#ayato fluff

𐔌 . . . 𝐀𝐋𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌꒱

One second he’s reading under a tree, the next, the sky explodes and something winged crashes straight into his lap.

You, wide-eyed and covered in feathers, “Mortal! Thou shalt not gaze upon my—oh hey, you’re cute.”

Instantly, you switch moods. “Oh, thank the Creator, you broke my fall!” you chirp, wings flapping erratically and causing an Eye of the Storm to fall off a cliff. “...Oops..”

He stares at you for a long, silent second, “You’re thanking me for your lack of flight control?”

“You caught me,” you argue, proudly, “that’s destiny.”

“That is gravity,” he corrects.

Somehow, within the next hour, you’ve installed yourself in his study, sitting cross-legged on his table, sipping his tea, asking questions about “mortal philosophy” while petting his hair and getting your feathers everywhere. 

He insists you’re a “cosmic disturbance.” Yet, when you fall asleep against his shoulder mid-sentence, he quietly turns a page without moving you.

You call him “wise mortal.” He calls you “airborne liability.” It’s… a start.

𐔌 . . . 𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐓𝐎꒱

The heavens open above the Kamisato Estate during a perfectly normal tea break. He barely lifts an eyebrow when you descend, glowing and terrifyingly serene.

Guards panic, servants kneel, and Thoma drops a tray. Ayato, on the other hand, just sips his boba tea. “Well. That’s new. It seems we’ve received… heavenly company.”

You step forward, eyes like judgment itself, voice like thunder, “I come seeking the one called Ayato.”

He smiles politely, “Ah, my reputation precedes me. Shall we discuss this matter over tea?”

You end up lecturing him about cosmic law while he tests if angels blush when complimented (Yes, and then his teacup explodes).

For someone supposedly divine, you blush very easily when he bows to kiss your hand.

Later, when you scold him for manipulating nobles, he says, “If Heaven dislikes cunning, perhaps it shouldn’t make mortals so imperfectly interesting.”

You have no rebuttal.

𐔌 . . . 𝐃𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐄꒱

He found you when you suddenly appeared in his laboratory, mixing around random chemicals. The first thing you do when you see him is sneeze, and three of his clones combust because of your germs mingling with the unfortunate chemical solution. 

He’s delighted. Not concerned, not shocked—delighted.

“An angel, you say? Fascinating. Tell me, are your wings detachable?”

You tilt your head, halo wobbling, giggling like a wind chime, “Detachable? No, dummy! They tickle if you touch them!”

He short-circuits for half a second. Then grabs a clipboard, “For science, of course.”

You hum happily while accidentally melting one of his lab tables with divine light. You’re the perfect specimen. (He might also be a little fond. Oops.)

He stares, fascinated as you nearly blow up his lab again, “Interesting. Divine sneeze reflex causes spontaneous combustion…can you do it again?”

“Maybe if you tickle me!”

That’s how the Eleventh Segment ends up half-immolated while the Third Segment is taking frantic notes.

You float lazily above his desk, babbling about celestial nonsense and calling him “Doctor Funny Mask.”

He swears you’re the greatest discovery of his career. 

Unfortunately for you, this seemingly sweet doctor (to you, no one else thinks that) is never going to let you go. So, when you tell him your signals to Heaven are working again, he destroys your little messaging device and keeps you locked up in his lab. With love, of course. 

𐔌 . . . 𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂꒱

You fall straight through the Dawn Winery roof right as he’s cleaning up Kaeya’s latest prank. Adelinde almost faints.

Diluc catches you midair, with the reflexes of someone who’s done this way too often with wine crates. He sighs. 

You blink up at him, dazed, “...Are you the keeper of this realm, or are you my destined savior?”

“I’m your unfortunate landing pad.”

“Ah.. so you’re the love of my life.” 

“Absolutely not. I have enough fangirls.” 

You cling to him like he’s a life raft, “You smell like grapes.”

