My first of two fics for @burntheedges and her Roll-a-Trope Writing Challenge! For this I picked Javi G and rolled the “stuck in an elevator” trope. Wheeeee!!!
To Make a Day for You
Main Masterlist
Pairing: Javi G x female reader
Rating: M
Warnings: 18+ only! Language, fluids, capitalism, working in service positions and hospitality
———————————————————————————
God, this shift was never ending.
You trudged to the elevators and punched the up arrow, dreading the nightmare that awaited you on the fourth floor.
We need a preliminary check-out hazard assessment prior to clean on the Bacchus Suite. Guests noted the presence of “some various fluids” on multiple surfaces and potential smoke damage.
Always the fucking Bacchus Suite. Why they named it that, added a full bar, and then carpeted the room, you’d never know. And now it was your job to see what the most recent rockstar oozed where.
You stepped into the first elevator that opened, nobody else waiting to join, and you were feeling grateful to have at least a few private moments of calm before the storm when a large bronzed hand bearing an expensive-looking watch reached into the gap between the closing doors.
“Excuse me, thank you so much,” exhaled a voice with a smooth Spanish accent. The voice was followed by a man, broad and tanned, looking harried and apologetic and extremely wealthy in a powder blue suit. He went to press the fourth floor button, and upon seeing it already lit, ran that large hand through the waves of glossy brown hair on his head and winced out a smile. His eyes were soft and warm, a rich deep cocoa, and they crinkled at the corners.
You were annoyed at his presence, but such was life. Especially in service positions.
“Of course, sir!” you chimed, feigning cheer the way all good hospitality workers must.
“I am sorry I have intruded on your ride. I am sure you must tire of interacting with guests. I will not insist on your attention...” The man glanced at your name tag, added your name to his apology. He smiled again, more easy, and bowed slightly, before stepping back against the wall and clasping his hands at his waist.
Ah, well. That was nice, at least. Usually riding the elevator with hotel guests resulted in a barrage of complaints and requests, generally almost none of which you were capable of addressing or responsible for, which was no concern of the guests or of management. Smile, nod, apologize, agree, lather, rinse, repeat.
This guest also smelled incredible, you noted as his scent drifted in the enclosed space. Citrus, vanilla, fresh and warm and masculine. Maybe you could cling to the sense memory in your nostrils as you faced down whatever horrors existed in the Bacchus Suite. Of course you’d forgotten your Vicks at home today. Swipe of it under the nose, a trick you’d learned from a mortician, one that had, unfortunately, proved very useful in luxury hotel housekeeping. You tried to will the guest’s cologne to somehow weave itself into your nose hairs.
———
As the elevator moved past floor 3, the lights flickered.
Huh.
As the digital display panel flashed, the elevator suddenly lurched to a stop, sending you toppling into the handrail. The guest’s hand flew to your upper arm to steady you, then quickly retreated.
“Are you okay? Were you hurt?” the man asked, eyes quickly scanning you for any obvious injuries.
Were you? No, you determined after a quick mental inventory. “I’m fine, thank you. Are you alright, sir?” You straightened up, brushed your uniform shirt down into place, slipping back into your customer service mask.
“I, too, am fine. I was simply startled.” He pursed his full lips thoughtfully. “I do not believe this is how elevators are meant to work, however.” He frowned up at the lights, now dimmer than before.
“Uh, no, not… not typically, no. I am sure it will be resolved soon. I apologize for the inconvenience, sir.” You leaned over to press the service button, which did nothing.
He waved his palm dismissively. “Please, no ‘sir.’ I am Javi. And I do not think elevator maintenance falls within your purview, no?” He grinned, turning to you. He had a dimple.
You chuckled. “It does not, sir. Javi. Still, on behalf of the hotel…”
“You do not need to speak on behalf of the hotel to me. No pasa nada - do not worry, please.” He placed his hand back on your arm, gave it a gentle squeeze before releasing. “I do not hold you accountable, my new friend, for the failures of either man or machine.”
“I appreciate that, very much,” you said softly. “Sorry, it’s unusual for guests to be so… understanding. They’re generally—,”
“—terrible assholes?” he finished, eyebrows raised and eyes glinting with a spark of mischief.
You laughed. “Technically I’m on the clock, so no comment.” He chuckled and winked knowingly. The two of you resumed your wordless standing for some time.
Eventually, the guest, Javi, slid his back down the elevator wall until he sat on the floor, luxurious fabric of his suit rumpled without a care, his long legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles. “You will join me, perhaps? While we wait for our knight in a shining toolbelt?”
You glanced down at him. “Join you on the ground, you mean?”
“Where else is there to go?” He had a point. You sat down.
“So, Javi. What brings you to the hotel? Business or pleasure?” You pulled your legs to your body to sit criss-cross, bracing your elbows on your knees and resting your chin on a fist.
Javi grinned. “Both, I hope, or perhaps neither. I wish to make a new film — that is what I do, I make movies — and if the studio will agree, then I will celebrate. If the studio does not agree, I suppose I will not be working or playing.”
He tilted his head back and folded his hands behind his head, closing his eyes and smiling in the direction of the ceiling. “Either way, it has been a worthwhile trip, I think.”
“Wow! So, you like to travel then?” you asked.
“Sí, but more than that, I enjoy meeting new people. Making friends. And I have done that today, and so, I consider my visit to be a success. Would you agree?” He looked over and cocked his head, eyes wide and bright, like a charming puppy.
Your face warmed. “I guess I would. I’d much rather make a friend than clean up another disgusting hotel room.” You shook your head, then remembered yourself. “Sorry. That’s my job, I know. I don’t want to be rude.” Thank god you’d forgotten your walkie in the break room. You could’ve called for help by this point, sure, but you also could’ve gotten yourself fired with the accidental press of a button.
Javi shushed you affectionately. “I will not hear these sorries. We are simply having a conversation, as friends do, are we not? You may be true to yourself with me. I would prefer it if you do.” He slid a thumb over his lower lip, then scratched at his stubbled jaw before sighing.
“When you are a man such as me, one who is associated with riches and fame and power, people do not speak to you plainly. They tell you, instead, what they think you would like to hear. What they believe may win them your favor. It is… rather difficult.” He hummed. “The more I am known, the less I am known. Does this make sense to you, what I am saying?”
“Yeah, it does.” You bit your lip and nodded. “It really does. That sounds really isolating. Lonely.”
“It can be, yes,” he confirmed quietly. “I love movies. Making films was my greatest dream, and I am very grateful for the chance to do it, and for the privileges I have had, though they did not come without their own challenges.”
He laced his fingers together and sat his hands on his thighs. “But part of what I love about movies is how they can connect people together. It is ironic, maybe, that making movies has resulted in fewer connections for me.”
“In that case, I’m glad the elevator got stuck, then. I’m enjoying the chance to connect with you, Javi,” you said declaratively.
With impeccable cosmic timing, all the lights of the elevator went dark, save for a thin emergency strip, glowing red along the edge of the floor.
———
Well. You thought for a moment. “Javi?”
His voice swam easily through the darkness. “Sí, I am here.” You focused on the red glow to try and make out the shape where he sat.
“I think this is the best day of work I’ve had in years,” you shrugged with a snort.
Javi barked a loud laugh along with you, then slid a few feet closer along the floor to sit immediately beside you in the darkness.
“May I ask you something, my friend?” His voice was softer, husking around the edges a bit.
“Of course,” you replied, feeling something small and fuzzy and wriggly in your chest. The smell of his cologne washed over you, more concentrated with his proximity, almost as if it was your skin that bore it and not his.
“Will you tell me about your favorite movie?”
You were surprised at his question for a fraction of a second, but he asked so earnestly, you knew that, for your new friend Javi, the topic that others would probably regard as small talk was instead a precious, intimate thing.
“Yes, but don’t laugh.”
“I would never, you must know this. I will tell you one of mine first — it is Paddington 2.” You could only see the vague shapes of his face in the low light but it was clear that he was serious, and it filled you with adoration for your gentle and unpredictable new friend.
“I haven’t actually seen it,” you admitted.
“Oh, we will change this. We will watch it together someday,” Javi said with an authoritative clap of his hands. “If we are not entombed inside this elevator, of course,” he added.
“It’s a big if,” you acknowledged. “But yeah, I’d like that.”
“So.” You felt Javi’s shoulder press against your own, flush together. “I am dying to hear. Which is your favorite?” He was practically buzzing with anticipation.
“Babe,” you muttered, tucking your face into your hands with embarrassment.
Vision having adjusted somewhat, Javi clocked the movement and turned his broad shoulders to face you, grabbing both your hands in his and pulling them down.
“Why would you feel shame for this?! It is an incredible story of defying expectations and overcoming oppressive structures. The pig is a marvel, is he not?” He shook your hands with emphasis and continued breathlessly. “He teaches the other animals and humans of the farm to love, to respect one another, to see the inherent value in each other. It is a tribute to empathy! An ode to the triumph of the spirit! Oh, you have chosen well, querida.” The white of his teeth gleamed in the shadows when Javi beamed at you.
You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face. “Okay, THANK YOU. It’s so wonderful, right?! I’m so used to being teased about it, but I love it. Ugh, Farmer Hoggett is so…”
“Fuuuuuck. The song! Oh, I can feel my heart seize when I think of it. It is what I would want the next time I fall ill, somebody to sing that song for me. I suppose I could pay somebody to do so,” Javi mused, “but I think it would not have quite the same sentiment.”
“Javi, I promise that if we don’t die in this elevator, I will sing the song from Babe to you over the phone whenever you’re sick.” You turned his hands in yours, running your thumbs over his knuckles.
“And I will do the same for you. We must pinky swear it. Then our vow will be unbreakable.”
He hooked one pinky in the air between your bodies and waited for yours to join. You lifted your own and looped it with his, and Javi flexed his strong hand to squeeze the promise in extra tight.
“Good. It is agreed. Now, I am curious to know how a spirit that burns for such a piglet finds herself in such an establishment as this, cleaning up after unruly excess. Surely, it does not feed your soul.” Javi returned his hands to his own lap but tilted his head so it rested on your shoulder, his soft hair tickling against your cheek.
“Doesn’t feed my soul, no. Doesn’t feed my body very well, either. Pay is garbage, bills are always tight. My fridge has seen better days, for sure.” You huffed. “But, the hours are flexible. Sometimes I get tips. It’s whatever.”
“I wish for you to have more than ‘whatever’, querida,” intoned Javi, warm concern in his voice.
“Yeah, me too. Someday, hopefully.”
“Hmm.” Javi nuzzled slightly into your neck, and you wondered if he could feel your pulse pick up. “And if you were not working in this hotel, not burdened by your responsibilities, what would you like to be?”
“Besides a sheep-pig?” you smirked.
Javi patted your back with a giggle.
“I want to be a museum archivist,” you sighed. “I, uh, actually have two Masters degrees? History and Library & Information Science.”
“No! That is amazing!” Javi gasped at your side, lifting his head to gape at you.
“Thanks. It is… a lot of debt. And most archival positions require you to do a bunch of internships for experience just to get a foot in the door. Degree is a necessity but it doesn’t really mean anything in terms of getting a job. I couldn’t afford to pay back my loans and pay my bills while volunteering my time, and no paying jobs were willing to take a chance on me fresh out of school.” You laughed humorlessly. “Probably should’ve thought of that before I got the degree. But, I needed to do something, and this job was something. I’m able to volunteer at the Natural History Museum a few days a week with my schedule doing whatever they’ll let me.”
Javi was nodding along with your words as he listened. “I see, I see. And how long have you been doing this job instead of what you love?”
“Ah,” you hemmed. “Six, no, seven years?”
“And you have made progress on your loan payments?”
“Not really. If I work for a nonprofit or public employer, I could have my loans forgiven after 10 years of employment, but I’d have to be able to get the job first, and prospects are bleak. I don’t have savings either. Paying $1800 a month for a shoebox doesn’t leave much left over.” You allowed yourself to lean into Javi, your head slanting on top of his shoulder.
“Shit.” Tentatively, he reached his arm around your body. “This is okay, querida? For me to offer you this comfort?”
“It is, Javi. Thank you.” You snuggled into him, let his warmth seep into you, and sat in silence for a while. Time stretched lazily around you both, like a comfortable cat.
“You know what’s crazy? And sad, now that I think about it,” you said eventually. “In the seven years I’ve worked here, nobody has ever asked me about anything besides hotel shit or housekeeping. Not my bosses, not my coworkers. Definitely not any of the guests.”
“Then that is an injustice to you and a loss for them. Thank you for sharing yourself in this way with me. I feel very fortunate to have met and learned more of you.” You smiled against Javi’s torso and he cupped his palm around the base of your neck, thumbing the space behind your ear.
Suddenly, the elevator jerked, the lights blaring back on. You and Javi shielded your eyes from the blinding change. You exchanged glances as the display lit up once again, and Javi clambered to his knees, reaching out to give a testing press to the round 4 button.
———
The elevator rumbled and began to ascend.
“Oh, wow,” you said. “I kind of forgot this might eventually happen. Lost track of time, I’m not allowed to have my phone on me during shifts and I don’t wear a watch.” You stood up and shook out your tingling limbs.
Javi stood as well, straightening his suit and fixing his cuffs. “It has been…” He looked at his watch and squinted at the face. “It has been three hours.”
“Oh my god! Shit, I’m going to get reamed for not having that room cleared.” Panic and frustration started to gnaw at the corners of your and Javi’s peaceful vignette.
“But it is the fault of their elevator that you are delayed,” he reasoned.
“They won’t care, trust me. God, I wish I didn’t need this job as bad as I do.” You closed your eyes and took a breath, steeling yourself as the elevator stopped at the fourth floor and the doors slid open. For a moment, Javi hesitated, then exited before you and reached a hand back. You took it and let him lead you out of your shared could-have-been sarcophagus.
Wary of the hallway’s security cameras and what additional trouble you might find yourself in if your supervisors spotted you bothering the guests, you stepped further away from Javi’s body than you would’ve liked to be.
“I have to go to the Bacchus Suite, like, immediately,” you groaned, toeing at the carpet.
Javi tutted. “I am staying in the Fortuna Suite. If I leave a message for you at reception, will you receive it?” His face was drawn, but hopeful.
“Yeah, I definitely will. I… I really would like it if you did, Jav.” Your cheeks felt hot and you glanced down at your feet, looking up when you heard a shuffling to find Javi now standing inches from you.
“Nothing could keep me from leaving you a message, then. I think, probably, I will take the stairs this time,” he huffed a quiet laugh, his brow scrunching, his breath warm on your face. He moved closer, letting the strong curve of his aquiline nose nestle against your own, and you felt his long dark lashes flutter against your cheekbone.
“I would like to kiss you, before we part, if you would agree to it.” His voice was low, reserved, but run through with a gentle current of hunger. His hand slid around the back of your neck once more, as in the dark elevator, and he let his thumb stroke along the hinge of your jaw as he looked at you deeply, rich vanilla eyes heady with longing.
