you always come back to him.
after those calls, when you cry into the phone and beg him to take you away; when he can't refuse you because god knows what can happen to you when you're drunk.
you were always like that when you were drunk: reckless and so, so straightforward, ready to say anything that came into your head.
and when he does find the strength to look in the bar and see you standing there like you've been waiting for him.
it hurts in a way; seeing you so drunk and defenseless makes his insides clench and his arms go up in anticipation of a hug. because he knows you get overly tactile when you drink.
you smile when you see a familiar male figure, and the whole world disappears when you say his name with such tenderness and longing.
“hi,” he whispers softly into your shoulder somewhere as you practically hang onto him, ”have you had a lot to drink?”
“just a little,” you smile, lifting your head and looking into his eyes, ”just to get in the mood. i didn't want to get drunk…”
he knows you've had more than a little, but your soft gaze and flushed cheeks are worth it, so he stayed silent.
he knows he needs to take you home; needs to help you into the apartment, air out your bedroom, help you undress and get into bed…
“a little bit, huh?” he sighs, helping you out of the bar while you still smile contentedly and mumble something back, ”let's get you home.”
“wanna go to your place,” you parry, pushing him away from you slightly to reach out; you almost fall and he catches you just in time. you just smile, whispering a soft 'thank you' and he wants to scream at how familiar it feels, “i missed the view from your bedroom window… it's so beautiful there.”
“that's why i bought this apartment,” he gently places his hand on your waist, ”you always loved the view.”
“why did we break up?” you ask quietly, sitting in the hallway and looking down at the way he slowly removes your shoes from your feet, ”i wish we never broke up.”
those words make him wince; he knew you would ask that question again. he knew you'd call him over and over again when you were drunk and he still hadn't blocked your number. he knew you would ask him why you broke up, and he realizes he doesn't know the reason at all.
or rather he knows it's a combination of many things, from work stress to feelings that started to fade.
and yet that knowledge doesn't make it any easier. he knows he still loves you to death. he just doesn't love you as much anymore.
and he can't move on.
“you're drunk,” he forces himself to say, averting his gaze, ”let's talk about this tomorrow.”
he knows full well that you won't talk about it tomorrow. tomorrow you'll dress up and leave before he wakes up; you never stay with him too long and he doesn't know why.
but he can't blame you.
so he lets you use him as your personal airbag that will always answer your call at three in the morning.
kazuha ◞ thoma ◞ ifa ◞ dick ◞ gepard ◞ dang heng ◞ dick ◞ xavier ◞ cloud & ur favs !!
there's a certain beauty and pain in being with someone carnally, and nothing more than that
› 〉 📂 .ೃ | friends with benefits, more angst than smut, like this is basically all angst no smut lol, kinda short too mb
header art (left to right) by pcrow ; artsquirre ; _sekidesu
╰─➤ 💌 ₍₁₎ being in a situationship is all fun and games until u catch feelings fr 😕. anyways. let's go thru that pain in this. lowkey i wanna make a part 2 to this with a happy ending cos im SOFT lmaooo
ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 ALHAITHAM.
BEING IN... WHATEVER THIS RELATIONSHIP COULD BE CLASSIFIED AS was not good for your mental health. in the past weeks that you and alhaitham had started sleeping together, you had been plunged into one of the worst emotional rollercoasters that you had ever been on.
what didn't help was the way he treated you so differently depending on the setting. you understood not wanting people to know, but did he have to ignore you entirely in public?
he wouldn't even spare you a glance as you walk past each other in the halls, eyes stubbornly trained ahead, leaving you steamrolled in his icy trail. and if you dare to try and talk to him- he'd look at you like you've grown a second head, completely shunning you and walking away as quickly as possible.
but it's a different story behind closed doors- in private, he's the sweetest man alive.
he'll whisper such sweet nothings into your ear, wipe your tears so tenderly with his thumbs like a lover would. he'd prop himself up with an elbow just so that he can gaze into your eyes as he pushes into you, even smiling at you as he watches the way your expression changes.
and the way he kisses you is what really throws you- always with such desperation and urgency, like he needs you in order to breathe when it's quite the opposite. he kisses you like he loves you, and the sensation is dizzying, perplexing when those fantasies are ripped from you in favour of reality.
but you know that you won't ever be his. not properly.
if it was meant to be, he'd at least smile at you as he passed. the more rational parts of your brain screamed at you to call it quits before you're sucked in too deep, but some part of you still held onto the hope that one day he would see you then smile.
ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 THOMA.
IT TRULY HURT TO REMEMBER THAT you weren't actually dating thoma. it was easy to get fooled- he was a gentleman, making sure to treat you right even when you weren't fucking. he'd make sure that you were okay, and he never kicked you out as soon as it was over.
he'd ask about your day, take interest in you and what you're doing. and arguably, worst of all, he wasn't afraid to be seen with you. the details that blurred the lines defining your relationship seemed like an afterthought, if the way his arm wrapped around your shoulders indicated anything.
you were his, unofficially or not. it only took a glance to be able to tell.
you liked to think that he was yours, too. that you meant something to him- more than just a pastime and a stress reliever.
there were moments where it was easier to believe it- with the way his eyes remain transfixed on you as you writhe in pleasure, cries of his name leaving your lips- his little coos and reassurances buttering you up, having you right in his palm, so pliant and willing for him.
maybe he got off on knowing that he makes you feel good in every sense of the word. seeing you happy acting as some sort of foreplay, all so he can claim you as his in every way except the one that you wanted most.
the urge to tell him how you feel, those three little words that dangle on the tip of your tongue and fight to be freed, are a constant struggle. but something inside you, some sick gut instinct, stopped you from blurting it out every time.
the fear of his reaction- disgust? confusion? kept you uncertain. a part of you would die if he didn't reciprocate your feelings. it was better not to know, and keep living in the make-belief of being his without the label.
you could only hope that you would be proved wrong one day.
ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 WRIOTHESLEY.
DESPITE EVERYTHING, YOU COULDN'T HELP BUT crawl back to him every single time. a never-ending cycle- one that you couldn't escape even if you wanted to.
both of you knew how it goes. you unblock him, play coy for a few messages before he's telling you to come over. you fuck like it's the last time you ever will- it never is- and then you spend the night.
he'll hold you, play with your hair, even kiss you, and you pretend that it's enough. if you're lucky, he'll even lend you a shirt that smells of him to sleep in.
and this facade is fine- while it lasts. but then you remember why you blocked him in the first place- the forced indifference, his refusal to open up. the way it hurt your heart to be pushed aside.
and then you go and ask him what you mean to him. he'll smile at you without mirth, the both of you knowing how this conversation goes. he doesn't want anything serious. you want more.
and then it's tears, you ripping off his shirt and throwing it back at him, storming out of his place and blocking his number with shaking fingers.
you cry yourself to sleep in your cold and empty bed- already sorely missing the warmth of his body as he holds you close to him in his sleep, whether he's aware of that or not.
and you're fine, you tell yourself. you can live without him. and you do, for a little while. honestly, he's the last thing on your mind as you distract yourself with work or seeing your friends.
but then a lonely night gets the best of you, abd you find your finger hovering over the call button next to his name. and you press it, cursing yourself for doing it.
he picks up at the third ring, voice smug as if he knew you couldn't go much longer without him.
and he's right, unfortunately.
you're already out the door, on the way to his apartment.
“Homesickness is a gentle thing, not loud enough to name. It settles in the hollow spaces, folds itself between his ribs, pretends to be ordinary air. He misses things he cannot return to, versions of himself that no longer exist. And sometimes the ache is not for a place at all, but for the feeling of once belonging without trying.”
Homesickness. What does it really mean, anyway?
Thoma had spent years turning that word over in his mind like a smooth river stone, feeling its weight change depending on the tide. To the people of Inazuma, he was a marvel, a man who had bridged the gap between a closed nation and the outside world with nothing but a smile and a broom. They saw the “Fixer,” a man whose spirit was as bright as his Pyro Vision and as sturdy as the polearm he carried.
But in the quiet hours, when the moon hung low over Mt. Yougou and the only sound was the rhythmic thrum of the distant thunder, Thoma felt less like a bridge and more like a ghost.
