Love At First Bite.

love at first bite.

premise: most customers visit your cafe for the delicious bread and good coffee, but he comes for the cute barista behind the counter.

info: your parents run a bakery-slash-cafe and as their child, you're naturally expected to help around the shop. unknowingly, you attract attention in the process.

characters: kazuha, thoma, xiao, childe, albedo, scaramouche & ayato !

kazuha, a part-time employee at the bakery

when your grandmother grew too frail to work at the cafe due to old age and had to retire, the shop had a shortage of helping hands thus needing someone to work her shift. enter kazuha kaedehara, a sweet boy in the neighborhood who's always been in good terms with your older brother. having his eyes on a particular game console at the time, he was happy to help while earning some pocket money for himself.

but even after successfully purchasing the item he saved up for, he continued to work at the cafe. it was certainly something your family appreciated, since kazuha was pleasant company and he was skilled in the kitchen. remarkably more efficient than you for the job, actually, despite the fact you're the one who'll receive the business in the future.

“you won't be so troubled if he were to run the business with you,” your mother stated in what you hoped to be in jest, not subtle in the slightest with her thoughts of kazuha being a suitable son-in-law after he so sweetly prepared a cake for your surprise birthday party. your face burned while kazuha only laughed in cheer, perhaps missing the hidden insinuations. (why else would he smile at that?)

time passed in the blink of an eye and he eventually became a face you often saw first thing in the morning, cheeks dusted with flour and hands gripping a tray of baked goods fresh from the oven. rays of shimmering gold bathed him in an otherworldly glow, smile brightening when he catches sight of your figure by the door.

then you'll grab a towel and rub off the dirt on kazuha's face, missing the way his eyes crinkle in mirth. missing the way your older brother rolls his eyes at the action very much alike pda. missing how you've been doing this for the past three years and not once stopped to think about why he had flour on his face all the time, and if he'd been doing it on purpose just to see you in this proximity. an unceasing part of routine that came as naturally as going to sleep at night and waking at morning.

you see him a lot more in the summer when you both share shifts at the same time, you working at the counter and him at the kitchen preparing treats that already sold out. (he reasoned he preferred it that way to avoid getting flirted with.)

“could i get another order?” the customer you noticed have been staring strangely at you for the entire duration of his stay suddenly went up to ask. you paste on a flawless customer service smile regardless of your discomfort, thinking he hadn't done anything wrong yet. “of cou-”

“[name], there's something odd about the hand mixer,” kazuha cuts in, peeking through the door and knocking on the wood to gain your attention. “could you check it for me? i'll switch with you.”

your expression drifts to one of genuine distress, not picking up on the excuse he provided for an easy way out. you rush to the kitchen and kazuha takes your place, much to the customer's disappointment. this does not not escape his attention and kazuha smiles, “what can i get for you?”

one half-hearted order later, the customer finally leaves. the smile on kazuha's face drops as he picks up the piece of tissue the man left on the counter, scrawled with a set of numbers in dark ink.

“it worked just fine?” you return after checking on the fully functional hand mixer, confusion apparent on your expression. kazuha breezily slips on a smile, crumpling the tissue in his hand and shoving it inside his pocket.

“really? that's great.”

thoma, your childhood friend

once upon a time at the tender age of seven, you had a timid disposition and had few names you could confidently proclaim as your friend. however, thoma was an intelligent child who figured out being friends with a person who owned a bakery entailed sharing snacks with each other at breaks.

lured by the mouthwatering scent of your lunchbox, he approached your desk and initiated a conversation. his friendly demeanor had managed to break you out from your shy shell, and from there on, you began to spend time together, him oh-so-generously offering to walk you home so he could stop by the bakery. his efforts were rewarded when your parents were delighted seeing a new friend of yours, shoving a packet of chocolate cornets in his hands.

...well, that's how it started, but it wasn't like all he wanted from you was free food. he wormed his way into your life, growing close not only to you but also your family; your grandfather was especially fond of him. he even became an unofficial employee of sorts, tidying the bakery when the opportunity arose. your parents spoiled him rotten with sweets in return, them often being the cause of thoma's cavities before you grew up...

speaking of growing up, you long left primary school and now attended different schools, but thoma made it a habit to pick you up and walk home together just as you did often before, leading to misunderstandings of your classmates thinking he was your boyfriend. which couldn't be any more wrong.

but it was true that he was the sole receiver of your valentine's chocolate for a long, long time, something that he prided over. which is also weird, considering he received more than enough chocolate to fill his bag close to bursting each year. (it's special, you remember him telling you once. as to why, he wasn't very keen on informing you, maybe even a little shy about it. is it because you're good at baking? it surpassed other people's attempts at homemade chocolate? it had more meaning compared to storebought chocolate? you can only guess.)

so really, he's astonished when he spots another box of brownies stuffed in your belongings, peculiarly wrapped in a more elaborate manner compared to his bland plastic packaging. heart-patterned in a pale pink, topped with a delicate ribbon trimmed with white lace.

he narrows his eyes, fingers ghosting over the box. “who's this for?”

he gets a whiff of a pleasant scent on you, some perfume your aunt had given you on a holiday. you styled your hair differently that day, too, not a single imperfect crease seen on your clothes, lips glossy with a sheen of tint thoma remembered gifting you as a present before.

your cheeks flush in a rosy color, stuttering out an excuse. an excuse that doesn't register in thoma's head because of the buzzing in his ears, but he doesn't really need to hear it to understand; he'd be a fool not to guess this was for a special someone.

a special someone that isn't him, clearly.

xiao, the classmate you've been crushing on

contrary to popular belief, your infatuation with xiao hadn't been established from the start. you belonged in the same class but you weren't especially interested in him at first glance, staying far, far away from classmates fighting over the seats beside him. he had a pretty face, that much was obvious, and maybe you did stare at him a little longer than you had to... but that was the extent of it, an appreciation for things you found pleasing to the eye.

“the inside matters more than the outside” is a phrase as good as horse shit, empty words used to placate the ugly community. even with unread love letters trashed in garbage bins, succinct replies to heartfelt confessions, and other actions that might be considered rude if it was a less attractive man doing them, xiao remained a desirable prospect as a lover. the world just worked that way. you didn't feel particularly envious of him, but you didn't see him in a positive light either.

and his opinion of you... well. it was less than ideal when he saw you at the supermarket going grocery shopping once; he had only vaguely recognized you as his classmate when the moment you laid eyes on him, you gasped “salt!” and ran towards the aisles containing spice.

