#the stepping stone from one place to another the journey from point a to point b that in-between process... the transformation

[horizon-eye]

Anyway. I might be a gateway.

[askaalaska-vdeppressed]

Black Antler Buck

This is absolute filth and I am not sorry.

Alastor X Doe! Reader. Rut fic. Word Count: 5K.

Absolutely no minors, Zero, zilch, na dah. I mean it, this is 18 + Adults only.

It always started as an itch.  

Not in the metaphorical sense, it always started as a physical itch.  

Alastor's skin would become hypersensitive to the point that any slight variation in cloth would cause his skin to itch. He had ripped out any tags present on his garments by the seams many many years ago. Yet every year his nerves always managed to find something. A raised stitch here. A pulled section of the weave there. A wayward thread.  

Every year, without fail, he would find some ways to itch.  

And that was only the beginning.  

He hated the fall.  

What was once one of his favorite times of the year became his season of torture. Memories of frightful masks and chilled air were replaced with hot skin and a boiling pot of lust read to spill over. Hell had two options, blistering heat or frozen wasteland. It was quickly on its way to the latter as Alastor made his way down the darkened street. The wind was cutting and cold would creep in to the bones of any uncovered fingertips. Yet Alastor was fine, the cold air felt rather pleasant on his heated skin.  

The building and general crowd of the city began to fade as he made his way further and further into the outskirts. As the sidewalk ended it gave way to endless desert, which would become tundra as the cold progressed. Nothing. No building, no road, no person ahead as far as the eye could see. Or so it appeared at least.  

Alastor allowed himself to slip into the shadows. Transporting himself to his destination in a matter of minutes. While it wasn't the flashiest of his powers, it was the most useful. The journey to his destination was at least a four-hour drive by car, supposing you didn't run into any trouble along the way. It would have been a full day of travel if you decided to walk there. How anybody else got there he had no clue, and that was by design. Anonymity was a key part of its existence after all.  

Alastor manifested out of the shadows near a small collection of rocks. Completely innocuous to most anyone. Alastor checked the time on his watch before fastening up a black jacket over his clothes. He then pulled up its black hood over his head. Allowing the black mesh attached to the front to fall in front of his face before securing it to the jacket with the attached buttons. The hood was irritating on his ears, and the mesh was hot and hard to see through but it was mandatory dress code.  

Now properly dressed Alastor knelt down to the rock, pressing a small custom coin onto a discoloration in the stone. The quiet click of a latch reached his ears as he lifted up the rocks. The hinge of the trap door was well oiled and silent as Alastor made his was down the stone stairs.  

 He wasn’t sure what triggered it this year. Normally he could handle his season. Or at the very least keep himself cooped up for the worst of it. But something about this year- probably stress from the hotel- drove him to near madness. He was sure he had worn down the finish on the floor from how much he paced in the night.  

The stairs led down to a solid wall of stone. Another defense mechanism. Alastor found the crack in the stone and slid his coin through. It was clear this place was designed for animal sinners, considering it expected its guests to find their way to it with no light whatsoever.  

Alastor waited for a few breathes, double checking the time in his mind again. He was at his assigned window of entry he was sure of it. Just as panic started to swell, the stone slid to the side, the low light of the room welcoming him as he stepped in. The lobby was empty, save for a singular woman who sat at the front desk. “The Watering Hole” was craved into the stone above her, lit with low warm fluorescent lights.  

An establishment that catered to animal sinners seeking partners for their season. Completely anonymous and secure. Nobody outside of it knew about it and nobody inside of it talked about it. Alastor himself wasn’t even sure how he’d been selected to join. The coin and instructions written in code were slid under his door one day. Once he figured out the code and went to investigate, he had been stopped at the wall at the end of the stairs. A force unlike anything he had seen or felt before or since came over him and he woke up in a small room. A voice prattled off his information, aspects of his life that he swore only he knew. After being thoroughly intimidated he was made aware of the rules.  

Everything is anonymous, unless an individual wishes to disclose their identity, which they do so at their own risk.  

Everything is consensual.  

And once you step out of the facility everything you heard, said or saw becomes something you didn’t hear, say or see.  

Follow these rules to the letter or else, no exceptions bar one. Should something you do in these walls follow you out of them, the facility will contact you and handle the issue on a case-by-case basis.  

For the longest time this vague clause in the rules confounded him.  

If the whole point is anonymity what would follow you out? At first, he thought this may be for a stalker situation. Only recently-- in part thanks to the hotel's resident porn star-- that it occurred to him this probably referred to STD’s.  

Perhaps it was a catch all sort of thing, giving the facility and whoever ran it, grounds to meddle if they felt so inclined.  

All could be true or none could be, Alastor wasn’t particularly worried about it at the moment. 

Right now, all he wanted was the fog in his head to dissipate and the hard on in his pants to go away.   

Alastor waited for the receptionist to wave him forward before placing the coin on the desk and stepping back. The woman grabbed it and placed it on a small square plate that glowed once it was placed. She then reached under her desk, the sound of a drawer pulling open and files being sorted through drifting up. She reemerged with a thin file, opening it and flipping to the second of the two pages that were in it.  

She grabbed the page and placed it under the desk once more, a thunk sound could be heard, like the sound for punching in and out of a workplace. The page was then set back at home in the folder and put back in its drawer. Her movements were crisp and meticulous like this was all she did every day.  

Maybe that is what she did all day.  

The stone was placed toward him once more, the woman leaned forward, pointing to a hall off to the side.  

“Down this way, turn right at the second hallway, third door on the right.”  

Alastor retrieved the coin once more, beginning to make his way down when he heard the receptionist speak once more.  

“So are you gonna...” She made a vague gesture to the top of her head with both her hands. Alastor was confused a moment before getting the hint.   

Alastor closed his eyes a moment, feeling the top of his head shift as he allowed his antlers to extend out from there compact structure to the full spread. The bone slid through the top of the hood like butter, splaying out to the 8 points they currently were. 2 more were sprouting towards the ends, soon he’d be a proper 10 points. Internally Alastor chuckled, knowing in his life he would have loved to bag a 10-point buck.  The thick bases, normally cumbersome felt comforting and natural in his rut addled state, focusing his mind back to the task at hand.  

“Well well” the receptionist muttered under her breath as he passed her to head down the hall.  

~ 

The room for the cervides was cool, ambient rustling and chirping noises being pumped out from some unknown source. It was a little too ‘on the nose’ for you personally. Just because you’re a deer doesn’t mean that the meeting room had to be a damn forest. You supposed however, that maybe some of your fellow deer demons, or deermons as you jokingly called them, needed that atmosphere.  

In any case you appreciated the temperature control.  

Your heat this year was killing you.  

It was so bad that you’d finally took the time to rummage around your dresser to find that stupid coin that let you into this place.  

It was clear you were the strongest in the room so far, by a large margin. The second you had stepped in your scent had overpowered everything. Most of the other females flocked toward you. As you settled atop a large stone structure against a far wall, they all settled near you, awaiting your judgement on any approaching males.  

And approach they did.  

Strutting, calling, posing, running into each other and locking antlers.  

All of them perfectly serviceable, but none of them were what you needed. This heat felt different. Normally your heats consisted of a throbbing ache in your core, paired with a sensitivity and skittishness that was annoying as hell. This time it felt like a pain from the top of your throat to the tip of your hooves.   Every time your walls convulsed, begging to be filled, your chest would follow suit causing spasms.  You’d fucked yourself thoroughly with every toy you owned before coming here, just so you could keep a level head.  

But that was only a short-term solution. You needed a buck, one that could properly chase you, pin you and mount you. Your heat craving power and protection, you needed someone as strong or stronger than you. To quell this heat, you’d need a near bombshell of a buck, and the only adequate spread before you simply wouldn’t do.  

Leaning back on the stone you relaxed, allowing your mind to drift as you waited for something worthwhile to walk through the door.  

~ 

An enclosed path greeted him as Alastor walked into the instructed room. Tight and narrow, foliage crowding either side. He’d always appreciated the attention to detail this place had. He moved swiftly following the sound of clanking antlers to find where others may be.  

The path branched out to a ‘clearing’ in the room. A wall supported a large mound of rocks and before it bucks were showboating. As Alastor stepped out into the clearing, he walked into a wall of scent. It was addicting, sweet, salty and rich like some combination of sweat drying on perfumed skin and old leather. Distinctly feminine, it made his palms sweat and his dick twitch. His spine now stick straight, his head swiveled to find the doe that was emitting such a rich aroma.  

Paying closer attention to the center of the action, Alastor noticed that it was only bucks on the ground before him. All of them trying to win over females that weren’t there.  

That was until he paid even closer attention. Following his nose, he moved closer, at first what he thought were shadows of the rock pile were actually the cloaked figures of does. Heads all turned to the action in front of them.  

Yet strangely none of them moved.  

Not a wave or sound, not a single inch of acknowledgment. 

None of them were as great as him, but these bucks couldn’t be that bad, could they?  

As he pondered the peculiar scene a nasty little scrap finished. A slightly smaller buck with blue antlers having successfully pushed his opponent aside, the other conceding defeat.  

The head of the victor, and the heads of the does all lifted up to the top of the rock formation. Following their line-of-sight Alastor noticed a singular doe perched at the top. Casually reclined, her head tilted back to drive home the point that scene in front of here was completely uninteresting to her.  

Ah, now Alastor saw what was going on here.  

A pecking order had been established, and the lesser does were waiting for their leader at the top to pick her mate before they pursued theirs.  

Their leader at the top who was most likely pumping out that devilishly pleasant perfume.  

Well if it was a show she wanted.  

~ 

The heat was cooking you from the inside out you were sure of it. You’re only comfort the cool stone beneath you, cutting through the fabric of your anonymous attire to provide its soothing chill to your heated skin.  

Gods above why did this lot have to be so average.   

All of the struts and battles were barely worth a passing glance.  

Perhaps it would be better to go home at this point so at least the rest of your fellow does could get some.  

A crack, like a strike of lightning rang out, sitting up you tried to locate the source. A buck with a thick sprawling black rack had just used said antlers to rip a limb, the width of your torso, off a tree.  

You were glad you didn’t leave earlier.  

He turned his head expectantly, waiting for one of the other bucks to challenge him. The previous victor began to charge, but he didn’t even get to lock onto him. All it took was one swipe of his head and the black antlered buck had thrown the other to the ground. He raised his head and squared his shoulder preparing for another challenger.  

Two bucks, one on either side of him charged, apparently going for a team attack. The black antlered buck was too fast and clever for it though. He ran quickly toward one of them, locking antlers. Then with a mighty swipe he lifted one challenger and swung him into the other. The two crashing into a heap.  

You’d seen all you needed to see. Your heat wouldn’t hold out much longer, and things were turning just a bit too violent for your tastes.  

~  

Perhaps he had been wrong about his earlier assessment. 

Maybe these bucks truly were that bad.  The second Alastor made his presence known, a majority of them stepped back, conceding then and there. And the three that had tried to fight him were pathetic. One with a blind charge and the other two with a cheap double team tactic.  

No wonder the doe at the top was bored.  

Peering up to see her reaction, only an empty spot at the top of the rocks greeted him instead.  

Alastor felt his rage begin to stir. He took a deep breath in just before it could rise through and he was hit with that scent, infinitely stronger now. It made him want to buckle his knees and jump into the sky simultaneously. Sensing someone behind him, he turned quickly, expecting to face another challenger.  

The doe from the top of the rocks greeted him instead. He had been correct before, that salacious scent was coming from her. It caused his heart to skip and his breath to hitch. Every instinct in his body begging him to grab her, puller her down and mount her right on the spot, but he quelled it just barely.  

Her hand raised, and Alastor swore he almost heard the does behind him gasp in anticipation. 

Her hand hovered just next to his face; in almost any other context Alastor would have assumed he was about to be slapped.  

Maybe he was.  

Mercy was on his side however as the doe’s hand moved down, tracing the outline of his arm without touching him. Diving down, down till it finally moved and grabbed his hand. Lifting it up, the doe then splayed her palm against his, seemingly comparing the size difference. Then she held his hand in her own once more and began to lead him along. Walking backwards for a few paces, slowly, giving him time to retreat if he so wished.  

Fat chance.  

Once it was clear he had made his choice, the doe turned forward, continuing to lead him to the path leading toward the exit.  

~ 

The hall with the suites could only be described as plush. All red and brown and dark lacquered wood.  Once they reached a room that was free, each deer moved to their respective door. Each suite at facility came with private rooms for either partners, each containing a small living area and bathroom. The room proper would have the bed, a fridge and other necessities both for living and for pleasure.   

“So, how do we want to do this?” Alastor spoke before you could open your door, his voice was low and deep, hoarse from heavy breathing. He’d stopped himself from producing the radio static just before speaking. Reminding himself that this was all anonymous after all  

“Heh” you let out a small laugh. “Normally I’d just advocate for dropping trou and getting down to it, but...” you walked over to the tall buck. Getting into his personal space, basking in the raw musk and power that was rippling off of him. He dwarfed you, and your pussy couldn’t help but clench at that fact.  

“After that little display, I think i need every piece of you I can get. So, I say we turn off the lights, take off our clothes and you show me exactly what your made of.” The laugh he gave in response sank into your ribcage, bouncing around causing your heart to flutter.  

“I couldn’t agree more” he replied.  

You sauntered back to your door, hazarding on final glance at the thick antlered buck’s cloaked figure.  

“I’ll meet you on the other side then.”  

~ 

The bottom of the bed was rimmed in red lights. Far too dim to be of any use outside of marking where the bed was. Still, you were able to make out the faint silhouette of your buck’s sprawling rack in the dark. As your door closed, the silhouette turned to face where you were. Hooves met hardwood as he made his way toward you.  

Your palms were splayed out in front of your naked torso so you could stop him before he bumped into you. The sudden shock of warm skin caused your shoulders to jitter. His hands met yours giving himself a reference point as he then moved higher and higher. Cradling your neck with one massive palm he squeezed slightly in warning before pulling you into him. His lips were plush, pillowy and soft as they crashed into yours. His other arm snaked around you, hand against your back so he could pull you even closer to him.  

The kiss was a mess of passionate chaos, the two of you pushing into one another in a fervor. Your hands began to wander, mapping out his torso as his tongue pushed forward to map out your mouth.  

He was thinner than you’d expected, his figure being helped greatly by his massive shoulders. As your hands wandered up to his head, mirroring him by splaying your hands on his neck he began to dip you backwards. The pleasant feeling of your thighs meeting his causing a small gasp to escape you.  

He returned the noise with a pleased hum before moving his head down. Sharp canines bit at your neck before those plush lips attached themselves to the thin skin just under the base of your ear.  Sucking and nibbling, your toes curled and chest convulsed at the sensation. Getting to hear in high definition the delicious noises he was making as he devoured your skin. The vibrations from the noise causing a shiver to run up your spine.  Digging your nails into his shoulders, you desperately tried to ground yourself as he chuckled. Releasing your skin, he licked his way across your jawline before diving tongue first once again into your mouth.  

You couldn’t help the moan that left you, the way his lips crashed into yours once more. You could taste the salt from your skin on his lips. He relented a moment, allowing you to breath before attacking the skin underneath your other ear.  

Becoming jittery once more at the sensation you began moving a hand along his side. His ribs were prominent. You let your fingers ghost over them, feather light touches on the little hills and valleys. You swore you heard him laugh slightly before a sharp bite to your jaw caused you to grab his hip.  

Your fingers found the divot there, allowing it to guide you lower and lower to your prize. Just as you began to feel curls of hair he spoke up.  

“And just what do you think you’re doing?” He asked, his voice somehow lower than before.  

“This” you replied moving before he could stop you to grip the base of his cock.  Just like his antlers, it was thick. A vein bulging out at the bottom. You followed it with the tip of a finger, reaching his uncut tip before following it back down. You could hear how ragged his breathing was becoming, his rut surely making him sensitive. You leaned your head into his neck, allowing him to feel the smirk on your face before you moved lower.  

His balls were hot in your hands, heavy with seed as you began to squeeze and massage. Experimenting till you’d found just the right pressure, knowing you’d found it by the moan he let out, quickly followed by a growl. 

“Watch it little doe” he warned.  

“Or what? You gonna stop me? Buck?”  you taunted. You knew challenging him, riling him up was a bad idea, but it was the only way you were going to get what you wanted.  

What you needed.  

The tension was palpable as neither of you moved. If you were going to back down now was your opportunity.  

Fat chance.  

To prove your point, you squeezed his sack once more at that exact pressure again, lips finding purchase on his chest as you sucked, surely leaving a deep hickey on him.  

The growl he let out shot through you as in one swift motion he grabbed your ass and hauled you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing.  

Marching over to the bed he threw you down onto it, a hand reaching out and grabbing an ankle before you could get your bearings. The dim lights underneath allowed you to see more of his silhouette, though no real distinguishing features. Gripping your ankle tightly he wretched your leg out of the way, pushing it as far as it would comfortably go.  

Then a swift sharp slap smacked against your pussy lips. An audible wet sound could be heard as he growled and smacked you again.  

You hadn’t even realized how wet you were. The sting from his palm causing you to spill even more.  In this moment you very appreciate that this wasn’t your own bed you were ruining. 

As his massive palm gave your lips one last love tap, he kept his hand still. Using his outer two fingers to splay you out, your walls pulsed at the sensation of open air. Before it could become uncomfortable, he sank his two middle fingers into your pussy without warning. A sharp gasp ghosted out of your mouth. After feeling so empty, finally, finally warm thick skin was coming to fill you.  

He wasted no time as he began to drive his digits in and out of your hole. The sounds in the room now a mix of wet, gasps from you and creaking as he leaned forward above you on the bed.  An overture of sin, lust passion and desire. He began biting at your chest, pain blooming as he played with skin of your breasts in his mouth. Your clit switched in irritation, his hand angled away from it, and his torso blocking your arms so you could not take care of it yourself. The rhythmic pumping of his digits, in and out, forward back, filled and empty was driving you swiftly toward the edge.  

You became restless underneath him, trying to wiggle and adjust yourself in such a way that you could get some friction on your poor neglected clit.     

By the grace of the gods he got the message, a smug and amused chuckle spilling from him as he adjusted his thumb to press against your bud. Your heat addled brain turning to mush, making you convulse and jolt under him. Anything to get him closer, faster, deeper, all you wanted was just more of him. Finally, you reached your crescendo, walls clamping down on his digits in a vice like grip, that you knew would only get tighter with the heat. As pleasure surged through your body your back arched off the bed. A high pitched whine rattling out of your skull.  

As you came down from your high, his hand did not stop. Overstimulation now poking at you, scratching the raw parts of your freshly orgasmed brain.  You huffed at him to stop, kicked your legs out but he kept going.  

Finally, you’d had enough, lunging forward you grabbed the black antlered buck by his shoulders and pulled him on top of you. Removing his hand from your depths to steady himself on the bed. Your grip shifted as you dragged clawlike nails, or nail like claws down his back, while you lifted up and began biting on his neck.  

You need him to mount you and you needed him to do it now.  

Locking your legs around him your rubbed yourself against him, wet arousal coating his hard on. He made no movements for a moment, small whimpers and moans leaving his lips as he took in the sensation. They almost sounded... staticky?  

Your lips moved up to bite at his jaw and he seemed to snap out of his trance. Dipping down he lined himself up with your hole he pushed forward. Your previous orgasm and heat allowing him to enter with minimal resistance. His head neck to your, large antlers keeping you down, unless you wanted to lose an eye, he began shallow thrusts. Sighs let the both of you as your instincts were being satiated. 

You felt hot and cold running up your back, dancing between your shoulder blades. Hands itching to roam you moved toward his ribs again. As you made contact, he stiffened, back rod straight. A low growl rumbled through his chest, he removed himself from your walls and lifted you. Pivoting so the pair of you were lengthwise on the bed.  

On his knees between your legs once more, your felt hands grip your claves, lifting them out and up so eventually your ankles rested on his shoulders. As he entered you once more, he took a sharp breath in. Those massive hands grabbed your arms, his grip sturdy and sure. A warm comfort as your chosen mate for the season began brutally pounding into you.  

Those strong muscled legs thrusting him forward, burying his cock deep into your core. While those lithe arms simultaneously pulled you back, impaling you on him, forcing his length to go even further into your channel.  

The pace was constant and quick, the head of his member pushing over and over against the entrance of your womb.  

You were redeemed and gone to heaven, or at least that’s what your heat was telling you.  Bliss coursed through you as he grunted above you, cockhead bullying your cervix. HIs body rubbing against your button with each thrust. Long loud gasps and moans left you involuntarily. The room filled with moans from the pair of you, wet slapping and thrusting. The symphony grandiose and full.  

You were much, much to far past the point of common decency to mute yourselves. If the people running this place didn’t think to soundproof the rooms, then that was on them.  

You could feel your pleasure scaling once more, calling out to your mate.  

“Fuck i.... Buck please...” You had no idea what you were crying out for. 

“Doe” he gasped out to the air “let me fill you with fawns”  

“Yes, Yes” You cried out, finally losing yourself to pleasure once more. A whine, bordering on a scream left you and your walls clamped down, milking the buck still thrusting into you.  

“Ah, ah, fuck doe, take it take it.” He moaned above you, thrusts stuttering as a final choked moan left him and you could feel the hot release of his seed filling you.  He let go of your arms, dropping forward and caging you under him as your both caught your breath. 

As your breath steadied, sleep began tugging on the edge of your brain.  Normally the idea of sleeping like this, sweaty, smelling of lust, covered in spit with seed dripping out of you would be gag inducing. But right now? Right now, you were a heat heavy deer, content for the time being, freshly mated, with your chosen buck next to you.  

Right now, sleep seemed ideal.  

The black antlered buck seemed to agree as covers moved under you, arms searching you out to drag you next to him.  

Your heat would still be a few more days, as would his rut. But now that prospect didn’t seem as daunting.  

Small breaths against your neck told you and your inner doe that now you were safe and now could sleep.  

[jhyoos]

Of Roses And Steel

chapter two: a wolf in sheep’s clothing

mentions : royalty au, medieval au, romance, strong reader, silco is king, heartbreak, ruined friendships, light smut (im working on it 😔), hate kissing, mel having the audacity, cute pet surprise!, another long ass chapter.

notes: if I didn’t tag you in the taglist I apologize just comment again and I will next time

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Ever since that fateful night when you poured your heart out to Sevika and were met with her cold, brutal rejection, things between you had been strained to the point of breaking. The once-familiar dynamic, filled with tension and unspoken affection, had disintegrated into a void of silence and avoidance.

Sevika had withdrawn completely, excusing herself from her role as your combat instructor. She told your father that she needed to focus on training rookies, and though he accepted her reasoning without question, you knew better. It wasn’t about the rookies. It was about you. He hired someone else in her place—a knight far less intimidating, far less skilled. But they weren’t her. They could never be her.

Dinner was no better. You couldn’t even bring yourself to look in her direction. She sat at her usual spot, stoic and silent, picking at her meal with none of the sharp wit or dry commentary that used to fill the silence. You kept your focus on Mel and your father, forcing yourself to laugh at Mel’s jokes and respond to your father’s questions, even though you felt Sevika’s presence like a shadow, oppressive and inescapable. The air between you was suffocating, a palpable tension that no one dared to acknowledge.

But the uneasy peace shattered when your father cleared his throat, glancing between you and Sevika. “I won’t be able to walk you to your chambers tonight, daughter,” he said, his tone firm. “Sevika, see that she gets there safely.”

You froze, your fork hovering over your plate. Sevika’s gaze flicked up briefly, her face as unreadable as ever, but you could see the slight tightening of her jaw. She inclined her head, her voice cold and emotionless. “As you wish, Your Grace.”

You didn’t dare protest—not in front of your father—but the idea of walking alongside her, even for the brief journey to your chambers, made your chest tighten.

The walk was quiet, the sound of your footsteps echoing through the halls. The hallway you entered was all too familiar, its flickering torchlight casting shadows against the stone walls. This was the hallway where you’d confessed everything, where you’d been so cruelly turned away.

When you couldn’t bear the silence any longer, you stopped in your tracks, turning to face her. “I can walk myself. You don’t have to babysit me,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended.

Sevika’s expression didn’t shift; she remained cold, detached. “It’s an order from the king. I have to.” Her tone left no room for argument. “We can just walk in silence.”

“Fine,” you muttered, turning away before she could see the frustration written on your face.

You walked ahead of her, putting as much distance between you as the narrow hallway allowed. The tension in the air was stifling, and the echoes of your footsteps only served to remind you of her presence, of the chasm that now separated you.

When you reached the door to your chambers, you didn’t give her a chance to speak. Without so much as a glance in her direction, you opened the door and stepped inside, closing it firmly behind you.

Your servants were already waiting, their arms full of towels and soaps. They greeted you warmly, but you couldn’t bring yourself to smile. They helped you undress, their chatter filling the quiet as you climbed into the waiting bath.

The hot water enveloped you, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to sink into its warmth, closing your eyes as the tension in your body began to ease. The night’s awkwardness, the ache of rejection that still lingered, the suffocating presence of Sevika—it all seemed to dissolve, if only for a little while.

After your bath, you let the warmth of the water soak into your skin a little longer before stepping out and letting the servants wrap you in a soft robe. They helped you into your nightgown, the fabric flowing like water against your body as they carefully pinned and curled your hair for the following day. Their chatter filled the air, light and pleasant, but your thoughts drifted elsewhere.

When they finished, you dismissed them with a soft “Thank you” and climbed into bed, the familiar coolness of the sheets wrapping around you. It was only as you settled into the quiet of the room that the emptiness of it struck you. This was the first night in quite some time that you’d slept alone, without your best friend by your side. A pang of loneliness rippled through you, but you sighed softly, resigning yourself to the solitude. At least tonight, there was no forced conversation, no awkward silences. You let your body sink into the mattress, rolling onto your side as your eyelids grew heavy, and soon, you drifted into sleep.

But your rest was short-lived.

A wet, rhythmic tap against your forehead pulled you from your slumber. At first, you tried to ignore it, twisting and turning beneath the blankets in irritation, but the sensation didn’t stop. Cold and unsettling, the droplets clung to your skin.

Groaning softly, you reached up to touch your damp forehead, your fingers brushing against the moisture. You slowly opened your eyes, still groggy, but the moment your gaze fell on your hand, your heart dropped.

Blood.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you froze, staring at the crimson smear on your fingers. Trembling, you forced yourself to look up, your eyes widening in horror at the grotesque sight before you. Hanging from the beams above your bed was the severed head of a bear, its lifeless eyes staring straight down at you, its blood dripping onto your pillow.

The scream tore from your throat before you could stop it, a raw, primal sound of fear that echoed off the walls. Within moments, the door burst open, and a handful of soldiers and servants rushed in.

“Your Highness!” a maid cried out, her voice trembling with panic as she rushed to your side. She pulled you from the bed, her arms wrapping around you tightly, trying to shield you from the gruesome sight. You buried your face against her shoulder, your body trembling as she whispered soothing words you barely registered.

The guards moved quickly, drawing their swords as they approached the ghastly display. One of them reached up cautiously, cutting the head down and lowering it carefully to examine it. The room buzzed with frantic energy, the soldiers barking questions at one another.

“There were no guards posted at her door. Why not?” a servant demanded, her voice sharp with fear and anger.

“There were supposed to be two guards stationed here as usual,” another soldier muttered, his expression grim as he examined the scene. “Whoever did this clearly planned it out. This was no coincidence.”

The weight of their words pressed down on you, even as the maid continued to comfort you. Your mind raced, replaying the image of the blood, the bear’s lifeless gaze, and the chilling realization that someone had gone to great lengths to send a message—a message meant for you.

“Come, let’s take you to the washroom so we can clean you up,” Eliza said gently, her arm still wrapped protectively around you as she led you out of your chambers. Her warmth and steadiness were a lifeline in the chaos that had shattered your night.

“Thank you, Eliza,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“No need for thanks,” she replied softly. “It’s my duty, my dear.”

The hallway was eerily silent, the early morning hours casting long shadows across the walls. The rest of the castle was still asleep, oblivious to the terror you had just endured. The quiet felt heavy, oppressive, and you clung to Eliza’s calm presence as she guided you down the halls.

Once in the washroom, she helped you sit on a cushioned chair near the basin. She dipped a towel into warm water, wringing it out before kneeling in front of you. The gentle press of the damp cloth against your skin made you flinch at first, but her touch was careful, soothing as she began to clean the blood from your trembling hands and face.

“You must be so frightened,” she said softly, her brows furrowed with concern as she wiped away the last remnants of crimson from your fingers. “My poor child.”

Her words, so tender and maternal, caused a lump to form in your throat. You could only nod, unable to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you—fear, confusion, anger.

The sound of hurried footsteps broke the quiet, and you looked up to see your father entering the room, his face pale with worry. He wasn’t dressed in his usual royal attire but rather in his sleepwear, his hair slightly disheveled from being woken so abruptly. Behind him stood Sevika, her broad frame filling the doorway. She, too, was dressed casually in a simple shirt and trousers, her expression unreadable, but her sharp eyes flickered with tension as they briefly met yours.

“Are you alright?” your father asked, his voice laced with worry as he knelt down in front of you. His hands, warm and steady, enveloped your trembling ones, grounding you.

“I-I’m fine… I think,” you stammered, meeting his gaze with uncertainty.

He let out a heavy sigh of relief, though his shoulders remained taut. Without a word, he pulled you into a firm embrace, his arms wrapping around you protectively. For a moment, you let yourself lean into him, the familiar scent of his cologne and the steady beat of his heart a temporary balm for your frayed nerves.

“Come,” he said softly, pulling back to look at you. “You can sleep in my chambers tonight. I’ll take the couch.”

You nodded, unable to argue. The idea of returning to your bed—of being alone—was unbearable.

As your father helped you to your feet, you couldn’t help but glance at Sevika again. She remained silent, her arms crossed over her chest, her expression as cold and distant as ever. Her presence, once a source of comfort, now only reminded you of the growing rift between you. Whatever concern she might have felt, she hid it well, her face a mask of indifference as she watched you leave with your father.

You looked away, the ache in your chest deepening as you walked out of the washroom, leaning on your father for support.

Throughout the rest of the night, your father stayed beside you, holding your trembling hand in his much steadier one. His touch was a constant reassurance, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles to calm you. He didn’t even try to sleep, his piercing gaze fixed on the ceiling as he kept his silent vigil over you.

“I won’t sleep,” he had promised softly when you hesitated to close your eyes. “I’ll stay right here until you do.”

The conviction in his voice gave you just enough courage to let yourself relax. The soft rise and fall of his breathing beside you and the warmth of his presence slowly lulled you into a fitful slumber.

When you woke, the first thing you noticed was that the hand holding yours wasn’t his anymore. Instead, a more delicate hand rested in yours, fingers loosely intertwined with your own. Turning your head, you saw Mel curled up next to you, still fast asleep. Her dark curls fell over her face, and her lips were slightly parted as she breathed evenly. She must have come in at some point during the night, taking over your father’s place when he had other matters to attend to.

Your gaze shifted to the curtains, sunlight seeping through the heavy fabric and filling the room with a soft golden glow. The warmth of the morning felt out of place after the horrors of the night before.

As if on cue, the maids quietly entered the room, their soft footsteps startling you from your thoughts. The sound woke Mel as well, her lashes fluttering as she groggily sat up, looking around in confusion before realizing where she was.

The maids moved with precision, their expressions solemn as they began their work. Usually, their chatter would fill the room—bright greetings of "Good morning, Your Highness!" or playful remarks about how radiant you looked—but today was different. The lively banter you were so accustomed to was replaced with an uncharacteristic silence.

They dressed you in measured, methodical movements, their hands careful and efficient as they helped you into your gown. They avoided your gaze, their usually cheerful faces shadowed with worry and sadness. It was as though they were afraid to say the wrong thing or disturb your fragile state.

The absence of their lighthearted words left a hollow ache in your chest. The cheerful normalcy they usually brought had always been a small comfort, a sign that things were predictable and safe. But today, it felt like even they didn’t believe things could go back to the way they were.

The sound of a knock at the door interrupted the moment, and all heads turned as it opened to reveal your father. He was fully dressed now, his expression composed but tired, his usual regal demeanor strained under the weight of the situation. Behind him stood Sevika, her armor back in place, her face as cold and unreadable as ever.

Your father stepped forward, dismissing the maids with a wave of his hand. “How are you feeling this morning?” he asked gently, his tone softer than usual.

“I’m... better,” you replied, though the faint tremor in your voice betrayed you.

He nodded, his sharp eyes scanning you as though to assess whether you were telling the truth. “Good,” he said finally, his voice firm. “We’ll discuss what happened later today. For now, I’ve instructed extra guards to remain at your chamber doors at all times. This will not happen again.”

You nodded, unable to find words to respond. Your gaze drifted to Sevika, who stood silently by the door, her expression cold and detached. She didn’t look at you, her gaze fixed somewhere above your head.

Your father followed your line of sight and seemed to consider something before addressing her. “Sevika, I trust you’ll be personally overseeing the guard rotations from now on.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Sevika replied curtly, her voice low and devoid of emotion.

“Good.” Your father’s tone softened as he turned back to you. “I’ll leave you in Mel’s care for now. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to send for me.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead before straightening and leaving the room.

For a moment, it was just you, Mel, and Sevika in the suffocating silence. The tension in the room was palpable as you avoided looking in her direction.

Mel stood, brushing her hands down her dress. “I think some fresh air might help,” she said, trying to sound cheerful. “Why don’t we take a walk in the gardens later?”

You nodded absently, your gaze still fixed on the ground. Sevika lingered for a moment longer before finally turning to leave without a word. Her heavy footsteps echoed down the hall, and the sound of the door closing behind her left you feeling both relieved and hollow.

The garden was calm and serene, a stark contrast to the chaos of the night before. The sunlight filtered through the trees, casting a golden glow over the vibrant flowers and the butterflies flitting between them. The air smelled of roses and lavender, their sweet scent doing little to ease the unease that still clung to you.

Mel led you through the winding paths, her hand resting lightly on your arm as though she could shield you from whatever dark force had left its mark in your chambers. Despite the beauty around you, your thoughts remained clouded.

When you reached the patio at the garden's center, you sat on the stone bench, staring at the fountain that bubbled softly nearby. Mel sat down beside you, her presence comforting even in silence.

“I don’t understand…” you finally said, your voice quiet but filled with frustration. “Who would leave such a thing in my bedroom? And why didn’t they just go ahead and kill me in the process?”

Mel frowned, her brows knitting together as she looked at you. “Maybe it’s some type of warning,” she offered carefully.

“Yeah, maybe,” you said, sighing as you leaned back against the bench. “But a warning for what? And why me? I haven’t done anything to anyone. At least… not that I know of.”

Mel placed a reassuring hand on your knee. “There’s always a reason, even if it’s not one we can see yet. We’ll figure it out. And whoever did this… they won’t get away with it. Your father will make sure of that.”

You nodded, though her words did little to ease the tightness in your chest. Your gaze drifted to the fountain, watching the water ripple and sparkle in the sunlight. “It’s just… I thought I was safe. In my chambers, in this castle. But now…” You hesitated, swallowing hard as the memory of the blood dripping on your forehead resurfaced.

Mel’s grip on your knee tightened slightly. “You are safe,” she said firmly. “Your father will ensure it. And you have me, too. You’ll never be alone in this.”