Fuck the security cameras.
You answered Javi by pressing your mouth firmly to his, lips slotting together effortlessly. He brought his other hand to hold your face, and you gripped around his biceps, fingers barely circling them, as you breathed in tandem. He opened his mouth against you, and you slipped your tongue to his, kissing deeply and languidly, losing yourselves in each other’s taste.
The other elevator dinged and you pulled apart as the doors opened, a bellboy with a luggage cart rolling his eyes at you both before turning down the hall.
“I have to go, Jav.”
“Okay. I will leave a message.”
Javi stepped back to you and kissed you once more, chaste and quick, and you waved your fingers at him and turned to hurry towards the room you were meant to be cleaning. He watched you go, his face flushed and his heart swelling, and when you’d disappeared around the corner, he walked to the stairwell and opened the door.
———
You stopped at the supply closet for a cart, gloves, trash bags, cleaning supplies, and a UV light (shudder), taking a few seconds to steady yourself, remind yourself you were about to go clean up possible biohazards for minimum wage after you’d spent the past few hours shut in a dark elevator with the most remarkable man you’d ever met, who kissed you like he needed you as much as he needed air.
Locking the closet behind you, you approached the suite. You steeled your nerves, puffed up your chest, and held the keycard up to the door latch.
Bink. The light flashed green and you pushed down the handle, ready for the worst.
It was worse than the worst.
After the wall of stench, the first thing you noticed was what appeared to be blue paint trailing from the door to the lounge, where a pool of cerulean was soaked into the cushions of the sofa. The curtains had been ripped from the wall, massive holes in the drywall where the rod had been, a fine layer of white dust settled over the drapes, which were crumbled on the floor. Every mirror was shattered, some bearing signs of lipstick and/or blood on their jagged edges. The stocked bar was trashed, cracked bottles dripping across the counter, glasses full of cigarette butts and unidentified liquids, sticky liquor puddled and syrupy on every available surface. The one bed you could see from where you stood had no mattress on it. You did not see the mattress. You were afraid to look at the bathroom.
The phone was ringing.
You sidestepped the paint splotches and tiptoed around broken glass to lift the receiver. “Housekeeping,” you said, peppy as was possible amid the destruction.
“We’ve had a guest request immediate assistance.”
“Okayyy,” you paused, curious why they were interrupting you about it. “I can do it after I finish assessing here.”
“The guest asked for you by name, and he does not wish to wait. He is a very valuable client of the chain, so we’ll reassign another housekeeper to the Bacchus. You can go straight to the other suite.”
“Oh! Which, uh, suite is that?” you asked, hoping for a particular answer.
“Fortuna.” You grinned.
“Okay, I’ll go right now.”
They hung up without saying another word, and you left the cart in the room and left as quickly as you could, trying not to skip as you rounded the corner and headed to the Fortuna, which sat on the other side of the elevator bank.
———
When you arrived, a little short of breath, you knocked twice and waited, bouncing slightly on your toes. There was no response.
You knocked again, louder this time, realizing you didn’t know Javi’s last name to call out to him and have it sound vaguely professional.
“Javi,” you said against the door, knocking once more and pressing your ear against it to listen for footsteps. Nothing. You pulled the master keycard from your pocket and passed it in front of the lock.
Bink. The green lights flashed, and you opened the door cautiously.
“Javi?” you called, stepping inside, but the room appeared to be empty. You walked through the lounge and peered into the bedroom, into the en suite, out on the balcony. Nothing. The bed was messily made, as if it had been straightened after being slept in, and the shower stall was damp, but otherwise you saw no evidence of Javi or anybody else, save for the faint ghost of his cologne lingering in the air.
What the fuck?
Your heart was sinking when you glanced at the console table and saw an envelope bearing your name in an even script. Before you could feel confused or angry or worried or any other emotion, you grabbed for it, then plunked yourself in an overstuffed armchair and opened. A folded piece of paper from the hotel’s branded memo pad fell out.
Inside the folded paper was a check. Your check. Or, rather, a check for you. Filled out in the same handwriting as the envelope. Made out for $50,000. From the personal account of Mr. Javier Gutierrez.
You thought you might faint, or cry, or puke, or drop dead. Activities better suited for the Bacchus Suite.
You turned your attention, somehow, from the check to the paper, seeing your name across the top of the paper below the hotel logo.
Querida,
Quit.
Your Friend,
Javi
P.S. I am outside. I am driving a silver Porsche convertible. No pressure. But I will wait here. - Javi
P.P.S. This is my phone number. It is okay if you do not call. Or come out to meet me. I just want you to have it. - Javi
P.P.P.S. In case you have received this letter later than I expected and you have been delayed by your cleaning duties, I have written this twenty-seven minutes past the moment you left me at the elevators. I do not want you to rush or to worry. If you have not appeared or called by evening I will wait in the parking lot overnight, just in case. The attendants are very easily distracted, it will not be difficult to hide. - Javi
P.P.P.P.S. I did not write you this check in the hope that you will want to pursue a romance with me. I wish for you to follow your dreams, even if they do not include me in them. We are practically strangers, after all, and I would understand. The money is yours, whatever you choose. My hope that you will also choose me is an entirely separate thing. Most of all, I desire for you to be happy, archiving all sorts of things that must be archived. I am certain you’ll do it very well. - Javi
P.P.P.P.P.S. I would like to kiss you again. - Javi
———
Ten minutes after reading Javi’s note, you were strolling out of the employee lockers, sunglasses and cell phone in hand and uniform abandoned on a bench. You paused at the schedule posted on the wall, used the Sharpie tied to a nail in the wall to drag a thick black line through your name on the calendar. Without fanfare, you waltzed out the front doors and climbed into the vehicle waiting for you in the valet loop.
“Did you drive?”
“Nope. No car - I take the bus.”
“Ah, just as well. I have many. I am happy to share.”
You turned to face the man in the driver's seat, his handsome face haloed by the sun as he looked fondly at you.
“That’s lot of money, Javier Gutierrez” you tsked.
“It is no hardship. You.. you will accept it, though? And, if I am lucky, you will accept… me?”
You laughed. “Yes. Both. I accept both. Happily.”
His eyebrows curled upwards and his lips pouted in an expression of blissful disbelief. “This is fantastic news, querida. And you quit?”
“And I quit,” you confirmed, and leaned across the console to continue the kiss that had been interrupted at the elevators, savoring this moment at the cusp of something beautiful.
Javi shifted his head, sat up slightly, and you tugged gently on his plump lower lip with your teeth as he pulled back just enough to lock his eyes with yours. Tears glistened at his waterline and you felt your own begin to well. He pressed his forehead to yours, nudged his nose against yours, and rubbed his hands down your arms before giving you a solid pat on the back and whispering against your skin:
“That’ll do, pig. That’ll do.”
———
Tagging the sprintos who cheered me on!!
@whocaresstillthelouvre @jennaispunk @goodwithcheese @ace-turned-confused @timelordfreya @maggiemayhemnj @beefrobeefcal @tinytinymenace
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"Sunflower in the Summer Rain"
Thoma x Female Reader x Ayato
word count: 21,500+
(You’ve been working at the Kamisato estate for a while now and have caught the eye of both your cheerful colleague and your stoic superior. However, after they discover that each other has feelings for you, they have to come up with a plan so they don’t have to fight over you and risk losing each other's friendship. So, as long as you’re ok with it, they suppose they’ll just have to share.)
disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! mostly fluff with smut at the end, slow burn, threesome, size difference, friends to lovers with thoma, mutual pining with both, some hurt/comfort with both, really both of them are sweet to you and wanna take care of you, polyamorous relationship, aftercare.
*ao3 mirror*
***
The soft rays of dawn’s light spilled in through the windows, flooding the estate with pale, buttery light. At this time of morning, the house was as still and silent as a ghost, only the brief shuffle of the first arrivals scraping lightly across the polished floors as they made their way down to the housekeeping quarters to report their attendance and change into their uniforms.
You covered a yawn, dragging your feet a little as you followed suit, still feeling groggy and half asleep. Sometimes it felt like you never left this place. Like you only spent your unconscious hours inside your own home, curled up in bed, as if the idea of rest existed only in a dream.
But that was the life of a housekeeper, you supposed, especially if you worked for a family as prestigious as the Kamisatos. You were the first to arrive and the last to leave. Well, you, specifically, were usually running a little late, but after getting scolded by the head housemaid yesterday for your habit of tardiness, you figured you’d better not do anything to get on her bad side again anytime soon.
“Hey!”
You turned when you heard the familiar voice calling out your name, Thoma’s smile greeting you from across the way and causing a soft, sleepy grin to spread across your face.
“You’re here early!” he remarked merrily as he paced closer to stand before you, always a morning person no matter how many hours of sleep— or lack thereof— he had gotten the night before.
With a light scoff, you responded with a slightly dismal, “Yeah, well, one more write up and I might not be working here anymore…”
“Oh, c’mon!” Thoma chuckled, the sound like the sun coming into view as the lingering clouds parted in the sky. Hands on his hips, he then lowered his voice to a whisper and gave you a playful wink as he said, “Y’know I’d never let that happen.”
“Yes, well…” you rolled your eyes, retaining your lighthearted smile as the hint of something slightly sarcastic tried to work its way in. “We both know that you’ll never lose your job. Not when you’re best friends with the boss, at least.”
Thoma walked beside you now, taking note of your state of exhaustion and asked, “Did you sleep at all last night?”
You shot him a glance that was almost guilty, apologetic as you vaguely admitted, “Technically, yes, I did.” And then, unable to bear the weight of his concerned stare, you added on after another yawn, “For a couple of hours, at least…” Before he could begin to lecture you about how important getting enough rest was, you turned the question onto him. “But what about you? How is it you’re always so full of energy this early?”
Thoma grinned, but it was a little crooked, like he was hiding something. “Ah, y’know… Same as you, probably. But when I started to think about all the work that needs to be done this week I got a little restless…”
When the two of you reached the housekeepers quarters, you temporarily parted ways while you changed clothes and took stock of all your supplies. You started waking up a little more once you began to shift into work mode, but you had a feeling today was going to be a long one.
“Which wing are you assigned to?” Thoma asked once the two of you rejoined, traveling down one of the long hallways side by side once again, Thoma making sure to match your stride so as to avoid causing you to rush to catch up to him.
“West, I think…” you answered a little unsurely, suddenly doubting whether you’d read the posting correctly or not. “What about you?”
Thoma never stayed in one wing for an entire day. He was always bouncing from one corner of the estate to the next, making sure any and all loose ends were tied up, visiting you when he had the chance, and then, of course, attending to some more specific work the eldest Kamisato had entrusted him with. You also knew that Thoma was the only member of the housestaff allowed in Ayato’s personal quarters. You’d tried to press him for details about what it was like in there before but all Thoma seemed to offer in response was that it was big and, as expected for someone who was rarely there, kept meticulously organized.
“Have you ever found anything interesting or weird in there?” you’d curiously inquire. “Does he collect anything? What’s the coolest thing he owns?”
But Thoma would always avoid your questions, just saying something along the lines of, “I’m in there to clean, not spy on him,” and that would usually be the end of that conversation.
As you two exchanged some more last minute small talk, you let out a big yawn, which Thoma then caught, leaving him smiling a little and joking, “I better get going before your sleepiness rubs off on me.”
You cracked a grin and rolled your eyes. “Better watch out. Too much time around me and you might start spontaneously napping.”
Thoma let out a chuckle. “Can you imagine?” he said, and in all truth, you couldn’t. Even on his most busiest, exhausted day, Thoma was somehow able to put on a mask of energy and delight and get the job done. On one hand, you envied that ability in him, on another, it sort of freaked you out.
“Well don’t push yourself too hard,” you reminded him. “Even you need to sleep eventually. Besides…” You tipped your chin up, turning your body halfway in the opposite direction of him, nose sticking up in playful mockery as you perched your broom before you like a sword stuck down into the stones, a valiant weapon for a fearless soldier, so long as clearing dust bunnies was considered an act of selfless bravery. “If you don’t watch out for your health, maybe I’ll rise up the ranks and become Master Kamisato’s new head housekeeper instead.”
Thoma let out another one of those bright bursts of laughter. The careless kind. The kind that sounded so genuine, even at something as ridiculous as your little comment. “You wish!” he teased, lightly nudging at your broom with his foot to send you stumbling off balance. You stifled a giggle as you regained your stance and went to swing the sweeping end of the broom at him, purposely missing but still causing him to jump back a pace or two.
“Just ‘cause you’re the only one of us who regularly sees the head of the Kamisato clan face to face doesn’t mean that he’s not still keeping an eye on the rest of us,” you reminded Thoma with a little more sternness. You then took up a much more conservative posture, pretending to sweep the already spotless floor as you concluded with, “He could be watching us right now, for all we know.”
“And what about that?” Thoma gestured to the ring you were wearing and you quickly clapped your other hand over it. You knew wearing jewelry while on duty was prohibited, and if the head housemaid caught you wearing it you’d be written up for sure, but still, you just couldn’t help yourself.
“What about it?” you replied, a little defensive. Thoma had never ratted you out before. Would never even consider it. But that didn’t stop him from worrying that someone else might. All he gave you in response that time was a suggestive raise of his eyebrows. You knew the rules. He didn’t have to remind you. Besides, no matter how many times he’d tried, you never seemed to listen.
“Ok, well, just remember…” he sighed, “I can only bail you out so many times.”
Thoma strolled by to pass you, knocking down your proper and professional act as he tousled your hair, the simple motion earning him a disgruntled whine of, “Thomaaaaaa!” before sending you back into a fit of giggling as you danced about the confines of the hall around him, movements swift and excited as if urging him on into a chase.
“Just keep up the good work and you’ll have nothing to worry about,” he quipped, shooting you one of those boyishly devious smirks from over his shoulder as he continued on his way. “Or else I’ll have to tell the boss you’ve been slacking off!”
“Yeah, right!” you called after him, your voice echoing slightly through the spacious halls. Thoma turned the next corner and was gone, off to begin his long list of work for the day. If you were lucky and stayed on schedule, you might get to see him during the afternoon break. That chance alone was enough to get you moving doubletime. Meanwhile, as you began your work, you used the secret version of him you kept tucked into the corner of your mind to help pass the time.
Thoma was like the sun, you always thought— bright and warm, his presence alone enough to boost your mood and energy. Once, you’d grown brave enough to tell him that to his face, and since then he’d started to joke that, if he was the sun, you must be his pretty little sunflower, always turning towards him to open your vibrant petals.
That’s usually when you’d give him a nudge, tell him to get back to work as you tried, and failed, to wrestle the awkward smirk from your lips, feeling your ears growing hot with his flirtatious comments, however seemingly innocent they might’ve been intended to sound.
But, for as long as you’d worked as a maid for the Kamisato estate, your housekeeping colleague had never tried to make any real moves on you. Every time you thought maybe today would be the day he finally asked you on a proper date, even if the opportunity presented itself, Thoma seemed to insist on continuing your shared game of will they won’t they.
