summary — your knight of a boyfriend can handle a lot of things, but it seems that even he has his weaknesses.
themes — fluff, developing relationship, librarian!reader (bc im obsessed), flustered!lohen, hand holding le gasp, flirting on the clock, mutual teasing, a teensy weensy kiss, gettin caught by your boss, minor references to lohen can't communicate
WC: 1057
The first time you held Lohen’s hand, he had nearly jumped out of his own skin, his face turning redder than the center of his sweet eyes. It was fascinating to see the infamous Vice Captain of the 5th Company turn so undone under your touch, which held not even a candle to the harshest of blows. Whenever you watched him charge into spars with his comrades, he seemed nigh invincible, but whenever you laced your fingers through his, he could hardly get his words out.
It was cute.
“So then I said to Varka, what’s the point of all this new gear if we don’t go looking for enemies to test it on? And everyone looked at me like I’m the crazy one!”
Lohen was pouting at you, his cheek held in one hand while the other drummed his fingers against your desk. You smiled at him, giving him an encouraging nod.
“I feel like no one really gets me,” he complained. “They’re all like, ‘Vice Captain Lohen’s a bloodthirsty monster’! I mean, they’re not entirely wrong, but I’ve got a head on my shoulders too!”
“Mm,” you answered, your eyes focused on those drumming fingers of his. “It sounds like they assumed you just wanted to fight.”
“Yeah! Which, I guess I do. But my idea was actually practical!”
Your hand slid across the surface of your desk. You watched Lohen’s face as you weaved your fingers through his, taking immediate notice of how wide his eyes turned. His drumming fingers immediately stopped, and with a sharp turn of his head, he gawked at your joined hands like he couldn’t believe it.
It didn’t take long for his cheeks to become consumed by a fiery red color. He lifted a gloved hand to his face, shifting his gaze away from you as he muttered, “I thought you said you wouldn’t do that in public anymore.”
You smiled fondly at him. “It’s empty in the library right now. If someone comes in, I’ll let you go.”
“The damage’s already done,” he said into his palm. “You’re gonna give me a fuckin’ heart attack, Bun.”
“That’s a little dramatic,” you laughed. “The Vice Captain of the 5th Company can’t fall to his girlfriend’s hand. That would make a horrible epitaph.”
“…You’re my girlfriend,” he said, almost as though he was trying to convince himself of it.
“I’m your girlfriend,” you said. “Remember how you desensitized yourself to dandelions? We should desensitize you to my hand, too.”
Lohen’s eyes pressed shut. After a pause, he muttered, “I guess you’ve got a point.”
You squeezed his hand. The way Lohen’s shoulders jumped made you giggle.
“Quit that,” he complained. “You’re not making this any easier for me.”
“Oh? But I thought you liked a challenge, Lohen.”
He let his hand fall from his face, revealing a sardonic smirk. “Am I imagining things, or are you enjoying this?”
“I’m enjoying holding your hand,” you chirped. “But your cute reactions are definitely a plus.”
“Don’t call me cute,” he answered, the corner of his smirk twitching. “Once we’re outta here, I swear I’ll get you.”
“Get me?” You grinned. “Get me how, exactly?”
His face was still scarlet, but with a cocky smirk, he popped his eyebrows and murmured, "Wouldn't you like to know?”
You felt warmth touch your face. Giggling shyly, you squeezed his hand again, your heart skipping a beat in your chest. Lohen leaned across the desk, his face coming closer to yours, and when the tip of his nose brushed yours, you let out another uncontrollable giggle. You pressed your eyes shut, your wide smile hurting the corners of your mouth.
“You like me,” he crooned, “don’t you?”
You couldn’t stop laughing. Nodding at him, you said, “Of course I do.”
“Say it for me,” he murmured, his breath ghosting across your lips.
“I like you,” you replied, nursing his hand in yours. “I like you a lot, Lohen.”
He let out a laugh, the sound and feel of it tickling your cheeks. Quietly, he said, “I like you too, Bun.”
He kissed you so fast, by the time your eyes opened, he was already pulled away from you. His hand left yours, you instinctively reached after it, but Lohen had already stood to his feet with his back facing you. You could see the redness in his neck, and the peek of his smile from the slight turn of his head towards yours.
“I gotta get back to work,” he said casually. “Don’t leave without me, though. I’ll walk you home.”
You held your face in your hand, smiling fondly. “I’ll be waiting, then. Good luck, Vice Captain.”
He snorted. “Later, library girl.”
With a casual wave of his hand, the tall wooden door to the library closed behind him. Cupping your cheeks under your palms, you let out a pleased sigh.
“He’s so cute,” you whispered to yourself.
“Oh, your boyfriend’s gone now?”
When you heard Lisa’s voice, you let out a yelp. You whipped your head to your right, seeing the coy-eyed woman sauntering towards you with a knowing smile. Face smoldering, you sputtered, “L-Lisa! How long have you been here?!”
“About as long as the Vice Captain has,” she told you with a giggle. “I didn’t realize you liked flirting on the clock, cutie.”
“I’m sorry,” you said quickly, your heart hammering in your ears. “I’ll get back to work.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it.” Lisa shook her head, lifting her pointer finger to her lips. “I promise I won’t tell a single soul. Besides, it’s nice to see you look so happy about something.”
“O-okay,” you stammered. “Sorry. I’m getting back to work, I promise.”
“Hehe…it’s a shame the Vice Captain didn’t get to see you like this, cutie. Should I bring him back here?”
You closed your eyes. “Lisa, please stop.”
“Okay, okay. Here’s a few new books that need labeling. I’ve got some business to attend to, so I’ll be back later, okay?”
You nodded, accepting the stack of novels from your coworker with a small smile. When Lisa left, and you were alone in the library once again, you let out another lovesick sigh. Lohen’s red eyes consumed your thoughts, and the feel of his lips on yours had your cheeks flushing with warmth all over again.
“…I miss him already.”
a/n: why is it that when i need to work on a school paper, i can't type shit, but when i want to write a drabble about lohen, i can finish it in 2 seconds? someone save me from this hyperfixation...
anyway, i had some people in my asks talking about how they like lohen can't communicate and flustered lohen in general, so i figured why not write some more good ol' fluff!
if you liked this silly lil drabble, please consider leaving a heart! (˶>⩊<˶) ♡ reblogs and comments appreciated!
if you would like to be tagged whenever i post lohen x reader, please check my rules here! thank you!
i was tagged! what did i miss?
how much do you love me? lohen, mini drabble (300+ notes)
masterlist | ask | faq | ao3 | more of this pair
sooo i've never written a fanfic before so this is a first, but for some reason I was randomly inspired so I just wrote whatever. There's probably grammar mistakes and stuff because this isn't proofread but I wanted to share anyway. quick one shot, nothing too long
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summary: lohen comes to you to help him with cleaning his wound (that's pretty much it!)
sfw, reader is a bartender at cat's tail, established relationship, mentions of injury (not anything too crazy), mentions of blood once or twice, slight teasing and banter, slightly implied of nsfw acts like once, bun pet name used once as inspiration from other fics i've seen
word count: 1.3k
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You really don’t know why he chooses to bother you at work like this when you know he definitely has a lot of his own to do.
“Can’t you just sneak me a bottle, surely Margaret won’t notice!” Lohen said with a smile that was way too suspicious to be seen as a genuine one, his gaze slightly shifting between you and the bottles on the shelf behind you.
You raise an eyebrow at him and place your hands on your hips while shifting your balance to the side. “You don’t even drink Lohen, why are you trying to get me to steal from my job.”
“I wouldn’t call it stealing per se, just borrowing it for a short while. No ill intentions, honestly!” Lohen brings his left hand to his heart, showcasing a chivalrous attitude. If it weren’t for the fact you know exactly how he thinks, you probably would’ve fallen for that charming act of his. But unfortunately for him, you do know how he thinks. You've been together for a while after all.
You furrow your brows slightly, “What do you need it for.”
“Spontaneous wine tasting?”
“Lohen.”
“Alright alright,” he sighs. “Don’t freak out alright?.” He lifts his shirt to reveal his side covered in bandages that seemed to be applied in a rush. You could tell this was probably his own work as a temporary fix to whatever is lying beneath them. A faint outline of the wound appearing from blood slightly seeping through.
You gasp slightly and soften your eyes, the accusing look changing to a softer one. “What happened?” you ask while walking from behind the bar to in front of him.
“Ambushed a Fatui camp. Everything was going smoothly until one of the bastards managed to get a hit on me.” You lower yourself so you are able to examine his injury. His eyes follow your movements as you begin to undo the bandages gently, being careful not to hurt him. Although he probably wouldn’t complain if you did.
“So this is what you needed the alcohol for,” you say while unwrapping the last of the bandages, revealing a deep cut. “I know you like a good fight but you need to be careful.” You look up at him. “This cut goes pretty deep.”
He laughs a little. “It looks worse than it feels, trust me,” he winks at you. You slightly roll your eyes. Even after being together for so long you still don’t understand how injuries like this barely phase him. He rushes into battles so often it’s almost as if he is just desensitized by it now.
“I’ll make an exception this one time.” You sigh in defeat. Raising yourself again to walk back behind the bar to find the purest alcohol on the shelf. Your eyes scan the bottles for a short while until they fall on one on the bottom shelf.
You remembered this bottle. Someone once ordered a glass of it to sip on throughout the night and complained that the alcohol was too strong to drink and burned especially bad going down. Margaret tried a sip of it and made a face that could only be described as pure disgust and slight pain. and put the bottle on the bottom shelf where it could hopefully never see the light of day again. If it had been laying there for this long untouched… surely Margaret wouldn’t mind if you “borrowed” it just this once, right?
…
Lohen inhales sharply as you dab the alcohol soaked cloth along the gash. You’re trying to be as gentle as you can but considering the size of this thing… honestly why did he come to you for this.
“You do realize the knights have medics, right?” You look up at him with a troubled expression just to be met with a soft smile. He seems to be enjoying this, although you can’t tell if it’s because of the fact that it’s you cleaning his wound or if it’s the sting from the alcohol.
“I know. I wanted you to help me.”
“I am still technically at work you know.”
“There’s no one here, it’s not like I’m interrupting anything.” He was right. The Cat’s Tail is pretty quiet during the afternoon. There aren’t too many day drinkers in Mondstadt and if there are any, they all go to Angel’s Share instead. You sigh as you continue cleaning his wound.
He watches you in silence, the soft smile still on his face. Of course he knows he could go to the medics at Favonius headquarters. But with how gentle you are with him, how you show you clearly care, how beautiful you look with the subtle concentration shown by your lips pursing together, how could he not come to you instead.
“You’re staring.” You break the silence, stopping your work to look up at him once again.
“Admiring how concentrated you are. Kinda reminds me of how you look when you’re about to c-” Lohen doesn’t finish his sentence, instead being interrupted by a sudden sharp sting which brings out a groan. You had applied alcohol to his wound again.
“Quit it.” You say, heat slowly creeping up your face as you frown at him.
“I didn’t say it was a bad thing, I enjoy that expression you know.” He smiles slyly, half-lidded eyes looking down at you.
“You’re impossible.” You laugh. You go back to concentrating on cleaning his wound again. The bleeding had mostly stopped and it seemed like it should be good to bandage up again. You set the cloth and alcohol down. “Alright,” you breathe out, standing up. “I just need bandages to wrap this up… I’m not sure where Margaret keeps them though.”
“No worries, I brought some with me. I only asked you to provide the alcohol, not the bandages.” He reaches in his inner coat pocket and brings out a roll of bandages, placing them in your hands.
“Thank you.” You bend back down and begin wrapping the cleaned wound, making sure to have it apply some pressure to help prevent continuous bleeding. “I think you’re good to go,” you raise yourself again. “But I really wish you had gone to the knights instead. I’m not a medic.” You frown slightly. “I’m not even sure if this alcohol can be used for medical purposes.”
“I’m sure you did great, Bun. The cut isn’t that bad anyway, I’m sure even Klee could take care of it just fine.” Lohen gives you an encouraging smile as he places his hands on your waist, bringing you closer to him.
“Isn’t that bad?” You raise an eyebrow at him. “That was big and deep. Even calling it a cut seems diminishing.” You smile back at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Your hands reach his hair and start playing with it. “But I guess that didn’t bother you too much hm?” You tilt your head slightly.
Lohen laughs and presses his lips against yours, kissing you gently . You return it, smiling against his lips. He moves from your lips to pressing soft kisses along your jaw, moving down to your neck. You tilt your head to give him more access on impulse, but quickly tap his shoulder in retaliation. “Lohen, I’m still working. What if someone comes in? And don’t you have your own work to do? You were complaining about the mountains of paperwork just yesterday.”
He freezes at the mention of paperwork and pulls away from your neck placing one last kiss on your lips. “Way to ruin the moment.” He fake mocks you while rolling his eyes playfully. This earns him a slight slap on the arm from you which he laughs at. “I’ll be here when your shift is done. We'll go home together.”
You smile. “I’d like that.”
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AHHHH IDK IF THIS IS GOOD i tried my best and this was kinda fun to write acc, i see the appeal now. i hope this is to someone's liking
Sypnosis : Lohen gets needy when he’s sick. And he refuses to let you go, even when something as important as work is in the way.
CONTENT/TAG: lohen x reader, sfw, fluff, needy!lohen, female!reader, secretary!reader, no use of y/n, established relationship, petnames (baby, angel).
“Lohen…”
You hadn’t expect to find yourself in a position like this.
Lohen. Vice Captain of the Knights of Favonius’s Fifth Company, sitting flat on the ground. Arms wrapped tightly around one of your legs as he rubbed his warm face against your calf with a pouty expression.
“Baby…” His choice dropped an octave, placing a gentle kiss on your leg through the fabric of your stockings.
For Barbatos’s sake.
You were both members of the Knights of Favonius. Although serving under the same system, your jobs differed greatly from one another.
You were more of a white-collared worker compared to Lohen. Being the Grandmaster’s secretary, you were constantly being bombarded with the immense amount of paperwork that Varka refused to handle. While he was away, Jean did do his job. Therefore, ridding you of having to suffer alone, at least for a little while. But ever since Varka had gotten back from Nod-Krai, they had just continued to multiply exponentially!
Always being under such a copious amount of pressure and worrying about seemingly endless deadlines, you couldn’t afford to miss a day of your job. Even when you were sick, you’d still force yourself to clock in. That was how serious you took your job.
But with a grown man clinging to you like a koala, you could barely lift a foot off the ground. Let alone make it out the door.
“Lohen, I really don’t have time for this. You’re gonna make me late…”
Your words fell on deaf ears, Lohen’s grip only got tighter.
“…Nuh-uh. I don’t want to be alone today.”
Well someone’s in a mood.
“Lohen, please!” you plead, making an attempt to move your leg, only for it to stay stuck.
It was comical, really. Lohen rarely got sick, he has the immune system of a bat. So when he does get something like a minute fever, he milks that opportunity dry.
“You’re really going to leave me alone? While I’m practically on my deathbed? You’re too cruel, angel.”
His pout deepens. Then shifted into a feverish grin as he kissed your leg once more. His flushed skin felt warm against yours, and you couldn’t help but shiver.
“…Stay with me,” Lohen murmurs, staring up at you. His eyes glistening from the inflammation to his sinuses.
“Please?”
Damn it! He knew you could never resist whenever he looked like that.
“But…Lohen, I can’t. Gods, I wish I could. But I just can’t afford to miss work.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve already turned in your PTO. Jean reviewed and said you can take today off.”
…Huh?
Your face contorted. Going from confusion, to excitement, then back to confusion once more.
“Wait, what? When’d you—what? When did you turn it in? How—”
Lohen shushed you before you could get another word out. Bringing himself up to your level. You can feel his hot breath fanning against your face with how close you two were.
“That’s not important right now. What is of importance is you being here, and taking care of your deathly ill boyfriend.”
His voice was low, sultry, with a gravelly sound from the cold. A hand cupping your face, as his thumb swiped lightly across your bottom lip. Your eyes widened, face flushing at his subtle tease.
Gods, he’s still a sly little bastard. Even when suffering from sickness.
“How’s that sound?”
You bit the inside of your mouth. Trying to contain yourself, yet you find your resolve beginning to melt under his gaze.
“…Fine, you win!”
Lohen chuckled. His free hand pulling you in, then kissed your temple.
“That’s what I thought. C’mon, you have to take good care of me today.”
a/n: oh my goodness hi guys! this is one of my first ever writing post on this blog. it’s quite short…but im working on longer stories! if you spot any mistakes, please leave a comment letting me know🥹 id appreciate any support of critique regarding my writing style, thank you for choosing my work, if you liked it, don’t forget to leave a heart or reblog<33
in which, after years of inhabiting lohen's lonely dreams, you finally return to mondstadt. he finds himself overflowing with joy and relief—until he realises you brought a friend, one you were very close with; one he now deemed his greatest rival.
part two to paper dandelion! but this works as standalone too (i think?)
contents. lohen x gn!reader, childhood friends + reunion, happy ending, fluff, crack (kinda), angst, 12k words, lohen story quest spoilers, (possibly) suggestive, thoma's your close friend, lots and lotssss of jealousy and he's kinda pathetic but it's ok, jokes about killing people/kys, mentions of gore (? offering seppuku as an apology but not actually doing it), swearing, alcohol and getting drunk, mentions of poisoning, lohen jumping to conclusions, doesn't follow genshin timeline/events, no beta we die like adorno
thank you for everyone's patience! much love to you all :)
tags: @swivi, @pjselee, @danielapuppy41, @sksjdkksjsjsh
Despite a considerable amount of time passing since the treacherous Nod Krai expedition, Lohen found himself unable to adapt to the amiable streets of Mondstadt again.
Mondstadt City was dreadfully uncomfortable. It lacked the Favonius Keep's prerequisite of strength and constant vigilance, and the thrill which accompanied. Mondstadt was pathetic in comparison to the perils of the Nod Krai and its beasts. The expectation to be alert was no longer, now earning Lohen absentminded comments to 'relax' and resurfacing rumours of his insanity.
His colleagues earnt shrivelled up expressions of disgust, a violent shudder would pounce on his spine whenever he saw how relaxed they were, drinking their hearts out 'til midnight and puking out on the streets.
(If getting wasted was so necessary, at least remain somewhat competent—Lohen counted twelve opportunities for Gunther to get killed as he stumbled away from the Angel's Share the other night; he should've been grateful it was Lohen judging him, and not a member of the Fatui.)
Human life was fragile, it expired early and death pounced on the nearest person without mercy, and never took breaks, thus, neither should humans.
Today, was no exception to Lohen's discomfort.
He arrived to work late—as always, greeting Mika on his way to the Grandmaster's Office with a lazy wave before slouching into his seat, where an obscene stack of paperwork awaited him. The quill between his fingers was abnormally heavy, and Varka's gaze wouldn't leave him.
"Y'know. You don't have to stare me down that hard."
He scoffed, crossing his arms. "Brat. Who's the one who shortened your confinement?"
For once, Lohen kept his mouth shut, deciding the Grandmaster deserved his best behaviour. It was the least he could do
Solitary confinement, you managed to make tolerable. He wrote of everything to you, from details of his Nod Krai expedition to Adorno's passing and his punishment, scrawling away to process what happened, and to pass the time. Though his solitude remained true, writing to you was essentially the same as company. Day melted into night when he thought of you. He had to regularly call for more paper, only when his words to you reached a length rivaling the novellas of the Favonius Library, Varka convinced Jean to mitigate his punishment. On the basis of his good behaviour, he argued that he deserved the privacy to mourn Adorno, and mail his letter to you. Lohen was free to return home and live normally, at the expense of strict supervision and paperwork during his hours.
(You remained to be a blessing. First, giving Lohen the best childhood and teenage years, and now you were bailing him out of punishment, without even being in the nation.)
Lohen missed you, a lot. Absurdly so. Mountains and oceans apart, you were in Inazuma, where he hoped you felt the same.
Six years was too long. In the first year, he went strong, told himself that you'd be back in no time and that letters were sufficient. By the second, he was going even more insane than he already was, actively searching out ruin guards to bully at Stormbearer Mountains in the dead of night as stress relief.
He wanted to touch you, feel your skin against his and to listen to you rant and laugh—a melody that no choir could ever recreate. He wanted to pinch your cheeks again and watch them redden. He missed how you'd cling onto him whenever you got scared, and he wished he was there for every adversity you were facing over there. He wished he could watch how much happier you were becoming with his open two eyes, instead of reading it with months delayed.
Lohen wanted you. Not your letters. Those wouldn't come sleep over when the nightmares became too much, nor bandage his injuries when they were placed so awkwardly. They capture only your handwriting and nothing else. He would’ve forgotten your voice long ago, had he not thought about you constantly, reciting memories like prayer.
Confinement to letters wouldn't be so bad if he didn't have to wait months for mail to arrive. Letters only satiated so much. And they were volatile—who knows if the mailman would drop either one of your letters, or if storm strikes down the ship it sails on. Only Barbatos himself would know of what happens to them.
(With every victory, you came to mind first. Varka and Jean read of it first through paperwork, then word of mouth would inform the rest of the knights. Sometimes it reached the citizens of Mondstadt.
The best Lohen could do was write it for you first, and pretend it was the same as finding you in your favourite spot at the library, or knocking on your window to demand your attention. In his head, you were the first to know because he wanted you to be. It was far better than agreeing with reality.)
After hearing of his complaints, you opted to mailing him a diary, a collection of thoughts and stories you wanted to share with him, organised by date. Inside, you sandwiched a response to the letter he'd send, alongside folded papercraft (known as 'origami', you said). Lohen built a small bookshelf for these, adorning his empty bedroom with your days.
His gaze wandered to the window, surely he could keep his mind preoccupied. There should've been something remotely interesting to watch—the statue of Barbatos stood proud, as always, welcoming all to the open arms of Mondstadt. Towards the bottom was Barbara, serenading a group of people. That stupid, green bard was nearby, and Lohen rolled his eyes and decided it was time to stop looking outside.
His quill hauled itself across the page, leaving the mere date in its trail.
You can do it, I'll wait for you!
Lohen sculpted every drifting thought into an illusion of you, imagining you were there with him, seated on the couch across the room, waiting for him to finish so the two of you could go skip rocks at Cider Lake.
(Back in the day, Adorno would give you guys 'homework', insisting that puzzles were good for your brain. Your logic flowed as seamlessly as your hands, finishing his tasks with ease; Lohen couldn't say the same for himself. Adorno had to give you guys separate worksheets, since you'd simply give the answers to Lohen.)
The room was drained of its sunlight, fading into a soft pink. Every scratch of his quill against the parchment whittled time away. Varka didn't need to snap at him, and
He finds himself connecting his letters. You wrote in cursive ever since you were little, and still did—
Fuck, his concentration was breaking. What he haphazardly glued together were falling apart, shattering into even smaller bits and pieces.
He tried to fall back on his initial tactic, but all he could think of was how different you must've looked by now. You mentioned getting much more exercise. Did you bulk up, or were you the kind to slim down? Maybe you managed to grow a few centimetres, or perhaps you had a tan now? He had no idea what the weather was like over there.
He was unable to conjure an image of you, only wonder and curiosity, and a desperation to see you once more. Questions blurred his vision and hypotheticals presented possibilities without rest. His energy and attention slipped away, leaving him to soak in his pathetic longing.
"Fuuuuuck offff." Lohen slouched onto the table, cheek resting against the cold, polished wood. He entertained the thought of smashing his head into the table until he was out cold, that way, he wouldn't have to do paperwork, nor be forced to cope with the fact that he couldn't see you.
The stupid pile of paperwork was just as prominent, and infuriating, as his inability to focus. Why couldn't you leave him alone?
(Stupid fucking Barbatos. If the god of freedom out of all beings out there couldn't bring you back, he could've at least freed him of this constant craving of you. This was exactly why Lohen hated gods and refused to partake in anything religious)
Then there was the Sakoku Decree too. You insisted the Vision Hunt Decree only targeted Vision wielders, that you were safe and he had nothing to worry about, but Lohen did the exact opposite. A dictator was never honest, a leader that would approve of such policy would not be one fit to protect its people. Those stuck in Inazuma, including you, requested the help of the Knights to return home, though they were fruitless.
Any resemblance of concentration was long gone. It abandoned him the moment he thought of you again, leaving him to spiral.
Varka's heavy footsteps approached him, his large hands sifting through the paperwork Lohen had (somehow) managed to complete successfully. "...not bad. I've never seen you do so much. And your handwriting's neat." Lohen peeled himself off the desk with disheveled hair, and hollow eyes begging Varka for freedom. "You've done enough, I don't like paperwork too. Good improvement."
For a brute that drank like a fish, he was surprisingly thoughtful.
"I'm gonna kill myself."
The Grandmaster chuckled, ruffling the Vice Captain's hair and patting him on the shoulder. "Paperwork does that, kid."
Dusk stained Mondstadt pink. Remains of day bled everywhere, as Lohen walked across stone pavement alongside Varka, watching over children that chased each other by the fountain. The Good Hunter kept many company, its patrons howling with laughter and cheersing obscenely large tankards. His fingers twitched at his sides, missing their skinship with his dagger and lance, while the wind caressed his face.
Doing paperwork was so awful, that Lohen considered getting drunk, calculating whether the vulnerability would be worth the mindless bliss of being wasted—there had to be a reason why everyone in Mondstadt loved beer, and why even the Grandmaster himself had no problem with drinking to his very limits.
"So." He drawled, itching to leave the city and head to Wolvendom to fight something. "Why am I here again?"
"Because you're under supervision. And I need a beer." The man groaned, stretching an arm and scratching his back. "You look like you need a drink."
"A fight, you mean."
Varka slapped him on the back, enough force to almost make him fall over. "Be grateful I didn't make you do my paperwork too, hm? Maybe it's a good thing you didn't become captain. You wouldn't last a day." Before Lohen could retort, something else grabbed Varka's attention. "Be right back—someone looks lost." A finger pointed forwards, Lohen's halflidded eyes didn't bother tracking them as he let out a wordless grunt.
Maybe now was a good chance to run off. And if Varka tried to get him into trouble again, he'd snitch on Varka to Jean for drinking.
He took an analytical glance at Varka, only for his heart to freeze on the spot.
The sun had already set, yet you managed to glow in its absence.
Lohen's feet didn't move, they couldn't—all that went through his head was relief, leaving him in a stupor.
The world went silent, all that was nonessential melted into nothingness. What remained was you, with wide eyes marveled by your home city again.
You. Here. In Mondstadt. Where Lohen was.
You didn't look so different, contrary to all the different theories he had conjured in his curious boredom. You must've lost a bit of weight from travelling so much, but you looked stronger overall. Your smile was bright, as always, only this time it made Lohen choke on his own spit, and question if he had really lost it.
The Vice Captain of the Fifth Company does not cry. However, he'd make an exception for you.
His body finally awoke, and he took a step towards you. And another. Until he could hear you.
You were looking up at Varka, a bit unsettled by the height difference, but friendly nonetheless. "Oh—I'm from here, it's just been a long time. I haven't spoken the language in a while too. I might be lost..."
Lohen didn't even get to say hi, before you pounced on him.
"Oh my god—" Your voice hitched, on the brink of crumbling into tears. "I missed you so much."
Your arms wrapped tightly around his waist and he squirmed—the closest to hugging he ever did was wrestling new recruits, who could never lay a hand on him.
(But his arms reciprocated, carefully feeling your back as he held onto you. It felt harder than before, your working out must've paid off. The muscle was warm, even through your clothes and his gloves.)
He still couldn't speak. No words would come out, immobilised by his shock. All he did was nuzzle his chin into your shoulder and rediscover your warmth.
"Ahem." Varka cleared his throat, immediately pulling you out of your hug. You scrambled to stand straight, glowing a furious red while muttering out apologies. Varka mirrored your words, saying that he hates to ruin your moment.
(Stupid old man. Lohen wasn't nearly as big as enough to throw him into the fountain, unfortunately. He was going to up his dosage of poison next time. He'll spit in his next beer while he's at it, too.)
As if he wasn't going through every emotion he yearned for, Lohen deadpanned, droning at his boss. "Yeah?"
"You guys...friends?"
You answered first. "Yup! I haven't seen him since before I left."
Lohen thought that was sufficient for his question. "You're back...how—? The decree—you never said anything about returning."
Joy scrunched your face. "It ended a while back. I wanted to surprise you, so I didn't write about it."
(Lohen was young, and very much in great shape, but he thought shock was going to force his heartbeat to a halt. He now owes Barbatos for every time he cussed him out bitterly in his head.)
"You're back..." He repeated.
"I am!"
Besides you, Varka cocked a brow. "Decree? You mean Inazuma?"
You nodded. And Varka went pale. He took a step closer to you.
"You must've been scared. Being trapped in the country. I heard about everything that happened over there." Varka was solemn, regret clouded his face and his voice went dry.
You shook your head. "Things have gotten better over there. It feels normal again." There wasn't a sign of dishonesty, but Varka sank down to a knee regardless, hand over his chest.
"I'm sorry we couldn't do anything. Even though it's our role as knights to protect the people of Mondstadt, we couldn't save you guys. As Grandmaster, I failed you all."