Her words brought a small sense of comfort, and you managed a weak smile. “Thank you, Mel. Truly.”

She smiled back, her warmth cutting through the lingering chill of your fear. “Always.”

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, the sound of the fountain and the soft chirping of birds filling the air. Despite the beauty around you, the unease lingered. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something far darker.

Later that evening, you prepared yourself for training with your new instructor. After your request, one of the servants promptly informed him, and the two of you agreed to meet at the usual training grounds. Determined not to repeat the awkwardness of last time, you decided to dress yourself. Pulling on a fitted black ensemble, cinched at the waist with buckles and straps, you felt prepared for the rigorous session ahead.

Your instructor was already waiting for you when you arrived, sword in hand. Though he was a man—a fact you found slightly disappointing—there was no denying his skill. He was strict, unrelenting, and brutally honest, pushing you to your limits with biting remarks and challenges designed to stoke your determination. It was exactly what you needed.

An hour into training, his tone shifted, signaling a new level of intensity. “Enough warm-ups. Let’s see if you can hold your own in a fight,” he said, his voice tinged with a smirk. He handed you a sword, warning, “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.”

The moment he had his weapon in hand, he lunged toward you without hesitation. The suddenness of his attack caught you off guard, but you managed to block his strike just in time. The sharp clang of clashing steel echoed through the training grounds. His movements were quick, calculated, but you matched him blow for blow, your instincts and reflexes sharper than even you anticipated.

Still, he found an opening. With a swift maneuver, he swept your leg from beneath you, sending you sprawling to the ground. Your sword clattered out of reach as he stood over you, the tip of his blade resting just above your neck.

You glared up at him, expecting a triumphant remark or smug insult, but instead, his expression darkened. Something about his gaze unsettled you. “Fuck it,” he muttered, letting his sword fall to the ground.

Before you could react, he dropped to his knees, pinning you down as his hands roamed over your body. His lips crushed against yours in a kiss that made your stomach churn with disgust. You struggled beneath him, shoving him away with all your strength.

“Sir! I’m not interested in you in that way,” you snapped, your voice shaking with anger.

He sneered, his confidence unshaken. “Oh, come on! I’ve seen the way you look at me. You wanted this.”

“No, I don’t!” you shouted, scrambling to your feet.

He followed, his hand lashing out to grip your face tightly. With a sneer, he pushed you against the wall. “You’re so soft… so beautiful. I’m surprised whoever left that little gift in your chambers didn’t take advantage of you. I know I would have.”

His words sent a wave of nausea through you, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. The memory of the night before, combined with his vile insinuations, made your blood boil. Fueled by rage, you bit down hard on his hand, the metallic taste of his blood filling your mouth as he screamed in pain.

“You’re done,” you hissed, spitting on him as you stepped back.

Without another word, you stormed out of the training grounds, your breathing ragged and your heart racing. The guards stationed outside stared at you, their concern evident.

“Arrest him,” you commanded, your voice firm despite the tremor in it. “He tried to hurt me.”

They didn’t hesitate, rushing into the training grounds. The last thing you saw before turning away was the instructor clutching his injured hand, his expression twisted in pain and fear.

Your composure began to crumble as you walked away. Each breath felt harder to take, and tears streamed down your face uncontrollably. You needed to find Mel. She was the only one who could make sense of this, the only one who could comfort you.

You passed a few of your ladies-in-waiting on the way to her chambers. They paused, concern etched on their faces as they noticed your state. “Are you alright?” one of them asked.

“I’m fine,” you choked out, unwilling to stop.

When you reached Mel’s chambers, you didn’t bother to knock, pushing the door open in your desperation. “Mel—”

Your voice faltered as the scene before you registered. Sevika was there, her broad shoulders hunched over Mel, her head buried between her legs. The two froze at the sound of your voice, their expressions shifting from shock to guilt as they turned to face you.

Something inside you cracked. You weren’t sure if it was anger, sadness, or something else entirely, but the sight of them together left you feeling hollow. Without another word, you closed the door and ran, ignoring their calls after you.

The tears came harder now, blurring your vision as you bumped into nobles and ladies in the halls. Each apology was a faint whisper compared to the storm raging inside you. By the time you reached your chambers, you could barely breathe, collapsing onto your bed as the weight of everything crashed down around you.

Your head was buried deep in a pillow, muffling the sound of your broken sobs. Each breath was jagged, each tear relentless. You couldn’t stop crying, and you didn’t even know what it was for anymore. Was it for the betrayal of someone you trusted so deeply? For the horrifying assault you’d just endured? Or was it the ache of seeing Sevika—your Sevika—with someone else, someone who wasn’t you? The feelings tangled inside you, a chaotic mess of grief, rage, and heartbreak that left you paralyzed.

You didn’t notice the soft creak of your chamber door opening. Nor did you hear the footsteps until a hand rested gently on your shoulder. The touch sent a jolt through you, and you flinched violently, rolling onto your back to see who it was.

Mel stood there, her face painted with guilt and regret.

“Get out,” you spat, your voice hoarse from crying.

“Please, let me explain,” she said softly, stepping closer.

“GET OUT!” you shouted, springing to your feet. Your entire body trembled as you faced her, your tears now hot with anger. “I don’t want to see you ever again. You’re horrible. You knew I loved her! And yet you do that?”

Mel flinched as your words hit her, but she didn’t back away. “I won’t leave, (Y/N). We’re friends. I care for you. I’m so sorry.”

“How long?” you demanded, your voice quivering.

“What?” she asked, her tone uncertain.

“Don’t play dumb, Mel,” you hissed. “How long has this been going on?”

She hesitated, guilt flickering across her face before she finally whispered, “A few months.”

A bitter scoff escaped you as you turned your back to her, unable to bear the sight of her any longer. “You’ve known I’ve loved her for years,” you said, your voice breaking. “Why would you do this to me? I thought you cared about me… I thought you loved me.”

Mel moved closer, her hand gripping your shoulder firmly as she spun you around and pulled you into a tight embrace. You stiffened against her, your anger bubbling beneath the surface as her arms enveloped you. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N),” she whispered into your ear.

But then you smelled it—her. Sevika’s distinct scent lingered on Mel like a mark of betrayal, seeping into your senses. The realization sickened you. You hated it. You hated Mel. You hated her. You hated both of them.

Your hands shot up to Mel’s shoulders, shoving her back with enough force to break her grip. “You can still be my lady,” you said, your voice cold and detached, “but I don’t want you sitting beside me at dinner anymore. I can’t bear to look at you… not even with a smile.”

Mel’s face crumpled at your words, but she nodded, accepting your decree. “I understand,” she said, her voice trembling. “Just know, if you ever need me… I’ll always be here.”

You shook your head, glaring at her. “I don’t need you. If anything, you need me,” you said sharply before brushing past her and walking toward the door.

Sevika stood just outside, leaning against the frame as if she had been waiting. Her piercing gaze bore into you, but you refused to meet her eyes, staring straight ahead instead.

You pushed past her without a word, your head held high even though your heart felt like it was splintering apart. Behind you, you could hear them speaking in hushed voices, but you didn’t dare turn back. Not this time. Not ever.

The throne room was bustling with more people than usual. Advisors, guards, and courtiers moved about, their voices echoing off the high ceilings in a chaotic symphony of duty and intrigue. You hesitated at the entrance, your eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on your father, King Silco, seated in his ornate throne. The moment he saw you, he rose to his feet, his gaze sharp and focused as he dismissed those around him with a wave of his hand.

“There you are,” Silco said, his voice cutting through the noise. His long strides carried him toward you. “I had my guards searching for you everywhere when they told me about that instructor and what he did to you.”

His words stirred a storm of emotions within you, but you met his concerned gaze with unwavering resolve. Reaching out, you took his hand, squeezing it tightly in reassurance. “I’m fine… as long as I see him hang,” you said coldly, your voice steady and unflinching.

The words seemed to stun him. Silco’s sharp features softened for a moment, replaced by an expression of disbelief and concern. He studied you, as if searching for the daughter he once knew beneath the hardened exterior you now wore. Gently, he pulled you close, his gloved hand cradling your head in a rare display of paternal affection.

“My child,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost tender. His fingers brushed through your hair before he stepped back, his calculating eyes assessing you once more. “I heard there’s a tournament tomorrow. Sevika and another lad from Piltover will be competing. Would you like to attend with me?”

The question lingered in the air, heavy with meaning. Seeing Sevika again—watching her fight, perhaps even get hurt—after everything she’d said, after everything she’d done to you, felt like it would reopen a wound that hadn’t yet begun to heal. And yet…

You nodded, forcing a small smile. “Sure,” you replied. Your voice betrayed no emotion, but deep down, you knew the sight of her would ignite a storm you weren’t sure you were ready to face.

The next day, the castle buzzed with anticipation. Servants dashed through the halls carrying banners and refreshments, the sound of clattering hooves echoed from the courtyards, and the court hummed with excitement for the jousting tournament. In your chambers, your ladies-in-waiting fluttered about, ensuring every detail of your appearance was perfect. They adjusted the folds of your gown, smoothed your hair, and added the final touches to your jewelry.

You sat silently, your hands resting in your lap as they worked. The weight in your chest hadn’t lifted since yesterday, but you masked it well. As one of the ladies pinned a small brooch to your dress, the door swung open, startling everyone in the room.

It was Sevika.

She stepped in with her usual commanding presence, her armor gleaming under the soft glow of the chandelier. Her broad shoulders bore the kingdom’s symbol proudly on her cape, the fabric trailing behind her like a second shadow. Her sharp gaze found yours immediately, and for a brief moment, you couldn’t breathe.

“Leave us,” Sevika said to the ladies, her tone firm but not unkind. They exchanged hesitant glances before bowing and quickly leaving the room.

The door clicked shut, and the two of you were alone. She approached you slowly, her boots heavy against the floor, until she stood directly in front of you, towering over you like a fortress. She tilted her head, her expression unreadable.

“I wish that you’d bless me with good luck before I go,” Sevika said, her deep voice softer than usual.

She was breathtaking, her strong features framed perfectly by the sleek cut of her hair, her confidence radiating like a flame. Once, you would’ve melted under that gaze. Once, you would’ve given her everything you had without hesitation—your love, your trust, your most cherished possessions—all to see her return safely to you.

But not now.

Your expression remained cool, indifferent. You rose from your seat and walked to the edge of the bed, picking up a scarf. It wasn’t special, just a simple piece of fabric that had been carelessly discarded earlier. You held it out to her, your face betraying none of the turmoil inside you.

“Best of luck, Sevika,” you said flatly, your voice devoid of the warmth you used to offer her so freely.

Sevika stared at the scarf in your hand, her jaw tightening slightly as she took it from you. She didn’t say anything at first, but her eyes lingered on you, searching for something—perhaps the affection you once gave so easily, perhaps the part of you she feared she’d lost.

“Thank you,” she finally said, her voice low and almost hesitant. She folded the scarf carefully, tucking it into the folds of her cape.

You stepped back, your arms crossed, and watched as she turned to leave. When she reached the door, she hesitated, her hand resting on the doorknob. For a moment, it seemed like she wanted to say something, but instead, she simply glanced back at you, her expression unreadable.

And then she was gone, leaving you alone with the weight of everything unsaid.

When you arrived at the tournament grounds, you were escorted to your seats alongside your father. Silco, ever the commanding presence, took his place at the center of your party, his expression stoic as usual. A select few nobles and your chosen ladies-in-waiting flanked you, their dresses glittering in the sunlight. You settled into your seat, the soft folds of your gown cascading gracefully over the edge of the chair.

Across the arena sat the delegation from Piltover—King Vander and his children: Princess Powder, Prince Claggor, and Prince Mylo. Their family was one of the few allied with your kingdom, a relationship carefully maintained through diplomacy and trade. It had been years since you last saw them, as your visits to Piltover ended the day your mother passed away. Despite the distance, there was an air of familiarity as you observed them from afar. Powder waved enthusiastically in your direction, and you gave her a polite smile in return.

Yet, amidst the pleasantries, a single absence tugged at your thoughts. Princess Violet. Her name alone stirred something within you—a bittersweet nostalgia. She had been your first kiss, a fleeting but electrifying moment shared in the innocence of youth. It was nothing serious, of course, but even now, the memory lingered, a reminder of a time when life was simpler, untouched by grief or betrayal.

The tournament began with the usual fanfare. Trumpets blared, the crowd roared, and the first competitors charged into the arena. It was an impressive display of skill, but your attention waned quickly. The matches were predictable—Sevika dominated every opponent she faced. Whether by sheer strength or impeccable technique, she unseated them with ease, leaving them either unconscious or sprawled helplessly on the ground.

When Sevika removed her helmet after yet another victory, the crowd erupted in cheers. On your side of the arena, nobles and commoners alike stood to applaud her. Even your father joined in, nodding approvingly. You, however, offered only a polite clap and a practiced smile. There was no joy in it, no pride.

Then Sevika turned her horse toward you.

Her piercing gaze locked onto yours as she rode closer, her expression unreadable. You knew her well enough to recognize the determination in her movements, and you subtly shook your head, silently pleading with her to stop whatever she was planning. She ignored you, halting her horse directly in front of your seat.

Her gloved hand extended toward you. For a moment, you hesitated. The weight of everyone’s eyes on you felt suffocating, but you eventually placed your hand in hers. Sevika raised your hand to her lips, pressing a lingering kiss to your knuckles.

Confusion flickered across your face as you stared at her, unsure of her intentions. She released your hand and offered you a faint, almost wistful smile before turning her horse and galloping away, leaving you reeling.

“Excuse me, Father,” you said abruptly, rising from your seat. You didn’t wait for Silco’s response as you descended the stairs, your heels clicking sharply against the stone.

You followed Sevika’s trail, your chest tight with anger and confusion. When you found her unmounting her horse behind the stables, you didn’t hesitate.

“What was that?” you demanded, your voice sharp as a blade.

Sevika turned to face you, her brow furrowing. “I did what I always do,” she replied, her tone calm but defensive.

“Nonsense,” you snapped. “It’s usually one of my ladies’ hands you kiss—not mine. And clearly, you enjoy kissing more than just hands.”

Sevika rolled her eyes, a gesture that only fueled your anger. “Everything always has to be about you, doesn’t it? I didn’t even know you loved me until a few days ago,” she said, her voice rising slightly. “I’ve been with Mel for months. She’s good company, and I have feelings for her.”

Her words hit you like a blow. “Why?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Why did it have to be one of my ladies? One of my most trusted companions? She’s practically my sister, Sevika.”

“She came onto me when we first met,” Sevika said bluntly.

The admission left you speechless. The betrayal cut deeper than you thought possible, leaving you hollow and numb.

You straightened your posture, forcing yourself to appear composed despite the storm raging inside you. “I’m sending her back to Noxus next week,” you said coldly. “Either go with her or stay loyal to Zaun. It won’t change anything for me. I don’t want to see either of you again.”

Without waiting for her response, you turned and walked away, your steps deliberate and unyielding. Sevika didn’t call after you, and you didn’t look back.

That night, the oppressive silence of your chambers only seemed to magnify your thoughts. The flickering candlelight cast long, restless shadows across the walls, but it did nothing to soothe the ache in your chest. You sat on the edge of your bed, your fingers twisting the soft fabric of your nightgown, your mind replaying the harsh words Sevika had spoken earlier.

The image of Mel, your trusted companion, holding those letters you had so carefully written, tore at you. You had poured your heart into those words, each one a confession of the love you were too afraid to voice aloud. And to think that Mel, someone who knew your heart better than most, had read them, only to use that knowledge to worm her way into Sevika’s affections—it was unbearable.

You pressed your hand against your mouth, as if that could somehow stop the sob that threatened to escape. Tears welled up, blurring your vision until they spilled freely down your cheeks. The betrayal stung more deeply than you could have anticipated. How could Mel have done this to you? How could Sevika have allowed it?

The more you thought about it, the heavier your chest felt, as though the weight of your sorrow was dragging you down. The quiet moments you had shared with Sevika, the stolen glances and fleeting touches, now felt tainted. Were they ever truly real, or had you simply imagined the meaning behind them?

You lay back against the plush pillows, your gaze fixed on the ceiling, though the tears continued to flow unchecked. The pain in your heart was raw, and no matter how hard you tried to push the thoughts away, they kept returning, relentless and cruel.

Eventually, exhaustion began to take hold. Your sobs quieted into soft sniffles, your body trembling with the remnants of your grief. You clutched the blanket tightly against you, as though it could offer some semblance of comfort.

And as your eyes finally drifted shut, the heartbreak followed you into your dreams, leaving you with the bitter taste of betrayal and the lingering ache of unspoken love.

When you woke, the maids were already bustling about your chambers, readying you for the day. Their voices filled the air with idle chatter about the morning’s duties and the preparations for court, but you couldn’t bring yourself to join in. The weight on your chest made words feel impossible, and you sat in silence as they worked around you.

You couldn’t quite name what you were feeling—was it depression, heartbreak, or simply emptiness? It was as if the vibrancy of your emotions had been drained overnight, leaving you a hollow shell. Even as the maids carefully brushed through your hair, their hands light and practiced, you stared blankly at your reflection in the mirror, not recognizing the person looking back at you.

The sound of the door opening pulled you from your thoughts, and you turned slightly to see your father enter the room. Silco’s presence was commanding as always, but today there was a gentleness in his gaze. Without a word, he approached and motioned for the maid to step aside. He took the brush from her hand, his touch replacing hers as he began to brush your hair himself, just as he had done when you were a little girl.

“You’ve been sad lately,” he said softly, his voice low and steady. “What’s wrong, my child?”

You hesitated, your eyes meeting his through the mirror. His expression was one of quiet concern, but you couldn’t bring yourself to open up entirely. “I don’t want to talk about it,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Silco continued brushing your hair, his movements slow and deliberate. “You know,” he said after a moment, “what’s in the dark will always come to light.” His words carried the wisdom of your mother, a phrase she used to say whenever she sensed you were hiding something.

You drew in a deep breath, the familiarity of the saying softening some of your defenses. “There’s someone in court I’ve taken a liking to,” you admitted, your gaze dropping to your hands in your lap. “I have for years now, but… one of my ladies-in-waiting has already taken them. I… saw them together.”

Silco paused for a moment, the brush stilling in his hand. Through the mirror, you saw his single eye darken with concern as he studied you. “We can send her back where she came from if that’s what you want,” he offered, his voice even but firm, like he was ready to act if you so desired.

You shook your head, your voice thick with the emotions you’d tried to suppress. “That’s not going to help. They still love her. I think it’s better for me to just… move on. Cry and move on. Maybe forgive her, because she’s all I have besides you.”

Tears began to well up in your eyes, and you lowered your head to hide them. “I just… I thought I was perfect. A perfect wife for her. I’ve shown her so much subtle affection, and I thought she would love me back.”

The weight of your own words struck you when you repeated that final word: “her.”

Silco’s hand paused, his eye narrowing slightly as realization dawned. “You’re attracted to women?” he asked, his tone curious but not unkind.

Biting your lip, you nodded hesitantly. “I like men too,” you added, your voice trembling. “But I’ve never found the right one. And clearly, I can’t find the right girl either.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then Silco set the brush down and rested a firm but comforting hand on your shoulder. “I love you either way, my rose,” he said, his voice resolute. “Choose what you think is best for you, and never let anyone make you feel less than you are.”

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your head before straightening and walking out of the room. His words lingered, echoing in the quiet chamber, a small balm for the ache in your heart.

The day passed slowly in the quiet sanctuary of the library. Your teacher’s voice filled the room, guiding you through the intricacies of speaking and writing in foreign languages. Your focus remained on the elegant strokes of your quill, translating phrases with precision, yet your mind wandered, heavy with thoughts you dared not speak aloud.

In the middle of your lesson, the sound of the library door creaking open caught your attention. You looked up to see Mel slipping inside, carefully closing the door behind her. For a moment, you locked eyes with her, the tension between you palpable. You quickly dropped your gaze back to your work, willing yourself to ignore her presence. But she didn’t leave. Instead, she stood there, waiting, her hesitation filling the air.

You sighed, the frustration bubbling beneath the surface breaking through. Closing your book, you turned to your teacher. “Please leave us,” you said curtly. “My servant will pay you for your work as soon as you leave.”

The instructor hesitated, but after a bow, he gathered his things and quietly exited the room. The door closed behind him with a soft click, leaving you alone with Mel.

You turned to her, still seated, your expression hard as you looked up at her. She fidgeted slightly before sitting down beside you, her voice quiet but urgent. “I broke it off with Sevika. You can have her… just please don’t send me back,” she said, her words spilling out like a plea.

You studied her for a moment, your emotions warring within you. Finally, you exhaled and rubbed your face with one hand, exhaustion creeping into your voice. “Even though I have many reasons to send you back, I won’t,” you said. “Stay with Sevika if you wish. I’m not going to stop it. I have no place to. She doesn’t love me… she loves you.”

Your voice cracked slightly, but you pressed on. “And… I forgive you. Turns out I do need you—your advice is… useful. But that doesn’t mean we’re friends again. We can lean into that.”

Mel’s lips quirked into a small, hopeful smile as she leaned in to hug you. You immediately recoiled, pushing her away. “No, thank you,” you said sharply, gathering your books. Without waiting for her response, you rose from your seat and walked briskly toward the door.

As you stepped out, your breath caught when you saw Sevika standing just outside. Her posture was tense, her gaze snapping to you as the door opened. You stopped for a moment, squaring your shoulders before speaking, your tone cold and detached. “I’m not banishing her, so… yeah. I’ll learn to stop loving you. So don’t show me affection anymore. Don’t even glance at me.”

Your grip tightened on your books as you continued, bitterness laced in your voice. “Ask Mel for your tokens before the jousting tournaments. As of today, they have no use to me because I don’t love you anymore. You two seem to have something in common—don’t mess that up. I’ll try to be happy for the both of you.”

The words burned as they left your mouth, but you didn’t let yourself falter. Mel emerged from the library behind you, her eyes flicking between you and Sevika. You turned sharply, shoving the books in your hands into hers.

“Put these away in my chambers,” you commanded. “And don’t mess with anything in there—I still don’t trust you. Either of you.”

Without waiting for a response, you brushed past Sevika, your shoulder barely grazing hers as you walked away. You didn’t look back, the sound of your footsteps echoing through the quiet halls as you disappeared from sight.

The throne room was bustling with activity when you arrived, the soft hum of conversation echoing against the high ceilings. As you stepped inside, your father’s eyes lit up at the sight of you. His warm smile stretched wide as he stood from his throne, arms open in welcome.

“Oh, my beautiful girl,” he said, pulling you into a tight embrace. You melted into his arms, feeling a flicker of the comfort you hadn’t felt in weeks. He held you for a moment longer before pulling back, his hands resting on your shoulders.

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he added, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

Curiosity danced across your face as you watched him gesture to the servants standing at the far end of the room. At his signal, they disappeared behind a grand door, only to return moments later carrying a small, white bundle. As they approached, you noticed movement within the bundle, and your breath hitched when you saw the tiny white leopard nestled in their arms.

Your eyes widened, and a gasp escaped your lips as tears immediately pricked at the corners of your eyes. The little creature looked so delicate, its soft fur as white as snow with faint gray rosettes dotting its coat. It blinked up at you with curious blue eyes, its tiny ears twitching as it looked around the room.

The servants stepped closer, carefully placing the cub into your outstretched arms. The moment its soft, warm body settled against yours, it let out a quiet purr and nuzzled against your cheek.

“Oh, it’s gorgeous, Father!” you exclaimed, your voice trembling with emotion. You held the baby leopard close, cradling it as if it were the most precious thing in the world. Tears began to spill from your eyes, one sliding down your cheek as you leaned into the tiny creature’s warmth.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice breaking as the overwhelming joy filled your chest.

Your father reached out, gently brushing the tear away with his thumb. “Anything for my baby girl,” he said softly, his expression full of love and pride.

The court erupted into applause, their hands coming together in celebration. It wasn’t just for the new addition to the court, but for the sight of your happiness—the first true smile they had seen from you in weeks. You looked up, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears as the weight on your heart seemed to lighten just a little.

You glanced back down at the cub in your arms as it let out a small squeak, its tiny nose pressing into your hand. “You’re perfect,” you murmured to it, stroking its soft fur. The baby leopard was more than a gift; it was a symbol of your father’s unyielding love, a reminder that even in your darkest moments, he would always do whatever he could to bring light back into your life.

The rest of the day passed in pure bliss as you devoted every moment to the small leopard cub. He was full of energy, gnawing playfully at the ends of your flowing sleeves and pouncing on your hands when you wiggled your fingers in front of him. The other ladies-in-waiting laughed at his antics as they joined you in the courtyard, where you allowed the cub to run and tumble in the grass. For the first time in weeks, you felt a sense of lightness. You had found something new to live for—a bond, however small, that reminded you there was still joy in life.

As the sky deepened into twilight and the castle lights began to glow, you carried the sleepy cub back to your chambers, a few guards trailing behind to ensure your safe passage. The leopard stirred slightly in your arms, letting out a soft purr as it nuzzled into the crook of your elbow. But the serene mood was shattered the moment you opened the doors to your chambers and saw Mel sitting comfortably at your vanity, her reflection staring back at you in the mirror.

You froze in place, your hand tightening instinctively around the cub. Gently, you set him down, allowing him to wander and explore the room. Your attention, however, remained fixed on Mel.

“Why are you here?” you demanded, your tone sharp with irritation.

Mel turned toward you, her hands folded primly in her lap. “Me and Sevika are just... people who sleep together from time to time,” she began, her tone unusually measured. “We’re not in a relationship. I don’t love her, and I made that clear to her today.”

You let out a harsh laugh, the bitterness in it cutting through the air. “Congratulations! Or should I say condolences?” you replied mockingly, crossing your arms over your chest.

Mel scoffed, standing from the vanity chair and stepping toward you. “Why are you letting this ruin our friendship?” she asked, her voice tinged with frustration.

You felt your anger flare, and your body tensed as you stepped closer. “I’m ruining it? I’m the problem? Let me remind you—you’re the one who repeatedly slept with the woman I love. You knew how I felt about her, and you still went behind my back. Sevika told me you were the one who approached her first!”

Mel’s face twisted with defiance. “And so what? You’ve never even had a real conversation with her, much less a chance. You never stood a chance,” she spat, her words like daggers plunging into your chest.

Her words left you stunned, your hands trembling slightly as the weight of her betrayal sank deeper. But the anger came swiftly after, rising in a fiery wave. “You’re going back,” you said coldly, your voice trembling with rage. “And I’ll be sending a letter to your mother to let her know exactly what kind of whore her daughter has become!”

Mel gasped, her expression darkening as the insult registered. Before she could respond, you lashed out, your hand striking her across the face with enough force to send her stumbling. She cried out, holding her cheek as she looked at you in disbelief.

“You hit me!?” she exclaimed, her voice a mix of outrage and shock.

“How dare you speak to me that way after everything we’ve been through?” she continued, but her voice cracked, betraying the anger she tried to project.

You stepped closer, your face inches from hers as your voice dropped to a cold whisper. “What exactly have you been through? Besides milking my status for the past few years to make yourself into someone important?”

Mel’s jaw clenched as she straightened herself, her eyes narrowing. “I’ve done no such thing,” she shot back. “The king chose me to be part of his court. I’ve worked my way up!”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Nonsense. I made you what you are,” you said, your voice filled with venom. “You’re nothing but a poor noblewoman who got lucky. Without me, you’d be nothing.”

Mel’s lips parted in disbelief, her expression shifting into something unreadable before she finally replied, “Yes, you made me,” she said, her tone soft but filled with an undercurrent of triumph. “And look what I’ve become—the woman Sevika loves. Funny, isn’t it? Despite all you’ve done, I got her first.”

Her words hit you like a physical blow, but you refused to show any sign of weakness. Instead, you smiled coldly. “And I can break you down, piece by piece, until you’re nothing more than what you were when I found you.”

The room went silent as your words lingered in the air, heavy with the weight of your fury. Mel looked at you, her composure cracking ever so slightly, but she quickly turned on her heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

You stood there, chest heaving as the tension in the room began to dissipate. The cub let out a small whimper, brushing against your leg as if sensing your distress. Scooping him up, you held him close, his soft purrs offering a small semblance of comfort as you vowed to never let Mel or anyone else hurt you like this again.

The soft glow of candlelight bathed your chambers in warmth as you sat at your vanity, brushing your hair and braiding it back for the night. The gentle rhythm of your movements was soothing, and the faint sound of your cub's breathing as it slept peacefully on his bed filled the room with a sense of calm. That peace was short-lived, though, as the doors to your chambers suddenly burst open with a loud bang.

You turned quickly, startled, to find Sevika standing in the doorway, her broad shoulders tense, her face etched with anger.

“You hit her?” she demanded, her voice sharp.

You rose from your seat, your heart pounding. “She disrespected me,” you replied coolly, meeting her gaze.

Sevika stepped further into the room, closing the door behind her with a forceful shove. “Violence isn’t always the answer, princess. You slapped her hard enough to leave a mark.”

“And?” you said, crossing your arms. “She had the audacity to invite herself into my chambers, in my palace, and speak to me as if we were equals. She should be thankful I didn’t have her dragged out by the guards. A mark is nothing compared to what she deserved.”

Sevika’s jaw clenched, her fists tightening at her sides. “You’re so selfish,” she said, her voice low but dripping with frustration.

“Me? I’m selfish?” you shot back, stepping closer to her. “I have done nothing but care about you—about how you would feel. Mel told me you loved her. You said it to her! So tell me, Sevika, why am I the bad person here?”

Her eyes flashed with a mix of anger and pain. “Because you have power, princess. You can do whatever you want, and the rest of us have to live with the consequences. I… I basically belong to you. We all do.”

You stared at her, your heart aching at the weight of her words. “I never asked for that,” you said softly, your tone trembling. “And I’ve never once taken advantage of it.”

Her expression wavered, the tension in her shoulders loosening just slightly.

“I confessed to you,” you continued, your voice rising with desperation. “I told you I loved you, and you pushed me away. Mel doesn’t love you the way I do—she doesn’t even love you at all. She said so herself! So why are you holding back?”

“Stop,” Sevika said, her tone firm but lacking the force it had before.

You stepped closer, your voice dropping to a whisper. “Why not me, Sevika? Why not touch me? I would give you everything—my heart, my love, my body. I would love you back with everything I have.”

You reached for her, and this time, she didn’t stop you. Your hands brushed against her chest, and you felt her muscles tense beneath your touch. Her eyes softened, and for a moment, the anger in them was replaced by something else—something raw and unspoken.

Her resolve broke. With a growl of frustration, she closed the distance between you, her lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was as much an argument as it was an admission. You gasped into her mouth, your hands tangling in her hair as she pulled you closer, her strong arms wrapping around your waist.

Sevika’s hands gripped your waist firmly, and in one swift motion, she lifted you off the ground. A surprised gasp escaped your lips as she carried you to the bed, her strength overwhelming, her touch firm yet careful.

She laid you down gently, her broad frame towering over you as her dark eyes searched yours, the anger now replaced by something far more intense.

“Sevika,” you whispered, reaching up to cup her face.

She leaned down, her lips capturing yours in a desperate, heated kiss. You moaned softly against her mouth, your fingers tangling in her hair as she pressed her body against yours. Her lips trailed down to your jaw, then to your neck, where she bit gently before soothing the skin with her tongue, leaving you breathless.

Her hands roamed over your sides, her fingers curling into the fabric of your nightgown as she pressed her hips against yours. You arched into her, grinding against her leg that she put in between your legs, in a desperate attempt to feel more of her, your breaths coming out in ragged gasps.

“I love you,” you murmured, your voice trembling as you pulled her into another kiss. “I’ll always love you.”

She kissed you harder this time, her lips moving against yours with a hunger that left you dizzy. But just as the moment threatened to spiral out of control, Sevika suddenly stopped.

She pulled away, her breathing heavy, her face filled with regret as she looked down at you.

“Sevika?” you whispered, reaching out for her, confusion and desperation flooding your voice.

“I can’t,” she said, her voice breaking as she pushed herself off the bed.

And then, without another word, she turned and left, the sound of the door closing behind her leaving you alone in the room, your heart breaking as the weight of her absence pressed down on you.

Your fingers lightly traced your lips, still tingling from the heat of her kiss. They moved to your neck, brushing over the tender skin where her mouth had lingered, leaving behind a trail of longing that burned deep into your soul. You shivered, a mix of disbelief and exhilaration coursing through you as you struggled to catch your breath.

Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, the memory of her weight against you, her touch, and her lips overwhelming your senses. The braid you had so carefully crafted earlier was completely unraveled now, your hair falling loosely over your shoulders in soft waves. It mirrored the disarray you felt inside—messy, untamed, yet exhilarating.

“She kissed me…” you whispered to the empty room, your voice trembling. “She wanted me… She was touching me.” The words felt surreal as they left your lips, almost as if saying them out loud would solidify the truth of what had just happened.

You pressed your hand against your chest, trying to steady the rapid rise and fall of your breath, but it was no use. The heat of her presence still clung to you, and you could feel her phantom touch lingering on your skin.

“Oh my gods…” you murmured to yourself, a mixture of disbelief and awe thick in your voice. You glanced over to the corner of the room, where your cub lay curled up in its soft bedding, sleeping peacefully as if nothing extraordinary had happened.

For a moment, you envied its calm, the way it could rest so easily while your mind raced. But then your lips curled into a small, private smile as you gazed at it, your heart still pounding.

“She kissed me,” you whispered again, the words becoming a quiet confession to yourself, your cub, and the night. You sank back onto the edge of your bed, your fingers trailing through your hair as your thoughts swirled, trying to make sense of everything. But no matter how much you tried, the memory of Sevika’s touch consumed you, igniting a fire within you that you couldn’t ignore.

— ran out of divider space 🤭

taglist (my shaylas ♡) : @tinycherry0 @thesecondhandwoman @abbysleftbicepp @artfairyyyyy @bunninel @furrytaesss @savedforlaterr @veladeangl @5t4r1i9ht @imheadintothemountains @adora-moonshine @sevikasrightboob @80saturn @littlerainsprite @runawaybaby3 @rhian88 @athena-winters13

[gojosystem]

✧˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ LABOUR ♡·˚

— [♡] ; souls tied by fate will inevitably cross paths again. ｡°. gojo satoru

tags: endgame gojo satoru, afab!reader, slow burn, pregnancy, regret, hurt/comfort, angst, co-parenting, vulnerable gojo satoru, past suguru geto x reader, past rejection, longing, bittersweet, I'm dramatic so I write dramatic shit, chapter one of ten

wc. 2.7K

prologue | part 2

The decision settled in your heart like a stone—cold, hard, and undeniable. You couldn’t stay at Jujutsu High anymore, not after everything that had happened. There was nothing left for you here but the constant reminder of Gojo’s rejection, and the emptiness it left inside you. Suguru Geto had offered a new path, one that resonated with the bitter anger building in your chest. It was risky, dangerous even, but at this point, you didn’t care. What did you have to lose?

The world outside Jujutsu High seemed vast and unforgiving, but it was nothing compared to the loneliness you felt within its walls. Geto’s name was whispered among the students with fear and disdain, but you saw something different now. He had the strength to break away, to challenge the system that had let him down, and if anyone could understand the pain of rejection, it was him.