For him, homesickness wasn’t a sharp, stabbing pain. It wasn’t the kind of agony that made you scream into the sea. It was a slow, quiet erosion. It was the realization that his memories of Mondstadt were starting to fray at the edges, like an old banner left too long in the sun. He could no longer perfectly recall the exact shade of red the roofs of the houses had, or the precise way the bell of the Cathedral sounded when the wind caught it just right.
In Inazuma, everything was beautiful, but it was heavy. The air was thick with the scent of sea salt, the weight of centuries of tradition, and the crushing gravity of the Shogun’s eternity. Even the flowers here, the Sakura Blooms, fell with a delicate and practiced grace, as if they were afraid of landing the wrong way.
He missed the rowdy, chaotic freedom of a Mondstadt breeze. He missed the way the wind there didn’t ask for permission; it simply blew through the streets like an uninvited guest, carrying the scent of sun-warmed grass and fermented grapes.
Thoma leaned against the cypress railing of the Kamisato Estate, his gloved hands gripping the wood tight enough to splinter it. He felt like a dandelion seed that had been tossed into a crack in a stone wall. He had taken root, yes. He had grown. He had even thrived. But he would always be a different colour than the garden around him. He was a master of the Inazuman tongue, but he still dreamed on the lilt of the North. He was the most loyal servant the Kamisato clan had ever known, yet he knew that if he were to vanish tomorrow, he would be remembered as a “strange, foreign man” who did his best to fit in.
The melancholy settled into his bones, a familiar, cold companion. It was the price of survival. He traded his heritage for a home, and while he didn’t regret the bargain, some nights the debt felt impossible to pay.
The silence of the estate was absolute, broken only by the distant, rhythmic thud of a bamboo water spout in the garden. Thoma closed his eyes, exhaling a breath that hitched just slightly in the cold air.
Then, he heard it.
It wasn’t a loud noise, just the soft and familiar scuff of boots against the wooden floorboards, a rhythm he would know even in the middle of a battlefield. He didn’t have to turn around to know it was you. His first instinct, honed over years of being the “Fixer,” was to straighten his spine. He rolled his shoulders, wiped the mourning from his expression, and plastered on the warm, lopsided smile that he gave to the rest of the world.
“You’re up late,” he said, his voice steady, though he didn’t quite turn to face you yet. He kept his eyes on the moonlit bay. “I thought I was the only one who couldn’t sleep when the wind picks up like this.”
You didn’t answer right away. You walked up to the railing, stopping just a few inches from him. You didn’t look at the horizon; you looked at the white-knuckled grip he had on the cypress wood.
“Thoma,” you said softly. Just his name. No titles, no request for help, no household business.
He finally turned his head, the “Fixer” smile still held firmly in place, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m fine, really. Just thinking about the inventory for next week. You know how Ayato gets when we run low on that specific tea he likes—”
“Stop it,” you interrupted gently. “You’re doing that thing again.”
“What thing?” He laughed, a short, breathy sound. “Being responsible?”
“Being a ghost,” you countered. “You’re standing right here, but your heart is somewhere across the ocean. I can practically hear the gears turning from across the courtyard.”
Thoma’s smile faltered, just for a second, before he looked back at the sea. The mask was cracking. “Is it that obvious? I thought I’d gotten better at the Inazuman art of keeping appearances.”
“To everyone else, maybe,” you whispered.
You moved then, stepping into his personal space. You didn’t stand in front of him to demand eye contact; instead, you stepped to his side, leaning your weight against him. You wrapped your arms around his side in a firm, grounding hug, pressing your cheek against the rough fabric of his shoulder protector.
Thoma stiffened for a heartbeat. He was so used to being the one who held everyone else up—the one who provided the shield, the one who fixed the leak, the one who carried the burden. To be the one held felt like a sudden, jarring shift in gravity.
Slowly, the tension began to drain out of him. The “dept” he felt he owed to his new home, the weight of the “heritage” he’d left behind, it all felt a little less crushing with your arms anchored around him.
He let out a long, shuddering sigh and finally let go of the railing. He turned slightly in your hold, bringing one arm down to pull you closer against his side, burying his face in the crown of your head.
“I was just thinking about the dandelions,” he confessed, his voice dropping to a low, vulnerable murmur that he only ever used when the two of you were alone. “How they just… fly away. They don’t have to worry about where they land or who they belong to. They just go where the wind takes them.”
He squeezed you tighter, as if afraid the Inazuman breeze might try to carry him away, too.
“But then I think…” he continued, his breath warm against your hair, “if I had just kept flying, I never would have landed here. With you.”
You didn't say anything for a long moment, simply letting the weight of his confession settle between you. You could feel the slight tremor in his frame, the residual vibration of a man who had been holding himself together too tightly for too long.
Gently, you pulled back just enough to look up at him. His green eyes were glassy, catching the moonlight in a way that made him look younger, more vulnerable. Before he could pull the mask of the “Fixer” back over his face, you reached down and took his hand.
His palm was warm and calloused, a map of hard work and hidden burdens. You didn’t just hold it; you threaded your fingers through his, squeezing firmly.
“Come with me,” you whispered.
Thoma blinked, a flash of his usual curiosity breaking through the gloom. “Now? It’s nearly midnight, and I still have to finish the morning prep for the kitchen—”
“The kitchen can wait. Inazuma won’t fall apart if Thoma takes an hour for himself,” you teased gently, though your expression remained soft. You began to lead him away from the main veranda, tugging him toward a secluded path that wound behind the estate, away from the prying eyes of the guards and the silent hallways of the Kamisato Clan.
Thoma followed you in silence, his hand gripping yours like a lifeline. He was so used to being the guide—the one leading the Traveler through Ritou or navigating the political minefields of the Commision—that being led felt like a strange, quiet luxury. He watched the back of your head, the way you moved with a secret purpose, and he felt that “leaky roof” of his heart to seal shut.
You led him to a small, hidden clearing near the edge of the estate’s cliffside, a place where the thunder of the ocean was muffled by the thick, ancient roots of the sacred Sacura trees.
There, tucked into the hollow of a stone lantern, you had set up a small sanctuary.
It wasn’t much, but to Thoma, it looked like a miracle. A small, portable stove sat on a woven mat, beside a bottle of dandelion wine, miraculously sourced from a traveling merchant, and a plate of “Mondstadt Hash Browns,” still smelling of toasted potatoes and home. A few small, handmade candles flickered in the grass, casting a golden glow that fought back the purple shadows of Inazuma.
Thoma stopped in his tracks. His hand trembled in yours.
“You…” he started, his voice cracking. He looked from the small feast to you, his eyes wide. “How did you…?”
“Happy Birthday, Thoma,” you said softly, stepping in front of him to adjust the collar of his jacket, a gesture he usually did for others. “I know you spend your life making sure everyone else has a home. I just wanted to make sure you knew that you have one, too. Even if it’s just this little patch of grass, and even if the wind doesn’t smell quite right.”
The “Fixer” finally collapsed. Not into sadness, but into profound, soul-deep relief. Thoma didn’t say a word as he pulled you into his arms, burying his face in your shoulder. The scent of the wine and the warmth of the potatoes hit him—a sensory bridge back to the boy he used to be.
“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he murmured into your neck, his voice thick with emotion.
“You stayed,” you whispered, rubbing your hands across his back. “That’s more than enough.”
In that hidden corner of the world, with the taste of his birthplace waiting and your heart beating against his, Thoma realized the debt was finally paid. He wasn’t a ghost anymore. He was home.
✨ author’s note
i know i’m a little late, but i hope you enjoy it nevertheless. hope you wonderful people have a lovely day.
warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact, afab!reader with fem pronouns, switch!reader, switch!thoma, office au, heavy angst, hurt/no comfort, hate sex?, blowjob, handjob, riding, use of alcohol, reader isn’t a good person, unedited
synopsis: everyone at the office seems to love thoma. He’s helpful, kind and dedicated to everyone…except for you
Thoma seemed to be beloved in the office. Working for the Kamisato conglomerate as an assistant, he was always helping out the people on his floor. He would bring in sandwiches, stay late helping people catch up with their work, and even buy a round of drinks for everyone once the day finally ended at the izakaya next door.
There was nothing but good things your coworkers would say about him. Everyone always found themselves smiling, whenever he would be brought up in conversation.
Yet, it seemed whenever the two of you were alone he wanted nothing to do with you. Heavy quietness, avoiding eye contact, furrowed brows—he held you at a distance and you had no idea why.
