literally ripping his heart into shreds, and he spins around and exits the room, heavy steps echoing in the hallway despite the commotion.

The same hallway that he and Y/N chased each other down at almost every event.

The same hallway where they fought, they yelled, they kissed.

He shudders at the thought of not ever seeing her face again, and he didn’t even get to tell her he loved her, didn’t even get to properly introduce her to the world of desire.

The memory of last night flashes before his eyes and he feels ten thousand little knives stabbing at his chest. Was it selfish, taking her all for himself like that? Was that the reason why she ran away? She deserves so much more than what he could offer, but in a moment blinded by lust, he took advantage of her innocence. And now he might not even get a chance to properly apologize and beg for her forgiveness.

When he finally makes it to his chamber, he collapses on the bed. Forget about the wet clothes and the metallic smell of blood on his hands, his mind is only preoccupied with knowing if Y/N will be okay. There is so much guilt, so much pain that his body physically aches.

The one chance he has at happiness, even just for a mere moment, is shattered like broken glass, the shards piercing through his heart and leaving a bloody trail behind.

It should have been him instead. If the Fatui were sent with a mission to kill, he would rather them take him instead.

°•. ✿ .•°

Ayato buries himself into his work, sorting through papers at an unprecedented pace that even some of the Yashiro officers begin getting a little worried. He has barely slept and almost every meal sent into his study comes back out untouched. Ayaka has learned that there is no getting through to him and gives up trying after a few attempts, but still makes sure the servants are adding extra greens and healthy ingredients into his food.

When someone is that heartbroken, there is only so much other people can do.

And when she finds out he has not been to see Y/N once, she can only let him be.

Until Ayaka finally receives word from one of the housemaids.

She barges into the study to find Ayato asleep at his desk, forehead resting against his folded arms. She hesitates but shakes him awake anyway.

“Brother. Wake up.”

He opens his eyes groggily, a silent protest dying in his throat the moment he notices his sister’s expression.

“She’s awake.” He rasps in disbelief, his voice barely above a whisper.

Ayaka nods, tears of joy already welling in her eyes. She has grown especially fond of Y/N she first mistook her for Emiko, and the two formed an unexpected bond.

He finally lets the bottled up emotions loose and they come rushing onto him like a broken dam. There is relief, worry, happiness, all at once that he feels he’s literally about to explode. Ayaka wraps her arms around her brother, and the two of them just stand there holding each other, letting the tears fall in silence.

“Are you going to see her?” She finally asks.

Ayato freezes. He doesn’t know what he’s going to say to her yet, but he knows that he should go either way. Even if it’s only to say goodbye, even if he is not ready.

An hour later he is once again at the Grand Narukami Shrine, a bouquet of freshly picked flowers in hand and too many things in his head.

“Lord Kamisato is here to see you, my lady,” the servant leads him to her chamber and leaves them with a curt nod of his head. Ayato is glad to see Y/N’s cheeks finally having some colour compared to the last time he saw her, when she laid pale as a sheet.

“My lord,” she moves to sit up straight in her bed, but visibly struggles to do so.

“Please, you still need to rest,” he sets the bouquet down on the bedside table and instinctively reaches out to help her up, but his hands freeze in midair and are slowly retreated at the realization that it might be too awkward for him to touch her, still.

“I suppose I should thank you,” she finally says after a brief silence, “my sister told me you were the one who brought me back from the forest.”

“Perhaps it was fate that brought us together in the forest that first day,” he tries to reassure her but the words come out more as a comfort to himself, “if anything…I should apologize.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The Fatui…the Shuumatsuban was able to find out that they were sent to… because they knew how important you are to me. And they wanted to get to me through, um, hurting you.”

“Oh.”

She blinks and doesn’t respond, giving Ayato the chance to add on to his monologue.

“I came to see you the morning after.”

Y/N moves her gaze from the blooming flowers to him and studies his expressions carefully.