Thoma liked to see you smile, make you laugh, and— when he was feeling a little mischievous— become the reason for your flustered giggling and blushing cheeks. But, unlike most of the other patrolling guards, shopkeeps, and various locals who’d tried their hand at pretty words to woo you, he was the only one you actually gave the time of day.
Which was why this game was becoming rather frustrating.
Most days, you wished he’d do something. Anything. So much as a gentle brushing of his hand against yours, a sultry glance that turned into both of you holding each other’s stares for a little too long to read as just friends, a hand on your hip to guide you closer to him as he reached above you for something high up in a cabinet that you couldn’t quite grasp…
The golden haired, gleeful boy with the kind green eyes and sunshine smile had captivated you, as you were sure he had many of the other female housestaff— even some of your male co-workers, as you’d heard through the quiet mumbling and gossip that drifted through the distinguished halls after hours— yet you couldn’t allow yourself to get your hopes up too high.
Because you didn’t have reason to believe that Thoma’s attentive and genuine disposition towards you was exclusive.
Sure, you’d never seen or heard him interacting with others the way he did with you, besides the fact he was generally pleasant with everyone, if he could help it. Yet still you continued to hope and wish and pray that maybe tomorrow he’d drift a little too close to be regarded as professional.
But so far it seemed like you were just another sunflower in his garden, rooted deep into the warm earth and destined to only admire him romantically from afar.
At least you two could share lunches together, pick little samples from each other’s bento boxes and then laugh when one of you tried to toss up a piece of food and catch it in your mouth only to completely miss, sending the morsel rolling across the tatami mats or into the freshly raked sand gardens. Taroumaru would come scampering by to clean it up, if you two found yourselves working at the Komore Teahouse that day.
You usually preferred getting assigned to Komore Teahouse because that usually meant it would just be you and Thoma, providing you plenty of time to banter and several opportunities to slack off. You hoped you’d end up back there again in the near future, but for now, having been assigned to the main Kamisato estate and all its arching architecture and opulent wealth, generations of strict tradition and strategic marriages subliminally laced into every hand-crafted piece of furniture or masterfully painted portrait that lined the wide, spanning halls, you’d just have to settle for the bits and pieces of his time and attention you could get.
Snapping from your daydreaming, you returned to your previous task. You did have use for the broom in your hands, after all, same as the duster at your hip and the rag tucked into the pocket of your skirts.
The West Wing needed to be tended to so that the Kamisatos could host a very important meeting in one week’s time. Something about discussing the Yashiro Commission’s new role among the Tri-Commission what with the Vision Hunt Decree recently being abolished and all. Anything else you knew about it was merely pieces of gossip you’d overheard being shared among the other housestaff at the end of the day.
Like a majority of the other maids, you’d never seen the master you served in person, as he was both extremely busy with work that often sent him away from the estate and, in the few and far between moments he was home, skillfully elusive to the public eye and much more inclined to seek out the solitude within his own domain.
Maybe, if you were lucky— you imagined as you washed windows and mopped floors— you’d get a chance to catch a glimpse of the head of the clan for yourself over the coming days. Because, as was another tidbit of chitchat you’d overheard from some of the nosier maids, Ayato Kamisato was said to be extremely handsome. A gentleman too, from the sound of it. Every shred of speculation you collected about him, the more your curiosity grew eager at the prospect of catching just a glimpse.
As you pondered before the window you’d just finished cleaning, you absentmindedly began to fidget with your ring. It was your most prized possession— the only real reminder you had left of home. Not the tiny apartment you currently resided in, but the cottage of your childhood, a space nestled among the sloping valleys of the Inazuman countryside, a quiet refuge from the hustle and bustle of the city. The one where your mother and younger siblings still lived.
A home you may never get to see again before it was empty, you sometimes feared, but then reminded yourself to work hard so hopefully you could one day return.
And wasn’t it a little ironic? You’d gone off to care for the home of someone who was rarely ever around to enjoy or appreciate it, yet you missed yours so much it often made your heart ache, only able to carry around its memories.
It wasn’t until the head housemaid snapped at you to stop daydreaming and get back to work that you realized just how long you’d been gazing wistfully out the window, skittering along to return to your chores.
***
Ayato rarely had a moment to rest.
His packed schedule and endless itinerary of business related travel and events meant that he was away from the comfort and familiarity of his own home more than he was among it.
But, as he’d been reminded of since being born into such a prestigious and powerful bloodline as the Kamisatos, and as the eldest son no less, he was expected to carry out his duties as head of the Yashiro Commission with poise and precision.
Yet, the mysterious figure, though revered by most, was not without his criticisms…
“He’s arrogant.”
“He indulges himself too much!”
“He has a mischievous streak…”
All valid observations, Ayato noted privately, yet still he contemplated a way to eliminate them from the public sphere.
His housestaff had their own opinions of him too. More favorable, perhaps, but still troublesome, if left unchecked.
“He’s so handsome.”
“I think he looked directly at me today!”
“He even has a Vision. Imagine how powerful he must be…”
Ayato Kamisato had handpicked every single guard, butler, maid, chef, gardener— you name it— himself. He had the power to keep them, even if some of his advisors thought some of the female staff were a little too pretty for Ayato’s own good, and he also had the power to let them go, no explanations required.
But, even with every body type, facial structure, complexion, hair color, and temperament to choose from right under his own roof, Ayato only had one who’d really caught his eye…
You.
While you were among the newer batch of young and excitable maids— so honored, so grateful to be working for such a distinguished clan as the Kamisatos— he had still found himself drawn to you quickly.
Not just because of your unique and effortless beauty, the mixture of your feminine softness and boyish banter, but because he had a feeling— after all the years observing various kinds of young women both inside and outside of his influence and control— that you were different.
What you searched for in people wasn’t wealth or status or pedigree.
It was kindness and humor and empathy.
And he’d observed you with Thoma, the natural way you two interacted, how quick you both could put smiles on each other’s faces— like two mirrors reflecting joy back and forth between each other, all familiar warmth and tenderness.
He saw you two become playful, heard your lilting laughter echoing down the halls, sometimes catching the little quips you threw the housekeeper’s way when he started getting a little too rowdy, only for him to shush you and remind you to be mindful of the volume of your voice, which usually just earned him an eye roll and a mocking repetition of his previous remark.
You were a little firecracker, at times, a delicate, flickering flame at others, swaying back and forth over the polished floors as you hummed a melancholy tune during your chores.
Ayato wanted to get to know both sides of you, the same way Thoma had.
He wanted you to show them to him willingly, not only engage in them when you thought no one was watching and then hide them away like a fox burrowing into its hole when a superior— especially the head of household— walked by, scared into hiding by the hunting hounds.
But Ayato knew he was different too. So different from you. Different from Thoma. Different from all of the people who got to walk through their lives saying and doing as they pleased.
He knew that, unlike most of the other maids, with his name or title alone, he could never win you over. He’d have to bear his heart, such a fragile, guarded thing, and be prepared for you to still deny him.
The very thought terrified him, shook him to his core.
Ayato had faced perilous battles, outwitted dangerous foes, navigated through the years with the attitude of someone who was used to getting what they wanted but the mind of someone who knew they couldn’t really have everything.
So, now that he was back in some sort of proximity to you, the eldest Kamisato continued to watch.
He collected your effortless smiles and gentle laughter like secret, shiny trinkets, only ever getting close enough to remain invisible, often tucked around the corner of his study with his back pressed to the wall, sneaking careful glances through the crack in the door when you hurried by to meet the beck and call of the head housemaid and receive your next assignment.
At night, when your work was done at the main estate, he’d gaze out the window of his study and find himself smiling as your little silhouette strolled through the zen gardens below and disappeared around the grand front entrance gates. He’d try and catch you arriving in the morning sometimes too, but was rarely ever awake early enough to beat you to the beginning of your busy schedule.
But perhaps that was why Thoma had gotten to you first, been able to create a little nest of affection in your heart. The golden haired boy was like the sun, and you his sunflower, always opening your vibrant petals and turning them his way, letting him see the joy he’d helped nurture and create.
For Ayato, someone of the moon and the stars and the storming rains that came and went in the night, most times the only indication left behind that it had happened at all being the water sleek pavement the morning after…
How could he ever expect you to open up your petals to him?
You might as well have lived in two different worlds.
Yet, perhaps, if Ayato were to find his moon passing the sun in a rare eclipse, then maybe, just maybe, he could bask in the gold of your flowers, even if only for a fleeting moment.
***
“All done for the day?” Thoma pleasantly inquired, wearing his signature smile and posed in a confident stance. You’d just returned the cleaning equipment to the downstairs supply closet and he’d made you jolt as you came up the stairs, not expecting to see him standing right around the corner.
“Yeah,” you sighed, clutching your heart and wearing a worn out expression, though still trying to pep yourself up a little bit to match his unwavering amiable energy. “Finally… This upcoming meeting has us all working overtime.”
Eventually, you and Thoma began to walk out together, chatting about the quickly approaching event, all the importance surrounding it and how every detail had to be precisely in place when the day finally arrived.
For now, you could kiss your hopes of being sent over to Komore Teahouse for the afternoon goodbye. It was going to be crunchtime at the Kamisato estate until the conference commenced, only being able to relax once the very last guest exited through those gold embellished entrance gates. At least, you’d be able to relax until the next day when your endless list of chores would inevitably begin again…
“You know Ayato— uh— the Yashiro Commissioner, don’t you?” you promptly amended, unsure if it was improper to refer to the master you served by first name so casually, even if it was around a fellow colleague and trusted friend.
Thoma nodded, holding the door open for you before following behind and exiting the grand mansion for the day, the sunset over Inazuma painted with its usual lavenders and peaches, periwinkles and golds. “Sure do,” he replied. Then, without you even needing to ask he elaborated, “I may be his housekeeper, but I’m also his friend. Same goes for Miss Kamisato— Ayaka— as well. I’m not as close with his sister but, from my experience, she’s as kind and dignified as they come.”
“But what’s he like?” you then pressed a little further, your curiosity about the mysterious figure getting the better of you yet again. “I mean, when he’s not being the Yashiro Commissioner, is he still all like, proper and elegant or however everyone describes him all the time?”
Thoma smirked to himself.
The Ayato that he knew— the real Ayato— was still graceful and gentlemanly, yet carried an edge of mischief and frivolity. When he shared this with you, you perked up a bit, hungry to learn more.
“And, god, he’s so good at strategy games!” Thoma exclaimed, half in frustration, half in awe. “I swear, I must’ve played him at least a hundred times in shogi— never beat him once! Friend or not, he doesn’t go easy, and he definitely doesn’t ever let anyone win!”
You felt a crooked smile work its way onto your face then, breathing out an amused puff of a sigh from your nose. “So all you guys do all day is play games?” you asked, sounding a little sardonic. You then leaned on Thoma’s shoulder, your sudden weight sending him slightly off kilter as you whined, “C’mooooon, Thomaaaa! I wanna know about him, not how good he is at shogi!”
At this, your colleague raised a brow, catching onto your true motives now. “Oh? Why so curious all of a sudden? What—?” Thoma spun on his heel and walked backwards to face you, causing you to stumble off balance for a moment as your support beam vanished before straightening yourself and huffing out another annoyed sigh. When you met Thoma’s eyes next, the sunlight warmth he usually gave off was gone. Now, his emeralds held a darker quality, something lurking far below the surface and waiting to strike. “Think you have a chance at getting noticed by Ayato Kamisato, himself?” he teased.
You rolled your eyes, quickening your pace to pass him and taking the lead in your routine after work stroll. “Please,” you scoffed, tone pulled taut and a bit strained, like the string on an instrument gone out of tune. “I could care less about that, so long as I keep getting my paychecks. What I’m saying is…” Now it was your turn to spin around to face him, the pebbly path under your feet shifting and crunching with each step. “It’s all just a bit strange, isn’t it? That, out of everyone who works for him, you’re the only one who sees his face on the regular. Have actually talked to him— hung out with him!”
Thoma wore a proud, almost mocking look, until you concluded your point with an only slightly cruelly satisfied, “Perhaps Master Kamisato doesn’t have an eye for maids in general.”
You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself when Thoma’s expression dropped, instantly jumping to his own defense with a less convincing stammer of, “Ayato and I are not— He’s not—! We’re just friends!”
Feeling rather mischievous that evening, you turned back to walk forward and responded with a lilting tease of, “Whatever you saaaaay…” before you heard Thoma click his tongue, catching him shaking his head out of the corner of your eye.
“You’re just jealous,” Thoma shot back, catching up to stride directly beside you.
“Of your rich boyfriend,” you retorted, “well, obviously.”
Thoma threw an arm across your shoulders and pulled you into his side, ruffling your hair around and making you shout in mostly unbothered protest until you both were laughing with each other again.
You wished that your walk home would last a little longer on nights like this, when you were both having fun poking at each other but always in a good-spirited and harmless way. Just as the skyline of Inazuma City came into sight from down the hill, you began to fidget with your ring when a sudden realization hit you.
“Shoot!” you exclaimed in a hushed breath, beginning to double back the way you’d just come.
“What?” Thoma called after you, watching as your hurried walk morphed into a frantic jog. “What is it?”
“I forgot something back at the estate!” you shouted over your shoulder, your jog now becoming a run. “Just go on without me! Sorry!”
You didn’t quite make out what Thoma responded with, your heart beat already pounding in your ears as you willed your legs to go faster, cursing yourself for making such a stupid mistake.
You just hoped that you made it back in time to retrieve your most prized possession before one of the lingering maids discovered it, mistook it for trash, and discarded it.
***
As you burst back into the maids’ quarters, your heart fluttered with relief upon finding that your beloved belonging was not lost to you, but then, as it registered to you who was currently holding said belonging, your stomach sank with a deep, heavy dread— your heart an anchor plummeting beneath choppy waves.
Even without the family portraits whose frames you relentlessly dusted and polished day in and day out, so used to studying the careful, oil paint strokes from the art pieces, you still would’ve recognized him.
Ayato Kamisato was, after all, the kind of man you’d remember even after one quick glance.
“Such interesting craftsmanship…” the Yashiro Commissioner remarked, almost as if to himself, as he gripped the tiny wooden ring between his thumb and forefinger, holding it up to the light and staring through the middle, examining it. “I wonder, was it made from a Thunder Sakura, by chance?”
Absolutely dumbfounded, you stood in the doorway, chest still heaving with the remnants of your panting breaths, ears slightly ringing, hair tousled from whipping in the wind, and eyes wide as the master you served locked stares with you.
If the head housemaid had been around, she would’ve smacked you upside the head and hissed at you to bow and show some respect, but you were all alone.
Just you and Ayato Kamisato.
Not another soul in sight.
Your brain was spinning, thoughts leaving your head almost as fast as they could enter it, and you felt a prickling heat rising up your entire body, your ability to speak suddenly lost to you.
You flicked your wild stare back to the ring, the dark, polished wood that— just as Ayato had perceived— was indeed forged of Thunder Sakura, gleaming under the low light.