“That would be the wine cellar you nearly destroyed.”

You call him “Sir Flamin’ Hot Sexy,” and he blushes for the first time since 1623.

Later, as you sit wrapped in his coat, wings drooping, you whisper, “You look sad, for someone who saved me.”

He hesitates long enough for you to reach up and brush his cheek. He catches your hand, softly, “Rest. The rest of your questions can wait until I patch the ceiling.”

When you try to thank him with “holy light,” you nearly set the vineyard on fire. He hasn’t decided whether to kick you out or hide you so you never meet Kaeya… or worse, Klee. 

𐔌 . . . 𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀꒱

He feels the presence of something before you fall.

But when the “something” turns out to be you, glowing and weightless, he can’t help but smile.

“You’re not frightened?” you ask, hovering inches above the ground.

“Should I be? You seem gentle enough.”

You look at the leaves swirling around his blade, fascinated, “The wind… listens to you.”

“Sometimes it listens better than people do.”

You talk all night about freedom, about stars, about how heaven feels colder than the breeze on his ship’s deck. When dawn breaks, you gift him a feather, “A reminder that even the sky envies the wind.”

He keeps it tucked in his haori always, though he won’t ever say why. After all, you’ve become his little angel muse. 

𐔌 . . . 𝐋𝐘𝐍𝐄𝐘꒱

It’s mid-performance when the ceiling explodes into a bright light. The audience gasps. Lyney, to his credit, takes a bow.

“And now, for my greatest trick—oh. You’re not supposed to be here.”

You blink from the ceiling wreckage, “…Where am I?”

He grins, “In my spotlight, apparently.”

You’re trembling, wings drooping, voice soft, “I didn’t mean to interrupt your… um, mortal entertainment...I think I took a wrong turn at the Pearly Gates…”

He offers a gloved hand, “Then let’s make this crash landing our special act.”

You spend the evening helping him “vanish” doves…only for the doves to follow you instead.

Backstage, he gives you his hat to hide your halo. You smile, “You’re kind for a trickster.”

“You’re too trusting for a deity,” he replies, but his tone is warm.

Lynette sighs, “You’re flirting with a celestial being…again.”

𐔌 . . . 𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄꒱

The courthouse erupts in light. Melusines scatter. He’s halfway through a sentence when you shatter the glass and faceplant in front of the bench like a sanctified meteor.

“Oops,” you mumble, “do I have to pay for that?”

He stares, speechless, “This is… the Palais Mermonia.”

“Oh! A palace. Fancy.”

“No, a court of law.”

“So you’re sort of, like, Heaven’s HR department?”

The courtroom goes dead silent. What the hell is an HR department?

You laugh, “Oops, wrong universe!”

When he finds out your communication is broken, so you’ll be staying here a while, he ends up giving you a “court tour,” partly to keep you from flying into the ceiling lamps again.

When you apologize for “breaking the sky window,” he sighs, just once, “Perhaps… we can find you lodging. Somewhere without glass.”

𐔌 . . . 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄꒱

You literally drop into his personal bubble of solitude. Bad move.

“What in the Archons’ name are you?”

You, dazed, “A… creature of heaven?”

He glares, “Then go back.”

But your wings are all messed up, so he (very reluctantly) takes you back home.

He absolutely does not help you fix your wings, but he also doesn’t leave you alone. He reminds you of a cat you once became friends with.

You become a part of his daily routine and can’t help yourself from saying, “You don’t do anything fun, do you?”

“Fun is a waste of time.”

“Then you’re doing life wrong!!”

He glares at you. You sleep on the couch that night. But the next morning, when he finds you crying because your wing’s condition worsened overnight, he freezes. 

“Don’t—stop crying. That’s annoying.”

He ends up awkwardly bandaging your wing in silence. You smile through tears, “You’re not mean, you just talk like... thunder. Scary, but not harmful. It's comforting when you get used to it.”

He rolls his eyes, muttering, “Then maybe you should go back to Heaven where it’s quiet.”