(to be fair, he was reminded he needed to buy a comb after seeing your messy hair.)

though as the seasons changed with flowers blooming in warm spring and wilting in bleak winter, underneath all that grouch xiao was pretty nice. it was a matter of his apprehension melting away and your presence growing ever more familiar as days passed. his cold exterior warmed into something sweeter, something far less bitter compared to how he appeared at the beginning.

if it were five months ago, if you were to get yourself injured by accident while preparing a meal in home economics class, he would've frowned and said “did you cut your finger?” “yes.” “don't let your blood mix with the soup.”

if it were in the present, he'd frown all the same but the furrow in his brow would suggest visible concern rather than slight annoyance, taking out teddy bear-patterned bandaids he pretends he doesn't carry all the time for exact situations like these because you weren't good with knives. (baking is different from cooking, damn it.) his hands would be frustratingly gentle as he wraps your cut finger, and the soft tenderness that always graced his actions towards people he cared about was more than enough to make you fall hard.

then you remembered your mother's teachings. “the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.”

the thing is, nobody at your school knew your family ran a bakery. it wasn't something you actively tried to hide, it just never came up at conversations. if you were to act as a romantic “secret admirer” and send baked goods to test xiao's reaction before confessing, you'd at least get an estimation of your chance at success of snagging a hot boyfriend. that has to earn you extra points for bribery creativity, right?

so. that's how xiao came to receive colorful bite-sized macarons, cream puffs piped with custard, glazed cinnamon rolls, and anything of the sort packaged neatly in boxes sent anonymously every few days. the notes greeting him good morning or wishing him luck for a test later that day are all printed, hence not giving away the sender's identity by their handwriting.

as much as xiao appreciates the gesture, however, he also looks guilty. when you ask him why, heart pounding in your chest, he flushes red at your eager expression and quietly admits, “i already have someone i like.”

childe, a troublesome customer

from your numerous years working at the cafe, you've seen a lot of things: the anticipation and nervousness in blind dates, the endearing awkwardness of first dates, the sweet thoughtfulness of friends and family buying snacks for a certain someone, and —

the entire shop broke into collective gasps as the cup of coffee was thrusted towards across the table, splashing the boy seated in that direction. he seemed astonished, pristine white shirt soaked in a muddy brown, and the girl accompanying him made a point to place the now empty glass loudly against the table. “you're the absolute worst!” she seethed, tears rolling down her cheeks. she left in fury, leaving without waiting for a response.

...break ups. not the most common, but they definitely happen. they're mostly not this dramatic though.

the boy left behind attempted a smile. albeit strained, it was enough to stop the other patrons from looking at the spectacle. kazuha seemed hesitant to deal with it, so it was up to you to approach him with a towel. he looked a bit pitiful cleaning his face with tissues. “are you... okay?” you winced at your own question and amended with, “do you have anything else you need?”

he laughed. “i'll have to trouble you to mop this mess on the floor, but i'm alright. thanks.”

you nodded. not one to pry or meddle in someone else's relationship, you only went to do what you had to, mopping the coffee staining the ground. before the boy left, you noticed he left a generous tip.

you couldn't help thinking of him as that one guy who got dumped each time he visited the cafe though. but he never went with his (ex-)girlfriend ever again, only sometimes bringing along what you presumed were his younger siblings. he spoiled them, too, unrestrained as he pulled out his wallet and paid for a large amount of treats his brother and sister wanted to try.

and because he's a treasured benefactor, you thought it would be nice if you showed your appreciation somehow. you handed him a bag of pastries he hadn't asked for, to which he tilted his head in question.

“they're on the house,” you said. “new products. we're experimenting and haven't sold them yet. it would be helpful if you gave your opinion for them.”

he peeked at the contents, seeing they were muffins amongst other things. “thank you. i'll make sure to tell you my thoughts, though i'm already certain they'll be as delicious as everything else here.” he smiled.

it was simple as that. no entanglements that linked you in a personal level, but he found himself gravitating towards the cafe whenever he had free time to be idle. he didn't even eat what he bought most of the time, giving them away to his friends, aside from the time you personally gave him that bag of pastries yourself. he didn't even let his siblings touch them.

and maybe it didn't have to be so complicated. he was striving to find love all this time, only for each relationship to run dry quickly. it was always him not being enough, not paying his lovers enough attention, not giving them enough affection. what he thought was love didn't last for very long.

but maybe this could be. keeping it secret in his heart, quiet appreciation for the dazzling person behind the counter, nurturing the small crush that would only remain small if he didn't act upon it.

“could you try this for me?” you request, offering him a batch of brownies. you seem... shy. bashful. it's a new look. childe certainly have never seen you blush before.

he takes a bite and it's exquisite. “it tastes good. are you going to sell this too?”

“ah, no.” the tips of your ears redden further. “i'm... making them for someone.”

it is then when childe remembers valentine's day is approaching. it is then that he realizes, his heart sinking in disappointment. “oh. okay.”

albedo, the eye-candy regular

people-watching is a habit you pick up on when the clock is beyond hectic morning hours, the cafe that once bustled with cranky swarms of patrons demanding their daily dose of coffee emptying to something that lets you breathe more freely, frenzied atmosphere gradually settling into calm.

in the moments of respite, you find yourself fanning your face, having enough leisure to rest instead of frantically memorizing orders. that's when your gaze steers to the customers residing by the tables, enjoying snacks and sipping on their beverages. one specific customer catches your eye, and surely you aren't the only one who's unwittingly beckoned over by his charms.

beams of sunshine blanket around him in a soft glow, light brown hair almost gold in the bright rays. teal eyes are glued to the paper in front of him, hands smoothing over the surface as the pencil in his deft fingers glide in elegant strokes. his pink lips part when he brings the cup of cappuccino to his mouth, taking small sips and his tongue darts out to catch the foam-

...or so the girl near his table types furiously on her laptop, perhaps taking him as inspiration for a novel she's writing. good for her.

in any case, the face is a familiar one. you have no name to attach to his face, so you began dubbing him as “jeff”. for no particular reason. it's quite inconvenient to refer to him as “handsome window seat dude” all the time. unfortunately, the cafe has coaster pagers and there isn't any need to ask for customers' names so his name remains a mystery. jeff it is.