“I wanted to apologize for…I took liberties, I took advantages of, well, you know. I never wanted it to happen like that, like some…with a stranger in the park. You deserve so much more than that and I am sorry.”

 She shakes her head. If she was trying to make him feel better, it sure as hell did not work.

“I came to apologize—”

“You already said that—”

“And to ask you to marry me.”

Y/N’s mouth drops open and a surprised gasp falls off her lips. At her reaction, Ayato scrambles to find the little jewelry box he had carefully tucked inside his pocket before leaving the estate.

“You do not need to ask me of anything at all, my lord!”

Their voices overlap as Ayato fumbles to open the box and declare his intention while Y/N tries to explain her refusal with downcast eyes.

“You do not owe me anything,” she finally says after stealing a peak at the small wedding band buried inside the box and forcing herself to look away, "I am leaving Narukami Island.”

It is Ayato’s turn to gape at her this time.

She goes on, “The moment I sort things out with Emiko, I will be leaving. It has been decided. Lady Yae is kind enough to sponsor her for another season, and I’m for sure better off somewhere else—anywhere else—as it is clear I only mess things up and screw everyone over.”

Returning the box back into his coat pocket, he shakes his head at her in a silence that lasts for way longer than what is considered comfortable. Here she is again, retreating, hiding, shielding herself from whatever it is outside.

“You’re running away. Always running away, from me, from—”

“Please go.”

When Ayato doesn’t move, she repeats her request louder, as if a simple “go” would somehow burn all the passion they shared, all the memories they made, and she can start anew as a blank slate in a nation far away from here.

He watches her for several moments more, and she does not look at him. Finally he gives in and leaves the room with a nod of his head.

°•. ✿ .•°

The season does not end just because some reckless young man makes a fool of himself in front of the whole nation. With a few engagements and several more on the way, Lady Yae’s ball is as extravagant as ever. The newly betrothed can barely take their hands off of each other, and Ayato feels sick just being in the same room as them.

Y/N has recovered enough that she no longer needs to be bedridden every day, much to everyone’s relief. And surprisingly, Emiko and her have made amends, though the details of which remain private to the sisters themselves. As the orchestra prepares for their performance, Ayato waits patiently by the terrace door for the only dance partner he will ever have eyes for, and can’t help but smile softly at the first sight of her and Emiko not having a yelling match with each other.

When Y/N finally approaches him and lets him kiss the skin on her knuckles, everything in the world feels right.

But when he looks up, he sees the sorrow that she fails to hide. A lump forms in his throat. They both know that once she decides to do something, there is no turning back. Moving away from Inazuma forever included.

He hesitates, the request to a first dance dies before they can make it past his lips.

“Perhaps we should keep our distance from each other, still.” He finally says with great difficulty, each word harder than the previous one and he can no longer look at her when the last syllable comes out.

“Or perhaps we should not.”

Ayato eyes her quizzically. Her smile a faint upturn of her tinted lips.

“You see, the audience might take pity on me – seeing it’s only days after a terrible injury and all,” a mischievous spark in her eyes puts all of Ayato’s guard down, and he can only listen intently, “it wouldn’t be acceptable for me to be on the dance floor by myself with no one to steady me now. And you just happen to be the first person I found.”

This woman will be the death of him.

He can’t hide the smile as she babbles on about not wanting to be patronized or whatnot. Seeing no response from him, Y/N cocks her head to the side with a playful grin,

“Are you going to ask me to dance?”

There is no need for her to say what’s on her mind. Both of them knew this might very well be the last time they get to sway in each other’s arms.

“Are you going to say yes?”

She does not answer, but reaches out her hand instead.

The orchestra plays a slow tune for the first dance, and all around them are flurries of colour, shiny jewelry, and a mix of fragrances. Positively suffocating, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of Emiko and the Shogun exchanging quiet words. Soon after, as if controlled by invisible threads, the couples on the dance floor begin retreating one by one, until him and Y/N are the only ones left dancing.