He doesn’t mean it. Not at all.

𐔌 . . . 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐀꒱

You land mid-fight, radiant and confused, feathers flying everywhere. He nearly trips on a halo.

“Finally! A challenge that fell from the sky itself!”

You’re dazed, “I— wait, are you fighting for sport?”

“Of course. Wanna join?”

You heal him instantly, wings fluttering. “You mortals are insane.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

He challenges you to a spar. You refuse. He grins wider.

“C’mon, angel, show me what Heaven’s got.”

By the end of the day, he’s covered in soot, you’ve broken half a cliff, and both of you are laughing like maniacs under a star-filled canopy.

Later, he tells everyone he “fought Heaven and won.” You’re still trying to explain that you were trying to apologize.

𐔌 . . . 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈꒱

You land on him mid-song. He doesn’t even flinch, just keeps playing.

“Ah, another fallen star~ Are you here to steal my thunder, or just my spotlight?”

You start humming harmony with him. The crowd thinks it’s divine intervention.

3 hours later: “You’re drunk.” “I’m holy, actually.”

He tells everyone you’re his muse. You’re pretty sure he just wants free drinks.

Still, when you tell him Heaven doesn’t allow music like his, he looks genuinely sad.

“Then maybe,” he says softly, stroking your wings, “that’s why you fell, to learn what joy sounds like.”

You forget to correct him.

He calls you “little dove” and teaches you drinking songs. Mondstadt gains a new legend: “The Bard and His Angel.”

𐔌 . . . 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘꒱

You crash into his office like divine retribution. He looks up from his paperwork, sighs, and stands.

He catches you effortlessly, wings first, “You’re not an inmate.”

“Am I under arrest?” you ask hopefully. (Look, this man is hot.)

“Not unless falling from heaven is a crime.” He instantly regrets saying that, because you smile too brightly, like trouble.

He ends up escorting you around like a lost tourist. The entire prison now thinks their Duke has a celestial partner. He does not correct them.

He chuckles when you blink in confusion, “You’re free to stay until we figure this out.”

You try to “help” with fortress duties only to end up blessing the coffee machines and confusing every inmate into repentance.

He finds you asleep on his couch later, halo dim, wings tucked under his coat.

“You really don’t belong here,” he murmurs, but he makes no move to wake you.

𐔌 . . . 𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎꒱

You appear in a burst of light during his night watch, collapsing midair.

He catches you before you hit the ground, heart pounding, “What… are you?”

“Lost,” you whisper, “and tired.”

He hesitates before wrapping his arms around you, “Then rest. I’ll stand guard.”

When you wake, you offer to purify his karmic burden. He recoils, then softens when you only press a gentle hand to his shoulder.

“You carry pain,” you murmur.

“It’s mine to bear.”

“Then let me bear it with you, just for a moment.”

For the first time in centuries, he lets someone touch him without fear.

𐔌 . . . 𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐈꒱

He’s drinking Osmanthus Wine when you crash in front of him like a divine comet.

He sighs, “Ah. It’s been a while since Celestia threw one down.”

You pop out of the water, grinning, “You talk like you’ve met angels before.”

“I’ve buried a few.”

You laugh, delighted, “Oh, you’re fun!”

He ends up buying you tea, halfway between amused and nostalgic. When you ask what “money” is, he feels a migraine coming on.

You sit beside him as he tells you tales about the other angels he’s met.

You lean towards, eyes gleaming, eyebrows wiggling, “You sound like you miss them.”

“Perhaps I do.”

You grin, “Then I’ll keep you company until I figure out how to fly back.”

“I suspect,” he murmurs with a knowing smile, “you won’t be in any rush.”