so “jeff” frequents the cafe during late morning, always bringing a new book with him or a sketchbook to while away the time. not that you see anything he draws. the most you see is other customers interrupting him in the middle of it, either to flirt with him or straightforwardly ask for his number. for politeness's sake, he makes an effort to not let his irritation show, but seeing the subtle shifts in his expressions over the course of several months has allowed you to notice the minute changes in his mood. (were you really staring that hard? or it's just a talent. you can't take xiao's words at face-value because he's a goddamned tsundere so now you've honed a talent for reading people.)

so it comes off as a shock when he strolls to the cafe visibly cross, exasperation rolling off him in waves. dark circles line his eyes, a crinkle in his brows hinting displeasure. fatigue emanates from his very being, and in spite of his impeccable appearance in the past in comparison to the zombies you have as customers before they get their desired caffeine, he doesn't look too different now.

even worse, when he finds his pockets empty without his wallet and he only manages a few coins in the deepest corners of his bag to afford the most bland item in the menu, he looks vaguely murderous.

you cough, driven to help since his expression makes you think your days are numbered if he doesn't get his coffee soon. “i can pay for you this time,” you offer. he stiffens, grateful but tentative. “it's no big deal.” you even slip in a plate of waffles as extra, topped with generous swirls of whipped cream and cut fruit.

“thanks, i'm... not myself today. stayed up all night,” he mumbles, adjusting his backpack strap where it's falling off his shoulders, heavy with textbooks he has to study. “i'll pay you back tomorrow... but i don't need the waffles, really.”

a couple bucks isn't much of a loss and you're not that much of a cheapskate. “it's alright. the waffles aren't even on the menu, it's just breakfast i made.”

“oh.” he seems mildly surprised at that. “...thanks.”

you push the brewed coffee in his direction when it's done, grinning at him. “have a good morning then, jeff.”

he gives you a weird look. “my name is albedo.”

“it's a trick. i wanted to find out your name.”

he blinks, still processing what you said. then for the first time that morning, albedo smiles.

(much much later when kazuha's cleaning the cafe, he finds a worn notebook placed on one of the empty tables. he doesn't like poking his nose into things he doesn't own, but in the hopes of finding the owner's name somewhere, he peruses through the pages of scrawls and doodles and sketches of scenery. he stops at a sketch of a face he knows by heart, surrounded by an embarrassing amount of flowers.)

(kazuha somehow dislikes how he instantly knows who it belongs to.)

scaramouche, a stray looking for shelter

scaramouche despises the rain.

especially when his partner for his project bails on him 30 minutes after their agreed meeting time (by text, no less! without a single apology!), and he wasted half an hour in the campus library for absolutely nothing. then 5 minutes after his departure, the sudden downpour takes him by surprise and further sours his sullen mood.

he rushes under the nearest roof he finds for shelter, the rain refusing to let up and only getting stronger by the second. cold winds nip at his skin, causing him to shiver in his partly drenched clothes. he follows the warm yellow light illuminating what he thinks is a coffee shop of sorts, the bell's chime announcing his entrance when he swings the door open.

the place is empty with the exception of one person behind the counter, storing the leftover baskets of pastries in the fridge. you blink, not expecting anyone else to arrive, and you assume you forgot to flip the “open” sign to “closed” again.

you don't have the heart to correct the customer though; he looks remarkably similar to a stray cat caught up in the rain, wet purple hair plastered on his forehead and cheeks and drenched jacket most likely not enough to give him warmth. his sharp eyes narrow and he's scowling, irritated at his stupid partner and this stupid rain and-

“you're closing?” he notices, and you nod. he clicks his tongue, obviously displeased.

“if you're only here for shelter, i can stay until the rain stops?” you suggest. “i closed early because i had to study, but i can study here since i have my textbooks anyway.”

“that...” scaramouche pauses, suddenly feeling shy and embarrassed for coming off as rude. “if you're fine with it, then that would be nice... thank you.”

you nod again, ducking behind the storeroom to take care of other equipment, so scaramouche takes it as his cue to sit at one of the tables, brushing back his wet hair from sticking all over his face. when you return, a towel rests in your grip and you offer it to him kindly.

warmth settles in his chest, gratitude filling his heart. it strengthens when you wordlessly push a cup of hot chocolate in his direction before seating in another table, sheets of paper and numerous books haphazardly littered about. the only noise he can hear is the gentle pitter-patter of rain outside and the mindless taps of your fingers against the table as you practice test questions. the intermittent loud flicking of pages in workbooks and constant clicks of your pen should peeve him, bad habits in the library he finds annoying when he's trying to focus on reading, but it's strangely comforting in the otherwise silence shrouding the pair of you.

(he finds himself sneaking glances, unwittingly stealing a peek at the way your nose scrunches up adorably when you come across a tricky question. the way you worry your bottom lip, eyes sweeping over the contents of the workbook. the way a defeated sigh parts your lips, inevitably switching to another question to answer.)

(then he catches himself being a creep so he pinches his thigh to wake himself up.)

less than half an hour later, the drizzle reduces to gray clouds pierced by rays of sunlight. scaramouche prepares to leave, followed by you scrambling to pack your things. in your haste, your bag tips over, revealing a small umbrella. that prompts a prick of guilt to seep in his skin, knowing you could've left much earlier if he didn't hold you back.

“thank you, again,” he can't help but say. you wave him off, insisting it's not a bother.

the next time he visits, it's a week later. an umbrella is tucked by his side, this time, and the rainy season has discouraged people from coming so you're closing early except you don't have anything to shield from precipitation. you lent kazuha your umbrella when he ended his shift because you thought the rain would come to pass after an hour or so, and it... hadn't.

scaramouche peers inside, the sign still displaying “open” but you're storing away things just like last time. the cursory “sorry, we're already closing for the day” sticks to your throat when you realize who arrives.

“are you staying because of the rain?” you comment, sympathetic. he shakes his head.

