Hey thanks for the other request I requested you did a good job on it. If you don't mind if I request another on where Indra is paranoid that his s/o will leave him because of his past and people calling him a monster or cold-hearted person or something like that and his s/o reassure him that she will never leave him.
YAY happy you love it 🥺🩷 I love this request sooo much aaaa. Vulnerable Indra is one of my favorite scenarios truly. Hope you like this cutie🌸🩷
For the past days, Indra wasnt himself at all. Knowing his character you decided to check on him after finishing the house chores.
You went upstairs to your bedroom and opened the door.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders tense, hair falling over his eyes like a curtain he hopes will hide the storm passing through them. The window is open, letting in a cold wind that brushes through the room, but he doesn’t move to close it.
He’s somewhere far away ,in memories he never speaks about.
“Indra?” you whisper softly, stepping closer.
His head lifts slightly, but he doesn’t face you.
You sit beside him, close enough that your knee brushes his.
The touch makes him exhale, a shaky, long and uneven breath he tries to disguise.
You’ve seen him angry, powerful, stubborn, terrifying to anyone who doesn’t know him.
This is the version of Indra he never lets the world see.
“Did something happen?” you ask gently.
His jaw tightens. “People talk,” he mutters. “They always have.”
You know what that means.
You’ve heard some of it yourself, whispered words when he walks by, the looks people give him, the fear they pretend isn’t fear.
But he never cared before.
“Let them talk,” you say softly.
And the look on his face makes your heart break.
But fear, quiet, buried, desperate fear he’s been holding alone.
“What if they’re right?” he asks, voice low. “What if I really am… too much. Too broken. Too dangerous. For you.”
He looks away quickly, ashamed of even saying it out loud.
“I’m not like everyone else,” he continues, voice sharp with self-contempt. “I’ve done things I can’t erase. Things that follow me everywhere. And people… they look at me and they don’t see a man. They see a weapon. Or a curse.”
His hands clench. His breath comes unevenly, as if he hates how vulnerable he sounds.
“What if one day you look at me the way they do?”
His voice cracks on the last word.
“And you decide it’s easier to walk away.”
You don’t answer with words at first.
Instead, you reach out, gently slipping your fingers through his.
He doesn’t pull back, but his grip is hesitant, trembling. Unlike him...
“Indra,” you whisper, leaning closer.
He shakes his head, jaw locked. “You should be.”
“I’m not,” you repeat, firmer this time. “Because I know you. I know your anger, your strength, your shadows… and your heart.”
He closes his eyes, pained. “My heart is the worst part of me.”
You cup his jaw, guiding him to face you.
“No,” you say softly. “Your heart is the part that chooses to protect, to love, even when you’ve only known pain. That’s not something to fear. That’s something rare.”
His eyes open slowly and they’re glassy.
He doesn’t blink fast enough to hide it.
You lean your forehead against his.
“Do you really think I would leave?” you whisper. “Do you really think anything in your past could ever make me walk away from you?”
“You deserve someone unbroken,” he says quietly.
“I want you,” you answer immediately.
“Not a version of you that never existed. Not a perfect man. Not a man without scars.”
Your hand slides down to rest on his chest.
“I want the man sitting right here.”
He exhales, shaky, relieved, overwhelmed.
And when he finally breaks, he breaks quietly.
His hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you close in a way that’s desperate, almost fragile. He hides his face in your shoulder for a moment, breathing you in, grounding himself in your warmth.
“I’m afraid of losing you,” he whispers against your skin.
“You won’t,” you murmur, holding him tightly. “Not in this lifetime. Not in any.”
He lifts his head, eyes darker, softer, still wet.
You smile, brushing a thumb across his cheek.
“I promise. I’m not leaving you, Indra. Not for your past. Not for people’s fears. Not for anything.”
Slowly, his forehead presses against yours again, but this time, it’s not despair he’s holding onto.
And when he finally kisses you, it’s the kind of kiss that feels like a vow, slow, aching, full of everything he never says out loud.
When he pulls back, he whispers one last thing, quiet and shaken:
“Then… stay with me. Even when I’m afraid. Even when the world calls me a monster.”
His fingers lace with yours.
“You’re the only one I want to believe in.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