Finally, one day after work, gulping beers down at the izakaya, it seemed all your coworkers trickled out until it was just you and him. Your cheeks felt hot looking down at the froth of the beer smeared across the bottom of your mug, pouting as you finally finished your nth drink of the night.
You lifted your eyes up to see Thoma staring at you. Part of you was shocked he decided to stay, instead of paying the bill and leaving silently like he usually does.
His green eyes were hazed in a cloud of drunkenness, leaning his soft cheek against his palm as his arm leaned on the table. His eyebrows were furrowed, cheeks flushed as the alcohol in his system pumped through his veins.
Oddly enough, there was something sultry about his eyes narrowing at you. Perhaps it was because you noticed the buttons of his white dress shirt popped down, showing a glimpse of his pectoral muscles from the angle he was leaning at. Or the pierced ears you never noticed he had.
You pouted before pushing your mug away. This would be a good time than any to ask him what his deal finally was.
“Thoma, why do you hate my guts?” you asked, fingers strumming on the wooden table. Thoma's eyes slightly widened before he sighed, leaning his head back.
“...Can you leave already? I just want one more drink to myself without your presence here,” he replied. Your eyebrows furrowed, hearing his statement. You clicked your tongue in annoyance, leaning towards him from the other side of the table.
“Not until you explain yourself. You are literally, supernaturally kind to everyone but me. So what’s the deal? Did I piss you off or something? Is it jealousy—”
Thoma scoffed, lips curving into a disbelief smile as he shook his head. His false smile quickly fell again as he pushed away his empty glass and lifted his face away from his palm
“Of you? What do I need to be jealous of you for? There’s nothing that you have that I don’t,” Thoma replied. Your lips curved into a smile, as you leaned closer towards him. You noticed his eyes flicker towards your chest before heading back to your eyes.
You would bet a thousand mora the peak of your cleavage also grabbed his attention.
“Is that right? Then explain yourself, since you do not need to be jealous of me…” you trailed off. You gasped a bit before chuckling to yourself. Thoma grunted.
“What’s so funny?” he asked. You tapped your lip contemplating on telling him.
“A memory just popped into my head. I remember the first day of the office. Instead of you showing me around, Mr. Kamisato did. Were you jealous the boss was showing me more attention than his favorite dog?” you hummed. Thoma furrowed his eyes, getting up from his seat. The mischievous look on your face softened, as you got startled by his sudden movement.
“You don’t remember me do you?” he asked. Your lips curled up about to laugh before Thoma peered at you from the corner of your eye. He was dead serious about this. Yet, his face doesn’t seem familiar.
“...Figures,” Thoma sighed, burying his hands into his slacks. He threw a few bills down on the table before walking off toward the entrance of the bar and leaving. Despite the crowded and rowdy, dull roar of the salarymen and women around you, the only words that kept registering and repeating in your head were his words.
“You don’t remember me do you?”
You don’t recall anyone that resembled Thoma in your life. You tried your best not to think about your life before college, but was he a discarded figure hidden behind the doors of adolescents you never wanted to face again?
A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you look down at your empty beer glasses surrounding you. The buzz of alcohol was beginning to dissipate thanks to that conversation.
“I need a drink…” you muttered to yourself, getting up from the now-empty table. You made your way out the door, noticing the rain beginning to dretch the Tokyo skyline. The hard, cold droplets clung onto your clothes and hair, quickly drenching you as you cursed out, covering your head with your arms to try and fail to keep yourself dry.
Dashing off, feet wobbling as you struggled to keep up in your heels, you noticed an alleyway that seemed covered and slipped into it. Just as a sigh of relief would sweep through your lips, you noticed Thoma, leaning against the wall shocked to see your presence once again.
He was completely soaked as well, suit clinging onto his skin. He had taken his ponytail down, showing off how long the back part of his hair was. The most shocking part was the lit cigarette between his lips with a small trail of smoking floating upwards from it.
“Thoma? You smoke?” You asked. Thoma sifted the bud between his lips, rolling his eyes momentarily.
“That’s the first question you ask? How did you find me anyway?” he asked. You furrowed your eyebrows again. This guy really knows how to kill your buzz.
“Obviously I didn’t know it was going to rain. I…didn’t bring an umbrella, so this was the first place I saw as a shelter before I could wait this out and head to the trains once this passed,” you grumbled, crossing your arms.
“Besides, you didn’t answer my question,” you muttered. You were shocked to hear, Thoma chuckled. You had heard him laugh before, passing by him and a group in the hallway but this was the first time he seemed to laugh directly in front of you.
“Bad habit I took up from working as Mr Kamisato’s assistant. We all have vices and he has me pick up cigarettes for him. It was just supposed to be a social thing but when I find myself very stressed, I can’t help but indulge.”
“So I’m guessing I stressed you out from my question?” you grunted. Thoma didn’t reply as his gaze wandered away from you and down on the damp concrete ground.
You sighed once more, heels clicking as you walked beside him, leaning against the wall. The two of you remained quiet for a while, letting the pitter patters of the rain to the talking for you.
“...I knew you back in high school before I moved to Japan,” Thoma murmured, dropping his cigarette on the floor and grinding it softly with his dress shoe.
“I had the biggest crush on you, and it’s like you didn’t see me,” Thoma chuckled to himself, eyes narrowing in embarrassment and disappointment. Your eyes softened as you parted your lips to speak, but he kept talking.
“I’d try to do everything to get your attention, but it’s like you purposefully avoided or ignored me,” Thoma admitted. “I had to move shortly after that, but I vowed the next person I would pursue would never make me feel like that again.”
“...Thoma I—”
Thoma simply raised his hand up.
“I was a dumb 14-year-old. It’s been over 10 years. That crush has long died. We’ve both moved on and grew up, so don’t throw your pity onto me,” Thoma muttered. Your eyebrows furrowed as you scoffed. You pushed yourself off of the wall to directly face him.
“You don’t think I know that?” you barked back. Thoma didn’t reply, just remained quiet and looked at you with a scowl.
“Look Thoma, I don’t think you knew how much I hardly noticed anyone in high school because I assumed everyone thought I was a loser. I didn’t have a lot of friends, all I wanted to do was make it to graduation in one piece. I never thought you or even other boys even thought of me.”
“Well, you don’t have to fear that now because you’re not my type as an adult anyway—” Thoma trailed off, closing his eyes. You narrowed your eyes before leaning in, pressing your chest against his own as he gasped. Your hands pressed themselves on his collar.
“You want to say that again? Because I think you are a dirty liar, Thoma. Don’t think I didn’t see you checking out my tits earlier. You’re not as subtle as you think,” you muttered, lifting your chin up to stare him down directly.
His cheeks were already red from the coldness of his wet clothes before he grunted.
“I-I could say the same thing. You didn’t think I couldn’t feel you’re staring, checking me out!” he stammered back. A grin curled on your face once more.
“Oh? Did your voice just crack? Are you embarrassed to be this close to a woman, hm?” you sarcastically cooed out. Thoma scoffed, narrowing his eyes.
“God, I hate you and the person you’ve become,” he grumbled. His lip slightly quivered, gaze bouncing between your expression and the wall. You quirked your head to the side, leaning towards his ear.
“...So why does it seem like you want to kiss me, huh?” you asked. Thoma clenched his jaw before, suddenly leaning in, capturing your lips for his own. You moaned, feeling your teeth clank against one another from his sudden forcefulness.
His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer to his chest. The sweetness from the beer from earlier coated both of your lips, as your tongues soon dragged between each other. You grabbed onto Thoma’s collar, pulling him in even deeper, heads moving and shifting to try to keep up with one another.
You soon bit down on Thoma’s lip softly, pulling the plush tissue back until letting it go. Your breaths were heavy and visible in the cold air, eyes half-lidded as you continued to stare at one another, realizing what you two had just done.
“(Y/n)—”
“Just shut up and kiss me,” you interrupted as you leaned in to kiss him once more. Thoma had shifted, grabbing your chin with his fingers and lifting it as he moved his other arm to cage you in closer to him. A shaky moan escaped your lips as his lips trailed away from your lips to your neck, peppering the sensitive skin with soft kisses and nibbles.