He must've been referring to all the letters that were sent, from merchants to separated family members, asking for help and some sort of intervention.
(Lohen used to press his ear against Varka’s door, picking up bits and pieces of his discussions with Jean on what to do, though now wasn't the time to admit that.)
You were flustered at the chivalrous act, frantically glancing around at the stares you were receiving. "It's not your fault—the shogun and her people aren't fond of foreigners. Please don't kneel—"
Lohen rolled his eyes and tapped Varka's calf, bordering on a kick. "You heard 'em. You're embarrassing us."
Now flustered, Varka stood, rubbing the back of his head. "I still feel bad. Adorno was upset when he found out what happened. He even considered sailing all the way there to negotiate on our behalf."
(Lohen remembers that. When he came running to Adorno to lament about the news, the man was equally as heartbroken. While Lohen panicked, Adorno was already planning to use his retirement funds for an expedition there.)
Your eyes lit up. "Speaking of Adorno—how has he been?"
Lohen's throat closed up, before glancing at Varka.
Adorno's grave was still clean from last time he stopped by. That was good.
The cecilia was beginning to wilt, a light brown began permeating its white petals. He's surprised the wind hadn't blown it away—maybe Barbatos was good for something after all.
The two of you were behind the Cathedral, Adorno's final resting place where many lay peacefully. Daylight was no more, and the cold bit at his face.
His gaze trailed over to you, where you were frozen in the evening, staring at the stone cross. "I wrote about it to you. You just got here before it could arrive."
You said nothing in response, blinking slower than usual.
He sucked in a sharp breath of air. "Do not stand by my grave and cry. My life, I gave to wipe tears dry." Lohen recited Adorno's final words, the last wish he made before his passing. He took a step closer, too apprehensive to dare touch you yet. "There's no need to be sad. It was painless, and peaceful. He was gettin' old, too."
Adorno, in bed, life and colour long gone from his face. Despite tethering on the borders of life and death, his wrinkled hands were abnormally warm, far more than the campsites of their expedition. Lohen's eyes burnt and his nose felt funny, but he subsided it for the sake of his last wish.
"But. If you need to cry, go ahead. I won't tell him." Lohen's hand rested on the small of your back. "We can go around the corner for a bit. And come back. O–Or I can give you some time alone if you need—?"
"—no. I'll stay." You scrunched your nose and blinked hard, but you didn't cry. "It's been too long."
So you sat down, and Lohen joined you.
"It was his health, wasn't it? You said he was getting worse a while back. 'm surprised he lived for that long." You murmured, squinting at the date of birth and death. "He only passed recently."
Lohen prepared himself to tell the whole story. His gloves felt uncomfortably stuffy before he told you everything.
By the end of it, your eyes were wide as saucers, bewildered at it all.
"Yeah." He wasn't proud of it, but it felt worse admitting it to you, out of all people. Had you been there at the time, you would've told someone immediately, out of pure concern for everyone's wellbeing. "I wrote it all down for you during my solitary confinement. Haven't even seen Theodore since then. He probably got longer than me."
(He should pay a visit, he thought to himself. Though Theodore was the main instigator, without Lohen, he wouldn't have made it that far. He wonders how he's been doing.)
You, were still processing everything. "So you and Theodore...injected Adorno with Ursa's flesh...the same stuff that we were supposed to be experimented on for?”
Lohen nodded.
"And you were the test subject?"
"Yeah."
"Are you stupid? Why would you willingly do that to yourself?"
You hit him in the shoulder, with a new kind of strength you didn't have last time he met you. "I know—I don't feel good about it either. I was desperate, and y'know, I thought it'd make me stronger, since Ursa's a dragon and all, and whatever. But yeah. It was stupid. I don't really regret it, though. Got to talk to Adorno for a bit longer, and the whole thing helped me accept I was weak.”
He stared at his outstretched palm, where he had pierced with his dagger. Ursa's screams echoed in his skull, and he squeezed his eyelids tight to ignore it. She was dormant, but his fears weren't. At the end of the day, he was nothing more than a mortal.
You nudged him. "I don't think you're weak. Acknowledging it makes you stronger than most people. And I don't think you were wrong for wanting Adorno to live longer."
Lohen shrugged. "I'm only strong among the weak. I'm nothing compared to the people I've met." Racher of Solnari. The Honorary Knight. Even Varka, the Grandmaster—those who belonged in fairytales and legends to be passed down from generation to generation. They all existed in a realm separate to Lohen's, a random boy who almost fell victim to a harbinger. "I'll get there. Someday. Just not today. I won't do anything like that again, old man."
(Of course, the grave did not respond. But he imagines Adorno ruffling his hair and telling him he was proud of Lohen.)
As long as he didn't lose sight of his goals, nor himself. Lohen had no need for power he couldn't control, for it wouldn't be known as power anymore—only poison.
You agreed with a hum. "You better not. You can't get stronger if you're dead."
Lohen let out a dry chuckle, then silence spoke next.
The wind got colder, though gentle, the grass danced alongside it. Fireflies paid a visit, some fascinated by the gravestones that stood tall, others preferred the flowers gifted to them. Day was no longer, aside from the dainty lights of streetlamps standing guard and the lantern sitting nearby, there was no light.
"Your turn." Lohen nudged you.
"What?"
"Tell him all about Inazuma. He wants to know how you've been doing. This time from you, and not the letters you sent over."
(Lohen never shut up about you, Adorno was the closest thing to a father for him, so naturally, he endured the most of his rambling. You'd write him something as simple as "I love sashimi" and Lohen managed to turn it into an essay's worth of conversation, pondering to Adorno on how he could prepare some as a gift to your return, or marveling at how the people of Inazuma ate fish raw, commending their bravery and immune systems.
Adorno often joked that you wouldn't be able to tell him anything about your time away, since he'd have already heard it from Lohen too.)
"You don't have to say it out loud. I just say it in my head if I don't want someone else to hear." He clarified. "Or you can pay another visit next time, if y'know, you need time to process?"
You shook your head. "I'm alright—I just don't know where to start."
"Wherever you want."
You took a deep breath, Lohen noticed the ever so slight tremble. "Hi Adorno. Long time no see." He leaned back on his palms, watching you tell your story. "I've gotten a lot better. Like really better, the psychologist I was seeing was actually a youkai. It's a kind of spirit from Inazuma and..."
...you told Adorno of Yumemizuki Mizuki, the dream eating tapir, and your psychologist, whom you held a world of gratitude for. You shared your progress, from learning to open up about your past to no longer having nightmares.
The story trailed to your job. It started as Mizuki providing you work at her bathhouse, a role where you prepared their snacks and meals for her clients. It was life-changing, as you described it. You let Adorno know that he didn't have to worry for your future, the job had given you the confidence to pursue culinary school, and you'd been financially stable by yourself ever since. Your career had given you a sense of direction, and you finally felt you belonged in the world.
"Having money's a lot of fun, to be honest. I'm glad I could finally do something for my parents with it."
Your words were soft, yet it strangled Lohen violently.
It was a long time ago, but there was a time where you cried more often than you smiled. Regrettably, you had argued over it. Multiple times.
I hate being so useless. I wish I wasn't a burden to everyone.
The fuck are you talking about? Lohen usually snapped, a tone he wished remained foreign to you. If you need money I'll give it to you. Stop beating yourself up over a stupid job. It wasn't worth your time if everyone there picked on you, was it? Your boss was a piece of shit anyways.
Nausea hit him in a violent wave. He always apologised without fail and you talked things out properly, but he knows he shouldn't lose control. Not towards the people he loves.
"...now that the Sakoku Decree's lifted, I'm back here." You concluded, look back at Adorno with a smile. "I'm probably going to...Lohen? Are you crying?"
Only then, did Lohen notice the wetness on his cheeks.
"No—" He lifted his half cape to conceal his face, recompose himself, and blame it on his dandelion allergy that he'd killed off years ago, but you were faster, prying his wrists away.
Your eyelids fluttered, as if you were the one crying instead. "Is it Adorno...?" You let his wrists go and crawled closer, soft thumbs wiping his tears away.
He shook his head, vision blurring with more tears. "It's yo—you, you're so happy now. And I dunno—I just feel relieved." His sinuses began to clog. "I thought of every time you cried and talked badly about yourself. And then I thought about whenever I lost my temper at you. And now I feel like shit. " His voice crumbled to nothing but weak sobbing. Lohen aggressively rubbed his eyes, as if he could rid of his tears that way.
Your last night in Mondstadt, six years ago, flashed in his head. Your posture was slumped, a contrast to how you stood tall today. He didn’t have to work for a full smile from you, it replaced the half-assed one you donned to cover up your feelings.
(Lohen wasn't sure what was fluttering in his stomach. Pride? Relief? A hybrid of both? He knew you were far more capable than you deemed yourself to be, so he wasn't sure why he was getting so emotional.)
His tears died down, and you wiped each and every one of them, until they were no more. Your hands remained on his cheeks, holding them, before giving them a gentle pinch.
"Nmmph?"
"Your skin's so soft!" You pinched again, this time tugging on his cheeks. "You really haven't changed. You're just a bigger version of your little self."
(Lohen would've smited anyone else who tried to touch him like this, or made such a patronising comment about him. And although you were the sole exception, he'd also never admit he likes being coddled like this.)
"You're sooo cute." You let go of his cheeks, leaving him feeling bare. Your skin was no longer on his, but his face remained warm. "It's okay though. I told you, I'd be back as a happier person."
He nodded, sick of how he sounded when he spoke. The quiver in his voice was nothing short of embarrassing and pathetic. He watched you shiver, hugging your knees tighter for any sort of comfort.
Lohen sniffled. "You're cold. Sorry, not tryna change the topic or anything. But you're shaking."
The moment you became aware of it, it seemed to intensify. "A bit. It rained a lot on the way here."
He sighed, huddling closer to wrap his cloak around you. "You should've rested first then, before doing anything."
"Probably." You coughed a couple times, pressing closer to him. "I got too excited though. I'll just eat a bunch of ginger."
Lohen huffed, guiding you to stand up. "I'm not going anywhere, neither is Adorno. Let's get you home."
You didn't resist, dusting off your knees. "Alright, alright—see you Adorno." You gave the grave one last stare. "And thank you for everything. Without you, today wouldn't have existed for me. For us."
A solemn nod from Lohen, and he silently agreed.
As you walked into the night, you gasped, peering down at the city before walking down the cobblestone stairs. “It’s so pretty. Look at all the lights from everyone’s house—oooh, and the stars!”
Lohen watched you smile. “Yeah. It’s beautiful. Very.”
“I missed Mondstadt.” You declared, jumping down each step one at a time.
(And Lohen missed you. Dearly so.)
“Mondstadt missed you too.” He murmured, a gloved hand reaching out for you, just in case you tripped or hurt yourself.
Together, you walked down the empty streets of Mondstadt City. The working week hadn't ended yet, leaving the city quiet and desolate, Lohen preferred this over seeing drunk men cheer and trip over their own feet.
"Where are you staying?"
(Though he appreciates your surprise return, he wishes you would've told him. Not only he thought he was having a heart attack, but he wanted to let you stay at his place—show off the fruits of his efforts and be the best host he could.
His shock died down, and now all he could think of was his confession to you. The moment he sends you back to your place, he was going to launch into frenzied brainstorming.)
"I'm renting a place at the moment."
His paranoia flared, questioning whose property it was. Shady landlords always targeted foreigners. Obviously, you weren’t one, but anyone could easily treat you as one after how long you were gone for.
But he didn't want to intrude. You’re smart enough to be cautious of scammers. "You could've stayed in my place. I moved into a bigger house since you left." He says, as if he hadn't told you this over parchment and ink already.
You chuckled, a tune he was addicted to. "I know, but I told you, I wanted this to be a surprise. The rent isn't too bad."
Maybe it was better that you weren't staying at his place. It gave Lohen better opportunity to figure out how he wanted to declare his love. It'd be awful if you walked into his preparations.
"Whatever you say."
Past the Good Hunter you turned, and there it was. You pointed to a building, it wasn't anything grand, but felt excessive for only one person to live in.
"We're here. Thanks again for walking me home." You grinned before sneezing, immediately covering your nose with your palm. The other hand fumbled through a pocket for a tissue.
"Geez—I thought you said your cold wasn't that bad?"
Before Lohen could speak, another voice reached for you.
The door to your house was open, and out came a man. He was tall, short, blond hair propped up by a black hairband. He donned a red jacket, over a tight, black shirt decorated by a silver dog tag.
Down the stairs he hurried, to check up on you and nag about your health.
Who the fuck is this?
After blowing your nose properly, you recomposed yourself, standing straight. "Sorry—I didn't think I'd be out this late." You looked back at Lohen. "Right. Lohen, this is Thoma." You gestured to the man besides you, who waved politely at Lohen, resembling a carefree dog. "Thoma, this is Lohen."
What the fuck is Thoma?
Despite being a man of quick decisions and logic, Lohen had little coherency in his thoughts.
"Nice to meet you, Lohen!" Thoma reached a hand out, and Lohen took far too long to reciprocate with his own. "Thanks for walking y/n home."
Were you seeing someone? This guy?
"Uh—yeah, no worries. Anytime."
No, he's jumping to conclusions. Friends travel and live together—
An aggressive shade of red dusted over your cheeks, reaching even your ears. "I'll see you soon. Thanks again." You quickly turned away from Lohen, ushering Thoma inside, muttering something about being cold.
With a final wave, you were inside. Through the window, he could see your blurry figures talk, and muffled laughter slipped out.
Lohen's expertise was vast, but was not applicable to romance in the slightest. However, everyone knows that a blush that deep had to indicate something, a crush, possibly even love, considering how far you had traveled together.
Paralysed and cold, he stood there, a storm of frantic thought brewing in his head. There's no way you guys were dating, right? You would've told him if someone had asked you out, or if you had a crush in the works. But what if this was another surprise?
For a brief moment, he pictured you guys on a date, and was met with immediate nausea.
(He was going to kill "Thoma", or whatever his name was, if it was the last thing he'd do.)
Since then, he was oddly provoked by Thoma, despite his polite demeanour and warmth.
When he returned home, he laid in bed and tried to rationalise the situation.
You. "Thoma". Dating?
Oh my god—what if you were married? Lohen didn't notice any rings on you, but you guys were reaching that age. You could've been intending on it, or maybe you packed your engagement ring away, all that’s valuable doesn’t belong in the open.
He buried his face into a nearby pillow,
It's not like you've ever loved him back that way, nor did you vow to remain single forever (not that it'd even matter—you're allowed to change your mind whenever), but he felt a sliver of betrayal. If he was going to get rejected, he at least wanted to stand a good chance, rather than being nations away.
Lohen dismissed the thought, reminding himself to simply ask next time he saw you before preparing to go to sleep.
The next morning at work, he earned nothing short of concern and judgement.
"What even happened to you?" Eula commented, poking Lohen's head. His cheek was pressed up against the wooden table, neglected paperwork somewhere off to the side and his quill laid just as dead.
He heard Amber come over, too. "Dunno. He looked awful when he got here, then he kinda just gave up after the Grandmaster went out for lunch. Lohennn, are you alright?"
"Is traveling from nation to nation and living with each other a couple's thing to do?"
The two women paused. Amber spoke first. "I guess so...?"
Lohen's fist pounded the table. "I'm gonna kill that bastard."
With a worried, 'let's give him some time', Eula guided Amber away.
He finally sat up, eyelids fighting for their life to remain open. All he did was spiral instead of sleep, conjuring up all sorts of wacky possibilities. It tortured him until morning, and skipping work wasn't a luxury either, considering how he was already in trouble.
He slouched again, this time his chin resting on his forearms. He closed his eyes, hoping for a quick power nap before Varka could yell at him.
Eula came into the room again, heavy boots stomping and interrupting his attempted nap. He didn't react, until she knocked aggressively on the table.
"Fuck…I was trying to slee—"
From behind Eula you peered at him, an awkward smile plastered on your face.
'You have a visitor.' She said, then she turned to you. "Sorry about him. He hates paperwork."
He was tempted to interject, insisting that he wasn't that bad with paperwork, it was stupid Thoma's fault. All he did was tiredly squint, and burn with shame.
"Should I...come back another time? Work seems hectic."
He shook his head, excessively, leaving his bangs in his face. "No—what's up?" Frantic, he adjusted them,
"I just...wanted to see you. And I have something I need to show you."
(It wasn't an engagement ring, was it?)
Lohen's gaze flitted around before returning to you. If he concentrated hard enough and made the most of his desperation, he'd get all this paperwork done. Hopefully soon. "Okay. Yeah that's fine. Just give me a bit more time, I'll be done soon."
The throbbing in his temples disagreed with him.
"Your library's so nice, I had a fun time talking to Lisa."
Lohen himself was impressed with his own performance. He powered through paperwork, a perfect balance of speed, and care, as to avoid being scolded and ordered to redo it all from scratch.
The fresh air helped out a bit, it woke him up and forced his eyes to stay alert. Being so openly weak was stressing him out, even with the confines of Mondstadt City and its walls, he couldn't help but worry about whether he'd be able to defend the two of you if anything happened.
"Lisa? Yeah she's alright..." He rubbed his eye, fervently.
Your hand clasped around his wrist. "You'll hurt your eye if you do that...did you not sleep enough?"
Not at all, actually. "Somethin' like that." His eye begged to be scratched again, but he held back for your sake. "Had...things on my mind."
You released him and nodded slowly. "Is being a knight that hard?"
(Being a knight was fine. Possibly having an unrequited love was far worse and nothing in comparison.)
He made an incoherent noise, before changing the topic. "Where are we going?"
"Back to mine." You smiled, and the exhaustion clinging onto his eyelid was beginning to fade. "I have stuff for you."
Lohen's face soured. Not at the thought of you, nor whatever you wanted to show him, but at Thoma. Lohen thinks he's going to throw up if he has to think about you two again.
"Wouldn't...Thoma be upset? Isn't he staying there as well? Don’t wanna intrude on you guys."
You shook your head. "He's visiting his mother today. Plus, he's a really sweet person, I'm sure you'd like him too.”
Lohen thinks not. "Are you guys like...friends?"
A pause filled the air. "I guess you could call it that. We met at culinary school."
(So are you dating or not? What kind of answer was that?)
Lohen nodded. He decided to take what he could get, and appreciate that he wouldn't have to see you and Thoma together, whatever your relationship was. He can worry about Thoma when he’s not sleep deprived and barely holding himself up. As you walked the familiar route from yesterday together, he found himself wincing whenever sunlight came too close for his liking, another predicament, alongside his brooding.
‘Oh yeah. I forgot to ask, but how are your parents doing?”
Lohen shrugged.
“Still not talking to them?”
“Yup.” He had no need for them or their ways. The most he did was pay a visit on their birthdays, dropping off a gift and a letter. He popped by on holidays, too, limiting conversation to basic greetings. You questioned it no further, just the way Lohen liked it—it was refreshing for someone to accept the way he lived, rather than yapping on about the importance of family and blood. “Yours?”
“They’re good. Turns out they prefer Inazuma far more than here.”
Lohen liked your parents, it was a shame they didn’t come with you. You inherited your kindness from your mother, who’d always encourage Lohen to come over for a meal whenever, and you had the same understanding as your father. Lohen never confided to him with his familial issues, yet he provided more insight on his situations than anyone else. He wished he could say hi again.
“What about you?” You haven’t told him exactly what you were doing here. “Are you just visiting?”
“Kind of? I’m planning to stay here for a bit. I don’t have a concrete plan.” You hummed, as the wind fluffed up your hair. “Might travel around, now that I’m not in the middle of nowhere.”
Good. That granted him a decent amount of time to confess to you.
“Well, let me know when you figure it out. I want to hear all about it.”
The house you were staying in came into view, but the sound of crying snapped your neck towards it. “What happened?”
Lohen scanned the vicinity, nearby was a child, a young boy, wailing and clutching at his bloodied knee. You wasted no time, rushing to his side.
“Are you okay?”
The kid cried some more.
Lohen joined you two. “Can you walk, kid?”
His tears didn’t stop, but he planted his small hands against your shoulders and pushed himself with a heave, biting his lip and gluing his eyes shut.
The kid turned to Lohen and nodded.
You inspected the graze. It appeared fine, with no visible dirt, and it was relatively shallow. “Well done. That must’ve hurt a lot, hm?”
He nodded. “It still does…”
With a subtle frown, you dug through your pockets, bringing out a small bag. “Want some candy? It’ll make you feel better.”
(Lohen wanted to ask for one too, but he refrained.)
As you tugged the pouch open, the kid deadpanned. “Mummy said I shouldn’t accept candy from strangers.”
Lohen couldn’t help but snicker, turning his face away to hide his amusement. “Smart kid—” He placed a hand on his back. “Mummy and Daddy are raising you right, hm?”
The kid stared back with judgement. Now it was your turn to laugh.
(Who knew kids were so unfiltered? Lohen knew kids were difficult, but looking back, he must’ve been a nightmare for every adult in the vicinity.)
“Sage—I told you not to run.”
The woman’s voice almost echoed across the city, frantic and booming. The boy reacted immediately, hobbling into her arms and resuming his crying. You both stood up as well.
“C’mon, what do you say to the nice couple?” She urged him to say thank you, and the boy reluctantly turned around, hands still clinging onto her clothes. “Thank you for looking out for him…oh, you must be a knight?”
She looked Lohen up and down, he saluted in response. “Yes. Your son should be fine, as long as you clean and bandage it. It doesn’t appear to be serious.” It felt wrong, performing his formalities in front of you. He reserved this tone for diplomatic meetings, where pissing off an official could ruin an entire agreement, not the gentle streets of Mondstadt City, where you could speak to anyone as if they were close friends.
The woman sighed, and thanked you as well. “You guys would make wonderful parents.”
Your eyes grew wide. “P–parents?”
“Yeah.” She repeated, as if it were common sense. “Aren’t you a couple?”
(See? Even the citizens of Mondstadt knew you two would be a great pair. Fuck you, Thoma.)
You corrected her with a stutter and flustered cheeks. “N–no ma’am.”
She was unbothered by it, and seemingly unconvinced as well. “Oh. What a shame, you seem to be close to each other.” With a final goodbye, she walked away with her son, excusing herself with needing to prepare dinner early tonight.
Together, you watched them return home. “Aw. I wanted him to taste test my candy.” The pouch laid in your hands and you frowned. “I didn’t know kids were so…sassy, nowadays.”
Giddy from the woman’s assumption, Lohen leaned closer. “I’m always here. I’ll eat anything and everything.” A random kid wouldn’t appreciate it as much as him, anyways. Those would eat anything as long as there’s enough colour and sugar.
You smiled. “Of course you will. You can try some after I show you what I planned out for you.”
A grin crept onto his lips. With anticipation akin to a child’s, Lohen followed you into your house like a puppy, overflowing with joy.
When he reached your living room, you stopped him, slipping behind the knight before encasing his eyes with your hands. They were soft, and warm, nothing in comparison to the calluses that inhabited his palms. “You’ll keep it a surprise, right?”
He despised the unpredictable and unknown, but he nodded and his eyelids shut willingly. “Of course.”
By his hand, you led him through the place, until coming to a stop.
“Open.” You requested. Then he obeyed.
Lohen blinked. It was just a living room. A bit bare, but it was a normal living room. There were crates stacked in a corner, presumably the belongings you and Thoma brought to Mondstadt.
He began sweating, wondering if he was just being incredibly dense. “Am I…?
You pointed to the corner, scurrying towards it and grabbing the closest one. “Souvenirs. For you. I probably should’ve considered how you were going to bring it home…”
Souvenirs? Those crates could probably carry every possession to his name.
“Come here—” You ushered him closer, placing the crate on the floor and prying off the lid.
He crouched beside you. “A crate is a lot for souvenirs, isn’t it?”
“Is it too much? These are all for you.”
(Lohen has infiltrated illegal auctions. Embarked on trecherous journey to the lawless nation of Nod Krai. Even went face to face with a sinner of Khaenri’ah. But he’s never felt more lost than right now, at this moment.)
“W—How’s there so much? I thought these were all your things.”
You blinked. “Nope. They’re for you.” You shrugged, beckoning him to look through his gifts by himself. “If something made me think of you, I bought it.”
Inside were an assortment of weapons, alongside bottles of what he assumed to be poison.
“Ah—this stuff’s for work and your training.” You beamed. “A friend of mine, his family specialised in bladesmithing. You said the more weapons you have, the safer you feel.”
“Y–yeah I did but—” He gestured to the stack of crates nearby. “But this is insane—this would’ve cost a fortune.” He remembered your family being middle class, neither struggling nor subjugating financially, but this was an absurd amount for anything.
“It’s over six years! I promise I’ve been working hard, I stayed with family majority of the time anyways.” Your eyes sparkled with promise. “Plus, I wanted to do something nice for you. You never buy yourself anything. I bet you still hardly treat yourself.”
(You were right. Unless it was a necessity or gift for another person, Lohen seldom spent money. It was a waste, considering the Knights funded all equipment, which included most of Lohen’s collection, and he preferred to have a great sum saved up, just in case something ever happened to him.)
“I guess not?” He scratched at his nape. Protecting himself and guaranteeing safety was a good enough “treat” for him. “Dunno what I’m supposed to get for myself, anyways.” He craved the things money couldn’t purchase. Getting Varka off his back, never running out of stamina, you—
“Then let me do it for you. You’ve always worked hard, Mr Captain.”
The title made him stutter and blush. “Vice. I told you, I didn’t get the promotion after what happened.”
But you didn’t care. “Well, Adorno and I think you’re worthy of it. And it’s basically yours since it’s vacant, no?”
(God, he’s getting way too far ahead of himself, but Lohen really wants to propose to you on the spot.)
“I—” For a moment, Lohen thinks to hug you, thank you in his own special way, with affection and his entire being—
“y/n! Do you have someone over?”
Great.
“Yeah—it’s Lohen.”
Thoma’s head popped into the doorway, and he grinned from ear to ear. “Hey. Hi again.” He greeted Lohen, who responded curtly. “What are you guys up to? I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
(Yes, yes you are Thoma. Read the fucking room.)
You patted the crate. “Souvenirs.”
Despite his irritation, Lohen wore a smile as he got up. “Hello again. How’s your mother doing?”
Thoma was caught off guard, glancing towards you. “She’s good, it’s been forever since I got to see her. Thanks for asking.”
“I didn’t expect you to remember that.” You mumbled, pushing off the crate to stand up. “He’s really attentive, isn’t he?”
His smile grew into something genuine in the praise. Thoma nodded along, hardly meeting Lohen’s gaze. “Yeah. Do you have any dinner plans?”
(Fuck. Lohen should’ve asked you to dinner before Thoma could.)
You shook your head, turning to Lohen. “Do you?”
He shook his head back, and internally, he was brimming with pride, celebrating the fact that you immediately turned to him.
Thoma readjusted his jacket. “Then since we’re all together, wanna go for a drink? It’ll be on me. I’ve hardly spoken to your friend yet.”
You immediately shook your head. “Lohen doesn’t dri—”
He lied, insisting otherwise. “It's alright. I couldn't possibly decline the kind offer."
And so, Lohen was seated in the Tavern besides you. Conversation of its patrons blended into one big mess, the noise infuriated Lohen, not nearly as much as his drink did.
Alcohol was fucking disgusting, Lohen thought, as he gulped down another ungodly mouthful. He glued his eyelids shut and swallowed, careful not to choke and spill any.
On the way to the Tavern, he watched you two carefully. So far, his theory of you two dating appeared false. There was hardly any physical contact between you two, nor did Thoma seem protective of you (and if Lohen’s assumption was correct, then Thoma was an awful boyfriend—who knows what could happen at night, near a bar where many drunk people were).
Logically, Lohen still stood a chance. However, getting you to like someone like him back, was an entirely new challenge he had to tackle.
Unlike Lohen, you and Thoma were fine, casually sipping without even a flinch. Conversation bounced between you with ease.
“I forgot how different Mondstadt’s beer was.”
“I wasn’t even old enough to drink, last time I was here.” Thoma finished the last of his drink, peering into the glass with an eye. “To be honest, I still prefer sake.”
With your glass to your lips, you chuckled. “Me too. This isn’t too bad, though.”
Lohen picked up his pace, you were finishing up too, he couldn’t fall behind. To find drinking alcohol enjoyable was weird, Varka, or anyone of the knights, had no right to call him insane when they could drink beer as if it were water, and derived pleasure from it.
(His stomach complained and groaned for help, but he kept going. He’ll make himself puke it out his system if needed. Lohen refused to appear weak in front of Thoma, out of all people.)
Another round of beers paid a visit, and Lohen already felt sick at the sight of a full glass.
“So Lohen, I had no idea you were Vice Captain! That’s really impressive.”
(What was that supposed to mean? That he didn’t appear worthy of his position?)
He played it off with a chuckle, thankful that speaking meant he didn’t have to drink. “It was nothing. Just took a few years of work.”
You butted in, protesting. “Liar—what do you mean Vice Captain isn’t a big deal?”
Lohen shrugged. “It’s not like I had to fight for my life for it.”
You huffed, taking another swig. “You still deserve credit.”