On days like today, when the floors needed to be scrubbed by hand, each crack in the bamboo boards tended to meticulously, you left your prized ring on the table at your station to ensure it wasn’t damaged by the soap and water that had your hands so dry by the end that they— especially during the bitter winters— would split and crack.
You always made a point to put it back on as soon as you were done, returning all the supplies to your station and being reminded where you’d left it before departing the estate.
But today had been such a long day. By the afternoon you’d been sent running from one wing to the next, too much work to be done and never enough hands when an event as important as the upcoming one was only a few days away. So when one of the maids you were friendly with offered to return your supplies back to your station as she was already on her way, your exhaustion answering for you before your logic could chime in, you’d obliged.
Hence, ring left behind, panic ensuing, and now, as you blinked a few times to refocus your vision, the head of the Kamisato clan in your very presence.
“I’m assuming this is yours…?” Ayato spoke, voice low and soothing, as if trying to prove he wasn’t a threat to you. Next thing you knew, he was standing before you, his shadow engulfing your form, making you feel small under his presence, his gaze calm yet calculating. He held out the ring to you but, despite how worried you’d been about leaving it behind, you were now rather hesitant to take it. Because, as you dared to look up at him to meet those lilac eyes, you realized that the rumors about him couldn’t even begin to match up to the real thing.
The eldest Kamisato wasn’t just handsome and elegant and gentlemanly— He was intimidatingly so.
He was overwhelming, almost god-like in presence with his regal stature and all that ivory fabric cascading down his slender, toned form. Fastened at his hip was a sword, the hilt gleaming with silver and obsidian, tendrils of aqua winding through it with a pulsing glow, as if the weapon were alive.
You shuffled back a half step, swallowing hard. Too bad it did nothing to ease the nervous lump that had formed in your throat.
“Am I wrong…?” he then asked, drawing back his extended hand a fraction, more distance between you and your only piece of home. But as he prepared to close his gloved fist around the object, you found your voice.
“No—!” you blurted out, a crack in your voice causing you to turn a new shade of red. After clearing your throat, you restarted with a slightly calmer, but no less urgent, “It is mine. I left it behind by accident. I…” Ever so slightly, your quivering little hand began to reach for his where your ring sat, dwarfed in his massive, gloved palm. “Can I… Can I have it back, please?” You seemed to remember your manners then, sucking in a quiet gasp before forcing yourself into an awkward bow, adding on a panicked mutter of, “Master Kamisato, Sir.”
Ayato curiously considered the ring in his hand before training his gaze back on you, a soft smile forming across his previously stoic features. Then, before you could even begin to register what was happening, he was gently placing his gloved fingers under your chin, guiding your gaze back upwards until you were standing, your entire face flushed, a dangerous dizziness overtaking you for a moment at the unexpected contact, heartbeat pounding in your ears.
“There’s no need to be so nervous,” Ayato nearly whispered, his lithe fingers still lightly cupping your jaw. For a reason you couldn’t quite place, you felt the threat of tears welling in your eyes, your body beginning to tremble as you stared up at him, unable to tear your eyes away despite wanting nothing more than to snatch the ring and run.
You opened your mouth to speak only for a small squeak to emit from the back of your throat, any more sound than that sure to break the dam you were trying so hard to hold back.
“Here…” Ayato removed his touch from you, used it to take one of your hands in his own, and placed the ring into your open palm, his other hand gently clasping around yours to close your fingers around it. You’d gone numb, not even fully realizing that the object was back in your possession. “Be careful not to lose it again,” he seemed to warn, though with that mischievous, deviously playful air Thoma had told you about laced into his words. With a wink you’d figured you’d imagined, he concluded with, “I may not be around to recover it for you next time.”
And with that, Ayato Kamisato disappeared around the corner, leaving you standing in the doorway of the empty maids’ quarters with your closed fist held out before you for an amount of time you’d lost track of. Maybe it had only been a few short minutes, or perhaps until the sun had sunk fully beneath the horizon that you’d been waiting for your body temperature to lower and your senses to return to you, the weight of the ring weighing heavier in your palm than it ever had before.
When you opened your fist to view it, part of you expected your hand to turn up empty, as if the entire exchange had been some sort of odd and delirious dream. But there it sat, the dark wood still gleaming under the low light.
You slipped it back onto your finger, your hands still slightly shaking, and hurried from the estate, only sure that not too much time had passed once you stepped back out under the sky and saw the moon barely glowing from between the darkened silhouettes of the clouds, the horizon still lined with the thinnest sliver of gold. Yet still, the entire way home, you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking…
Had Master Kamisato’s warning been a command to stay vigilant, or rather, had it been a hint on how to possibly run into him after hours again?
***
The following few days of work proved more difficult than any other you could recall.
Whereas normally your constant stream of daydreams helped make your day go faster, your current fantasies only distracted you in all the wrong ways, caused you to misplace things most considered far more important than some old ring, and had your head spinning to such an extent that you often bumped into fellow housestaff in the hallways or had your shoulder colliding with the wall when turning a corner.
“Get your head out of the clouds!” The strict head housemaid had scolded you when you’d accidentally stepped back too far and knocked over a bucket of water meant to clean the windows, several surrounding maids rushing over to soak up the mess before it seeped into the expensive carpet. “Keep acting so negligent and you might find yourself searching for a new place of employment!”
You didn’t know what was wrong with you, but after that, you’d locked yourself in one of the servants’ washrooms and cried, head in your hands and trying to keep as quiet as possible.
“Hey…” a familiar voice spoke softly following two gentle tapping knocks at the door. Instantly, you perked up, holding your breath and keeping still in hopes that they’d think they’d only imagined hearing someone behind the door and continue on.
But Thoma knew you better than that. And you knew him well enough to know that he’d never just continue on if he even suspected you were upset.
“C’mon…” he sighed, a rare sadness twining through his tone. “I know you’re in there…” He leaned against the door, and from under the thin crack you could see his shadow slightly shift. He crossed his arms, lowering his voice to something a little more soothing, and pleaded with you, “Just let me in… You know you can talk to me…”
Before you’d made a conscious decision to let him in, you were reaching forward to crack open the door, falling back into the corner and looking over at him with fresh tears welling in your eyes as he slowly entered the tiny bathroom.
His eyes widened once he saw you, all that jade cracked with concern as he closed the door behind him and shut the both of you into the cramped space, barely enough room for the two of you to stand without breathing each other’s air.
But you were too upset to care about personal space right now, and you surprised the both of you when you reached forward to hug him, burying your face into his shoulder as your body shook with a new wave of sobbing.
Thoma wrapped his arms around you, one hand cradling the back of your head, lightly stroking his fingers through your hair, murmuring, “It’s ok… It’s alright… Everything’s gonna be fine… I’m here…”
Oddly, that only made you cry harder.
Because it wasn’t like he could do anything about it. It wasn’t like he could just tell the head housemaid she couldn’t fire you, that it was up to Master Kamisato and Master Kamisato alone who remained employed under his order or who was let go. It wasn’t like Thoma and the head of the Kamisato clan were close enough to—
You looked up at Thoma, the realization hitting you and forcing an awkward, embarrassed smile to spread crooked across your lips. Upon seeing this expression, Thoma turned a little nervous.
“What are you…?”
“Please, Thoma…” you muttered, sniffling and hiding your face in his shirt again. “Please don’t let him fire me… Please… I need this job. If I lose it I—”
“Whoa— What are you—” Thoma took you by the shoulders and held you out from him just far enough to look you in the eyes, his gaze darting frantically back and forth between yours. “What are you talking about? Why would you be fired? You—”
You looked like you were about to start crying again, so Thoma quickly amended with, “Look, no one’s gonna fire you, ok? Sure, the head housemaid can get… a little ahead of herself sometimes but, trust me…” He smoothed some stray strands of hair away from your face, reaching over to grab one of the towels hanging by the sink to dab away the salty streaks shimmering down your cheeks. “I’d never let anything bad happen to you. Ok?”
You nodded, unable to meet Thoma’s gaze but feeling the gratitude that had sparked in your chest for him finally catch flame, reminding you of all the times he’d cared for you— not just now, but ever since the beginning. Ever since you’d been the newest face at the Kamisato estate, a small town girl already overwhelmed by the opulence you’d be expected to maintain on your first day before any of the real work had even begun.
Thoma, who was always there for you with a snack in between shifts.
Thoma, who insisted on walking you home.
Thoma, who would always look out for you, whether you worked with him or not.
“Hey…” he cooed, taking your chin in his fingers and lifting your gaze to meet his. Just like—
You froze.
Just like Ayato Kamisato had done.
The catalyst that had started everything that had led to this breakdown in the first place.
“You know that, right?” Thoma lightly pressed, and you could see it in his eyes, how badly he wanted— needed— a direct answer from you. A truthful answer.
Your lashes fluttered, blinking rapidly to try and clear away some of the mist in your vision, and replied in a low murmur, “I— I know…”
And then Thoma was leaning in, his lips nearly ghosting against yours, close enough that you could taste the strawberry mochi he’d had for dessert on his breath, and you closed your eyes, anxiety brewing but not enough to cause you to pull away.
Because how long had it been since you’d wanted this— wanted him— whether you were willing to admit to it out loud or not?
“Hey—!” someone called from beyond the door, giving three harsh bangs to further signal their impatience. “How long are you gonna be in there?!”
And then you and Thoma flinched, retracting from one another, shuffling as quietly as you could and knowing that, if the person was still waiting outside, things would only be worse for you if you were caught in that close of quarters with a male member of the housestaff.
“What should we do?” you whispered, worried.
“Just wait…” Thoma replied through a disappointed sigh. “They’ll get impatient and go find somewhere else.”
Sure enough, after another thirty seconds, you both heard an agitated huff and the sound of footsteps trudging off down the hall, clearly having grown tired of waiting.
“I’ll go out first,” Thoma instructed quietly. “Wait a few minutes then just return to work.”
“Thoma, I—”
“Don’t worry,” he interrupted, cracking the door open to take a peek outside. “Everything’s gonna be fine. I’ll even talk to Ayato, if that’s what it comes down to. But for now…” He slipped out of the tiny bathroom, closing the door and speaking to you through the crack, “Just do the best you can, kay?”
He flashed you one last smile before closing the door, leaving you alone once again.
You stood there, almost as if in shock, until you felt like several more minutes had passed. When you emerged, you fell back into line with the other maids, kept your head down, and hoped to evade the head housemaid for as long as possible.
But that night, you didn’t walk home with Thoma. In fact, you hadn’t even seen him for the rest of the day.
So you left the estate on your own, fidgeting with your ring and fighting the urge to relive all the previous catastrophes over and over again in your head.
Because lately, you felt like you were one mistake away from ruining everything.
***
“You’re friends with quite a good number of the maids, are you not?” Ayato suddenly thought to ask Thoma one day while the housekeeper was accompanying him on his afternoon errands.
Thoma thought nothing of it, simply shrugged and answered, “I guess you could say that, yeah.”
Ayato hummed out a note of contemplation, his gaze falling upon a jewelry stand they were passing by, a silver ring with a chunk of crystal marrow glittering among the other precious gems— cor lapis and jade, ruby and sapphire.
Ayato stopped to examine the ring closer, the night he’d found yours returning to his mind.
You’d been hard to read. Nervous, obviously, and rather upset at thinking you’d lost something that belonged to you. But unlike most of the other women Ayato crossed paths with, you’d seemed genuine.
That scared Ayato a little bit.
It also excited him.
Because you were a challenge, like one of his strategic games.
He was going to have fun figuring out how to win you over, and though material gifts seemed the easiest route to take, it was also a test.
Because if that was truly all it took to sway you, then maybe you weren’t the kind of girl he really thought you were.
If that were the outcome, it would be disappointing, yes. But Ayato was a busy man. He didn’t have time to give his affection to just anyone.
“And what of that one maid…?” Ayato continued to casually pry as he lifted the silver ring from its bed, studying it closer, the shopkeep nearly holding his breath upon watching the clearly very wealthy man surveying his wares, hoping for a purchase. “The one who’s always with you?”
Thoma’s pleasantry dropped, his tone turning dark, accusing. “What of her?”
Ayato met Thoma’s eyes, caught off guard by his housekeeper’s— his friend’s— sudden shift in mood. He placed the ring back, the man behind the stand exhaling with disappointment as Ayato and Thoma moved on.
“I didn’t mean to offend,” Ayato assured his friend, their slow stride now veiled in an uncharacteristic tension. “It’s just… You two seemed close so I wasn’t sure if you…” His sentence trailed off.
“We’re not together, if that’s what you’re implying,” Thoma admitted, clearly dissatisfied with that fact. “But the other day I—” He stopped short as a ball came rolling their way, three little boys skidding to a halt from up the path as they watched their toy tumble towards the strangers. Thoma grabbed it up, gave them a smile, and tossed it back, earning a trio of thank you’s and a fading chorus of shouts and laughter as they went running off again.
Ayato knew Thoma had a habit of being effortlessly kind. It was one of the things that had drawn him to the Mondstadt native, at first weary that his courtesy came with some ulterior motive only to learn that Thoma was just a rare breed within Ayato’s circle of upper class company.
Even for someone who had so much less than the Yashiro Commissioner, the housekeeper always seemed to have more to give than any rich elite Ayato had ever encountered.
“The other day…?” Ayato tried to guide Thoma back on track.
“Oh—” Thoma then seemed to remember, the remainder of the confession seeming to fluster him, even in front of his trusted friend. “Well, I almost kissed her.”
At this, Ayato was able to hide his surprise, though just barely. Because, while the emotion didn’t show on his carefully controlled features, the strain in his voice said otherwise.
“You almost kissed her?”
“Yeah…” Thoma kicked at the dirt, staring at his scuffed up shoes. “But then we were interrupted and… I dunno…” He met Ayato’s eyes then, and if he noticed any jealousy, he didn’t make it known. “I guess I’m just afraid I’ll overstep somehow. Like, what if that’s not what she really wants, y’know?”
Ayato nodded to himself, buying some time to organize his thoughts before strategizing his next move. Because Ayato now found himself caught in the middle of things— pulled back and forth between supporting his friend or selfishly taking what he wanted for himself right from under him.
He knew the power he held, but also knew that exercising that power in this situation meant jeopardizing his carefully established trust with Thoma.
“Have you ever thought to ask her?” Ayato said.
“Ask her what?”
“Well, what she wants, of course,” Ayato clarified. Thoma continued to look confused, oblivious. Ayato sighed, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “If you know what she wants, then that would help you understand the right thing to do, would it not?”
Now it was Thoma’s turn to nod to himself, rolling that idea over in his head. “I guess you’re right…” he muttered. “Though, I suppose the timing wasn’t really right anyway.” Thoma chuckled a bit, saying, “I doubt she’d want to remember her first kiss with someone while she was in the middle of crying.”
Ayato’s eyes widened. “Crying?” His concern was unmasked. “Why was she crying?”