The first step was to find him, which was easier said than done. Geto was no longer a visible presence in the sorcerer world. He had gone underground, building his own network of cursed users and spirits. The whispers about his whereabouts were few and far between, but you clung to the faintest rumors like lifelines, searching for any clue that would lead you to him.

Your chance finally came one evening, as you overheard two upperclassmen talking in hushed tones about a recent sighting of Geto. They mentioned a remote area where cursed energy had been felt, a place known for being a hideout for rogue sorcerers. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

You left that night, your heart pounding with a mixture of fear and determination. You knew the consequences of what you were about to do—if anyone found out, you’d be labeled a traitor, just like Geto. But that didn’t matter now. All that mattered was getting away from the pain that had consumed you and finding a new purpose.

The journey was long and arduous, taking you through unfamiliar streets and rural roads. With each step, the doubt in your mind grew louder. What if he didn’t want you? What if he turned you away, just like Gojo had? The thought of facing yet another rejection made your stomach twist in knots, but you pushed forward. You had to know. You had to try.

Finally, after what felt like na eternity, you arrived at the rumored hideout—a dilapidated building on the outskirts of na abandoned village. The air around the area was thick with cursed energy, almost suffocating. You hesitated at the threshold, fear creeping up your spine, but you steeled yourself and stepped inside.

The interior was dark, lit only by the faint glow of cursed energy radiating from various objects strewn about. You could sense the presence of others, though you couldn’t see them. Shadows moved in the corners of the room, watching you, but you kept your focus straight ahead.

And then, you saw him.

Suguru Geto stood at the far end of the room, his back turned to you as he spoke quietly with one of his followers. Even from this distance, his presence was commanding, the air around him heavy with power. There was something about him that felt both intimidating and strangely familiar, as if you were looking at the reflection of everything you had been feeling—the bitterness, the anger, the sense of abandonment.

He turned around slowly, his gaze landing on you with a piercing intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. His dark eyes seemed to see right through you, reading every thought and emotion as if they were laid bare before him. For a moment, you wondered if you had made a mistake—if this had been a foolish, reckless decision.

But you had come too far to turn back now.

“What do we have here?” Geto’s voice was smooth and calm, but there was a dangerous edge to it. He studied you, his expression unreadable. “You’re not one of mine.”

You swallowed, your throat dry, and forced yourself to speak. “I came to find you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I—I’ve been studying at Jujutsu High, but I can’t stay there anymore. I’ve seen… I’ve read about what you believe in. And I… I want to join you.”

There was a flicker of amusement in Geto’s eyes as he raised na eyebrow. “You want to join me?��� he repeated, his tone laced with skepticism. “And what exactly do you think you have to offer?”

Your heart sank at his words. You knew you were nothing compared to the powerful sorcerers that surrounded him. You were just a student, someone who had been cast aside by the very person you had admired most. But you also knew that your desire to serve his cause, to belong somewhere, burned stronger than anything else.

“I don’t have much,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I’m not the strongest sorcerer, and I don’t have any followers. But I understand how it feels to be abandoned, to be rejected by the world. I’m ready to serve your purpose, whatever it takes.”

For a long moment, Geto said nothing, his eyes never leaving yours. The silence was suffocating, each second stretching into eternity. You stood there, exposed and vulnerable, waiting for his judgment. In that moment, it felt as if your entire life hung in the balance. If he accepted you, you would have a new purpose, a new place to belong. But if he rejected you…

Finally, after what felt like na eternity, Geto’s expression softened, and a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“You’re eager,” he said quietly. “That much is clear. But eagerness alone isn’t enough. My cause isn’t for the faint of heart. It’s dangerous, and it requires a level of conviction that few possess.”

You nodded quickly, desperation creeping into your voice. “I understand. I’ll prove myself, if you give me the chance.”

Geto regarded you for another long moment, as if weighing his options. Then, with a slight nod, he turned away from you, signaling the conversation was over. “Very well,” he said. “If you want to join me, go back to Jujutsu High. Pack your things. Leave everything behind. Once you’ve done that, come back. If you’re serious, I’ll know.”

Your heart leapt in your chest at his words—he was giving you a chance. It wasn’t a full acceptance, not yet, but it was something. You bowed your head quickly in gratitude before turning to leave.

As you stepped out of the hideout and into the cool night air, your mind raced with a mixture of excitement and fear. You had taken the first step toward a new life, toward leaving behind everything that had hurt you.

Now all that was left was to return to Jujutsu High, pack your things, and leave for good. There was no turning back now.

The night was unnervingly quiet as you made your way back to Jujutsu High, the soft rustling of leaves the only sound accompanying you. The moon hung low in the sky, its pale light casting long shadows across the ground. Your mind buzzed with the events that had just unfolded—Geto had accepted you, even if it was only tentative. The prospect of belonging to something, of having a purpose again, gave you a strange sense of comfort, but it was wrapped in na unsettling realization.

To fully embrace this new path, you had to leave everything behind.

As you approached the school grounds, a wave of nostalgia hit you. The familiar hallways, the training grounds, even the library where you had spent so many hours—all of it felt like a distant memory, as if you were already na outsider looking in. These places had once held significance, but now they were nothing more than relics of a past life. You had made up your mind; you would abandon all of it for a chance at something more—something that could give meaning to the ache you carried inside.

The dormitory was dark and still when you returned to your room. Your belongings were strewn about, a quiet reminder of the life you had lived here. You hesitated for a moment, standing in the doorway and letting your gaze drift over the small space that had been your home for so long. It was strange how quickly it all felt irrelevant.

With a deep breath, you began packing your things. You moved with mechanical precision, folding clothes and stuffing them into your bag, taking only what you absolutely needed. As your hands grazed over small personal items, you realized how little they meant now. There was no point in holding onto these things—mementos of a life you no longer wanted to be part of. A gift from a classmate, a framed photo of your team during a mission, a charm you had once carried for protection—they all seemed to mock you now.

Your hand hovered over the chocolates you had made for Gojo, the same ones he had so casually rejected weeks ago. They had been sitting untouched for so long, the once carefully crafted gift now rotting and forgotten. A bitter taste filled your mouth as you stared at the box, the last remnant of your foolish hopes - now laying in your trashcan.

As you zipped up your bag, you felt a strange sense of liberation. You were finally doing it—leaving behind the person you had been, the person who had been too afraid to act, too afraid to take control of her own fate. You were stepping into a new future, one where you could be strong, where your pain had a purpose. Suguru Geto had shown you that.

You slung the bag over your shoulder, taking one last look at the room. It felt distant already, like a ghost of a life you once knew. Without hesitation, you turned and left, walking silently through the darkened halls of Jujutsu High. Every step away from the dorms felt like shedding na old skin, leaving behind the memories and emotions that had weighed you down for so long.

Your feet moved automatically, each step taking you further from Jujutsu High and further from Gojo, you didn’t dare look back, afraid that if you did, you might falter, might hesitate. You had made your choice. You had committed to this path, and there was no turning back now.

The night air was cold against your skin, and with every step, the familiar halls and grounds of Jujutsu High faded into the distance. There was na ache in your chest, a deep, gnawing pain that threatened to overwhelm you, but you forced it down, telling yourself that this was the right choice. That Geto would understand, that his ideals would give you the strength you needed to find purpose.

By the time you reached the outskirts of the town, the sky had started to lighten, a soft glow spreading across the horizon as dawn approached. You kept your head down, avoiding the few early risers who were beginning their day. No one paid you any attention. To them, you were just another traveler, just another person passing through.

Your destination was clear—the same dilapidated building you had found before, where Geto’s presence had been strongest. The cursed energy in the area was unmistakable, and the faint pulse of it called to you like a beacon, guiding you back to him.

As you walked, the reality of what you were about to do began to settle in. You were leaving everything—your friends, your teachers, your life as a jujutsu sorcerer behind. The people you had trained with, the ones who had fought alongside you, they would all consider you a traitor. But for some reason, that didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. You were tired of being invisible, of feeling like na outsider in your own life. With Geto, maybe you would finally belong somewhere.

After hours of walking, you finally reached the hideout once again. The building loomed before you, dark and foreboding, just as it had before. There was a tension in the air that hadn’t been there the first time, as if the entire area was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

You hesitated for only a moment before stepping inside.

This time, the space felt different. The shadows seemed heavier, and the cursed energy more oppressive. You could sense other presences here—Geto’s followers, cursed spirits lurking just out of sight, their eyes on you, watching, waiting. But you didn’t waver. You had already made your decision.

As you ventured deeper into the building, you found him in the same spot as before, standing with his back to you, his long dark hair spilling over his shoulders. He was speaking with one of his followers in a low voice, but the moment you entered the room, his attention shifted. Without turning around, he acknowledged your presence with a quiet, “You came back.”

His voice sent a shiver down your spine—not out of fear, but because of the power it carried, the certainty in his words. It was so unlike the doubt you had felt at Jujutsu High. Here, in Geto’s world, there was no room for second-guessing. Everything he said, everything he believed, had a purpose. You wanted to be part of that.

“I did,” you replied, your voice steady despite the nervousness you felt. “I left everything behind, just like you said.”

Geto finally turned to face you, his eyes sharp and assessing. He looked you over, taking in the sight of you with your bag slung over your shoulder, your expression determined despite the fear you tried to hide. A slow, almost approving smile curled at the corner of his lips.

“And why, exactly, should I take you in?” he asked, his tone calm but laced with a challenge. “What can you offer me that my other followers can’t?”

You had expected this question, but it didn’t make answering it any easier. You had thought about this moment the entire way back, rehearsing what you would say, but now that you stood in front of him, words failed you. What could you offer? You weren’t the strongest sorcerer, you weren’t experienced in battle. All you had was your conviction, your desire to follow him.

“I—I’m not the strongest,” you admitted, your voice faltering for just a moment before you regained your composure. “But I’m ready to dedicate myself to your cause. I’ve seen how the world works, how it doesn’t care about people like us. I want to change that, to be part of something greater.”

Geto’s eyes remained fixed on you, his expression unreadable. He studied you for what felt like na eternity, and you could feel the weight of his judgment pressing down on you. Then, finally, he spoke again, his voice softer, but no less commanding.

“Conviction is important,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “But dedication without strength is a liability.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could say anything, Geto raised a hand to silence you. “Still, you’ve come this far, and I can see that you’re serious. I’ll give you a chance to prove yourself.”

Relief flooded through you, though it was quickly tempered by the realization of what that might entail. Geto wasn’t someone who handed out second chances easily. Whatever he asked of you, it wouldn’t be simple.

“You’ll stay here, for now,” he continued, gesturing to the room around you. “Train with my followers, learn from them. When the time comes, we’ll see if you’re truly ready to stand by my side.”

You nodded, your heart pounding with a mixture of fear and excitement. This was what you had wanted—a chance, a purpose, something to fight for. And now, Geto had given it to you.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, bowing your head in gratitude.

Before you could fully process it, a voice rang out from the entrance of the hideout, sharp and commanding.

“So, this is where you ran off to.”

Your heart froze in your chest.

Satoru Gojo stood at the threshold, his blindfold gone, revealing his piercing blue eyes that glowed with a mixture of anger and something else—something deeper, more intense.

He had found you.

notes: thank you for reading the first chapter! if you wanna be tagged just let me know!

taglist: @username23345 @arminswifee @tomiokasecretlover @ffyona1214 @tojirin @eggrollforyou @ironicsss

©apollogeticx ⋆ all rights reserved.

[solarlyls]

ℋow I became the ℱirst 𝒫riestess of 𝒪lympus ✶ 𝒜NCIENT 𝒢REECE 𝒟R

Eirene Ivanthe Kallistrate was born on 4th day of the Silk Snows season (basically december) in 1199 B.C. She was a child of fortune with a definite purpose in life. She is the middle daughter of the very prominent Kallistrate family. Her mother is a well-known craftswoman, and her father traded vigorously while also leading a business. She has two older brothers, a protective and loving older sister, and three younger sisters who all looked up to her.

Eirene was always fascinated by the wisdom and discipline of Athena. While her peers dreamt of future alliances through politics and marriages, Eirene spent her time at the goddess’s temple. There, she devoted herself into studying philosophy, warfare, and the divine arts. People often said that Eirene was sharp minded and warm hearted which made her a great individual.

One fateful evening, the Oracle of Delphi delivered a prophecy that would change the course of her history.

— A mortal shall walk the path of the divine, uncovering secrets lost to time. She shall bind the goddesses together and, in doing so, bind herself to them. Through her hands, Olympus shall remember what it has forgotten —

Whispers spread through Eirene’s village, and all signs pointed to her. But, before she could embark on the journey, a boy named Euryochus boldly declared himself the chosen one and set out to fulfill the prophecy. Unwilling to let another take what felt like her destiny, Eirene set off alone and unprepared, but determined.

Her journey led her across the Aegean Sea, where she braved four islands, each guarding a crucial piece of the mystery. During her trials, each challenge she overcame became a stepping stone for the next. She battled a monster on Phyrra, and managed to break off one of its razor sharp nails, unknowingly gaining a tool that would help her later. On Naxos, as she struggled to unearth a hidden flower buried deep within the islands rocky soil, the monsters nail became her tool, allowing her to dig with precision. When she retrieved the flower, its petals shimmered with divine energy, and she discovered that by pressing them against her lips, she could breathe underwater. This gift proved invaluable when she reached Samos, where she had to dive beneath the waves to claim an ancient key resting in the sunken ruins. Finally she reached an island, unlike any other—so tiny it was just a little chunk of land, a place that didn't appear in maps. Yet, as she set foot on its shores, she felt its significance in every breath of the wind.

Euryochus had arrived first. In the center of the island, half buried in the earth, sat a small and ornate music box. Impatient, Euryochus attempted to break it open, but Eirene stopped him just in time. Instead, she took the key she had fought so hard to obtain and turned it in the delicate lock.

A haunting melody filled the air. The ground beneath them trembled, the waves surged outward, and before their eyes, the island itself began to rise. What was once a speck of land transformed into something far greater. Marble columns of great heights rose out of the depths, halls of white stone that stretched up towards the heavens, and an unblemished temple stood tall in the morning light.

The sky parted, and heavens light filled the temple steps. Down from the gold light descended all the goddesses: Hera, Demeter, Hestia, Aphrodite, Artemis, Hebe, Iris, Athena and more. Their eyes beheld Eirenes, and in them she read recognition. She was the one they had waited for, the mortal girl who had proven herself worthy.

But when their gaze fell on Euryochus, their reverence became contempt. Such a sacred place was not for people like him. They exiled him from the island by one command, sending him back to the world of mortals, his presence forgotten from their sacred soil.

They asked of what name Eirene would name this new born land. She did not hesitate, and said Thelyseion, in honor of her sweet sister Thelyomesse and her favorite cat Seian. The goddesses named her temple blessed, calling it Echidion, in honor of her brothers Echorogis and Diomidis.

The goddesses all had gifts to share with Eirenes newfound island. Athena bestowed her an order of owls that would protect the island at night, and olive trees, their fruit providing nourishment and their oil being used for countless purposes. Demeter blessed the earth itself, providing fertile soil and seeds. Aphrodite endowed upon the island apple trees bearing golden apples, and scattered seashells along the beach to attract water nymphs to the islands aid. Hera gave a herd of cattle for food and golden crowns, which later would be melted down to provide the islands currency. Hestia made a great fire that would burn eternally and never die out in the middle of the island. Artemis gave bows and arrows so that Eirene and her people could defend themselves against whoever would attempt to invade their sacred land. Hebe gave a fountain of pure, never failing water, with a pitcher of gold, so that no soul on the island would ever learn how to thirst, and numerous other gifts from other goddesses.

In that moment, Eirene transcended mortality, becoming the First Priestess of Olympus, the bridge between gods and humankind.

ⓘ solarlyls

credits to @sweetmelodygraphics , @strangergraphics & @anitalenia for the gorgeous golden dividers !!

also comment if youd like to be added to my taglist <3

[quinnydoll]

Through The Thicket

A doll has been sent on a very important task today: gathering mail. It asked its witch for something it could do for her, and she told it to head out and get the mail for her.

"This one can't find its shoes! What is it to do?" Asks the doll, looking around the front of the house, curiously.

The witch smirks some, and jokingly speaks, "I guess you'll just have to go out barefoot." The doll of course, takes this seriously, and heads outside of the house without shoes before its witch has a chance to stop it. It crosses the threshold of the stone-paved path into the soft grass on the surprisingly long past to the impractically distant mailbox. Soon, it reaches a path in the sun, with overgrown old tracks which a wheeled vehicle once rode. The grass is dry, and a sparse thicket peppers the ground where it considers stepping.

It hesitates, but slowly and carefully, it takes a step forward in the brush dried by the harsh sunlight. Luckily, its first step is into a patch of still soft grass, which grants it a little bit of confidence as it takes another step. This step lands directly into a spot of goathead stickers, which plant themselves sharply into the balls of the doll's left foot. It lets out a sharp screech, to rival the texture of the barbs that have now buried themselves within its foot, trapping themselves between its toes, and the sting permeates through the area.

The doll collapses, doing its best to relieve the weight from the bottom of its now thoroughly pinpricked foot. Carefully, it pulls the pointy intruders out from their space, feeling them largely pull free, but on occasion, the points seem to snap off into splinters inside. The realization dons on the doll that the walk is going to become increasingly painful. It quietly curses its witch for sending it on such an arduous journey, as it slowly lifts itself back up to its feet to try and continue towards the mailbox.

The process repeats itself a few times as the doll takes a few more steps forward, but it eventually figures out where to step which doesn't hurt as much. Slowly but surely, as it carefully places its feet, it figures out where it doesn't hurt as much to walk. It finds a way to safely traverse the path, and finds its way to the mailbox and back without much more issue.

"This must be the lesson Miss wanted to teach it!" The doll realizes, as its stride begins to resemble a dance through the safe portions of the path, each step following a rhythm and order as it reaches the door, with envelopes in hand.

As it opens the door, it's quickly snatched up by its witch, "I was joking when I said you'd have to go out barefoot! Are you okay? You didn't hurt your feet, did you?"

"It did, but it learned something! It first found the-" The doll is cut off as it's pulled further inside, and sat down on a comfy chair while its witch retrieves a pair of tweezers to remove the fibrous needle-like natural pins.

The witch sighs as she carefully begins the process of removing the painful intrusions, "I appreciate you for getting the mail for me, but you didn't have to go out like that. Now, tell me about the lesson you learned." "It initially found the path hard to navigate without hurting itself, but when it slowed down and treaded carefully, it began to notice wherever it could put its feet that was safer. It slowly learned what to look for to avoid hurting itself any further!" The doll doesn't even seem to wince after every little pin pull as it tells its story to the very worried witch.

She smiles some as she looks at the doll's eyes, "Good doll. Though, you really didn't have to learn that like that."

"O-oh! before it forgets, it cursed you under its breath the first time it hit the painful bit, and it wanted to let you know so it can dispell the curse..." The doll's gaze is now downtrodden.

The witch raises an eyebrow, "A curse, you say? What exactly did you say to curse me?"

"It said... 'F-fuck you...'" The doll looks even more dejected and scared as it quotes its curse from earlier.

At this, the witch throws her head back, as she erupts with laughter, and pats the doll on the head, "I'm sure I'll survive your curse, little one. You don't need to worry."

The doll pouts as it begrudgingly receives the affection from its witch. It's glad that she's confident that she'll be okay, but it does wish she would take it more seriously...

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

Wishing on Golden Stars [2]

Intertwined Fate and the Yashiro Commission

genre: isekai, slow burn, fluff, hurt/comfort, humor(?)

chapter warning(s)!!!: none to note!

chapter w.count: 4.4k

a/n: dw ayato shows up in this one c:

Even if it wasn’t all that long of a detainment, the time you spent sitting in your single person cell with Tenryou guards giving you shifty glances felt like way too long. Though, the sanctioned time alone and lack of conversation from said guards does help you process things. 

Firstly, your little transmigration journey as you’ve grown to accept it, was at least merciful enough to place you into Teyvat in clothing that didn’t scream ‘I’m from a whole other world’. If you had just spawned out of nowhere in sweatpants and a graphic tee that you washed so many times that the graphic was more of a distorted splotchy mess that a design, well things could’ve been worse. The plain white set of jinbei- equip with a pair of loose shorts and kimono styled top- was quite generous of the transmigration gods to gift. Though your new apparel that are now stained, were better than Earth clothes. 

The chill of the prison was a constant annoyance as your skin was breaking world records for how long goosebumps could last. The guards could have at least provided you with an extra blanket or something; the cot’s blanket could very well pass as a top sheet instead of a blanket at all. 

Second, you accept the fact that this wasn’t some really long dream you’d just wake up from and laugh at. The emotional turmoil and sore arm from your fall earlier that had already scabbed up was proof enough of that.  You’ve read isekai manwha before and when a character who has been reborn takes chapters upon chapters to accept that where they are is their life now? Irritating honestly. So, unless you wake up from some sudden, unexplained coma in reality, this was your new life now. 

Third, from the whispered voices of the guards, you had appeared in Inazuma at the start of the Sakoku Decree. That being said, you couldn’t come to figure out when exactly that is since Genshin didn’t have the best timeline system. Would the Traveler show up at some point? If so, when? And who would it be? Would it be Aether or Lumine or maybe someone completely different. You had no idea and all you could do was wait and see if that would ever happen- if you ever get out of this cell. 

You were laying on your jail cot, staring out the small, barred window at the sky that began to cloud over. It was late afternoon already, and you expect that you’ll be here the next few days at least. Who knows when the Tri-Commission would actually get around to caring about the random girl who showed up in Ritou. Still, as barren and cold as it was, you would be provided scheduled meals and a roof, so you couldn’t really complain… aside from the blanket situation. 

Still lost in thought, your attention is brought back to your cell door when a click of a lock echoes into your cell followed by the rattling of the door sliding open. Sitting up, you twist to see who was coming in assuming it was another Tenryou guard to ask questions. Just like with Thoma’s sudden appearance, your voice caught in your throat when you saw the complete opposite of who you were expecting. 

Thoma had reappeared in your vision, though in the dim lighting it was difficult to see him, but you knew it was him. And with him, was none other than his master.

Kamisato Ayato stood in your jail cell, holding eye contact that was definitely filled with genuine awe on your side. Even though you couldn’t see him well, he was still a beautiful man. His in-game model couldn’t hold a candle to the real deal. He must’ve found your silent blinking and agape mouth amusing since he chuckles silently- maybe even condescendingly- at you before Thoma starts talking behind a step behind his left shoulder. 

“I told you you’d be taken care of,” the ginger enthusiastically tells you, his voice echoing off the barren stone walls. The deadpanned look of unenthusiasm from you once you get your eyes off Ayato and jaw clacked shut sends him into a small laughing fit. If you had a better pillow on your shotty little prison cot, you would’ve thrown it at his dumb face. 

“Yes, because it’s so accommodating here,” you mutter. More to yourself than to him since the last thing you want to do is act like a spoiled rotten, supposed criminal in front of a commissioner who had more power than you ever had in your (previous?) life. If Ayato suspects you of being even the slightest bit hostile? You didn’t want to be a victim of one of his little schemes. Favorite though he may be, you weren’t controlling him on a screen right now; in fact, you had no control here at all! 

“Don’t worry too much!” Thoma attempts to placate. “You’ll be out of this cell in no time!” The quizzical look you give him continues to make him chuckle as he steps around his lord and closer to you. Helping you off the cot by offering his hand. You take his offer because as a pyro user you know his skin is warm and you were currently not, you come to stand among the two men once on your feet. “As of this moment, you’re being put under the protection of the Yashiro Commission.” 

“Excuse me?” You were baffled. Hand slipping from Thoma's back to your side, chilled fingertips brushing your thigh just beyond the fabric of your shorts.

“Well, I guess it’s less protection and more ‘employment with supervision’. Just until we can figure out just who you are and how you got here.” 

“Now, wait a second,” you cross your arms. He expected some form of rebuttal from you, but he was ready. He could curb all your doubts and easily convince you to- “I know who I am.” 

“I know you must have your- wait, what?” His practiced line of persuasion just flew out of your cell window. 

“I know. Who I am,” you slowly repeat yourself as if to get the message through. “I’m not an amnesiac, I just don't know how I got here. If you want to know my identity, you just need to ask.” You cross your arms over your chest and almost huff at his bewildered face.

“... Out of everything I just told you, that’s what you have an issue with?” The bafflement that was once yours to hold was passed to The Fixer like a baton in a track and field race. Swiftly. 

“Looking for a job would be a hassle if I was to just be tossed out of here without a care by the Tenryou Commission. In this case, having a solid employer ready and waiting is the best course of action. Why would I turn that down?” 

“But, aren’t you upset? We’re putting you under supervision?” 

“Okay? What sort of boss doesn’t do that to just any other regular member of their staff?” Of course, you knew exactly what he was getting at. Who in their right mind would be okay with being constantly watched because everyone thinks you're some sort of fraud or crook. Sure, the insinuations stung a little, but just as you feel lost in this world, you know that you were also an intruder in their home. An outsider. It’d be more suspicious if they didn’t suspect you. 

While you both exchange words, Ayato had been busy analyzing you to try and get a read on your character. He couldn’t detect any sort of demeanor in you that leaned towards you being an insincere woman when it came to your word. Plus, your little banter with Thoma amused him greatly. 

“Pardon me,” he finally spoke, splitting the back and forth you held with his servant in half. Thoma and your attention turn to him. The commissioner stands with his arms positioned behind his back with a perfectly practiced smile resting on his face. “Would you mind showing me what’s in your pocket?” 

“Pocket?” You question. Your first word to this man and all you have to say is ‘pocket?’ because did jinbei shorts even have pockets? You didn’t even notice. Patting around your sides, you feel a small slip and with a small noise of bewilderment, you slide your hand inside the fabric. You feel a small, bumpy sort of bead in your pocket and pull it out and open your palm and show it to the Commissioner. 

When you see it, your mouth opens and you wonder how the hell that managed to follow you here. Ayato looks at the small piece you pulled from your pocket then at your astonished face filled with a small sense of familiarity. 

“Do you recognize this?” He asks and you slowly nod. 

“A piece of candy?” Thoma asks, looking at the blue and purple entanglement in your palm with a finger crooked in front of his chin. The very same bead-like object you had dug out of your bag and then thrown away under your desk in reality just before falling asleep and waking up here. Being in this situation with these two directly in front of you- somehow it finally clicks that you actually know what this thing is. 

“I,” you start but swallow your breath before trying again. “This is something I thought I had thrown away. Guess I must not have.” You couldn’t just say ‘yeah I found this after some rando bumped into me in an alley and promptly threw it away in my bedroom’, because you know a swift interrogation of where you come from would be next. You’ve read enough manwha to know that the random stranger from the alley was more than likely the whole reason this was happening to you! Thinking back, his voice did sound odd- that should've been tell enough. It felt aggravating. More than anything, you just keep feeling more lost than the moment before. 

You surely haven't been gone long, but you were already missing home. Your stupid job and your coworkers. The people who were close to you. You missed the familiarity of your home, the comfort of being in a place you knew was quickly becoming a sensation you feel like you’d never experience again. 

Curling your hand around the in game Intertwined Fate, you put it back into your pocket. 

“Thoma, we should get going. Our new acquaintance here could very well freeze if we don’t get back soon.” It was obviously a joke, but you feel your face get hot at the realization that he figured out you were cold. Maybe you weren’t hiding your shivering as well as you thought. 

“Oh! I didn’t even realize- here.” Thoma slips off his jacket before pushing it onto you. The folded sleeves didn’t cover your arms fully and the cropped design did nothing to cover your chest, but once again, the heat from a pyro user never seems to disappoint; part of you wonders if others are this warm too- like Diluc or Amber. Thoma looked empty without this jacket. Just dawning his black shirt and necklace tags made him look naked in the eyes that’s so used to seeing him in his full ansambel. 

“By the way,” Ayato steps closer to you and you have half a mind to back up instinctively. If he looks this pretty in a prison cell’s dull lighting, you can’t imagine what he’s like outside. “I never caught your name.” 

“Oh,” that's true. You were so caught up in everything that you had completely forgotten. “It’s y/n.” 

“Is that your first name?” 

“Yes?” 

“And your surname?” 

“Uh,” you toy with the idea of telling him or not. Would it sound absolutely out of place in this world? Then, with a moment longer of thinking, you yield and tell him the truth. Ayato would probably know if you were lying or not anyway and lying wouldn't help your predicament. He nods approvingly at your compliance before turning on his heel and walking to the open cell door. 

“Come along then. We have much to arrange for and the day will not last much longer.” 

With Thoma ushering you out, you pass by the guards who were no doubt listening to the whole conversation. Without a doubt, they'd definitely be spreading gossip about how the Yashiro Commission picked up some new stray who washed up on Ritou within the next day or two. Still, you didn’t feel uneasy about your position. A new job, Thoma who would be acting as your mentor (according to him), a place to sleep that was warm and no need to worry about where and how to get food and water? It all sounds like it all fell right into your lap. 

Despite all that in mind though, the pit in your gut will continue to stay. Until this world would start feeling like home to you- you have no doubt that the feeling would never truly go away. No matter how much you accept it at face value. 

At least you ended up in pretty damn good and capable hands. The Yashiro Commissioner and head of the Kamisatos'? On top of Thoma, his most trusted companion. Eventually, you’ll be able to meet the young lady of the family, Ayaka, as well. You were just counting your lucky stars that you didn’t end up in some wooden cage as a hostage for some ronin or something. 

Ayato continued to watch you from the corner of his gaze the whole trip back to the Kamisato estate on the other side of Narukami. He wondered if he should take you up the mountain to the Grand Narukami Shrine, but held off the idea. Until you complete your work training and learn your way around, on top of leaving the Tri-Commission’s sights of suspicion, it would be for the best for you to remain strictly on his premises. 

A distraction from his typical, stressful, paperwork filled life is exactly what he was wishing for. 

“y/n! Could you bring this tray to his lord!” Another working woman well into her 40s, had stopped you in the middle of your task of cleaning off shelves that needed a good dusting. 

“I’ll be right there!” You call back, tossing the rag you were using in a small bin and dusting your hands off on your legs. The tray given to you contained a teapot made of fine china you knew was pricey- so you best not drop it- along with matching teacups and a small dish of treats.

This was a fairly common occurrence. Ayato would often get trapped in his office with paperwork and the such, so regular tea-trips were passed around by different staff members. Sometimes even small scraps of paper were left on the tray as well as means of communication between master and staff. 

You had been employed by the Kamisato’s for two weeks now and have brought Ayato’s tea to his office at least twice already, but that didn’t mean you were any less nervous when the task fell into your assigned hands. 

You were always afraid he’d stall you; press you for details on the circumstances you still didn’t know how to explain without sounding like a liar or just plain insane. At least, thanks to Thoma’s quick teaching, you learned the ins and outs of proper etiquette when it comes to working for a prestigious family.

Like- for example- when the Yashiro Commissioner is busy with work and taking just a moment to drink his tea for a quick break, do not interrupt him with idle chit chat. Not because it’s wrong or ‘improper’, but because even if the family head dislikes small talk, he’ll take any excuse to get a little less work finished by yapping. 

It may not show on paper or in appearances, but he can be quite the slacker when he wants to be. Much to Thoma’s dismay and Ayaka’s (slight) amusement. 

Speaking of, you had quite the liking for the young lady of the Kamisato name. She was as lovely as you expected her to be in this reality. After being suffocated with the Tenryou Commission and then finding yourself as an unplanned, emergency employee to her family, she was a breath of fresh air. She often sneaks you sweets if she comes across you running errands and such. It was mostly small, wrapped candies that she could inconspicuously drop into your hand or pocket.  

With semi-practiced balance, you place your palm under the center of the tea tray and raise your free one to knock twice on the wooden frame of the sliding door to Ayato’s office. 

“My lord, I’ve brought your tea.” Internally, you still hadn’t gotten used to the verbal lingo in this world yet. Addressing the man you were so used to addressing by name- and even giving stupid nicknames to behind your computer screen two weeks ago- as ‘my lord’ felt cringeworthy. It wouldn’t be good for you to be too familiar with him though, you could seriously earn yourself some grief with a stunt like that. So, all you could do was grin-and-bear it.

“You may come in.” His voice was muffled behind the door. Sliding the door open easily in its groves, you step inside and shut it behind you just as you had before. Without stopping his brush strokes of the document he was working on, he gestured with his chin over to a small round table. “Please, place it over there.” 

You were confused for a split second before you just accept his orders. Normally, you would pour him his first cup and then place it on his desk next to him for him to nurse as he sees fit before leaving and coming back later to retrieve the empty cup and pot. 

As you kneel to set the tray down on the low table, you flinch when Ayato is suddenly in your peripherals. As you jolt away from him, you let out a deep, tension releasing breath while he blinks owlishly at you. It was like he wasn’t expecting you to jump away from his sudden presence; you didn’t even hear him get up from his desk! With it being positioned on the floor with a cushion for comfort, you should’ve heard the rustling of his clothes at the very least. You must’ve been too lost in thought or something. 

“My apologies,” he tells you, chuckling as he does. He seats himself down at the table’s edge while you pour him a cup and offer it on a small saucer in front of him. You were mid-knee, ready to get up and excuse yourself, when Ayato cleared his throat in a quick fashion. “Ah-ah,” he stops you like a mother stopping a misbehaving child and you freeze. “Sit back down.” You listen. Although your nerves shoot through the traditional, wooden-beamed ceiling. “Very good.” 

“Do you need something from me, my lord?” 

“Partially.” 

Partially? What kind of answer is that? One that makes you that much more nervous, that’s what! This man could be so wishy-washy with this replies it was insufferable sometimes.

“I'm afraid I don’t follow.” Lifting his cup to his lips, he took delicate sips of his hot tea. Being careful not to burn his tongue or overindulge and cause a mess on his suit. Setting it back down with just as elegant movements as when he first picked it up, the teacup met the saucer with a soft clink. 

“Are you aware of just how rare it is for someone to be accepted into Inazuma while also not being a citizen under the Sakoku Decree’s strict ruling?” 

“I imagine it isn’t common.” Your eyes travel to the tea set and trace the designs on the pot with your eyes over and over again. 

“That’s correct. So, as your employer, I feel like I should be allowed to pick your brain in a sense.” You think you hide the fact that this whole conversation was making you nervous decently, but you don’t. At least, not in Ayato’s eyes. He who has been trained to see discomfort for a long time now is a formidable foe. “You needn’t get so antsy,” he chides. He’s enjoying this, the sadist. “I’m simply curious about where you come from.” 

“But, my lord-” 

“Ah,” he shuts you down again with another sharp, quick tut. You nearly scowl at him for it but control your facial contortions. “Let me finish.” He takes another sip of his tea. “It’s obvious you aren’t originally from Narukami Island, your little scuffle in Ritou is proof enough of that.” You want to curl in on yourself remembering your brief prison time. “I suspect however, that you are from beyond any of the Inazuman Islands altogether.” 

Your hands that rest in your lap were fidgeting. Picking at your nails and rubbing your fingertips over your knuckles, wringing them together just for something to fiddle with since you had nothing tangible. Ayato sits in silence with you, and you knew that he was waiting for an answer. The accusation was something he expected you to admit or deny; it wasn’t rhetorical.

After sitting under the weight of his accusations and presence, you let out a heavy breath that was pretty much admission enough. 