“You’re doing much better than me. If anything, hard work should be rewarded.” You were a cook because you dedicated your blood, sweat, and tears to it. Lohen was vice captain because he liked killing shit.
A smirk creased his lips, high off your praise, as he leaned forward to speak to Thoma. ‘What about you, Thoma? What do you do for a living?”
His face was hot and the insides of his mouth didn’t feel like his anymore, but he had to check what sort of guy you were possibly with. He took another large gulp, concealing his disgust with a sigh.
Despite it all, Thoma was unbothered by him. “I’m the housekeeper and Chief Retainer of the Yashiro Commission.” He clarified, proud and bright. “Nothin’ special.”
Damn right. But that was too impolite to say. Lohen kept to himself and nodded. “I see. Any good in a fight?”
You answered before Thoma could. “He actually is—he faced the shogun.”
Lohen choked on his own spit. “What?”
Thoma aggressively shook his head, pink blooming on his cheekbones. “All I did was throw a spear.”
“Oh shut up—you threw it at her and somehow survived.”
“Stop bringing it up already.” But he laughed alongside you, the two of you happily bickered and drank beer.
Lohen doesn’t get what you see in this guy. He took another swig, already adapting to the ugly taste.
Sure, Thoma did have a vision. And he was decently built, his muscles peeked out a bit from his tight top. And he was tall, really tall, but not in the same obnoxious, oversized way as Varka. He had blond, well kept hair and bright, green eyes that resembled green apples and ripe limes sold in the markets of Dornman Po—
Fuck. Now he was just listing all the good things about him. And there were plenty. Lohen himself couldn’t account for all the memories and feelings only you two shared and knew of. Thoma got to be there for you. Lohen was in a completely different continent.
Being blond wasn’t that important, was it? Varka’s blond and he wasn’t even close to marriage, neither was Jean. And it’s not like being short was a bad thing—a super tall partner would be unsettling anyways, wouldn’t it? Lohen had a vision too, and he’d say his physique wasn’t too shabby as well—
“...en? Lohen? Are you okay?”
(Just like how Lohen had to come to terms with his own mortality, he had to come to terms that maybe you weren’t meant to be. He should appreciate he gets to see you, and be within your presence, much like how he needs to acknowledge his human limits.
There was no point in brooding and complaining about Thoma, he’ll probably remain a bit bitter for the rest of time, but he should at least accept that you wanted someone else.)
It hurt, so Lohen drank some more.
His head spun and his face was warm and fuzzy. He rubbed his cheek with his own hand, despite the glove in the way. Even though it acted as a barrier, it felt abnormally warm.
“Lohen?”
He blinked. “I’m fine. I can handle my liquor juuuust fine.” He slurred a bit, but he knew what he was doing, and where he was. He took another gulp. He’ll just get tipsy enough to forget about you and Thoma for a bit. This is why people drank, right? “Something happen? Need me to fight anything?”
Through half lidded eyes, he watched you shake your head. “You seem a bit…drunk?”
He gulped down some more to compensate. “I’m not. You have nothing to worry about.”
You acknowledged it with a hum, and went back to staring at your drink. Lohen wondered why you stopped talking to Thoma—maybe he went to the washroom, or something.
“You never told me you started drinking. I could’ve brought you back some sake.”
Thoma’s absence tempted him. He slouched over, resting his cheek on your shoulder. It was wrong, to snuggle so close with someone else’s lover, but he wanted to do it one last time.
“It’s fine. It tastes like shit, anyways.” He reached for his drink, but you pushed it out of his grasp, and he gave you an indignant look, pale cheeks pouting, round and soft.
“I’m pretty sure you’re very drunk. Drink water first. You need to flush it out your system.” You turned around, finding someone to call for water, but Lohen refused. With an immature whine, his arms wrapped around you, chin nestled into your shoulder.
He could easily kiss you. All he had to do was move forward.
You smelled nice. A scent he couldn’t name, but it was far more pleasant than the colognes and perfumes he’s ever encountered. Something that didn’t fit into existing definition. His eyelids relaxed, and he embraced your proximity.
“Y–you’re drunk—”
“And you’re pretty.”
Lohen pressed even closer, his nose brushing against his neck. He wanted to press a kiss on the flesh, bite a bit, even. He thought to himself, about how badly he wanted to kiss you all over, spoil you with all the affection he could possibly conjure. Maybe leave even a mark or two, bruising you with his love for the rest of the world to see.
(But he held back. It was audacious enough to cling onto someone taken. He needs to pull himself together and apologise before Thoma returns.)
Despite his effrontery, your hand made its way to his head, caressing his hair before patting his back. “Are you alright?”
(He wanted to throw up. Not because of the alcohol.)
“It’s not fair.” Lohen slurred, now burying his face into your shoulder. “You were gone for so long, how was I meant to stand a chance?”
He should’ve scraped up the money and joined you on that boat, and travelled across treacherous seas while by your side. That way, he wouldn’t have to swim in all his desire. Now, he found himself drowning, with no way of reaching the surface again. Lohen’s love filled him up to the brink, from his heart to his lungs, dragging him down to the depths of nothingness.
(Lohen charged at any sort of peril of ease, even back then with six years less of experience. A simple love confession may appear pathetic in comparison to the dangers he faced, but wounds heal and flesh grows back, while a rejection would leave a scar uglier than the ones his skin donned.)
His hand squeezed you even tighter. “I love you—I should’ve told you before you left. Maybe then I would’ve stood a chance against…Thoma.” His words were punctuated by a violent hiccup, it tasted of beer and misery at the back of his throat. “And got to be there for you. All I could do was write letters.” Lohen’s voice broke, almost crumbling into tears. “Do you know how scared I was? What if I somehow forgot your voice, or how you looked…”
Lohen’s face peeled off your shoulder, and his lips daringly inched closer to your ear, though he didn’t go any further. "I know I can't make you love me—” He whined, a pathetic noise, one that not even children could make. “—but I should've found a real dandelion."
He shouldn't have torn his letter apart. "Maybe fate wouldn’t have taken you away from me.”
(Pull away, do it now, Lohen told himself. It grew into insistent commands, echoing in his skull. You’re not his. What he was doing was wrong and was only going to make things harder for everyone, especially you. He could barely excuse himself spewing his emotions like this, now was the time to let go. And throw up.)
You weren’t replying. Of course you weren’t. He’ll have to apologise tomorrow, when his head wasn’t spinning and bile wasn’t growing at the back of his throat.
The world faded to black.
For the first time in his entire life, Lohen was mortified at himself.
He carried not an ounce of shame when poisoning Varka’s oversized beers, nor when hunting down and blackmailing Kaeya for a forged signature. Rumours did nothing to him, he did not care for the opinions of others, only freedom reigned his actions and philosophy.
His eyes hadn’t even opened yet, and behind the darkness of his eyelids, all he saw was disgrace. He’d be impressed by how self conscious he was, if it weren’t for the fact that it was you he embarrassed himself in front of—he probably tarnished your reputation too, the one you barely got to rebuild after your return.
But he was remorseful as he was humiliated. You deserved an apology, and so did Thoma, even if he was envious of him. He’d let you beat him to a pulp if needed, if that was what it took to earn a chance of redemption.
“Fuck…” He groaned, pushing himself up. “Everything hurts.”
The sunlight oozing into the windows was blinding, despite being gentle and soft, all it did was make his head throb uncontrollably. His muscles screeched for help, soreness seized his body hostage. Lohen’s head felt too heavy, as if he could collapse at any moment.
He thought about last night, and everything beyond his body began to hurt.
It really wasn't a nightmare. You being in love with someone else.
Lohen cackled to himself, all alone in his bed. He's a fucking idiot, and loser, and should never be in the proximity of alcohol again.
Why was he even surprised? You were perfection and sunlight personified, it was no wonder whenever someone asked you out. If anything, it was Lohen’s fault not considering that during his last goodbye.
But instead, he tore his confession into pieces, for a wish that came true far too late.
“I'm an idiot, aren't I…?” Lohen whispered, to no one in particular.
“I don't think so.”
“What the fuck—?”
You had just walked in with a glass of water. “Sorry. I heard you laughing and realised you were awake.” You approached his bed with a glass of water. “Feeling okay?”
Lohen accepted wordlessly. He wasn't sure what to be embarrassed for, from his unrequited feelings to whatever the hell he was doing earlier, it felt as though he’d done everything possible to make a fool of himself.
‘Good job.” You praised, taking the glass from his hands.
(You were attractive, even when talking to him like a child. Being praised for drinking water seemed absurd, but he wasn't allowed to say that when he was relishing every word.)
Now wasn't the time—he watched you place the glass on his bedside table, as you settled onto his bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. That makes sense.”
Come to think of it, he hardly had any recollection of last night, aside from his shameless antics. It felt worse, not knowing the full extent of his predicament.
He glanced around his house. “How did I get back home?”
“I carried you.”
Lohen didn't remember that.
“Th–thanks. You didn't have to.”
“I didn't have a choice. You were clinging onto me and saying I had to come over.”
He didn't remember that either.
“It was pretty cute, actually. You were really excited to show me your new place. For good reason, too—”
‘I’m so sorry. I–I–I can slit my stomach open for you—that's how they do it in Inazuma, isn’t it?”
(He enjoyed being called cute far too much. Now was not the time for it.)
“No—I mean yes, they do—that's not the point.” Your hand held his, reassuring him with the rhythmic stroke of your thumb. “No one’s mad at you, Lohen. I’m definitely not.”
God, even now, you managed to be kind. Lohen would go insane if someone behaved as ridiculously as he did.
“Yeah but I bet Thoma is—”
“Why would Thoma be mad at you?”
He waved his hands around frantically. “I was hitting on you—I’d be pissed if a guy was all over my lover like that.”
You blinked once. Then twice.
“Thoma and I aren't dating.”
He was so shocked, that relief didn't even pay him a visit. In fact, nothing went through his head.
“Did you think we were together?”
“Y–yeah?”
You were stunned too, mouth hanging open as you processed his words. “Is that why you were one-upping him?”
“I was doing what?” A sharp pang throbs in his head for speaking too loud.
“While you were drunk—you were rambling about how Thoma. You said stuff about tall men being difficult to date and blond people being insanely overrated—”
Lohen snapped, unintentionally. “Stop. I'm gonna die if I hear the rest of that.”
First, his one and only love didn't want him back, then he got wasted over a conclusion he jumped too, and now he was hungover in front of you.
He swallowed. “I still owe you two.” If anything, he’d prefer you to slit his stomach open, or beat him ‘til you were satisfied. Anything over how calm and understanding you were being. “You must’ve been embarrassed.”
You shrugged. “I told you, it was cute. I've never seen you so clingy.”
Another hot, uncomfortable wave of embarrassment washed over him.
He should bring up his feelings now, shouldn't he? Apologise for confessing in such an inappropriate, dramatic way in a public setting. Then he should walk you home and apologise to Thoma while he was at it.
Where should Lohen start? He drafted an apology in his head; about last night, sorry for—
“—I love you too, by the way.”
“The fuck?”
A hand clasped over his mouth and he felt another urge to profusely apologise.
“Last night. You said you loved me.”
He watched you inch closer, his heart racing even more when he felt your warmth in his proximity. “I did say that.”
“Why are you so surprised then?” Your hand holds onto his, abnormally warm compared to his body temperature. “I'm giving you an answer.”
“Wh—are you sure?” Since when were you this ballsy? You used to be so timid and shy, now you were essentially climbing onto him. “I must be going insane.”
“I had six years to think about you while I was gone. Yes, I’m very sure.” You pinched his cheek, gently tugging at the flesh. “See? You're not dreaming.”
Lohen’s mouth hung open, yet no sound came out. He stared at you, and at your thighs that were on top of his, and the pink permeating the apples of your cheek.
(Words were never his thing. Paperwork was pointless when all the information was in his head and made perfect sense to him. He even had a hard time adapting to writing letters, it didn’t sound nearly as nice when it was in ink instead of speech.)
So Lohen pulled you closer. You landed on his chest, his arms clamped around you like a vice.
You yelped, peering back up at him. “Lohen?”
His fingertips played with the back of your shirt. “May I?”
“Sure but what are you—” A shaky gasp interrupted your question, and the noise drove Lohen insane. “Cold—your hands are so cold—what are you doing?”
"Need to feel you more—" His hands massaged the soft flesh, he was right, you’d gained quite a bit of muscle since you left. His hands paused and his hollow eyes held something akin to sorrow. “Fuck. Do you know how upset I was? I–I–I was worried you were engaged.
You snorted, pinching his cheek again. “Engaged? Why would I be engaged with Thoma, when all I wanted was here in Mondstadt?”
Lohen’s gaze drifted away. “You were blushing.”
“Hm?”
“You were blushing around him. When I dropped you off. So I thought you had a thing going on.”
This time, you burst into laughter. Normally, he’d enjoy how it sounds, but right now, all it did was fuel his embarrassment. He withdrew his hands from your back and rubbed his eyes as you composed yourself. “Sorry—that was mean. Did it not occur to you that I was flustered because of you?”
Lohen frowned and scoffed. “You didn’t even look at me when I dropped you off.”
You rolled over, settling next to him. “Really? I probably got embarrassed. I told Thoma all about you, y’know? Since like...the beginning of our friendship? He kept telling me to confess to you during the trip here. He even made a whole gameplan for me. Y’know he only invited us to dinner to try to get us alone. He slipped away after you got tipsy.”
(Huh. Maybe Thoma was a good guy, after all. Not only does he owe him an apology, but a massive thank you, as well.)
“So. There’s no doubt that you’re the one I want, okay? It was like that long before I left Mondstadt.”
Weakly, he nodded, finally able to feel relief. “Okay.”
You liked him back, no, loved him back. For over six years, too.
Lohen's heartbeat raced, to the point he began to worry about it bursting out of his chest. Unable to cope with all the emotions eating away at it and his pounding headache, he flopped back into bed. He’ll deal with it when he’s not hungover. For now, knowing of your feelings was the only thing keeping him alive at the moment.
He turned away from you, burying his face into his hands, wincing at the aftermath of his drinking. "Ugh. My head fucking hurts...'m gonna die for a bit. Wake me if it's an emergency."
You sat up instead, already heading to the kitchen. "Oh. I just started preparing a hangover soup but—"
Lohen shot up, posture pin straight. "I'll eat."
“You just said your head was hurting. You should rest first.”
But he stood up, throwing his blanket somewhere on the floor. “Soup. I want soup.”
Your mouth opened to protest, but you gave up. “Sure. Whatever you want. Let’s go to the kitchen, then.”
“I love you.” Lohen said, a plea for you to say that you loved him again. Even with evidence, everything still felt like a dream. He wondered if this was another pleasant dream, and he’d wake up, forehead to the desk in Varka’s office with groggy eyes, accompanied by paperwork instead of you.
He begged for it not to.
You took his hand, pulling him along. “I love you too, Lohen.”
“So. Now we’re together.”
Lohen’s quill was nowhere to be seen, and his feet were propped up onto the table, as Varka groaned, arms crossed at his own desk.
“I get that young love is beautiful and whatnot. But might I remind you, that you’re still under strict supervision and you didn’t come in at all yesterday.”
Lohen rolled his eyes, his cheery mood undeterred by Varka’s disappointment. He had spent the entire morning rambling about you, celebrating your new status as lovers and verbally brainstorming his plans for the future. He told Varka of all the souvenirs you brought him (if it could even be called that—there were crates upon crates) and boasted about how lucky he was to be in love. He even went as far as mocking Varka, boasting about how you made him a special hangover soup, all from scratch, while Varka had to tough out his hangovers.
(He even ventured towards the topic of marriage, debating where to get an engagement ring commissioned someday and reminding himself to figure out your favourite gemstone. Varka scoffed when Lohen asked where he got his, rubbing in the fact that the Grandmaster was very much single. The closest thing Varka was married to was duty and responsibility—maybe even alcohol, too.)
A gloved hand rested over his chest. “To be fair, you did pull me out of solitary confinement for them.” He stared at the roof, unbothered by the chandelier’s glare as he swooned. He’ll pick up a nice bouquet of lovers on his way home for you. “Six years have never been more worth it. Barbatos, I'm sorry for cussing you out. You're not so bad.” He said to no one in particular.
The Grandmaster stood up, approaching the young man. He grabbed his quill and tossed it in front of him. “Was your lover worth getting wasted in front of everyone?”
Lohen’s heart sank to his stomach. His neck snapped straight and he looked Varka dead in the eye.
“Oh hey. You’re turning red now. You’re starting to remind me of Diluc’s hair.”
“How’d you even know about that?” Suddenly, his feet were off the table, heels planted to the floor and his body tensed up, as if preparing to escape or attack Varka at any moment.
“I was there? Had a drink with Kaeya and caught up with Thoma. His mother and I go way back” A slight smirk creased his lips. “You don’t seem very fond of him.”
You failed to mention that, all you told him was that he was being clingy and confessed, before begging you to come over. How much did you leave out? You were the type to omit details for the sake of another’s dignity, and the only things Lohen could recall by himself was his slurred speech and whining.
Varka didn’t relent in his teasing. “Huh. You don’t seem so bad when you’re shy. I can see why you’ve finally found yourself a lover. Well done, by the way. Good thing Thoma wasn’t interested in them.”
“I’ll do the paperwork, okay?” He snatched the quill, grip tightening to the point his knuckles faded to white. At this rate, he was going to do things worse than poisoning his beer. He’ll rush through this paperwork before running off to go see you again.
But apparently, his current state wasn’t amusing enough. “I can see why you don’t drink. You’re worse than me. You even threw mora at Thoma to prove you were richer. Kind of cute seeing you jump to conclusions and get all whiny—”
“Shut up.” He really will up his dose of poison. And throw out the antidote while he’s at it.
the thing we first need to get straight about lohen is that man has absolutely no sense of self preservation when it actually matters (probably pre story quest)
he'll walk into monster-infested ruins. Alone. Smiling. Gets stabbed. "...Huh." Pulls the spear out. Keeps fighting.
Medics: "CAN YOU STOP DOING THAT."
"Doing what?"
the 5th company was WORRIED for you when you started dating. because the lohen that THEY know once walked into a morning briefing like
you fell in love with the man who voluntarily exposed himself to concentrated dandelion pollen so he'd stop being allergic and now misses the side effects.
the confession was.. weird.
he tried to give you poisoned flowers and you never knew it was from him
eventually he had to outright say "i'm trying to court you"
When he asked you out, it was somehow even less romantic.
"You make surviving the day more enjoyable."
"...Is that your version of 'I like you?'"
"...Yes."
"...I'll take it."
bro is literally a golden retriever trapped inside a battlefield gremlin
The Knights expected him to become softer after dating. They were... technically correct.
Around you.
Everyone else? Still a menace.
Five minutes after lovingly holding your hand... He's hiding in a tree waiting to ambush Varka with a net.
Emotional range:
😊 You.
😈 Varka.
he's surprisingly clingy. not dramatically. just.. always touching you somehow.
Holds your hand absentmindedly.
Hooks a finger through your belt loop if you're walking through crowded streets.
Rests his forehead against yours while thinking.
Wraps an arm around your shoulders without realizing he's done it.
If you're sitting beside him…
Congratulations.
You're now an armrest.
his love language is "i kept you alive. now kiss me"
brings you food because you forgot to eat.
repairs things before you notice they're broken.
walks on the side closest to traffic.
quietly checks exits every time you enter a building.
memorizes your routine.
Not because he doesn't trust you.
Because he wants to know where to find you if something goes wrong.
If you're injured?
He appears.
Nobody knows where he came from.
You barely finish saying:
"I think I scraped my—"
He's already wrapping the bandage.
absolutely SHAMELESS eye contact
He already studies everyone.
His partner?
Even more.
You look up.
He's looking at you.
"...What?"
"Nothing."
"...Then why are you staring?"
"You smiled."
"..."
"...I wanted to see it again."
He says things like this with complete sincerity. Then goes back to casually sharpening a spear.
he's weirdly domestic. he loves helping with chores and claims it's "efficient"
Ends up making everything into a competition.
"Whoever folds laundry slower washes dishes."
"...Why?"
"Motivation."
Cooking together?
He follows recipes...
Exactly once.
Then starts experimenting.
"...Lohen."
"What?"
"...Why is there Jueyun Chilis from Liyue in the pancakes?"
"...Curiosity."
He trusts you.
Completely.
If you say: "I've got this."
He believes you.
Doesn't jump in unless you actually need help.
But if someone genuinely threatens you?
The smile disappears.
Immediately.
Even the other Knights suddenly become interested in something else.
He doesn't realize half the things he does are romantic.
Casually tucks your hair behind your ear while talking.
Brings you flowers because "they reminded me of your eyes."
Falls asleep with his hand still holding yours.
Remembers every tiny thing you casually mention.
Then acts confused when everyone calls him smooth.
"I just... paid attention."
you eventually learn how ot be immune to his chaos
Everyone else: "WHERE DID LOHEN GO?!"
You: "...Ceiling."
Everyone: "..."
Lohen, upside down in the rafters: "...How'd you know?"
You: "You always hide there."
Lohen: "that's hot."
the 5th comany ships it so hard
his gifts are concerningly thoughtful
Normal people buy jewelry.
Lohen buys:
reinforced gloves
custom daggers
emergency medical kits
waterproof cloaks
specialized camping equipment
Then one day...
He quietly hands you a tiny carved wooden animal.
"...You made this?"
"Mhm."
"...When?"
"Couldn't sleep."
It's a perfect little carving.
You treasure it forever.
He pretends not to notice.
his pain tolerance is offensive. you asked him to rate his pain. he says 3. his arm is currently broken btw.
lohen usually sleeps like someone who's spent years in the field.
Very lightly.
One weird noise?
Eyes open immediately.
But if you're sleeping against him...
He relaxes.
More deeply than anyone has ever seen.
The Fifth Company notices he actually looks rested now.
One knight whispers:
"...They're good for him."
Another whispers back:
"...Don't tell him that."
varka's favorite hobby is watching you two be accidentally romantic in public.
lohen doesn't always say "i love you constantly". he says it. just differently.
"Tell me when you get back."
"Eat before you leave."
"I've already sharpened your weapon."
"Walk behind me here."
"Take my coat."
"You're tired."
And, perhaps his favorite:
"I've got you."
Matter-of-fact.
Completely unquestionable.
Because if Lohen says he's got you...
Then as far as he's concerned, the whole world would have to get through him first.
--
pls help me i'm falling down such a big rabbit hole for this man
HAHAH GET IT
GET IT
RABBIT
BECAUSE HIS CONSTELLATION IS
[ SYNOPSIS ] — After a brutal mission, Megumi Fushiguro says something that confirms your deepest fear that your voice is a burden. You shrink yourself into silence for weeks until a chance encounter with Yuuta Okkotsu finally lets you spill everything you've been holding in. When Megumi sees you having fun with Yuuta, his own insecurities convince him he was losing you. w.c: 6.7k
[ PAIRING ] — megumi fushiguro x talkative!reader
[ TAGS ] — THIS FIC IS A REQUEST!! fem!reader, hurt/comfort, established relationship, internalized self-doubt, self-esteem issues, jealousy issues, YUUTA MENTION!!!, platonic friendships, insecure megumi. art by: @/11101AM
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The silence in Megumi Fushiguro’s apartment had never felt like a weapon before. It had always been a soft, comfortable thing. The quiet of shared space, the peace of two people who didn’t need to fill every moment with noise. But tonight, the silence it felt different.
Megumi had come home late, later than usual, his shoulders hunched and his jaw tight. You’d watched him shrug off his jacket, his movements jerky and exhausted, and your heart had clenched with sympathy. You knew he’d had a brutal week. A mission had gone sideways, leaving him with a concussion and a civilian casualty that wasn’t his fault but weighed on him anyway. Then there had been the endless debriefings, the paperwork, the sidelong glances from the higher-ups who always seemed to be waiting for him to fail. You’d seen the dark circles under his eyes deepen with each passing day, watched him pick at his food without eating, and felt him toss and turn beside you in bed long after the lights went out.
So you’d done what you always did. You’d tried to help. You’d made his favorite tea, the ginger one that stung the nose and warmed the throat. You’d set out his comfortable clothes, the soft sweater with the frayed cuffs he loved. And when he’d sunk onto the couch with a bone-deep sigh, you’d settled beside him and started talking, hoping to pull him out of his head, to distract him from the darkness you could see swirling behind his eyes.
“I was thinking about time today,” you’d begun, your voice soft and meandering, the way it always was when you were trying to soothe him. “Not like, clock time, but geological time. Did you know that if you compressed the entire history of the Earth into a single year, humans wouldn’t show up until like, eleven-forty PM on December thirty-first? And the entire recorded history of human civilization would be the last few seconds before midnight? It’s wild, right? All of our wars and art and love and everything, just this tiny little blip. And it made me think about how when you’re in the middle of a bad week, it feels like it’s going to last forever, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s not even a fraction of a fraction of a—”
“Can you just be quiet?”
The words weren’t loud. They weren’t even particularly harsh. But they stopped you cold, your mouth still half-open around the next syllable, your hands frozen mid-gesture. You stared at him, waiting for the punchline, the softening of his eyes, the small quirk of his lips that meant he was teasing.
It didn’t come.
He wasn’t looking at you. His head was tilted back against the couch, his eyes closed, and there was a furrow between his brows so deep it looked carved there. The words hung in the air between you, ugly and final, and for one bizarre, disorienting moment, a single thought cut through your shock: This isn’t Megumi.
The thought was so strong, so visceral, that your eyes darted around the room, half-expecting to see the shimmer of a veil, the telltale distortion of a curse’s technique. Because this couldn’t be real. Your Megumi—your sweet, quiet, secretly tender Megumi who let you put face masks on him and once sat through a three-hour documentary about nudibranchs because you’d said they looked like tiny sea dragons and you loved them—your Megumi would never, ever say that to you. This had to be a curse. Some vile, parasitic thing wearing his skin, twisting his voice, using his exhaustion as a doorway in.
You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until your lungs started to burn. Your hands were trembling in your lap, but you kept them still, kept your face as neutral as you could manage, while your mind spiraled through every exorcism you’d ever studied, every curse you’d ever encountered. You searched his face for some sign of the supernatural, some glint of something that wasn’t him.
Megumi’s eyes opened, and you searched them desperately. But all you saw was exhaustion. Bone-deep, soul-crushing exhaustion, and underneath it, a flicker of irritation that made your stomach drop.
He must have seen something in your expression—the wide-eyed horror, the desperate scanning—because his brow furrowed further. "Nothing is wrong, I just… I can’t right now. I need quiet. Please.”
Please. He’d said please, like it was a reasonable request, like he hadn’t just taken the thing you were most vulnerable about—the thing you’d been terrified of your entire life—and confirmed it was true. You talked too much, you shared too much, you were too much, and the one person you’d trusted with all of it had finally gotten sick of pretending otherwise.
You didn’t remember standing up. You didn’t remember walking to the bedroom. All you remembered was the click of the door closing behind you, the sound of your own heartbeat thundering in your ears, and the slow, creeping horror of a new thought slithering into your mind.
What if he’s been holding this back for our entire relationship, and tonight he just… slipped?
You pressed your back against the bedroom door and slid down until you were sitting on the floor, your knees drawn up to your chest. The tears came hot and silent, and with them, the spiral.
Because the thing was, it made sense. It made terrible, perfect sense.
You’d always known you talked a lot. You’d been told so your whole life—by teachers who moved your desk to the back of the classroom, by friends who slowly stopped returning your texts, by family members who smiled tight smiles and said, “Don’t you ever run out of things to say?” You talked when you were happy, when you were nervous, when you were sad, and when you were excited. Talking was how you processed the world. It was how you connected, how you loved, how you breathed.
And Megumi… Megumi was so quiet. He spoke in glances and small gestures, in the brush of his fingers against yours, in the way he’d make you tea without being asked. You’d always thought—hoped—that your talking was the yang to his yin, that you filled the silences he didn’t want to fill himself, that he liked it, that he liked you.
But what if he didn’t? What if every story you’d ever told him, every random observation, every excited ramble about sea slugs or cloud formations or the socioeconomic implications of ancient Roman plumbing—what if every single word had been sandpaper against his nerves? What if all those little hums and nods, the ones you’d interpreted as listening, had actually been him just… enduring?
You thought back through your entire relationship, and the memories shifted and warped before your eyes, taking on a sinister new shape. The time you’d spent forty-five minutes explaining the plot of a book he’d never read, and he’d just sat there, silent. You’d thought he was being a good listener. What if he’d been wishing you would stop? The time you’d made him watch a video essay about the history of buttons, and he’d fallen asleep halfway through. You’d teased him about it, thinking it was cute. What if he’d been so bored, so exhausted by your endless stream of words, that his body had just given up?
Every memory became evidence. Every silence became a verdict. And you, who loved him so much, realized with a sickening lurch that your love might have been a burden. That the very thing you’d been offering him—yourself, unfiltered and enthusiastic and overflowing—might have been the thing he’d secretly wished he could escape.
You didn’t sleep that night. You lay in bed, still and silent as a stone, listening to Megumi’s breathing on the other side of the mattress. He didn’t reach for you. He didn’t say anything. And that, too, felt like confirmation.