“no, but...” scaramouche coughs awkwardly. “i could help walk you to the bus station... or wherever you're going, really. to return the favor.”

his courage exhausted, he's barely able to find the bravery to check your reaction. he stills when you smile at him so brightly.

it was worth his dignity then.

ayato, the friend of a friend

it starts horribly, a stain on your first impression that you can never redeem.

in your defense, it isn't intentional, except it kind of is — you didn't notice the boy with pale blue hair trailing after thoma when they arrived at the bakery, so you engage in your usual light-hearted banter while he walks away to wait at the table. shame was never felt between two friends who've seen both the best and worst of each other, so crass jokes and ill-timed quips are the norm.

hence why you unabashedly draw dicks on thoma's coffee cup sleeve when he pisses you off with some offhand comment followed by a stinging pinch to your cheek, unafraid of the consequences from the small payback.

except it isn't thoma's coffee after all, and ayato is understandbly confused when he spots phallic doodles on his coffee cup.

he should be affronted, angry and disturbed by the childish display and utter lack of professionalism from staff, but instead he laughs good-naturedly as you explain the situation in ashamed stutters heavily sprinkled with apologies.

so yes. you have positively fucked up your first impression in front of a scholarly young man by behaving in the most disgraceful of manners. he must've thought you an idiot lacking all sense of propriety... and a loser who still thinks drawing dicks is funny.

as it turns out, ayato hails from a stinking rich family who isn't quite in touch with a normal person's lifestyle. his life has always been a constant stream of studies and networking, his future laid out for him. he had little time for leisure and friends outside of allies and business partners, and his story of bonding with thoma would be a lot more moving if you weren't anxiously looking at the inappropriate phallic figures artfully drawn on ayato's cup sleeve that he still hasn't removed. it is a jarring sight to see a boy with a regal disposition fitting for royalty holding such a thing in a way that would make you think he was drinking aged fine wine from a treasured goblet.

part of you thinks he might be doing it on purpose, if only to amuse himself peering at your expressions of panic. he likes to pose himself as innocent but as time ticks by the longer you spend time with him, the more you think he may not necessarily be as much of a goody-two-shoes he acts to be. the sadistic streak is worrying and you're beginning to remember thoma's earlier complaints about a certain mischievous friend of his who likes to play tricks on him.

anyway, the point is: he's stinking rich, he's a sheltered young master, and he's trying out new things he has never experienced before. one of them is trying “peasant food”.

“our humble business doesn't have a single michelin star so i fear we won't be able to satisfy your palate,” you say, looking at ayato who's poking at the egg tart experimentally. “...maybe it would do you good to eat somewhere else?”

“he was impressed by the existence of instant noodles,” thoma supplies. “i don't think he's very picky.”

“the price tag doesn't guarantee tasteful flavors,” ayato chuckles. “but i liked the sweets thoma gave to me the other day. what were they called?”

“petit fours?”

“you gave him those petit fours i was still experimenting with for valentine's day?!” you whisper-shout in disbelief. thoma holds up his hands in surrender.

“they were very enjoyable. i'm sure other customers would like them as well,” ayato confesses honestly.

flattery won't get you anywhere, you want to say. but the conversation escalates in that direction. time passes by too quickly and before you realize it, the sun is already setting and they've been chatting with you on the counter the entire time.

ayato tells you he best return home for the day, if only a little unwilling to go. “though i am hoping what i find on the cup sleeve in my next visit would be different,” he teases.

you're actually not supposed to write anything on the cup in normal circumstances, but you decide to humor him. treasured benefactor and all. you know he has deep pockets. “...such as?” you cock up an eyebrow in question.

“something that will help us grow closer, perhaps.” he leaves with those cryptic words, thoma not far behind.

??? something that will help you grow closer??? he wants to be friends??? what kind of thing does he want you to write?

(the next time, to his satisfaction, he finds your number written on his cup sleeve.)

(it's unfortunate you misunderstood his intentions. ayato would hardly be this forward if he just wanted a friend.)

he has a dream you cheated on him. f!reader. modern. do not copy. reblogs are appreciated.

i. childe (ajax)

he was such a drama queen?! he’ll be giving you the stink eye the moment you enter the kitchen after you woke up. he won’t say single word to you. no ‘good morning, baby!’ or anything. he’ll simply roll his eyes at you like a brat before brushing past you with his chin held up high

it’ll be the silent treatment for the entire day. every effort you made to communicate with your boyfriend will be thrown out of the window. his immaturity doubled and it drove you mad. how can you fix what was wrong if he won’t say it? you weren’t a mind reader. it left you exasperated; you went as far as phoning zhongli to check if he knew what was up. and sigh, you unknowingly dampen his mood further

you wouldn’t know what his issue was until after he crumbles from the lack of physical affection he was receiving from you. it was comical to see him suddenly agitated since he was acting all high and might in the beginning. his resolved finally broke when he found you chilling in the living room, snuggled up in a flurry of blankets. he itched for your touch. damn you, why must you look so cozy? >:(

“really, baby? zhongli? out of everyone in the world, you go after my friend?” ajax tsked, and shook his head at you in contempt, “i can’t believe it. that’s so low of you.”

the dream he had the previous night was no dream. it was far from it. in his nightmare, it kicked off with you breaking up with him. it felt like his heart was ripped out of his chest. he was on your trail, as you rushed around the apartment to pack your belongings while he sobbed for you to stay. now what had him gasping awake was when he heard the doorbell ring and he opened the door to see zhongli standing there, asking for you

ajax couldn’t fall back asleep after that. he stayed up for a few minutes to process what he dreamt and watched you rest. he couldn’t wrap his head around what he saw. he needed to make sure it wasn’t real. when he finally lied back down, he held you close to his chest throughout the remainder of the night

“wait, pause.” you stared at him in confusion. you were prepared for anything but this. what do you even say about it? what in the world was going on with your boyfriend? you thought to yourself. “i-i can’t follow what you’re saying, baby.”

and when he explained his odd dream to you, you were left even more confused. he’s mad at you over that? why was he mad at you? it wasn’t like you could control his dreams. “but i didn’t cheat on you, though? i don’t get it.”

“still!” ajax argued, as he crossed his arms at you, “dream-you did and, by default, you have to make it up for me for ‘your’ actions!”

oh, he was insufferable. sometimes, you wanted to pinch his cheeks for being so annoying sometimes. why was he like this? “why you little…” you started, but stopped yourself once you realized it wasn’t going to help the situation. “ugh, what do you want then?”

ii. xiao (魈)

you and venti? …it was a long-standing thorn on his side. he knew he wasn’t the most personable man out there and his aloof character could be a hinderance at times since he fails to express himself or communicate his feelings to you. compared to his friend, he didn’t speak his mind and felt like talking was a chore. while he was happy you and venti got along well, sometimes too well, it had him feeling left out whenever you hung out with him

maybe the dream he had was simply a product of his insecurities, who knows? well, whatever it was, it left him sweating and shaking. he stayed up that night with thoughts of you and your relationship bombarding his mind. you wouldn’t leave him for his friend, right? you still love him, correct? he was enough for you, no?

needless to say, he couldn’t face you the next day. he wouldn’t say he was actively avoiding you… he was coincidentally away whenever you were in the area and forgot to turn off ‘do not disturb’ on his phone. it helped him clear his mind at first, but then the guilt started to gnaw at him right after

“i didn’t see you today. where were you?”