“That’s correct, my lord. I’m from somewhere… very far from here. I’m afraid I can’t tell you any more than that since it’s a bit complicated.” 

“Complicated how?” 

“It just,” you let out another deep boned sigh that was cloaked in frustration. You couldn’t lose your temper to your employer of such strong power. You clutch one of your hands tightly in the other to keep it together. “It just is.” 

“Hmm,” he hums, swirling the remains of tea in his cup. “I see.” 

In truth, you could try and explain it all to him.

Given your knowledge of the Traveler and how everyone just accepts without question that they’re from a whole different world, there’s a chance you could get the same acceptance. Of course, not everyone knows that the blond outside isn't Teyvat native.

But then, what would happen if you didn’t get that wholly acceptance? What would happen if you told the truth about how you were magically transported here with no rhyme or reason as to why- taken away from your day-to-day life of work and play? You don’t think being thrown in prison for a second time because you were deemed a kook was something you wanted to happen. So, for better or for worse, the truth of your fantastical origins would need to stay put solely within you. 

On top of that, you were not about to be the person to drop the unbelievable story of ‘this is actually a fictional world in a game’ bombshell. As long as you’re in Teyvat, that little tidbit will go with you to your grave- fictional or otherwise. 

Ayato watches you sit adjacent to him at the tea table, seeing your face contort in ways that show off your inner conflict. Whatever your reasons for not telling him, he couldn’t blame you. He was still a stranger to you. He may have employed and sheltered you, but it was all under Thoma’s request when it boiled down to it. At the time, back then two weeks ago, he only agreed on a whim.

When Thoma had rushed towards where he had left the Commissioner in Ritou for some business and explained the situation of the strange girl who was being questioned by the Tenryou Commission, he had been intrigued. Ayato trusted Thoma and his judge of character, so when he asked if his lord would be willing to take her in, at least temporarily, he had no reason to refuse outright. 

Then, he met you. In that prison cell, something in him knew that not only did you not deserve a cold, isolated cell, but you were someone special. The air around you felt different than an ordinary person, but different from someone who had a Vision and elementally energy at their beck and call. You were an immediate enigma, which intrigued him all the more. 

Though, it was that small intertwined charm in your pocket that really piqued his mind. Ayato didn’t know how he knew it was there. Bringing it up was a case of his mouth talking before his brain could stop him. Though, when you showed it in your palm, he thought instead of a piece of candy like Thoma guessed- it resembled something like a star to him. 

‘Asinine,’ Ayato thought at the time. Who would compare cool-colored candy to a star? Perhaps the brightest star he had ever seen flashing across the sky the night before your arrival was still fresher on his mind than he had originally thought and clouded his perception. 

In fact, it was odd that he was still dwelling on it. The Commission had seen plenty of shooting stars before, yet that specific one was so… different to him. 

“Regardless of how you ended up here, you are under my protection and employment." Ayato decides he should give you a break. You fidgeting could easily become more annoying than adorable if this keeps up. "Please, see to it that you maintain your behavior as you have. My sister seems to have taken a liking to you, so I expect you to continue to treat her well.” 

“Of course. Lady Ayaka is a wonderful person.” 

“Hm, that’s very true.” 

The rest of his small break was cloaked in a silence you were grateful for. Anymore awkward chit chat would just ruin your mood. Eventually, he finishes his tea and you gathered everything up to return it to the kitchen to have it washed and waiting for its next tea run. Before you could leave the room, Ayato walks to his door and slides it open for you with some parting words. 

“If you ever want to discuss your home, or perhaps indulge any concerns you have about the estate, do come and find me. I wouldn’t mind chatting with you, if that’s what you’d prefer.” You look at him inquisitively. Another odd thing he’s said today.

Still, just to get out of there, you nod and agree that if you ever wish to, you’ll find him. With a small bow so as to not drop the tray, you scurry away from him and his office. 

Sliding the door shut with the sides of his fingers nestled elegantly in the vertical indentation, he stands in front of the closed door with his opposite hand cupped under his chin. That hand feels his lips quirk up before his cheeks do.

Ayato couldn’t help but think that you would be a very amusing person to tease. 

a/n pt.2: ayato makes his appearance! first one-one-one time with ayato and it's awkward teatime yeehaw

Prev. / INDEX / Next

[rainforestakiie]

hi! i am back with part 03 of Promised Soul! so happy i got it posted! i will be writing your ask next @lilacwriter07 i do hope you've enjoyed this AU so far! everyone has been so nice!

this is an adamapple fic placed in the omegaverse. there is so much lucifer in this chapter, finally! lucifer was inspired by @inubaki's Naga lucifer!

Promised Soul (Omegaverse Mythology AU) = Part 01. Part 02. Part 03. Part 04.

The massive head of Quetzalcoatl loomed over the stairs; its stone visage larger than Adam’s entire body. It jutted out from the smooth side of the temple, surrounded by intricate feather-like carvings that framed the god's crocodilian face. Adam paused beside it, captivated by the beauty and craftsmanship. The details were far more exquisite than those he had seen on the walls below; each feather and scale was etched into the golden stone with a precision that seemed almost divine.

As Adam’s eyes drifted upward, he marvelled at the sudden surge of energy coursing through him. The moment he stepped onto the first stair, it was as if an unseen force was propelling him forward, allowing him to ascend each step effortlessly. It was maddening how he could keep going without breaking a sweat. Now, so high up that the entire layout of Pentagram City unfolded beneath him, Adam understood for the first time why the city bore its name—the streets and buildings formed a perfect pentagram.

He squinted towards the point that contained Eden and his family, spotting the eternal flames of the Phoenixs even from this great height. A pang of doubt gnawed at him as he wondered what his family would say if they knew what he was doing, defying the sacred temple in such a blasphemous way. If the Jorōgumo caught him, his life would be torn away in the most horrific manner. Would his clan even mourn his loss?

Shaking off the melancholy thoughts, Adam turned his gaze back to the carved face of Quetzalcoatl, releasing a soft sigh. The sides of the stairs were lined with emerald stones, reminiscent of the emerald bones Quetzalcoatl had used to create the first humans, animals, and gods according to their ancient lore. Adam reached out, brushing his fingers over the smooth surface of the emeralds. The story in their textbooks told of Quetzalcoatl’s journey to the underworld, where he gathered the emerald bones of men, women, and animals, but in his haste to return to the middle realm, he accidentally mixed them up, giving birth to their current world.

Tilting his head back, Adam stared up at the remaining steps. He still had a long way to go, and time was running out. He needed to reach the top before sunrise, or risk being spotted by the ever-watchful Jorōgumo. The thought of what might happen if he were caught flitted through his mind—would they devour him on the spot or hand him over to the Red Caps? The Red Caps were a gruesome breed, notorious for spilling blood just to keep their hats crimson. They were relentless killers, driven by the belief that the blood on their caps had to remain fresh at all costs. Lilith had once mentioned that if the Jorōgumo didn’t want to feast on a captured traitor, they would throw them to the Red Caps.

But the strange ache within him, the one that had been urging him onward, was growing stronger, pulling him up the steps with an almost magnetic force. His fragile body should have been aching, but he felt nothing but the burning need to reach the temple’s peak. He didn’t fully understand what he was feeling or why this overwhelming compulsion was driving him to such reckless heights, but he couldn’t stop himself. The closer he got to the sacred structure at the top, the more determined he became.

As the sky began to lighten and the first rays of the sun crept up behind him, Adam found himself nearing the summit. Pride swelled in his chest as he realized how far he had come. He pulled himself up what he thought was another step, only to find that he had reached the top.

Panting softly, Adam flipped himself over and let his legs dangle over the edge of the platform. He wiggled his feet, feeling an exhilarating mix of exhaustion and triumph. As the sun rose, casting a golden glow across Pentagram City, Adam’s breath caught in his throat. He had never seen anything so beautiful, so full of life. The city below, bathed in the light of dawn, seemed almost magical, as if the world had come alive just for him.

Adam lingered for a few moments, savouring the view despite the danger that might lurk below. He knew that staying in one place could make him an easy target for the Jorōgumo, but he hoped his altitude would keep him out of sight. Yet, the gnawing sensation deep in his chest returned, this time with a force that nearly took his breath away. A shiver ran through him, compelling him to sit up straight as an inexplicable urge drew him toward the temple.

It was as if the very force beckoning him knew he was idling just outside the door...

Adam wiped the back of his hand across his nose and forced himself to his feet, casting a final, wistful glance over Pentagram City before turning toward the temple's grand archway. The structure before him was breathtaking, a marvel of gold, red, and green. Emerald stones embedded in the temple walls glistened even more brilliantly as the sun crept higher in the sky. From this height, the temple's box-like structure appeared far more massive than it had from below, looming above him with an archway that resembled a gaping, cavernous mouth.

Adam trembled, his fingers knotting together in nervous anticipation. He had ventured farther than any creature from Pentagram City had dared. Slowly, he inched forward, the warmth of the temple’s stones seeping through his boots. He squinted against the sunlight as he approached the golden-framed archway, tentatively raising his hands to touch the gilded stones. Peering inside, he saw the sunlight flooding the temple, illuminating its exquisite murals—depictions of Quetzalcoatl himself. With nothing but the sparkling ruby pillars supporting the ceiling, Adam hesitated before stepping inside.

His gaze was immediately drawn to the paintings of Quetzalcoatl. His breath caught in his throat as he studied the mural, which dominated the main wall of the temple, a testament to the deity’s grandeur. Quetzalcoatl’s serpentine form was resplendent, his body adorned with emerald and gold scales, a stripe of lime green feathers running down his back like a soft plume. His underbelly shimmered with warmer hues of gold, orange, and red. The deity’s face, a blend of dragon and bird, was framed by a magnificent mane of rainbow feathers—blue, red, green, yellow, pink—every colour Adam had ever known. But what truly captivated him were the six glorious wings that stretched out from Quetzalcoatl’s long body, surrounding it in a halo of divine power.

And beneath Quetzalcoatl's body...were seven egg-like objects?

Adam tilted his head in curiosity, unconsciously stepping backward. Eggs? Why would Quetzalcoatl have eggs? Had the god consumed eggs during his time in the mortal realm? Just as the thought crossed his mind, Adam’s back brushed against something that was most certainly not stone.

It was warm. Very warm, but not unpleasant—quite the opposite, in fact. The warmth was comforting, inviting even, and Adam felt an almost irresistible urge to curl into it. As his back pressed against the solid form, his hands flew out to touch it, encountering softness and a series of feathery ridges beneath his fingers. But he resisted the urge to snuggle in, because whatever he was touching...was moving. The body beneath his hands was slowly breathing, its breaths shallow and rhythmic.

Adam’s eyes widened, his face draining of colour as fear wrapped its icy tendrils around his heart. He took a step forward, balancing on the balls of his feet, and slowly turned around. His body shuddered with dread, his eyes growing even wider, his jaw clenching in terror.

It wasn’t a wall at all. No, it was a massive, coiled body, its full-length filling nearly the entire temple chamber. Adam couldn’t see the creature’s head or tail, but the sheer size of the body made him feel as insignificant as an ant. What he had assumed to be wings were folded tightly against the creature’s serpentine form, draped over it like a protective blanket. Soft blue and white scales lined the top of the body, while crimson feathers adorned its back.

Adam swallowed hard, his body trembling as he tried to retreat without making a sound. But in his panic, he backed into a row of waist-high ruby pillars, each topped with an emerald stone. One of the stones toppled to the ground with a resounding clank. Breath hitching, Adam scrambled to retrieve the emerald, running his hands over it to check for damage before hurriedly placing it back.

The shallow breathing had ceased. Adam’s heart plummeted as he turned to face the once-slumbering serpent. The massive body twitched, then slowly began to unfurl. Huge wings stretched out wide, and a monstrous, dragon-like head rose from the coils of its own body. Glittering gold and red eyes narrowed down at Adam, the creature’s wings spreading with a deep, rumbling sound that sent shivers down his spine.

It was...it was...

“Q-Quetzalcoatl?” Adam stammered, trembling.

A deep, resonant voice rumbled from the serpent as Adam’s voice echoed through the temple, causing him to flinch.

“Not quite,” the serpent replied. “That’s my father.”

“F-Father?” Adam stuttered in disbelief. “Quetzalcoatl has children?”

The serpent let out a snort of amusement before twisting its massive body. It dove back into the nest of its own coils, but as it did so, the enormous form began to shrink. Adam watched in awe as the snake god’s body diminished in size until it was nearly as small as Adam himself. The creature’s form coiled tightly before a humanoid figure emerged in its place, pale arms crossing over its snake-like tail, chin propped on top.

"I believe I've mentioned that before, Adam," the man murmured, his voice laced with smug satisfaction, a sly grin curling on his cherry-red lips as he regarded the failed Phoenix Omega with an amused glint in his eyes.

Adam could only stare in disbelief, his mouth opening and closing like a fish pulled from the depths. The man before him bore familiar golden curls, crowned like a twisted halo atop his head, with two prominent tufts reminiscent of horns. His lips, lush and stained a deep, sultry red, contrasted strikingly against his mismatched eyes—one a molten gold, the other a burning crimson. From his wrists, black and green claws, framed by a cascade of crimson feathers. Further down, emerald and ruby feathers peeked seductively from his hips, forming a long, sinuous tail where his legs should have been. The tail was a mesmerizing tapestry of blue, red, and white scales, blending seamlessly into his serpentine form.

“You're real?!” Adam choked out, his voice a strained screech as he pointed a trembling finger at the ethereal being before him. “You weren’t just a figment of my imagination?!”

The man threw his head back, a rich, melodious laugh echoing through the chamber, deepening the flush of the crimson circles on his cheeks. “Sorry to shatter your illusions, but I am very much real.”

“You are?” Adam's voice wavered, barely more than a whisper. “You’re real, and...and you’re here? Here? You’re the—the what?”

The man tilted his head, an endearing gesture as he nestled deeper into the plush embrace of his tail. “Son of Quetzalcoatl. The youngest child, to be precise.”

“Y-Youngest child of…” Adam faltered, raising a hand to his temple as confusion swirled within him. “This can’t be real... Did I hit my head? Did the Jorōgumo catch me? Did Lilith kill me and I’m—I'm dead?”

A soft hum fluttered from the man's cherry-red lips as he tilted his head skyward, parting those tempting lips to release a sound so mesmerizing it could make the Sirens of the Black Lake envious. The man's eyes fluttered shut as an enchanting melody danced off his tongue, wrapping itself around Adam, binding him in its spell. The song was sweet and beguiling, twirling through the temple and causing the emerald stones to glow with an otherworldly light. The soft green and red feathers adorning the man's body shuddered, standing on end as he sang.

Adam found himself irresistibly drawn closer, his heart skipping a beat. As the man’s lullaby ended, Adam’s gaze was caught in the deep, entrancing pools of the man’s golden and crimson eyes.

"You sang that to me before..." Adam whispered, the memory stirring in his heart. "When I was a child."

"Indeed," the man replied tenderly. "You were crying. Do you remember me now?"

Adam nodded slowly, his legs giving way beneath him as he sank to his knees before the feathered serpent's beauty. "I thought you were a dream... Everyone told me there was no such thing as a feathered Naga. I searched for you, I never stopped looking, but..."

"I told you then, I had to return home," the man said softly, his long serpentine form beginning to unfurl from its nest-like coil. He raised himself, towering above Adam, and slithered closer, lowering his face to Adam's. "It seems you don't remember everything after all."

"I..." Adam bit his lip, uncertainty clouding his thoughts. "I was young and emotional. I convinced myself you were nothing more than a comforting dream."

A disappointed click of the man’s tongue cut through the air, though a fleeting look of regret passed through his pretty eyes. But it was quickly replaced by a determined gaze. He raised his black and green clawed hands, lightly cupping Adam’s cheeks, forcing the trembling Omega to meet his gaze once more.

"I wasn’t allowed to linger in the mortal realm for long. I could only stay until I had chosen my intended mate. Then I had to return to the higher realm, where I slumbered for five years, before descending to the underworld for the final years of my journey."

Adam swallowed thickly, feeling the heat of the man's touch seeping into his skin, his heart pounding in his chest. Mate... The word echoed in his mind, sparking a memory long buried.

"Now, tell me, Adam," the man’s voice slithered into his ears, sweet as honey yet tinged with a serpentine hiss. Adam’s eyes were drawn to the man’s forked tongue as it flickered out, teasing his cherry-red lips. "Do you remember my name? Even after I warned you never to forget?"

He couldn’t look away, the man’s face inching closer, his golden and ruby eyes hooded, pupils dilated, trapping Adam in a gaze that left him paralyzed.

"Say my name, Adam," the man whispered, his forked tongue brushing against Adam's lips, sending a shiver down his spine.

"...Lucifer..." Adam breathed out, his voice barely audible.

A sharp, wicked grin spread across Lucifer’s lips, his eyes crinkling at the corners in delight. The end of his feathered, rattling tail quivered with pleasure, his sharp clawed fingers stroking the soft curve of Adam's cheeks.

"Good boy," Lucifer cooed, nuzzling his face against Adam's. His hands held Adam's face still as he brought his lips dangerously close. "Now for your reward~"

"My reward?" Adam whimpered, his breath hitching.

Without another moment’s hesitation, Lucifer claimed Adam’s lips in a kiss. The soft, plumpness of those cherry-red lips sent a tingling sensation washing over Adam, making him quiver. Lucifer’s kiss was gentle at first, a sweet caress of lips, as he began to coil his serpentine body around Adam, not quite touching him but forming a coiling nest around him, leaving no escape should Adam try to flee.

Lucifer’s sharp fangs grazed Adam’s bottom lip, capturing it between his own lips and sucking softly, before slipping back to deepen the kiss. His forked tongue flickered against Adam's lips, a teasing request for entry, as the serpent's embrace tightened, holding Adam close within his seductive grasp.

Cradling Adam's flushed cheeks, Lucifer’s sinuous tongue persisted in its quest, licking insistently for entry until the tip of his tail slithered with serpentine grace behind Adam. It trailed along the nape of his neck, purposely brushing Adam’s Omega glands and sending a shiver racing down Adam’s spine. In that moment of unexpected contact, Adam jerked with a startled squeal. The sound was swiftly silenced as Lucifer’s tongue took advantage of the parted lips, slipping into the now open haven of Adam's mouth.

Adam shuddered violently, his back arching at the unfamiliar sensation of Lucifer’s forked tongue exploring him. The tongue traced the contours of Adam’s own, a possessive dance that claimed every inch of his mouth as its territory. Finally, Lucifer withdrew, pulling back just enough to leave a thick, glistening bridge of saliva connecting their rosy lips, a testament to the intimate invasion.

"You... y-you kissed me..." Adam panted, his voice trembling, his face an uncharacteristic shade of red.

Lucifer's grin widened with delight as he leaned in to steal another quick, playful kiss. "Mates kiss, Adam. They kiss all the time."

"Well, um, y-yeah, but I'm—not—why would you want to kiss me?" Adam stammered, his words stumbling over each other as an unexpected bashfulness crept over him. His mind was a whirl of confusion, and though he couldn’t see it, an instinctive sense of danger began to close in around him, tightening like a noose.

Lucifer's hands continued to cradle Adam’s cheeks, a soft rattle-purr emanating from his feathered tail. "Because you are my mate, Adam. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that, too? You’ve been mine for ten years now, Addie~"

A shaky gasp escaped Adam's lips as Lucifer’s rattling tail continued its teasingly caress, sliding up and down his spine, brushing repeatedly against the Omega glands at the back of his neck—glands that had remained untouched for years, now throbbing with a newfound sensitivity.

Lucifer tugged Adam closer, pulling him into an embrace that forced the Phoenix Omega to rise onto the tips of his toes. Adam's hands instinctively shot up, grasping onto Lucifer’s wrists for balance, especially as Lucifer pressed their lips together once more, sealing their connection with another deep, intoxicating kiss.

It was nice. Maybe too good. Adam found himself melting into the kiss, sighing pleasantly and even beginning to try and kiss back. He stretched himself onto the tip of his toes further and push his lips back against Lucifer’s.

The sense of being wanted. The feeling that somebody out there wanted to mate with him, wanted Adam to be their Omega, had him warming up. A wetness formed between his thighs, making him rub them together.

Breaking the kiss, Adam was dazed and needy. He’s eyes were dilated and glassy, large and reflective. Lucifer purred, brushing his fingers over Adam’s cheeks with an even wider smirk. His long serpent body rattled, and he swiftly swirled himself around Adam’s body, caging the failed Omega against him. Lucifer’s clawed hands crossed over Adam’s chest, rubbing the hidden flesh through his sweater. His sharp claws pinching at the cotton fabric, slicing the threads little by little.

“Addie~” he sang teasingly, nuzzling his face into the Omega’s neck. His lips ghosted along the warm skin and soon his tongue licked across the exposed mating glands, making Adam gasp. “I can smell your slick~”

“My – my what?” Adam squawked, blinking his eyes furiously. His heart skipped a beat as he shakingly took in the sight of the feather and scaly snake body had coiled itself around him.

A hungry giggle escaped the feathered serpent Nephilim. Lucifer tilted his head, allowing his long fork-tongue to slither out. He ran it down Adam’s throat, tracing the macules and flickering at the collar of Adam’s sweater.

“Your slick. It’s strong.” Lucifer cooed, his right clawed hand crawling down Adam’s front and stroking his stomach. “It smells divine, it’s making my mouth water~”

Adam squirmed immediately as the wetness between his legs intensified. So that must be ‘slick’ and gosh, his face warmed up at the words. He quivered as Lucifer’s other hand continued to caress his chest through the fabrics, Adam’s eyes falling to watch the two hands anxiously. A knot began to form within his gut and his breath hitched further as Lucifer’s right hand sunk further down, sliding over his stomach fully and rest just above the area that contained Adam’s Omega-hood.

Releasing a range of rattle purrs, Lucifer continued to lick at Adam’s neck. His lips brushing repeatedly against the untouched Omega glands, enjoying the way his mate gasped and trembled from the actions. The clawed hand that was sneaking down Adam’s body finally reached the flimsy waistband of his mate’s black pyjama pants but instead of using inside like Lucifer originally aimed for, he immediately cupped Adam through his trousers.

A startled yelp escaped Adam, and he squirmed even more within the snake coiled grip, but Lucifer held tightly and secured. A wave of something new washed over Adam’s body as Lucifer abruptly began to rub his hand firmly between his legs, giggling as Adam reacted to the actions with delight.

Taking advantage of Adam’s reaction, Lucifer’s other hand slipped underneath Adam’s sweater. All the hairs upon Adam’s body stood up on end as Lucifer’s hand touched his chest somewhat aggressively.

“You’re so cute, Addie~” Lucifer hummed, resting his chin on Adam’s shoulder. “I’ve been dreaming of the day I get my hands on you~”

Adam’s breath hitched, making his throat burn and his eyes grow so wide that he feared they would pop out. His hips arched as Lucifer continued to caress him between his thighs, his legs trembled and the tingling knot deep inside his gut increased, growing tighter and tighter.

“You have? But why?” Adam gasped, his own mouth beginning to water with too much saliva. Where did it all come from?

A laugh bubbled from Lucifer, the pretty feathers of his body fluttering and scales glittering. Lucifer nuzzled his face into Adam’s throat again, pressing butterfly kisses along the soft flesh. “I don’t know what it is for you mortals, but for ones like myself, we mate for life. We can only court once in our lives. The moment I scented you, I committed my full soul, heart and body to you and you alone~”

“Oh…” Adam began quietly.

Smirking widely, Lucifer’s long fangs peeking out from his cherry-red lips, his hands continued to fondle his adorable mate. He pulled Adam’s sweater up, forcing his chest to be exposed and immediately grabbed the right breast. While his long-wet tongue extended over his shoulder and began to lick at the left breast. His eyes crinkled at the corners and became hooded with desire, the taste of Adam’s flesh was delicious. So much better than he could ever have imagined.

Licking his lips with a hiss, Lucifer twisted himself around Adam’s left side, slithering himself underneath Adam’s arm. His lips contacted the exposed skin and Adam released an embarrassing cry. He kissed softly the tender skin, rolling his tongue across the skin and even sucking a little.

Adam wheezed and clenched his teeth together, unsure of what to do. It felt good but it was all so overwhelming and making Adam feel rather lightheaded. It was just yesterday morning that Adam was depressed and heartbroken, thinking the only person who he could ever be with didn’t want him at all but now, hours later, he was tangled up and being touched by his apparent mate.

Lucifer gazed up at Adam’s face as he sucked upon the exposed flesh. A dark glint appeared within his gold and ruby eyes; the hand nested between Adam’s legs slid upward. He dipped his hand down his trousers and touching him again. Lucifer purred when Adam jumped in surprise and released a rather loud moan.

“You sound so pretty~” Lucifer purred, working Adam over tenderly and delicately. “You sound so nice, Addie. You really do.”

With another cry, Adam’s hips arched and everything inside him jolted. The tight knot unravelled vastly, leaving Adam out of breath and shaking. His vision blurred, stars shimmering across his sight.

With a devilish grin, Lucifer pressed closer to Adam's neck, his lips grazing the delicate Omega glands, sending shivers down Adam's spine. His grip softened, transforming into a tender embrace as he cradled the fallen Phoenix Omega in his arms. The serpent godling's sinuous form coiled around Adam, caressing his neck with gentle nuzzles that trailed upward, their cheeks brushing in an intimate dance. Lucifer’s intoxicating pheromones enveloped Adam, marking him as his own, a possessive and primal act of claim.

Adam’s vision blurred, his body a blend of numbness and warmth. As Lucifer captured his lips in a kiss, it was sweet, tender, and brimming with a gentleness that contrasted his usual cruel demeanour. When their lips parted, the sharp, predatory smirk that usually adorned Lucifer’s face melted into something softer, more affectionate—a loving smile that radiated from his captivating eyes. A low, purring rattle emanated from Lucifer, a sound akin to a contented serpent, as his golden curls shimmered with vibrant, iridescent feathers that fanned out like a hummingbird’s wings. Adam’s breath caught in his throat, utterly entranced by the ethereal beauty of the feathered serpent godling before him.

But then, a sudden gust of fresh air swept through the temple, dispelling the stifling heat and Lucifer's enchanting pheromones. Adam blinked, his senses slowly returning as the sacred stones were cleansed by the breeze. He squinted, glancing around in confusion as clarity and fear crept back into his mind.

Oh Quetzalcoatl... What had he done? What had he allowed himself to be swept into?

He had broken the sacred laws of Pentagram City, trespassed onto sacrificial grounds, and ascended the temple of Quetzalcoatl. He had committed treason, and the consequences would be severe—he would be torn apart if he descended. The Jorogumo warriors were likely already lying in wait, ready to capture him and exact their cruel retribution.

Worse still, he had desecrated the temple of Quetzalcoatl. He had allowed himself to indulge in something forbidden, something sacred. Lucifer could very well be the divine offspring of Quetzalcoatl himself, a holy being sent to deliver the next stage of destiny to Pentagram City. If Quetzalcoatl had not returned in his own form but sent his Nephilim son instead, it meant Lucifer was to fulfil this year's covenant with the people. And Adam... Adam had touched him, kissed him, allowed himself to be marked by him.

Holy gods. He was doomed. He had practically defiled Lucifer in the eyes of the elders! The punishment would be swift and merciless. They would deem him unworthy, a failed Phoenix, an unfit Omega, and he would be executed so Lucifer could find a more suitable mate.

Lucifer, who had been nuzzling into Adam with blissful contentment, barely had time to register Adam’s sudden panic. His golden and ruby eyes widened in surprise, round as an owl’s, as he tumbled to the temple floor in a dishevelled heap of serpentine coils and puffed-out feathers.

"Adam?" he called out, confusion lacing his voice as he pushed himself up from the stones, his sharp fangs glinting as they protruded from his lips. "Adam?"

The failed Phoenix stumbled to a halt in the archway, his gaze lingering on Lucifer as he bit his bottom lip. This was everything he had ever dreamed of— the boy who had promised to be his mate returning to fulfill that promise, a chosen mate who was more than he could have ever hoped for, a god himself. He yearned to return to Lucifer's warm embrace, but fear gripped him—fear of what Pentagram City would do to him once they discovered his transgression with Lucifer.

With a thick swallow, Adam turned and ran through the archway, his heart pounding with anxiety. The burning light of the sun blinded him, but he refused to look down at the walls, terrified of seeing the Jorōgumo warriors readying themselves to capture him. All he could think of was getting home, back to his flat where he could hide away, lick his wounds, and nurse his second broken heart. He would dream of the mate and the love he could have had if only he had been worthying.

Lucifer watched Adam flee, a disappointed growl rumbling deep in his throat. It took only moments for him to untangle his serpentine body, his clawed hands smoothing down his feathers as he straightened. His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of his right claw—the one he had used to caress Adam—and he brought his finger to his lips, licking it thoughtfully.

Adam had rejected him? Adam had run away from him? No. Absolutely not. That wasn’t allowed. Adam was his. Adam was his mate. He wasn’t allowed to change his mind. Lucifer’s blood and soul screamed for only one mate, and he had chosen Adam.

With a determined huff, Lucifer licked his fingers clean and slithered toward the archway, the bright sunlight barely fazing him as he poked his head out, gazing over the city his father had created.

“So, this is Pentagram City?” he clicked his tongue in distaste. “I expected something bigger.”

Lucifer's skin crackled and snapped, a sinister symphony echoing down the winding staircase as his eyes narrowed, sharp and unforgiving. His fork-tipped tongue slipped out like a serpent’s kiss, tasting the air, while the tip of his tail rattled with anticipation. Through the dim light, he glimpsed the silhouette of Adam, hastily descending the golden steps, his every movement betraying his desperation.

With a sudden, violent twitch, Lucifer's body surged, and from his back erupted six magnificent wings, their beauty both terrifying and divine. They stretched out along his spine, extending all the way to the base of his rattle-tailed form, a display of dark splendor. A low, rumbling purr escaped his lips as his clawed hands curled around the edge of the top step. Leaning forward, his shoulders rose, framing his face as his blood-red eyes flared with predatory hunger. The spider-like women clinging to the walls of his father’s domain caught his gaze, their presence only deepening his hunger.

"Ah," he murmured, arching his wings wide, feeling the power ripple through them as he tested their strength. It had been far too long since he had flown in this form, a form both glorious and deadly. "Adam’s about to stumble into a web of trouble, and I haven’t feasted in such a long time..."

With a graceful, effortless motion, Lucifer launched himself into the sky. His wings beat with a speed that outpaced a bullet, carrying him swiftly through the air, unseen and unstoppable. For whom could ever hope to spot the Nephilim coming? After all, Lucifer was the very child of the winds, an omen of doom that none could escape.

~#~

It was a strange sensation, one that Adam couldn’t quite explain. An inexplicable surge of energy pulsed through him, propelling his legs faster than they’d ever moved before. He leaped down the temple steps, his skin tingling with a sense of foreboding, as if unseen eyes were watching him from above. Yet, every time he glanced upward, he found nothing but darkness.

The failed Phoenix dashed across the sacrificial grounds, his heart pounding in his chest. He sprinted straight through the night sky's twinkling pathway, eyes fixed on the ancient wall of Quetzalcoatl. His throat burned, his nostrils flaring as if inhaling fire. Suddenly, a chill sliced through him when he glimpsed the silhouette of a Jorōgumo warrior near the wall. But as he drew closer, the shadowy figure vanished as though it had never been there. Had he looked more closely, he might have noticed the fresh blood staining the ground beneath his feet, but fear blinded him to the signs.

His heart raced, pounding a relentless rhythm in his chest, urging him not to stop. And so he didn’t. He skidded forward, dropping to his knees, scrambling across the cold stone. Unaware, he crawled beneath the statue of Quetzalcoatl, his hands outstretched, reaching for safety. Just as he pulled himself through, the waiting Jorōgumo warrior, hidden in the shadows, barely had time to scream before being snatched away by a blur in the sky. Adam blinked in confusion; his breath ragged as he glanced around.

"Where did all the Jorōgumo go?" he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, wincing as his fingers brushed over his sensitive Omega glands. Startled, he jerked his hand away, stumbling to his feet, and began to speed walk toward the border of Pentagram City.

"Maybe they didn’t notice me," he whispered to himself, picking up his pace.

 His eyes brightened as he spotted other creatures of the city going about their daily business. It seemed no one had noticed him sneaking past the walls. Maybe he really was lucky! Perhaps Lilith herself had taken pity on him, distracting her clan just long enough for him to slip by unnoticed.

Unbeknownst to Adam, the Jorōgumo warriors were being silently picked off behind him, one by one, by a shadowy figure darting through the sky. Oblivious to the chaos, he zigzagged through Pentagram City, his legs burning as he jogged past the crowds. His ears rang with the echo of his own heartbeat, so heavy and fast that it made him dizzy. But still, Adam didn’t pause, driven by a desperate need to return to the safety of his rundown flat.

When his apartment building finally came into view, Adam nearly wept with relief. His eyes glistened with tears as he slowed to a walk, sweat trickling down his clammy skin. He leaned over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. But his relief was short-lived. A cold dread washed over him as he felt a hand on his backside.

Adam's eyes widened in horror as he shot upright and spun around, only to find himself face-to-face with the seedy Alpha Minotaur. The very same Alpha who delighted in stalking him, his eyes gleaming with sinister intent.

"Not today," Adam choked out, his chest still heaving as he tried to push past the brute. "I'm in no mood for your bullshit."

"That's a bit harsh," the Minotaur growled, his voice a smoky rumble that sent a shiver through Adam's spine. His massive, calloused hand clamped around Adam's arm, effortlessly pulling him closer. "Considering I'm your last shot at any kind of courtship, don’t you think you should be a little sweeter to me?"

Adam stared; disbelief plastered across his face. The audacity of this asshole. He struggled in vain to break free from the Minotaur’s iron grip. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I heard all about the Jorōgumo turning you down. I tried to warn you," the Alpha murmured with a smug smile, leaning in close to exhale a cloud of musky breath across Adam’s face. "A Jorōgumo would never go for something as weak and delicate as you."

Ignoring the sting of the insult, Adam glared at the Alpha Minotaur, his eyes dark with anger. "Let. Go. Of. Me."

"I’m offering you a chance—what every Omega dreams of. I’m a strong Alpha, I could take real good care of you!" The Minotaur’s grip tightened around Adam’s slender arm. "Better than that spider freak, anyway."

Adam swallowed the growl rising in his throat, still struggling to wrench his arm free. "Fuck off!"

"Oh, you’ve got spirit!" the Minotaur bellowed with laughter, finally releasing Adam and sending the Phoenix Omega stumbling backward. "You’ll come around eventually. They always do."

Disgust twisted Adam's features as he sneered. "I might be unwanted by nearly everyone in Pentagram City, but even I have standards. Even I, a failed Phoenix, deserve better than a fuckhead like you!"

Without giving the Minotaur a chance to respond, Adam spun on his heel and stormed away. His eyes began to sting with unshed tears, but he refused to cry in front of that asshole Alpha. His arm throbbed from the Minotaur’s grip, but Adam was damned if he’d let that assclown know he’d hurt him. No fucking way.

As he approached his apartment building, something slithered down from above, and in an instant, the Minotaur was yanked into the air by his horns. His startled scream was cut off before it could even begin.

Adam all but collapsed against the door, his chest heaving as he stared blankly at his dimly lit flat. The tension in his body began to unravel, and he slowly slid down the door until his backside hit the floor, his head resting heavily against the wood behind him. Safe at last, surrounded by the familiar shadows of his home, Adam found himself drawn irresistibly to his comfort nest.