───
The next morning, you woke up with a new resolve. If Megumi needed quiet, you would give him quiet. If your talking was a burden, you would set it down. You would become smaller, neater, easier. You would be the girlfriend he deserved, not the one he’d been saddled with.
It was the hardest thing you’d ever done.
The first day, you caught yourself a dozen times. You’d open your mouth to tell him about the weird bird you’d seen outside the window, and you’d snap it shut again. You’d pick up your phone to text him a thought that had just occurred to you, and you’d set it back down. Every suppressed word felt like a small death, a little piece of yourself that you were burying alive.
But you did it. For him, you did it.
“Morning,” you said when he stumbled into the kitchen. One word. Neat. Contained. You placed his coffee in front of him—black, no sugar, the way he liked it—and turned back to the sink.
Megumi grunted in response, rubbing his eyes. He didn’t seem to notice anything different. Why would he? This was probably what he’d always wanted. A quiet morning. A peaceful coffee. A girlfriend who didn’t assault him with trivia before he’d fully woken up.
The second day was harder. You saw a dog on your walk home that looked exactly like his Divine Dog, a big black shaggy thing with soulful eyes, and your first instinct was to take a picture, to send it to him, to say, “Look! It’s your son! He’s working at a café now apparently, very distinguished!” You had your phone out, the camera app open, before you remembered. You put the phone away. You walked home in silence. And when Megumi asked, “How was your day?” you said, “Fine,” and nothing else.
The third day, the fourth day, the fifth day—they all blurred together into a haze. You’d never realized how much of your life was made of words until you had to swallow every single one. You’d never realized how lonely silence could be until you were drowning in it.
You didn’t have a lot of close friends. It wasn’t that people didn’t like you—they did, or at least, they seemed to. But friendships required maintenance, and you’d always poured so much of yourself into your relationship with Megumi that there hadn’t been much left over. He’d been your person. The one you texted at 2 AM when you had a thought that couldn’t wait. The one whose shoulder you shook when you saw something beautiful or weird or funny, because sharing it with him was what made it real.
Now you had no one. The thoughts piled up inside you, a tower of unsaid words growing taller every day. You started a journal, but it wasn’t the same. The journal didn’t hum in the right places. The journal didn’t roll its eyes fondly or call you an idiot with that particular soft inflection that meant I love you. The journal was just paper, and you were so, so lonely.
Megumi didn’t notice.
Well, that wasn’t entirely fair. He noticed something. He noticed that you were quieter, but he chalked it up to mood swings. You’d always been emotional, up and down, sunshine and rain. He figured you were going through something personal—maybe family stuff, maybe hormones, maybe just the general weight of being a sorcerer in a world that never stopped needing saving. He’d ask, “You okay?” and you’d say, “I’m fine,” and he’d accept it, because Megumi was not, by nature, a person who pushed.
A small, petty part of you wanted him to push. You wanted him to grab you by the shoulders and say, “You’re not fine. You haven’t told me a single fact about marine biology in five days. What’s wrong?” But he didn’t. He just drifted through the apartment like a ghost, and you drifted with him, two silent ships passing in a fog of your own making.
Weeks passed. You got very good at being quiet. You learned the precise number of words required to get through a day without arousing suspicion: “Good morning.” “Do you want dinner?” “I’m going to bed.”
And through it all, the thoughts kept coming. They never stopped. Every moment of every day, your brain was churning out observations, questions, connections, jokes, stories. Did you know that octopuses have three hearts? Did you know that the moon is slowly moving away from the Earth? Did you know that I love you so much it’s killing me not to tell you? The words pressed against the inside of your skull and you had nowhere to put them.
Until Yuuta.
───
You’d gone to the sorcerer headquarters to drop off some paperwork for Gojo—a favor you’d agreed to in the morning. You were walking across the training grounds, head down, already composing the text you wouldn’t send Megumi about the interesting moss pattern on the path, when you literally ran into someone.
“Oh! I’m so sorry, I wasn’t—” You looked up into a pair of kind, worried eyes, and your brain short-circuited. “Yuuta?”
Yuuta Okkotsu smiled at you, that gentle, slightly awkward smile that made him look like a startled puppy. “Hey! It’s good to see you. I feel like it’s been forever. How are you? How’s Megumi?”
And something in you, something that had been wound tight for weeks, just… snapped.
“Did you know,” you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them, “that there’s a species of jellyfish that’s biologically immortal? It’s called the Turritopsis dohrnii, and when it gets injured or stressed or just old, it can revert back to its polyp stage and start its whole life cycle over. It’s like hitting the reset button on your own existence. Scientists are studying it to see if there are applications for human aging, but honestly, I think the jellyfish is onto something. Imagine if every time you made a horrible mistake, you could just turn back into a baby and try again. Megumi would probably appreciate that, right? A do-over button for relationships? ‘Oh no, I’ve been a terrible boyfriend, time to become a polyp!’ Though I guess that’s not really fair. He’s not terrible. I’m the terrible one. I’m the one who talks too much. That’s literally what he said. Well, not literally, but implied. He said, ‘Can you just be quiet?’ and I’ve been trying, I really have, but it’s so hard because I have all these thoughts and nowhere to put them and I can’t tell him because he doesn’t want to hear it and I don’t have anyone else because he was my person and now I’m just—I’m just full. Do you ever feel full? Like you’re going to burst if you don’t say something, but if you say something, the person you love most in the world is going to look at you with that exhausted, annoyed expression, and you’ll die a little inside? No? Just me? Okay. Okay, I’m sorry. I’m doing it again. I’m talking too much. I should stop. I’m going to stop now.”
You stopped. You were breathing hard, your heart pounding, and you realized with a distant sort of horror that you’d just verbally vomited all over Yuuta Okkotsu, a man you barely knew, a man who was probably just trying to be polite and was now trapped in a conversation with a lunatic.
But Yuuta didn’t look trapped. He looked… concerned. And interested. And maybe a little bit sad.
“The jellyfish thing is really cool,” he said quietly. “Tell me more about that.”
You stared at him. “What?”
“The immortal jellyfish. How does it work, exactly? Does it remember its previous life, or is it a blank slate every time?”
It was like someone had opened a floodgate. You couldn’t stop yourself. You didn’t want to stop yourself. You told him about the cellular transdifferentiation process, about the way the jellyfish’s cells could change from one type to another, about the implications for regenerative medicine and the philosophical questions it raised about identity and consciousness and what it meant to truly die. And then, because he was still listening, still nodding, still asking questions with genuine curiosity in his dark eyes, you told him about octopuses and moon phases and the time you’d gotten lost in a museum and accidentally attended a lecture on medieval grain storage, and it had been the most fascinating hour of your life.
You talked for two hours. Two solid hours of uninterrupted, uncensored, gloriously rambling. You told Yuuta things you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding in. You told him about the specific shade of gray the sky turned before a storm, and the way Megumi’s hair fell over his eyes when he was concentrating, and the dream you’d had about flying whales, and the theory you’d developed about pigeons being government drones, and—
And through it all, Yuuta listened. He didn’t endure. He listened. He laughed at your jokes. He gasped at your revelations. He leaned in when you got to the good parts, and he shook his head in wonder when you finished a particularly convoluted tangent. He was, you realized with a pang, everything you’d been missing. Not a romantic prospect—you were too in love with Megumi for that, even now, even after everything—but a friend. A real, true friend who didn’t seem to mind that you talked too much. Who maybe even liked it.
“That was incredible,” Yuuta said when you finally wound down, your throat hoarse and your heart lighter than it had been in weeks. “You’re like a living Wikipedia, except way more entertaining. Megumi’s a lucky guy.”
The mention of Megumi’s name was like a splash of cold water. “I should… I should probably go. I’ve taken up enough of your time.”
“You didn’t take anything,” Yuuta said firmly. “I offered. And honestly?” He ducked his head, a little shy. “It was nice. I enjoyed learning so much, and if it made you feel better, then I am even more glad. So thank you. For talking to me.”
Something in your chest cracked open. “You’re welcome, thank you too for hearing me.” you whispered. And you meant it.
───
The afternoon sun was slanting through the trees of the training grounds, casting long, golden shadows across the grass, and Megumi Fushiguro was worried.
Something was wrong with you. He’d noticed it in the small things—the way you’d stopped texting him random facts in the middle of the day, the way the apartment had become so painfully quiet, the way you’d answer his questions with one-word responses and tight, brittle smiles that never reached your eyes. He’d told himself it was a mood swing, or stress, or something personal that you’d share when you were ready. He’d told himself to be patient, to give you space, to be the steady, silent presence you needed.
But today, the worry had sharpened into something sharper. You hadn’t answered your phone. Three calls, straight to voicemail. You were supposed to drop off paperwork for Gojo, a simple errand that should have taken an hour at most, but three hours had passed and you still weren’t home. Megumi had tried to ignore the cold knot forming in his stomach. He’d tried to reason with himself—maybe your phone died, maybe you got caught up talking to someone, maybe you just needed time alone. But the image of your face that morning, pale and drawn and so terribly quiet, had pushed him out the door.
He found you on a bench near the old training fields, a secluded spot dappled with light and shadow, the kind of place you used to drag him to for “cloud-watching dates” where you’d spend an hour narrating the lives of the cumulus sheep and their stratus shepherds. The memory hit him like a punch to the chest, a reminder of everything that had been missing, everything he’d somehow let slip away.
But you weren’t alone.
Yuuta Okkotsu was sitting beside you on the bench, his body angled toward you in a posture of complete, undivided attention. And you were talking. You were talking the way you used to talk to Megumi, your hands flying through the air, your face alight with an animation he hadn’t seen in weeks, your voice carrying across the grass in a bright, effervescent stream that made his heart seize in his chest.
"—And that’s why I’m convinced pigeons are actually government surveillance drones,” you were saying, your voice breathless with laughter. “I mean, think about it, Yuuta. They’re everywhere. They never migrate. They have that weird red eye thing that looks exactly like a camera lens. And have you ever seen a baby pigeon? No. You haven’t. Because they’re not born. They’re manufactured.”
Yuuta laughed—a real, genuine laugh, warm and surprised—and Megumi watched him shake his head in wonder. “That’s the most unhinged wild I’ve ever heard,” Yuuta said, but his voice was fond, almost admiring. “I love it. What else do you have? What’s your take on squirrels?”
“Oh, squirrels are just tree spies,” you said immediately, and you launched into another tangent without missing a beat, your whole body leaning toward Yuuta like he was the sun and you were a flower desperate for light.
Megumi stood frozen at the edge of the treeline, hidden in the shadows of a large oak, and watched.
He should have walked away. He should have announced himself, or texted you that he was there, or done anything other than stand there like a ghost, eavesdropping on a conversation that was never meant for his ears. But he couldn’t move. His feet were rooted to the ground, and his eyes were fixed on you, on the way you sparkled, on the way you came alive in a way you hadn’t around him in weeks.
Look at her, a voice whispered in the back of his mind, cold and insidious. Look at how happy she is. Look at how she’s glowing. You haven’t made her look like that in weeks. Maybe ever.
He tried to push the thought away, but it clung to him like a curse, sinking its claws into the softest, most vulnerable parts of his heart. He watched Yuuta lean in slightly, his dark eyes soft with genuine interest, and something bitter and acidic rose in Megumi’s throat.
Of course. Of course it’s Yuuta.
Yuuta Okkotsu, the prodigy. The special grade sorcerer who had overcome a curse born of love itself. The one everyone admired, the one everyone trusted, the one who was unfailingly kind and gentle and everything Megumi knew, deep in his bones, he could never be.
He’s perfect for her.
The thought was a knife twisting in his gut. Yuuta was everything you deserved. He was affectionate. He was emotionally available. He probably knew how to say “I love you” without choking on the words, without hoping his actions could speak loudly enough to drown out his silence. He would never snap at you after a hard week. He would never make you feel like your voice was a burden. He would listen—really listen, with his whole heart, the way he was listening now—and he would make you feel seen, cherished, adored.
And what did Megumi do? He grunted. He nodded. He made tea and hoped you understood that the steam rising from the cup meant you are my whole world. He was a coward, a man made of silences and shadows, and he’d always known, somewhere deep down, that it was only a matter of time before you realized you deserved more.
This is it, he thought, and the cold certainty of it settled over him like a shroud. She’s found someone who can give her what I can’t. Someone who can listen. She’s going to leave me.
He watched you laugh again, your hand reaching out to touch Yuuta’s arm in a gesture of easy familiarity, and something inside him cracked. You used to touch him like that. You used to look at him like that, like he was the only person in the world who mattered. And he’d thrown it away. He’d thrown it away with two stupid, careless sentences, spoken in a moment of exhausted weakness.
“Can you just be quiet?”
The memory of that night crashed over him like a wave of ice. He remembered the way your face had crumpled, the way you’d frozen, silent and terrified, before retreating to the bedroom without a word. How you’d looked at him like he was a stranger wearing a familiar face. And he’d been too tired, too wrapped up in his own misery, to follow you. He’d let you go. He’d let you think, for weeks, that your voice was a burden, that your beautiful, bright, overflowing self was something to be endured rather than cherished.
And now here you were, blooming under someone else’s attention, because he had starved you of his own.
She deserves this, he thought, and the resignation was so heavy it made his knees weak. She deserves someone who doesn’t make her feel like she has to be small. Someone who doesn’t need weeks to notice she’s dying inside. Someone like Yuuta.
Yuuta said something that made you laugh again—a full, unrestrained, head-tilted-back laugh that Megumi hadn’t heard in so long he’d almost forgotten the sound of it. The joy in it was a blade, and it cut him to the bone. He wanted to be the one making you laugh like that. He wanted to be the one you leaned toward, the one you touched, the one you trusted with your wild theories and endless curiosities. But he’d forfeited that right, hadn’t he? He’d pushed you away, and you’d found someone else to fill the space he’d left.
If you love her, you’ll let her go. The thought was noble, self-sacrificing, the kind of thought the heroes in your stories would have. But Megumi wasn’t a hero. He was a jealous, terrified, broken man who couldn’t stand the idea of losing you, even if it was exactly what he deserved.
He watched Yuuta stand up from the bench, saying something that made you smile and nod. You stood too, and for one horrible, heart-stopping moment, Megumi thought you might hug him, might press yourself against Yuuta the way you used to press against him. But you didn’t. You just waved, a cheerful, grateful wave, and Yuuta walked away, leaving you alone on the path.
Megumi should have waited. He should have let you walk home, should have given himself time to compose his thoughts, to find the right words, to be calm and rational and mature about this. But he’d spent his whole life being calm and rational and mature, and look where it had gotten him. Standing in the shadows, watching the love of his life light up for someone else because he’d been too stupid, too silent, too scared to tell her how much she meant to him.
He stepped out from behind the tree.
You saw him immediately. Your head turned at the sound of his footsteps, and the smile—the beautiful, radiant smile you’d been wearing for Yuuta—froze on your face and then slowly, painfully, died. It was like watching a door slam shut, and Megumi felt the impact in his soul.
“Megumi,” you said, and your voice was flat. Neutral. Nothing like the bright, bubbling stream he’d just been eavesdropping on. “What are you doing here?”
He opened his mouth to say something reasonable—“I was worried about you,” or “Your phone was off,” or “Let’s go home and talk about this calmly”—but what came out instead was: “So that’s it, then. You’re going to leave me for him.”
Your eyes widened. “What?”
“Yuuta.” Megumi’s voice was shaking, and he hated it. He hated the way he couldn’t control it, the way all the fear and jealousy and self-loathing he’d been swallowing for weeks was spilling out of him like poison. “I saw you. Just now. You were so happy, talking to him. You were so… you were yourself again. And you haven’t been yourself with me in weeks. So I get it, okay? I get it. He’s better than me. He’s everything I’m not. And you deserve someone like him.”
The words hung in the air between you, ugly and raw and desperate. Megumi watched your face cycle through shock, confusion, and then—slowly, devastatingly—understanding.
“You were watching us,” you said quietly.
“I came looking for you.” He couldn’t meet your eyes anymore. He stared at the ground, at the grass, at the ants marching in a neat line across the path. “You weren’t answering your phone. I was worried. And then I saw you with him, and you were talking the way you used to talk to me, and I just… I knew. I knew you’d finally realized I’m not enough.”
“Megumi—”
“Do you know what I was thinking the whole time I watched you two?” The words kept coming. His hands were shaking at his sides. His chest was so tight he could barely breathe. “I was thinking, ‘Of course. Of course it’s Yuuta.’ Yuuta is kind and gentle and he probably never forgets to tell you how much he loves you. He probably listens to every word you say and tells you you’re brilliant and doesn’t just grunt and hope you understand. He’s affectionate and he’s sweet and he’s exactly what you need, and I’m just… I’m just me. I’m dark and quiet and broken, and I’ve always known, deep down, that someday you’d wake up and realize you could do better.”
He finally looked up at you, and the expression on your face made his heart shatter into a thousand pieces. You were crying. Silent tears were streaming down your cheeks, and you were looking at him with something that wasn’t anger or confirmation—it was heartbreak. Pure, aching heartbreak.
“Oh, Megumi,” you whispered.
He couldn’t stop. Everything he’d been holding in for years was pouring out in an uncontrollable torrent. “He’s better for you. Everyone knows it. Gojo, Nobara, probably even you. Yuuta is the kind of person who deserves someone like you—someone bright and warm and full of life. I’m just the guy who told you to shut up when you were trying to help me. I’m the guy who didn’t notice you were dying inside for three whole weeks because I was too wrapped up in my own head. I’m the guy who can’t even say ‘I love you’ without feeling like I’m going to choke on it. So go ahead.” His voice cracked, and he felt the hot sting of tears in his own eyes, tears he’d been fighting for weeks, for years, for a lifetime. “If you’re going to leave me for him, just do it. I won’t stop you. I won’t fight. I just… I need to know.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Megumi stood there, trembling, his heart laid bare in the ugliest possible way, waiting for the axe to fall. He’d said it. He’d said all of it—every fear, every insecurity, every dark thought that had ever whispered in the back of his mind. And now you knew. Now you knew exactly how fucked up he was, exactly how little he thought of himself, exactly how terrified he’d been from the very beginning that you would leave.
You took a step toward him. Then another. And then you were right in front of him, your hands reaching up to cup his face, your thumbs brushing away the tears he hadn’t even realized had fallen.
“You absolute walnut,” you said, your voice thick with tears. “I’m not leaving you for Yuuta.”
Megumi blinked. “You’re… you’re not?”
“I’m not.” You tightened your grip on his face, forcing him to meet your eyes. “I’m not in love with Yuuta. I don’t want Yuuta. I want you, you emotionally constipated disaster of a man. I have always wanted you.”
“But you were so happy with him,” Megumi whispered, and the words came out small and broken. “You were laughing. You were talking. You were… you were yourself. And you haven’t been yourself with me in weeks. I thought… I thought you’d finally found someone who could make you happy.”
Your face crumpled. “I haven’t been myself with you because you told me to be quiet,” you said, and the words were gentle but they hit him even harder. “You told me to be quiet, and I thought… I thought you’d been holding that in our whole relationship. I thought every story I’d ever told you, every random fact, every ramble about clouds or sea slugs or whatever—I thought you’d just been enduring it. I thought my voice was a burden to you, the person I loved most in the world. So I tried to be less. I tried to be what I thought you wanted. And it was killing me, Megumi. It was killing me because I have all these things I want to tell you, all these thoughts and ideas and questions, and I couldn’t, because I was so terrified you’d look at me the way you did that night. Like I was exhausting. Like I was too much.”
Megumi felt the ground tilt beneath him. Everything you were saying—it was so much worse than he’d imagined. He’d thought you were pulling away because you’d outgrown him. He’d thought you were preparing to leave because you’d found someone better. But the truth was so much more devastating: you’d been trying to stay. You’d been contorting yourself into someone smaller, someone quieter, someone you thought he wanted, and it had been destroying you. And he’d been so blind, so self-absorbed, that he hadn’t even noticed.
“I talked to Yuuta today because I was desperate,” you continued, your voice breaking. “I’ve been drowning in silence for weeks, and he was there, and he listened. That’s it. That’s all it was. He was a life raft in the middle of an ocean I’ve been trying not to drown in. He’s not you. He’ll never be you. I don’t want a life raft. I want my person back. I want the man who makes me tea without being asked and lets me put face masks on him and sits through documentaries about nudibranchs even though he’s probably bored out of his mind. I want you, Megumi. Just you. But I need you to talk to me. Actually talk to me. With words. Out loud. So I don’t have to guess what’s going on in that beautiful, overthinking brain of yours.”
Megumi stared at you, his heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat. “You want… me? Still? Even after everything?”
“Even after everything.” You smiled, a watery, trembling smile that was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “I’m still mad at you, by the way. Very mad. ‘Can you just be quiet?’ What kind of thing is that to say to the love of your life?”
“I’m sorry.” The words came out in a rush, desperate and sincere. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I was exhausted and I was taking it out on you, and that’s not an excuse, it’s just… it’s the truth. I was drowning in my own head, and you were trying to help, and I pushed you away because I’m an idiot who doesn’t know how to accept love. I should have apologized the next morning. I should have apologized every single day for the past three weeks. I should have noticed. I should have seen that you were hurting and asked you what was wrong instead of just… assuming.”
You shook your head, still holding his face in your hands. “Don’t blame yourself. I know you love me, Megumi. But sometimes I need the words too. Sometimes I need you to tell me, out loud, that I’m not too much. That my voice isn’t a burden. That you like listening to me.”
“You’re not too much.” The words came out fierce, almost angry in their intensity. “You’ve never been too much. You’re exactly enough. You’re more than enough. Your voice is—it’s the best part of my day. Every day. When you talk to me about clouds or jellyfish or the socioeconomic implications of Roman plumbing, it’s like you’re chasing all the shadows out of my head. I’m not bored. I’m never bored. I’m just… quiet. I’ve always been quiet. But that doesn’t mean I’m not listening. That doesn’t mean I don’t love every single word.”
You were crying again, but you were smiling too, and Megumi realized with a jolt that these were good tears. Relief tears. The tears of someone who had been holding their breath for weeks and was finally, finally allowed to exhale.
“I’m sorry I compared myself to Yuuta,” he said quietly. “I just… I saw you with him, and you looked so happy, and I thought… I thought maybe he could give you something I can’t.”
“He’s not you,” you said simply. “And I don’t want someone who isn’t you. Yuuta is sweet. He’s kind. He’ll probably make some other rambling disaster of a person very happy someday. But he’s not my person. You are. You’ve always been my person.” You paused, and a mischievous glint flickered in your tear-bright eyes. “Now, I have approximately four hundred more facts to tell you, and I’ve been holding them in for three weeks, and I’m pretty sure my brain is going to explode.”
Megumi let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob, and he didn’t kiss you—not yet. Instead, he pulled you into his arms and held you as tight as he could without breaking you, burying his face in your hair and breathing you in like you were oxygen and he’d been drowning for weeks.
“Tell me,” he whispered against your temple. “Tell me everything. I’m listening. I swear I’m listening.”
“Did you know that wombats have cube-shaped poop?”
He laughed, a real laugh, startled out of him by the sheer absurdity of it. “…What?”
“It’s true! It’s so they can stack it to mark their territory without it rolling away. Nature is amazing and also deeply weird, and I have so many more where that came from. Are you ready?”
“I’m ready,” he said, and he meant it. He was ready to listen. He was ready to learn. He was ready to spend the rest of his life proving to you that your voice was the most precious thing in his world, that your words were never a burden, that he would never, ever make you feel small again.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, to take in the way the setting sun caught the tears still drying on your cheeks and turned them to gold. “I love you,” he said, and the words didn’t choke him the way they usually did. They felt right. They felt necessary. “I should have said it more. I love you and I love your voice and I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to be quiet.”
Your smile, when it came, was the sun breaking through the clouds after a storm. “I love you too, you walnut.”
And then you kissed him, and he kissed you back, and the silence between you wasn’t a weapon anymore. It was a soft thing. A comfortable thing. A thing you could share together, without fear.
Later, you would walk home together, your hand in his, and you would tell him everything—the immortal jellyfish, the medieval grain storage, the flying whales, the specific shade of gray the sky turned before a storm. He would listen to every word, and he would ask questions, and he would make the right hums in the right places, and he would silently vow to spend the rest of his life being the kind of partner who deserved the gift of your voice.
But for now, there was just this: the two of you standing in the golden afternoon light, holding each other like you’d found your way home after a long and lonely journey. The sky overhead was doing that thing you loved—turning that specific shade of gray before a storm—and you’d tell him about it later. You had time. You had all the time in the world.
SYNOPSIS: the events that transpire a few days after you finally met your fiancé.
𖥔 WORDCOUNT: 5.9k (well shit the wc doubled...) ┆ 𖥔 TAGS. @amorsial @axolotsofluv @tragedy-of-commons @al97649 @shoyosluver @aritsukemo @katethecrazy @rainbows-dreams @hirokasama @uzxotic @anqelkoz @nishayuro @leafyonz @suyeomiiee @ddurandals @007-archives @officialkatzline @pjselee @remi-093 @baizhuskitten @keijimaki @hwiseguy @karasunowos @furina-archon @pandasandcreampuffs @lhvliei @withluvfremi @marie-is-in-the-dark @sofatodoroki @xeraaxx @istickforksinelectricaloutlets @tulip67 @milk-violet (IM SO SORRY IF I MISSED ANYONE TT) -> come join the taglist here!
𖥔 WARNINGS: lohen gets slapped, twice. him being an idiot, flustered, awkward, and the like. idky they're really cheesy and just fluff. mentions of diluc. creative liberties with his background (only a smidge though (i still havent met him in game (i deleted the game))). reader still has/implied mommy issues; not fully proofread; expect mistakes!
♪ FINAL NOTES .ᐟ hi gang hahaha... i lived! so sorry for the lack of updates on this acc i fear i may have. um... been maxxing with the evil residents. REGARDLESS ITS HERE YAY!!! it kinda derailed from my initial outline but wtv, it's still lohen. art credits: @.su3ka_ on x!
you come to realize fairly quickly that master diluc, the most sought-after bachelor in all of mondstadt, is a great host. it shoudln't come as a surprise — you've met him enough times in galas and celebrations to know that his manners are impeccable. the kind of fortress you can't take down even if you had an archon's blessings at your fingertips. he's also, without a doubt, exceptionally kind. kind enough to assist you out onto the roof after another heated argument with your mother.
in that quick bumping of shoulders in the dim-lit hallways, there's a part of you that regrets not being more mindful of his letter all those months ago. warm, ruby eyes that remind you of the flames the villages in snezhnaya would light to guide their traveling companions home. diluc ragnvindr, when he takes your gloved hand in his, leading you outside to soak in the evening breeze and away from your mother's screaming.
you let go of his hand once you're out of earshot. partly in fear of never letting it go, another feels like you're betraying your fiancé by taking the hand of another man.
"thank you, master diluc," you expressed with a forlorn, tired smile. arms hugging yourself for comfort as the shouting slowly grew quieter.
diluc only nods in understanding, slowly making his way to stand beside you, being mindful of his distance from you. "i used to come here often, too. when i was younger," he confessed, eyes straining to watch the distant clouds shape themselves into a childhood memory — distant, intimate, but no less important.
you don't meet his eyes, not even sparing him another glance as you stare at the hand he held. he was a warm presence, the complete contrast to the brief contact you had with lohen at his tavern earlier today.
"i'm sorry for causing such an uproar so late in your own home, no less."
"there's no need to apologize," he reassures. you think he turns to face you, and in your mind, you can imagine an understanding smile creeping up his face. "arguments are normal."
not ours. you thought. they were normal in the sense that they happened too often. you'd even go as far as comparing it to breathing — natural, easy, a necessity.
"did it ever get better?" you ended up asking before you could stop. arms hugging yourself tighter and tighter when the wind caressed your figure. it was warm, surprisingly enough. it reminded you of home, wherever that is.
diluc hums. "it does with time. you just have to be… patient."
"speaking from experience?"
at that, he chuckles. his shoulders bounce with the quiet sound as he pushes himself up to his full height and returns inside. "yes, unfortunately."
you don't press further, only offering him one quiet "thank you" under your breath. you stay on the porch for a long while until your father comes to get you. you don't pay attention to how he begins to explain why your mother lashed out, nor do you care enough to play pretend when her tears greet you as you enter the living space.
you nod, accept, and bid them good night.
lohen's first impression of you that night in the tavern can be summed up with one word: miserable. you looked utterly, and wholeheartedly, miserable.
it was hard not to notice when he grew up with people who smiled all the time and laughed as if tomorrow wasn't guaranteed. you stood out like a sore thumb, even in the quietest corner of angel's share, with your hand absentmindedly swirling the drink in your cup, letting others pass you by as if you were some spectre meant to haunt the establishment.
maybe that's how he finds himself in this… precarious situation—
"vice-captain…?!"
— with him, right outside of your bedroom window, balancing his weight on a nimble branch on a tree.
"what are you doing? that's dangerous!"
lohen sighs heavily with a shake of his head. he should've expected this. why hadn't he? after all, you were the new pretty face in town who had no idea what his character entailed. but a part of him, that overbearingly, big part of him that loved the thrill, enjoyed your frazzled expression. how you hurriedly opened the window, hair still an unbrushed mess, leaning against the windowsill with your hand outstretched for him to take.