Me and the gang when we found out about bro's crush:

☆⋆｡taglist☆⋆｡

------@moristhesecond @hunnieknight @haithxm-main

@mikoochaan

@greyrain23 @reideneris @bro-im-just-playing @teabutmakeitazure @meimeimeirin

@psychopomp-enthusiast @jade1605 @mochinon-yah @eussstasss @lillieofth3valley

@ichikanu @harmonysanreads @yellowelectroslime @miraclecherryblossomsblog @rossithepixie

@schoenpepper @cadesthings @creationsabyss @hirotasama @jth12

@alhaithams-malewife @oliaxter @angeveins @sakisud @xhongshan

@materlux @lost-in-the-night-skiess @shinha @m1kuz0ne @vashyuu

@n0rmalsimp @biytdtdatmirsmlys @mad-girlfan @wriomii @fyodorssimp1

@pastelmitzuki @latimeria-fell-from-heaven @feral-childs-word @sunyandmony

@seelie-buddy @xiaosantenna @elvira44578i @lolitalarva @liliabrary @f1nd1ng-yuki

@vikaflora2 @ume1sii @whodissbitj @mageofthelibrary @lilisgardensblog

@hypermanica @noisy-seelie @rarealienbutt @taisami @yuutryingtowrite

@chanontherun @almostfuzzyharmony @boothillsbootyeater @lobbitack

"So beautiful. So pretty." He mumbles into your skin, loud enough for you to hear. 

You let out a laugh, turning your body so you could embrace him back. "Thank you, love."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"I can't believe someone as beautiful as you is mine."

You laugh at his words, completely taken aback, yet still endeared by the affection in his words. "You're flattering me, baby."

"'M not." He protests, pulling away for a moment to gaze at you. "You truly are beautiful. So beautiful that I don't want to leave you every morning." 

Thoma holds you to him, leaving sweet kisses on your face as you giggle. "You are so beautiful, love, don't think I'm just flattering you." 

You sigh, a flustered and adoring smile on your lips as you nod. He proudly smiles, before nuzzling his face into the side of your neck again, his arms tightening around you as he pulls you closer. You just smile, and rest your head on his, basking in the complete love and adoration Thoma has for you.

ZHONGLI

He has always appreciated the  beauty of life and the beauty of the world around him. With so many years that he lived, Zhongli is not new to the concept of beauty.

But you? It was like his whole idea of beauty was made into human form. He loves you as you, in all your glory, your beauty, and he thanks Celestia for the honor of meeting who he calls the Goddess of Beauty.

You are not a stranger to his musings. His constant praise, and everytime you refuse those praisings, he simply listens to you, patient and gentle, before offering that soft smile of his.

Today is no different.

The evening sun paints Liyue Harbor gold as the two of you sit together over tea. Zhongli speaks calmly about the stories behind the buildings nearby, about old traditions and forgotten history, and you listen with fond amusement. You always loved hearing him talk.

But eventually, his amber eyes drift toward you once more, and his words come to a stop.

"...What?" you ask with a small laugh.

Zhongli blinks, almost as though he had forgotten he was staring. "Forgive me. I was merely admiring you again."

You feel heat rush to your face immediately. "Again?"

"Mm." He lifts his teacup gracefully. "No matter how many years I may live, I do not believe I shall tire of it."

"Zhongli—"

"You doubt me still?" His tone is amused, warm. "My dear, I have witnessed mountains carved by time and seas shaped by the heavens themselves. I know beauty when I see it."

You avert your gaze, flustered beyond belief while he chuckles softly at your reaction.

"It's unfair when you say things like that..." you mumble.

"And yet they are true."

His gloved hand reaches for yours carefully, thumb brushing over your knuckles with such tenderness it makes your chest ache.

"You are beautiful in ways that surpass appearance alone," he says quietly. "Your kindness, your patience, the way you continue to love others so openly... those are things I cherish most."

Your expression softens, heart swelling from the sincerity in his voice.

Zhongli brings your hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss against your skin.

"And selfishly," he murmurs, golden eyes half-lidded with affection, "I am grateful that such beauty chose to stay beside me."