He feels her tense in his arms, and in a moment of panic almost lose her footing. He only tightens his grip on her waist and forces her to look up at him,

“Keep looking at me. No one else matters.”

And she does exactly that. The world around them fades to a blur and all he can see is the love of his life before his eyes, her body molded into his in perfect harmony. Forget the whispers, stares and pointed fingers, he would stay like this for a lifetime if he could.

When the music finally ends and the crowd erupts into a loud applause, Ayato has to fight the urge to kiss her right there. Slowly but impatiently he bows and leads her out onto the terrace, camouflaged by the swarm of guests returning to the dance floor.

The night air is crisp and does wonders at waking one up after all that time in a stuffy ballroom. Y/N studies the roses trimmed into neat bushes by the railing, the lights of Inazuma City glistening below. He does not approach her, but rather waits for her to sense his presence a few moments later.

“You are still going to leave Inazuma, then?”

The elephant in the room.

“The Shogun herself has saved our families from ruin. I cannot risk that again.” She replies quietly, fingers tracing the petals of a perfectly blooming rose, anything to avoid looking at him.

“You love your family dearly,” Ayato breathes, more of a statement than a question.

“As much as you love yours.”

He takes one step forward, then another one, until he finally catches her eyes under the moonlight.

“You know the reason why I could not go see you after your…injury?”

“Please, you don’t have to explain yourself to me.” She turns away, but her voice tells him that she is not angry at him for not visiting. That’s a relief.

“Because I was scared I’d lost you.”

In that moment, nothing else matters. Forget about the sleepless nights where he laid awake, tossing and turning over how to confess his feelings, regretting his hasty proposal, questioning if he should even confess said feelings. Seeing her look so divine under the full moon is all he needs.

“I love you.”

He has never muttered those three words to a woman in his life—no, he has never even imagined ever admitting that to someone. But when her silhouette is all he can see, the eight letters have never rolled off his tongue so easily.

Y/N’s mouth opens in a little gasp, much like her reaction to his proposal the other night. Ayato fights to repress the anxiety bubbling in his stomach and goes on, knowing that he will never forgive himself if he doesn’t let her know his true feelings the evening before she leaves.

“I’ve loved you from the moment I met you in the forest. I’ve loved you at every dance, every walk, every moment we’ve been together and more so every moment we’ve been apart. You do not have to accept it or allow it – knowing you, you probably won’t – but you must know it. You must feel it in your heart because I—”

Because I have been foolishly, completely head over heels in love with you since the moment I laid eyes on you. Coup de foudre, or whatever it is they call it.

Her eyes are welling up with what he can only hope are happy tears. Oh how he prayed they are happy tears.

The silence lasts for several more seconds until Y/N finally inhales a shaky breath, “I do not know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, or respond, or…” He answers hastily, “I love you. And that is why I wish to marry you, not because of some—”

“I don’t know if there is anything else to say, other than that I love you, too.”

“You—”

It’s his turn to gasp in surprise now. Everything clicks into place inside him and the flowers around seem to bloom a little more brilliantly. In one swift stride he goes to hold both her hands in his.

“I want a life for us both. I know I’m imperfect…far from it, in fact, but I will humble myself before you because I cannot imagine a life without you.”

Even though there are no archons or priests or kings witnessing this moment, he knows he meant it with every fibre of his being, like a vow.

Y/N laughs through her tears then, the sound music to his ears.

“You know there will never be a day where you do not vex me.”

He pulls her a little closer to him by the waist and she gleefully nestles into his embrace, raising her hands to rest on his cheek.

“Is that a promise, Fukuchi Y/N?” He whispers, barely able to contain himself.

“Yes, it is a promise.”

Maybe a lifetime of love and happiness does not need a ring and going down on one knee, after all.

“Well then,” he grins, the first genuine smile he has allowed himself in days, and pulls her even closer to him, “I suppose we’re finally seeing eye to eye on something.”