"what are you waiting for?! take my hand and get inside before you hurt yourself!"
he taps a finger on his chin, pretending to think about your suggestion deeply. a grin threatened to break out of his face as he swayed on the branch, purposefully stepping on one that couldn't hold his weight, and watched as you sucked in a terrified breath. "hmm… what about, no!"
"'no?!'" you startingly asked, "are you asking for a death wish? that drop is going to hurt you!"
he places a hand over his heart, a slight jut to his lips as he dramatically plays the act of a wounded man. "ouch, do you think of me so weak—"
"i think of you as stupid! now come on," you cut him off, bunching up the fabric of your sleepwear and leaning further out of the window. "get inside!"
"your grace, hold on—"
"for the love of…! just come here!"
"you're going to fall—!"
lohen can't even begin to imagine the expression on his face when your palm slipped from the windowsill. his body is moving faster than it ever has, adrenaline pumping into his veins as he leaps off the branch to wrap a secure arm over your shoulders, letting gravity pull him down as he uses his own body to shield yours from the impact.
"oh barbatos…" he curses under his breath, feeling the wind in his lungs get knocked out of him.
"shit…! are you okay?! come on, let me see if you hit your head."
"relax a little, your grace. i can take a little fall—"
"that was not 'little' by any means!"
when lohen comes back to his senses, he thinks he is doomed.
your hand is cradling his jaw again, your brows furrowed, and your lips set in a deep frown. his fingers flex, his throat goes dry, and his entire being freezes over like a lake during a horrid snowstorm.
you weren't wearing—
"what in the tsaritsa's name are you two doing?!"
lohen quickly sits up, taking you along with him. hands securely on your forearm while the other is wrapped around your waist. when he looks at you — really looks at you — there's a flush on your cheeks, and your mouth is agape. and when lohen slowly turns around, your mother is there, anger flaring in her eyes as your father and diluc rush out because of the noise.
he flashes her a strained smile, "duchess… good morning!"
"lohen…" diluc pinches the bridge of his nose as he helps him up and gives him a pointed look. he only chuckles nervously, or as nervously as his system would allow him, before it's overridden entirely with a new emotion blooming in his chest. "are you alright, your grace?"
"i'm fine, thank you."
lohen quietly hums to himself as you're ushered inside, leaving him alone with your seething mother and unreadable father. you take one last glance at him over your shoulder, and he sees it again — that same miserable look in your eyes.
your father clears his throat, pulling his attention from you to him. "vice-captain lohen, i expect to receive a reasonable explanation."
he sighs again. he's in deep shit now.
dawn winery is as lohen expected: bathed in a deep crimson curtain, carrying the afterscent of crushed grapes, and a tense, almost foreboding atmosphere as he's taken up to diluc's office on the second floor.
your parents followed behind the young master wordlessly—the duke kept his hand on the small back of the duchess as she spewed out every known insult in her mother tongue. lohen sighed, a deep, irritated sound as he caught your eyes when he went up the stairs. the worry is almost misplaced, with your hands interwined with one another and clutched at your chest. it's not like lohen was going to war and will never make it out alive—it's just another small scolding for his behaviour, something he's gotten used to since he joined the knights.
still.
lohen still flashed you a smile, praying it didn't come out depricating. he thought it might have worked when you finally eased your shoulders, reciprocating his own smile, though yours never quite reached the edge of your eyes.
he wondered in that moment what it would be like—if you smiled freely without another worry.
"vice-captain," diluc called out, one hand held the door open as your parents entered first. the business tycoon only raised a brow when lohen sighed, his fingers brushed off any remaining dust on his uniform, and fixing his hair.
he may not be the picture-perfect knight you had imagined to marry, but he could at least try to play the part in front of your parents.
when lohen entered, he crossed his hands behind his back, straightening his posture and met the duchess's eyes with unyielding force. the older woman hid half of her face behind a golden fan, her eyes narrowed into a deep glare, and lohen caught the slightest of frowns on her face. it took everything in his willpower not to poke fun at her; she was still your mother after all. it didn't mean he held her in high regard—not after he overheard the way she spoke to you as if you were a child in the streets of mondstadt.
lohen may be a lot of things, but he did not meddle in others' affairs, and he never will.
"young master diluc, are you sure you won't change your mind? clearly, this vice-captain is ill-suited for my child!"
it didn't mean he can't feel angry on your behalf, too.
"your grace—" diluc tried to argue. keyword: try. he couldn't even get a full sentence out as the duchess erupted into a flurry of reasons on why lohen shouldn't marry you.
"did you not see what happened earlier today?! who in their right mind would try to break into my child's room through the window! it's entirely improper, and downright incivil! my child has never wanted to marry the vice-captain in the first—"
"forgive my imprudence, your grace," lohen chimed in, a hand raised and that chilling smile on his face. his red eyes left the duchess to instead hold the duke's. clearly, he was more reasonable than his fury-striken wife. "but how can you be sure that the young heir doesn't want to marry me? have you asked?"
"lohen, your words," diluc warned, stepping in closer behind him.
"ask?!" the duchess exclaimed, her fan snapping shut as she pointed it accusingly at him.
lohen only smiled, his hand dropping to his side as he tilted his head. "yes, ask! you know, one of the crucial steps in understanding what the young heir wants? don't tell me you haven't asked a single thing?"
he knew he was entering treacherous lands. lohen could practically feel the hiss that diluc let out as his voice chirped into a higher tone—lacking the discipline of a knight and taking the form of a madman pointing mockery like a blade.
"with all due respect, duchess, i don't take you for the type to know your child at all!"
"lohen, enough—"
diluc's interventions go in one ear and out the other as he continued. the air turned icy as his hand tried to reach for the dagger hidden in his cape. the glare on the duchess's face remained directed at his smile. mocking, strained, and above all, knowing.
"your child doesn't trust you, do they, duchess?"
an echoing snap reverberated into the air as lohen's head flew to the side. the stinging followed, and then another harsh hit was directed at the opposite cheek. it wasn't the duchess's hand, but rather, her fan.
"duchess!" the man in red rushed in, his hand seizing the older woman's in his to stop another hit from landing on lohen's face.
"you vulgar, utterly uncivilized, monster—!"
"enough of this!"
if not for the duke's shouts, lohen was sure his wife wouldn't stop until his skull cracked open. cool, sticky blood dripped from the cut on his right cheek. he hissed when he dragged a finger on the open wound, but he kept his expression unreadable. a distinct contrast to the woman who stood before him, red in the face, and her hair coming undone from her outburst.
the duke looked to lohen, something akin to pity and a quiet apology swimming in his eyes. "vice-captain, i appreciate you wanting what's best for my child—"
"i somehow doubt that," lohen whispered under his breath. he received a warning glare from diluc, who now stood behind him, as if he was daring the older couple to make another rash decision.
"but they are my heir. our family name holds great expectations, and we want their future partner to help ease that load."
lohen held his tongue. he's quite sure he'd receive another unforgiving hit to the face if he made another comment about his wife.
"with your reputation and your hunger for battle, we can't help but worry that my child will be put in danger—"
"your grace, i can assure you," lohen cuts off, feeling the iron grip of diluc's hand holding the one behind his back that prevented him from unsheathing his dagger. "i have no plans of putting anyone in danger."
the glare in lohen's eyes remained, jutting his chin up at the duke as his smile dropped. "i care not for what you've heard about me. you can call me a monster, a barbarian, or anything along those lines. but do not even assume that i will put an innocent life in danger. i am a knight, and for you to insinuate that i can't even keep my fiancé safe, well, it's rather offensive."
he broke free from diluc's grasp and turned his back on the couple, uncaring for the duchess's shouts for him to stop. he swung the door open and let it shut with a loud bang. the stray maids and workers in the hallway flinched at the noise, but lohen paid them no mind. not when you're waiting by the end of the corridor, that look in your eyes again when they fall to the cut on his cheek.
"your grace!" he chortled, hands immediately crossing behind him as he sauntered to stand in front of you. his finger twitched, tempted to ease that furrow of your brows and tease you about getting wrinkles. "we we're just wrapping things up. now, why don't you go change. i have a tour to—"
"who hit you?"
lohen paused. his mouth hung open for a few seconds, no sound leaving his lips as he tried to come up with an answer you'll be satisfied with. he knew, though—he knew that you already knew the answer and you're already taking the blame.
"vice-captain, i asked you a question." your tone changed. no longer as quiet, but it comes out as a whisper—as if you were asking him to confess a crime he had committed.
he only sighed, a hand coming to press on the wound. a poor attempt at hiding it when your own came to hold his wrist in place. your frown deepened, stepping closer to his face to inspect it.
"it's nothing i can't handle, your grace," he assured. "this is practically a papercut in comparison to what i've—"
"that's not my question. i'm asking you who dared to lay a hand on you."
"… oh!"
lohen internally grimaced. of all the things he could have said, he chose the lamest one. he tried to break away from your gaze, finding more interest in the swaying chandelier in the main entrance, but you stepped right into his line of view.
"lohen."
this was the first time you called him by his name, he thought.
"who did this to you?"
another sigh, and lohen yielded. his shoulders relaxed, practically slumping into your arms. he doesn't answer, not the one you wanted to hear anyway. but you only dragged him further into the manor, taking a sharp left and unlocking a door. you ushered him inside, and lohen can only limply follow.
he took in the interior of your temporary room—still dominated by the color of red, a bit of gold, and a few pieces of parchment on your bedside drawer. he stood in the middle of it all, unsure if sitting on the foot of your bed would be too casual, rude, but you beat him to it by dragging the chair of your vanity.
"sit," you ordered, lohen followed without another word.
you worked quietly to patch his wound. he noted that your vision lay ignored in a wooden box to your right as you dabbed a cloth to his cheek, while your hand held the other to keep in place. you'd apologize quietly when lohen winced, and he'd only assure you with a playful grin that he could handle the pain.
"say," he started, eyes landing on the dendro vision on your bed. "why not use your vision like you did last time?"
"i can't," was your only reply.
lohen tilted his head in curiosity, to which you reprimanded him for. he only chuckled out an apology as the question lay heavily on the tip of his tongue. he noticed, of course, your faces were mere inches apart. if he leaned just a little closer, he was sure your lips would ghost over his. he wondered what it would feel like? lohen wasn't one for romance—barbatos forbid if he picked up those cheesy romance novels from inazuma his team would indulge themselves in.
but still, he can't help but be engrossed in the idea of it. you're his fiancé, he'd have to kiss you at the wedding. the idea douses him in a fluster, making him cough as you worriedly ask if he's alright. he waved you off, another chuckle leaving his lips as he lets you tend to his wound with utmost care.
the thought came back, a little quieter this time. your hands were gentle—softly wiping away the blood and placing a bandage over the wound. you eventually tilted his head to the side, and a frown settled on your face as you saw how red it truly is. it was unlike anything he's ever felt before. there was no sharpening of arrowheads or harsh training regimes. it was quiet, not like a night spent hiding behind the curtains of a ransacked carriage, but the kind when a storm had finally settled, and you can finally open the window and greet the sun.
"is it because of her? your mother?" lohen sneered, his eyes held yours in a locked stance. "is that why you can't use your vision?"
you only shook your head, "it's not important—"
"but it is," he insisted, a gloved hand held you in place before you could even take a step back. "it is important—to me. i am your fiancé, and it's my job to know what's bothering you."
you stared at him, your mouth opening and closing as you mull over his words. mincing every little shift of his expression, but lohen remained steady in his proclamation. you quietly sat on the edge of your bed, his red eyes not once leaving your figure as you reached for the vision, placing it on your lap.
a sigh escaped you. lohen felt your palm lay flat on his unwounded cheek as the smell of dewdrops and soil invaded his senses. he realized then, as your fingertips glowed with a light green, that you were using it to heal the sharp pain on his face.
"do you think flowers can grow under the ice?"
"pardon?"
you flashed him a sad smile, retracting your hand as you returned the vision in its wooden box, snapping the lid shut and shoving it under your pillows.
"there's this story, one from my childhood that my mother would often tell me," you recounted, and lohen leaned forward, his arms braced on his thighs as he watched you. "the story tells the adventure of a gardener and his dying wife. there's no cure for her ailment, and her only wish is to see the flowers in their garden finally bloom. but they lived atop a snowy mountain where the sun is constantly behind the clouds—no flower could survive its harsh climate."
you took a deep breath. "the gardener, determined to find a way to grant his wife's wish, ventured into the unknown in search of a flower that could withstand the snow. he eventually finds it, but comes home too late. his wife had already passed, and struck with grief, the man burned the flower he found. when it was time to bury her, he realized grimly that there were flowers in their garden—hidden beneath mountains of snow."
"then flowers can grow under the ice," lohen noted.
you only shook your head, "it's not about the flowers, vice-captain."
"then what is it about?"
"the moral of the story is that, when under harsh circumstances, love pushes you to ignore the things that matter."
he frowned. "so, the garden never mattered?"
"it didn't, not as much as his wife did," you correct forlornly. "love cannot take root under such harsh conditions, but it's still love nonetheless."
his tongue prodded against his cheek, eyes landing on the floor as his foot started tapping. his mind mulled over the fairytale until it all clicked. when he looked up, you're already looking at him, patiently waiting for him to catch up to what the real reason you've been forbidden to use your vision.
lohen only scoffed. "don't tell me you're calling that love."
you're wrong, the thought. if love cannot take root, then it can't be love.
it shouldn't have to struggle in harsh conditions to begin with.
the vice-captain only sighed, a hand coming to ruffle his hair as he stood. "okay, enough mopping. go change, i'll wait for you outside," he announced, already making his way to the door.
"hold on!" you tried to catch up to him but he's already out of the room. faintly, you heard him call out to you.
"oh, and bring your vision!"
the vice-captain told you he'd be taking you on a tour around mondstadt, and he did. well, only in one area in particular.
"vice-captain—"
"lohen."
you stared at the back of his head, burning holes as he held your hand and practically dragged you across the fields of dorman port. he hasn't once turned to look back at you unless it's to catch you when you stumble on uneven ground, or when you tug at his hand to stop and greet the villagers.
"lohen," you tried again, and this time, he hummed. "where exactly are you taking me?"
"it's a secret," he quipped, and you let out an exasperated breath.
"are we even allowed to be here?"
he chuckled at your words, "relax, your grace. i am the vice-captain for a reason. if we get in trouble, i'll handle it."
"i'd prefer if we didn't get into any trouble at all."
"well, a little trouble won't hurt anyone."
you raised an amused brow at him when he finally turned around, catching your gaze with equal mirth in his eyes. "it can land a fan on the cheek, apparently."
lohen blinked at you, stopping dead in his tracks, and you fear you may have overstepped. but much to your shock, lohen leaned closer to your face, his head tilted to the side in glee.
"so you can take a joke. good to know!"
you let out an offended sound as he lohen returned to dragging you to archon knows where. "and what is that supposed to mean?!"
"nothing!" he shrugged off.
"it clearly does."
"and i'm telling you, your grace, it means absolutely nothing."
another exasperated sigh escaped you before finally giving up on questioning the man. he had no intentions of answering you directly or telling you where you're going. with a shake of your head, you turned your gaze away from him and to the setting sun in the horizon. there are beds of wild grass and flowers as you walk further and further away from the main city.
"i used to practice archery around here," lohen suddenly spoke. he stopped and you bumped into his back. with a quick apology, he gently guided you to look at where his eyes had landed. "i would watch my dad set up the targets, and he'd spend the entire day shooting them down only to set them back up. pretty boring routine, if you ask me."
you remained quiet behind him, not making any effort to follow him as he crossed the small river in front of you. but still, he continued his story.
"he never let me practice, that's why i never fought back that night," lohen turned back to you, his hand outstretched, waiting for you to take. you had a faint idea of what he was referring to. rumours travel fast, especially if it's about a grim tragedy that involved your fiancé's involvement in a kidnapping case years ago. "after that, i'd sneak out to train. fight a few hillichurls here and there. and then slip back into my room so my mom wouldn't realize."
he noticed your hesitation, so lohen stood in the river, letting his boots be soaked in cold water, his hand still outstretched. "you asked me if flowers could bloom under ice this morning. it reminded me of how my mom would always plant flowers in our backyard when i was a kid. my old man would call them a waste of time, and she got so mad, she hid his bow and all the arrows, forcing him to work on the garden with her."
a chuckle escaped him; his eyes stared distantly at his own reflection on the water. he only raised his head when another pair of shoes stood right across from his, and his reflection rippled to replace it with yours.
"can i ask you a question, your grace?" he asked, barely above a whisper.
you only nodded, and you felt his hand tighten around yours as he took a deep breath.
"can a flower bloom if it's unloved?"
you stared at him in shock, brows furrowed as you questioned, "what do you mean?"
"don't pretend, your grace," lohen bellowed. "i'm starting to wonder if you're even allowed to do anything under your mother's scrutinizing gaze. does she even love you?"
a flash of hurt swam in your eyes as you abruptly pried your hand out of his grasp. but lohen was faster, seizing your wrist before you can turn away from him and run where he couldn't follow. "forgive my imprudence, i seem to be doing that a lot nowadays, but i can't sit idly and let you accept this."
"why do you care?" you seethed out, shoulders shaking.
"i'm your fiancé—"
"on paper, vice-captain. we are expected by everyone to be married."
"but do you want to?"
lohen turned you around, his hands came up to hold you by your shoulders as his presence demanded you to meet his gaze. he didn't glare, not really—not at you. but his jaw is locked, his shoulders are squared. as if he's waiting for some monster to hit him on the back when he least expects it.
he repeated the question, "do you want to, your grace? do you want to get married to me?"
"why so suddenly?" you asked in bewilderment, ears ringing with each ragged breath he took.
"because i refuse to be like them. you deserve to choose what you think is best for you," lohen mumbled, his grip on you loosening as his eyes fell to where your shoes are both soaked. "i refuse to take away something that was yours to begin with—your ability to choose. so answer me: do you or do you not want to marry me?"
it sounded like a pained plea, as if lohen was already stricken with a deadly blow and was bleeding out in your arms at this very moment. he very well may be just that, with the way his lips are tugged into a deep frown, or how his voice came out shaky, lacking that recklessness you've come to associate him with.
"say something, your grace. you're killing me here."
your mind is telling you no. no, you don't want to get married, not to him, not to anyone. but your heart—that traitorous little thing—had taken reign of your emotions as you continued to look into lohen's eyes.
you looked back to the night you met him—all spunk and blood and flowers. flowers you've kept safe from your mother's hands by hiding them behind your clothes in the closet. you remembered the maids of dawn winery helping you slip into a spare room to overhear the conversation in diluc's office, uncaring of how improper you had looked as curiosity took over. you recalled the flush in your cheeks as lohen defended your honor vehemently against the person who made it her job to break you down in pieces.
lohen stood still in that room, going against all instincts that told him to fight back—all for your sake.
and now, he's taken you here—to where he grew up and told you a story of his own—to give you something no one has ever offered you.
a choice.
your mouth moved before you can fully catch up.
"i do."
you relished it, you thought to yourself, the way lohen's head snapped up at your voice and how his cheeks immediately flushed.
"y-you… do?" he sounded meek, so unlike the brave vice-captain who moved before danger could take a step in their direction. your selfish heart can't help but want all that to yourself—that vice-captain who would blush, and stutter, and give you a choice.
"yes, i do," you decided then and there, that everyone was wrong about him. you flashed him a smile, hands reaching up to brush the hair that shielded his eyes from your view. that rush of delight came back when lohen straightened his back, a curled fist hiding half of his face as he fumbled out a reply.
"… okay. okay! that settles it then!"
you don't point out that he's rambling, or how that blush on his face never really cooled down. he'd tug at his collar, look at anywhere but you, and when he caught it, lohen would quickly duck with a clear of his throat. a quiet laugh left your chest as you look down at your hands—you don't even recall when his fingers had intertwined with yours.
"we… we should go back," you uttered, eyes watching the sun dip over the horizon until you can barely see it. "they might be wondering where we are."
lohen nodded stiffly, clearing his throat one last time. "you're right…"
you only hummed as you both began the journey back to dawn winery. it would take a while, but you didn't mind. every now and then, you'd try to catch a glimpse of lohen, who would always look away when your eyes locked. and each time, you'd laugh under your breath. it felt strange—to see this fighter, known for his unmatched desire for danger, be so shy. it almost felt unreal.
a shiver racked up your arms as a chilly breeze came to greet you. by the time you had fully left dorman port, the sun had fully set. in the distance, you both could hear the gallops of horses. when you met lohen's gaze, who was already looking at you, you both share another laugh.
"i suppose they've come to get us," you surmized.
lohen only hummed, his fingers unclasped the cape on his shoulder and draped it across yours. "i guess so. it has gotten pretty late."
"lohen, i—" before you could finish, a familiar boisterous voice interrupted you.
"there you are, your grace, lohen!" varka trutted in on his stallion, a wide grin on his face as a lantern is held in his grasp.
"of course it's the grandmaster," lohen grumbled under his breath, to which you chuckled.
"i'd be more surprised if it wasn't him," you murmured back, waving your hand to notify the gradnmaster that you've heard him.
varka quickly left his horse and jogged up to you, his blue eyes surveying your form wrapped in lohen's coat. his gaze eventually settled on the vice-captain, a smirk on his face as he called for the other nights to hurry.
you're eventually escorted onto the back of a carriage as lohen conversed with the grandmaster. you faintly heard the rise in his voice, and when you looked in their direction, an amused smile made its way to your face as a fervent blush overtook his pale cheeks. he eventually stomped his way to your carriage, freezing in the motion of lifting the curtains to find you staring at him with mirth in your eyes.
he glared at you, but it only spurred you to laugh louder.
"taking the grandmaster's side now, are we?" he hissed with a roll of his eyes.
"it wasn't my intention to eavesdrop," you admit. but lohen only rolled his eyes again, playfully pushing you further into the carriage to make room for him. you raised a brow in question when he settles right beside you, "don't you have your own stallion?"
he dramatically clutched at his chest, "so you don't want me here?"
"that's not what i meant!" you argued back, but it barely registers when you're a giggling mess.
"no, no, i understand," he's already trying to get up with a pained sigh. "i'll ride on my horse, let my back be in pain until we reach the city, while you stay here."
"lohen," you whined out, a smile on your lips as you caught the edge of his sleeve. a playful grin on your face as you lowered your voice to a whisper, "won't you stay and keep me warm?"
the reaction is immediate. his cheeks erupt into another blush, his voice breaking as he stammered out a reply. you don't hear any of it—not like his words made any sense—and tugged him down to sit again. this time, you took the initiative to slip your fingers into his. relishing in the way his pulse jumped when your brush against his pulse point.
"you're making fun of me," lohen huffed, his lips ghosting just the crown of your head. you don't hide the smile on your face—not when you felt him lean back and the carriage finally be set in motion.
you scoot closer to him, looping your arm in his as you only hummed. your other hand tugged his cape closer to you, letting yourself be wrapped entirely in him. lohen hesitantly raised an arm to fix the cape before it settled across your shoulders.
"i'm not," you retorted.
he only chuckled, his arm tugging you closer until your head lay on his chest. "sure, whatever you say, your grace."
it is every player's dream to wake up in the world of their otome game but not you, you're not the mc or the heroine of the game that was supposed to be you. in some twisted joke the universe decided for you — you get to live and survive the ruthless n109 zone where your main love interest resides.
── commissioned by @jamjyro
𓂃 ࣪˖ ִ content warnings. isekaid reader + nonmc + gun violence + depictions of disposing corpses + anxiety + coercion + blood + angst + there will be a part 2.
𓂃 ࣪˖ ִ notes. hey you all, it's been a long time since the last time I've posted. thank you very much for the patience and the support that you had given me through this difficulties of my life. i'm still adjusting and little bit struggling. once again, thank you very much for still sticking in this ghosty blog of mine.
Bang!
Shots are fired. Followed by the familiar deafening sounds of heavy machine guns rolling outside and the screech of wheels. You jolted awake that you almost roll and fall from your makeshift bed. What the hell is happening at this hour and in broad daylight? That was expected cause you live in the N109 Zone but you were still not used of the people here exchanging bullets.
But why? Why here? You want to scream in frustration as you crawled in the floor of the building you decided to be your base, a temporary home after being isekaid in a game that you play every single day. It's almost unhealthy from how you obsessed with it and then when you wanted to quit, you got thrown inside the game. What a stroke of luck. Funny. Ha-ha. The game fucking sent you to the unforgiven land of N109 Zone. How the hell can you survive when you got the survival skill of a hamster.
It was going to be fine if you possessed the body of your MC that you spent hours customizing to look like you or somewhat closer to what you look like and only to stare at a mirror and see your real life reflection cluelessly staring.
You spent the first hour agonizing on how you can survive. Thinking how nice if you have a somewhat useful Evol but you don't. You were fucked. You were clueless in where you are at first when you woke up in the middle of the road at first.
No clue in your surroundings until the gunshots came and the angry shouts. Superfucked. And that’s when you realized you were in the N109 Zone. Ultra duper superfucked. The tall buildings, moldy walls in the dark alleyways and there was some sort of shadows lurking in the walls.
It was hard for your first days. You were cold and hungry. Exhausted and clueless on where to start until you remembered Elysium. The place were information are exchanged and under the protection of Sylus.
Yeah, Sylus. Your main in the game and you didn't know what to feel. Knowing that you're not your MC and realized that MC is probably the custom avatar of the game. A far cry from your supposed MC or you. Technically you were MC when you're playing but this time you are not. You were starting to believe that you are not truly MC which is true.
Enough of that, if you want to survive you better start relying on your own and learn a few tricks to save your ass. You don't want to die in a foreign land, let alone a land in a fictional game that you're currently in.
You were about to embark in a journey when you remember you didn't have a trade. Elysium was for intelligent information, assassination and trade of arms and other illegal stuff and you don't do illegal. You can't even handle a gun or pull a pin on a grenade. Hacking? Not a plausible idea. You were only good at organizing documents in a computer.
You stopped in your tracks. Careful at your surroundings, your shoulders slump as you agonize on what trade you can offer in exchange for some lump sum of money or shelter or food or all of the above. You were good as a dead meat. You badly want to cry until a light bulb appeared in your head.
The game was basically your manual on how to survive the game or how to live in the N109 Zone. Although people like you won't survive long. It's either to rise in the ashes or drown in the murky waters.
You already finished the main story, starting from Sylus first appearance which made your heart go thump-thump and spent money that almost your whole salary in a month. You read the anecdotes, his myth. You knew everything about him. His personal life and his connection with MC and how he rules the N109 Zone. Onychinus was the top of the hierarchy here. You know how the Elysium operates so that's what you're going to do. Exchange some information about the future canon events that is yet to happen.
The problem is — it was suspicious. You can't really crash in Elysium and tell Aislinn, the bartender about it. Knowing she directly reports to Sylus and the reality that you weren't your MC — you were surely going to end up with a gun to your head. A stranger revealing secrets, it wasn't a ideal way but you really want to live and that weighs more than anything than the fear and so, standing in front of the Elysium — you entered with death’s hand at your shoulder.
For the better, it turned out good. You didn't reveal anything, someone beat you to the punch of revealing and opportunity opened up to you. Even the N109 Zone was lawless and chaotic, some gangs and organizations really didn't want to leave trace of the transactions that occurred in the hidden areas or the docks and warehouses that the deals takes place.
One of the patrons were looking for someone who can take care of that and you volunteered without a second thought. Your safety will be compromised with that line of work but they only is to keep your mouth shut and deal with the bloodied mess — you took it without hesitation. It was rare for someone to take that but you really need money to start or provide yourself with some basic needs and thus, you ended up in your current situation.
Bullets are flying everywhere and you're going to end up as a casualty if you don't move. You grabbed the classic Smith and Wesson handgun you keep even you don't know how to use it but only when the times comes you need to protect yourself. You didn't know it will come to this point.
You intentionally picked this place for your base. It was the abandoned place far from the chaos of the main zone and it wasn't really ideal for wars because it was very far and the terrain wasn't that good. Broken concrete roads and it can be really hot in the mornings. The surrounding buildings are covered with moss and the fauna was slowly taking over. It wasn't ideal for you to live in the area but it provides safety except now.
A stray bullet pierced to a glass window near you. The glass shatters as it broke and falls near your feet. Without a second thought you immediately crawl. Grabbing the small bag you keep under your bed when you need to run immediately. You grip it tightly as you stand up and bolted away from where you are. The building was still sturdy but the previous gang wars and the Chronorift Catastrophe left it to be abandoned like the other surrounding buildings.
As you descended from the stairs, you held the gun close to you. Your fingers finds the hammer of the gun and hearing the familiar click, you swallowed hardly. Tapping your varsity jacket pockets to check if you have the extra magazines in case you need to reload if you — you hope not, you have to fire in case of self defense.
God, why must you be transported in such a hostile place. You would accept to wake up in a hospital — preferably Akso Hospital and be declared as someone who had amnesia and is truly clueless of what's happening and maybe you can get a glimpse of Dr. Zayne.