You can only laugh softly through your embarrassment, squeezing his hand as he watches you with enough fondness to make even the oldest stone in Teyvat seem fragile.

KAVEH

He looks up from his plates and sketches, neck strained and his back hurting from how long he sat there, but it seemed to go away when he sees you, and the exhaustion fades almost instantly.

You're sitting across the room, quietly reading while the warm light from the windows spills over you. Your expression is relaxed, peaceful, completely unaware of the way Kaveh is staring.

His pencil slips from his fingers.

You glance up. "Hm? What's wrong?"

"...Nothing," he says absentmindedly, still looking at you.

You narrow your eyes suspiciously. "You're doing that thing again."

"What thing?"

"The staring."

Kaveh scoffs dramatically, leaning back in his chair. "Can you blame me?" He gestures toward you as if presenting a masterpiece to an audience. "Look at you."

You blink. "What about me?"

"What about you?" he repeats incredulously. "You're beautiful. Distractingly beautiful, actually. I was trying to work."

A laugh escapes you as you set your book down. "And somehow that's my fault?"

"Absolutely." He points accusingly. "You sit there looking all pretty and then expect me to focus on architectural calculations?"

You snort, shaking your head while he rises from his desk with a groan, stretching his sore muscles before making his way toward you.

Despite his teasing, the moment he reaches you, his expression softens completely.

Kaveh kneels beside your chair, resting his chin on your lap as he looks up at you with tired but adoring eyes.

"I mean it, you know," he says quietly. "Sometimes I look at you and think maybe the gods spent too much time on one person."

Your face warms instantly. "Kaveh..."

"No, seriously." He smiles lazily. "It's unfair. You're beautiful when you wake up, beautiful when you're tired, beautiful when you're laughing at me—"

"I always laugh at you."

"And you always look beautiful doing it."

You roll your eyes fondly, fingers brushing through his hair. He melts immediately beneath your touch, sighing contentedly.

For someone so expressive and dramatic, Kaveh's affection never feels exaggerated.

Every word he says comes from somewhere painfully sincere.

He tilts his head into your hand and smiles softly.

"You know," he murmurs, "I think you're my favorite thing I've ever seen."

AYATO

Often, he wonders how he was able to be with someone such as yourself. Quite a partner he has, with a beauty unmatched in his eyes. All your flaws, he adores, and all your imperfections, he tells you are what makes you the beauty he loves.

Ayato has always been composed. Elegant. Refined. But around you, those carefully maintained walls become softer.

It happens during quiet moments most.

Like now, with the two of you sitting in the estate gardens beneath the evening sky. You speak absentmindedly about your day while Ayato listens, chin resting against his hand, a small smile on his lips.

You pause mid-sentence.

"...Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you've fallen in love with me all over again."

His smile widens ever so slightly. "Perhaps I have."

You stare at him for a moment before groaning softly, already flustered. "Ayato."

"What?" he asks innocently, though amusement glimmers clearly in his violet eyes. "Am I wrong for admiring my partner?"

"You say these things too casually."

"And you grow embarrassed too easily."

You huff while he chuckles quietly, reaching over to brush a stray strand of hair away from your face.

His touch is gentle. Careful. Reverent.

"You are beautiful," he says simply, as though it is the most obvious fact in the world. "Not because you are flawless, but because you are you."

The teasing in his voice disappears entirely, replaced with something softer.

"Sincerely, I think your imperfections are my favorite parts of you."

You blink at him in surprise.

"The way you frown when you're concentrating. The way you get irritated over small things. The moments you doubt yourself despite being wonderful..." Ayato's thumb brushes against your cheek. "Those are the parts that make you real. Human. Precious."

Your heart aches at the tenderness in his gaze.

He leans closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"I spend much of my life surrounded by masks," he murmurs. "So when I am with you, and I see every honest piece of who you are... I cannot help but think you are the most beautiful person I've ever met."