“I suppose we are.”

She does not wait and stands on her tiptoes to kiss him, their lips sealing the oath of unconditional love. Fireworks explode in the distance, the sparkles falling down in the night sky like a waterfall of shooting stars and magic dust. His fingers weave their way into her hair and he trails his lips down to her jawline, her neck, and her shoulder, and he hears the most beautiful giggle from the woman he loves.

What else does he need, really?

He entered the season not as a bachelor, but as a mere chaperone for his sister. He never fathomed a second to do anything for himself in his life, least of which allowing himself to find true love. But she has made every minute leading up to this moment worthwhile. He would go to hell and back just to see her smile, feel her touch, and taste her lips again. She’s shown him things he never knew he was allowed to feel, and oh how magical that is.

And here he is, holding the woman that was once the bane of his existence but always the object of all his desires.

You see, they were worthy of love all along. And in this lifetime or even the next ten after this, they will never fall in love again unless they are falling into for each other.

----- ©2022 cypressus-lunis | please do not repost, translate, copy, or redistribute without permission. masterlist

[shurlycurly]

Some things I had to say about the article that propably anyone will read but I want to say them out loud (I added some thoughts, yes I keep thinking about it)

1. I knew about this case back in may 2022 and started to read all I can about the accusations. By that time I was not a huge fan, only know him because of CMBYN and SN and praised his performance. Up to this point, I think that what we read about the AirMail article is a confirmation of some things his fandom has already said during those years:

- The lack of proof and inconsistencies of his accusers and how stalker one of them was from day one.

- The fact that his ex was part of the smear campaign and how a destructive person she is.

2. It also confirmed something that was pretty obvious, although some people believed it was not true: the affair, the cheating

- Was he a cheater? Yes he was, did he fucked up the marriage? I believe so but I think a relationship is about two people too. Thus, we would never know 100% what happened behind the scene. My conclusion is that none of them was a saint in the relationship, and it was toxic.

- Does it make him a bad, horrible despicable person? I think what it makes him is more a terrible partner, a toxic one, considering his explanation in the article about his other relashionships.

3. In the article it also stated things that were shocking and actually sad for me.

- The attempt of drowning: I have to say that when the "docu" was release last year I thought about how impactfull was going to be for him, mentally and emotionally. And that it could be the end for him, in terms that at some point we would wake up one day to find out he was gone. Well, by reading that he though about it, at the beginning of the scandal, really moved me.

- The sexual trauma he had as a child and how that leaded to his view of sex, it was really unfortunate. Was it a PR way to get forgiveness? As the article stated, is a common tactick, but I am not 100% sure it was the intention because also in the article, he stated that episode is not an excuse for his behaviour towards those women, it was more to find out the origin of his personal problems and the way he saw sex.

- I want to comment somthing here, since I have been reading about it yesterday: his sexuality. I think this topic is nobody's business. Whether some say the article is "forcing" readers to believe he is straight, to me, it is non sense. The article is not about his sexuality is about his personal traumas, issues, mistakes, his side of the story in terms of the accusations. When it was mentioned that "he had never had sex with a man" it was related to the colombian guy and Effie's comments.

4. About her ex, I might be honest, at the beginning I really was on her side. I mean, if you find out your husband cheated for so long, and started to have questionable behaviour and also is acussed of something so delicate. How would I feel? I would have felt terrible, disapointed, I wont even wanted to know about him anymore. But there are also some points:

-After reading about her and now confirming it through this article. My empathy for her dissapeared completely . In fact, I find her anmoying and somebody whose obsession to show her perfect-imperfect life makes her fake and irritating.

- Her way to react to everything: its really disapointing coming from someone who had everything on her side to be the smarter one. And it confirm the idea of "being older does not makes you more mature". Since she is older than him, but if she was mature or more clever she would have handle the situation better. Okey, as I said, the impact of a cheating specially after so many years can make you do things. He is the father of her children, embarrasing him for being a cheater would have been enough.