Thoma recounted what he knew of that particular situation, how the head housemaid had had it out for you that day and the stress of the approaching event was wearing you down. To this, Ayato immediately decided to give you the next two days off, let you decompress a little.
“It’s not like one maid missing will really hinder things…” Ayato shrugged, then looking to Thoma for confirmation, asked, “Right?”
Thoma, though knowing how busy the maids had been as of late, couldn’t disagree that some time off would be beneficial to you. “A few days couldn’t hurt. Pretty sure we’ve got most things in order for the meeting at this point anyway…” And, if it came down to it, Thoma would have no problem picking up the slack for you.
Ayato smiled, soft yet guarded, too afraid to let the outside world read his true emotions as easily as you and Thoma so carelessly expressed. “Brilliant,” he concluded, clapping Thoma on the shoulder. “Though, similar to the maids, I, too, am looking forward to the end of all this commotion and anticipation.”
Thoma and Ayato shared a laugh and prepared to double back towards the estate. Ayato could only dodge his responsibilities for so long before one of his advisors noticed, after all. On the way back, however, he couldn’t help but stop at that jewelry stand one more time, the same crystal marrow ring catching his eye. That time, with the shopkeep even more blatantly eager, Ayato bought it, tucking it into his pocket to save until the time was right.
“Who’s that for?” Thoma teasingly asked, always trying to guess what kind of girl the head of the Kamisato clan was currently courting, since Ayato never seemed to give him a straight answer about it.
“I’ve decided to start a new game,” Ayato replied vaguely, though with no absence of that mischievous smirk. “And this…” He held the ring to the sky, ensnaring the brightly glowing sun within the silver loop like he intended to trap it, to claim it for his own. “This is my strategy.”
***
When you’d been informed that you’d been given two days off, your first thought was not, “Oh thank god, a well deserved break”, it was, “Oh, I’m fired alright. This is just an excuse to keep me away while they find a replacement.”
You were restless for most of those forty-eight hours, pacing about, mind spinning and unable to focus or relax or sort anything out like you should’ve been doing, now that you’d been given the opportunity. But Thoma had stopped by your apartment one night, brought you something special for dinner, and as you’d shared the meal together he’d helped ease some of those worries.
“So I talked to Ayato,” Thoma admitted during dessert, “told him what was going on, and everything’s fine. It was his idea to give you time off…” Thoma slid another strawberry mochi— his favorite— onto your plate. “So cheer up!” You’d given a weak smile, a vague attempt at reassuring him, and perhaps possibly yourself as well, that you believed him.
And for a little while, you did.
You believed that everything was fine.
Once you returned to work and got back to your regular schedule you’d almost forgotten about the conflict completely. But all of that changed the very next time you laid eyes on the master of the house, catching a blur of periwinkle and ivory rounding the corner near his own personal quarters.
“Oh— M-Master Kamisato…” you stammered as you gave a rigid bow. “Please excuse the intrusion… I wasn’t aware you’d be at the estate today, I—”
Ayato hummed out a note of gentle amusement. That was all it took to silence you. You straightened your posture and blinked a few times as your vision focused on him, surprised to find him smiling.
“Please, no apologies necessary,” Ayato assured you, already beckoning you towards him with a wave of that elegant, gloved hand before saying, “Do you have a moment? There’s actually something I wanted to show you.”
Stunned and frozen in the conflict of indecision— because what would the other maids say if they found out the Yashiro Commissioner himself was inviting you beyond the doorway of his private rooms? But also, who were you to deny a direct order from the master of the house?— your mouth hung slightly open with the words of polite denial desperate to escape, yet found themselves trapped behind your teeth, some of them getting lodged in your throat.
“It’ll only take a moment,” Ayato then insisted. You chewed the inside of your cheek nervously, though ultimately complied and hurried past him and into the room where he then closed the door behind him.
You felt ridiculous, your hammering heart and nervously fidgeting fingers making you feel like you must’ve looked like a wreck around him, getting all worked up when this was all probably just something to do with tomorrow’s meeting. Just an important, albeit last minute, detail that he’d just grabbed the first staff member passing by to assist him with, right?
But then the night that you’d first run into him flashed through your mind again. You felt the gentle way his fingers had lifted your chin, the ghost of that curious lavender gaze coming back to haunt you. He’d even winked at you, made you feel like maybe he’d meant it as more than a joke when he’d alluded to the fact that if you left your ring lying around again he’d have cause to come see you.
But who am I, a bitter whisper hissed in your mind. Who am I to think for a single second that someone like him would want anything to do with someone like me?
Outside of your cleaning services, that is.
“The other day…” Ayato began, slowly pacing over to the counter of his vanity while you remained standing stiffly not too far from the doorway. “I was walking the halls and came upon something that I believe might belong to you.”
Instinctively, you reached for the finger that you wore your ring on, afraid the little piece of carved Thunder Sakura had slipped from your grasp again. It was secured exactly where it was supposed to be, and you didn’t make a habit of wearing other jewelry, especially while you were working, so you had no idea what it could be that he was alluding to.
Ayato plucked up the shiny Crystal Marrow ring, the rare gem glittering under the light even from across the room, and held it out to you, once again drawing you strategically closer to him. He said, “This wouldn’t happen to be the same ring you lost just recently, would it?”
As you cautiously approached, your gaze shifted from him to the ring that— you both knew— didn’t belong to you.
Ayato was watching you carefully, keeping track of your hands to see if one would try to hide the other, cover up a lie before it left your mouth, but all your hands did was clasp and wring tighter together, your throat bobbing with a particularly hard swallow.
“That’s…” you began, as if unsure. But then you met his eyes again, his gaze as unyielding and unreadable as ever, and you shook your head. “I’m sorry, but that’s not mine.”
“Oh?” Ayato tested, pretending to examine the ring closer before once again extending it towards you. “Are you sure? I thought it looked like the one I recovered down in the maids’ quarters… Perhaps I was wrong.”
Ayato began to turn, feeling somewhat satisfied with himself as you’d nearly passed the test. But then, as you blurted out a startled, “Wait—!” his heart sank a bit, already accepting the fact that you weren’t the kind of girl he’d thought— hoped— you were.
“Yes…?” he hesitantly encouraged.
“I— Uh, well— It’s just…” You were shifting on your feet and fidgeting with the hem of your sleeves now, never able to hold still when you were nervous. Even in a moment of oncoming disappointment, Ayato couldn’t help but find that trait endearing in you. But then you cleared your throat, tried to steady your quivering voice, and suggested, “Perhaps you should keep it in a safe place until someone comes forward. I can ask the other maids if any of them have lost anything recently. I won’t say what, just in case, but if that ring truly does belong to one of us, they’ll have an exact description of it.”
You looked at Ayato differently now, with more urgency, as if returning this unknown person’s lost item was suddenly the most important task you could undertake.
“I mean, whoever it belongs to, surely they must be worried about it. I mean, it does look very expensive, so they’re probably in a panic over losing something so valuable.” You were rambling now, yet another sign of your building anxiety. “Perhaps we should gather all the housestaff right now just to make sure—”
Ayato slowly reached for your hand and you let him take it, though couldn’t contain the little gasp that escaped you upon the surprise contact. Once again you were reminded of how gentle he was, how softly his gloved hand cradled yours, turning your palm upward and placing his closed first in the center, allowing the ring to land in your possession.
“I trust you will return this to the rightful owner then?” he grinned, a faint tint of mischief twinkling in his eye.
He hadn’t originally intended to let you keep it— He’d planned on gifting it to his sister once he’d used it to test you, actually— but in that moment, the eldest Kamisato had experienced a change of heart.
You looked at the ring that sat in your palm, so much prettier than the plain wooden one wrapped around your finger, so much more expensive, and for a moment you wished that it did belong to you. But as you closed your fist around it, dropping it into your apron’s pocket for safekeeping, you simply gave Ayato a firm nod and replied, “I’ll do my best.”
You’d hurried to depart from his chambers then, nearly forgetting to bow and address him formally on your way out, and it was then Ayato’s turn to be stunned.
He thought that you couldn’t do anything to surprise him further.
But he was proven wrong when you returned to him two days later, informing him that you’d inquired with everyone who worked both at the estate and Komore Teahouse and no one had been able to claim it, and placed the ring back into his palm, apologizing that you hadn’t been able to help after all.
***
Several more weeks had passed and you had yet to run into Ayato again. But that was fine with you. After you’d felt like you’d failed him, you were a little embarrassed to meet face to face any time soon. Other than that, however, your spirits had considerably lifted over the last few days.
For the most part, you and Thoma were back to your old selves, the halls filled with your playful banter and harmless teasing. He’d walk you home at the end of the day, sometimes lingering by your front door as if trying to buy himself a little more time with you. Sometimes you’d linger too. And during those small, intimate windows of quiet and staring, he’d look at you the way he had when he’d found you crying in that tiny, cramped little bathroom in the servants’ quarters and, more often than not, you found yourself wishing he’d finish what he’d started. But, night after night, Thoma would bid you farewell and leave you be, waiting until you were safe and sound inside of your little home before venturing back to his own lodgings.
“What…?” you’d finally gained enough courage to ask through a mutter one night when he was gazing at you in that way again.
“Nothing…” Thoma lied, the word barely a breath as the breeze came to whisk it away. “It’s just…”
“Just…?” You repeated, a hopeful lilt of encouragement in your tone.
Thoma couldn’t decide which was harder— to meet your eyes or retreat. On one hand, your stare was a familiar one. One he wished was reserved only for him, similar to the way he saved certain looks only for you. But, adversely, it was because of that familiarity that he found himself so hesitant to move forward.
Because if he misread things, if he messed them up, he’d risk ruining everything with you.
And that was something he wouldn’t be able to bear.
“Thoma…” You called him back to reality, caused him to meet your eyes again, almost with a look of premeditated guilt. “You can tell me…” You spoke quietly. Soothingly. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”
You thought you saw vulnerability welling behind all that emerald green, but lost a little confidence when something sad and almost regretful rippled within it.
“Thoma…” you began again. “I—”
But before you could speak another word, his hand was cupping your cheek, fingers gently combing themselves into your hair, and his mouth was on yours, his lips sweet with strawberry mochi.
You melted into the gesture, feeling your worries dissolve like sugar cubes dropped into afternoon tea as you parted your lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss. You felt yourself heating from the inside out as his tongue mingled with yours, taking his time to learn you in this way, a lazy, honey-drip of arousal slowly working its way through your blood, settling warm and heavy in the pit of your stomach.
And how long had Thoma waited for this? Waited to feel like you were his, as if you hadn’t been from the start? How long had you wanted to be his, even when you’d tried to convince yourself you were nothing special? How could either of you have forgotten that he was the sun and you were his sunflower, opening your vibrant, golden petals for him and only him?
Perhaps because there were storm clouds rolling in to stand between you two.
Though, how could the warmth of the sun be appreciated without the reminder of the rain?
How else would the flowers grow?
***
You hadn’t expected things at work after the night Thoma had kissed you to feel so… awkward.
You’d thought things would be the same as always, only now, you couldn’t shake the inkling of dread that crept over your back like a looming shadow that everyone knew. You hadn’t told anyone, and you assumed Thoma probably hadn’t either, but every time a new set of eyes landed on you, whether in the halls of the Kamisato estate or on the Inazuman streets, you wished you could just disappear for a while, like how a turtle tucks itself back into the safety of its shell at the first signs of danger.
You focused on keeping your head down, trying to work so hard you went home so exhausted at the end of the day you fell right to sleep before your mind was forced to endure the torture of dwelling on all this new anxiety that had stirred up within you. A few times, when Thoma passed by when you were in the middle of mopping or sweeping or dusting, he’d divert his prior path and migrate towards you, seeing the look of growing weariness etched into each feature and line of your face and ask a quiet and concerned, “Are you ok?”
“I’m fine…” you’d lie with a forced half smile, unable to meet his gaze as you said, “Just tired, is all,” before making up some excuse about how you were needed in another wing of the house and were running late. As you hurried off, not looking back before rounding the corner like Thoma was so used to, he’d find himself standing in place, staring down the vacant hall while the ghost of your image growing smaller in his vision haunted his mind.
Eventually snapping out of it, he, too, returned to work. Though, similar to you, Thoma couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different. Something was wrong. And no matter how long he dwelled on it, the fault came up as his every time.
Because maybe you’d changed your mind after the night you two had first kissed.
Maybe he’d overstepped.
Maybe you’d decided you didn’t want him anymore.
Though, as far as you were concerned, the issue didn’t lie with Thoma, himself.
The issue was how much you couldn’t stop thinking about him, how you kept replaying that moment over and over in your mind, trying to recapture the feeling it had given you, how safe you’d felt, how relieved.
Now, unfortunately, all you could feel was anxious.
Because what if Thoma changed his mind about you?
What if he’d been let down?
What if he didn’t want you anymore?
If only you could gather up enough courage to talk to him about it, see where he was at. Then maybe both your minds could be put at ease.
But there was something else that was bothering you too. Something swimming just below the surface that you could just barely make out the shape of yet were still unsure of just what kind of creature the swirling silhouette belonged to…
Though, from time to time, flashes of a certain Kamisato would race through your brain— the way his touch had cradled your chin, how your little hand had been swallowed up in his gentle grasp, the way he’d gazed at you so tenderly that, for a second, you’d been able to convince yourself he actually cared for you.
It was all too confusing to sort through at the moment, but it seemed the more distance you tried to put between yourself and your troubles, the further they dug their claws in, latching onto every emotion and thought you felt or had and flooding them with images of crimson and gold, periwinkle and ivory, until all the colors mixed into an indistinguishable grey.
When you ran into Thoma again at the end of the day, you were turning down his offer to walk home together before he could even get the question out. And the way his voice— always so gentle and bright, shining even through the cracks in his disappointment— trembled a little with a nervous laugh at the end when he assured you it was ok, wishing you a good night before parting ways…
That was what finally sent you over the edge.
That was what broke the dam that had kept everything at bay inside of you.
Because here you were, sabotaging yourself just as you’d feared.
Feeling the rushing waters welling behind your eyes, you forewent your usual path towards home and instead found your feet carrying you closer to the gardens of the estate.
At least there, you thought, you’d be able to let your heart break in private.
***
You’d barely made it to the secluded little nook in the gardens before breaking down, tears sparkling in your eyes and spilling down your cheeks in shimmering pairs as you cupped your hand over your mouth, hoping to muffle as much of the hiccuping sobs that were slipping through your fingers as you could.
If someone found you here like this it wouldn’t be the end of the world— you were at least allowed in the gardens, after all— but you knew how fast word spread between the maids and the last thing you needed right now was more gossip and another target on your back.
So, crouched and curled in on yourself, you wept as silently as you could, your heart feeling like it was being torn in two all while your worries continued piling higher and higher by the moment that you knew all it would take to send them all toppling down would be only the slightest nudge.