You laugh softly to hide your embarrassment, but Ayato only smiles knowingly, pulling you closer against him as if he intends to keep you there for the rest of the night.

the ceremony was grand, hiding the lack of love in your union of families. the wedding passed in a blur of noise and colour. bright silks, glittering jewels, and ceremonial incense that filled the air like a fog, concealing the truth. you felt like a marionette on a string, pulled from place to place by bustling servants, their hurried gestures dictating your every move. this was only a union of houses, not hearts and no amount of jewellery or grandeur could hide that.

your only companions the sweet younger sister of ayato and his faithful servant, thoma. you were grateful for their presence, keeping you grounded in the chaos. even after the wedding, they stuck true to you.

as the lady of the house, you attended to your duties diligently, from directing the household staff to overseeing the preparations of ceremonies. more often than not, you found yourself sitting in the sunlight of the patio, a pair of scissors in hand, trimming and replacing the wilting flowers, decorating the cold vases. petals fell like delicate fragments of your own sorrow. while you replaced them, you wondered if you were just like these flowers—-ornaments to be seen.

the busy nature of your husband’s work limited his time spent with you. you didn’t blame him, you understood the weight of his position, however his absence was a knife in your heart, a wound that never seemed to heal. the vases were like the halls of the house, beautifully decorated, but cold.

ayaka and thoma could only watch you with pity, the forgotten and unwanted lady of the kamisato house. they noticed how your hands would slow, becoming lost in thought, scissors dangling from your hands as you stared up at the sky, watching the birds in envy. 

they longed to speak to you about it, but the silence was too heavy, too suffocating to break.

the chirpiness of cicadas faded, the end of summer near. leaves turned from vibrant green to a multitude of warm colours, sunset painted across the leaves of the trees. winter came in a flurry of snow and cold air, while spring’s short warmth was quickly replaced by the heat of summer.

without you realising, a year had passed and your wedding anniversary was nearing.

in that year, you were lucky if you could catch a glimpse of him leaving, as he slipped on his shoes to leave the house.

despite that, you had endeavoured to make your first year anniversary special. accompanied by thoma, the two of you wandered the streets of inazuma, picking out the best produce while thoma filled the air with pleasant conversation. you found yourself smiling and laughing along, heart light with cheer.

once you arrived at home, ayaka helped you prepare the feast, the pair of you bustling around the kitchen in practiced movement, like two elegant dancers, prancing around the kitchen to the rhythm of clinking utensils and bubbling pots. perhaps this dinner would bring the two of you closer.

the candles burned brightly like your hope, the only source of light in the dim room. the sun had set hours ago, the moonlight brightening the night sky. you sat patiently, ignoring the tingling of your legs, folded neatly underneath you.

as the night deepened, your eyelids began drooping, head bobbling as you fought to stay awake. the candles flickered, the wax dripping down the length of the candle.

a creak of the wooden plank startled you awake, your heart ablaze with hope. but it was only ayaka, her heart breaking at the look of hope on your face. she shook her head, watching you with pity as she watched your face crumple in disappointment. tears threatened to spill, but you held them back, sniffles filling the room.

the candles flickered weakly, their flames dimming, like your hope.

you plastered on your mask, a smile pasted onto your face. ayaka couldn’t bear to see you like this. to her, you were like the kind, gentle, elder sister she had always wanted. you quickly became someone ayaka looked up to. you listened to her talk and ramble about her problems and thoughts, she wanted to do the same. she wanted to be someone who you could open up to, someone who didn’t judge. now, she sat helpless, watching the cracks in your mask form and widen.

with quick strides, she crossed the room, engulfing you in a tight hug. surprise flitted across your face, before you embraced her tightly, tears leaking from your eyes. ayaka’s actions comforted you, her simple action breaking a hole in the high walls you put up.

like a dam breaking, you sobbed, words flowing out of your mouth, words that you had been taught from a young age should be kept hidden inside. women should only talk about the good things, the positives. talk of the negative feelings, the burdens you have, and you’ll become ugly, your tutor had scared you.

you took the opportunity of the sake placed on the table, pouring yourself endless cups, drinking away the sorrow. before long, the world took on a fuzzy haze, your face warm and your tongue slurring.

in your drunk stupor, you engaged in rare ‘girl talk’ with ayaka.