“at home,” xiao mumbled, as he kept his gaze on the television screen with a thousand yard stare. frankly, he didn’t know how to handle what was about to happen. does he tell you the truth? or does he keep it to himself? what happens if you misinterpret his words and think he was questioning your loyalty. “i just needed to be alone.”

he didn’t know what he did to deserve you. you didn’t press him further. you merely nodded at him and sat down on the space next to him, patiently waiting for when he was ready to open up. an hour might’ve passed before he finally spoke up, “i had this dream last night… you, um, you cheated on me.”

“oh, xiao—”

he raised his hand at you, successfully silencing you. he ran his fingers through his hair and sighed, “i know it’s ridiculous. you don’t have to tell me that it’s absurd that i’m upset over something this stupid.”

your lips parted to argue with what he said. it wasn’t stupid. what he felt was valid. though, you closed your mouth when you noted that it wouldn’t do anything but make him uncomfortable. “is there anything i can do to make you feel better?” you offered. it hurt to see him unsure of himself and so hesitant around you. he looked afraid the smallest movement would make you leave

“can you hold me?” it felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders when you said yes. later that evening, he was able to close his eyes without any worries for what will appear in his dreams

my fic got stolen and put on wattpad

I’ve just been informed that someone’s stolen one of my fics (peaches and cream) and is passing it off as their own - it seems as though I’m not the only author who’s been stolen from, either. if you guys could look through this and recognise any other authors and let them know, that would be great! apparently wattpad only allows the original author to report?

either way, I know the majority of you would NEVER but please don’t plagiarise/repost other people’s fics guys. that shit’s not cool

yandere!Azul thought 2: when a strange creature is ensnared in a fishing net and is given to you as a birthday gift, azul ashengrotto is introduced to human society…and the peculiar human princess he soon falls for. 

(cw: yandere, nsfw, female reader, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, captivity/stockholm syndrome (for azul, not reader), obsession, baby-trapping/breeding, loss of virginity, non-con/dub-con, tentacles, unwanted touches/kisses, pregnancy, slight delusion, separation anxiety)

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cupid’s troubles?

when playing wing-mate for a generously paying classmate turns out more differently than you’d expect.

character/s: albedo, childe, diluc, kaedehara kazuha, thoma, scaramouche, xiao

“so…since when have you enjoyed playing cupid?”

you almost choke on your saliva at the girl’s direct statement. “me? playing…cupid? huh, what decides to give you that impression?”

“were you not?” ganyu clarifies with a strange look on her face. “i mean, i’m not entirely sure, but lately it feels like he knows me really well, and i get the sense that you’ve also been pushing me towards…”

“isn’t that just by coincidence though?” you question with scrunched features of confusion. “maybe he just ends up wandering in the same places we do. maybe he’s just generally nice to you.” you shrug. “and clearly he’s liked you for quite a while if he knows you well enough, to see what kinds of gifts you like.”

you don’t miss the blush that settles across her face. “but anyway, shouldn’t you be happier since you’re the one who likes him?”

“i am,” she hastily argues with a flustered expression. “it’s just, i feel like you have something to do with this too.”

“other than being a really supportive friend?” you snicker, elbowing her in a teasing manner. “it’s the course of fate, and i’m happy that you’re happy. does that convince you enough?”

“sure,” ganyu defeatedly smiles, lazily waving a hand in the air in hopes of letting the topic go.

“whatever helps you sleep at night, y/n.”

xiao, the boy asking you to play wing-mate.

him suddenly approaching you for help, was quite frankly the least situation you expected transpiring within the school year.

“you…almost got caught again, didn’t you?” “i—well, does it matter? she said she liked it.”

and him requesting you to play wing-mate for your shy friend? twice the astonishment.

“…you know i’m going to have to deduct the price again because of this—” “ugh, that’s the third time already—and don’t you dare say it’s because i suck at being discreet! you’re the one who came to me!”

but some part of you couldn’t exactly…pin the blame on the guy for developing some sort of secret crush on her.

sure, ganyu always preferred to keep to herself rather than stand out in a crowd…however, it was also an unequivocal fact that she was happened to be the reserved version of every guy’s ideal type.

and you supposed…it suited someone like xiao as well.

so there was the gist of possibly making your well-deserving friend happy, and then there was even an extra bonus of getting paid generously for your provided aid? you didn’t even bat an eye to hurriedly agree with the proposition.

(and yes, you ended up on the receiving end of his judgmental stare in that awkward moment…but you knew he wouldn’t have hesitated to do it too, were he offered the same deal.)

which is why you’ve been diligently working your ass off for the past five months, slowly but surely doing your best to get those two together!

albeit you’ll have to admit, it’s rather arduous and…perhaps even a bit embarrassing to constantly put yourself out there, and act as a middleman for the both of them. there were even instances when you pushed yourself as far as to go shopping with xiao, in an effort of pursuit for the gifts your friend considered nice and thoughtful — or circumstances where you and him would practice on how to handle “certain” moments — such and such were given much attention and detail, that part of you started to wonder at some point if it would ever be enough to get the two of them together.

but the fruits of your labor have sprouted for blossoming, and it’s all you can bask in while you slowly watch as ganyu begins to fall in love with the green-haired boy as well.

as for xiao himself…perhaps it’s nothing other than a figment of your imagination, but for the past month you’ve noticed how the boy seemed to act a bit more…unconstrained around you. almost as if he was getting used to feeling comfortable with your presence.

which is what you’ve expected in the long run together, of course. after all, you were the person he would turn to for inquiries about gifts, mindful choices of flowers, movies that you both later on discovered had a similar taste in, together planning as occasional lunch-mates when ganyu would be accomplishing other school-related priorities, fraternizing with unexpected enjoyment in arcades over the weekend (respectfully, as friends!)…

okay. so maybe the list grows longer (and slightly deviates from your initial relationship) day by day. so maybe he sneaks in a pale-red carnation or two for you, even though you’re almost certain you’ve only gushed about your love for the pretty blossom to the boy behind the counter of the flower shop. so maybe he even makes jokes and smiles at you now — none of this clearly has anything to do with such gestures past borderline friendship!