Finding a suitable spot, he dragged his tongue across it before sucking and nibbling. You clung tighter to Thoma, pressing your thighs together to ease the ache of arousal beginning to burn between your legs. You raised a hand, pressing against his crotch. You could feel his cock pressing against the wet dark slack, shivering as his hips slightly bucked from the sudden sensation.
“N-Not here, We can get arrested if we go further…” Thoma whispered out, capturing your lips once more. Your hand continued to press firmly on his crotch, feeling his member get harder and twitch in excitement.
“M’serious,” he slurred out. “We can both lose our jobs from a scandal of getting caught and lose our visas. M’still not a permanent…citizen…” Thoma muttered as he continued to kiss you. He grabbed your hands, pressing them against the damp brick wall. Your noses pressed against each other, breaths heavy as you fought the urge to kiss him again.
“My apartment is close…we can go there…” he replied. You bit your lip and nodded, as the two of you quickly tried to adjust yourself. Pulling his jacket over your head, the two of you dashed out from the alleyway as he guided you toward his apartment.
Your heart thumped, adrenaline fueling you as the lights of the cars illuminated his face. He seemed like he was smiling. A memory flashed in your head of a kid who sat in the front of the class in high school, smiling at you the same way.
“I guess he is sweet to everyone he meets…” you whispered to yourself.
Finally, Thoma turned away from the main street where you two walked into a very stylish and high-rise apartment complex. He waved to the doorman as he lifted his hat, greeting him back before you two made it to the elevator. As soon as the doors closed, you grabbed onto his collar and kissed him again.
He groaned in the kiss, hands moving up and down across the curves along the wet clothes clinging onto your body before a loud ding was let out, as the door of the elevator opened once more. Thoma breaks the kiss before grabbing your hand and making a way to his apartment. He eagerly digs into his pocket, fumbling with his key before finally nudging it into the keyhole and opening the apartment.
You walked in and grabbed his tie, as walked in after you. As soon as the door closed, you kicked off your shoes and he followed suit before the two of you struggled to get to the bedroom. You two quickly disrobed, letting the wet soggy clothes pile in a puddle on the ground before you push Thoma onto the bed.
His cock is raised high, pulsating every few seconds. You grab ahold of his member, as Thoma sucks a sharp breath in. You press your thumb at his flushed tip, pressing against the slit budding with precum. With a tight grip, you began to pump his cock, watching him bite his lip fighting the urge to moan out your name.
“F-Fuck…” he grunted out. A mischievous smirk fell on your lips as you made his way to your lap as you continued to jerk his cock. You pressed your tongue, letting it swirl along the sensitive tip as his hips jolted in delight.
You let one hand tightly grip his cock right under his tip, while the other continued to pump along the base. Thoma struggled, body shivering from the immense pleasure wafting throughout his body. He lifted his hand to his forehead, looking over at you with one open half-lidded eye. Drool dribbled down his bottom lip.
“H-How are you so g-ood at this?” he stammered out. You kissed his tip before keeping your mouth open as you could feel his cock beginning to twitch more. With a loud moan, thick ropes of cum shot out, finding its way on your tongue, face, and Thoma’s abdomen. His breaths were heavy, and his arms covered his face as he slowly came down from his high.
You swallowed the sticky and salty substance and wiped the remainder that clung onto your face.
“Ah, ah, ah…! Not done with you yet,” you hummed, grabbing onto his cock. You jumped his softening cock, watching it soon rise to full-length once more.
“C-Condom…I should get a—” Thoma whispered, moving his arm away from his face. His cheeks were extremely flushed, looking as if he was in a drunken state of euphoria. You leaned in, kissing him once again as you lifted yourself.
You pressed his tip along your slick opening, your cunt drooling in your own arousal that painted your crotch and dripped along your inner thighs.
“I’m on a pill. Don’t worry,” you cooed. Thoma grunted, lifting his upper body up. You gasped, feeling his hands make way to your hips, sinking you down suddenly on his cock. You covered your mouth, shocked at his forwardness again as he leaned his forehead against your own.
“Y-You know, you were sort of right earlier. I was jealous…” he admitted. You can barely register what he meant, feeling his thrust inside of you. Your hips bounced, meeting his pace. Your head lifting back in pleasure.
“...That day you joined the company and Mr.Kamisato showed you around. I could tell you were trying to flirt with him. I could see how you pressed your chest around him, how you’d try to flirt…it wasn’t fair…!” Thoma grunted, closing his eyes. His hands grabbed onto the mounds of your ass, digging his fingernails into the soft flesh.
The sound of slapping flesh echoed out in the bedroom before Thoma grunted once more. He grabbed onto your chin, lifting your head up to look you in the eye.
“Are you even paying attention?!... How is it you seemed to throw yourself at him but not me!” he groaned. Your chest bounced at his face tempo, hand pressed against your stomach where you could feel him stretching you out with every thrust.
“T-Thoma!” you called out. His eyebrows furrowed as one hand found its way to your clit, pressing against the sensitive mound as you yelp louder.
“I won’t let you forget this…” Thoma moaned, furrowing his eyebrows and capturing your lips. Your hands moved towards his back, nails harpooning against the skin raking downwards. He grunted into the kiss.
Your walls began to flutter, squeezing his cock rutting inside of you, making it more difficult to keep up his pace. As his thumb continued to rub tight circles along your clit, your back soon arched, seeing white.
You scream into the kiss, gripping him tight as you shiver and ride yourself through the euphoric high. Thoma clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to cum inside of you before he sank his cock out of you. Your cunt shivered, missing the presence of being full as he lifted himself up.
Tears pricked your eyes, lips swollen and glossy as your tired eyes looked toward him. He pumped his cock rapidly, hips bucking with every justle before pressing his tip against your open mouth.
“Swallow…every last drop for me please…” he begged. A loud whine escaped himself as he shut his eyes tight, cum shooting out once again. You did your best to swallow every inch of cum that escaped his cock. With a shaky sigh, he tapped his softening cock on your lips once more before lying beside you.
His arms wrapped around you tenderly, as your head leaned against his chest. He had a soft smile on his face, despite his eyes being closed. He was whispering soft praises in your ear.
He was acting like the Thoma, he was with everyone except you despite unknowingly breaking his heart once and bruising it a second time.
His softness was nice. You could imagine that tension when you two would arrive on Monday in the office would be completely gone. You knew he would volunteer to get you lunch like everyone else now. You knew he would offer to work late to help you out.
You knew he’d probably ask you on a real date. You knew he would put his all into making you smile. You knew that.
But you knew he deserved someone who didn’t play with his heart as much as you did.
Thoma walked out of the shower, smiling. He was much happier than usual, a part of him finally soothed and ready to formally move on. Perhaps this was a start to something he always wished to have.
He had gotten up earlier to wash and dry your clothes. He was excited to make breakfast for you too. It had been a while since he had a Western-style breakfast.
As Thoma emerged from the steamy bathroom, covering his lower half with his towel, his smile faltered noticing you weren’t in the bed. Just before he was going to go to the living room, he noticed your things were missing from the chair he set them out on. The clothes he had dried, the purse he found near his apartment door, your phone that fell when you two were kissing and making your way to his bedroom.
He felt his heart sink to his chest, but he wanted to stay positive. He never gave you his personal cellphone number. Maybe you messaged him on Slack with an explanation or something to quell his worries?
Nothing.
You had left without a trace. No goodbye. No closure. No nothing.
It felt like he was a ghost all over again.
“Ha…” Thoma whispered out, tears welling in his eyes as he sat down on the bed silently to himself. Looking up in the mirror, all he could see was his 14-year-old self looking back at him with pity. He can’t help but laugh, finally laying down fully on the bed.
"in another life, i would've really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you"
synopsis !! all the opportunities he didn't take! forbidden love, status differences, different life goals, missed chances
characters !! zhongli, thoma
note !! please please read thoma's part I really like it for some reason- also everything everywhere all at once was amazing, i loved every second of it and it was just so beautiful! i also love all the cultural references aaaah
+ + +
Z H O N G L I
"Live a human life with me," You had once suggested to Rex Lapis, lounging on a floating island and watching the construction of what would eventually be known as Liyue Harbor.
He turns to you, confused look on his face, "A human life? Honestly, your ideas only develop in oddity over time."
You laugh, shrugging as the wind chimes along with you. Did Barbatos find it amusing as well?