He crawled across the floor, each movement more desperate than the last, until he reached the nest of tangled sheets and blankets. With a swift, almost frantic motion, he threw himself into it, cocooning his trembling body within the soft layers.

As he lay there, the tension slowly drained from his stiff muscles, and the whirlwind of emotions he'd been holding at bay finally surged forward. The memories of the past few hours crashed down on him, leaving him breathless. A childish squeal of disbelief escaped his lips as he covered his face with both hands, rolling onto his side and curling into a tight ball.

"Holy shit," he whispered, peeking through his fingers as if the darkness might somehow confirm the impossible. "Did that really happen?"

Had he truly ventured all the way to the temple? Had he really committed treason, defying every law he knew, and scaled the temple’s sacred crown? And more unbelievable still—had he stood before the Godling of Quetzalcoatl, the Nephilim himself? Was any of it real?

Had he really met Lucifer? And had Lucifer truly touched him like that?

Adam's breath hitched, his disbelief mounting with every question. Could the kind boy he’d met all those years ago have been the Nephilim of Quetzalcoatl?

His breath shook, a tremor of doubt seeping into his thoughts. There was no way it had all happened... right? It had to be in his head. Maybe he’d never left his nest, and all of it had just been some vivid, twisted dream. That seemed more likely, but then…there was wetness still between his legs. The evidence was still inside his pyjamas.

Adam groaned, squeezing his eyes shut, desperate to believe it had all been a dream. His heart pounded with worry because if it wasn’t… he had pushed Lucifer away and fled like a coward. Who knew what the Nephilim would do now?

As he nestled deeper into the comforting embrace of his nest, the exhaustion of being up all night finally caught up with him. His thoughts began to blur, his breathing gradually slowing as sleep claimed him. How long he slept, he couldn’t say, but when he awoke, the light outside his grimy windows was already fading into twilight.

Whining softly, Adam rubbed his tired eyes and sat up, his hair a tousled mess. Even after sleeping, he still felt drained, as if he could easily slip back into slumber. But something wasn’t right. What had woken him up? The flat looked as it always did, nothing out of place.

Shrugging off the unease, Adam lay back down, burrowing into his blankets once more. Just as he was about to drift off again, a faint tapping reached the edge of his consciousness. At first, he ignored it, thinking it was just the rain. But the sound persisted, almost rhythmic in nature.

His eyes snapped open, annoyance bubbling up as he sat up and listened more intently. The tapping was coming from his window? But even with the shoddy glass, Adam could tell there was nothing on the other side—not even a drop of rain. His brows furrowed in confusion as he crawled toward the wall, yawning and accidentally bumping his forehead against the cold surface.

Groaning, Adam rubbed his forehead before pulling himself to his feet. He grumbled under his breath as he repeated his usual morning ritual, tugging at the stiff, worn-out latch. The hinges creaked loudly in protest as he forced the window open.

He peered out into the darkening city, stretching out a hand to feel for rain, but there was nothing. His head lolled against the window frame, his eyelids growing heavy again. There was nothing out there, and he was so tired—he could just doze off like this and—

"Hi, Adam!"

Adam’s eyes flew open in shock, freezing in place as a face suddenly appeared inches from his own. Black and green claws gripped the top of the window, and a familiar, mischievous head hung upside down, grinning at him.

Adam stared into Lucifer’s ruby and golden eyes, his groggy mind struggling to catch up. Lucifer? It was Lucifer! The Nephilim of Quetzalcoatl! His supposed mate—the one Adam had shoved away and abandoned at the temple. A startled yelp escaped his throat as he stumbled backward, landing on his backside. Meanwhile, Lucifer, with impressive agility, wiggled through the small window, his grin never faltering. The Nephilim slipped inside, his long tail snaking in after him, rattling as it stretched all the way across the room, revealing just how unnervingly long it was.

"You have wings?!" Adam squawked in surprise, his voice breaking.

Lucifer hummed contentedly, his twinkling eyes surveying the room until they settled on Adam's nest. A wide grin spread across his face as he immediately slithered toward it, nuzzling himself into the makeshift walls of pillows, cushions, and sheets.

"Hmm?" Lucifer murmured, patting down the pillows as his six wings fluttered on either side of him. "Of course I do~ All my brothers and sisters have Father's wings~"

Adam crawled backward until his back hit the wall, his eyes wide with shock. "You… You didn’t have them before."

"I can retract them!" Lucifer replied cheerfully, his wings suddenly straightening before folding back into his body, disappearing seamlessly into the feathers and scales. "See~"

Adam opened his mouth to respond but clamped it shut, his gaze shifting awkwardly—until he noticed something alarming. Red liquid. Everywhere. His eyes widened as he followed the trail of crimson from the floor to the walls, and finally, to his nest.

"You’re covered in blood!" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with panic.

Cuddling an emerald, green pillow close to his chest, Lucifer buried his face in it, inhaling deeply. He snuggled the pillow and peered at Adam with half-lidded eyes. "Don’t worry. It’s not my blood."

Resisting the urge to snatch back his favourite pillow, Adam frowned deeply. "Whose blood, is it?"

"Ah, those Jorōgumo. They were planning to ambush you, but don’t worry! I dealt with them!" Lucifer chirped, his feathers fluffing up and the tip of his tail rattling with satisfaction. "Oh, and that annoying Alpha Minotaur. He touched what’s mine, and I don’t like sharing. So, I dealt with him too!"

It was as if Adam’s brain short-circuited at Lucifer’s unnervingly gleeful response. He blinked a few times, his mouth opening to speak but then clamping shut again. His gaze remained locked on Lucifer, who stared back at him while clutching Adam's favorite green pillow. Did Lucifer know it was Adam's favorite? Was that why the Nephilim held it so tightly, pressing his cheek against it and—was he sniffing it repeatedly?

"When you say you dealt with them…" Adam’s voice wavered as he asked.

Lucifer’s smirk widened, almost unnervingly, until he seemed like an entirely different creature. His rattlesnake tail swayed lazily behind him. "I ate them. Yes."

"You—you ate them?!" Adam gasped. In hindsight, it shouldn’t have been such a revelation. Quetzalcoatl was a god of blood sacrifices and devouring flesh, so it made sense that his children would share the same… tastes.

"I was hungry," Lucifer shrugged, entirely unconcerned. "And they were there, so I figured why not? Killed two birds with one stone~"

Adam nodded slowly, trying to process the twisted logic. It made sense, he supposed, but still, a shudder of revulsion crept up his spine. "How did you find me?"

"It wasn’t hard~" Lucifer snorted, his eyes narrowing at Adam with a hint of judgment. "You’re my mate. I’ll always be able to sniff you out. No matter how far you run, I can pick up your scent anywhere. I just followed it to this building after I had my fill."

"Oh," Adam mumbled, glancing away, feeling weak. "Are you mad at me?"

"Absolutely!" Lucifer chirped, his smile unnervingly wide and cheerful. He didn’t look angry at all. "I’m fuming! I’m so upset with you! You ran away from me! And pushed me off! That hurt so much, you know!"

Adam flinched at the overly cheerful tone, his stomach knotting with anxiety. Lucifer’s voice was light, but when Adam finally met his eyes, he saw it—the pure, simmering anger lurking behind that deceptively happy expression.

"I’m sorry," Adam said, leaning forward without actually approaching the feathered serpent. "I’m sorry. I just panicked."

Lucifer grunted, tilting his head curiously. "Why would you panic? You’re my mate; I’d never hurt you."

"Okay, I—I know that. And I’d never hurt you either." Adam’s cheeks warmed as he spoke, feeling a bit bashful. He doubted he could ever actually harm Lucifer, but saying it seemed to make Lucifer relax slightly. "But you have to understand, you’re a Nephilim, the son of my god. How did you expect me to react? I’m nothing special. I’m not even a fully reformed Phoenix, and you’re telling me my mate is a Godling? It was just… too much."

Lucifer’s expression softened, his head tilting further as he seemed to digest Adam’s words. He hummed thoughtfully and let out a soft sigh. "Okay. I can understand that, so I’ll let it slide this time. But don’t ever do that to me again—I won’t be so forgiving."

"Right…" Adam nodded sheepishly. "I really am sorry."

"Hmm?" Lucifer purred, leaning forward with a playful glint in his eye, one clawed finger beckoning Adam closer. "If you’re really sorry and want to make it up to me, you’ll come over and snuggle with me~ I’ve always wanted to see your nest, Addie~"

Without thinking, Adam climbed to his feet, drawn to Lucifer like a moth to a flame. He found himself standing at the edge of his nest, staring down at Lucifer. But as he looked into those mischievous eyes, he narrowed his own and frowned.

Lucifer immediately pouted, raising both arms to Adam like a child wanting to be picked up. "Come on, Addie~ Let’s cuddle. I wanna snuggle you~"

"No," Adam said firmly, planting his hands on his hips. "Not when you’re covered in blood."

A sharp smirk returned to Lucifer’s lips, and his long, serpentine tongue flicked out playfully. "Well, then you better come clean me~"

"C-Clean you?" Adam stammered, his eyes widening. "You don’t mean…"

Lucifer’s grin widened, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he stretched out luxuriously in the nest, his voice dripping with suggestive mischief. "Oh, but I do~"

“…I’ll find a sponge or a flannel.” Adam muttered, beginning to turn his head away.  

“Why would you need those?” Lucifer questioned, catching Adam’s wrist with his snake-tail.

Adam blinked down at him. “To…clean you?”

“Oh no~” with one tug, Lucifer pulled Adam on top of him. “We don’t clean ourselves like that, Addie~”

“…and…how do you want me to clean you?”

Lucifer purred, sliding his arms around Adam’s middle. He rubbed them purposely up and down Adam’s back. His long tongue licked at Adam’s lips.

“You need to use your tongue~”

----

Lilith – Jorōgumo - Alpha

  Origin: Japan

  Description: A spider that can transform into a beautiful woman to lure and devour men. Jorōgumo is a blend of beauty and danger, often featured in ghost stories.

Lucifer – Quetzalcoatl's younglin – Omega

  Origin: Mesoamerica

  Description: A feathered serpent god associated with wind, air, and learning. Quetzalcoatl is one of the most important deities in Aztec culture.

Adam – Phoenix – Omega

  Origin: Ancient Greece, Egypt, and Persia

  Description: A magnificent bird that is cyclically reborn from its ashes, symbolizing immortality, renewal, and the sun.

[monkey-network]

The Beauty of 12 Angry Men

I remembered in 6th grade lit reading Franz Kafka's The Trial, a story about everything judicial being set in stone for someone completely out of the loop. The bureaucracy behind Josef K.'s fate is never given a cause, no method helps him, and after a year he's at the mercy of a situation nobody said would be fair to him. It was a striking story to me, and lead me into recognizing Sidney Lumet and Reginald Rose's 12 Angry Men as a similar yet antithetical story. The film keeps everything in the dark except for the titular jurors trying to piece the case together for a boy expected to get the death penalty. The matter though, is that the defendant's fate was clear from the start and the journey is about getting to that thread's end. What follows is one of the most well written, performed, and staged movies I watched in my entire life and I just wanted to finally talk about it. So, let's talk.

Setting the Stage

It takes three minutes almost exactly for the title to appear. You get the mission statement from the judge, a good scan of the main characters, and a single moment of the defendant's face, basically the only time you ever get to see said defendant for the whole movie. After that, we the audience are locked in the deliberation room where the film starts to shine after the credits role.

For the longest time watching movies, I was so used to big colorful settings, the characters going places even if it's just another place to talk, where it's a gamble if you can memorize those places. Oppenheimer last year became the widely regarded movie that consisted of next to nothing but conferencing in rooms. Even in older movies, things were never shot in the same spot for long. This film was the first instance where they stripped everything and worked with bare bones staging. All it is are the men in that one room. No flashbacks, no cuts to anything beyond the group speaking. The only other places you get are the adjacent men's restroom and the courthouse steps at the film's very end, scenes of which add to less than 4 minutes. And you would think it gets boring, but 'focus' is the keyword behind everything. The fact there's next to no music adds to it having an actually engaging script that doesn't manipulate or go to unnecessary places to get the point across.

12 Angry Men is what I'd call a "dynamic stage play" where you could imagine yourself seeing this in a live theater, but it wouldn't have worked as well without the secret main character that is the camera. This film knows how to prevent things from getting too static; the cinematography is... well-paced in laments terms. Again, in that one room, you're engaged in where it's focused, how it moves with the characters, when it cuts especially when it closes in on the jurors at their most serious. From a technical perspective, it's immersive at its simplest. No juror feels left out even when out of frame and nothing distracts you from the brilliant acting everyone brings to the literal table. After seeing this, I felt like this was the kind of movie I'd want to make. One that can work with so little but feel as tightly coordinated as any other similar to this. Then again, I wouldn't have concerned about this movie on technicalities alone. Let's get to the story.

The Stakes of Uncertainty

The trial is a first degree murder charge where if unanimously found guilty, the defendant would be sentenced to the electric chair. Everything surrounding this film hinges on the one person who votes not guilty, juror 8. Number Eight makes it clear that his vote is not about bias, there's never a hint at him or anyone having a relation to the defendant outside the case. His vote is the biggest gamble dependent of everyone retracing their steps of the details surrounding the trial, and what I love most about this is the fairness.

Eight doesn't know if the boy's not guilty, he never forces anybody to side with him, but recognizes that the defendant's life is a serious matter and shouldn't be as open shut as everyone else makes it in the beginning. The film shows within reason that the trial wasn't as clean cut as it seemed. And I know the movie isn't judicially accurate and everything's circumstantial, assumptive, and so on. If there's any real issue the film has for me is that they never indict Eight for sneaking in the switchblade even though that scene is still a goddamn show stealer.

Henry Fonda excellently portrayed a man who knew how to play the cards right

Then again, the increased flimsiness of the trial made with the uncertainty of the outcome is the point. We never get the sentencing after the men leave that room, it's all about Eight showing the others that the boy's life deserved more deliberation than the others were willing to give him. Hell, it discusses that trials like this can and have existed where measures of the outcome are made beyond the defendant's control. Breaking through the easy decision every other juror had was more valuable, and Juror 8 did that responsibly while never trying to be above anyone. That in turn is what makes this ensemble cast nearly flawless.

The Angry Men

Before ever seeing it, I've seen a couple jokes of this movie's premise of how it was nothing but said 12 men who sure were angry. Having now seen it myself, it's amazing how much we get to know about the jurors yet only two are ever given names. You'd think the film would give them simple archetypes and gimmicks, but even if you disregarded the acting chops everyone brings, the writing was able to balance who they each are relative to the case and each other. You can memorize which juror is which yet that never makes them just a number on the table.

To me, the best part about this film is how the group is able to collectively debate about the trial with individual motives and understandings. Jurors Eight and Three are the focal characters, they're the most opposing, but I don't consider them the main characters. A Youtube video I watched explores this better than I ever could, but everyone is in this together, regardless of how present they are in the movie and you notice this in their behavior. The character writing made with the simple staging does so much while explaining so little.

Juror Four, who reveals himself to be a stock broker, is the most clinical about the details. He does his best in retracing the trial as factual as possible, discussing the evidence in a way not even Eight is able to fight. What makes him crack though is when it came to jurors Eight, Five, and Nine bringing up certain conditions of the defendant and witnesses that he didn't care to notice. Juror Nine is the opposite, concerning about the witnesses' conditions and probable influences which helped reveal factual doubts in their testimonies.

Juror Seven from the getgo is made the most detached of the group. By the way he's dressed, constantly checking the time, while capable of paying attention Seven is the most dismissive of the case for the simple reason of just wanting to leave for baseball. This is where he comes into conflict with jurors Two and Eleven especially. Eleven is expressively respectful toward the judicial due process, mentioning himself being an immigrant, which makes him eventually fed up with Seven's disinterest. He's not somebody who changed his vote easily nor adds a lot to the debate himself, but recognizes Eight's efforts of a fair discussion and naturally confronts Seven about his constant snide attitude towards the case.

One of the film's strongest moments, where the build up was genuine even if you felt it was unexpected

Everyone makes sense with is established about them in the beginning and I could go on about the little things. Juror Nine, being the first to switch his vote, is the only one who meets with Eight outside in the film's end. You can tell by Juror Twelve fiddling with his glasses and concerned of having the info laid out sequentially is the most flippant about his vote. Juror Five being more likely to change his vote out of sympathy, having grown up and is more knowledgeable of the slums given that's the defendant's home. Nothing about this movie or ensemble is complicated, but the through-line behind everyone's choices in this gets to be more complex than realized. Everything about this is encapsulated in my favorite scene of the whole movie.

Pulling It All Back

Juror Ten is the most openly bigoted of the ensemble. From the start he is racially motivated in his vote, but that's not expressed until a little later. Of that point, he's certain of himself like juror Three about the vote being clear while scoffing at Eight's opposition. When the cracks of the case start to show, Ten's arrogance starts to show and his words become charged. He becomes the most hostile toward everyone and especially gets a rise out of Juror Five when talking about "these people". Everything comes to ahead when the vote is 9 to 3 for not guilty. Ten finally has his outburst, his racial rant unspecified but striking all the checkmarks of a man that stuck in his ways. Then it happens.

Everyone put up with his remarks up to that point, but here they finally step away and we get the most striking moment of a man finally alone with his thoughts. After Juror Four tells him off, Ten goes to the corner desk and basically shuts down for the remainder of the movie. This was the film's strongest payoff in every sense. It wouldn't have worked without the buildup just as much as the civility that came with everyone involved. Nobody had to throw a punch or challenge his beliefs, you never know if this changed Ten as a person, all that matters was that Ten knew he exasperated any goodwill from the jury and finally checked out the conversation. 12 Angry Men knew how to make the characters see their errors naturally, never feeling like they played up the drama for everyone to get their moment.

Conclusion

To me, I'm reminded of when in 6th grade, my literature teacher would have these Socratic seminars discussing the books we'd read. You could say it was the most involved I was in that class. This film knew how to capture that feeling, how towrite a roundtable where the stakes are high from the start but doesn't make it sanctimonious. Again, Juror Eight doesn't force or manipulate the others to see things his way. They try to convince him initially, adding up to a tangled but mutual engagement and it always feels like you're with them in the moment. You feel Eight's uncertainty is as sincere as his conviction, the same going for everyone else involved. The fact they're all sitting in sequential, helping you naturally follow who is who, is the cherry on top.

Before watching this, I didn't presume much beyond a simple courtroom drama which I enjoy ever since Ace Attorney. What followed after was just being more than impressed by how concise and thoughtful this was made. No second felt wasted, no detail felt trivial, ALL THIS and not even mentioning it being like a "bottle episode". Believe me, this post is long enough fanboying about a film from the 50s. It earned being the most ergonomic and engaging movies I've ever seen. If this essay wasn't enough, I recommend it at least once in your life as it's free to watch. What else is there to say?

It's the Best

[teacupcollector]

Venting Post (141 x Reader)

I apologize that this is the first "Fic" I write after a long hiatus. no guarantee that i am back, but eh.

I have PTSD this is a post of me venting about what i went through which include: Parentification, CSA, Munchausen By Proxy, and more. If this is triggering do not interact with this post. I am out of this situation now, but I am actively getting help for my PTSD. If you or someone you know is experiencing what i have listed please call your local hotline.

If you wish for another part of this or a more Indepth writing because this is all over the place I might write it but it isn't guaranteed. I pulled an all nighter to write this because i cannot sleep.

I realize I use writing as a way of coping, i thought I didn't need to write any more, because im "better" but in reality a person is always healing and wounds will always be reopened in some way or another.

If this helps someone cope in someway I may make it a series, but again it is not guaranteed. Enjoy I guess?

When 141 met you they knew something was different about you. A civilian on the outside, but there was a war brewing behind your eyes. Eyes carrying sorrow, despair, and longing. There was always a wall of contention when it came to the longing though. They could never understand why you would ever want to do the job they did. The death that surrounds them everywhere they went. You were a niece of Laswell's fiancé. Price couldn't understand why a fully capable adult would sit around base and filing paperwork all day. That was over a year ago however and now you all were more closely acquainted… More so infatuated. You hide behind the guise of happiness, confidence, and carefreeness. They know nothing about you or why the war behind your eyes continues to brew, but they catch a glimpse today.

It started slow. You arriving late to meetings, misfiling paperwork, your face looks like it holds many stone just to smile.

"Sorry guys I got caught up with Kate!"

"Sorry I got a call!"

"So sorry… I slept in…"

The nervous fidgets with checking your phone every few minutes increased tenfold, to the point where your eyes were glued to it. Eyes filling with tears waiting to flow over.

After todays meeting you head to the small petrol station for a quick snack. You need to get back to filing the recent mission brief. Your somber music was cut off by a gentle hand being placed on your shoulder. You flinch jumping away from the touch to see the kind eyes and freckled face of Kyle "Gaz" Garrick. He was always kind and quiet.

"Oh hi Kyle…" You take a moment to remove the noise canceling ear buds from your ears.

"Didn't hear you walk up. Do you need anything?" You ask with your weighted smile.

"Sorry Luvie, didn't mean to scare you. Just want to accompany you to the station for a snack." Kyle says with a smile as he falls in step with you.

You both walk in silence for a moment until you come close to an obstacle course. You pause and stare at the soldiers training. Climbing ropes, repelling off walls, moving in tandem with each other as if they are a unit, a one celled organism almost.

Kyle's gaze goes between you and the field and back to you. A look of confliction as he debates on the question he wants to ask.

"If… if you don't mind me asking… why didn't you join the military if you… uh… how do i phrase it… Long for it? I sense jealousy…" Gaz tries his best to be eloquent with his words as to not frighten you.

"I was on to many drugs…" You say almost humorously making Kyles eyes widen. You in take a breath and let out a tense sigh.

"Sorry… Kind of on auto-pilot… The drugging wasn't exactly consensual… well… it was… I… um… you know Gypsy Rose?" You ask as you begin to continue your journey to the store.

"Yes, I do…" Kyle was lying, but he didn't want you to feel the need to explain something if you weren't comfortable.

"Well… minus the parent killing and the jail time…You know the story…" You say as the small petrol station comes into view.

Kyle is now, way more freaked out and regrets not asking you to explain, but you seem to be pulling away from the conversation, so he won't push it for now.

"Yeah… um… apologies…" He didn't even know what he was apologizing for all he knows it will offend you, but when you only nod and pop your ear buds back in before walking into the station. While that happens Kyle does a quick google search.

"No wonder I didn't know what it was… It happened in America…"

As Kyle continues his search he skims articles with multiple mentions of "Munchausen by Proxy" then that lead to another rabbit hole of searches. Kyle turns back to look through the window of the station to see you paying at the counter. His brow furrows with upset before turning back around and pocketing his phone as you walk out.

"Not going to get anything?" You ask as you hand him a water bottle.

"Well since i'm your favorite I knew you'd get me something Luvie." Kyle says with a wink trying to shift his mood into a false happiness. You notice however, but decide not to push as you make your way back toward the barracks.

-

Kyle made Price aware to what he found out as you are apart of the team and your work has been suffering lately. Price's face wore a look of calm with an underlying feeling of hurt. He always tries to keep his face neutral, but he was utterly confused on how you can hold in something so devastating. especially if it was to the extent of what they read about. Little did they know that that was only the half of it.

-

The next time something concerning happened was with Soap, you both decided to go out into town on a day off. You were meeting the rest of the group for a movie at a theatre showing the new Sonic 3 movie. It was the only thing that seemed to bring light to your eyes so they all agreed to go. You were going on and on about how the movie would compare to the lore of the animes, comics, and past shows when you suddenly collide with someone. Johnny was so engrossed in what you were saying that he didn't see the person either.

What he did notice however was the look of terror on your face. You were practically trembling as the person placed a hand on your shoulder to ask if you were okay looking utterly confused, but the moment the person touch you, you flinched and clasped a hand over your mouth. Johnny notices as your cheeks puff out and your eyes water as you quickly turn in the opposite direction and rush away. soap could hardly keep up until you turn into an alley and release the early lunch you and Soap just had. The sounds you were making were making were not human sounding. It was like a terror-stricken animal taking it's last breath. That's when Soap found out you were on the spectrum as well seeing as even hours after that incident you were non-verbal.

Simon had to be the one to carry you back to the car as well as your room, because he was the only one seemingly strong enough to keep ahold of you. Simon recognized immediately what was happening. As it happened with many soldiers and him especially.

-

The final incident started off with a bang. Literally, the sound of smashing glass and animalistic cries of anguished could be heard all throughout the 141 barracks. The first to enter was Price gun in hand and wearing nothing, but briefs he went to sleep in. The sight he gazed upon was broken drinking glasses, smashed picture frames, and you hunched over something with a pair of scissors. crying and grunting as you stab the blade of the scissors into whatever it is.

Price in his delirium was shoved out of the way by a hulking Ghost as he storms into the room wrapping his arms around your waist and picking you up off the floor. You make feeble attempts to grasp at what the whole group can see is a raggity old pillow, that has seen it's fair share before being mutilated the way it has been.

"She knew! She knew! SHE KNEW!" You screeched as your whole body goes limp.

Simon had to fall back on to the edge of the bed before sliding off the edge and landing on the floor keeping you curled into his chest as he ripped the scissors from your hand and throwing them far across the room. Simon now forces your head into his chest as he uses his legs to wrap around your lower half as one arm wraps around your shoulders and the other buries it in your hair tugging at your scalp gently to ground you. He coos softly as Gaz and Soap finally walk in to see the carnage you caused. Their eyes land on you and simons maskless face. His eyes share the concern before shaking his head before focusing on you.

-

By the time you come back to your senses you are exhausted small hiccups before your eyes fall closed.

[nyamadermont]

Before the Party's Over

@flashfictionfridayofficial

#FFF296 Before the Party's Over

Avatar: The Legend of Korra

497 words

Su brushed her thumb against her pocket for the hundredth time to ensure her precious cargo was still in place. I’m going to erode myself to sand if this takes too long.

The morning Lin had left Zaofu just a few weeks earlier, Su had found a long, handwritten note on her desk. She still had no idea how Lin had gotten it there, but Baatar suspected that Jung had dropped it off with the morning’s tea. 

Reading over Lin’s request had already settled in Su’s mind as a new cornerstone of their re-built relationship. The letter itself was now safely locked away in a chest meant for Opal. 

That Lin would have trusted her with this task told her as nothing else yet had that Lin was truly beginning to see them as sisters again. While it was true Lin had no one else to provide this assistance, she didn’t have to take this step. Su would never have brought it up; the custom had already been fading by the time she had been sent to Gaoling, decades ago. When Poppy had asked her if she knew where hers was, Su just acted like she had lost it. Even the matchmakers she had been forced to talk to hadn’t acted scandalized. 

She allowed herself a puff of amusement over the idea that Lin, of all people, was this serious over a courting custom. 

But then, she had always been the one to take Poppy’s social training more seriously. Su smiled at the memory of Lin getting dressed by the servants one night. She was given a chance to be her grandmother’s stand-in for a dinner at the home of the local Fire Nation consul. Poppy had been sick, and did not need to leave her rooms, much less the house. 

“By the time the party’s over, Lin, Poppy should have at least three proposals for your marriage.”

Looking back, Su realized how badly that would have hurt Lin. Their grandparents had not much approved of Aang as Toph’s friend. They simply ignored the fact that Lin was even closer to his son. But she played the part, had four families pressing Lao for permission to contact her, and vanished home to Republic City without bringing Su with her.

Not that eight year old Su had minded, of course.

She brushed a fingertip against the stone in her tiara, remembering the day in the valley when Baatar had given it to her. But before she could lose herself in the reminiscence, Korra tugged at her elbow, pointing Lin out across the room.

Su gave her a quick nod and struck off to meet her sister before she was noticed by anyone else and caught up in conversation. She reached into her pocket, ready to relinquish Lin’s prize.

“You found it, I presume,” Lin said by way of greeting.

“Hello, Lin. Yes, my trip to the estate was successful and my journey here uneventful, thank you for asking.”

Lin rolled her eyes and face, holding her hand out in exasperation.

“Glad to hear it. I didn’t think I’d see you for another day or two. I can feel it in your pocket.”

Calmly, Su withdrew the item from her pocket, mildly surprised when Lin didn’t use her bending to yank it away. She unfurled her fingers and held out the smooth stone for her sister.

“Before the party’s over, you’re going to give it to him, aren’t you?”

And Lin smiled.

[holdmytesseract]

moodboard by @chennqingg | divider by @jiyascepter

Through The Years

Váli x Asta

Jotun!King!Loki Laufeyson x fem!Æsir!Queen!Reader

Summary: This story takes you and Loki on a journey through the twins life. From their first steps all the way to their first time falling in love.

Warnings for this Chapter: fluff, suggestive smut/light smut, first time, virginity loss? some mutual pining? supportive Y/N and Loki!

Word Count: 7k (Whoopsies... 😅)

a/n: Just like the last chapter, was this chapter also a very important one for me. I really love the twin boys and to give them a partner meant a lot to me. And I love how different Váli and Áki are. 🤗

Thanks to @fictive-sl0th for the hook-up lines.

❄️Chapter Five ❄️ Epilogue ❄️

Ice Flower AU Masterlist ❄ Loki Masterlist ❄ Masterlist

Chapter Six - Váli Finding Love

It wasn't the first time he was watching. He always was. Since the day the Asgardian ambassador stepped through the doors of the palace - alongside his daughter. Váli knew - was very aware that this wasn't how a prince should act. Hiding behind the thick stone columns and trying to catch a few glimpses of the beautiful young woman with her long, black hair and breathtakingly blue eyes. And yet, he did it. Especially after his father had introduced them. An event, from which the memories stayed present in the forefront of his brain; doomed to never be erased or forgotten...

"Son, come in," the king spoke with a smile on his face. Váli had just accidentally bursted into the meeting his father had - unbeknownst to the prince. "Apologies, dad, I-I didn't mean to, uh, interrupt." He answered almost shyly; taking small steps closer. Loki met him halfway, placed a hand on his shoulder, "Don't be. You couldn't know." and guided him through the big room the king called his study; until they reached the table - and the guests. "I want you to meet our guests, Váli." Loki started, and as if on command, the man and young woman stood up from where they sat. "Let me introduce to you… The Asgardian ambassador Sir Larsson." The elder man took a bow. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you, my prince," he said; giving Váli a smile. "And this young lady is Sir Larsson's daughter, Asta," Loki continued; gesturing to Asta. Váli's eyes fell on the ambassador's daughter - and he was immediately smitten.

Asta curtsied, "Your highness." and addressed him. Váli felt instantly how his hands got sweaty and his cheeks red. The prince wasn't used to talk to women. Unlike his brother, he wasn't a womanizer. Well, Áki was technically speaking a maneater - but the point still stood. "I-It's a, uh, pleasure to make y-your acquaintance, L-Lady Asta," Váli stammered out; internally cursing at how much of a fool he made out of himself.

That was the first time Váli was eye-to-eye with the beautiful, young lady - and he wasn't able to let go since. Whenever he saw her, it just sparked something within him... Interest. Not that Váli didn't have several love interests before, but the young prince was way too shy to make a move on them - and it was going to go the exact same way with Asta. That's what Váli feared. Hence, he was certain of it - if not a wonder was going to happen…

Once more, the prince lurked carefully around the column - but to his surprise, nobody was there anymore. Not the ambassador, not Asta, nor his father. He must've sunken so deep in thoughts, that he missed them leaving... He shrugged his shoulders; turned to leave - and almost crashed against another body. The prince's eyes widened to the size of plates, when his brain registered who exactly was standing right in front of him. "Hello, prince Váli." Asta.

"L-Lady A-Asta, h-hello, I-I..." He swallowed hard; knowing that he got literally caught in the act. "I-I, uh, it's not... Not what it looks like! I-I mean, yes, it is - but also not! I totally wasn't spying!" Váli stammered; trying to helplessly explain this situation. Asta raised an eyebrow, definitely confused. "I-I wanted to talk to my father, I... Excuse m-me." Before the situation could get even more unpleasant, Váli escaped and literally ran away.

After disappearing in the safety of his chambers, he pressed his back against the door; his head hitting the rich wood with a gentle thud. He had made a fool out of himself - like so often, when it came to talk to women, and especially Asta.

The days passed by, and Váli couldn't stop thinking about Asta - like usually. But whenever he saw her somewhere in the palace, he avoided her; too afraid of another collision. But he also didn't want to just 'give up on her', so the prince decided to do something he actually never wanted to do - but he saw no other way...

On the following day, he made his way to the royal training grounds. It was beautiful outside. The sun was shining and a soft breeze rustled the trees of Jotunheim. The perfect day for training. Váli wasn't there to train, though - but he knew who else was definitely there to train... And he was right. In the distance, he already saw him, currently lifting weights in the form of stones. To Váli's relief, nobody else seemed to be around, so he took his opportunity and approached his twin brother.

"Áki?" The warrior lifted his head at the call of his name; ruby eyes meeting Y/E/C ones. "Vál, hey. What are you doing here, huh? I highly doubt that you came here to train, do you?" Váli shook his head; coming to stand beside his bulkier twin. "No, I... Uh, I came here, because I need your help." Áki lifted a prettily heavy looking stone high up in the air, while eying his brother suspiciously. "My help?" "Yeah..." "And you need my help for...?" "I, uh, I..." "Vál... Stop beating about the bush and tell me what you need. We are brothers, for Odin's sake! No need to be ashamed." Váli sighed and ran a hand through his thick, blonde curls. "I, uh, need your help with..." "With?" "With a girl," he whispered, but Áki understood him anyways, and looked at his twin with wide eyes. "A girl?" "Yes, a girl." A small giggle escaped the warrior's lips, before he started to smile smugly; eyebrows waggling. "Oh.Ho.Ho! Look at that... My brother's got his eyes on a girl! Is it a wonder? Perhaps!" "Shut up." Váli grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest. That was exactly the reason, why Váli didn't talk about such things with his brother... He'd only tease him to death.

Áki let the stone fall to the ground and hit Váli's arm in a brotherly way, but this gesture made him stumble forwards and almost caused him to kiss the sandy ground. "Oh, come on, Vál! You know I am only teasing you. Now... How can I help you?" Rubbing his arm, the prince turned to face the other prince again. "I... I need you to teach me how to flirt and, uh, gain her attention. Please? I-I mean you are maneater - kind of, and I am... just me, you know. And whatever you did, it worked with Sađi, so please... Help me?"

Áki blinked. "I already told you, I was going to help you, but wow... That sounds really desperate, brother. But don't fret! We are going to make this!" Áki announced, smiling and wrapped his arm around his shorter sibling. "Now, for starters, I need to know which lady we are talking about. Do I know her?" Váli nodded. "Y-Yes. It's Lady Asta." Once more the warrior's eyes widened. "The ambassador's daughter?!" He wolf-whistled. "She's a damn fine woman, brother. You have a good taste; I must give you that. If I were into women, I'd definitely cast an eye on her, too. Lucky for you, that I am not." The shy prince's cheeks reddened. "You, uh, think so?" Áki smiled. "Yes, I do! Now, let's see how you can impress her, eh?" Váli nodded; fumbling nervously with his fingers, while Áki tapped his chin in a thinking manner. "Why don't you ask her, if she wants to accompany you to the ball next week? You can talk, dance..." He started, then waggled his eyebrows again. "... kiss." "Áki!" "What?!" "It's not really appropriate to kiss in front of all those... people!" The warrior shrugged his shoulders. "It never bothered mom and dad, did it?" "Yes, but mom and dad are married!" Áki shook his head, chuckling. "You are so... uptight! Loosen up a bit!" "Can we stop bickering and start... working on my flirting skills, please?" "Ahh, yes! For sure!" The warrior positioned himself; standing a few feet away from his twin.