this is just xiao learning how to open up, xiao beginning to enjoy himself in your (sort of) long-time company, xiao showing his gratitude in little actions rather than brave words,

and maybe even xiao absentmindedly drowning in your eyes, while realizing that you playing wing-mate for him was clearly one hell of a shitty mistake.

thoma, his best friend.

contrary to the green-haired boy you (surprisingly) began to “work” for within your senior year, his later introduced best friend is so unexpectedly and infuriatingly,

“good morning, y/n! is that a new skirt? that looks really pretty on you today!” “oh…thoma, good morning! i’m…surprised you’ve noticed, thanks for the compliment!”

nice.

you met the blonde during the first few weeks of playing wing-mate for xiao, some time around the period where his words remained brusque and the boy preferred to be indifferent towards you. so it came as evidently shocking news, when you soon realized that his best friend was just somehow the complete and exact opposite of him.

thoma was sociable — or rather, the highly sociable one among them, considering there was always a flock of people who would follow him around hallways, and there were far too great numbers of heads turned with his mere presence and warming smile.

but how could you blame anyone for being so mesmerized by him? he was, by far, perhaps the most charming boy you’ve met all year without consciously even knowing it — and, he was such a freaking gentleman to every one of his professors and classmates! god knows who raised him, but they sure as hell did it right.

and since you were naturally required to spend more time with xiao, it also paved the way for more timely opportunities to run into the courteous blonde. (so maybe working for xiao was not all that bad…)

when he finds you dawdling by the school gates to wait for his best friend during dismissal, he pretty much had a rough estimate of how long it takes for xiao to finish up his other priorities — so he takes these chances by proposing to buy you something to eat in a nearby restaurant, instead of pitifully standing outside with nothing else to do.

you enjoy taking him up on his offers, because it gives you more freedom and time to get to know him better as a friend! and he’s (unsurprisingly) cordial with the store owners, so anytime you would both decide to share snacks and a hotpot together, you either received a generous discount for the food, or the meals were simply on the house.

sometimes, he even makes spontaneous appearances during weekends with xiao, whether for shopping or heading to arcades and cinemas, depending on what was planned for the day.

he, more or less…also understands what exactly is going on between you and the green-haired boy, so he’s not exactly skeptical with how close the both of you have gotten after some time. in fact, he happened to be one of the people who actually encouraged him to pursue other means of capturing ganyu’s attention, and still remains supportive with the idea of it.

which you later on found a bit weird…after eventually discovering from xiao that thoma specifically recommended you to act as his wing-mate, out of all the other people in school. but you are her best friend, so it sort of makes a lot more sense when placed in such context.

still…you’ve never expected somebody like thoma to notice, since you were never really the popular type in school. it’s almost flattering, if you were being candid about it.

but what the blonde never really admits about the bigger reason for mentioning you to xiao was that…he’s always noticed you. and frankly, it was too difficult for him not to, because you were always just there. if anything, he thought you were the one who never actually noticed him since…he was only someone who liked you from afar.

so when the astonishing opportunity soon came up with xiao’s wing-mate, thoma thoughtlessly took it with a giddy smile, wondering how he became so fortunate to have somehow hit both birds with one stone.

or at least…that’s what he thought. before he noticed the lingering glances. before he saw the occasional flowers in your hand. before he realized how much more you smiled when you were with him. before he understood that you were cautiously falling for somebody else,

only that person was not him.

(and maybe it never really was.)

kaedehara kazuha, the boy you’ve always had a crush on.

playing wing-mate for xiao was bound to attract some unwanted attention from onlookers.

“so, what’s been going on with you and xiao lately?” “uh, what do you mean?”

for instance, it’s worked rather wonderfully to capture the curiosity of the boy you’ve always liked from afar.

“i mean, in the sense that the both of you have looked awfully friendly lately? since when did you two get so close?” “oh…that! well…”

sure, you and kazuha were good friends. you’ve known each other since elementary, and managed to get along well throughout the years. it just so happened that halfway through your tightly-knot friendship, you’ve slowly realized that you were beginning to like him a lot…only in a different and somewhat more passionate manner.

so…those feelings aged well.

but this, this accusation with xiao was frankly off the point and a completely irrelevant matter! and you had honestly hoped he would be the last person to hear and question you about it…

although you were fairly certain you had no other choice but to fish for a convincing excuse rather than the embarrassing truth. after all, xiao stipulated very clearly in your initial stages of agreement, that you were absolutely prohibited to disclose to anyone else regarding the matter of you playing wing-mate for him, and therefore sworn to utmost secrecy (hence, the generous payment to keep your mouth practically sewed shut).

shrugging worked well. saying you wanted to get to know him worked even better. yet the suspicious gaze in his eyes meant to convey that it didn’t sound good enough. after all, why would you be fraternizing with someone, clearly all your close friends had some sort of slight inkling that ganyu liked…

oh. maybe that’s why.

“it’s not like that.” you fumble around with your words in a hurry. “no, wait — you know i would never do that.”

“i know.” he grins, elbowing you lightly. “i was kidding. i think it’s nice that you’re getting to know more people too.”

other than ganyu, the person you would spend most of your time with was kazuha. since he lived in the same neighborhood, the two of you would be frequently seen by other classmates walking home together in your later years…which originally sparked rumors at first, but eventually died down with the truth and your bitter smile.

he also had a habit of accompanying you out to the nearby park on weekends — sitting on the half-dilapidated swings you both used to enjoy as young adolescents, dazedly nibbling on ice cream cones as vanilla trickles down each of your fingers, bouncing in excitement as you talk about everything and nothing, while watching the sun set for perhaps the thousandth time together.

well…except now, even his role has been replaced by that taciturn man — the one who slowly consumed much of your time during the long weekends, the one who discreetly slid you pretty carnations while kazuha quietly witnessed the expression of shock and the smile that eventually followed across your face, the boy who unconsciously began looking your way with an inexplicable fondness in his lonely amber eyes.

you did nothing but behold, as kazuha grew to love and have his heart broken through the last few years. and now, kazuha wonders how long these intimate emotions have breathed and fostered in the tightness of his chest, as he stands aside to watch how you carefully fall the same way he did (for you) all those years ago.

albedo, the quiet boy who’s always liked you.

it came as a startling revelation for ganyu when you directly admitted to her that kaedehara kazuha was not actually the first boy you loved.