That nudge, as it turned out, came to you in the form of ivory and periwinkle, the low, soothing tone of Ayato’s voice asking from right above you, “What ever seems to be the matter?” in a way that sounded both startled and genuinely concerned.
His sudden appearance made you jolt, rocking back off your heels and hitting the ground with a graceless thud before scrambling up to your feet and frantically wiping your reddened, glassy eyes with the edge of your sleeves, sputtering out a string of frazzled nonsense that was meant to be an apology.
But Ayato stopped you before you made an even bigger fool of yourself, one hand slightly raised as if hesitantly reaching out to an injured animal, unsure whether it would accept the aid or bare its teeth in a defensive snarl. “Please, don’t be upset,” he attempted to comfort you, shuffling half a step closer. “Whatever’s happened, I’m sure it can be resolved…” You finally gained enough courage to look up at him, seeing how he stood only a few feet away, arms open as if beckoning you to him now.
When your stares met, Ayato gave a soft smile and said, “It’s alright… Now, won’t you tell me what’s gotten you so upset?”
Much to Ayato’s dismay, this kindness only caused you to cry harder, a new round of tears bursting forth as you nearly fell to your knees, body shivering with your sorrows as all the emotions flooding you froze over into a bitter ice, trapping you beneath the surface and drowning you from the inside out.
You weren’t sure how long Ayato had his hands on your shoulders, bent slightly as if to better see eye to eye with you, and was cooing out words of comfort before it registered to you that he was really there, was actually touching you, brushing stray strands of disheveled hair from your face and using his thumb, now tugged free from its glove, to gently wipe away your tears.
How many others had felt the direct touch of his skin on theirs, you then wondered, staring up at him, reverent, entranced. How many people has he even dared to touch? For someone who seemed like a god among men in many strangers’ eyes, it was almost terrifying to be this close to him. To have him be this close to you.
As your head cleared a little, your bleary vision returning to you with the sharpness of Ayato’s regal colors, you thought you heard him saying in a quiet, serene whisper, “There, it’s alright… It’s all going to be alright… I’m here…” a few times over until he thought you’d calmed down.
And then there was a long moment where the two of you were just gazing into each other’s eyes, faces mere inches apart, that caring smile still spread across his lips while you gaped at him like someone who’d thought they’d just seen a spirit drift across their path, curious and petrified and a little bit in awe all at once.
He began to lightly cup your jaw in his grasp again, humming out a quiet, lovely little note when he thought perhaps he was getting through to you, but, without meaning to, you flinched away from him, nearly stumbling back among the pebbled walkway but catching yourself at the last second, and watched as his smile dropped to a regretful frown, his hand still reaching out to you as if begging you to stay, imploring you to return to him so he could give you the comfort you so desperately needed right now.
Your senses returned to you and you flushed with sharp, prickling shame. “I— I’m so sorry…” you sniffled, trying to swallow down the lump that had formed in your throat, tongue feeling heavy and lethargic in your mouth as thick saliva garbled your words. Clearing your throat and trying to adjust your rumpled uniform, you averted your eyes from him and began to speak more formally, saying, “I’m so sorry you caught me like this, Master Kamisato, I was just—”
“Please…” Ayato cut in, so much power contained in a single word, though the request was spoken softly. The gentleness of it forced your eyes to flick back to meet his, your next breath catching in your throat. Because he wasn’t just seeing you, wasn’t just catching a glimpse from the corner of his eye as you passed along in the halls of the manor, busy with work.
Ayato was really looking at you, as if trying to search the very depths of your soul. Like he was trying to figure out every little detail that had occurred in your life thus far that had turned you into the person who stood before him right at that very moment.
And you knew, in that moment, you weren’t just another maid to him, another girl in the same uniform who wasn’t meant to be seen or heard.
You were you.
Just you.
And Ayato looked like he liked you.
He looked like he liked you a lot.
“There’s no need for formalities…” he went on, cautiously closing the gap between you two and gauging your reaction on whether it was ok to proceed. When you didn’t move, didn’t make an attempt to get away or even avert your eyes that time, he allowed himself to come as close as he had before, close enough to reach out and touch you.
That time, it was your hand he reached for— the one that wore that precious Thunder Sakura ring— and he turned it over in his grasp so your palm was face up to him. You watched, body so still you would’ve believed even your heart had stopped beating, as Ayato traced the lines etched into your palm, his lilac eyes entranced by how small your hand was in his, how precious you were, how soft your skin was despite all the work you did all day long, lingering on a few callouses that came and went depending on if the manor had any big events to host in the near future or not.
“Master Kami—” you began, but stopped yourself, swallowing down the remainder of his title and trading it for the name he preferred from you right now, “Ayato…” His view snapped back to yours, pausing where the pad of his bare finger was tracing your love line. “If we’re going to do this, don’t you think it should be somewhere a little more…” You looked around you, the space wide open for any prying eyes to spy on you, only vaguely shrouded by the various flowers and trees and hedges that crept around the garden’s edges.
But then his smile returned, allowing you to take your hand back as he said, that hint of mischief prevalent in his hushed voice, “Of course. And I know the perfect place…” He began to slowly stroll away, as if expecting you to follow him. He glanced over his shoulder after a few smooth strides. “This time of day, we should have Komore Teahouse all to ourselves.”
***
Ayato had been right, the teahouse was completely empty, all save for Taroumaru, but it wasn’t like he was going to go around spreading rumors about who he saw walk in with whom. Besides, it wasn’t any random strangers you’d been afraid of encountering there while in the company of the Yashiro Commissioner.
It had been Thoma, obviously.
But, lucky for you, after everything that had just happened, you knew he’d headed straight home, no more chores or duties to attend to that day.
What would he think if he walked in and saw that you’d ditched him to spend time with his boss though?
You prayed he actually had gone home and didn’t make any last minute stops along the way just to ensure that all his work for the day really was complete…
“So…” Ayato prompted as he took a leisurely sip of his tea, the scents of honey and bergamot wafting pleasantly through the air on the tendrils of steam that curled from both your porcelain cups. “What’s been troubling you? I certainly hope the head housemaid wasn’t the cause of all those tears…” It seemed like perhaps he was joking, though he also knew just as well as you did that there was more truth to that suspicion than you wanted to admit.
Awkwardly sipping your tea, comforted by the warmth against your palms at the very least, you gave a crooked, nervous grin and shyly replied, “It’s… complicated.”
Ayato wore a more grave expression now, setting his cup down on its saucer with a quiet clink. “So she is bothering you?” he deduced, as if ready to get up and go fire her on the spot. “I shall have a word with her. There’s no reason for her to—”
“No, no, that’s not it…” you brushed off Ayato’s severity with a wave of your hand and an only slightly less crooked smile. “It’s just…” you sighed, defeated, hanging your head a little as the words you knew you were about to say weighed heavy in your brain. “It’s…” You felt your leg resisting the urge to restlessly bounce and fidget from where it was folded underneath you.
You had the words in the right order, but did you have enough courage to say them out loud?
Ayato leaned in a little closer, encouraging you to speak freely, already invested in whatever it was you were about to say.
But why should he be? He was your boss, and you two had barely spoken, barely even seen each other face to face much before now anyway. Would it be out of line to tell him what was really bothering you, even if he really wanted to know? Would it be a betrayal to Thoma, who was also Ayato’s friend?
So many questions began to trickle into your thoughts and soon you found yourself once again on the verge of tears, overwhelmed.
You hid your face in your hands, just feeling like an idiot now, so embarrassed you thought you might curl up and die from it, but then Ayato was scooching around to your side of the table, your name leaving his lips with distress as he placed an arm around your shoulders, helping pull you close to him as you instinctively leaned against his chest, shamelessly seeking out any comfort he’d give you now.
“It’s just all so messed up…” you sobbed, voice cracking with frustration and fear. “I’m so messed up. I just— I just don’t know what to do or how to feel or think anymore, I—”
As you cried into the expensive, silky fabrics of his custom-tailored clothes, face buried into his shoulder, Ayato kept rubbing a hand up and down your back, unsure of what to say anymore but still hoping his touch could bring you some relief.
It was how he used to comfort his sister when she was small, back during the times she remembered they didn’t have parents anymore and all she could do was cry. She was the only person Ayato had ever really had a chance to comfort, the only person who was allowed to show such open, vulnerable emotion in his presence. Ayato used to weep for his parents too, though, when it came to his own sadness, he’d chosen to bear that weight alone, only safe in the silence of the night, buried beneath the layers of his bed that often felt so big and lonely he could’ve drowned in it.
“I think I love him…” You finally were able to admit, tearing Ayato from his tapestry of childhood trauma. “I think I have for a while but I never thought he’d feel the same and I— He— I just don’t know what to do because what if I ruin everything? What if I already have? I don’t want to lose him but I don’t know how to be with him either and I’m just afraid that either way I’ll end up making the wrong choice and—”
You hadn’t said his name once, yet Ayato knew exactly who you were talking about. He knew that Thoma felt the same way you did in so many ways that perhaps if you two just were as honest with each other as you were being now with him all your troubles could be resolved.
Yet, all the while, as he comforted you through your crying and confessions, Ayato’s heart was breaking. Because he could tell just how much you cared for Thoma, same as he’d been able to learn just how much Thoma cherished you.
And how could Ayato— Kamisato or not— ever hope to compete when the two of you were already so symbiotic?
Maybe because, as much as the sunflower needed the sun to warm its golden petals, it also needed a little rain here and there so it could grow, thick stalk reaching closer towards the sky once the clouds receded.
Hope is a dangerous thing, Ayato heard a voice in the back of his head warn as he tended to the garden of your suffering, willing to stay beside you and keep you in his arms for as long as you needed even if this would be the one and only time he’d get to hold you like this. Act careless and you’ll find yourself caught out in a storm you can’t weather.
You both had sustained enough worries and woefulness for one day, so Ayato did one of the things he’d learned to do best. He put on a mask to hide his true emotions— this one crafted of comfort and kindness to shield his heartache— and gave you a light shake, pulling you back to your senses and causing you to meet his eyes again.
With a smile that was only a little bit sad, Ayato said, “You know, whenever I’m in need of a pick me up, I always find myself wandering back to my favorite bubble tea spot…” He studied your features, hoping his invitation to help cheer you up wouldn’t be denied. “It’ll be my treat, of course.”
And, thank the Archons, that actually got a smile on your face, even if it was just a small, slightly shy one.
“Well, alright…” you replied, some of the playfulness you usually reserved only for Thoma sneaking into your next words, “but only if you’re paying.”
It would only be after he walked you home and you found yourself alone again that you’d realize just how deep in trouble you really were.
***
Several more weeks had passed and you and Ayato had continued with your secret meetings. He’d bring bubble teas to Komore Teahouse after hours at the end of the week when you got out of work, and you’d make up some excuse to Thoma as to why you couldn’t walk home together that day.
And you felt bad about it every time you did it, but you also felt like things between you and him had smoothed over in the days following your breakdown, so you didn’t want to risk sabotaging it now.
Though, that still didn’t change the fact that you were lying, and to someone who you most certainly did love, at that.
But it’s not like things between you and Ayato had gone beyond two friends getting to know each other better over boba, right? Even if your heart did flutter a little whenever you saw him and whenever your hands accidentally brushed you felt your stomach do a tiny somersault…
“We should really invite Thoma sometime,” you eventually proposed, when things between you and Ayato seemed right on the verge of crossing over into something a little more than just friends. “I know he likes bubble tea too, what with his sweet tooth and all.” You’d giggled out a melody of lilting, joyfully innocent notes, and Ayato felt his heart leap into his throat, though not for a good reason.
“Yes, perhaps we should…” he responded, careful to upkeep the light tone you two had grown accustomed to using around one another, though his voice still came out a little strained.
Because Ayato didn’t want to share you. Despite the fact that he already was— that you’d been Thoma’s first, after all— the selfishness of someone who was used to always getting what they wanted filled Ayato to the brim, a single, venomous drop of ink turning the crystal clear waters of his heart a deep, dark obsidian.
But maybe his entire problem could be solved if only he could learn to share. It wouldn’t be easy, that was for sure, and the entire prospect could go up in flames the moment he so much as hinted as much to Thoma, but he had to try.
Because if he didn’t, then he might lose you altogether and regret it for the rest of his life.
***
In all the time Ayato had known Thoma, he’d never seen his friend wear such an expression as he did now. He’d gone through a complex range of emotions in just a few seconds, first shock, then anger, then betrayal, then sadness as he’d listened to Ayato confess how he felt about you.
The two had been talking casually, as they normally did, when something had brought up your name and then, before Ayato could stop himself or let his better judgment kick in, he was telling Thoma everything. Even he couldn’t believe he was doing it, each word that left his mouth seeming to bury him deeper, digging out a well to drown his trusted relationship with Thoma in until it was dead in the water.
But then, as Ayato turned more apologetic, admitting that he was only telling Thoma this because of how much he cared for him, how he felt like keeping the secret in the first place was a betrayal in and of itself, the housekeeper seemed to soften a little, become more sympathetic to Ayato’s plight once he remembered that he’d been in the same exact spot as him once before.
“She was yours first…” Ayato acknowledged with a despondent sigh, the sun sinking behind the two of them as they sat on a ledge, half finished boba staining the stones with a dark ring of condensation. “So I don’t intend to get in the way of that. And if you wish for me never to see or speak to her again as I’ve been doing, just say the word and it will be so.”
The way Ayato looked at Thoma then was so pained that it nearly made Thoma flinch. Ayato’s lilac eyes were begging Thoma not to make it so, yet Thoma knew at the same time that the head of the Kamisato clan would honor his promise either way.
“But, Thoma, please…” Ayato continued, his voice now devoid of all its usual regality, more low and trembling than Thoma had ever heard it, had ever thought possible for someone of Ayato’s confidence. “If I can no longer see her, then I need you to promise— to swear that you’ll always be there for her no matter what.”
And then, just as quickly as it had disappeared, the eldest Kamisato’s poise and prestige was back, his posture straightening and his features setting into something more stoic, though it was all just a way for Ayato to cover up how terrified he truly was and regain some semblance of control.
For a while, Thoma didn’t speak. He just sat there, searching Ayato’s expression with those honest emeralds until he’d seemed to have found what he was looking for.
“Ayato…” Thoma began, a hard expression still present on his face. But as he reached over to place a hand comfortingly on his friend’s shoulder, Ayato found he truly had no idea what to expect next. “Listen to me. You and I are going to have a talk, and once that talk is over, if we’re both on the same page, we’ll go and have the same talk with her…”
The more Thoma explained his proposal, the more Ayato felt the aching tightness of anticipated loss in his chest loosen. The idea was certainly unconventional, especially for someone of Ayato’s standing, but, if you were on board, it might be the only way all three of you could end up happy in the end.
So, the two of them made their pact, preparing to approach you together and see if perhaps you’d grant them both the privilege of sharing you, willing to give their precious little sunflower all the warmth and rain she needed to thrive.