"Now, let's see... Pretend I'm Asta and you want me to notice you." Váli grimaced. "Really? Do we have to do that on such an embarrassing way?" Áki snorted. "You wanted me to help you, so... Come on! Show me what you got!" The young man sighed, but knew that his brother was right.

Taking a deep breath, he approached Áki - who immediately stopped him again. "No, no, no," he exclaimed; shaking his head. "What?" "Your walk. It's so... tense and stiff. It looks like you've got a stick up your ass. Again… Loosen up! You have to be more... relaxed!" Váli swallowed; but nodded. "O-Okay, okay... I'll try." The prince did try, but he wasn't very successful - let's put it that way. Perhaps the way he walked was better, but the flirting? Definitely not.

"Good evening, Lady Asta. You must be a magician. Because any time I look at you, everyone else disappears."

Áki grimaced, "That's the best you've got?" then shook his head. "No. Try again." Váli nodded obediently and took a few steps back, only to walk them forwards again.

"Good evening, Lady Asta," the prince repeated; even taking a bow. "Is it possible that you are a rose? Because I want to pick you."

The warrior cringed. "Norns, no. Váli that's awful. Where did you get those lines from, huh?" "I overheard a few of our people on the market." Áki let out a deep breath. "Well, seemingly those people don't know how to flirt... You need something with more... impact. You want to impress her. Not scare her off. Try again."

And again, Váli started another try. "Good evening, Lady Asta. I was wondering... If I were the king, and you were the queen, in the cosmic game of chess, would you mate with me?"

Áki's eyes widened. "Wait, what?! Bro, you're confusing me." Váli blinked. "W-Why?" Áki took a deep breath; trying to maintain his sanity. "Alright, alright... We need to get this straight... You do wish to court Asta, right? Or do you wish to bed her?" Váli's cheeks turned beet red at his brother's words. "What?!" He shrieked. "I-I firstly want her to know of my mere existence!" The warrior with the long, black hair blinked; was even more confused. "But I thought you met her already?" "Yes, but... Not the way I want to." "Norns, give me strength," whispered Áki; pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay, okay. Your 'flirtations' won't work. I can see that already. I think we have to try something else. Just... ask me for a dance straight away." "Straight away??" "Straight away." "A-Alright."

Both princes took positions and Váli started another try; this time asking 'Asta' straight away.

"Greetings, Lady Asta. May I ask for your hand in the next dance?" Áki raised an eyebrow; smirking. "You're probably going to give that poor woman a heart attack with that, but it's definitely better than the first few tries. Try again."

After another few tries and advices from his brother, Váli was ready - according to Áki. Being now more self-confident, the prince looked forward to the ball.

Three days later, the big day had arrived. The kingdom was bustling with maids and servants; everybody helping to get the palace ready. It was one of the biggest balls, after all. Váli, though, didn't let the stress get to him. He tried to stay calm and keep his nervosity at bay. He was reading almost the whole day; hid in the little secret room of the library. It was his safe space after all. But unfortunately, time passed anyway, and so it was time for him to get ready in the early evening as well.

The prince took a bath and got dressed in the best Asgardian robes he owned. While his brother preferred the Jotunheim fashion more - like their father, Váli preferred more the clothes that the Æsir wore - like their mother.

When Váli made his way to the grand ball room of the palace in Jotunheim, the ball was already in full swing. A lot of guests from each and every realm had already arrived; were dancing, talking and eating. Music played and it smelled delicious. The prince looked around, to check if Lady Asta was here already. He saw everybody but her. His brother, who was leaning casually against one of the front columns; dressed in his warrior garments and shamelessly kissing Sađi - who seemed to have a break at the moment, given the fact that he wore his cooking attire. Yes, the young Jotun had made it and was now the second chef cook.

Váli smiled. Seeing his brother so happy, made him happy as well.

Then his gaze landed on the very top of the ball room, where a pedestal was. Upon that pedestal were two beautifully crafted thrones, made out of stone - and on those thrones sat his parents. Of course. They were the king and queen, after all. The prince decided - how it was adequate, to greet his mother and father. So, he made his way across the hall; always watching out for Asta.

At the feet of the pedestal were standing two guards - for protection, for sure. When they saw the crown prince approaching, they took a bow and let him pass without saying a word.

You had already seen your son coming your way and welcomed him with a bright smile. "Váli, my dear," you greeted him and rose from your throne to wrap him up in a hug. You frankly didn't care in that moment, if it was appropriate or not. "Hello, mom." He hugged you back and pressed a kiss to your cheek. "Are you alright? I haven't seen you the whole day..." The prince could hear the worry, which was undoubtedly swinging within your voice. "Of course. Please do not worry. I just spent the whole day in the library, reading." You let go of him again, still smiling and sat back down on your throne. "I thought so." Váli gave you a smile as well and turned to the right.

"Dad." Loki - in all his Jotun glory, with the signature horns made out of ice on his head smiled and gave him a nod. "Son." It may have been a short conversation, but not less meaningful.

"Have you, uhm, seen Lady Asta? Is she and her father here already?" You exchanged a look with your husband. "No, son, I haven't, I'm sorry. What about you, love?" You shook your head. "No, me neither." It hadn't slipped your notice, that Váli's demeanour had shifted all of a sudden. He was fumbling with his fingers and his cheeks had become slightly red. He seemed nervous and a bit shaky. "But I'm sure they'll arrive soon. Why?" "Oh, uh, just asking, mom. I'll get myself a goblet of wine now. See you later." Before you could ask him more, Váli fled; clearly avoiding this conversation.

You watched him leave; almost hastily stumbling down the few steps, before he vanished in the crowd. Oh, you definitely knew what was going on here. Smirking, you reached over and felt for Loki's hand. After being married for such a long time, the king knew exactly what you wanted and took your hand; letting your fingers slip through his. "I think our other son is in love as well." "Mhm. He definitely is," answered Loki. "You saw it too?" Finally looking at you, he nodded. An amused smile was on his face. "Of course, my queen. And besides... Váli usually never drinks wine. It's quite rare for him to drink alcohol." You giggled, nodding as well. "I thought so, too. It's very sweet, though, don't you think?" "I agree, love. Asta is a fine lady. I'd happily take her as my daughter-in-law." "Me too."

A whole goblet of wine later, Váli finally saw Asta and her father. Swallowing hard, he knew that it was time to make his move. It was now - or probably never. On his way to her, he tried to remember what his brother taught him; mentally going through every sentence they practiced. Time was running out though, because suddenly he was standing in front of her. Asta had her back towards him; was currently standing beside some other ladies and watched the people dance - but nevertheless. Alone the sight of her back left the prince speechless; entranced by her beauty. She wore a dress. It was definitely made out of fine Asgardian fabrics. Long and coloured in a beautiful soft blue. Her normally long hair was made into a pinned-up hairstyle; leaving her shoulder blades bare. She was stunning.

Taking a very deep breath, the prince took his courage in both hands and approached her.

"L-Lady Asta?" His voice was slightly scratchy and husky - a sign of nervosity. The young Asgardian woman turned around immediately; curious and excited blue eyes meeting his Y/E/C ones. Her eyes widened slightly, as she registered who was standing in front of her. "Prince Váli!" She curtsied; lowering her head. "Good evening." Váli tried to smile; feeling his heart hammering against his chest. "Good evening, Milady." Remember your brother's words! Remember your brother's words! It echoed through his head. "Y-You, uh, you look quite a bit l-lonely." Oh great start, Lokison, great start! His mind sarcastically screamed at him and rolled its eyes. Asta frowned a bit; her eyebrows slanting softly. "I-If I may be so bold to say that!" The prince quickly added; almost shouting at her - before turning beet red. This wasn't going how he planned... "A-Apologies, I..." Ugh. Váli closed his eyes for a moment and took another breath, while Asta started to smile gently - unbeknownst to him. He is quite cute, isn't he? The ambassador's daughter thought; suppressing a light giggle. Thank the Norns he's just as bad as me, when it comes to conversations.

"This isn't how I planned this to go..." Váli spoke up again and reopened his eyes. "I... I actually just, uh, wanted to ask you if you'd like to dance with, uh, me?" He bowed to her and stretched out a shaky hand - like he's been taught. I made a fool out of myself, didn't I? His own voice echoed through his head once more; not thinking Lady Asta would accept his offer, but then...

Soft, smooth skin suddenly came into contact with his, as she placed her smaller hand into the prince's bigger one. Quite a bit surprised looked Váli up again. "I'd love to dance with you, prince Váli." He blinked. "R-Really?" A small, delicate laugh escaped Asta's lips; causing the prince's heart to flutter. "Yes." Not thinking he'd come that far, Váli was a bit lost at first, but then managed to somehow regain his composure and lead her towards the dance floor.

Taking a soft bow - like he was taught, Váli placed his hand on Asta's waist, while the other continued to hold her hand. The woman smiled; slightly blushing. Her hand landed on the prince's shoulder. Váli waited a short moment, before he started to lead Asta over the dance floor. Sure, he had danced with several ladies before, but this was different. He didn't dance with Asta because he had to... No, because he wanted to. It caused once again nervosity to swoop through his belly; afraid of failing to impressing her and make the wrong moves. It wasn't the prince, though, who had a bit of trouble dancing...

Asta was more nervous than it seemed. She was just really good at hiding it. Her father wanted her to take dance lessons as well when she was a teenager, exactly because of that reason. The problem was that it's been a while since such a handsome, sweet and kind man had asked her to dance and therefore she was struggling quite a bit. Of course, she could've denied the prince's request, but her heart spoke faster than her head did.

As hard as she tried to remember the steps and to focus, she couldn't prevent a few mistakes to happen. Stepping on Váli's feet for example...

"O-Oh! Apologies, my prince!" She scrambled; turning red. "I-It's been a while since I lastly danced. Please forgive my clumsiness." Váli just gave her a soft smile; his heart beating faster. They were in the same boat. "Please don't apologise, Lady Asta. I understand - and I must confess that I am not entirely sure of what I am doing either." His words made the ambassador's daughter giggle and both their nervosity to disappear. At least a bit.

They danced for a long time; having small conversations all the way. It seemed like they just clicked and at the end of the day, both of them felt that there was something between them - even if they didn't tell each other... But it was there.

Being now definitely in love, Váli made his way back to his royal chambers late at night; a happy skip in his step. Rounding the corner, he saw his brother leaning against the wall beside his door; a cheeky smile on his face. He had been definitely waiting for him. "Well, well... I see someone is quite happy." Váli smiled; though his cheeks turned red once more. "I am, Áki, I truly am. I think I never danced so much before on any other ball." His twin giggled, nodding. "I saw that, yes. Seems like my lessons were successful." "Successful?" Váli giggled almost deliriously. "Brother, they were lifesaving! Thank you so much! I owe you." Áki smiled and stepped closer to his twin; placing a hand on his shoulder. "The only thing you owe me is that you go and make that stunning lady yours."

And so it happened.

Whenever the ambassador came to Jotunheim with his daughter - which happened quite often, Váli and Asta spent time together. The prince showed her every nook and cranny of the palace - including the library and its secret hideout, of course. He took her out; picnicking, swimming, riding out and so on. It didn't take long for them to share their first kiss and soon they declared to be a couple. It took both of them a while, since they were a bit shy, but the ambassador, you, Loki and his brother for sure, were more than happy for the young couple.

"Where are you taking me, Váli?" Asta asked; giggling, as the prince led her to the Bifrost. Being on Asgard at the moment came in handy for the prince. "You'll see!" He answered, winking. "Now close your eyes and please don't open them before I say so. And no peeking!" Asta giggled, but nodded; then closed her eyes. "Alright."

The young woman felt the surroundings change around her. It became suddenly colder. A lot colder. "Váli, where-" "Shhh," he interrupted her; pressing a short, soft kiss to her lips. He guided her gently forwards and could feel something crunch underneath her feet. "You may open your eyes now." And Asta did, gasping.

Celebrating being a year together now, Váli had decided to take his lady somewhere special. Some place she didn't see every day. And the prince didn't even need to think long. He immediately remembered how stunned she was, when they were reading a book together about Midgard. About a place called 'Lapland', to be precisely. So, the prince took she there...

"Wow... Váli, that is..." Asta was at a loss of words; gazing dreamy into the snowy dreamland around her. "Stunning, right?" "Absolutely! Is it... Are we... Are we on Midgard?" Váli smiled; "Indeed. Welcome to Lapland." wrapping a thick coat - which his father had given him, around her. Not that she was going to be sick! The prince had no problem with the cold. Being half Frost Giant had its perks.

"Do you see that little cabin over there?" Asta followed Váli's gaze. "Yes, it looks cosy. What about it?" "That's where we're staying for the night." The woman's eyes widened in surprise. "We are going to stay there?!" "Mhm," Váli said; taking her hand, "Let's go!" and gently pulled her behind himself towards the cabin.

Said cabin was beautiful and super cosy. Made out of wood with big windows and a fireplace. It was in the middle of nowhere; surrounded by nothing but nature. Woods, snow and a frozen lake.

The couple spent the whole day in the snow; exploring, hiking and watching animals they had never seen before. Only in books.

When the night fell over Lapland, Asta and Váli got cosy in front of the big fireplace; gazing out of the big windows into the clear, starry night. Cuddling closer against the prince, Asta suddenly saw something blueish green flash over the sky. Her eyes widened. "Vál... Are those...?" Váli smiled; nodding, "Northern lights, yes." and pulled her closer against his chest. "Just like we read in that book..." Whispered the woman; stunned. After all, she had never seen such things before and neither had the prince - who was just as stunned. "Yes... I wanted to show you at all costs and then my dad had this idea and well... Here we are..." "That is wonderful. Thank you so much for this." Váli didn't answer. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a gentle, loving kiss on the woman's lips.

It was definitely a date to be remembered.

"So..." Áki placed both his hands on the wooden desk at which his brother sat; smirking. "How was this, um... How is it called again?" Váli looked up. "Lapland." "Lapland! My words..." The warrior's palm met his own forehead. "So, how was it?" "Good. Beautiful, actually. The Northern lights were exactly how the book described it. You should go, see it sometime." Váli got very excited as he spoke; being the bookworm he is. "Did you know, that Lapland-" But Áki interrupted him; wanting to have more... details. "Yes, that's great, but what happened?" He asked his twin, winking - causing Váli to just frown. "What do you mean?" "Well, did you... You know? Finally?" Váli blinked. "Oh, for norns sake, bro... You are way too innocent for this conversation, I see... Seems like I have to be clearer." Áki stated, clearing his throat. "Did you finally bed her?" The moment those words left the warrior's mouth, Váli's cheeks heated up. "N-No, w-we-" "No? Oh man... I guess I'll never understand that... How can you not bed the one you love? I slept with Sađi when we weren't even together." The other prince grimaced. "Yeah, ew, no, I don't want to hear that, brother. That's disgusting. Stop, please. I don't need to know how often you and Sađi... No, no, no. Besides, you are a whole lot different than me." Áki grinned. "That may be right, but may I remark, that you came to me for advice not so long ago?" Váli sighed and rested his face in his hands. "Yes, yes, yes, I know - and by now I regret it, because I'm never going to hear the end of this." Áki just chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. "Sorry, bro... That's just how I am." "I know - and I love you nevertheless." Áki smiled; true, honest ruby eyes gazing at his twin. "And I love you, too." Váli stood up and reached over to place his hand on Áki's shoulder. Smiling, they looked at each other; sharing a moment. "Now if you'd excuse me..." The prince said and rounded the desk. "I have a date." "Have fun - and tell me about it, eh?" "Oh shut up, brother." Áki giggled, as Váli closed the door behind himself.

"Thank you for this, Vál." The both of them leaned against the pillows in front of the wooden wall; bellies full with food. "No. I have to thank you. You are the reason it is so wonderful." Asta shook her head; giggling. Her cheeks turning pink.

"I love you, Váli Lokison." Váli traced his thumb softly over her cheek. His eyes were filled with pure love and adoration. "And I love you." The young prince lowered his head; brushing his lips against Asta's in a sweet, innocent kiss. The kiss didn't stay innocent, though... The way their lips moved against each other seemed to ignite a fire within the young couple. They had found themselves often in heated make out sessions like that - but this time... This time it was different. It felt different. Perhaps was today the day, Váli thought; feeling the nervosity swirl in his belly. Perhaps not. I don't want to force her to anything...

Chills ran up and down Asta's spine; and yet felt her skin like it was on fire. She never felt this way before. At least not that intense. It was a whole new feeling for the quiet woman.

Váli pulled her gently closer towards him then; needing to feel more. Consume the love he felt for her. The black-haired beauty was so lost in Váli's kiss and the wondrous feeling inside of her, that she firstly didn't recognise in which position the prince brought them in… Suddenly, she was sitting on his lap, hands clasped around his neck. Váli's soft, gentle lips were still attached to hers, kissing her ferociously - but nevertheless with so much love, while his hands were on Asta's hips, holding her in place. She didn't think much about where this could lead or what was about to happen - until she felt Váli's hands leave the spot they so lovingly held onto. His hands travelled gently up and down her back at first; causing another shiver to run down her spine. It wasn't an unusual move of him. Váli did it often. But what came next, was definitely an unusual, unfamiliar move. The young man's hands wandered lower, until they reached the hem of her summer dress. Before Asta's besotted brain registered, what was happening, had his palms already found their way to her bare calves.

It never went that far. Váli never did that before. Never. The young woman's eyes flew open at this unexpected, intimate move of her boyfriend, and the sudden skin on skin contact. It caused a soft squeak to escape her parted lips.

As sudden as she felt his cool touch on her hot skin, as sudden was it gone again. Váli pulled his hands away quickly; eyes filled with guilt and remorse. "A-Apologies, A-Asta!" He started to scramble for an explanation. "I-I didn't mean to do that! I-I got carried away! I-I should've-"

"Don't stop."

She spoke up suddenly, quietly - yes, almost shyly; interrupting him. The young woman felt how the blood rushed into her cheeks; colouring them in a soft red. Váli knitted his eyebrows in confusion; a short, loose curl of blonde hair falling into his face. "W-What?"

The moment of Váli's skin touching Asta's had sent a sparkling sensation through her whole body. It was strange and overwhelming - but also felt so good. So comfortable. So... intimate. She wanted to feel it again. She wanted to find out what would happen, if the prince didn't take his hands away. If he didn't stop.

"Don't stop," she whispered again; gathering all her courage to slip her fingers through Váli's - placing his palms back on her bare calves. As soon as his skin touched hers again, she felt another sparkling sensation rippling through her. This time, though, the young woman couldn't suppress the small, soft gasp, which left her lips at the contact.

The prince was at first completely perplex; not knowing what to do or how to react. But once he realised that she really wanted him to touch her like that, he started to rub slow circles in her ivory skin, using his thumbs. Her hands found their way around his neck again - just like her lips found their way back on his lips.

It didn't take long for Váli's hands to go on another journey. His fingertips danced over the skin of Asta's legs; wandering up higher and higher, and leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. His cool touch felt amazing against her heated flesh. Like a trillion snowflakes melted on her skin. Within a heartbeat, the make out session had turned more passionate... More intimate. Every touch; every kiss was like pouring oil into an open fire, and by the time Váli's hands had reached the underside of his girlfriend's thighs, they both knew that this could go way further than they had ever been. This realisation caused the young woman's violently thumping heart to skip a beat. Her whole body was buzzing with anticipation of what was perhaps to come - and she couldn't deny it... She wanted it. Wanted him. She wanted to drown herself in the love and pleasure only Váli would be ever able to give her. So, she followed that raging need inside her body and started to loosen the leather belt, which held his beige tunic in place. Her rather bold move caused the prince to freeze in all his movements. With a soft pop he freed his lips from hers and removed his hands from her thighs - in order to wrap them around her wrists, stopping her. Asta's eyes snapped up; locking her gaze with his.

Another gasp escaped her lips at how close she and Váli actually were - and the intensity his Y/E/C held. "A-Asta, I... We..." He stammered; voice cracking. "A-Are you aware of what you're d-doing?" The woman in his arms nodded. "More than aware, my prince." Váli swallowed - visibly. "D-Do you... Do you really want this? Me? A-Are you certain a-about crossing that line?" Asta just stared at him; eyes wandering from his beautiful orbs down to his kiss swollen, alluring lips and back. She didn't need to think about this. Her heart - and especially her body had decided on this a long time ago. She wanted to feel Váli as close as physically possible. He was all she ever wanted. He was the one. She trusted him with her life. Blindly. Undoubtedly.

She nodded. "I never wanted anything more in my life," Asta spoke in a hushed voice; staring deep into his eyes. "Please," she added, as Váli still hesitated; unsure if he should really indulge into this. "Touch me," she whispered rather sinfully in his ear then - which caused the young prince's insecurities to shatter. He let go of her wrists and cupped her cheeks instead. With his eyes filled with love, he started to kiss her again. Gently and lovingly, but also intimately and passionately. It was so sweet and intoxicating, it made her head spin; hands going slack against Váli's lower belly.

His hands found their way back to her hips then; glided slowly up to the zipper of her dress, sensually unzipping it. He slowly peeled the straps of the beautiful dress down her shoulders and arms; letting it fall to her waist. Asta started to shiver slightly, when the cool air hit her skin. Váli only intensified it, when his fingertips traced her almost completely bare back.

Once his hands returned from exploring every inch of her back, they came to rest on the clasp of her white lace bra. "May I?" He asked, being utterly gentle and polite. His father thought him well.

Once more Asta nodded; already unable to form any words. Váli tried to undo the clasp as casually as possible, but found himself struggling quite a bit. After all, the prince never did this before, so how could he know? While his cheeks started to redden in embarrassment, his girlfriend only giggled sweetly, before reaching her hands up to cup his. "Here, let me help you." With united forces, the clasp was undone with one quick move.

Asta's bra fell; leaving her upper body exposed. But to her slight surprise, Váli's eyes didn't drop. They stayed trained on her face. Instead, he leaned in to kiss her again; hands splayed across her back, before he pushed her slowly backwards; gently laying her on her back. Váli was hovering directly above her now, his face mere inches away from hers. So close, thar she could feel his hot breath on her skin.

One of Váli's hands started to gently tug at the remaining clothes covering Asta's body. His eyes spoke more than words ever could. He made sure that what he was doing is alright for her. It caused the young woman to fall even deeper in love with the prince.

She lifted her hips; signalling him to go on. Váli grabbed the fabrics and pulled them down her legs, leaving her now completely exposed to him. The prince sat back on his heels; eyes settling on her body. Out of instinct, Asta covered myself; shielding herself from his sinful eyes. No one had laid eyes upon her naked body... until now. It was the first time she was completely nude in front of anybody... In front of a man. It caused her to be even more nervous and very insecure all of a sudden.

Váli started to shake his head. "No... No..." He rasped; his eyes incredibly soft. They were seeping over with love. His hands reached for her wrists again. "Don't cover yourself, Asta..." He tried gently to pull her arms away. "Please," Váli whispered. "You are so beautiful." The prince sounded so intrigued and honest, it made her give in - and she let him pull her arms away. Váli's fingers slipped through hers, as his eyes raked up and down her body; lips softly parted. "Absolutely gorgeous..." He gasped and let immediately go of her hands again, to capture her lips with his, before he started to breathe gentle kisses all over her neck. It gave Asta back her courage.

She lifted her hands to work at the belt of his tunic once again; freeing his upper body from the fabric. Finally, she was able to feel his skin underneath her fingertips. Curiously, she let her hands wander over the ivory skin of his shoulders, back and chest.

Unlike his brother, Váli hadn't much muscles to brag with. His frame was rather lean. No bulging pecs or rippling abs. But to Asta, he was absolutely gorgeous. Perfect.

Váli moved lower, peppered her whole upper body with gentle kisses; leaving a burning, sizzling sensation behind. It was electrifying. Asta was floating somewhere high above the clouds. But then the rustling of fabric caught her attention... She looked up to see how Váli got rid of the last remaining clothing, which covered his body. In the blink of an eye, he was naked as well - and now hovering above her again. That went now a bit too fast for the young woman. She felt how the anxiety and nervousness took over her system. Her eyes widened; legs starting to shake. Asta quickly brought her palms up to press them against his chest. "V-Vál s-stop. Wait, p-please." Váli stopped immediately in his movements, literally froze in place. The emotion in his eyes changed. His Y/E/C orbs were now clouded with worry.

She took a deep breath; felt how the feeling of embarrassment bubbled up inside her body. And once again, the blood rushed to her cheeks. "I-I never did that before... I-I..." Váli's eyes softened upon hearing those words leaving her lips. He started to shake his head; a smile spreading across his face. To Asta, he almost seemed... relieved? "Thank the norns..." He breathed; causing her to look at him quite a bit confused. Váli noticed that, of course and started to chuckle. "Don't worry, Asta…" He spoke softly and leaned down to brush his lips across her ear. "I never did that before either."

His words send a wave of pure relief and calmness over the young woman, but it also surprised her a bit. "Really?" She squeaked up; staring with big eyes at him. Váli bit his lip - and nodded. "Yes, really." Her mouth fell softly agape; completely in awe. Honestly, she didn't quite understand this. "But... How, Vàl? I bet there were are a lot of girls who laid their eyes upon you..." The prince breathed out another soft laugh and shook his head again. "It is a valid question, but… I thought you might have noticed this already, but... I'm a very shy boy." She giggled at her boyfriend's words. It was undoubtedly true. "Besides, if there were other girls, they all would have the same catch..." That awakened Asta's curiosity. "Which is?" Váli's smile widened. He reached out to tug a loose, long black strand behind her ear. "They would never be you, beautiful." Asta's heart skipped another beat. "You will always be the one. My heart belongs to you since the first time we met." Her heart fluttered; the butterflies swirling like crazy inside her belly. She felt how tears started to form in the corners of her eyes. "Oh Vál, I..." She wrapped her arms around Váli's neck and pulled his naked body flush against hers. "You are always the one for me, too," she said with a shaky voice and held onto the prince for dear life, completely overwhelmed by her feelings.

The both of them just basked in each other's embrace for a few moments, before Váli straightened himself up again, so that he was able to look into Asta's eyes. He pressed his forehead against hers. "Are you afraid?" She swallowed. "A bit, maybe." He nodded. "Do you trust me?" Now she nodded. "With my life." Váli smiled and pressed a chaste kiss on her lips. "I promise you, that I will be gentle. Please stop me, if you need to, yes?" "Yes." He smiled even wider; his eyes filled with love. "Hold on to me," Váli whispered and kissed her again, before they dove together for the first time into the deepest abysses of pleasure; making sweet, sweet love.

After the bliss had faded away, Asta was laying in Váli's arms; cuddled against his chest. A toothy - almost delirious smile displayed on her face. One hand of the prince rested upon her back; tracing gently random patterns on the skin there, while the other hand was in her hair, softly massaging her scalp. Asta was completely relaxed. Her eyes closed; bathing in the aftercare Váli was offering her. She never wanted it to stop.

The prince leaned down and pressed his lips on her forehead. "Mmmh," Asta hummed; already on the verge of dozing off. He chuckled softly. "Are you still with me?" "Mhm," she answered; more asleep than awake and pressed a lazy kiss against his chest. Again, Váli chuckled. "Well, it doesn't quite seem like it." "'M sorry, Vál." He quickly shook his head. "No, please... Don't be. It's alright. Sleep. I'll be here when you wake up again." And he was.

Tags: @eleniblue @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jaidenhawke @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @multifandom-worlds @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @huntedmusicgardenn @lokiforever @fictive-sl0th @lokisgoodgirl @smolvenger @hisredheadedgoddess28 @icytrickster17 @chennqingg @glitchquake @princess-ofthe-pages @crimson25 @elegantcheesecakecrown @buttercupcookies-blog @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @herdetectivetheorist @loz-3 @brokenpoetliz @km-ffluv @stupidthoughtsinwriting @jennyggggrrr @lady-rose-moon @lovingchoices14 @salvinaa @irishhappiness @sheris532 @princessdragon23 @xxannyxx @kimanne723 @mandywholock1980 @loki-laufeyson223 @vbecker10

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

Unexpected Adventure

Character: Seong gi hun X fem!reader

Summary: Gi-hun and the reader end up in a small village while on vacation. They take a random detour and stumble upon a hidden temple. The reader laughs at how they got lost, while Gi-hun is just happy to be with her, enjoying the spontaneity of it all. A new adventure begins.

Warnings: none🦑🦑

It was supposed to be a relaxing vacation—just a few days away from the chaos, a break from the weight of the world. You and Gi-hun had been driving through the countryside, enjoying the scenery, when you both decided to take a random detour. What was meant to be a quick pit stop turned into something unexpected.

"Gi-hun, where are we going?" you asked, glancing at him as he turned the wheel, taking you down an unfamiliar dirt road.

"We’re... exploring!" he said with a grin, his eyes sparkling as he glanced at you. "We’re on an adventure. Who knows where we’ll end up?"

You raised an eyebrow. "We’re already lost, Gi-hun."

He chuckled, that warm, easy laugh that always seemed to calm your nerves. "I’m not lost. I know exactly where we’re going… mostly."

The car bounced along the narrow path, and the trees around you thickened, the air growing cooler as you ventured deeper into the countryside. It was a quiet place, the kind of peace you rarely found in the hustle of the city. As you turned another bend in the road, the trees parted, revealing a small, forgotten village in the distance.Gi-hun slowed the car, looking at the village with curiosity. "Well, we didn’t exactly plan this, but… what do you think?

You laughed, shaking your head. "I think this was your plan all along, wasn’t it? Just wander until we find something interesting."

"Maybe," he admitted with a wink. "But it’s fun, isn’t it?"

You could see his excitement, the way he appreciated the unexpected moments, how they made life feel alive in a way the ordinary couldn’t. You both parked near the edge of the village and stepped out into the crisp air. The streets were empty, the only sound the rustling of the trees. As you walked, you spotted a sign that pointed down a narrow path: Temple of the Forgotten. "That looks interesting," you said, pointing toward the sign. Gi-hun grinned. "You think it’s a hidden treasure or a haunted place?"

"Knowing you, probably both," you teased.

Without a second thought, he grabbed your hand, pulling you toward the path. The further you walked, the more the village seemed to fade away, replaced by nature’s quiet embrace. The temple’s stone walls appeared out of nowhere, as if it had been waiting to be discovered for centuries.

"I can’t believe we found this place," you whispered, your voice reverberating in the stillness. Gi-hun stopped in front of the temple, letting go of your hand to run his fingers along the ancient stone. He looked up at the weathered carvings, awe in his eyes. "This is incredible. Who would’ve thought? A hidden gem in the middle of nowhere."

You laughed, leaning into him. "Well, you didn’t plan it, but it feels like we’re on some grand adventure, doesn’t it?"

He looked down at you, a soft smile spreading across his face. "It does. But honestly? I’m just happy to be here with you. I don’t need anything else."

You felt a warmth spread through your chest as his words settled into you. "I’m glad we got lost, then," you murmured, resting your head on his shoulder. "Because now we’ve found something even better."

Gi-hun chuckled, wrapping his arm around you, his body radiating comfort and warmth. "A new adventure," he said softly. "Let’s enjoy this one, too."

And as you explored the hidden temple together, you realized that the greatest treasure of all wasn’t the place you had stumbled upon—but the journey, the spontaneous detour, and the laughter you shared along the way.

🦑🦑🦑

[thecallofthevoid08]

The Haggis, The Kelpie, and Loch Lomond

Summary; The dragon has been slain and Erebor reclaimed. Thorin is lost to gold sickness despite all their efforts, now it is up to Y/n to try and help him see reason but the king is too far gone.

Word count: 10, 685

Thorin sits upon his throne with his crown atop his head, staring off into the distance as he mulls over the situation at hand. His head is abuzz with thoughts and theories and questions.

The first of many that comes about more often than not, is the Arkenstone. Where is it? Why is it taking so long to find? The second that comes about almost as frequently, a voice, doubting, pointing crooked fingers in every which way. They've stolen it. They've stolen the Arkenstone. Which one, who could have done it? It could be any dwarf that resides in the mountain and he would be none the wiser.

Another other looks at the child with scrutiny, how likely is it that they would stumble upon her? Not very at all. The fact that the child is supposedly (Y/n)'s niece though she made no mention of having nieces or nephews until the child had appeared. Something isn't adding up. It's too clean, too thorough. The fact the child can't go a moment without his Seer tending to its every whim keeps her attention diverted. It's almost – no – it is as though the child is purposefully keeping (Y/n) busy, distracted, occupied when there are far more important things to worry about than what beastie she has found. Something is trying to sever the bond he has with his Seer – his One – his (Y/n). That would mean something sinister is afoot, something evil resides within his mountain, under their noses and they were all too blind to see... until now.

The sound of steadily approaching footsteps catches his attention from his thoughts, though they're not heavy booted steps accompanied by the jangle of tools and weapons. No. They're light, soft against the cold stone floor of the mountain.

He raises his head from resting in the palm of his hand and sits straighter in his throne as he awaits his Seer breaching the confines of the throneroom's entrance. Then she enters with a blank expression but her eyes are filled with such uncertainty that he can see it the moment she enters.

(Y/n) can feel the weight of his gaze as soon as she has entered this dreadful room but she cannot be swayed by the nerves. She must speak with him even if it is the last thing she does.

She comes to a stop a mere stones throw from where he is sat and offers him a meek smile, one that barely reaches her eyes. "Thorin," (Y/n) begins tentatively, unsure how to bring up the subject of everyone's concern. The fact of the matter is Thorin has been off as of late – specifically since entering the mountain, and his brooding is doing little to sway their concerns if anything it's cementing their fears. "Know that what I say comes from a place of care, of concern."

He eyes her blankly, watching the way she fidgets under his gaze wondering what she could possibly be worried about now when they've made it to the mountain, he sits atop his throne, and the dragon is dead. What is there to be concerned about?

"Of course." He says while tilting his head to the left, silently urging her to speak freely.

(Y/n) stares at him for a moment silently assessing whether or not she will be subject to his flaring temper for expressing her thoughts but finds nothing but unsteady waters in his blue eyes.

She sighs under her breath, blinks, and sucks in a steady breath. "Do you feel well?"

Do you feel well..? Of course he does – how could he not? His journey is at an end, the dragon slain, his home reclaimed. The only way he would feel any better is if the pale orc's head were placed before him.

He raises a brow at the question but does not answer, instead he gestures to the walls around them with a grin. "Do I feel well?" He repeats with a chuckle, "I have never felt better, âzyungel."

(Y/n)'s brow furrows at the chosen name for her. She doesn't feel reassured at all by that, if anything she feels more worried for him.

Despite his words and his visible joy she doesn't feel very convinced so she asks again; "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

Thorin’s grin falters as he looks at her. He can see the worry and concern on her face as clear as day, and as overjoyed he is that she is spending time and energy in looking out for him, he can tell that something is wrong.