“hi,” you whisper, almost breathlessly after you accidentally run into the boy, stunned at how his crystal blue eyes have never changed despite how long it had been since you last felt lost in them.

“hi.” he murmurs back softly, and that’s all it takes for you to be thrusted back into that distant morning of december — bitter snow gnawing on your vulnerable and ice-bitten fingertips, your skin raw and red and his eyes as beautiful as ever.

albedo has always been born brilliant. even as a little boy, professors have sang the highest praises for his intellect and astonishingly adept knowledge in the field of science. the precocious child — that was what all the adults preferred to call him, because perhaps they believed that was the only valuable aspect worth knowing about him.

but unlike the rest of them, you found something past albedo’s giftedness. you saw a boy unafraid of charcoal fingertips and pigmented colors dancing across his pale complexion. you saw a boy who had an adorable habit of pushing up his loose glasses, and how he had the most special dream of all. you saw a boy who was isolated because he was too perfect that he became different, someone who had forgotten (or perhaps was always unaware) how it felt to love and be loved.

you saw a boy with crystal blue eyes on that wintry morning, how they matched the shade of the blue rubber band that always dangled from your wrist, the blue of your freshly painted nails carefully tucked beneath your thick black coat, and the blue of the woolen gloves that he courteously offered for your inadequately capped hands.

you saw all of albedo, and how you loved him on that frosty day.

so when no one was looking, you stood on your tiptoes and puckered your lips to plant an innocent kiss on the young boy, his mouth soft and dusted with blue sugar crystals from the warm cookies given by your shared homeroom teacher.

and despite his initial astonishment at the unforeseen gesture, albedo kissed you back.

from that day, you dreamt of blue eyes and blue gloves and first kiss lips dusted with sugar blue crystals.

but alas, the universe mercilessly continued to push him towards something else, something far greater and worth more than the stolen kiss beneath snow covered cherry blossoms.

so. that was that. and the day after, the boy you knew never came back.

or, maybe you liked to think he was still there, masked behind lackluster eyes and the never ending enumeration of priorities that practically secured the direction of his successful future.

you almost never ran into albedo anymore — and it was perhaps around the same timeframe you began to befriend other people like kazuha.

and even during your senior year, while you mindlessly scurry around the entire campus running school errands together with xiao, as you busily discuss plans over the movie you were both interested in seeing over the weekend, you only catch the solitary blonde buried in textbooks and advanced homework, and sometimes find him doing tasks accompanied by a shy-looking green haired girl. so maybe…maybe things were better for the both of you this way.

but he hasn’t forgotten you, not one bit ever since that day which grew as old as time. he remembers your skin, bruised and raw from the numbing cold. he remembers your lips, soft and hesitant as you tenderly pressed your mouth against his. he remembers your warmth, your gloved hands finding his face and his wandering to your waist. and then he remembers how much he cried the following day, and the day after that, and then for every single day he saw you and wondered how much would have changed if he chose you instead.

and when he closes his eyes, he still sees blue rubber bands and blue nails and first kiss lips dusted with sugar blue crystals.

childe, the jackass friend for dating troubles.

when xiao first came to you with his daunting request, you were puzzled as to why he would decide to approach someone who knew absolutely nothing about the world of dating.

“oh my god, i can’t believe that fucking worked.” you remark with a bewildered expression, almost losing your balance as the branches of the bushes scrape lightly against your face.

and thus, it was only right that you’d make the effort to learn how to play wing-mate better with someone more…knowledgeable in such a perplexing field.

“see,” you hear the boy crouching beside you snicker, clasping your arm softly so that you don’t founder from behind the leaves, and interrupt the passionate moment gingerly brewing between your best friend and xiao. “have some more faith in my experience, y/n.”

childe was someone you’ve only had the privilege of meeting and getting close with, during the period of first year in high school.

yes, it was infuriating to agree that he was attractive back then (even until now), and frankly even more humiliating to admit that you used to have a crush on him for his pretty looks. but that was all before you got to know him better as an overall person, and…needless to say, his initial appeal towards you had drastically plummeted by then. now, it almost sickens you to recall why you used to like him in the first place.

he was brazen and shamelessly audacious — and while you normally despised that sort of behavior brewing in a guy, other girls seemed to develop a profound liking towards it.

so, there you had it. you had a jerk for a friend who was somehow more proficient in the language of mutual attraction than most decent boys.

and now, he was finally putting that fucking mastery of his to use.

during the period where you accepted xiao’s deal and was relatively new to the situation, the ginger-haired boy agreed to help you out with some preliminary training. apparently, he claimed that before you could properly play your role well, you needed to place yourself in the same situation as the person, to better understand how to take the next steps of action forward. in other words…

“i’d rather not have us put ourselves in their shoes, and have you pretend that you’re secretly pining for me,” you shudder, recoiling in disgust at the mere thought of it.

it’s a stupid philosophy, but it makes so much sense despite how abhorring it could be. besides, you’ve never really thought of bouncing the absurd idea to xiao, more or less actually executing it with someone like childe. still, you promised you’d do your best — and if this is the only way to succeed, then so be it.

he was actually the one who planted the idea of sending bouquets of flowers in your head, when he once bought you a posy of daises and gifted it to you during the early morning (which you dazedly accepted…but later on admitted to him that you had a stronger preference for a different blossom). allegedly, he even claimed to know a friend who worked in a nearby flower shop, and thus suggested that it would work as a pleasant gift.

regrettably, you’ve also become a victim to his flirty remarks and horribly cheesy winks (for ‘courting inspiration’, he says). and while the past you would have cluelessly fallen for his charm, you only began to feel nauseated the more you stared at him.

childe does it to tease you at first. after all, he kept finding much amusement in your repulsed gaze and creased eyebrows. a part of him even thinks your confused expression is a bit adorable — but then again, it’s done purely for the purpose of satiating his twisted entertainment.

then a few weeks pass, and it feels so…normal to flirt with you, because even you decided to become bolder and jokingly flirt back with him. it was like the gesture had been ingrained in the back of his mind ever since he met you. like it was the only way he’s ever spoken with you, after all this time. like he has always looked at you in a different light, except that he’s never chosen to acknowledge the recurring butterflies in his stomach until today.

he refuses to admit it until you’re finally finished with his ‘training’, and you’ve put your shamelessly newfound skills to use with xiao. and childe realizes he doesn’t want to see you flirt or turn red with anyone else but him.

so. he was fucked.

scaramouche, the boy who works in the flower shop.

you met him during the first few times you went shopping with xiao for a bouquet of flowers.