“you know,” you slurred, voice blending, head drooping. “as a child, i dreamed of receiving flowers from someone.” your voice trailed off, descending into silence.

just as ayaka was becoming worried about the lack of noise from you, the stillness was broken by soft snores. you had fallen asleep, dreaming of a life where you had affection and love. quietly chuckling, ayaka thought about how cute this scene was. your body slumping slightly, expression peaceful in the haze of exhaustion and alcohol.

despite the heaviness of the night, your relaxed and vulnerable figure warmed her heart. you looked so small and fragile in the large empty room, illuminated by the moonlight.

the shoji door slid open with a gentle swish, ayato’s tall figure framing the doorway. his hair was loosening from its neat ponytail, ink staining his fingers.

“sister.” he breathed quietly in greeting. “thoma reminded me what date today was.”

his sister’s sharp and disapproving glare made him flinch, guilt evident on his features. with measured steps, ayato entered the room, his gaze falling on your slumped form, a flicker of something flashed across his face.

ayaka’s eyes flitted between you and ayato, a complex mix of emotions swelling in her chest. relief, combined with frustration and disappointment.

“brother,” ayaka’s soft voice broke the silence, a quiet plea tinging her voice. “please, lady [name] deserves better than how you’re treating her.” a sigh falls from ayaka’s lips. “at least try to spare some time, or send a letter home when you don’t have the time, so she doesn’t have to wait like this.”

ayato stilled, the weight of ayaka’s quiet reprimand heavy on his shoulders, impossible to ignore and piercing through the composed facade he had grown so used to wearing.

“i…” ayato’s voice faltered, struggling to find the right words. in matters of state, he had always had a quick mind, ready to negotiate treaties and settle disputes, yet now, the words slipped through his fingers like sand.

“it was not my intention to neglect her,” ayato admitted, eyes downcast. “but i realise now…”

ayaka’s eyes softened as she looked at her brother. “make amends, ayato. she’s been waiting for you, tonight especially—” she gestures to the untouched food, laying on the table, the melting candles, “—she had hoped…”

ayaka is cut off when her brother’s arm shoots out, catching your head before it can hit the table. gently, he leans your head on his shoulder, the faint scent of sake clinging to you. in your sleep, you stirred, but remain lost in the dreams of a life filled with tenderness and love.

“i will try,” ayato promised, his face set with determination. “you will watch me, and you will be proud.”

for a long while, the only sound in the room was the soft rustle of the evening breeze. ayaka watched her brother in silence, hoping that this time, he would stay true to his promise.

ayato cradled your form, the soft rise and fall of your breathing a sharp contrast to his inner turmoil. his heart clenched as he imagined the hope you must have carried, waiting for him, as the hours slipped by.

ayaka studied her brother’s face, noticing the burden of regret etched into his features. ayato had always been a man of responsibility, maybe this time his duties would extend to you, his wife.

with tender care, ayato picked you up, carrying you to your room. he was startled when he felt his clothing grow wet, quiet sniffles filling the air. you were crying in your sleep.

gently, ayato set you down on your bed, as though afraid you might shatter if he placed you down too hard. he covered your figure with the luscious silk blankets, brushing away your tears with his hand. despite all the duties that were waiting for him, ayato stayed for a few more hours, 

a few days later, as you sit on the patio, watching the koi fish, thoma approaches you, hands hidden behind his back.

“m’lady,” thoma breaks into your thoughts, voice hesitant. “these are for you, from my lord.”

in his hands is a stunning bouquet of native inazuman flowers, mixed with your favourite flowers, carefully selected and curated with love.

perhaps, just perhaps, things were beginning to change.

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