Hi! Hoping you’re doing well I wanted to make a request. We’ll… I don’t know if this is a request or suggestion buuut can you write something with Ifa and his s/o. Like, maybe a jealous Ifa? When someone is flirting with his darling! Thanksss
💜: Wow, didn't think Jealous Ifa would be such a popular prompt!! Oh well I'll bite into the "Ifa's a jealouse type" agenda.
"Are you sure? It's a big responsibility."
Ifa still remembers the day he spoke those exact words to you.
Voice stiff leaking with doubt, cadence demurral. It was Doctor Ifa speaking to you that day, trying to convince you not to go through with such a big commitment while also memorizing the adorable scintillate when the sun's rays reflected through your eyes just so.
"I'm sure" you reply, juvenile saurian tucked between your arms as you awkwardly shift from one foot to the other. There's commendation in such an act, Ifa would know, he's taken on a similar responsibility. But still, he couldn't help the uncertainty pricking at his bones.
The little runt was born sick. It likely wouldn't make it to teenhood let alone adulthood. Nevertheless, you seemed all so adamant about this. So determined that this broken little ill thing would be your companion.
"Alrighty then, let's take a look at 'em..."
That had been several years ago.
And yet Ifa still clings to the memory, replaying your words and savoring your resolve upon his tongue.
he murmurs with all the acrimony of a curse.
Funny he can't quite remember when this disdain took root.
When the way you'd hug and cuddle your Saurian would send bullets through his heart.
There's a painful throbbing in Ifa's veins whenever you're around. A dull needle jabbed awkwardly into his heart. It's all so hard to see you walking around the tribe grounds, smiling and waving at everyone you see. It's custom he should know this, he's been raised amongst these people much like yourself, and yet...
He can't help wishing everyone was dead.
It's a bitter thought, one that shouldn't grant him as much ease as it does. But he can't help picturing you threading through the corpses, in desperate search of someone to quench your loneliness.
He wants to hold you close, cradle you in his arms, and feel your smooth skin squish against his cheek. Fingers entwined as you snake your legs around his. Together forever, only his forever.
But then you leave and the throbbing turns into a lacerations gouged bone deep. Too painful to abide. He can't see you, nor can he see who you talk to. The worries start to seep out, overflowing until he drowns. What if the smiles aren't so friendly anymore, flirtish, lustbound, loving even. What if you return such sentiments? What if you slip out from between his fingers?
Ifa still remembers the day you got a vision. Remembers how the blood in his veins felt hot and his heart beat in envy.
How dare an archon get to lay claim to you.
Be with you wherever you went.
How dare someone who wasn't him always remain by your side.
Ifa had never thought himself religious, never thought himself irreverent either. But in that moment, sacrilege claws at his throat as he watched your new powers bloom from your fingertips. Smiling at him with all the beauty in the world. He should feel happy for you, proud even. Crack a joke at how you and your saurian "match now" make you laugh, and reveal in the melodious chime.
But Ifa's voice cracks when he mutters a "congratulation" his body filled to the brim with emerald rage. Under his breath, he swears war upon Celestia.
You come to him in the dead of night. When he's doing his rounds in the infirmary making sure his inpatients are still asleep. Ifa can't help the dreamy sign that escapes his lips. It's as if the stars and the moon and the low muggy fog all pitched together to create this sort of fragile beauty. Something a little too hard to explain and a little too overwhelming to love.
"I was wondering if you'd like to come to Fontaine with me?" You step closer letting the door swing close behind you. The gentle thump making a little Tatankasaurus stir in its sleep. Ifa breathes in a sharp intake. Filling himself with your sweet perfume. His mouth is dry trying to find a way to differ. "Why Fontaine?" is all that comes out.
Why water? Why not Mondstadt, why not somewhere where the breeze runs free? Far away from everyone but him?
You shrug rigidly, kicking at the floorboards. "There's a film festival I've heard of and well...it's different you know? Something so unlike..." you wave your hands and Ifa can't help but wince at the message.
"All this?" he finishes. Are you trying to tell him something? Are you trying to say you're tired of home? Of the battles that never really seem to end? Of the victories that have grown practically hollow?
"Yeah," You chirp a hint of lassitude tainting your voice "Just a change of pace you know? It'll be good for you and Cacucu too."
The sentiment is there, Ifa's sure of it. But he can't shake the nervous tremors that sprout across his body. He's tried all so long to keep you to himself, to gently pry you away from everyone else. And now? Now you want to escape entirely, leave Natlan, and explore the world. But what choice does he have? He knows he has to go with you, maybe there'll be some merit to it, maybe you'll start to see things from his point of view...
Ifa doesn't like Fontaine.
There's something so mechanical about it all. Like the entire nation has been scrubbed of life and replaced with perfect porcelain. Like they've forgotten how to breathe. But maybe the worst of it all is the way you seem to be enjoying yourself. The radiant smile you give the curious natives who flock around you. The little tales you tell about Natlan as the journalists all scribble down notes.
But the most insufferable has got to be that man.
The tall duke-wardon that invites you for tea in the afternoons and walks you around the court, laughing at your mundane misadventures in Natlan. Ifa can't stand it, the way that man - No Wriothesley as he insists to be called- always has a hand on your body. The way he beams at you and rushes to your side. Heck, Ifa can't even stand when Wriothesley plays with your little saurian. The little runt that had plagued him up until now has suddenly become yet another point of envy. After all these years that saurian is practically an extension of you. So why should Ifa love it any less?
He imagines his ameno bullets piercing Wriothesley's skull. Imagine Cacucu pecking out his eyeballs. Anything to make him stay away from you.
His heart can't take it anymore. Ifa's blocking the door of your shared hotel room. Bags packed insisting you head back now. You're stubborn adamant about staying and he knows it won't be easy. His fingers wring the syringe hidden behind his back. Pads of his fingers scraping against the fine tip as he listens to your tantrum, screaming about how he's being so unreasonable.
Funny, Ifa thinks he's actually doing the logical thing for once.
He can't let anyone else have you. Can't let anyone keep you away from him any longer.
He waits until you're closer before pushing himself off the door and wrapping his arms around you in a sheathlike embrace. You calm in his touch hugging back. That's when he gently pushes the needle into your skin. Pushing the tranquilizing liquid into your bloodstream.
But he's really had enough.
Ifa's lips peck at your temples, slowly trailing longer hungrier kisses down your neck and shoulders. There's a ship heading for Natlan soon, you'll be home safe once more. Your saurian walks over nuzzling between you and Ifa. And the doctor can't help but smile, his eyes dart up to Cacucu, lips breaking into a serene smile. He finally has everyone he loves in his embrace, tucked away safe from the cruel world.
Finally, he's happy after all so long.
And once you're home, Ifa has plans of keeping you locked away with him. Forever his, and only his.
Enjoy this rushed little thing that took me 1700 years to write😭😭