“tch, you again.” “oh…it’s your shift.”

the only issue was that during the days you came back alone to peruse the pale-red carnations tucked inside the quaint flower boutique, they also coincidentally happened to be the hours that he was on his shift.

“um, did you want me to leave…?” “…there’s a fresh delivery of those flowers right at the back. and come inside already you idiot, it’s fucking freezing out there.”

well, he doesn’t really bother you that much unless you approach him first. which…clearly doesn’t settle great with him when you did so to ask about the blossoms, so you choose to avoid the boy during your stay instead.

on some days he looks rightfully pissed, and others where he seems unfazed — but then again! you’re not exactly in the best position to question his mood swings or changes in demeanor.

and there are some days where you actually come inside bearing little gifts for him (despite the fact that he probably hates you for always coming in to peruse, but never actually purchase flowers). once, it was a warm cup of black coffee, and on another you brought him a chocolate croissant. it’s weird and clearly out of line as strangers…and yet it still manages to do the trick, because you notice he doesn’t tend to glare at you as much as before.

saturdays inside the shop were understatedly your favorites of the week. the batches of carnations always seemed to be delivered fresh during this day, and you’d make it a point to come extra early on the weekend to shamelessly admire them and…occasionally share a civil conversation with the boy on shift.

you appreciate the rare moments when you can just…talk to him, no matter how strange that sounds. because the more you talk to him, the more you realize that he’s not even as horrible of a person as you remembered. (and he slowly begins to think the same of you as well.)

on days when xiao tagged along with you to the boutique however, that was a different story. he’d end up acting cold and, sometimes going as far to be a bit rude if you were being honest. it felt like you were back to square one and hating the boy you were beginning to know, all over again.

and then the time eventually came when you wandered inside the shop, perhaps in an endeavor of adoring your favorite blossoms again…except this time, you would be clutching at least one or two of them with a giddy smile on your face.

“you finally have them.” he commented with a scoff from behind the counter, raising an eyebrow to scrutinize your seemingly thrilled expression. “so you can probably stop your broke ass from coming back here, and continue gawking at them from the confines of your home.”

“then it wouldn’t be the same, you asshole.” you roll your eyes, sliding a neatly packaged chocolate chip cookie over the counter towards him. “it’s not like i would have a pissed boy with me at home.”

“you only ever come for the flowers anyway.” he mutters in a low breath, a foreign tone laced in his words as he glares down at the steamed pastry. “why are you still here?”

“because,” you shrug with a mere smile, before leisurely retreating to the rear shelves of the cozy boutique you’ve grown heavily accustomed to. “i like the company.”

and he’s beginning find it difficult to deny that he likes it too.

diluc, the boy who knows your secret.

never, in those five extensive and troublesome months of working behind the shadows, did you ever expect for somebody to figure out what the hell was actually going on between you and xiao.

“you’re two minutes late.” “the um, coffee line today was a bit long…”

and yet, here the unfazed man sat anyway, cocking his head to the side as he stares at the coffee you’ve jutted towards his chest with a tinge of disappointment.

“hmm, i’ve been wondering…are you not that desperate for me to keep your secret?”

that fucking menace of a ragnvindr! if only he hadn’t caught you mumbling how long it would take for ganyu to accept xiao! why did he have to be there past dismissal? why did he have to be so fucking smart?!

and how the hell did you end up multitasking for two people at once?!

while diluc was someone you had originally looked up to, for his natural-born prowess and how he had easily acquired the title of student body president — now, he was nothing more than an atrocious personality you’ve had the misfortune of ever getting involved with.

you remembered shamefully pleading to him that day, swearing that you would do anything — anything for him to pretend like he hadn’t heard what you had just admitted. that you have been working under xiao for the past five months, and that you didn’t want ganyu to realize what you’ve been doing behind her back.

and now, in the span of a single day, you were forced to leave your friends or xiao during random periods or points of discussion, with the soft yet threatening buzz of your phone.

his commands usually varied on a day-to-day basis. sometimes he’d ask for the coffee close to the school, and others you were forced to sprint to the takoyaki shop on the third neighboring street. so to say you were suffering was a bit of an understatement — it was almost like pure torture when his crimson eyes beheld mischief and mirth, and you just knew what exactly would come next.

but the weirdest aspect of your coerced relationship was when he would occasionally order something extra that you knew he couldn’t finish by himself. maybe an extra cup of coffee, or twice the savory snacks from the restaurant thoma introduced you to — whatever seemed to make your baggage heavier, you presumed in spite.

except, it’s the exact opposite of what you maliciously assumed, because he actually offers the food to…you.

“you want…me to eat this?” you stutter, perplexed by his uncharacteristic generosity and the meal pushed towards you.

“you’ve been running around all day,” diluc says, casually taking a sip of coffee while reviewing some documents at hand. “you should have some before you leave. you look like you’re about to faint.”

and when you take a cautious seat expecting him to play it off as some twisted joke, he doesn’t even mind the vigilant gesture, clearly engrossed in his own papers.

thus, you began to spend some days with diluc like this. sharing food and the infrequent small talk, before it soon shifted into a comfortable silence — and some part of you thinks you prefer him better this way. when he’s not fiendish and diabolical with his demands, when he’s not subtly threatening with what he has over you — when he’s quiet, and easy to share a conversation with after a long day.

so you stay. (and he hopes you do, for longer and then.)

.˳⁺⁎˚ cw use of aphrodisiacs + mention of male penetration. gn reader.

thoma was curious. too curious and now he was regretting it. his figure, now flushed pink and glistening with sweat beads, trembled under your grip. he was bucking his hips into the tips of your fingers as you toy with whatever’s in your reach—thumbing at his reddened almost purpling cock. it was drenched from the swollen tip to his clenching ballsack.

“f-fuck me!” he bawls, fat tears rolling down his swollen cheeks and throat ache from the frog wedged in it. his messy blonde hair sweeps across his forehead and that alone felt like it was too much on his sensitive skin.

and gods, he couldn’t think to save his life. thoma didn’t expect the glass of red wine from his own home, mondstadt would have him jackrabbiting the air like a mad man or leave his entire being lit aflame. the only thing he knows, the only thing the thoma could conjure up is that he needs it. thoma would die without it. his cock was ready for anything. his puffy entrance was too, it twitched with the need to be probed and nicely stretched…