You could have gone to Linkon City but you didn't have an identity with you and getting out of N109 Zone needs a special entrance and exit to be granted in order for a individual to leave. The No Hunting Zones was also a way to leave but there's a reason why it was a no hunting zone. It crawls with Wanderers and as a civilian with no Evol, there's a higher chance of you being butchered or succumb to the Flux Nexus.
You're basically a NPC in this world and that sucks more than anything. Where you isekaid here because your main was Sylus? A deepspace tunnel opened and it brought you here. You didn't want to know. It was really disheartening that you have to be here because your main was Sylus. It wasn't like you were hating him or being disappointed. You were basically thrown in a den of lions.
Somehow you managed to survive on your own by being the lackey or you like to call yourself, a cleaner for some of the powerful organizations. You have learned how to remove bloodstains without a trace. The bodies were taken care of by whoever availed your services to clean. You make sure the scene of the crime were spotless as if nothing happened and it was just the same cold and moldy warehouse or alley.
Anyways if you can't get out of this mess, you can kiss your life goodbye.
A sudden burst of adrenaline pumping in your veins made you maneuver the steep stairs and crumbly walls with such ease. Your palm sweaty as it slides in the cold railing. Your body felt like iron as you bump in the walls at every sharp turn. Not bad, self. You want to pat yourself in the back for being able to do such things at your plump stature. You feel like the main protagonist from the movie you used to watch and was it the reason you were here in the N109 Zone? You got the prowess for combat? Such tall tales and that was later proven wrong.
You were good at evading not fighting. That's what you're currently doing right now and you almost let out a breath of relief as you pushed the door in the ground floor. Stumbling in the process as your two feet became unsynchronized. A bullet flew right by and it almost sent you tumbling backwards. You badly want to cry. You're not really built for this.
It seems that your escape route hasn't been intercepted and they're far away from it. You can just run and go for it. Except when you're about to breakthrough — out of the corner in your eye — you caught the glimpse of him.
Sylus.
You can't be mistaken. It was hard to miss him. His name was spoken in whispers. In harsh words and in contempt because there's nothing more cruel than the one who rules the N109 Zone. The leader of Onychinus.
You avoided Sylus nor get involved with him. A civilian or rather a powerless human being in his world cannot survive and you cannot risk making enemies at the same time. You kept a low profile in the duration of your stay.
But to see your main love interests breathing and fighting his enemies in flesh made your chest bloom with warmth. The screen was your boundary between him and you. It was the closest you can ever have him. Pressing your fingertips in the cold screen of your phone and hope you can feel his warmth and hoped he can feel yours too.
He was so close and yet, out of your reach.
Suddenly, you were glued in the floor. Your body refusing to move despite your mind screaming for you to run off. Your legs are frozen. You cannot get involved with him. MC exists in this world andthey were destined for each other. He's waiting for her and you left that with the game's dynamics.
The sound of heavy rifles being loaded and the static ringing in the area and Sylus, there wasn't even much of a tremble or quiver in his movements. He was precise and calculated as he draws his gun. Easily replacing it with a new magazine. His dark glasses perched on his nose. He slides the rack before the sound of gunshot fills the air.
Wait, it's morning. Sylus should be asleep at this time and was only active in the night. Does this means he was overwhelmed and clearly ambushed? You run towards a nearly dilapidated beam. Assessing the situation and when you got a closer look, you notice the damp part of his dark collared shirt.
It wasn't visible but with the morning light and his movements that sways his leather jacket, you can see it. You remembered that Sylus can heal himself but he still get wounded and to get that wound — it must be deep for him to heal properly and he's currently bleeding under his clothes.
You did say you weren't going to get involved the moment you realized you weren't MC. Such matters would have sucked and in the time of care you deeply felt for him. Love will get you killed. Indifference will save you. That was the reason you survived upon being isekaid in the lawless land of N109 Zone.
Alas the moment you had fallen in love with Sylus that even the tiniest voice concern of why you shouldn't save someone just because they were in danger or rather they were the danger, it didn't matter.
Arriving at a resolution, you raised your gun. Pointing at him with a slight tremor in your arm and your palms sweaty that you might slip as you push the trigger. You can do it. You really can do it. You take a deep breath and with a exhale. You push the trigger and with a loud bang that resonated in the area — you hit your target.
He really can't say he was at his wit's end. He was Sylus. Ruler of the N109 Zone and being defeated at this foolish game of foolish people who wants him gone is a humiliation that will haunt him at his death. There's a rule among the residents of this land. It's to kill or be killed. And Sylus isn't going to get slaughtered like a lamb.
The sun's high and he was in a little pinch. His eyesight is made for the night and not in the light. He gives these men who managed to use their cards against him to corner the Onychinus leader. They were really pooling their meager resources to kill him but it wasn't enough although he can give them credits for getting a little smarter and Sylus isn't the one to back down from a fight.
He can give them a little recognition of such feat for injuring him. It was a stray bullet that found its way on his abdomen. He can heal — sure but being repeatedly injured, it stops. His shirt was soaking his blood and his enemies were closing in and then, in some twist or fate or luck or another person thirsty for his blood scrapes him by the shoulder with a bullet.
A stray bullet, maybe but whoever shot him and hitting the one who's closing him falling at the scorching road with a thud must be an amateur or was just really lucky for wounding him and maybe killing the other.
Before he can turn around to look at this one who's brave enough to take a shot, they grab his hand. Pulling them with force of urgency. They run, evading his enemies and although Sylus isn't the one back down from a fight, he knew he needed respite.
Turn after turn, him returning the rounds of bullets to his aggressors. He takes a look at this mortal who dared to save him. Navigating narrow alleyways and taking every sharp turns without pausing like you know every part of this place.
The gunshots have stopped, deciding that you successfully shaked them off. You take a look at his face. “There’s a nearby exit here. They probably don't know about the area and you will be safely get back in your own. I'll be going now. Goodbye.” You say with such firmness before running in the opposite direction without looking back.
You disappeared quickly in his sight. The black and white vision of you in your varsity jacket, boots clicking in the distance. Sylus was left with a strange feeling.
Who was this stranger who saved him and only to disappear on him?
Someone could have used this as a chance to curry favors from him. A chance to rise in the top cause the Onychinus leader never left being indebted to others and such act of saving him can bring fortune if he deemed you worthy but alas, he was only left in the abandoned street with no signs of life besides him. Reeling in the sensation of the stranger's soft hand that previously held his wrist.
No data found.
The screen of his laptop glares at him. No traces or evidence that stranger existed. He hacked every database around the world and no record are found about your identity. Are you a spy? A ghost? He knows you weren't a figment of his imagination that one morning. You were warm and you spoke to him.
You must have one cause despite being nonexistent to others or how much a person hides their identity — there will always be traces of a past of how a person lived no matter how much they try to bury it. The Onychinus searched for any activities that might have linked to you and why did you hole up in that kind of building.
He went back there. The buildings were riddled with bullets. Blood stains in the walls of what violence had occured in there. Investigating and leaving no spot untouched just to get a trace that you were there and you exist. What else could you have been doing there? Maybe you were running away from something or you just didn't like anything that relates to the ruthlessness of the place.
You were a mystery he wants to solve and any day now, you will appear. In the most of convenient or the most unwanted places but Sylus was sure that he will be meeting this stranger again.
“Boss, the scene's spotless. Kieran and I been searching for hours at that warehouse.” Luke's voice can be heard behind him as he stared at the screen. Sylus raises a brow. There's always a spot that's left untouched and he's been living in the N109 Zone for too long that after a bloody showdown, there's always dead bodies and shell casings littering on the cold floors.
Since when these bunch of nobodies started to clean up after themselves?
Well, this have been a occurrence of lately. Crime scenes are left clean. No bodies and not much left even a tiniest speck of blood. Whoever cleaning up these scenes are a professional. It's also hard to found out of whoever doing these are a group or individual but he can appreciate the cleanliness much it was a hassle for his operations. Everyone's evolving in the N109 Zone and he needs a little bit of an entertainment before the boredom catches up to him.
The district warehouse were huge. Larger than what you usually received from the organizations who avail your cleaning services. It was a mess but nothing you can't handle. Upon setting foot in the damp and cold warehouse with the scent of blood and gunpowder, you assess the mess.
Letting your OTTO fly and survey the scene. Scanning trails of blood that you have to manually clean and hidden dead bodies to be disposed of. Securing that there will be no marks or traces of DNA that will point the instigators of this conflict.
Scan completed.
Your OTTO cheerfully chirps at you and you began to slide the gloves in your hands and securing the shoe covers in your feet to avoid footprints that will link to you. You take the plastic sheet from your crate before rolling it to the moldy floors. This is where you will be putting the dead bodies and put them on the body bags you brought. Individually wrapping them up like spring rolls.
It was tasking for a individual work but doing it for months made your body stronger — strong enough to haul bodies heavier than yours. You began your work, stacking them up like building blocks and rolling them with a huff as you struggled cause why men looks like they're light and only to find out they're heavy with that kind of body. Even in death they were still dead weight.
After hauling the last body, you made your way to the blood trail with your handy cleaning tools along with a special solution. You were quick to learn for your trade of cleaning crime scenes for the organizations that pays you a lump sum of money enough to sustain you and sometimes they will throw an extra to a job well done which you always do.
You can always use the referral for your services. The quietness of the warehouse didn't bother you much. It was once a quiet night to work in and you doubt there will be anyone after such bloodied mess. You only focused on scrubbing the dried blood from the dry floor and sweep the dust to conceal the scent of your special solution. It wasn't that pungent but it didn't hurt to be extra careful. Discretion was your specialty.
The OTTO encircles the area and the humming sound coming from it was the noise you can hear while you busy yourself. Halfway through when it got too quiet and your OTTO was missing. You stopped in your tracks.
You remained crouching with a brush in your hand as you raised your head. Listening to any telltale signs or noise that you're not entirely alone in this warehouse. Perhaps the heavy footsteps or a puff of breath. Anything that may harm you but nothing and you thought that maybe your OTTO malfunctioned since it was really a old model that you managed to salvage cause you can't still manage to upgrade it.
You were about to finish anyway and so scrubbed the floor a little harshly until the blood has separated from the floor before sweeping dust all over it before you walked towards where you hear your OTTO humming.
It was behind the crates, you can see your OTTO was blinking lights and was roughened in the edges with claw marks. The sight of your half destroyed companion send shivers down your spine. It feels like you were surrounded but when you look around there was nothing. You swallowed. Your hands inside the gloves were starting to moist. The pit of your stomach feels like sinking.
Something dangerous is near and you can't really pinpoint where it is. You try to balance it out. The pros and cons of leaving for your safety but your job was still not done. You couldn't really risk losing the source of your living in the N109 Zone and besides you faced fear many times before. What's the harm of risking another?
Deciding that you really can't leave your job, you grabbed your broken OTTO and decided that it really needs a replacement and it's been long and it should rest for being your companion for a long time. Still, seeing it destroyed pains you.
Now you have to manually check that they will be no evidence that you've been here after your OTTO’s broken.
A step and sudden jolt of uneasiness strikes you again. Raising your head, you caught a glimpse of a familiar silhouette in the upper railings. The sound of flapping wings followed by a rather loud caw. Black feather slowly descending towards you and landing in your outstretched palm.
God, any minute now or seconds he will be appearing now.
Snap.
A swirl of black and red mist appears in front of you and just like that — your main love interest, leader of Onychinus and the one who rules the N109 Zone — Sylus stands before you.
Scared? Not really. You were blinking back tears because he was so close and your mind really decided to replay what he had gone through. Dying in the hands of his sorceress and not granting him death unless she allows it. Then, they found each other again. Both immortals dying in each other's arm and again, two children fighting to death and escaping to another planet and only to separate once again and he's here in front of you.
Standing tall and immaculate with the air of authority in his stature. Head held high and you can see the subtle glow of the Aether Core in his right eye. The reds of his eyes glimmer in the dim lit warehouse.
You take a step backwards, cradling your destroyed OTTO closer to you. Not daring to speak a word or look in his eyes.
“Just when I thought these fools has learned to be careful.” He muses. A faint smirk in his lips as he looks at you and the pile of dead bodies you were about to dispose behind.
“Maybe. I'm the only person here though. Cleaning out the mess.” You shrugged. Cradling your destroyed OTTO and walking towards your “cleaning van.” You gently put your companion in a crate before grabbing the brush again to continue cleaning. Wiping the sweat off in your forehead with the back of your arm.
Sylus remains silent. Following your every movement under his gaze about this person who was unintentionally ignoring him and going back to your job. Not even an ounce of fear behind those tired eyes. Were you feigning ignorance of the truth that you saved him? The leader of Onychinus and the feared man of the N109 Zone. That matter didn't seem to bother you.
“Do you know that when people save someone they expect something in return?” He began. Baiting the person in front of him for a favor. “It’s a chance for them to rise in this wasteland.”
“I’m managing.” You pragmatically answered even when your heart is beating fast cause you know secrets in this world and you really don't want to involve yourself with Sylus. You were living quietly and you badly want to get out of this world or maybe ask him to get you a identity to live in Linkon but that would raise suspicions cause why would you ask for a identity. It's either you're a criminal or someone who doesn't belong in this world.
He also didn't belong in this world but wherever MC is, he follows. A flower who still bloomed beautifully in a different soil.
His expensive cologne wafts in the air. His shoes scraping the dust in the floor. His coat swaying every movement and it's enough to intimidate you and you hope you're calm in the outside.
“Oh really.” His voice lowers into a timber and oh, it was really different from his secret times and tender moments, you want to squeal so bad if it wasn't for the implication that he's already smelling your bullshit.
“You want to go home. Why is that?” You swallowed. You cursed the goddamn Aether Core in his eye that can see the desire of someone. It's true. You've been wanting to go home since you got isekaid here.
“I’m not from here. Just a terrible luck.” You confessed under the intensity of his gaze but still withholding the secret you have. You're not easy to crack but Sylus can read you like an open book.
He hums in understanding. Not forcing you to give the details of your life cause he will be the one to know it. “I don't like the feeling of being indebted from someone below me.”
“You’re not indebted to me.” You briefly paused. Daring to steal a glance before focusing the task in your hand.
“My body choose to move that day when I could have run. I have no intention of saving you.” You say in a matter-of-factly. “I don't want to involve myself to someone powerful and if you feel indebted.” Swallowing the imaginary lump in your throat. “There is one thing you can do.”
You look at him straight in the eyes.
“Leave me alone.”
Sylus raises his eyebrows. He can't brush it off why you were so adamant not being involved with him when people got the leverage to do business or something simple as favor they rush but you — you were rushing to get out of his hair.
Leave you alone? There is really something wrong and Sylus sharp instincts knows better than to grant it. To call it quits. You were also calm and composed when facing him aside from the sudden beats of your heart that he can hear.
You didn't also run the moment he made his appearance which people usually do upon meeting him. Maybe is it because you know he can't harm you after saving him that one morning. N109 Zone wasn't really that barbaric and there's sliver of morals that are still practiced.
You can't kill someone unless they're the first to draw blood or unless it was contractual and the killing is ordered. Sylus has disposed people that betrayed him or were hindering his plans.
Besides you look amateur but Sylus isn't someone to really judge based on how you look. It was finding the value of someone and with some pressure you could be a coal turning into a pearl with the right pressure.
You didn't quite grasped how the N109 Zone works and you choose the job to clean the aftermath of every shootouts and doing the dirty work of disposing corpses. You were only surviving base on your skills and Sylus can use some of your talents.
“That would be impossible, dove.”
His eyes narrowing, clearly intrigued cause it was looking into a blank slate but is packed with so much color.
He can see how you freeze for a second. Hands trembling like you were hiding a secret and the next question confirms his suspicion.
“Who are you?” Ruby red eyes stares at you. Waiting for you to crack and this where Sylus would have normally put you in a gun point. Forcing you to reveal yourself but can you really? Will he believe you? That he was only a pixelated character in a game. A otome game that doomed you for loving him? Whereas you were supposed to be the MC, the player but when you saw your reflection you were just you.
Nothing special like the MC. Not a badass hunter. Not someone's childhood friend. Not someone's bride or a princess. Not a knight nor a queen. Not a sorceress who didn't allow her dragon to truly die and be destined together with every lifetime.
You were you. A regular human who didn't possess a extraordinary power. You were someone who was flawed. Trying to survive in a place that won't be merciful to someone weak.
“It’s none of your business.” Closing the doors of your van after hauling the dead bodies to dispose of with a loud thud. If you were somewhat decent you wouldn't have shown Sylus such hostility. You know what he's capable but being cornered by him — yeah — you should be squealing or be flustered cause it was Sylus, you were in no position because you were in a dire situation and your existence doesn't contribute to the storyline of this world, including MC and his.
You also can't really tell him you're from the other world. It might be catastrophic. You don't really want to stray from canon events and the first step is to stay away from Sylus.
You were about to open the door of your van to get away. You were an inch of pulling that handle until thin red and black mists coils around your wrist. Preventing you from moving your hand.
You look at him in disbelief. Scoffing as you try to pry the tendrils of his Evol wrapped around your wrist. “Really?” You take a step forward. “Is this how you treat people who disagrees with you!?”
Sylus remains nonchalant. Although there's a hint of amusement and curiousity behind his eyes. You weren't perturbed at all with his Evol but he can give you the benefit of the doubt. “Not really. Usually they end up dead.” His hand moves manipulating it to pull you.
“Assuring but can you let me go? I really don't want anything from you. Let just call it quits, please?” You pleaded. The sleeves of your varsity jacket crumples as you try again to get out of his grip. “I still have to finish my job.” Biting your lip anxiously as you desperately look at your van. The bodies are going to rot now before you can dispose of them.
“The twins can take care of it.”
“How can Luke—” Your eyes widens, biting your tongue at your slip up. You forgot that no one really knows what the twins names are except Sylus. They were his henchmen after all and a stranger — you was the final nail in the coffin.
“Interesting.” His lips curve into a smirk and you know what it means. “You and I are going to have a long conversation.” Giving you no room to retaliate or defend yourself. It was useless anyways, no one really escapes him and you hope that you can still get out. Alive.
The hallways were dark. The warm light of the wall sconces was the source of the light. You get the idea that Sylus is taking you to the dining room where he once eviscerated someone after a disagreement and finding the other person was trying to take both sides and Sylus does not like traitors.
You were walking behind him. His Evol long deactivated cause he knows you can't run even as you try to look around for possible escape routes and you really can't even you want too. His windows are a no-no. You don't want to plummet to your death from the top floor.
Sylus pushes the door. Inside were the sleek black marble top table with two candles lit in the candelabra. A deep red velvet chairs upholstered. Everything was Sylus's taste that you saw in his bond memories where he and MC stays. Your remember their little banters and how bossy he was.
It brings a smile to your face as you take the surroundings of the room. Luke and Kieran were probably wrecking your van. They were making you jobless in the Zone. You hoped that your van will still be returned in one piece.
“Sit.” He orders you and you complied without hesitation. Sylus can be impatient and being stubborn will probably get your neck choked. Settling in the chair, it was remarkably soft. You can't remember the last time you sat in something plush. Concrete stairs and crates in warehouses were your chair. The cold floor of the temporary base you set up covered with a old mattress was your bed.
Sylus stands behind the counter. Pulling glasses to pour a drink for himself and to you. “Let’s get started with a simple conversation.” The glass clinks as he puts on cubes of ice. “I ask you a question and you will answer me.”
“Okay.” He hears you murmur. Your posture was rigid. Legs bouncing out of nervousness in the chair. Chewing on your lips and your hands were hidden in the sleeves of your jacket like you were put in a straitjacket but he knows you were scratching your skin.
You were guilty as you look. Actions don't lie. Or maybe you were anxious. He got something to ease you up. “Here.” Nudging the glass in front of you. The amber liquid sloshing with the ice. You take it. He's probably making you loosen your tongue which is maybe going to work.
His eyes follows your movement. Bringing the glass of whiskey in your lips and your nose scrunches at the sharp aroma. He watch as you look at him before breaking eye contact and taking a swig of the drink and the reaction was immediate.
Sharp violent coughs shook your whole body. Your eyes watering as the liquid burned down your throat. You used your arm to cover your mouth while you coughed. God, what kind of humiliation the universe is putting you through and in front of Sylus.
“Who are you?” He began to question you and you glare at him. Wiping the corner of your mouth with the sleeve of your jacket. “A stranger.” Coughing up the last bits as you try to draw out the bitter taste.
You really don't want to lie but you were not in your world and you were afraid that you were going to disrupt the timeline of this story. You didn't want to be a huge spoiler or accidentally trigger a effect that will rip the balance of this world.
Sylus looks at you blankly. “What are you doing in the warehouse?”
“Trying to make a living. I can't survive here unless I do something.” Rubbing your knuckles in your eyes.
“Let’s get back to my former question. Who are you?” His voice are dripping with venom and you watch the subtle twitch of his hands and the next thing will be is he's blowing your head off.
“You want to know? I'm just some unfortunate soul who got here.” Pursing your lip in a thin line. Conflicted on how to process your emotions. You were scared, frustrated and angry. You shouldn't have saved him.
“And now you’re going to ask why I knew Luke and Kieran.” You paused for a bit. The confession is going to give you a headache. “You're a pixelated game character on my world.”
And the headache begun. He only raised his brows like you were just messing up with him. “I know how ridiculous it sounds but it's true.”
“You don't believe me? You're Sylus Qin. You're a wanted criminal in Philos and you escaped from Tartarus.” You began to explain. Legs bouncing anxiously with every tick of the clock. Sylus was practically a weapon ready to fire at any moment.
“Want to know more? You manipulated Miss Hunter to kill you when she was a sorceress and you were a dragon. You were ostracized from your own kind. You can't die unless she allows you to. You were also children too. Fighting to death in the arena with the other children and when it's down to both of you — you made the decision to escape and she did too but you two got separated.” You revealed. “Is that enough?”
He didn't say anything else as if convinced. “How did you end up here?”
“I don't know. I just woke up in the middle of the road.”
Sylus didn't press anything more. As far as he knows you're an anomaly.
”Can I leave now?” You asked. Thinking this interrogation is done and you really don't want to disrupt this world. Afraid that if you interfere some butterfly effect would activate and all of this world are going to be doomed. The plot was really important and every decision of the characters either make or break.
You waited for his response. Thinking of the van that are being used by the twins. You hoped that they know where to dump the bodies and your van isn't being banged up. The source of your income and means of survival rests on how they treat your van.
“I'm afraid that's not going to happen.”
“W-waa—what? Why!?” Eyes wide in disbelief. Your brows are raised and with the little shot of that alcoholic unnerved you in ways that you didn't know you can.
You look at him like you hit your head (which you already did by thunking your forehead in the top rail of your chair) and find that he's real ugly but he's not. He's hot. Infuriatingly hot. You can't count how many times you fantasize kissing Sylus and moisturize that dry lips of his.
You wanted that when he was on your screen and now, you're not, maybe a little. Get a grip! You tell to yourself but you dread about this — of not being able to leave. You're going to be in the front row and watch the world fuss about MC. The next days are going to be the start of her story with Sylus. Their first meeting.
“You're an anomaly in this world.”
Your heart drops. Of course, you're an anomaly. Sylus must have analyzed you or searched for your identity and to only find nothing.
“You know a lot about of things going around here and I can't have you running around with that kind of information.” He reasons, taking a step towards you.
“I'm basically a NPC in this world. I don't see the relevance of me being here.” You counter. Pressing your forehead in the back of the chair because you really didn't want to be involved with him.
“What if I say, I don't want to?”
“You really don't have a choice here, kitten.”
“Fuck.” You muttered, running our reasons to use. “I have a job around here. I can't have you bossing me around. I won't also ask for a compensation.” Referring to your destroyed OTTO and your van that is going to be thrashed by the twins. You can always start. You survived your first day and managed to live this long.
Sylus can see the reluctance in you. Mixed with the desperation of not wanting to get involved with him. He's a dangerous man. Money isn't really a problem for him and he can get you a nice place to live and a brand new van and the latest OTTO catered to your needs. When in reluctance, give them the assurance.
“Is cleaning up dead bodies and blood that fun?” Your eyes flickers towards him. “Not really but it keeps my stomach full and meets my basic needs. Shelter I have plenty.” Rubbing your arm in an attempt to comfort yourself. Eyes a little droopy and your lips curled into a frown.
Living in the N109 Zone with no means of being the strong was your struggle. It was life or death for you.
“I have a proposal.” When you can't convince someone, you put the stakes higher. Sylus continues as he noticed you tilt your head. Interested at the proposal he was about to make.
“You will be provided everything you need. You shall never starve or work for your food. I will give you shelter. You can hole up in one of the rooms here. I have plenty. You will have a identity you desire. A clean slate for you to start somewhere new.”
“That's preposterous for someone like you, Sylus.” Shaking your head as you try to think about what to do before looking back at him. “I can't be near you. I'm a walking spoiler.” You swallowed as if there's something stuck in your throat.
“If information is what you want of future events, I can't tell you about it. I won't disrupt the natural order of this world.” Pulling your jacket and standing up. Putting back the chair in its right place.
“The only mistake I did was to save you.”
“Is that so?” He hums.
Thinking of what he should do about you. “Such trivial matters don't bother me. You're not really disrupting anything and I won't ask for information.” You can see the brief flicker of light passing through his right eye where the Aether Core is placed.
“Work for me. You'll get more benefits than what you wished for.”
He watched as you hesitate. You will still have a choice with the proposal he suggested. You are free to operate around his area and maybe he'll take you as a secretary. It's unlikely you'll betray him. You're smart for your own good to betray as someone powerful like him.
It didn't take long for a few seconds for you to decide.
“Fine.”
The smirk on his face grew wider.
You gave the arrangement six months.
It shouldn't be too long or less. You wanted Sylus to make it shorter because any time soon or any day, he and MC will cross paths and even you wanted to witness their long-awaited reunion — you just can't.
Because what kind of bullshit of people telling you that you are MC in your world and to find out you were the anomaly in this world even you accepted it that you really can't be MC with the game having her life determined and the routes of the story written. MC may have your face in the game but you can never be her.
It sounds bitter but this was your reality. You're not about to witness their love when you have a life to live. A few months staying under his base is the thing you have to live through. You didn't understand why Sylus has to take you under his wing.
You did say you weren't tell him about the future happenings or any information that will about to happen. Probably he's getting bored and what's a little fun to observe a anomaly for his entertainment.
That's your sentiment but you know Sylus isn't that cruel to treat you as one. He may have his reasons and you will never know any of it.
The least you can do is stay put until there's a change of events. It's a matter of time before the story line of the game will start to happen and when MC has grown curious about the N109 Zone and Sylus.
The Onychinus base was huge. Well, huge is an understatement. It's a whole fricking building and despite that doing nothing means you're penniless. Sylus did tell you that the commodities in the building are free to use but a week after almost exploring the whole base — you found yourself restless.
You've been on the run the moment you were transported in this world. Always thinking for ways to survive. Hustling to get by and earn that money that was essential for your job and puts a food in your table. You were always on the lookout for jobs that needs your specialty. It's pay per transaction and you take pride in your work.
Abandoning your livelihood means abandoning your security. There was no discussion about it between you and Sylus even he did say you will work for him, there was really nothing about the job description and you hate to think you were freeloading to him.
So you did what you know best — accepting a clean up job. The pay was huge. The bigger the money they offer the messier and complicated it was but you didn't care. Money is money. You take the keys of the van Sylus owed you after the twins has trashed it like you expected.
You begin to drive towards your destination after picking up a new stash of cleaning supplies you have hidden in one of your hideouts.
The building wasn't that ruined when stepped out of your van. It changed by the times and the lack of maintenance made it unsuitable for moving.
You began to unload the supplies from your bag. Securing the roll of plastic wraps and duct tapes. A makeshift cart that contains all of your cleaning materials with some strong chemical that's enough to knock someone out when inhaled.
The scene that greeted you were something out of a horror film or some sci-fi you used to watch back in your world.
Bloody was the least you will used to describe the scene. It was beautiful. If you can ignore the lifeless bodies impaled with ice spikes. The paleness of the blues of ice mixes with the red. Creating a almost whimsical look like a blood red moon.
You guessed that you find anything as visceral as this normal after cleaning up places. Murder with the use of Evol wasn't unheard of, you've clean plenty of it and disposed mutilated bodies that was almost beyond recognition. You've also thrown bodies or parts of one in a single trash bag.
Time is the essence and even with the structured ice Evol, it was starting to melt and when ice are thawed — everything's going to be bloody from here and so you began to take your trusty lightsaber-esque equipment that's good for cutting through metal, bones and of course, ice. As long they're solid it gets the job done.
The smell didn't even bother you. It was like meat that you left to defrost and forgot to take it out for cooking and it starts to go bad. It's worse for you the first time but the fear of not being able to survive gets you out of that disgust.
Pressing the button of your tool, it shortly crackles — bursts and emits a bright orange glow and then you start to cut through flesh and bone.
It's good to know that you're still capable.
After that work and clean up, you were done for the day, night. You still didn't regulate your sleeping hours even with the comfortable place Sylus provided for you at the base and paired with restlessness.