- But take it further to create this whole campaign for years and confabulate with the mistresses and accused him of r@p* and violance towards his children, leading to distroying his career, was too much.

- What I wonder is why? If you know your partner cheeted on you for years, why stay with him? Is more powerfull your intention to have the perfect family than separarte from a person that clearly does not love you anymore? Did he promissed he wont cheat again but keep doing it? Was it all about the money? We would never know for sure.

5. His process of healing. It is good to know that he is working on It, that he made peace with himself and his is finding his way to have a normal living. It Is his right, even after his wrongdoings, he has the right to start over and make a reflextion of this actions. Is people going to forgive him? I dont think so nor I think he should care about that. if he is fine is enough because unfortunatelly people in sm are toxic.

6. About the way he reflected on his actions. I think it is mature from him to take responsability. That is what anyone who made mistakes should do, but here I have some comments:

- I do not understand how people are mad or critize him. What did they expect? That he accepted he rape people, that he is cannibal? The article was his side of the story, and explain his version and supported it with information. Is the same way those women have done the last 2 years.

- About his comparison with RDJ and others. I think every story is different but in general I understand that what he meant was that those people struggle but at the end they change and are better now.

- there is one thing I did not like about and it was the "hero' death" comment. I like Armie. He seems like a genuine, honest person who had and is dealing with his issues. But I dont think it was good to compare his situation to "heros's death" since it make it look like he is the "hero" which clearly he wasn't nor isn't. Jus saying that you have to hit rock bottom to later start again for good would have been enough.

7. His friends. I have read that some questioned the way his friends commented about Armie. In my personal opinion, his friends are good ones. If I were one of his friends I would definetely talk to him and tell him how an ashole he was, I would even being disapointed, in addition to the fact that I would asking him if he raped somebody or not. Even more, if I warned him and at the end did the opposite, I would tell him "I told you". Does it make me a bad friend? I dont think so. A bad friend would have been if I leave him alone, or didnt support him, didn't try to help him to understand that what he did was wrong. A true friend tells you when you fucked up, but that does not mean they will leave you. I think they are those kind of friends.

8. About his career. I wish he come back. As I said I really like the way he act. For me, he has the qualities to be a good actor and he loves it. (The part that really broke me was when he said: "they didnt want me to act, but also they dont want me to have a normal life either"). In addition, I think:

- if that happen or not we dont know. Many did not like him before the scandal, less they do now. There is nothing he can do and I dont think HW would do anything.

- If Luca or any independent director cast him would be really nice. Based on his performances, he perfomes better on this type of films than the big budget ones.

- But at the same time, I think: if I were him and after being treated that way in the industry I work for 10 years, would I really wanted to comeback? If so I would have to see all those people who turn their backs on me or make fun of me or did not say anything when I needed the most. Personally I would felt weird.

9. About the reaction of people and the media. Well there is not too much to say:

- Show biz media really covered the most controvertial things, left aside the most important parts. In general, they kept the same narrative otherwise they would be seem as unbias and as bad journalism. Does it surprised me? Nop.

- But what I really congratulate Armie is for not choosing them as the media to release his side of the story. It was pretty smart I might say. I enjoy the idea of how Variety, Hollywood reporter and the rest might have been feeling to find out that he give the exclusive to the AirMail.

- about the people, well it does not suprised me how hypocrites people are in sm. The way they wish him d*ad and do not want to hear the side of his story, confirm how less interested are in knowing the whole picture compared to how eager are to distroy people.

10. About justice, I hope those people get the consecuentes of their actions. It is not fair for the Metoo movement and any sa survivor to have people who stained the cause and such delicate matter for their convenience and mental problems. Armie said he emotionally abused those women therefore he is paying the consecuences. It is time for the rest to get the same.

In general it was an interested article and I am really happy that he decided to talk. It was his right and also I think it was necessary.

If people believe him or not, that is another story.