"I'm being serious, Morax! The war is over, peace is settling, any issues can be handled by the humans and we can always guide them from a distance." You smile, "Live a human life with me. We can open a teahouse by the outskirts, we can visit the harbor on weekends, we can age ourselves and spend a human's lifetime together!"
He sighs, turning away, "I'll amuse you and visit you in my human form, but I have responsibilities I wish to take as their archon. You can play human without me."
"Aww, Morax-"
He rolls his eyes, amused, "Human lives are so fickle and short. Should you ever get tired of living their ways, you're welcome to join me in the skies again."
"Hmp. You might just regret not trying with me." You tease, and you—
Were right. He did regret it, because there was no time left for him to try with you. You were gone, eroded like the old immortals, withered in a grave like a human. The immortality of gods like you and him was never physical after all, and your body decayed too soon.
"So, finally decided to join the bandwagon, huh?" Venti grins at the geo archon, sipping from his drink of what's presumably wine. The teahouse is half full, a known heritage site for anyone who knows the history of good Liyuen tea.
"It's an interesting idea." Zhongli simply replies.
"And how are you finding the human life, my dear friend?"
"Strangely. . . I had expected it to be a sociable endeavor," He smiles, strained, "but it could also feel quite lonely."
T H O M A
Doing laundry and taxes with Thoma was impossible in the first place. Not when you were destined to marry someone of the same status; a political engagement which tied you down since the day you turned of age.
For you, this was an unbearable tragedy. The denial of being with someone you love.
For Thoma, this was as simple as nature's course. Of course you would marry a noble! He's simply a commoner, a mere house worker with the favor of his boss. It wouldn't make sense for you to marry him.
And perhaps that's why it infuriated you; how dare he think so little of himself?
"I just don't understand why you're not mad about this! I'm about to be married and you— you won't say anything about that?" You once yelled, frustration built to its peak at his nonchalance.
"(Name)," Thoma says softly, concerned.
"No, don't you start!" You cut off swiftly, "You'll only talk about how you're a commoner and I'm a noble and I'm sick of that! I'm sick of all of it!"
"I just don't know what you want me to say–"
"Say you love me! Ask me to run away!" The words are desperate on your tongue. "Archons, Thoma, I wish you could be more selfish. I'd give it all up for you." You sob, collapsing onto the wooden floor as your legs give out. He immediately kneels in front of you, ready to embrace.
In quiet whispers, he cups your face, brushing tears away with his thumb, "You know I can't ask that of you."
You sniffle, "I know, I know." and "I just wanted you to try."
Synopsis : Fate takes a turn when Thoma attempts to meet Ayato's bride and discovers Y/n, unraveling a past love.
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over Mondstadt as Y/n, the eldest daughter of a noble family, and Thoma, the son of a servant in the same household, played in their secret hideout—a serene glade nestled between ancient trees.
From their early years, Y/n and Thoma shared a unique bond that transcended the boundaries of social status. Their friendship blossomed amidst laughter and playful banter. On one particular day, with the golden hues of the sunset surrounding them, Y/n teasingly poked her tongue out, saying, "Ah, Thoma, you're sooo slow!"
Thoma, always good-natured, huffed in response and retaliated by throwing a bundle of leaves at her. Laughter echoed through the air as they chased each other around, completely oblivious to the twists of destiny that lay ahead.
As fate would have it, Thoma's family had to relocate to Inazuma, and tearful goodbyes were exchanged between the two childhood friends. The day before Thoma's departure, Y/n and Thoma decided to meet at their favorite spot for the last time.
"I promise when we meet again, I'll marry you, Y/n!" Thoma vowed, attempting to mask the tears that threatened to escape. Y/n, trying to lighten the mood, teased, "Then you better keep that promise, or I won't forgive you. Also, you look ugly when you cry, you know?"
"Shut up, Y/n…" Thoma replied, his cheeks flushed. A comfortable silence enveloped them as they stared at the night sky. Unable to resist the impulse, Thoma cupped Y/n's cheeks and kissed her. Surprisingly, Y/n kissed him back, marking the beginning of a deeper connection between them.
Years passed, and life took Y/n and Thoma in different directions. Y/n found herself entangled in the intricacies of nobility, while Thoma ventured into the unknowns of Inazuma. The promise they made as children remained tucked away in the corners of their hearts, but the passage of time led them to lose contact.
Unbeknownst to Thoma, Y/n's life took an unexpected turn. She found herself arranged in a marriage with Ayato Kamisato, the esteemed head of the Yashiro Commission in Inazuma. Y/n, however, voiced her reluctance to her mother, expressing concerns about meeting Ayato's expectations as his wife.
On the other side of the story, Thoma, unaware of Y/n's identity, learned about Ayato's impending arranged marriage. Curiosity getting the better of him, he approached Ayato, inquiring about the source of his newfound happiness.
"Say, Ayato, you've been unusually happy lately. What's the secret?" Thoma asked, genuinely curious. Ayato, smitten by Y/n's beauty, grace, and intelligence, described her without mentioning her name. Assuming it to be just another noble family, Thoma didn't think much of it.
As the wedding preparations began with traditional ceremonies in Inazuma, Y/n seized the opportunity to experience the local culture before settling there permanently. Unbeknownst to Thoma, Y/n arrived in Inazuma, setting the stage for their paths to cross once again.
Driven by curiosity, Thoma attempted to catch a glimpse of the mysterious bride who had captured Ayato's heart. However, fate had a different plan, and he could never see her face or hear her name. Meanwhile, Ayato's affection for Y/n deepened each day.
"I just can't believe it, Thoma. It feels more like a privilege than a responsibility," Ayato confessed, love-struck by his soon-to-be bride.
A few days before the wedding, Thoma, still curious, decided to meet the mysterious bride and offer his well-wishes. Entering Y/n's chamber, he caught sight of her back, and a rush of memories flooded his mind. When she turned around, shock and recognition mirrored on both their faces.
"Y/n…"
The air thickened with tension as Thoma struggled to process the revelation. Ayato, introducing Thoma to Y/n, remained oblivious to their shared history. Overwhelmed, Thoma excused himself, leaving Ayato puzzled. That night, the weight of reality pressed heavily on Thoma's shoulders.
A knock on his door broke the silence. Opening it, Thoma was met with Y/n's tear-streaked face. Without a word, she embraced him, seeking comfort in the familiarity of their shared history. Thoma, aware of the consequences, pulled her into his chamber, and the door closed behind them.
As Y/n sobbed, she confessed her unwillingness to go through with the marriage, revealing the familial pressures that bound her. Thoma, too, admitted his enduring love for her, spoken through the silence of their embrace.
This clandestine meeting became a nightly ritual. Y/n, driven by a yearning for Thoma's company, would sneak into his room. The two would reminisce about their past, catch up on lost time, and fall asleep together, each stolen night adding another layer to the complexity of their entwined fates.
On the night before the wedding, Y/n's despair reached its peak. Tearfully, she implored Thoma to elope, but he, burdened by loyalty, refused. With a lie heavy on his tongue, Thoma uttered words that would haunt him.
"Y/n, I've changed. The feelings I once had are gone now. All these days were just a way for me to find closure from the past. I moved on from you a long time ago. It was just a fleeting pity from my side."
The words shattered Y/n's heart, and Thoma bit his tongue, tasting the bitter irony of his lie. As she left the room, broken and defeated, Thoma felt his heart crumble into a million pieces.
The day of the wedding arrived, and the ethereal beauty of Y/n captivated everyone present. Yet, in the place where Thoma should have stood, Ayato took his place, oblivious to the history that bound Y/n and Thoma.
As the ceremonial vows echoed through the air, Y/n never once looked at Thoma, her gaze unwaveringly fixed on Ayato. Fate, cruel and unyielding, dictated the course of their lives, and Thoma was left to confront the consequences of his choices.
In the silence that followed, regret hung heavy in Thoma's heart as the union was sealed, and he couldn't escape the haunting melody of their shared memories. The years that followed were marked by a formal exchange of words between Y/n and Thoma. Her voice, once filled with warmth, now carried a distant and emotionless tone. Thoma observed, with a pang in his heart, as Y/n slowly fell for Ayato. The pain of what might have been intensified, and he wondered if eloping would have led to happiness.
A few years later, the Kamisato couple announced the conception of their heir. Thoma, haunted by the choices he made, lay in bed reminiscing. A knock on his door disrupted his thoughts. Opening it, he was met with Y/n's presence, a small smile playing on her lips.