Driving back to Onychinus base made you uneasy, sure you move places to places and sometimes settled for months but a month in Sylus's base didn't feels like something you can live with. You were grateful but coming back to the base is still unfamiliar territory for you.
Attachment creates dangerous conflicting feelings and having known danger and how powerful attachment can be — you ignored.
It's the reason why you keep the interaction to Sylus minimal except when it's necessary and you can't avoid him without being too obvious.
You surely can't start catching feelings for him even he's your main love interest in the real world and when he's a game character. But how about when he's real and you're near him? That you can hear his voice, can touch him and talk to him? Can you not really fall in love? And there's MC.
But it's difficult when you're in his world and living in his base where any chance you can bump into him and it happened the moment you were about to retreat in your room. The hallways were big but it connects to everything.
You were about to turn when you almost bump into Sylus. The familiar outfit that he almost dons everyday in your home screen is what he wore. "Hey." You awkwardly greeted him. Gripping the hem of your sweatshirt that reeks with the scent of blood and chemicals for cleaning.
"I thought you might have escaped.”
Liar. He knows where you are and he knows your circumstances. You can't leave him. Not yet.
“As you can see, I can't. I'm powerless.” You murmur.
There's a moment of awkward silence but it might be you until Sylus broke it.
“Care to join me for lunch, dove?”
You didn't know why Sylus started to call you dove but maybe he was referring you to one like the dove MC rescued and was put in his care temporarily in the Nightplumes card. It didn't happen yet but the cards are connected to the future events after their meeting.
You refused. “No, thank you. I'm not really—” Your stomach betrays you, growling like you haven't eaten for days. “— hungry.” You finished to say with your cheeks burning hotly from embarrassment.
Sylus chuckles and you badly want to jump out outside the window and plummet to your death.
“Do you really find me insufferable?” He asks, his eyes narrowing although there's a lilt.
“Insufferable? No. I don't find you like that or anything.” He's many things but insufferable. You mumble, concealing the expressions that might show in your face as your brain panics.
“Good. It would be a bad thing if my guest finds me intolerable.”
Turns out Sylus has already set up the table in the terrace. His chef, you meet him the second day in your stay in Sylus's base and asked you what you wanted to eat. The Onychinus leader told you that you have permission to use the kitchen or ask the chef whatever you felt like eating.
You absolutely remember the terrace it was shown in the kindle of his first myth card where he taught MC on how to improve her combat skills. Knowing the terrace part of the base is where Sylus sometimes took his meals.
If you did suddenly get back home, you have a lot of things to brag as you take your sit across "Boss-man Sylus."
It's not like everyday is an opportunity to share a table with Sylus, the most desired love interest in your world.
“How was your work today?”
“Grotesque but it's nothing that I can't handle.” You shrugged, taking your cutlery and mimicking Sylus's gesture as he began to eat.
You have quite the appetite despite the scene earlier. Your stomach has gotten thick overtime as you took that line of work.
"I assume someone has gone rouge.”
“If you would put it that way.”
He hums. Gently twirling the glass of wine and the red liquid sloshed inside of it. He takes a sip before resuming on his meal. You had done the same and the taste of wine made your taste buds burst into these tiny quantities of flavors you can taste.
Amusement glimmers in Sylus's eyes. Watching you taste something that you're not accustomed to. You told him that back in your world you have a job that covers your expenses and an extra for some indulgence.
Your indulgence was getting all his cards.
“Do you find your room comfortable?” He pries.
“Yes, thank you.” You whispered. Meeting his gaze to show how sincere you are. You missed having a real bed not the make shift beds you have to temporarily sleep with.
“You really didn't need to spend much on me. I'm not staying that long.” Reminding him of your arrangement.
Sylus chuckles. “I'm not the one to forget, dove.” Leaning on his chair and crossing his legs. “You plan to go back in your job?” His eyes narrows at you.
“Maybe. I didn't really asked you about the details when you said that I'm working for you.” You told him. Putting your fork down cause you know where this conversation is being headed.
“How about as my secretary?” He says without a beat. The way he says it was the same as he speaks in the game and you would have accepted it within a heartbeat if it wasn't for the position you are in.
“Me?” You asked, hoping you misheard it or your ears was playing tricks. “Your secretary? You don't even know me that much to be entrusted with that kind of work.”
“I don't need to know what kind of person you are.”
“I know you're not the one to make stupid decisions and I'm not going to doubt your judgement but even I am an anomaly in this world there's a chance that I will betray you.” You say, gripping the table cloth. Well, there's no betrayal that's going to happen but it was an excuse and a reason not to get closer to him.
Sylus smirks. You can see the amusement flickering all over his eyes at what you said. You were getting more interesting as the seconds pass and Sylus likes who he deemed interesting.
“People who plan to betray me don't tell me they're betraying me. You’re selling yourself short, dove.” He pauses, crossing his legs underneath the table while he waits for your response.
He can see that you were still torn and hesitating.
“Take this offer and I'll make sure it will be worthwhile for the both of us.”
Is what he said and now, you're thinking that doomsday is already ahead in the game with you interfering. You hope that Sylus stays canon with MC and the original plot still intact.
May Astra or whatever deity send you back home before you disrupt the world with your existence.
the night was still young, both you and megumi decided to end it early.
at around 9:24pm. megumi insisted that he was exhausted from previous missions, and just waking up in general he didn't explain how he felt well, and that resulted into his face buried in your chest, clinging onto you. long arms wrapped around your waist securely, like he's afraid you'll leave.
"mm... you're so warm baby." megumi mumbles into the quiet room, before he buries his face into your neck, seeking comfort. "gumi are you okay?" you whisper softly, but with worry in your voice, threading your fingers through his soft strands, providing a comfortable rhythm with each brush, your boyfriend has been unusually distant lately, he's always been a closed off person but. now it's worrying you how closed off he is with you.
"yeah." he says simply, quietly, barely audible even in the silent room, you hear heavy footsteps pad closer to your bedroom, against the tiles you shift a bit in alert not loosening your hold on megumi one bit, if anything your grasp tightens around him. before you realize it's just kon, megumi's dog. who enters the bedroom.
megumi feels you tense, "what's wrong?" he murmurs quietly into the nape of your neck, not bothering to lift his head up to check who came into the bedroom, he always recognizes that same padding, "nothing... kon just scared me." you murmur back, in response. "how so?" he questions softly, looking genuinely confused, you poke his nose, he flinches at the gesture at first.
"well sorry i don't memorize his footsteps like you do!" you say jokingly, rolling your eyes. he stares blankly at you into the dark room, before you hear a heavy thump! weight sinking down into the soft mattress, kon laying on your legs. "what the—" you cut yourself off immediately after looking down at his dog, he's adorable curled up on the shared bed, megumi doesn't even bat an eyelash, like he's use to this on the daily.
"stop talking... im trying to sleep." megumi murmured again, into your neck, nuzzling closer into your body warmth, seeking more comfort.
he's really clingy today...
you find it cute, bringing your hand away from megumi's head for a second to pet kon, his soft black and white coat smooth against your finger tips, kon leans into the touch, falling deeper into his slumber, megumi groans at the loss of touch, "mmph..." he mumbles before he brings your hand back towards his head, prying it off of kon.
"gumi— why are you so clingy tonight." he doesn't reply, nuzzling deeper into your neck, he always goes possessive over you, or becomes randomly clingy when he's jealous.
"are you jealous of your dog getting attention!?" you say with mock anger, though there's no real heat behind your words, he rolls his eyes, you thread your fingers through his strands again. looking down at kon, he's deep in sleep not knowing whats going on around him, "idiot." megumi mumbled into your neck before his breathing evens out.
god, what're you going to do with the both of them?
aang x lost airbender reader (legend of aang) - not full version
full version is on my blog!
—-
You’ve never had a family or a connection to anything other than that tower. It was the only thing that had any significant information on your heritage. The only family you had… you never had to hide your airbending in this place and you always felt more relaxed within its cold walls.
One day, you’re repairing a cracked section of wall. The wind keeps slipping through the stones, teasing at your focus. You’re tired.. more tired than you should be, and your hands shake as you work.
That’s when you feel it.
Someone steps onto the temple grounds.
Your heart stutters. Your thoughts scatter. Wind billows around you as you back up slowly against the wall.
A shadow followed by a person emerges from a corner near the entrance and with it a gust of wind.
It curls around your ankles, nervous and uncertain, like it’s testing the air around him. A tall man with blue arrow tattoos and massive shoulders freezes mid-step, staff tipping forward as his gray eyes widen.
Wind didn’t do that anymore. Not on its own.
“Whoa—” he mutters, face flushed with excitement.
You’re already backing away.
Hands up. Spine pressed to the stone wall of the ruined temple corridor. Your breath comes fast, shallow, like a trapped bird. You didn’t mean to bend… didn’t mean to let it slip, but the second you sensed someone, the air reacted before you could stop it.
The man in front of you is… impossible.
Bald head, blue arrow tattoo, orange-and-yellow robes that look both ancient and brand new somehow. He’s staring at you like you personally hung the moon.
“You—” he blurts, pointing. “You felt that too, right? The wind—no, wait, that was you—YOU DID THAT—”
You flinch.
“Don’t come any closer,” you say quickly, voice shaking despite your effort to sound tough.
He immediately stops. Like, immediately. Hands up. Sheepish grin.
“Oh! Right. Sorry. I forget people don’t always like being charged at by strangers.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Hi. I’m Aang.”
That name punches the air from your lungs.
Avatar Aang.
The last Airbender.
The kid you were warned about in hushed voices.
Your face heats. You swallow.
“I—I’m not an airbender,” you lie. The wind huffs around you, offended. Aang’s grin spreads so wide it’s ridiculous.
“Oh wow,” he laughed. “You are really bad at lying.”
You glare. “I said don’t come closer.”
“I’m not coming closer!” he says, still vibrating with excitement. “I’m just—wow. You’re real. You’re actually real. I’ve been searching everywhere for any trace of airbending and you’re just—here.”
He gestures vaguely at you, then at the entire universe.
Your anxiety spikes. “I don’t want trouble. I don’t want to be found. I don’t want—” your voice catches, “—to be taken.”
Something in his expression softens instantly.
“Oh,” he says quietly. “Hey. No. I’d never.”
You risk meeting his eyes.
He looks… earnest. Bright. Younger than you expected. And somehow unbearably kind.
“I know what it’s like,” Aang continues. “To be the last one everyone’s looking at. To feel like if you mess up, you’ll lose everything.”
Your chest aches as you watch his eyes soften.
“I’m not here to force anything,” he adds quickly—then ruins the calm by blurting, “BUT CAN I PLEASE ASK WHERE YOU LEARNED THAT BECAUSE IT WAS PERFECT FORM AND ALSO DO YOU KNOW HOW RARE THAT IS AND—”
“Stop!” you backed away again, flustered beyond belief.
He clamps his mouth shut.
“…Sorry.”
Despite yourself, a startled laugh escapes you. You slap a hand over your mouth, horrified.
Aang lights up like he just won a Pai Sho tournament.
“You smiled!” he says.
“I did not.”
“You did! That counts as progress.”
You shake your head, cheeks blazing. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I get that a lot,” he says proudly, then squints. “So… what’s your name?”
“…YN.”
Aang repeats it like it’s invaluable.
“YN,” he echoes. “I’m really glad I found you.”
You fidget, suddenly unsure where to put your hands—or your eyes.
“I’m scared,” you admit. Quietly.
“I know,” he says. “You don’t have to stop being scared.”
Then he grins again, entirely too close now.
“But you do have to get used to me being around. Because I’m not going anywhere. I can’t wait to introduce you to my friends!”
“Friends?” You feel your shoulders start to loosen. “Are there more of us?”
Aang’s eyes saddened through his ever present smile. “Well no, but these guys are like family. I hope you can be friends with them!”
The wind swirls gentler this time around your hair. Curious. Hopeful. Maybe you did have a chance at a normal life.
UPDATE!!! IN PROGRESS WORKING ON A FF TO FULLY FLESH OUT THIS STORY DONT WORRYYYY!!!
A/n: Avatar Aang 👀, why does he look so fucking good in this state.
The old temple groaned around them, ancient stone trembling under the force of bending colliding in every direction. Dust choked the air, pillars cracked, and the mountain itself seemed to breathe with every impact. You could taste the age of the place dry, brittle, sacred and now it was being torn apart.
Aang stood at the center of it all, his body moving with precision, robes snapping around him as he redirected a blast of earth with a sweeping motion of air. He looked older now, stronger. His once soft, boyish features had sharpened into something resolute, but there was still that same heart in his eyes… that same warmth.
Until you screamed.
It wasn’t even loud. Barely more than a sharp breath forced from your lungs as a rogue earthbender’s attack caught you off guard. The ground beneath your feet shattered, and the force hurled you backward off the edge of the crumbling temple platform.
“Aang—!”
Your fingers reached for him.
He was too far and to him time seemed to slow as you begin to fall.
Aang tried, god he tried to move, wind rushing by as the world narrowed down to just you, your body falling, your expression shifting from shock to pain as you hit the lower ledge hard, the sound sickening. Then stillness.
Too still.
Something inside him broke.
When Aang landed beside you, it wasn’t gentle.
Stone cracked beneath his feet, air bursting outward in a violent ring as he dropped to his knees. His hands were already on you, frantic, shaking as they hovered over your injuries like he didn’t know where to touch without hurting you more.
“Hey!!! hey, look at me—” His voice wasn’t steady. It wasn’t even close.
Your eyes fluttered, unfocused, breath uneven.
“Aang…”
“I’m here,” he said immediately, voice cracking as he pulled you closer, cradling you against his chest like if he held you tight enough, you wouldn’t slip away. “I’ve got you. You’re okay....you’re okay—”
Blood.
There was too much blood.
Your head lolled slightly against him, your body slack in his arms.
And then...Silence.
The air shifted, suddenly.Violently.
As Aang went still.
Then his grip tightened.
When he lifted his head, his eyes were no longer gray.
They were glowing.
Pure, blinding white.
The arrow along his scalp ignited in the same ethereal light, and the wind around him screamed to life, spiraling outward with a force that made the entire temple shudder.
“No…” Katara whispered from above, already scrambling down toward you. “Aang! no, not like this—”
But he wasn’t hearing her.
He wasn’t hearing anything.
The Avatar State had taken him.
When he rose, he did so slowly, still holding you for just a moment longer before gently, so carefully it almost didn’t match the storm around him as he laid you down.
And then he turned.
The rogue benders barely had time to react.
The first wave hit them like a violent storm. Air slammed into them with hurricane force, ripping them off their feet and sending them crashing through pillars. Earth followed, the ground splitting and surging upward in jagged spikes that trapped and crushed. Fire ignited around him in a roaring ring, wild and untamed, while water from deep within the mountain tore free and lashed out like whips.
He wasn’t fighting anymore.
He was ending it.
“Aang!” Sokka shouted, barely dodging a flying chunk of debris. “He’s gonna level the whole damn mountain if we don’t stop him!”
Toph’s stance faltered for half a second, her feet pressed to the shaking ground. “He’s not just bending… he’s tearing it apart. I can feel it.”
Zuko gritted his teeth, fire already flickering at his hands as he looked toward Aang and hesitated. “…If he doesn’t stop, there won’t be anything left.”
Katara reached you first, her slashing a piece of stone with water as she then dropped to her knees, hands already glowing with healing water as she pressed them gently to your side, her breath hitching when she felt the extent of your injuries.
“Stay with me,” she murmured, voice tight. “You’re not leaving him. Not like this.”
Your eyes barely opened, your lips parting weakly as another explosion echoed above.
Aang.
Your gaze shifted, unfocused but searching.Katara followed it and understood.
“…You have to call him back,” she said softly, leaning closer. “He won’t stop unless you do.”
Above, Aang hovered now lifted by a violent cyclone of air, his body rigid, eyes blazing as he raised his arms.
The mountain answered.
Stone cracked.
The entire structure began to collapse inward.
“Aang…” Your voice was barely there, horse but it cut through everything.
The wind stuttered.
Just for a second.
“…Aang…..please."
His body froze mid-motion, the glow flickered.
“I’m… okay…”
You weren’t. Not even close. But you forced the words out anyway, your hand weakly lifting off the ground like you were reaching for him again.
“…please…this isn't you."
The light in his eyes faltered.
Cracked.
Then it started to fade as the storm collapsed instantly.
Aang dropped from the air, hitting the ground hard as the glow vanished from his eyes, leaving them wide, terrified, and painfully human again.
“No...no, no!!"
He was at your side in seconds, hands shaking as he gathered you back into his arms, pressing his forehead to yours like he needed to feel you breathe.
“I thought..” His voice broke completely. “I thought I lost you.”
You managed the faintest smile, your fingers brushing weakly against his cheek. “You’re… kinda hot… like that…”
Aang let out a shaky, broken laugh, pulling you closer like he could anchor you there forever.
“Don’t do that to me again,” he whispered, voice rough, desperate.
Katara kept healing, her hands steady now, though her eyes softened at the sight of you both.
Above you, the temple still crumbled but slower now.No longer destruction…just the aftermath.And Aang stayed exactly where he was.
Holding you.Like letting go wasn’t an option anymore.
18+ your oblivious bestfriend!Megumi doesn’t know how much of an effect he has on you
Porn WITH plot guys, slow burn I guess?, megumi is kinda dense, fluff…?, obviously aged up, reader knows dada, tension over tension, f!reader, I’m kinda bad at writing fluff but I tried okay?, oral f!receiving, piv, softdom!megumi to slightly meandom!megumi
≈8.2k w
This is one of those rare longer fics I’ve written and would like to present as a big PHAT thank you for 1k followers and all the love I’ve gotten from all of you so far!!! All of my love goes out to every single one of you!! I hope you guys enjoy this, shout out to @softpillowprincess for this glorious idea and have fun!
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It was so unfair. How can one person have such a huge effect on you without even knowing, without doing it on purpose at all?
You’ve tried to redirect your attention, remind yourself that this is your friend—classmate, even.
But it wouldn’t work. How could it though—it was Megumi you were talking about, after all.
You weren’t doing it on purpose, but the way he just did all of these small, and unfortunately, very attractive things, all without even knowing it was getting to you—was really making you lose your mind after three years of these shenanigans.
Throughout these three years, it grew harder and harder to ignore the fact that you felt utterly attracted to your best friend. It probably started at the beginning of your second year, when your rooms got moved next to each other, and you were spending a bit more time with just him.
It was convenient, and being with someone was better than being alone all the time.
At least that’s what you’d tell yourself.
You slowly started noticing just how considerate he was, how he’d always have your favourite tea ready for you, how he’d fetch a blanket for you when he noticed you were cold, the way he’d hold his hand out when you were fetching something under a table to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself. Megumi had this quiet way of making sure you were okay at all times, or just handling stuff for you.
And unfortunately, you felt a tickle in your stomach each time these things happened.
One time you were out with him, as well as Yuuji and Nobara, to get some lunch at a restaurant after a mission you were sent on. After you finished the food, you wanted to take another drink with you, so you went up to the server and asked for a soda to-go.
“Sure thing! Should I open the cap for y-?”
“No, it’s fine. I can open that.”
Your head flicked back as Megumi spoke from behind you. His arm extended over your shoulder to reach for the bottle. Then, he got a lighter out of his front pocket. Your eyes followed the movement of his hands towards the lid of the bottle, propping his blue lighter just under the rim and popping it open with one smooth move. Such a mundane thing to do. It was a silly, tiny bottle cap. But the way his wrist flicked the cap off so easily, the sound of it hitting the ground, and the fact that he even picked it up after to throw it away—yeah, you’re fucked.
Megumi didn’t even register the way you were ogling him. He simply handed you your soda, placed his hand on your back, and started walking you out of the establishment with a small frown on his face. “C’mon, let’s go. We’ll be late to Gojo’s class.”
Fuck these stupid butterflies.
Things like these kept happening all the way until third year, and soon after, you started appreciating his more than easy-to-look-at appearance as well. Whenever he’d roll up his sleeves, your eyes just had to wander all over his forearms, all the way to the tips of his slender—and, quite frankly, beautiful hands and fingers.
Even now, sitting on a bench at the training grounds in the brutal sun, watching him train with Yuuji—you can’t help admiring how beautifully he moved.
He was covered in sweat by now, his white button up already unbuttoned just a bit, black strands of hair clinging to his forehead while he continues to spar with Yuuji. You’ve basically become his shadow at this point, always tagging along everywhere he goes. No matter how boring it was to sit there and do nothing, and no matter how much the sun burned into your skin—being able to watch him get all worked up and sweaty is definitely a sight you wouldn’t want to miss.
During a small break, Megumi makes his way over to where you’re seated, chest heaving and the back of his hands wiping away some of the sweat that gathered on his forehead. “Wow, he’s really working you good, Gumi. You’re drenched in sweat.”, you note while he reaches for the water bottle next to you. The bench dips slightly as he sits down where the bottle was, letting out a long sigh. “Yeah. I’m not blessed with inhumane strength, unfortunately.”
Megumi takes a good, long sip from the water. You look over at him, watching as his throat moves while he gulps down the water. The sun was shining on his face in such an infuriatingly beautiful way, you felt your heart skip just one little beat. “Aren’t you sweating to death on this bench? Just go to my room, I’ll come once I’m done here.”, Megumi meets your gaze as he looks at you with genuine concern. “No, I’m fine here. It’s kinda fun seeing you get beat to a pulp.”
“Haha. So funny.”, he responds dryly and rolls his eyes, balling his hand into a fist and punching your arm softly. A small smirk forms on your lips, huffing out a cackle as your body sways gently from the impact.
You were sweating to death, but you’re quite willing to continue doing that if it meant you got to see him sweating as well. You watch as small droplets of sweat run down his temples and the sides of his neck, his chest rising a bit faster than usually, and hearing his soft panting through all the background noise.
Suddenly, it wasn’t purely the rays of the sun that got you heated up.
“Hey! You’re not giving up yet are you?”, Yuuji’s shrill voice snaps you back to reality, waving his hand to signal Megumi to come back. Megumi looks over to him shortly, then back at you with exhausted eyes. They scan your face, seeing all the sweat that is building on your forehead as well. His hand moves up, carefully wiping some of it off your temple, tugging a few stray strands of hair behind your ear in the process.
There he goes again. And there goes your heart racing again.
The intimacy of his hand brushing against your cheek has you burning up even more. Even after he’s done getting rid of the sweat and the few stray hairs, your skin tingles where he touched you—brushed against you.
You try to suppress the small change in your expression, try to keep the tiny shock to a minimum, but you can’t hide the faint blush creeping up your cheeks. Megumi’s head tilts to the side just a bit when he notices your red face. “You look like you’re burning up. All fun aside, you should get inside soon. Don’t need you collapsing on me.” He reaches into his pockets and hands you the keys to his room, as well as the water bottle he just drank from. “Just go. Don’t be an idiot.”
The only idiot you saw was him. How on earth could he not notice. “Alright, fine. But don’t take too long.”
“Never, you’d get bored all alone.”
“Fuck you, Gumi.”
With a dismissive wave of his hand he gets up and jogs back towards Yuuji, who was already tapping his foot impatiently.
You look at the key in your hands, sighing in disbelief. After a few seconds you get up yourself, waving goodbye to the two and make your way towards his room, sipping on Megumi’s water bottle.
Once inside, you plop yourself onto his bed. The room really isn’t that big, a singular bed, a desk, a tiny bathroom and a wardrobe is all he’s got in there. But you’ll take the comfort of his room where no sun could fry your brains away, over sweating even more outside right now.
Looking around, you realize how normal it has become for you to be in his room. Some of your things are even scattered in it. Like your favorite pair of slippers, or your laptop that is placed on his desk, right next to Megumi’s. And, of course, he kept a box of your favorite green tea close to the kettle he had.
You let your head drop down into your hands.
In some twisted way, you did feel guilty for being affected by these simple gestures. It most likely wasn’t his intention at all, he was simply looking out for you.
All he did was wipe the sweat off your face. So why can’t you stop thinking about how it felt to have his hands touch your face? Why must your heart race at the thought of him leaning in close to you? And why the hell does he not realize what he’s doing to you?
It’s absolute torture.
Your body flops onto his bed, letting out a frustrated cry.
A knock on the door rips you out of your brooding, shooting up to open up quickly. Your hands wrap around the doorhandle, metal cold against your overheated hands. One last grounding sigh, and you open the door to see Megumi standing in front of it.
His expression is as stoic as ever, white shirt now entirely drenched in sweat. His hair wasn’t as spiky anymore either, practically dripping.
“Took you long enough. Ugh, you need to shower.” The smell of him didn’t bother you at all. You actually really liked it, but that wasn’t something you needed him to know.
“I only stayed for 20 more minutes. Don’t be so dramatic.”, Megumi shoots back, shuffling past you and immediately towards his wardrobe.
Your own feet carry you towards the desk opposite of it, pulling the chair out and sitting on it, chest facing the backrest. “So? Did you…” Your sentence trails off into nothingness as soon as Megumi’s hands grab at the hem of his shirt, pulling it off over his head. His back is turned towards you, giving you the best view of his somehow really toned muscles.
Fuck, when did he get so buff?
His head turns around, a puzzled look plastered on his face. “Did I what?” It is an absolute miracle that he doesn’t seem to be fazed or weirded out by the way you were staring at him.
You pry your eyes away from his body, forcing yourself to look into his eyes. “Uhm…sorry. Did you learn anything new?”
“I guess. I think my punches are getting better.”, Megumi mumbles while turning his body towards you now.
Even worse. At this point you really can’t help your eyes wandering down towards his chest and stomach. Jesus—just when did he get so buff?
His chest was toned and his stomach had some of the most nicely defined abs you’ve seen in a while. You really wish you could extend your arm, and just feel all over him. Feel the ridges of his abs, the way his muscles would tense under your touch. You wonder just what it would feel like to hold onto his shoulders when he was—no. God, you really need to look away.
And this time—against all odds—he does notice you staring. Your eyes were lingering on him for just a second too long. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Hm? What do you mean?”
“You’re staring.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You are.” His brow cocks in suspicion, one hand resting at his hip. “Are you uncomfortable with me taking my shirt off or something?” Your eyes widen slightly, mouth agape. Of course he wouldn’t suspect your staring to be pure ogling. “N-no. I just…I was wondering when you got this…big.”
And all the suspicion in his eyes dropped just like that. “Oh, that. I guess all the training is showing, huh?” He shrugs it off, grabbing a fresh set of clothes and walks over to the door again.
You were caught staring at him red handed, yet he still doesn’t catch on. A part of you is thankful for sure, but you really wonder—with how perceptive he usually is—how the hell isn’t he seeing the most painfully obvious signs that you’re giving him? All that’s missing is drool dripping down your chin.
“I’ll go shower, don’t wanna insult you with my stench any longer.” His expression remained just as stoic as it always was. “Hurry up then, stinky.”, is all you can really come up with right now before the door shuts with a clink, and the sound of his disappearing footsteps is all that remains.
One day, he will be the death of you.
With each passing day, you felt like it was getting a lot more difficult to downplay or simply ignore that tickling in your stomach. It’s started to affect your attention span during classes, your efficiency on missions and even your sleep schedule.
And every day, your frustration just kept building.
You really wish you could just tell him how much he’s affecting you, what all of his silly little antics do to you. And you wish he’d feel the same, wish that he’d tell you that he was doing it on purpose all along, and that he makes you feel like you already belong in his space for a reason—not just simple familiarity.
When he came back from showering last time, you stayed in his room until 2am—and all you had on your mind was how much of a physical reaction you had when you saw him shirtless.
Megumi was playing some game with Yuuji for a while, and usually you love just watching him be all serious about some silly little video game with his friend. But this time, all your eyes could focus on was the way the veins on his hands kept moving with each press of a key.
His fingers were gliding over the keyboard so effortlessly, the sheen of blue on his face from the screen made him look so stupidly sexy when he was concentrating.
Megumi didn’t notice your staring—or rather, he did, but he thought it was simply your usual way of watching him play. Because you always do, you said you enjoyed watching.
What he didn’t notice was the squeeze of your thighs every time he’d cuss under his breath, your gaze trailing off the screen and onto his hands.
God, how you wish he’d notice.
“Megumi’s got your head occupied good, huh?” The penetrating voice of Yuuji right next to your ear manages to finally pull you out of your thoughts. Without realizing it, you’ve been staring out the window for almost the entire break between your classes.
Your mind was indeed quite occupied thinking about him, the way his body looked when he last took his fucking shirt off in front of you. Not to mention when he came back from the shower, towel draped over his waist, hair all wet and clinging to his face. And to him, it was the most normal thing in the world.
But last time you checked, he never acted like this around Yuuji or Nobara.
“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about.”, you stammer, all guilty and ashamed.
“C’mooon, it’s so obvious!” Yuuji grabs a chair from another desk, pulling it towards your own and sitting on it, looking like some gossip-ready friend. “I mean, you practically live in his room. You always go wherever he goes—now that I mentioned it, why aren’t you with him right now?” You lazily gesture towards the door of the classroom. “He’s getting a drink from the vending machines.”
He nods slowly, but his eyes are scanning you for any kind of micro reaction. “Alright…don’t evade the topic though. Just date already, bro! I’m sure he’s caught on by now, you’re like almost drooling whenever you look at him.”