***
The proposition of the conversation initially came to you as a shock. The mere idea that both Thoma and Ayato needed to have a serious discussion with you equating to only one thing in your mind— that, despite how much they’d tried to assure you that worse wouldn’t come to worst, you were about to lose your job.
But when that hadn’t turned out to be the case, your dread was quickly drowned out by confusion. Because, if you weren’t in some kind of trouble, then what could possibly be so pressing? Surely not a promotion, you knew you hadn’t done anything significant enough to deserve that. Though, the more you thought about it, the fact that you’d grown so close to your boss recently might say otherwise.
Once they’d said their piece, both of them were patient with you while you sat before them, stunned and, quite frankly, a little embarrassed. You’d never given such a scenario a thought, let alone between your best friend and your boss, but here you were, the two of them staring at you with equal amounts of apology and longing and hope that it all felt like some kind of surreal dream.
You couldn’t help but raise concerns about what your fellow co-workers would think, not to mention with someone of Ayato’s pedigree engaging in such unconventional relations, but they both assured you that the secret would remain safe between the three of you until you worked out a way to make things more public, however long that took.
For you and Thoma, it would be a lot easier, so long as your mutual behavior at work didn’t change too drastically. For Ayato, however, he’d be lying if he said the fact he wouldn’t be able to spend as much time around you out in the open didn’t bother him a bit.
Because Ayato’s heart was like an ice cube not quite frozen, just the tiniest crack causing all of the water within to spill out, hence why he tried so hard to keep it away from the open flame you and Thoma had seemed to carry between your own ribs for so long.
He wouldn’t exactly call it jealousy, per se, but more so on the spectrum of grief, feeling like there would always be a constant reminder of the divide between your two worlds, that you and Thoma were the original matching set and he was just a spare.
And there was something about hearing those words come from Ayato’s own mouth that had broken something inside of you, awoke something inside of you too, and before Ayato had time to process or realize what he’d even just admitted, both you and Thoma were wrapping your arms around him, the three of you holding each other close and fitting together like missing puzzle pieces that had just been reunited.
And you were happy. You were so, so happy. Because, for once, you truly believed everything would work out the way it was meant to be. And soon, you’d be opening your vibrant, golden petals towards the prismic arc of a rainbow.
***
You’d gotten the day off from work. It was a rare occurrence, but one you appreciated all the more for it. Thoma had also been granted a much needed break. He showed up outside your quaint little home at sunset, the two of you walking hand in hand, fingers interlocked and arms lightly swinging between you, as he led you through Inazuma’s lantern lit evening streets and all the way to Ayato’s master bedroom at the Kamisato estate.
It seemed all of the Kamisato Clan’s help had been given a vacation, as neither you nor Thoma saw, heard, or even sensed another living soul within the mansion for possibly the first and only time you could remember. Day or night, the place was usually full of housestaff, always finding more work to be done. But now the house was dark. Quiet. But not eerie. You knew this place well, after all. You had nothing to fear.
“This way we won’t have to worry about anyone overhearing us,” Ayato had explained after letting you and Thoma into his private chambers, still keeping his voice low out of habit for there usually being curious ears eager to listen in. “Plus, by giving everyone the day off, it won’t put any suspicions on either of you if someone noticed you weren’t around.” Ayato gave you a small smile and a reassuring nod as he said this, also adding on that even his sister was away tonight, apparently addressing some business on her brother’s behalf.
“There’s nothing to worry about,” Ayato cooed, tenderly cupping your face in his palm and smoothing his thumb along your cheek as he did so, his eyes sparkling with adoration instead of mischief for once. “I’ve taken care of everything.”
But for all the reassurance the eldest Kamisato was trying to give you, you still couldn’t help but feel nervous. You’d never done this with two instead of one, and even then, it had been a while since you’d done this at all.
Thoma hadn’t let go of your hand the entire time, tying himself to you, keeping you tethered to his warmth, and as Ayato took your other hand and the two of them led you towards the plush, king-sized bed, you felt your heart unfurling its wings and fluttering up into your throat.
“Thoma…” Ayato muttered to the blonde beside him, placing an ungloved hand upon his shoulder. “Why don’t you help her feel a little more comfortable while I work on undressing us?”
“Us?” Thoma couldn’t hide his sheer surprise, blushing beet red at the implication. Because, for as much as they’d discussed this new dynamic in relativity to you, one thing Thoma apparently hadn’t taken into account was the part he’d play in this triangle when it came to him and Ayato.
Us…
The more he let that idea sink in, the quicker he was to remember that that’s what the three of you were now. A collective us. And if Thoma and Ayato were to share you, to take care of and satisfy you, then there was absolutely no reason why they couldn’t do that for each other as well.
Thoma gulped down his trepidation, swept his gaze back towards you, and, as Ayato began to shed his own pristine clothing not too far behind him, Thoma knelt before you, taking your hands in his, and offered to answer any questions you might have, any concerns. He was pretty new at this too, but he could try, at least. So long as you felt comfortable and safe, that’s all that really mattered to him.
You and Thoma talked quietly, Ayato’s body half bare as he began his work on freeing Thoma of his clothes. It was strange to see the master of the house attending to someone of his staff in such a way, but nice nonetheless. It proved that here, behind the closed doors of this bedroom at the very least, the three of you were equals, no titles or bloodlines to separate you.
“Just know that we’re gonna take good care of you, ok?” Thoma promised, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead after shrugging free from the undermost layer of his shirt, Ayato tossing the thin black fabric over the back of a chair where his own clothes were draped. “You’re in good hands.”
Your eyes fell upon the two of them, feeling yourself blush at the sight of their bare chests, the way they were both toned with muscle, just in different ways. The two of them truly were like night and day, but, lucky for you, you didn’t have to choose between sun and moon in the instance of an eclipse.
Ayato had the build of someone who trained and sparred regularly. He was slightly taller than Thoma, his shoulders a little broader and speckled with a sparse constellation of beauty marks and moles. Your line of sight traveled further down his torso, tracing the chiseled definition of his abs with your eyes, swallowing hard when your view reached the waistband of his trousers, the way his pale skin stretched thin and taut over sharp hip bones. Ayato looked like he could’ve been carved from marble, the sculptor’s greatest creation, but this didn’t make the man beside him any less alluring to you.
Thoma was more lithe and lean, his skin a little tanner from too many afternoons spent out tending to the gardens in the hot summer sun. His arms were covered with a fine dusting of fair, blonde hairs, a chaotic speckling of light freckles beneath. The same wisps of spun gold snuck out from his waistband and up towards his navel in the thin line of a happy trail. Thoma’s posture was, surprisingly, slightly more relaxed than Ayato’s. He merely appeared as if he were patiently waiting, one of his thick-fingered, calloused hands absentmindedly fidgeting with a loose thread fraying off the article of clothing he was left wearing. He gave you a reassuring smile, his entire body seeming to sigh with adoration as his stance became even more relaxed.
Ayato’s gaze shifted back and forth between you and Thoma, as if trying to gauge whether he should take the lead or not. In hindsight, you’d been a little surprised that he hadn’t taken initiative right from the start. But perhaps that was just another unseen side to him you’d get the chance to explore more in the future.
Even Ayato was learning that those who appeared the most charming and confident could find themselves uncertain sometimes.
Ayato then came to sit on the edge of the bed next to you, resting one of his big, gentle hands on your lower back, gazing into your eyes like he was entranced, only removing his stare long enough to flick his eyes towards Thoma again, silently motioning for him to join you both on the bed.
That’s when one hand became two, two hands becoming three as Thoma began to help you out of your own clothes. Three becoming four as Ayato massaged the knots of tension from your shoulders and neck, taking special care of your wrists and hands as he knew how much they craved some care.
It was a reminder for him to not work you so hard— not that your position in the hierarchy of housemaids had been up to him, that assignment had been up to the head housemaid— and to make sure you were given the rest and relaxation you so well deserved when things started to get too busy or stressful. At least Ayato knew Thoma would always be there to support you during the hours he could not, but with that in mind, he was starting to realize perhaps he shouldn’t work Thoma so hard either.
“Go on, Thoma…” Ayato encouraged, applying light pressure to Thoma’s back, urging him closer to you. “It’s only fair…” He leaned in closer to Thoma’s ear, brushing the shell of it with his lips teasingly as he whispered, “She was yours first.”
Again, the heat rose in Thoma’s cheeks like a fire burning to life in its hearth, hoping to still his shaking hands before they found you, reminding himself how long he’d dreamt of this, how long he’d wished for it and willed it into existence. And then he was kissing you, his tongue teasing at the seam of your lips until they parted for him, warm and wanting.
Ayato pulled you back into his lap in the few moments it took for you and Thoma to catch a breath, helping you settle your back against his chest, skin to skin, and letting you lean on him as Thoma moved closer, until his and Ayato’s legs were practically intertwined, and kissed you again, deeper that time, longer, slower, taking his time to explore every inch of your sweet mouth. When he’d discovered all he could there, drinking in every little whine or moan you made, he moved onto your neck, your head resting in the crook of Ayato’s shoulder as Thoma sucked dark bruises into the sensitive flesh of your throat.
Ayato could feel you trembling, already sensing the electric buzz of overstimulation humming through every nerve and vein inside of you as two sets of hands— one calloused and slightly smaller than the other, the second large and slender, soft and deft— began to knead at different parts of your body, never seeming able to hold enough in just their palms.
Ayato massaged gentle circles onto your hips and thighs while Thoma cupped your breasts, lightly pinching one nipple until it elicited a reaction from you, causing you to arch your back a little more and a soft, broken mewl of a cry to escape from your lips, chasing after his touch as your breathing picked up speed, chest rising and falling a little more rapidly than before.
His kisses then ventured lower until his mouth latched onto one of your sensitive, perked little buds, a moan of his own eliciting from the back of his throat as he felt his own arousal swell and his eyes fluttered closed. Your stomach was beginning to flinch, steadily growing painful as it writhed in its desire, but Thoma didn’t stop until he’d given both sides the same thorough treatment. At one point, Ayato had a hand resting on the back of the blonde’s neck, urging him to keep going with you, even if it was with a slight selfish want to watch the two of you like this a little longer, so vulnerable and pleasured.
“Are you ok like this?” Thoma eventually asked before continuing, patient with you as you took a moment to catch your breath and answer. You gave a weak nod, reaching out for him, cradling his cheek in your palm, watching as his emerald eyes— completely enamored— gazed upon you like you were a diamond among stones, so bright and dazzling it could be blinding at times.
Perhaps he also knew what it was like to be a flower some days, soaking up any light and warmth you’d been willing to give him.
But that’s when the clouds rolled in, a drizzle of rain misting the gardens as Ayato locked eyes with Thoma and gave a gentle, encouraging nod. “It’s ok,” you heard Thoma mutter, shifting his position to lower himself between your legs, which Ayato had hooked over his own, beginning to bear you to Thoma. His touch was tender as it glided across the soft skin of your thighs, gently coaxing them further apart until you were on full display for him, beautiful and glistening. Ayato helped, of course, spreading you further apart when you shyly tried to close your legs again, you turning your head to the side and trying to bury your face in Ayato’s shoulder as a new wave of embarrassment and vulnerability flooded you, one of your hands keeping firmly intertwined in the long strands of sky that cascaded down his neck as if that could anchor you to him.
“I’ve got you…” Thoma said, flicking his gaze back to Ayato for just a moment before locking in on you. “We’ve both got you.”
The first kiss to your fluttering pussy sent a shockwave of chills racing up your spine, blood turning hot and electric as little sparks of pleasure ignited through the very marrow of your bones. You couldn’t help but emit another one of those delicate little whines, the sound of it causing both Ayato and Thoma to grow harder, the press of your back against Ayato’s chest causing your skin’s temperature to increase a few degrees with both of your combined body heat.
When Thoma started teasing you with his tongue, you almost thought it would be too much, that surely there was no way you’d last long enough to take them both, that you’d go blind with the euphoria. He started out slow, savoring the taste of you, experimenting with different pressures and patterns to find what made you pulse and quiver most, dipping his slick muscle into your fluttering little hole a few times for good measure, his moans vibrating against your cunt whenever he felt your body try and suck him in deeper, your silky walls desperate to be filled with something more.
“Thoma—” you gasped, his name choked out by a broken whisper at the end, both your hands reaching back to grip Ayato’s biceps now, little nails biting shallow crescents into his skin and clinging onto him like he was the only thing currently tethering you to earth. “It’s—” But as he placed a languid, open mouthed kiss to your sensitive clit, another broken cry killed what had remained of your sentence.
“I’ve got you,” you kept hearing Ayato coo, though it sounded distant, muffled and far off and nothing like he was sitting just behind you. “That’s it… I’ve got you… Such a good girl…”
Unrelenting, Thoma continued his assault on your pussy, his face painted in your glistening arousal, the obscenely wet sounds of his mouth and tongue working you up to your first orgasm of the night filling the room and making you dizzy with both lust and embarrassment. But right before you could become too self conscious, he’d send another wave of mind numbing warmth rolling through your core, traveling through your body all the way up to pump more pleasure into your hazy brain.
You swore you couldn’t take much more, at one point were practically begging— though for it to stop or keep going, you didn’t know— but what finally nudged you over that sharp, steep edge was when Ayato reached around with one hand and took one of your nipples between his deft fingers and gave a gentle, teasing squeeze, as if just out of curiosity to discover what they’d feel like, how soft they would be.
The head of the Kamisato clan let out a pleased hum when your back arched against him and you let out another one of those adorable little cries, carefully twisting the sensitive bud of your breast in a way that was now entirely intentional. Pressing his lips right against your ear he whispered, low and sultry, “Oh? Our pretty girl likes that, doesn’t she?” One more ministration and you were coming undone, losing all control of your body, legs spasming and spine arching with a jolt as your mouth hung open in a silent scream, eyes rolling back as the feeling coursed through you like a thick, heady drug.
Thoma came away from you with his mouth and chin shining in the dim light, watching your expression melt from tense to tranquil over the passing seconds, captivated, still partially unable to believe this was actually happening and not some kind of extremely vivid and bewitching dream. For a moment, he almost forgot how painfully hard he’d become, a reminding pulse of his own desire making him wince, pulling him back to the matter at hand.
Ayato cast him a half-lidded glance, periwinkle gaze shimmering with mirth and mischief as he continued to gently brush the pads of his fingers against your peaked nipples, keeping you on the cusp of the high while you slowly came down.
It was almost like Thoma was asking for permission from Ayato, as if they hadn’t agreed on all of this beforehand already.
“Go on…” Ayato granted, voice quiet and careful, as if speaking in the same room as someone who’d just drifted off to sleep. “It’s ok, Thoma. She’s ok…”
You were more than ok. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so good, so light, as if you could float outside of your own body and end up on an entirely different plane altogether. When was the last time you’d felt this relaxed? Had you ever? But still you couldn’t bring yourself to speak. You could barely even move. All you seemed to be able to do was listen to the rhythm of your own breathing, the steady rise and fall of your chest lulling you until you sensed the shadows behind your closed eyelids shifting, Thoma slowly climbing atop you.