Seeing Thoma's shocked expression, she chuckled,
"Don't worry, Ayato went out with [kid's name]. I'm just here for… closure." Thoma nodded awkwardly, and a sense of nostalgia filled the room as they laughed about their past. Y/n expressed how silly it all seemed now.
Little did she know, Thoma wished he could tell her it wasn't silly—it was real. If only he hadn't let her go that night. As Y/n got up to leave, she spoke in a hushed tone,
"You were… a wonderful experience."
"And you were everything," Thoma wanted to say, but the words remained unspoken.
After all fate is a cruel mistress, as it played its hand again, and Thoma let go of Y/n for the third time. As she walked away, the echoes of what could have been lingered in the room, and Thoma grappled with the weight of missed chances and untold truths.
sypnosis; with thomas new position in the kamisato estate he strays further and further from you
warnings: angst, suggestive mentions, replaced
sweet, sweet thoma. your blonde haired protector since childhood. now he was ayaka’s “protector.” what a joke. you’d scoff at your own thoughts, holding taroumaru in your arms, his wet tongue licking your tears away as you laughed dryly.
it was cruel, really. your once shared promises on that hill you made while stargazing. he had been the one to speak up. “we’re like glue (y/n). we’ll always be together.” liar. liar. liar!
“it doesn’t matter what happens, i’ll always be by your side.”
“i’ll never leave you.” liar.
“you’ll always be the most important person to me.”
“nothing will tear us apart.”
“i promise, i’ll never love someone the way i care for you.” shut up, shut up, SHUT UP.
his voice was ringing in your ears, the same voice you used to find comfort in during your younger years. taroumaru licked at the salty tears running down your cheeks, something you hadn’t noticed.
you always suspected it, now you knew it was true.
he had strayed away from you, again.
he had picked someone over you, again.
the only times you’d ever see him now were when he needed a favor. that being to dogsit taroumaru, or help each other rid of the loneliness you both felt late at night. every time you’d come over to feel his warm hands on your body, soothing your numbing heart, you’d lie to yourself and think you were both lovers.
it wasn’t a sad secret between two childhood friends, but two people in love and showing it to each other. the lie would dissipate once the morning came with thoma rushing you out before ayaka would arrive.
climbing out a window to avoid the white haired girl he claimed as nothing more than a friend. you knew he was lying to you, hiding it from you. but you didn’t want your fantasy to disappear. not yet.
so much for protecting your delusion. here it was right in your face, his latest post. ayaka and thoma’s hands interlinked in frame, heart emojis as the caption.
a loud laugh escaped your lips as you chucked your phone to the wall without thinking. he had the nerve to ask you to watch his dog while he went out and asked ayaka out officially? what a fucking joke.
you got up, leaving a whimpering taroumaru on thoma’s bed. your now cracked phone in your hands as you hastily sent out a text. scrolling through your device you hit the red block button on all of thoma’s profiles you could find, deleting every single photo you took with him and of things you associated with him. it was time to stop. it was time to let go.
your finger hovered above the delete chat button. did you really want to delete him out of your life completely? all of the memories?
fuck yes.
the way he barely spoke to you at all, messages now limited to a few times a week. never to talk about the things in each others lives, only to watch his dog and sleep together.
with that last button being pushed that was your last door closed to his life. closed to knowing about him and being around him. not like it would have made a difference as he was already a ghost in your life now.
on his desk you left behind the evidence of what used to be what you once believed to be a lifelong friendship. the key to his apartment, a pendant that matched the same one he wore around his neck, and the love letters he had failed to write to ayaka.
A SINGLE THREAD OF GOLD (TIED ME TO YOU) 𓍯 series of events where you realize your fate with him is much more intertwined than how you initially believed it to be.
INCLUDES. 🪡 childe, thoma, xiao, zhongli (i might do a part two for ayato, diluc, kazuha !! i just wanted to get this out of my drafts as soon as possible 😭)
AUTHOR’S NOTE. you know the trope “omygod it’s annoying you’ve been by my side all the time but somehow it became less annoying… i like it even and omg i didn’t notice that what i’m looking for is you all along” ?? yes this is that trope … inspired by taylor swift’s invisible string and the movie harry met sally! both got me in a chokehold rn. also the angst levels increase the further you scroll down.
somehow friends to lovers, mentions of wedding and settling down.
childe is a friend. although, he isn’t the type of friend that you share your secrets with, not a friend who regularly contacts you to hang out, nor is he a friend that eats ice cream with you whenever you get your heart broken. childe is the friend you met through mutual connections, the one that makes you say ‘oh! what a small world’ because you just met him last week at a friend’s birthday and now he’s attending as one of the groomsmen at your distant relative’s wedding.
he’s equally surprised as you, of course he wouldn’t forget the one person that told him: “god this party sucks” when the celebrant was just literally behind the two of you. he remembers you being brazen and holding a glass of beer on one hand.
just like the birthday party, during the wedding’s reception, childe finds himself sitting beside you. he asks you how you’re doing as if a lot happened within the week you were separated.
(“you say that as if a week could eventful.”
“hey! a lot can happen in a week!”
you raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to prove his point.
“like one of your friends getting married!” he gestures to the now married couple dancing.
you find yourself stupidly laughing.)
you both enjoy yourselves together. in the short period of time you sat beside him, you figured that childe was fun to be around and he basically knows everyone in the city.
that’s why, you couldn’t help but joke that you might see him again in another wedding.
(you did.)
surprise was an understatement when you saw him entering the venue. this time, you were a bridesmaid, and he was the cousin of the groom. and just like the previous wedding, childe finds himself sitting beside you, now talking about how the last two months went for you.
(“you better not tell me i can’t ask you about how you spent the last two months because it’s a short time.”
“you know how a year for a human is seven years for a dog?”
“you’re telling me i’m the dog?”
once again, you idiotically laugh.)
this time around, you found out that childe’s real name was ajax. childe was just a nickname given to him by his 8th grade teacher and the name has been stuck ever since. you figured out that he likes the nickname rather well— he tells you that it makes him interesting to which you disagree, sparking a thirty minute debate between you two.
when the party died down, and you were called to help the newly wedded bride, you both bid each other good night. this time, it was his turn to joke about the next wedding you two will meet.
(“if i saw you again in another wedding, i promise to shave my head.”
you snort, “see you at the next wedding then.”)
the moment you meet childe once again, you were a little bit disappointed that you weren’t wearing another bridesmaid dress. however, childe was more than ecstatic that he met you in a baby shower hosted by a mutual friend (once again).
the moment the couple popped the balloon which launched dozens of pink confetti to the air, childe appears right beside you almost immediately.
this time, you find out that he’s equally anxious as you to see the people in your life settling down. that your friends left and right are getting married and having kids, while you had the trouble of looking for someone to spend new year’s eve with.
(“don’t you think that all these events we’re attending are getting suffocating?”
this was the first time you wholeheartedly agree with him without the teasing.)
when everyone else was starting to clean up, and you finally put your hand on your friend’s belly to feel the baby kick, childe tells you he’s going home with a box of take outs. he finally asks you for your number, telling you that he hopes to see you again without the pressuring reminders of settling down.
(“see you on new years?”
“see you on new years.”)
five months went by without the wedding and baby shower invitations, you were glad to say the least. while you were incredibly happy for your friends, you can’t help but to feel insecure for being unable to settle down like the most of them are.
childe and you call sometimes, mostly right before bed and you always scold him for ruining your body clock. but as whiny as you can be, you never actually hung up on him.
these conversations over the phone let you discover little things about childe. like how he hates ketchup on eggs but is fine with it being on everything else, how he likes eating mint choco flavored ice cream but detests anything else flavored mint, and the fact that one of his hobbies is crocheting stuffed toys for teucer who you learned was childe’s youngest brother.
he came from a big family from the country side. he had three older siblings and another three that followed him. you learn that he was a family man; he specifically treasures and adores the three younger ones left at home.
you discover that to them, childe is ajax— the dependable big brother.
during the phone calls, ajax tells you his adventures back home. how he once got pulled into the lake after catching a fish bigger than him, how he once went home with more than enough bruises after learning how to skate for the first time. in return, you supply him the latest office gossip; how the boss and his secretary were sleeping together and almost got caught by the wife. putting things into perspective, your stories were much more dull.
despite these phone calls starting to become a part of your nightly routine, you both never came around to the idea of spending time with each other in personal.
however, the promise of spending new years with each other still remains. and when the night came, you were all bundled up in his arms from complaining how cold it was outside. it was now his turn to complain about the cold as you have succeeded at stealing his mittens and scarf.