"Of course I am sure." (Y/n) can see his gaze harden and she almost regrets asking. "What have I done that is cause for concern?"

She scratches the nape of her neck as she tries to find the words to soften the blow of what she is about to say but there is no easy way to say what they're all thinking, really.

"You're not acting like yourself, Thorin." He frowns at her reasoning but remains silent as he waits for her to continue. "Please know that I'm not saying this to upset you. I'm worried about you – we all are. You barely eat, you hardly sleep. The only time you spend with the company now is to bark orders. You are not the same, Thorin."

Thorin continues to stare at her as her words fully sink in. He raises a hand to his face, smoothing over his beard as he mulls over his reply. "Do the others feel the same..?"

"Yes." Comes her immediate response. He can't say that he is surprised that the others feel the same, he knew it was a matter of time before their true colours were revealed, and truthfully he should be thankful that it didn't take long for it to break through the facade.

He slows in his ministrations but does not stop. "And did they put you up to the task of approaching me with the subject?" He asks tentatively, fighting back his flaring temper to stop himself from roaring and scaring her off.

"No," (Y/n) shakes her head, the motion gently swaying her (h/c) tresses, "we spoke about it and I volunteered."

"You volunteered?" His eyes widen a fraction at that, surprised to know that she was concerned enough about him to seek him out and ask him herself. It makes his heart flutter in his chest that she cares about him, for his health, but the idea that the company thinks ill thoughts of him leave a sour taste in his mouth that threatens to ruin this moment.

(Y/n) has unease upon her shoulders as she watches Thorin's movement. To anyone else they'd think he was lost in thought but its more than that, it's like he is listening but not necessarily hearing her.

"Yes, but that's besides the point Thorin." She begins trying to stay on topic. "We are worried about you, the company care about you –"

"I do not need to hear of the company right now." He sneers, cutting her off as he sits straighter in his throne as if he were getting ready to pounce and throttle her. "They are liars and snakes, filling your head with nonsense. Sending you to do their dirty work."

(Y/n) can't believe what she is hearing. He has never said such nasty words when concerning the company before and truthfully she never thought he would. Those dwarves are his friends, his family, his kin. What nonsense could they fill her head with? They've only been concerned for Thorin's well being just as she has been. It doesn't make sense.

(Y/n) sends a confused look at Thorin before shaking her head once more. "What? No, they haven't –"

"You believe them?" He cuts her off with a glare, as if the idea that she believes anything the company tells her is vile, disgusting, heinous. Before she can utter a word in response, Thorin continues. "You believe that I am unwell? Why? Because I have reclaimed my birthright and my rightful place on the throne? Because I have claimed the riches under the mountain? You are naive and gullible to listen to such schemes against me."

Naive and gullible? Those are two words (Y/n) would never use to describe herself with, so why on earth is he using them now? But more concerning is how he seems to think there's a coup against him.

"Did you listen to a word I said?" She asks, fighting back her frustration. "You are not eating or sleeping Thorin, that is the reason we are concerned, not because you have riches beyond measure –"

Abruptly he stands from his throne sending a heated glare at her and startling her into silence. "And I suppose that is what they told you? Filled your head with lies to deceive you, use you, turn you against me! Me! I won't hear of it. I won't stand for it."

(Y/n) shrinks where she stands. She has no idea what he is going on about. There has been no such conversations to turn her against him, that's his paranoia and sickness talking for sure and she knows it, but it unsettles her all the same.

"What are you saying..?" Her voice is little and meek and full of worry that she almost doesn't recognise her own voice in the vast emptiness of the throne room.

Thorin stares at her, letting the question hang in the air.

She is spending too much time around those who are praying for his downfall, he has to put an end to it quickly. He might not have been able to separate her and her niece back at (SC)'s barn but he won't stand for this treachery from them.

He narrows his eyes and (Y/n) fidgets. "I fear that you are spending too much time within the company of treacherous scum." He says in a scolding tone, like he's reprimanding her for her choices.

(Y/n) bristles; "They are not –"

"Enough!" He bellows over her with a snarl. "Do not try to defend them, âzyungel, I won't hear of it!"

There's that name again. Fear creeps up her spine as silence falls over the throne room.

Thorin, satisfied that he has rendered her silent, settles back into his throne with a frown upon his face that has no sign of melting away anytime soon.

(Y/n) stands before him with her mind going a mile a minute. What does this mean? What is he saying? She has absolutely no idea what is going on anymore and she is so confused and scared that she dreads to actually speak these words aloud for fear of his wrath... but she must in order to move forward.

She gulps, blinks several times, and draws a deep breath to try and steady her nerves. "So what do you expect me to do?" She begins quietly, "Ignore them? Turn my back on them?"

Thorin sends her a look, one that showcases how tired he has grown of the whole conversation. "As they have done to me."

That answer visibly confused (Y/n) as she scrunches her face up with a small wrinkles forming between her eyebrows and several on the bridge of her nose. "They have done no such –"

"(Y/n)." He warns with her name alone, and fear blossoms within her chest at that. "Not another word."

Her heart thuds in her chest, feeling like she needs to leave, to run. To find her niece and find a hiding spot and remain there for all of time.

"Or what, Thorin?" She asks scared of the answer, but (T) doesn't say anything, he simply continues to stare and she can practically feel the weight of his gaze upon her pinning her in place.

(T) can't help but stare. It feels like an age since he's seen her hair loose around her shoulders, those beautiful strands of (h/c) frame her face nicely. He wants to run his fingers through her locks, feel the texture upon his skin as he fashions her hair into a braid of his own design and pin it in place with his bead. How cruel it is that she stands before him like the most precious treasure that he cannot touch.

Then his eyes snap from her hair to her eyes, seeing the confusion and the hurt swirling in them and it's such a shame to see such uncertain emotions dancing in the light of her (e/c) eyes but she doesn't understand. Not yet.

"Must you always fight me?" His gaze softens as a pang stabs through his chest. "Do you take pleasure in making me angry?"

(Y/n) almost scoffs at that, almost, her previous fears immediately set ablaze with her anger. He cannot blame her for their petty squabbles when he is the instigator more often than not. If he is angry with her then that is his business, he can remain angry all he likes because what she has said has come from a place of kindness.

"Of course I don't? But the problem lies when you refuse to listen to me, insult others, and make threats."

"Everything I have done is to keep you safe." He counters with yet another glare. "I have done nothing worthy of receiving your scorn."

Nothing? Seriously? The arguments and the threats are not reason enough to earn him her anger? Apparently not, and that infuriates her, but worse than that he still isn't listening. It's almost like he's doing it on purpose.

"Thorin you're not listening –"

"I have been listening but every word from your mouth has not been your own." (Y/n) sends him a pleading look, one that softens his insides but he must remain strong for both of them. "Those wretches have been pitting you against me from the start. I know that they have."

"None of that is true!" She cries out in frustration, desperate to knock some sense into him.

"It must be! Why else do you fight and scorn me with your words?"

(Y/n) just wants to tear her hair out from the roots and scream. She's so frustrated she could break down and cry. "Because you are so stubborn and irrational and paranoid!" Her voice cracks and she has to stop to breathe. "You blame everyone else but yourself–!"

"What am I to blame for, (Y/n)?!" It's an honest question. As far as he is aware he has done right by her. He's always looked after her and this is how she repays him? He shakes his head, eyes hardening evermore as he stares at her. "I have never harmed you, I have kept you safe! Kept your niece safe! Kept you fed, warm, comfortable!"

"Yes, I know that –!"

"Then what?!" He bellows loud enough for his voice to ricochet off the walls.

(Y/n) stares up at him, shocked by the sheer volume of his voice and how raw and angry he sounded. Yes he has done all those things and more for her, and she is forever grateful, but he's ignoring all the threats and lies and secrets. They're just as plentiful as his help.

After the initial shock wears off, she glares up at him once more with twice as much ire.

"You've been treating the company so poorly since we arrived! Your nephews, (BB), Hell even (G) has been on the receiving end of your temper and he isn't even here!"

Thorin's frown deepens at the mention of the company once more. "Because I know that they are hiding something from me." (Y/n) scoffs and shakes her head once more at the ridiculousness of it all. "Now I realise that not only has one of them stolen the Arkenstone but they're trying to steal you from me too."

"What- the Arkenstone? Me?" (Y/n) sputters at that. There is no way he believes that... right? But she stares up into his blue eyes, finding no doubt, nothing but assurance that he is right. There is absolutely no fucking way this is happening. It's like the whole mountain is collapsing around her and she is powerless to stop it.

"Thorin, you don't believe that they would do that to you?"

"I do." He answers simply. "How could I not? It is the king's jewel, of course one of them has taken it. It's the only explanation as to why it has not yet been found."

She can see it in his eyes that he truly believes that they have stolen it from him and that breaks her heart. They're good people, they don't deserve any of this scorn. She has to defend them as they have defended her.

"Thorin, no, they don't have it."

"And you would know how, (Y/n)?" His glare hardens tenfold, threatening to set her ablaze where she stands. "Have you searched their belongings? Their persons and pockets?"

(Y/n) shakes her head once more. "Of course I haven't!" She almost screams out of frustration, then she sighs, trying desperately to regain control of her nerves. "Thorin, you're sounding insane."

But that was the wrong thing to say.

"Do not speak so disrespectfully to me, (Y/n)." Thorin snarls at her then, abruptly standing from the throne and pinning her in place with his rage. "I am king – king under the mountain! You will not disrespect me, least of all in my throne room!" His voice echoes in the vast emptiness of the throne room, his anger ricocheting off of every wall and destroying whatever hopes that (Y/n) could have had for this conversation.

(Y/n) stares up at him with remorse for the man that he was. "What's gotten into you, Thorin?" She asks as tears well up in her (e/c) eyes.

Thorin stares at her unmoved by the waterworks. He knows that they have tricked her, deceived her, and she is too naive to know better than to trust those snakes over him.

"Some sense." He answers calmly after a moment of silence. Then he tilts his head back, not removing his eyes from her form, and continues. "I see now how naive you truly are, how trusting of the wrong people you are. I didn't think you were so easily led but now I see. They've turned you against me and you let them. I will correct this, âzyungel. You have my word."

Dread creeps over her skin at the use of that name once more. She has never been referred to as such from anyone let alone Thorin, she doesn't even know what it means and that's what unsettles her. The tears fall soft as thunder. He won't listen, he won't. He's too wrapped up in his own head to hear her words.

"What are you talking about?!" She sobs as she wipes her eye with the back of her hand, "I'm so confused Thorin!"

"I will correct this." He says more to himself than to her as he steps away from the throne.

(Y/n) takes a meek step backwards, and the action does not go unnoticed. "Correct what?!"

"Your perception." He says as he takes another step towards her. She eyes him carefully, taking yet another step backwards. Feeling the animosity in the way he walks, in the tone of his voice. She doesn't know what he means nor what he plans to do when he gets within reach of her.

Her heart hammers in her chest, threatening to break free from its confines and run – run far away from Thorin. Something inside of her is screaming at her to run, sprint down the never ending halls and never look back but all she can do is take a small step backwards as her mind tries and fails to understand.

Thorin can sense how close she is to turning tail and fleeing and it irks him further. He doesn't understand why she can't see what's going on around her nor why she can't see that he only means to help her.

He takes another, much larger step in her direction, almost daring her to continue backing away. "You are forbidden from spending time with them, (Y/n). Do you understand?"

And (Y/n) takes another step away from him with widened eyes. Surely he doesn't mean that–? But he does. She can see it on his face that he means it. That he does not want her anywhere near them.

"No, Thorin, of course I don't understand!" She cries out, confused and hurt and scared. She goes to take yet another step backwards –

"Not another step!" He bellows growing more irritated with her. "You aren't to spend any time with any of those snakes until I find a way to deal with them!"

(Y/n) almost freezes... almost. Instead her heart urges her to flee, to turn and sprint down the endless corridors, find her niece and hide until he finally sees sense.

"This – This is ridiculous Thorin?!" She tries to sound braver, stronger, but instead she sounds meek and small and full of uncertainty.

"Ridiculous?!" He parrots the word back at her like poison as he halts in his tracks. That the idea alone is ridiculous, that she doesn't understand the severity of the situation. "Tell me, (Y/n), is it ridiculous to keep you safe from harm?!"

Of course keeping her safe is not ridiculous but the implications that she needs protection from the company of all things is. She knows it and she cannot believe he doesn't.

"No harm will come from the company, you of all people should know that!"

He sneers at her then, shaking his head at her foolishness. "It has been decided (Y/n)." He says as if that were the final word and she would have no choice but to bow to his whim.

He needs to see sense, she can't back down – cannot give in. If she does then what will come next..?

(Y/n)'s stare hardens, her lips fix into a wobbly thin line. Faux bravery, the mask of certainty; "You can't stop me."

Thorin stares at her in disbelief. He knows that she is intimidated by him, it's obvious that she is, but he was expecting her to back down, to do as she's told, but he would find no such luck. She's stubborn and temperamental and downright confusing.

He scoffs, shaking his head once more at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. "Do as you're told for once." He says and it comes as a warning.

For once? She has never actively gone against his wishes – in fact the only time that she had was when he was trying to split her and her niece apart back at (SC)'s barn. That was the one and only time she went against his wishes and wants – how dare he. How dare he imply that she is nothing more than a nuisance, a headache, someone who is so incompetent as to need constant supervision and protection when she has proven time and time again that she doesn't.

"No I won't!" She barks back baring her teeth as a near snarl. "This is beyond ridiculous paranoia, Thorin!"

Thorin tears his gaze from her as if scorned, as if slapped by her words.

Silence hangs in the air and (Y/n) is hoping and praying that he has seen sense, that her words have finally hit their mark and he realises how irrational he's acting... but God has never been forgiving.

He turns back to face her with eyes full of sadness and hurt and anger. A fury unlike she has seen before and her heart sinks to the balls of her feet. "You dare defy me?!" He roars in the vast emptiness ricochetting against the walls.

(Y/n) has never felt so small, so weak, so hurt. She needs to push past her own feelings to try and save her friend – to save their king.

She stares back at him with as much hurt and anguish and anger to match his own. "Yes!" She cries out in a near sob, "If this is what I must do to make you see sense then yes! Yes! A thousand times yes!"

Thorin's lips pull back to a snarl then. He has never faced such disrespect from someone he nearly could so closely consider his kin.

"You wretched woman!" He roars once more, barely able to hold himself back from lunging towards her and forcing her to see reason.

"Must I make threats to force you to listen?!"

"Make your threats, Thorin! I don't care anymore!"

That response shocked him. His face falls, all previous anger and animosity has melted to something more somber, something more serious. He hadn't expected her to meet him halfway, but she did. He hadn't expected her to disrespect him, but she did. He didn't expect her to turn against him, but she did.

Silence hangs in the air like a bad smell and (Y/n) starts to fidget under his gaze. There's something eerie when graced with quiet under Thorin's attention. He's always had something to say, be it witty, or snarky, or just plain rude, so standing before him after a heated argument with nothing more to say is beyond unsettling. His thoughts are his own and he keeps them well under lock and key.

He stands straighter, tilts his head backwards with indifference upon his face. "Then we will see how well you do when you're locked in your room like a petulant child."

That's just an empty threat... right?

(Y/n) frowns, unsure whether that is a bluff or not. He would not be so calloused or severe in punishing her, right? She hasn't done anything to warrant being locked away – right? He had threatened to bind her hands but nothing came of that threat so why would now be any better..? Because he is unwell, she reminds herself and she shrinks back.

"You wouldn't dare." She says tentatively, testing the waters with her index finger only to find the water scaldingly hot.

Thorin slowly blinks, sighs, and opens his mouth to speak. "You only have yourself to blame, âzyungel."

Dread and fear seize (Y/n) by the throat as she watches in horror as he lunges forward with outstretched hands. (Y/n) narrowly avoids his grasp by the skin on her teeth and turns on her heel, sets off in a sprint with only the sound of her heart hammering in her chest filling her ears and the slap of her feet against the cold stone floor that have accompanying, far heavier footsteps.

Thorin roars behind her but she cannot comprehend his words. She urges herself onwards hoping to cross the threshold of the throne room and find any other corridor or room to seek refuge in.

She breaches the confines of the throneroom's entrance and a sliver of relief washes over her but it does not last. Thorin's footsteps are growing louder, nearer as she barrels down the corridor hoping and praying to gain distance and hide but her hopes are growing slimmer by the second as Thorin's heavy boots are getting closer and closer by the second.

In one swift movement Thorin's hand latches around (Y/n)'s forearm and he comes to a sudden halt, hindering her in her strides before she has so much as registered the hand on her arm.

(Y/n) jolts then and she thrashes wildly within his grasp, swirling around to try and free herself by tugging and pulling on his grasp, pushing with all her might to no avail. The movement does nothing but irk Thorin further.

He girns at her as if she were a child having a tantrum, then with his free hand he forces her to face away from him and twisting the arm he holds behind her back at an uncomfortable angle and starts to march her through the winding corridors.

"Don't do this Thorin!" She cries trying to break from his hold but it's no use. His grasp is unmoving like the mountain around them.

Thorin doesn't answer her, instead he continues to lead her down the never ending halls and corridors towards the bedchambers where she will be kept under lock and key, safely tucked away from the treacherous scum of the company and outside world.

As he comes to his chosen rooms he pushes the unlocked door open with his boot and practically throws (Y/n) into the room.

(Y/n) stumbles and lands harshly on the cold stone of the bedchamber floor with her hands just barely breaking her fall. She can't believe this – that he has done this. That he well and truly believes the company is plotting against him, turning her against him. That he's resorted to locking her away from them all, including her niece.

She pushes up on her hands that sting from the impact and turns to glance over her shoulder at the person she thought she could trust only to see him with a hardened expression before he slams the door closed and locks it, sealing her away.

The audible click of the lock snaps something inside of her. The fear and worry and anguish melts away with the heat of the anger that flickers to life within her. She pushes herself to her feet and rushes to the door, tugging and pulling on it with as much force as she could muster only for it to barely rattle and shake against the hinges. Then she batters her fists against it, screaming curses and spitting venom as her knuckles scrape against the hardwood turning red raw before breaking the skin.

"You bastard!" She roars at the door as tears well up in her eyes from frustration and anger and hurt. "I'll never forgive you for this! Do you hear me?! Never!" Each and every word is followed with the sound of her hands beating against the door as she heaves and sobs.

Thorin stands on the other side of the door with a more somber expression. He knows that she's angry without her words or the sounds of her fists scraping against the wood but he has made the right decision in locking her away. It was only a matter of time before the company would try and steal her away from him, he knows this much is true. This is for her own sake as much as it is his own, and for that he knows that her words are not her own. She will thank him in the end, of that he is sure.

He straightens himself before he begins his journey back to his throne room with the key tucked safely away within his pocket.

Bilbo wanders the corridors of Erebor humming a tune to himself as he becomes acquainted with its walls and floors so as not to find himself lost without a good idea of where the halls lead. He's been wandering for some time, finding peace within the company of himself for once. Then he turns another corner and he can hear the faintest cry joined by another distant voice. Perplexed by the sound he finds himself following the sound, finding it steadily rising in volume until he has found its source.

He comes to a doorway with the door slightly ajar and crying coming from within the room. He steps closer, pressing a hand to the surface of the wood and gently pushing it further open.

"It's alright lass, don't cry." Bofur pats the child's back while rocking her gently as he tries and fails to soothe her sorrows.

"What's the matter?" He asks as he steps into the room with concern upon his brow as he takes in Ava's tear stained cheeks and red puffy eyes.

Bofur tears his gaze from the solemn bairn for a moment startled by the sound of Bilbo's voice but quickly gathers his barings. "The wee one is tired but she willnae sleep."

The hobbit raises a brow. He knows children can be fussy when they're tired or hungry or lonely, generally children can be fussy when they're not understanding the emotions they're feeling.

"Why not?"

Bofur shushes her once again while rubbing circles on her back. "She's wanting her aunty (Y/n) to hold her."

"Ah." The noise slips out before he can realise. That much makes sense then. Bilbo finds his eyes scouring the room in search of the woman only to find she isn't there. Which begs the question; "Where is she?"

"She left a while ago to speak with Thorin but she hasnae come back yet."

That's strange. She doesn't find much to speak with Thorin these days, not that he's much good company in the first place, so why hasn't she returned yet?

"How long ago did she go?"

Bofur thinks about how long she has been gone for a moment before giving Bilbo a shrug. "I reckon a couple hours ago."

"And she's not back yet?" That's enough cause for concern for the hobbit. She is always punctual, she shouldn't be so long especially in a talk with Thorin. "Where on earth is she?"

Bofur has no idea where she could be. He knows himself that she usually disappears for an hour at the longest before coming back to the bairn before she starts to miss her aunty but this is the first time she has been away so long and the bairn is used to having her around next to every second of the day so naturally she is going to feel out of sorts. He feels for her, truly, he does.

"No, she's no." He shakes his head at that as he continues to hold the bairn and try to console her. "I haven't the faintest clue but the wee one is restless."

Bilbo hums in agreement. "I'll go have a look around. She might have gotten lost on the way back."

"If you don't mind going for a look then that'd be much appreciated."

Bilbo knows that Bofur is doing all that he can but the only solution to the issue is to find (Y/n) and everything will be alright once more.

"Of course." He straightens himself out before turning towards the door and sending a glance over his shoulder to the dwarf and the little human child within his care. "I'll be back as soon as possible."

"Dinnae cry wee Ava!" Bofur grins down at the child clinging to his side and for a moment her cries fall silent. "See our burglar here is gonna go fetch yer aunty and it'll be right as rain, eh?"

Bilbo trails the endless corridors and finds nothing but the cold stone beneath his toes. Not a hair of (Y/n)'s nor any other dwarves to be found and he sighs. The only other option for him is to approach the king and hope he is in a more jovial mood. That is all he can do is hope.

He soon finds himself before the entrance to the throne room that Thorin spends at least ninety percent of his time and braces himself for the worst while clutching his hope to his chest.

"Thorin?" Bilbo approaches Thorin warily unsure what his mood will be at this time but he has a question he must ask. He stands before the throne and meets Thorin's unwavering gaze.

Thorin doesn't respond; he simply stares at the hobbit in contemplative silence and Bilbo takes the silence as a motion for him to continue. "Do you know where (Y/n) is?"

Thorin's eyes bore into Bilbo's almost staring straight through him. Then he tilts his head back, an unreadable expression upon his face as he sits atop his throne. The stillness of it all in such a vast open space is unsettling and Bilbo has the urge to drop the subject and leave to resume his search.

"Why do you ask, master burglar?"

Bilbo can hear the undertones of his ire in how Thorin had addressed him and he shifts uncomfortably, his fingers rubbing together as his own nervous tick. Bilbo’s lips curve at the corners as he offers his friend a smile as a means to show that he harbours no ill intentions and simply wishes to know where she is.

"Ah, well, you see I've not seen her all day, nor any of the company have either, mind you, but Ava is getting quite upset and restless." The hobbit finishes with a shaky half grin while blinking rapidly from unease at the situation.

Thorin does not answer right away, no. Instead he lets the silence wash over them and watches as Bilbo becomes increasingly more anxious.

"She is resting." Comes his reply and Bilbo's brow furrows. Thorin is hiding something, he knows that he is. He's never been so casual nor so blunt with her absence and apparently resting, as he claims, but if that were true she would have collected her niece before turning in for the night. That, and this part is crucial, it's not even supper time yet.

"Ah, yes." He purses his lips thinking, thinking, thinking. Then he offers Thorin a more sincere smile and prepares to take his leave. "Well, I suppose I'll take Ava to her then–"

"You will do no such thing." Thorin's reply is instant cutting him off and not so much as giving (BB) enough time to truly step away from his spot.

Bilbo studies Thorin for a brief moment. The arch of his brow, his clenched jaw, fingertips digging into the arms of his throne. Why is he so angry..? And more importantly why has the thought of him bringing her niece to her brought about this anger..? He doesn't know. Unease crawls under his skin at not knowing her whereabouts and at Thorin's shortness of temper.

Thorin seems to realise he's frowning and deeply at that before shaking his head from left to right and fixing a stony expression upon his features as if his anger never were.

"She is resting, master burglar." He says trying to convince Bilbo with a weak smile of his own meant to placate his worries for the time being but instead it cements them. There is something knowing and borderline sinister beneath that smile. "It is best that we let our Seer rest."

The hobbit's head turns downwards to the floor beneath his feet but his eyes peer through his eyebrows at the dwarf that sits atop the throne. Then he raises his head, fixes a polite smile and nods. "Yes, yes, of course. I apologise, that was rather silly of me." He chuckles but its not humorous but rather a dry awkward sound. "Excuse me." Then the hobbit turns on his heels and makes a hasty retreat feeling the weight of Thorin’s stare on his back long after he has breached the confines of the throne room doors.

Bilbo retraces his steps back towards the rooms he had originally come from that housed the floppy hatted dwarf and the little one.

His heart is beating a mile a minute as he stalks the hallways hoping to run into (Y/n) only to find no such luck. He comes to the open door and pauses just before coming to the opening. He has to regain his barings before coming to face the upset child so as not to further distress her in her aunty's absence.

It takes a few moments for him to calm his nerves enough to face coming to the opening in the door but he does. He walks towards it with the facade falling into place before he breaches the doorframe with his form and immediately his eyes settle on the dwarf whittling away before the fire. He takes a few steps into the room before (B) catches the movement.

"Bilbo there ye are lad." He begins with a smile setting his woodwork to the side and brushing the shavings from his coat before his eyes drift from the hobbit to behind him expecting to find (Y/n) behind him only to see the space empty and unoccupied. His smile falters and confusion fills his eyes; "Did ye find the lass?" He questions despite knowing the answer.

Bilbo offers him an awkward smile then shakes his head. "Uhm, no. Unfortunately I'm no closer to finding her than when I left.”

Bofur frowns at that. She should have come back around by now surely. She can't be lost – or is she? She could have lost her way in the halls and found herself in a collapsed mine somewhere. Mahal, he hopes not.

"Did ye ask Thorin?"

Now Bilbo tilts his head to the side and makes a face that Bofur would probably describe as a mixture between frustration, confusion, and irritation.

"I did..." He isn't sure how he can describe how his talk with Thorin went. Poorly, that's for certain. He just doesn't understand what is going on. He's not himself.

"But?"

But he is irrational, angry, irritable, ignorant. The list goes on. "He's not himself, Bofur." He says eventually then presses a hand to his forehead and the other rests on his hip.

Bofur gives him a softer look before nodding. "Aye lad. We know."

Bilbo presses his lips into a thin line as he collects his thoughts and goes over what happened in the throneroom between himself and Thorin and it makes him worried.

"But there's something else."

Now Bofur frowns, creating creases on his brow and next to his eyes at that. "Something else?"

He doesn't like the sound of that nor the implications. They're all worried for Thorin, of course they have been. Since entering the mountain the sickness has come hard and fast and he doesn't listen to anyone – not Balin, not Bilbo, not his nephews. No one. The one person he would at least somewhat listen to was (Y/n) and now she's not here.

Bilbo swallows thickly preparing to tell Bofur what happened. "When I asked him about (Y/n) he – well, he seemed more agitated that I mentioned Ava and disturbing her."

"Disturbing her?" He raises a brow at that. "So he knows where she is then?"

"He does."

Bofur makes a face at that. So Thorin knows where she is but won't disclose that to anyone? That's strange. Very, very strange. "And he wouldnae tell ye?"

"No."

Now Bofur's face scrunches up. "Why ever not?" He doesn't understand and it's frustrating.

Bilbo runs a hand through his hair and sighs. "He said she was resting."

"Resting?"

"Yep." Bilbo confirms popping the p and fidgeting with his fingers. "Resting."

Bofur doesn't like this. Sure he's not the sharpest tool in the box but he can see why Bilbo is so alarmed. There is something awfully wrong going on and he doesn't know what it is. He doesn't think Thorin would harm her after all that she has done for them – for him alone – but with her absence and him being so dismissive shows that something is afoot. Be it of a less sinister ordeal than his mind has laid out of him, Mahal, he hopes it's less sinister, or if it is he doesn't know what he would do.

He looks at Bilbo with just as much worry as the little hobbit. "The lass wouldnae have gone to rest without her wee one with her surely?"

Everyone in the company knows that she would never do that. The thought of it would never so much as cross her mind but he needs to confirm that she wouldn't leave her niece alone so that she could rest.

"That's the thing, we both know that she wouldn't do such a thing." Bilbo is basically shaking now. His fingers are fidgeting and he can't keep his foot from tapping against the floor. "She cares for Ava more than she cares for herself so even if she needed some time alone she would have taken Ava along with her. It doesn't make sense."

Dread. Sheer dead fills Bofur to the core knowing that he was right, that (Y/n) would never leave her bairn behind. Sure she leaves her within his care or the hobbits whenever she goes to speak with Thorin but that's about it. She loves the wee lass, they all do, but Thorin – he has had a nasty streak in him since the bairn came into the mix.

"Ye don't think he's done something do ye?" Despite asking, he's fearful of the answer. He almost doesn't want to hear Bilbo's answer but he has to have answers.

Bilbo opens his mouth to speak but no words follow. Then he closes it and reopens it several times as the words evade him. He doesn't have a straight answer. He hopes to Eru above that Thorin hasn't done something reckless and impulsive and hurt (Y/n) but unfortunately with how he has been lately he can't exactly rule it out as much as he wants to.

"I – I'm not sure Bofur." He answers honestly and as best he can because truthfully he does not know. He shakes his head cursing under his breath. "As much as I don't think him capable of doing something awful against (Y/n) but she's missing and he is eerily calm about it. He did get heated once I said I'd bring Ava to her so I can't be so sure something hasn't happened."

Bofur can see how distressed his hobbit friend is and truthfully he shares the sentiment. For now he can only hope she is okay and will turn up sooner or later. Until then he has a duty to keep Bilbo from freaking out and making sure the wee one is taken care of.

He places a hand on either shoulder of the hobbit and offers him his signature smile and hoping that the wobbles on his lips are unnoticeable.

"We can't know for sure at the moment lad." He says back to Bilbo to try and reassure him that there is a possibility she is okay and they're getting ahead of themselves. "She may be truly resting and Mahal knows she needs it. The lass hasnae had a moment tae hersel' since long before she became part o' the company."

That much is true and Bilbo knows it. She truly hasn't had a moment of peace away from the noise of them all or the responsibility of having to look after Ava. She could have decided with them safely within the mountain is the perfect time for her to have a moment of quiet.

Bilbo visibly relaxes. His shoulders drop and his stance stops being so tense. He nods, sending a grateful look to his friend. "I suppose that is true."

It is and he can't fault her if it is true, but if something has happened to her – Eru he doesn't think he'd have the strength to continue. He needs to stop thinking so sourly. She will come back, whole and healthy and happy. Positive thoughts only Bilbo.

"If we dinnae catch sight o' her t'morra morn then I'll help ye look for her." He squeezes Bilbo's shoulders as a means to support him before letting his hands fall slack at his sides.

For some reason that surprised him. Of course Bofur cares deeply for her too as her friend but for some unknown reason he didn't expect him to so quickly offer to help him look for her.

"Thank you Bofur, truly." And he means it. He is very grateful to have made a friend such as he.

Bofur doesn't respond, instead he smiles warmly at him before stepping away and settling himself before the fire and continuing with his craft.

Bilbo, feeling lighter than when he first entered the rooms, glances around only to see another, far smaller figure is missing.

"Where is Ava?" He asks, giving the room another quick look over. "I've not heard a peep from her since I've come back?"

"Oh, the wee lass passed out from exhaustion." Comes Bofur's response, accompanied by the sound of his knife peeling away a layer of wood, and Bilbo sighs a breath of relief. "I've tucked her intae a makeshift bed in the corner there. Poor wee thing. She's no used to being without family an she's awfy fond a' her aunty (Y/n)."

Poor wee thing indeed. The world is hard enough to navigate for him and he's a bloody adult hobbit, nevermind the young human from beyond the stars.

Bilbo approaches the fire and flops down onto the floor feeling the weight of the past hour like a ton of bricks.

"I'm glad she's managed to sleep."

"Aye," then comes the sound of the knife against the wood. "She needed it."

There's an audible click behind (Y/n) as the door is unlocked and she can't help but turn from the fire and hurry onto her feet to see who has come either to free her or to keep her locked away. God, she has such high hopes it is the former.

The door is pushed open slowly, gently in stark contrast to how he left it. Immediately upon seeing him her ire has flickered to life once more and she scoffs at the mere sight of him.

Thorin sighs at her reaction to seeing him but he isn't surprised. A mere few hours sat within the company of herself would do little to rectify her tainted perception of him, especially when he had to force her here to begin with.

He steps into the room carrying a tray with a single bowl of stew and a waterskin. He watches her as she stands before the fire, bathed in its red and orange glow and anger has never looked so solemn, it has never looked so sad.

"Oh my apologies, your highness." (Y/n) spits bitterly with a mock bow. Unable to contain her anger any longer, her face scrunched up in a concoction of anger and disgust of seeing him so soon. "Had I known you'd be making an appearance so soon I'd have rolled out the red carpet."

Thorin sighs, slumping his shoulders. He knew she would still be angry but he had hoped that it would have died down at least a little.

"I did not come to fight." He says simply in a voice much more his own but quieter, softer. It's everything he wasn't when he regarded her in the throne room but (Y/n) knows better than to believe that he's rid of the sickness.

(Y/n) turns her nose up at him before turning back to the fire. "What a pity."

Thorin can't say that he is proud of what happened nor of what he had said, but he meant it. This is for the betterment of herself, something she scarcely considers.

"I brought supper." He offers as he places the tray on a nearby table with a light tap before returning to and locking the door behind him.

The sound of the door clicking shut doesn't go unnoticed by (Y/n). She hadn't thought he would be so careless to forget to do so but she had hoped. She had hope for a brief moment but now it is gone. Leaving nothing but bitterness on her tongue.

She doesn't so much as face him, instead she focuses her ire and anguish on the flames, practically feeding it with her temper making the flames crackle as it feeds on the discarded wood and her ire.

"I'm not hungry." She barks back at him but even if she was, she wouldn't eat what he had brought her. God only knows what he could have done to it.

Thorin knows that that is a lie. She hasn't eaten anything since the morning and at least twelve hours have been and gone since then. He sighs to himself. Speaking with her now will be much like pulling teeth and he knows it but he needs to get her to eat something, anything. Even a morsel so long as she eats something. There's no use in saying he will protect her if he cannot even save her from herself.

"You need to eat." He insists but she doesn't answer.

Eating and drinking and sleeping might be essential to her survival, yes, but that isn't what she needs. What she needs is to be free to come and go as she pleases, talk with whomever she likes about whatever subject she fancies, or at least be able to sit within these four walls with her niece. The four year old would be far better company anyhow.

Quiet settles between them as (Y/n) refuses to speak to him. The only sound to be heard in the emptiness is the crackle of the fire and even that after a moment grates on her nerves.

"Where's Ava?" She asks after a moment of silence only to be met with more silence. She frowns before turning to face him to see that he too is now frowning. "Where is she, Thorin." This time she's not asking, she's demanding to know where her niece is.

Thorin knew she would ask the whereabouts of her niece, of course she would, they've been joined at the hip since they came together in the forest before they came to (SC)'s barn.