Ayato helped shift you, carefully lowering you further back until you were laying flat on your back. You looked from Thoma to Ayato, seeking the answer to a question you didn’t even know to ask, but they seemed to read your facial expression then, quick to rush in and give reassurances.
“It’s alright…” Ayato sighed, taking your hands in his and pressing them lightly into the mattress on either side of your head, just holding them, gently stroking his thumb across the thin, delicate skin of your wrists.
“I’ll go slow,” Thoma said, pulling your attention back to him, his slender silhouette engulfing you from above. “I promise…” He kissed the tip of your nose. Ayato felt you tense slightly as your grip around his hands flexed. Thoma pressed a kiss to your jaw, down your neck, your collar bone, shoulder, chest, retracing the path his lips had traveled previously as if he’d already memorized it. His voice was resolute, reverent, all the while laced through with that edge of care and concern as he said, “I’m gonna take really good care of you.”
You believed him even without him saying it. You’d never had a reason to doubt that. Not with him. And even when a small pang of apprehensive fear flared inside you as he freed his aching cock and pressed it against your dripping cunt, you still trusted him.
“You need to prep her, Thoma,” Ayato suddenly reminded him, watching the blonde with something hungry and almost vulture-like, patiently awaiting his turn as he held back his envy. Envy that Thoma would get to have you first, even though that was only fair. Ayato didn’t resent him for it, but still, he couldn’t help the small part of him that wished otherwise. “Here, let me…”
Thoma let out a choked whimper, so close to getting to feel you in full he almost couldn’t take it. And as tempted as he was to ignore Ayato’s request and give into his own selfishness, he obliged. When Ayato appeared before you next to Thoma, your hands had nothing left to grip but the sheets. Thoma was flustered and eager. Ayato appeared calm and serene as ever, though that mask would soon chip away.
You felt one long finger glide through the petals of your dewy folds before slowly sinking into your hole, then two, a sensation a little foreign but not entirely uncomfortable as Ayato began to pump them in and out, occasionally scissoring them inside of you only to feel you try and suck him in deeper, your eager cunt clutching his digits with a vengeance.
That was when Ayato’s careful mask of control cracked to reveal something more akin to unbridled desire beneath.
“That’s a good girl…” Ayato sighed as your body stirred back to life, lazily writhing atop the tousled sheets as you felt that familiar pressure begin to build again. “Now you’ll be ready to take Thoma so well…”
It wasn’t long before Thoma was leaning over you again, his and Ayato’s murmured exchange of words lost to you amidst the lustful haze. Though, you did hear him when he spoke directly to you, his voice breathy and sweet, “Gonna make you feel so good, baby… Promise…” right before you felt the blushing tip of him catch on your sensitive little hole.
You let out a hiss as the first inch nestled itself into your tight, wet warmth, the sting of the stretch not entirely unpleasant, but definitely enough to jolt some of your senses back to reality. You heard Thoma’s breath catch, a strained gasp stuck halfway up his throat as he slid in a little further, all the while Ayato stood behind him and pressed languid kisses to Thoma’s neck and shoulder, running his fingertips over the toned expanse of the blonde’s torso.
Once Thoma was all the way inside you, you wincing as he brushed against your cervix, you both took a moment to catch your breath. Then, Thoma began to move.
Every roll of his hips seemed to hit you just right, sparks of pleasure shooting up that taut string stretching up through your core and a delicate moan leaving your lips as he began to pick up speed. Thoma was biting his lip, trying to keep his gaze on you but having to squeeze his eyes shut sometimes when your cunt gripped his length like a vice. He couldn’t help but let out his own melodic moans, the sounds he made almost as beautiful as yours.
Ayato had taken to sitting back and watching you both, enjoying the music you made together, his cock already painfully hard as he began to palm himself, the silk pillows cradled around him shifting out of place as he threw his head back and tried to hold out.
You both looked so gorgeous on display like that. Vulnerable and euphoric. Raw.
Ayato couldn’t wait to see what view you’d provide when he was the one looking down on you.
You were gripping Thoma’s shoulders now, your moans growing louder and higher in pitch as he reached the peak of his pace, both of you singing in tandem with pleasure until your trembling legs seized, locking around his waist, and your back bowed off the bed, mouth hung open in another silent scream as you came undone for Thoma yet again.
It was hardly a moment later before Thoma was curling over you and finishing himself, trying to stay coherent so he could savor this sensation, this memory, as he filled you to the brim with his warm, sticky seed.
Both of you were breathing hard, panting out short, shallow little breaths into each other’s necks as you kept your bodies pressed close together, as if you could stay in that moment forever so long as you were still enough.
Ayato had to force himself to assert control over his own desires for just a little longer, removing his hand from himself and trying to focus back on you. But as you and Thoma’s chests returned to a slower, deeper rise and fall rhythm, Ayato pushed off from the bed.
He’d been plenty patient in waiting.
Now, it was his turn.
“How do you both feel?” Ayato asked as he came to sit on the edge of the bed closest to you. Thoma was still nestled deep inside you, his cock softening yet reluctant to leave the lovely warmth your body provided. But he knew his time was up. It wasn’t fair to keep you all for himself. That had been the deal. So, slowly, carefully, he pulled out of you, choking on a whine as some of his balmy whiteness leaked out of your pretty little hole, dripping down your ass and threatening to make a mess of the sheets.
Thoma went to swipe some of it away with his fingers but Ayato stopped him, gripping his wrist and giving him a playfully chiding look. “Don’t,” he stated, as if he’d read Thoma’s mind. “Let it stain.”
So used to taking his master’s orders, Thoma obeyed, stepping back and trading places with Ayato, who now assumed position over you.
“How’s our pretty girl doing, hm…?” Ayato cooed, so soft and safe that Thoma nearly didn’t recognize the voice as belonging to him. But what had actually caught him the most off guard was the word he’d used.
Our.
As in, belonging to both Ayato and Thoma.
The Kamisatos had never wanted for anything and had always had the power to take what they wished to claim for their own. Never had Thoma ever thought Ayato would be willing to share such a valuable rarity with the likes of his housekeeper. Not when there was only one. Not when it was you.
But he was.
And now it was Thoma’s turn to watch and trust that his friend would honor their deal when all was said and done. That Ayato would still be willing to share you even after he’d gotten a taste for himself.
You were just barely coming to when Ayato was staring down at you, haloed by the glowing moonlight, pale blue locks cascading over his broad, toned shoulders, skin glowing like a comet’s tail.
“Think you can go again, sweetheart?” Ayato asked, the question just above a whisper, as if murmuring a secret to you. And, for a moment, he feared he might not get to experience you at all. He feared you might’ve already had enough for one night and he’d be forced to finish himself off and wait until you were recovered to resume where things had left off. But all that fear disappeared once you gave a wobbly nod, reaching for him, wanting to pull him closer.
Ayato leaned down to meet you, his lips teasingly brushing against your own, letting you feel him smile against you, a mischievous little hum lilting in his throat. He pulled back a fraction, taking a devious satisfaction when you whined and tried to close the gap. He was going to have so much fun playing with you, learning how far to push you, how much you’d try and push back. But, for now, he gave you what you wanted.
When his mouth met yours, Ayato swore he could still taste Thoma on your tongue, something sugary sweet mingled in with your saliva that was unmistakably him.
Deepening the kiss, Ayato left you breathless, had you getting lost in the sensation. He could’ve kissed you for hours, kissed you until he forgot his own name.
But that would also have to wait for a later time, it seemed. Right now, there were more pressing matters at hand.
“That’s a good girl,” he praised you, gripping your hips to slide you further down the bed towards him. His strength was effortless, gracefully regal in its own right. He placed a big hand between your shoulder blades and slowly lifted you up a little, seeing the curiosity glittering in your gaze as you stared up at him, an unspoken question forming on your tongue.
“I think I want to try something a little different,” he told you, voice still soft and cautious. Then, with one of those subtle, charming smiles he asked, “Do you trust me?”
You nodded again, knowing that, whatever he had in mind, it would benefit you both.
Ayato shifted you so that you were straddling him, his hard cock poised and at the ready just inches below your sore little entrance, both of you sitting upright and facing each other. Your hands held his shoulders for purchase, able to feel all that lean muscle coiled beneath pale skin, while his hands made quick work of positioning you both for what came next.
With one, he guided his cock towards your hole, with the other, he kept a firm hold on one of your hips, helping you to sink down on his length, every velvety inch of him sliding deeper into your slick heat as you let out a few whimpers and your grip on his shoulders tightened.
Ayato felt different than Thoma, though no less pleasant. He filled you in a way that made you wince, stretching you just a little wider than Thoma had, but not quite sending those shooting jolts of pain to your core like when Thoma had brushed against your cervix. He was certainly close though, and once you got moving you’d be prepared for the pain.
He waited for you to catch your breath, let you slump against his chest as he stroked languid lines up and down your spine to try and help you relax, and once you’d seemed to adjust, he moved his hands to grip your both sides of your hips, beginning to help you bounce on his cock.
Your eyes were rolling to the back of your head before long, mouth agape with panting huffs and silent pleasure, Ayato’s strained moans punctuating the air. Thoma was once again entranced, watching the two of you with a dazed sort of reverence.
Thoma had been so gentle, so sweet and servicing, but Ayato held more of a dominance over you. Though, again, to choose one over the other wouldn’t have been easy for you. Good thing, you kept remembering, you got to have both.
“That’s it—” he told you, all prior control and elegance gone from his voice now, only left over with the raw vulnerability of pure animal desire. “That’s a good girl— Just like that— Fuck…”
Hearing the swear leave his lips had your legs trembling again, on the edge of being plunged beneath the surface of so much mind-numbing pleasure. Ayato was holding out, nearly getting lost in his own lust as the intoxicating clench of your cunt around his length made him see stars, but the moment you went tense with the height of your orgasm, silky walls squeezing around him the tightest they had yet, Ayato couldn’t wait anymore.
He lost any and all control he had left and filled you with his own sticky warmth, your quivering form slowly going slack against him, now entirely spent.
“Archons, baby…” Ayato sighed, holding you in his strong arms like you were the only thing in the entire world that mattered to him. The only thing he’d ever wanted. He briefly met eyes with Thoma who already looked halfway to getting hard again and beckoned him closer with a loose wave of his hand.
Thoma approached, already expecting orders, but instead what happened was Ayato gently wove his fingers through the short hair at Thoma’s neck and guided him closer until their foreheads were touching, resting against each other in a silent pact.
A promise.
After a while, Thoma starting to feel a little self conscious, he began to say, “I should go get something to clean us up with,” but Ayato stopped him before he could finish the suggestion with a shake of his head.
Carefully, he pulled out of you, both him and Thoma helping to lay you back on the bed and fluffing the pillows, adjusting them until you were most comfortable. You were so full from both Thoma and Ayato you swore you could feel it in your tummy, a whine escaping you as you felt their combined pleasure dribbling out of you, the cool night air hitting your soaked pussy and sending a shiver up your spine.
Thoma pulled one of the sheets over your form, and before long you were already dozing off. Once you were settled, Ayato finally said, a hint of mischief playing at the corners of his lips, “You stay here with her. I’ll take care of the cleaning up for once.”
Thoma went to interject and insist that he could do it— that he should do it— but Ayato wouldn’t hear of it. And so Thoma lay next to you in bed, watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest and the flutter of your lashes while he waited for Ayato to return.
“Do you know how long I dreamt of this?” Thoma murmured, his voice barely detectable to you amidst the pleasure-fueled high of your slumbering daze. “Of you. Of us…” He sounded as if he were gliding through a dream, glazed over with pure adoration and only a little disbelief. Then, after the length of a few more of your slow, peaceful breaths, “I just could’ve never imagined it would feel so much better than anything I ever could’ve thought up. The during…” He propped himself up on one elbow, gingerly pressed a tender kiss to your sweet little forehead. “And the after…”
Ayato returned with a basin of warm water and a bundle of silky cloth. He handed one to Thoma and they both got to the careful and meticulous work of cleaning you up. You stirred upon their touch, both of them murmuring lulling words to you as you blinked open bleary eyes. When they were done taking care of their most special girl, Ayato wrapped you in his finest, softest robe and Thoma tucked you into bed, making you a spot in the middle among all the silk sheets and satin pillows, looking like a princess amidst all the fabric finery.
Ayato went to clean Thoma next, unable to suppress a smile as he caught his housekeeper blushing brighter shades of red the further down his body his careful, tentative hands traveled. He thought about letting him off the hook, but it seemed his habit of teasing him couldn’t resist.
“Feeling shy now, are we? After everything we’ve done?”
An embarrassed squeak crawled up Thoma’s throat as he opened his mouth to speak. Then he stammered out an adorably defensive, “N-no, it’s just— I’ve never had someone— And you of all people— I—”
Ayato Kamisato silenced his nervousness with one of those deviously charming chuckles, a low hum of mirth trailing off the end. “You should get used to others taking care of you for once, Thoma,” he lightly chastised. “Besides, if we’re to keep doing this I can’t have you feeling ashamed. The two of us agreed to share her but…” Ayato stood from where he’d been kneeling, finishing with his work of the mess that had been glazed over Thoma’s skin. He straightened to his full height, considering his housekeeper with a look that was almost pleading. “Would it be so bad if we partook in each other from time to time as well?”
Thoma flushed beet red from his chest all the way to the tips of his ears, averting his eyes from the taller man and nervously worrying his lip between his teeth. Of course he wouldn’t mind that. Him and Ayato had been close enough even before tonight that the consideration wasn’t entirely implausible. But to say it out loud…
That was a different bridge to cross.
“Let’s get you to bed,” Ayato suggested, seeming not to mind that Thoma was hesitating. There would be plenty of later opportunities to revisit and develop their new relationship and all the different dynamics of it. For once, Ayato Kamisato was content with being patient. He then nodded towards you, both of their eyes falling on your form. Your eyes were still barely open, watching them as if they were familiar, benevolent ghosts that appeared before the foot of your bed every night. “Poor thing’s had quite the exhausting night. Don’t want to keep her waiting.”
And with that, Thoma and Ayato climbed into bed to join you, both of them snuggling up to you at your request, reducing your trio of warm, sated bodies to a loose tangle of tired limbs and synchronized breathing.
As you fell asleep between them, you briefly reflected on your initial hesitation of being shared. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to handle it, whether physically, emotionally, or both. But now, after placing your trust in their hands, after experiencing how gently they’d treated you, how attentive they’d been, well…
Now you couldn’t imagine things any other way.
***
(Hello and thank you so much for reading! I sincerely hope you enjoyed! <3
I actually started this fic over a year ago but kept putting off finishing it, so I’m glad to have it done and concluded in a way I’m pretty satisfied with. I’ve loved Thoma and Ayato ever since I first played Inazuma so I’m glad I’ve finally been able to write a fic featuring both of them.
Anyway, thank you so so much once again for reading. I hope you have a wonderful day and do something kind for yourself. See you next time! Byyyyeee~!)
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