Your head lowers in your hands, eyes glancing over to Yuuji with pure frustration and a hint of embarrassment behind them. “Well, no. He hasn’t caught on at all. That’s like the worst p-“
The sound of familiar footsteps makes you swallow the rest of your sentence.
Megumi emerges from around the corner, eyes locked onto yours immediately. He’s carrying two drinks in his hand, the other hand shoved into the pocket of his pants.
With his usual casualness, he walks towards the two of you, grabbing a chair himself in the process and putting it right beside you.
The soda can clinks when he sets your favorite one right in front of you, hell, he even opens the can with his one hand for you before sitting down himself. “What’s gotten you two so engulfed in conversation?”
His eyes flicker between you and Yuuji, stopping at you and waiting for an answer.
Yuuji slowly gets up from the chair, a suppressed grin tugging at his lips. “I’ll uh, I’ll leave you guys to it then.”
“What a weirdo.”, Megumi mumbles under his breath as he watches Yuuji return to his own seat.
You could feel his knee touching yours when he relaxes into his chair, taking a sip of his soda. The tip of your finger traces the rim of your own can to steady your racing heart. How could it get this far already, his presence alone now making you nervous. You shift your focus on the very interesting can of soda. A few drops of dew running down the sides of it, the sound of it fizzing is very subtle.
“Thanks, Gumi. You didn’t have to. How much was it?”, you finally force yourself to blurt out, not wanting the awkward silence to stretch even longer.
He huffs out, seemingly amused by the question. “No need, I got you.” His hand comes up to ruffle through your hair—something he did quite often—twirling a few pieces of it between his fingers.
With anyone else, you knew this would be obvious flirting. But with him? Looking over at his expression and finding absolutely nothing, just a normal face, a normal look in his eye—no blush, no nothing. Not even a smirk or the hint of one. This was just him being friendly, no?
“Do I have something on my face?” His low voice pulls you out of your trance once more. Fuck, you’ve been staring again. “Hm? No, nothing.”, you quickly avert your eyes and turn your face away to hide the small blush that threatened to creep up your cheeks.
Megumi’s hand leaves your hair slowly, now resting on the table right beside yours.
In his mind, he did notice your behavior getting strange lately. He noticed the bags under your eyes got a bit deeper, you made one less teasing comment towards him than you usually would, didn’t focus on class the way you usually did. Yet, the cause of it is unexplainable to him. So he can’t just go and fix it for you without asking you this time.
“Hey.”, he almost exhaled the word, so softly and full with concern. The hand that was previously resting next to yours lifts off the table a few inches, moving to hover above yours.
You could feel the warmth radiating off his skin before his hand makes contact with yours, giving you one gentle squeeze.
Very subtly, your body jerked at the contact. Not because you didn’t want him to hold your hand—because you did want him to—but you knew that it would only be a matter of time now before maybe, his brain cells start to connect the dots.
“You’ve been a bit off lately. What is it?”
You don’t turn your head towards him fully, only letting your eyes glance over at him. You try your best to look at least a little confused at his question. “Have I? I don’t know, nothing’s up.”, you shrug and continue staring at nothing.
Megumi’s eyebrow cocks up, he can basically smell the lie that you just told him. “Don’t lie to me. You know you can tell me anything. So what’s up?”, he insists, leaning in just a bit closer.
Your eyes keep flicking back and forth between the extremely interesting droplets of water on your soda can and Megumi’s eyes. Your head is racing, trying to find something to tell him.
You settle on the first best, and also worst, excuse you could come up with. “Can we maybe…talk about this later? In private?”
Megumi’s expression softens, and he gives you a tiny nod of understanding. His hand lets go of yours, and the second the cold air hits your heated up skin again, it feels oddly lonely.
“Of course.”
For a few moments, a strangely awkward silence stretches between the two of you.
“Gonna drink your soda? Don’t let my money get wasted now.”
A small chuckle leaves you, easing some of the tension that has built up. “My bad, I’ll get right to it.”
The entirety of the next class, Megumi’s mind keeps racing with possible reasons for your recent troubles. Was it something to do with the classes, a mission that kept you in your feels, arguments with other friends? He just couldn’t find a proper explanation.
Of course, Megumi never begins to think about the fact that he might be the reason for your ‘troubles’. He also wouldn’t really think that you aren’t exactly troubled, you’re—simply put—very frustrated. Both sexually, and emotionally.
And when the time comes for you to leave the classroom and walk towards Megumi’s room—obviously—you are frustrated about the fact that you now have to come up with some stupid excuse as to why you have been acting a bit off.
The walk back is quiet, Megumi’s hands are shoved in his pockets, and his head is tilted down towards the floor, seemingly a bit lost in thought. Your own eyes stay on the ground as well, hands fidgeting with the hem of your jacket. This is probably the first time in two years that you feel nervous around him again.
Once inside his room, the door clicks shut gently after a small push of Megumi’s foot. “Want some tea?”, he asks while shuffling past you, putting his things away into their designated corner. You give him an approving hum before settling down onto his bed.
Your eyes follow his frame as he makes his way over to the kettle, your designated cup already in his hand. His hand goes to grab a bottle of water right next to it, plastic denting under his grip, the sound of it crinkling echoes through the room.
“The next mission will be a pain in the ass. Gojo’s gonna come and watch us to see how we improved.”, he rambles on, lifting the bottle and pouring some into the kettle. His thumb hovers above the button, and with a small click! it turns on, with small LED lights shining in hues of blue and red around the bottom of it.
“You can show him the mean left-right-goodnight combo you learned from Yuuji, then. He’s gotta promote you to special grade after seeing it.”, you tease, small smirk forming on your lips as your legs swing back and forth. He shoots you a playful warning glance while his hands fumble with the packet of teabags.
“He can’t even promote me at all, idiot.”
“I know that, meanie.”, you shoot back, letting yourself fall onto his bed.
Megumi lets out a frustrated little grumble, fingers still busy getting the teabag open. “Stupid fucking teabag”, he murmurs to himself.
He simply opts to rip it open, tossing the paper aside with quite the attitude and plopping the teabag into the cup. By now, the water in the tea kettle is bubbling, hot steam escaping out of the opening. A small click signals that the water is done boiling, Megumi’s hands wrap around the handle and carefully pour the hot water into your cup.
He swirls the teabag around a few times before tying it onto the handle, taking the cup into his hands and carrying it over to you.
Hearing him approach makes you sit up straight again and extend your hands to take tea off him. He halts once he’s right in front of you, leaning in to hand you the mug.“There. Careful, it’s h-“
You don’t really know how it happened, but for some reason, the cup tips over and spills a portion of the scorching hot water onto your legs. You jump at the heat, wincing in pain and face contorting. Your legs feel like they’re on fire, the hot water burning through your tights quite easily. Your hands move to brush it off you, but you decide against it last second, not wanting to burn your hands as well.
Megumi’s eyes widen as he processes what just happened. How could he let himself get so clumsy? It’s like his body moves on its own, setting the cup down onto his desk with precision this time, and hurrying over to his closet to pick out a towel. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. Stay right there.”, he grits out under his breath, returning to your side and dropping down onto his knees in front of you.
One of his hands comes to rest on your leg to brace himself, while the other carefully dabs at the spilled water.
Megumi looks up at you with pure concern in his eyes, tender and almost domestic. “Does it burn?”, his voice is a lot lower now, more serious than it was before—you didn’t really know that was possible until now. “Yeah…a bit.”, you groan while Megumi tries his best to dry up any water still on your legs.
As soon as the initial shock and pain subside, you can really take in the position you’re in right now. Suddenly, you’re intensely aware of how his hand is gripping into your skin above your knee, how the soft fabric of the towel rubs along your thigh—getting higher with each pass to make sure he really gets all the water gone.
He’s kneeling between your legs, looking up at you through his gorgeous lashes, strands of his dark hair framing his face so prettily. The afterburn of the hot water isn’t the only thing that’s heating up your skin right now.
Being able to find joy even in moments of discomfort—that surely must be your greatest strength.
Megumi guides the towel along the inside of your thigh, and you can’t help the quietest little wince you let out. His hands still against your skin immediately—under the impression that he might’ve caused you some pain—to not hurt you any further.
Mentally, he’s cussing himself out for not paying more attention. And now, he’s the reason why you’re wincing in pain. His face might not show it, but the guilt is gnawing at him already.
“Still hurts?” Megumi’s eyes find yours once again, flicking from one eye to another before scanning the rest of your face, trying so hard to see if you’re in any kind of discomfort. The eye contact is turning you into a shy teenager again, averting your eyes to hide from his intense stare.
“Look at me.”, he mutters, the hand on your knee squeezing only slightly. Heat creeps up your face at his command, slowly looking back at him.
Your breath hitches slightly at the way he’s eyeing you so intensely, like he’s staring right into your soul to find exactly what he’s looking for. He sees your eyebrows knit together, face flushed in a subtle shade of red. To him, this looks like the aftermath of way-too-hot water spilling on your legs and leaving you in quite some pain.
His eyes continue scanning you, moving on from your face, now trailing down towards the rest of your body. Your legs have a slight tremor to them and your hands are clutching at his bedsheets as well.
You nod meekly in response to his earlier question. Of course, it wasn’t hurting, nor were any of the things he observed related to the brief sting you felt at all. But you didn’t exactly want him to know that the way he rubs the towel along your legs sends heat straight to your core.
His other hand adjusts slightly, tracing along the side of your knee and settling again. Your brows furrow, trying so hard to control the small tremble that’s welling up in your legs.
Megumi doesn’t seem to realize that every single micro movement of his hands just adds to the burning between your legs, already overpowering the actual burn. You take a deep breath in, trying to steady yourself and your spiraling thoughts—but Megumi just had to look this good while taking care of your wound, kneeling in front of you and looking up at you like that.
The gentleness of his touch contrasts the intense sensitivity of your skin, feeling every little twitch of his fingers against you. He seems to be concentrating quite hard on making sure the water is all gone and soaked into the towel.
One last pass, dragging the towel from a bit too far up your thigh down to your knee, and he seems to be satisfied, checking your legs one last time. The towel is discarded beside you, now both of his bare hands making contact with your not so bare legs, moving them around a bit to be able to check if he missed anything.
Your mouth hangs open just a bit. His way of making sure you’re fine—basically spreading your legs apart to see if the water spilled further—doesn’t help the situation one bit. You feel like a pervert, thoughts running wild at the image before you.
You’re almost scared he might smell how much this is turning you on.
“I think it’s good now. Are you okay?”, Megumi huffs out while getting back onto his feet, pulling you straight out of your thoughts.
“I- I’m okay, yeah…thanks.”, you breathe out, almost caught in a state of shock. Your eyes are widened just a bit, hands still clutching at the sheets below you.
Despite standing, he’s locked in place between your legs, now looking down at you with the same concern he previously had on his face, head tilted to the side just slightly—probably still checking to see if you’re fine.
You gulp—audibly. It almost feels like you’re frozen, not sure whether to look at him or the furniture behind him. You thought it would be better once he gets up, but it really doesn’t seem like that.
The proximity is starting to get to you. Your eyes dart around the room, occasionally locking with his, chest heaving. Megumi, for some reason, refuses to step back and let your poor heart relax for one second. And before you combust, you decide to put some space between you and the reason for your little heart attack yourself.
With one quick motion, you shuffle yourself off his bed, quick steps leading you towards his door and facing it, one of the heaviest sighs you’ve ever sighed leaving you. Megumi’s eyes follow your frame, his brows furrowing in confusion. “Where are you going? It wasn’t on purp-“
“No I know, I…sorry I just- I think I’m still in…shock? So I just had to get up and, you know…breathe.”, you stammer out excuses, cussing at yourself under your breath for sounding so affected.
“I think I’m gonna go change real quick, yeah?”, you follow up, turning your head around towards him fleetingly to give him a small, reassuring smile. “You can have some of my clothes, just take whatever you need.”, Megumi points towards his wardrobe.
Wearing his clothes now too? Maybe you should decline.
“Thank you, Gumi. I won’t be long.”
Of course you don’t decline, when will you get this kind of opportunity again. With a creak, you open his wardrobe, quickly scanning it and settle for a black pair of joggers that definitely would be a bit big on you, but that’s none of your concern right now.
Once you disappear inside of his small bathroom to change, Megumi’s mind starts racing again. Did he do something wrong? Your strange behavior is getting worse by the minute, some of it explainable by the tea he accidentally poured on you. Like your flushed face, the way you tensed up each time he was wiping the water off your legs. But you’ve been like this the entire day.
In class you were avoiding his gaze, you’ve generally been quite tense around him. Megumi moves to sit down on his bed, staring blankly at the door that leads to his bathroom. He will definitely have to find out what’s going on. If he’s making any mistakes, he needs to know.
You, on the other hand, take the opportunity to finally relax your thoughts in his bathroom. A few deep breaths in and out, and you slowly move your hands towards your skirt and tights, pulling them off. They were definitely still soaked with water.
Carefully, you let your hand dip between your legs to feel just how terribly affected you are, and sure enough—your panties are completely soaked as well. “Shit…”, you mutter under your breath, quickly pulling Megumi’s joggers over your bare—and slightly red legs to hide the evidence.
The door handle slowly creeps downwards as you make your way out of his bathroom. A small look around his room made you find him seated on his bed now, hands covering his mouth and nose as he looks right at you with slightly furrowed brows. “A bit big but…will do, thanks.”, you mumble, seemingly frozen in place in front of the door.
Megumi pushes himself off his bed abruptly, walking towards you with a mission.
“Okay, seriously. What’s up with you?”
You were hoping this whole fiasco would make him forget about this conversation. You could feel your stomach drop just a little. All the relaxation you had in his bathroom disappears with just one sentence.
“Nothing, Megumi. I’m fine.”, you try to evade the conversation, not daring to look in his eyes while you lie your ass off. He clocks the lie immediately, though.
“Bullshit. Just tell me. Did I do something? It feels like you’re avoiding me.”, Megumi sounds defeated. Your stomach drops even lower now. “You didn’t do anything. I’m just- I don’t know! I’m exhausted.” What a terrible lie.
Megumi lets out a sigh, shaking his head in disbelief. “I don’t believe that. C’mon, just tell me what’s bothering you.”, his tone softens a bit, hands coming up to rest on your shoulders reassuringly.
He’s too close again, you can basically feel his breath on you, his body heat. The proximity and his constant pushing cause your coil to snap. “It’s you, okay? The way you touch me, the way you care for me, the look in your eyes- you don’t even know what it’s doing to me. I just- I can’t fucking function like this!”, you finally blurt out—desperately, and defeated yourself now.
Megumi blinks. Once, twice. And then, it finally clicks.
Finally, the blush on your face, the constant avoidance of his gaze, the tensing up and the stuttering—it all makes perfect sense. His grip on your shoulders loosens up slightly, and the silence between the two of you stretches uncomfortably.
Your eyes are locked onto the floor, heart hammering against your chest, now that you finally got it off your chest. You’re almost relieved, if it wasn’t for the pure embarrassment that settled in your stomach immediately after.
“So, that’s what’s been bothering you?”, he finally answers, voice dropping just an octave lower.
“I know, you don’t do this on purpose, and I’m sorry. But, I can’t help it, okay?” Regret settles in, right after the embarrassment. And now, you just want to leave. Your body moves on its own, trying to free yourself from his grip and escape towards your own room.
Yet, his hand props itself right beside your head, stopping you from escaping. Your eyes flick up to meet his as he’s staring right back at you. And instead of disappointment, anger or disgust, you’re met with something a lot more accepting. Is it…reciprocation?
“You think I’d let just anyone stay in my room until 2am?”, Megumi rasped, face slowly leaning in closer.
You freeze.
Your mouth opens and closes a few times, wanting to say something but not really finding the words you need.
Some sort of relieve seemed to be washing over Megumi’s face, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “And here I was, thinking you were mad at me. You could’ve just said something, you know?”, his sentence trails off as he leans in towards your neck, breath ghosting your skin before you feel his lips press a small, soft peck against it. “Could’ve done something about it a bit sooner.”
You let out a shaky breath, slight shiver running down your spine as Megumi continues to press soft kisses up and down your neck.
Your mind was still processing what he said.
The hand that wasn’t propped up against his door moves towards your waist, pulling you flush against him gently, as his soft kisses against your neck grow more needy with each one. Your own hands come up and press flat against his chest, finally touching and feeling the toned muscle underneath the fabric of his shirt. His other hand moves away from the door, tangling in your hair and adjusting the angle for better access.
“This is what’s been occupying your head?”, he mumbles against your skin, lifting his head from between your neck to face you. The feeling of his lips on your skin still lingers, your head nodding softly to serve as an answer. “Say yes, and I’ll get rid of these thoughts for you.”
“Yes.”, you huff out hurriedly.
Before you can take another breath, his lips connect with yours, and it feels like your whole world that has been crumbling, finally builds itself back up.
Megumi lets out a long, satisfied breath through his nose, one gentle kiss turning into multiple wet, and slightly clumsy ones. Both of his hands hold onto your waist now, squeezing only slightly.
Slowly, he starts pulling you backwards and towards his bed, turning the two of you around once he feels the edge of it—without breaking the kiss. His hands guide you to sit back down onto the bed, right back where you were just moments ago—only this time, doing exactly what you had on your mind for a long time.
Megumi places one last kiss on your lips, before pulling away. “Could’ve just kept these off.”, he mumbles while his fingers hook under his pants that you’re wearing, pulling them down and discarding them somewhere unknown. The tips of his fingers make contact with the skin between your collarbones, lightly pushing you backwards until your back hits his mattress.
You lift your head slightly, watching as he gets back onto his knees—exactly how he was before—while his hands find their place on top of your now bare knees once more.
He looks just as pretty as he did the first time, slowly spreading your legs apart—with intention this time around. The damp spot between your legs is hard to miss now, the tiniest smirk tugging on his lips. “How long have you been this wet for?”, his eyes lock with yours as he asks. “Ever since you started drying the water from my legs.”, you admit quietly.
Megumi huffs out—probably amused, knowing that his caring gesture is the cause of all this happening now. Not that he’s complaining. His hands stroke up and down your bare thighs, noting the tiny shiver whenever he got closer to your aching core.
His head lowers between your legs, starting off at your knee and placing open-mouthed kisses all along your leg, up until the crook between your hip and your thigh. You could feel the arousal between your legs growing with each kiss, a shaky breath leaving your lips.
You could feel his breath ghosting above your clothed cunt now, hips bucking towards his face involuntarily—your insatiable need so painfully obvious.
Megumi places one teasing kiss just above where your clit would be, before his fingers hook under the fabric of your panties, slowly sliding them off. You lift your hips to help him get them off quicker, not wanting to waste any more seconds when you were facing exactly what you’ve been craving this whole time.
“Impatient much, huh?”, Megumi notes, the tiniest chuckle leaving him.
He swallows that chuckle when he sees a string of your juices still connected to your panties, now replaced with a sigh of disbelief and arousal. He could feel himself getting harder by the second from simply seeing how turned on you are.
Your panties join the other discarded pants not long after that, hands now pressed against the inside of your thighs to push your legs apart a bit further.
“So wet, all for me?”, he breaths out, glancing up at you, just to see you nodding shyly.
His breath was now finally tickling your bare cunt—and if you shuffled just a bit more, you could have his mouth on you already. But there was no need for that. Seeing you nod gave him everything he needed, to place one sloppy kiss right onto your neglected and tortured clit, arms hooking around your thighs to pull you flush against his face.
The sound that left you was almost embarrassing, all the pent up need and frustration leaving you with a dragged out whine.
Megumi’s tongue darts out, pressing flat against you and licking up one agonizingly slow stripe from your soaked entrance towards your clit, lips closing around it and suckling on it gently.
“Feels good like that?”, he murmurs against you, the vibration of his voice just adding to the pure bliss you’re feeling by now.
A mixture between a moan and a hum is all you can really answer for now, but Megumi does understand it as agreement, continuing to lap at your pretty cunny.
Megumi wasn’t simply eating you out—no. He was making out with your cunt, just how he was with your lips—all tender and soft, growing needier as the taste settles on his tongue.
He feels the sudden urge to lick up every single drop of wetness that continues to flow out of your aching hole, his tongue occasionally pumping inside of you to get you real clean.
His hands on your thighs were rubbing slow circles against your skin the entire time.
Every small mewl and moan, every twitch of your legs around his head motivate him to lap at you with more fervor, focusing on your clit after an especially hard twitch of your hips.
Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging at it in order to make sure this is actually real. His tongue on you feels like pure heaven, every single flick against your clit adding to the building pressure in your abdomen.
Megumi has stopped caring about restraint and keeping his cool, slurping and groaning against your pussy—getting drunk on the addicting taste of you.
His eyes flicker up towards your face for a brief moment, taking in how pretty you look from this angle, how your brows furrow and your eyes are squeezed shut, and your mouth parted to let out the sweetest sounds of pleasure—pleasure that he’s giving to you. His hands on your thighs tighten just a bit, pulling you even closer towards him.
“gumi, feels so good- nghh”, you huff out as his tongue laps at your clit just right. Megumi nods against your cunt, humming in acknowledgment.
You could feel your orgasm so incredibly close, your chest heaving and your panting getting more excessive.
He notices your small cues, sucking just a bit harder on your clit and drawing small circles on it with his tongue.
The fingers you have tangled in his hair tighten, hips stuttering as you finally feel the coil snap inside of you, cumming against his tongue with a choked cry.
It’s blissful, and so incredibly overwhelming. You don’t remember the last time you’ve felt this relived. Your body twitches as he licks one last, slow stroke through your folds before finally pulling back, lips glistening with your arousal.
“You liked that? Was that what’s been occupying your thoughts?”, Megumi coos between your legs, slowly lifting himself up from the ground and back onto his feet.
“Liked it, but that wasn’t all…”, you reply softly, arms extending to reach out towards his chest. He leans against your touch, leaning over your body until his breath tickles your ear.
“Then tell me what else you’ve been thinking about.”, he whisper, pressing a small kiss against your temple.
Your hands start roaming his clothed chest, trying to feel the body you’ve been ogling at in the past. “Can I take your shirt off?”
Megumi doesn’t hesitate to pull it off over his head, your hands now finally making contact with his bare skin. The tips of your fingers trace the ridges of his abs, running your hands all over his chest like a greedy kitten.
“Gumi, I want you inside of me.”, you basically whimper, eyes fluttering up at him. Your hands slowly trail down his body, stopping at his pants. One last glance at him—seeing him give you a small nod—and you start fumbling with his zipper, pulling his pants and boxers down in one go.
Your eyes widen slightly as you watch his cock spring free, painfully hard and already leaking pre cum at the tip. He positions himself between your legs properly now, guiding the tip of his cock between your folds and dragging it through them. His tip glistens with all the slick he’s gathering up from your soaked cunt.
“Fuck, I don’t think you know how long I’ve been wanting to do this.”, Megumi breathes out through gritted teeth as his tip settles at your soaked entrance. “You sure?”, he asks one last time for reassurance.
Your impatient nod and wiggle or your hips makes him huff out in amusement before he slowly sinks the tip of his cock inside of your snug cunt. His eyes squeeze shut, letting out a low sigh at the feeling of your pussy hugging him so perfectly, just how he imagined.
“You’re so tight, so perfect.”, he groans, hands placed at either side of your head to support himself on top of you. The stretch of his cock finally filling your needy hole is like a missing piece to a puzzle you’ve been dying to complete. Your hands grab at his shoulders, holding on tightly as he pushing in just a bit deeper—slowly, until his pelvis is flush against yours.
Megumi still inside of you for a few seconds, savoring the way your pussy flutters around him. When your hips start moving on their own, he takes it as his cue to finally start moving.
Slow, deep strokes push his cock so nicely inside of you, you’re almost mourning the loss every time he pulls back again. And as much as you love him for being so gentle with you, you crave just a bit more friction.
“Bit faster, please.”, you blurt out between whines, fingernails digging into his shoulder just a tad bit. “Faster, huh? Alright, don’t blame me though.”
Megumi drags his cock back, until just his tip is nestled inside of you. With one harsh thrust forward, his pace almost doubles in speed—your recently sweet and pretty whines turning into choked moans with each thrust.
“Is this what it takes to get you to concentrate during missions again? During class?”, he grits out, the hands placed beside your head leaving and grabbing the back of your thighs—pushing them up against your chest.
Each thrust is sure to bump against your g-spot, the tip of his cock occasionally hitting so deep inside of you—you aren’t sure what exactly he’s hitting but it definitely feels overwhelmingly good. You feel like a folded up piece of paper, Megumi’s grip on your legs a lot harsher than before while his cock ruts in and out of your squelching cunt.
Your juices start soaking the sheets below you, the sound of his hips smacking against yours a lot louder than before.
You feel your mind going blank, forgetting what got you here in the first place. All you could focus on is the feeling of Megumi fucking you into his mattress—just how you had envisioned whenever you sat on it with him.
Megumi could feel his own release nearing, hips stuttering as he chases it. He’s been thinking about doing this for a very long time—longer than he’d like to admit. “Shit- I’m close. Gonna cum-“
“Inside, cum inside, Gumi, please.”
And finally, feeling your cunt squeeze him so nicely and hearing you beg for him to cum inside of you helps tipping him over the edge, burying himself to the hilt while thick ropes of cum coat your insides.
His hands let go of your legs—now wrapping around his waist—as his body collapses on top of yours. Your ragged breathing syncs with his, carefully lifting one of your hands up towards his head and dragging your hands through his messy, sweaty hair.
For what seems like forever, the two of you relax your racing hearts while holding each other.
“Sorry for not saying anything and acting weird.”, you finally break the silence, earning a breathless chuckle from Megumi as he rests his chin on top of your head.
You and Satoru broke up for a reason, you keep reminding yourself.
But even months later and, ehm… other people later, you find yourself staring at his contact picture, typing and deleting the same message over and over again.
How are you even supposed to break no contact? Is there a good way of reaching out to your ex without coming across as desperate or delusional?
"I miss you" your fingers type.
Delete.
No way you're starting with that – even if it is the truth.
"Hope you're well" …you groan before you even finish typing that one, the little sound of each letter disappearing managing to piss you off even more.
You had heard it enough times already. A monotone soundtrack to every little memory of Satoru, both good and bad, that jumped to your mind without warning the longer you stared at his handsome picture.
It felt ridiculous to miss him that much. You had tried so hard to move on – maybe just to prove a point too. Because otherwise you’d have to admit what he knew all along.
You shouldn’t embarrass yourself like that, you decide with a long sigh, ready to lock the device.
But suddenly – three little dots appear on the screen.
satoru: just send it already i can't take it anymore
Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp, and it takes everything in you to not throw the phone across the room and hide from sheer embarrassment.
Then it pings again.
satoru: hellooo?
Fuck.
Was it too late to change your number and move to a different country?
You sigh, finally typing a message you actually send.
y/n: how long have you been watching the screen
Three dots.
satoru: like 10 minutes
You let out a silent scream, heart hammering in your chest.
This is the worst possible scenario – time to deflect.
y/n: why the hell did you have my chat open anyway
Three dots again…
satoru: princess I've been waiting for this moment for months
Your cheeks heat up with something other than embarrassment this time.
y/n: you're an idiot
You know he’d practically be able to hear your pout through that text. But then–
satoru: that guy you were dating finally fuck up?
You let out a small chuckle at his honesty. And yeah, fuck up was putting it lightly, but you didn't exactly want to get into how every man since Satoru had been a complete disappointment.
You sigh, biting the inside of your cheek to try and force back the smile that tried to form on your lips.
y/n: guess you could say that
Satoru was typing again, three dots appearing and disappearing. Maybe he was the one deleting the messages on the other side now.
You could almost picture him – that wide cheese eating grin, celebrating his prophecy coming true. You hated how right he was about the fact you wouldn't find anyone better than him.
The overly confident bastard he was.
But the message you received wasn't smug at all. If anything, it made your heart ache with that familiar comfort no one but him seemed able to give you.
satoru: did he hurt you?
You felt a tightness in your throat as you typed out a yes. It's not like you were ever in love with the guy – you hadn't really been in love with anyone since, well… since the man you were texting right now.
White haired, blue eyed, handsome Satoru Gojo, shining so bright he overshadowed everyone in his wake, including you.
But how could anyone else even compare?
satoru: are you ok?
You bite your lower lip, reading and rereading his text. Yes that guy proved to be an asshole, but what was really making your chest hurt wasn't that short lived situationship – it was how much you missed Satoru.
Missed his stupid jokes. Missed the way he'd easily pick you up and place kisses all over your face. Missed cuddling on cold nights, laughing at the dumb movie he chose, baking cookies for lunch when his adorable pout convinced you it was healthy.
What was the use of lying, anyway?
y/n: i just really miss you
There. You finally admitted the truth you had been trying to conceal for months now.
And his response came so fast you wondered how his thumbs could type so quickly.
satoru: ill be there in 10
You laugh – Satoru easily lives a half an hour away, but you fully believe him.
How did you ever think you’d get over Satoru Gojo?
(important) DO NOT MESSAGE YOUR EX – unless he is satoru gojo, of course