(“you didn’t think you could dress for the weather?”
“my coats at home ruin my dress.”)
when the countdown starts and the ball finally drops, everyone starts kissing their partners while you could only stare at childe’s lips. he does the same to you, and before you knew it, you were leaning towards each other, finding the warmth of your lips.
ajax finally meets you halfway and the moment just felt right.
(the next wedding you attend to was yours. and every single one of your mutual friends were invited.)
friends to lovers, swearing.
thoma has been there for your first heartbreak.
he was there to watch every sappy romcoms known to man with you, he was there to give you a new roll of tissue whenever you ran out, and he was right beside you to clean up whatever mess you made.
thoma has been there when your first love shattered your heart into pieces just like how you’ve been there for him when his broke.
the two of you fell easily into a routine; he listens when you gush over the guy you recently met while you give him advice on how to win over his seat mate in class. he reassures you that it wasn’t your fault that things ended up that way while you listen to his frustrations about how incorrigible his girlfriend was. the two of you share a microwave meal as you both whine how relationships are tiring only for the two of you to share a tub of ice cream two weeks later, as you talk about how beautiful it is to love.
the night you call him, your words gibberish and barely comprehensible, it doesn’t take thoma very long to piece the puzzles together. you were obviously upset (upset is an understatement) about your recent romantic endeavor and it was up to thoma to cheer you up just like you’ve done for him many times.
on his way to your home, he picks up a tub of ice cream, a pack of tissue to be safe, and a romantic film that he knew would make you laugh at the ridiculousness.
he rings your doorbell to which you open the door in response, and he sees you standing in your pjs, eyes bloodshot and snot all over your nose. while this was the typical look whenever you were heartbroken, thoma is confused and left to wonder— you have yet to mention being interested to someone for the past two months.
but when a gold envelope haphazardly thrown on the kitchen counter catches his eyes, thoma gets the idea.
“he’s getting married.” you sob loudly, “he’s fucking getting married.”
the male hands you the box of tissue he bought, and you motion him to enter the flat.
“all this time, i thought he didn’t want to get married ever, but he just meant that he didn’t want to get to married to me,” you cry harder than what thoma was accustomed to, and scared that you might literally fall apart, he leads you to your couch.
“and you know what’s funny? they’re getting married on spring,” you inhale briefly, “in fucking spring thoma! that’s when i wanted to get married.”
the man pats you in the back, “he was a douche anyway; i didn’t like him.” thoma takes out the ice cream he bought, handing it to you and the spoon urging you to eat like it would make your problems disappear right away.
as if you hadn’t heard your friend, you continue venting out your frustrations. “and get this: the girl he’s marrying is hannah.”
“hannah?”
“hannah on your 21st birthday. your hannah!”
“oh.”
he sits on the couch, grabs the tub of ice cream and keeps it to himself.
and then the two of you sit in silence.
“do you think this is god’s way of telling us that we’re meant for each other?”
thoma raises an eyebrow.
“i mean, all the people that throws us away—“ thoma decides that he will lecture you on your choice of words, “—end up being together. like maybe we’re so bad that we’re made for each other?”
“which movie did you watch without me?” he teases, to which you take offense because you would never dare to watch a bad movie without him. the rest of the night continues without the topic being brushed over once again but for a moment, thoma actually considers the thought.
maybe, just maybe.
five months followed, and you never cried out your heart to him ever since. thoma, finds himself relinquishing from meeting new people, taking time to sort out himself partly. the other part knows that ever since you told him your silly theory about why your relationships always end up as failures, thoma had started seeing you more than as a friend.
he thinks that he’d make a great damn boyfriend; better than anyone else you had. he knows exactly what makes you double on the floor for laughing, the food you want to eat on certain days, and how to calm you down whenever you were anything but.
despite that, thoma waits. he waits for you to come to him, waiting for you to realize, and waiting for you to be ready. so when you call him up on a friday night, just to hang and not talk about how relationships were taxing, that was the moment he knew.
when you told him you wanted to see another romcom movie without being gibberish and snot blocking your nose, he decides that maybe it’s finally the right time.
thoma lives for the after. the after of every failed relationship because he knows that at the end of the tunnel, there is hope. that in every relationship he enters, he’ll be one step closer to “the one”. and as he looks at you, fighting to keep your eyes wide open to watch yet another sappy romcom movie, he realizes you were the after.
kind of soulmates to lovers, reincarnation, character death (but it’s a happy/hopeful ending don’t worry)
xiao dreams.
at night, dreams plague him in his sleep and he wakes up wondering what is it all about.
illustrations of what wang shu inn looked like more than 10,000 years ago visits him in his sleep, the old liyue looking so vivid as if he lived to tell the its tales.
in these dreams, xiao is always visited by the same person. their hair covers almost half of their face whenever the wind blows, their lips always chastising the “him” in his dreams, their smile was so bright that it completely unravels the heavy knot on xiao’s chest.
and xiao finds himself longing. whenever he wakes up in the morning, he yearns for this person. for him, it feels like the act of falling in love with someone you don’t know, missing somebody you never met.
(“promise that you will look for me in our next lives, alatus.”
xiao jolts awake.)
the young man has heard of that name before.
in his history class, way back in 7th grade, he had heard the feats and victories that belonged to the name. a fearless warrior that served liyue’s god, alatus was said to die peacefully years after the war yet he was all alone.
he had lived his life devoted to the god of contracts; spending his days fighting demons, alatus’ loyalty was to liyue and its people.
xiao hears that a museum nearly ten blocks away has opened to visitors. it is said it contains almost all the rich history of liyue that remains untouched, including portraits and statues once revered many years ago. there, xiao seeks answers.
he arrives at the sight of a familiar figure.
“do you know him?”
you turn around, looking at the guy bewildered.
“i’d have to be really old for me to know him,”
xiao feels his breath taken away from him as he finally confirms his suspicions; you looked exactly like the person in his dreams, only your hair is much shorter. the flurry of emotions inside of him breaks the dam; his heart pounding loudly in his chest that any louder you would have heard it, his head filled with incomplete memories, and his lungs struggling to breath.
(one night at wangshu inn, he sees you brushing your hair.
“join me and let’s look at the stars together.” you pat the space next to you.
“waste of my time.” he tsks, before muttering his breath but he finds himself taking his rightful place beside you.)
he notices the way your eyebrows furrow at him and your lips turning into a pout. “has anyone told you that you look exactly like the guy in the painting?”
true to your words, when xiao gazes upwards, he sees himself staring back at him. eyes bore into his soul, scrutinizing his every move and it’s extremely weird that such painting makes him feel like he’s being watched, and by himself no less.
below the painting, a gold plate is mounted against the wall.
a lover’s oath.
alatus in the art is holding someone. their white clothing smeared with blood, and the tears that fall from the yaksha’s face were enough to tell xiao that they were in their last moments before separation.
strangely, xiao feels a tug on his heart strings. an overwhelming feeling looks over him, and he feels like he’s about to cry.
“it brings you to tears, doesn’t it?”
(xiao in his dreams feels like his heart was ripped open.
in his arms, the only person he might have loved is already dying. the blood from the wound seeping on their clothes is a reminder that it’s only minutes away before their impending doom.
xiao, for the first time in a while, cries when he wakes up.)
“i dream of the person in white,” xiao suddenly confesses.
“they say that they might have been alatus’ friend, companion, and lover.” you tell him, reading from the standee near you.
when you receive no reply from the male, you glance at him and your eyes meet.
intrigue, you ask, “how do they look like in your dreams?”
“they look like you.”
the timeline varies but it’s mainly centered in whatever the genshin timeline is for plot convenience, references to death (still happy ending), reincarnation au, it literally takes several lifetimes for zhongli to realize he likes you, literally the “i’m god’s favorite mortal; he favors me” pipeline. ALSO i got carried away im sorry
first.
you first meet zhongli as a refugee from the waging war. the god governing your land slaughtered mercilessly by those who seek more power. your feet brings you to morax; looking for a shelter and protection.
you almost got turned away, even receiving snide remarks from higher beings for being naively brave to seek protection from a god when you were nothing but a mortal.