Unfortunately for him he knows that the child is a distraction, something sent to them as a means to draw her away, to divert her attention to much less important things. He doesn't truly believe that the child is her niece as she claims but rather an imposter. Something sinister conjured by dark forces to try and steal away his Seer and his mountain and his gold. He won't fall prey to it. Not now that he has seen the truth.

"A Seers duty is first and foremost to her king. Not to a brat." he begins in an authoritative tone daring her to speak against him,

A brat. He had called her that before and it upset her, now – now it angers her down to her very core.

"A king's first duty is to his kingdom," she counters with a glare worth the weight of her entire being with her jaw clenched, "not jewels."

Thorin's anger flares then, so much so (Y/n) could see it flickering to life within his blue eyes. He clenches his fists at his sides and sends her a heated glare that could scorn her skin and leave burning blisters in its wake. "The Arkenstone is the king's jewel! It is my right!"

(Y/n) stands with her hands beginning to tremble at her sides as she shakes with unwavering rage. "And freedom is my right!" She damn near screams at him in her frustration but he is unphased by the volume of her voice. "But here I am," she raises her hands gesturing to the four walls that she's trapped within and laughs bitterly, "locked away because you cannot see sense!"

He needs to breathe before his temper flares and he does something reckless – something he will soon regret. He draws a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth, then clenches his jaw hard enough that he could practically hear his teeth grinding against one another.

"There is one of us who is blind to the truth," he says lowly through his clenched jaw trying and failing to contain his anger, "and it is not I."

(Y/n) scoffs at that. Of course he is blind to the truth when he hears nothing but the cold, cold whispers of gold. "Where is the sense in this?! In any of this?!"

As far as she is concerned he could give her ten thousand reasons as to why she should remain within these four walls and she wouldn't care. There is nothing that could constitute a reason for her being locked away from the light.

Thorin flexes his fingers, draws another deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth. "You cannot see that they are using you – manipulating you for their own gain – I have seen it! I have heard it! I am doing this for your own good (Y/n). Do not question me any further!"

(Y/n) can see the stiffness of his shoulders, how tautly he's clenched his jaw, and now the twitching of his fingers and alarms are going off in her head. If she continues down this path she can't be sure that he won't hurt her as a means to silence her questions and force her into compliance – but family is more important. She needs to know where her only family is – that she is safe.

(Y/n)'s anger's sharp edge's give way and buckle to her fear and worry. Her eyes glaze over with tears and she has to rip her gaze from him before he can see how upset she truly is.

"Thorin," she begins meekly, fighting back the shakiness of her vocals. "Where is Ava?"

Thorin caught sight of every change in (Y/n)'s face. Seeing the blaze that once was her fury flicker and die before giving way to something somber. Something akin to melancholy and grief, and he had never felt so hurt for seeing that look in someone else's eyes... but it doesn't erase his anger at her defiance nor disrespect.

Thorin keeps his gaze fixed on (Y/n) watching for any change in her stance or otherwise but finds she's devoid of all previous anger and malice, without any energy left to fight him.

He closes his eyes, breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth once more.

"The brat is with the company." He finally answers but (Y/n) wishes he hadn't.

"Stop calling her that!" She snaps her gaze to meet his and raises her voice but it's not a shout but a cry and her tears begin to fall faster than she can wipe them away.

"That thing isn't your niece, (Y/n)." He spits the word as if it were poison in his mouth and (Y/n) sobs louder shaking her head. Thorin is unmoved by the waterworks, this is a bandage that needs to be ripped off and the sooner the better. "Surely you know that."

(Y/n)'s emotions are everywhere. She's angry – furious at him, hurt by him – she's scared and confused. She doesn't know what he's talking about now but he speaks with such assurance it's worrying her. Worrying for her niece's safety.

"What are you talking about?" Despite asking, she's terrified to hear his answer. Nothing good can come of this and of that she is sure.

Thorin stares at her for a moment in silence following each and every tear as they fall from her eyes before he opens his mouth to speak. "That thing out there that you've been so concerned about, is not your kin."

(Y/n)'s face morphs from anguish to confusion and anger once more. "What the fuck are you talking about Thorin–?!"

"You'll do well to mind your tongue in my presence!" He cuts her off with a low snarl and a step in her direction. "Anger or not, I won't tolerate that language directed towards me!"

She frowns at him and wipes the remainder of her tears with the back of her hands. She ignores his warning and snarls back at him feeling her anger return tenfold. "You bastard! You take away my freedom, my friends, my family–"

He pushes from his spot as his patience has worn out and marches right up to her and stops just shy of a foot from where she stands before the fire. He glares down at her with the weight of the entire mountain forcing her into silence. "That is not your family. That thing is an imposter." His voice is low and dangerous, threatening her with his tone alone. "An imposter sent to distract you from your duties and lead you astray."

(Y/n) has never been so intimidated as she is right now. Sure she's been made to feel small, weak, helpless from foes and others alike – but never felt such fear as she does now locked in a room with a very erratic, heated, and sick Thorin standing over her and blocking her between himself and the scorching flames of the fire.

Thorin glares down at her, his eyes darting between her own. He can see how frightful she is now that he is standing over her but he cannot make himself stand down. He knows if he bends to her emotions now the next time keeping her in line will be far more difficult. This is for the best, he reminds himself, she will see reason.

(Y/n) wants nothing more than to press her hands to his chest and push with all her might and send him flying several feet back to create some distance between them but she can't. She's rooted in her fear, unable to move - to think - to breathe. She can only stare at him as the fear consumes her from the inside.

The silence engulfs her and the crackles of the fire become nothing more than background noise. She has to find the words to convince him that that is her niece! She needs to find her voice so she can shout, scream, plead, and beg for him to believe her!

Her mouth opens but no words come from her lips. Then she closes her mouth before opening it again; "She is my family." She says in nothing more than a whisper but Thorin hears it as if she had screamed the words in his ear. "She is my blood – I know her like the back of my hand. If that weren't my niece out there I'd know long before you would."

Thorin continues to stare deep into her eyes but his jaw is clenched. Its clear he doesn't like the fact she chooses to still defy him, to continue to ignore everything he has said to her. She has the free will to choose her battles and it appears that this is the hill she wishes to die on. If she wants blood then so be it.

He turns from her with a snarl and storms away from her then. He has had enough of today. All he has done is for her safety, her comfort, her happiness – and for what? To be met with nothing but claws and fangs at every turn. He's sick of it. Sick of her attitude.

"Listen and listen well (Y/n) because I will not repeat myself." Thorin begins with eyes set ablaze as he stares at (Y/n) sobbing quietly to herself. "You will stay in this room until the end of days before I bend to your tears. They do not faze me, I am made of stone and steel. A mountain does not bow to the ocean." He pauses, shaking his head as he collects his thoughts. "Do you hear me? You will not set foot outside of this room, the heat of the sun will not grace your skin if I do not grant it permission to do so! You may think that I am all fire and brimstone but you are wrong. In time you will come to see how merciful I have been and on that day you will beg and plead my forgiveness, perhaps with more tears than you have shed today, and on that day you will feel not the cold of the mountain but the warmth from its forges."

Then he unlocks the door without a second glance in her direction and locks it behind him, leaving her to sob into the comfort of herself and the dying fire behind her.

[wraheathcliff]

Castles and Crystals

Outside, Lillandyr’s carriage was approaching the massive front gates. The castle already looked like it had grabbed its prey on first glance. There was an energetic malice settling in the cracks between the enormous stone towers shadowing overhead. It was watching her, feeling her arrive. The sentient curse that controlled its every spec of dust bristled with anticipation as the spectral horses rode the long road to the front steps from the gate. The Thing that controlled the Dracone castle was always hungry for the ambitious and curious. The fog quickly parted, as if it was getting a better look. A deathly coolness radiated off the stones to chill the charged air.

The architecture itself was overdone, an engineering feat so massive much of it looked to be in actual ruins. Entire towers were crumbled, adorned with eerie lights from deep windows like hooded eyes. The way it blended with the southern mountains of the Ghostlands was startling. It was a castle for kings, or a statement piece for a Lord that intended to be one. Every bit of it dripped an attitude of forbidden style, an embrace of itself unapologetic and fierce.

The longer the gaze, the more some of the stone mountain edifices looked carved, actually part of the castle. The black towers were beautiful, angry spears pointed above the dying sunlight to the lace of first starlight overhead. In silhouette, it sucked all light into its void. Glowing like faint green and amethyst crystals through the black were several massive greenhouse structures, some towering twenty floors high. Their glass broken in many places, covered in thick green moss. Out of the largest, an incredible gnarled mass twisted in and outside of the greenhouse roof, the trunk at least twenty feet wide. It networked an explosion of black roses over the entire castle, faint purple light pulsing dimly from deep within each bloom, lending an otherworldly aura to the entire facade. It made the castle look like a night sea this time of the evening, deep magic shimmering secrets in the dark. 

Uneven flagstones lay dwarfed by colossal buttresses with gripping black ribs like bat wings vaulting skyward. Near the entrance, stained glass windows depicted ravens battling demons, casting fractured red hues like blood stains on the steps ahead. 

Heathcliff, however, was unaware of her approaching visit and the series of traumatizing circumstances that brought her arrival. Aronsen intercepted the call easily from the lawyer. Impersonating his brother was one of his favorite methods of mockery and he did it well enough over a voice comm. So when the wheels halted their hellish journey at his steps, there was no one to greet her.

The doctor was panicking. He was losing his patient, the death rattle already starting. He had removed so many arcane growths, he just had to get one more. It was a large elf, once a warrior. Heathcliff surmised his constitution would be a good candidate for some of his more aggressive experiments, hoping he could completely reverse the arcane spread as it moved as a cancer throughout the wretched’s addled blood. 

So much blood was already lost. Hair wet with sweat curled and fell over his eyes as he rubbed a bloodied hand in frustration on the lens of the magnifying glass attached to one eye, making his smeared vision worse. His white sleeves were rolled-up to his elbows, and his hands were covered in guts up to the fabric, wicking the blood up his muscled arms in creeping stains. He could have an assistant, a healer, with magic. But that would defeat the purpose, the point. Heathcliff’s mission to prove they could control life and flesh without magic, without dependencies. One god to another, one force of nature for another… he saw it as all dependency. Slavery to serve someone, or something. He sought freedom, a way for his people to survive without the whims of magic. Even though his own undead blood existed by high magic, or maybe because it did. 

“Come on, come on, come on, just a little longer, hang in there just a little longer…” he coaxed under his breath, feeling the final crystal, the worst one, nestled between the weakly pumping heart ventricles. His arm was deep inside from a cut in the abdomen, underneath the ribcage. Concentrating, gentle fingers felt the smooth lines of the stone, knew he had it. The memory of anatomical familiarities guided his exploration, and a horrified realization dawned on him.

It was too late. 

The crystal had grown nearly double since yesterday. It had already pierced the left ventricle. If he removed it, death would be instant. 

It was over.

Two months of surgeries, two months of successful recovery with a gruff giant of an elf he was beginning to like. Heathcliff didn’t care to get personal with his patients, but he’d engage in banter with this one quite often as he recovered on the table. They even played cards once, to test him after a brain surgery. His sense of humor was as dark as Heathcliff’s and it made him more determined to save him. 

But it was over.

Heathcliff rested a moment, hand still buried deep within the chest cavity, hovering on the arcane crystal. He squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced with his failure as fingers slowly pulled the crystal out, a flood of warmth following, flooding the chest cavity. 

He felt him die. The sensation made him weep. Head resting in the guts, his sobs muffled by gore and bloody rags. Standing up, he wiped his face, now a war zone of defeat. It was a quiet kind of mourning, his breathing the only sound.

The room felt small. He, felt small. His head rolled back to gaze up at the green glass of the laboratory far above. The stars shone their mysteries down on him like a judgement from the Gods, a reminder he might be nothing to it all. He couldn’t even save one life, let alone a people that hated him, hated him against the embrace of all that was divine. His chest moved hoarsely with breath, he coughed violently and reached with trembling hands for a cigarette, blood staining the paper. He noticed and spat it out in disgust, standing in the misery of his own making.

@lillandyrshadowglade

[averageallogene]

After the battle against Osial and urged on by Paimon, Lumine tracks Xiao down to confess her feelings, only to find him on a family outing with you, his wife and your son.

Xiao ♡⊹˚  Couldn’t have known [SFW]

fem. reader (3rd person) ; don't know whether to tag this as angst, or fluff, or both??? It just depends on the perspective I suppose. Xiao and reader are married. Cw. for unrequited feelings of a third party.

5k words.

notes. Poor Lulu, it's okay babygirl I'll try to do you justice on another drabble in the future <\3. But at the same time I got to give Xiao some semblance of peace with wholesome family time so I suppose I can take the heartbreak. Hope you enjoy ✧˖°.

The wounds within the nation were still fresh. The Harbor was on edge, its people doing the best they could to return to everyday life as part of the destroyed homes had already begun reconstruction. If before the battle with Osial the fatui were at the very least viewed as neutral, they were now deeply hated by every Liyue citizen, the organization being completely shut off from the outside as some people even resorted to physical violence as a response for their involvement with the tragedy. 

Suffice to say, Liyue was still shaky. Their God was gone as far as most knew, and the Qixing was the top of the food chain now. And despite having averted the crisis fairly well, most couldn't help but wonder, would they be able to protect them as well as Rex Lapis had? Some were hesitant, whilst others clung with the hope that it would be smooth sailing from there. After all, even if their God was gone, his adepti still remained, as well as the now hailed Hero of Liyue. They would be safe. 

Lumine hadn't quite gotten used to the flair of being hailed a hero still - after all, her primary reason for being there was to look for her brother, simply having stumbled upon more chaos that she was shoved into without her being fully aware. Even still, she knew better than to have turned her back on an entire nation on the verge of crisis, and so she had stayed and stuck around far longer than what she would've initially liked. It wasn't all for naught, though - she met new wonderful people, got to know more of the world of Teyvat and its customs and cultures. She got to hone her skills and become stronger, as well as, as her gut told her, take a step forward towards the truth. 

Among the many she had met, one had seemingly stuck around in her mind - Xiao, the lonesome Conqueror of Demons that would mostly stick around Wangshu Inn. Admittedly he'd been rather curt at first, yet it soon became obvious he carried more on his shoulders than what he would admit. And on that, as well as other things, Lumine found herself relating to him. It was slow progress, but Xiao had begun to open up as well, leaving her small cracks from which she could peek into. It was as though he was testing the waters, seeing if she would find him repulsive or unapproachable. He wasn't, not to her. 

He had been there for her, during the confrontation with Osial. It had been perhaps one of the only times thus far on her journey where Lumine had truly felt like she wouldn't make it, were it not for the aid of her allies. It had been a day filled with raw emotions, amplifying them beneath the surface and under the obvious threat from which they had lived through. And it was only after the fact, when she had taken some time to rest and ponder, that the emotions began to set, carving themselves into stone.

"I think it's quite obvious what needs to be done." Paimon had placed her hands on her hips, hovering close to her face as she gazed upon her with narrowed eyes.

"Oh? What are you talking about, Paimon?" Lumine feigned ignorance, an eyebrow being raised as she made a last ditch effort to avoid the topic.

"Don't play dumb with me, missy! I know you very well, you know?" The fair haired fairy pointed her finger to her, before shaking her head. "It's obvious you're head over heels over the lonesome adeptus Xiao. And the last thing I wanna see, is my companion regret not confessing her true feelings."

Well, she had to give it to Paimon. She could be simply and only driven by food, sure, but she had a more keen eye than what Lumine had really thought. 

The traveler huffed with a weak laugh, her head shaking. "No no, I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?!" She seemed utterly flabbergasted. "Wait, you're not even denying it-"

"What if I make him uncomfortable?" She thought aloud, eyebrows furrowing. "Or, let's say that I do manage to confess. What then? I can't expect him to leave Liyue behind."

"No one has to leave anything behind. We can always periodically return to Liyue Harbor while we travel!" Her flying companion suggested, her head nodding at her own proposal. 

She watched as Lumine seemed to consider that idea, a small sigh leaving her lips as she pondered over her options. As a seasoned adventurer, she had to, along her journey, learn to always consider the less favored outcomes an option. Were she to be rejected, she and Paimon would simply have to haste their move to their next nation… Yet, the idea of it not ending like that… It alone seemed to be enchanting enough for her to, in the end, decide to go forward with Paimon’s proposal.  

“It’ll go well, trust Paimon on this one!” She kicked her smaller feet in the air, her eyes sparkling with great hope for her companion. She helped Lumine pack before they were to head off to Wangshu Inn, the hailed Hero of Liyue feeling nervous for the first time in a little while. “There’s no way it won’t end well, Lumine! After all, you’re downright perfect!”

She couldn’t have known. Paimon couldn’t have known, either. It honestly was something even most adepti didn’t know of - it was something Xiao kept close to his chest, only a select few knowing about that side of him. He cared naught for finding a partner, never had in the eons he’d existed for. He saw no need. 

That was, until he had met [F/N]. A mere mortal, yet one he loved with his whole being.

It had been rough to come to terms with his emotions. It had been rocky, a steep climb for  [F/N] to be allowed in; yet somehow, she had managed to reach the peak, finding at the end of her journey a side Xiao would only reveal to her - it was always present, in the way he gazed upon her, his golden eyes reflecting the warm sunset that would bathe them each dusk that she visited him in Wangshu Inn. It was always present, in the way his gloved hand would hold her own, delicately, almost afraid to break her as if she were made of porcelain. He wasn’t one to outwardly express his emotions, yet the silence with him had felt comforting. It felt like a safe haven, Xiao finally finding a semblance of peace each time [F/N] would bless him with her presence. 

He was very well aware of the fleeting existence mortals led. It broke him each time he thought about it, yet, as [F/N] had asked him of, he’d always tried to think instead of the present. Even still, it was always something that had been at the back of his mind, ever since he’d finally accepted his emotions, and allowed her into his life. It gave him all the more reason to ensure she was safe, that only those who he could truly trust knew of her existence - for, when he couldn’t be there, they would ensure she wasn’t in danger. 

And this worry only doubled when [F/N] had confided in him that she, indeed, was carrying his child. Well, it had certainly been a surprise, and Xiao… He at first panicked. He had never thought about ever loving someone, let alone creating a little one alongside another. It took a lot of talking, a lot of gentle touches and hugging. But in the end, like everything else with his [F/N], Xiao knew it would be okay. 

On that lovely day, [F/N] and their youngling had waited for him by the Inn, their usual room ready and waiting for them. By that point, the boy was only two, yet he already showed so much life and personality that it never failed to knock the wind out of his father. As per usual, Smiley Yanxiao would, exclusively, allow [F/N] access to his kitchen so she could cook food for her little boy, as well as her husband who would be arriving later as he’d promised - why? Her almond tofu was simply the best, and whenever Xiao could, he’d rather eat hers than any other chef’s. And who was she to deny her diligent beloved, who worked tirelessly to defend their land? When compared to all the terrifying work and responsibilities Xiao held, a simple dish felt like child’s play. Yet he always, always cherished such an act so deeply, it felt like it was the other way around.  

[F/N] had already fed their son before Xiao had arrived, gently holding him in her arms as they walked calmly across the Inn’s upper balcony. Patting his back with rhythm, her eyes peered out into the distance, the wind blowing ever so gently across her face, eyes shimmering with the light of the sun as all was peaceful. She hadn’t even heard Xiao arrive, his figure simply appearing on the wooden rails near her, his body perfectly balanced on the small surface as his mask dissipated before either of them could see him. His face, previously scowling with the horrors he regularly faced, immediately softened upon landing on the two people he loved the most, spear neatly placed away as his feet finally touched the balcony.

“Qingxin…” He called out his beloved, watching as she turned around with the same amount of love and excitement she would always display whenever he arrived. It never failed to melt his heart.

“Xiao, you’re back!” [F/N] sighed in relief, eyes softening as she hastily made her way to him. Meeting halfway, he carefully embraced her, foreheads touching as he felt his weary body finally relax. “Welcome home, my love.”

“...Thank you.” He murmured, his lips brushing against the top of her head as his hand rested on her lower back. His words felt heavier than a simple sign of gratitude, one that ran deeper and meant far more. One that [F/N] understood far too well, but didn’t dwell on. Instead, she smiled his way, her arms still carrying their bundle of joy with care. 

“Papa!” Their young boy chirped out, his attention clearly gravitating towards his father. His little arms were already stretching out, yearning for Xiao to hold him after being apart for a long while. And while Xiao always showed hesitancy to, he never found the strength to deny his little son.

Carefully the adeptus picked his son up, the softest smile making its way to his pale face as his golden eyes gazed at his son’s. [F/N] had always stated how his son was a mirroring image of himself, and with each passing day, Xiao could deny that reality less and less. His hair color was the same deep dark green, streaks of a lighter tone along his tiny locks. His cheeks, chubby, hid away the smallest little pointed teeth that resembled his own. His eyebrows, never furrowed like his father’s, displayed the same shape and sharpness. The only thing he seemed to have picked from his mother had been the color of his eyes, the same beautiful shade Xiao could drown himself in - and even still, the eye shape had been taken from him, the same little diamond pupils staring back at him with the wonder and adoration of a pure child. His child. He still could hardly believe it. 

“It’s okay, love. Here, just like this…” [F/N] gently coaxed him, noticing how his arms trembled the slightest - mostly due to exhaustion, but always partially to anxiety. After all, what if he tainted his little boy? What of his karmic debt? Everyday he prayed such a thing would never happen, hoping he would develop some kind of resistance due to his bloodline; yet even still, it was always a possibility.

His little arms flailed around, practically leaping for Xiao’s embrace as he hugged his neck. Xiao couldn’t help but let out the quietest of laughs, holding him with more confidence under his wife’s guidance. His eyes landed on the vajra necklace he would always have around his neck, one of the many religious items he’d given the two of them in order to ward off evil when he himself wasn’t around. In truth, [F/N] did it more to ease her husband’s mind than anything, but that was something she’d take to the grave - she knew she was safe even when he didn’t stand next to them, but then again, she would never be one to go against his wishes; they were never many, anyway. 

“You must be tired. Here, come sit. I made you your favorite.” [F/N] smiled his way, signaling for him to sit at the table they would usually take. Without hesitation he followed suit, his eyes following his wife’s movements as she presented him his dish. 

“Thank you, qingxin.” Xiao murmured, his eyes softening at the sight as he could finally feel his heavy soul at ease. He took his seat, carefully shifting his son to sit on his lap whilst securing him with one arm around him - more of a precaution than anything, for the simple fact his little one did behave wonderfully most of the time.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to hold him while you eat?” [F/N] smiled, humored by the absolutely endearing sight of her husband holding their little one. The way his cheeks gained the faintest hint of color didn’t escape her gaze, yet she knew better than to embarrass her poor little adeptus. 

“No need, I can eat like this just fine.” He responded.

Or in other words, No thank you, I really want to hold our little boy like this. [F/N] already knew her lover very well despite his attempts at keeping himself at arms length for the longest time, so reading in between the lines wasn’t difficult. All she could do was nod her head, a delightful smile across her lips as she sat with them, pleasant conversation filling the air. How had their day been, where they had gone, who they’d been with… Xiao listened to it all, his leg bouncing gently, up and down, up and down, his child content with the rhythmic movement as his tiny hands rested against his arm. 

The sky was still painted in the loveliest strokes of oranges and blues upon the pair arriving at their final destination. The journey had been otherwise uneventful, only further filling Lumine with the slightest creeping anxiety as the tall Inn was seen in the distance. Surely, she had figured, Xiao would be there. It was the only place she knew he’d have any sort of roots in, and given the fact she dared not abuse her permission for calling upon him, she figured paying a visit was the next best option. 

“Come on, that’s the Wangshu Inn in the distance!” Paimon pointed, her smaller body flying across the air as her friend picked up the pace as well. Her stomach already rumbled after their trip, and truth be told, the little fairy already planned to grab herself a few plates whilst watching from the distance the scene unfold. 

“Hey, wait up Paimon!” The young woman sighed, her scarf blowing against the wind as they hastily came closer and closer to the structure. 

There were very few guests aside from the regulars, of which the owners could count with their fingers. Verr Goldet was finishing up taking care of a few details at the front desk before she heard a set of steps rushing up her stairs, her eyes gluing to the entrance of their Inn before she finally spotted a familiar figure. 

“Ah, Lumine, Paimon! What a surprise to see you once more.” She smiled kindly, her hands resting in front of her figure as the blonde woman caught her breath. “And what brings you to the Wangshu Inn tonight? Seeking to book a room?”

“Hi miss Verr-” Lumine smiled amidst the heavy breathing, both her and Verr being cut off with Paimon who happily interjected.

“Hi boss lady! Is Xiao back yet?”

“For the last time, I am not ‘boss lady’.” Verr shot her a look, to which Paimon silently apologized for. “And… May I inquire as to why you’d like to see him at such a time?”

Usually, Verr Goldet wouldn’t be one to deny them the knowledge of the Conqueror of Demons’ whereabouts; after all, they were friends and allies. However, given the company he currently had, the woman couldn’t help but wish to avert any unwanted visitors to their family time. Not to mention, she herself, as well as her husband, had gotten quite protective of [F/N] and their little one - as if, by some strange mortal bond Xiao couldn’t quite understand, they had considered them their extended family. 

“Oh… Are we intruding on something?” Paimon asked, her voice growing softer.

“Well, it’s just that, as you know, the Conqueror of Demons is a very busy adeptus.” That much wasn’t a lie. “He’s expressed his wish for visits to be limited for the time being, lest something be really urgent.” …That however, was something he himself hadn’t requested of her. 

“Oh, if that’s the case-” Lumine, being understanding as she was, attempted to avert the situation. After all, they could always ask for some of his time the following day.

“It kind of is.” Paimon however, once more, chimed in. “After all, we came all the way from Liyue Harbor for this!” She was now planting her hands on her hips once more. “Besides, we won’t take long.”

Verr Goldet’s expression didn’t falter, though she was rather ticked over how they seemed to not catch the hint. “Well, even still-”

“He’s probably upstairs, isn’t he? If not we can always call on his name. Come on Lumine, up we go!”

“Hey, I’m talking to you!” The owner was practically left to speak to the wall as they were already up the flight of stairs, her eyes widened as she sighed in frustration. Hopefully, she prayed, it wouldn’t be a big ruckus; not that [F/N] would mind, ever. More so from Xiao’s end. 

Being practically dragged up to the balcony by the suddenly overtly strong Paimon, Lumine nearly trampled on her own feet as she could feel her heart palpitate stronger and louder. The heat that rose to her face couldn’t be hidden for any longer, and all she could hope was that Xiao was there, and that all would go well. Why was she so… Nervous? She’d fought against many monsters, defeated abyss mages, aided in the saving of Dvalin and the defeat of Osial, yet how was a simple opening of her own heart causing such a ruckus within her?

The husky voice of Xiao was unmistakable as they finally reached the balcony, her head turning to her right as she took a deep breath. He seemed… To be calmer, at peace. His voice softer while still speaking in the usual tone she had grown used to. Paimon let go of her hand as she flew ahead, silent for long enough until the adventurer was able to pick up another voice - an unknown one, being a soft and female giggle. 

“Xiao! Xiao, you in here?” Paimon called out, rounding up the balcony in search of the adeptus.

In the table in which they stood, the Conqueror of Demons seemingly froze, his eyebrows immediately lowering as a smallest scowl reappeared on his face. He held his child a little tighter, his head turning to gaze to where the known voice had come from. [F/N] followed suit, her head turning before landing on her husband once more, curious over anything else whilst silently inquiring him who it could be - after all, he seemed to know who the voice belonged to. And in most other circumstances, he wouldn’t exactly mind to hear the talkative pixie nor her friend, yet when it came to such sacred time with his family… He couldn’t help but feel his mood grow sour. 

“Oh, there you are-!” Paimon chirped whilst Lumine came right behind her. However, she stopped in place, no longer approaching him. The voice died on her throat before she gazed around, her colorful eyes skipping through the two unknown people.

“...You two.” Xiao called out, his body having already turned in his chair while remaining sat still. His hands were holding his son in his lap, who too eyed them still, though his carefree expression deeply differed from the seemingly annoyance Xiao displayed. “What’s the matter? Is everything alright?”

“Ah, you’re… Accompanied…” The white haired guide seemed to have suddenly grown embarrassed, her eyebrows furrowing softly as she felt even smaller under the intense gaze the Conqueror of Demons sent their way. “...S-Sorry, we didn’t know-”

“Didn’t Verr Goldet tell you?” Xiao had let out without thinking much, his wife to his side softly muttering his name he cleared his throat. It was only then his face seemingly relaxed, gazing back at her for a mere moment.

“Are they your friends?” [F/N] smiled kindly, her hands extending briefly before taking their little boy into her arms once more. 

“...Yes.” Xiao nodded his head. The way his beloved’s face lit up was enough to melt him away, finding it outright adorable how she seemed to always… Be happy, whenever he spoke of others he held in high regard. To him it was strange, how she apparently thought it was such a big deal. 

“It’s alright, go and talk to them! We have the whole night ahead of us,” [F/N] warmly reassured him, while Xiao attempted to keep the pout from forming on his face. The last thing he wanted to do during his family time was have guests over, but since they probably had gone out of their way to get there… He didn’t want to cause a bad impression to [F/N], anyway. “We’ll stay here, since we don’t know if it’s something private. If not, just look our way and we’ll join you straight away!”

His boy seemed to agree with his mother’s statement, babbling on as they both watched Xiao hesitantly get up from his seat. The Adeptus calmly walked their way, his gaze somewhat sharper than what Lumine would’ve liked. Unlike Paimon, who was still somewhat oblivious, she had already begun to piece the puzzle together - the way he had glanced at that young woman, the way they had been sitting together, the way the little child looked so similar to him… It was difficult to think of any other possibilities. 

It was difficult to keep oneself from breaking down at the realization. 

“...Yes, Paimon, Lumine?” The traveler had been shaken out of her thoughts as his eyes bore into hers, patiently waiting for them to speak up.

“Hi Xiao,” Paimon took the lead upon Lumine taking longer to talk than what she would’ve guessed. “We didn’t know you had company, haha… So… Who are they?”

“...” It wasn’t as though Xiao himself was exactly bothered with Paimon’s general nosiness, more so he was annoyed they had been interrupted for seemingly meaningless banter. Here he was, thinking there was something wrong and his assistance was needed, actually getting up from the table where his family stood to greet them for nothing happening after the fact. 

His head turned around to gaze back at his wife, who bounced her leg up and down slightly to amuse their son as he would usually like. Their eyes met, and with the softening way in which he looked at her, [F/N] understood everything was alright. It relieved her to know so, taking the moment to get up and hold their son before approaching them with a kind and sunny smile. Paimon and Lumine watched as they approached, the little youngling’s eyes scanning them before landing on the adeptus once more, refusing to look anywhere else after the fact. Up close, it was even more undeniable who exactly the little boy was, his hair color and shape exactly the same as Xiao’s, as well as his little brows who sported a much more relaxed expression. 

“Hi! I’m [F/N]. Pleased to meet any friends of Xiao.” [F/N] spoke softly, introducing herself to the pair before her baby was wriggling in a vain attempt to jump out of her arms.

“Papa…” He shyly mumbled, his arms stretching in his direction as he seemingly didn’t give up in his pursuit of remaining in daddy’s arms. 

Lumine couldn’t help but smile weakly, even as her heart wilted. The image before her was… Adorable, she couldn’t deny that. The way Xiao’s face gained color, embarrassed by the display of affection to a crowd as his significant other attempted hushing their son from interrupting them. And despite the utter shock she felt from not only realizing Xiao had a lover but also had already formed a family, she couldn’t help but glance at them still.

“It’s alright love.” Xiao murmured, the last word barely above a whisper as his cheeks were by that point the same shade of the jueyun chili. “Here, let me hold him.”

“Ah… Sorry. He really wants daddy time, huh.” [F/N] laughed softly, carefully letting go of the boy before his arms were wrapped tightly around his father’s neck, his face nuzzling against him as he hid his gaze from the strangers. The young woman turned to the pair, who remained quiet, an apologetic smile on her face. “I apologize, he can get quite shy around new people.”

“No, don’t worry about it…” Paimon let out in struggle, the cogs inside her head nearly visible as she was rather late to the party when it came to figuring out what exactly the relation was here. 

“So,” Xiao broke the chit chat short, clearing his throat before attempting to be… More courteous. Not for himself, but for his wife. “Is there anything I can help you with? After all, you did call out my name.”

“Ah,” Suddenly Paimon remembered what the exact initial plan was, panicking inwardly as she floated rather awkwardly around Lumine. The adventurer, on the other hand, seemed outwardly calm, the forced smile on her face remaining. “Well, about that-”

“We just thought of passing by to bid our goodbyes,” Lumine finished it for her, leaving her companion quiet and Xiao somewhat surprised. “Since Liyue is stable now, we’re thinking of continuing our journey towards Inazuma.”

“...Oh, I see.” Xiao responded, tone quiet as he nodded his head gently. “Are you sure you’re ready to leave?”

“Yeah, it was… About time, anyway.” Lumine awkwardly laughed, her hand rubbing the back of her neck as she averted her gaze for a solid second. “We still have a lot of questions that need answering.”

[F/N]’s expression shifted to worry and sorrow, somewhat bummed that they wouldn’t join them for a little longer, or she wouldn’t exactly get to know personally those friends of her husband’s. More so, the concern on her face also extended further to Lumine, something in her gut telling her the young woman before her was hurting deeper than what appeared to be. Call it a woman's intuition. 

“I see. Inazuma… You’ll be far away.” Xiao thought aloud, his arms shifting gently to ensure the comfort of his son as he seemed to calm down in his embrace, lulled to sleep by his husky voice. “Still, if you ever return and need any help, you know how to seek me out.”

“Please be safe out there.” [F/N] added, a soft smile ever present on her face before her gaze jumped between them. “Still, it’s getting late for you to begin your journey back… Won’t it be best to stay the night and leave in the morning?”

“No, we’ll be fine.” Lumine shook her head, the bitterness in her tongue being swallowed as she smiled [F/N]’s way. She couldn’t hold anything against the woman in front of her - she was being nothing but kind to them. “If we get to the Harbor by dawn, all the better.”

“Ah… Alright…” [F/N] understood, still thinking of ways to help them however she could. “Would you like for me to pack you some food, though? It’s a long way back.”

Xiao couldn’t help but glance his wife’s way, his gaze softening as the smallest smile rose on his lips. He simply couldn’t have enough of her, not ever, especially when she displayed the same caring nature that had broken down his walls in the first place.

Lumine however, only wanted to leave as soon as possible. “No, it’s alright thank you. We’ll be going now, yes Paimon? Goodbye Xiao, [F/N]. Stay safe.”

And before the floating pixie could even have a word on the matter, they were already descending the stairs, the young woman’s legs sending her flying as her mind blurred to a shapeless stain. Before she even realized they were already far from the Inn, Paimon’s soft tone of voice attempting to call her back as she nervously tried to apologize, try to cheer her up, try to distract her…

It wasn’t Paimon’s fault. Neither of them could’ve known, really. She’d suggested their visit in high hopes after all, it was alright. She would be alright. After all… 

The way Xiao smiled so softly. The way he glanced at [F/N] in such a matter, the way he held the young boy with such care. He looked happy. He was happy. And even if it wasn’t with her… Lumine was sure one day, the sorrow would subside and substitute itself with happiness for him. 

He deserved it all and more.