(but what is a god’s purpose if not to protect the nation he governs and the people inhabiting it?)
it was only in the right hand deity’s grace were you able to stay.
so like a fish out of water, you live amongst immortals, making yourself useful with mundane tasks that warriors shouldn’t be bothered with.
(when you died in the hands of the enemy, it served as a reminder why morax fights this war.)
second.
the next time zhongli notices of your presence, it was in the middle of the rise of liyue harbor. he is finally a step closer to building a safe land to house his people; long years of the war soon to be buried.
morax, now known as rex lapis, hears every single prayer made at his statues.
he feels you ardently take care of the sculptures and in return, he passionately listens to your pleas of saving your sick mother.
(on your way home one day, you find a plant you’ve never seen before. you take its fruit for your mother to eat as you hold onto your faith, hoping that this may be the answer to your prayers.
the next day, she stands up from her bed for the first time in a long while.)
third.
the first time you were able to hold a conversation with zhongli, was his first time walking amongst mortals.
he now goes by jiawei, a struggling merchant trying to strike a fortune in the harbor— at least that’s what he tells you during your introductions.
you’ve always thought that jiawei was a noble’s son. his vast knowledge on liyue’s history, his proficiency in reading and writing, and his peculiar taste for lavishness gave it away. furthermore, there were days he hadn’t been present, and you surely assumed it was due to his duties as a noble.
zhongli, or jiawei in this life, shares myths and legends of ancient liyue to you while you show him the ropes of living as a simple commoner in his land. he teaches you how to read and write while you teach him what goes on at the streets of the harbor.
(when jiawei doesn’t appear one night to meet you under the stars, you assume he finally grew out of his childlike wonder and immaturity. instead, he grows into the shoes that were his noble duties.)
fourth.
zhongli catches your reincarnation crying underneath an oak tree this time.
he approaches you gently, wishing to comfort an old friend even if you probably don’t remember him. a hand behind your back soothes whatever distress you’re carrying as he tells you everything will be alright.
zhongli learns you are bound to suffer the same fate as almost every maiden in his country.
in a few months or so, your hand will be taken and you will be forced to marry someone whom you have yet to meet.
and zhongli, for the first time, meets someone who openly cursed rex lapis.
(“trust in the lord rex lapis my foot, he doesn’t even listen to my prayers!”
zhongli purses his lips— if only you retained your past memories.)
the following week, your father shared good news that you wouldn’t have to marry to save your clan from ruin. apparently, your crops have never been better and every merchant is seeking business with you.
the next time you see the man who listened you vent out your frustrations under a tree, you thank him for the comfort you received. he expresses his happiness as you tell him that maybe rex lapis isn’t deaf after all while you don’t catch the slight tense on his shoulders.
(that life, just like any other life, you thank him with a different name yet again. zhongli feels that he’s close to losing his identity.)
fifth.
“i know you from somewhere.”
“that wouldn’t be possible; i have just gotten back from my travels.”
“i know you from a long time ago.”
“again, that would be impossible.”
the fifth time zhongli meets you, he notices that your sense of deja vu has gotten stronger.
the god gives you his mortal name that he decided to stick to, making it the first time among others that you meet him under the name zhongli.
in this life, he tells you that he’s a scholar that hails from the land of sumeru with keen interest on liyue’s rich history, and now he’s traveling across teyvat for his studies. you find yourself not believing him one bit.
he tells you stories from his travels, from the hospitality of mondstandt to the exquisite cuisine of inazuma, zhongli recounts the wonders of each nations he’s visited. but from his stories, you know that the man’s heart will always remain in liyue.
and as months passed by and seasons changed, you find yourself wishing that his heart would remain with you as well. but the god resigned himself to a much crueler fate; to walk down a path alone and by himself.
(“i think i love you.”
“it shall pass.”)
sixth.
the heart is a fickle thing, zhongli realizes.
in your previous lifetime, he refused to return your feelings and for a while, he’s committed to it. but as he lays his eyes on you for the first time in this lifetime, he was suddenly reminded that he too, was capable of loving.
zhongli doesn’t approach you, afraid that the feelings he has locked away far deep into the trenches of his heart will blossom and turn into something as beautiful as flowers. but alas, your soul finds his, under the same oak tree that he once found you under, and you almost remembered.
(“i just know that you were special to me.”
zhongli almost caves.)
seventh.
almost a century passes by and zhongli’s feelings for you remain the same. you died and you were reborn.
he never reveals himself to you.
eighth.
ninth.
tenth.
eleventh.
(“why do you seem so afraid?”
the god does not reply, afraid that his voice might give him away.
“why can’t you give us a chance?”)
twelfth.
when zhongli is just zhongli and rex lapis was no more, he comes and finds you.
he dines with you in your favorite restaurant, he walks around the harbor with you hand in hand, and he finally takes you to places in liyue to see its beauty that the textbooks could never justify.
for the first time, the ex archon takes the key and unlocks his heart, allowing himself to love with no restrictions.
(you die from old age, and you know that your husband isn’t anything like you for his hair remained dark while yours turned white, his skin smooth and soft while yours had turned wrinkled and rough from time.)
twentieth.
liyue’s skies have been crying non stop and zhongli is to blame partly.
while he had renounced his claim to the land long ago, a part of his soul is still linked to his beloved nation.
your body remained lifeless, cold, and bitter in the god’s arms. you died peacefully in your sleep, beside your lover and zhongli feels like heart in his chest is being ripped apart slowly and painfully.
as a mortal, you were granted with infinite numbers of reincarnations. you meet zhongli, you spend your lifetime with him wondering why his touch feels so familiar, and then you die peacefully. the cycle repeats.
(zhongli is cursed; he’s sure of it.
while he remembers every waking moment with you, you were bound to forget him and the lives you spent together.
but still, even if the cycle of losing you hurts more than any wound he received from the wars he fought, zhongli continues.
for what is grief if not love persevering?)
twenty-fifth.
through the years, he has grown weary and tired. the path to godhood is a lonely one, but a path leaving his old ways whilst immortal? zhongli has never felt more alone in his life.
he ventures the lands and seas in attempt to break free from the shackles of being a god.
but even then, his path remains anything but fortuitous; his attempts were futile.
(it was his turn to swear at celestia and the higher beings.)
thirty-ninth.
zhongli finds comfort in writing.
he jots down everything about you in every life you spend with him, afraid he’ll forget one detail about you.
this is where he finds solace in when time takes you away from him. it’s what keeps him sane as he waits for you in your next life and the one after that.
as he reads and reads the words he put down into notes, he notices nothing ever changes. he always end up falling in love with you, and you always end up falling in love with him. for zhongli, may it be cruel in its own way, it is a reminder that immortal he may be, he always has a place in your mortality.
(“what are you writing?”
“just some reminders for the day darling.”)
fortieth.
zhongli, with how long he’s been living, should have known better than to leave his possessions laying out in the open.
it’s not like he’s keeping secrets from you, but even he would go crazy if he finds a journal (of his lover nonetheless) that suggests he’s already living his fortieth life.
but you were better than zhongli at handling things like this. you were much more patient and calmer, like the never changing rivers of liyue.
zhongli tells you of your past lives for the first time, and you cry.
not because you felt trapped by loving the same person all the time, but rather, sorry that your lover had to go through all of it all alone.
(“can’t you just grow old with me?”
“believe me sweetest, i tried.”)
morax, rex lapis, jia wei, zhongli. they’re all the same. they’re all slaves to love and to the dreams of spending the rest of their lives with someone they cherish.
that night, zhongli prayed, got on his knees and begged.
once, he was an enemy of celestia. now, he falls to its feet willing to do anything just for it to grant his wish.
he doesn’t sleep, eat, or drink. he just prays.
(oh how the mighty have fallen.)
a week later, your eyes squint at him and he wonders.
“is there something on my face?”
you shake your head, and without warning you pull a strand of hair from his head.
“are you supposed to have white hair?”
zhongli, funnily enough, starts bawling.
(you never thought someone would be so happy that wrinkles are starting to appear all around his face, and how the callousness of his hands become more evident.)
forty-ninth.
fiftieth.
fifty-third.
sixtieth.
seventieth.
zhongli is able to love freely. finally.
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